Thimbles and Thistles: (Sweet Historical Western Romance) (Baker City Brides Book 2)

by Shanna Hatfield

  Ian stilled and returned to a calm sleep.

  Maggie heard her back door open and the heavy tread of boots on the steps.

  She stuck her hand in her pocket and fingered her revolver, in case it wasn’t Tully. It seemed to take forever for a head to pop around the corner. When she saw Tully’s face, she let out the breath she’d held and released the gun.

  “Planning to shoot me?” Tully grinned at her, knowing she kept the revolver in her pocket.

  “Not unless you were up to something you shouldn’t be.” Maggie grinned at him and walked into the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee or a piece of cake?”

  “I’ll take some coffee and sit with Ian while you get some rest.” Tully hung his hat on a kitchen chair and washed his hands at the sink.

  “I think a much better idea would be for you to get some rest. You look done in.” Maggie poured Tully some coffee and cut a large slice of cake, setting it on a plate. “Sit down for a few minutes and eat this.”

  “When did you get to be so bossy?” Tully teased, taking a seat and accepting the fork Maggie handed him.

  “It just comes naturally.” She grinned at him as she sat across the table. “Did everyone make it out of the mine?”

  “Yep. There were several minor injuries and more than a few broken bones, but we didn’t lose a single man today.” Tully took a drink of the hot coffee. He knew accidents at the mines always bothered Maggie, reminded her of the day they’d lost Daniel. He and Thane found their thoughts returning to Daniel’s death anytime they had to help with a cave-in or explosion at one of the mines.

  “That’s very good news. I’m so glad.”

  “Me, too.” Tully watched as Maggie worked to stifle a yawn. “I mean it, Maggie, get some rest. You can take over later and give me a turn.”

  “Fine, but when you’re sitting in there fighting to keep your eyes open, just remember I offered to let you get some sleep.”

  Maggie went to her room, changed into her nightgown and unpinned her hair. She brushed the long, dark curls before braiding it and tying a ribbon on the end. Exhausted, she folded back her covers and slid between the sheets then blew out the lamp by the bed.

  Hours later, she awoke, not quite certain what disturbed her. The deep rumble of men’s voices vibrated in the silence. Fully awake, she snatched the wrapper off the end of her bed, shoved her feet into slippers, and opened her bedroom door.

  She stepped into the guest bedroom to see Ian sitting up in bed, looking much more like himself while Tully sat in the rocking chair nursing another cup of coffee.

  “We didn’t mean to wake you, Maggie,” Tully said, smiling at her over his coffee cup. “Go on back to bed.”

  “No, I’m awake and won’t go back to sleep. Why don’t you get some rest, Tully? You’ll be worthless tomorrow if you don’t.” Maggie watched as Tully lumbered to his feet and handed her his cup.

  “A few minutes of shut-eye would be good.” Tully patted her on the back then started toward her front room.

  She leaned into the hall and watched him. “Oh, just sleep in my room, Tully. You won’t get any rest on the sofa and you know it.”

  Tully raised an eyebrow at her, but turned around and went into her bedroom. He blew her a playful kiss then shut the door.

  Maggie took his cup of cold coffee to the kitchen and poured it down the sink then filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat.

  While it warmed, she returned to Ian’s room. “Do you need anything, Ian? Something to drink or eat?”

  “No, lass. I think sleep is the best thing for me. I’m sorry to be such a bother to you and the sheriff.” Ian slid back down in the bed. Before he could adjust his covers, Maggie pulled them up over his shoulder and brushed his hair away from the stitches on his forehead.

  He closed his eyes, enjoying her ministrations. The cool of her hands combined with her gentle touch both comforted and excited him.

  “Sleep well, Ian, and sweet dreams.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ian opened his eyes and looked up at an unfamiliar ceiling in the hazy morning light. Slowly turning his head, he decided he had to be lost in his dreams because Maggie slept in the rocking chair next to the bed.

  Dark hair curled around her face, having escaped the confines of her braid. He studied the lace-trimmed blue wrapper that covered her from her chin to her toes. Her head rested against the back of the chair and her lips parted slightly in slumber.

  Ian imagined what those lips would taste like, should he be bold enough to steal one, or a dozen, kisses.

  He thought about how she would respond if he woke her up with a smooch and grinned. The action made his head ache. Gingerly, he raised a hand to his forehead, recalling the accident at the mine and the visit to the doctor’s office for stitches the previous afternoon. A glance down confirmed the gash to his shoulder hadn’t miraculously healed overnight.

  Ian sat up in bed. His head no longer pounded with a brutal force and the ringing in his ears had ceased. He was also ravenously hungry. That had to be a good sign he was on the mend.

  Quiet and watchful, he folded back the covers and rose to his feet, swaying slightly. Once he steadied himself, he picked up his clothes and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. If he wasn’t as weak as a kitten, he would have picked up Maggie and tucked her into the bed.

  It required what strength he possessed to dress himself. At some point, Maggie had washed and pressed his clothes. He wondered how she’d managed to get the blood out of the fabric. As he buttoned the shirt, he noted her careful mending of the tear in the sleeve, caused by the timber that cut his shoulder and head.

  After pulling on his boots, he sat in her front room, working up the gumption to get himself home. His men would arrive at the lumber yard soon and he needed to get to work.

  Ian glanced up at the sound of a door opening. Tully Barrett walked down the hall on silent feet, carrying his boots in one hand and gun belt in the other.

  Vague recollections of the sheriff sitting up with him during the night floated through his mind. Ian didn’t realize the man had slept at Maggie’s, too.

  Ruefully, he smiled. The woman didn’t do anything by half measures, even create a scandal.

  If the old biddies in town got wind she’d had not one but two eligible bachelors spend the night at her apartment, she’d be run out of Baker City on a rail.

  Tully tugged on his boots, fastened the belt around his hips, and gave Ian a questioning glance. Ian tipped his head toward the closed bedroom door and Tully nodded in understanding.

  The sheriff gave him a hand to his feet and the two of them made their way down the stairs and out the door.

  “I take it you’re better today,” Tully said as they walked down the alley and around the corner.

  Ian nodded. “Much. Still a little weak with a headache, but I can think straight today. At least, for the most part.”

  Tully chuckled, started to slap him on the back, then thought better of it. “Do you need some help getting home?”

  “No, but thanks for the offer.” Ian started to step away but turned back. “Thanks for your help yesterday, Sheriff. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, get home and get some rest.”

  Ian nodded again and walked off in the direction of his lumberyard. By the time he reached the office, he could barely move his feet and stopped inside to rest. His manager’s eyes widened as he took in Ian’s stitched forehead and pale skin.

  “What happened, boss? You look like…”

  Ian held up a hand as he sank into the chair at his desk. “You don’t need to say any more. I went to help with the mine explosion yesterday and caught a falling timber to the head. Doc had to give me a few stitches, that’s all.”

  “I didn’t realize you got back yesterday.” Lon Bryant rose to his feet and walked over to where Ian slumped in his chair. “Didn’t expect to see you until this afternoon.”

  “My meetings wrapped up
earlier than I expected.” Ian looked out the window, watching as his men arrived to begin work for the day. “Everything go fine here?”

  “Yep. Just like always. Mr. Jordan was in and left the final order for the house. He asked if we could deliver it next week.”

  Ian nodded his head then wished he hadn’t when the movement made him dizzy. “Good. I’ll take it out myself when it’s ready.” Ian pushed to his feet and shuffled to the door. “For now, I’m going home. If anything comes up, you know where to find me.”

  “Sure thing, boss. Take it easy.”

  The distance between the office and house had never seemed so long to Ian as he made his way across the meadow. It seemed like miles instead of a few hundred feet. He raised a hand in greeting to Charles Byron, grateful for the man who took care of his livestock and the yard. Ian forced his feet up the steps and inside the house. Deciding he’d never make it up the stairs, he took off his shirt and tossed it aside, removed his boots and settled onto his long sofa with a relieved sigh.

  The sound of Maggie’s voice tickled his ears while her sweet fragrance teased his nose and awakened him.

  “Ian? Please wake up. Ian? Can you hear me?” She patted his cheek then cool fingers brushed the hair away from his forehead. “Please, Ian. Wake up.”

  When he reached out and grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm, she squeaked in surprise. He opened his eyes and grinned at her.

  “Maggie, lass, what are you doing here?” Ian watched as she jumped to her feet and took a step away from his sofa. She wore the coral-colored gown that he’d deemed his favorite with her abundance of curls caught up on top of her head. In spite of her lack of sleep the previous night, she looked refreshed and bright-eyed as she stared at him.

  “You and Tully left this morning without as much as a by-your-leave. I wanted to make sure you were well. I stopped by your office and Mr. Bryant said you were here.” Maggie picked up a basket she’d set on a nearby table. “I brought you some soup and bread, and a slice of the cake you missed out on yesterday.”

  “Cake?” Ian sat up but a wave of dizziness forced him to take a deep breath and wait for the world to stop spinning around him.

  “Just sit right there. I think I can manage my way around your kitchen enough to fix a plate for you. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? Some milk?”

  “Tea would be good.”

  Reluctantly, she grasped the hand Ian held out to her. The contact of their skin connecting made heat zing up her arm and spread to every extremity. “Tea it is.”

  “Thank you for checking on me, Maggie. I’m sorry to be such a bother to you.”

  The earnest look on his face made her want to wrap her arms around him and offer a comforting embrace. She chased away the feeling by giving him a glance full of scorn. “You aren’t a bother, Ian. Although, the next time I’m trying to take care of you, at least have the decency to tell me when you’re ready to leave.”

  Ian pasted on a penitent expression, pretending her words left him thoroughly chastised. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Maggie breezed out of the room. Ian heard her steps in the hall and the sounds of her working in his kitchen. He entirely liked the idea of her being in charge of his home. It wouldn’t be a hardship to wake up to her face next to his every morning, to see her bustling about the house, and come home to her each evening. No, it wouldn’t be a hardship at all.

  The problem rested in Maggie’s determination to remain unwed. Thane assured him he just needed to convince her it was time to entertain the idea of becoming a wife again. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t made much progress in changing her mind.

  “Here’s some tea and toast to start with. If that sits well, I’ll bring you a bowl of soup.” Maggie set a tray across his lap with a steaming cup of tea and two slices of warm, buttered bread.

  Ian offered a brief prayer of thanks for his simple meal and ate the bread. He couldn’t remember when anything had tasted so good and decided he hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours. No wonder he was so hungry.

  When he finished the tea and the last of the toast, Maggie took the tray to the kitchen. She returned with another cup of tea and a steaming bowl of soup, along with another piece of bread.

  After he ate every bite, he sat back against the cushions of the sofa, exhausted. Breadcrumbs sprinkled across his chest, making him itch. Ian brushed them off and remembered he’d discarded his shirt when he walked in the door. At least he’d left his pants on. Although he knew Maggie had gotten an eye full the day she caught him bathing at the river, he didn’t want to push the boundaries of propriety too far.

  The cocky, conceited part of him hoped she liked what she saw that day. He knew she’d ogled him from head to toe and back again.

  The wayward direction of his thoughts brought him up short. Reining them back into line, he released a contented sigh and stretched out on the sofa. Full of nourishing food, his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open.

  A soft hand brushed over his cheek and a pillow settled beneath his head.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” he whispered as sleep overtook him again.

  The next time he awoke, he took a moment to assess his aches and pains. While his shoulder and forehead both ached, they no longer throbbed with pain. His headache seemed mostly gone and he felt quite rested.

  Ian opened his eyes and looked around his sitting room. He was alone, but Maggie had draped a blanket over him. Curious, he wondered if she’d stayed and watched him sleep or if she’d gone back to her shop.

  Unhurried, he sat up. When he stood without a wave of dizziness flowing over him, he knew he’d made progress.

  After walking down the hall to the bathroom, he took a moment to study his wounds in the mirror. He had no doubt the wounds would leave behind wicked scars, but the one on his forehead would be clearly visible. Maybe it would add to his rugged appeal.

  He imagined his mother and grandmother fussing over it. A chuckle rolled out of him, making him glad both of the women lived a few thousand miles away.

  Ian needed a bath and made his way upstairs to his room. While the tub filled, he studied the wounds again. He sank into the tub, letting the hot water soak away his aching muscles along with the dirt that coated him from the mine.

  “I must look and smell like a filthy pig,” he muttered to himself as he soaped his hair and dunked his head beneath the water.

  When he finished, he felt much improved. He brushed his teeth and cleaned up after himself then wandered back downstairs to the kitchen. Hungry, he hoped Maggie left him some of the good soup she’d fed him earlier.

  He’d just entered the room when a knock sounded at the front door. Ian started down the hall and smiled when Maggie stuck her head inside. She appeared surprised to see him up and dressed in clean clothes.

  “You look almost decent, Mr. MacGregor. Might I assume you feel more like yourself?” Maggie teased as she followed him to the kitchen, carrying a basket of food.

  “I am, lass. I even managed to take a bath. Why didn’t you tell me I stunk worse than a billy goat in a gully washer?” Ian tried to take the basket from her, but she refused, setting it on the table in the kitchen and removing the cloth covering the top.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “I thought you smelled more like something dead a dog dragged home, but who am I to judge.”

  Ian grinned and watched as she removed a jar of stew along with a loaf of warm bread and another jar filled with milk. A tin held cookies. Eagerly, Ian snitched one while Maggie poured the stew into a bowl and sliced the bread, setting it on a plate.

  “I’ll leave you to your supper, Ian. Try not to overdo and make sure you get plenty of rest.” Maggie turned and started to leave but Ian caught her hand.

  “Don’t go, lass. Won’t you stay and eat with me?” Gently, he tugged her back toward the table.

  Maggie couldn’t have refused Ian even if she wanted to. He looked so boyish and appealing with tousled hair an
d a half-eaten cookie still held in one hand. “I’ve already eaten my supper, Ian, but I’ll sit with you while you eat.”

  He held out a chair for her and she took a seat, watching as he gobbled the rest of his cookie then ate his supper. Between bites, he asked her questions about the accident at the mine, how many men were injured, and things she’d done while he’d been out of town.

  She asked him about Portland, how his meeting went with his potential buyers, and if he had time to see any sights in the city.

  “In all of the hubbub yesterday, I almost forgot I brought you something, lass. Wait here.” Ian got to his feet and hurried up the back stairs to the second floor of his home.

  Maggie could hear his steps overhead. He thumped back down the steps, holding a box in his hands.

  He set it in front of her at the table, resuming his seat as he helped himself to another cookie and filled his glass with more milk. “Go on, lass. Open it.”

  Maggie removed the gold foil paper covering the box and opened the lid to reveal of pair of ornate silver embroidery scissors on a bed of blue velvet.

  “My gracious, Ian!” She lifted the scissors in her hand and studied the detailed handles, featuring curling vines, scrolls, and flowers. When she closed the scissors, the handles together formed a heart with two lovebirds in the center of the design.

  A pain arced through her chest as one of the impenetrable walls she erected around her heart after Daniel’s death started to collapse. The scissors were one of the sweetest, most romantic things she’d ever seen.

  With haste borne of desperation, she dropped them into the box, snapped the lid closed, and slid it toward Ian. “I can’t accept this, Ian. It’s too much, far too expensive.”

  “Nae, lass. It’s but a token of thanks for your friendship and care.” Ian started to slide the box back across the table to her, but he stopped, frowning. “Do you not like them, Maggie? Are they not something you could use?”

  “Oh, Ian…” Maggie covered his hand with hers. “They are the loveliest scissors I’ve ever seen. It is a beautiful, thoughtful gift.”