by Carré White
After he left, I heated water in a large pot, bringing soap and a small towel with me. Mr. Montgomery sat on the bed. “I’ll get you breakfast in a moment. You have dried blood near your ear.”
“That’s kind of you.”
Wringing out the cloth, I approached him, staring at him in almost a clinical manner. “Just tell me if it hurts where I touch you. Does your head hurt?”
“A little.”
“Doc Caldwell said you still have some swelling. Your eyes look perfect.” The pupils were slightly dilated, but the horrible red was gone. His unruly beard needed trimming. He stared at me, while I cleaned his face. “I’ve tended to people before, some friends and family members. I know you need washing in other places. I could leave this here for you, if you want.”
He leaned against the pillow, his expression unreadable. “If I asked you to do it, would you?”
“Well, I suppose…” flustered by the sudden light in his eye, I faltered, feeling self-conscious. “Yes, sir.”
“Perhaps you should.”
The air suddenly crackled with an energy I hadn’t felt before, but I suspected it was slightly carnal in nature, because of the way I had reacted to it. My hand trembled imperceptibly, but he had challenged me to continue, and I would stay the course. Unbuttoning his shirt, I ran the cloth over his chest, finding a taut tummy, although everything was speckled with short, dark hair. I worked the buttons on his trousers, pulling the material down his legs, exposing his underthings. I avoided his stare, knowing that if I were to look at him, I would not be able to continue.
He was more than capable of managing the rest on his own, and I gave him the rag and the soap, turning my back to him. “Just tell me when you’re done.” I listened to the sound of splashing water, as he dunked the cloth into the bucket.
“I am slightly disappointed. I thought you’d be doin’ this.”
I sucked in a breath. “Sir, I do believe you’re feeling better.”
“I am.”
The mattress creaked, as he moved, and I glanced over my shoulder. He held the sheet to his midsection. “Do you need more water?”
“That’ll do for now.”
“I’ll bring you breakfast then.”
He smiled slightly. “Never had it in bed before, but that sounds mighty good.”
“Do you want tea?”
“I prefer coffee, but I know we don’t got any.”
“You’re in need of quite a few things. Every house should have a proper larder, a henhouse, and a milking cow.”
“I sold all of that a while back. I’ve kinda fallen on hard times, Mrs…er…what was your name again? I’m sorry.”
“Ms. Hoffman. Louisa Hoffman.”
“No husband?”
That was a rather direct question. “No.” His look was contemplative, but it was the hint of interest in his eyes that sent a peculiar shiver down my backbone. “I’ll see about breakfast now.”
It was imperative that I distance myself from him. He needed to dress to be received properly. I shouldn’t be in a room with a half-naked man. When I returned with a plate filled with griddlecakes smothered in honey and molasses and a cup of tea, his attention remained on me. The children hollered outside, playing in the yard happily.
“Thank you. That looks good. Real good.”
“The doctor was astonished that you pulled through. He didn’t think you would make it.”
“He cut a hole in my head?”
“Yes, he did. It was ingenious, but dangerous. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“The roof fell on me.”
“A beam from the ceiling, yes. It’s been fixed, so you know. Nathan Weaver and Jerry Pratt did the repairs yesterday.”
He seemed surprised by that. “You folks are awfully nice to me.”
“You’re a neighbor in need, sir.”
“You’ve done a lot for my kids.”
“They were running around feral without shoes on.”
“I know. That’d be my fault.”
“I would like some assurance I won’t see them like that again. I know you’re ill now, but once you recover.”
“I can only do what I can do, Ms. Hoffman. I go to the mountains to mine on and off, but the money never lasts. I’d like to sell the furniture I make, but I don’t have time to finish it properly. Everything is half-done.” He glanced at me pointedly. “I need a wife.”
For some strange reason, my stomach burst with an explosion of tingles. “I suppose you do, sir.”
“I ain’t too good at social graces and all that other…nonsense. I met Abigail in the schoolroom, and we’ve been together ever since. We came out from Virginia when the gold rush was at its peak.”
“I see.”
“I know now, we should’a stayed where we were. This place has brought nothin’ but bad luck.”
“What did your wife die of?”
“Consumption.”
That was a horrible, lingering disease. “I’m sorry. That’s a terrible way to die. It’s sad the children had to see that.” He’d finished the food; the plate was in his lap. “I’ll take that.”
“Why don’t you have a husband? You’re a handsome-lookin’ woman.”
“That’s really none of your business.” I hated that his praise left me buzzing with pleasure.
“But you’re stickin’ your nose in mine. You’re telling me what my house needs and how to raise my kids.”
“You really are feeling better.”
“Answer my question. Why don’t you have a husband?”
I hadn’t expected this from him at all. “I…I’ve been married.”
An eyebrow lifted. “What happened?”
“He’s living in New York. He’s perfectly fine.”
“You divorced? It’s not all that common, but I’ve heard of it.”
“No, I’m not divorced, sir. I’ve just…had…a bit of an annulment. That’s all.”
“Annulment?”
“My marriage was based on falsehoods. I was tricked.”
“How’s that?”
“It doesn’t matter. I need to wash these dishes and clean the kitchen. I’ve got pots soaking.”
“Whoa, hold up there. I’d like to know how you were tricked, Ms. Hoffman. This story is just startin’ to get interesting.”
“I’m glad you find my suffering entertaining, sir, but I don’t wish to discuss it.”
“I told you about my life.”
“Only in the simplest of terms. I really know nothing about you apart from the fact that you’re poor and your prospects are slim.” I hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but I often spoke this way, especially when I felt threatened.
“You sure got a sharp tongue on you. Maybe I’m seeing why you might not have a husband.”
A prick of anger flared. “I’ve no need for one. I’m educated from a fine university, and I’ll be going to teach soon. Classes start next week.”
This did not seem to please him, as his eyes narrowed. “Educated, eh? I don’t cotton to women gettin’ educated. They get some wild ideas in their heads that way.”
My opinion of him had dropped substantially. “Well, we are vastly different people, sir.”
“You say that, but people are people.”
“Yes, they are, but some people don’t mix as well as others.”
He glared at me, although he wasn’t particularly angry. “I gotta thank you for what you’ve done. I know you were the one who got the doc in the first place. I can see that you don’t like me all that much, but I gotta thank you for your help. You saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.” The sound of a wagon was a welcome relief. The conversation had been tense. “Someone’s coming.” His look was so stark, it was concerning. “You don’t have to worry, sir. I’m able to help for a few more days, until you’re on your feet. I’ve got the time to spare.”
“I guess I can put up with you for that long. I’ve been through worse.”
My mouth fell open
, but words failed me. Then he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. There was a hint of humor in that look, with a teasing gleam. I wanted to toss the plate at his head in that instant, but I was on the verge of smiling myself, which was highly vexing. What an annoying man!
Maria had arrived. She was helpful, washing a basketful of clothing in the side yard, while I settled the children down and read to them in the parlor. They had been running wild all morning. I fully expected them to be in school next week, and I needed to have a discussion about this with Mr. Montgomery. There was another point of contention, as I desperately wanted to shave the hair from his face. He looked like he had been in the wilderness for a year. Readying a blade and a bowl of soapy lather, I entered the bedroom, finding him propped up on several pillows.
“What’s that now?” He eyed the items in my hand.
“You’re getting a shave.” The doctor had yet to remove the bandage from his head, so a haircut would have to wait.
“You don’t say?”
I held a pair of scissors. “You’re in need, sir.” He didn’t seem to mind the idea of personal attention. The look on his face told me as much, which was exasperating. He had the manners of an ox. “Can you sit up a bit?”
“I most certainly can.”
“Excellent.”
“You’re not gonna kill me with that thing, are you?”
“I might. It could slip.”
His chest rumbled with laughter. “I best hold still then.”
I placed the bowl of water on the bed, sitting near him, while eyeing the mess on his face. “I should probably trim all of this first. It’s like a jungle.”
“Feel free to do what you must.”
“I’ll get a tin can for all the hair. Excuse me.” When I returned, he grinned, watching me carefully. “Now, let’s trim this real quick.” I began to snip hair from his chin, while holding the can beneath to catch the black fuzz. “Somewhere under here is a face.”
“I reckon so.”
When I had removed the thickest portions of hair, I lathered soap over the area, preparing to shave him. I’d done this to my father for years, and I was skilled to a fair degree, although he didn’t know that. “I should warn you. I’ve never done this before.”
“What?” His eyes flew wide.
“Oh, how hard can it be? I drag the blade around a bit and don’t press too hard, right? If I see blood, then I’ve done something wrong.”
His hand closed around my wrist, stopping me. “Are you pullin’ my leg?” Our eyes met, as heat flared, cushioned by an undercurrent of attraction.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I never trust a woman.”
That was a surprise. “I never trust a man.”
“We’re both pigheaded.”
“That’s not the term I would use, but perhaps. Now, hold still.” He grasped my wrist, the heat of his hand registering. “Mr. Montgomery?”
“Matt. You should call me Matt.”
“That’s far too familiar.”
“I don’t see nothin’ wrong with that.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Cause I got no manners?”
I sighed. “Oh, hush, and let me do this. I’ve things cooking in the kitchen that need attention.”
“If you want to make me your pet project, I don’t think I’d mind.”
“What would that entail?”
“You livin’ here…permanently.”
“I’m a teacher, Mr. Montgomery, not a maid.”
“That’s not what I was talkin’ about. How about you marry me. Then you can whip me into shape with that sharp tongue of yours.” He seemed pleased with himself, as his smile indicated.
I gasped, staring at him with my mouth open.
Chapter Eight
“Absolutely not!”
“It seems like the logical plan, Louisa. You’re not married, I’m in need of a wife…” he shrugged, “it could work.”
“I have no interest in marriage, Mr. Montgomery. It was a disaster the first time around. I doubt a second venture would yield different results.” I appraised him, trying to school my features. “Now hold still.”
“You were lying when you said you never did this, right?”
“Yes.”
“I kinda like the teasing side of you. I’m thinkin’ that if you hung around long enough, I might sway you with my charm.”
I laughed heartily then, not being able to help myself. “Oh, Mr. Montgomery, I don’t know what to say. Aside from the fact that I’ve vowed never to marry again, I really do find this amusing. Your children’s welfare is what concerns me. If I can nurse you back to health, then hopefully you’ll be able to take care of them.” I tilted his chin upwards, running the blade across a cheek. He said little, while I worked from side to side, wiping the excess against the edge of the bowl. “Do you want the mustache to remain?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’ll trim that too.”
When I had finished, I wiped his face with the towel. “That’s a vast improvement. Your hair needs washing and a cut, but that will have to wait.”
He didn’t seem to care that he was now clean-shaven. His look was oddly contemplative. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the results of my handiwork. “You done a good job.”
“Thank you. Now I have to see about dinner.”
“It’s too early yet for dinner.”
“I’ve a roast baking.”
“It sure smells nice. You got some fancy kitchen skills.”
“I might be able to hire a woman for you to cook and clean.”
“I can’t pay her.”
“You really need to think about farming, sir. There’s a need for fresh produce in Denver City. A kitchen garden would provide vegetables for your table. I’d plant an apple tree or two, if I were you.”
“I’ve been in a bad place, Louisa. I don’t even remember much of the last six months.”
“Are you a drunkard by nature or is this the result of your wife’s death?”
“You sure ask some hard questions.”
“I can be blunt. I’m sorry.”
“I drank before, but…not like I do now.”
“Do you have any control over it?”
He coughed. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
“Well, you’ve some things to work on then. Your children need you. They need a father who will be there for them and take care of them, but I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”
“I know.”
“I have every hope that you’ll straighten yourself out, Mr. Montgomery.”
“If I do get myself together all shiny and pretty, will you marry me?”
This brought up an interesting question. “Let’s say you did make something out of yourself, and I married you. Would you revert to your old habits as soon as the ink was dry on the marriage certificate?”
“Oh, lordy, woman! You have no faith at all, do you?”
“In men?”
“Yeah.”
“I certainly do not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve things to get done.” I sashayed from the room, feeling a moment of triumph, but it died a few minutes later, when I realized I hadn’t won anything at all.
That evening, after supper, we sat in the parlor. I was on the rocking chair with Annie, and the boys sat on the floor, while their father was stretched out on the sofa. He had a pillow behind his head. We were reading out loud by taking turns with the book. A lamp cast a dim glow behind me, and there were several candles lit.
I could feel Mr. Montgomery’s appraisal; his features were presented, because the hair that had obscured them was gone. He was a pleasing-looking man, with a straight nose, angular cheeks, and full lips. The children were surprisingly well-behaved, sharing the book politely. Annie read a little, but she was still learning. Her brothers had refrained from calling her names, which was heartening. They enjoyed stories of adventure, and this book was no exception. The Swiss Family Robinson was a vivid
tale of shipwreck and island survival, which the children enthusiastically revered.
“I want a house in the woods like theirs,” said Annie.
“We have a fort,” said Oscar.
“But it’s not in the trees. It’s scrap wood nailed together.”
“Maybe Pa can build us a tree house?”
“Your father needs to recover from his accident.”
“When he’s better,” said Hugh.
“If he wants to,” I said. “Now, whose turn is it to read? Mine?”
“Yes, Louisa,” said Annie. She kicked her little leg out, while she leaned into me.
“Fine…where were we?”
“The part where they found the lobster,” said Oscar.
“Right.” I began to read, feeling the weight of Mr. Montgomery’s steady stare. It was strange, yet wonderful, having him in the parlor with us. I hadn’t a clue what he might be thinking. He said very little, watching, as I directed the evening’s entertainment. We continued to read, until the children began to yawn. “I think that’s enough for one night.” I glanced at Annie, who had her head on my shoulder. “I’m going to put you to bed.”
“Oh, no,” she objected. “You should read some more. Please. Pretty please.”
I stood, taking her with me. “We can continue this tomorrow night. Come along, boys. Time to wash up and say your prayers.” After the children were in their beds, the boys murmuring about something, I closed the door to Annie’s bedroom. I turned to find Mr. Montgomery in the hallway, which made me jump. He had been utterly silent. “You scared me. You should be in bed. What in heavens are you doing up here?”
“You’re very good with my children.”
“Thank you.”
“They never settle like that for me.”
“It takes a certain amount of skill.”
“I know. I don’t have it.” I moved to pass him, but he blocked my way. “I’ve a few things I wish to say to you, Louisa.”
“We can talk in the parlor.” There was no space to go around him. “Excuse me.” To my alarm, he grabbed me by the shoulders, pressing me to the wall. “Mr. Montgomery!”
