Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (44 page)

Other than being grateful for his help, she wasn't quite sure what all had happened just now, but clearly Rand no longer hated her for her deception, if he ever had. No, his eyes had held more tenderness, more admiration, than she'd ever seen in them before. Maybe in time they could patch up their friendship, if nothing more. She had to admit that when he'd entered the house and walked down the hall toward the kitchen, she'd experienced a jolt of happiness. How would it be to have him come home to her every day? Maybe marriage—to the right man, of course—wouldn't be such a bad thing.

She had little time to ponder such ideas because she must finish kneading the small batch of bread she'd started and set some stew meat and onions to browning. Even if Mrs. Foster couldn't eat anything besides a little broth, it was always important to have food prepared in the larder.

Maybe Rand would come back to help later today and she could serve him some of her stew. She could imagine him hesitating to take a bite, but not wanting to be rude, he'd give it a try. That would take care of any memories of under-baked apple pie he might still have.

There she was, thinking of him again. As if he'd ever been far from her thoughts. Funny how those few minutes as they'd stood in the hallway could banish her exhaustion and give her strength to carry on.

Mrs. Foster needed almost constant care, and Marybeth could only catch a few short intervals of sleep. Maisie and Doc came later in the afternoon for a short while. Then, after a second long night with little rest, Marybeth welcomed Maisie back as she prepared for work.

“Don't you worry about a thing.” The lively redhead, Marybeth's first acquaintance here in the San Luis Valley, plopped down in a chair beside Mrs. Foster's bed and pulled her knitting out of a tapestry bag. “I'll be right here, and Doc will come by a couple of times today.”

Glad to have something besides sickness to focus on, Marybeth touched the tiny white wool garment coming into shape on Maisie's needles.

“Oh, Maisie, are you—”

A hint of sorrow flickered briefly in the other girl's eyes. “No, no. Not me. This is for Susanna's baby.”

“Well, I know she's going to love it.” Marybeth's heart went out to Maisie, married nearly a year and still no blessed event loomed on her horizon. How difficult it must be to watch her husband deliver babies all over the area and yet not be able to give him one of his own.

Would Marybeth fare any better once she and Rand...
if
she and Rand married? Although she'd postpone her search for her brother to take care of Mrs. Foster, she still couldn't bring herself to marry anybody until she knew what had happened to Jimmy.

She bundled up in her brown woolen coat and plowed into a headwind all the way to work. By the time she arrived at the bank, her face stung and her toes had no feeling at all. As she entered the building, Mr. Brandt called a greeting from the teller's cage as he counted the ready cash into the drawer. Returning a smile, Marybeth warmed herself for a moment beside the potbellied stove in the center of the lobby.

Mr. Means emerged from his office and hurried over to help her take off her coat.

“I didn't expect you in today, Marybeth, eh, Miss O'Brien.” He hung the coat on the coatrack beside her desk.

“Thank you.” She removed her gloves and unpinned her hat and placed it above her wrap.

“How is Mrs. Foster?”

“Doing poorly, but Maisie's with her today.” She looked at her desk. “Do you have any letters for me to typewrite?”

“Actually, since you're here, I do. Let's go in my office and I'll give them to you.”

She followed him into the well-appointed office and waited while he shuffled papers on his desk.

“I must tell you, Marybeth, I am not pleased to see you staying at Mrs. Foster's while she is ill. You could fall ill yourself, and I could not bear to see that.”

Marybeth felt a flush of heat creep up her neck, dispelling the last of the chill she'd gotten on the way across town. How could he, a church deacon, be so heartless in regard to a dear elderly lady—the church organist who gave them all so much joy with her music? His sister's piano teacher!

Marybeth sent up a quick prayer not to answer her employer harshly and then spoke in her most matter-of-fact voice. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Means. Doc says it's unlikely anyone will catch it. In fact, I'm going to continue giving piano lessons for her, so you can send Anna over on her usual day.”

“Ah. I see.” He had the grace to look abashed. “I suppose by Friday we will know whether that is an acceptable idea.”

Marybeth softened her inward criticism. She couldn't blame him for being cautious. Like her, he and Anna had lost their parents to illness, maybe even pneumonia. She hadn't asked for details when he'd told her they'd died. Yet she certainly understood his devotion to his little sister, for she would do anything to protect Jimmy...if she just knew where he was.

On the other hand, she believed with all her heart that people had a responsibility to others in the community who weren't part of their family.

With Mrs. Foster so needy, she just hoped the citizens of Esperanza felt the same way.

Chapter Twelve

O
n Thursday, Rand hurried his mare into the livery stable, dismounted and shut the doors. If today's wind was any indication, this would be a bitter winter. Not unusual for Colorado, of course, but still unwelcome. Eager to get his business taken care of, he glanced around the large building.

“Ben, you here?”

“Coming.” Ben emerged from the side room that served as his office and sleeping quarters. “Just finishing up with another customer.” He tilted his head toward the man behind him.

Hardison!
Rand's hand twitched, as it always did when he saw the gunslinger. The man hadn't caused any trouble during the months he'd been in Esperanza, but he'd never failed to shoot a sly grin in Rand's direction when no one else was looking. That was enough to make Rand practice his draw every chance he got, praying the whole time he'd never have to use it.

“Rand Northam.” Hardison reached out as though they were old friends. With Ben looking on, Rand had no choice but to shake hands with him.

“Hardison.” Rand gave him a brief nod and then turned to Ben.

“Haven't seen you for a while,” Hardison said. “How's that pretty little gal of yours? Last time I was over at the bank, she seemed to be real happy working there.” The leer on his face was unmistakable, as was the threat inherent in his tone.

Rand swallowed a sharp retort. Returning threat for threat wouldn't protect Marybeth. Best to divert him, make Hardison think she didn't mean too much to him. “Didn't you hear? Miss O'Brien and I called it quits at the church fund-raiser.” He snorted out a phony laugh, even as his stomach tightened. “We were so loud, I would have thought everybody heard us.” He handed his reins over to Ben, who led his mare to a stall. “That's the way it goes sometimes.”

“Well, then.” Hardison's eyes narrowed and his grin widened, giving him the look of a weasel. “You won't mind if I step in and court the little lady myself.”

Rand forced a shrug. “Can't think she'd be interested in your sort.” He walked toward the door. “Ben, I'll be back in an hour or so.”

“Hold up.” Hardison followed him out into the wind. Once the door was shut behind them, he set a hand on Rand's shoulder, again as if they were friends. “Y'know, Northam, folks around here are real nice. They've taken to me just fine and respect me as an upstanding citizen. It'll be a shame to let them all down by killing you. Of course, when you draw first, what's a man to do? He's got to defend himself.”

Rand jerked away from the gunslinger's hand. If he didn't have important business at the bank, he'd have done with Hardison right now.
Lord, help me. I can't bear to kill another man.
“Don't hold your breath. I don't plan to draw first on anybody. Never have, never will.”

Hardison said something more, but his words were lost in the wind. Rand had already turned away and begun his trek toward the bank. He couldn't let anything stand in the way of today's errand. Last night he and Tolley had decided to pay off Mrs. Foster's house, something they knew Dad would approve of. Captain Foster had taken a bullet for Dad during the war and never really recovered from the injury. In spite of that, he'd come out to Colorado to help Dad build this town, and his death last year had grieved everybody in Esperanza.

In the center of the bank lobby, a fire roared in the new potbellied stove, offering warmth to customers and workers alike. Marybeth sat at her typewriting machine copying a letter on the desk beside her. He hadn't seen her since Sunday and was glad to see she appeared rested. She looked up and gave him a quizzical smile. Rand thought his heart might melt on the spot.

“Mr. Northam, how nice to see you.”

Mr. Northam?
When had she decided to stop calling him Rand? Maybe that was best, though, considering what he'd said to Hardison.

“Same to you, Miss O'Brien.” He held back a familiar smile. Maybe it was best to start backing away from her now.

“Rand.” Nolan came out of his office with his hand extended. Here was someone Rand didn't mind shaking hands with, even if he was a bit pompous. Even if he obviously had an interest in Marybeth. “What can I do for you today?”

“Just a little bit of business.” He nodded toward the other man's office.

“Sure. Come on in.” Once inside the room Nolan stepped behind his desk and waved toward a chair. “Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?” He indicated a steaming pot on the small, square woodstove in the corner.

“No, thanks.” Rand waved away the offer but liked what he saw. Now Marybeth wouldn't have to fetch coffee from Miss Pam's café on days like this. “We want to pay off Mrs. Foster's house loan.”

Nolan's jaw dropped, and he blinked. After a moment he seemed to recover. “That is very generous of you. Are you sure your father would approve?”

A blast of hot anger shot up Rand's neck, but he pulled in a calming breath. “In the Colonel's absence, my brothers and I are in charge of ranch business, including finances.” He referenced his father's title for effect, and it worked. Nolan sat up a bit taller.

“Ah, well, then. Never let it be said this banker turned down money.” His laugh was a bit strangled, and he chewed on the edge of his lip. “I am certain you have the say-so, but just to protect the two of us, I would like to have one of your brothers sign the transfer of funds with you.”

“That's reasonable.” Not really, but he wouldn't argue. “Tolley and I are working fence the rest of this week. Nate's in Denver, but he'll be back any day now. Two of us can come back in next Monday.”

“Now that we have it settled, I have a question.” At Rand's nod, Nolan continued. “Would I be stepping on anyone's toes, namely any Northam toes, if I hosted a Christmas social at my house?” While he chuckled, Rand's heart sank. “I know your family hosts a large event each year but—”

“Go ahead.” Rand jumped to his feet. Just what he needed. In spite of what Nolan had said about stepping on toes, the pompous city boy was muscling in on Northam territory. Dad had warned him about that. Said if a banker became the town's social leader, the poorer folks would be left out. “Just remember to invite the whole community. Especially the children.”

“Children?” Nolan tilted his head, clearly puzzled. “You cannot be in earnest. I really cannot have children running around in my house. We have too many delicate vases and figurines and works of art. Why—”

“Do what you think is best.” Rand clapped his hat on his head and stalked out of the room. Somehow he would find a way to give the children a party. Maybe he and his cowhands could finish the addition to the church by Christmas in spite of the weather.

With a brief nod to Marybeth, he stepped out onto the street. Over in front of Mrs. Winsted's general store, Hardison stood watching him. A shudder coursed through Rand that had nothing to do with the biting wind, and a sad truth sank into his chest. Even if he never had a showdown with Hardison, there would always be someone after him who would use Marybeth to goad him. She would always be in danger. If he truly loved her, and he did, he would stay far away from her and let her marry the priggish banker. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

* * *

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Marybeth lifted the supper tray from Mrs. Foster's lap and set it on the bedside table.

Sitting up in bed for the first time in almost a week, the elderly lady wheezed out a cough before answering. “No, dear. Not right now. Do you think Anna will come for her lesson?”

“Yes, she will. Mr. Means said he would bring her over at five, which is—” she checked the watch pinned to her shirtwaist “—in five minutes.”

“Oh, dear. You'd best hurry down.” Despite her words of dismissal, she grasped Marybeth's hand with fragile fingers. “I can't tell you how much I appreciate all you're doing. What would I have done without you?”

To hide an unexpected burst of emotion, Marybeth leaned down and placed a kiss on one pale, wrinkled cheek. “I'm just happy to see you feeling better. Now, before I go, shall I hand you a book or help you lie down?”

“I think I'm up to reading my Bible.” She nodded toward the holy book on the table.

“Very good.” Marybeth placed it in her hands, adjusted the lamplight and carried the tray downstairs.

Just as she emerged from the kitchen, shadowy figures appeared beyond the window in the front door. She hurried to greet Anna and Nolan.

“How is Mrs. Foster?” Nolan still looked skeptical about being in the house.

“Much improved, as I told you this morning.” She gave Anna an encouraging smile. “Are you ready for today's lesson?”

Something akin to a pout appeared on the girl's face, but she quickly replaced it with a smile. Marybeth had taught her that a lady was always gracious, even when she was displeased. Apparently her lessons in deportment were being taken to heart. “I suppose.”

“Go warm up your fingers, Anna.” Nolan gave his sister a gentle nudge toward the parlor. “I would like to speak to Miss O'Brien.”

As the girl left them, Marybeth gave him an encouraging smile. “Let me assure you that while my methods are a little different from Mrs. Foster's, I don't think I'll completely spoil her playing.”

“That does not concern me.” He gave her a shy smile and rolled his bowler hat in a nervous gesture. “I thought I should tell you...that is, would you please inform Mrs. Foster that her house loan will be paid in full? After Monday, she will not owe the bank another penny.”

Marybeth stepped back as tears welled up. “Oh, Nolan, that's wonderful.” She moved closer and gripped his arm. “She's been so worried about her bills, and now, thanks to you, she can set her mind at ease. This is sure to help in her healing.”

“But I—”

Unable to stop herself, Marybeth reached up and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “Oh, my. I'm so sorry. Please excuse me.”

Color flooded his face, and he put a hand on the spot her lips had touched. “I cannot permit you to give me the credit, not even for a moment.” He shuffled his feet, ever the schoolboy around her. “The Northam family is responsible for this charitable act. That is why Rand came to the bank last Monday. He will return this coming Monday to complete the transaction, so Monday morning I will have you typewrite the papers for him to sign.”

Rand did this!
What a good, kind, generous man. Hope sprang up in her heart. If he would do that for Mrs. Foster, he surely would keep his promise to Marybeth and help her find Jimmy. And once that was done, she would be a hundred kinds of foolish if she didn't marry him. Strangely, that thought no longer dismayed her, nor did it feel like an obligation. In fact, she felt her heart lighten at the prospect for the first time since she'd met his parents in Boston.

On Sunday morning, Mrs. Foster felt well enough to be left alone so Marybeth could attend church. Just as Marybeth expected, the dear old lady's health had improved significantly after she learned of the Northams' generosity. Marybeth couldn't wait to tell Rand the results of his remarkable gift and to thank him on behalf of her landlady.

To her surprise and disappointment, he didn't come early to help her distribute the hymnbooks. After their chat last Sunday, she thought they'd begun to heal their friendship. She managed to complete the task before practicing on the little pump organ, so different from the massive pipe organ at her home church in Boston.

After she'd played the opening and offertory hymns, she sat in a chair beside the organ rather than having to choose between Rand and Nolan. If Rand noticed, his face betrayed no emotion. Nolan gave her a fond smile that almost seemed proprietary. She resolved not to make eye contact with him again during the service.

With the weather being colder and most of the cattle gone to market, more cowhands attended church, so the sanctuary was filled almost to overflowing. Some of the men had to stand against the back wall. At first Marybeth thought Reverend Thomas's sermon would be addressed to them, for he once again spoke on the passage in Psalm 119:9. “‘Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way? By taking heed thereto according to Thy word.'” The preacher went on to urge the congregation to study and memorize the Scriptures. “For only when we hide God's word in our hearts do we have the spiritual resources to know His will and to keep from sinning against Him.”

His words pricked Marybeth's conscience. Surely the Lord meant this sermon for her. How long had it been since she'd memorized a Bible verse? Before guilt could consume her for her neglect and for her sinful deception of Rand's parents—her sin that was ever before her—the minister went on.

“But when in our human weakness we do fail to keep His Word, 1 John 1:9 tells us, ‘if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' If you find yourself in the midst of a sinful way of life...” He paused and looked around the room to take in every congregant. “Stop now. Confess your sins. And let our Lord Jesus Christ cleanse your heart and fill you with His peace.”

As always, he invited anyone who wished to come to the Lord to leave their seats and come forward for prayer. Or, if they preferred, he would be happy to meet with them in private.

Marybeth played the final hymn, watching in the corner of her eye as Rand and Tolley left the sanctuary. Once again disappointment struck. Was he ignoring her? What had happened since that sweet moment the previous Sunday when he'd come to ask how he could help her care for Mrs. Foster? In fact, he'd been a little brusque last Monday when he'd come to the bank. Maybe he'd decided she wasn't worth waiting for. If so, he might not keep his promise to help her find Jimmy. After all of his kindnesses to others, that would be the cruelest cut of all.