Читать книгу The Marshal's Promise - Rhonda Gibson - Страница 15

Chapter Seven

Rebecca frowned. Nothing had changed. The roast and potatoes still sat on the stove, now ruined. When Seth hadn’t answered the door, she and Grace had let themselves in. Now, seeing he hadn’t been home, Rebecca found herself chewing on her bottom lip.

“May I have a few cookies to take to school?” Grace asked, lifting the cloth from the desert.

She nodded and watched Grace take three. “I don’t think the marshal came home last night,” Grace said around a mouthful of cookie.

“No, I don’t think he did either.” Rebecca moved to the stove. She removed the pan from the stove and set it on the white cabinet. They hadn’t talked about what she should do, should he not come home.

Grace looked up at her. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure.”

The bell at the school rang. Grace started for the front door. “I have to go. Should I come by after school?”

“No, I think I’ll head home and when the marshal gets back, I’ll find out what I need to do in circumstances like this one.” Rebecca pulled her shawl closer about her shoulder and followed Grace outside.

Grace raced up the hill to the school. Hannah stood on the porch. She waved and Rebecca returned the gesture. Her new friend herded the children into the building much like a mother hen shelters its chicks from a spring rainstorm.

Rebecca decided to toss the meat and potatoes. She returned to the house and let herself in. What was she going to do with the ruined meat? Rebecca returned her shawl to the nail and walked into the kitchen. What she needed was a slop bucket. Her gaze moved about the kitchen.

A few moments later, she’d decided on a pan to use as a slop bucket. She dumped the meat and potatoes into it. Then she went outside to get water to wash the pot she’d dirtied the night before. Her gaze darted to the trees. Seeing no one, she hurried to pull the water up and go back inside.

While it heated, her thoughts went to Seth. Being a marshal, he probably didn’t come home every night. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She rinsed out the coffeepot and began to make fresh coffee.

Her mind worked on what to do. She didn’t want to waste food, but she also didn’t want the marshal going hungry or having to eat at the diner in the evenings. If she didn’t come up with a solution fast, Rebecca reasoned she’d be out of a job.

Simple food, that’s what she needed to make. She needed to create easy meals so that no matter what time he came home, Seth Billings would have something good to eat. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. What had her mother fixed? Fresh bread came to mind.

Rebecca stood and began work. She’d make bread and see about buying a smoked ham. He’d be able to have a sandwich, if he came home too late. What else can I do? she asked herself as she worked.

As soon as the dough was rising, Rebecca headed to the general store for the ham she intended to buy. Normally she would have gone to the Millers’, but she knew that Mrs. Miller always purchased her meats from the general store.

Hot from the heat of the stove, she left her shawl hanging by the door and walked up the street. A light breeze lifted the hair off her damp neck.

Her gaze moved about as she thought of the man who’d visited with her the day before. She didn’t have the feeling he was around or watching her, and she relaxed. Maybe she’d been right in her assumption that she’d overreacted.

A small brass bell jingled overhead as she stepped inside. The delightful scents of cinnamon and fresh-baked banana bread greeted her. Her eyes widened as she looked around. Unlike the Millers’ store, this one was packed with sellable goods. Shelves filled with every kind food and household item she could imagine covered the walls. Glass jars holding lemon drops, peppermint sticks and other colorful candies stood next to the cash register. Baskets of apples, walnuts, potatoes and onions sat on the floor in front of the sales counter. Bolts of cloth and baskets of thread and notions covered the far wall. Rebecca made her way to the counter. She prayed Mrs. Walker, a round woman with black hair piled high and hazel eyes, would have a ham for sale.

“What can I help you with, Miss Ramsey?” Mrs. Walker asked without looking up from the ledger she was writing in.

Rebecca hadn’t expected Mrs. Walker to sound so frosty. She cleared her throat. “Do you have a ham that I can buy?”

The cool hazel eyes looked up at her. “There might be one in the smoke house, but it won’t be cheap,” she warned.

“Good. I’ll want it placed on the Marshal’s account.”

Mrs. Walker straightened. “I’m sorry, Miss Ramsey, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Rebecca asked, also pulling herself up to her full five feet two inches.

“The marshal has not approved you to make purchases on his behalf.” Her icy voice should have sent chills down Rebecca’s spine but had the opposite effect. Heat filled her face, neck and body. Anger boiled. The woman was treating her as if she was a criminal.

She took a deep breath. “Then I shall be making all future purchases from the Millers.” Rebecca turned, held her head high and walked from the store.

Out on the sidewalk she sighed. “Why did Mrs. Walker have to be so rude?” Rebecca marched down to the Millers’ store.

She squared her shoulders as she entered. It looked and smelled much like the general store, just not as crowded. Rebecca smiled as Mrs. Miller entered from the sitting room. “Hello, Mrs. Miller. How are you today?” she asked.

“Very well, thank you, Rebecca. What brings you in today?”

Rebecca took a deep breath. She really didn’t want to tell the other woman about her encounter with Mrs. Walker, but she didn’t see any way around it. “I went to see Mrs. Walker about acquiring a ham for the marshal and she refused to sell it to me.” The heat rose in her cheeks once more, this time from embarrassment more than anger.

“That old gossip! What excuse did she use?” Mrs. Miller placed her hands on her hips and waited.

“Gossip?” Rebecca didn’t understand what Mrs. Walker being a gossip had to do with her.

Mrs. Miller waved her hands as if it weren’t important. “That doesn’t matter, Rebecca. Why didn’t she sell you a ham?”

It did matter, but Rebecca knew no more information about Mrs. Walker would be coming from Mrs. Miller. “She said the marshal hasn’t given me permission to put anything on his account. She treated me like a criminal.”

Mrs. Miller yelled, “Josiah! Come here.”

Mr. and Mrs. Miller’s oldest son hurried into the room. “Yes, Ma?”

“Go to the general store and tell Mrs. Walker I need a ham.”

He nodded and hurried out the door.

“I’ll add the price of the ham to Seth’s account.” She wrote in her ledger and then turned back to Rebecca. “Would you like a cup of coffee while we wait, Rebecca?”

Rebecca shook her head no. “I had two cups already this morning. But thank you.”

Mrs. Miller nodded. “Well, then in that case, go sit down in the parlor and look at the new mail-order catalogue. It’s on the table by the window. I have a chocolate cake to check on.” She led the way into the parlor without giving Rebecca a chance to reply.

She sniffed the air appreciatively. The smell of baking chocolate cake caused her tummy to rumble. Rebecca sat down and wondered if Mrs. Walker would give the ham to Josiah. She had to know that the Millers were getting it for her. And, what had Mrs. Miller meant by calling Mrs. Walker a gossip? Had the local gossips been talking about her?

* * *

Seth rode into town by the light of the moon. His body ached from being in the saddle for almost two days straight. Had the Evans gang tried to contact Rebecca again during his absence? He didn’t think so, and even if they had, the reverend had promised to keep an eye on her.

Reverend James Griffin was a small man with a big attitude. He wouldn’t have allowed the gang to get within ten feet of Rebecca, of that Seth was sure. He had seen the little traveling preacher stand up to some pretty tough guys and not back down. He thought about riding over to the church but decided against it. The hour was late and he was bushed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to talk to James.

He rode his horse back to the barn and bedded him down. The stallion nudged him gently when he gave him fresh water and oats, as if to say thank-you. Seth finished up and then continued to the house. He opened the door and immediately became aware of the delicious scent of fresh bread and coffee.

With a will of their own, his tired legs carried him to the kitchen. His eyes widened when he saw Rebecca sitting in a chair but slumped over the table. One arm was stretched out and her head rested on it. Fear welled in his chest. Was she hurt? Had the Evans gang left her there as a warning?

He hurried to her side. Oh, Lord, please let her be all right. Seth sent the silent prayer heavenward and then reached out and touched her cheek. It felt soft and warm.

Rebecca jerked away from him. Her sleep-filled eyes resembled an owl. She stood so fast that her chair slid backward and hit the wall with a loud thud.

Seth held up both hands. “Easy, it’s just me.”

Her gaze darted to him and then about the room. A shaky hand came up to her throat. “You scared me,” she accused.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He moved to pick up the chair and she skittered away from him to the other side of the room.

Seth searched her face and saw that her eyes still seemed glazed over with sleep. “Rebecca, are you awake?” he asked softly.

She looked at him once more. Rebecca’s voice came out soft, velvety. “Seth?”

“Yes, it’s me.” He sat down and laid his hands on the table. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her more.

She yawned and pulled out the seat across from him. “When did you get home?”

Home. Seth looked about the clean room. A pot of coffee and a fresh loaf of bread rested on the stove. What would it be like to come home to Rebecca every night?

“Marshal?”

Seth looked back at her eyes. She was alert now. Did she even realize she’d called him by his first name? He cleared his throat. “Just a little while ago. What are you still doing here?”

She stood and poured them both a cup of the aromatic coffee. “I have been staying late so that if you came home, you’d have a hot meal.” Rebecca set a cup in front of him. “I must have fallen asleep tonight.” She sipped at the hot beverage.

“You stayed all night?” he asked, praying the local gossips didn’t know if she had.

Rebecca shook her head. “No, I’ve been going home and would have been gone tonight, but as you know, I fell asleep.”

He studied her. She’d waited for him, like a wife waits up for her husband. The thought touched a part of his heart that he hoped to keep locked away from her. Her blond hair had come down and brushed the sides of her face, giving her a vulnerable look. Normally clear sharp eyes now were clouded with the remains of sleep, giving her the look of someone who yearned for tenderness and love. He wanted to reach out and hug her to him, to absorb the softness that her sleep-filled eyes promised. But he knew that would never happen. He couldn’t allow it to.

A light pink flush filled her cheeks. “Are you hungry? Would you like for me to fix you something to eat?”

“No, I think we’d better get you home before the gossips find out how late you were here tonight.” He pushed back his chair and walked toward her, surprised when she didn’t move. He held out his hand and waited until she took it. Then he helped her from the chair.

“Thank you.” She looked up into his eyes and a small smile tilted the edge of her mouth. “I probably should have gone on home, but I was starting to worry about you. Where have you been?”

Seth liked the idea that someone worried about him. He pushed the warm feeling away and released her hand. He’d had that kind of love three years ago, but Clare had paid the ultimate price for their love. “I picked up a prisoner and took him to Durango. I’m sorry I worried you.”

Rebecca walked to the front door and pulled her shawl from the nail. “It’s all right. I know your job is a dangerous one—that’s the only reason I worried.” She opened the door.

The night had grown colder and he wondered if her shawl would be enough to keep her warm. Pulling the door closed behind him, Seth took her elbow and helped her down the three short steps. “I think we’d better talk about your hours. The thought of you walking home this late doesn’t sit well with me.”

She looked over at him. Under the moon’s light, her hair created the illusion that she had a halo over the crown of her head. “You might be right.”

“You can continue to come in the mornings at the same time, but I really think you should return home before dark.” Seth stepped up on the wooden sidewalk and helped her to do the same.

The hem of her skirt brushed the wood and snagged on a nail. Rebecca bent to work the cloth free. Her words floated up to him. “I did the first night you were gone and my roast and potatoes were ruined.” She stood. “I’m surprised you didn’t stop by to tell me you were going.”

Seth pulled his shoulders up straighter. The accusing sound of her voice struck a chord in him. Who did she think she was? His mother? Wife? Fiancée? Fresh, painful thoughts of Clare filled him once more. No, Rebecca Ramsey wasn’t his fiancée. That position had been Clare’s alone. He didn’t owe Rebecca an explanation. “I didn’t think about it.”