Ana Seymour (8 page)

“Is your stomach hurting?” she asked him. For
weeks after he’d first come to them, he’d complained of stomachaches, but as he’d settled into life at the Sheridan house, the symptoms had disappeared.

“No. I don’t get those anymore. I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

He was hiding something. Jennie held out one arm and, after another moment’s hesitation, he walked over next to her and allowed her to put her arm across his shoulders. “What’s the problem? Tell me about it, Barneyboy.”

It had been her mother’s special name for him. Jennie wasn’t sure if he’d like her using it, but he didn’t even seem to notice. She held him against her side for a moment, then released him as she noticed a tear trickling down his right cheek. “What is it?” she asked with some alarm.

He looked embarrassed and gave a half turn away from her, trying to wipe the tear without being obvious. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

Jennie twisted in her chair and grasped his shoulders, turning him to face her. “It’s not ‘nothing’ if it’s keeping you up all night and making you cry.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s just…the other kids.”

Jennie felt a surge of anger. This town again. This unforgiving, holier-than-thou town. “What did they say? Were they saying bad things about Kate?”

He shook his head, leaving her a bit confused. She was sure he’d meant that the children in town had been taunting him about Kate’s illegitimate child. She waited while he appeared to struggle with the decision
to open up to her. Finally he said, “They said bad things about me.”

“About you? What kind of bad things?”

Barnaby lifted his head a little to take a hard swallow. She could see that his Adam’s apple was beginning to grow prominent in his still puny throat. Barnaby was on the verge of manhood, but he was still enough of a child to be hurt by the cruel words of others. And weren’t they all? Jennie thought, her mouth twisting with irony.

“Frankie Sullivan called me a…bastard. And then all the boys were saying it.”

Jennie gasped. “Where was Miss Potter when this was going on?”

Barnaby shrugged. “I reckon she heard them, but she didn’t do anything. I reckon she thinks she can’t punish the boys for saying something that’s the truth.”

“That’s a terrible word, and they have no right to call you that, Barnaby. I’ll speak to Miss Potter tomorrow.”

The expression in his eyes went from misery to fear. “Please don’t, Miss Jennie. I’m sorry I told you.”

She rubbed her hands up and down his small arms. He felt cold. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be sure those boys won’t be able to hurt you for telling the truth.”

“It’s not that…I just…Please, Miss Jennie. I just want to let it rest. I’ll stay away from those boys, and I won’t get sad about what they say. They’re a stupid bunch of ninnies, anyway.”

“That they are, honey.”

“But you won’t go to Miss Potter?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

He nodded, still leaning against her shoulder. Her support seemed to be all he needed to banish the haunted look from his eyes. Jennie felt a wave of love. The happy family of four she had grown up with was gone, but they were still a family—she, Kate and Barnaby. And soon there would be a new member to love and protect from the occasional cruelties of the outside world.

“I think I can go to sleep now,” Barnaby said. His eyelids were already drooping.

She gave him a final squeeze. “Run along, then. And have only happy dreams.”

He pulled away and walked slowly toward the door. When he reached it, he turned. “Jennie?”

She looked up and smiled.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too, Barnaby.”

He bobbed his head, then disappeared up the hall.

Carter had always avoided menial tasks. He’d sworn, as he watched his mother grow old before his eyes, scrubbing and cleaning and polishing, ridding homes of other people’s dirt, that he would survive on brains, not brawn.

But the silverheels had taken on the vegetable garden as their own personal project and it seemed churlish not to help out. Which was why he found himself in perfectly good blue wool pants, kneeling in the mud to harvest carrots and potatoes.

The first evening he’d accompanied the miners in
their gardening venture, Jennie had come out to join them, and he’d found the sight of her petite, shapely body bending and straining over the rows of vegetables to be sufficiently entertaining to make him oblivious to the tiny nettles that had lodged in his hands and the bothersome gnats that swarmed around his head. But tonight Jennie was nowhere to be seen, and the endeavor was not nearly as much fun. In fact, he was using his best lawyerly skills to work out a foolproof reason as to why he should be excused from further duty.

“You’re ruining them swell Eastern duds of yours, Jones,” Smitty observed.

“Never figured you’d be willing to get those soft hands all dirty,” Dennis agreed.

Their banter had a teasing tone. In spite of their differences, the three miners had accepted Carter as one of them, or as near to it as to be of no importance.

“These soft hands have pulled twice the harvest yours have,” Carter shot back, tipping his basket so Dennis could see that it was nearly full.

Brad poked his head around the cornstalks to taunt Dennis. “So who’s the softie, Kelly?”

“Well, now, I didn’t know it was supposed to be a contest.” Dennis made an exaggerated show of pushing up the sleeves of his denim work shirt. Then he hitched up his trousers, planted his feet wide apart and faced Carter. “Hold on to your bucket, there, Carter, ‘cause you’re about to get whupped by a better man.”

Carter grinned. He’d never in his life engaged in this kind of tomfoolery with male friends. He’d grown
up a loner. During his years at school, he’d been plenty popular, especially with the visiting ladies, but he’d always been conscious of keeping his concentration on track to come out ahead of the next guy. And it had been pretty much that way ever since.

He found it relaxing and enjoyable to be with the three miners—working, teasing, playing cards—to be part of their easy camaraderie without having to look over his shoulder to see if one of them might get a better grade or pass him up for an important post. Simply speaking, he was having fun.

He’d let Dennis catch up a little to make the competition more even, then he started in earnest. Just because he wore a white shirt and tie to work every day didn’t mean he had to sit back on his haunches and get shown up by a burly son-of-the-old-sod miner.

Dennis’s basket was three-fourths full and he was going up and down the rows furiously pulling at anything that looked half-ripe. Carter cradled his own basket in his right arm and called out, “I thought I’d rest awhile, Kelly, to give you a fighting chance, but if I let you keep on dawdling like that, it’ll be hard on winter before we get this crop in.”

Dennis lifted his head and shot Carter a grin. “What you’re saying is you’re plumb tuckered after a day pushing papers and you’ve lost the stomach for this match.”

Carter bent and began picking once again, a smile on his face.

From inside the parlor window, Jennie watched the foursome. They were wreaking havoc with her neat
garden, but it appeared they were getting the job done…and enjoying it, as well.

Other nights she’d joined the miners in their labors, but when she’d seen Carter with them tonight, she’d stopped, though it was silly to linger here behind the window like an adolescent schoolgirl spying on the handsome schoolmaster.

What she should be doing was getting supper on the table. The men would be hungry after their extra work. But instead she stood at the window, staring, her mind drifting, watching Carter’s broad back as he worked in his white dress shirt. He’d taken off his jacket, but wore his suit pants. She shook her head. What a fine mess that would be for the next laundry day.

She straightened up away from the window. This was silly. She and Carter had to live together in the same house for the next few weeks. In spite of what had happened last night, she’d have to learn to be comfortable around him. He’d promised to be on good behavior, as long as she remembered to use his given name. She’d hold him to his word, turn away at the least hint of impropriety. It wouldn’t be that hard. Especially with her silverheels around. Unbeknownst to them, they’d be her protectors.

Slowly she tied her apron, pulled on her gardening gloves and headed toward the front door. The only problem was she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be protected.

“H
ere comes Miss Jennie,” Brad shouted as she came out on the front porch. “She can judge your bloody contest and give the prize to the winner.”

Dennis and Carter looked up at the same time. Dennis grinned and said, “You can be Queen of the May, lass, and bestow laurels on the victor. Which means me.”

It was always a little shock to hear Dennis’s speech which still held the hint of Ireland, though he’d come over with his family as a boy. It made him sound like a play actor or even a nobleman. A refined kind of sound that didn’t fit the picture of the tough, heavyset miner. The words he used weren’t typical, either. Queen of the May, indeed. As if anyone in Vermillion had ever heard of such a thing.

Carter had stopped picking and straightened up to look at her. “Ah,” he said. “I didn’t know the stakes were to be so high.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any laurels to bestow,” she said lightly, trying not to let the warmth that had lit Carter’s eyes affect her.

“It’ll have to be a kiss then,” Smitty said with a wicked smile. “A kiss to the winner.”

“Hell, for that, count me in, too.” Brad threw the spade he’d been using to dig weeds to one side and reached for an empty basket.

Dennis sent him a disgusted glance. “There’s no way you can catch up, Connors. You might as well join with the winner. Take this basket over to the porch and give me that one.”

Brad pulled the empty basket away from Dennis’s reaching fingers. “Hold on there, partner. I’m not joining with anyone. There’s only going to be one winner and one kiss as far as I’ve heard. Unless you want to give kisses to all the entrants, Miss Jennie?”

“I’m not going to give kisses to anyone,” she protested, her eyes sliding involuntarily to Carter who, of course, was watching her with that half smile of his. She’d been right in the first place—she should have gone in to put on the supper.

“Listen, this was between Carter and me,” Dennis addressed Brad. “And Miss Jennie doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to. But it would be a fitting end for such a noble competition,” he added, his green eyes twinkling.

All four men seemed to be waiting for her to answer. To his credit, Carter had not added his urging to the request. Of course, he hadn’t said it was a bad idea, either. She put her hands on her hips. “On the cheek, then. The victor gets a kiss on the cheek. A little one.”

Dennis let out a whoop and went back to his picking. Brad started filling his, but soon realized that
Dennis had been right. There was no way he could catch up with the first two participants. Smitty ambled over to the front porch and sat down. “I’ll be the referee,” he said. “First one to the top of his basket gets the prize.”

Jennie could see that both men’s baskets were nearly full. She offered up a little prayer that Dennis Kelly would be the winner. She wouldn’t feel the least bit self-conscious about kissing the big, amiable Irishman. Kissing Carter would be another story.

“Done!” he said with a shout of triumph. From his stairway post, Smitty nodded agreement. “Carter wins.”

“I’m done, too,” Dennis protested. “No fair. I was done, too, only I didn’t know we had to bellow it out to the end of the street.”

“He
was
done,” Brad agreed.

Both men looked over at Jennie, who looked from one to the other in confusion. “Smitty decides,” she said weakly.

All eyes turned to Smitty, who stood to take full advantage of his sudden importance. “I rule…” He left a long, dramatic pause. “I rule that it’s a tie. You’ll have to kiss them both, Miss Jennie.”

“Yes, sirree, Smitty. I do like the way you think,” Dennis chuckled. He set down his basket, took a giant step over the hedge and offered Jennie his cheek. “I’ll never wash my face again, lass,” he told her with a wink.

She went up on tiptoe, balancing herself on his big shoulder, and gave the promised peck, which landed somewhere on the edge of his muttonchop whiskers.
To her surprise, when she pulled away his face was turning bright red.

“He’s blushing!” Smitty yelped.

“Am not,” Dennis muttered, turning away toward the street.

“What’s the matter, Kelly?” Brad taunted. “Haven’t you ever been kissed before?”

“Shut up, Connors.”

Carter stepped in front of the embarrassed Irishman, drawing the attention of his tormentors. “My turn,” he said softly.

He was taller than Dennis. Even on tiptoe, Jennie knew she’d never reach his cheek. She waited a moment to see if he’d stoop down to her level, but when he remained standing straight, she had no choice but to put her arms around his neck and pull him toward her. Their bodies pressed together for the barest instant. The kiss was over within a second, but his warmth still engulfed her and the feel of his skin lingered on her lips.

“Hey, no fair. I didn’t get a hug with my kiss,” Dennis observed, now more or less recovered from his flush.

He made a move toward her but she waved him away. “That wasn’t a hug. I just had to haul on his neck so I could reach the cheek. So now that’s finished. No more kisses or hugs or anything.”

There was no longer laughter in her voice and Dennis grew immediately serious. “I’m sorry, lass. We’re just teasing you.”

She tried to reassure him, though she knew her
smile was shaky. “I know. It’s all right. I really do appreciate the help you all have given me.”

“We’d do more if we didn’t have to be working all day,” Smitty said, giving her a smile. “You’re a right admirable woman, Miss Jennie. You and your sister both.”

She let her gaze move from Smitty to the other two miners, doing her best to skip over Carter who stood among them. He had not said anything since the brief kiss, and, though she tried to avoid noticing, she could see that he was watching her with that intense look in his eyes. “You do plenty. All of you. I’m the luckiest landlady in the world.”

The three miners beamed. “And we’re lucky to be here, Miss Jennie,” Dennis said.

She was looking at the miners, but it was those other eyes she could feel. “Well, you won’t keep feeling so lucky unless I get some food on the table,” she said briskly. “It’s past supper time.”

“Kelly and Jones have picked our supper,” Smitty joked, pointing to the full baskets.

“But you wouldn’t be too happy if we were the ones to cook it,” Dennis retorted.

“No one can cook like Miss Jennie,” Brad added.

“Now, you’ve got that right,” Smitty agreed.

“Ah, boys,” Jennie said, “Dennis has been teach ing you some of that blarney of his. It’s not necessary. I have every intention of feeding you tonight”

They all laughed and Jennie felt a surge of affection. She
was
the luckiest landlady to have found these three kind and gentle men. If only her sister were here with her—here and healthy—life would actually
be rather nice. Of course, if her sister was here, they’d still be battling with the townsfolk, a battle that could start up again when Kate returned to Sheridan House with the baby. She sighed as all the problems came flooding back. “If you men will bring those baskets into the kitchen I’ll get Barnaby to start scrubbing them. And I should have supper on in forty-five minutes.”

They followed her in a single line into the house, their teasing ended at the change in her voice. Once in the kitchen, they deposited their harvest and turned to go get cleaned up. Carter was at the end of the line. He still hadn’t said anything since the prize kiss.

Jennie’s attention was on the vegetables. It was a wonderful fall harvest—five baskets, two of them completely full. But it meant she’d be awake hours after supper scrubbing and cutting. She looked up in surprise as Carter spoke softly from the doorway. She thought he’d left with the others.

“Thank you for the kiss,” he said.

Jennie bit her lip. “It was just a game.”

“Yes.”

He made no move to leave.

“It
was,
” she insisted. “Just a game.”

His smile was a touch devilish. “I know. It usually is when you first start out.” Then he turned around and left her standing amidst the vegetables, her mouth open.

Jennie had sold her father’s old buggy to pay the funeral expenses, and, anyway, she wasn’t sure Scarecrow could make the trip to Virginia City. The old
horse, who as his name implied had never been much of a beauty in the first place, was growing increasingly infirm. But Dr. Millard had offered to let her borrow his carriage for the trip on the condition that she find an escort. Which meant she’d have to wait until Sunday when the silverheels didn’t work. Either that or spend a long day alone on the road with Carter, which she’d decided was a little too much to ask of herself the way her nerves were these days.

Dennis could take her this Sunday. It was four days away, but she’d just have to hold on until then. She couldn’t remember ever having been separated from Kate for this long. At night after she climbed into her bed, she’d picture her sister, lying alone in the stiff, starched sheets of that hospital bed, cared for by equally stiff, starched nurses. Some nights she’d squeeze her eyes shut trying to blot out the picture, but she’d continue to see Kate’s pretty blue eyes looking at her, miserable and accusing.

Of course, this last vision was all in Jennie’s head. Kate had never been accusing in her whole life. She couldn’t even muster enough resentment to blame the scalawag who had gotten her into this mess, leaving her pregnant and nearly broke to face the enmity of an entire town. Once Jennie started thinking about Sean Flaherty, she’d feel better. Justifiable anger was easier than the empty ache she had every time she thought of Kate. So she’d let her thoughts drift to Sean, and then, inevitably, from there they would shift to Carter Jones, who also had proved to be undependable at the time when she’d needed him most.

Yes, she’d wait until Sunday and let Dennis take
her to visit Kate. Dennis was still a male, but he was a big bear of a male, kind of like an older brother. He didn’t make it harder for her to breathe or do crazy things to her insides. She’d wait until Sunday.

“I hired it for the day,” Carter told her as she looked out the front door in wonder at the shiny black buggy sitting at the end of the front walk. “You’ve been fretting about your sister all week, so I decided to take the afternoon off and drive you over to Virginia City to see her.”

Jennie hesitated. “I was going to borrow the doctor’s rig on Sunday.”

“Well, now you don’t have to wait. Go on, get your shawl or whatever you need. Time’s a-wastin’.”

“Would we be able to get back by supper? The miners will be coming home hungry.”

Carter tapped the buggy whip impatiently against his thigh. “We’ll try to get back by dark, of course. But supper’s all taken care of. I’ve asked Dorie Millard to stop by and help out the miners.”

“You’ve talked to Dorie?” she asked, not sure why the idea made her a little uncomfortable.

“She’ll make sure everything’s running smoothly. She’s that kind of woman.”

“Yes, indeed.” Jennie tamped down the little worm of jealousy. Why should she care what Carter Jones thought of Dorie? In fact, the two of them would probably make a splendid match. Carter’s ambition would go well with Dorie’s assertiveness. “It was kind of her to agree to come.”

“She’s offered to help before. I don’t know why
you’re so all-fired resistant to letting your friends give you a hand now and then.”

Jennie shrugged, pretending indifference. How did Carter know that Dorie had offered to help her? Just how much was he seeing of the attractive blonde? Well, it was none of her business. “I just don’t want to be a bother. My parents taught Kate and me that a family stands on its own.”

“Unfortunately, your parents aren’t around any longer. But if they were, I’m sure they would say that it’s just fine to lean on the people close to you at times when you need some support.”

“You’re probably right.” She gave a sigh so big that Carter started to laugh.

“It’s not the end of the world, Jennie. I’m just offering to give you a ride. I don’t intend to make nefarious demands to exact payment for my services.”

“Make what kind of demands?” she asked with a frown.

“Nefarious. You know,
wicked.
”

“I guess I wouldn’t be able to tell if you were making them, Carter. I don’t always understand you when you talk that highfalutin Eastern lingo.”

“
Nefarious
isn’t Eastern, it’s just…oh, never mind. Are we going to get going or am I going to have to take this rig back to the livery and waste my one free afternoon?”

“No!” Now that she had it in her head that she might actually be able to see Kate—to see her
today
—she couldn’t bear the idea of waiting another minute. “Just give me three minutes to change and
I’ll be ready to go. Oh, dear…I have to wait until the applesauce is boiled.”

Carter took her elbow to gently turn her around and steer her toward the stairs. “You’re an intriguing woman, Jennie Sheridan—the only one I’ve ever met who can actually change clothes in under an hour. You go on up and get dressed and I’ll leave a note for Barnaby about the applesauce.”

She shot him a grateful glance then started up to her room at an unladylike pace, two steps at a time.

The fabulously rich Comstock strike had turned Virginia City into a bustling boomtown twenty years earlier, and it retained its look of prosperity even though some of the mines were beginning to play out. Growing up in Vermillion, Jennie found the larger town a marvel. When she’d visited with her family, she remembered how fascinated she and Kate had been by the hydraulic elevator in the elegant brick International Hotel. The hotel restaurant claimed to have the best food between Chicago and San Francisco.

She recalled that her parents had hurried the two sisters past the rows of saloons, rumored to be more than a hundred, but she and Kate had secretly taken peaks behind the swinging doors, now and then rewarded with a glimpse of a real live painted lady.

Today she scarcely noticed her surroundings as they made their way past the maze of mines and into town. The hospital was on the southern edge at the base of one of the hills. Half the town seemed to be stuck into a hill. The streets were perilously steep,
and Jennie grasped the side railing of the carriage as they descended the final block.