Читать книгу The Marshal's Promise - Rhonda Gibson - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Rebecca pulled her wool shawl over her dress, picked up the money and then carried her coffee cup into the kitchen. “Mrs. Miller, I am leaving now to look for employment.” She placed the empty cup beside the older woman.

Mrs. Miller’s hands were up to her elbows in hot soapy water. A pile of dirty dishes was stacked to her left. “Your business with the marshal is finished?” She looked over at Rebecca. Mrs. Miller’s gaze moved to the envelopes in her hand.

Rebecca tucked the letters she’d sent to Jesse under her arm and then opened the packet that held the money. She turned her body so that Mrs. Miller couldn’t see the full contents of the envelope. “I’m not sure. He’s offered me a job.”

Mrs. Miller dried her wet hands on a dish towel and rested a hip against the counter. “Then why are you looking for another one?” Her brows arched as she watched Rebecca count out the money.

“Well, it’s not a for-sure job and I can’t continue living here if I can’t pay for my stay.” Rebecca knew Mrs. Miller wanted to ask her about the money. The older woman opened her mouth and then closed it again. Almost as if she realized it was none of her business.

Rebecca handed her what was owed. The other woman took the money and dropped it into her apron pocket.

“Will you be back in time for lunch?” Mrs. Miller returned to the dishpan full of dirty dishes.

Cottonwood Springs wasn’t that big of a town and Rebecca could return in plenty of time before lunch, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Mrs. Miller was nice enough, but Rebecca sensed the other woman would like to have some time to herself and, to be honest, Rebecca felt the same. “Probably not.”

“Have a good day, dear. I’ll see you at supper.” And just like that, Mrs. Miller dismissed her.

Rebecca walked to the front door, stood in the doorway and looked both ways down Main Street. The town’s dirt street and light breeze had sand drifting in the air. She focused her mind on the business in town and not the fact that she hated flying dirt.

Across the street from the Millers’ general store was the newspaper office; next to that stood Mrs. Kelly’s hat and dress shop. She studied the false fronts of both businesses. The newspaper office wouldn’t offer much employment, but maybe Mrs. Kelly could use another seamstress. She’d start with these two businesses and then make her way around town, should she not acquire employment at either establishment.

As she crossed the street, Rebecca lifted her skirts to keep them from getting dusty. A light breeze picked up from the direction of the river and she shivered. Early spring in New Mexico seemed to be rather cold. Truth be told, Rebecca preferred the heat of summer, at least she had in Maryland. Who knew what New Mexico summers would hold for her?

When she arrived at the door of Mrs. Kelly’s hat and dress shop, Rebecca hesitated. She took a deep breath, smoothed out her skirt and slowly exhaled before she entered. A little bell over the door announced her arrival.

A female voice called from the back, “I’ll be right with you. Feel free to browse around.”

Rebecca walked farther into the room. Sunlight shone through the big plate-glass window, creating a cheerful and warm environment. Colorful dresses, shawls, coats and hats took up most of the room. Toward the back, where the mysterious voice had come from, was a curtained-off doorway.

She noticed an area for sewing in the far corner. A long table and two sewing machines occupied the space. The two machines gave her hope that the other woman might need help.

A brown dress caught her eye. She walked over to it and touched the soft fabric. Its color reminded her of the marshal’s eyes. Rebecca admired the way the waist seemed to tuck inward. She took it off the hanger and held it up against her front.

“I like that dress, too, but brown doesn’t seem to be your color.”

Rebecca glanced up and found a woman who looked to be a little older than she, standing off to the side shifting though a rack of dresses. Soft brown hair peeked out from under a stylish green hat that matched the dress she wore. Straight strands of hair escaped the stylish hat and now rested on each side of her heart-shaped face. She stared at Rebecca with interest.

She pulled a light yellow dress off a hanger beside her. It looked to be the same style, just a different color and with a soft print of small blue flowers. “The flowers in this one will accent your eyes beautifully.” The woman held it out to Rebecca.

Rebecca handed the brown over and took the yellow. Again she held the soft fabric up to her front. It had been a long time since she had a new dress, and this one flowed about her ankles and looked as if it would cinch in her waist. What was she doing? She couldn’t afford a new dress. “Thank you, but I can’t buy a dress right now.”

The woman smiled at her. “That’s quite all right.” She took the dress back and hung it on its hanger. “So if you aren’t here to buy a dress, what can I help you with? A hat perhaps?”

Rebecca shook her head. “No, not today. My name is Rebecca Ramsey and I need to speak with the owner of this shop.” She thought that sounded like a good way to start business.

“It is nice to meet you, Miss Ramsey. I am Eliza Kelly and I am the owner.” She smiled broadly.

Rebecca hadn’t expected Mrs. Kelly to be so young. She’d pictured an elderly woman running the dress shop. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Kelly. I wondered if you had a position I might fill.”

Her eyes saddened. “I’m afraid not. This is a one-woman show for the time being.” She tugged at a strand of her hair.

“I see. Thank you, Mrs. Kelly.” Disappointment filled her voice and Rebecca wished she could take it back. She offered a smile to show she wasn’t upset and then turned to leave the shop.

The other woman followed her. “Aren’t you Jesse’s girl? I mean… I was just about to make a pot of tea. Would you be interested in having a cup with me?”

Rebecca started to refuse, and then saw Mrs. Kelly’s cheeks had turned pink and her eyes held warmth. She hadn’t meant her inquiry to sound as rude as it had. Did the whole town think of her as Jesse’s girl? Rebecca hoped not.

The thought of a nice cup of tea swayed her decision to stay. It had been weeks since she’d had a sip of her favorite beverage. “Yes, I am, or I was, Jesse’s girl, and I’d love a cup of tea, Mrs. Kelly.”

“Oh, thank you. I was so worried I’d overstepped my bounds. And you must call me Eliza.” She turned to walk into the sitting room. “I hope you can find employment, Rebecca, but I’m afraid if the other merchants are having as hard a time as I am they won’t be open to offering you a job. Have you tried the other shops?”

She followed Eliza into the sitting room, through the dining area and into the kitchen. “No, I came to you first.”

Eliza picked up the teapot and filled it with water. “That is so sweet. I really wish I could afford to hire you. It would be wonderful to have another lady to talk to during the day.”

The statement sounded odd to Rebecca. “Don’t you talk to women all day? I mean, this is a dress shop.”

“Well, yes, I guess I do, but not real talk. You know, my customers are here to talk about dresses and they share gossip, but I want something more, you know?”

Rebecca did understand. “I believe I do.”

Eliza smiled. “I just had a feeling you and I would understand each other. It’s strange how that works. Hannah is fun to talk to, but she only comes to visit once a week. You know Hannah, don’t you?”

At a shake of Rebecca’s head, Eliza pressed on as she made the tea. “Hannah Young. She’s the schoolteacher. She’s about our age and has no husband. But she is devoted to her work as a teacher and only allows herself to visit on Saturdays, and then of course Sunday is full of church.”

Rebecca remembered someone introducing the schoolteacher last Sunday. If memory served her right, Hannah Young was a small woman maybe four feet eleven with black hair and she walked with a slight limp. She’d also seemed very shy and hadn’t spoken much. A flash of humor tugged at the corners of Rebecca’s mouth. Eliza’s fast talking must be the reason Miss Young kept to herself.

The morning flew by as Rebecca enjoyed her visit with Eliza. It didn’t take long to learn that Eliza was lonely. She’d lost her husband two years ago; he’d died when they lived in Silverton, Colorado. According to Eliza, her Charley had been killed in an avalanche during one of the worst snowstorms she’d ever seen. Thankfully, they’d saved enough money for Eliza to get to Cottonwood Springs and purchase this house to start up her hat-and-dress business.

The sound of the bell ringing in the shop had Eliza up and hurrying to take care of her next customer. Rebecca knew it was time to go. She needed employment if she wanted to stay in Cottonwood Springs and get to know her new friend better.

Eliza came back into the room. “That was Mrs. Pierce. She picked up her dress and matching hat.”

Rebecca stood to leave. “I best be going, Eliza. It’s almost lunchtime and I haven’t inquired about employment anywhere but here.” She slipped her shawl over her shoulders and headed for the door.

“Oh, I wish you didn’t have to go.” Eliza followed her. “Do come back when you are done and let me know if you found a job.”

Rebecca smiled. “I will and thanks for the tea.”

Eliza had been right. An hour later, Rebecca walked out of the general store still jobless. Everyone wanted to give her employment, but none of them had the funds to do so—everyone, that was, except Mrs. Walker, the owner of the general store. Rebecca had the impression that Mrs. Walker had taken an instant disliking to her.

Her thoughts went to the marshal. Maybe he’d had better luck in finding a house to buy. She hoped so. If nothing else good came of the day, thanks to Eliza, Rebecca now felt she had a friend close to her age in Cottonwood Springs.

Rebecca’s gaze moved over the town. It was pleasant enough and sat back against a mountain. The mountain resembled a sand rock, but trees lined the river below and, because smaller streams ran across the back side of the town, cottonwood trees shaded the majority of the businesses and homes. A beautiful spot if ever she’d seen one.

The marshal’s voice pulled her from her musings. “Any luck finding work?”

Rebecca searched the shadows of the buildings to locate him. He stood propped against the blacksmith shop. His arms crossed and his eyes narrowed.

His tone indicated he wasn’t a happy man. So she answered in a short, crisp reply of, “No.”

“I thought we had an understanding.” He pushed away from the wall and walked over to her.

Rebecca didn’t like his tone and hardened her voice to match his. “What kind of understanding?”

He crossed his arms again, spread his legs and glared down at her. “That you now work for me.”

“But, that is only going to happen if you find a house. Did you buy a house, Marshal?” She crossed her arms to match his stance.

He relaxed and grinned. “As a matter of fact I did. And, I have already moved in.” The sudden pleasure in his voice surprised her.

Rebecca really hadn’t expected him to follow through with his offer of a job. Her spirits lifted, knowing she now held a position and would be able to stay in Cottonwood Springs. She silently thanked the Lord for yet another blessing and smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

The dimple in his cheek winked. “Would you like to see it?”

“I’d love to, Marshal, and while we walk you can tell me what this job entails.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and began walking. Her heart did a little flutter as tingles climbed up her hand and into her hairline. Seth Billings made her feel alive.

With Jesse Cole dead, could this be the man God sent her to the New Mexico Territory for?