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“Yes. Mr. Willis is at the smithy’s. One of the team threw a shoe on the way here,” Lorna explained why Woolie wasn’t with her now. She turned to the two boys, busily sucking on their candy. “Come on, boys. Let’s go outside to the wagon.”
In addition to the general store and saloon, the town of Blue Moon boasted a blacksmith’s and wheelwright’s shop, too, and two cabins to house the Fitzsimmons family and the smithy—a man named Dan Long. Traffic had worn away the grass in front of the two businesses, exposing the hard earth and creating a short street of sorts. Three sets of rutted tracks fanned out from it and disappeared over the rolling plains.
Their wagon stood outside, with only one horse standing in the traces. A blacksmith’s hammer sounded out rhythmically in the summer afternoon.
“If you would put the box in the wagon, Mr. Fitzsimmons,” Lorna requested, “I’ll let Mr. Willis know that we can leave whenever he’s ready.”
“Of course, Mrs. Calder,” he agreed.
While he puffed his way to the back of the wagon, Lorna took Arthur by the hand to walk to the blacksmith’s shop. Webb skipped a few paces ahead of her, then stopped abruptly to point.
“Look at that wagon, Mommy!”
“It’s a carriage, not a wagon,” she corrected, seeing it almost at the same moment her son did. It was a fancy carriage, too, all enclosed and brightly painted. She had not seen anything remotely like it since leaving Texas. It more than piqued her curiosity.
“What’s a carriage?” Webb frowned.
She laughed at his question. “You’re looking at one.”
“Oh,” he said, and ran ahead for a closer look.
It gave Lorna an excellent excuse to satisfy her curiosity and venture nearer after Webb instead of going directly to find Woolie Willis. A pair of matched sorrels with flaxen mane and tail were in the corral adjoining the smithy’s shop. They had to be the team that pulled the exquisitely built carriage. Lorna had a glimpse of seats covered with red leather, but Webb was trying to climb inside to see what it was like.
“You mustn’t climb on other people’s property,” she admonished, and dragged him from the step-up.
“But I wanta see inside,” he protested.
She heard footsteps coming around the carriage and saw a pair of booted feet before the man walked out from behind the vehicle. Her eyes widened in surprise, because she had expected it to be the owner of the carriage. Instead it was Bull Giles.
“Mr. Giles.” She smiled widely in recognition. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Lorna.” He took off his hat and held it in front of him. He seemed to stare at her for the longest time.
She was a little shaken by the raw yearning in his eyes and the liberty he had taken by using her given name. She tried to cover the sudden awkwardness she felt. “Did you just arrive from Texas with another herd?”
Bull Giles seemed to straighten a little, and the look went away. “No. As a matter of fact, I didn’t leave last fall.”
“You didn’t? I hadn’t seen you in some time, so I just supposed …” She was at a loss for something to say.
“I saw your husband here last fall. Didn’t he mention it to you?” He knew the answer even as he asked the question.
“He must have forgotten,” Lorna weakly tried to defend Benteen.
“I’m sure he did,” Bull Giles agreed dryly.
“I guess you’ve been working on one of the ranches,” she realized. “For the Ten Bar again?”
“In a way. They hired me to spend the winter hunting wolves. Your husband knew that, too,” he added deliberately, to let her know that Benteen had been well acquainted with his activities.
“I see,” Lorna murmured. In the initial surprise of seeing Bull Giles again, she had let go of Webb’s arm. His interest in the big man had quickly waned and he was back at the carriage, scrambling to climb inside. “Webb, come away from there.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Calder. He can’t do any harm,” Bull said.
“The owner might not think so.” She caught hold of Webb’s arm again and pulled him down. Little Arthur started crying because he dropped his candy on the ground.
Crouching down, Bull Giles picked up the stick of candy and brushed the worst of the dirt from it, then offered it to the boy. When Lorna started to protest, he glanced at her and smiled. “A little dirt won’t hurt him.”
“Okay,” she gave in. When she let go of Arthur’s hand, he toddled unabashedly over to the muscled stranger. Once he had the stick of candy back in his mouth, Arthur stayed there to study him.
