He raced to catch up to stage driver. “Jones!” he called as he rode up behind the stage coach driver.
The man turned around, clearly surprised to see Beau. “Change your mind?”
“The man from New Orleans,” Beau said, struggling to catch his breath. “What did he look like?”
Clarence twisted his lips sideways, as if the memory of the traveler’s face triggered some kind of involuntary reaction. The reaction made Beau clench the reins hard between his fingers. He prayed he would not hear what he suspected the man was about to say.
“He was an odd looking sort of fellow,” Clarence said. “Hair dark as yours, but broader. A big fellow. As if he spent his life laying track for the railroad. But that wasn’t the most notable thing about him. He had a scar that went from just below his eye to up into his hair, like so.” Clarence demonstrated with a finger. “Had a bald spot where that scar was.”
If the reins hadn’t been made of leather, they’d have snapped in Beau’s grasp.
Clarence raised his eyebrows. “I take it you know him?”
“I wish I didn’t.” There was no doubt the man was one of Desroches’ friends. Beau had seen him on more than one occasion after Desroches had died. Lyon, he thought the man was named. He looked exactly as Clarence had described. Hulking, with hands that looked as if they could crush a tree trunk. And a scar that had taken away some of his hair.
“Did he come alone?” Beau asked.
Clarence shrugged. “Seemed that way. But there were other folks on that stage. He could’ve been traveling with any of them.”
Beau glanced again toward the direction of Cheyenne. The threat against his mother was possible. But the threat against Faith was imminent.
“I’m going back to town,” he said.
“Happy to ride with you,” Clarence replied.
Beau thanked him but shook his head. “I’ve got to get back fast. Do me a favor though?”
Clarence nodded.
“Go straight to the sheriff when you arrive,” he said. “Tell him I might need some help over at the post and telegraph office. Tell him Mrs. Landry is in danger.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?’ Clarence asked. “This horse is capable a good gallop. We’ve been taking it easy since Cheyenne. Let’s get on home.”
Beau couldn’t have been more grateful if the man had sprouted wings and flown back to Last Chance. He thanked him profusely as they drove the horses forward.
It was impossible to talk over the sound of the hoofbeats and the concentration it took to stay on top of the horse. Beau’s mind wandered as the miles passed beneath him.
That letter had been dated several weeks prior. Were its claims a farce? Or were some of the men still holding Maman back in New Orleans, waiting for Beau to arrive? Did they grow tired of waiting and send Lyon to speed things along? How did they know where Beau had gone?
They had to have gotten the information from Maman. If Beau hadn’t been so determined to keep pushing toward Last Chance, he likely would have gotten sick right there on the road. She wouldn’t have given up that information easily. Had they threatened her? His fists clenched again around the reins. If they had hurt his mother, he would see each and every one of them as dead as Desroches.
And then his mind went to Lyon. He had been in town for how many days? Beau thought back. The last mail had arrived the day before, when that letter about Maman had come. So yesterday. He had been there for an entire day. What have he been doing? Biding his time until Beau left?
That made no sense, considering Beau was the one they wanted. Maybe he had to ask about town to find out where Beau was. Or had he been watching them the entire time?
Beau urged the horse to move faster. Clarence kept up with him easily. It was possible that if Lyon had come into the office today and found out that Beau wasn’t there, he would have left and waited.
That’s what a logical man would have done.
But Lyon did not strike Beau as logical. In fact, the man seemed the opposite of logical.
In his mind’s eye, Beau could see Lyon growing angry that Beau was not present. And Faith, of course, would’ve only had the information Beau had left her in the letter. What would Lyon do then?
Beau’s stomach twisted again and he willed the horse to move as fast as possible. The man wouldn’t hurt Faith, would he? Not if he wished Beau to come with him peacefully. Of course there was no way for Beau to have known that Lyon had arrived in town, much less had found Faith. But what was he planning? Would he bring her to New Orleans after Beau?
Worst of all, would he take out his anger at Beau on Faith?
A sick sense of fear crawled its way up Beau’s spine. There were too many unknowns. Too many possibilities. All he knew was that he needed to get back to town as soon as possible. He needed to see Faith again. He needed to know she was all right.
If he’d been a better man, he would’ve waited until the morning and spoken with Faith instead of leaving before she arose. As mad as she had been last night, he would have made her listen to him. And, most importantly, he might have had the opportunity to tell her the one thing that had been in his heart.
He loved her.
He didn’t know if Faith would ever forgive him for keeping the truth from her, but he knew he would never stop loving her. And Beau needed her to know that.
He prayed hard that he would get the chance to tell her. That he would have the opportunity to promise her that he would forever be honest with her. That he had never imagined a woman as wonderful as she was.
He pressed on, riding hard. Hewouldtell her these things, even if he drew his last breath while doing so.
Because if Faith could live a life knowing how much he loved her, that would be enough.
