“Ready to go?” he asked after he set the trunks in the wagon then brushed his hands on the back of his britches.
“Yes, I believe I am, Mr. Travers.” She accepted the hand he held out to her and climbed onto the wagon, not without difficulty since she wasn’t accustomed to such large conveyances. When she was settled on the hard seat, she adjusted a pin in her hat, clasped her hands together in her lap, and waited as he swung up to the seat. He lifted the reins, snapped the lines to the team of horses, and grinned at her as the wagon rolled into the street. He turned right at the corner, then right at the next one, and followed a road that led east of town.
Victoria looked at a livery as they drove past it, then breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of fresh-cut pine as they passed the lumberyard and continued on their way.
“It’s not far,” Mr. Travers said as they left the town behind them. It really was quite lovely with all the open space, big sky overhead, and autumn’s finest colors adorning the trees and bushes around them.
Claire had sent drawings of the town, but seeing it in person was far different. When the stage had topped a hill then rolled past a schoolhouse into town, Victoria hadn’t known what to expect of Hardman. She still couldn’t fathom what it was about the place that kept her brother here instead of returning to Philadelphia to work with their father in the business that had been in their family for generations.
Yet, Gray and Claire, who also happened to be from Philadelphia, both loved Hardman and chose to build a home here.
“That’s the Decker place right there,” Mr. Travers said, pointing to a house that sat a distance off the road. It appeared tidy and welcoming, especially with a profusion of colorful autumn flowers blooming across the front of the porch. “Mrs. Decker is a fine, fine baker. Her bakery is on Main Street, just past Mrs. Dodd’s dress shop.”
“Oh, Claire has mentioned Mrs. Decker’s talent for turning raw ingredients into baked wonders. While I’m here, I shall make a point of visiting her establishment.”
The man beside her gave her a long glance before a slow, lazy grin lifted the corners of his all-too-enticing lips. “You like to use words, don’t you, Miss Carter?”
Uncertain what he meant by the question, she somehow thought he was teasing her. Not in the mood to be teased or the butt of a joke, she ignored the question. A house on the other side of the road caught her interest. She’d seen it before in drawings Claire had mailed.
“Is that it? Is that my brother’s home?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, eager for a glimpse of her only living sibling.
“It sure is, Miss Carter. Quite something to see, isn’t it?” He grinned at her as he guided the team off the road and down a lane that led to a large three-story house, complete with wide porches, two turrets, and an impressive oak double entry door.
“Oh, it’s fantastic,” Victoria exclaimed, clasping her hands beneath her chin as she took in the house, the yard, the swing in a tree where Maddie most likely spent hours playing. There was a barn, a carriage house, and a building she had no doubt was Gray’s workshop where he created world-class violins, just as their father had done all his life and his father before him.
“It is a nice place,” Mr. Travers said as he brought the wagon around and stopped in front of the house.
“I thank you, Mr. Travers, for bringing me and my belongings safely here. If you’ll wait while I locate my brother, I’m sure Gray can offer something for your time and trouble. I’d pay you myself, but the despicable reprobates who robbed the stage took my reticule along with my money.”
The man appeared slightly affronted as he hopped off the wagon then held a hand out to her. She gathered her skirts then tripped on a petticoat as she tried to find a graceful way to climb off the wagon. Mr. Travers reached up and clasped her waist then swung her down.
For a brief moment that felt as though it lasted half of eternity, he held her in his arms. She could see flecks of light and dark blue in his eyes and smell the enticing fragrance of him. Her hands rested on shoulders that were thick with muscle, strong, and wide enough to carry a multitude of burdens. She had the most unreasonable desire to press her head against his chest, rest in the comfort she was sure she’d find there, and let the cares weighing her down float away in the autumn breeze.
Instead, she blinked twice, stepped back, and licked her suddenly dry lips. “Thank you, Mr. Travers. I…um…That’s to say, I…”
“Vic? Is that you?” Gray called as he hurried across the expanse of ground paved with gravel between the house and his workshop. “Is it really you?”
Overcome with emotion, Victoria nodded once then sank with relief into her brother’s open arms. The sobs she’d suppressed for months swelled inside, clogging her throat until she thought she might suffocate. She clung to Gray, unable to speak, as her tears refused to be contained a moment longer. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe and oddly at home.
Chapter Four
Wide-eyed, Trace observed Grayson Carter’s beautiful sister dissolve into tears. One moment, he’d held her in his arms, an experience that delighted him far more than it should have, and the next she’d practically collapsed against her brother, crying as though she would never stop.
Gray gave him a questioning look, but Trace had no idea what set her off. He shrugged then walked around the wagon and lifted out her trunks, carrying them up the walk to the front door. He set her traveling bag on top of the smaller trunk and turned around to see Miss Carter accept the handkerchief her brother held out to her and dab at her nose and eyes with dainty movements. Everything about the woman seemed refined, ladylike, and far out of his league. At least out of the league of a telephone installer, which was precisely what he was, at least until he took care of the Brunson gang here in Hardman.
Truth be told, when he’d stuck his head in the stage door earlier during the holdup, he’d about swallowed his tongue when he set eyes on the gorgeous creature being terrorized by the thief they all called Guy. His real name was Frankie John George. Each time he thought of someone having three first names, it made Trace bite his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. The outlaw’s name didn’t matter as much to Trace as the fact the man had a mean streak a mile wide.
Trace just hoped he could conclude his business with the Brunson gang before anyone got themselves killed. Just like Billy said, Trace had arrived in Heppner a month ago to find a wagon loaded with supplies for stringing telephone wire as well as crates filled with telephones to sell once he had the wire installed. Thankfully, there was also a handbook with basic instructions for climbing poles, hanging wire, and setting up telephones for service.
This job couldn’t finish fast enough to suit Trace. Each time he had to climb a pole, his stomach revolted and it made him dizzy. He’d hated heights as long as he could remember and Billy well knew it. He’d think of some way to get Billy back later. For now, he needed to concentrate on his cover of friendly telephone man and that of eager new gang member. He’d only been in Hardman a week when he happened to overhear Frankie John talking to a fellow they all called Budge as they left a saloon one evening. It didn’t take long to figure out they were part of a gang and Trace set about working his way into it.