found a place to stable his horses, he would check into a hotel and call it home for a spell. Should he reveal he was a US marshal to the town’s sheriff? Cole again weighed his options. Best to get to town first and check out the lay of the land.
“Are your geldings Morgans too?” Toby climbed a stall’s lower rung to rest his arms and chin on the stall’s top board. “I couldn’t tell for sure in the dark.”
“Nope. They’re not.”
“They’re pretty gentle too. Except one tried to bite me.”
Cole chuckled as he settled against his saddle. “That would be Nips. Sorry I didn’t warn you about him. I haven’t been able to break that bad habit.”
“And the other?”
“The sorrel’s Rowdy. He can get his dander up pretty quick, but overall he’s steady.”
“Toby.” The woman’s voice called over the gentle patter of rain. “Toby, where are you?”
He ran to the door. “Coming, Ma.” The youngster swiveled. “So are you coming up for supper, Cole? Ma saved over some stew from dinner.”
“Nah, I’m more tired than hungry.” Besides, he didn’t like being beholden to them any more than he already was. A worry pebble had lodged in his gut. What about them troubled him?
Toby grinned, his expression betraying wisdom that exceeded his age. “Too bad. Ma’s the best cook in Laramie County. And she makes a fearsome pie.” He took off across the sodden yard.
When Cole’s stomach growled in protest, he looked down at his concave abdomen. “Oh, hush.” Jerky and hardtack would suit him just fine.
Before first light, he would hit the road and distance himself from this place. Nothing and no one would distract him from his mission.
* * *
“What?” Aghast, Lenora’s grip tightened around the large serving spoon. “You invited him for supper?”
“I thought that’s what you said.”
“I told you to ask if he was hungry.” If so, she would have sent Toby to the barn with a bowl of stew. She wasn’t quite ready to have a stranger come into her house, no matter how friendly he had been.
“Don’t matter.” Her son rested an elbow on the table. “He said he was tired.”
“Doesn’t matter.” She finished serving leftovers into his bowl. “Please don’t use slang. You know I can’t abide it.”
“Yes’m.” He leaned his head against his fist as he slumped in the chair. “Cole sure has some nice horses. Especially Sheba.”
“Mr. Cole.” She finished laying out the remainder of the meal.
“He said to call him Cole. Without the mister.”
Lenora frowned.
“I’m sure, Ma.”
“Very well. Since he insisted.” She slid into the seat next to him. “Please don’t slouch.”
As her son straightened, he grimaced—displaying his thinking face. “Do you like Cole, Ma?”
The direct question took her aback. How much could she say to her ten-year-old? Though he sometimes acted grown up, she couldn’t forget he was still a child.
“I like him just fine. But we can’t forget he’s a stranger.” She stared at her hands, clenched in her lap. “And now that your pa’s gone, we have to be cautious. That’s all. Remember what we talked about?”
Toby fingered the spoon beside the bowl. “I s’pose.”
The nearest town was located several hours away. No doubt her son was lonely. But she didn’t want him to latch on to the first stranger who had ridden onto their ranch since Amos’s death. Though something about Cole tugged at her to trust him, she resisted.
“Let’s pray.” After they clasped hands, Lenora bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord, for Your provision. May we truly be grateful.” She paused, suppressing a barrage of anxiety-riddled requests. “Thank You for returning Blister. In Your Son’s name. Amen.”
“Amen.” Toby scooped a large spoonful of food into his mouth.
Before she took three bites, he finished one bowlful. She served him more while he wolfed down a hunk of bread.
“I declare, you eat more than your pa...ever did.” She smoothed his dark, damp hair, hoping he didn’t notice her slip of the tongue.
Grinning, Toby ate two bites in quick succession. “After I’m done, can I go check on Blister?”
“I’d rather you didn’t disturb our guest. He’s probably sleeping by now.”
Scraping the spoon across the bottom of the bowl, Toby frowned. “Think he’ll stay, Ma?”
“Cole?”
“Yeah.” Eyes hopeful, her son looked up.
Her cheeks warmed as she considered that possibility. “I expect he’s on his way somewhere important. Probably be gone first light.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Oregon Territory. Or California. People are still crazy with gold fever.”
“Couldn’t you ask him to stay? Maybe hire him? Seein’ as how Chuck and Midge are gone.”
She took care answering, not wanting to raise his hopes. “I’d have to think on that some.”
Should she confide to her son that she planned to sell the ranch? Frank Hopper, their nearest neighbor, had not yet responded to her proposition.
Toby scratched the top of his head with his knuckles. “Why do you think Chuck and Midge left? They didn’t even say goodbye.”
Debating how much to speculate about their sudden and secretive departure, Lenora chewed her lip. “I’m sure they had a good reason.”
Last fall, Amos had begun building a small place for the couple. The frame of a building stood across the corral that was in the center of the yard. He’d even carved Midge one of his rocking chairs for which he was famous. Had Jeb Hackett bribed or threatened them? With them gone, she and Toby couldn’t manage the ranch by themselves.
In silence, she and Toby finished their meal. The fire popped and crackled, the damp logs hissing. The sound reminded her she’d have to chop more wood soon. Their winter stacks were almost gone. As soon as Lenora entertained that worry, a dam broke of all their other needs. They not only had the garden to tend to, but the cow to milk, pig to slop and chickens to feed.
The weight of each concern grew heavier.
New seedlings were just poking their heads up through the rough soil. Had she planted too early? The freezing rain may have damaged them. Then their cow was drying up. Could they hold out until their other one calved? The pig was getting so big, he would have to be slaughtered soon. But which neighbor could she call on to help?
Staples were running low as well as their smoked pork and venison. She pushed aside the unpleasant thoughts of shooting, then gutting a deer. How could she process all the meat by herself? Toby, of course, would be a great help, but the two of them didn’t have time to do everything.
She wouldn’t even begin to consider the bigger needs of the ranch—the calves that had yet to be branded and castrated, the fences that needed mending and a host of other chores. After Chuck and Midge had disappeared, she reconciled herself to selling out while she could. Though she hated the thought of taking Toby away from his home, he would eventually adjust to city life. At least he would no longer be lonely.
Appetite gone, Lenora rose and scraped the remainder of her stew into the slop bowl. Her shoulders hunched as she sighed. “You can take this to Blister in