Inheriting a Bride

With a thud, Mr. Reins seemed to drop down from the ceiling, grinning broadly. “There, now, lass,” he said kindly. “I told you not to worry. The bridges are strong.”

The narrow wooden bridges she’d traversed on the way to Black Hawk, crossing never-ending ravines that seemed too deep to host bridge supports, came to mind. She hadn’t noticed one on this trip. Her gaze went to Clay and her mind took to wondering if they had kissed, or if it was some kind of fantasy her fear had conjured up so she wouldn’t have to face the terrifying experience of crossing the bridges again.

“Come on,” Clay said, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.

He led her to the door and gently guided her down a set of metal steps she hadn’t noticed before. Once her feet hit solid ground, her composure returned—somewhat—as did her awareness of her state of affairs.

“I left my luggage in Black Hawk.” She flinched, wondering why that had leaped to the front of her mind.

“Ty,” Clay said, “collect the lady’s luggage, would you? It’s at the hotel.”

Mr. Reins nodded. “Sure thing, boss. I’ll bring it over on the six-thirteen.”

“Thanks,” Clay said, before leading her off the platform. “This way. Let’s get you settled in The Gold Mine. It’s the best hotel on the entire mountain. Mimmie Mae will have some tea she can brew up for you. How’s that sound?”

A cup of hot, fortifying tea sounded downright heavenly, especially considering all the confusing thoughts popping in her head like a sinkful of soap bubbles. While many disappeared as quickly as they formed, a couple stayed, causing her to turn abruptly. “Mr. Reins,” she called, stopping the man from climbing into one of the cargo cars.

“Yes, ma’am?”

She swept her gaze to the little lookout on top of the caboose. “You be careful riding up there.” Thinking about the railroad man gave her mind something to do while thoughts of Clay and how he still held her arm continued to rattle and crash into one another.