“Well, Mr. Mercer,” she said. “We’re all… pleased you’re taking this step.”
“Much obliged, ma’am,” Elias managed. His voice sounded like it had been stored in a dry place too long.
The stagecoach appeared in the distance with a rolling groan, a moving dust cloud pulled by four sweating horses. The crowd leaned forward as if the whole town had suddenly become one long neck.
Elias’s heart began to thump so loudly he worried the horses might spook.
The coach lurched to a stop. Chains rattled. The driver shouted, “Mail and passengers for Red Willow!”
Elias stepped forward.
The door swung open.
And instead of a mature widow with sensible shoes, a girl climbed down like the world was too high and she was too small.
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