The entire purpose of having a home of her own was that she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone but herself, Pearl and now Fluffy and Princess.
Why, then, was she standing at the parlor window staring out into the darkness?
The boys hadn’t shown any concern about Matt before they’d patted their full bellies and retired to the dugout.
Lucy, in spite of claiming to be too scared to sleep alone, had drifted right off.
Dinner had grown cold an hour past. What could be keeping him? The stores had closed at dusk.
The saloons, however, were just warming up. The women in their fancy dresses would be sure to make him welcome. How often had Jesse and Billy, thinking they were out of earshot, teased Matt about the now lonely ladies of the Long Branch? According to the two of them, the women were stricken with heartache since Matt had married.
“If that’s where you are, Mr. Suede, you’ll hear about it when you get home.”
Fog clouded the window where her voice misted it over. She wiped it away and felt herself blush at what she had said. It sounded like what a real wife would say.
In truth, she hoped he was at the Long Branch. If he wasn’t there, where was he? The prairie stretched before her window, dark and empty.
What if the rumors of Angus Hawker being in town and hiding in wait were true? What could keep Matt from coming home unless he were dead?
Emma’s stomach turned queasy at a vision of him lying in the street, bleeding from a gunshot wound.
Would someone notice? It could happen in a dark alley and with the gunshots that usually went off all night long would anyone think to check on this one?
All of a sudden Emma’s hair seemed too tight in its bun and her corset cramped up so that the breath was sucked out of her.
Worrying over a grown man who was doubtless drinking and laughing with a professional woman was useless and hurtful. Sleep would pass the time, and when she woke in the morning things would be sunny and new. Matt would be about his chores and Emma would fix him the best breakfast she knew how.
Half an hour later, with her hair free and her nightgown flowing about her, worry continued to creep under her skin and niggle through her mind.
Since lying in bed only made the worry become more vivid, Emma shuffled back to the parlor. She lit the lamp, then turned the flame low, gazing out the window for a moment. At least the rain was holding off.
She settled down on the sofa to watch the clouds press closer to the earth. At some point Matt would come riding across that prairie, or someone else would with news of him.
* * *
Matt was still a half mile away from home when the first raindrop slapped the brim of his hat.
“Pick up your pace, ladies, if you want to make it dry to the barn.” The pair of wagon horses he had purchased from Jesse a few weeks back weren’t quick, but they were strong and even tempered. Unlike Pearl, who was a pet, and Thunder, who was pure spirit, these two were meant for work.
Brownie and Blackie, named by Lucy, twitched their ears but remained devoted to their unhurried pace. Unless the storm took its time breaking loose, the bathtub in the back of the wagon would be full of water by the time he made it home.
Given the late hour, he’d probably be able to sneak the gift to his bride inside and surprise her with it in the morning. The shiny brass tub hadn’t been cheap, but it would give him pleasure to think of her months from now, soaking away the day’s work while snow fell quietly outdoors.
For an instant Woody Vance’s grinning face flashed in his mind. He cursed Billy out loud for putting the thought in his brain. Let Billy get a bride and see him hand her over to someone else. He cursed again, louder, since there were no women or children around to hear it.
Blackie and Brownie snorted and continued their reliable plod. A pelting of raindrops smattered his hat at the same time that the yellow glow from a lamp in the parlor came into view.
Emma must have left it burning to help him find his way in the dark. How many times had he ridden the plains at night without