Page 11 of Mail-Order Lady

But it gave him a reason to be here. To move through the morning with purpose while his thoughts circled back to the hotel room where Clara was probably sitting by the window, watching the street, waiting for one o’clock.

“That everything, Mr. Balfour?” Nash scratched figures in his ledger.

“For now.” Robert counted out payment. “I’ll be back this afternoon to collect it.”

Nash nodded and tucked the money into his cash box. “I’ll have it ready for you.”

Robert stepped back into the morning sun. The street had filled since he’d gone inside—freight wagons rumbling toward the levee, riders passing through, the usual commerce of a frontier town. He scanned faces out of habit. Looking for Margaret McKinney, though she’d likely be at her boarding house at this hour.

The sheriff’s office sat two buildings east of the land office—he’d noted it yesterday. A squat wooden building with a star on the door and a bench out front where a man of perhaps sixty was currently tipped back in a chair, eyes half-closed against the morning sun.

Robert walked past. Slowed.

“Morning.” He kept his tone easy. “Is the sheriff in?”

The man—a deputy, according to his badge—cracked one eye. “He is. Something I can help you with?”

“Nothing pressing.” Robert glanced back at the street. “Just wanted to know where to find him if I needed to.”

The deputy grunted and let his chair drop forward. “He’ll be here most of the day. Name’s Garrett.”

“Appreciate it.” Robert touched the brim of his hat and continued down the street.

He didn’t need the sheriff. Not yet. Probably not at all.

The inquiry was practical—knowing where the law was in a town like this was simply good sense. If Mrs. McKinney caused trouble, if she tried to claim some authority over Clara that didn’t exist, it might be useful to have backup.

That was all.

Except his mind had already moved past that possibility to the one behind it. The one he’d been circling without letting himself look at it directly.

Marriage would solve most any problem Margaret McKinney presented them with. Cleanly. Permanently.

A married woman answered to her husband, not her mother. Margaret McKinney would have no legal standing whatsoever if Clara were his wife. No claim. No leverage. Nothing.

His pulse kicked up, but he kept his breathing steady. This was simply a legal solution to a legal problem. The most efficient way to protect Clara from whatever scheme her mother devised.

That it happened to be the same solution he’d been turning over in his mind for weeks now—that he’d been watching Clara across the dinner table and in the quiet moments when she thought no one was paying attention—had nothing to do with the practical merits of the arrangement. Clara was a remarkable woman. Beautiful and kind from the inside out. Any man would be drawn to her.

He wouldn’t take advantage of the situation to accomplish his own wants. Not if there was another way to protect her.

He kept walking. Past the gunsmith’s. Past the saloon where two men were already drinking, though it wasn’t yet ten o’clock. His boots hit the boardwalk in steady rhythm while his mind worked through the logistics.

If they did have to resort to marriage, they’d need a license. The sheriff could perform the ceremony, but witnesses would be required too. Mrs. Wang could serve as one, and they could find another.

It could be done in a day if necessary.

The practicalities lined up neatly. Too neatly, which should have been warning enough.

It wasn’t fair to Clara.

She’d come west to marry his brother Thomas, and when that arrangement had shifted to Kate instead, Clara had seemed relieved. Grateful to be released from the obligation.

She was kind to Robert because she was kind to everyone. And maybe if sometimes there seemed an extra layer of gratefulness, it was just that…gratefulness. He was being helpful to her. He’d promised to navigate whatever confrontation with her mother lay ahead.

He was, as his brothers had once so succinctly put it, always useful, never in the way.

The thought settled like a stone in his chest.