Here Comes the Bride (17 page)

Tess’s faced flamed at the woman’s insult. She should tell Miss Lutz exactly what she thought of her opinion and exactly what she could do with it. Why on earth couldn’t people mind their own business?

Gabe’s frown deepened as the day progressed. Marry Tess Kinley—what the hell was Bart talking about? If Tess needed marrying so badly, why didn’t Bart do the job himself? He certainly had an easy time talking with the woman; she never yelled at him the way she did Gabe. And she didn’t drive Bart half as crazy as she did him either. Why was that?

He tied Zeus’s reins to the post outside the sheriff’s office and took himself inside.

“Mornin’, Fergus,” he said. “How’s it going here in town these days?”

The sheriff rose from behind his undersized desk, as always buried in mounds of paperwork, and shook Gabe’s outstretched hand.

“Hullo, Gabe.” He smiled. “Nothin’ too exciting goin’ on here. Heard from your brother yet?”

“That’s why I stopped.” He nodded. “Bart arrived home the other day, but he’s been laid up with a snakebite, so he won’t be able to get to town for a few days.”

“That’s too bad. He’s gonna be okay, though?”

Gabe nodded again. “He knows about that Gribbs fellow escaping if that’s what’s on your mind.”

“That and more,” Fergus answered. “Maybe I’ll swing by this afternoon or tomorrow and see how he’s doin’.”

“Better yet,” Gabe suggested, “why don’t you take supper with us tonight and you can talk to him then? I’m sure Rosa’ll be glad to see you.”

Fergus’s eyes glimmered saucily. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “And I just might get to see your young Miss Kinley again, won’t I?”

Gabe’s jaw tightened. “’Fraid not, Fergus. Miss Kinley left the ranch last night and is staying somewhere in town now.”

“What? Why the hell would she do a fool thing like that?” He obviously had more to say, but one look at Gabe’s face and his mouth snapped closed.

“She’s figuring on getting herself a job and buying a farm outside of town,” Gabe said flatly, his eyes darting around the room.

“I see. Well, that’s too bad, but I’d be much obliged for the meal tonight anyway. My cookin’ ain’t what it used to be.”

Gabe’s head bobbed in response. “Good, then we’ll see you tonight.”

The sheriff nodded again as Gabe made his retreat. He still had a few minutes before his meeting with Brolin and thanks to Bart’s foolish talk about marrying Tess, Gabe had no appetite for his morning meal, but now his stomach was hollering for some attention.

Directly across the street was the saloon, where warm-hearted Dottie would surely fix him something halfway edible, or he could venture into the restaurant for a plate of damn fine cooking prepared and served by the most hostile woman he’d ever met. Pauline Lutz had never once in all the years she’d lived in Porter Creek smiled in Gabe’s direction. In fact, most times she made no secret of her tsking at either him or Bart and usually sniffed at them as she stared down that long, skinny nose of hers. But she could cook a damn fine meal.

He started toward the saloon but quickly changed his mind. He was in no mood to be social, and Dottie could talk the ear off of Job if given the chance. He veered to the left and headed down to the end of the street where no doubt his mood would only worsen, but at least his stomach would be happy.

He pushed through the door and took the table nearest the window without even looking up. His Stetson came off the second his hand touched the door and it now sat on the table across from him. Doc Bender and Sheriff Nicholls met up across the street, outside the mercantile, smiling and nodding at the passing townsfolk.

From the corner of his eye, Gabe saw a menu pass under his chin and a coffee cup lowered in front of him.

“Thank you, Miss Lutz,” he mumbled, catching a brief glance at the hand that pulled back. Tess.

His head whipped around and sure as hell, there she stood, a told-you-so grin on her face, loose tendrils of hair falling from her pins, and today’s lunch special wiped all over her apron—beef stew and dumplings with blueberry cobbler.

“Tess!” he blurted. “What in blazes are you doing here?”

The midday sun paled in comparison to her smile.

“I told you I would get myself a job and I did. Why are you so surprised?’

“But here?” he whispered loudly. “Are you crazy? Lutz is about the meanest woman this side of the Mississippi. Couldn’t you find something else?”

Tess shrugged. “I like it here.”

Gabe’s head shook slowly. “You must be a bugger for punishment or something.”

“Yes,” she answered. “I must be.”

“Tess!” Pauline Lutz’s voice snipped from the kitchen doorway. “No consorting with the customers—you know the rules.”

“Yes, Miss Lutz, I know. Mr. Calloway is having a difficult time deciding what he’d like.”

Gabe’s eyes widened in surprise. She was talking about lunch, wasn’t she? Before he could speak, Miss Lutz clicked her tongue in disgust.

“I’ll give him what he always orders—steak, fried eggs, and mashed potatoes. Now get back to work.”

Tess’s smile widened, making his own mouth dip into a deeper frown. Without a word, she swiveled away from him and continued on with her work as if he wasn’t sitting less than ten feet from her. Most of the lunch customers had come and gone by then, leaving only Gabe and the Hubbards in the corner, who were soaking up every word Gabe and Tess spoke to each other.

Gabe scowled into his coffee mug. Damn well should have gone to the saloon and put up with Dottie’s nattering is what he should have done. But instead, he was being eyed like a side of beef by the station master and his nosy wife, who probably noticed every time Gabe’s eyes wandered away from the window and over in Tess’s direction.

Tess’s smile hadn’t faded one tiny bit when she arrived with his lunch.

“Here you are, Gabriel. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

She placed it on the table, refilled his coffee cup, and made to leave again.

“Tess,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Yes? Is there something wrong with your lunch?”

“No,” he answered automatically without even having looked at the plate.

“Then what is it?”

I want you to come home, his mind hollered, take off that ridiculous apron and come home. Home? The ranch wasn’t her home, it was his. She didn’t have a home.

“Where are you staying?” he fumbled. “I mean, have you found a room to rent?”

“No,” she said, “not yet. I haven’t had time, but once I’ve finished work today I’ll find something. The hotel is right here, so there’s always that.”

Gabe’s neck flamed, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “You are not taking a room at the hotel,” he seethed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Calloway,” she smiled sweetly, completely ignoring the steam he was certain pumped ferociously from his ears. “I’m not to consort with the customers. If there’s anything I can get you, please let me know; otherwise, I’ll get back to my work.”

Gabe’s chin nearly hit his plate, and it probably would have remained there, too, if Marylynn Hubbard’s snickering hadn’t rocked him back to his senses. He snapped his jaw shut and forced his glare away from both Tess and Mrs. Hubbard.

He wrapped his fist around his fork and shoveled the food into his mouth with fierce determination. He’d be damned if he’d let on how much she drove him nuts. He cleaned his plate without tasting a bite, swallowed the steaming coffee in one gulp, and pushed himself away from the table. He tossed enough money down to cover the cost of the meal and a tip for Tess, jammed his hat back on his head, and strode from the restaurant without so much as a glance back.

She could go stay at the damned hotel if that’s what she wanted to do. What the hell did he care?

 

 

One look at the clientele coming and going from the hotel was enough to change Tess’s mind about staying there. Filthy, cursing men stumbled in and out the front door, spitting tobacco as they made rude remarks to passersby and then guffawing at their own jokes. Their foul stench alone was enough to make her stomach churn.

She witnessed one woman exiting the hotel and even she looked slightly less than questionable. The smudged rouge on her lips and cheeks gave evidence to what her occupation most likely was, but Tess refused to judge her on that alone. Perhaps she was a wife of one of the men staying there, or perhaps she was traveling through town herself. Perhaps.

Miss Hattie’s boardinghouse was a mile outside of town, so that was where Tess headed as soon as she finished at the restaurant. The road, though dusty and full of ruts, was flat and easy to follow. It led her along the other side of the creek and along its bank where she awed at the peaceful majesty of the swaying willows and the boundless number of daisies dancing in the breeze.

The picturesque view immediately relaxed her, melting away what remained of the lingering tension from that morning. Miss Lutz had completely taken her by surprise, with her sideways insinuations that Tess had somehow scandalized herself by simply knowing Gabriel. She would have to work hard to prove her worth to Miss Lutz before the woman passed along whatever ill-gotten gossip she had heard.

Miss Hattie’s house was an olive green, two-story Victorian surrounded by a huge wraparound porch and more flowers than Tess could even name. A white picket fence bordered an extensive yard that played host to a huge vegetable garden and a heavy-laden cherry tree.

Inhaling deeply, she unlatched the gate and stepped through. Though she had never personally met anyone who operated a boardinghouse, she had heard plenty of stories and none of them were particularly encouraging. Her heart ached to be back at the ranch, safely ensconced in the kitchen with Rosa or out fighting with the chickens again. How she longed to ride gentle Hera across the open plain, to feel the sun on her face, the wind in her hair, and Gabriel’s strong arms wrapped gently around her.

But that was not what Gabriel wanted. If he had things his way, she would never have even set foot in Porter Creek, let alone spent any time at El Cielo. A sudden sob caught in her throat, stopping her at the bottom of the steps. She couldn’t very well appear weepy and pathetic when she met her prospective landlady, now could she?

She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes, swallowed hard, and marched up the steps. The white wood door opened before she even knocked, making her gasp in surprise.

“Yes?” Water-blue eyes, sunken amid a mass of pale wrinkles, peered up at Tess. “What do you want?”

“Are you Miss Hattie?” Tess asked.

“Who wants to know?” The door opened wider, revealing an older woman who was much more round than she was tall.

Tess cleared her throat. “My name is Tess Kinley, ma’am, and I’m looking for a room to rent. I was told . . .”

“You!”
the woman almost hissed. “I’ve heard all about you and those Calloway boys. What are you doing at my door?”

Tess stood speechless for what seemed half an eternity. Surely, this kindly looking woman wasn’t insinuating what Tess thought she was.

“I-I beg your pardon, ma’am,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know what you might have heard, but as I said, I am here looking for a room to rent.”

“I don’t rent rooms to the likes of you.” The woman made to close the door but Tess pressed her hand against it, holding it open.

“And what kind of person am I?” she asked, heat flooding up her neck into her scalp.

The woman sniffed. “The kind that would take up with those Calloway boys and live out there at El Cielo—unchaperoned—doing God only knows what. That’s what kind.”

Tess’s face flamed crimson. “Yes,” she bit out through gritted teeth, knowing full well she should keep her mouth clamped shut. “I did stay, unchaperoned, at El Cielo for several days, and if it was any of your business, which it isn’t, you would know both Gabriel and Bart were perfect gentlemen the entire time. They both stayed out in the barn with the horses until yesterday when Bart was bitten by a rattlesnake and moved into the house, which is part of the reason why I am here.”

A very small part, she reasoned, but nevertheless, a part.

“Now,” she continued, her confidence increasing with every breath. “Do you have a room? My money is as good as anyone else’s.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide.

“Why, I never . . .” she sputtered. “How dare you speak to me like this?”

“And how dare you speak to me the way you have!” Tess snapped back. “You know nothing about me and yet you have already jumped to judge me. I assure you I am as trustworthy as anyone you might know and—”

“I rent my rooms to respectable ladies and gentlemen,” Miss Hattie interrupted. “I do not allow any type of carrying on by my tenants, whether it be in my home or elsewhere. I will not have my reputation tarnished.”

“Miss Hattie,” Tess’s ire was reaching epic proportions now. “I will have you know—”

“Good day.” The door closed and Tess was left standing on the porch, her mouth agape, her hands fisted at her sides.

Never before had she been spoken to in such a manner—or accused of such things. The woman may as well have come right out and called her a harlot. Of all the nerve!

She stomped back down the stairs and slammed the gate behind her. She would show this town exactly what kind of lady she was—they’d all be surprised if they knew where she came from and who her father was. But, she thought with a slow sigh, it didn’t matter who she used to be, it only mattered who she was now, and how she carried herself in public. She never would have guessed such a small town would hold the same views and opinions as the high society of Boston and other large cities.

She’d been in town a few days and already the town had labeled her anything but a lady. Tears burned the back of Tess’s eyes. She was respectable, she was virtuous, and she’d be darned if she’d feel any other way—even though she would gladly give herself to Gabriel in a heartbeat if only he’d ask. If only he’d ask.

She shook her head, trying in vain to push Gabriel from her thoughts so she could focus on the problem at hand. It was closing in on supper time, it would be getting dark soon, and she had nowhere to sleep for the night. She could go back to El Cielo, but that would be tantamount to admitting defeat, and she absolutely would not do that—not today or any other day.