Nissa (The Widows of Wildcat Ridge Book 3)

by Zina Abbott

  Dallin narrowed his eyes. “I’ve heard enough about you, Mr. Crane, to guess in the event of your demise, the only thing the town marshal or anyone else in this town will do is call for a celebration.”

  Mortimer tossed his head and stepped back. He brushed aside the pistol barrel as if it were a pesky insect. He glowered his disapproval and snarled. “You can’t get away with that. I’ll have you taken down. One telegram from me, and I’ll have some of my most diligent and loyal men from the mine down here like that…” Mortimer snapped his fingers. “To take care of you. I’ll speak how I want to Mrs. Stillwell until she has repaid me what is owed.”

  “Your hooligans, you mean. You don’t scare me, Mr. Crane. Now, hightail it out of here.”

  Mortimer back-stepped towards the door but pointed his finger at Dallin. “You won’t always be here. Once you’re gone…” Mortimer turned and glared at Nissa. “She’ll pay for this.”

  After Mortimer Crane left the café, Nissa looked around at the audience of diners who still stared at her. She knew most of them shared the same opinion of Mr. Crane she did but guessed that would not stop some of them from speculating she might be somehow in the wrong when it came to owing the lying reprobate money. She felt like sinking into the floor. She knew Mortimer would deliver on his promise—once Dallin Walsh left town, he would see she paid for escaping him tonight.

  Nissa refused to let that happen. She had to discuss her plan with Dallin first.

  Dallin, his pistol back in its holster, stepped over to her and gently reached for her elbow. “Mrs. Stillwell, are you all right? I apologize for the scene, but I was not about to allow that snake to speak about you that way.”

  Nissa held her head high and forced out a smile. “Don’t apologize, Mr. Walsh. Thank you for speaking up for me.” Painfully aware that James would not have stood up for her against Mortimer, she pause. Looking around again, and aware a few eyes still studied her as they thought about what they just witnessed, she felt an overwhelming desire to leave the room. “I need to check on the children.”

  Garnet, her hands coated in flour, met her at the door. “I’m so sorry, Nissa, I was just about to come out and ask Mr. Crane to leave. Unfortunately, Molly chose that moment to grow upset over dough sticking to her fingers.”

  Nissa patted her arm. “I’m glad you stayed back here, Garnet. You kept my children from witnessing that.” She looked at the children, who were both busy making shapes with their dough. “May I ask you to watch them a little longer? I need to talk to Mr. Walsh.”

  At Garnet’s nod, Nissa turned to find Dallin, his arms folded, waiting a few feet away in the dining room. A glance around the room told her all the diners had now resumed eating their meals. “Mr. Walsh, would you please check the front boardwalk to be sure Mr. Crane has left the area? While Mrs. Chandler watches the children a few more minutes, I’d like to speak with you, if I may.”

  Without a word, Dallin offered Nissa his arm and walked to the front of the café. He left her inside the building while he stepped out and scanned the boardwalk and street in all directions. Finding no sign of the man who had disrupted their evening, he led Nissa outside. Dallin turned to Nissa. “I’m so sorry if my actions in there embarrassed you, Mrs. Stillwell.”

  Nissa stared out into the street cloaking itself in shadows as dusk began to fall. “No apology needed. I was grateful you were there.”

  Dallin sighed with relief. “Good. Besides wishing your company at dinner, I felt concerned the men who found you and your children at the creek yesterday might bother you again. It turned out a different man brought trouble to you.” Dallin captured both of her hands in his. “Have you considered leaving this town, Mrs. Stillwell? I get the impression this Mr. Crane is very determined to cause you grief.”

  Nissa looked down at their joined hands, his palms and fingers rough like hers but from different causes. She resisted the urge to squeeze them. “He’s a menace to almost all the women in this town. Since he decided not to reopen the mine, I wish he’d leave completely. Instead, he comes back in an effort to bleed us of as much as he can.” Nissa looked up into Dallin’s eyes. “He loves power, especially over those he feels are weaker than he is.”

  “Well, I was proud of the way you stood up to him. You’ve had to do it before?” At Nissa’s nod, he continued. “It might be better for you and the children to pack up and go. As he pointed out, as much as I wish to protect you and the children from him, I won’t always be here.”

  “You’re a good man, Mr. Walsh. I also liked Mr. Kramer. He seems a decent man. Are all your men good men?”

  Puzzled over whether she made casual conversation or she asked for a purpose, he answered carefully. “Pretty much, some better than others. They know what I will and won’t tolerate. Those that don’t agree with what I expect of them tend to move on.”

  Nissa pulled her hands free from Dallin’s and took a step away from him. “Mr. Walsh, you mentioned yesterday you had a housekeeper, but she has since passed on. Do I assume correctly you have not yet replaced her?” Nissa glanced at Dallin to gauge his reaction. She did not feel encouraged by what she saw. She spoke rapidly, hoping to get what she wanted to say out before she lost her nerve. “If…if not, I’d like you to consider me for the position. I know I have the two children, but I can see they don’t interfere with the workings of the ranch. My laundry business here has no real future, and as you’ve said, I’ll continue to have trouble with Mr. Crane. I know you might not pay a housekeeper much, but I assume the position comes with room and board. As long as your men will behave respectably around me and my children, I’d like to try it. Would you consider me for the job?”

  “Mrs. Stillwell, Señora Sanchez was the elderly wife of one of my workers. After he died, she had nowhere to go. As a courtesy to the memory of her dead husband, I kept her on as a housekeeper until her death.”

  Disappointment crushed her. Nissa folded her hands and looked away. “I see. Then you’re saying you don’t want me there?”

  “It’s not that, Mrs. Stillwell. I do care what happens to you, and your children—enough to not want to see you trapped in a place like this. High mountain ranching is hard on women and youngsters. We ranchers live so far apart, there’s very little socializing. I think the nearest ranch to mine with a woman and children is at least a half day’s drive away. It takes longer than that to get the nearest town of any size.”

  Nissa gave a depreciating laugh. “That would not affect me, Mr. Walsh. My husband did not like me associating with people in town. I came in only occasionally to shop. Otherwise, he kept the children and me pretty much isolated at the house.”

  Nissa waited as, with several seconds of silence, Dallin considered her admission about the nature of her marriage to James. “What about school for the children? Surely, Jamie is old enough he goes to school. There’s none near the ranch. There’s no church, either. Hal, my other man you didn’t get to meet tonight, as long as we’re not out on the range, he will take an hour or so on Sundays and read the Bible to us. Otherwise, there’d be no religious instruction for your children other than what you or someone else at the ranch gave them. Same with their education. You would need to be their teacher.”

  Nissa hesitated as she pondered all she had been told. As much as she admired and felt drawn to Dallin Walsh, would the deprivations he described be worth the opportunity for her children to live and learn to work on a ranch where good men could be a positive influence on them, especially on Jamie? “I can teach the children to read, write and do their sums. Between your man who reads the Bible and the Bible stories I know, I think they can get sufficient religious instruction.” Nissa paused and stared at her feet. She would be taking on a lot of work, especially if Dallin would expect her to cook and do laundry for his men. Looking up once more and taking advantage of the light from inside the café shining through the window, she studied his face. “I’ll think about what you said, Mr. Walsh. However, please consider whether or not y
ou would be willing to offer me the job if I’m agreeable to accept it on those terms.”

  As Nissa stared off to the side, afraid to see his reaction, she soon suspected Dallin studied her as he considered her request. She looked up to find she was right.

  Dallin took a deep breath before he spoke. “Mrs. Stillwell, I know this town is swamped with widows, but there is still a shortage of women in the West as a whole. Have you considered moving to a nearby town and working your business there until you can meet someone suitable and remarry?”

  Nissa shook her head. She noticed he did not say anything about him being among the suitable men she could consider for a new husband. Then again, why should she care? She still felt leery about the idea of marrying again, no matter the man. He could turn out to be like James. If she remarried and her new husband died, he could leave her in the same fix as James had.

  However, now was not the time to share her views on the topic with Dallin Walsh. “I don’t want to live anywhere near a mining town or be around people who might influence Jamie to become a miner like his father. I have no family to turn to, and I don’t feel confident taking my children someplace to start over where I know no one. It is true that even if I must deal with Mr. Crane until he gives up, here I know people. At your ranch, I would know you and Mr. Kramer, and I feel comfortable around you both.”

  Or was she trying to ignore the truth that she felt a growing bond with Dallin Walsh that went beyond respect and friendship? Nissa dared not explore the answer to that question too intently.

  In the growing darkness, Dallin looked off towards the creek and nodded. “Let me think about this a little more, Mrs. Stillwell. I’ll pick you and the children up for supper about the same time tomorrow night, and we can discuss it further.”

  “This has been a lovely meal, but you don’t need to feed us every night.”

  Dallin chuckled and offered Nissa his arm. “I want to. It would please me greatly to have you and the children join me for supper. Consider it a business meeting. We’ll discuss your job request in greater detail.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure I wish you to join me for supper again—Nissa, is it?” At Nissa’s nod, he continued with a soft laugh. “Plus, tonight Jamie was so excited talking with Buck about taming wild mustangs, he and I didn’t get a chance to discuss his next boat.” Dallin opened the door to the café then turned to Nissa. “Oh, another thing, if Jamie has a fairly clean play shirt, he might be more comfortable wearing that rather than his Sunday best. We men don’t always like to dress up, as you probably noticed after seeing me tonight. On the ranch, washing hands and face before a meal is considered good enough.” He moved aside for Nissa to enter. “Let’s go collect Jamie and Molly so I can see you three safely home.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  June 25, 1884

  A

  light nudge on the bottom of his foot jolted Buck out of a deep sleep. He scrambled to his feet in an instant. With one hand on the butt of his pistol, he tossed aside his blanket. It was only when, through his bleary sleep-hazed eyes he recognized Hal, he let out a sigh of relief and settled to a sitting position on the straw. He sneezed as the stirred-up hay sent dust flying around him. Scooting back against the short wall where the roof joined it just above his head, he raked his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair and scratched his cheek. “What did you go and do that for? Took about ten years off my life.”

  Unrepentant, Hal leaned against the flat side of the livery building near the edge of the loft where the roofline was high enough he could stand at his full height. “You’re getting soft being in town. It’s daylight. Time to be up.”

  Buck grumbled as he pulled one boot off and wiggled his toes. “Says the man who spent the night in a soft bed at the hotel. You got to sleep all night without a care in the world. Me, on the other hand, every time one of these horses snorted or stomped, I got up and climbed down the ladder to take a look-see and make sure everything was all right.”

  “Must you take those boots off, Buck? The stink of those socks are enough to stampede the horses right out of here.”

  Both boots now off, Buck glared at Hal. “You try spending the night here with your boots on. And before you say anything, if you think I was going to sleep with my boots off only to find myself chasing after some hombres up to no good in my stocking feet, you better think again.”

  “If you hurry, you might have time to go back to the room to change those socks and shave before breakfast. Boss will be waiting at the café.”

  With a sigh of resignation, Buck began the process of pulling his boots back on his feet. “Reckon I should do that. I’m so hungry I feel like I got a hole stretching from my belt clear to the floor of this livery.”

  “So, did you have any trouble here last night?”

  “No.” Buck jerked his head towards the far end of the loft with the two bedrolls rounded with men wrapped inside. “Those two joined me. They snored like grizzly bears but slept like the dead.”

  Hal grinned. “What are you trying to say? Feels like home, like you’re back in the bunkhouse?”

  Buck shot Hal a withering glare. “Says the man who slept without interruption on a comfortable spring mattress. I think tonight we should swap places, especially since I hear the horses are coming into town today, and the men hired to watch over them until they are claimed by their new owners will be sharing the loft.”

  “Nope. You’re doing good.”

  Buck shifted to a squatting position, threw together his bedroll, and nodded towards the ladder. “If there’s men in town bent on helping themselves to horses they got no right to, they didn’t show their faces here, at least not yet. Let’s go and get that breakfast you’re bragging on.”

  Both men climbed down the ladder and walked out of the livery. As they started walking to the right towards the Ridge Hotel, Buck noticed Hal twist to look behind him at the alley across the street. Next, Hal pulled out his pocket watch and quickly checked the time before he snapped the lid shut and slid it back into its pocket.

  Buck’s eyes followed Hal’s gaze. He had no idea what was in those buildings. However, his nose told him someone had cooked up a breakfast fit for a king. Curious, Buck turned to his partner. “So, where you end up eating supper last night? Felt a little strange, me sitting there at a table all by myself with Boss and that washer woman and her youngsters. Felt like I was butting in where I wasn’t wanted.”

  Hal looked forward as they walked. When he finally answered, he refused to look at Buck. “Nowhere special. There’s other places in town offering meals for sale—widows looking to make a little extra money while we all are in town for the auction. I’m sure Boss didn’t mind you being there, or he would have told you to eat somewhere else or at a different time.” Hal grinned at Buck and shrugged. “Maybe he wanted you there so folks don’t get the wrong idea about him and that laundress.”

  Buck did not know about other folks, but he figured he understood the right idea about Boss and the laundress. Boss was sweet on the woman. He even liked both her children. But, if Hal refused to share information, so would he. Instead, he continued to pry. “Widows, huh? Pretty, young widows, I suppose.”

  Hal shook his head. “No, this widow is older—probably almost old enough to be your mother.”

  Buck harrumphed. Hal admitted there was a widow involved, but he must think Buck was born yesterday if he thought Buck would believe Hal chose to spend time with a woman that old. “Be that way. See if I tell you anything good any time soon. Maybe you should be the one to share the table with Boss so folks don’t get the wrong idea about him and the washer woman. Stop being so stubborn and tell me where you ate supper last night.”

  By then they had rounded the corner and the hotel stood one building over.

  “Catch.”

  Buck looked up in time to see a key spinning through the air towards him. He reached out and snatched it mid-flight.

  Hal grinned as he started to
back away. “Clean up and enjoy your breakfast with Boss at the café. Tell him I’ll catch my own meal and meet up with him later.”

  Buck thrust his neck forward and jutted out his chin. “And just where are you going?”

  Hal offered one of his enigmatic smiles. “A few places—to take care of a few things. Tell Boss I’ll check on the horses again, although once the livery owner is stirring about, I’m sure they’ll be all right.” Before Buck could respond, Hal spun around and started walking west on Chestnut Street.

  Aware of the awkward bedroll he carried, Buck muttered an expletive and rushed to the edge of the laundry shed in time to see Hal walking towards the mercantile. Annoyed, he shook his head. “Check on the horses—yeah, I’ll bet. He’s checking on some sweet widow, and keeping it secret.”

  Buck had no intention of letting his partner get away with pulling a stunt like that. He practically ran to the hotel and up to the room, his boots clattering against the stairs. He quickly unlocked the door to the room he supposedly shared with Hal, tossed in his gear, locked the door again, and then ran for the back door leading to the outside stairs. He grumbled at discovering it remained locked from the night. He ran back down the front stairs, out the door and towards the corner. By that time, Hal appeared as a small figure a block and a half away.

  Buck trotted towards the mercantile, only to realize Hal had turned right at the second street up. Buck leaned against the side wall of the mercantile to catch his breath and think about what it all meant. He laughed quietly as he realized Hal had turned in front of the building from which had come the tantalizing scents of breakfast food. Ol’ Hal, who thought he was so suave, probably was as interested in the cook as much as the food. If he thought he could hold out on Buck, he would soon learn different.

  Buck returned to the room where he discovered warm water in the pitcher. He poured some in the bowl and dug out his shaving gear. Still fuming over the situation with Hal, Buck winced as he cut himself on the side of his chin. He slowed, and paid more attention to his razor until he could feel smooth skin as he rubbed his face.