Читать книгу Instant Frontier Family - Regina Scott - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Maddie watched as Michael’s eyes dilated until the blue seemed as vast as the sky. Did he know that his face gave him away? She could see every thought, every hope on those firm features.

He set down the cloth he’d been using on the dishes and stepped away from the bucket. He must have splashed water on himself at some point, because she could see darker spots on his shirt. He took a deep breath as if determined to give her a good answer. She found herself holding her own breath, waiting.

“I courted Miss O’Doul for a time,” he said slowly, as if measuring each word as she might have measured an ingredient for her baking. “She decided we would not suit.”

As simple as that. She wasn’t sure why she was certain there was more to the story. Perhaps it was the tense line of his body, poised as if ready to escape. It was none of her affair, yet she felt as miffed as Ciara had been about Miss O’Doul’s decision.

“Well, then,” she told him. “I’ll know how to help Ciara pray in the future. Sure-n but it’s intelligence and wisdom Miss O’Doul must be lacking to refuse a fine upstanding gentleman like yourself.”

She’d hoped for a smile, but he turned away from her. The hurt went deeper than she’d thought, or perhaps it was merely too soon for him to feel comfortable joking about it.

“If there’s nothing else you need from me tonight, Maddie,” he said, “I’ll be turning in.”

All at once she wanted more. There was nothing wrong with two people from common backgrounds sitting at a table, swapping tales, perhaps sharing a chuckle. She’d seen her friend Allegra and her husband, Clay, behave that way aboard ship, and Maddie had thought it a shame her father and stepmother hadn’t managed that kind of relationship. They’d each put so much time and energy into keeping the family fed and housed that they’d nothing left for companionship. It must be her own hard work that had her thinking about a quiet cup of tea with a friend just then.

Besides, why be companionable with a man who would be in her life less than a month if she had her preferences?

“I need nothing from you, Mr. Haggerty,” she said, turning for her room. “I’ll wish you good-night and see you in the morning.”

* * *

A distant thunk woke Michael from a deep sleep. He shifted on the hard planks of the floor, listening. It couldn’t be morning. Not a ray of light came through the curtains, and the room was as dark as it had been when he’d blown out the lamp and gone to sleep, bundled in front of the stove.

He’d thought between his sparse bedding and his busy mind he would have difficulty sleeping. Lord knew Katie’s betrayal had kept him up more than one night. He still remembered the cold glitter of her green eyes when she’d informed him she wanted nothing more to do with him.

“As if anyone could ask me to be marrying a coward,” she’d flung at him from the doorway of her father’s flat.

Michael had fisted his hands at his sides, knowing that half the tenement was listening to their argument. “I’m no coward. But a woman who claims to love me wouldn’t ask me to make myself a liar and a thief.”

“You think only of yourself,” she’d complained, delicate chin high with righteousness. “I’ll be having nothing more to do with you, Michael Haggerty, until you’ve begged the pardon of those fine men who asked you for a paltry favor you cannot be bringing yourself to grant.” And she’d slammed the door in his face.

Paltry favor. Michael wrapped the blanket closer now. The coals had cooled, leaving the room as chilly as Katie’s parting look. Katie’s father had asked Michael to lie to the man who’d hired him to keep watch on the ships at shore. Michael was to betray his employer’s trust and look the other way while the Dead Rabbits pillaged what they liked from those they found beneath them. Nothing about that was paltry.

How could I ever have looked at myself in the mirror again, Lord? How would I have explained myself to You when I see You face-to-face one day?

He knew he’d made the right choice. But the gang’s reaction had put his life in danger and threatened Sylvie and her children as well. He could only hope the gang’s tentacles didn’t reach across the nation to the frontier.

Another thump had him stiffening on the floor. Turning his head, he could just make out the three doors across from him that led to Maddie’s, Ciara’s and Aiden’s rooms. No one seemed to be stirring, not even the little gray cat. What had caused that sound?

As he eased up on one elbow, he heard more noises—a thud, a creak, a murmur of a voice, all coming from below. Had someone broken into the bakery?

He climbed to his feet, thankful he’d worn his shirt and trousers to bed for added warmth. He had no weapon, but he seized the broom and took it with him as he crossed to the stairs in his stockinged feet.

Whoever was below was making enough noise that the sounds of Michael’s footsteps on the stairs went unnoticed. The shop stood empty, waiting for the morning’s customers. He crept to the curtain, then whipped it aside with his free hand and sprang into the kitchen with a yell, broom handle raised above his head.

Maddie dropped the pot she’d been holding with a clang. “What!”

She was alone in the room, crouching by the firebox, her black-and-white-striped cotton gown swathed in an apron and pooled about her. Her red hair wilted around her face, like steamed cabbage, and the warmth of the room struck him for the first time. He could hear the heat crackling in the firebox, and the scent of something moist and tangy hung in the air.

Michael lowered the broom. “What are you doing so early?”

She threw up her hands, sending flour puffing in all directions. “My job, if you’ll let me.”

She pushed off from the floor and swept up to the worktable, which was draped in checkered cloth. Whipping off the material, she nodded to the two dozen mounds of dough, white and puffy, and pans of rolls, cinnamon showing in each swirl. He set the broom in the corner and ventured closer, mouth starting to water.

“Forgive me,” he told her. “I heard a noise, and I thought we were being robbed.”

She chuckled as she shook out the cloth. “No robbers,” she said, folding it up and tucking it under the worktable. “If one stuck his head in the door right now, I’d put him to work.”

Doing what? By the dirty bowls and pans stacked on the sideboard and the speckles on her apron, she’d already finished for the morning. How early had she risen?

“What else do you need done?” he asked.

She eyed him a moment as if trying to decide whether he was teasing. Then she raised her flour-dusted hand and began counting off the remaining tasks on her fingers.

“I have to finish preparing the oven, put in the bread and rolls, gather the eggs, brush and turn the bread and make icing for the cinnamon rolls, all before my customers arrive on their way to work.”

That didn’t sound so daunting. “Then you might as well put me to work,” Michael said. “I’m up anyway.”

She pointed to a door at the back of the kitchen. “There’s a rake and a pail in the shed. Bring them in and muck out the firebox.”

Michael frowned. “You want to clear out the fire before you start baking?”

“’Tis the hot bricks that bake the bread, Mr. Haggerty,” she informed him. “And don’t you be questioning my work like you question the raising of Ciara and Aiden.”

Michael held up his hands in surrender and went to do as she asked.

Sylvie had baked from time to time, when she could use a neighbor’s oven. He’d never realized there was so much to be done, and all at a rhythm only Maddie seemed to understand. Under her direction, he raked the hot coals into the pail and closed the lid, then swept out the ashes. Taking a long-handled wooden paddle from where it hung on the wall and resting it on the table, she dusted it with flour and then began shifting the rounded loaves onto it.

As she grabbed the handle, Michael stepped forward. “Let me.”

Brow raised, she moved aside. “Just you be careful with my peel, Mr. Haggerty.”

He had a feeling he was going to hear the name Michael from those pink lips only when he’d done something magnificent. He lifted the paddle and was surprised by the weight. With the oven set above her waist, how did she manage?

As if she saw his surprise, she smiled and reached for the peel. “Here, let me. Watch now. There’s a trick to putting them in so you can bake the most.” She nodded toward the oven, and Michael hurried to open the iron door for her. Heat blasted him, raising sweat on his forehead and neck. With a deft movement, she stuck in the paddle, lifted the end and slid the loaves onto the brick. It took her three trips to transfer everything into the oven. Michael shut the door for the last time, and she closed the damper.

“Now we wait,” he guessed.

She laughed. “Now we hurry, Mr. Haggerty.”

And hurry they did. While Maddie went outside with a basket to gather eggs, Michael began washing the dishes. She took one of the bowls, then shaved sugar from a cone, pounded it to powder with a pestle and mixed it with water for icing. Next, she mixed dough for cookies, rolled and cut them to lay them on a sheet, and popped them into the oven after she had removed the bread and rolls to cool. She never sat down, never stopped moving, even when he helped her carry her wares out to the shop to set them on display.

The newly risen sun was gilding the signs of the merchants across the street as Michael glanced out the panes of the front window. But what took him aback were the faces pressed against the glass.

“Me charming customers,” Maddie assured him. She pointed toward the stairs. “Go on, now. Take some of the cinnamon rolls upstairs for you and Ciara and Aiden. I should be finished here in a half hour.”

All that bread, all those rolls and cookies, gone in a half hour? He couldn’t believe it. She’d be working for hours to sell all that. As she went to open the latch, he picked up three of the rolls, then headed for the stairs. Glancing back, he saw her throw wide the door.

And every man in Seattle, he thought, stampeded into the shop. Dressed in flannel shirts and rough trousers, caps pulled down over their lank hair, bushy beards bristling, they crowded the counter, the sound of their heavy boots against the wood planks as loud as thunder. Voices rose in entreaty, hands held out coins. They were the happiest gang of rioters he’d ever seen.

One of the men with a deep voice managed to make himself heard over the din. “Whatcha got for us today, Miss Maddie?”

“Cinnamon rolls dripping icing,” Maddie assured him, beaming around at them all. “Fresh-baked bread with the steam still rising and gingersnaps to tickle your tongue.” She waved one arm down the display counter as if presenting jewels to royalty.

“I’ll take one of each,” someone declared.

“I’ll take two!” another shouted.

Voices rose louder as they surged forward.

How could he leave her surrounded?

Michael wasn’t sure how he heard the noise on the stair. Looking back, he saw Ciara creeping toward him. Her brown hair was tumbled into her face, and she hugged a plaid flannel wrapper around her nightgown.

“Is it the mob?” she whispered, face pinched. “Have they come for us, then?”

She must be remembering the violence that had cut like metal through the fabric of life in Five Points, as the Dead Rabbits clashed with other gangs.

“Just some happy customers come to sample your sister’s baking,” Michael assured her. He handed her the rolls. “Take these upstairs for you and your brother. I’ll be up shortly.”

Her face brightened as she accepted the rolls. Holding them close, she scurried back up the stairs.

Michael turned to the fray. Maddie was handing out loaves, rolls and cookies at breathtaking speed and grabbing payments even faster. He wasn’t sure how she knew which came from whom. He started to wade through the men, but they squeezed closer, frowning at him as if thinking he was trying to reach the food before they did. He was only thankful he could match or better the muscle arrayed against him.

With the liberal use of his shoulders, he managed to reach the counter and slide in next to Maddie. “How can I help?”

“Take their money and give them what they want,” she said, turning her smile on the next fellow. The wizened man asked for a roll and a half-dozen cookies, and she named an exorbitant price that would have set the denizens of Five Points to crying with despair or laughing at the sheer lunacy of it. The man piled his silver on the counter, offering a toothless grin.

“How about you?” Michael asked the next fellow.

This man was tall and lean, short-cropped dark hair showing under the edge of a broad-brimmed black hat. His gaze swept over Michael as cold and gray as the Confederate cannon on display in the Battery.

“I’ll wait for Miss O’Rourke,” he said, voice low and gravelly.

Was he a suitor? She certainly hadn’t mentioned a particular fellow. In fact, she’d seemed pretty against marriage last night.

“Suit yourself,” Michael told him.

He tried the next man over and the one after him, but the answer was always the same. Even though the food was disappearing by the moment, every man was content to wait until Maddie could serve him personally.

That’s when it struck Michael. They weren’t here because they loved Maddie’s baking. They were here because they loved Maddie!

He wanted to throw wide his arms, shove them all out of the shop right then and there. They had no right to treat her as if she was one of her own confections, available for a smile and some pieces of silver. Yet even as the thought poked at him, he knew it was none of his affair. In the end, the only way he could help matters was to control the crowd.

Stalking around the edges, shoulders thrown back and eyes narrowed, he managed to herd the men into some semblance of a line. At least then they couldn’t all rush her at once. He yanked back a few who tried to push ahead before their turn, made one fellow sit down on the floor when he shouted for her attention. One by one, they bought their food and left.

A gentle rain had begun to fall as he opened the door to let out the last two men. The one who had first refused Michael’s services paused to glance back at Maddie.

“Hired a man-of-all-work, have you now, Miss O’Rourke?”

Maddie’s smile was as sweet as the icing on her rolls. “Mr. Haggerty brought my sister and brother to me on the ship, Deputy McCormick. He’s staying with us until he finds a job.”

Deputy. So this was the law in Seattle. Michael met his gaze straight on, refusing to be the one to look away first. The deputy’s steely eyes narrowed.

“Yesler is looking for another man on his saws,” the lawman offered. “Long hours but good pay. And there are rooms at Patterson’s boardinghouse by the mill.”

Michael nodded, relaxing. “My thanks to you. I’ll go by the mill today.”

Deputy McCormick touched the brim of his black hat to Maddie, then stalked out.

As Michael shut the door behind him, Maddie collapsed against the counter. “Like ravens, they are, swooping in to devour.” She glanced around the empty counter and smiled. “But they are loyal, bless them.”

Surely she knew it went beyond loyalty. “They’re sweet on you, every last one of them,” Michael told her.

She tsked, pushing off from the counter. “It isn’t me. They act that way with every unmarried female within miles, all twenty of us.”

Michael found that hard to believe. “They’d pay those kind of prices to any woman?”

Maddie shrugged as if the matter were out of her hands. “There are nine men for every female over the age of twelve here. Before we came on the Continental, fellows were paying fathers to hold their newborn daughter to marry when she was of age, just so they’d know they’d have a wife someday.”

“That’s madness,” Michael said, stepping away from the door.

“That’s loneliness,” Maddie countered, pulling open the curtain to the kitchen. “I suppose they think it’s better to have a spouse than live alone. Can’t say I agree with them.”

Was she so willing to encourage her customers, only to leave the men dangling? He couldn’t help thinking of Katie, with her sweet smiles and warm words, until he’d refused to risk his future to help the Dead Rabbits. He’d wondered whether she was the only woman to think her power was more important than her suitor’s love. He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed to find Maddie O’Rourke might think the same way.

Michael followed her into the kitchen. “With dozens of suitors to choose from, you haven’t found one to your liking?” he asked, trying for a light tone. “Are your standards so high, Maddie?”

She chuckled as she pulled a canister from under her worktable and pried off the lid. “Sure-n I could find more than one fellow in that lot to marry, if marriage was important to me.” She jingled the coins she drew from her skirts and dropped them into the tin with a clank. “As it is, if I marry I have to share all this. Why would I want to be doing that, when it’s my efforts that earned it in the first place?”

He couldn’t argue with her there. He knew the law generally granted any money a woman earned to her husband. But to be so coldhearted about it? That didn’t make sense.

She cocked her head, watching him. “You look disappointed in my answer. Did you think I should give up my dreams to marry? You never let love get in the way of your goals, did you now? You wouldn’t have let your Katie sway you from your intended course.”

“I fell in love,” he admitted, “but I never lost sight of my goals. If I had been willing to compromise my values, I might be married by now.”

“Love is compromise from what I can see,” she said, going to the washbasin, wetting a cloth and wringing it out. “You work and work to put food on the table and clothes on your back, until there’s no time left for love. Sure-n but we’re better off without such heartache.” She tossed him the rag, and he caught it in one hand. “Use that to clean off the counter. I’ll go up to check on Ciara and Aiden, and then I’ll start the baking for this evening.”

In the act of pushing back into the shop, Michael paused. “More baking?”

She laughed. “You make it sound as pleasant as the rack. Yes, more baking. That’s my job. This is a bakery, and I bake. I was hoping for a lady to come with Ciara and Aiden to help, if you recall.”

And she’d gotten him instead. “I’m sorry I can’t be more use to you,” he said, “but I’ll do what I can.” Feeling inept for the first time in his life, he went to clean off the counter, wiping away the crumbs and scrubbing at the drips of icing. Yet her words refused to leave him.

He wanted to agree with her that love meant heartache. He’d certainly had his fill. But some part of him whispered that more might be possible, if he would but try once again.

He had been so focused on his task that he didn’t see her move into the room. Instead, he felt her hand on his arm.

“Good enough, Mr. Haggerty,” she said. “Another minute and you’ll rub right through the wood.”

He relaxed his hand, feeling her grip soften. She was close enough that he could see a dusting of freckles across the tip of her nose, as if ginger had escaped some of her cookies. Cinnamon-colored lashes fluttered over eyes as dark as fresh-roasted coffee.

Michael mentally shook himself. Working in the bakery must have addled his brain, because all he could think about was that her kiss would taste as sweet as her cooking.

“Are they gone?” Ciara asked from the stair.

Maddie stepped away from Michael, cheeks turning pink as if she’d been the one thinking about sweet kisses.

“For the moment,” she told her sister. “There will be another group coming later, when the shift changes at the mill. I aim to have more loaves of bread and dozens of cookies ready by then along with the ones I promised Mr. Horton.”

With her chin up, she was all determination, and Michael could only marvel at her energy.

But even more surprising was his reaction to her. He’d given his heart to Katie. He’d never thought to give it to another. And she’d made it clear that, while she might flirt with her customers, she had no interest in marrying.

Why, then, did he want her to reserve her flirting for him?