floor and hurried to the counter. She felt Conor's eyes on her as she gripped the edge of the scarred board and leaned over it.
"Mr. Clancy!" she called, feeling the edge of panic, even though she knew it was absurd. It was too familiar—all these staring eyes. Too much like Tamaqua, though it was innocent curiosity here. Nothing more. Not those rigid, condemning expressions or the stares that called her a traitor—
Conor's hand curled around hers. The touch was warm and comforting. He squeezed her rigid knuckles gently, and Sari stared up at him.
"It's all right, love," he whispered, his voice like molasses over her frayed nerves. "Relax."
He understood. The knowledge was too frightening to believe. Sari tore her hand from his, trying to still the rapid-fire beating of her heart, trying to pretend he hadn't known, that her terror was still her secret. She scanned the room. "Where is Mr. Clancy?"
"He's around back." One of the women near the bolts of fabric spoke quietly, but her dark eyes were bright with curiosity. Sari's heart fell. Thelma Abbott. The woman was a bigger gossip than Audra Landers.
Sari couldn't help the thinning of her lips. "Hello, Thelma."
"It's nice to see you, Sari. You haven't been in town lately." Thelma's nearsighted squint lit on Conor. Sari could almost see the wheels turning in the woman's head.
She introduced them, then stifled a smile when Conor dropped Thelma's proffered hand as quickly as politely possible.
"I'd heard there was someone staying at your farm, Sari," Thelma twittered, fidgeting at the wide bow of her sunbonnet. "No one told me it was—are you a relative, Mr. Roarke?"
"I'm an old friend of the family."
"Oh?" Thelma's smile was brittle with curiosity. "From—where was it, Sari?—Pennsylvania, wasn't it? I imagine the rest of the family is quite worried about our Sari, out here in the wilderness. I'm not surprised they sent you out to check on her."
Sari jumped in quickly, before Conor could answer. "Mr. Roarke was out this way, on business."
Conor went on smoothly. "I thought I'd stop and see how Mrs. Travers and her uncle were getting on.”
Thelma arched her brows. Already Sari could imagine Thelma's gossipy words. "Sari Travers is keeping company with a man—he's living at her farm. Why, it's hardly proper...." Despite herself Sari's cheeks felt heated.
"Will you be staying in Woodrow long, Mr. Roarke?"
Conor was saved from answering by the rustling of the calico curtains behind the counter. A short, balding man with a thick gray beard pushed aside the material. His arms were filled with bolts of cloth.
"Here you are, Mrs. Abbott," he puffed good-naturedly, plunking the heavy fabrics onto the counter and wiping his shining forehead with the back of his hand. "Like I told you, I've got no yellows in, but I'm expecting a shipment soon from Julesburg. If you find nothing you like today—"
Thelma sighed dramatically. She wrinkled her nose at the selection before her. "It looks like I'll have to go into Denver after all."
"Mr. Clancy." Sari interrupted Thelma's posturings impatiently. "When you have a moment..
Clancy smiled. "I've got a moment right now, Sari." He glanced quickly at Thelma. "Since it looks like Mrs. Abbott's going into Denver."
Thelma lifted her chin haughtily. "Well, I may not go.”
"Ah, now, don't let me talk you into doing something you don't want to do," Mr. Clancy said amiably. "I won't have any of my customers saying I forced them into buying something."
"But I—"
"Now, now, Mrs. Abbott," Clancy shook his head. "I'll just go ahead and wait on Sari here, and when I'm done, if you're still interested, you just call me over."
Sari looked at the counter, trying to hide her grin as Thelma huffed and flounced off to the stove to corral her husband.
"Thank the Lord," Clancy murmured. He leaned forward, his beefy hands resting on the rough wood. "You're a pretty sight today, Sari. What can I do for you?"
Sari smiled. "Mr. Clancy, this
"Mr. Clancy!" she called, feeling the edge of panic, even though she knew it was absurd. It was too familiar—all these staring eyes. Too much like Tamaqua, though it was innocent curiosity here. Nothing more. Not those rigid, condemning expressions or the stares that called her a traitor—
Conor's hand curled around hers. The touch was warm and comforting. He squeezed her rigid knuckles gently, and Sari stared up at him.
"It's all right, love," he whispered, his voice like molasses over her frayed nerves. "Relax."
He understood. The knowledge was too frightening to believe. Sari tore her hand from his, trying to still the rapid-fire beating of her heart, trying to pretend he hadn't known, that her terror was still her secret. She scanned the room. "Where is Mr. Clancy?"
"He's around back." One of the women near the bolts of fabric spoke quietly, but her dark eyes were bright with curiosity. Sari's heart fell. Thelma Abbott. The woman was a bigger gossip than Audra Landers.
Sari couldn't help the thinning of her lips. "Hello, Thelma."
"It's nice to see you, Sari. You haven't been in town lately." Thelma's nearsighted squint lit on Conor. Sari could almost see the wheels turning in the woman's head.
She introduced them, then stifled a smile when Conor dropped Thelma's proffered hand as quickly as politely possible.
"I'd heard there was someone staying at your farm, Sari," Thelma twittered, fidgeting at the wide bow of her sunbonnet. "No one told me it was—are you a relative, Mr. Roarke?"
"I'm an old friend of the family."
"Oh?" Thelma's smile was brittle with curiosity. "From—where was it, Sari?—Pennsylvania, wasn't it? I imagine the rest of the family is quite worried about our Sari, out here in the wilderness. I'm not surprised they sent you out to check on her."
Sari jumped in quickly, before Conor could answer. "Mr. Roarke was out this way, on business."
Conor went on smoothly. "I thought I'd stop and see how Mrs. Travers and her uncle were getting on.”
Thelma arched her brows. Already Sari could imagine Thelma's gossipy words. "Sari Travers is keeping company with a man—he's living at her farm. Why, it's hardly proper...." Despite herself Sari's cheeks felt heated.
"Will you be staying in Woodrow long, Mr. Roarke?"
Conor was saved from answering by the rustling of the calico curtains behind the counter. A short, balding man with a thick gray beard pushed aside the material. His arms were filled with bolts of cloth.
"Here you are, Mrs. Abbott," he puffed good-naturedly, plunking the heavy fabrics onto the counter and wiping his shining forehead with the back of his hand. "Like I told you, I've got no yellows in, but I'm expecting a shipment soon from Julesburg. If you find nothing you like today—"
Thelma sighed dramatically. She wrinkled her nose at the selection before her. "It looks like I'll have to go into Denver after all."
"Mr. Clancy." Sari interrupted Thelma's posturings impatiently. "When you have a moment..
Clancy smiled. "I've got a moment right now, Sari." He glanced quickly at Thelma. "Since it looks like Mrs. Abbott's going into Denver."
Thelma lifted her chin haughtily. "Well, I may not go.”
"Ah, now, don't let me talk you into doing something you don't want to do," Mr. Clancy said amiably. "I won't have any of my customers saying I forced them into buying something."
"But I—"
"Now, now, Mrs. Abbott," Clancy shook his head. "I'll just go ahead and wait on Sari here, and when I'm done, if you're still interested, you just call me over."
Sari looked at the counter, trying to hide her grin as Thelma huffed and flounced off to the stove to corral her husband.
"Thank the Lord," Clancy murmured. He leaned forward, his beefy hands resting on the rough wood. "You're a pretty sight today, Sari. What can I do for you?"
Sari smiled. "Mr. Clancy, this
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