by Amanda Cabot
“Hannah’s suggestion makes sense,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t worry about her if she were with you, but if I don’t drive her to school, what happens to Seth?”
“That’s a problem.” Catherine’s lips tightened. “I wish I could keep him here, but Boone would never agree to that. It looks like he’ll have to go back to walking.”
Remembering the almost emaciated boy he’d seen the first day, Austin shook his head. “I don’t like that idea.”
“I don’t either, but I don’t have any alternatives.”
Austin walked to the window and stared outside. The ice had begun to melt, leaving the street slushy. While this storm had been an unusual event, the simple truth was that Seth shouldn’t have to walk from his farm in any weather.
“There might be a way,” Austin told Catherine as the ideas began to swirl through his mind. “You said Boone’s motivated by money. What if I hire Seth to work on the ranch and pay his wages directly to Boone? I could claim that I need him first thing in the morning and again after school. Once Seth’s at the ranch, Boone wouldn’t know if I gave him a horse to ride to school.”
A hopeful smile lit Catherine’s face. “You’d do that?” When Austin nodded, she continued. “What would you get out of it?”
“Some chores done. I can’t have Seth lying when his father asks what he does. Besides, I told you there’s more work than Kevin and I can handle. Another pair of hands will be welcome, but more importantly, this arrangement will give my daughter a chance at happiness. There’s nothing I want more than that.”
He tipped his head to one side, studying the woman who’d made such a difference in Hannah. “So, what do you think? Do we have a deal?”
Catherine extended her hand. “We do.”
12
Oh, Mr. Goddard, you’re just the man I wanted to see.”
Austin tried not to cringe at the sound of Henrietta Brooks’s voice. In truth, she had a pleasant voice. It was the subjects she raised that annoyed him. That and the fact that the mere sight of the plump matron made Hannah cling to his hand. They had almost reached the back of the church when Mrs. Brooks marched through an empty pew, her husband and daughter trailing behind as she greeted Austin.
“I heard that dear Hannah has been staying with Miss Whitfield during the week,” Henrietta said without bothering to spare a glance for “dear Hannah.” “I know how lonely you must be without her, and so I said to Henry, we need to help Mr. Goddard. Didn’t I say that, Henry?”
The man whom Austin thought of as the quintessential henpecked husband merely nodded and shot Austin what appeared to be a sympathetic look. Surely it was his imagination that Henry had tipped his head to the left, as if encouraging Austin to keep moving toward the exit.
“I can’t tell you how much I hate the thought of you being all alone on that big old ranch of yours.” As had been the case each of the previous Sundays when she’d accosted him, Henrietta Brooks did not wait for a response to continue her monologue. “I told Henry it would only be neighborly to pay you a visit. I know how hard it is for you without a wife to make sure you have good meals. My Anna,” she said, pulling the reluctant girl forward a few inches, “is a good cook. I taught her everything I know. It’s too early for fresh peaches, but her canned peaches won a prize last year. It’s the dash of nutmeg she puts in them, you know.”
Austin knew nothing about seasoning peaches. What he knew was that he had to end this conversation before it became any more awkward. Though he’d been taught not to be rude, particularly to ladies, perhaps he needed to make an exception. Henrietta Brooks did not appear to understand polite refusals. Austin took another step forward. Once he and Hannah had spoken to the minister, they could escape.
“We’ll bring supper with us—enough to last you a couple days.” Without stopping for a breath, Henrietta Brooks added, “I thought we’d come on Tuesday, but if that’s not a good day for you, we could come on Wednesday.”
As she looked at him, hope shining from her dark eyes, Austin shook his head slightly and took another step toward Pastor Dunn and freedom. “That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Brooks, but the reason Hannah stays in town during the week is that I’m rarely at home, and when I am, Mrs. Moore provides meals. I couldn’t insult her by asking you to bring food to the ranch, and so I’m afraid I must decline your generous offer. I do thank you for thinking of me.” The last was an exaggeration—close to a lie—but Austin would not let his manners desert him.
“Perhaps in a week or two . . .” When Austin did not respond, Henrietta turned to her husband, her voice pitched so that Austin had no difficulty overhearing her. “That man needs a wife. He may not admit it, but he does, and Anna would be perfect.”
Anna would not be perfect for many reasons, not the least of which was that her mother frightened Hannah, but there was no reason to say that. It would only hurt Anna and would probably not discourage Mrs. Brooks. Thankfully, Austin and Hannah had reached the back of the church and were next in line to speak with Pastor Dunn.
“An excellent sermon.” The minister had preached about loving one’s neighbors.
With a twinkle in his eye, Pastor Dunn said, “I fear that some of my parishioners have taken the message too far.”
Austin couldn’t help but laugh.
He wasn’t laughing when he lifted Hannah into the wagon and she turned beseeching eyes on him. “Are you going to marry Miss Brooks?”
“No, Hannah, I am not.”
“Good.” She gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I don’t want her to be my mama.”
Austin waited until he was seated next to her before he responded. “To be fair, you don’t even know Miss Brooks.”
Hannah shook her head. “She doesn’t smile. Nice ladies smile. Miss Whitfield smiles.”
She did indeed. Hannah had stayed with Catherine for two full weeks, and while it was true that Austin missed his daughter, it was also true that she seemed happier than he could recall. At first, he had thought she’d been restored to the Hannah who’d shared his life in Philadelphia, but that wasn’t the case. She was visibly happier than she’d been there.
Hannah giggled and laughed like the other girls he’d seen. She even pouted when Mrs. Moore told her she could not bring her doll to the dinner table. Austin had rejoiced over the pout as much as the giggles, because he knew that was normal. His beloved daughter was once again a normal girl, all because of Catherine.
The music box had started the process and had broken through the walls Hannah had erected, but it was Catherine’s day-to-day care that kept Hannah from rebuilding barriers. She might not have children of her own, but Catherine knew what little girls needed—smiles and hugs.
Austin flicked the reins as they reached the outskirts of town. He could use smiles and hugs too. Admittedly, Catherine gave him smiles, but there were no hugs. That wouldn’t be proper, and Catherine was always proper. While it was true that she had touched his hand when she had told him about her dream and that the warmth of her palm had comforted him as much as her words, that small intimacy had not been repeated.
Rather than risk gossip, with the exception of the day after the storm, she had not invited him into her home. Instead, they remained at the school and conversed when he came for Hannah on Friday afternoons and then again, more briefly, when he brought her back on Monday mornings.
A smile crossed Austin’s face, both at the realization that his daughter was staring raptly at the countryside as if she were seeing it for the first time and finding what she saw fascinating and at the memory of his conversations with Catherine. He’d never been able to talk with a woman the way he could with Catherine. She was interested in so many different things, everything from his plans for the ranch and the books she read to the political and economic condition of the world.
Their conversations were invigorating, making Austin wonder what it would be like to come home to her each day. It would be far different from life with Geraldine. That much he knew. Tho
ugh Catherine was in mourning, grief did not seem to have affected her the way it had Geraldine. He had seen no evidence of moodiness in Catherine. Even when she was worried about a pupil, she maintained a basic level of cheerfulness, and the only time he’d seen her angered had been when the local doctor had treated one of her pupils.
As far as Austin could tell, that anger was well deserved. The town’s physician wasn’t simply clinging to old-fashioned remedies; he appeared to be incompetent. If he could have, Austin would have had the man run out of Cimarron Creek and would have taken his place. But that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t even tell Catherine he shared her opinion of Doc Harrington, for that would open the door to questions he did not want to answer.
“Look, Papa,” Hannah cried with delight. “A pretty bird.”
It was pretty, perhaps even beautiful. And so was Catherine. Beautiful, intelligent, compassionate—she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever met. If circumstances were different, he would consider courting her, but circumstances were not different.
Mrs. Brooks hadn’t been wrong when she’d claimed that Austin was sometimes lonely and that he needed a wife. Both were true, as was the fact that he was unable to change either situation. Not only had Mrs. Moore said that Catherine would observe a full year of mourning before she considered marrying, but he wasn’t free to tell her the truth about his past.
Enright was out there, and though Austin wanted to believe the man had given up, he doubted that was true. Sherman Enright was nothing if not tenacious. Travis reported that he was still operating in Philadelphia, and that meant that unless he had found another surgeon to alter his face, which was highly unlikely, he was still searching for Austin.
The man had threatened Hannah. If Austin were courting Catherine, she would be the next in line for Enright’s revenge, and that was something Austin could not let happen. Until Enright was gone from Philadelphia and Austin knew that Catherine could put aside her distrust of physicians, they could be no more than friends.
“How do you like instant motherhood?” Lydia wrapped both hands around the cup of peppermint tea Catherine had poured for her.
“Is that what it is?” Catherine sipped her tea, considering both the question and her friend’s curious expression. Perhaps Lydia’s interest was fueled by her own impending motherhood. It was early evening, a time Catherine had suggested for Lydia’s visits because she knew Hannah would be in bed. Now that Hannah lived with her, after-school visits to the candy shop included her, leaving Catherine and Lydia no time for private conversations.
“I’m more tired than I expected,” she admitted. “I hadn’t realized how much I need quiet time to recover from school. Despite that, I wouldn’t change anything. It’s wonderful seeing Hannah so happy.”
Lydia nodded. “She’s blossomed. That’s the only way I can describe it, but what about Seth? How is his new arrangement working out?”
“Unbelievably well.” That was part of what made Catherine smile each morning. “He’s gaining weight from Mrs. Moore’s cooking, but more importantly, he’s gaining confidence.” And that was due to Austin. “I overheard him telling one of the other boys he’s going to be a rancher.”
“I don’t imagine Boone will like that. Most fathers want their sons to follow in their footsteps, and you know farmers and ranchers don’t always get along.”
But Boone was not most fathers. “I’m not sure he cares what Seth does. Now that he has extra money, I’ve heard that he’s practically a resident of the Silver Spur. Fortunately, Seth has been spending most nights at the ranch, so he doesn’t have to deal with a drunken father. Austin told me he found him sleeping in the barn one night and decided to let him stay. When he offered Seth a room in his house, the boy refused, saying that if his father asked where he had been, he could honestly say he’d been sleeping in the barn.”
“And Boone would never think to ask whose barn.” Lydia chuckled. “Seth’s a smart boy.”
“He is indeed. Austin said he goes home to milk the cows, but that’s about all the time he spends there.”
“Just as well, especially if Boone’s been drinking heavily. I never did like the man, and the more I hear, the less I like him.” In an obvious change of subject, Lydia gestured toward the plate of candy she’d brought with her. “What do you think of the pecan brittle?”
Catherine took a bite, savoring the flavors before she responded. “It’s delicious. Almost as good as your coffee fudge.” Catherine smiled at the memory of what had become her favorite confection. “I’m always amazed at the new varieties you create. This isn’t ordinary pecan brittle, is it?”
Lydia shook her head. “I added a touch of molasses to give it a richer flavor.” She paused long enough to eat a piece. “I need to come up with something for Founders’ Day. I know it’s almost four months away, but it’s never too early to start planning.”
While Catherine suspected no one would be disappointed if Lydia sold the same special Founders’ Day fudge she had last year, she knew her friend wanted to offer something different. “I’ll ask my pupils what their favorite flavors are. Maybe that’ll give you an idea for a combination of two or more—something like the marble fudge you made last month.”
“I draw the line at dill pickle and mint.”
Catherine wrinkled her nose. “I doubt even the most adventuresome of them would want to eat that, but one thing’s for sure: they’re never at a loss for stories, the more outrageous the better. Even Hannah has started. One night last week she said she had a secret to tell me and made me promise not to tell anyone. The problem is, I know it wasn’t true.”
“Though I’m curious, I won’t ask you to divulge it.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. I don’t want to betray her confidence, but I didn’t know what to say. Everyone knows Austin came from a ranch in Oklahoma.” While it was true that Austin had admitted they’d lived in Paris, Hannah would have no memories of that. That was why it made no sense that she claimed they’d lived in a big city and that her father made people look pretty.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” Lydia nodded when Catherine raised the teapot, offering to refill her cup. “It’s not unusual for lonely children to invent imaginary friends and make up stories. Now that she’s living with you, Hannah shouldn’t need her fantasy world.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The place was a hovel, a far cry from the almost palatial home where he had lived in Philadelphia and the larger, definitely palatial estate he would purchase when he settled near New York.
Small, dirty, and located in the middle of nowhere, this pathetic excuse for a building had no redeeming features other than the fact that no one would expect a man of Sherman Enright’s position to be here. And that was precisely the reason he was holed up here, waiting for Austin Goddard to work his magic.
“What excuses do you have for me today?” He leaned back in his chair as he glared at the three men standing before him. He’d deliberately arranged four chairs facing him, though he had no intention of letting any of them sit. They didn’t deserve to relax, but they did deserve the reminder that one of their group had breathed his last.
After they’d failed to discover the doctor’s whereabouts, Sherman had had no choice but to make an example of Shorty. When he’d put the barrel of his pistol to the man’s head, Shorty had pleaded for mercy, sniveling that he had a wife and five children. He should have thought of them and searched harder.
“We haven’t been able to find him.” Tucker appeared to have been appointed spokesman today.
“Obviously. Why not?”
“He left no trace. The doctor and his daughter didn’t take a train or a ship. I checked all the records myself.”
“Then they drove his carriage, rented a wagon, or walked. Someone saw them. You simply haven’t found that someone.” Sherman narrowed his eyes, enjoying the men’s discomfort. “Look harder, look further, do whatever you have to. Just find that blasted doctor. I can�
�t go on this way much longer.”
The men nodded like the puppets they were. In all likelihood, they were wondering if one of them would meet Shorty’s fate today. He ought to kill them all, and he would, once they brought the doctor to him, but right now he needed them. Going into hiding and working only through intermediaries was no way to run a business. He needed to get to New York and build a new empire, but he couldn’t do that looking like this.
“Find Goddard, and do it fast.”
“What are you drawing, Seth?”
It was midafternoon on Saturday. For the first time since Seth had begun working for him, Austin had taken him out on the range, ostensibly to check on the calves, but actually to gauge the boy’s stamina. As he and Catherine had hoped, Boone had agreed to let Austin hire his son. The man’s greed had been apparent when Austin had said he would pay for the boy’s services, and he’d haggled over the amount. Though Austin let him think he’d gotten the best of him, the truth was, he would have paid almost anything to keep Seth away from his father.
Initially, Seth tended to the horses, mucking out the stables and grooming them. He milked Austin’s two cows and even offered to collect eggs when he discovered that the chickens didn’t peck him as much as they did Mrs. Moore. No matter what chores Austin assigned him, Seth did them without complaining, but Austin knew he was hoping to do what he called “real” ranching. That was why they were riding the range today.
So far, Seth was holding up well. It had been a hard day of riding, but he’d shown no signs of fatigue. Instead, he seemed energized by the activity. It was Austin who’d suggested they rest by the creek for half an hour before they continued back to the ranch house.
Though his plan had been to ensure that Seth ate another of the sandwiches Mrs. Moore had packed, as soon as they were both seated, their backs against cottonwood trunks, the boy had pulled a scrap of paper and a stub of pencil from his pocket and began to draw.
