Читать книгу Bride By Arrangement - Karen Kirst - Страница 11
ОглавлениеThe widow’s words pricked Noah’s conscience. Generous? Hah. Anxiety and frustration built inside like a cannon about to blow. Grinding his back teeth together, he studied the wee girl.
Her mussed curls were damp, and errant tendrils clung to her neck. She shivered a bit beneath the thick wool blanket. Not a good sign considering the air was hot and stagnant with the windows closed.
He had no idea how to help her. Children in general made him antsy. Sick children made him downright skittish. To his shock and dismay, numerous soldiers had had their wives and children join them. The women had cooked meals and washed and mended uniforms. The children had assisted in these chores, their eyes haunted by the gory sights and sounds of war. One small boy had gotten caught in the cross fire—killed instantly by a stray minié ball.
Noah had steered clear of the lot of them. They’d had no business being there.
Abigail whimpered. Constance adjusted the compress, murmuring reassuring words. Alarm punched him in his midsection. Whatever was ailing the little girl could be serious. And while he hadn’t asked for their presence, they were under his protection for the time being.
“Want me to fetch the doctor?”
Constance’s head snapped up. “There’s one in Cowboy Creek? I wondered... Can you tell me about his reputation?”
“Doc Fletcher set up his practice several years ago. While I personally haven’t needed his services, folks around here have nothing but good things to say about him.”
Her lips pursed as she considered his words. “If she isn’t improved by morning, then I think that would be best.”
He saw the unease and fear beneath her brave facade. She’s far from home. Her expected groom has blasted her plans to pieces. And her daughter is ill. Of course she’s afraid.
As the urge to take her hand and reassure her fought its way to the surface, he backed up a step. Compassion was an unfamiliar emotion, one he’d thought the army had drilled out of him. “I’ll return the wagon to the barn and rustle us up some supper.”
“I can help. Show me what you want me to do.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Noah hadn’t had a decent meal in days. He wasn’t about to let a pampered socialite loose in his kitchen. Constance Miller probably didn’t know the difference between a spatula and an egg beater.
Not giving her a chance to respond, he left the house and tended his team, all the while mentally forming a rebuke that would singe the hair on Will’s and Daniel’s heads. Constance and her daughters shouldn’t be here. If Will hadn’t butted his nose where it didn’t belong, Noah would’ve been able to give the town’s problems his full attention.
The bank heist wasn’t his only concern. There’d been other unsolved crimes in recent weeks. Poisoned cattle. A sabotaged lumber delivery that had delayed construction of several important buildings. An invader in Will’s private quarters at the Cattleman. The Murdoch brothers were a troublesome bunch, bent on getting rich off others’ hard-earned money. But they weren’t all that smart. Noah suspected someone else was behind the town’s troubles. Someone with an agenda.
In the far-left corner, Wolf rested in the straw-strewn dirt, golden eyes tracking his jerky movements. Noah hung the bridles in the tack room.
“We’ve got a fresh set of problems, old boy. The chief one’s name is Constance.”
Wolf’s pointy ears perked up.
“Can you believe she was scared of you?”
The animal’s eyes closed as if in disbelief.
“Crazy, huh?”
Constance’s reaction wasn’t abnormal. Most folks kept their distance from Wolf, which suited Noah just fine. Since the wolf dog accompanied him most everywhere, it meant they kept their distance from Noah, as well.
He forked fresh hay in the horses’ stalls. The damaged skin on his shoulder and upper chest protested the movements. Since his release from the hospital, he’d made a habit of applying honey mixed with lavender to keep the skin soft and supple. Skipping the past several days hadn’t been a good idea.
“One of the twins is sick.”
Wolf blinked.
“Hope it’s nothing serious.” Leaning his weight on the pitchfork, he stared out the double opening to the cabin framed by gently rolling plains. “I thought my scars would disgust them, but they didn’t seem to notice.”
He’d expected Constance to recoil as so many others had upon first seeing him. The first time it occurred had been days after his doctor proclaimed him on the mend and suspended the lead paint treatments. The coverings had been removed, and he’d been allowed a mirror to see his new appearance. Just as he’d been confronted with the monster he’d become, a wife or sister of one of the patients had passed by, taken one look at him and clapped her hand over her mouth. Her horror had seared itself onto his brain.
He’d thrown the mirror to the floor, smashing it to bits, and sunk into a soul-deep melancholy that had lasted for months. If not for Daniel and Will, he might never have left the sick ward.
Striding to the corner stall, he checked on his dairy cow. “Hey, Winnie.”
Twisting her head, she gazed at him with molten brown eyes.
“I see Timothy was here this morning to give you relief.”
He hadn’t had to hire help until getting pinned sheriff. Daniel had suggested his employee’s adolescent son, and Noah had taken his advice. It appeared the boy had done a decent job, but he’d check the springhouse to see if the milk had been stored properly.
The pangs in his stomach became audible. Pushing off the ledge, he left the barn and headed straight for the henhouse. His plans to dine at the Cowboy Café after settling the Millers at the hotel having been thwarted, he’d have to fix something fast and easy. Scrambled eggs and fried ham wouldn’t take but a few minutes. There wasn’t time to make biscuits, but he was sure the blue-eyed girl—Jean, was it?—would like flapjacks.
The thought of little girls and flapjacks had him thinking about his sisters. The three of them had argued over the best way to eat them. Lilly had preferred them smothered with butter and jam. Cara insisted on molasses. The youngest, Elizabeth, wouldn’t eat them unless there were sausage links rolled up inside.
In the henhouse, he tried to push aside thoughts of his family and failed. Lilly, Cara and Elizabeth were no longer little girls. They were in their early twenties now, likely married with children. His parents would’ve aged considerably. Were they well? Struggling due to the South’s defeat? He couldn’t help wondering how his family had fared during the long years of fighting.
He could remedy that by writing them, but that last spectacular row with his father prevented him. That, and the fact he didn’t wish them to know that he was a shadow of his former self, that his inner self was as twisted by the war as his outer appearance.
Quickly gathering the eggs into a basket he left hanging inside the henhouse door, he chose a container of milk from the springhouse and hurried to the cabin. He could imagine the widow’s disdain over this simple meal. Oh, she wouldn’t let it show. No doubt she’d had lessons on how to hide her true feelings. But the image of the refined lady tucking into a five-high stack of syrup-smothered flapjacks put a smirk on his face.
When he entered, Constance emerged from the bedroom, her expression shadowed.
“Abigail is asleep, and Jane is amusing herself with a picture book.” Her skirts swayed and swished as she moved to meet him beside the counter he’d crafted. “Since you won’t allow me to assist in the meal preparation, may I ready the place settings?”
Her formal speech matched her appearance. He indicated the wall behind him. “The plates and utensils are in the hutch.”
She worked without speaking as he lit the fire inside the stove box and mixed the flapjack batter. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed her frequent glances and wondered what was going on inside her head. He had little experience with females outside his family. He’d joined the army before he’d had the chance to properly court any of the local girls. His nurses had been kind and proficient, but they hadn’t had the time or desire to socialize.
Having company in his home felt odd. Daniel and Will stopped by occasionally. Mostly they gave him space and waited for him to come to them.
Noah snagged the kettle from the row of shelves above the dry sink. “Do you drink coffee?”
“I never acquired a taste for it. Do you have any tea?”
“Tea’s for ladies and little girls.”
One flyaway brow arched, and he suspected she’d like to blast him with a tongue-lashing. Her composure fully intact, she said, “Milk will suffice.” Approaching the counter, she laid her ringed hand on the container. The gaudy jewels sparkled. “Do you mind if I pour some for Jane and myself?”
“Be my guest.”
Turning away, he procured a knife and, placing the ham slab on the plate, began to carve thick slices. He was acutely aware of her position in the room as she moved about. By the time he had the food ready to dish up, his skin prickled with tension and his appetite was long gone.
“Where would you like for us to sit?” She stood framed by the window, Jane—not Jean—beside her.
“Doesn’t matter.” He hated feeling flustered in his own home. The sooner this meal was over and he could make his escape, the better.
Constance chose the seat opposite his. The girl sat on his right.
Noah scooted his mug closer and cleared his throat. “I normally say grace in my head.”
“Momma always offers the mealtime prayer.” Jane looked from her mother to him.
Constance grimaced. “This isn’t our home, sweetheart.”
“He’s gonna be our pa soon enough. You said so.”
Jane’s large, cornflower blue eyes pinned him to his chair. This was a fine barrel of pickles. “Let’s get on with it,” he groused at the woman across from him. “I’ve got an errand to tend to.”
An errand he wasn’t about to put off until tomorrow.
* * *
During the ride into town, Noah nursed his temper, the torturous meal replaying in his mind. His self-consciousness about his scar had trumped all else. Seated directly across from him, the widow had had a clear view. There’d been nowhere to hide. So he’d ducked his head, tucked into his meal and done his best to ignore his uninvited guests.
Undulating fields gave way to the town proper. As his homestead was situated west of Cowboy Creek, he didn’t have to traverse the main thoroughfare to reach Will and Tomasina’s place. He traveled up Third Street. A handful of clapboard houses were interspersed between the businesses. Not as crowded in this section, but there was still a fair amount of activity as men went about their daily routines.
On his right, a reed-thin man wearing an apron was in his shop’s entrance sweeping out debris. “Howdy, Sheriff!”
Seconds passed before Noah realized the man was addressing him. You’re the sheriff now, remember? Folks normally didn’t initiate conversation. They treated him with wary respect.
He belatedly touched a finger to his brim. The man’s gaze slipped to Wolf trailing behind and, smile slipping, he turned and reentered his shop.
Similar exchanges were repeated as he proceeded along the dusty street. By the time Will’s manor came into view, Noah’s hand was tired from all the waving. He hadn’t pursued this position. He’d been asked to fill Quincy Davis’s spot after that man’s untimely death. Some said it was because he was one of the founding members, and they trusted him to do right by the townsfolk. Noah suspected it had more to do with the wild tales of his battlefield exploits that circulated about town. He didn’t consider himself a hero. Sure, he’d had to work hard to dispel the stigma of his Southern roots, to prove he was committed to the Union’s cause, but he hadn’t done anything to warrant the label of hero.
And while committed to keeping Cowboy Creek safe, he wasn’t prepared to involve himself in the social goings-on.
Guiding his sorrel onto Will’s property, they followed the grass-flattened path made by wagon deliveries. His friend’s new home was about 90 percent complete and promised to be a stunning testament to Will’s success. The front facade was designed to impress. Thick white columns supported a rounded rotunda high above. Arched windows lined the bottom floor, while the second-floor windows were rectangular in shape. Behind the columns and above the front entryway was a stone balcony. Open porches flanked both ends of the central structure.
The sounds of hammers and men calling to each other greeted him. The newlywed couple, who’d spent their first few days as husband and wife on the trail of outlaws, had decided to move in before the house was complete. Noah didn’t blame them. A hotel suite wasn’t the place to begin their new life together.
Still, the constant activity had to be irksome at times.
When no one answered his summons, he stalked around the perimeter to where workmen were busy attaching pale-hued brick to the rear wall. Scaffolding covered the entire structure like a wooden spine. Behind the house, the lush, tree-dotted lot backed up to the church, its spire reaching for the blue expanse above.
Noah scanned the milling workers. They cast wary glances at him and Wolf. Ignoring them, he spotted his quarry standing apart from the activity. Slightly taller than the other men, Will tended to be the finest-dressed gentleman around, his short brown hair covered by a smart derby hat. The silver-handled cane he was rarely without had been imported from Italy and was rumored to contain either a hidden blade or gun. Will had injured his leg in the same battle Noah had suffered his accident. He’d come close to being forced to having it amputated. Ignoring the doctor’s warnings, Will had chosen to forego surgery and wait and see if the wound healed. The risk had paid off. With the cane, his limp was hardly noticeable.
Skirting a platform of bricks, Noah picked his way through the construction site. Will was in deep conversation with Gideon Kendricks, the Union Pacific’s representative, in town to sell railroad stocks.
Gideon noticed his advance first and lifted his hand in a wave. Like Noah, the man hadn’t changed out of his trail-dusted gear following their unsuccessful search. Will, on the other hand, had taken the time to clean up.
“Noah.” Will’s smile was rueful, but his brown eyes lacked contrition. “I’ve been expecting you.” He nodded at Noah’s companion. “Good day, Wolf.”
His forehead pounded. “I would’ve been here sooner, but there was a complication.”
Will looked intrigued. “What sort of complication?”
Noah cut his gaze toward Gideon. While he’d grown to like the newcomer, he didn’t want to air his business in front of him. “I think you’ll agree it’s a private matter.”
Gideon smoothed a hand over his dirty-blond locks. “I’ll take my leave.”
“Wait.” Will put a hand up. “Before you do, I believe Noah would be interested in hearing the latest news.”
“What’s that?”
“We’ve had word that Cowboy Creek is being considered for the county seat. A Webster County representative is coming to tour the town before deciding if we’ll be in the running.”
Gideon let loose a low whistle. “Sure would be a boon for your town.”
“The temporary seat is in Ellsworth,” Noah said, distracted from his purpose. “You know as well as I do they have the advantage.”
“Their population has stalled in recent years.” Will rested his weight on the silver handle. “Now that we’re a prime destination for drovers and their longhorns, we’re poised to expand our numbers significantly. If we’re chosen, think of the tax benefits.”
“A courthouse would be built here,” Gideon added.
“What about crime? If the rep learns of our recent mishaps and our failure to discover the perpetrators, he’ll move on to another terminus town.”
“You’re the new sheriff. Surely between you, Daniel and I, we can figure this out.”
“I’ll be glad to assist, as well.” Gideon’s gray eyes were serious.
“I never did thank you for joining the posse,” Noah told him. Gideon wasn’t a permanent resident and, as far as he knew, had no plans to become one. His loyalty was to himself and his employer, but he’d volunteered to help in their time of need.
The gentleman lifted a shoulder. “I don’t like seeing good, honest people robbed of their money. I’m just sorry we didn’t catch up to the scoundrels.”
A sigh gusted out of Noah. “I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid they’ll come back for more.”
“If that’s the case, I hope to be here when they do. They won’t be so fortunate next time.” Extending his hand, Gideon said, “I’ll leave you both to your private discussion.” A smile flashed as he shook their hands.
Noah remained silent until he was out of earshot.
Will lifted his cane toward the trees and grassy knolls. “Let’s walk.”
“Good idea, Captain,” Noah quipped, deliberately meaning to irk the other man. Will hated any and all references to the war, refused to discuss the battle that had left him with a permanent limp. “Wouldn’t want your employees to witness what’s coming to you.”
He grimaced but didn’t voice his displeasure. “Simon told me about your mail-order bride and her daughters. To my credit, I didn’t know about the children. Mrs. Miller didn’t mention them in her letters. What do you think of her? Is she acceptable in the looks department? I’ve heard some ladies have the tendency to embellish facts.”
Noah took his attention off the ground and glared at his friend. “How could you do it, Will? I told the two of you that I wasn’t interested. I came home this afternoon and almost blasted the woman with my weapon!”
Will stopped and studied Noah with a smirk. “Not the best way to welcome a lady into your home, Noah.”
“I want her gone.”
The church bell chimed the six-o’clock hour. The clanging startled the meadowlarks in the slender oak nearest them. He watched them take flight.
“We simply wanted you to have what we have. Now that Daniel and I have found love, we don’t want you to be alone.”
“You don’t see how arrogant that is?” His hand sliced the air. “To think you could pluck a random female from a mail-order-bride catalog and I would automatically fall in love with her?”
“Perhaps love was a poor choice of words. You could do with companionship though, Noah.” Will’s dark brown eyes were earnest. “The reason we took matters into our own hands is you’re too stubborn to admit you’re lonely. You don’t want to end up like Gus and Old Horace, do you?”
He rolled his eyes at the mention of the town busybodies, who spent most every warm day with their bottoms glued to the mercantile’s porch chairs, scrutinizing the townsfolk’s comings and goings.
“If I do, that’s my business. Not yours.” Absent-mindedly exploring the uneven texture of his neck with his fingertips, he scuffed the ground with his boot heel.
Will plunged his fingers into his hair, an unusual show of impatience. “This preoccupation you have with your disfigurement is exasperating, you know that? So you’re not perfect. So what? Neither am I.” He motioned up and down his bum leg. “No one is. Sure, some women might be put off. Vain, shallow women. But there are some who wouldn’t give it a second thought.”
A multitude of emotions boiled inside him. Will clearly wasn’t going to admit he was wrong. Spinning on his heel, Noah stalked in the direction they’d come, leaving the other man to gape after him.
“Noah! Hold on!”
Not slowing, he pressed his lips together, afraid to speak. Afraid he’d utter something foul and damaging. Perhaps something he might not be able to take back.
“We can sort this out.”
He did halt then, tossing over his shoulder, “The complication I told you about? One of her daughters is ill. As soon as she’s recovered, the three of them will be removing to your best suite. I’ll have the bill sent to you.”
Continuing on, he’d reached the work site when he caught sight of bright red curls. Tomasina waved and smiled in welcome. He managed to corral his upset long enough to tip his hat and nod in greeting.
“Noah. I didn’t realize you’d stopped by.” Her vivid green gaze slipped past him and landed on her husband. The love and affection shining there increased his upset. “Come inside for coffee.”
Will caught up to them. Giving Noah a wide berth, he moved beside Tomasina and curved an arm about her waist, tugging her close. “Do as the lady says, my friend. We have more to discuss.”
He’d observed their tendency to stick close by each other during the search for the Murdochs. As a former cattle driver and rodeo star, it hadn’t been all that unusual for Tomasina to accompany them. Besides, she wasn’t the type to stay home and miss out on the action. Good thing Will acknowledged that fact.
“Maybe another time.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” she said with a saucy grin.
He made his way to where his horse grazed, Wolf loping behind him. He was happy that his friends had found their perfect mates, but he wasn’t meant to have what they had. It wasn’t just his scars, either. The breach with his family and the atrocities of war had hardened him. Noah didn’t have it in him to please a woman.
Sooner or later, his friends were going to have to accept that.
