Old Sal stopped dead. Well, that wasn’t much help, either.
“Like this, Mama.” Eleanor pulled Clara’s hand the correct way.
How did her child know what to do and she didn’t? Clara knew the answer. Eleanor observed life carefully. Clara, too, had watched Blue’s hands on the reins Saturday as they rode to the ranch. But her interest had been in studying his strong hands.
“Where we going, Mama?”
“Hush, Libby. No talking until we’re out of town.” She didn’t want the sound of a child’s voice to draw attention to them. Please, God, let us be invisible.
They passed businesses on their right, residences on their left without anyone seeing them. Her ribs hurt with every heartbeat. The air in her lungs felt heavy.
They passed a small log building with a prominent wooden sign on which was burned NWMP Detachment.
The North West Mounted Police had an office here? She’d never seen a Mountie. But then she’d gone out of her way to avoid meeting anyone in town.
They passed the church. Blue’s horse was not back. Hadn’t he said he’d take care of them? Instead, he’d left. It was for the best. Now she could prove she could manage on her own.
The open road lay ahead. But she couldn’t relax yet. Maybe never.
“Can we talk now?” Libby whispered.
“It’s okay now.” Both girls would be curious and likely alarmed. “Thank you both for being obedient.”
Libby let out a gust of air. “Mama, why’d we have to dress like this? I don’t like this sweater. It stinks.”
“It’s to trick people. Right, Mama?” Eleanor said.
Clara wished there was a way to take care of the girls without teaching them to be sneaky. “Something like that.” If Father saw them, he’d dismiss them as poor country folk and not give them a second look.
“Are we running from someone?” Eleanor tried to sound brave, but her voice caught.
Clara considered her answer and decided to be truthful with them...at least as much as she could be without alarming them. “I guess we are.”
“Where we going?” Libby demanded.
Clara smiled. “Someplace I think you’ll like.”
Libby wriggled about with excitement. “We’re going to have our own home again where we can have Christmas?”
Oh, how Clara wished she could say that was the case. “Maybe not for a while. Do you think you’d like to spend some time at the Eden Valley Ranch?”
“Oh, yes.” Libby’s eyes glowed with approval.
Clara turned to Eleanor. “What about you?”
“Will Mr. Blue be there?”
“I don’t know.” She didn’t know where he’d gone or when he’d return.
“He’ll be back,” Eleanor said with utmost conviction. “He promised.”
Clara hugged her. “That’s right.” But then what? He’d said he was ready to move on, stop living in the past.
A man approached on horseback. Clara ducked her head.
“Mama, the horse is turning in the middle of the road.” Eleanor’s squeaky voice jerked Clara’s attention back to driving the animal. She must have accidently pulled on the reins.
“Whoa.” At her cry, the horse stopped.
That wasn’t what Clara meant for it to do. “Giddup. Go straight.”
Old Sal pulled ahead, blocking the road entirely.
The rider pulled to a halt and watched.
Clara did not look at the man. She had her hands full trying to sort out the reins that she now held in a tangle.
“Ma’am, do you need help?”
“I’ll figure it out. You could ride around.” There was plenty of room. Thousands of acres. Couldn’t the man simply ride on by?
“I could, but I’ll make sure you get sorted out first.”
She sent him a narrow-eyed look, hoping it conveyed determination and confidence. She was afraid it showed confusion and frustration. Not to mention a dozen other things she’d like to deny.
“Ma’am, allow me to introduce myself. Constable Allen of the North West Mounted Police at your service.”
She gave him closer study. He wore a fur coat and fur hat. A belt on the outside of his great coat held his sidearm. He portrayed determination and fairness in every line.