Courting Will (Escape To The West Book 8)

by Nerys Leigh

  Escape to the West

  Book 8

  Courting

  Will

  Nerys Leigh

  ESCAPE TO THE WEST BOOK 8:

  COURTING WILL

  Copyright: Nerys Leigh

  Published: 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted, without written permission from the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  Scripture quotations marked (NIV) are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  All other Bible quotations are from the Revised Version (RV).

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  Prologue

  May, 1870.

  Daisy’s slumbering brain slowly clawed its way to consciousness. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness of her bedroom, wondering what had woken her.

  Then it happened again. Someone was knocking on the front door.

  Groaning softly, she rolled onto her back. Why was someone at her door at whatever time it was, but which was clearly too early because it was still dark?

  The knocking paused and then started again.

  “This had better be a life or death situation,” she muttered, hauling herself from her warm bed and grabbing her robe from the hook on the back of the door.

  Not wanting the light from a lamp to wake Nicky, she felt her way across the landing in the dark. She listened to her son’s slow, steady breathing as she paused at his bedroom door. At least he was still asleep. Like she should be.

  She quietly pulled his door closed and padded down the stairs. At the bottom, she pulled back the curtain on the window beside the front door and peered out into the night. At first she couldn’t see anything, but then a silhouetted figure moved into view. It raised its hand and knocked again, the sound startlingly loud now she was right next to it.

  She reached out to feel for the rifle she kept in the corner beside the door. Something about the tall figure seemed familiar, but she wasn’t taking any chances with just her and her three-year-old son in the house.

  And then a cloud moved from in front of the half moon, revealing enough light to identify the person at her door.

  Her eyes widened and she released the rifle. “Will?”

  She unlocked the door and pulled it open, flinching back when he almost knocked on her nose.

  Lowering his fist, he broke into a grin, his teeth white against his shadowed face. “Hi, Daisy.”

  She waved away a puff of alcohol-laced breath. “Will, what are you doing here at this time of night?”

  His smile faded and he lowered his eyes to his feet. “I kind of need your help.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, not looking at her. “I don’t want to go back home like this.”

  Sighing, she stepped back. She couldn’t refuse. Will Raine was her friend, and a good, kind man, even when he was blind drunk. “Come in, then. But keep your voice down. I don’t want Nicky to wake.”

  He raised his face and smiled again, his exaggerated whisper barely softer than his normal speaking voice. “I’ll be very quiet.”

  He walked in and she locked the door and took his arm to guide him into the living room. Once there, she shut the door. She wanted as many physical barriers between them and her son as possible. Three-year-olds were not easy to get back to sleep once disturbed, she had learned to her dismay.

  “Sit,” she ordered, pointing at the settee. She lit a lamp and set it on the sideboard. “Now, why do you…” Turning back to him, she gasped in a shocked breath. “What happened?”

  She took a seat beside him and gently touched her fingertips to his battered face. Bruises marred his left cheek and the right side of his jaw, and his right eye was swollen.

  One corner of his mouth hitched up, causing a cut on his upper lip to ooze a small bubble of fresh blood. “You should see the other guy.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Should I?”

  His smile became a wince. “Actually, he probably looks a lot better than I do. I’m a little drunk.”

  “You don’t say.” She rose from the settee.

  “It’s hard to aim a punch properly when you’re drunk,” he said. “It’s also hard to duck them.”

  “I can see that. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  She went to the kitchen to fetch clean cloths, water, and iodine. When she returned, Will was resting into the corner of the settee, his eyes closed. He started when she sat and touched his arm.

  “I’m tired,” he said, yawning and then grimacing when the movement stretched his wounds. “Ouch.”

  “Hold still. This is going to hurt.”

  “It already hurts.”

  She set to work cleaning the blood from his face and applying iodine to the open wounds. When she’d finished, she started on his knuckles. It may have been hard to land a punch while drunk, but apparently he’d managed a few.

  Will leaned back again, relaxing into the cushions as she worked.

  “You’re pretty,” he said as his eyelids drooped.

  She paused for a moment before resuming her ministrations.

  “I’ve always thought that,” he went on, “right from when we were kids. I would have told you too, if you hadn’t been two years older than me and in love with Adam. You were the prettiest girl in town.” His eyes drifted closed, his voice slurring as he drifted into sleep. “Still are...”

  She rested his hand on his thigh and sat back to watch his face, marred by bruises but no less handsome for it. He was a good man but made very bad choices.

  “Oh, Will,” she whispered, “what am I going to do with you?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Will awoke to the feel of something tickling his right hand.

  His sluggish, still semi-inebriated brain dragged its way slowly to consciousness. When it was finally there, it still took him several long seconds before he could open his eyes. Or rather, one eye. The other throbbed and didn’t seem to want to crack apart more than a sliver.

  He swiveled his one available eye around the room. It wasn’t the bunkhouse where he lived at his brother’s farm, but it was nevertheless very familiar.

  He moved his eye to his right hand where a small child was rubbing a feather back and forth across his palm. “Nicky, what are you doing?”

  The little boy looked up and grinned. “Ma said I could wake you up. I wanted to see if a feather would work.”

  “Well, I appear to be awake, so I guess it worked.”

  “You snore real loud.”

  Will snorted a laugh then winced at the pain it set off in his face. His brother often told him the same thing, although Daniel did add it was only after he’d been drinking. “You aren’t the first person to tell me that. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

  “You didn’t wake me up, Ma did.”

  Will sat up, stifling a groan at his stiff back. Sleeping in an awkward position wasn’t good for him. Not that it was the first time.

  Nicky gave up with the feather and climbed onto the settee beside
him, staring at him with a slight frown. “Does your face hurt?”

  “Little bit.” It was actually more than a little bit, but he didn’t want to worry the boy.

  “Ma said you got into a fight when you should have known better.”

  That sounded like Daisy. She never had been one to sugar-coat things.

  “Your ma’s right. Getting into fights is stupid.” Even if this one wasn’t his fault. Well, mostly not his fault, since if he hadn’t been at the saloon, it wouldn’t have happened.

  “She said that too.”

  Will suppressed another snort of laughter. “She’s a smart woman, your ma.”

  “Yes, she is,” Daisy replied, walking into the living room.

  He tried not to stare, but she was wearing the cornflower-blue dress that matched her eyes, her almost-black tresses pinned into a loose chignon with wisps of hair framing her face. There’d been so many times over the years when he’d thought of telling her how beautiful he thought her, but somehow the timing was never right. And certainly not now, only four months after the death of her husband. Gareth had been Will’s friend.

  “How are you feeling?” she said, sitting on the other side of Nicky and studying Will’s face. “The wounds look clean, but maybe you should go see Doc Wilson to make sure nothing’s broken.”

  He prodded carefully at his skin, feeling for any telltale signs he’d fractured something on the other man’s fist. “It just feels bruised. I’ll be all right.” Lowering his hand, he released a deep sigh. “Thanks for taking care of me. I’m sorry you had to.”

  “That’s what friends are for. Just stop getting into fights, because fights are stupid.” She wrapped her arms around her son from behind and kissed the top of his head. “Right, Nicky?”

  Nicky nodded emphatically. “Right.”

  Will chuckled and immediately regretted it. “Please don’t make me laugh.”

  Daisy smiled. “You want to stay for breakfast?”

  “What’s the time?”

  “A little after nine.”

  He rubbed his hand across his forehead, the only part of him not hurting. He did want to stay, but he had work to do. And he also felt a bit queasy from the previous night’s drinking.

  “I’d love to, but I need to get home. I don’t want Dan and Sara to worry about me.” He pushed to his feet, again wincing at his aching back, and ruffled Nicky’s dark hair. “Thanks for waking me up, kid. Remember, fighting is...”

  “Stupid,” Nicky finished for him, grinning.

  “Yeah.” The last thing Will wanted was for Nicky to grow into a man like him.

  Leaving her son on the settee, Daisy followed Will out into the hallway.

  “I’d better go out the back,” he said, heading into the kitchen. “I don’t want anyone to see me and think… you know.”

  They stopped at the back door.

  “Thank you,” he said again. “I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

  She gazed up at him sadly. “You’re better than this, Will.”

  “That’s what Dan says.” But neither Daisy nor his brother was right. He wished they were. On impulse, he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll come over tomorrow to finish that porch repair.”

  For a moment she looked as though she was going to say something, but she simply gave him a wistful smile.

  He was used to people being disappointed in him. He’d been on the wrong path for a long time. But it still hurt a little.

  She opened the door for him and he made his way across the leafy back yard, stopping at the gate to wave to her where she stood watching him. She raised her hand in response and then disappeared back into the house, and he exited the yard into the narrow alleyway behind.

  He circled around to the road further along, heading for Green Hill Creek’s main street and George Parson’s livery, where he’d left Ginger. He always left his horse there when he came into town to the saloon, so he knew she’d be taken care of if he didn’t make it home.

  “Will!”

  He turned at the sound of his name being called to see Marshal Cade riding towards him.

  Will waited for him to reach him, shielding his eyes with one hand against the sun. “Morning, Marshal.”

  Mercifully, the marshal didn’t comment on Will’s face. “Have you been home since last night?”

  Something in his tone scared Will. “No. Why?”

  “There was a fire at your place.”

  Will dropped his hand, his gut jolting.

  “Dan and Sara are fine,” Marshal Cade said quickly, “but the barn’s close to gone. Pretty sure someone started the fire intentionally. You should get home and...”

  Not waiting to hear any more, Will took off at a run for the livery.

  What had he done?

  Chapter 1

  Twelve months later.

  Will Raine raced across the yard, waving his arms. “Hey, stop!”

  He skidded to a halt in front of his sister-in-law.

  Sara snatched the bucket away as he tried to grab it. “I’m going to milk Pea.”

  “I can do that. You should be res...”

  “So help me, if you or Daniel tell me one more time to rest, I’ll... I’ll... sit on you!”

  He tried to stop his chuckle, but a ha escaped his lips before he could clamp them together.

  She glared at him. “Stop laughing.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, but you really should let me milk Peapod.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of milking her. Stop treating me like an invalid.”

  “I’m not treating you like an invalid, I’m treating you like a woman who is on the verge of giving birth to my new niece or nephew.” He held his hand out for the bucket. “Please? Dan will have my hide if I let you do it.”

  “Pea hates you,” she pointed out.

  She wasn’t wrong. He still had no idea why their cow loved Sara but hated him.

  “I think she’s beginning to warm to me. This morning she only tried to kick me once, and her attempt to butt me was half-hearted at best.”

  Sara’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile. Sighing, she handed him the bucket. “The sooner this baby makes his appearance, the better.” She rested her hands onto her extended stomach and immediately grimaced. “He’s been so active the last two days. It’s making me crazy.”

  He laid his free hand onto her stomach, smiling when he felt a kick swiftly followed by another.

  He couldn’t wait to become an uncle again. He already had a niece and two nephews from his eldest brother, James, but this would be Daniel and Sara’s first child. It was a year since Sara arrived from New York as a mail order bride, and having been there for the traumatic start to his brother’s marriage, and living on the farm with them, Will almost felt as if he was waiting for the birth of his own child. Or as close as he’d ever get to having one.

  “He’s going to be a handful once he learns to walk,” he said.

  “Then it’s a good thing I’ll have you and Daniel here to help me.” She gave him a sly smile. “Unless you’re living in town by then, married to Daisy, which I would be completely fine with.”

  He heaved an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. Sara had been trying to get him and Daisy together for months. “That’s not going to happen. Let it go.”

  “Never!”

  Chuckling, he left Sara and headed across the yard to the field where Peapod was grazing with Sara’s horse, Rosie. Bess got up from where she lay on the porch at the back of the house and trotted down the stairs to follow him, wagging her tail.

  He left the bucket in the new barn so Rosie wouldn’t be attracted by it and took Pea’s halter from the hook on the wall. It was hard enough getting Pea to go with him, without having a curious horse trying to get out too.

  “Pea!” he called as he walked up to the fence enclosing the field. “Come on, you grumpy bovine. Time to get emptied.”

  Peapod raised her golden-brown head and stared at him. He
heaved a long-suffering sigh. He milked her just about every day, sometimes twice, and yet still they went through this each and every time.

  “Come on,” he called again. “You know you need to be milked. Let’s just get it over with so we can get back to ignoring each other.”

  She continued to regard him impassively, apparently weighing up her desire to empty her heavy udder against her abject and completely unwarranted hatred of him.

  Next to Will, Bess stood up on her hind legs and hooked her front paws over the middle bar of the fence. He ruffled the black fur on her head and she closed her eyes, her tongue lolling out.

  “How about you give it a try?” he said. “Pea likes you.”

  Pea liked everyone except for him. Well, she didn’t like Dan either, but she hated him less than she hated Will.

  Bess gave two barks in Pea’s direction and the cow finally plodded over to them.

  “Thanks, Bess,” Will said, giving her neck a final scratch, to her delight.

  Her ears suddenly perked up and she dropped down to all four paws to run in the direction of the track that led from the yard to the rest of the farm. It was then that Will heard the creak of wagon wheels. A few seconds later, River and Ginger came into view.

  Bess circled around the wagon and jumped up into the back while it was still moving. She made her way forward to the seat and climbed up to sit beside Daniel. Dan rubbed her back.

  Usually, Bess went with Dan and Will whenever they were working, but for the past month she’d refused to leave Sara. It seemed the dog could sense she was nearing her time to give birth and felt her mistress needed the extra protection. She was so insistent on always being with Sara that they’d even had to start taking her to church on Sundays, and of course Bess loved all the attention she got there. Not to mention the cookies Mrs. Goodwin always brought for her now. Will suspected Bess would be going with them every Sunday from now on, even after the baby was born.