Читать книгу The Countess and the Cowboy - Elizabeth Lane - Страница 11

Chapter Four

“You said you had business in town,” Eve reminded Roderick. Not that she cared a fig about his business, but she wanted to be free of his overpowering presence so she could enjoy the children.

“Yes, so I did.” Roderick glanced at his gold pocket watch. “I’m meeting with some of the other ranchers in the hotel, at two o’clock. Looks like it’s about time. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not in the least. We’ll stroll around and pick up the odds and ends for Alice,” Eve said. “How long do you expect to be?”

“Not more than an hour. If you and the children get tired you can wait on the bench in the hotel lobby.”

“Fine, take your time.” Eve made a quick dash to retrieve the shopping basket from the buggy. At Manderfield, the servants had always done the shopping. This would be a brand-new experience. She was looking forward to it with mixed emotions.

“Have you got any money?” Roderick paused outside the hotel entrance and fished for his wallet. “We have an account at the general store, but for other shops, like the bakery, you’ll need cash.”

“Oh. Sorry, I’d quite forgotten.” Color flooded Eve’s face as she realized how close she’d come to making a fool of herself. She disliked the idea of accepting money from Roderick, but if she wanted to buy things she had little choice. Besides, most of what she’d be purchasing would be for the children. It was only proper that their father provide for them. With a mutter of thanks, she took the bills from his hand.

“You’re very pretty when you blush, Eve,” he said.

She turned away, pretending she hadn’t heard. Tonight she would ask him to set up a household account so she wouldn’t have to come begging to him every time she needed something. But maybe having her beg was what Roderick wanted.

The children were waiting, their little faces still pale and sad-looking. They walked on either side of her, Rose clasping her hand and Thomas carrying the empty basket.

Alice had given Eve a list of a half dozen small items she needed—salt, pepper, baking soda, cinnamon, sewing thread and a jar of the miniature pickles Roderick liked. There was nothing that couldn’t be easily carried. “Just give the list and the basket to the clerk at the general store,” Alice had instructed. “He’ll fill the order for you.”

That was easy enough to do. But as Eve waited with the children, her gaze roaming the well-stocked shelves, racks and barrels, she became conscious of eyes watching her—the women in faded calicos eyeing her fine clothes and stylish bonnet, the men casting her sidelong glances that skimmed over her figure. At least she’d decided not to wear her ruby ring. That would have drawn even more attention.

The store seemed inordinately busy—but after a few minutes she noticed that few of the customers were buying. It appeared that most of them had wandered in to look at her.

Eve fought the urge to flee out the door, where more curious looks would surely be awaiting her. How long would it take before she stopped feeling like a circus freak in this town?

Painfully self-conscious, she kept her gaze forward and her attention on the children, who were eyeing the glass candy jars on the counter. She didn’t feel the tall, intensely masculine presence behind her until she heard his voice.

“Nice to see you again, Countess.”

For an instant she froze. After what she’d told Clint Lonigan last night, the first response that came to mind was, How dare you? But people were watching. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene.

“It’s Mrs. Townsend,” she said in a chilly voice. “And it’s nice to see you, too, Mr. Lonigan. Now if you don’t mind, I have some purchases to pay for.” She turned toward the clerk. “I’ll have two peppermint sticks for the children, please.”

“Coming right up, Countess.”

She frowned. “As I just told the gentleman, it’s Mrs. Townsend. This isn’t England and I’m certainly not royalty.”

“But still a very proper lady.” Clint Lonigan’s voice had taken on a teasing tone.

Ignoring him, Eve signed for her purchases, gave each of the children a peppermint stick and reached for her basket. “I’ll be taking my leave of you now, Mr. Lonigan. Good day.”

“I’ll walk you to the street.” He picked up the basket, giving her no choice except to stay with him. The children, sucking on their candy, paid little heed to their conversation.

“What in heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?” she hissed as they stepped onto the boardwalk.

“I’m taking the only chance I may get to ask you if you’ve changed your mind.”

“I told you, I have no intention of becoming involved in your little war.” She moved away from the store entrance and started down the boardwalk toward the bakery.

“Little war, is it?” His voice had taken on an edge. “You came into town with Hanford. Where is he now?”

“In the hotel. He said he had a meeting with some other ranchers.”

“Did he tell you what the meeting was about?”

“I didn’t ask. Just business, I suppose.”

“Their so-called business is burning property and murdering every farmer and small rancher that won’t leave the county.”

His words triggered a clench in Eve’s stomach. How could anything as awful as what Lonigan was suggesting be true? “I don’t believe you,” she said.

“Ask your precious brother-in-law on the way home. Not that he’ll tell you the truth.”

“And what is the truth, as you see it? That my brother-in-law goes skulking about in the night like a thief, personally eliminating anyone who gets in his way?”

“Of course not. Men like him don’t get their hands dirty. They pay hired thugs to do their killing. But they’re just as guilty as if they’d lit the torches, fired the guns and strung the nooses. If you could do something to stop it and you won’t, you’re guilty, too.”

“No more of this!” Eve kept her voice low, aware of the curious looks from passersby, not to mention Thomas and Rose just a few steps away. “I told you, I’m here for my sister’s children. My only concern is their welfare. They’ve had enough distress in their lives without my plotting against their father under his very roof. So go away and leave us alone!”

Clint Lonigan’s mouth hardened into a grim line. After handing her the basket, he took a step away and touched the brim of his hat. “I understand. Have a pleasant day, Countess.” The title sizzled of his tongue, rife with unmistakable contempt. She watched him cross the street to the saloon and go inside without looking back at her. Shrugging off the unsettling encounter, she herded the children on down the street to the bakery.

Etta Simpkins greeted her with a warm smile. “What a pleasure to see you, Countess! And with those two sweet lambs! What can I do for you?”

“As I said, just Mrs. Townsend will do.” How would she ever fit in here if people insisted on using that pompous-sounding title? “You have a lovely shop. It’s the only place on the street that looks inviting.”

“Call it a woman’s touch.” Mrs. Simpkins laughed. “I have some lovely cinnamon buns just out of the oven. And those oatmeal raisin cookies behind the glass were just made last night.”

“I’ll take a half dozen of each,” Eve said. “Maybe I can persuade Mr. Hanford to stop for a little picnic on the way home. The children would enjoy that.”

“What a dandy idea. I’ve got some cheese in the cool room out back. Would you like me to make you some sandwiches to take along?”

“Thank you. Just a few. The children can share.” Eve had initially abandoned the picnic idea when Roderick had insisted on driving them to town. But maybe she could persuade him to take the time. He was the children’s father, after all, and he seemed to have so little interaction with them.

Mrs. Simpkins bustled out the back, returned with a wedge of cheddar and began cutting off thin slices. Rose and Thomas had finished their candy and were looking at some iced sugar cookies. Eve curbed the impulse to buy them. It wouldn’t do to spoil the children with too many sweets.

“So how are you getting on with Mr. Hanford?” Mrs. Simpson reached for a loaf of bread and began cutting it for sandwiches.

“Fine so far.” The question struck Eve as too familiar, but she supposed it was the way of people in this frontier town. Gossip was, if nothing else, a way to combat loneliness.

“Treating you like a gentleman, is he?”

“Of course.” Scrambling for a way to change the subject, Eve remembered her other reason for coming here. “Perhaps you can help me out with a suggestion. I’m looking for a strong young girl to help with the heavy work in the house. Alice is good in the kitchen, but with her rheumatism...”

“Oh, I know what you mean, dearie. The poor old soul can barely get around as it is. I do have a girl in mind. The family she worked for moved away, so she’s looking for employment. Very willing and reliable. Her name is Beth Ann.”

Dearie?

Eve drew in a startled breath. She disapproved of the formality of everyone calling her by her title, yet this seemed to go too far in the other direction. But this wasn’t England, she reminded herself. If she wanted to belong, she would have to get used to Americans and their easygoing manners.

“I’m not sure what kind of salary I should offer her,” she said. “Back in England, servants were tied to the family for generations.”

“Room, board and three dollars a week should be plenty. If she’s interested, can I just send her out to the ranch?”

“Certainly. On approval, of course—mine and Mr. Hanford’s. Since she’ll be around the children her language and behavior must be suitable.”

“She’ll do you fine.” While Eve counted out change, Mrs. Simpkins put the sandwiches, buns and cookies in a paper bag with a napkin. “Have a lovely picnic, dearie!” She waved them out the door.

Dearie. Eve bit back her instinctive frown and forced herself to smile and wave as she led her charges to the boardwalk.

By the time they’d walked up the other side of the street, peering in a few shop windows, the children were getting tired. They’d been far too quiet on this outing, Eve thought. If only she could lift their sadness and get them to laugh and play. But that, it seemed, would take some time.

Rose tugged at Eve’s skirt. “My shoes hurt, Aunt Eve,” she whined. “I want to go home now.”

Thomas kicked a clod of mud off the boardwalk into the street. “Where’s Papa? Why is he taking so long?”

Eve sighed. “Let’s go into the hotel and find out. He said we could wait for him in there.”

The Lodgepole Hotel was nothing like the fine places Eve had visited in England. The lobby was the size of a small parlor, with a wooden bench, two straight-backed chairs and a potbellied stove, unlit on this warm summer day. A badly mounted grizzly bear head, the mouth open in a snarl, hung above the desk. At the sight of it, Rose shrank against Eve’s skirts.

“I’m not scared of it. It’s dead, just like the ones in our house.” Thomas pretended to shoot the beast with a make-believe rifle.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” The clerk, scarcely more than a boy, moved with a limp. A battle wound, perhaps, or just an accident?

“Yes, thank you,” Eve said. “We’re waiting for Mr. Roderick Hanford to drive us home. I don’t suppose you know when his meeting will be finished.”

“They’re in the back room. Don’t know when they’ll be done, but I can check for you.”

“Please don’t disturb them. We can wait.” Eve settled herself on the hard bench and pulled the children down on either side of her. But it soon became plain that the little ones were too restless to wait patiently. Rose was squirming, and Thomas kept finding excuses to jump up and race around the lobby. Unaccustomed to such behavior, Eve could feel her patience wearing thin. More than an hour had passed. What was taking Roderick so long?

Another ten minutes crawled by. Eve had given each of the children a cookie to quiet them, but it wasn’t enough. Rose had begun to whine. Thomas was scuffing his heels against the end of the bench with maddening repetition.

Eve caught the young clerk’s attention. “Perhaps you can just look in on that meeting. See if they’re about to finish.”

“Sure.” He disappeared down a back hallway, returning a moment later. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it looks like they’re still talking and...uh...playing cards.”

With an impatient huff, Eve picked up her basket and reticule and rose from the bench. She could drive a buggy as well as any man, and she was tired of waiting here with these bored, cranky children while Roderick played cards. “When Mr. Hanford gets out of his meeting tell him we were here, but that we could not wait for him any longer. He can jolly well find his own way home.”

The buggy was waiting where they’d left it, hitched to the rail in front of the hotel. Boosting the children into the back, Eve freed the reins, climbed onto the seat and clucked to the drowsing horse. As a girl, she’d learned to handle a buggy on outings with her father. Now she could put the lessons to good use.