CLARA AWOKE THE NEXTmorning feeling just as irritated as she had been when she’d gone to sleep the night before. She understood Roman’s reasoning—and a part of her truly appreciated his concern—but his rules were too much. As far as he was concerned, she might as well stay locked up here in the boardinghouse, where she’d be safe. But it felt like she’d been put in jail.
She flung off the bedcovers and began to dress. Roman couldn’t understand that he’d be much better served if she was out, in town, talking and listening. Or even at the livery itself, speaking with customers. After all, the horse thieves were hardly going to attempt to conduct their crimes in broad daylight. And now that she’d seen, albeit from a distance, the two men who might very well be the ones behind the thefts, she might recognize them if they came into town.
Clara blinked at herself in the glass behind the washbasin before splashing water on her face. He hadn’t said she couldn’t leave the boardinghouse, only that he’d prefer if she left with company. That could certainly be accomplished. Abigail would be busy with her laundry, but Deirdre was often looking for ways to fill her time.
Clara forced herself not to race downstairs in her eagerness. She was determined to see what she could discover, and to prove to Roman that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She found Deirdre eating breakfast with Abigail in the dining room. It didn’t take much for Clara to convince Deirdre to accompany her, and so, after eating a slice of thick bread with honey, the two stepped out into town.
“Where shall we go first?” Deirdre asked.
“How about the mercantile?” Clara suggested. It was nearby, and besides, it would be nice to say hello to Caroline.
They arrived to find the little store nearly bursting at the seams. Mr. Drexel, Caroline’s husband, helped people lined up at the counter in the rear of the store. Clara spotted Caroline assisting a well-dressed gentleman with a small selection of men’s hats by the wall. When she finished, they rushed over to greet her.
“It’s so good to see you both again,” Caroline said with a friendly smile.
Clara warmed at her friend’s welcome. It made Crest Stone feel more like home, having such good friends.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything of interest?” Clara asked.
“I haven’t, but I did hear about what happened last night. I’m so sorry for Mr. Carlisle. I do hope the marshal can find out who’s behind this.”
“Last night?” Clara repeated. She looked to Deirdre, who appeared just as puzzled as Clara was.
“Yes . . .” Caroline trailed off, looking from Clara to Deidre. “Oh my, you didn’t know?”
Clara tensed. Something terrible had happened—to Roman—and here she was, prancing about town and knowing nothing about it.
“What didn’t we know?” Deirdre asked.
Caroline glanced about them, and upon seeing no one nearby, continued. “Thomas made a delivery to Mr. Benton over at his shop, and Mr. Benton told him that the livery had been robbed again last night.”
Clara’s stomach dropped. “Was anyone hurt?”
“I don’t know any more. I’m sorry, Clara. I shouldn’t have said anything, but I thought you knew.” Caroline’s forehead crinkled in worry, and Clara reached out and laid a hand on her arm.
“It’s quite all right. We’ll go to the livery now. I’m glad you told me. If it happened late, there is no way I could have known.” But even as she spoke the words, a sick feeling wound its way through her insides. She couldn’t expect Roman to have paid her a visit first thing this morning, particularly when he had his hands full dealing with what had happened. But she should’vebeenthere, at the livery, right now. If she was to be his wife, she needed to be of help to him. He direly needed someone else at the livery, and he’d already told her how useful she’d been there. His fears for her working there during the day were completely unfounded. The thieves just proved again that they only came at night.
If she’d been there, she could be helping him, comforting him, right now instead of trying to collect wisps of gossip at the mercantile.
She turned and strode to the door, completely forgetting to bid Caroline goodbye. She vaguely heard Deidre doing just that before catching up to her outside.
“I’m coming with you,” Deidre said, slipping an arm about Clara’s.
Clara nodded. At least Roman couldn’t complain that she’d walked about town alone, if she arrived with Deidre in tow. Deidre was somewhat shorter, and she had to step quickly to keep up, but Clara didn’t slow.
She barely saw anyone as they walked, although her mind kept an eye out for a man in a red shirt and another all in brown. Not a soul matched those descriptions, but she wasn’t surprised. They were likely on their way to wherever it was they would sell those horses, perhaps even to that man who’d cheated them out of a higher price.
Clara hoped he’d cheat them again. In fact, she hoped he robbed them blind. It was an un-Christian thought, but she didn’t care. Not when Roman’s business was on the line.
When they reached the livery, they had to step aside for a rather large man who was leaving. Clara recognized the banker, Mr. Gardiner. The man was not smiling—although she doubted he often was—but he seemed even more intimidating than usual as he left the stable. He didn’t acknowledge them at all as he passed. If he’d just left without his horse, and his expression . . .
Clara closed her eyes quickly. Tartan. They must’ve gotten him. Her heart ached for the sweet horse with the white blaze who’d taken a liking to her. She squeezed her hands into fists and then let them go.
“Shall we go in?” Deidre prompted.
Clara drew in a breath and slid through the open door, Deidre following behind her. Inside, it took a second for her eyes to adjust. Even with the doors open, the stable was dim compared to the bright sunlight outside. When she could take in her surroundings, she saw Roman. He sat at the table, his head in his hands. Clara’s anger at the thieves tempered into grief for the man she was to marry.
“I’ll visit the horses,” Deidre whispered, gesturing toward the rear of the stable.
