Linda Ford (5 page)

❧

Hannah fell into step beside him, liking the sound of his boots striking the wooden sidewalk. A good, solid sound that she hoped would force her thoughts back to a firm base.

Her reactions to this man were sharp and sometimes unexpected. Why should she care if he thought she couldn’t run the hotel on her own? It didn’t matter, except his attitude, so like Otto’s, annoyed her half to death. And just when she’d decided the sooner he returned to his ranch the better as far as she was concerned, her opinion of him shifted. Watching him cut Luke’s meat and seeing the way the little guys adored him made her insides feel like warm cream. Why it should be, she couldn’t say. But she didn’t like it. It made it hard for her to remember the importance of her independence.

She increased the length of her stride, trying to keep up with him.

The boys’ voices rang out clear and strong as they galloped ahead like wild colts.

“Luke, Sammy, slow down,” Jake ordered. The pair hesitated half a step then roared forward. Jake groaned. “Trouble just waiting to happen.”

Hannah chuckled at his consternation. “You’re proud of them, and I don’t blame you. Sammy is almost pretty but definitely a boy full of sweet, innocent mischief. Luke is already learning to temper his natural bent for finding trouble.”

Jake snorted. “I don’t see the innocent part, but trouble is their middle name.”

Hannah laughed breathlessly as she tried to keep up with Jake’s long strides.

“I need to get back to my responsibilities,” he said.

“Me, too. I’ve noticed nothing gets done when I’m away.”

“What about Mort?”

“Yes, Mort.” Did he think Mort made up for her trying to do a “man’s work”? She would soon change his mind about that. And about her needing a man. She could manage on her own. “Mort has one speed—slightly faster than a crawl. In his mind, he also has one job—night clerk. I haven’t much call for such a position right now. I’ve tried to get him to do a few other things. Mind you, I’m not complaining. I appreciate his help with the water and fires.”

“He should do more. I’ll speak to him.”

“Our arrangement works just fine.”

“I can’t believe your stepfather allowed you to come out here alone.”

She stopped and gave him a look full of hot displeasure. “My stepfather tried to make me reconsider. He tried to force me to become an obedient young woman who’d let him make all her decisions. But he has no right. Neither do you. My father encouraged me to be independent. I will not disappoint him.” Ignoring the way his mouth dropped open then shut with a click, she steamed forward.

In three quick strides he caught up. “Hannah, no need to get angry.”

She slowed her steps. “I’m not angry. No. That’s not true. I am angry. I’m tired of you suggesting I should give up my hotel because I’m not a man.”

“Well, you’re not.” He chuckled.

She was not amused. “I’m not trying to be. But that doesn’t mean I can’t manage without one.” She stopped and faced him. “Now, does it?” Her words were soft, yet he’d better not make the mistake of thinking she’d given in.

She watched emotions shift across his face—stubbornness as if he intended to argue, confusion as if the whole idea surprised him so much he didn’t know how to tame it, and then quiet resignation. But if she thought he’d accepted her stand, he quickly corrected her.

“You’ll find out soon enough that you can’t manage on your own.”

She clamped her mouth shut to keep from telling him exactly what she thought of his attitude.
Lord, forgive me for being so angry.
She took a deep breath and allowed peace to return to her heart. “Sorry, but I intend to prove you wrong.”

He shook his head. His mouth pulled down at the corners.

Hannah couldn’t tell if he was resigned to her decision or sad because he expected her to fail.

“If you change your mind and want some help—”

She cut him off. “I won’t.” She headed after the boys again.

“Boys, slow down,” Jake called. Then quieter, for her benefit, he added, “They’re getting awfully loud.”

She saw Sammy’s boot catch on a board and gasped as he sprawled headfirst into a display of buckets outside Johnson’s Hardware Store. The buckets tipped over with a crash that rattled the air. She and Jake rushed forward together.

A horse whinnied. Hannah caught a glimpse of a rider trying to control his mount and noticed a flash as a wagon roared by with the driver sawing on the reins. But her attention centered on Sammy. Several buckets bounced off various parts of his body. She feared he’d be injured. She reached for the child. “Sammy.”

He looked past her to his uncle. “Uncle Jake,” he cried.

Jake swept the boy into his arms and sat down on the sidewalk to hold him close. Sammy wrapped his small arms around Jake’s neck and hung on, sobbing loudly. For a minute, Jake hugged the boy so tight Hannah feared he’d do further damage, and then Jake eased him back and looked into his face. “Are you hurt?”

The boy screamed.

“Where?” Without waiting for an answer, Jake scrubbed his hands through the child’s hair searching for damage. He pulled up the boy’s shirt and checked for injuries. Satisfied he wasn’t seriously hurt, Jake pulled Sammy back into his arms and held him tight. “You’ll be fine, little guy.”

Hannah’s eyes stung with tears. Not from sympathy for Sammy’s pain, even though she felt sorry for the boy. She wasn’t even sure she could say exactly why she felt so close to crying except she envied the child that certainty of love and approval and acceptance from Jake. Her father had given her the same thing, and she missed it almost as much as she missed him.

Luke hung back, concern written all over his face. As soon as he saw his little brother was uninjured, he threw himself at Jake.

As Jake’s arms opened, Hannah’s heart unfurled around the edges like a springtime leaf opening to the warmth of the season.

Jake pushed to his feet and clasped a boy in each hand. “Time to get back to your grandmother.”

Sammy practically beat the door down as they arrived at the hotel and screamed for his “Gamma.”

“Nothing wrong with his lungs,” Jake murmured.

Hannah grinned as Mrs. Sperling captured Sammy in a hug and tried to piece together the story spilling from the two boys. “I’m just glad he wasn’t hurt.”

Hannah left the family to fill in the details and headed for the kitchen. She really did have to get to work. Before she reached the dining room, the outer door burst open and a young man skidded to stop and glanced around. “Mr. Sperling,” he shouted, “got a telegram for you.”

Jake took the yellow paper and glanced at the message. With a muffled complaint, he crumpled it in his fist. “Someone had better have a good explanation for this.”

“You need me for anything else?” the boy asked.

Jake gave him some coins and dismissed him.

“What is it?” Mrs. Sperling demanded.

Jake hesitated. “Nothing for you to worry about, Mother.”

“If it’s to do with the ranch, it concerns me.” She held out her hand. “I want to see it.”

Hannah grinned at Jake’s helpless expression. Mrs. Sperling certainly bounced from fluttering, helpless female to strong woman when it suited her.

But Jake didn’t relinquish the telegram. “It’s from Mr. Arnold saying the buyers aren’t coming.”

“Does he say why?” the older woman asked.

Again Jake hesitated, and Hannah sensed the message said more than he cared to share with his mother.

“Jake, you might as well tell me. I can deal with the facts better than whatever my imagination dredges up.”

“He says he’s received information our animals are diseased.” He bunched his hands into fists. “I’ll find out who started this rumor, and when I do. . .”

A shiver raced across Hannah’s shoulders. She felt pity for the person causing his anger. Jake would deal with him severely. Jake was not a man to thwart. He expected compliance with his orders. She wondered if that extended to young women who challenged him about running a hotel.

The two ranchers she’d met the day before stomped into the lobby. “Saw Silas’s boy over here. Did you hear something from the buyers?” Riggs demanded.

Jake handed him the telegram.

Martin read it over his shoulder. “It’s Murphy. No doubt about it.”

Hannah watched Sammy’s eyes grow wide as Martin swung his fist as if pummeling the man named Murphy.

Jake held up his hand to silence the other two. “Mother, would you take the boys upstairs or outside?”

Mrs. Sperling had already risen. “I think we’ll go see if we can find some penny candy.”

Hannah squatted to the boys’ level as they passed. “I haven’t forgotten the cookies. I’ll save them for when you come back.”

“We was quiet, wasn’t we?” Luke asked.

“You were very quiet.” She met Jake’s gaze past Luke’s head and exchanged a small smile with him. They both knew the boys had been as quiet as could be expected.

The ranchers waited until the door closed behind Mrs. Sperling then resumed their conversation.

Hannah ducked into the kitchen, but even there, she could hear every word.

“Should’ve known Murphy’d do something like this when he refused to join us in settling a price and said he intended to ship his cattle further up the line rather than pen them with us. Murphy stands to turn a nice profit if he’s the only supplier.” Hannah knew Martin said the words. He struck her as an angry man. “We ought to get together an outfit and take care of this the old-fashioned way.”

“Knowing and proving aren’t the same,” Jake said, his voice hard.

“I suggest we drive our cattle to where Murphy has his and provide him some stiff competition,” Riggs said.

“It’s a waste of time and money,” Jake said. “What we need to do is prove to Mr. Arnold the animals are healthy.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Martin demanded.

Hannah knew the continual thudding sound was Martin pounding his fist into his palm. “I could send a couple of my hands to persuade him.”

“I’ll send him a telegram informing him he’s been misinformed,” Jake said.

The other two laughed.

“Mr. Arnold always struck me as a reasonable man,” Jake added.

There were some grunts, and then Riggs said. “Let’s do it, then.”

Boots clattered across her polished wooden floor. There came the thud of the door swinging shut, and then blessed quiet.

Hannah returned to the lobby and looked around. If she stripped the smoke-stained wallpaper from behind the desk, she could replace it after the Sperlings paid her. She tried to concentrate on how their leaving would give her cash to buy new wallpaper. But she kept thinking how quiet it would be without Mrs. Sperling to visit with, the little boys to amuse her, and Jake to—what? Annoy her? Make her wish for something she once had? She tossed the idea away. Nothing about Jake and his life even vaguely resembled what she’d had.

Overcome with homesickness, she hurried to her room. She opened the top drawer of the chiffonier and dug under her stockings until she found a small case.

Four

Hannah sat on the edge of the bed and opened the black case. Her vision blurred as she ran her fingertip over the pocket watch her father had left her. It had two tiny diamonds mounted on it. Everything else of value had been sold to pay bills after his death. Even the house had to go to the bank. Her father had gone heavily into debt providing Hannah and her mother with nice things. Things they didn’t need. Or at least she didn’t. She wasn’t so sure of her mother. It seemed she couldn’t deal with the harsh realities of fending for herself even though Hannah had promised she could manage for the both of them. No doubt it explained why her mother accepted Otto’s offer of marriage as soon as her mourning period ended. But for Hannah, security at the cost of her independence constituted too high a price. She’d never told her mother how demanding Otto had been.
Thank You, God, for giving me a way out.

She blinked away the tears. She had only to pick up the watch to see her father, hear his voice as he told her he was proud of her, and smell again his unique scent of oil and produce from working in his store. She could still hear him praise her independent spirit.

She closed the case and shoved it back out of sight. She would fix up this hotel and return it to the profitable business it had been for her grandparents. Her father would be proud of her.

She marched back to the kitchen, armed herself with hot water and a scraper, and headed for the lobby to tackle removing the wallpaper.

It proved to be a messy, sticky job. She had half the wall left to do when Mrs. Sperling returned.

As Hannah started to climb off the ladder, the older lady stopped her. “We’ve already eaten, and I think we’re ready for an early night.”

Hannah knew the boys were tired when they accompanied their grandmother up the stairs without protest. The cookies would have to wait until tomorrow.

She returned to her task, attacking the sooty paper with a vengeance. She’d show Jake she could do this. She had to prove herself equal to her father’s expectations.

“Seems every time I turn my back, you climb a ladder.”

Hannah, startled at the sound of Jake’s voice, steadied herself, relaxed her tense grip on the scraper, and turned to see him leaning against the desk, grinning. “It’s part of the job.”

“At least you aren’t perched on the top.”

Hannah glanced at the remaining corner and decided not to finish it while she had an audience. She climbed down, wiped her hands on a rag, and used her arm to brush her hair out of her face. She wouldn’t look at her reflection in the windows to see how mussed she had become. But she felt a bit of paper in her hair and flicked it away.

He grinned and picked out a few pieces. “How long have you been at this?”

“Since you left.” A big clock hung next to the stairs, and she looked at it and gasped. It was long past suppertime and almost dark out.

“It doesn’t all have to be done tonight, does it?”

She brought her gaze back to him, surprised at how weary he sounded. “Seeing I’m my own boss, I can do it whenever I want.” She said it airily, but until she got the place ready to open, she had no income.

He grimaced. “Being the boss means you never get to relax. Mother and the boys?”

“They went upstairs hours ago. Haven’t heard a sound since.”

“Then I don’t have to worry about feeding them.” He stretched.

“Did you get your business taken care of?”

“We sent a telegram asking the buyers to come see for themselves. Don’t expect we’ll hear back until morning.”

“What happens if they won’t come?”

He rolled his head back and forth and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I suppose we go find them ourselves. Riggs and Martin are all for dragging Mr. Arnold out by the scruff of his neck.”

“And what do you think?”

“It took me hours to round up some feed for the animals. And it’s only enough for one day. I just want it over with so I can get home and take care of things.” His stomach rumbled loudly. “Sorry about that.”

“Haven’t you eaten?”

“Had to check on Mother and the boys first. I’ll go find something now.”

Hannah checked the time. “I doubt anything will still be open.”

“I’ll have to wait for breakfast, then.”

“I haven’t eaten, either. There’s enough for two—” She hesitated. Would he be willing to share her meager fare again?

“You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” She headed for the kitchen then turned back, realizing Jake hadn’t moved. “Come on. You’re welcome to join me.”

He tossed his hat on the desk, brushed his hair back with his palms, and followed, hesitating in the doorway. “Remember, I’m not real good in a kitchen,” he murmured.

She laughed. “Not to worry. I can manage on my own.”

He nodded and sat at the far end of the table.

She stirred the fire to life and put the kettle on the hottest part of the stove and tried to decide what she could make for him. In the end, she fried eggs and potatoes and served biscuits left from the day before.

He reached for her hands as he bowed to pray.

She wanted to pull back, not wanting to get even remotely close to him. He objected to her independence as strongly as Otto had. But it seemed childish to refuse to hold his hands as he prayed, so she turned her palms into his, noticing the roughness of them, the way they seemed to overpower her and yet still feel so gentle.

When he said, “Amen,” he didn’t immediately release her.

But Hannah couldn’t keep her head down forever and slowly brought her gaze up to his. She saw warmth in his brown eyes and wondered what he felt.

Then he smiled. “Thank you for this.”

She nodded, ducked her head, and concentrated on her food.

❧

Jake savored the potatoes, crispy and salted to perfection, and the eggs with runny yolks just the way he liked.

Maybe if he itemized the merits of the food, he’d stop thinking about how her hands had felt—small, yet firm and strong. Not unlike the woman herself, he guessed.

Hannah puzzled him. Why did she insist she could fix this place by herself? The smell of smoke persisted in every corner. He swung off his chair and closed the pocket doors to the dining room.

She questioned him with her eyes.

“Thought it might keep out some of the smoke smell.”

“I guess I’m used to it.”

He wanted to protest she shouldn’t have to get used to such a thing but knew she’d take objection to his interference. Still, why should she? What was she trying to prove? He stuffed half a biscuit in his mouth to keep from asking.

She’d said something about her father. As if he would approve. He couldn’t imagine any man willingly allowing his daughter to take on such a task. “What happened to your father?” At her startled expression, he added, “I know he died. I’m wondering how.”

“Pneumonia.”

“Oh.” His mind flooded with questions, but a man could hardly blurt out things like, “How long did it take? Did he suffer?”

“It was mercifully quick,” she said, answering his unspoken questions.

“That’s a blessing.”

“I suppose you’re right, though it didn’t seem like it at the time. I thought my world had ended. In some ways it did. My father had gone into debt to build a big house. I guess he thought that’s what Mother wanted.”

“Did she?”

She shrugged. “I shouldn’t speak poorly of her, but it does seem she prefers comfort to independence. It’s the only reason I can think of for her marriage to Otto.”

Jake tried to digest that. His father had made him promise he would always see that his sister and mother were kept comfortable. He assumed that’s what a man did for a woman. But Hannah made it sound less than second best.

She chuckled. “I’m afraid Otto bit off more than he could chew when he got me in the bargain. I’d sooner be less comfortable and more independent.”

“Independence carries a price—responsibility.”

In the dim light her eyes looked dark and bottomless. He could feel her thoughts reach out to him and dig deep into his heart as if trying to fathom his meaning. For a moment, he thought she would acknowledge the truth in his words, but she only chuckled. “Comfort can carry a price, too. Especially if it means being controlled by another’s desires. I’ll take the alternative.”

Disappointed by her stubbornness, Jake swiped his plate clean and leaned back. All sorts of arguments crowded his mind, proofs she was wrong, but at the set of her mouth he guessed she didn’t care much about proof.

She went to the cupboard and pulled some cookies from a tin, placed them on a plate, and put them on the table. “The boys were so tired tonight they didn’t even stop for cookies. I’ll have to be sure they get some before they go out tomorrow.”

He jerked forward. “I suppose Mother wore herself out, too?”

Hannah smiled. Her eyes twinkled. “She seemed glad enough to go to her room.”

He glanced at the ceiling, wondering if he should check on her.

“I’m sure she’s sound asleep by now,” Hannah said.

He pulled his attention back to her. Why did she grin so widely? Just looking at her made him smile in response. He liked the way her eyes crinkled at the corners. He wanted to pick out the flecks of wallpaper peppering her hair but guessed she might object to such a bold move.

She blinked before his stare. “Tell me about your father.” Her voice sounded husky. “Your mother said he had an accident.”

“Yeah. Gored by a bull.”

Her eyes widened. She sucked in her breath in a quick little motion then didn’t seem to be able to let it out. She scrubbed her lips together two, three times, and then air escaped her lungs like a hot wind off the dry plains. “How awful.”

“It wasn’t pretty.”

“I’m sorry. And you were still young.”

“I don’t remember being young.” He had grown up really fast after his father’s accident. “My father died inch by inch in agony, but he never stopped being in charge. And in the months he lived, he taught me everything I’d need to know to take over.” He’d learned long ago to speak of it without feeing anything, to think of his father’s death with emotional detachment. A man had to move on from such things, concentrate on his responsibilities. There wasn’t room for weakness. His father had taught him well.

“Does it seem strange to you that your father’s death gave you more independence and responsibility than you wanted and my father’s death deprived me of mine?”

“It’s not more’n I can handle.”

“Of course not.” Her eyes carried unspoken disagreement.

He wanted to prove her wrong. It had never been more than he could handle. He would never falter in his responsibilities. “And you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.” He circled his head, indicating the hotel.

She fiddled with her napkin a moment then fixed him with a solid stare. “As you said, it’s not more than I can handle.”

He didn’t want to agree. In fact, the more he got to know Hannah, the more he wanted to protest. But somewhere between the fried potatoes and the last crumb of cookie, things between them had shifted. And he didn’t want to spoil this new feeling—like the moment a horse stops bucking and realizes it can either fight or cooperate. Bad example. Yet somehow it fit. He and Hannah had somehow, somewhere in the discussion, silently, mutually, he hoped, agreed they could be friends. Not wanting to spoil that flush of understanding or whatever he decided to call it, he refrained from saying anything about the hotel.

He pushed his plate aside. “That was good. Thank you.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs.

She narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you going to toss me some more coins?” She breathed hard.

“Why would I do that?”

“You did last night.”

He tried to remember. Riggs and Martin had stormed in, ready to do business. He’d gone with them to meet the train, expecting the buyers. Had he unthinkingly dropped some money on the table as he normally would when eating out?

He had. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I suggest you do so in the future.”

“I apologize.”

She considered him for a moment then nodded.

He thought she meant to say something more, but a bell clattered somewhere in the distance.

Hannah bolted from her chair. “Someone’s in the lobby. Can’t anyone read the closed sign?” She pushed the doors open and headed across the dining room.

Jake quickly stood. “Watch the hole in the floor.” Someone was going to get hurt. He followed her, skirting the hole.

The lobby, lit only by the light from the kitchen, lay in shadows. A cowboy clung to the desk, swaying as he leered at Hannah crossing the room. “I’s here for room,” he slurred.

Hannah took her place behind the desk. “I’m sorry. We’re closed.”

The cowboy swung his head around to stare at Jake, the movement almost tipping him over. He grabbed the desk, pulled himself upright, and turned back to Hannah. “Aw, lady. Bet ya can find me a room somewhere.” He leaned over the desk, leering again.

Hannah stepped back. “No sir, I can’t. But I’m sure the Regal will have a room for you.”

“Wizened-up old guy runs the place. Not like here.” He grabbed for Hannah, but she ducked out of his reach.

Jake had seen enough. He crossed the room in three strides. “Cowboy, you’re done here.” He kept his voice low, but the young man jerked up, not missing the sound of an order. Jake squeezed the man’s elbow and accompanied him to the door. He fought the temptation to shove him into the street.

Even so, the cowboy stumbled and almost fell.

Jake watched, knowing his wish to see the boy flat on his face in muck was not very Christian. He slammed the door and turned the lock. He faced Hannah.

She hugged her arms around herself, her eyes wide and dark.

“Did he scare you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

His insides burned at her denial. “He was drunk. He might have hurt you.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not completely helpless.”

“You’re alone here. How did you think you’d stop him?”

“Just because I’m not a man doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”