Greta peered past him. Roper Brawley stood in the doorway, feet apart, hand on his gun. Wyatt stepped out in front of Greta, guiding her behind him while putting himself in the line of fire.

“You ain’t gonna make it here.” Brawley appeared calm, but his grip was tight against his gun. “Might as well admit it and stop wasting everybody’s time.”

“I ain’t wasting time.”

Though the sunlight filtered in from outside the livery, Brawley’s face was shadowed beneath the brim of his hat, hiding his black eye patch. Seeing their neighbor never failed to make Greta shiver. Although most of the sightings had been from a distance, she had only to remember the first time he’d harassed her while she had been huckleberry picking for her to sense that this man was dangerous, perhaps even deadly.

Wyatt’s fingers gripped the handle of his revolver too. “Last I checked, my mail and what I aim to do with my family is my business, not yours.”

Brawley spat a stream of tobacco juice into the hay, his bottom lip bulging and his scraggly beard stained from the spittle. “No need to get all-fired up, McQuaid. Just doin’ my civil-like duty to keep more people from being homeless than need to be.”

“Hey there, Mister.” Of course, Astrid had to choose that moment to decide she was done petting the horses. She skipped past Wyatt and would have gone straight toward Brawley if Wyatt hadn’t grabbed her up and held her back.

She craned her neck to see Brawley regardless of Wyatt’s hold. “What happened to your eye, Mister?”

“Astrid,” Greta muttered. “Be polite.”

“Just curious is all. Last time you came riding through town, I thought for sure you were a pirate, what with the eye patch and all.”

“Good one, kid. Yep, I’m a pirate.”

Astrid cocked her head and stared at Brawley. “W-e-l-l—”

Greta clamped a hand over the little girl’s mouth. The situation was already tense enough, and they didn’t need to add to the danger with Astrid’s blunt remarks.

“Get on out of here, Brawley.” Wyatt dropped his hand again to his revolver. “And you better not come anywhere near my place if you want to live a month of Sundays.”

Brawley let out a barking laugh and then turned and sauntered away. Wyatt watched him go, his already-dark eyes turning murky. He passed Astrid over to her, told her to stay in the livery, and then left, his heavy-booted steps taking him in the direction of Simpkin’s General Store. No doubt he planned to give an earful to Captain Jim for spilling the news about his family’s predicament.

Whatever Wyatt might do, one thing was true. The West was no place for cowards. And Greta was fairly certain that with all her uncertainties, she was the biggest coward of all.

Chapter 16