The Heirloom Brides Collection (7 page)

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to start working at Miss Annie’s restaurant tomorrow.”

A frown creased Mrs. Avery’s brow; then she nodded. “I suppose it’s the sensible thing to do.”

“Miss Annie is letting me rent a room over the restaurant.”

“Oh, honey. You didn’t have to leave here. We have plenty of room. And you can keep your money.”

“I appreciate it, but we don’t take charity. I don’t know how much Pops’ doctoring is going to cost, but I can start paying three dollars a week for now. And I’m thinking of selling the horses and wagon before the bank decides it owns those, too—except for Job.”

“Don’t you worry yourself about paying the doctor.” Mrs. Avery spooned some thin soup into Pops’ mouth and wiped away a dribble from his chin. “We’re just praying for your grandfather’s recovery.”

Had the woman not heard her say she wasn’t one for charity? Or was it something else? “Do you think Pops isn’t going to make it? Is that why you don’t want me to pay?”

Setting the half-empty bowl on the table, Mrs. Avery turned to her. “I couldn’t begin to guess what God has in mind, but my husband was put on this earth to doctor folks. When patients are unable to pay, God always does.”

Betsy lifted her chin. “This patient can pay. It might take awhile for me to earn the whole fee, but God won’t be paying our bill.”

A moan from the bed stopped them both. Betsy set down the plate and reached for her grandpa’s hand. “Pops? You awake?”

A mumble came from his lips. Betsy’s heart raced.
Oh, please, God. Let him be waking up.

Mrs. Avery stood. “I’ll go for the doctor. He’s in his office patching up little Kate Frazier’s bloody knee.”

“Pops?” Betsy leaned over close to his ear. “Can you hear me?”

“I ain’t deaf,” came a weak but rough reply.

Tears sprang to Betsy’s eyes. “Oh, Pops. I’m so glad you’re awake. I was so worried.”

Pops tried to open his eyes, but each time they opened a crack, he shut them again immediately. “How long?”

“Since you’ve been unconscious?”

He gave a barely perceptible nod.

“Two days.”

“That long? What happened?”

“Job slipped on the ice and fell on top of you.”

Dr. and Mrs. Avery walked in before she could tell him more. The doctor’s face lit with a smile. “Well, look who woke up.”

His eyes finally opened. “What’s wrong with my leg and arm, Doc?”

“Are you in pain?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever hurt so bad in my whole life. When can I get back on my feet?”

A laugh rumbled the doctor’s chest. “First things first.” He listened to his patient’s heart. Looked at his eyes. “Does your head hurt?”

Pops shook his head. “Not so’s you’d notice.”

Doc nodded. “That’s good.”

“But how long till I get out of this bed?”

“Your leg was badly broken in more than one place,” the doctor explained. “And your arm isn’t much better. If you were a young man, I would guess two to three months. But our bones are weaker the older we get.”

Pops scowled. “Just say it outright, Doc.”

Doc Avery drew in a breath and slowly released it. “Four to six months, but I can’t be certain if that leg will ever hold you up again.”

Betsy’s heart began to race. “You mean he might not walk again?”

“It’s a possibility.” He turned back to Pops. “If you do get strong enough to walk, it’ll mean using a crutch for the rest of your life. But I have to warn you: I don’t like how weak your heart sounds. And if you don’t breathe deeply enough, you’re at risk for pneumonia. So make sure you try to take deep breaths several times a day—even when it hurts.”

Betsy held her breath, waiting for Pops to throw a fit. Instead, he lay very still for so long she thought he might have gone to sleep or become unconscious again. When he finally spoke, he sounded weak and small. “I reckon I best learn to read, or I’ll be getting mighty bored.”

“George enjoys an occasional game of checkers,” Mrs. Avery said. “I’ll bring the board in here.”

Pops nodded. “Thank you kindly.”

The doctor stood. He gazed at Betsy. “I’ll let the two of you visit for a few minutes. Then your grandpa needs his rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. and Mrs. Avery left the room, closing the door behind them. Betsy turned to Pops. But his eyes were closed. She sat back and kept quiet, watching him.

Finally, he opened his eyes again. “I heard what you said.”

“Then you’re hearing things. I haven’t made a peep.”

“I mean before.”

Betsy realized he meant before Mrs. Avery came in with lunch. “Oh. Well, there’s no point in talking about it now. There’s nothing to be done about it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

Betsy’s eyebrows went up at his uncommon humility. “Save your strength, Pops.”

He shook his head. “I heard you say Leo tried to take liberties.”

With a sigh, she revealed the events at the cabin.

His free hand squeezed into a fist next to him on the bed. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’re the one who said just two days ago I ought to have married him.”

“I thought he’d keep you safe. But I wouldn’t have let you sell yourself in marriage just to save the farm.”

Love for her pops welled up in Betsy’s chest. Pops might be the crankiest, strictest man alive, but he lost the land rather than see her marry a man she didn’t choose. “He won’t be bothering me again. And you don’t have to worry. I’m working now, so everything’s going to be okay.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean you’re working? Who’s going to hire a little girl like you, and what kind of work?”

She told him about Miss Annie.

He shook his head. “You ain’t working for that woman. She’ll eat you alive. And I especially don’t want you living by yourself in a little room over the restaurant. You won’t be safe.”

Did he really think Miss Annie could intimidate her after Joe Lowell had raised her? The very idea almost made her laugh, but she didn’t want him to accuse her of sass when he was so sick, so she focused on the last part of his concern. “I have your pistol. And you know I can shoot straight.”

As weak as he was, Pops still wasn’t willing to let it go. “You heard me, gal. Now I mean what I say. You get the notion of Miss Annie this and Miss Annie that out of your mind.”

“I heard you, Pops.” She looked straight at him, knowing she couldn’t back down. “But I have to have work to pay the doc and to get us a place once you’re well again.”

“No woman’s going to take care of me.”

Frustration nearly made her forget about his condition, but she forced herself to calm down. “I’d like to see you stop me. I won’t be here much. Probably just on Sundays after church.”

Pops scowled. “Church? Why you going to go there?”

“It’s one of Miss Annie’s rules.”

“See? You can’t work for that woman. She’s going to ruin you.”

“Well, I’m going to. It’s the best position I can get right now. I’m also selling the wagon and two horses.”

“Not Job!”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t sell your favorite horse. But you don’t have any objection about the wagon and other horses?”

Pops shook his head. “I reckon we won’t need a wagon without a farm. And no need for the farm horses, neither. I reckon we can use the money to get us a little place in town, and you won’t have to work like a man.”

Betsy had started shaking her head even before he finished. “I intend to settle our bill at the general store and anywhere else we owe.” She was tired of not being able to hold up her head in Tucker’s Creek.

With a sigh, Pops closed his eyes and nodded. “Do what you want. You will anyway.”

Standing, she bent down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go now so you can rest. Remember I likely won’t be back until Sunday.”

With one last glance back at Pops, she slipped out of the room. Poor Pops. He seemed so small and frail. But he’d raised her to be strong, and she had enough strength for them both.

S
tuart offered Ma his arm as they stepped off the boardwalk and started to cross the street to Miss Annie’s restaurant. “Honestly,” Ma said, slipping her hand inside the crook of his arm. “I don’t see why you insist on us paying good money for bad food.”

It had been a week since the day he’d walked in the cabin to find Mr. Blakely threatening Betsy. He had seen her only once since then—three days ago when she’d come into the store to settle the bill. He and Ma had both tried to talk her out of it, but she was adamant. In the end, they agreed. He’d discovered later that day that she was working for Miss Annie. Since then, he’d been waiting for a night Ma was so exhausted that a meal at the restaurant might seem like a good idea. Today had been busier than any since the ice storm. Not only had they had a steady stream of customers, but they’d also begun their fall inventory.

He opened the door and hung back to let Ma precede him. As he joined her, she turned to him with a wry grin. “Now I see why you insisted on eating here.”

Stuart’s neck warmed as he followed her gaze to Betsy, who set plates down at a table with three men, her cheeks flushed.

As she turned away from the table, her gaze caught his. She smiled all the way to her eyes, and Stuart felt like a king. She walked to them. “Good evening, Mrs. Fields. Stuart. Would you like a table?”

“We certainly would,” Ma said. “What on earth are you doing working for that woman?”

Betsy smiled. “It’s not so bad.” She led them to a table.

Ma reached out and took Betsy’s hand. “That attitude just shows what an angel you are.”

Angel? Betsy might look like one, but she was far from angelic. Although, Stuart had to admit, her sharp tongue and abrupt ways didn’t seem nearly as common or annoying as they used to.

He tried not to watch her as she moved about the dining room. She brought them tea and moved quickly to the kitchen, coming out a minute later with two plates that she took to a young couple in the corner. “Betsy!” Miss Annie called from the kitchen, and Betsy quickly answered the call.

“I vow that woman is working our Betsy to death. Are we going to let that go on?”

Stuart scowled. “What are we supposed to do about it? You already know she’s stubborn as that horse of Old Joe’s. She’s not going to accept anything she suspects is close to charity.”

Ma lowered her voice as Betsy swung back through the kitchen door, carrying two more plates and headed straight for their table. “I’ll just have to find a way to convince her she’s the one being charitable.”

As Betsy set their food on the table, Stuart noted the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Ma was right; they would have to find a way to get her out of this place. If she would let them. One thing he knew for sure: she would have to believe it was her idea.

He ate as slowly as he could, but an hour later, when the table next to them had changed customers three times while they sat there, his mother leaned over. “Stuart, I’m tired. You can’t stay here all night.”

He glanced around as they stood, looking for Betsy, who hadn’t been in the dining room for the past fifteen minutes. To his disappointment and Ma’s annoyance, Miss Annie had taken over at the tables. “You two leaving us?” Miss Annie hurried to them, smiling as though she had no idea how much Ma despised her. But was there any reason for her to know? Ma had a way of being sweet as pie, and only he could tell she was spitting mad all the while.

He nodded and reached into his jacket pocket for the price of their meal. “It was delicious, Miss Annie.”

The older woman flushed with pleasure. “Why, thank you. And how did you find our new girl?”

Ma patted his back. “We found her simply delightful, didn’t we, Son?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And such prompt service. Why, we would have had a wonderful meal even if, say, the chicken had been a little dry, not that I’m saying it was, of course.”

Miss Annie sniffed and lifted her chin. “I should say not.”

As they left the restaurant and began the short walk home, Stuart smiled. “Did you really think the chicken was dry, or were you just trying to get under Miss Annie’s skin?”

“I’d have been ashamed to serve it. I had to wash down every bite with a sip of tea.”

They walked in silence, while Stuart replayed the evening in his mind. Betsy had moved around the dining room in a blur without making the customers feel her rushing. She’d remained pleasant and smiled, even when Miss Annie bellowed her name from the kitchen. Never once had she revealed the frustration she must certainly have felt, nor had she neglected the patrons’ needs.

“She’s something, isn’t she?”

Ma gave a huff. “I know you’re not talking about Annie.”

He chuckled. “No, Ma. I mean Betsy.”

“Don’t pretend you’ve never noticed how special that girl is before now. I remember when you were a boy in school…”

“Yes, Ma. I was a little sweet on her.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever told the truth about that. It’s about time. That Betsy’s a flower in a field of crabgrass.”

“She’s mighty quick tempered.”

Ma gave a snort as they reached the edge of the wrought-iron fence surrounding their house. “She has a backbone.”

“Which some people consider to be stubbornness.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Why, your pa was the stubbornest man I ever knew, but that didn’t stop me from loving him every day since I came to Tucker’s Creek to teach school.” She sighed. “And he was awfully good to you and your sister, as well.”

Stuart helped her up the steps. Ma had been growing stiffer and complained about the steps being hard on her. It was a shame his sister, Ruth, had married a wanderer and moved out West after Pa died. She would have been a big help for Ma.

As he opened the door and let her walk in first, he hung back. “I believe I’ll sit out here for a few minutes.”

“Something on your mind?” He could tell by the lilt in her voice that Ma assumed she knew exactly what, or who, was on his mind, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of confirming her suspicion.

“Just don’t think we’ll have too many more nights like this before winter sets in all the way.”

She smiled and nodded. “All right, Son. Don’t stay up too late. We have another full day of inventory tomorrow.” She hesitated. “I suppose we should plan to eat at the restaurant the rest of this week. I’m afraid the extra work tires me out.”