Chasing Fireflies: Book Five (Jacob's Daughter, an Amish, Christian Romance)
Page 10
When the cabin came into view, he began hollering for the doc, his mouth filling with dust. His eyes were dry and his lashes were coated with the same clay dust that nearly covered his Ma’s body. Just when he thought he couldn’t pull her another foot, the doc was at his side. The older man flung his Ma over his shoulder like a sack of feed and took her into his cabin.
Logan ran to get his Pa, leaving his Ma with the doc. When he found his Pa in the barn, he told him the story in between coughs. He’d never forget the look in his Pa’s eyes when he pulled the horse whip from the tack room and tanned his hide before riding off toward the doc’s cabin. Logan ignored the pain of his backside as he flung himself bareback over one of the geldings and rode the reluctant horse through the calming storm. When he arrived at the doc’s cabin, his Pa refused to let him see his Ma.
She died two hours later.
****
Clayton Fisher hadn’t spoken one word to his son since his wife’s death. After her burial, Clayton took his son and all of his belongings to the train station and boarded him for Texas. He’d wired ahead to his sister Mirabelle and her husband, William, who would be waiting at the other side for Logan. Over the years, his Pa sent word of his whereabouts and always included several paper notes to cover the cost of his room and board. But there was never a personal word from father to son. Logan became bitter until his aunt and uncle slowly broke through the rigid barrier with scripture and regular church-going.
His aunt and uncle had become like parents to him. Logan had tried to help his uncle keep their small cattle ranch from falling on hard times, but it was a failing ranch when he’d arrived. Though they were unable to turn a profit after the first year he’d began boarding with them, they were able to keep food on the table with the few head of cattle they managed.
When Logan turned seventeen, the fever claimed his Aunt Belle and Uncle Will. After laying them to rest, he joined a band of cowboys who made their living as bounty hunters. He roamed the countryside with the posse tracking wanted men for a profit. He grew up on the open range, though he’d become a man at the age of twelve the day his Ma died.
*************************
CHAPTER TWO
*************************
After fetching his horse, Buckeye, from the ventilated stock cars at the rear of the train, Logan pointed the already tired horse toward Tombstone, and settled in for the long ride to the mining town where his Pa waited for him. First stop in town would be the livery to board his horse for at least a day, since the gelding would be tired from the long train ride and travel on foot to Tombstone.
The terrain was tough, with an abundance of deep ruts from wagon wheels jutting along the stretch of open land that isolated the mining town from the rest of civilization.
As the town came into view, Logan could see that it was bustling with activity. Even at a distance he could hear the noises of the busy town. He steered Buckeye down the main stretch of Allen Street, noting the shops and businesses, restaurants, and over-abundance of saloons. The boardwalk was filled with people of several races; miners, prospectors and wealthy town-folk mingled along the rowdy street going about their business as though they were in a hurry.
Logan hopped off of Buckeye in front of the OK Corral Feed & Livery Stable, and led the horse to a watering trough before entering the livery. The sign boasted ownership established by John Montgomery in 1881, and offered a number of services for horses and other livestock.
A tall, burly man greeted him with a handshake.
“What can I do for ya?”
“I could use a fresh horse, and board for mine for at least a day so he can rest from the long trip from Texas.”
The livery owner accepted the silver pieces from Logan without question. But after signing his name in the ledger, the burly man gave him a once-over and tipped his hat respectfully.
“You here to see the Marshall?”
Logan nodded, hoping to avoid revealing his business to the stranger.
“You must be Clayton’s boy. You look like him.”
Assuming the man would not have addressed his Pa by his given name if he was an outlaw, he let his guard down a little. “Yes Sir, I am. Do you know where I can find him?”
The older man pointed to the opposite end of the boardwalk. “Doc’s office is above the Crystal Palace at the corner of Fifth Street, on the second floor. But they’re guarding Clay just outside of town past the fire house on Toughnut Street—near the mine. If you take Fifth Street south, it’ll get you there.”
Logan’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe he was an outlaw after all. “Guarding him?”
“Of course, you’ll have to stop by the Marshall’s office first so Sheriff Daniels can escort you out there. You’ll find the Marshall’s office next to the doc.”
Logan refrained from asking the man anymore questions, feeling unsure about what the answers might be. Instead, he took the man up on his offer of a fresh mount.
After tending to Buckeye, he saddled up and rode down to the Marshall’s office to see about his Pa. He let the horse walk at a slow pace as he took in the many businesses along the way. The streets were bustling with noisy patrons and those conducting business along the busy stretch of the city.
Violet calico fluttering in the slight breeze caught the corner of Logan’s eye. He tried to keep his focus on the task before him, but he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the woman wearing it. Without even seeing her face, he sensed a familiarity that caused him to slow the horse to a near stand-still just long enough to bask in the unusual pull he felt coming from her. He kept his face forward as long as he could stand it, and then gazed upon her.
He tipped his hat to avoid her thinking he was gawking at her, but he couldn’t help but stare. The breeze played with blond curls that framed her face, the rest of her hair lay at the base of her neck in a wind-blown chignon. As her lashes lifted in his direction, green eyes stared back at him, and her parasol didn’t hide the glint of sunlight that sparkled in them. She smiled as he passed her, causing his heart to skip a beat. For a moment, he let his guard down long enough to feel. But as he looked down the road to his destination, his heart hardened again with dreaded anticipation of what he was about to encounter at the Marshall’s office.
****
Daisy Mae Pinkerton felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as she watched the handsome stranger ride through town. Though she was sure she had never seen him before, he boasted a familiarity that she just couldn’t shake. Perched atop a large steed, he carried a rugged sort of brashness that gave him just enough edge to convince everyone but her.
As he approached, she averted her eyes until the last minute. When she set her gaze upon him, her heart fluttered in perfect rhythm with the folds of her dress that moved with the breeze. Her untamed hair danced along her face at just the right time to mask the color that had claimed her cheeks.
She saw vulnerability in his eyes, but his seat suggested otherwise. He rode with confidence, though his eyes revealed a hint of insecurity. His full lips parted for a moment from the clenched mien that preserved the scowl assailing his handsome face. When he smiled back at her, the blue in his eyes softened.
Ducking into the mercantile, Daisy pulled a folded fan from the drawstring reticule that hung from her wrist so she could cool her heated cheeks. “It’s warm out there today.” She tried to disguise her embarrassment to Clarisse Prescott and her mother as they approached her.
“Good afternoon, Daisy,” Mrs. Prescott said.
She nodded, hoping to avoid a lengthy conversation with the women that tended to gossip a bit too much.
Mrs. Prescott put a hand to Daisy’s arm to halt her furious fanning. “Are you alright, dear?”
“I’m just a little warm from the walk over from the school house.”
She couldn’t tell the woman she was swooning over a rugged man that just rode down the street in front of her. She had learned a long time ago to keep a tight lid on anything o
f a private matter with Mrs. Prescott after she talked behind Maddie Hayes’ back when her husband ran off and left her with two children. Instead of being the charitable woman she professed in church, she exploited her predicament.
Daisy, however, had been the one to lead the women’s group in taking up a fund for the poor Mrs. Hayes to pay her passage back east to live with her parents. Daisy’s Ma was no longer by her side, but her teachings remained etched in her brain like the Ten Commandments carved into the stone tablets. Her Ma had taught her to keep a tight rein on her mouth, and to keep people like Mrs. Prescott at an arm’s length. She remained respectable toward the woman, but not overly friendly as to encourage gossip. As the school teacher, Daisy couldn’t afford to soil her reputation by gossiping—or swooning over men—especially since her teaching contract didn’t permit her to marry.
Clarisse was a different story altogether. She and Daisy had been friends since the day she and Pa rode into town when she accepted the two-year teaching contract and her Pa accepted his new flock at St. Paul’s church.
Clarisse was nothing like her meddling mother who often embarrassed her. Whenever they conversed, they made certain that her mother was not within earshot of their conversation, lest she spread it around town. In Daisy’s opinion, Mrs. Prescott was usually a harmless busy-body, but she just didn’t seem to understand that sometimes her gossiping hurt others.
Daisy slighted her eyes and winked at Clarisse, letting her know she had a secret to tell her. The young woman drifted away from her mother’s side long enough to whisper to her friend.
“If you’re going to tell me about that beautiful man that just sauntered down the road, I already saw him through the window of the mercantile. I had to pretend I was looking at the bolts of fabric so Mama wouldn’t catch me slighting my eyes toward the man.”
Daisy raised her eyebrows at her friend’s boldness.
Clarisse shrugged. “Just because I’m engaged to be married doesn’t mean I’ve gone blind.”
Suppressing a smile, Daisy huddled close to her friend. “He was beautiful, wasn’t he? The man looked right into my very soul, Clarisse.”
“No wonder you couldn’t breathe when you walked in here.”
Daisy took a deep breath. “The look in his blue eyes nearly took my breath away. I know it’s not proper, but I have to go back outside to see where he goes. I have to know who he is.”
Clarisse called to her mother across the room. “I’m going to take Daisy out to get some fresh air.”
Her mother nodded and the two women stepped out onto the boardwalk. Across the street, they could see the man dismount his horse in front of the Crystal Palace. He walked up the stairway to the second floor, and removed his hat revealing thick, black hair just before entering the Marshall’s office.
Daisy clutched Clarisse’s arm. “Do you think he’s here to join the posse that intends to put a stop to all the robberies? Surely he’s not an outlaw, or he wouldn’t have walked into the Marshall’s office willingly.”
Clarisse winked at her. “Why, Miss Daisy, are you gossiping?”
The two ladies giggled. “You sound exactly like your mother when you talk like that.”
“It irritates me when she accuses others of doing the very thing at which she is so talented.”
The two of them sat on the bench outside of the general store watching passersby, trying to disguise the slighting of their eyes in the direction of the Marshall’s office. As the handsome stranger exited the office with Sheriff Daniels, he looked across the street, and Daisy could have sworn he looked right at her. Daisy felt like she might faint dead away, but Clarisse tucked her arm in hers, as they watched with mouths slightly agape while the two men mounted and rode out of town leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.