Page 18 of Heart on the Line

The color flaring in Grace’s cheeks faded to a more normal hue as she grew more involved in her explanation. “I took precautions,” she said. “Not communicating with any of my friends from Denver, only with my mother’s contact in Colorado Springs. I changed my call sign. Only sent personal information over the lines after hours in the evenings. But no plan is foolproof, and I knew there was a chance that Haversham would eventually discover Rosie’s involvement. I made her promise to give up any information she had on me if he threatened her or her family.” Grace looked down at the podium in front of her and blinked several times as if fighting off tears. “I didn’t want him to lay waste to her life the way he devastated mine.” She sniffed once then deliberately raised her chin, determination etched into her features. “When I received Rosie’s warning, I knew exactly what had happened, and I cast no blame.

“Mr. Bledsoe overheard that warning, and that’s what precipitated his hasty trip out here. Not many men would leave their employment and family responsibilities on such short notice to help out an acquaintance in a faraway town, but Mr. Bledsoe did just that. I believe it speaks highly of his character.”

Or his manipulation skills. Helen bit the inside of her cheek to keep her pessimism from escaping.

“Besides,” Grace continued, “Mr. Shaw and I both questioned him, and I am convinced he is exactly who he claims to be. He is a concerned friend, just like each of you. And right now, I need all the friends I can get.”

Now Helen felt guilty for wishing the trouser-wearer away. Her shoulders drooped as Henry Chandler took her seat. No one else seemed willing to voice an objection after that heartfelt plea.

Grace stepped off the dais, and Emma took over the meeting, giving directions on who to contact if a strange man was spotted and what action to take. Helen didn’t really listen. She didn’t need to. Emma always gave the same lecture. Don’t do anything to put yourself in danger. Don’t confront the intruder. Run to Malachi for help. Etc., etc.

Instead of listening, Helen plotted ways to separate herself as much as possible from the approaching trouble. Not because she didn’t want to help Grace. She did. But men in charge didn’t like interference. No one expected her in town, anyway. She worked at the farm, after all.

Helen straightened as an idea took root. The pecan trees near the old line cabin by the creek on the south side of Betty’s property had been showing signs of dropping when she walked out that way a couple weeks ago. Collecting the pecans would take two or three days, with all the nuts she’d seen in the branches of the bigger trees.

For the first time since they’d come to town, Helen felt a genuine reason to smile. Not only could she put distance between herself and the invading male establishment by staying at the farm, but she could nearly double the size of her buffer during peak hours of the day by sneaking away to harvest pecans.

A mess of nuts to escape the miscreants. Perfect!

8

Grace finally managed to draw a full breath after the last lady turned to leave the church. Only Emma and Victoria lingered, and Grace knew they wouldn’t pester her with unanswerable questions. Would Haversham harm them to get to her? Please, Lord, don’t let that be the case. Why couldn’t she contact the missing heiress directly and turn the documents over to her? Because I don’t know the name of the woman or where she resides. Why hadn’t she asked her father where the documents were hidden before he left?

That one haunted her. She should have pressed him for details, but he’d been so focused on trying to anticipate every possible eventuality regarding the meeting with the Pinkerton agent that he’d had little patience for her questions. He’d been distracted, short-tempered, all because he loved her and was trying to protect her while still doing what he believed to be right. So she’d simply trusted him. He was her father. If he said he had proof, he had proof. He had no reason to lie. In fact, he had more reason to deny finding anything. They both would have been safer if he’d pretended not to recognize the significance of what he’d found.

But her father was not that type of man. Integrity ran thick in his veins, nourishing every thought and action. He could no more hide from what needed to be done than she could ignore a message sounding over the wire. Both situations demanded a response, and the Mallorys responded.

“Are you all right?” Victoria’s soft voice gently extricated Grace from her memories. Tori placed a hand on Grace’s shoulder, her blue eyes full of empathy.

Grace nodded and even managed a small smile. “No one tried to run me out of town, so I guess the worst is over.”

Emma moved to Grace’s other side, her brows raised. “You’re an even bigger optimist than I am if you truly think the worst is over. We won’t even know what the worst is until Haversham or whomever he hires arrives.”

“I don’t know.” Grace gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “I think I’d rather face Haversham than speak in front of such a large group again. At least then I could use my derringer.” She patted the pistol in the garter holster beneath the right side of her skirt. A pistol she never went anywhere without. “I felt helpless against all those eyes staring at me.”

Emma’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You know all these ladies care about you.”

“Yes, but not all of us have your gift of leadership.” Grace met Emma’s gaze. “I’ve always envied how at ease you are whenever you address us as a group.”

Emma shrugged. “I never really thought about it. I just get up and say what needs to be said.”

Grace smiled. “I know.” Emma ran the town, the local bank, and pretty much any other project that required guidance. Her astounding capability would be annoying if she wasn’t also the most compassionate, caring person Grace had ever met.

“Ben will be stopping by the store tomorrow to prep for a couple big deliveries,” Tori said as the three of them wandered through the church door. “I’ll ask him to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious in the area. If anything snags his attention, he’ll get word to us.”

Grace clutched the railing by the stairs, feeling adrift and in need of an anchor. For the last few months, she’d actually allowed herself to feel safe. To believe that she could have a normal life. Even a suitor—at least an anonymous one safely removed from her troubles.

Now look at her. Treading water in the middle of a maelstrom, afraid that every friend who offered her a line would be dragged down into the vortex with her. Yet without their help, she would drown.

Grace forced a smile to her face. “Thank you, Tori. Having Mr. Porter’s help will be a blessing.”

Emma wrapped an arm around Grace’s shoulders, and Grace turned to face her. “You’re not alone in this, Grace. You have allies. An entire town full of them. And we’re all ready to help in whatever way we can.”

Grace blinked back the embarrassing moisture suddenly blurring her vision and ducked her head as she leaned briefly into Emma’s embrace. “Thank you.” She straightened and looked at Tori again. “I couldn’t ask for better friends.”

“You’ve been there for us,” Tori said, her voice ripe with conviction. “We’re just returning the favor.”

Emma nodded. “That’s what sisters do.” She squeezed Grace a final time then traipsed down the steps as if her simple statement hadn’t just set off an earthquake beneath Grace’s feet.