Читать книгу The Dreammaker - Judith Stacy, Judith Stacy - Страница 11

She’d expected most anything from Tripp Callihan—a change in the terms of their deal, not showing up at all, actually turning out to be a convicted murder. But a child?

Kaitlin knelt in front of the boy. He was a beautiful child. Black hair, like Tripp’s. Deep-blue eyes, the same hue as his father’s. The family resemblance hidden in the boy’s soft face made Tripp’s features harder, sharper.

Kaitlin glanced up at him, towering over them both. He looked big, powerful, masculine. That strong chin and straight nose, those intelligent eyes would be the child’s someday. It was only a matter of time.

She smiled at the boy as he rubbed his eyes again. “What’s your name?”

He latched on to Tripp’s trouser leg and looked up at him.

“This is Miss Kaitlin.” Tripp touched his hand to the back of the boy’s head. “It’s all right to talk to her.”

“Charlie.” His forehead wrinkled in a little frown. “And you can’t call me Charles ‘cause Papa gets mad.”

Kaitlin grinned and glanced up at Tripp. “We certainly don’t want that to happen, now do we?”

“Uh-uh.” Charlie shook his head emphatically.

“How old are you?”

“Six.”

“My, but you’re a big boy for six.”

Charlie looked past her to the store. “You got any kids?”

Kaitlin rose and shook her head. “No. Sorry.”

“Papa?” He tugged on Tripp’s trouser leg. “I’m thirsty.”

“Come on, Charlie.” Kaitlin reached for his hand. “I’ll take you inside and get you a—”

“No.” Tripp dropped his hand on the boy’s shoulder and looked Kaitlin hard in the eye. “I take care of him.”

Kaitlin stepped out of the way. “Sorry…”

She followed them inside the store and found Tripp holding the boy up to the sink while he pumped water; Charlie stuck his mouth under the flow, lapping it with his tongue. Tripp set him down, then cupped his hand under the water and rubbed it over his face.

“Can I go outside, Papa?” Charlie asked.

Tripp pulled a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped his face. “Stay by the wagon. Nowhere else.”

“I will, Papa.”

Kaitlin stepped aside as the boy scooted out the door. She nodded outside.

“Have you got a wife inside that wagon, too?”

Tripp frowned at her. “No.”

“Will she be joining us later?”

His frown deepened as he shoved his handkerchief into his hip pocket. “No.”

Kaitlin stepped closer. “Will she—”

“It’s just Charlie and me.” Tripp dragged the sleeve of his pale blue shirt across his face. “We’d better get down to business.”

Obviously, he didn’t intend to give her more details and, really, it wasn’t any of her business. But the deep pain she saw in his blue eyes for a fraction of a second told Kaitlin a great deal of what she needed to know.

“Yes, I guess we should.” She motioned out the door. “We’ll get your wagon unloaded, then we can—”

“Hold on. We need to talk about a few things first.”

“Talk?” Kaitlin waved her hand outside. “There’s only a few hours of daylight left and lots to do. We can talk later.”

“No, now. There’re some things we have to get straight, and I’m not unloading my wagon until we do.”

Kaitlin huffed impatiently. “Fine.”

Tripp walked to the rickety table leaning against the wall, wiped the dust away with his handkerchief and righted two crates at either end.

“Sit down.”

Kaitlin waved her arms around the room. “Couldn’t we discuss this while we work?”

He blinked at her, taken aback by her questioning. “No. First things first.”

She perched on the edge of the crate, holding on to her patience. “Well, just hurry, will you?”

Instead, Tripp walked across the room and looked out the back door.

“Don’t play on that, son, you might fall.”

He stood there a moment longer, watching, then strode to the table and sat down across from her, the crate beneath him groaning.

“Now, let’s see.” Tripp pulled a small tablet from the pocket of his shirt. “First, I want to go over our partnership agreement.”

Kaitlin sighed heavily. “We’ve gone over that already. We split everything fifty-fifty, and sell out when we’ve made our money back.”

Tripp shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

“If it were any more simple, a dog with thumbs could run the place.”

Tripp glared at her, then flipped to the next page. “I’ve done some figuring on expenses—repairs, buying the inventory, things like that. We need to decide on a budget.”

Kaitlin shrugged. “We’ll spend what money we have, and that should be enough to get things going.”

“What the hell kind of idea is that?” Tripp reared back.

“What more can I tell you, Mr. Callihan? I’m putting every dime I have in the world into this place. Aren’t you?”

“All the more reason for us to make a plan.”

She bit down on her lip. “We have a plan.”

“We need to decide on the extent of the repairs, how much we can spend on them, what kind of inventory to buy.” Tripp tapped his finger on the tablet. “We have a lot of decisions to make.”

Kaitlin pressed her lips together, holding in her rising temper. “Are you this methodical about everything you do, Mr. Callihan?”

Their gazes collided, and the implication of what everything might entail sprang up between them as if it were a living thing. Kaitlin blushed and looked away. Tripp cleared his throat and shifted on the crate.

“Well, uh, maybe this can wait a while,” Tripp said.

“Good idea.” Kaitlin hopped off the crate and hurried across the room.

“As long as we’re straight on this deal.”

She whirled around. “You’ve made your position perfectly clear, Mr. Callihan. And the fact that I want to get to work while you want to discuss things should prove my position. Now, can we please get your wagon unloaded?”

Tripp just looked at her, all puffed up with emotion. His belly began to ache.

“All right, let’s get to work.” He headed across the room. “Are you hungry?”

“Hungry?” Kaitlin shook her head and hurried out the door. “Good grief.”

Tripp opened the tailgate of the wagon and unloaded some of the lighter items onto the boardwalk, crates, cane-back chairs, a trunk, a small table. Charlie scooted over.

“Can I help, Papa?”

Tripp handed him a small box. “Take it inside. And be careful.”

“I figured you’d use the room upstairs,” Kaitlin said as she picked up a chair. “We’ll need all the space downstairs for the stock.”

Tripp lifted one of the heavier crates. “Let’s have a look.”

Inside the kitchen, Charlie waited at the door to Kaitlin’s bedroom.

“That room’s mine, Charlie,” Kaitlin said. “You and your papa will be upstairs.”

They placed the items they carried on the other side of the kitchen, and Kaitlin led the way up the narrow staircase. The room was dirty like the rest of the place, with two windows along the back wall.

Tripp walked around studying the floor, ceiling and corners while Charlie ran to the window and looked out.

“Are we gonna have this room, Papa?”

Kaitlin stood in the center of the room watching Tripp circle around her. “It’s plenty big enough for you both.”

“I like it, Papa.” Charlie bounced on his toes.

“If you don’t want it, you can look at the room downstairs.” Kaitlin pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Gracious, this man took forever to decide anything. She felt her patience slipping away. “Mr. Callihan, do you like the room, or not?”

Tripp continued to pace. How could a room this dirty, closed up for this long, smell so sweet? His gaze landed on Kaitlin. She was how, of course.

The room that appeared so large only a second ago seemed to shrink around him. Tripp headed for the staircase. “The room’s fine. I’ll get the wagon unloaded.”

“Good idea,” Kaitlin muttered as she followed him down the steps. “I wish I’d thought of that.”

Tripp was already lifting items from the wagon when she reached the back boardwalk. He held up his hand.

“You go inside. I’ll take care of this.”

She reached for another chair. “It will go faster if we work together.”

“No, you might hurt yourself.”

Tripp reached for the chair and his hands brushed hers. He jumped back. God, she was soft.

Kaitlin moved away, carrying the chair. “I’ll be fine.”

But she wasn’t really fine. Kaitlin hurried into the store, her stomach in jitters. What was wrong with her?

She put the chair in the corner and drew in a deep breath. Something about Tripp Callihan put her on edge. At first she’d thought it was only that he was helping her reach her long sought after dream, but now…

Kaitlin squared her shoulders. This wasn’t the time for such thoughts. Too much needed doing.

Outside, standing in the wagon, Tripp focused all his energy and thoughts on his work. But it was so damn hard. Time after time Kaitlin appeared, bending over, stretching, lifting. It just wasn’t right that a woman could smell so sweet and look so pretty while working. How was he supposed to concentrate?

“Hello, neighbor!”

Rafe and Julia Beaumont stepped out the rear entrance of their millinery shop next door, waving.

“Could you use some help?” Rafe asked.

“Sure could.” Tripp leaned against, the bedsprings. “Things slow down at the livery?”

Rafe inclined his head toward the west. “I was down looking at the widow Smith’s mare when I saw -you drive by. Figured you could use some help.”

“That’s a fact.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen him so early in the day in a month of Sundays.” Julia smiled sweetly at her husband and rubbed her palm up his arm.

Rafe blushed and eased away from her. “Let’s get these things unloaded.”

“Papa! Papa!”

Charlie ran out the back door, then slid to a stop when he saw Julia and Rafe.

“What’s wrong, son?”

“Miss Kaitlin has cookies. Can I have one?”

Kaitlin stepped out of the store and smiled at Rafe and Julia. “Thanks for coming by.”

“Please, Papa? Please?” Charlie hopped up and down.

A big smile spread over Julia’s face and she went to Charlie. “Oh, he’s adorable. Look, Rafe, isn’t he sweet? Oh, I can’t wait until we have one of our own.”

Rafe blushed and jumped up into the wagon. “We’ve got work to do.”

Tripp pulled off his hat and wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. “What kind of cookies are they?”

Kaitlin ground her lips together then replied, “Oatmeal.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, Charlie, you can have a cookie. But just one. Don’t spoil your supper.”

“I’d like you three to eat with us tonight,” Julia said. “I’ve got chicken in the oven.”

Kaitlin nodded. “Thanks. I think Mr. Callihan is hungry already.”

She gave him a smile and went inside the store. Julia followed her in and looked the place over. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Kaitlin nodded in agreement The kitchen needed a thorough cleaning from top to bottom before anything could be unpacked or a single meal, cooked.

“Let’s get started,” Julia said; picking up a broom.

“But don’t you have work to do in your shop?”

She shrugged. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

Kaitlin smiled. “Thanks.”

“So,” Julia asked as she swept, “you and Tripp are partners?”

Kaitlin pumped water into a wooden bucket. She’d known questions of this nature would come up. “Business partners. Strictly business.”

“That’s right.” Tripp’s voice sounded from the doorway.

He walked into the kitchen carrying another crate. Rafe followed him inside.

“We’re just running the store together,” Tripp said. “That’s all.”

“Papa?” Charlie pulled on Tripp’s trouser leg. “How come ladies’ underwear has bows on it?”

A stunned silence fell. All eyes riveted Tripp.

He gulped. “What?”

“See?” Charlie pointed into the bedroom. “Miss Kaitlin’s underwear has pink bows. How come?”

Without wanting to, Tripp gazed into her room at the white garments piled in the middle of the bed. Soft, delicate, womanly things.

“Uh, well, uh…” Tripp pulled at his shirt collar. “We’ll talk about that later.”

Tripp took Charlie’s hand and hurried out the door, Rafe on his heels.

Over the next several hours they unloaded the wagon, cleaned the upstairs bedroom and moved the furniture in, a bureau and washstand, a small bed in one corner, a double across the room. The kitchen was half done when hunger overcame everyone and they went next door to Julia’s to eat.

The back room was small but cozy, with a lace tablecloth, fresh flowers, and the delicious smell of roasted chicken in the air. They settled around the table.

“When do you think you’ll open the store?” Julia asked as she passed the biscuits.

“Don’t know, exactly.” Tripp spooned peas onto Charlie’s plate, then took some for himself. “I have to do some figuring on that.”

“Well, it can’t be soon enough to suit me,” Julia said. “I’m so glad you’re here. Porter needs another store—and a lot of other things.”

Rafe shook his head. “I don’t know. Some townsfolk were glad when the railroad changed its mind and didn’t come through here. Didn’t like the notion of all those new people coming in. You never know what kind of folks you’ll get.”

“I think it would have been good for Porter,” Julia said. “It certainly would have helped my business.”

Rafe chuckled. “I guess if the railroad had come through town, you two wouldn’t have ended up with old man Finch’s store.”

Kaitlin and Tripp glanced at each other across the table.

“I wonder if he sold his other property here in town?” Rafe asked. “He owned a lot of land.”

“Good riddance to him, I say. A grumpier, more hateful old man I’ve never met.” Julia nodded. “Mr. Finch hasn’t been back to Porter in months. I hope he’s gone forever.”

“He’ll be mighty surprised if he comes back and sees how well our store is doing.” Kaitlin nodded confidently.

“We’ll have to see how things go.” Tripp looked down at Charlie beside him. “Eat your vegetables, son.”

“Things will go well,” Kaitlin said. “I just know it.”

“Well,” Tripp said, “we’ll have to see.”

They finished supper, and while Kaitlin and Julia cleaned the kitchen, Tripp and Rafe went outside to check on the horses.

“Come on, Charlie,” Tripp called from the door.

The boy rubbed his eyes and slid down from the kitchen chair.

“Charlie can stay with us,” Kaitlin said.

Tripp shook his head. “No. Charlie stays with me. Come on, son.”

Julia followed the boy to the door and closed her hand over Rafe’s arm. “You won’t be out late, will you?”

He eased her fingers away. “I’ll be back in a while.”

The men went outside, with Charlie running ahead of them. It was dark now, with only lanterns from the back windows of the shops to light the way.

Rafe stopped a short distance down the boardwalk. “I ought to apologize for Julia.”

“Apologize for what? She seems like a nice woman, a good wife.”

Rafe shook his head. “She’s pretty headstrong, if you get my meaning.”

He’d never known a woman more headstrong than Kaitlin Jeffers, but didn’t think that was exactly what Rafe meant.

“Damn…” Rafe hesitated to speak, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Julia just won’t keep her hands off of me. You know what I’m saying?”

Tripp’s gut tightened. “What?”

“Every time I turn around, there she is. Every morning. Every evening. Every time I get near her, she’s wanting to—Well, you know.” The man blushed.

Tripp’s mouth went dry. “Every time?”

“Every time.” Rafe sighed heavily. “But I’ve got a business to run. I’m at the livery before dawn, and most times I work straight through until after dark. You know what I’m saying, don’t you? I mean, seeing that you’ve got little Charlie, you must have been married once. Did you have this problem?”

Hell no, he hadn’t had this problem. In fact, he didn’t even understand why Rafe considered it a problem.

“So you don’t like making love to your wife?” Tripp asked.

“No, it’s not that.” Rafe shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe what that woman does to get me into bed with her. Why, just this morning I was trying to shave and here she came. Took my shaving soap, and before I knew what was happening, she had her top off and the lather all over her.”

Tripp gulped. “Shaving soap?”

“I told her I had to go to work.” Rafe grunted. “She needs to realize I haven’t got time for that stuff.”

Tripp’s jaw sagged. “You mean you didn’t…?”

“That’s the last thing I need, coming in to work late. Shoot, my brothers give me hell about Julia as it is.” Rafe nodded solemnly. “Lucky you’ve got a business partner and not a wife. You don’t have those problems.”

Heat pulsed through Tripp. He dragged his hand across his forehead. Oh yeah, he felt like the luckiest man on earth, all right.