Finally a Bride (33 page)

Noah wasn’t all that much older than Billy, he imagined. Three or four years at the most. What did he know about dealing with grown children—or any children for that matter?
Give me wisdom, Lord
.

“If they have no interest in living at the ranch, why not let them run the mercantile?”

She shook her head. “They don’t want to do that, either. I don’t like to talk bad about my own children, but the truth is they’re both lazy. I found out a long time ago that it was easier to do things myself rather than fight Billy or Tessa to do them.” She kept her head down. “You must think me a terrible mother.”

“Not at all. It’s not my place to judge you, ma’am.” He started to lay his hand on her shoulder, but the mayor turned the corner just then with two other men and walked in their direction. “It just might do both of your children some good to live on the ranch and have Rand Kessler as a stepfather. He’s used to dealing with hired help and probably could control them.”

She glanced over her shoulder, then nodded. “I think you may be right. I just don’t know if I can force them to go, especially Billy.” She grabbed her broom and stepped back to let the men pass.

The mayor smiled at the men who accompanied him. “Ah, good. Gentlemen, let me introduce you to our storeowner and our minister.” He waved his hand toward the only woman present. “This is Christine Morgan, who runs our only mercantile, and this is our temporary minister, Noah Jeffers. This is Mr. Humphrey and Mr. Brown. They are here in town on business.”

Noah didn’t miss the intended emphasis on
temporary
. He studied the men while Mrs. Morgan greeted them. Mr. Humphrey was close to six feet but almost as thin as Mrs. Morgan’s broom handle. His dark hair and handlebar mustache were in stark contrast to the shorter Mr. Brown, with his white hair and neatly cropped beard. Their clothing looked storebought and expensive. Rich city folk. When the men turned their eyes on him, he held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet you both. If you’re staying in town, I hope you’ll attend Sunday services.”

Mr. Brown grunted, but Mr. Humphrey’s eyes went wide. Then he turned to the mayor, whose head jerked back at the man’s glare. “We must be on our way,” the mayor hastily said. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Noah nodded and stepped back to make more room for the trio to pass. The boardwalk shimmied as the men’s footsteps thudded across the wooden planks. When they were in front of Polly’s Café, Mrs. Morgan scurried to his side.

“I wonder what kind of business they’re in,” she said, her hands holding tight to her broom handle. “Scuttlebutt says it’s the railroad.”

“I thought talk of the railroad coming here was just rumors.” He glanced down at his paint can, hoping it wasn’t getting too dried out.

She shrugged. “I don’t think so.

“That would be good for the town.”

She nodded then glanced at the can. “I suppose I should let you finish your work so you can go home.”

“I’ll pray for you and your children and that God will give Rand wisdom as you all become a family.”

A shy smile lit her face. “Thank you, Reverend. I appreciate that.” She slipped back into the store, closed the door, and he heard the bolt slide to lock it.

He bent and resumed his work, sending up prayers to God for the Morgan family and for Rand Kessler.

Awhile later, Noah slapped paint on the last board and stood back to admire his handiwork. Mrs. Morgan may not have owned the store when he’d committed his wicked deed, but at least he felt he’d done all he could to make recompense for it. He pressed the lid on the paint can. He turned toward the boardinghouse but noticed Jackie, skirts held high, hurrying down the opposite side of the street, away from her home.

He stooped down again, pretending interest in the can. Jackie slowed her pace as she approached the saloon. She glanced in all directions, but if she noticed him, she didn’t act like it. Besides her, he was the only person on the street. All the businesses were closed up as tight as a spinster’s coin purse, and most decent folks had gone home for the night. That was one reason he’d waited to paint—fewer people on the road meant less stirred-up dust to soil his wet paint.

Jackie tiptoed to the saloon windows and pressed her nose against the glass. It wasn’t likely she could see through the dingy, smoke-covered panes that he’d noticed once or twice as he’d passed by. She tiptoed to the swinging doors, pushed one open a little, and peered inside. Noah stood. After a few moments, she darted to her right and around the far corner of the building, waving her hand in front of her nose.

What in the world?

He scratched the back of his head. He never paid much attention to the Wet Your Whistle, but he couldn’t imagine what would cause Jack to slink down the street like a wolf on the prey and peek inside such a place. A man stumbled out and tottered to his horse, which was tied to the hitching post in front of the saloon. After four tries, he managed to mount the poor critter. Noah shook his head. Not even dusk yet, and the cowboy was already drunk. After the man rode out, barely staying in his saddle, Jack reappeared and hurried to the double doors again.

Noah lifted the brush up and down, close to the wall but not touching it, so she would think he wasn’t watching—but he was. His curiosity had definitely been piqued.

Jack jumped back, then darted around the left side of the building. The saloon owner burst through the doors, sending them flying against the wall. He shoved his hands to his hips, looking back toward town. Noah set the paint and brush just under the porch steps, so they’d be out of the way, and broke into a jog.

He didn’t know what that ornery gal was up to, but he intended to find out.

Chapter 24

J
ack’s heart pounded as she raced around the side of the saloon. Holding her hand over her mouth, she tried to quiet her cough. How could those men stand being in that smoky, smelly place for hours?

She leaned against the rough wood, willing her heart to slow down. This was just another of her harebrained ideas that was probably nothing but an effort in futility. She ought to run back home before she was missed, but she knew she wouldn’t. There was a story here, she could smell it.

If she hadn’t been outside hanging Andrew’s diapers on the line to dry, she wouldn’t have noticed the mayor and his two companions strolling down Bluebonnet Lane. Her heart had pounded as she followed to see where they were headed. She hadn’t even known that those men—the same ones who’d been at the mayor’s home the day she climbed on the roof—had returned to Lookout. They had stopped at the end of Bluebonnet Lane, past Elm Street, where there was nothing but a few houses, then open prairie all the way to the Addams River. The mayor had waved his hand, almost as if offering the land to the men.

They must be going to build something, but what? The town could use many types of new businesses, but the way the mayor was keeping this project such a secret made her suspicious.

Something banged hard against the wall she leaned on, and she jumped. Night was falling. She needed to finish her task and get away from this vile place before Luke saw her or something bad happened. Her papa had warned her to stay clear of the Wet Your Whistle, even during the daytime. He didn’t need to warn her about being here at night.

Pushing her feet into action, she tiptoed to the end of the building and peered in both directions. No people were out, but crickets and lightning bugs already heralded the coming darkness. She’d seen the mayor and his friends at the bar; then they’d headed upstairs. She surmised that there must be a private meeting or maybe gambling room the men planned to use. She swallowed hard as she worked her way around to the back stairs. She sure hoped the men hadn’t come here with pleasure in mind.

The first weathered stair creaked from her weight. She winced and held her breath. Her fears were silly—who could hear a faint squeak over the ruckus coming from the saloon? The tinny piano music did little to mellow out the loud chatter, groans, and hollers from the men inside the building. And if the noise was bad, the stench was horrid. Unfortunately, she was downwind of the saloon’s privies, and she suspected half the folks who ventured out of the building to use them never made it that far.

She hiked her skirt up farther and hurried quietly up the steps. She reached the landing, but she didn’t dare go inside. The line had to be drawn somewhere. Her mother would be proud that she was finally learning to set some boundaries for her behavior.

To her left, the two windows on the rear of the saloon were dark, but light flowed from the ones to her right. She reached up toward one of the open windows, but it was too high and too far to her right to grasp. Jack glanced around, making sure no one was about, then lifted her skirt and climbed onto the landing’s railing. Too bad she hadn’t had time to don her bloomers.

Deep voices echoed from the window. “It’s good in theory, but if the railroad fails to come here, we’ll have wasted a small fortune.”

“That’s true, and we will also lose the faith of our investors.”

Jack didn’t recognize either voice. She held onto the railing support that ran up the side of building. She glanced down, barely able to make out the ground below in the growing darkness. If she fell that far, she could well injure her knee again, and the pain had just barely stopped biting her with its sharp teeth.

She shook off her apprehension like a winter cloak. This was nothing compared to walking on the mayor’s roof.

“I understand, gentlemen, but I just received a certified document stating that the Katy Railroad will definitely be building a spur track from Denison to Lookout and on farther west. Construction of the rails is set to commence in a few weeks.”

Jack’s heart soared at the mayor’s declaration. She’d gotten her scoop! The railroad was coming to Lookout, and she was the only one who knew except for these men. She needed more details and to find out what they planned to build. Maybe it was the depot. But no, wouldn’t the railroad company take care of that?

She held her breath and leaned sideways to reach the window frame three feet away. Her right foot slipped, flailing, unable to find a place to land. Her fingertips latched onto the window casing, keeping her from falling. She managed to get her foot back on the railing, but now she leaned precariously to the right.

One man stood and walked toward the window. Jack sucked in a breath and leaned her head away from the light. If he looked out, he’d see her fingertips on the window’s frame.

Sprawled out like she was, she felt like a newborn foal that had just stood up for the first time. Good thing night had come, or anyone below would have a clear view of her unmentionables.

“I’m not convinced this town has need of a hotel,” Mr. Mustache, as she had dubbed the man, said.

Hotel?

They planned to build a hotel in Lookout?

Why … that would put the boardinghouse out of business. How could they compete with a brand-new hotel? Irritation at the mayor seared her belly and flared her nostrils—definitely not a good thing, given her closeness to the privies. She scrunched her nose shut on the inside, just like she did when she changed Andrew’s messy diapers, but that did nothing to quell the fire burning in her gut.

No wonder the mayor had been so devious and wouldn’t let her listen in on his conversation with these men. Mayor Burke had once planned to buy the boardinghouse and make it his home back when her ma thought Luke would marry one of the boardinghouse brides. But when Luke picked her, she canceled her plans to sell out and move away. The boardinghouse was far bigger and fancier than Mayor Burke’s present house, and he’d always admired her home. Was that his purpose? To drive her family out of business so they’d have to move and sell the boardinghouse? Of all the …

“Our surveyor should arrive within the week.”

“I’m not sure where we will put him,” Mayor Burke said. “There’s not another bedroom at my house.”

“Perhaps he could stay at the boardinghouse and investigate our competition.” Mr. Mustache chuckled.

The mayor snorted. “Mrs. Davis’s place won’t be much of a threat to your establishment. That minister is the only boarder she has now. At the rate she’s birthing babies, it won’t be long before she’s filled the house with children and won’t have any more rooms to let.”

Jack sucked in another gasp, trying to keep quiet. Her fingers were starting to ache, as was her knee, bent in an unnatural manner as it was. She tightened her grasp on the window frame, halfway wondering how she was going to get back on the landing.

A drunk in the doorway mumbled something incoherent and fumbled with the screen door latch. Suddenly it flew open, banging into her hip and sending her flying.

For a fraction of a moment, she hung only by the fingertips of her right hand. Her body swung far to the right. Her fingers slipped. Her frantic heart tried desperately to escape her chest.

She would not fall.

Not again.

Help me, Lord
.

She forced her trembling left hand up to the frame and grabbed on. Her boots slipped against the fabric of her petticoat as she tried to gain a foothold. If the men so much as glanced her way they’d see her hands. Her breath came in little gasps. The ache in her fingers intensified.