The Trouble with Patience (11 page)

“You gonna go to the dance with that purty Miss Patience?” Joe asked over the brim.

“No . . . no, I'm not—at least not with her. I'm going with Millie. What about you?”

Joe grinned. “I reckon a man don't need a lady to show up at a dance the whole town's invited to.” He drained his mug.

“If that's your plan, then you'd better clean up some.”

Joe rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Well, I might give my beard a trim.”

Jedediah knew it was going to take a whole lot more than a beard trim to get Hannah to give Joe a second glance.

The heavy rain had washed away the dust from the boardwalk. However, the streets were now a muddy mess, Patience noted as she looked down from her bedroom window. She could have sworn she heard a faint crying, like an animal in distress. Donning her robe, she decided she'd check out the sound before she put the coffee on. She knew some of her boarders left at daybreak, but others would be eating here before going about their usual business. The Burtons, Liza and Will, slept in, as lovebirds will do, but came down for the breakfast that Patience kept warm on the sideboard for any late risers.

The sound was louder by the time Patience got to the door, but when she opened it and looked around, she didn't see anything but the usual daybreak activity. As she turned back, she spied a little creature behind her rocking chair at the far end of the porch—a young yellow tabby cat, its fur soaked and paws caked with mud. “Where in the world did you come from?” Its meowing grew louder, and Patience reached
down to pet the cat. The meowing stopped, replaced by a loud purring.

“My goodness! Are you hungry? You're as light as a feather,” she said, scooping up the yellow ball of fur. She was glad she had donned her apron before she stepped outside. “I wonder where you belong? It sure looks like you're all alone in the world, like me. Why, you're so yellow I think I'll call you Buttercup!” The cat snuggled against her elbow. “Let's go inside and get you some warm milk.”

After walking back to the kitchen, Patience dried the fur as best she could, set out a small bowl of milk, and watched the cat lap it away in no time before curling up on the floor near the stove. She smiled and decided it was a stroke of luck that the animal had showed up on her doorstep. Buttercup could keep the mice at bay in the rambling house. Besides, she would be a good companion. She hoped the little animal was simply a stray with no home. Humming a tune, Patience concluded it was a fine morning for flapjacks.

“Good morning—” Emily stopped short when she saw the cat by the stove. “What have we here—a new boarder?” She chuckled and bent down to get a closer look at it.

“We do. I kept hearing a noise this morning and found her on the porch.” She started making the batter. “She's a mite dirty from all the rain and mud, but after breakfast I'll try to clean her up.”

Emily chuckled again, stroking the cat's back. “Cats don't like to be bathed, but we can wipe her down with a wet cloth.”

“I've named her Buttercup. What do you think?”

“I like it. Buttercup, welcome to Creekside.” Emily stood, then washed her hands. “I'll get the dishes stacked on the sideboard.”

“Perfect!” Patience poured nice rounds of batter onto a sizzling griddle. “Emily,” she called, “can you turn the pancakes once bubbles begin to form? I'll go up and get dressed before anybody sees me.”

She and Emily worked very well together, she thought as she removed her apron and hurried up the stairs. And it was certainly easier to share chores of running the boardinghouse. She would have the afternoon to finish sewing the parlor curtains. Her day was all planned, and she was feeling happy.

Buttercup was lying in the windowsill, soaking up the slanting afternoon sun, while Patience hand-hemmed the last panels of the curtains and Emily ironed the ones already finished.

“Did I tell you that Monty invited me to the dance?” Emily asked.

“No, you didn't tell me. I'm glad you'll be going—at least I'll have someone to talk to besides Cody. I know so few folks in town yet.”

Patience glanced up as Emily blew a curl out of her line of vision. “Ironing is making me even hotter than it is outside,” she complained.

“We can swap and I'll iron if you'd like.”

Emily shook her head. “No, thank you. I couldn't manage a straight hem if I had to, but when you have time I'd like some simple things to try with you looking over my shoulder.” She looked up from her work. “I take it Jedediah asked you to the dance when he dropped by.”

“Yes, and I was surprised. I—well, actually, I felt a little sorry for him.”

“Why on earth would you feel that way? I'm sure it's not the first time he's asked a lady who had to decline—or is it because you'd rather go with him?” Emily placed the iron on its metal plate and stared at her.

“Mmm . . . maybe. I'm not really sure. I think the manner in which he asked me—not with his normal brashness—appealed to me. By the time he left he was already asking me to save him a dance.”

“It's as I said before—he likes you, Patience.” Emily lifted a hot iron from the stove and placed the one she'd been using back on the stove to heat. “However, Cody seems very charming,” she noted, looking cunningly over at Patience above her ironing.

“I confess that I too think he is handsome. I've been praying the Lord will send the right man my way. I see how Liza and Will are totally absorbed with one another and truly care about each other's happiness, and I feel I'm missing something. Don't you long for that, Emily? I know I do,” Patience finished with a sigh.

Emily handed Patience the panel she'd finished and took the next one to be ironed. “Of course I do. I want to have a family someday. I worry that I'll end up a spinster.”

“That isn't too likely,” Patience hurried to assure her. “But I know what you mean about children. I want little ones to fill my heart and life. A good man of faith can provide the kind of life I hope for, but they are rare here.”

“That's true, but neither can we give up.” Emily pressed the last panel as Patience began putting away her sewing supplies.

“I guess that's what's nagging at me. I'm drawn to Jedediah, but I really don't know much about him. He mentions
God, so I think he does believe, but there's something he's hiding behind that tough exterior.”

“Then you'll have to find a way to get to know him better. The Lord will warn you, tell you, ‘Here's the way—walk in it.'”

“I know you're right . . . we'll see.” Patience smiled at her friend and motioned toward the couch. “Let's rest for a bit.” The two women settled side by side, Patience fanning herself with her handkerchief. “I have something to ask you, Emily, if you don't mind.” At Emily's nod, Patience said, “When you spoke of your uncle in New York, I . . . well . . . I got the feeling that something wasn't quite right. If he's so successful, why would he not be able to provide you with a job?”

Emily sighed. “To tell you the truth, there's not much to the story. He was my guardian and very wealthy. I worked as a clerk in my uncle's publishing house, and I could've lived a very opulent life—servants and never having to lift a finger—but after reading about the West, I craved something more that I couldn't explain. Living here seemed like a challenging adventure I needed to see for myself. So here I am.” She shrugged.

“Living in a mining town like Nevada City is hard and challenging—certainly very little in comforts or the finer things in life. That must have been a hard decision for you.”

Emily pursed her lips together. “In some ways it was, but it was more important to me to see what life had to offer away from the crowded streets of New York. With God's help I survived traveling across the country, and I met some interesting people along the way.”

“I'm so glad you did, Emily.” Patience reached over to squeeze Emily's hand and saw tears in her eyes.

“So am I, Patience. So am I,” she whispered.

“All right, shall we get started on the next part of this endeavor?” Patience carried the panels to the living room window. “Now, let's get the curtains hung, then I'll prepare supper. Or are
you
cooking tonight?” she teased. Emily laughed since their agreement was that Patience would retain the official cooking duties for Creekside.

“Let's see how our handiwork looks,” Emily said. “I did help you cut them out, remember, and ironed them up so nicely.”

Now they both were laughing. After a few attempts, Patience had the rods over the hooks already attached to the wall, and they slipped the lacey curtains into place and evened out the gathers. They stood back to admire their handiwork.

Patience clapped her hands. “Oh, they're perfect! They give the parlor a cozy, finished feel, don't you think?”

Emily nodded. “It changes the mood of the entire room. Your guests will enjoy relaxing here now—not that they didn't before, but curtains provide a feeling of home.”

“Exactly my purpose, Emily.”

Emily beamed at her, then hooked her arm through Patience's. Together they marched toward the kitchen in mutual satisfaction.

Jedediah was about to begin his usual night patrol when Joe stomped through the door. “Joe, what are you doing here?”

Joe swayed on his feet as Jed watched the older man's eyes try to focus. “Jed, it's like this . . . ,” he said, slurring his words, “I want you to lock me up for the night in a cell . . . think—” he hiccupped—“it's just what I need.”

“What the dickens are you yammering on about?” Jedediah
stood with hands on his hips and watched Joe stagger over toward an unlocked cell.

“Go on ahead and lock me in for the night!” Joe hollered. “Can't ya hear?”

“Have you gotten yourself in some trouble tonight, Joe? I haven't seen you like this in a while.”

“Well, it's nothin' like that . . . I'm a peaceful guy. You know that.” He belched, and Jedediah stepped back, waving his hand at the odor.

“For heaven's sake, Joe!”

“Sorry. Lock yer door.” The man hiccupped and swiped a hand over his mouth. “I'm gonna stay th' night till I sober up. My nerves got to me when I commenced to thinkin' 'bout askin' Miss Hannah to that there dance.”

Jedediah turned his head away to cover his laughter, then recovered enough to say between chuckles, “Well, that's one way to keep you from the bottle. Are you sure you want me to do this?” He reached for the keys on his desk.

“Sure as that key fits this here lock. Now, do it and go on 'bout your business.” Jed swung the cell's door open, and his guest stumbled over to the cot and fell forward on it. He was snoring loudly within moments.

Jedediah was happy to oblige his elderly friend. It was an unusual solution, but maybe it'd work. Jedediah was glad that he never imbibed—he'd seen what it did to many good men, and it was not a pretty sight.