The Inheritance (12 page)

“And just what’s your given name?”

McKenna hesitated. “Agnes,” she said quietly.

“Agnes.” He nodded. “Now there’s a good name for a woman. Right off, you know she’s a female.”

“Yes, that may be true. Nevertheless, Kenny is my nickname. And I’m the Kenny who applied for one of the jobs.”

Squinting, he studied her. “I don’t mean no disrespect, ma’am, but the day I hire a woman to work in my livery is the day I start sewing petticoats.”

He laughed at his own joke and, though she didn’t share the humor, she found her earlier guess proven right—the gruffness around his eyes softened instantly when he smiled.

“There’s an order to things, ma’am, that’s meant to be followed. And it’s unnatural for a woman to do this kind of work.” He glanced around him. “And a livery’s not a fitting place for a woman to work either.”

McKenna kept silent and let him say his piece. She’d heard it all before. Not a hint of meanness undergirded his tone or his reaction. He was simply stating his opinion, which he was fully entitled to—as was she.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. Trenton. I can’t say that your opinion is new to me. I guess I was hoping that views out West might be more open. More willing to see past the way things have always been.” When he showed no signs of softening, she crossed to the workbench and lifted the decorative skirt of the saddle. She brushed her fingers over the initials
M. A.
that she’d carved into the leather. Her trademark—something she’d learned to do from her father.

She glanced back at Trenton. “If you’re still willing to employ my brother, I’ll make sure he’s here first thing tomorrow morning.” At his nod, she hefted the saddle. “Thank you for your time, and I’ll seek employment elsewhere.” She started for the door.

“Whoa there, missy . . .” He moved into her path. “I’m afraid that’s already sold. And I got an order for another one just like it that came in this morning. Your brother’s gonna be one busy fella.”

She shifted the saddle in her arms, distributing the weight, and enjoying what she was about to say far more than she should have. “Actually, Mr. Trenton, my brother’s giftedness lies more in building and repairing wagons than in leather work.” She paused to let that soak in, then added with a smile, “
I’m
the fella who made this saddle.”

ELEVEN

S
uspicion shadowed the livery owner’s face. “You’re telling me . . .
you
made that?” His attention dropped to the saddle in McKenna’s arms.

“Yes, Mr. Trenton, I did. And regardless of the misdirection of your compliments just now, I sincerely appreciate them.” And she did. Telling by the number of orders tacked to the wall behind Casey Trenton, along with the nearly full stalls, his livery was well patronized. And such patronage was hard earned, especially with two other liveries in such a small mountain town. But it spoke highly of him, and she could have benefited from his reputation.

Watching him, she shifted the weight of the saddle in her arms and tried to gauge what manner of man he was. And what his response to her would be. Most men either ignored her once they learned what she did, or suddenly changed their minds about the quality of her work, deciding it wasn’t what they’d initially judged it to be. Which her father once said spoke more about them than they likely cared to reveal.

But judging from the way Mr. Trenton stared at her now, his opinion about her work hadn’t changed. On the contrary. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was counting the money he would forfeit if he
didn’t
hire her, which gave her fresh hope. She needed this job. She only hoped Casey Trenton’s need for income outweighed his conventional opinions.

“You make fine saddles, ma’am.” The lines of his brow gradually smoothed. “Finest I’ve ever seen. And nobody could say you don’t have a talent for it.”

She warmed beneath his praise, and what it likely meant. Working in a setting like this, one that reminded her so much of home, and where she could keep a needed eye on Robert would be the answer to her—

“But what I said earlier still stands, ma’am. A woman working in a livery . . . It’s just not something I can agree to. Goes against what I hold is right, and I doubt my customers would care for it much either. I’m sorry, Miss Ashford.”

She struggled to keep her disappointment hidden. “I see,” she whispered, a tangle of emotions unraveling inside her by the second.

“But I want to do right by you, ma’am. You sent me that saddle to show me your handiwork. Not for me to sell. So I might owe you an apology on that count. But from what you penned in that letter you wrote, I kind of figured you might be needing the money.”

Sincerity colored his tone. She looked at the saddle in her grip and recalled who she’d had in mind when making it. “You figured correctly, Mr. Trenton. I
could
use the money.”

“Name your asking price then. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.”

She glanced up at him.
Such trust.
Somehow, despite having only met this man, she wouldn’t have expected any less. “I usually sell my saddles for thirty dollars.”

He shook his head and laughed beneath his breath.
“Well, that’s what I get for pricing it without knowing.” He pulled a wad of bills from his pants pocket. “I asked forty-five for it and the guy who bought it didn’t blink.”

McKenna’s mouth slipped open.

“He’s supposed to come back for it this week. Paid for it up front but was on his way to Denver on the stage, so he asked me to hold it for him until he gets back.” Trenton gave her a look that made her feel naive despite her twenty-three years. “Things cost more out here, ma’am. Harder to get supplies up the mountains, and skilled labor such as this isn’t that common in these parts.”

As he sorted through the dollar bills, she returned the saddle to the bench and ran a hand over the soft, supple leather, thinking of the hours she’d spent laboring over it, wanting to make sure it was her best. She fingered the decorative strands of braided leather on the saddle skirts. No reason why something serviceable couldn’t also be pleasing to the eye. This had been the last saddle she’d made in her father’s livery, with his tools, and she’d planned on giving it to Janie as a gift.

But seeing how things had worked out . . .

“That’s fine that you sold it, Mr. Trenton. You’re right, the money will come in handy, sir.”

She took the stack of bills he held out.

“I hope your move to Copper Creek turns out to be a good one, ma’am. I’ve been here since ’60 when the place was founded. We got mining towns on all sides, which means lots of business. But once a month, when the miners get paid, things can get a tad rowdy in town for a few nights. Mostly it’s a safe enough place, though. Just mind yourself and you’ll make it fine.”

She acknowledged the warning with a tilt of her head.

“And tell your brother I’ll look for him at sunup tomorrow. I’ve got orders for three new wagons, and two out back waiting to be repaired. So we’ll make the most of daylight hours.”

“I’ll tell him, sir. And he’ll be here. Thank you.”

Trenton turned to the forge and stoked the fire, while she walked to the open doorway, discreetly counting the money.
Forty-five dollars.
He hadn’t kept a penny for bartering the deal. She retraced her steps. “Mr. Trenton . . .”

He looked back. His attention went to the bills she held out, but he made no move to take them.

“I wouldn’t have made this sale without you, sir. I appreciate your reputation in this town . . . and your honesty. Both about what price the saddle brought, and for the manner in which you expressed your opinion a moment ago.”

Slowly, the firm line of his mouth turned upward. He accepted the money. “If your brother’s half the worker you are, Miss Ashford, it won’t be long ’til I have the most profitable livery in town again.”

Wishing she could answer in the affirmative about Robert, she simply smiled and prayed again that her brother would make the most of this opportunity. And that he would act with better judgment here than he had back home. Without a doubt, Robert possessed broader talents than she did, but somehow he didn’t see it.

She turned to leave, and an idea came.

“Mr. Trenton?” She waited until he looked her way again. “What would you say if we could work out a sort of . . . partnership between us? A silent one,” she added quickly. “Where I would work for you making saddles, but not here in the livery.” Caution crept into his eyes and she rushed to expel it. “I need a place to sell my wares, and if the majority of people in Copper Creek share your opinion about women working with leather”—his expression said he was tracking with her—“then one way this might work for me—for us both—would be for me to work at home. At the Talbots’ home, I mean.”

Something changed in his expression. “You mentioned something about your cousin . . . That’d be Mrs. Talbot I take it?”

McKenna nodded.

“Then let me offer my condolences, ma’am. I had occasion to do business with her husband, Vince. He was a fine man, and he was going to make something of that ranch too. He had it in him to do it.” His voice softened. “How’s Mrs. Talbot gettin’ along since he passed?”

Emotions rose, and McKenna spoke past the lump in her throat. “Mrs. Talbot . . . Janie”—she spoke the name softly— “passed away earlier this week, along with her newborn son.”

He looked away and didn’t speak for a moment. And seemed hesitant to meet her gaze again. “What about their little girl?”

“Before she died, Janie asked me to look after Emma. I promised her I would.” Hearing that promise again from her own lips made her responsibility all the more real, and the pressure of all that rested on her shoulders returned. “So, Mr. Trenton . . . would you be willing to consider buying my saddles and selling them through your livery? No one in town need know about it. I won’t say anything to anyone, I give you my word.”

A man walked in. “Morning, Trenton. Got my wagon ready?”

“You bet. It’s out back ready to go. I’ll get right with you.”

“Ma’am . . .” The customer tipped his hat to her and slowed. “I’m not in a hurry, Trenton. Finish with this lady here.” His smile was kind and held invitation. “She was here before me.”

Mr. Trenton motioned McKenna over to the side, and she followed. She noticed the other gentleman looking closely at her saddle. But even more, she noticed that Trenton was watching him too.

Mr. Trenton leaned close. “You have all your own tools, ma’am?”

“Most of them,” she whispered, matching his muted tone. “And if I need to use any of yours I can come in after hours, at night, when the livery is closed. I promise I won’t be an intrusion.”

Biting the inside of his lip, he finally sighed. “Where’d you learn to do this? Work with leather like you do?”

She smiled, hearing the decision in his voice. “From my father. And I promise you, Mr. Trenton, you won’t be sorry about this. I’ll always deliver on time.”

He glanced at the man across the room. “How long does it take you to make a saddle, from start to finish?”

“About two weeks if I’ve got all the materials ready. But I’ll need to find a supplier for the leather.”

“I’ll get you that. And it’ll be top grade too. Same as what you’ve been using. Come early tomorrow morning, before I open, and we’ll work out the details.”

McKenna left the livery smiling—
really
smiling, for the first time in a long time, her steps lighter than when she’d first stepped inside. She swung into the saddle and Janie’s palomino pranced beneath her, spirited and eager. McKenna reached down and rubbed the horse’s neck. “Atta girl,” she whispered, appreciating her enthusiasm. Casey Trenton had said yes! She had a job! Robert did too! Which meant an income, a livelihood. They were one step closer to having some stability to their lives again.

If only Janie were still here—to share the news . . .

McKenna reached the corner of the crowded thoroughfare and reined in to let a line of loaded freight wagons pass. She stared upward into a sky so rich in blue it almost didn’t seem real and hoped Janie knew she was doing her best.
I won’t let
you down, Janie.

The reminder of her promised meeting with Mr. Billings interrupted the moment, and McKenna’s exuberance swiftly found its footing. She’d promised Mr. Billings a visit to his office, and though she wasn’t looking forward to it, the meeting was inevitable. Best get it over with and discover the reason behind his insistence that she come by.