The Trouble with Patience

by Maggie Brendan

  Emily chuckled again, stroking the cat’s back. “Cats don’t like to be bathed, but we can wipe her down with a wet cloth.”

  “I’ve named her Buttercup. What do you think?”

  “I like it. Buttercup, welcome to Creekside.” Emily stood, then washed her hands. “I’ll get the dishes stacked on the sideboard.”

  “Perfect!” Patience poured nice rounds of batter onto a sizzling griddle. “Emily,” she called, “can you turn the pancakes once bubbles begin to form? I’ll go up and get dressed before anybody sees me.”

  She and Emily worked very well together, she thought as she removed her apron and hurried up the stairs. And it was certainly easier to share chores of running the boardinghouse. She would have the afternoon to finish sewing the parlor curtains. Her day was all planned, and she was feeling happy.

  Buttercup was lying in the windowsill, soaking up the slanting afternoon sun, while Patience hand-hemmed the last panels of the curtains and Emily ironed the ones already finished.

  “Did I tell you that Monty invited me to the dance?” Emily asked.

  “No, you didn’t tell me. I’m glad you’ll be going—at least I’ll have someone to talk to besides Cody. I know so few folks in town yet.”

  Patience glanced up as Emily blew a curl out of her line of vision. “Ironing is making me even hotter than it is outside,” she complained.

  “We can swap and I’ll iron if you’d like.”

  Emily shook her head. “No, thank you. I couldn’t manage a straight hem if I had to, but when you have time I’d like some simple things to try with you looking over my shoulder.” She looked up from her work. “I take it Jedediah asked you to the dance when he dropped by.”

  “Yes, and I was surprised. I—well, actually, I felt a little sorry for him.”

  “Why on earth would you feel that way? I’m sure it’s not the first time he’s asked a lady who had to decline—or is it because you’d rather go with him?” Emily placed the iron on its metal plate and stared at her.

  “Mmm . . . maybe. I’m not really sure. I think the manner in which he asked me—not with his normal brashness—appealed to me. By the time he left he was already asking me to save him a dance.”

  “It’s as I said before—he likes you, Patience.” Emily lifted a hot iron from the stove and placed the one she’d been using back on the stove to heat. “However, Cody seems very charming,” she noted, looking cunningly over at Patience above her ironing.

  “I confess that I too think he is handsome. I’ve been praying the Lord will send the right man my way. I see how Liza and Will are totally absorbed with one another and truly care about each other’s happiness, and I feel I’m missing something. Don’t you long for that, Emily? I know I do,” Patience finished with a sigh.

  Emily handed Patience the panel she’d finished and took the next one to be ironed. “Of course I do. I want to have a family someday. I worry that I’ll end up a spinster.”

  “That isn’t too likely,” Patience hurried to assure her. “But I know what you mean about children. I want little ones to fill my heart and life. A good man of faith can provide the kind of life I hope for, but they are rare here.”

  “That’s true, but neither can we give up.” Emily pressed the last panel as Patience began putting away her sewing supplies.

  “I guess that’s what’s nagging at me. I’m drawn to Jedediah, but I really don’t know much about him. He mentions God, so I think he does believe, but there’s something he’s hiding behind that tough exterior.”

  “Then you’ll have to find a way to get to know him better. The Lord will warn you, tell you, ‘Here’s the way—walk in it.’”

  “I know you’re right . . . we’ll see.” Patience smiled at her friend and motioned toward the couch. “Let’s rest for a bit.” The two women settled side by side, Patience fanning herself with her handkerchief. “I have something to ask you, Emily, if you don’t mind.” At Emily’s nod, Patience said, “When you spoke of your uncle in New York, I . . . well . . . I got the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. If he’s so successful, why would he not be able to provide you with a job?”

  Emily sighed. “To tell you the truth, there’s not much to the story. He was my guardian and very wealthy. I worked as a clerk in my uncle’s publishing house, and I could’ve lived a very opulent life—servants and never having to lift a finger—but after reading about the West, I craved something more that I couldn’t explain. Living here seemed like a challenging adventure I needed to see for myself. So here I am.” She shrugged.

  “Living in a mining town like Nevada City is hard and challenging—certainly very little in comforts or the finer things in life. That must have been a hard decision for you.”

  Emily pursed her lips together. “In some ways it was, but it was more important to me to see what life had to offer away from the crowded streets of New York. With God’s help I survived traveling across the country, and I met some interesting people along the way.”

  “I’m so glad you did, Emily.” Patience reached over to squeeze Emily’s hand and saw tears in her eyes.

  “So am I, Patience. So am I,” she whispered.

  “All right, shall we get started on the next part of this endeavor?” Patience carried the panels to the living room window. “Now, let’s get the curtains hung, then I’ll prepare supper. Or are you cooking tonight?” she teased. Emily laughed since their agreement was that Patience would retain the official cooking duties for Creekside.

  “Let’s see how our handiwork looks,” Emily said. “I did help you cut them out, remember, and ironed them up so nicely.”

  Now they both were laughing. After a few attempts, Patience had the rods over the hooks already attached to the wall, and they slipped the lacey curtains into place and evened out the gathers. They stood back to admire their handiwork.

  Patience clapped her hands. “Oh, they’re perfect! They give the parlor a cozy, finished feel, don’t you think?”

  Emily nodded. “It changes the mood of the entire room. Your guests will enjoy relaxing here now—not that they didn’t before, but curtains provide a feeling of home.”

  “Exactly my purpose, Emily.”

  Emily beamed at her, then hooked her arm through Patience’s. Together they marched toward the kitchen in mutual satisfaction.

  Jedediah was about to begin his usual night patrol when Joe stomped through the door. “Joe, what are you doing here?”

  Joe swayed on his feet as Jed watched the older man’s eyes try to focus. “Jed, it’s like this . . . ,” he said, slurring his words, “I want you to lock me up for the night in a cell . . . think—” he hiccupped—“it’s just what I need.”

  “What the dickens are you yammering on about?” Jedediah stood with hands on his hips and watched Joe stagger over toward an unlocked cell.

  “Go on ahead and lock me in for the night!” Joe hollered. “Can’t ya hear?”

  “Have you gotten yourself in some trouble tonight, Joe? I haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

  “Well, it’s nothin’ like that . . . I’m a peaceful guy. You know that.” He belched, and Jedediah stepped back, waving his hand at the odor.

  “For heaven’s sake, Joe!”

  “Sorry. Lock yer door.” The man hiccupped and swiped a hand over his mouth. “I’m gonna stay th’ night till I sober up. My nerves got to me when I commenced to thinkin’ ’bout askin’ Miss Hannah to that there dance.”

  Jedediah turned his head away to cover his laughter, then recovered enough to say between chuckles, “Well, that’s one way to keep you from the bottle. Are you sure you want me to do this?” He reached for the keys on his desk.

  “Sure as that key fits this here lock. Now, do it and go on ’bout your business.” Jed swung the cell’s door open, and his guest stumbled over to the cot and fell forward on it. He was snoring loudly within moments.

  Jedediah was happy to oblige his elderly friend. It was an unusual solution, but
maybe it’d work. Jedediah was glad that he never imbibed—he’d seen what it did to many good men, and it was not a pretty sight.

  Brilliant rays through the cell window played across the floor and bed, and Jedediah saw the old man’s whiskered face twitch. “Rise and shine, old man!” Jedediah called. “I’ve got your coffee ready.”

  Joe groaned, then rolled to his side and opened one bloodshot eye. He finally got himself up to a sitting position. He leaned over, head in his hands. “Just let me be for a minute, will ya? My head’s a poundin’.”

  “Nope, we gotta get going, Joe,” he said as he opened the cell door. “Here’s some coffee that’ll help.” Jedediah held the mug lower, and the fragrance wafted up into the man’s face.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, “does smell good.” He held out trembling hands, and Jed placed the mug into them. Joe took a sip, then another. “Tastes good too,” he added. “Ya got anything in this place ta eat?”

  “Nope. If you can pull yourself together, we can go grab a bite at the café.”

  “Got yerself a deal, Marshal. Give me a minute or two.” Jedediah took his second cup of coffee and waited on the porch.

  He loved watching his town spring to life—shopkeepers opening their shades and flipping over their signs to OPEN. He was happier in this mining town, working to keep order, than in any of the places he’d been. Certainly better than traipsing across the country trying to find meaning to his life.

  Joe finally walked outside, his face still dripping from his attempts to wash up. “Could we go first over to The Star Bakery?” he asked, avoiding eye contact with Jedediah.

  “Why? You want to eat there?”

  “No.” He looked up at the marshal, then quickly away again. “I want to ask Hannah to the dance, but I need your support.”

  “Me? Come on, you’re a grown man, Joe. I don’t think—”

  “Maybe so, but I need ya there. Please.”

  “Well . . .” Jed considered it for a while and grinned. “I guess it’d be a shame to miss out on seeing how this conversation’s gonna go—sure, I’ll come.” He held Joe’s arm down the steps.

  They walked in silence to the bakery. Jedediah opened the door to the jingle of the bell. “Go right ahead. I’m right behind you,” he said with a sweep of his hand.

  Hannah was sliding pans of biscuits in the oven and looked over her shoulder. “Howdy, Jed.” She nodded to Joe. “Biscuits are baking now, so you’ll have to wait a few minutes for a nice hot one.”

  Jedediah nudged his friend inside, and Joe straightened his shoulders. “Go ahead,” Jedediah told him through barely moving lips.

  “Uh . . . mornin’, Miss Hannah, . . . uh, we’re not here for a biscuit. I . . . uh . . .” Joe turned to look at Jedediah, despair written all over his wrinkled face.

  “Well, what is it?” Hannah questioned. “You want something different? I have cinnamon rolls too, but they won’t be ready till eight o’clock.”

  Jedediah walked over to the counter and leaned against it, arms folded, as he watched Joe struggle.

  “Naw . . .” Joe removed his hat and nearly wadded it up in his hands. “I wanted to find out—well, I’m askin’ if I can . . . escort ya to the Hargroves’ dance. Before you say no,” he rushed on, “I jus’ want ya ta know I’d sure be honored.”

  “Land o’ Goshen!” Hannah exclaimed. “You reek of alcohol and Lord knows what else. Before I’d even consider it, Joe, you’d have to get yourself cleaned up—in more ways than one.”

  “I admit I have a drink or two sometimes, but I’m no drunk—”

  “Humph!” Hannah put in, arms akimbo on her ample hips.

  “So I take it that’s not a no?” He gave her a lopsided grin, then glanced at Jedediah.

  Jedediah watched Hannah roll her eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s not a direct no, Joe—but I expect you to shave, wash up, and find some decent, clean clothes. I know you’re not a pauper!”

  He looked at her for a moment. “I never had much reason to dress up for nobody before.”

  “Then you need to change your way of thinkin’ and do it for yourself! And last but not least, not a single drop between now and the dance. You think that over when you’ve got your wits about you again. Now, I’ve got lots to do this morning, so come back later after you’ve had a chance to clean up, and we’ll talk.”

  Joe clapped his hat back on his head, smiling broadly. “I’ll do that . . . yes, ma’am, I will!”

  “Come on, Joe. Let’s get out of Hannah’s way,” Jedediah said. The two of them left, and once they were out the door, Jedediah clapped his hand on Joe’s back. “I’m right proud of you, friend, mustering up the courage. At least she didn’t say no.”

  Joe held out his hands. “Lookee here, Jed. My hands are shakin’, and it ain’t from no alcohol this time.”

  “The worst is behind you now, Joe. You’ll just have to wait and see what her answer might be. It seemed to me her face went all soft when she was talking to you.”

  Joe stared back. “Is that right?” He rubbed his jaw, looking incredulous. “Well, I’ll be jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! I just could have me a chance yet. Let’s go eat. My stomach is ’bout to gnaw my backbone—”

  “And we’ve got some work to do before you see Hannah again,” Jedediah said. “I imagine we’ll have to change the water in the tub a few times.” That got a chuckle out of Joe.

  Jedediah doubted most of Hargrove’s ranch hands even had a suit, but they all tried their best to clean up well in order to impress the young ladies. The one thing he was not comfortable in, though, was his Sunday-go-to-meetin’ suit. Comfort to him meant jeans, worn boots, and a flannel shirt with his badge pinned on it. But tonight he’d do his part to follow accepted dress codes. He wrapped a black string tie around his collar, redoing it so it wasn’t too tight, put on his Stetson, then stood back to stare at his reflection in the old mirror. Best he could tell, he didn’t look too sorry, and with his hat on, one might even consider him good-looking. At least my mother would, he told himself with a wry grin.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle, though, at the face staring back at him. Who was he trying to kid, with his leathery skin the color of bark, and the deep crease between his eyes from frowning at the sun too long? Let’s face it—I’m not a looker. The only reason Millie accepted my invitation was so she could attend the dance. And if he was honest, the only reason he’d invited her was because he’d been miffed that he hadn’t asked Patience before Cody did.

  He knew there’d been some murmured rumblings around town about “Millie’s past” in Kansas City, but was there anybody in Nevada City that didn’t have a past—including him?

  He’d stalled long enough. Time he left to get the rig harnessed up and go get Millie.

  Millie chatted the entire way to the party, leaving Jedediah little chance to get a word in edgewise. He didn’t really mind, though. He didn’t have that much to say anyway.

  She wore a bright red gown with a rather daring neckline exposing her creamy neck and shoulders. She carried a shawl, placing it in her lap instead of around her bare shoulders. The dress was startlingly bold, he’d thought when she’d answered the door, and her cheeks held a dusting of rouge, but not too much, he figured. She talked mostly of the places she’d been and the different odd jobs she’d worked.

  “So what exactly do you do now, Millie?” he finally ventured when she stopped for a breath. “Why, I thought you knew,” she replied, turning to look at him. “I know the rumor has it that I am a wealthy widow, but that’s far from the truth. I’m a companion to old Mrs. Brock. She fell and broke her hip. She ain’t been right since.” She fiddled with the bows on her gown. “But she pays me well, and so she should. Not many could put up with all her demands. It’s a pity her husband passed first, I tell you.”

  He was surprised she spoke so frankly of her employer. “Why’s that?”

  “Well, he was a darling and had plenty of money from his mine. I think he would have been a lot eas
ier to work for.” She shrugged those smooth shoulders. “I don’t mean to complain. At least I have decent employment.” She moved closer to him on the seat until they were almost touching. “And a handsome man to escort me to the dance.” She blinked at him with long, pretty eyelashes.

  Jedediah stiffened and swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable with Millie’s too-close proximity and overly friendly personality. Maybe he’d made a bad judgment call.

  He flicked the reins across the horse’s back, anxious to get on to the Hargroves’.

  13

  Music could be heard long before Patience and Cody arrived at the dance. As they drove up in the rig Cody had rented for the event, lanterns glowed in the twilight, and everything looked festive and inviting. Cody ran around the buggy to help Patience step down while she looked around in delight. She was sure she’d never seen so many people at one time or so many horses and buggies arrayed in a row outside the barn.

  “Folks from Virginia City were invited too,” Cody said, “since not much separates the two towns but a short ride down the road, Mr. Hargrove told me.” Cody held out his arm to Patience. “Did I tell you yet that you’re looking most lovely tonight, Patience?”

  “No, you didn’t, but I thank you for saying so.” She glanced down at her hand on his arm, feeling a bit awkward since she was not used to receiving compliments.

  The Hargroves stood at the entrance to the barn, smiling and greeting each of their guests as they arrived.

  “So glad you could come,” Mrs. Hargrove said in her genteel, southern drawl. “I’m Judith Hargrove, and this is my husband, John.” She held out a gloved hand to gently shake with both Cody and Patience. “And you are the young lady that runs the Creekside Inn, aren’t you, my dear?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m Patience Cavanaugh,” Patience answered over a warm handshake from John.

  Judith gave her a warm smile. “From what I’ve heard, you’re doing a fine job too!”

  “I’d like to think I am,” she murmured.