Page 77 of Mail-Order Lady

Nathan paused at the top of the steps. “Been resting for days. Need to move.” He gestured vaguely toward the outhouse. “Won’t be long.”

Robert nodded.

As he descended the steps, Nathan’s legs held steady beneath him. More so than they had earlier in the afternoon. He crossed the yard at an even pace, his form solid in the moonlight until the shadows at the side of the house swallowed him.

Clara shifted in her chair. “He seems stronger.”

“He does.” Though that didn’t mean he was ready for a battle if Enoch and James ran into trouble in town. Or if Mr. Sutton returned with armed men.

Minutes passed in silence. Clara sat so still beside him, she might have been asleep if not for the way her hands kept shifting in her lap. Folding. Unfolding. Gripping together.

If only he could reach over and place his hand over hers. Ease whatever worry kept her fingers moving like that.

But he had to keep hold of his rifle. Stay ready.

Maybe words would distract her. “How’s Kate feeling tonight?”

Clara’s hands loosened in her lap. “She seemed tired from being up so much today. She and Thomas went to bed early—he’s going to relieve you on watch in a few hours.” She stayed quiet a moment. “I think she might be improving. A little at a time.”

Nathan reappeared from the shadows near the outhouse, his stride a little slower now. The effort of walking this far must be catching up to him. He made it halfway to the steps before he stopped.

His head turned toward the trees on the western edge of the property. His posture shifted—not quite alarm, but attention.

Robert’s pulse kicked up. He sat forward in his chair, every muscle tightening. “What is it?” There was still so much he didn’t know about Nathan, but the man seemed to have a sense when things weren’t right.

Nathan didn’t answer right away. Just kept staring toward those trees, his head tilted like he was listening. “You have hot springs in the area?”

Not what he’d been expecting. “What?”

“Hot springs. Sulphur springs. Anything like that nearby?”

Robert shook his head. “Nothing like that for miles.” And why would it matter?

“I smell sulphur.”

Clara leaned forward. “Are you certain? What would it mean?”

Nathan nodded. “Grew up around it on ships. Gun smoke. Powder stores. I know the smell.”

Gun smoke.

The thought slammed through Robert’s chest. He pushed to his feet, rifle gripped tight. “Where?”

“Back that way.” Nathan gestured toward the western tree line. “Out there. Can’t be far.”

Gun smoke meant someone had fired recently. But he’d heard no shots. Not all day.

He scanned the trees, but the darkness held too many shadows. Too many places a man could hide. “Clara, get inside. Wake Thomas.”

She stood, but didn’t move toward the door. “What about you?”

“I need to see what’s out there.” Should he wait for Thomas? If someone was in those trees, waiting, planning—they had to know. But it would help to have someone cover him.

Nathan gripped the post. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’re barely recovered.” Maybe he was being harsh, but Nathan had been bedridden for five days. Walking to the outhouse was one thing. Walking into potential danger was another. The last thing Robert needed was to worry over him too.

“If you have a rifle, I can handle it.”