Woman of Grace (17 page)

1 Corinthians 4:12

As the days passed Devlin regained his strength. By the end of the week he was able to get around the house and even walk to Abby and Conor’s place for a short visit. By the end of the next week, he was back at work.

The third of July dawned bright and hot. Hannah rose early to help Abby make the bread and pies they planned to serve for the next day’s Fourth of July feast. Then, after nursing Bonnie, she left the baby and the other children in Beth’s care. Grabbing her pocketbook and a large wicker basket, she tied on her sunbonnet and hurried out just as Devlin drove up with the buggy.

“Ready for our trip to Grand View?” he asked as he tied the reins to the carriage’s front railing and jumped down. “Can’t spend all day there, mind you, but Conor was willing enough as long as it’s only for a few hours.”

He walked up to her and grasped Hannah by the arm. She hadn’t been this close to him since his illness, she realized. As imposing a man as Devlin MacKay was flat on his back, he was positively breath-grabbing when standing upright. She didn’t at all like the way his nearness made her heart race.

With a quick step up and Devlin’s assistance, Hannah climbed into the buggy. Already, though she had quite a few items that needed replenishing, she was beginning to regret mentioning those needs to Devlin. Evan would’ve jumped at the chance to take her to town. And as dashing and handsome as he was, Evan had never unsettled her like Devlin could.

By the time Devlin joined her in the little two-seater, Hannah had managed to settle herself both emotionally and physically. As he untied and lifted the reins, she gave him a quick nod, then turned her gaze down the long road leading out of Culdee Creek’s main gate. With a cluck of his tongue and smart snap of the reins, Devlin urged the horse forward.

It was a beautiful summer day, the sky a deep azure blue, the billowing clouds an equally sharp contrast of white. Grass grew tall and green in the large, open meadows. Ponderosa pines, like dark sentinels, jutted high in the rapidly increasing distance behind them, a looming mass of forest and shade. Above it all towered Pikes Peak’s craggy summit, hours away yet still overshadowing the region with its majestic splendor.

Happy and content, Hannah settled back in her seat. Her confused feelings for Devlin notwithstanding, she couldn’t believe she was back in his house—at his express request no less—and that he was finally even attempting to treat her with civility. Indeed, if the truth were told, Devlin was actually beginning to ask her advice and talk to her as if she was worthy of respect. It was a dream come true, and it seemed the last obstacle to her continued security at Culdee Creek had all but disappeared.

“You look quite pleased with yourself,” the man of her thoughts interjected. “You should do that more often.”

Hannah glanced at him. Devlin drove the carriage with a practiced ease, sitting straight and tall in his seat. A dark brown Stetson shaded his eyes, worn leather gloves covered his hands, and he had donned a rich nutmeg-colored leather vest atop his usual denims and blue chambray shirt. Though his tan had faded a bit with his illness and extended stay indoors, his face and forearms still possessed a healthy—and most attractive—color.

“I’m pleased with this beautiful day, and with my life,” Hannah replied, jerking her gaze from him before he began to notice she had been staring, “but I wouldn’t say I yet presume to be pleased with myself.”

“And why not?” He shot her an inquisitive glance. “You’ve got just about everyone at Culdee Creek wrapped around your little finger, not to mention a respectable, paying job. What more could anyone possibly want?”

“Not much, I suppose.” She grinned.

“Except maybe a formal proposal of marriage from Evan?”

Her grin faded. Whatever had possessed him to bring up that subject? “Evan and I are taking things slow. Marriage isn’t anything anyone should rush into.”

“Funny, but I got the impression you two were all but engaged. Evan sure makes it clear to anyone who’ll listen that you’re hands off.”

Hannah sighed in exasperation. Not that again! Another talk with Evan was definitely in order. “We’re not engaged. I’m not ready to commit to any man. Even a man as good and decent as Evan.” She turned in her seat to face him. “Is that so wrong? To hold off a while, I mean? I don’t wish to lead Evan on but—”

“But you’re also not ready to run him off yet either,” Devlin finished for her. “It’s been over a year since you came to Culdee Creek, Hannah. Evan’s been all but courting you since the very beginning.”

“So, what you’re saying is I should agree to marry him or tell him it’s over. Is that it?”

“Pretty much.”

That wasn’t what she had wanted to hear, though, for the life of her, Hannah couldn’t say what she
did
want to hear. “And who suddenly appointed you Evan’s spokesman?”

Devlin shrugged. “No one, I reckon. But he’s Conor’s son and I care about him. He’s been through enough. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“So, now you think I’m the right woman for Evan?”

The question apparently gave him pause. He scowled; his mouth tightened. “I’ve no objections anymore, if that’s what you’re asking,” he finally growled, an edge now in his voice.

She should never have allowed this particular subject to come up, much less discuss it with the likes of Devlin. What Evan and she eventually decided was between them, and no one else. It was none of Devlin MacKay’s business.

“I don’t mean this to sound rude,” Hannah gritted, now strangely upset with him, “but I think we should change the subject.”

“So you’re saying I blundered into something I shouldn’t have, is that it?”

“Pretty much,” she said, mimicking his earlier reply.

Devlin paused, then nodded. “Fine. So, what are you needing to buy in town today?”

Just as he finished speaking, the whistle of the Union Pacific, Denver, and Gulf locomotive shrieked in the distance as it pulled out of Grand View’s train depot. Then the carriage topped the last hill separating them from sight of Grand View. Below them spread gently undulating grasslands. Among those grassy hills nestled the little town.

Grand View’s prosperity had always depended on the surrounding farms, which produced mostly potatoes and wheat, cattle ranches such as Culdee Creek, and the timber from the thick ponderosa pine forest to the west that was known as the Pinery. It was blessed with two churches, one Presbyterian and the other Episcopal, which the MacKays attended and where Noah Starr served as assistant pastor. Besides the churches, the town boasted the basic amenities such as a mercantile store, icehouse, post office, blacksmith and livery stable, school, hotel, town hall, rooming house, and saloon. Doc Childress also kept an office on the main street, as did the sheriff.

However, as Devlin headed the buggy down the hill, it was the large, two-story frame house standing about a quarter mile outside town that caught Hannah’s eye. She had never ridden past Sadie’s bordello with Devlin at her side. Suddenly, all the old memories swamped her again.

Memories of the long, horrible nights. Memories of the beatings when she refused to obey Sadie or one of her bodyguards, or when she failed to earn the minimum quota for the night. Overshadowing them all right now, though, was the recollection of that night she first saw Devlin there.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him. He looked straight ahead, his expression inscrutable. A muscle, however, jumped wildly in his jaw, and a flush crept up his neck and face. Devlin was, Hannah decided, just as unsettled about passing Sadie Fleming’s as was she.

Grasping wildly for anything to distract him, she recalled his question about what she needed to buy. “All sorts of things,” she blurted out of the blue. “Flour, sugar, lard, dried beans, coffee, and tea, just for starters. And then there’s a bag of marbles, because I promised Devlin Jr. another game and he’s fresh cleaned me out of marbles. And I’d also like to buy some calico to make Mary a dress, and—”

“Whoa, hold on there.” Devlin laughed, the tension easing from him. “What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?”

“You asked me what I needed to buy. I was just telling you.”

He frowned. “You don’t need to make Mary any dresses. They take too much work. Just buy some ready-made ones. Mr. Gates carries them now.”

“I know. But I’ve had a hankering for a long while now to learn to use Abby’s sewing machine, and she’s agreed to teach me. So, one way or another I need fabric, and since Mary needs a few new dresses …”

Devlin shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Their conversation died as they entered the outskirts of town. They passed the Prancing Pronghorn saloon, Nealy’s smithy, where the anvil rang with each blow the brawny blacksmith struck, then the rooming house and newspaper office on their left. Across from the newspaper office sat Gates’ Mercantile on the corner of Winona and Russell Streets. Devlin turned there and halted the buggy. He jumped down, tied the horse to a hitching rail, and walked around to help Hannah step down.

“I need to stop by the newspaper office and place an ad for Conor,” he said, once he had settled her on the wooden boardwalk fronting the building. “Then I’ve got to visit the feed lot and order more corn for the cattle. How long do you think you’ll be needing for your shopping?”

“A half hour or so.” Hannah removed her sunbonnet and laid it on the seat, then turned and pulled the large wicker basket from behind it. “If I finish before you, I’ll wait for you here.”

“Same goes for me, if I finish first.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you feel okay going it alone? If you’re worried about anyone bothering you—”

She cut him off with a laugh. “I can manage just fine. After all, it’s not like we’re out in the middle of nowhere, or that you’ll be all that long getting back here.”

“Okay then. See you soon.” Devlin stepped back, tipped his hat to her, then turned and strode down the boardwalk.

Hannah watched him go, admiring, for a fleeting moment, his manly silhouette of broad shoulders, powerful chest, trim hips, and long legs. He was indeed impressive and—

With a sudden, dismayed gasp, she caught herself. As much as Devlin might have changed since that night he had apologized and asked her to come back to work for him, he was still a man to step lightly around. Besides, it wasn’t decent to be lusting after Ella’s husband. Why, the poor woman had only been dead a little over two months! Whatever was the matter with her?

She clutched her basket and pocketbook to her and hurried around the corner and into Gates’ Mercantile. After the brightness and heat of the midday sun, the store’s interior seemed cool and dark. Once her eyes adjusted to the diminished light, Hannah glanced around.

Mrs. Edgerton, stern of countenance and rail thin, stood at one of the two long counters flanking the room, talking with Russell Gates, the proprietor, as he measured out flour and other staples for her. Her daughter, nineteen-year-old Mary Sue, stood nearby, painstakingly sorting through a display of colorful satin ribbons. At sight of the pretty, ebony-haired girl, Hannah stiffened.

There had never been any love lost between them. Mary Sue, ever on the prowl for a husband to suit her apparently lofty station as daughter of the town butcher, had always treated Hannah with disdain. The girl had once set her sights on Conor MacKay, only to have Abby whisk him right out from beneath her regal little nose. Then, not long afterwards, she had tried to capture Evan’s attention. That attempt had been even more quickly doomed to failure, when he soon made it clear he had eyes only for Hannah.

Hannah couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before Mary Sue began to consider Devlin as potential husband material.

Well, one way or another, she lectured herself as she made her way to the bolts of fabric stacked at the end of the other long counter, it wasn’t any of her business. She had come to do her shopping, not speculate on Mary Sue’s marital prospects.

After finally settling on a bolt of checkered green and white gingham and another of blue and orange-flowered calico for dress material, Hannah next busied herself picking out lace trims and colored buttons. Mr. Gates finished wrapping Mrs. Edgerton’s packages, measured and cut several lengths of ribbon for Mary Sue, then ambled over to Hannah.

“Haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays,” the gray-haired, bespeckled man said. “The MacKays been keeping you busy, have they?”

Hannah smiled up at him. Mr. Gates had always treated her kindly, even when she used to come into his store in her days working at Sadie’s. “Yes, as a matter of fact, they have. I’m now taking care of Devlin’s children and house again, too.”

The older man grinned. “I heard about that. Mrs. Ashley spared no words—or kindness—in telling everyone how you’d undermined and usurped her position at Culdee Creek.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Whooee, but how that woman went on.”