long before today, but she stubbornly refused spectacles. Not for reason of vanity, Emma was sure. At least, not vanity of looks.
She slipped a supportive arm around her grandmother’s waist. “Not too big, I think.”
“Big enough.” Papa gave a decisive nod. “The Lord has brought us here, and He will provide.”
Papa increased his stride, his eyes scanning the buildings in front of him as he walked ahead. They hurried to keep up with him.
A carefully lettered sign at the edge of the settlement announced that they had arrived in Gorham. Emma had never heard of such a place. The town consisted of one wide path carved through the center of a dozen or so buildings. A cluster of saddled horses were tied to posts in front of a building halfway down the dusty street. Beyond that, at the far end of the settlement, a wagon had been pulled up long-ways near a wide covered porch in front of a general store. A man appeared carrying a crate. He loaded it onto the wagon and then disappeared back inside.
“We will ask for help,” Papa said.
They started in the direction of the store, dust swirling around their feet with every step. Emma inspected her apron. The white cloth was covered with dirt from the trail. Rebecca’s skin had, indeed, turned a rosy red from the sun, and a smear of mud covered one cheek. Emma knew her face appeared no better, as trail dust had mixed with perspiration for the past several hours. A tendril of hair waved free at her temple, and she smoothed it back into place beneath her prayer kapp.
Music drew her attention to the building where the horses stood clustered. A pair of half-length wooden doors swung in a wide doorway. She’d heard a piano once, long ago when she was a child and had traveled to Hays with Mama and Papa. She’d hovered outside a window and peered inside, watching a man bang on a black-and-white keyboard while the air was filled with a magical sound. Like now.
The roar of men’s voices drifted to her from inside. A woman’s laughter tinkled above them. Rebecca drew to a halt, her wide eyes fixed on the doorway.
“It’s a saloon.” An alarming note of awe deepened her whisper.
Maummi stopped to spear her with an outraged look. “Ach! Where did you hear the name of such a place?”
She lifted a hand and pointed at Emma. Maummi rounded on her, hands planted on her hips. Emma nearly took a step backward, but she managed to hold her ground.
“Hearing is not the same as visiting.” A lame defense, to be sure. She couldn’t help adding one mischievous observation. “The music is pretty, don’t you think?”
Maummi placed a hand over her heart and staggered where she stood. “Jonas, this is not a good place for us. My heart hurts. We must leave immediately, lest the evil ways of the Englisch lure our Emma and Rebecca away.”
Above his beard, Papa’s lips twitched as he suppressed a grin. Then, with an effort, he sobered. “The Lord has led us to this place for a purpose. He will send us help—”
The saloon doors swung outward and a body sailed through. Emma jumped back, a hand over her own heart. A man landed at their feet with a gigantic poof of dirt.
When the dust cleared, she stood gaping down into the face of a cowboy, his wet hair plastered to his head.
A grin broke across Papa’s face. “See? The Lord has sent us help.”
Emma searched the dazed face at her feet. Disappointment stole any consolation Papa’s words might have offered.
The Lord might at least have cleaned him up first.
THREE
Stars exploded behind Luke Carson’s eyes when his skull cracked against the hard-packed road.
That low-down, no-good…I’ll wring his scrawny neck!
He lay on his back, eyes closed, breathing dirt and planning retribution on his best friend and top cattle wrangler. He’d taken falls trying to break ornery wild stallions and landed softer than this. He planned on giving Jesse a whupping he wouldn’t forget. But that had to come later. Right now he had to fish him out of that saloon and sober him up, or they would never get the herd back on the trail this morning.
When Luke’s ears stopped ringing, he opened his eyes and found himself surrounded. Four people stared down at him, their heads silhouetted against the bright blue sky. The old woman had a puckered-up face like one of those potatoes McCann fried up for the