by Lynn Donovan
She gave Mac their drink order and asked him to hand her a deck of cards from under the cash register.
Mac’s triumphant smile infuriated her as he did what she asked. When he placed the cards and two glasses on a tray and slid it across the bar to her, she whispered through gritted teeth, “Just for tonight. Tomorrow you either leave town or find yourself another job.”
He simply smiled and put his pipe between his teeth, realized the fire had gone out, relit it, and puffed vigorously.
Flora placed the two drinks in front of Goodnight and his friend and turned to go upstairs to let Diamond and Sadie know they had customers and their presence would be appreciated. As Flora descended the staircase, she observed several more men had entered her saloon and Mac was engaged in a lively conversation with Bart McMann. She considered pointing out who were the con men and who were locals who had survived, but then she reminded herself he was only tending her bar tonight. Tomorrow he’d be gone. Why would she need to explain anything to him?
Flora tossed and turned in her bed. The moonlight filtered through her curtains. She hadn’t pulled the heavier ones that let her sleep well past morning, because she needed to rise with the sun. Frustrated, she stood and put on her dressing gown. Jackson was strongly on her mind, so she went to his room to look in on him.
He slept on his side, like he had always done, and breathed deeply, slowly. If only she could sleep as peacefully. She pulled his covers to his shoulder and moved a lock of sandy brown hair from his face. He stirred, but didn’t wake. The desire to kiss his forehead overwhelmed her, but she resisted. He didn’t enjoy her affections like he did when he was small. Soon he would be a grown man. He thought he was already. She chuckled. But at fourteen, he was still a boy. Her boy. And he needed her protection and guidance.
Her thoughts rolled over to Mac. What would happen now that he was in town? She’d spent all these years wondering how he was, if he’d been a success as he had hoped, and most of all if he thought of her. Now she knew.
Or thought she knew.
According to his letter to apply for the position, he harbored some love interest in his heart and didn’t expect to have any interest in arranging a marriage with a widow of Silverpines. Was she being too presumptuous assuming she was the reason for his tainted heart?
Certainly it was true, he was the reason she had never sought the affections of another man. For one thing, few men would even consider marrying a woman who was a saloon owner, and second, she’d never met a man who could hold a candle to Mac McMillan. Not as far as her heart’s affections were concerned. So, what did that mean to her now? She left Jackson’s bedroom and gingerly opened the back door. Lowering herself into a rocker she gazed across her property at the carriage house. All was quiet, the three horses she owned rustled, but generally were sleeping as she should be doing. She rose and made herself some chamomile tea, then returned to the porch, mulling over her past, her choices, and life. Would it be so bad to have Mac retire, as he said he wishes to do, and work for her?
An involuntary sigh escaped her lungs. She finished her tea and went back inside to go to bed. Maybe she’d let him stay, give it a trial run. If he caused her any trouble, he’d have to go on his way, but if it worked out… who knew?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sunlight poured into Flora’s window, she stirred awake. When had she fallen asleep? She stretched and yawned. Hazel dropped something in the kitchen and a horse neighed in the carriage house. What time was it? She lifted the timepiece brooch she laid by her bed every night and blinked to force her eyes to focus. It was nearly noon!
She leapt out of bed and washed her face, quickly dressed, dabbed on her makeup, and pinned up her hair. The aroma of Hazel cooking in the kitchen met Flora’s nose and caused her tummy to growl. She rushed out to see what was so enticing. Hazel looked up as Flora’s dress rustled with her movement and poured her a cup of coffee.
“You slept good last night?” Hazel turned around before Flora could answer and dished up a meat pie onto a plate and handed it to her.
She smiled her appreciation for the food. “Not really. I got up and had some chamomile tea, after that, I don’t remember anything other than waking just now.”
Hazel laughed. “That’s because that tea is what I got from Miss Hattie. She adds a little valerian root to the chamomile, it makes for a nice night’s rest, don’t you agree?
Flora tilted her head as she sipped the coffee, “I reckon I do have to agree. I’m glad you had it on hand. It was just what I needed last night.”
“Yes…” Hazel squinted one eye and looked closely into Flora’s face. “What’s got you stirred up so’s you can’t sleep, Hon?”
Flora sighed and pulled the plate closer, dragging her fork through the meat and vegetables. “Oh, I don’t know.”
She took a bite and chewed to avoid any more of Hazel’s questions.
Hazel had worked for her a long time. Nearly as long as she’d lived here in Silverpines. She’d helped raise Jackson, being here in the house when Flora was busy at the saloon. But she didn’t know all her darker secrets about her past or what actually brought her to Silverpines.
Flora considered how much to tell Hazel. After all, she was a dear friend, not just a housekeeper. “A man answered my ad for a barkeep.”
“Oh?” Hazel still squinted that one eye, a curious habit of hers when she was seriously considering what a person was saying to her. “So, what did you think about him? Are you going to invite him to come interview with you?”
Flora glanced at Hazel and returned her gaze to her food. She pushed a carrot around to join a chunk of meat, then flipped over a sliver of golden crust. “Actually, he’s already here.”
“What?” Hazel slapped her fork down on the table next to her plate. “How’d he get here without you inviting him?”
Flora chuckled. “Well, I suppose he presumed he was the right man for the job and sent a letter to apply at the same time he boarded a train. It seems he and his letter arrived at the same time.”
“I don’t like it!” Hazel huffed. “I don’t like him already! How rude! How presumptuous! How arrogant! How—“
Flora touched Hazel’s arm. “It’s alright. I know the man. We used to work together back in Boston.”
Hazel deflated against the back of her chair. “Oh.”
“His name’s…” she had to stop and consider her words very carefully. Did she want to tell Hazel his Christian name or the name everybody in the state of Massachusetts all knew him by? “Mac McMillan.”
“Mac? Huh? Sounds like a wee bit of the green isles.” She spoke in a perfect Scottish accent.
Flora leaned back. “I’ve never heard you speak with an accent.”
Hazel laughed. “Me own mum was from the Highlands.”
Flora laughed with her dear friend. “The things you learn about people just when you think you know them so well.”
Hazel stood with her empty plate and nodded curtly. “Ain’t it the truth?”
She held out her hand to take Flora’s plate as well. “Hadn’t you better be scooting? That new barkeep will think you’re slacking in your duties as boss lady.” Hazel smiled.
Flora frowned. “I haven’t hired him, exactly. In fact, I told him he could work one night and then he had to move on.”
Would he be at her saloon? It would be just like Mac McMillan to keep coming to work even though she had told him she would not hire him.
“Thank you for… lunch.” Flora rose to her feet and walked toward the back door. Slipping into the carriage house, she looked around for Jackson. He’d hitched up Rosey to her jitney but he was nowhere to be seen. “Jackson!”
No answer. She wrinkled the corner of her mouth. He’s probably helping Millie Messer with deliveries. She had two older children and a whole yard full of new ones brought to her by her groom-to-be, why’d she have to take Jackson away from his chores? Flora’d feel a lot more comfortable with Mac in town if Jackson would just stay
near the carriage house and off the town streets.
She climbed into her jitney and flicked the reins on Rosey’s back. She’d be at the saloon in no time but she had to make up her mind about what to do about Mac in the short ride over. In many ways, she wished Jackson hadn’t been so attentive to his chores this morning. The long walk would have given her more time to think.
Mac had traveled a long way. It put him in a lot of pain doing so, too. If he really wanted to retire by moving out west and if he was sincere about missing her…
No, she had made it this long without him or any man in her life. Other than friends, like Gus. All she needed was a strong, caring man to tend her bar, help take care of the girls when necessary, and protect the saloon when the crowds got rowdy. She did not need Mac McMillan in her life, or her business. But what about Jackson? A small voice nagged in the back of her mind.
She pulled Rosey around back of the saloon and unhitched her from the jitney. Rosey knew the routine and walked into the run-in stall to munch on fresh hay that Jackson had placed there yesterday. He was such a good boy. He deserved to know the truth about Mac.
She glanced over at the docks, then the warehouse to see if he was working at either place, but didn’t see him. A quick look down the street toward the lumberyard didn’t reveal his whereabouts either. Maybe he’d come by the saloon later and let her know where and for whom he was working today. She entered through the back door and heard Mac’s voice.
“Yes, put them under here, and go get those others. We’ll just stack them here, so I can pull them out and replace the ones on the wall as they get emptied. Right. Yeah, that’s it. Thank you.”
Flora hurried in to see who he was ordering around and give him the what for because he’d come back when she told him not to. If he was talking to Diamond or Sadie like that, she had a whole other chewing out to give him. Her chastising words were stifled immediately when she entered the saloon and the person Mac was giving orders to stood with a crate of whiskey bottles in his hands.
“Jackson! What—Who—“ She turned on Mac. “Who do you think you are?”
Both Mac and Jackson froze in their spot. Jackson, feeling the weight of his load, bent to put it down behind the bar.
“Flora.” Jackson began, but she held up her hand to stop him.
Glaring at Mac, she shoved her fists onto her hips and walked toward him. Through gritted teeth, she growled, “I told you one night. I told you to go find another job. I told you—“
“Now, Flora, listen to me.”
“Listen to you?” She nearly screamed. “NO! You listen to me! See, I knew you could never work for me. You’re too used to being the boss. I’m the boss!” She shoved a thumb toward her chest. “I’m in charge! I give the orders and I decide when my— When Jackson is allowed to work inside this saloon. This is no place for him to be working… well, I admit I let him help Gus when there weren’t any customers here yet, and no one’s here yet, but that’s not the point.” Fire burned behind her eyes as her glare bore into Mac. “You don’t just take somebody’s… a boy you don’t even know and have them move whiskey crates!”
She turned on Jackson. “I told you I didn’t want you working outside of the carriage house. I told you there was some” —she lifted her eyes to Mac and returned them to Jackson— “shifty men come into town and I wanted you home where I knew you were safe.”
Jackson stiffened. “I am safe! Mr. McMillan offered me ten dollars to help you in the saloon. Since when do you not let me help in here?”
Anger roiled inside of Flora. Heat filled her face and her fists clinched so tight she could feel her nails cutting into her palms. She turned her anger on Mac. “You had no right—”
Mac patted Jackson’s shoulder as he walked past him to get to Flora. “Flora. Hey, I’m sorry. I saw this kid on the street yesterday, he was running an errand, so I figured he was someone I could pay to come here and do the heavy lifting until Miss Hattie tells me my back is healed enough to do it myself. I didn’t know… he was your … he worked for you at your house. Is that what the problem is? He’s your…”
“Carriage house boy… yes.” She couldn’t meet Jackson’s eyes. “He has responsibilities at my carriage house that I needed done—”
“I done my chores!” Jackson yelled over her.
“Not wasting time over here” —she spoke over Jackson— “with a man who wants to be my barkeep, but doesn’t have a strong enough back to do the job proper and by himself.”
Jackson trembled. He glared at Flora with such anguish. His bottom lip quivered and suddenly he bolted from the saloon.
“Jackson!” She called after him.
“You had no right!” She hissed at Mac and ran after the boy.
“Why do you do that?” Jackson crammed a pitchfork into a pile of hay and slung it over his shoulder into one of the horse’s stalls.
“I’m sorry.” Flora muttered. “I — I have my reasons. Especially—“
“Especially what?” He wiped a traitorous tear with his sleeve.
“Jackson, it’s complicated. Very complicated.”
“What’s so complicated, Flora? I’m your son, but you pass me off like I’m some orphan you picked up along the trail and took in to work for you.”
“It’s not that simple. Someday you’ll understand.”
“No I won’t. I will never understand why you don’t let anybody know who I really am.”
“Because! I was never married, Jackson! It’s just not acceptable by society.”
“Oh, like being a saloon hall woman is an open invitation to the front pew at church!” He screamed.
Flora stared at him, visibly trembling. “You’ve never wanted for anything. My career has kept a roof over your head and food in your belly.”
“Yeah? But it never gave me a name? I’m still just a bastard.”
She couldn’t speak. Her heart was broken into a thousand pieces.
“Where’d you come up with Hershell for my last name anyway? You get that from one of your gypsy friends or something?”
Her lip trembled. “It… was your daddy’s name.”
“Liar!” Jackson screamed. “You told me my daddy never knew I existed.” Snot ran from his nose, tears poured from his eyes.
“I never lied!” She yelled. “Hershell is your daddy’s name. It’s… just not… his last name.”
Jackson stood silent, staring at her, processing her words. But he looked like he wanted to run, run somewhere and hide.
Flora essentially blocked him from leaving the carriage house. She heaved for air. “Jackson, I love you. And-and I want you to be safe. I settled here in Silverpines because I thought we both could be safe here. And we were. We are. This Mr. McMillan is a man I knew a long time ago… in Boston. He’s come here, out west like all those from the east do when they want peace in their lives. He’s wanting a simpler life and he thinks Silverpines has the answers he’s been looking for. I-I can’t explain why I overreacted today like I did. It’s just… he’s not Gus, you know. And I worry about you taking up with people, men you don’t know, so easily. There are some really shady men in this town right now. I know, ‘cause I serve them whiskey every night and watch them plot their evil plans to… to take advantage of good people, like Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Gillham and her daughter.”
Jackson’s anger slowly drained from his face. Flora gingerly wiped the wet gooey makeup from under her eyelashes and kept talking. “I apologize to you, son. I know you enjoy working and earning extra money, but Silverpines just isn’t the peaceful, secure town it used to be.”
He leaned on the pitchfork, as if his legs were about to give out on him. She took a step toward him and took him into her arms. He was as tall as she. When had he gotten so tall? She wrapped her arms around him and held him against her shoulder. He cried softly and so did she.
“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I didn’t mean all those things.”
“Yes, you did.” She patted his back. “And I�
�m sorry that I’ve made our lives so difficult for both of us.”
“What’s all this?” Mac’s voice boomed from the carriage house double doors.
CHAPTER NINE
“Do you ever knock?” Flora swirled around to face Mac. “You are not welcome here. Get out of my barn, get out of my saloon, and get out of my town!”
He held up his hands as if surrendering to the law. “You can’t throw me out of town, Flora. And you need me at the saloon. As for your barn, I’ll go. But first, I want you to explain something to me.”
Flora rushed up to him and grabbed his elbow, glancing back at Jackson, and pushed Mac out into the yard. “Not here.” She growled through clinched teeth.
Jackson continued to lean on the pitchfork, watching her. “Jackson, I need to get back to the saloon. We’ll talk more… later.”
With that, she shoved Mac forward and the two of them walked quickly toward the other end of town where her saloon was left unattended. “Look. I’m sorry. I overreacted, I admit it. And, you’re right, I need a barkeep. You are the best candidate I’ll have apply. No matter who else answers my ad.”
He dipped his head to look into her eyes to determine if she was serious.
“I know how good you are behind the bar and with customers. You can work for me as long as you remember I’m the boss and you are semi-retired and you work for me. But please, stay out of my personal life.”
Mac walked with long strides, forcing Flora to walk more quickly than she would normally. By the time she finished what she had to say, she was out of breath. Mac stopped as he came even with a gazebo in the large park and turned to face her. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering with your personal life, Flora. But I have to say, the way you reacted back at the Lucky Lady over that boy working for us, just seemed a lot more to it than me taking your carriage house boy away from his chores.”
