The Edge of Misery: The Mitchel Brothers Series Book Two

15

Five days later, sporadic thunder clouds rumbled across an otherwise blue sky, threatening Falcon Ridge with the possibility of rain as Declan was leaving the barn to check on Wren after finishing his morning chores when a lone, travel-worn rider on a black gelding reined in at the front of the house and dismounted.

"Can I help you?" Declan asked with a suspicious frown, his right hand settling on the pistol at his right hip.

The man turned and smiled a lopsided, toothy grin at Declan, "Not shootin' me would be much appreciated, Mitchell—especially considering I've come all this way bearin' good news."

Declan blinked, then smiled in return at the grime-encrusted, weary face of US Marshal Beau Kildare and reached out to shake his hand. "Apologies—didn't recognize you on that gelding and under all that dirt."

Standing a few inches taller than Declan with muscular limbs and a broad barrel chest, Marshal Kildare's intimidating and commanding presence made it apparent at first glimpse he was a force to be reckoned with long before he needed to display his expert marksmanship.

Kildare slapped Declan's right shoulder as he returned the handshake and sighed, turning to look at the horse, then back to Declan. "It's a long story—"

"And no doubt one we want to hear. You hungry? Looks like you could use a good meal," Declan said, motioning for Kildare to follow him to the back porch. "Mama's making lunch, and you're more than welcome to join us."

Kildare hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not fit for gentle company—"

"We'll have a picnic outside," Declan interrupted with a negligent shrug.

Kildare looked at the clouds in the sky, then chuckled and hurried to catch up to Declan. "After the fare I've been eatin' on the trail the past five weeks, I'd be an addlepated fool to pass up such an offer, despite the chance of rain."

"All right, make yourself comfortable; I'll run inside to get everything we need for a picnic and tell Wren you're here."

"How are Miss Wren and little Eldon? Holdin' up, I hope."

Declan nodded, "As well as can be expected."

"I reckon what I have to tell 'em will help," he murmured, his green hazel eyes filled with sympathy. "It ain't much—all things considered—but to my way of thinkin', it's better than nothin'."

His mind awash with possibilities of what that could mean, Declan hurried into the kitchen and hung his hat on a hook. "Is lunch about ready, Mama? Marshal Kildare's back—I promised him a picnic while he told us how everything went."

Emmaline stood at the work table and glanced up as she dried her hands on her apron, "Just about. You sure you want to eat outside, though? Looks like it might rain at any minute."

Declan nodded, "From the looks of him, it's fair to say he rode straight here."

"Oh," Emmaline murmured, blinking, then frowning in compassion. "Goodness. He must be weary. Go tell Wren; I know she's been anxious for his arrival. I'll see if he'd prefer taking a bath while I make something a little heartier for him to eat. Heaven knows he deserves it after being gone so long."

Declan crossed to the sink and washed his hands, "Eldon still over at the cabin with Mae and Uncle Em?"

"Mm-hmm," Emmaline smiled at him over her shoulder. "Working on a surprise for Wren."

After drying his hands on a towel, Declan frowned and set it on the counter, "They say what it is?"

"Nope—I've smelled it though—quite aromatic and delicious, so I can only assume it's one of Mae's salves like she made for Wooly. Eldon said they're in some pact of secrecy," she giggled. "I do love that little boy."