Page 76 of Mail-Order Lady

Reginald had proved he wanted them dead. All of them. And if he’d finally come in person to mastermind the job, he may have men ready in Walnut Springs.

God, protect them.

No matter how careful any of them were, only the Almighty knew what lay ahead…and had the power to control any of it.

CHAPTER 23

The night pressed in from all sides, but nothing seemed out of place.

Robert sat on a porch chair with his rifle across his lap, scanning the yard and the tree line beyond. The moon had risen full enough to cast shadows across the dirt, turning every stump and rock into a crouching man.

He’d been on watch for nearly two hours now. Long enough that his muscles had stiffened, his back protesting the hard wood beneath him.

But he couldn’t ease up. Not with Reginald’s man—or maybe Reginald himself—somewhere out there. Not with Clara’s mother planning another visit tomorrow. Not with Enoch and James possibly having ridden in to a trap in town.

Helplessness. That was what got to a man.

The front door creaked behind him.

He turned, gripping the rifle tighter before he could stop himself.

Clara stood in the doorway, backlit by the lamp in the main room. She slipped onto the porch and closed the door behind her. “May I sit with you?”

Every part of him wanted to say yes. To have her beside him, close enough to touch. But he needed to stay focused. Needed to keep watch.

The faint scent of flowers and soap drifted to him—the same smells that had filled his senses when he’d held her yesterday. Surely he could do both. He could watch and talk at the same time. “Of course.”

She moved to the chair beside him and settled with that quiet grace she always carried.

Had it only been yesterday when they’d walked together in the meadow? It felt like weeks had passed since they’d spoken of faith and he’d confessed to reading her story.

She folded her hands in her lap and looked toward the darkness beyond the porch. “I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice came soft, like she was trying not to disturb the night. “Every time I close my eyes, I think about Mother coming back tomorrow. And Enoch and James in town. And Nathan recognizing that man.”

The tightness in his chest pulled more. If only he could tell her everything would be fine. That Enoch and James would return safely. That her mother’s visit would pass without incident. That this Mr. Sutton—whoever he was—posed no real threat.

But he couldn’t promise any of that.

He let out a breath. “I keep running through it all too. Trying to see what we’re missing.”

She turned to him, and the moonlight caught in her eyes. Even in the dim light, worry shimmered there. The fear she was trying to hold back. “Do you think my mother knows? About Mr. Sutton, I mean. Is she working with Reginald?”

He’d been considering that possibility for hours now. Had Clara’s mother knowingly brought an enemy into their home? Or had she been deceived herself?

“I don’t know.” The idea of her mother as an accomplice didn’t sit right. “She’s calculating. But I don’t think she’d knowingly put you in danger.”

“No.” Clara’s hands tightened in her lap. “I don’t think she would. Not if she understood the threat.”

That was the question, wasn’t it? What had this Mr. Sutton told her? How much did she actually know about the Balfours? About the threats hanging over them? Probably none of it.

He forced his gaze back to the yard, scanning the shadows near the barn. Nothing moved. But the stillness weighed too heavy.

The front door opened again, and Robert lifted the rifle. But it was only Nathan, easing through the doorway with one hand braced against the frame.

He’d cleaned up since this afternoon. The sweat-soaked shirt had been replaced with a clean one, still loose on his frame but tucked in properly. His face looked scrubbed, the grime from days of fever finally washed away. The tangled hair had been washed maybe, then combed back and tied at his nape, though it hung past his collar. He still needed a proper haircut and a shave.

“Evening.” Nathan’s voice came steadier than it had earlier. He moved across the porch with careful steps, maybe still testing his strength.

“You should be resting.” Robert kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry beyond the porch.