Valley of Dreams (Longing for Home #6) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,2
home here, lad.
He swallowed against the lump in his throat.
You’ve a family.
He pushed out a breath.
He had an offer of a home and family. There, in that sparse room and town of spent opportunities, he had nothing. He’d simply slip further, drink more, waste away.
He reached for a bottle, but stopped, hand hovering a mere inch away. Life offered few choices now, but one remained he couldn’t ignore. He could stay in Winnipeg and drink himself into the grave. Or he could add another mark of guilt to his soul and accept the offer Ma had dangled in front of him.
The choice depended on one crucial question: was his a life worth saving?
His heart dropped to his toes as he realized—he didn’t know the answer.
Chapter Two
Wyoming Territory, 1874
After two days in the stagecoach, Eliza Porter concluded that her fellow passenger was either a fur trapper, a man with a deep-seated fear of razors, or a bear that had learned to walk on two feet, mumble the occasional one syllable word, and spend hours pretending to be asleep. She found all three possibilities incredibly intriguing.
Based on the stage driver’s estimate, she and her almost two-year-old daughter, Lydia, would be set down at the tiny town of Hope Springs within the hour. Time enough for one more attempt at sorting the mystery of her furry fellow traveler.
“Do you live in Wyoming territory?” she asked.
He shook his head no.
“Are you making a visit or planning to make it your new home?”
He nodded.
“Which one?” she pressed.
“Guess,” he mumbled from behind his bushy beard.
Where he hailed from Eliza couldn’t be certain, but she suspected her mysterious companion didn’t have an American accent. Of course, neither did she.
“New home?” she guessed.
He nodded.
Getting information from someone who offered such brief answers required creative questions. “Have you been in this country long?”
“Have you?”
She smiled back at him as she bounced Lydia on her knee. “Heard my origins in my voice, did you?”
He scratched his dark beard between answers. His long, scraggly hair hung enough over his face so that she couldn’t tell where he was looking, though she suspected his gaze had wandered to the stagecoach window.
“Do you look out the window so often because you can’t resist the brown, dusty vista, or because you think it’ll get me to stop talking to you?” She waited eagerly to see how he would answer that question with only a word or two.
After a moment, he said, “Both.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that slipped from her. Lydia laughed too—she nearly always laughed when her mother did. There had been a lot more laughing and smiling since they’d left New York City. They were on their way to a new life, a better life. Though Eliza was a little nervous, she was nearly giddy with anticipation.
America had been a disappointment in a lot of ways. Finally, its promises felt within reach, and leaving England felt less like a mistake.
Did her reticent fellow traveler feel good about his decision to leave his home country? And what was his home country? The man didn’t say enough at any one time for his accent to be obvious.
“England?” She guessed aloud.
His head turned in her direction. “Sounds like it to me.”
Five words at once. A new record, and enough to tell that he was definitely from the British Isles. A few more words, and she would have him sorted.
“What brings you to Wyoming?”
“Stagecoach,” he muttered.
She laughed. Lydia did as well. “I think you’re being grumpy on purpose.”
He turned his head toward the window once more. “I like hearing your wee girl laugh.”
“Ireland!” There was no mistaking his accent now that she’d truly heard it.
“I-und!” Lydia made a valiant attempt.
The grumbly bear didn’t noticeably react. Eliza wasn’t certain what to make of him. Instinct told her she had nothing to fear from him. She stayed alert, of course—being cautious was never a bad idea—but during their day and a half on the stagecoach, he’d never given her reason to worry.
As the stage rumbled to a stop, her heart dropped a little. She was excited to begin this new chapter in her and Lydia’s life, but a twinge of disappointment flickered through her, knowing she would have no further opportunity to talk to the intriguing man. He’d made her laugh and kept her company, however quietly, and she was grateful for it.
“This is our stop,” she told him. “Thank you for being kind to us. Safe journey.”
He nodded, and she climbed down with Lydia on her hip.