Читать книгу The Bounty Hunter's Bride - Victoria Bylin - Страница 9

Looking at Daniela Baxter, Beau felt the cut of sudden change. The last time he’d seen Patrick had been five years ago. His brother had come to the funeral for Beau’s wife, traveling alone because his own wife, Beth, had been close to delivering their third child. Beau and his brother hadn’t been close, but he’d appreciated the kindness. Patrick had made him promise to write now and then. He’d even offered him a place to stay.

Beau had said he’d keep in touch, but he’d broken the promise so badly he hadn’t known about Beth’s passing. He hadn’t known a lot of things when he’d arrived in Castle Rock two days ago. Hot on the trail of an outlaw named Clay Johnson, Beau had found himself within a few miles of his brother’s farm. He’d decided to pay a visit and had arrived to find a fresh grave and an old man in the barn. The fellow and his wife were neighbors who’d come to care for the cows and the girls until other arrangements could be made.

The girls could have been farmed out to friends, but the cows needed their routine. A lightning strike…of all the foolish things. Even more surprising was the news from Patrick’s attorney. Seven years ago, Patrick had written a will. It named Beau as guardian of his children—a fact Beau vaguely remembered. He’d have made a good guardian in the past, but not anymore. An ex-lawman, he sold his gun to the highest bidder. Like most shootists, he lived in the canyons between good and evil. He enjoyed the freedom and the money, but mostly he burned with the need to bring Clay Johnson to justice.

Whether God or the devil had given him a thirst for Johnson’s blood, Beau didn’t know. He only knew that Clay Johnson had killed the most precious person in his life. Lucy, his young wife, had put on her prettiest dress, a pink thing with puffy sleeves, and brought him supper at the sheriff’s office. What happened next was an abomination. Beau no longer dreamed about that day, but he remembered every detail. Looking at Miss Baxter in her pink dress, he swallowed a mouthful of bile. He hated that color and the memories it brought. He always would.

Sending her to the hotel tempted him as much as that roast beef dinner. He’d lied about Emma’s cooking. The girl made a mean pancake, but a man needed more than starch in his belly to do a day’s work. He also needed to sleep at night, something Beau hadn’t done since he’d arrived. He couldn’t. Since Lucy’s murder, he and Johnson had been playing a game of cat and mouse. Sometimes the outlaw vanished for months, leaving Beau to search aimlessly for his prey. Other times Johnson went on the prowl, leaving threats for Beau at local saloons. Sometimes he wrote notes. Sometimes he left tokens that chilled Beau’s blood.

Daniela Baxter’s eyes drilled into his. “Who are you, Mr. Morgan?”

“I told you. I’m Patrick’s brother.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Beau held back a smart remark about jabbering females. If Miss Baxter ended up at the hotel, she might blather to every busybody in town. She looked like the kind of woman who’d want to go to church on Sundays. Beau knew all about gossip cloaked in prayer. He’d been the focus of his share after Lucy’s death. Wishing he’d been less of a blowhard, he tried to smile. “Forget the bluster. I’m no one.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Beau said nothing. In truth, his reputation stretched from Bozeman to El Paso, across the plains and over mountains that dwarfed a man’s pride but not his pain. If word spread he was in Castle Rock, anyone he touched would be a target for Johnson. That included Miss Baxter. He didn’t need another female in his care, but honor required him to see to her safety. Like it or not, he’d have to keep an eye on her.

No hardship there…Daniela Baxter was just plain pretty. Slender but womanly, she filled out the dress in all the right places. Not that Beau cared. Being a man, he couldn’t help but notice her looks, but he knew the rules. When he’d married Lucy, he’d promised to love, honor and cherish his wife until they were parted by death. Lucy was gone, but Beau took comfort in keeping his vows. His eyes locked on Miss Baxter, saying things with a look that acknowledged the deepest of truths. He was male. She wasn’t. He had the power to harm her. She needed to know he never would. He made his voice solemn. “I’m an honorable man, Miss Baxter.”

“You’re the one who mentioned wolves,” she replied. “I understand they come in sheep’s clothing.”

“I’m not one of them.”

Before she could reply, footsteps padded on the landing at the top of the stairs. He turned and saw Ellie and Esther peeking around the corner. Esther, as always, had her thumb in her mouth. She was five and too old for the habit, but Beau hadn’t tried to stop her. Human beings, no matter their age, took comfort where they could find it.

“Are you Dani?” Ellie asked.

“I am.”

The girls hurried down the steps and threw themselves into her arms. More hugs, more tears. Beau was tired of the flood but knew the girls would pull on Miss Baxter’s heart in a way common sense couldn’t. With a throat as dry as sand, he watched the swirl of pink and ribbons and locks of golden hair. All four of them were blond, though the girls’ hair would darken with time as Patrick’s had. Beau’s hair had lost its shine a long time ago, though it lightened up in the summer.

He watched as the woman kissed Ellie’s forehead, then lifted Esther on to her hip. In a voice choked with tears, she rambled about God and Patrick looking down from Heaven.

They loved you, brother. I wish I’d known you better.

Even as he thought the words, Beau stifled his regrets. He’d learned to live one day at a time. To take what pleasure he found and be content with it. A can of beans for supper. A lantern on a moonless night. If a man didn’t have a home, he couldn’t lose it. If he didn’t love, he couldn’t get hurt. Beau had drawn that line the day Clay Johnson shot Lucy and not once had he crossed it. He hoped Daniela Baxter would be wise and draw a similar line for herself. She had no future in Castle Rock. Even if he’d wanted to hand her custody of the girls, he couldn’t do it. Running a farm required both brains and muscle. The thought of leaving a woman and three children at the mercy of hired hands struck him as gutless.

Beau glanced at the mantel clock. In two hours, he had an appointment with Trevor Scott, the attorney handling Patrick’s will. If things went as planned, the girls would leave for boarding school at the end of the month.

Ellie, a tomboy in coveralls, broke the hug and looked at Dani. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

Miss Baxter tousled the child’s hair, then looked at Beau. Her eyes soothed his soul and laid it bare at the same time. “Can I trust you, Mr. Morgan?”

“With your life.”

“In that case, we have a deal. If you’ll stay in the barn, I’ll tend to the house.”

When she held out her gloved hand, Beau noticed the cupped shape of her fingers. His own hand, loose and open, was just a clench away from the violence that defined his life, but he offered it in good faith. He expected to see trepidation in her eyes. Instead she squeezed back with surprising firmness. The grip, he realized, came from hard work. The grit came from her heart. Beau saw her pink dress, the shadow of roses in her cheeks, and pined a moment for Lucy. How did it feel to grow old with a woman? To see your daughters marry and your sons grow strong? To live without the thirst for Clay Johnson’s blood? Beau would never know. Most of the time, he didn’t want to know. He let go of Miss Baxter’s hand. He’d had all the innocence he could stand for one day.

He’d seen a rented buggy out front. “Where’s your trunk?”

“At the train station.”

Beau thought of his appointment with Patrick’s attorney. “I have to go to town this afternoon. I’ll take you and the girls and we’ll pick it up.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Beau looked down at his nieces. “Get going. We leave in ten minutes.”

They scurried up the stairs like frightened mice, leaving Beau to wonder what he’d done to scare them. He wished he could be less stern, but he had a melancholy nature. Miss Baxter had turned her head to watch the girls. Even with tears on her cheeks, she seemed like the cheerful sort. Beau hoped so. The girls needed a woman’s tenderness.

Leaving Miss Baxter at the stairs, he strode into Patrick’s bedroom where he changed into a clean shirt, then balled up his laundry and slung his saddlebag over his shoulder. As he came out of the dark room, he saw Miss Baxter sitting on the bottom step with her head bowed.

Beau feared God but didn’t much like Him. Taking Patrick’s life struck him as wrong. Leaving this young woman to cope alone counted as cruel. He stopped a few feet away. “Miss Baxter?”

She looked up with damp eyes. “Yes?”

“I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

Beau shifted his weight. Handing her his dirty clothes didn’t seem right, so he headed for the door.

When she called his name, he turned but said nothing.

“Is that your laundry?” she asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“I expect to keep my end of the bargain. Leave your clothes and I’ll wash them tomorrow.”

Beau stepped back to the staircase where she’d pushed to her feet. Judging by the twitch of her nostrils, the smell of the barn reached her before he did. He had three horses in his care, his roan and Patrick’s two workhorses.

“You’ve been mucking out stalls,” she said.

“Someone had to do it.”

“And the milking?”

“Of course.”

What did she think? That he dozed in a hammock all day? Patrick had ten Jersey cows. They might have been “ladies” for Patrick, lining up at the gate at milking time, but they hadn’t taken to Beau. Each one had bawled and squalled while he looped a rope around her neck and led her to the barn for milking. He’d felt ridiculous on a little three-legged stool, and his clumsy hands annoyed the cows until Emma had given him pointers. She’d also informed him the cows had names and liked it when her pa sang hymns. Beau had grunted, then listened to the child crooning words to a song he’d made a point of forgetting.

Blessed assurance, Jesus divine!

Oh what a foretaste of glory is mine…

Beau hadn’t set foot in a church in five years and he didn’t intend to start now. He handed his clothes to Miss Baxter. They needed a good scrubbing. So did he, but a visit to the bathhouse was out of the question with four females in his care and Clay Johnson nearby. With the saddlebag dragging on his shoulder, Beau headed for the barn. Maybe Trevor Scott had found a school. Beau hoped so. He didn’t know how much purity and light he could tolerate.

Dani carried Beau Morgan’s laundry through the kitchen and out to the back porch. Where did Patrick keep the washtub? In the barn? In the shed by the door? She’d have to ask Emma.

Why, Lord? I don’t understand.

Hardly breathing, she dropped the garments in a heap and went back into the kitchen. For a thousand miles she’d dreamed of seeing this house for the first time. She’d imagined cooking at the stove, a new model with a fancy baking chamber. Patrick had described it in his letters. He’d written to her about everything…the view from the window above the sink, the number of shelves in the pantry. He’d been excited to share his life. Almost believing she’d see him, Dani looked out the window and saw the cottonwood he’d described in his letters. Just as he’d said, the branches curved up to the sky like open arms. Beyond it she saw a hill crowned by a white picket fence encasing two white crosses. It marked Patrick’s final resting place and Beth’s, too.

Dani choked back tears. Tonight she’d weep and find comfort in the Psalms, but right now she had children in her care. Wiping her eyes, she prayed for peace. When her thoughts spiraled into a black abyss, she reached for verses she’d memorized as a child in Sunday School.

Blessed is the man whose strength is in Thee; in whose heart are the ways of them. The ways of God…

Who passing through the Valley of Baca… the valley of tears.

Make it a well. A source of blessing.

The rain also filleth the pools. God in heaven adds his grace.

They… those who walk with God.

Go from strength to strength. Amen.

Dani tried to breathe evenly, but the air in the kitchen felt as heavy as sand. Her chest ached with the effort of sucking it in. God had promised strength, yet she’d never felt weaker in her life.

“Dani?”

She opened her eyes and saw Emma in the doorway with her sisters. The girls had braided their hair and put on fresh pinafores, but grief had dulled their eyes to pewter. Dani thought of the gifts in her trunk. She’d brought gingham for new Sunday-best dresses, books for Emma and Ellie, and a doll for Esther. Seeing their tearstained cheeks, she decided to save the gifts for a happier time.

“Are you ready to go?” she asked.

Emma looked over her shoulder, then urged her sisters deeper into the kitchen. A wall hid them from the front window and she leaned closer to Dani. “We don’t like him,” she whispered.

Dani’s skin prickled. If Beau Morgan had been unkind to these girls, she’d chase him away with a frying pan. “Has he mistreated you?”

“No, but he stays up all night.”

On occasion, so did Dani. “What else?”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “He said a bad word.”

Dani wouldn’t condemn a man for cussing. Her father had let loose on occasion and colorfully at that. “It’s wrong, but men do it sometimes.”

Emma’s voice shook. “I don’t care about cussing. It’s the guns that scare me.”

“Guns?”

“He has four of them. Two rifles and two pistols.”

Guns themselves weren’t evil, but the men who used them sometimes did evil things. Dani forced herself to stay calm.

“What exactly does he do?”

“He sits alone and fires the pistol,” Emma whispered.

“He fires it?”

“Not exactly,” the girl explained. “The gun’s empty but I can hear it click. He does it over and over, like he’s aiming at someone he can’t see.”

That settled it. The man was crazy. He was either wanted by the law or protecting them from a danger he’d brought to Castle Rock himself.

The front door swung open. Heavy boots thudded on the wooden floor. “Ladies?”

Dani whispered into Emma’s ear. “We’ll talk later.”

As she stood straight, Beau Morgan stepped into the kitchen and crossed his arms as though he meant business. A tan duster hung from his shoulders but gaped at the waist, revealing a wide leather belt and the front edge of a cross-draw holster. He pulled his mouth into a smile that bordered on a sneer. “Pray tell, ladies. My ears are burning. I don’t suppose you were talking about me?”

“No, sir.”

Emma had lied, but Dani didn’t correct her. She wanted to hide the girls under her skirts. No way could they share their home with a man who armed himself for a trip to town. She’d spotted the church from the window of the train. She’d never met Pastor Blue and his wife, but Patrick had said they were kind. Surely the couple would take them in until Dani could find safer accommodations.

“Let’s go,” she said with false cheer.

Mr. Morgan led the way out the door, grabbing the hat he’d left on a peg in the entry hall. As he pulled it low, the girls followed him down the steps with Dani bringing up the rear. In the front yard she saw the livery buggy and the family wagon. He was standing by the buggy, watching them like a coyote spying a flock of chickens.

He pointed his chin at the wagon. “The girls can ride in the back.”

Dani steered them to the buggy. “I think we can fit. Don’t you, girls?” The rig had a single seat. It would be a squeeze.

Mr. Morgan shrugged. “Suit yourselves.”

When she bent to lift Esther, he reached for the child at the same time. Their hands overlapped on the girl’s waist with Dani losing the race.

His eyes narrowed. “Let me. She’s heavy.”

“I can manage.”

Esther grabbed for Dani, but Mr. Morgan scooped her up and plopped her on the seat before she knew enough to cry. Scowling, he offered his gloved hand to Ellie, then Emma, and finally to her. Looking at the leather, Dani wondered what it hid. Some people thought a man’s eyes revealed his soul. Dani looked at hands. Calluses testified to hard work. Soft skin hinted at laziness or vice. If Mr. Morgan removed the gloves, what would she see? The trim nails of a gambler? The knuckles of a brawler?

His eyes glinted. “I won’t bite, Miss Baxter.”

Satan had said the same thing to Eve. Ignoring his hand, she climbed into the buggy.

He went to the wagon. “Stay in front of me.”

She took the reins and drove out of the yard with Ellie pressed against her ribs and Esther in Emma’s lap. The top of the buggy shielded them from Mr. Morgan’s stare, but the creak of the wagon kept him close.

Ellie squirmed closer to Dani. “He’s nothing like Pa.”

Emma stared straight ahead. “Pa’s gone. We have to get used to it.”

“I don’t want to!” Ellie cried.

“There’s no choice.” Emma tightened her grip on Esther’s waist. “I’m the oldest. That means I have to look out for you.”

Dani’s heart broke for the girl. She knew how it felt to grow up overnight. They rode in silence, listening to the rhythm of Esther sucking her thumb and the creak of the harness. Behind them, Beau Morgan clicked to the horses, crowding the buggy in spite of the empty road. Dani wondered if he’d watch them this closely in town. The closer he rode, the more determined she became to escape. But how? She needed a plan. “Do you know where Mr. Morgan’s going?” she said to Emma.

“Probably to see Mr. Scott.”

“Who’s he?”

“Pa’s attorney. He sent Mr. Morgan a message.”

Ellie frowned. “He said to call him Uncle Beau.”

“I don’t care,” Emma replied. “I want him to leave.”

So did Dani. She considered barging into his meeting with the attorney, but getting the girls to Pastor Blue and his wife took priority. “Where’s Mr. Scott’s office?”

“On Fourth Street.”

The church was on the west side of town. The livery was on First Street. If she could convince Mr. Morgan to allow her to watch the girls while he met with Mr. Scott, they could make a run for the church.

“What are we going to do?” Ellie asked.

The older girls would understand, but Esther wouldn’t. She gave Emma and Ellie a conspiratorial glance. “When Mr. Morgan visits the attorney, we’ll pay a visit to Pastor Blue and his wife.”

Emma’s eyes dimmed. “The church is far.”

“About a half mile,” Ellie added.

Dani’s heart sank. Her new shoes had dainty heels. Pretty or not, they hurt her feet. Esther posed another problem. Unless Dani took the wagon, she’d have to carry the child a good part of the way. The more she thought about sneaking the wagon out from under Beau Morgan’s nose, the more she liked the idea. By then, they’d have picked up her trunk and she’d have possession of Patrick’s letters. Unless he changed his mind about custody, she’d need them in a court of law.

Aware of three pairs of blue eyes on her face, Dani nudged the horse into a faster walk. “We’ll make it,” she said to the girls.

“I don’t see how.” Emma sighed.

Dani put iron in her voice. “Do you know the story about Daniel in the lion’s den?”

“It’s scary,” Esther said.

“That’s true, but God kept Daniel safe.” Dani let the words sink in. “If God can put lions to sleep, He can get us to the church.”

“We can see Miss Adie,” Ellie said.

“That’s right.”

Esther pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “She has kittens!”

A lump pushed into Dani’s throat. Emma, sensing her sister’s need, chatted about the cats. Ellie joined in, leaving Dani to ponder her plan as she navigated the stretch of road into Castle Rock. With a little luck, she and the girls would be spending the night at the parsonage and Beau Morgan would see the wisdom of leaving them alone.

With the wagon rattling in the buggy’s wake, Dani took in the rippling grass and patches of pine dotting the horizon. In the distance stood the dome of granite that gave the town its name. Round and high, the fortresslike stone capped a mesa jutting up from a meadow. To the east, Dani saw rows of buildings. Most were made of wood, but a few showed off the pinkish rhyolite stone that had given the town its birth. Twenty years ago, Castle Rock had been nothing more than a cattle stop. Now it boasted a school, two churches and dozens of businesses. Patrick had described it in his letters, filling her with excitement at the prospect of being a part of something new.

As they neared the train station, Dani saw the tracks stretching as far south as she could see. The train that brought her had left hours ago. Nothing remained. Not a trace of steam, not the six people who had disembarked with her. The only sign of humanity was her trunk sitting on the platform. It looked the way she felt…alone, abandoned and packed for a trip it would never take.

Dani reined in the livery mare. Beau Morgan halted the wagon next to her, climbed down and opened the tailgate. As he strode to the platform, she leaped down from the buggy and followed him.

“That’s my trunk,” she said.

“I figured.”

“It’s heavy. You’ll need help.”

Ignoring her, he hoisted it as if it held feathers instead of her life and lugged it down the three steps. Dani hurried to the back of the wagon where she saw a pile of quilts. Had Patrick kept them there for the girls? Or had Beau Morgan thought to bring them for the bumpy ride? Dani didn’t know, but she doubted Patrick kept blankets in his work wagon. She knew from his letters that he owned a two-seat surrey the family took to church, yet kindness didn’t fit her impression of Beau Morgan.

Now, Dani… The voice belonged to her father. Walter Baxter had been quick to love and slow to judge. She could imagine his words. For all you know, Beau Morgan’s an upstanding citizen. Judge not, daughter.

Dani tried to keep an open mind, but she couldn’t erase the picture of this man dry firing a pistol into the dark. As he latched the tailgate, she went back to the buggy. He took the reins of the wagon and led the way to the livery stable. The wagon rattled as they passed a feed store, then a mining office where men stood in a line. People on the street noticed them. Some smiled and a few waved to the girls, but Dani had no way to signal for help.

When they reached the livery, Mr. Morgan stopped the wagon. Without a word, he went into the barn and disappeared into the shadows.

“Let’s go!” Dani cried.

She leaped out of the buggy and turned. Emma shoved Esther into her arms, then jumped out the other side with Ellie behind her. As the older girls piled into the wagon, Dani boosted Esther over the tailgate, then hurried to the front seat. Before she could hoist herself up, Beau Morgan strode through the doorway.

Faking a smile, Dani put a ring in her voice. “We’re ready to go.”

“I see.” He handed her a silver dollar. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Miller’s refunding the rental.”

It wasn’t much, but every dollar would help. As she took the money, her fingers brushed his glove. He stepped back as if she had the pox, then glanced across the street to a row of shops that included an emporium. Looking befuddled, he cleared his throat. “You’ve had a long trip. Is there anything you need while we’re in town?”

Yesterday Dani had imagined browsing the shops with Patrick’s daughters. That dream had died. “No, thank you.”

“I’d pay.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Morgan.” She wanted to run, not shop.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a grunt.

Intending to ride with the girls, she headed for the back of the wagon. As she turned, strong fingers caught the bottom of her forearm and turned her back to the seat. His touch was light, nothing more than a brush, but it felt like a shackle. His voice went low, barely a whisper. “You’ll ride up front with me.”

“I’d rather sit with the girls.”

“I’m not asking what you want,” he replied. “I’m telling you what’s best.”

“I don’t see why—”

“That’s right. You don’t.”

Dani pulled out of his grip but didn’t move. His eyes tensed with the same worry she’d seen on her father’s face just before the worst storm of her life had swept across their farm. As he’d ordered her to the cellar, a tornado had funneled down behind the barn. She’d learned that day to trust her father’s instincts.

Beau Morgan’s expression shifted to the mix of a smile and a scowl she’d seen in the kitchen. Her father had known best. Did Beau Morgan?

“Is there a reason?” she asked.

“None I care to give.”

Dani opened her mouth to argue, then sealed her lips. It didn’t matter where she sat in the wagon as long as he took them to a place where they could make a run for the church. When he offered his hand, she accepted his help onto the seat. He walked to the other side, climbed up and steered the wagon into the street. Anyone on the boardwalk would think they were a family.

And that, Dani realized, explained why he’d insisted she sit at his side. She and the girls were part of a disguise. They turned Beau Morgan into a family man. Who was after him and why? Dani’s stomach clenched. With each block, they traveled farther from the church. Staring straight ahead, she risked a question. “Where are we going?”

“To see Patrick’s attorney.”

Dani thought of Emma’s guess. The child had a good mind. “It must concern the girls.”

The man glanced over his shoulder. Dani did the same and saw them huddled as far from the seat as they could get.

Looking straight ahead, he lowered his voice. “I haven’t told them yet, but you might as well know. I’m selling the farm and sending them to school.”

“You can’t!” The whisper scraped her throat.

“It’s for the best.”

Dani knotted her hands in her lap. Was it wiser to make a break for the parsonage or insist on seeing Trevor Scott herself? Patrick had never mentioned Mr. Scott. On the other hand, he’d spoken well of Pastor Blue. She was weighing the choice when they stopped in front of an ice-cream parlor. Mr. Morgan hooked his thumb toward the office building across the street. “Scott’s office is on the second floor. I thought you and the girls might enjoy some ice cream while I take care of business.”

Dani saw the answer to her prayer. “I’m sure they would.”

“Can I trust you to watch them, Miss Baxter?”

“Of course.” She’d told the truth. She wouldn’t let the girls out of her sight until they reached the church.

He reached into his pocket, extracted a few coins and handed them to her. With her heart pounding, she put the money in her reticule and climbed down from the wagon.

As the girls scrambled to her side, Mr. Morgan stood in front of them with his hands on his hips. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

If Patrick had spoken those words, they’d have promised protection. Coming from his brother, they made her skin prickle. Forcing a smile, Dani looked at the girls. “Mr. Morgan is treating us to ice cream.”

Emma and Ellie murmured a polite “thank you.” Esther squealed with delight and ran to the door.

“Don’t leave the store,” he said to Dani. “I’ll meet you inside.”

Feeling his eyes on her back, she led the girls into the ice creamery, then watched through the window as Mr. Morgan neared the attorney’s office. He had to climb a flight of stairs, knock on a door and wait in a lobby. Dani grabbed Esther’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Emma and Ellie headed for the door, but Esther dug in her heels. “I want ice cream!”

“Later, sweetie.”

“Now!”

“Esther, we have to go.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “But you said!”

The child wasn’t being stubborn. She was a frightened little girl whose daddy hadn’t come home for five days. Ice cream promised a bit of happiness. Dani searched her mind for something more appealing, found it and dropped to a crouch, putting herself at eye level with Esther. “Remember Miss Adie and the kittens?”

The child nodded.

“That’s where we’re going.”

Esther tipped her head to the left, then to the right. The choices seesawed in the child’s mind, then hit the ground with a thud. “I want ice cream!”

The woman behind the counter looked over the jars of penny candy with an arched brow. Dani thought of scooping Esther into her arms and running, but she couldn’t risk creating a scene. Besides, they’d lost two valuable minutes. By now, Beau Morgan would be with Trevor Scott.

Straightening, she gave the clerk a wry smile. “I guess we’re having ice cream.”

As the girls placed their orders, Dani turned and peered at the window marking the attorney’s office. Beau Morgan loomed behind the glass with crossed arms and an expression that gave her chills.