Free The Inheritance by Tamera Alexander Page B

find Dr. Foster holding the infant and quietly giving the pallbearers instruction on how things would proceed. Wyatt approached Miss Ashford. “Would you mind if I take Emma outside, ma’am? We won’t go wandering.”
    Relief eased some of the tension in her face and hinted at forgiveness for what he’d done moments earlier. “I’d be most appreciative, Marshal. Thank you.”
    Outside, a crowd of people had already gathered, and he saw three more wagons heading down the rutted path. The Talbots must have been well loved. Several of the women turned his way as he carried Emma down the stairs, but none approached.
    His horse was tethered by the barn, and he carried Emma to it and held her close enough so she could pluck the surprise from his saddlebag.
    “Is it mine?” she asked.
    “It is.”
    She beamed and clutched the rag doll tight against her chest. “Her name’s gonna be Clara.”
    “Sounds like a good name to me.” He shook the rag doll’s limp arm. “Nice to meet you, Clara.” That drew a giggle from Emma.
    The crowd across the way quieted, and Wyatt turned to see them filing in small groups up the porch stairs and into the home. Miss Ashford stood inside the doorway, greeting people. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she held herself with grace and poise, despite the difficult task.
    A short while later, everyone gathered out front by the porch again. The pastor led the way down the steps with the pallbearers following behind him with the closed coffin. Miss Ashford fell into step, but when she came close to take Emma’s hand, the child wouldn’t relinquish her hold on him. Not wanting to draw more attention to the child’s reluctance, Wyatt guided Emma to walk beside Miss Ashford, though the little girl still wouldn’t take hold of her hand.
    Nor did she throughout the funeral, or as they walked back to the cabin after the graveside service.
    Most folks had brought a dish of some sort to share, and the kitchen table was laden with meats and vegetables and pies. Emma gravitated mainly toward the desserts while, from what he could see, Miss Ashford managed a meager plateful that one of the women had prepared for her.
    An hour later, nearly everyone was gone except for Dr. Foster, a handful of women who were cleaning up the kitchen, and a conspicuously dressed gentleman who’d arrived within the last half hour, well after the funeral. He wore a well-tailored suit and stood off to the side. Judging from the way he kept watching Miss Ashford, Wyatt presumed he was waiting for an opportunity to speak with her.
    Curious, and feeling unwarranted protectiveness, Wyatt made his way across the front room to join them when he spotted Robert through a window, and paused. Still a good distance away, the boy was walking down the road toward the homestead, as though returning from town. Only then did Wyatt realize he hadn’t seen Robert yet that day. He’d assumed he’d been around. But now that he thought of it, he couldn’t remember seeing Robert at the gravesite either. He sighed and turned away, well able to imagine what Miss Ashford’s response to this would be.
    Dr. Foster was speaking with the ladies in the kitchen, and Emma was devouring yet another cookie, but Miss Ashford was nowhere to be seen.
    “Please, Miss Ashford, let me apologize again for the abysmal timing of my visit.”
    The sound of a man’s voice drew Wyatt back to the open window. Peering out, he spotted Miss Ashford and the well-suited gentleman standing off to the side. Conscience wrestling with honor, Wyatt glanced around to make sure no one was watching him. He knew he should move away, but concern— and curiosity—grounded him there.
    “I accept your apology, Mr. Billings. However, the continuance of this conversation today is inappropriate. And untoward, I might add.”
    “I assure you, ma’am, I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t imperative that I speak with you immediately. I’ve been advised,