Sunrise Ridge (Redemption Mountain Historical Western Romance Book 3) (10 page)

She’d woken up Monday and jumped out of bed, excited to return to work. Mr. Clausen had praised her on Friday, handing her a small amount for her one day of employment, which she immediately deposited into her new account.

By noon, her feet ached, yet she felt a strong sense of accomplishment.

“Miss Tolbert, why don’t you take your lunch now? You can finish what you’re doing this afternoon,” Horace said, then turned at the sound of the front door opening. Nick Barnett, part owner of the Dixie Saloon, entered and walked toward him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Clausen. I wonder if you might have a moment,” Nick asked, glancing at Abby and offering her his best smile. “Hello, Miss Tolbert. Are you working here now?”

She beamed at his lack of judgment that King Tolbert’s daughter would be paying her own way by working in a bank.

“Yes, Mr. Barnett, I am. My first day was Friday.”

“And she’s doing quite well,” Clausen added before turning back to Nick. “Why don’t we go into my office, Mr. Barnett?”

Abby grabbed her reticule and the lunch Suzanne packed earlier, and stepped into the bright sunlight. Selecting one of the four chairs lined against the outside wall, she opened the lunch and took small bites of the biscuit stuffed with ham as she watched the activity in town.

The bank sat at the opposite end of the street from the boardinghouse, across from the church and the Dixie. To the outrage of the minister and congregation, the city had gone ahead and allowed the saloon to open within thirty yards of the church. In truth, city leadership consisted of five key citizens…Mr. Clausen, Stan Petermann, owner of the general store, Amos Henderson, owner of the Wild Rose, Bernie Griggs, who ran the telegraph office, and King Tolbert, who generally sent one of his men to town with instructions on the way he wanted the town to proceed. The vote on the new saloon had been four to one, with Amos the one dissenting member.

Abby watched as wagons filled with supplies moved past, and people walked along the wooden boardwalk. From her spot, she could see the north end of town, which led to the Pelletier and Tolbert ranches, but she couldn’t see the livery, which stood back from the main street.

Abby finished her lunch and turned to grab her reticule when she recognized a rider entering town from the north. Several ranch hands accompanied her father, all making a sharp turn toward the livery. Abby’s senses went on immediate alert. She dashed toward the livery, almost passing the jail before dashing inside.

“Sheriff Evans, please, you must go down to the livery,” she gasped, trying to breathe.

Gabe Evans looked up from his desk, then stood when he saw the look of despair on Abby’s face. “What’s going on?”

“My father. He and some of his men are headed for the livery. I don’t know why, but I’m afraid he’s going after Noah. Please, can you go there with me?”

He grabbed his hat and escorted Abby down the street, hearing shouts as they rounded the corner. Both stopped at the sight before them.

Three of Tolbert’s men had Noah pinned, while another landed blows to his face. Gabe pulled out his gun and fired into the air.

“Let him go. Now!” Gabe pointed the gun at the men restraining Noah.

Tolbert turned, his face red with anger, then spotted Abby.

Gabe fired another shot in the air, then one in the dirt at the men’s feet before they dropped their hold and stepped away.

Abby barely noticed her father walking toward her. Seeing Noah bloodied—and at her father’s orders—jolted her, forcing her to look at him in a different way.

“Abby, where have you been?” His voice didn’t soften as he approached. If anything, his rage seemed to refocus on her.

She backed away as Tolbert reached for her. “Don’t touch me.”

“You don’t understand what happened here.” His gaze flickered between her and Noah, who wiped a sleeve across his bloodied face.

“I understand more than you think, Father. What you did here is despicable. What did you hope to accomplish by beating up Noah?” Her voice rose as her anger increased. “Did he tell you he accompanied me to town safely, or did you even ask before setting your men on him?”

“You are my daughter—”

“Not any longer.” She ran past him, stopping inches from Noah, who splashed water on his face and arms, then grabbed a rag. Her gut clenched at the bruises and swelling. “I’m sorry, Noah.”

He dropped the rag and turned toward her. “Your father’s been looking for an excuse to do this since you and I first met. Bringing you back to town, behind his back, was all he needed. It’s not your fault.”

“You four…to the jail.”

They turned at Gabe’s command, watching as he trained his gun on Tolbert’s men.

“You can’t take my men to jail. They’ve broken no laws.”

“What do you call assault, Tolbert? I have room for you, also.”

“I didn’t lay a hand on Brandt.”

“Maybe not, but
you
gave the order.”

“Is that what my men said?” he smirked, knowing none of these men would turn on him.

“Not yet, but several nights in jail can change a story.”

“You can’t hold them that long,” Tolbert complained, his earlier bravado fading.

Gabe ignored him, marching the men to the jail and into cells.

“Are you all right?” Abby asked Noah after Gabe disappeared.

“Yes, I’m fine. You can go on now. I know you have a job and I’m sure Mr. Clausen isn’t aware of what happened.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”

He tilted his head, a warm smile lighting his eyes. “It’s a small town, Abby.”

She didn’t want to leave, especially with her father still hovering in the background, but she needed to return to the bank. “Perhaps I’ll see you in the bank.”

“Perhaps.”

She nodded, then turned to leave, walking past her father without sparing him a glance.

“Abigail, I want to speak with you.”

“I can’t now, Father. I have to return to work.”

Tolbert’s jaw flapped, but nothing came out. Instead, he followed her, watching as she stepped into the bank. His anger returning, he pushed open the door to see Abby take her place behind one of the teller windows. He stormed inside, letting the door slam behind him.

Horace Clausen had been on his way to speak with Abby when Tolbert marched up to him, stabbing a finger into his chest.

“What is my daughter doing working at this bank?”

“Good afternoon, King. Would you care to come into my office?” Clausen worked to keep a straight face as Tolbert’s eyes bulged from their sockets. After a customer rushed into the bank moments before, telling everyone how Tolbert’s men roughed up Noah, the banker knew this moment would come.

“I want to know why you hired Abigail. We both know she doesn’t need the money. Her place is at home, taking care of the house and—”

“We’ll talk about this in private.” Clausen’s tone cut through Tolbert’s outburst. He quieted, but only until the door to the office closed. “Have a seat.”

“I don’t want a seat. I want answers.”

“My main teller quit and Abigail asked for the job. Since her education supported it, I hired her. So far, she’s doing remarkably well.”

“And where is she living? In the back of the bank? Or with the blacksmith?”

Clausen held his temper at the insult to Tolbert’s own daughter. “I don’t think she’d be too pleased if you spread rumors about her, especially ones that besmirch her reputation. Now, sit down and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“You certain you don’t want to press charges?” Gabe sat across the desk from Noah, studying the bruises, swelling, and cuts adorning his face.

“You said yourself the circuit judge won’t be through for a few more weeks. That means you’d have four mouths to feed and clean up after them. They’re not worth your time.”

“And the damage to you?”

“These?” Noah touched his face. “Scratches.”

Gabe choked out a laugh. “If you’re sure…I’ll keep them overnight, then set them loose in the morning. Did you see where Tolbert went?”

Noah folded his arms across his chest and looked away. “The last I saw, he followed Abby to the bank.”

“You didn’t follow him, make sure he didn’t cause another scene?”

“She’s not my concern, Gabe. Not any longer.” Noah dropped his arms and stood, defeat and regret written on his face. “I’d best get back to work.”

Gabe checked on the prisoners before making the decision to visit the bank. He didn’t know how Tolbert would react to Abby working, but wanted to be close in case he pulled any more of his antics, hurting others in the process. A few feet from the bank, Tolbert burst outside, mumbling to himself and passing Gabe without acknowledging him.

“You all right, Tolbert?” Gabe asked, but the man ignored him.

After a few steps, he stopped, then swung back toward Gabe. “I want my men released.”

“Not today. They’ll spend the night in jail, then I’ll make a decision.”

Tolbert glared at Gabe, then swore, turning toward his horse. Gabe didn’t move until the dust settled behind Tolbert as he rode out of town.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Horace placed a hand on Abby’s shoulder as her father stormed out. “He didn’t disown you or close his accounts.” He dropped his hand, trying to make his comment sound light to relieve her tension, but the words sounded flat, stilted.

“Today anyway. You’re right, though. It could’ve been so much worse.”

Clausen looked over her work and smiled. “You’ve done well, Miss Tolbert. To be honest, you’ve caught on much faster than I anticipated. Do you have any questions?”

Abby allowed herself a tentative grin, although she beamed inside at her boss’ praise. After living with her father’s constant badgering, any encouragement felt wonderful.

“No. It all seems quite clear.”

“That’s good.” He checked his pocket watch. “I have a meeting and won’t be back before closing. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Abby looked at the longcase clock across the lobby. She hoped her father had already left for the ranch. Even though he’d been angry, he hadn’t exploded the way she expected. His clenched teeth and barely concealed fury when he told her he disapproved of her working might have been uncomfortable, but at least he hadn’t shouted. To appease him, she’d agreed to spend Sunday supper at the ranch.

Abby finished the last of her work and grabbed her light coat. She planned to work on the boardinghouse books when she got to her room, then help in the kitchen—if Suzanne let her. Perhaps she’d take supper with Suzanne instead of sitting in the dining room where she’d be forced to eat alone.

Crossing the street, she passed the Dixie Saloon where piano music already drifted outside. Abby tried to keep her gaze straight ahead and not let it wander toward the livery, but her efforts were wasted. The bright glow of the forge drew her attention. She stopped in the shadows outside the boardinghouse, watching Noah move toward the anvil with a burning piece of metal in his tongs. He picked up a hammer and pounded the softened material. Long, hard strokes at first, followed by short precise raps to form whatever he worked to produce.

He raised the hammer, gripping it with strong fingers, the muscles in his back and arm taut, revealing the strength in his powerful body. She suspected there were no soft spots anywhere on him, as beads of sweat glistened on his sun-browned skin. Clutching her hands together, she fantasized about running them down his arms and chest, feeling the knotted cords of muscle and crisp hair.

Without warning, he stopped the hammer in midair and turned, looking straight at the spot where she stood. Abby shifted further back against the wall, hoping he hadn’t discovered her watching him. She couldn’t bear to embarrass herself in front of Noah again.

After a moment, he lowered the hammer and grabbed a rag, dragging it across his forehead before tossing it aside. He didn’t look back, just picked up his hammer and continued to pound the cooling metal.

Abby scooted along the outside wall, pushed open the door of the boardinghouse, and slipped inside. She exhaled a deep breath and shrugged out of her coat before passing the dining room on her way to the kitchen. She’d been lucky. He hadn’t seen her staring, admiring him and imagining how it would feel to touch him. Abby took a moment to calm her racing heart before stepping into the kitchen, inhaling the rich aroma of roast meat.