“Have you ever had a similar dream?”
“Nae. Not ever have I dreamed of something so dreadful.”
“What about when your family traveled by sea from Scotland? Quinn told me how harrowing it was when storms came through.”
“Aye, but I was much younger. Ma and Da made it seem like a wonderful adventure. Brodie, Colin, Quinn, and some of the others were old enough to understand the dangers, but I don’t recall being scared.” Jinny closed her eyes, trying to remember what she dreamed about during the journey from Scotland and the wagon train from Pennsylvania to Conviction. “Tonight’s dream wasn’t like any of the others.”
Hearing the distress in Jinny’s voice, Emma reached over to touch her arm. “It may have to do with what happened at Maloney’s store. That scared all of us.”
Jinny hadn’t thought about the brutal men who’d threatened them. “Do you dream about it?”
“No, but I do think about it during the day and when I’m trying to fall asleep. I’m fortunate to have Quinn. When he wraps his arms around me, I’m asleep within minutes.”
“Aye, you are a lucky woman, Emma.” Jinny loved the fact her cousin fell in love with her good friend, and hoped to find a love like that for herself someday. “And I’m lucky you and Quinn stayed here tonight.”
“According to Quinn, we’ll be here at least one more night while the men patch the hole in the roof.”
Jinny laughed. “Hopefully, I’ll not have another dream and you’ll not have to come in to check on me.”
“I don’t mind.” Emma didn’t move from her place on the bed as she considered what had been on her mind. “You know, I think Deke Arrington is sweet on you.”
Jinny had been thinking of him, knowing if she gave Deke any encouragement, he’d ask to court her. “I like him. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off as she worked to come up with a reason not to encourage him.
“He seems so nice. Did you know he used to work on a ranch before coming here to join his uncle at the saddlery?”
Jinny’s eyes widened. “Nae, he never mentioned it.”
“He spoke to Brodie and Quinn about it.” Emma’s eyes sparkled, her lips turning up at the corners. “They told him to come work for us if he ever grew tired of working for his uncle.” Standing, she walked to the door, drawing it open. “I’d better get back in bed before Quinn misses me.”
“Thanks, Emma. I’m glad you came to check on me.”
“You’re my friend. I’ll always worry about you.”
Watching the door close, Jinny thought of what Emma had said. Besides the fact he was handsome and smart, Deke made her laugh, and had taken the time to look in on her after what happened at Maloney’s.
Since she’d met Sam, no other man had drawn her interest. Then he’d left and she’d received no word from him. Neither had Brodie. As much as it pained Jinny to forget her dream of believing a life with Sam was possible, she had to face reality. If he still held any interest in her, he’d have written or sent a telegram. It seemed to be obvious to everyone except Jinny—Sam had forgotten all about her.
Lying down, she pulled the covers under her chin, letting out a shaky breath. She’d hidden away in a make-believe world long enough. It was time to grow up and give up the daydreams of an impressionable girl—including her love for Sam.
Chapter Nine
“Good morning, Miss MacLaren.” Deke set down the tool he’d been using to work on a saddle as he stood, a broad smile transforming his features from attractive to stunningly handsome. “Are you here to look at your saddle?”
It had been almost a week since the frightening dream, and each day she’d thought of the conversation with Emma, which led her to think of Deke. Not wanting to appear too forward, she’d held back from riding into town, until this morning when Quinn asked about her new saddle. It gave Jinny the excuse she needed.
“Aye. I mean, if you have the time.”
“I’d be pleased to make the time for you, Miss MacLaren.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he nodded toward a corner. “It’s over there.”
Jinny followed, unable to pull her gaze from the wall behind the counter. She’d never noticed the broad range of leather goods hand-tooled by Rube, and now Deke. Covered with harnesses, bridles, pistol belts, holsters, cuffs, cartridge belts, and quirts, she stopped for a moment to admire the work.
“Miss MacLaren?”
“Aye?” She stepped around the counter, running her hand over a beautiful holster. “I’ve not seen one like this before.”
“I’ve made three. It’s a tip-up holster. The gun does not have to be drawn to shoot. The owner tips up the holster and fires.”
Jinny’s lips parted, her eyes widening. “Who would need such a holster?”
Chuckling, he stepped next to her. “I didn’t ask, but the man who bought the first one had a reputation as a hired gun.”
Her brows lifted. “And the second one you made?”
“A rancher. He’d been threatened and wanted extra protection.” Deke tilted his head toward her. “From what I heard, he killed two men trying to sneak up on him at night. Of course, it could be a myth. As you may know, there are many stories told over campfires.”
Jinny nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Aye, and many stories told by MacLaren lads when they’ve had too much of the whiskey.”
Deke tilted his head back, a deep, full-throated laugh bursting from his chest. The action so surprised Jinny, she found herself laughing along with him. It felt good to let go, to forget the troubles she’d been harboring and enjoy herself. A few moments later, each calmed down, smiles on their faces.
“Well, Miss MacLaren. Are you ready to see your saddle now?”
“Aye, Mr. Arrington. I am.” Walking behind him, Jinny admired his tall stature, broad shoulders, and confident stride. If she could only feel for Deke what she had the first time she’d met Sam.
The attraction had been instantaneous, catching her by surprise. The same tightness in her chest and catch in her throat happened each time she saw Sam. That was when she knew, without a doubt, she loved him.
As wonderful as their last moments together had been, he’d walked away and never looked back. Each day had been a struggle, ending when she forced herself to face the truth. Sam hadn’t loved her. Not the way she loved him.
Jinny hadn’t realized the depth of her mental ramblings until she smacked into Deke’s back.
“Ach, I’m so sorry.” She could feel her face heat when he shifted around, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her.
Amusement shown in his eyes as he leaned down. “Are you all right?”
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded. “Aye.” Clearing her throat, she glanced around him. “Is that my saddle?” Her voice came out as a breathless whisper.
Deke stood aside, allowing her to step next to it. “It is. What do you think?”
Her hand rested on the horn, then stroked the seat, moving up the cantle and over the skirt, her fingers lightly caressing the tool work of the fender. She turned to face him, moisture glistening in her eyes.
“It’s magnificent. I’ve not seen anything so bonny, Deke.”
His breath caught, hearing his name coming from her lips. Ignoring the lump in his throat, Deke nodded. “Thank you. I hoped you would like it.”
She found the humble tone in his voice endearing. “I love it. Is it finished?”
“There are still a few details to complete. It will be finished by the end of the week. Would it be all right if I brought it to the ranch on Saturday? Perhaps you’d let me accompany you the first time you use it.”
Jinny felt an unexpected wave of uncertainty at the offer. In her heart, she knew what Deke asked. If she agreed, it would send them on a path she wasn’t ready to explore. As much as her mind told her to forget Sam and go on with her life, her heart hadn’t had time to accept the message.
Once again running her hand over the leather, she sighed. Declining the offer
would be unkind, and she had no desire to cause Deke discomfort. Steeling herself, her gaze locked with his.
“Aye. It would be grand to have you along the first time I use it.”
A grin tipped up the corners of his mouth. “Then it’s settled. I’ll arrive mid-morning.”
Dropping her hand from the saddle, she stepped around him. “Thank you, Mr. Arrington. I’ll be looking forward to Saturday.”
“Me, too, Miss MacLaren.”
Greytown
Sam tossed off the covers, cursing the pain shooting through his shoulder, chest, and back. He would no longer stay another day in the bed or in the hospital, despite warnings from the doctors and nurse who’d been tending him for over a week.
“Mr. Covington. What do you think you’re doing?”
His nostrils flared at the voice he’d come to love and loathe since the accident. Gentle and kind one moment, tough and unbending the next, she’d watched over him with the tenacity of a hawk after its prey.
“I’m leaving. It’s been days and no one has heard news on my son or parents. I can no longer wait, hoping they’re safe. It’s time I learned their fate.” His injuries were minor compared to the stress and worry over his family. Wincing at the pain as he slid from the bed, he held out a hand, steadying himself against it.
She dashed over to put an arm around his waist. “You’re not healed enough to leave. The doctor says it will be several more days.”
He looked down at her for an instant, getting caught in the glow of her soft gray eyes. If another woman didn’t own his heart, he might find the young nurse attractive. Instead, he saw her as an impediment, a person who stood in the way of finding Robbie and his parents. Straightening as best as he could, Sam glared at her.
“You and the doctor have done all you can for me. Please, I’d be grateful if you would bring me my clothes.”
“Your clothes?” She sucked in a breath, her gaze darting around the room. “They were ruined. I’m afraid they were tossed out days ago.”
Closing his eyes, a muscle in his jaw ticked. “My personal things. Did you save them?”
“I believe so. They should be locked in a room near the front. What will you do for clothes?”
“If I have to walk outside stark naked, I will. I’ll not wait one more hour to search for my son.”
Resigned, the nurse nodded. “In that case, we may have some extra clothes in the same room. If you’ll sit down, I’ll take a quick look.” She didn’t stop to check on any other patients as she hurried to the front.
Doing as she asked, Sam rested his hip against the bed, unwilling to do more. If she didn’t return within five minutes, he’d do what he threatened and leave. He knew the hospital staff had done what they could to learn about survivors, but so far, their efforts had turned up nothing.
“Here you are.” Rushing up to him, she set the clothes on the bed. “I don’t know how well they’ll fit, but they should be close, at least until you can buy new ones.” She set a leather pouch next to the clothes. “There’s money and a few other personal items in there. If you need a place to stay…” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry any further about me. I’ll find a place to stay, even if it’s under the docks.” Pushing up, he grabbed the pants, allowing her to assist him with them, the shirt, and coat. She was right. They didn’t fit properly, but he preferred them being too big rather than too small.
“The boots may be a little awkward.” She held them up, stifling a giggle at the large size.
“It won’t matter. I’ll stuff rocks in them if I have to.” He shoved a foot into one boot.
“Wait here a moment.”
He almost laughed. Where would he go with one boot on and the other held tight in her hand? Moving to a row of cabinets, she pulled out a stack of clean cloths.
“Here we are.” Taking the boot in her hand, she stuffed a couple rags inside, then handed it to him. “Do those help?”
Slipping it on, he nodded. “Yes, thank you.” After doing the same with the other boot, he stood, stuffing the pouch into a pocket. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
She shook her head. “There’s no need. This is my job. I’m glad you’re one of the ones who can walk out. Well, best of luck to you, Mr. Covington.”
Glancing around, he tilted his head. “Who runs this hospital? Everyone speaks perfect English.”
She smiled. “It’s because we’re all from America. The hospital is owned by a consortium of shipping companies. I’ll be here another year, then plan to return home.”
“And where is that?”
“Baltimore, Mr. Covington.”
“I’m sorry, sir. What did you say your name was?” The older woman, obviously overworked and harried, brushed graying hair away from her face, her gaze darting to him, then behind her to those crowded into the school. It had been converted into temporary living quarters where survivors of the wreck could stay until learning the fate of loved ones.
He repeated the story for the second time. “Samuel Covington. I’ve been in the hospital, recovering from my injuries. I lost contact with my son, father, and mother during the steamship collision.”
She glanced down at the list in front of her. “Their names?”
Repeating them, he tried to peer around her and into the room housing close to a hundred people. “Robbie is only four.” Sam didn’t know why he felt the need to emphasize the fact, other than to underscore his worry.
Shaking her head, she looked up. “I’m sorry, but they’re not on my list.” Her face clouded, shoulders slumping. “There’s a temporary morgue at the end of town.”
Sam’s heart squeezed. He refused to let himself accept the possibility they hadn’t survived.
“I wish there was more I could do, Mr. Covington. It was a terrible tragedy...” Her voice faded as he turned away.
He couldn’t respond, couldn’t draw a full breath. His hands fisting at his sides, he took a few tentative steps away.
“Mr. Covington?” The woman came up beside him, placing a hand on his arm. “I should’ve thought of this sooner. A church next to the hospital is housing a few children who were separated from family members. Perhaps your son is there.”
A sliver of hope took hold as he hurried to the door. Grabbing the knob, he looked back. “Thank you.”
The wind gusted, kicking up clouds of dust as he hurried toward the hospital. When he walked outside an hour ago, he hadn’t noticed a church, determined to get to the school where he heard survivors were housed. Approaching the one-story hospital, he stopped, turning in a circle, letting out a frustrated breath when he didn’t see a church. Continuing, he stopped again, hearing the sound of children’s laughter. Tiring, he stumbled toward a crumbling building and leaned against an old wooden post. Sucking in a breath, he placed a hand against his aching shoulder. He knew if he walked back into the hospital, the nurse would give him laudanum. Until Sam found his family, he needed his mind clear. The drug would take that, along with the ability to walk, away. Whiskey, however, could help dull the pain. Unfortunately, there would be no time for liquor until he learned the fate of his loved ones.
Again, the sound of young laughter poured onto the street. The children were close, which meant the church had to be nearby.
Pushing away from the post, he staggered into the street, looking around. His gaze locked on a small structure. Moving closer, he could just make out a cross carved into the front door. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he walked up and knocked. It took several attempts before the door opened, an elderly man, stooped with gnarled hands, raising his glassy eyes to meet Sam’s.
“I’m looking for my son. He was a passenger on the SS Lincoln. I heard…” The sound of laughter drew his gaze toward the back.
“Come.” The old man motioned behind him.
Sam’s breath came in ragged gulps as he walked through the darkened room. Benches took up most of the space. An alter at one end held what appeared to be a hand-carve
d cross similar to the one he saw in the door. On both sides, candles burned, providing a warm glow.
Following a stream of sunlight coming from the back, he stepped into a primitive kitchen, nodding at an older woman standing over a wood fire. He pointed to the back yard, receiving a nod before she turned her attention back to her chores.
The sun shining, children ran about, unmindful of Sam’s presence. His gaze darted around, searching, praying Robbie would be among them.
“Yes?”
He didn’t even see the woman walk up. Taller than some of the locals he’d seen, she had long dark hair clasped at the nape of her neck, a wary expression on her face.
“My name is Samuel Covington. I’m looking for my son, Robbie. He’s four, and…”
His voice broke, his balance faltering. Before he could take a step, the woman put an arm around his waist, guiding him to a bench several feet away. When she started to walk away, he grabbed her arm.
“Wait.”
Shaking her head, she pulled free, taking several purposeful steps to the corner of the church, then disappearing. Disappointment and a sense of deep failure shook him. He glanced around once more, his heart sinking when he saw no sign of Robbie. Bracing his hands on the bench, he pushed up, falling back at the sound of a startled shout.
“Papa!” Rushing from around the building, Robbie ran to him, his arms outstretched, tears streaking down his face. “Papa…” His deep sobs were muffled in Sam’s chest as Robbie’s small hands tightened on his father’s shirt.
“I’m here, son.” Stroking Robbie’s head, Sam didn’t try to stop his own tears. “You’re safe now, Robbie. I have you.” Settling Robbie on his lap, Sam wrapped his arms around him, rocking back and forth, thanking God for this miracle.
They sat there a long time before Sam loosened his hold, scrubbing a hand down his face.
“Where were you, Papa?”
Sam’s body shuddered as he took a deep breath, wanting to say the right words, not knowing what they were. “I was hurt. They put me in the hospital, but I’m better now.”
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