Blowing on Dandelions (15 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Frances sat at the supper table, her stomach burning as though she’d swallowed poison instead of the dinner her daughter had served. Not that she’d tasted any of it with that woman sitting across from her, looking like a cat that had lapped up the last few drops of cream from the milk pail before the dairy wife whisked it away.

The insufferable creature. Mrs. Roberts—not the poor cat. At least a feline had an excuse for its behavior. Mrs. Roberts did not. She was supposed to have left and not return. Why had Katherine allowed the pair access to the boardinghouse again?

Of course, Frances had been in her room most of the afternoon with another headache and hadn’t spoken to Katherine. More than likely they came back for something they’d forgotten and Katherine, charitable soul that she was, had invited them to supper. Hopefully she’d remember to charge them for their meal.

She pasted on what she hoped would pass as a smile. “So, Mrs. Roberts, you could not find any place that served as fine a meal as my Katherine’s? I would have thought the hotel dining room would be an easier place to eat since it is so much closer to where you are living now.”

A hush fell over the table, and all eyes turned toward the woman in question. Mr. Tucker seemed particularly interested and … what? Amused? Why would he be amused? Frances frowned. She hadn’t said anything even the least bit comical.

Of all things. If Wilma Roberts didn’t positively beam with happiness—or was it preening satisfaction? The woman’s face was wreathed in smiles. “Why, I assumed you knew, Mrs. Cooper. Beth and I moved back—not long after luncheon, in fact. We’re very grateful Mrs. Galloway saved our rooms and invited us to stay again. You must be very proud to have raised such a considerate, generous daughter.”

It took all of Frances’s willpower to control herself. She bit the inside of her cheeks, certain her head would explode. Katherine had invited
these
people to move back in? What could she possibly be thinking? Why, Wilma Roberts had been positively rude during their last encounter, and Katherine had assured her they’d moved out.

Frances harrumphed. “Oh, yes,
very
proud.” She cast a withering glance toward her daughter, who was sitting at the head of the table. “You have no idea.” Focusing back on the cheerful woman, she continued, “Why did you feel it necessary to return? Weren’t you able to find adequate lodging in town? I am sure a woman of your means can afford something far finer than our modest establishment.”

Mrs. Roberts’s face sagged. Her mouth opened, but no sound issued forth.

Ah, that got to her, didn’t it?
Something was afoot here that would bear digging into. “You
can
afford better, can’t you, dear?”

“Mama, why don’t we talk about this later and allow us to finish our meal?” Katherine picked up a tray of raised biscuits and handed them to Lucy, sitting on her right. “Pass these down, dear. I’m sure Mr. Tucker or Beth would like another while they’re still warm.”

Beth ducked her head. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’ve had plenty.”

“Nonsense.” Her aunt reached across her, plucked a biscuit from the plate, and set it in front of the girl. “You’re too thin as it is. No man wants a wife who appears to be ready to expire. Eat up, now.”

Frances narrowed her eyes. “Your niece said she is not hungry, so why force her to eat? She looks perfectly healthy to me.” She did not, but the last thing Frances cared to do was agree with Mrs. Roberts. Her high-handed treatment of the young woman was ridiculous. Of course, Mrs. Roberts was obviously poorly bred and didn’t understand good table etiquette.

“Well, I never.” Mrs. Roberts’s face darkened and her eyes flashed.

“Mama! Mrs. Roberts. Please!” Katherine’s words cut across the charged atmosphere.

Amanda gazed from her mother to her grandmother and back again. “Why is everyone so angry? What’s wrong, Grandma?”

Frances melted at the apprehension on the little girl’s face. “Oh, honey, it’s all right. Grandma is not angry at anyone. I was only helping Mrs. Roberts. Don’t worry, sweetie.” She caressed Amanda’s hair. “I think there are cookies for dessert. Would you like to go to the kitchen and bring them back in?”

Amanda’s expression cleared, and she looked toward her mother. “May I, Ma?”

“Yes, dear, go ahead.” Katherine’s gaze flickered to Frances and lingered there. “I’ll be in to get the coffee in a moment.”

Jeffery Tucker absorbed the scene in silence, wondering if he should excuse himself or stay in case more fireworks flared. It was always possible he could use this scene as fuel for his work. He settled back in his chair and surveyed the table. Too bad Jacobs was still laid up in his room with that bum leg. Another male perspective might bring a bit more balance to the conversation, but Mrs. Galloway had done an adequate job stepping in between the two combatants. That mother of hers was a corker. She seemed to have an opinion about everything and expected others to agree or move out of her way. Must have been hard for her children and husband to live with—assuming the man had stuck around very long.

He placed his forearms on the table and addressed Zachary. “When will your father be able to join us?”

Zachary jumped as though he’d been poked. “What? Were you speaking to me, sir?”

“I was, but pardon me if I startled you. I didn’t realize you were gathering wool.” He’d seen the boy’s gaze resting on Mrs. Galloway’s older daughter, Lucy, in the past, but tonight he seemed dumbstruck by the newest addition, Beth. The young woman was closer to his own age than Zachary’s, but the boy probably didn’t realize it.

Warm color suffused Zachary’s face. “Uh, I …” He squirmed in his seat. “What did you ask, Mr. Tucker?”

Lucy giggled and placed her hand over her mouth, but not before Zachary shot her a frown.

“I wondered how your father is faring after his injury and when the doctor will allow him out of bed.”

“Oh.” The boy relaxed. “Soon, I hope. He’s getting pretty restless, and I’m not sure he’ll be willing to stay in that room much longer.” He cast an apologetic glance at Lucy’s mother. “Not that he’s complaining, mind you. It’s just that he’s used to being active and doing for himself.”

Mrs. Galloway nodded. “I understand, Zachary. No need to worry about my feelings. I can only imagine what your father is going through, and I certainly hope he’s allowed to get up in the next day or two.” She nodded graciously. “Excuse me. I need to go see to the coffee in the kitchen.”

As soon as Mrs. Galloway had left the room, Mrs. Roberts tapped her fingertips on the tablecloth. “Mr. Tucker, isn’t it?”

He sat up straighter. “Yes, ma’am, at your service.”

She surveyed him from the top of his head, down over his shoulders, and to the tips of his fingers. “You don’t look like a man who’s seen many hours of hard labor. What brings you to Baker City? Certainly not mining.”

The table went still, and every set of eyes swiveled toward him. He’d been able to avoid this question since arriving by turning the conversation back on the person doing the asking. “No, not mining, ma’am. And you’re correct. I wasn’t born to manual labor. How about you and your lovely niece? What brings
you
to this fair city?”

“That’s not good manners, Mr. Tucker, to avoid my question. What type of work do you do? Or are you a wealthy man here hoping to find a wife, with no need to work?” She assessed Beth before fixing her attention back on him.

“Hardly.” He tried to laugh, but it came off as more of a grunt.

Mrs. Cooper smirked. “Mrs. Roberts, you certainly do not mind asking pointed questions of others. It sounds as though you might be fishing for a rich husband. Are you looking for one yourself, or perhaps for your niece?” Her probing eyes flicked toward the young woman, who wilted into her chair.

Mrs. Roberts looked as though she might choke.

Jeffery wanted to laugh, but pity at the poor woman’s discomfiture kept him silent.

“Who wants cookies?” The high-pitched voice of Amanda entering the room broke the silence and swung the focus to the plate of fragrant molasses cookies balanced between her small hands.

He jumped up and hurried toward her. “Let me help. We don’t want any of those treats sliding onto the floor, do we?”

“No, sir. Thank you, sir.” She handed over the tray with a grin. “You can have the first one. Grandma, Ma wants to know if you could bring more. She’s getting the coffee.”

Mrs. Cooper nodded and rose from her chair.

Placing the plate on the table, Jeffery plucked a cookie from the edge. “I’ll go see if I can help too.” He sauntered from the room. They’d all been saved by a child bearing treats. From now on he’d make sure not to engage nosey women in conversation if he could avoid it.

Katherine thanked Mr. Tucker for his offer but sent him back to the table. She needed a few moments with her mother. “Mama? Can you stay here, please?”

Mama pivoted, the second plate of cookies gripped in her hands. “What is it? I need to take these to the dining room.”

“I think they have plenty for now, and I’d like to speak with you.”

Mama plopped the plate onto the counter. “Well! You did not think it important to tell me you had given in to that woman’s demands and invited her to move back here?”

Katherine tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and silently counted to five. Just like Mama. Turn it around on her before she had a chance to say a word. The last thing she needed was a fight. “She didn’t demand anything, and I didn’t invite her, she asked. In fact, Mrs. Roberts was very humble and apologized for her behavior. I thought it only charitable to accept her apology and give her another chance.”

“Humble? Ha! More than likely an act she put on to get back into your good graces—and obviously, one that worked.” She shook her head. “I would think you would be more discerning, Katherine. You let people pull the wool over your eyes far too often. If you keep this up, you will lose business you can scarce afford. It is obvious the woman is destitute. Did you see the way she avoided my question about her circumstances?”

“My business is fine, Mama. As for being destitute, Mrs. Roberts paid a full week in advance, and we’ll decide if she stays longer when the week is up.” Katherine spoke the last words without thinking, and her heart dropped when satisfaction flitted across her mother’s face.

“Ah, so you only agreed to a week. Good. Well, I guess we will have to see if she can hold her tongue and control her temper for a week, then, won’t we?” She picked up the plate of cookies and hobbled out of the room.

Chapter Twenty

Micah swallowed the last of his morning coffee and set it back on the tray Katherine held. “Thank you, Mrs. Galloway. That was an excellent breakfast.”

“I thought we agreed you’d call me Katherine?” She quirked a brow.

“I recently realized it may have been a hasty decision. Somehow it seems rather disrespectful to call my landlady by her first name.”

“I’m afraid I’m in the habit of thinking of you as Micah, not Mr. Jacobs. But if that offends or worries you, I suppose I can make the effort to change.” A mischievous smile tugged at her lips.

Micah relaxed. “If you have no objections, then it’s fine … Katherine. At least when we’re talking in private.”

“Good. Now, how about getting you back on your feet? It’s been three days since your fall, and Doc Sanders said you could try again today, if you wish.”

A mirthless chuckle broke from his throat. “Oh, I wish. In fact, I insist. If I stay here much longer, I’ll have bed sores on top of the burned skin and banged-up body.” He winced. “Pardon me. That was rude and thoughtless. You’ve been very kind to offer this bed and our rooms.”

She waved an airy hand. “Nothing to apologize for.” She held out the crutches. “Here you go. Take it slow and easy this time. See if you can make it to the sitting room.”

He reached for them and his fingertips brushed hers. The tingling that ran up his arm almost made him jerk back, but he controlled the urge. What was it about this woman that affected him so? It would soon be two years since he’d lost his wife. Many men remarried within that space of time, but he hadn’t been able to even look at another woman that way—until now.

Katherine Galloway was not only a fine-looking woman, she was kindhearted, generous, and from all he could tell, a hard worker to boot. Her children adored her, and Zachary seemed to get along with her, as well. He shook his head. What was he thinking? She’d made it plain she was a successful businesswoman with no need for a man. “Thanks. I think I’ve got it from here.” He tucked the crutches under his arm and swung forward, working to keep from gazing at her again.

“So, what’s been happening in town since I took to my bed? I’ve gotten snippets out of Zachary, but not much.” He wasn’t typically so talkative, but his nerves were getting the better of him with Katherine walking so close. He felt shy and bumbling all at the same time. Emma had never affected him this way, but they’d known one another since grammar school.

“I think the church is planning a social next month, and the mines appear to be doing well, if you can judge by the number of men who come into town on the weekends.” She paused in the doorway to the parlor and waited for him to hobble past. “Maybe you’d like to come to church with us some time and attend the social?” Pink tinged her cheeks and she hurried on. “With Zachary, of course. I mean, you’re both welcome to join our family.”

“Thanks. I’ll think on it, but I’ll probably pass on attending church.” He settled into a wingback chair. “Looks like I made it without taking a tumble this time. Where are the children? Zachary didn’t come to my room this morning.”

“I gave them permission to take their fishing poles down to the Powder River to see if they can catch anything for dinner. Mandy’s been begging to go, and Lucy and Zachary promised to watch her.”

“Ah, that’s good.” The words drifted off into silence, and the room seemed to close around him. He cast about, wondering what he might talk about to keep her close, but nothing came to mind.

“Here comes Mrs. Roberts and Beth.” Katherine tipped her head at the two women entering the room.

Micah’s heart sank clear down to the toes of his work boots. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered by two women he didn’t know. Maybe he could claim to be tired and head back to his room—but the prospect of lying in that bed and staring at those walls was not pleasant. Better to take his chances out here and hope they didn’t stay long. “Ladies.” He nodded and forced a smile.

Mrs. Roberts swooped across the room—at least, she tried. Her deep green skirts flared around her ample figure. “Beth, dear, come along and meet this nice gentleman.” She stopped in front of him and waited for her niece to catch up. “We haven’t been formally introduced yet, I’m afraid.”

Katherine moved forward, and her pale yellow dress rustled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. Mrs. Roberts, allow me to introduce Mr. Jacobs. You’ve met his son, Zachary.” She turned toward Micah. “This is Mrs. Wilma Roberts and her niece, Beth. She’s the one who helped the children get you back to your room when you fell. They’ll be lodging here for the coming week.”

“Or more.” Mrs. Roberts’s voice boomed. “At least, that’s our hope.” She extended her hand and gripped his with surprising strength. “It’s good to see you up and around again.”

She settled into a brocade chair across from his and motioned Beth to take the one alongside. “It appears you’re on the mend now.” She indicated the crutches. “Now tell me, young man, what do you do for a living? Are you a miner, or something else?”

Startled by the abrupt question, he cast a glance at Katherine, who gave a gentle smile.

“I need to do some mending and start dinner preparations … if you’ll excuse me.” She inclined her head and walked from the room.

Micah felt as though his lifeline had been yanked from his hands. What was wrong with him? He could certainly carry on a brief conversation with this matron and her niece on his own. Now what had she asked? “Mining? No. Although I’ve dabbled at that in the past. I own a livery stable in town. Or, at least, I used to.”

Her look of expectancy changed to one of disappointment. “Used to? Did you go out of business?”

“No. It burned to the ground a few weeks ago.” The words came out clipped and hard, and he turned his head to the side, not wanting her to see the pain that surely must show.

She sat back in her chair. “My dear man, I’m sorry. Do you plan to rebuild?”

He hunched a shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

“What a pity. I pray your circumstances improve.” She reached across the short space and touched Beth on the shoulder. “We really should be going. I want to walk to the general store to see if they can match a button I lost. Good day, Mr. Jacobs.”

Beth stood and gave a small curtsy. The shy gaze she fixed on him was warm and full of sympathy. “I do hope you’re able to rebuild your business, Mr. Jacobs, and that your leg heals soon.”

Micah relaxed at the kindness evident in the younger woman’s voice. “Uh, thank you, Miss. Much appreciated.”

He watched them leave, wondering where Mrs. Roberts’s questions were leading. Was she hoping to find a rich husband for her niece, or was she genuinely concerned? Either way, she’d apparently gotten her answers. Just as well. The last thing he needed was someone pushing a girl into his path hoping for a match.

He hoisted himself up and tucked the crutches under his arms. He needed to get out of the house. Thankfully his lungs hadn’t been seriously damaged by the smoke. Fresh air sounded good, but Micah wasn’t sure he’d be up to navigating the rutted road leading to town. Not to mention his throbbing leg and waning strength.

Footsteps thumped up the stairs leading to the front door. A knock sounded, and then the front door opened seconds later. “Hello? Mrs. Galloway? Anyone at home?”

Micah hobbled toward the spacious foyer, recognizing Pastor Russell’s voice. Normally he wouldn’t be interested in visiting with the town preacher, but this man had helped pull him out of a burning building. The least he could do was be hospitable until Katherine appeared. It was, after all, her home, not his. Pain knifed his chest as he remembered he had no home but this one—at least for the moment. “Pastor. In here.” He shimmied around the end of the divan and limped his way to the open archway.

The pastor appeared, hat in hand. “You’re the man I wanted to see. How you doing, Jacobs?”

“Tolerable, Pastor Russell. In the absence of the landlady, I’ll escort you back to the parlor and offer you a seat, if you’d care to come. Or better yet, I was thinking of sitting on the porch in one of those wicker chairs. I’ve been hankering to get into the open air.”

“Seth, remember? We don’t stand on formality around here. Or Pastor Seth, if you insist. And the porch sounds fine.”

The man followed Micah’s thumping crutches across the foyer, then stepped in front of him to open the front door, waiting for him to pass through. Following Micah, the pastor lowered himself onto a chair. “Glad to see you up and around.”

Micah sank into a chair and propped his crutches beside him. He’d lived so much of his life in the outdoors, doing a man’s work, that it was a relief to be out of the house. He inhaled the fragrance of the air, freshly washed after last night’s thunderstorm. “Today’s the first time I’ve been out of bed since the accident. Well, other than a few days ago, when I tried and tipped over.”

The pastor’s mouth twitched. “Oh?”

“Took a tumble while learning the ropes with these sticks. I think I’ve got the hang of them now, as long as no doors or rugs get in the way.” He allowed a chuckle to slip out.

“I’m glad you can joke about it. You do any real damage?”

“Set me back a day or so, but Doc says I’m on track again. I think I’ll be able to toss these things soon. The swelling’s going down, and the dressing on the burn only has to be changed every other day.”

Pastor Seth rotated his hat through his fingers. “Good. So, Jacobs, what are your plans?”

“I’m not rightly sure.” Micah bowed his head, then met the man’s steady gaze. “I’ll be honest. I don’t have the money to rebuild. I was thinking I’d see about renting room in a barn on the edge of town, if I can find someone willing. The town needs a blacksmith, even if I don’t have the means for a full livery. I still have my team of mules and my horse. At least my wagon was parked away from the building and wasn’t destroyed. I can rent it out to those who need it, and do some smithy work as soon as I’m able. That’s about as far as I’ve gone in my planning.”

“Those all sound like fine ideas.” The pastor nodded slowly. “Have you thought about asking your friends to help you rebuild?”

Micah’s muscles tensed. The man meant well, he knew that, but the idea of asking for help soured him to his very core. All his growing-up years, Pa had taught him to be self-sufficient, never beholden to anyone. If anything, he needed to find ways to give back to the community and those around him. That’s what a man did. He shook his head. “I can’t do that. For one thing, I really don’t know many people yet, and for another, they have their own work and responsibilities. No one wants to be burdened with another man’s problems.”

“But that’s what the community is for. We’re a body, and we need to operate as such. The Bible says that just like a body isn’t only a foot or an arm, the church isn’t made up of one kind of person. We all have talents and gifts. We all look after the other—step in when someone is hurting.”

“I’m not part of your church, Pastor Seth. I’m not trying to be rude, and I hope you’ll forgive me for being frank, but I have no desire to be part of any church.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not going to give up.” The pastor grinned. “I have a bit of a stubborn streak myself.”

Micah’s shoulders relaxed a mite. “Your choice, I guess. But don’t expect me to show up on the church’s doorstep anytime soon.”

“Before I go, would it be all right if I pray with you?”

Micah clenched his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to hurt this man who’d done nothing but try to do good, but he couldn’t string him along. Honesty right up front was best. “I don’t think so. God’s done me no favors these past two years, and I can muddle through life as well on my own. But thank you for offering.” He reached for a crutch. “I think I need to lie down for a spell. Would you like me to call Mrs. Galloway? I’m sure she’d be pleased to see you.”

Micah wanted to bite the tip of his tongue. That hadn’t come out right. Now the preacher would think he wasn’t pleased to see him, and he hadn’t meant that at all. But probably better to let it lie than scramble to explain. He’d dug a deep enough hole as it was, and trying to fix it might plant him that much deeper.

Lucy leaned her elbow on the grassy bank, letting her line dangle in the water. She was glad Mr. Jacobs had been up and around for a couple of days now, so Zachary could go fishing with her. They hadn’t caught anything the last time they’d come, so Ma allowed them to come again, so long as they brought Mandy along too. But she’d done nothing but fuss about not catching a fish the last time they came.

The line gave a light jerk and she sat up straight, her fingers clutching the pole. Another tug and she snatched it back hard. “I’ve got one!” She jumped to her feet and took a cautious step backward, lowering the tip of her willow stick till it almost touched the water.

Mandy dropped her own homemade pole on the bank and came running. “Let me see, Lucy! How big is it? Can we keep it?”

Zachary hovered over her shoulder. “Easy now. Don’t pull too hard. Walk a couple steps and pull him on in. You don’t want your line to break.”

“I know. I’ve been fishing since I was younger than Amanda.” Lucy worked the pole back and forth, then eased it forward until she felt the fish tire. After a couple more minutes of allowing it to dart around, she steadily walked back until she could see the trout rise to the surface. It rolled on its side and its blue-green underbelly glistened, the bright sunlight reflecting on its prominent pink stripe.
It must be well over a foot long.
For an instant, a pang of regret struck her at hooking such a lovely creature, but she shook it off. If they caught enough, Ma would fry trout for supper. Her mouth watered at the thought of the fried potatoes and onions she’d serve on the side.