Her Montana Man (3 page)

and her young nephew.

No doubt about it, there were unscrupulous employment agencies. Many times workers had shown up

at The Sutherland Brick Company to find out that two or three times as many forms as there were

positions had been sold. Eliza didn’t know if this man was one of those agents or not. His father had been

the town doctor for a good many years. Rumor had it that Dr. Black’s wife had been killed and he’d

never gotten over it.

Bonnie brought Eliza Jane’s pot of tea. “Piping hot,” she said, placing it on the table. “Care for a cup?”

she asked Jonas.

“Thanks, no,” he said with a shake of his head.

Bonnie headed back to the kitchen.

Jonas had left Silver Bend years ago, and since his return Eliza hadn’t had opportunity to do more than

see him in passing. She didn’t have much firsthand knowledge at all, except that he was polite whenever

he greeted her. It was common knowledge that he owned and ran the saloon and the hotel, and she’d

never heard anyone other than her brother-in-law speak poorly of him.

She had learned one thing today, however. Without hesitation for his own safety, he had protected the

Holmes woman from a man she obviously feared. The way he’d stood up to her tormenter spoke

volumes about Jonas’s character.

“You should probably take care of that hand,” she said.

He glanced down at his knuckles. A nasty gash and blue-tinged swelling were evidence of the pain

Baslow would be feeling for a while to come. Jonas flexed his fingers with a nod. “It’ll be fine.”

Bonnie returned with a rose-patterned plate holding a frosted tea cake.

Jonas glanced from Eliza to Bonnie. “Ladies.”

Eliza nodded a farewell.

“Jonas,” Bonnie replied.

He turned and exited the shop. The bell tinkled twice, echoing into the subsequent silence.

“What do you make of that?” Bonnie asked.

Eliza looked at her, puzzled.

“I’ve seen the man toe-to-toe with miscreants before, but I’ve never known him to set foot in here. You

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must’ve made a powerful impression.”

“I don’t know about that,” she replied, quickly looking down and stirring sugar into her tea.

“How is Jenny Lee today?” Bonnie asked, changing the subject.

“Sit down for a few minutes,” Eliza invited, then tasted the lemon-frosted pastry and dabbed her lips

with her napkin. “It’s a fair day, as her days go.”

Bonnie sat with her hands folded under her chin, studying Eliza. “And she still insists that you take time

for yourself every afternoon.”

Eliza picked up her cup and blew across the surface of the fragrant liquid. “She’s concerned she’s a

burden. Of course she’s not, but she says the least I deserve is an hour a day to myself. I come to walk

Tyler home from school anyway, so I may as well arrive in town a little early.” She glanced at the brooch

timepiece pinned to her dress. “My time’s been cut short today.”

She took her coin purse from her pocket.

“Your refreshments are complimentary today.” Bonnie extended a hand to prevent Eliza from producing

a coin. “You barely had time to enjoy it.”

“Regardless, you brewed it.”

“You’re my best customer,” Bonnie argued. “I can give you a cup of tea now and then if I like.”

Eliza smiled and picked up her hat. “Thank you.”

After Bonnie walked her to the door, she exited the shop and headed east. Nearly every structure along

Main Street was made of brick. Prior to firing them, she could remember stamping the bricks, like those

that comprised Brauman’s Leather Goods, alongside her father and three other men.

A loaded wagon rumbled past. Eight years ago they’d sold the bricks that paved the street for a dollar

seventeen a thousand. She’d overseen each wagon that left the yard. She’d be leaving a part of her

behind when she left this town.

Eliza abandoned Main Street for the open lots between the businesses and the school yard. Three

weeks of sun and little rain had dried ground that had been soggy from melted snow only a month ago.

Reaching the shade of an ancient sycamore, she sat on the grass, tucking her skirts around her, to await

dismissal.

Four years ago she’d persuaded the town council to replace the wood frame schoolhouse with brick by

telling them of the hazard from flying sparks cast by the woodstove. They’d insisted on painting the

building white, and she’d had no problem with that as long as the children were safe. She’d supervised

construction herself, as well as donated half the bricks, plus a fireplace and chimney.

A team and wagon driven by a young farmhand in a straw hat rolled to a stop near the sound little

structure. The same fellow came to town each day to collect sons and daughters from outlying farms.

School remained in session until fall when the children were needed to work in the fields.

The door opened. Miss Fletcher used a hook and eye from the door to the rail on the banister to hold it

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open. A line of children streamed from the building into the sunlight, some running, others chatting with

friends.

Tyler’s pale blond hair stood out from the others’, and Eliza Jane’s heart swelled with tenderness as it

had every time she’d seen him since the moment he was born.

He walked between two other boys, their heads bent over something Timmy Hatcher held in his cupped

palm. Timmy spoke and Tyler and the other boy nodded and laughed.

Eliza stood and walked to the hard dirt path that led from the school toward town. Girls with braids

passed with shy greetings.

Tyler looked up and spotted her waiting. He said a hasty goodbye to his friends and continued forward.

He used to run to her, eager for a hug, but he would turn eight his next birthday, and he saved his hugs

for bedtime now. She extended a hand, but he pretended he didn’t see it and walked beside her, two

books under his arm.

“Did Miss Fletcher give two assignments for this evening?” she asked.

“Yep. The arithmetic is hard, too.”

“Fortunate for you, you’re such a smart boy,” she replied.

He nodded in all seriousness. “Mikey Kopeke has a harder time. And his dad don’t let him do his

homework cause he has chores.”

“A lot of the children have chores,” she said. “Their parents need them to help with the animals and the

crops more than they need them to memorize times tables.”

“Papa says when you know your times tables and letters you don’t have to work so hard all your life.”

Eliza Jane felt a little sick, the way she always did at the sight or mention of Royce Dunlap. “Papa’s right

about getting a good education,” she told him. Tyler loved Eliza Jane’s brother-in-law with the fierce

loyalty a boy felt for his father, even though Royce was forever preoccupied with new business ventures

and office matters. More often than not her heart ached for Tyler. No child should go through what he

had with an ill mother and an emotionally distant father. Especially not this child.

“Mama’s having a pretty good day today,” she told him, trying to sound assuring. Days like this were so

much easier on him.

“But she won’t get better,” he said, without looking at her.

Her chest ached at the truth as well as the fact that someone so young and vulnerable had to face it. It

was unfair that he had to learn about life this way. “No, Tyler. She won’t get better.”

He glanced up at her then, his blue eyes sad and trusting. If she could change the world for this boy, she

would. She hated feeling helpless. She hated feeling responsible.

But most of all, Eliza hated feeling guilty.

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I

t was a warm sunlit afternoon, and they walked the rest of the way home in silence, pausing at the

wrought iron gate to admire Sutherland’s finest cherry-red brick, the clean lines of the white window

caps and functional green shutters. Eliza loved the irregular Italianate architecture. There were two stories

and an attic in the main section and two stories in the jutting side section where the sitting and dining

rooms were down and an immense sunroom up. In front, the main part featured a jutting two-story

section with windows on three sides on each floor and a balcony atop.

A Queen Anne porch had been added for her mother several years after the original construction. The

home and its rooms held memories of her parents and many good times when her sister was young and

not feeble. They were memories Eliza treasured, even though her heart broke with each recall. They

entered the house, and she sent Tyler upstairs for time alone with Jenny Lee.

Nora Cahill, their neighbor, greeted Tyler on her way down the stairs to the foyer. She turned to watch

him climb to the top and disappear along the hallway to Jenny Lee’s room. Nora turned a saddened gaze

on Eliza. “I don’t even know what to say to the child anymore.”

Eliza’s parents had lived in this house from the time Eliza had been a toddler, and Nora and her husband

had lived next door all those years. As children she and Jenny Lee had played with Nora’s daughter,

Vernelle, who had eventually married and moved East. When Eliza’s mother’s heart had weakened and

she had lingered for weeks, Nora had been a blessing. Years later Nora had comforted the adult sisters

when their father had died.

“None of us thought Jenny Lee would hold on this long. Your mother used to dread her dying. Maybe

it’s best she’s not here for the end.”

Eliza loved Nora like an aunt, but that comment silenced her. She would much rather have her mother

alive today, no matter what.

“Thank you for these afternoons,” she said with heartfelt gratitude. If Jenny Lee hadn’t insisted a year

ago that Eliza take an hour to herself each day, there would probably be weeks at a stretch that she

never left the house or her sister’s side. She needed the nourishing time to draw on inner strength, to think

and to plan.

And she had a plan.

“You know I’m happy to come over any time,” Nora told her. “I left a couple loaves of bread rising.

You can bake them later.”

Eliza leaned to give her a quick hug and then saw her to the door. Closing it, she turned to gaze up the

stairway. It had grown more and more difficult to keep a cheerful attitude and guard her expression. Her

sister looked nothing like the fun-loving, lovely young girl Eliza wanted to remember, but she steadfastly

held her sorrow at bay. Jenny and Tyler needed her now more than ever.

After a difficult moment, she drew a fortifying breath, gathered her skirts and purposefully trod one stair

at a time. The worn banister was familiar and comforting to her touch. She knew the number of steps and

which ones creaked. The house was her solace, her haven. She could find her way around in the pitch

dark without effort. The thought of leaving had always been too much to bear…until now. Any comfort

she’d once drawn here had been spoiled by her brother-in-law’s presence.

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The door to Jenny Lee’s room was always open unless Royce went in to visit her alone, which

happened rarely anymore. A year ago, he’d moved to another room down the hall. Eliza had offered to

bring a cot for him if he was afraid of disturbing his wife’s rest; she had even suggested two smaller beds

instead of the one that had been her parents’, but he declined.

She thought he could have been more attentive and helpful. His moving from the room caused Eliza more

work. Now she needed to check on her sister throughout the night. But she’d learned that defying

Royce’s decisions and demands only caused more trouble, and she had to keep things calm for Jenny

Lee’s sake.

Tyler was sitting on the side of the bed, his expression animated as he finished telling Jenny Lee

something about Timmy Hatcher. Jenny’s adoring smile was already thin. As much as she loved to hear

about Tyler’s day and cling to those last vestiges of normal life, she could only mask the pain and fatigue

for brief spells. When she saw Eliza Jane, regret and relief warred in her sunken eyes.

Immediately interpreting unspoken clues, Tyler kissed Jenny Lee’s cheek before easing himself to stand

beside the bed. “I’ll come back to see you after supper, Mama.”

“I love you, Tyler. You don’t know how much.”

“I love you, too, Mama.”

The sisters watched him leave the room, and then their eyes met. Jenny Lee’s held tears.

“Do you need your medicine?” Eliza asked.

“Please.”

She fed Jenny two teaspoons of the elixir Dr. McKee provided for pain, then helped her turn on her side

and adjusted a few pillows for comfort. Eliza pulled the chair close beside the bed and took a seat.

Jenny Lee reached for her hand. Her sister’s cool fingers felt alarmingly slim and frail and Eliza was

always afraid of hurting her. Jenny was wearing a smile, though, when Eliza’s gaze rose to her face. Her

skin was unnaturally translucent and white, her eyes too shiny.

“Remember when we were girls, Liza, and we couldn’t wait to get home from school with Vernelle?

We’d all go up into the attic room and play for hours. Mother used to shoo us out of doors for fresh air,

and we’d take the same fantasy game we’d been playing to Nora’s backyard behind those big lilac