Tea for Two

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Oh? How is that?”

  “Reverend Bing did me a kindness, and now I’m honored to assist him in return. Yes, Miss Stoker, I’m pleased to agree to your terms. I have a small shop with a bedroom above it that I think would be perfect for you and your sister.” He nodded at Ariadne, who had been so quiet during the interview, it was as though she hadn’t been present at all.

  Regina blinked. She’d hoped that he’d have a change of heart, but she hadn’t expected it to be so sudden and dramatic. “What condition is the building in, Mr. Thurgood? When can we move in?”

  “The bedroom can be used now. It has a bedframe in it, although you’ll want a new tick. The shop portion needs to be painted, but I’m sure you’ll find plenty of willing hands for hire. I’d say you could be open within a week, depending on when your supplies come in, and you could start living upstairs this very day.”

  “I . . . can’t even tell you what a miracle this is,” Regina replied. “Thank you so very much.”

  He folded the letter and slid it across the table to her. “I’ll draw up some papers for you to sign, but you can consider the building yours as of now. I’ll send one of my men over to unlock it for you now, if you’d like to have your things sent over.”

  “I would very much. Thank you.” Regina shook his hand, knowing that her fingers were trembling so violently, he’d be able to feel it, then she and Ariadne left the building.

  Ariadne grabbed her arm as soon as they were outside. “That was nothing short of astounding,” she said. “How did you manage it?”

  “I had nothing to do with it,” Regina said. “It was all Reverend Bing.”

  “He must carry some sort of weight we never realized,” Ariadne replied. “And to think that he would use it on our behalf—how did we get so blessed?”

  “I wish I knew.” Regina’s heart was full to bursting with gratitude. She had gone from being skeptical about this tea shop to loving the idea, and now she was so passionate about it, it would devastate her if it couldn’t come to pass. It was happening—it was really happening. “Let’s go speak to the bank next.”

  When they entered, they met with a man who introduced himself as Byron Cromwell. “And how may I help you?” he asked, motioning for them to take seats across from him at his desk.

  “We’re opening a business here in Creede—a tea shop, to be exact, and we need to open an account here.” Regina wanted to rely on their own merits instead of using Reverend Bing’s name everywhere they went, but she also didn’t want to be too proud to accept the hand of help they’d been given, so she withdrew the reverend’s letter from her bag and passed it over to the banker. He read it and nodded.

  “I’ll be pleased to open an account for you, and also to extend you a line of credit, should it be needed.”

  “A line of credit? But you just met us, sir. That seems a bit risky on your part, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

  Mr. Cromwell motioned to the letter. “Reverend Bing recommends you, and that’s high praise.”

  The sisters arranged for the bank account to be put in both their names and made a deposit of half the money they’d brought with them, then left the building, astonished.

  “I’m completely at a loss to explain it,” Regina said as they walked back to the hotel. “I’ve always believed in the hand of providence, but this seems a bit . . . well, overly much, actually.”

  Ariadne raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying that the Almighty is blessing us more than you feel comfortable with?”

  “No, of course not, and don’t be blasphemous. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  They decided to get some lunch in the hotel dining room and took their seats. After she placed her order, Regina pulled the two letters from her bag and began to unfold the first one.

  “Isn’t that private?” Ariadne asked, glancing around as though checking to see if anyone was watching.

  “These are letters given to us that are about us. We have every right to read them.” Regina smoothed the one she held on the table, and then her eyes grew wide. It was impossible.

  “What? What’s the matter?”

  Without saying a word, Regina passed the letter over to her sister, who picked it up and read it with much the same reaction.

  “I don’t understand,” Ariadne said. “How . . . Why would the reverend do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Regina sat back in her chair, utterly shocked. Reverend Bing had told the bank that he would be willing to back any loan the sisters took out and were unable to repay. “He doesn’t know us at all—we’re two strange women from another country who simply arrived on his doorstep and asked for guidance. Why is he doing this?”

  “He didn’t look wealthy,” Ariadne said, sounding puzzled.

  “He’s not—reverends are never wealthy. He’s just put himself in great financial peril for our benefit.” Regina snatched up the other letter and unfolded it. “And here, he’s told Mr. Thurgood much the same—that he’ll make good on any payments we’re unable to remit. This is just astonishing. I don’t see how we can let him do it—it’s too much.”

  Ariadne glanced around again. “But Mr. Honeycutt is gone, and we don’t have a way of getting out to Bachelor to speak with him.”

  “Yes, we do,” Regina said, feeling a sense of resolution descending over her. “We’re going to eat and then we’re going to locate the livery stable Mr. Honeycutt mentioned. We’ll take ourselves out to see Reverend Bing this very afternoon.”

  ***

  Another day of mending fences. Jake pulled off his hat, wiped his face with his bandana, then replaced the hat, taking a moment to stretch his back. He’d be having his lunch break shortly, but until then, he had another several yards of wire to stretch along this fence before he’d consider it done. Fences broke down through regular use, but they also broke down when someone decided to cut the wires, and Jake hadn’t decided yet which this was. He’d be telling Mr. Clark about it at his first opportunity. Maybe they’d want to set up a guard to keep an eye on things.

  He bent back to his work, twisting the wire to make it taut around the pole. Sweat ran into his eyes, making them sting.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  He jolted upright to find Susie standing on the other side of the fence, her arms crossed on the top rail. The piece of wheat she was chewing on bobbed up and down as she spoke.

  “I believe this is called fixing a fence.” He took a corner of his bandana and wiped his eyes with it. He didn’t have much patience on this hot day for prickly angels who ran around disguised as little girls. Or maybe, for little girls who ran around pretending to be angels.

  “Seems to me that you ought to be headin’ out to Bachelor about now,” she said nonchalantly, taking the wheat from her mouth and twirling the stalk between her fingers.

  “Bachelor? Why would I be going to Bachelor? I was there yesterday.” Jake clipped the end of the wire and moved on to the next spot. He was seeing things because he was hungry—as soon as he ate his lunch, Susie would disappear and he could get on with his work.

  “I thought you were sweet on Miss Stoker.”

  “I’m not sweet . . .” He stopped himself. It would be lying if he said he didn’t have any feelings for her at all, but those were more like first glance feelings. He had no call saying he was or wasn’t sweet on her at this point and time. “I think we’re becoming friends,” he said at last, “or at least acquaintances.”

  “Well,” Susie said, popping the wheat back in her mouth, “that acquaintance of yours is about to drive out to see Reverend Bing all on her own.”

  “What?” Jake jumped up so fast, he dropped his tools on the ground and had to retrieve them. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just what I said. Thought you’d want to know.” And with that, she was gone again.

  Jake threw his tools into his saddlebags and flung his right leg over his horse, pulling himself up all the way after Butternut was already on the move. It was difficult
to right himself with the pull of gravity, but he did it, and they raced back to the bunkhouse as quick as they could go. He dumped a bucket of water over his head, yelled out to Finny where he was going, and then he and Butternut tore down the trail.

  Foolish woman, taking off like that. What was she thinking? She couldn’t even handle being a passenger in a buggy going along that route, and now she intended to drive it herself?

  Panic clenched in his stomach, and he urged Butternut to go even faster. Miss Regina Stoker was going to get herself killed.

  Chapter Six

  The man who ran the livery stable introduced himself as Otto Clay, and he seemed like a very nice person. He rented Regina the same horse and buggy they’d used the day before, and he hitched everything up and got them ready to go. Regina tried not to give any indication of the nerves she felt, and when he asked if she was set, she gave him a bright smile. This would be a challenge, certainly, but she would be up to it, and her motivation was certainly strong enough.

  “I think this is the most foolish of every foolish thing you’ve ever done,” Ariadne said as the buggy turned toward Bachelor.

  “Then let’s remember every detail so that when you retell the story over and over again for years to come, you’re getting it right,” Regina replied, not in the mood to deal with any sort of churlishness from her sister.

  “That’s not fair,” Ariadne said, slumping back in her seat. “I don’t repeat every story over and over again.”

  “Just enough that I feel I should make a point of it. Now please—I’m not the most skilled driver, and I need to concentrate.”

  The first little bit of the drive was pleasant, but then the road became steeper, and the curves sharper, and with each passing minute, Regina found herself more terrified. She wouldn’t show it, though—she didn’t want her sister to worry, and she also didn’t want to admit just how very wrong she’d been. Surely Reverend Bing would come into Creede at some point and she could have spoken with him then, but her impetuousness had overtaken her logic, and she’d listened to it.

  “Regina. . .” Ariadne said as the ground dropped away on the side and they caught view of the water tumbling below, “I think we should try to go back.”

  “There isn’t a way to turn around,” Regina replied. “We have to go forward. We have no choice.”

  “But . . .”

  “I know. I want to go back too, but it’s impossible. Just take some deep breaths.” Regina tried to sound reassuring, but that was rather amusing considering that when they’d come this way before, Regina’s eyes had been closed and Ariadne’s had been open. It was obvious who had the most courage, and yet the roles were reversed now and the cowardly one was driving the buggy.

  They inched forward, and Regina began praying. If they could just make it a bit farther, they’d be safe. Her hands grew slippery on the lines, and she wiped them on her skirt one at a time. She had to remain in control. She couldn’t look at the edge of the road—she just couldn’t.

  And then the unthinkable happened—a wagon approached from the other direction.

  “No!” she cried out. She had no idea what to do. When Mr. Honeycutt had been driving, they hadn’t encountered another rig, so she had no idea how they should maneuver to make room for both conveyances side by side. The other driver was calling out and waving his arms, but she couldn’t tell what he was saying.

  “Can you move over?” Ariadne asked.

  “I don’t know how to do it! What if I go too far? Or what if it’s still not far enough, and we scrape? What if I knock him off the road?” Regina wished they were back in Creede. More than that, she was starting to wish they were back in London. She’d never had to deal with anything like this in London.

  The other driver was turning red in the face. He stood up in the front of his wagon, yelling and waving like a bee was buzzing around his head. Regina lifted both hands and shrugged, trying to express that she didn’t know what he was saying. She’d brought the buggy to a stop, and that’s all she was capable of doing.

  She closed her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “Please make a way.”

  Her eyes had just barely opened again when she heard horse hooves galloping up behind her, then alongside her, and Jake Honeycutt stuck his head under the canopy of the buggy. “You seem to be in a spot of trouble.”

  “Oh, Mr. Honeycutt, you’re an answer to my prayers. Honestly, I was just praying. I don’t know what to do.”

  He nodded. “Hold tight.” He waved at the other driver, who sat down and folded his arms, then turned and guided his horse to the back of the buggy. He tied the animal to the rear of the rig, then walked back up to the front. Regina was all too glad to scoot over and let him do the driving.

  He took hold of the reins and guided the horse to the side, his arms held firm. Regina was sitting closely enough that she could sense the tension in them. It flashed through her mind that she was likely sitting far too close if she was that aware of him, but this wasn’t the time to be moving all around and fussing over propriety. The other wagon inched forward as well. Regina forced her eyes to stay open as they passed, determined to learn how it was done. Amazingly, both rigs came out unscratched, no one went off the road and into the river below, and no one crashed into the canyon wall that created the other side of the road. She never would have believed it possible, and yet, it had just happened.

  Once the other wagon was on its way, Mr. Honeycutt urged their horse onward, and he drove until they reached Bachelor. Then he brought them to a stop and turned to Regina. It was all she could do not to throw herself in his arms from sheer relief.

  “Miss Stoker, I have to ask you what in the blue blazes you think you’re doing.”

  Well, now. That certainly snapped her out of any romantic daydreams she might have been having. She sat up straight. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I told you yesterday that only skilled drivers came this way. Are you a skilled driver? Obviously not, and yet, here you are, risking your neck—and your sister’s, too. What’s so important that you have to act like such a . . .” He trailed off.

  “Yes, Mr. Honeycutt? What exactly was I acting like?”

  “Like a foolish child who can’t wait to open her presents on Christmas morning!”

  Of all the crude, ungentlemanly . . . “Mr. Honeycutt, I thank you for coming along when you did and helping us navigate a difficult situation. Your assistance was direly needed, and I shall always remember your kindness. Now, if you would please remove yourself from this buggy, I’ll find someone else to help us return to Creede when we’ve finished our business here.”

  “Miss Stoker, I’m sure you think that because you’re sitting there with your pretty little hands all folded up and your pretty little nose in the air that I’m somehow going to bow and scrape and give you whatever you want, but that’s not about to happen. Conduct your business, and then I’ll drive you back.”

  Regina nearly shrieked at this point. She was so angry that she couldn’t even find words for a moment. Ariadne was being no help whatsoever. She was studying a nearby tree as though she’d never seen foliage before in all her life.

  “Mr. Honeycutt, I’m not used to being ordered around in this completely overbearing manner. I would like to remind you that I’m an independent woman with her own free will.”

  “Miss Stoker, when you have used your free will to do something dangerous, it sure makes me think that you need to be ordered around a whole lot more than you are.”

  They met eyes, steel clashing with steel, until Regina finally said, “Very well. You may drive us back to town. That’s not because I agree with you—I merely feel that finding another driver could be a challenge, and you’re here now.”

  “I’m glad to see that you’re putting aside your pride.”

  “My pride? Is that what you call self-respect?” Now she did take a moment to scoot away from him. There wasn’t a great deal of room left on the buggy bench, but she did the best she could. “Ple
ase take us to the Reverend Bing’s house.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mr. Honeycutt flicked the reins, and they slowly proceeded down the road. If Regina wasn’t able to get her temper under control, she wouldn’t be in any condition to speak to the reverend whatsoever.

  ***

  Jake had never been so terrified in his life as he’d been when he came tearing up the road and saw Regina’s buggy smack in the middle of the way. He knew she’d be frozen with fear, and he was right. When he took the lines from her hands, her fingers were shaking so badly, they were all but a blur.

  But then he’d never been so angry in his life either. The way she kept defending her foolishness, as though he was the one who’d done wrong . . . He could feel his blood boiling in his veins, especially in the temples. He’d likely need to dunk his head in another bucket of water to stave off the headache building there. Going from terror to fury in such a short amount of time wasn’t good for a man.

  Ariadne gave him a sympathetic look before she followed Regina up to the Bings’ door. At least one of the Stoker sisters had a compassionate thought for him. The other one . . . well, he didn’t even want to think about her right now. He’d never stop being angry otherwise.

  His mother had always taught him to try to see things through the other man’s eyes. That had proved to be sound advice before, so he pulled in a deep breath. All right, what would he do if he was a young woman in a strange town wanting to go talk to someone in a nearby town and needed to take a dangerous path to get there and didn’t know how to drive a buggy?

  He'd hire a driver, that’s what he’d do!

  What on earth had come over her to try it herself? He couldn’t think of a single scenario in which it made sense. “I’m sorry, Mama, but it’s not going to work this time,” he said to the sky. “I have no idea what that woman was thinking.”

  “Do you often talk to yourself, Jake Honeycutt?” said an amused voice from behind him.

  He turned to see Hannah Wheeler standing there, Bob the rooster tucked under one arm and her medical bag under the other. “Hello,” he said, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “No, ma’am, I don’t. That was more of a . . . well, I was talking to my dead mother, if you’re looking for the truth.”