Brides of Idaho (54 page)

At Rudy’s eager look she walked to the corner of the building, felt for the key behind a loose board in the clapboard siding, and opened the creaky front door.

Rudy stepped inside, seemingly unmindful of the dust motes disturbed by their entrance, and just stood there, a considering look on his face.

Freddy examined every corner, touched the horseshoes Glory had nailed to the wall, picked up a handful of nails from a can and dropped them back. The clatter echoed in the empty room.

Rudy strode across the room and opened the door to the small living quarters. “Freddy, what do you think? Could the two of us manage in here?”

“Seen better. Seen worse.”

Joanna choked back a laugh and saw from the gleam in Rudy’s eyes that he, too, was amused. Dare she hope…? She tried to swallow again, but her mouth was dry. “Are you thinking of staying?” Her thoughts went to the letter in her pocket. Did she want to leave if Rudy stayed?

He shrugged. “Just a thought.” He stepped back into the sunshine.

As she locked up, she tried to assess what he meant. Was this only a passing idea? What would it take for him to settle down? She wished she could be the reason. But she couldn’t say so. Nor could she let herself think any further on the topic. Asking a man to stay when his feet told him to leave simply did not work.

They made their way back to the stopping house. Cora and Mandy had supper prepared.

“Care for coffee?” she asked Rudy. He accepted and sat across from her at the kitchen table.

She took out the letter and opened it. Perhaps if the man was no longer interested, Rudy might consider it enough reason to stay.

Aware of his attention, she silently read the letter.

“Bad news?” he asked. “He’s changed his mind?”

“No.” She folded the page and returned it to the envelope. “He’s still keenly interested and will be here the day after tomorrow.”

“This is what you want. Right?”

She nodded. It’s what she wanted, so why was she disappointed? “I suppose I’m afraid to get too excited in case it falls through again.” She looked around. “If I want to make a good impression, I’ll have to give the place a good cleaning before he gets here.”

Rudy had forgotten she planned to leave. Let himself begin to plan a future here that included seeing her daily, spending evenings talking with her. And in some quiet, hidden place, he’d hoped she might share the same idea.

Instead, she was still planning to sell the place and head to California with a friend.

He hurried from the kitchen, his mind twisting with disappointment.

Where did that leave him? And Freddy?

On their own. The open road to follow. Nothing had changed. Why had he thought different?

His feet dragged across the yard. He and Freddy would finish the cart before the man came. They’d give it to Joanna, knowing she would leave it when she headed west.

“Freddy?” No sign of the boy.

He looked around. Freddy sat on the edge of the veranda, holding the black-and-white, ever-patient cat to his chest so hard he wondered the cat didn’t squirm away. Freddy looked at Rudy with dark, angry eyes.

Rudy sighed. He had hoped they were done with the scowls and all that accompanied them. Knowing he couldn’t walk away from the boy’s anger, he crossed the yard and sat beside Freddy. “Thought we should finish the cart for Joanna.”

“Why? She’s leaving.”

He’d overheard the conversation. Rudy understood the anger. Felt a twist of it himself. Along with a long emptiness he should have grown comfortable with by now. But he wasn’t. “We’ve known from the start she planned to leave.”

Freddy pushed the cat from his lap. “It don’t matter to me.” He stomped toward the trail, and when he thought he was out of sight, he broke into a run.

Rudy reached for the cat and pulled it to his lap. “Nothing is ever what we want it to be,” he murmured. The ball of fur rewarded him with a sympathetic purr. Then a fluttering leaf caught its attention, and it leaped from his lap. “Can’t even count on cats.”

He headed for the shed, but his heart wasn’t in building a cart. He veered in the direction of the woodpile. Driving the ax over and over through a log was the only way he could think of dealing with the way his insides raged.

The next two days were busy. Cora and Joanna scrubbed every surface in the house. Rudy and Freddy—when he could find the boy—hauled in wood and water and carried out ashes and the used water.

But the activity did nothing to ease the tension building inside Rudy. He felt awkward and unable to say anything to Joanna beyond, “Here’s the water. Do you need anything more?”

The expected visitor arrived midafternoon of the second day. Rudy leaned against the corner of the woodshed and took a good look. Mr. Avery and his wife were younger than he’d expected. Probably close to his age. They looked around with interest before Joanna opened the door and invited them inside.

Her gaze found Rudy, and he straightened. But he could not pull away. Why did he feel as if she accused him? He could think of nothing he’d done or left undone that would make her look at him so. Then she turned to the Averys and closed the door behind them.

Rudy pushed away from the woodshed and headed up the trail, feeling a little like Freddy. He wanted to break into a run as soon as he was out of sight.

The Averys were present for supper, and their eager expressions said it all. They liked this place.

Rudy kept part of his attention on his food and the rest on Freddy, who muttered under his breath at everything the Averys said. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice. But Rudy wondered if he would have to drag the boy from the table.

He avoided looking at Joanna, not knowing if he could bear to see excitement and joy in her face. But he must know for sure. He stole a glance her way.

His gaze collided with hers. And his mouthful of food stalled halfway down his throat. Her brown eyes were steady and full of determination. As if she had decided so she would follow through.

Is this what she really wanted?

He forced his attention back to his plate and worked at getting his food down.

Obviously she wanted to sell, or she wouldn’t do it. Joanna knew what she wanted and how to get it. Look at how she’d taken care of her sisters.

What was there about looking after her sisters that scratched at the back of his mind? He failed to find it.

Later that night, the Averys took the small bedroom off the dining room. The other guests bedded down in the dining room, some staying up to read by lantern light.

Freddy brought in the last of the firewood to fill the box for morning, and Rudy emptied out the last of the wash water.

“Cora and I were about to have tea. Will you join us?” Joanna said.

It was their customary bedtime routine. Often the two of them would sit and visit long after Cora and Freddy had gone to bed.

He clenched his jaw muscles tight. He should have never accepted the first invitation. Nor allowed himself to anticipate those evening hours. If he’d never enjoyed them, he wouldn’t know how much it would hurt to lose them.

“I’m going to bed.” Freddy hurried from the room without a backward look.

Rudy watched him leave. He should follow. But he couldn’t deny himself this pleasure any sooner than he had to. He sat while Cora poured tea.

Joanna waited for her to sit. “The Averys are very interested in taking over the stopping house. They want to do so immediately, and of course, the sooner Sarah and I leave for California, the better.”

Rudy nodded as misery touched every corner of his heart. “You’ll be able to follow your dream.” Though for the life of him he couldn’t remember her ever mentioning California as a place she longed to visit. Of course, he didn’t pretend to know everything about her.

“Cora,” she continued. “They would like you to stay on and help them learn how things are done.” Her smile touched her eyes as she studied Cora. “Though I don’t expect you’ll be wanting to stay too long.”

Cora blushed prettily.

Joanna chuckled. “I think when Austin comes back you will be making other plans.”

“Maybe.” Cora’s smile lit her face. “I hope so.”

Rudy managed to say something he hoped sounded happy for them both.

A few minutes later, Cora excused herself. Rudy stared at his empty cup. He should go, too, but somehow couldn’t make either his feet or his mouth work.

“I’m going to miss our evening visits,” Joanna said.

Then don’t go.
But the words would not leave his mouth. How could he ask her to give up her dreams? How could he expect her to have any lasting feelings toward him? “You’ll be enjoying your time with your friend.” It was Rudy who would have a huge hole in his heart that Joanna had filled. Freddy, too, would feel the loss.

He couldn’t remain any longer, silently bemoaning the fact she was about to do exactly what she’d planned from the beginning. He stumbled to his feet. “Good night.”

He fled to the other room and arranged himself on his bedroll. He knew Freddy was still awake from the way he stiffened.

There’d likely be little sleep for either of them tonight.

But he drifted off sooner than he anticipated into a nightmare in which he heard Joanna calling. Desperate. Pleading. But a thick fog blinded him, and he couldn’t find her because of the murkiness.

He struggled against the haze.

He fought his way through his sleep, knowing if he woke up he could escape the fear.

He wakened with a jolt and sat straight up.

The room was dark except for a flickering light under the kitchen door. Had someone left on a lantern? He had to put it out. He pulled on his trousers and headed for the room, gasping as he sucked in acrid smoke.

“Fire!” he yelled. “Fire!” He raced through the kitchen and banged on the bedroom door where Joanna and Cora slept. “Wake up! There’s a fire.”

M
en began to waken. “Organize a bucket brigade,” he yelled as he continued to bang on Joanna’s door.

She emerged, her split skirt pulled on over a baggy faded shirt of some sort. Boots on her feet. Her hair hung in a thick braid. He saw it all in an instant.

She looked at him with startled eyes then past him to the flames licking at the corner of the kitchen. She grabbed his arms. “The place is on fire.”

He gripped her shoulders for a moment to assure himself she was real and solid and this wasn’t a continuation of his nightmare. “Make sure everyone is up.” He allowed himself one second to see if she understood then raced away.

Two pails of water stood on the cupboard, ready for breakfast preparations. He tossed the contents into the fire. The flames sizzled and fell back but only for as long as it took for the buckets to empty. The fire centered in the corner near the door. Something glowed—the shell of another bucket? But the flames licked up the wall and headed for the ceiling before he could get a good look. He headed outside and called to the men. “Hurry with the water.”

He joined the line already forming, making sure he was closest to the fire, treading lightly in his bare feet. He saw Joanna leave the house, Cora at her side.

“Everyone is out safely,” she assured him.

Then he forgot everything but tossing bucket after bucket of water on the flames. He barely registered the line of men passing buckets from hand to hand or the man working the pump handle furiously. Smoke stung his eyes and burned his lungs. His eyes watered, but he fought onward. They would save the stopping house if he had to beat the fire out with his bare hands.

Bit by bit they reduced the flames until nothing remained but a blackened, drenched skeleton of a wall.

“It’s out.” He held a bucket of water ready in his hands in case something rekindled. But the wall was sodden. Unlikely to burn. Nevertheless, he wasn’t about to take a chance. “Line up buckets of water in case it flares up someplace.”

Only then did he take stock.

His clothes were soaked through. His feet hurt. He realized he stood barefoot in the yard and glanced at the others. The men were in various stages of dress, and a few of them were also barefoot.

“You all need to wash. I’ll make coffee.” Joanna hustled about, organizing a fire where it belonged—in the fire pit to the back of the lot. Then she hurried inside.

Rudy followed and heard her cry out. He rushed into the kitchen.

“It’s ruined,” she moaned. “Everything is ruined.”

Morning threw pale light into the sky, illuminating the mess. One wall blackened and still dripping, water dripping off the top of the stove and from the cupboard, the floor a muddy mess of soot and ashes.

He stood at her side. “It’s fixable.”

“I can’t run a place like this. Or sell it.” Her voice quivered as she stood in gray muck in the middle of the kitchen.

His insides turned to jelly at her distress, and he draped an arm over her shoulders to comfort her.

“You’re all wet,” she murmured. But she didn’t edge away.

“It’s just water.”

She tried to smile. “I guess that’s good to know.”

He wondered if she was going to break down, but she sighed. “It could be worse.” They stared at the mess for a moment then she pulled herself straight. “I better see to my guests.”