Love Finds You in Last Chance, California (7 page)

Ralph reached out a massive hand and wrapped long fingers around Justin’s wrist. “I saw you stuffing somethin’ in your pocket when you left the church. You steal somethin’?”

The scowl on Justin’s face deepened. “What’s in my pocket doesn’t concern you.” He wrenched his wrist free and took a step back, turning to the sheriff. “I went looking for the minister and didn’t find him. I stuffed my handkerchief back in my shirt and started to leave when this loudmouth yelled at me.” He glared at the blacksmith.

Parson Moser stepped between the two glowering men when a cry from the buckboard startled the group. Justin slapped the hat on his head and scowled. “Now look what you’ve done. Toby didn’t get a long enough nap, and he’s going to be cranky.”

Ralph gaped, his mouth hanging open so far that his chin almost touched his chest. “You got a kid in there? Why didn’t you say so?”

Justin put a foot on a spoke of the wheel and swung up into the buckboard’s seat. “When would that’ve been? When you were sitting on me?” He leaned over the back of the seat and plucked a small boy out of the bedding. “Toby’s missing his mama and needing a meal, and that’s why I stopped at this church.” He glared at the small group assembled below him. “Anyone care to help me, or do I keep on driving?”

Alex released her pent-up breath. She’d been afraid for a minute that the disagreement might lead to blows. The newcomer looked like he could care for himself, but Ralph was a broad-shouldered, stout man, and his work at the smithy had hardened his muscles till they resembled the iron he hammered each day.

At the sound of the little boy’s cry, Alex stepped behind the parson, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed. This man’s troubles didn’t concern her, but she couldn’t help but gaze curiously at the newcomer.

Dust from the trail covered his frame. Broad, powerfully built shoulders tapered to a muscular chest and slim hips. Dark blond hair in need of a trim flopped into his eyes, and at least two days’ growth of beard covered the firm jaw. A pair of angry brown eyes glared from under the broad brow, and a straight, strong nose sat above grim lips.

As he’d pushed to his feet, his shoulder muscles had rippled through the fabric of the sweat-stained shirt. When he was on the ground, she’d assumed he’d be shorter than Ralph’s five-foot-ten height, but when he straightened, he’d topped Ralph by almost an inch.

Alex dropped her eyes before he caught her staring and averted her gaze to the stranger’s horse. If the stallion tied to the back of the buckboard was any indication, he was a good judge of horseflesh. Deep liver-chestnut—almost the black that Ralph had claimed, with a long, tangled mane and a tail nearly sweeping the ground. Looked like he might have Thoroughbred in him, along with a strong strain of Arabian. Now there was a stallion she wouldn’t mind using to build up her herd.

If the horse belongs to him, that is.
She mentally shook herself, annoyed at the thought. Ralph’s accusing him of stealing didn’t necessarily make him a thief.

The fussing child drew her attention. The man was bouncing the boy on his lap to quiet him. He’d called the little chestnut-haired boy Toby, but what was
his
name? Toby plopped a dust-covered thumb into his mouth and laid his head against the man’s chest.
Strange that he has a child with him but no wife. He said the boy was missing his mama. Is he meeting her on the trail?

The sheriff stepped forward and placed a hand against the side rail of the buckboard. “What’s your name, son?”

“Phillips.” The terse answer seemed to be torn from the man’s lips, and no smile softened the words. “I’m Justin Phillips, and this is my son, Toby.”

Sheriff Ramsey stretched out a hand toward the stranger, who hesitated before grasping it.

“You just passing through our little burg or staying for a while?” The sheriff doffed his hat and wiped a sleeve across his brow then shoved it back on his gray head.

The man on the wagon shrugged. “Haven’t rightly decided. Thought I’d try to find a meal for me and the boy, maybe get a bed for the night. I’ve no set plans.” He glanced toward Alex, his dark brown eyes giving her a small start.

“Will your wife be joining you soon?”

“No. She passed away a few months back. It’s just me and the boy.” He looked down the street. “Is there a hotel around?”

Ramsey nodded and fingered his mustache. “Sorry to hear about your missus. There’s the Last Chance Hotel, but it’s no place for a child. Just one big bunkroom on the second floor. Mostly miners use it, and you have to climb a ladder from the outside. Saloon is downstairs but there’s a nice little restaurant to the side, and there’s a candy store and barber shop t’other side. The hotel can get a mite rough at times.”

“Nothing else?” Justin patted the little boy’s back and whispered something in his ear.

The sheriff nodded and pointed up the street. “There’s a boardinghouse on the edge of town. Miz Alice Rice runs it. She’s a spinster—and a good Christian. She don’t tolerate no drinkin’ or swearin’ in her establishment, and she serves a right fine meal if you’re a mind to spend the night. Real reasonable, and she’ll even allow you to draw a bath.”

Justin nodded, settled the child deeper on his lap, and reached for the reins with his right hand. “Thank you. I’ll swing by Miss Rice’s place and see if she has a room for me and Toby.” His eyes shifted toward Ralph as a hint of a smile touched his lips. “After my welcome in Last Chance, I wasn’t sure I’d get any help.”

He cast a glance toward the parson, gave a sparse nod, and then looked straight at Alex. “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat, but his eyes lingered for a moment and a quizzical look touched his features.

Alex stared back, feeling powerless to break the gaze. A slow blush rose up her neck and warmed her cheeks. She opened her lips, unsure of what she should say, when the slap of the reins on the horses’ rumps snapped them shut again. She spun toward the church and ducked her head. She could hear the buggy moving down the road but didn’t look back. The sheriff and parson could see the pair off.

Alex directed her steps toward her waiting horse. The visit with Elizabeth would have to wait until tomorrow. She’d been gone long enough.

The man stood in the shadows of the blacksmith shop, his mind replaying the scene he’d witnessed in front of the church. A stranger in town wasn’t part of his plan, but from the looks of things, he was a drifter and would probably be moving on. The man slipped around to the back of the building and untied his horse. Time to go stir things up a bit. Alex didn’t need to get too comfortable out at that ranch, no sir.

Justin slapped the reins on the team’s haunches and turned the wagon in the direction the sheriff pointed, toward the other side of the small town. He’d keep his eyes open and get the lay of the land. It wouldn’t hurt to look around before heading to the ranch. Ben Travers’s request for secrecy kept him from telling the sheriff his business. Time for that after he got Toby settled and spoke to Travers.

His thoughts drifted back to the attractive woman he’d seen at the church. She’d met his gaze without flinching and with no hint of coyness in her eyes. Molly had flirted with every man she met—offering empty promises and stirring men’s pulses. Somehow Justin didn’t get the same impression from the girl at the church—she didn’t seem the type to put a lot of stock in her looks.

The horses’ hooves raised little puffs of dust in the wide street that stretched between the buildings scattered along each side. A sign announcing C
RAMER
’
S
D
RY
G
OODS
S
TORE
swayed in the light breeze that swept down from the surrounding cedar-and-pine-dotted hills cradling one side of Last Chance.

Justin’s eyes were drawn to the saloon and gambling hall across the street. Such establishments used to be his home away from home. Never again, not with Toby in his life. He’d made a pledge that no liquor would touch his lips after he assumed care of his boy, and he’d see that the promise remained intact.

The batwing doors of the establishment swung open, and a young man in rider’s garb fell onto the wooden boardwalk. Justin slowed his rig. A ruddy-faced man with red hair and a bartender’s apron stepped out and looked down at the prostrate figure. “No fightin’ in my joint, you hear? Come back when you’re feelin’ better.”

He grasped the man by the wrist and hauled him to his feet then gave him a none-too-gentle shove toward the horses hitched at the rail. “Climb on yer horse and head out. No sense in getting yerself beat to a pulp—or shot.”

The man dusted his shirt with a curse and then untied the reins of a sorrel gelding standing relaxed at the rail. He pulled the horse’s head around and stuck the toe of his boot into the stirrup then swung up into the saddle without another word. Justin shook his head, remembering the days when he’d been in the man’s situation—though never as early as mid-afternoon.

The aproned man turned his head and glanced at the slow-moving rig. He met Justin’s gaze and tipped his head. “Nice stock you’ve got, stranger.” His booming voice held a hint of an Irish brogue. “Passin’ through, or stopping for a while?”

Justin brought the team to a standstill. “Thanks. I’m stopping at Miz Rice’s boardinghouse.”

“Riley is the name. Mosey back and join us for a drink after yer settled.” A broad smile lit the man’s round face and crinkled the skin around the blue eyes.

Justin shook his head and picked up the reins. “Sorry. I’ve a son to care for and can’t be leaving him.” Toby had curled up on the seat of the buckboard with his head on Justin’s leg, sound asleep.

Poor little guy. The past two weeks had tuckered him out, with no time to play and few regular naps or healthy meals. Last Chance seemed friendly enough, and if Miss Rice had a room for more than one night, he’d settle there while he checked out the situation at Travers’s ranch.

Riley raised a hand and turned back toward the doors. “Aye. Good afternoon, then.”

“Afternoon.” The creak of the wagon’s wheels muffled Justin’s reply, and the man disappeared back into the dimly lit interior of the saloon.

A huge yawn closed Justin’s eyes for a second, nearly causing him to miss spotting a young boy bolting across the road in front of his team. “Ho, there! What’s your rush, son? You about got stepped on.”

The boy he remembered as Johnny bounded up on the boardwalk, paused, and turned back. “Nope. I’m pretty quick, and no horse will get me. Miz Rice give me a nickel for some eggs at the store, and I’m supposed to hurry. She’s baking somethin’ for her boarders.” Johnny’s freckles stood out against his sunburned face, and his mischievous eyes sparkled.

Justin’s mouth watered at the thought of eating something home-baked instead of dry biscuits and jerky. “You’d better get a hustle on, but be careful of those eggs. Miss Rice mightn’t be too happy if you bring them back broken.”

“Yep, she’d lick me for sure.” Johnny waved then darted through the rough-hewn door of the general store.

Justin clucked to his team and smiled at the space of time it took to travel the short distance to the boardinghouse. Quite a busy, friendly little town. A hand-painted sign posted above the door of the clapboard building next door read D
OCTOR
I
S
I
N
. He shook his head in amazement. You didn’t often find a doctor in a town that boasted so few people, but the surrounding mines and ranches probably brought in a fair amount of business. A small hotel on the far side of the doctor’s office and a barbershop across the road completed the picture, and he guessed that the church might double as a school on weekdays.