Relief flooded her features, quickly followed by suspicion. Why would you help me? You don't know me. The question caught Yates off guard. In the untamed territories, helping strangers was an uncommon survival often depended on it, but her weariness spoke of experiences that had taught her not to trust easily.
Out here we help those in need, he said simply. It's how we all survive. She studied him for a long moment, then nodded slightly. Thank you, Mr. King. Yates, please.
Now, can I bring you some water? You need to drink. When she nodded, he helped her sit up slightly and held a cup to her lips. She drank eagerly but carefully, clearly aware of the dangers of drinking too quickly after dehydration. Small sips, he encouraged.
There's plenty more. After she'd had enough, she sank back against the pillows, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. "I have nothing to pay you with," she whispered. "They took everything." "We'll worry about that later," Yates assured her.
"For now, just rest." Her eyes were already closing, her body demanding the sleep it needed to heal. Yates watched her for a few moments more, then quietly left the room to find Martha. The housekeeper was in the kitchen already preparing breakfast. "How is she?" she asked as soon as Yates entered.
"Awake briefly. Her name is Bethany Rose. She was on a stage a coach that was robbed 3 days ago. She's been walking since. Martha clicked her tongue in sympathy.
Poor thing. Three days in this heat with no water or shelter. It's a miracle she's alive. I'm riding into town to speak with Sheriff Taylor. See if he's heard about the robbery.
Will you stay with her? Of course. Don't worry. She'll be well looked after. Yates nodded his thanks and headed out to the stable, his mind still on the woman in his guest bedroom.
Something about Bethany Rose stirred protective instincts he hadn't felt in years, not since the death of his younger sister during the journey west. Perhaps it was the vulnerability in those blue eyes, or the courage it must have taken to walk for 3 days through the unforgiving desert. Whatever it was, he found himself unusually invested in her welfare, and determined to discover the full story behind her desperate journey. The ride into Cedar Springs, the nearest town to the Lazy K, took just over an hour. The morning was already heating up, promising another scorching summer day.
The town itself was growing rapidly, no longer just a dusty outpost, but developing into a proper settlement with a main street lined with businesses, including a new hotel that catered to the increasing number of travelers heading west. Sheriff Taylor's office was next to the jail house, a sturdy building with a sign declaring law and order above the door. The sheriff himself was a former Texas Ranger, a nononsense man who had brought much needed stability to the region. "King Cade," he greeted as Yates entered. "What brings you to town?"
Yates explained about finding Bethany and her mention of the stage of coach robbery. The sheriff's expression grew serious. Heard about that yesterday when a cavalry patrol found the wreckage. Westbound Butterfield stage happened about 20 mi east. Driver dead, passengers scattered.