Grooms with Honor Series, Books 7-9

by Linda K. Hubalek

  Holly glanced over at Nolan, laughing with a customer about something, probably the biscuit contest. He was the first man in a long time who put her at ease and didn’t judge her for any reason. Nolan caught her staring at him, and he winked, making her turn away, blushing as she moved to another table to refill their coffee cups.

  The mood could almost be considered festive in the café this evening. Besides the travelers, a few townsfolk ventured out to eat since the snow had stopped and the evening sky turned starry.

  Miller Springs could be snowed in part of the winter, so townspeople liked to visit with any travelers coming through, for news from the outside world.

  One traveler staying in the church asked Reverend and Mrs. Nelson to be his guests at supper, in thanks for opening up the church for the stranded passengers.

  The Carsons were also in the café, although sitting by themselves. They weren’t the most hospitable people, but if there were a chance to promote their mercantile, they’d be there.

  “Miss Brandt, is Mrs. Randolph in the kitchen? I’d like to talk to her about her pickles,” Mrs. Carson addressed her. The woman was only in her thirties, but she always addressed Holly as if she was a child instead of twenty.

  “She hasn’t felt up to working today.” That was all the information Holly would give the woman.

  “I hope it wasn’t from food poisoning since we’re eating here this evening,” Mr. Carson sharply replied.

  “Mrs. Randolph’s hip is bothering her, so your stomach is safe, sir.”

  Holly reminded herself she always had to be polite to the customers, topping the coffee in both their cups while she was at their table.

  “I can pass on your question to Mrs. Randolph if you’d like.” Holly kept her smile pasted on, ready for the complaint she knew would come next.

  “These pickles are homemade and inferior. I’d like Mrs. Randolph to buy and serve our pickles instead.” The woman dangled the crisp dill pickle spear up in the air as if it was a dead mouse.

  Holly had planted, tended, and harvested a large garden plot in the vacant lot beside the café this past summer. They had canned everything they didn’t serve fresh in season, to provide vegetables for the winter meals. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hot weather that Mrs. Randolph would buy pickles when they already had a supply in the pantry. But Holly couldn’t very well confront Mrs. Carson about the fact that people raved about how good their dill, and bread and butter, and sweet pickles were...compared to what was offered in Carson’s mercantile.

  “I’ll be sure to pass that on to her, Mrs. Carson.”

  “Miss Brandt, several tables would like more bowls of your delicious dill spears. Could you bring those out for them, please?” Holly rolled her eyes at Nolan’s blatant suggestion after overhearing Mrs. Carson’s comment. It wasn’t fair that he was just passing through town, and she had to put up with Carson’s attitude every time she had to shop in their store.

  “Yes, I’d be glad to.” Holly turned on her heel and marched back to the kitchen, happy to be away from the Carson’s table.

  Holly had just set the last bowl of pickles on a table when Nolan held up a water glass and tapped the side with a spoon.

  “May I have your attention before we serve dessert, please? It’s time to vote on your favorite biscuit. Reverend Nelson will come around to all your tables and mark down your choice to get a tally.”

  Nolan held up two biscuits, one from his batch, and one from hers. “This light brown one is choice number one, and the yellower one is choice two.”

  “Who made these?”

  “Miss Brandt and I each made a batch.”

  “What’s the prize for the winner?” someone called out.

  “The winner doesn’t have to wash any dishes tonight,” Nolan replied, and everyone chuckled, knowing there were a lot of dishes to wash with all the customers in the café.

  “I think it should be a monetary prize because one was definitely better than the other,” a traveler called out to Nolan.

  “What do you suggest then?” Nolan asked the customer.

  “Two cups passed around, one each to represent each biscuit. We can put whatever change we want in our favorite choice.”

  Who gets the money?”

  “The winner takes all,” the man sitting with the Nelson’s called out.

  “All right, although we’ll still do the count tally if people don’t want to let their money vote. Someone might stuff the cup to sway the vote.”

  “So why the contest?” another person called out.

  “Miss Brandt and I have different biscuit recipes so we each made a batch, hoping it would be fun for you, the customers, to pick their favorite.”

  The noise level in the room rose, and people talked across the table to each other. It had been months since the room was this full of customers and Holly wished Mrs. Randolph was downstairs to see the crowd in her café.

  “I’m ready for dessert, ma’am, and more coffee…please?” Holly knew which table the request came from and gritted her teeth to go and refill their cups. She’d be glad when those two men departed on the train tomorrow. Too bad, it meant Nolan would be leaving, too.

  ***

  “Really Nolan, you don’t have to wash all the dishes.” How many times had Holly said that to him since the dining room cleared out and they’d started cleaning up? She was embarrassed, but he was sticking with their deal.

  “It was a fair bet and win, Holly, and I really don’t mind washing dishes. I have to agree your biscuits were better than mine were. I liked them made with buttermilk.”

  “Personally, it’s all the butter smeared on top while the biscuits are piping hot that makes them so irresistible.”

  As was Holly’s smile irresistible when she let herself relax. Her smiles this evening to her customers ranged from fun, polite, forced, to shy. Nolan liked it that she felt comfortable around him, even though they hadn’t known each other long.

  “I’ll agree with that. You’re a good cook and baker, Miss Holly Elizabeth,” Nolan said as he reached for the next stack of dishes to put in the washbasin.

  “Thank you. I enjoy baking.”

  “You know, the more I think about it, I think we met in Fort Ellis. Do you remember the Christmas suppers at the fort?”

  “Of course, that was the highlight of the year for everyone.”

  “My first year, Christmas of ‘78, would have been the last one you attended, correct?”

  “Yes, that would be right, because we left the fort that next spring.”

  Nolan stared at her face, realizing he had met her at that Christmas meal.

  Holly blushed, but a sweet smile spread across her face. “You remember me from seven years ago?”

  “You were handing out biscuits in the food line!”

  Nolan was curious, wondering if it was why she accepted his help in the café without much protest.

  “I remember you, Nolan. You were one of the few young soldiers with your hair longer, but you were the first soldier who actually said ‘thank you’ when I put the biscuit on your plate.”

  “Really? You remember that?”

  “Not everyone is as polite as you are to half-breeds or women.” Holly’s words sobered him.

  “Well, I’m glad for my upbringing then. No reason to be rude or improper to anyone.”

  Nolan rubbed his hand over his chin. “Back then I didn’t have a whisker on my face, and I was about thirty pounds lighter. I was a scrawny kid when I joined the army. It’s a wonder you recognized me.”

  It was a vague memory, but he did remember a young Indian girl that Christmas. Her long black braids shone against the bodice of...a dark red dress, not the native dress of her mother’s family.

  “Your father pointed you out to me when we were standing in line for food. You had on a red dress,” Nolan beamed at his recall of years ago.

  “You have a very good memory, as I was still a young girl.”

  And Holly had t
urned into a beautiful woman since then. The striking features of her Cheyenne heritage were appealing to him, rather than the opposite of what so many men said instead.

  Now Nolan remembered why her father had pointed her out. “I remember your father talking to the group of us young soldiers in the food line. He said something along the line of ‘always protect the women and children, be it here in the fort, on the wagon trains you escort, or in the Indian villages.’ I know so many soldiers think that all Indians are bad Indians, but his words stuck with me as I served in the army.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he was pointing at his daughter. He loved and worried about you just as any father would, whether white, Cheyenne or Comanche.”

  “He was a wonderful father and a wise man. And I miss him terribly,” Holly reverently said.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “No, you brought back a good memory. And that’s all I have left of my family now.”

  Nolan turned back to his dishwashing, thinking about her words. That was another reason to return to Kansas. He wanted more time with his grandparents before they passed.

  They continued in silence, each in their own thoughts until all they had left were a few pans Nolan needed to scrub clean.

  “Mrs. Randolph didn’t come down for supper.”

  “So I’m sure she’s feeling worse than she was letting on at noon then. She’s had trouble getting around before her fall this morning.”

  “Why is she still working? She has to be as old as my grandparents are. Does she not have any family to take care of her?”

  “Myrtle has a married daughter in Billings who has asked her to come to live with them, but so far Myrtle hasn’t accepted.”

  “What would you do if she moves? Could you take over the café?”

  “She’d need to sell it, and I don’t have the money to buy it. I’d have to look for a job elsewhere. Maybe I’d go to Billings with Myrtle, although I’d be on my own to find a place to live. Myrtle said her daughter’s house is small. I think that’s one of the reasons she’s hesitated to move in with them.”

  “Will she eat if you bring something up to her? I can finish here in the kitchen.”

  “She doesn’t like to eat much in the evenings, but it’s been a long time since we had our late lunch. I’ll bring up some tea and a small plate of food.”

  Nolan was sitting at the table waiting for Holly when she finally came down the stairs carefully carrying the chamber pot.

  “Need help with that?” Nolan rose and reached for his coat and hat.

  “Um, I need to use the privy before turning in for the night, so I can do it.”

  “How about I light and carry a lantern then?”

  “Nolan, I do this by myself every evening.”

  “I know but...I’m offering. You won’t be any help to Mrs. Randolph if you slip on that patch of ice out back, too.”

  He liked how Holly suddenly laughed. “And I’d hate to fall with this full chamber pot. So, yes, I’d appreciate you lighting the way. Let me put my cape on, and then we’ll go outside.”

  Nolan opened the back door and heard hurried footsteps going around the corner of the building. The cold night air heightened the sound of someone breathing hard for their hurried effort.

  He paused a moment, wondering if he needed to have his free hand on his revolver instead of Holly’s elbow. Surely no one in this tiny town would ambush them going to the outhouse. But there were strangers in Miller Springs tonight, thinking of all the people crowded in the café. It was probably someone staying at the depot or church, walking outside for a quick smoke.

  “Careful, Holly. I should have shoveled the path for you first.”

  “I can manage,” her words seemed to hang in the frozen air. “If you’ll open the outhouse door, you can see where to hang the lantern, and then...”

  “I’ll grab the shovel I saw on the porch and clear the path while you’re inside the privy.”

  “Thank you,” her words were cut off as she shut and latched the outhouse door.

  Nolan quickly stepped through the snow back to the porch and grabbed the shovel. By the time he had cleared the path, she was outside holding the light high for him to finish the task.

  “Better? Now your skirt hem won’t drag in the snow.”

  “And I didn’t have to scoop it myself. Hopefully, it won’t snow for a few days, so I get a break from doing it.”

  “But I didn’t make the patch very wide. Go ahead of me now since you have the light.”

  He noticed footsteps in the snow, other than their steps when they walked back, but didn’t say anything to Holly.

  “If you’ll go inside, I’ll use the lantern for a minute.”

  “Why?”

  Nolan took the lantern from her hand and swung it toward the outhouse. “My turn.”

  He did use the facilities, but then looked at the footsteps behind the café. Two sets of men’s boots had walked around the side of the building, stopping to look in the kitchen window before they retreated, probably when they heard him open the back door to escort Holly to the outhouse.

  His first guess was the men who had bothered Holly earlier in the day. The cash brought in for two big meals, plus the biscuit contest, was probably what they were interested in, instead of Holly though. Would they wait for him to leave this evening, and then break in to steal the money?

  Nolan put the shovel back in the corner of the porch, let himself in the back door, and then turned the key stuck in the door lock.

  Should he say something to Holly about his worry of a robbery?

  “I saw your light as you walked around the building. Where did the steps lead to after they were under the window?”

  “So you noticed?”

  “My father was a scout, so I know how to track.”

  Nolan rubbed his face, trying to think of the best thing to do, and if Holly would be okay with his first suggestion.

  “I need to sleep somewhere tonight, so would it be all right if I enjoy the warmth of the kitchen stove?”

  “You think those two men are waiting for you to leave out of the front door? I’m sure they peeked in and saw you washing dishes.”

  “Yep, and I don’t feel right leaving you and Mrs. Randolph alone tonight. They know there’s money in here…”

  “Thank you, Nolan. I’m sure Myrtle will appreciate your staying here, too. I’ll get you some bedding and bring it back down.”

  “Don’t bother. I don’t want you to give up your bedding for me. You know I’ve slept in much worse places as a soldier, so I’ll be fine. Lock the front door and take one of the lanterns upstairs with you. I’ll keep watch and start the coffee in the morning for breakfast.”

  Holly let go a sigh of relief and her shoulders visibly relaxed. He knew Holly was capable of taking care of things by herself, but he felt good being able to lend a hand. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have gotten any sleep tonight, worrying about defending the money, the café, and the old woman.

  “Good night, Holly.” He had to break the trance between the two of them staring at each other.

  “Good night, Nolan, and thank you for everything you did for us today.”

  “You’re more than welcome. You better scoot upstairs before Mrs. Randolph decides to come looking for you.”

  Holly nodded her head and started up the staircase. Once it was dark downstairs, Nolan eased over to the front door to be sure it was locked, then looked out the side window. A match flame flared as someone lit a smoke in the space between the two buildings across the street. The café was definitely being watched, but Nolan wasn’t worried. He was inside with heat, coffee, and firearms.

  Chapter 4

  The smell of coffee drifted up the stairs early this morning, but Holly and Myrtle had already been up an hour talking.

  Holly knew this would eventually happen, but she wasn’t prepared for the change it would cause in her life. She had finally settled into Mil
ler Springs, made friends, and now she was going to face change again.

  “I’m sorry, Holly, but yesterday was the final straw. I’m an old woman, and I’m just not up to it anymore. I used to be able to do everything, but now...”

  “It will work out, Myrtle. I can take care of you and the café.”

  “No, Holly. You shouldn’t be burdened with me and my declining health, and trying to run the café by yourself.”

  “Have you thought of all the options?”

  “That’s all I’ve thought of lately, but selling the building and moving in with my daughter’s family is best. Her last letter said they had a downstairs bedroom ready for me.”

  Between the pain from her fall and her worry about her business, Myrtle looked like she didn’t have the energy to walk downstairs let alone outside to the outhouse. Holly had to agree moving was best for Myrtle at this stage of her life.

  “And I’d like to be with my grandchildren instead of reading about them in my daughter’s letters.”

  How could Holly argue with that wish? Myrtle needed to be with her family.

  “Could you help me downstairs, Holly? I’d like to thank Mr. Clancy for his help before he leaves town.”

  Holly could hear their first customers downstairs by the time she helped Myrtle dress and get down the stairs, one slow step at a time. A few older men came in for coffee and gossip first thing in the morning. Most of them didn’t order anything for breakfast, except for two widowers. Nolan must have let the men in, and they made themselves at home.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Nolan turned from the stove when he heard them enter the kitchen. “Ready to taste my version of salt pork and gravy? It’s probably different than what you make.”

  How could he look so good this morning when he’d slept on the floor last night? Or did he stay up watching for the possible crooks instead?

  “Thank you for all your help, Mr. Clancy, with cooking, and guarding the café last night.”

  Nolan paused a moment to stare at the older woman. Apparently, Nolan was as surprised as Holly was that Myrtle knew he spent the night.