After he’d made the necessary purchases at the hardware store, Webb stood on the sidewalk and watched the supplies being loaded in the wagon. Unwillingly he noticed the Reisner wagon parked at the smithy’s, but neither Lilli nor her husband was in sight. It was just as well, he told himself.
Ruth came up to him. “It’s nearly noon. Why don’t we have something to eat at the restaurant?”
Tense and determined not to give in to his nerves, Webb hesitated, then agreed a little gruffly. “It sounds like a good idea.” He hailed the slim cowboy sprawled on the buckboard seat with his feet propped on the kickboard. “Nate. See that everything’s loaded in the wagon. I’m taking Ruth across the street to the road-house.”
“Gotcha, Webb.” Nate sat up in the seat to take interest in what was being loaded behind him.
With a guiding hand at Ruth’s waist, he escorted her across the busy cross traffic of horse-drawn vehicles and skirted the animal droppings to the building on the opposite side of the street. The noise of people, animals, and vehicles was constant.
“I think I liked this town better when there weren’t so many people,” Ruth murmured.
Webb glanced down at her, just for a moment allowing his thoughts to be distracted. He saw her unease at so many unfamiliar and unfriendly faces. “It would never occur to you to speak to a stranger, would it?” he observed somewhat wryly, because it would have been as unnatural for Ruth as it had been natural for Lilli.
“No,” she replied as if any other answer were unthinkable.
As he opened the door to the restaurant for Ruth, he happened to glance up the street. Lilli was just entering the general store with her husband. There was no indication that she’d noticed him. Webb was a step late following Ruth into the restaurant.
They had their pick of several empty tables, and Webb chose one off by itself. He was restless with thoughts of Lilli throughout the meal, offering short responses to Ruth’s attempts at conversation until she finally became silent.
It was no good, he realized. He was only fooling himself if he believed he could be in the same town as Lilli without somehow managing to see her and speak to her. In the two glimpses he’d had of her, she bad appeared aloof and reserved, traits not natural to her. Perhaps he was only imagining that, but—
Ruth was seated on his right. Webb set his fork down and reached over to cover her hand. “Ruth, I have a favor to ask,” he declared huskily, caught in the vortex of his own wants.
The intense probe of his dark gaze, as much as the touch of his roughly callused hand, made its impact on Ruth. She felt the swelling lift of her spirits, the acceleration of her pulse. If he only knew, she’d die for him if he asked her.
“Anything.” She ignored the tiny little voice that gave away her eagerness to please.
“I’d like you to arrange for me to meet privately with a . . . certain young woman.” He had difficulty getting the words out.
Ruth looked at her plate, a shattering pain destroying that fragile bubble of hope. “Lilli,” she guessed in a trembling murmur.
Webb became still. He slowly removed his hand and picked up the fork he’d laid down. “Yes,” he admitted in a low, flat voice. “How did you know her name?”
“When . . . you were unconscious, I heard you say it.” It was a soft reply, filled with hesitance and hurt.
“Do you know who she is?”
“Yes.” Ruth lowered her head.
It eliminated the need for an explanation, which should have made it easier. Yet Webb felt twisted by a knotting tension. “There isn’t anyone else I can ask, Ruth,” he said. “I’ve got to talk to her. I’ve got to find out if she’s all right.”
“I don’t see how I can arrange it.” She inwardly railed at the unfairness of his request.
“I saw Lilli going into the general store before we came in here. She’s probably still there.” As crowded as the store had appeared, it was a good chance. “Ellis never locks the rear door. I can slip into the back room without being seen. All you have to do is make some excuse for her to go back there.” He looked at her. “Will you do it?”
“Yes.” Ruth made the bitter discovery that she could refuse him nothing, even at the cost of her own heartbreak.
When she entered the store, Ruth wanted to turn around and run out again, but she made herself move forward, her fingers nervously twisting the strings of her reticule. Her face was pale and taut as her darting glance skipped over the many customers inside, strangers nearly all of them.
“Is there something I can help you with, Miss Stanton?” The proprietor’s voice startled her.
“No,” she answered too quickly. “I. . . I’m just looking.”
“The material you ordered has arrived. I have it in the back room. Would you lik
e me to get it for you?” he asked.
And find Webb back there? Her heart fluttered wildly in panic. “No, please—” She strained to speak in a calmer tone. “I’d like to look around first. I’ll collect it later.”