Honoring Her Heart

by Amelia C. Adams

  Honoring Her Heart

  Cowboys and Angels Book 46

  by Amelia C. Adams

  With thanks to my beta readers—Barbara, Bonnie, Cindy, Dorothy, Gail, Joseph, Lisa, Mary, Meisje, Renee G., Robin, Shelby, Teresa, Theresa, and Tina.

  Cover design by EDH Professionals

  Click here to join my reader group on Facebook!

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Mary Olson pinned the last dishtowel into place on the clothesline and then stepped back, admiring the way the laundry fluttered in the hot breeze of a Colorado summer. When she was a little girl, she’d loved to run in and out between the sheets on the line, pretending she was hidden away from the world until her mother called out for her to come do her chores.

  Those summer days never lasted long enough when she was a child, and they didn’t now that she was an adult, either. An adult with a boarding house to run and bills to pay. She trailed her hand along one of the damp sheets, feeling its coolness and being tempted just for the smallest moment to duck behind it and hide.

  Patagonia, her housekeeper and good friend, stepped onto the porch with a tray. “Time for some lemonade,” she called out.

  Mary smiled. Patty, as she preferred to be called, always seemed to know what was needed and when. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.” She dropped the remaining clothespins into the basket, picked up her load, and walked up to the house, setting the basket on the porch before joining Patty in the twin rocking chairs.

  “This is a real treat, Patty,” she said, nodding at the cool glass she held. “I didn’t think we were going to get many lemons this year.”

  “Me neither. Those Jacksons at the mercantile must have pulled some strings somewhere.” Patty took a long sip from her own glass. “Think we’re going to see a break in this heat?”

  “Not any time soon, but I don’t mind so much,” Mary replied. “We don’t suffer too badly when we keep the windows open.”

  “Maybe not, but I keep telling you that one day, someone’s gonna break in, and we’re just two women with no way of saving ourselves. We need a dog—a good barking guard dog.”

  Mary shook her head, smiling. “I don’t think so. Dogs are more trouble than they’re worth.” They’d had this conversation at least a dozen times, and she didn’t imagine that they’d ever let it go. They were each too set in their ways.

  “A goat, then. A goat out here in the yard would scare off anyone.”

  “Including our potential boarders?”

  “Maybe, but maybe not. We could get a very intelligent goat, one that would know the difference between a robber and a boarder.”

  “If you can find a goat that intelligent, I’ll certainly consider buying it to tie up here in our yard.” Mary smiled to herself. Patty was a dear thing, but her ideas were sometimes a bit too far-fetched. Next, she’d be suggesting that they get a gander. They’d never see another boarder again if they did that.

  A rattling sound caught her attention, and she leaned forward in her rocking chair to see Heston Granger driving his wagon around the corner, Mercy Davis seated beside him. Mary came to her feet, a grin on her face.

  “Oh, I do believe they’ll have a story to tell,” Patty said, joining her at the porch railing. “It’s a good thing we have young folks around here to share their adventures with us so we don’t shrivel up and die from boredom.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of shriveling up any time soon,” Mary retorted. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, though, she had to admit that she had felt that way when her husband died. She had wanted to curl up in bed, pull the covers over her head, and block out any light that shone in through her window or was offered her by compassionate friends. It hurt to recall those days, and she pushed the memory back as quickly as it had arisen.

  Heston pulled the wagon up in front of the house, and Mary noticed a gentleman riding in the back. He seemed a bit older, perhaps fifty, but he sprang down from the back of the wagon with surprising agility.

  Mercy almost didn’t wait for Heston to give her a hand. She climbed down from her seat and ran up the walk, throwing her arms around Mary and nearly knocking her off balance. “Oh, Mrs. Olson, it’s so good to see you!” she said. Then she turned to Patty and gave her a similar hug. “I have so much to tell you!”

  “Yes, child, I can see that you do,” Patty said, catching Mercy’s hand and holding it to the light. A delicate gold band adorned her finger, and color rose to Mercy’s cheeks.

  “You’re married? My goodness. Just what exactly happened in Denver?” Mary asked.

  “Everything. Every wonderful thing,” Mercy replied. “And I’m going to tell you all about it, but first, let me make some introductions.” She turned and gestured toward the gentleman coming up the walk with Heston. “This is Christopher Hoffman. He came in on the same train that brought us home, and we told him this was an excellent place to stay.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Hoffman,” Mary said, turning to greet the newcomer. She hadn’t been able to see his features clearly before because he was standing in the bright sunlight, but as he stepped into the shadow of the porch, she swallowed.

  He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense, but he was captivating, and in her opinion, that was a dozen times better . . . or worse. He was only a few inches taller than herself, but he held his shoulders straight, which made him appear even taller. His hair was salt and pepper, trimmed neatly around his ears and just brushing his collar, and he wore a small beard that was just as neatly trimmed. Everything about him said he was a gentleman, and when he took off his hat and gave a slight bow, that merely added to her first impression.

  “And I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Olson. I’m told you run the cleanest boarding house in Colorado.”

  For some reason, the compliment made her blush. “I do keep a clean house, but that’s all Patty’s doing.”

  Mr. Hoffman turned and gave Patty a bow. “That would be you, I presume.”

  “Yes, sir. We do take a fair measure of pride in our establishment. That’s not to say that we’re the absolute cleanest, though. The other places here in town are nice too,” Patty replied.

  “That might be the case, but Mr. and Mrs. Granger spoke of you so highly, I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else.”

  Mercy laughed. “Mrs. Granger. Can you believe it? I think I’ve pinched myself a dozen times a day over the last week just to make sure it’s real.”

  “It’s been my experience that only leads to bruised arms,” Patty said wryly. “Come on now and help me get more lemonade put together.”

  Mercy followed Patty into the house, and Mary stood to the side while Heston fetched Mr. Hoffman’s things from the wagon. The last thing Heston brought up to the house was a picnic basket that looked rather familiar.

  “I figured Patty would skin me alive if I didn’t return this,” Heston said with a chuckle, placing the basket on a table in the entryway.

  “She hasn’t mentioned it, but I’m sure she’ll be glad to get it back,” Mary replied. “Please do come in and have some refreshments, gentlemen. Patty mixed up some of her almond poppyseed bread this morning.”

  “Ma’am, I’ve never refused such a kind offer in my life, and I have no intention of starting now,” Mr. Hoffman said, holding out his arm for her to lead the way.

  Once they were all set
tled at the table, Mary took advantage of the opportunity to study Mr. Hoffman’s profile. She hoped it wouldn’t be too obvious that she was scrutinizing him, but she was so curious to learn more. His story would have to wait, though, because Patty was already asking the newlyweds every question she could think of.

  “Well, you might say I knew I wanted to marry her as soon as I figured out she wasn’t a boy,” Heston said with a laugh. “There was something about her that spoke to something in me, and I couldn’t just escort her to Denver and leave her there. I had to speak up before she did something completely foolish like finding a job and starting her life over again miles and miles away from me.”

  “You thought she was a boy at some point?” Mr. Hoffman asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.

  “I had stowed away in a railroad car wearing men’s clothes, and Heston was the one who found me,” Mercy explained. “He didn’t turn me in, and now, here we are, husband and wife.”

  “I think that’s one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard, but I do wish you’d held the ceremony here in Creede,” Patty said with a sniff. “Now we can’t celebrate with you.”

  “Of course you can,” Mercy replied. “In fact, we hoped you’d throw us a wedding party and bake us one of your cakes, Patty.”

  Mary had never seen Patty’s face change from gloom to delight so fast. “Well, of course I will,” Patty replied. “We’ll have it right here in the yard, and you’d better be glad there’s no goat in that yard, come to think of it. You were right, Mrs. Olson. Right as rain.”

  “Was there going to be a goat in the yard?” Mercy asked, sounding confused.

  “No, there never was, and now there definitely won’t be.” Mary smiled. It would take too much effort to explain, and it wasn’t really needed anyway. “I can’t tell you how glad I am for the two of you. Will you live at Heston’s, then?”

  “We will for the first little bit, but I need to find something a little better,” Heston replied. “My place is fine for a single young man, but it’s too small and too shabby for a bride.”

  “I’m sure we can make it nice,” Mercy said, nudging his elbow. “I don’t need anything fancy.”

  “You say that now, but after a month or two, I think you’ll be clamoring for a change. We might as well make the change now and just avoid the clamoring, don’t you think?”

  She grinned at him. “Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear.”

  Mary chuckled and turned to Mr. Hoffman. Now seemed a good time to shift the conversation to him. “Tell us about yourself, Mr. Hoffman. What brings you to Creede?”

  Mr. Hoffman dabbed a small crumb from his beard with his napkin. “I’m here to meet with a man named Wendell Thurgood. I understand he deals with real estate in these parts.”

  “Yes, he does,” Mary replied. “He’s a pleasant man, easy to converse with.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I’ve decided I’d like to purchase some land in various parts of the country as a way to invest more broadly, and he sounds like just the man to help me.”

  “His office is on Main Street, really not far from here,” Mary replied. “It’s a pleasant stroll, or you could hire a carriage—”

  Mr. Hoffman lifted a hand. “No need. I like walking, and I’m sure I’d find it enjoyable.”

  Patty brought out more lemonade, and Mary fell back to studying Mr. Hoffman as they finished their refreshments. A well-groomed gentleman, one who had money and wished to make a variety of investments, one with impeccable table manners . . . She’d thought men like this had ceased to exist, that they’d all been washed away in a giant landslide or something. She certainly hadn’t seen one for a long time, that was for sure.

  Once they’d finished eating, Patty showed Mr. Hoffman to his room. Mary wished the front room overlooking the street was free for him as it had the best view of the mountains, but it had been rented out by a Mr. and Mrs. Roundy. The room they’d give to Mr. Hoffman was nice as well, but it faced a side street and wasn’t nearly as picturesque. Heston helped with the luggage.

  While the men were out of the room, Mary turned to Mercy and enveloped her in a hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she said, leaning back to look into the girl’s face. “After everything you’ve been through, you deserve a wonderful outcome.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about deserving,” Mercy said. “I feel blessed far beyond anything I deserve.”

  “Then perhaps that’s why you were named Mercy,” Mary told her. “To always be a reminder that there are more good gifts in store for us than what we’ve actually earned.”

  “I agree,” Heston said, entering the room again. “Shall we go, Mrs. Granger? I know you’re eager to start putting your touches on my masculine attempts at decorating.”

  “Maybe just a little eager,” Mercy said with a grin. “We’ll see you later, Mrs. Olson.”

  Mary waved from the front porch as they drove away, then turned to enter the house. She was startled to run nearly into Mr. Hoffman’s chest.

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Olson. I’m told I have a bad habit of sneaking up on people.”

  “No, I’m quite all right,” she replied, even though she wasn’t quite. “How did you find your room?”

  “Absolutely perfect. I told Patty I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be in town, and she said I can stay as long as I don’t set fire to the curtains.”

  Mary smiled. “True. We don’t have any reservations coming for that room, so you may consider it yours as long as it’s needed.”

  “I appreciate that. Now, I wonder if you could point me in the direction of Mr. Thurgood’s office.”

  She indicated the way, estimating the number of blocks because she’d never actually counted them out. “If you get turned around, just ask anyone you see,” she finished. “This is a friendly town—you’ll get the help you need.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Olson. Between you and Patty, I already feel quite welcomed.” He tipped his hat and stepped down the sidewalk, his movements brisk. She watched him go, more curious than ever about him.

  “I don’t think he’s married,” Patty said, joining her on the porch.

  “Why should it matter to us if he’s married? Gracious, the man’s entitled to some privacy, isn’t he?”

  Patty shook her head and gave Mary one of her famous looks. “Mmm-hmmm. Are you trying to tell me that you’re not interested in that man?”

  Mary felt heat rise to her cheeks. “Of course I’m not! He’s a guest, Patty, and besides, I’m not in a position to be interested in anyone.”

  “And just what position do you think you need to be in? I’ve been here with you for a while now and I’ve seen you have all sorts of ups and downs—seems to me, right now’s the best time of any.”

  Mary shook her head. “No, not now, and possibly not ever. What are we having for dinner?”

  “I was making some chicken and dumplings, but now I wonder if I shouldn’t put some humble pie on the menu as well.”

  Mary’s eyes widened. “What on earth do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just that maybe someone needs to be a little less stubborn, that’s all.” Patty folded her arms across her ample middle.

  “I’m not stubborn. I just know that I’m not ready to be entertaining those sorts of thoughts yet. I’ll go check the laundry on the line.”

  As she crossed the grass, she glanced in the direction Mr. Hoffman had gone, even though he was far out of sight. She was definitely not ready to be having those thoughts, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t having them.

  Chapter Two

  Christopher Hoffman strode down the busy street, glancing around at the people and stores he passed. This town of Creede, Colorado, was certainly a nice place, and more scenic than he’d anticipated. He could stare at the mountains for days and not grow tired of them. He wondered what they would look like in the winter, covered with frosty snow.

  He took note of the businesses, seeing restaurants and specialty shops. This town was new
, that was obvious, but it already had quite a lot of diversity in its commerce. That spoke well for the economy here, and that pleased him.

  He paused, realizing that in his woolgathering, he’d become turned around.

  “Pardon me,” he said to a lady passing by. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my way. Could you direct me to the office of Wendell Thurgood?”

  “Of course. It’s across the street—just there beyond the awning.” She nodded that direction.

  He turned and could see where she indicated. “Thank you, ma’am. I hope you have a pleasant day.”

  She gave him a nod, and he crossed the street. He was eager to transact his business, but first, he needed to size up this Mr. Thurgood and see if he was a man of integrity. He’d encountered far too many men who presented themselves one way and behaved in quite another, and while Mrs. Olson had a good opinion of Mr. Thurgood, Christopher wanted to see for himself.

  Mrs. Olson. He thought about her as he approached Mr. Thurgood’s door. She was an interesting woman. There was something about her eyes that drew him in. They were haunted, and yet they flashed with fire and at times, humor. She was the sort of woman who had lived a thousand lifetimes and wore them on her shoulders. Patty had indicated that Mrs. Olson was a widow—she seemed too young to have lost a husband, and yet her eyes spoke of even more sorrows than that.

  He shook his head. He hadn’t come to Creede to involve himself in the lives of the residents. He was here on business, nothing more.

  Just as he lifted his hand to knock, the door opened, and a tall, thin man greeted him with surprise.

  “Oh, hello!” the man said. “I was just on my way out, but please, come in.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Christopher said, but the man waved him off.

  “No, not at all. I was just going to step over to the tea shop and have a pastry, but that can wait. I’m Wendell Thurgood.” He held out his hand, and Christopher shook it.

  “Christopher Hoffman. I’m told you’re the man to see if I’m interested in real estate in this area.”