A Man for Annalee (6 page)

The door opened.

“Cora, darlin’, I’m home. Where’s my kiss?”

Drats, it’s Franklin.

“After thirty-two years of marriage, he’s still asking that same question.” Cora’s cheeks blazed as she bustled toward the foyer, her taffeta skirts swishing. “I’m here, dear. Annalee and I are both here.”

Low murmurings were followed by the rustle of clothing. Witnessing the closeness between Franklin and Cora was bittersweet, reminding her of the strong love her parents had shared. But loving meant losing. If she opened her heart to a man, then she’d also risk having him torn from her again, like her parents and grandpa had been. Did she want to go through that pain ever again? No. Better to shield her heart against love.

Footfalls stomped on the steps, louder than Franklin’s had been a few moments earlier. A larger man, like Boone, approached. Her mouth went dry and her heartbeat thumped along with his boot steps. She jerked when the knock sounded.
Fool woman. Settle down!

Greetings were exchanged in the Maguire foyer. Then Boone entered the spacious parlor, and the room shrank. Cora reached for his buckskin jacket to hang it up. The blue chambray shirt he wore fit tightly over his muscles. Not that she was one to notice. Nor was she going to notice or comment on the haircut he’d gotten since yesterday or the way his close shave emphasized his strong jaw.

Just how was she to guard her heart against a man such as the one standing before her?

“Good afternoon, lil’ greenhorn. It’s good to see you up and about.” He smiled and her heart did an Irish jig.

Oh, she had to fight this attraction, so she did. “I believe we had this discussion before. The name is Annalee.”

The man had the audacity to wink at her.
The scoundrel.
Boone chuckled softly as if he knew he was flustering her.

“Have a seat next to Annalee, Boone. Tell us about your day.” Franklin unbuttoned his waistcoat before taking a seat himself. “Any leads on Lee Tanner’s murder?”

Boone’s nearness to her on the divan flustered her. Silly, really, since he’d sat much closer on the stagecoach a week ago. She shifted on the divan. “I’d also like to know how your investigation is going.”

Brown eyes studied her and seemed to soften. “I know how important this is to you. I promise I’m doing my best.”

The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “Thank you, Marshal.”

A slow smile spread. “I thought we agreed you’d call me Boone.”

She looked away, forcing herself not to smile or respond to his charm. But when his pinky finger hooked around hers, a stab of something hot and trembling shot all the way to a very private place. She nearly gasped with the power of it.

Evidently it didn’t faze him one bit, for he kept right on talking. “There is an idea brewing in my mind. I’ve telegraphed a Pinkerton agent who’s going to check on a few things for me. I’ve interviewed most everyone here in town.” He crossed a booted foot over his knee as if he were settling into the conversation. “As far as I know, Lee had no enemies. Yes, he was grumpy and sometimes distant, but he was also quick to lend a hand if someone needed help. For the life of me, I can’t figure who hated him enough to kill him. I keep asking myself if that person was part of the Cicero Creek community or someone merely passing through.”

“Did Grandpa live on his ranch alone?”

“Lee had two cowpunchers working for him year ’round. Their bunkhouse is at the end of his orchard.”

“Are they still there? The ranch hands, I mean.”

Boone nodded. “They’ve stayed on, taking care of things out of respect for Lee. That, and they probably have no place else to go.”

“And just where were they when my sainted grandpa was shot?”

“Sainted?” Boone chuckled. “Lee would certainly see the humor in that remark. Baldy and Lazlow were playing cards at the Red Garter Saloon. They were loyal to him, as loyal as the day is long. I’ve talked to them both a couple times since the murder. Checked on their alibis, and they’re in the clear.”

“I see.”

“When do you plan on going to see his ranch?”

“I’d like to move into Grandpa’s house tomorrow.”

“I’d be happy to escort you.” Boone’s gaze shifted to Cora’s. Her lips were pinched in obvious displeasure at his suggestion. He glanced back at Annalee. “I could borrow a buggy and take you and Cora to see the ranch. I’m fairly familiar with his property.”

Cora’s smile returned. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Marshal.” She looked at Annalee. “Why don’t we just look at the cabin tomorrow and see what it needs. While the condition of your grandfather’s house might have suited him, well, we women do require more comfortable lodgings. Give yourself a chance to spruce up the place before you move in.” Cora looked at her husband. “Don’t you think I’m right, Franklin?”

“Yes, I do. But why not use this situation to everyone’s benefit? Tomorrow, you and Annalee could go see what is required to make Lee Tanner’s cabin more welcoming. Meanwhile I’ll get the word out we’re asking the whole town to help. The women could focus on the cleaning and the men could fix things around the property. Then we could have a community supper. Give everyone a chance to socialize and meet Annalee.”

Cora clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s a marvelous idea. Everyone loves a reason to come together for a visit, especially before winter sets in.”

Franklin looked at Boone and smirked. “Plus it would give our Annalee a chance to meet all of the single men in our area.”

The smile slid off Boone’s face and a muscle bunched in his jaw. “She’s already been spoken for.”

“To my understanding, there’s been no formal declaration.” Franklin puffed out his chest, no doubt feeling in charge of the situation.

In response, Boone set both feet on the floor and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “Don’t try to rile me, Franklin. I’ve already made up my mind. She’s the one I want.”

“Excuse me, but I have a say in all this, you know.” How dare they talk about her as if she weren’t in the room? “I have no plans on getting spoken for or engaged.” Her angry gaze shifted from Boone to Franklin and back to Boone again.

“Now, lil’ greenhorn, no need in getting riled.”

She stood and planted her fists on her hips. “Don’t you ‘lil’greenhorn’ me. You…you bossy, arrogant galoot.”

Boone jumped from his seat. “Galoot?” he repeated, his eyes wide.

Leaning in, until they were almost nose to nose, Annalee growled, “Yes, and an insufferable galoot, at that. Cora, Franklin, if you’ll excuse me, I have a headache.” With that she flounced out of the parlor and up the steps.
No man pushes me about and plans my life as if I don’t have the good common sense God gave me.

****

Annalee didn’t know what to expect when she dressed the next morning for her first visit across the creek. Concerns about what kind of home she’d find made her stomach churn. She had to have a plan in case she couldn’t stay there. Miss Feather might never have prepared her for being homeless, but she
had
taught her how to be resourceful.

She would stay in Cicero Creek and open her business. Make friends with the women. As for the men, well, if they were all as domineering as the marshal, she wanted no parts of them. She wished Franklin was taking her and Clara to the ranch, and not Boone. No doubt the man would be just as irritating today as he was yesterday.

She ran a hand over her hair, pushing a loose hairpin into her chignon. Would Boone think she looked nice? She snorted. As if she cared one whit what that arrogant fool thought.
That
would be the day, when she dressed to impress a man, especially a certain tall annoying marshal.

Later, when Annalee descended the steps, her eyes locked with Boone’s. The foyer seemed dwarfed by his tall frame and broad shoulders. He was turning his hat in his hands, a bemused expression on his handsome face. “Afternoon, lil’ greenhorn.”

Her temper flared at his insolence. Why the man was deliberately provoking her. And after she’d dressed
especially
to please him, too. The rapscallion didn’t even have the good manners to compliment her.

Annalee hiked her chin as she marched to the door. Her greeting as she passed him was clipped. “Marshal.” When a soft chuckle rumbled behind her, she whirled, giving him a scathing glare. Squaring her shoulders and drawing herself up to make her appear taller than her five-foot-two height, she vented some spleen. “In the future, Marshal Hartwell, you will kindly address me by my name.”

He set his hat on his head, tilting it at a rakish angle. When he reached around her to open the door, he whispered in her ear, “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, lil’ greenhorn?”

She shivered at his proximity. “You, sir, are an insufferable fool.” This time when he laughed she ignored him. Still, just to prove her point, she marched to the buggy and climbed into the back seat next to a yellow dog, leaving Cora no choice but to ride up front with him. When Boone helped Cora into the buggy, she winked at Annalee.

Once he was seated, Boone picked up the reins and set the horses in motion. “Annalee-e-e,” he said loudly and with exaggeration, “you’re sitting next to Nugget. Hope the two of you don’t get into a snarling match, ’cause Nugget just hates to lose.”

“Oh, ’tis full of blither and blather you are.” She reached a tentative hand to touch the dog’s head. His tail wagged, and he licked her fingers. Then he laid his head on her lap. “I’m glad to see you’re smarter than your master.”

Boone glanced back at Nugget. “Traitor,” he growled. “Now, Annalee, you’ll notice all of the businesses and offices are built on one side of the street. Your grandfather made his wishes very clear when he donated the land to the town.”

At the corner stood a brick structure that contained two businesses, Cicero Creek Bank and the
Cicero Creek Courier
. Next to it was an eatery, oddly named Beans for the Belly. Adjacent to the eatery was the jail.

There were a couple of riders on the street, their horses kicking up dust, and half a dozen people strolled on the boardwalk in front of the businesses. What struck her was the quiet and the purity of the air here in Cicero Creek. With all of the industry in Chicago, the air was often awash with foul-smelling smoke coughing from tall chimneys. Crowds of people hurried to and fro on the streets as cool winds blew in from the lake. This slower, quieter pace would take some getting used to.

She was pleased to see there were a few stores: Stoner and Son’s Mercantile, Olofsson Furniture and Cabinetry, Evans Boot and Saddle Making, and LeMann’s General Store.

She smiled at the conflicting sign in Gertie’s Bakery window: Expert Teeth Pulling. A sign squeaked, swaying overhead on the building’s second story: Gertie’s Boarding House: Clean Sheets Extra.

Four horses were tied to the hitching post in front of the Red Garter Saloon. Next to it was Billy’s Barber Shop and Coffins. Before they passed the schoolhouse, Boone turned the buggy toward the tree-lined creek.

Chapter Seven

They crossed the creek where it was roughly twelve feet wide. Once Boone had the buggy out of the water, he drove under a wooden arch rising out of stone posts. Hanging from the split-rail arch was a wooden sign that read, “Annie’s Ranch.”

He pointed to the sign. “Your grandfather took down the sign that said, ‘Tanner’s Ranch’ and hung this after he found out you were coming. He was as excited about having you move in with him as a kid at Christmas with an orange in his stocking.”

A warm rush of emotion swept through Annalee. Grandpa had renamed the ranch in her honor, using his nickname for her. She smiled and squared her shoulders, thrilled that the ranch—her future home—carried her name.

Boone urged the team up a hill where a narrow lane had been cleared of pines and cottonwoods. At the top of the hill sat a log cabin, so silent it screamed of loneliness. Annalee didn’t know whether to cry or to turn tail and run.

He stopped the buggy in front of the steps leading to the covered porch. After helping Cora down, he wrapped his hands around Annalee’s waist and set her on the ground. She slowly surveyed the area. Chickens pecked the dirt around a leaning, patchwork chicken coop. Two horses nickered a welcome inside the confines of the split rail fence adjacent to the stable. Trees were in rows beyond the outbuildings, like empty desks in a schoolhouse.

Boone saw where she was looking. “Those are Lee’s prized orchards—apples, peaches, pears, and cherries. About twenty acres’ worth. He owns eight hundred acres on this side of the creek. About four hundred on the other side. Raised cattle mostly, some hogs and chickens.”

“I don’t know anything about farming or ranching. I’m a seamstress.” Her heart sank as reality hit. “I’ve never lived alone, much less out in the wilderness. Never gathered an egg or chopped wood.”

Boone smiled. “You’ll learn.”

“Can I see the bunkhouse from here?” She hoped having the ranch hands nearby would lessen this solitary feeling grasping at her with frigid fingers.

He took her arm, escorted her closer to the barn, and pointed off in the distance. When he did so, his other arm encircled her. She tried to ignore his nearness, really she did, but the warmth and strength of him beguiled her. He smelled of bay rum, leather, and the outdoors. His deep voice made her toes curl in her boots.