by Merry Farmer
Rupert grunted and shook his head over the problem just as the hotel’s regal, white-haired manager, Mr. Gunn, approached his table.
“I wanted to take the liberty of delivering your bill for breakfast myself,” Mr. Gunn began in a manner so straightforward that Rupert nearly swallowed his coffee wrong.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, taking the bill from Mr. Gunn’s hand and looking at it.
“Not per se.” Mr. Gunn helped himself to the seat across the table. He folded his hands on the pristine, white tablecloth as if conducting a business meeting. “Word has gotten back to me that you are, in fact, married to Bonnie Horner?”
Dread pooled in Rupert’s stomach, making him wish he hadn’t eaten those eggs. “I don’t think Bonnie wants folks around here to know,” he mumbled.
“No, I imagine not.” Gunn nodded. “And I have taken steps to make sure that the truth remains a secret.”
Rupert’s brow flew up. “You have the power to guarantee that?”
“Yes.”
Something about the dead-pan certainty in Gunn’s eyes sent a shiver down Rupert’s spine. As kindly and charming as this Gunn appeared on the outside, Rupert didn’t want to mess with him.
“What do you want from me, then?” he asked, looking for some sort of writing implement to sign the bill for breakfast. Nothing was on the table, so he patted his pockets out of habit. To his surprise, there was a pencil in his pocket, though he didn’t remember putting it there. It must have been the one the barmy old lady had given him at the train station. Lucky for him, he hadn’t thrown it away. He used it to sign his name to the bill.
“I want you to take care with how you treat our Bonnie,” Gunn went on. “She’s an essential part of this town, very well-respected amongst its citizens, and she provides an important service.”
He couldn’t help it. Rupert arched his brow in a borderline lewd manner.
“Not like that,” Gunn corrected him, a sharp edge in his voice.
Rupert immediately dropped his expression to contrition. “Well, what am I supposed to think? What would anyone think? Two of those girls who work for her exposed themselves to me yesterday like it was some joke. What do you think an average man would assume about them, about the house where they work, and about the owner of that house?” He shoved the bill across the table to Gunn.
“I understand what things appear to be,” Gunn conceded, picking up the bill. “But if you know Bonnie at all, if you’ve had any sort of discussion with her about what she’s really—”
He stopped abruptly as he scanned the bill. A strange sort of confusion furrowed his brow. He blinked, but his stare remained fixed on the bill.
At last, he said, “You have a very nice signature.”
Rupert’s lips curled in a wry grin. “It’s a plain old signature.”
“Still…” Gunn continued to stare at it for a few seconds before clearing his throat and tucking the bill into his jacket pocket. He pressed his fingertips to his brow as if remembering where he was and what he was talking about. “Ah,” he said at last. “My point is, you seem like a fine sort of man and an asset to any community…” He paused, brow sinking to a slight frown, as if that wasn’t quite what he’d meant to say, then went on. “As Bonnie’s husband, you have a right to insist on certain things, but I urge you to be absolutely certain you understand the entire story before you do anything that might interfere with the important work she’s engaged in.”
Rupert narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to let her marry that sack of horse caca, Bonneville.”
Gunn stood, wearing a mysterious and almost triumphant grin. “If I implied that it was my wish for you not to hurt Bonnie by allowing her to continue with that farce of a union with Rex Bonneville, then I apologize. In fact, I meant quite the opposite. But you need to have a care how you go about salvaging that situation. It will do no good for her to lose financial support for her work. Ask for help if you need to. There are plenty around here who will give it.”
Rupert wished he could have found a smart way to reply to Gunn’s statement, but he was left completely speechless. He nodded, Gunn returned the gesture and then walked off, back to work. Rupert spent the next couple of minutes finishing off his coffee, wondering what had just happened and what he could possibly do about it.
He hadn’t come up with a solution by the time he left the restaurant and headed outside. The town was relatively quiet first thing in the morning. Folks were going about their business with purpose. No one was in the mood to do more than send him a friendly smile as he stood on the hotel’s porch, staring across the street at Bonnie’s Place. Her Place looked as sleepy as the rest of town.
He headed down the porch steps, but as his feet hit the dirt of the road, he reconsidered his fleeting idea to confront Bonnie directly. Instead, he turned right and marched along the street that ran perpendicular to Main Street. There were more shops and businesses along that road than there had been last time. The open field where the road curved to the left that he’d vaguely noted four years ago had been transformed into a well-maintained baseball field. There were even a few men out practicing before whatever other work they did.
Rupert continued to walk around, noting several new houses as the road continued to curve, and a gigantic school that looked far too big for the number of children that must inhabit Haskell. Some of those children were already on their way to school. Rupert smiled and nodded at a few of them. He even got smiles back from a parcel of redheaded children who chattered away with each other and their friends as if they’d all kissed the Blarney Stone.
Beyond the school was the church. One glimpse of it, and Rupert stopped in his tracks. A dozen memories clicked into place from his last, miserable visit to Haskell. Rev. George Pickering. Bonnie knew him, had known him before. Rupert had had the uncomfortable feeling that Pickering was in love with Bonnie last time. That or he was just overprotective of his congregation. He’d given Rupert a tongue-lashing that he would never forget. Rupert remembered thinking after the fact that he couldn’t blame the man, and if he couldn’t be with Bonnie, at least she had someone on her side who would look out for her.
That decided him. Hands thrust in his pockets, gut wriggling in anticipation, he marched on to the church.
“Hello?” he called out once he’d entered the sanctuary. Churches had always seemed a bit spooky to him on any day other than Sunday or when there wasn’t a service. Haskell’s church was a bit of a wonder, though. It was outfitted with the most magnificent stained-glass windows that filled the sanctuary with multicolored light. It was hard to hold on to gloom or foreboding with all those colors swirling around him. “Hello? Rev. Pickering?”
A thump sounded from another room, and moments later, a door at the side of the chancel opened.
“Good morning.” Rev. George Pickering stuck his head out of what must have been an office. He wore a pastorly smile…which promptly faded as soon as he saw Rupert. “Oh. Hello.” A moment later, Pickering shook himself, his expression dropping to a confused frown. “What are you doing here?”
Rupert debated what he should say, but only for a second. Blurting out the truth had carried him this far. Why stop now? “I’m here to stop Bonnie from marrying Rex Bonneville.”
Pickering’s eyes popped wide at the declaration. “Well.” He walked slowly toward Rupert, rubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw as he did, eyes still wide with surprise. “I can’t say I expected to hear that.”
“Expected or not, it’s what I’m here to do.” Rupert took his hands out of his pockets, but he didn’t offer to shake with Pickering. He didn’t nod to the man or smile at him. In fact, part of him wanted to throttle the good reverend for having the gall to fall in love with his wife. If he had fallen in love with her.
Pickering stopped a few feet away from Rupert, studying him with a critical eye. “Why now?” He shrugged. “Why show up in Haskell when she’s so close to meeting Bonneville at the altar?”
Rupert crossed his arms. “Did you know that she came over to Everland the other day to see me?”
Pickering’s expression faded to a blankness, but it wasn’t enough to hide that he knew that much and more. “That’s why you came here? Because she came to see you?”
“More things happened in Everland than just a how-dee-doo and a tea party.” His competitive streak wanted to brag about the night he and Bonnie had spent together, to rub in the fact that Pickering had no chance with her.
Something of that self-satisfied pride must have been obvious in his expression. Pickering cleared his throat and met Rupert’s eyes. “I’m not in love with her, you know.”
Guilty prickles broke out down Rupert’s back, and he felt his face flush. “I never said you were.”
Pickering fixed Rupert with a flat stare. “I was, years ago. But mostly because we shared a harrowing experience. Emotions can get confused in times like those. I do care about her, even though I disagree with her decision to keep that place of hers running as a brothel. If she wants to help unfortunate women, then good for her. But she doesn’t need to let them indulge in sin while she does it,” he finished with sudden vehemence.
“Maybe she doesn’t share your prudish standards,” Rupert found himself arguing back. “Maybe she thinks it does a town good for its young men to have a way to scratch their itches if they don’t have a wife.” His face flared even hotter. Was he really defending Bonnie for the very thing he’d been holding against her for years?
All he knew was that it suddenly didn’t seem like anybody’s business what Bonnie and her girls did behind closed doors.
The switch in his thinking didn’t soothe things between him and George Pickering at all.
“Look, I can’t do anything about the choices that Bonnie or those girls make,” Pickering continued to argue, “even though I’ve tried to show them the right path. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let Bonnie throw herself to the wolves. If you’ve got an idea to keep her from marrying Bonneville, then I’m open to hearing it.”
Rupert’s brow flew up. He didn’t like George all that much, but clearly they were on the same side. If he wanted to save Bonnie, Pickering was probably his best ally.
“She can’t marry Bonneville. He won’t treat her right,” he said.
Pickering snorted. “He hasn’t been treating her right for years. But I will say, she’s got a way of handling him that no one else in town has been able to manage.”
“Are you saying that it’s a good thing for her to be with him?”
“No, only that she holds her own and keeps him from causing more trouble than he already does.”
Rupert scowled. “I love her.”
Pickering seemed unmoved. “I don’t think love is Bonnie’s first priority.”
“Every woman’s first priority is love.”
Pickering shook his head. “Bonnie’s first priority is her girls. Has been since the night I helped her drag several of them out of a burning building.”
Rupert had heard the whole story of how Bonnie and Pickering met, knew the significance of their relationship, knew Pickering had given her money. Bonnie had told him everything during their argument four years ago, on his first trip to Haskell. But being reminded of it brought a fresh wave of sorrow and regret all the same.
“She has sacrificed her life more than a few times to make sure those girls have something better than the circumstances they’ve fallen into,” Pickering went on. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I have to admit, I admire her for that. But she’s taken sacrifice too far this time.”
“I’ll say,” Rupert grumbled.
“Love isn’t going to make a lick of difference to her if she doesn’t have the money she needs for those girls,” Pickering went on.
“Then why don’t you give her some, like you did the first time?” Rupert rounded on him.
“I’ve given her far more than I should,” Pickering snapped back. “But she knows that my duties lie elsewhere now. I have a congregation to support, other deserving poor to help.” He didn’t leave it there. “The only way you’re going to get Bonnie to change her mind about Bonneville is to come up with the money to finance her Place instead. Do you think you can do that?” The question was as much a dare as it was an inquiry.
But the answer was no. No, Rupert couldn’t do that. King Cole Construction was doing well in Everland, but only half the money was his, and that was needed to reinvest in the business, helping it to grow. It would take a heck of a lot more buildings going up for Rupert to earn the kind of money Bonnie needed.
“I’m not willing to give up,” he said, in spite of the weight of impossibility pressing down on him.
Pickering surprised him by barking, “Good. It’s about time you lived up to your responsibilities as a husband.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Rupert growled.
“I think you know.” Pickering narrowed his eyes, staring Rupert down. “You’re just lucky I didn’t—”
Rupert blinked. “Didn’t what?”
Pickering backed off. He turned away, stepping over to the decorated podium and picking up a Bible. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing, but Rupert was smart enough to see that the discussion was over. And he still didn’t have a clue what to do to stop Bonnie from making the biggest mistake of her life.
“Will you help me convince Bonnie to give up her plans to marry Bonneville?” He asked, stretching his arms wide in a humble plea.
Pickering glanced back to him. “If you come up with a way to convince Bonnie she can protect and support her girls without Bonneville’s money, then yes, I’ll help you in any way I can.”
“Any ideas what might work?” he asked, more frustrated with the conversation than relieved by it.
Pickering started toward the door to his office. He paused as he reached it to say, “If I had an idea, don’t you think I would have used it by now?” He didn’t wait for Rupert’s reply. He marched through the door, then shut it behind him.
Rupert puffed out a breath, uncertain whether the whole thing had been a waste of time or a huge help. There didn’t seem to be any middle ground. He didn’t have any more ideas now than when he’d walked into the church, so, hands thrust back into his pockets, he walked out again.
He spent the next few hours walking around Haskell and its nearby ranches, waiting for an idea to jump up and hit him in the head. That blasted pencil was still in his pocket, and he found himself twiddling it through his fingers as he walked. Money. What he needed was money. That in itself was as aggravating as hellfire. Love should be enough. Love should be the force that won the day. He loved Bonnie, and now he was convinced that she did, or at least could, love him again too. Gol darnit, why wasn’t that enough?
In the end, it was hunger and exhaustion that drove him back to The Cattleman Hotel. Two sleepless nights were catching up with him as he dragged himself up the porch stairs and into the lobby. He thought about getting a table in the restaurant, but really he just wanted a hot lunch and a long nap. Most of the hotel staff seemed preoccupied with their work, so the only person around that he figured could tell him if eating in his room was even possible was Mr. Gunn. Gunn sat in a corner of the lobby with a rich-looking, somewhat rotund man and a black-haired woman in her middle years. A small table sat between them, littered with papers.
“Excuse me.” Rupert nodded to the woman first, then the other man as he interrupted whatever business they were engaged in. “I don’t mean to intrude.”
“Mr. Cole.” Gunn jumped to his feet, wearing a wide smile. “I’d like to introduce you to the town’s founder and chief patron, Howard Haskell, and his daughter, Mrs. Lucy Faraday.”
The last thing Rupert wanted in his current state was to be introduced to a pair of important strangers, but he managed to smile and extend a hand to Howard Haskell. “Pleased to meet you. Ma’am.” He nodded toward Mrs. Faraday, then shook her hand. Glancing back to Gunn he said, “I
just wanted to ask you about getting lunch in my room.”
“Nonsense!” Howard boomed loud enough to start a headache at the base of Rupert’s skull. “You can have your lunch with us.”
A pained smile made its way onto Rupert’s face. “I’m much obliged for the invitation, sir, but if it’s all the same—”
“We were just discussing plans for the next phase of my father’s building project,” Mrs. Faraday interrupted.
Rupert’s protest died on his lips. A flash of hope flared in his chest. “Building project?”
“Yes,” Gunn answered. “Howard has made it a policy to build a house for each of his ranch hands who send away for a mail-order bride from a place called Hurst Home in Nashville, Tennessee.”
Before Rupert had a chance to feel an old stab of regret over his own mail-order bride experience, Howard went on with, “It’s been a capital enterprise. Several of my lads have taken me up on the offer, Luke Chance, Cody Montrose—even though it was his brother Mason who ended up marrying Wendy while Cody married a different girl—and Bronson Green.”
“I still think Mr. Green only sought employment with you last spring because he heard about your offer to build a house for any man who sent away for a bride from Hurst Home,” Mrs. Faraday added, one eyebrow arched.
“Yes, but regardless,” Howard went on, “it’s been the perfect carrot to convince young men to settle down and raise families in Haskell, and I intend to expand those efforts.”
The amount of enthusiasm pouring off of Howard was more than Rupert could fully take in at that moment, but he still managed to smile and say, “That sounds like a good idea.” And maybe one that could provide the kind of new life Bonnie was looking to provide for her girls. He wondered if Bonnie had thought of that.
“We were just going over some designs with Mr. Gunn,” Mrs. Faraday rushed on, “and, well, this is going to sound silly, if not plain crazy, but a bill fell out of his pocket with your signature on it. I took one look and thought, ‘now there’s the signature of a man I’d like to do business with.’”
