The sheriff was first out of the wagon, reaching back to steady the man being lifted out. Maggie’s father was older than Kris expected, and much, much weaker. Anger and disgust swam into his blood. How could those people have forced her to leave him alone? Couldn’t they see how ill he was?
Calming himself took more effort than it should have. Pausing among the last of the plants in the Bittner’s garden, he bowed his head and prayed for the misguided men, women and children on the wagon train who accused a young woman so unjustly, and left an ailing man without care. He added one for forgiveness of his own temper and judgmental ways. By the time he reached the wagon, Mr. Flanaghan was being helped inside by Maggie and the sheriff.
“Damned fools,” Jericho Hawken muttered. He pulled off his hat and shoved strong fingers through his golden hair. The movement made his U.S. Marshal badge glint in the light coming from the wagon’s single lantern. “I’m not sure how he’d have fared on his own overnight.”
“He’s that ill?” Kris stared toward the front door.
“They’ve no money for medicine or doctors, according to Mr. Flanaghan. They spent every cent they had to make this trip to his sister-in-law’s home in Denver, and now they’ve no wagon train to make it with. The others pull out at dawn.”
“They’re leaving without her? Jones and the others, they would abandon the Flanaghans?”
“Without a backward glance.” Jericho replaced his hat. “Not that it matters. Mr. Flanaghan wouldn’t survive the trip. He said as much on the way over here. All their belongings and supplies are in the wagon. I guess I can unload everything and take it to the livery.”
Jericho lowered his voice before approaching the two bedraggled mules pulling the wagon. “Easy now, mules. None of your moods. There’s fresh water and a warm stall waiting if you behave.”
“Let me take care of them,” Kris offered. “There is room in Franz’s stable, I’m sure, and I’m familiar with the moods of tired mules.”
Jericho surrendered the reins without argument. “I’ll help you get the wagon situated, then I should head home. I want to check on Mary and grab a bite to eat before I go back out and help Matt enforce the law.”
“How is your Mary?”
“Happy. She seems to thrive on chaos. I had no idea how much noise a tiny baby could make. He’s only six months old. Added to the three girls…”
Kris laughed. “That reminds me of my sister’s home. The last time I was a guest there, the din her five children made would have drowned out the sound of a buffalo stampede.”
“How did you stand it?”
“I left. She didn’t understand why I cut my visit short to come back to River’s Bend—and I’m never going to tell her.” Kris clicked his tongue at the animals. “H’ya, mules. This way.” It took some convincing, but he managed to guide them around behind the house.
Franz didn’t own a horse, so the stalls in the old carriage house sat empty and would need to be cleaned out before the mules could be put inside. “The wagon will be fine here by the porch, and Miss Flanaghan can get to her trunks and boxes should she have need.”
While Jericho cut loose a bundle of straw secured under the wagon, Kris searched the wagon for feed and grooming tools. Handing over the bag of feed, he set to work settling the mules for the night. Jericho rinsed and filled water buckets and together they swept out two stalls and spread the straw. Once the mules were settled inside, Kris sent Jericho back to his family and started grooming the larger of the two animals.
“Jones didn’t hurt them, did he?”
Kris turned at Maggie’s soft words. “They’re just a bit rattled at having unfamiliar men leading them around.”
“Maudy couldn’t care less.” She petted the white nose of the mule Kris led to a stall. “Henrietta, however, can be cantankerous if you vary her routine. Complete opposites, even though they’re born of the same dam. Fortunately, they work well together in the traces.”
“They are fine examples of our Missouri mules.” Kris patted Henrietta’s glossy neck. “Where did you find them?”
“Papa purchased them from a woman heading back to Ohio. She’d lost her husband and had seen enough of the lawless west, as she put it. It took nearly every remaining penny we had to buy them, the wagon and their feed, but they’ve done well for us so far. A few more days of rest and they’ll easily get us to Denver. Won’t you, deary?” Maggie leaned against Henrietta’s stout chestnut neck.
She doesn’t know about the wagon train, Kris realized, then sighed. It was part of a pastor’s job to impart unwelcome news. So why did the thought of shattering what remained of Maggie’s plans fill him with such pain?
He kept silent until Maggie had Henrietta settled next to her dozing sibling, then latched the stall door and put away his tools and brushes. Satisfied the mules were safe for the night, Kris motioned for Maggie to precede him from the barn and into the rapidly cooling night. The clouds scudded southeast before a rising breeze, leaving the sky a glory of stars.
“Thank you for taking care of the girls.”
“My pleasure.”