Hannah's Dream (Wild Rose Country Book 2)

by Linda Ford

  “Hannah, perhaps you’d be so kind as to prepare us something.”

  The girl stared. “The dining room isn’t open.”

  Mother lifted a weary hand. “I know that, my dear. But surely you eat. Wouldn’t it be possible for us to share your meal?”

  “But—” Hannah sputtered.

  Jake knew he should have put his foot down from the first. This was not a safe place for his mother. The dining room was in shambles. Hannah seemed bent on risking life and limb to prove she could do a job beyond her capabilities. “Mother, you can’t be serious. You knew when you insisted on staying here that we’d have to go out to eat.”

  She pressed her hand to her left shoulder. “I know, but it’s not like we need anything special.”

  She spoke for herself. Jake was about ready to butcher one of his own steers and roast it in the alley. He got to his feet and headed for the door. “Anything in particular you’d like me to bring?”

  His mother moaned and fell back on the cushion. He halted. Dare he leave her?

  “I don’t mind sharing my supper with you.” Hannah spoke softly, sending Jake a look daring him to argue.

  “That would be lovely,” Mother whispered without opening her eyes.

  Jake ached to reject Hannah’s offer. His mouth flooded at the promise of a thick steak. But his mother’s fragile state swayed him against his personal wants. With a sigh, he mentally kissed the steak goodbye. He jerked a chair to his mother’s side, and plunked down on it. “That will be fine,” he told Hannah.

  “I’ll get right at it.” She spun on her heels and headed for the kitchen.

  Jake watched his mother, worried she was so quiet. He made up his mind. “In the morning I’ll hire someone to take you home.”

  Her eyes jerked open and she fixed him with a determined look. “You’ll do no such thing. I have shopping to do.”

  “You’ll exhaust yourself.”

  “How can you think of sending me home like I’d been naughty?”

  Jake felt caught between wanting to obey his mother and being the one responsible for her health.

  His mother draped her arm over her forehead. She looked so exhausted he decided he would personally take her home as soon as it was light outside.

  “Don’t deprive me of this little pleasure,” she pleaded.

  He wanted to say no. But he couldn’t. After all, she must get lonely at the ranch. “Very well, if you promise to be careful.”

  “I promise.” She smiled gratefully. “Now why don’t you go see if you can help that sweet girl?”

  “Me?” Give him a fire and a slab of beef and he could cook up a meal to satisfy the largest appetite, but he turned all thumbs when he tried to do things indoors.

  “I’d help but….” his mother began.

  “You stay here and rest.” He reluctantly planted his feet under him and made for the dining room door certain the last thing Hannah needed was his assistance. He stuck his nose into the room where she worked. “How can I help?” Should he warn her of his ineptitude in the kitchen?

  She stopped chopping something into a bowl of flour and considered him. “Help?” She sounded so surprised that he stepped into the room.

  “I’m sure there’s something I can do.”

  She looked about to refuse.

  “I insist. Mother will have a fit if I don’t do something.”

  Hannah didn’t look very happy about it but she nodded. “Very well. You can slice the chicken that is in that jar.” She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled a glass platter from the cupboard. “Arrange it on this.”

  He held the platter gingerly. It shone in the light and looked like it would break if he held it too hard or worse, slip from his finger and shatter on the floor if he didn’t trap it firmly. Not daring to breathe, he marched around to the opposite end of the long wooden table. Very carefully, he put the platter next to the jar. He tested the lid, found she’d already loosened it, and grabbed the fork she shoved toward him. Now he had to get the pieces of chicken out of the tightly packed jar. How hard could it be? Nothing compared to dropping a lasso over a racing cow. He clenched the jar firmly in one hand, stabbed the fork into the contents and yanked hard. He practically jerked the jar out of his fist but didn’t remove any meat. He put the jar squarely back on the table. Thought of wrestling it to the ground and using brute force and ignorance on it.

  “Wiggle the meat out the top,” Hannah said.

  He stole a glance at her, suspecting she found this amusing. But she seemed engrossed in rolling out some dough on the tabletop. If he didn’t miss his guess they were having biscuits—with chicken, if he could manage the simple task.

  He tightened his grip on the jar, sawed the meat back and forth until it slipped through the top and promptly flew across the table to plop in front of Hannah.

  “Whoops,” she said, and waited for him to retrieve it.

  He grabbed it with the fork and pinned it to the platter where he butchered it with a knife. Slices…she wouldn’t be getting. Chunks would have to do.

  He managed to get the rest of the chicken from the jar to the platter without any disaster. Then backed away hoping to escape.

  “The biscuits will be a few minutes. Where do you want to eat?”

  “Obviously the dining room is out.”

  “Obviously.”

  He glanced around the kitchen, guessing Hannah ate alone here most nights. It was a cozy place with the range at one end, a big window at the other, and well-stocked cupboards in between. He was about to suggest this would be a nice place to eat when she spoke.

  “Perhaps I should move one of the tables into the lobby.” She headed for the dining room.

  “The table in the lobby would be fine.” She didn’t need his consent, but it would be nice to be consulted. After all it was him and his mother who were being served.

  She chose a table in the far corner, one hardly affected by the fire and started to push it toward the door. He grabbed it.

  “Thank you,” she said, all prim and formal.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, equally formal.

  “I’ll get some hot water and scrub it.”

  “I’ll get some chairs,” he said.

  “I can manage on my own.”

  “So you’ve said, but what kind of man would I be if I sat and watched you lug furniture around?”

  They hurried to the doorway. Arrived at the same time. He stood back and nodded for her to go first. “Please.”

  She nodded and preceded him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  His mother groaned. “Can we manage without the stiff politeness? It’s a little tiresome.”

  “I’d be glad to,” Jake said, “If Hannah will stop saying thank you every time I move.”

  Hannah opened her mouth as if to argue then shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be tiresome.” She hurried to the kitchen for hot water.

  He sighed. She’d been so warm and friendly down at the rail yards. But now she acted like he was personally responsible for the fire in her hotel. Why the big switch? He’d done nothing to make her so disagreeable. Unless…he thought of her reaction when he’d told her to stay off the ladder. Maybe she blamed him for the torn drapes. But that didn’t make sense. She only planned to dispose of them. Slowly a thought surfaced. Had he’d offended her by telling her she couldn’t run this place on her own? But she couldn’t. Didn’t take a Philadelphia education to realize that. He grabbed two chairs and placed them next to the table.

  Hannah returned, wiiped chairs and table and spread a snow-white tablecloth, and then set the table. His mother sat up. “Where’s the other chair?”

  “What other chair?” Jake demanded.

  “Do you expect Hannah to serve us after she’s offered to share her meal? Get another chair so she can eat with us.”

  Hannah backed away. “Oh no, Mrs. Sperling. Really. I prefer to take care of you first.” She fled to the kitchen.

 
; “Jake, how could you?” his mother whispered. “Persuade her to join us.”

  He snagged a chair, wiped it with his handkerchief and put it at the table, then went to find Hannah. She didn’t look up when he entered the room.

  “Please join us for supper.”

  She glanced up then, staring at him long and hard.

  “I insist,” he added for good measure.

  “Very well. You’re the boss. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring in the food.”

  He wanted to explain it wasn’t because he was the boss. Nor even because his mother had wanted it. He had unnecessarily offended her by setting out only two chairs. He hadn’t meant to. But he didn’t know how to make up for it. Seemed everything he did only made matters worse. He returned to the other room. “She’ll be joining us in a few minutes,” he informed his mother as he assisted her to the table.

  Hannah arrived with a huge tray balanced on one hand. He might have offered to help but decided it was safer for everyone if he sat tight. Hot biscuits, a platter of chicken that looked nothing like the mess he’d created, a tray of cheese, a dish of butter and a pot of blackberry jam made his stomach lurch in expectation.

  “This is lovely, dear,” his mother said. “How did you manage it in such a short time?”

  Hannah smiled. “My grandmother left a well-stocked pantry.”

  At least she got along with his mother. He wondered who would ask the blessing.

  Mother solved the problem. “Hannah, would you like Jake to pray over the food?”

  Hannah looked hard at Jake. Did he see surprise? Guardedness? As if she expected him to be a pagan just because he’d inadvertently offended her. Though, in fact, he’d been nothing but kind and accommodating. He’d even agreed to stay in her derelict hotel. How was that for kind? And he’d been helpful. He glanced at the platter of chicken that she’d rearranged. Well, he’d tried.

  “Please, Mr. Sperling, would you?”

  He pulled his attention back to her request. “Jake. It’s Jake. Remember.” She’d been a lot less formal when he’d shown her around the cattle. He corralled his wandering thoughts and bowed his head to murmur a quick prayer.

  After the prayer, Hannah passed the food. “I hope next time you’re in town I’ll be officially reopened.”

  Jake slathered butter on the biscuit and took a bite. “The repairs seem like an extraordinarily big task for a woman on her own. Seems they’d best be dealt with by a man—or better yet, a crew of hardy men.”

  Hannah ducked her head, contemplated her food for a moment then shot him a look flashing with annoyance. She obviously did not like him pointing out the impossibility of a woman dealing with this job. “I’m quite capable of handling it. My father raised me to take care of myself and I would never disappoint him by backing out of a challenge.”

  “Does he know the hotel had been gutted by fire?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone?”

  His mother sighed. “Jake, don’t be so thick. She means he’s passed away. I’m sorry, dear. I can see how much you miss him. Now let’s talk about something else.” She pinned Jake with a glance. “Jake, another topic, please.”

  “Like what, Mother? The cows?”

  “Really, Jake, that isn’t all you know.”

  She was wrong. What did he know besides cows, ranching, and work? But his mother persisted. “You could ask her about herself.”

  Jake studied his mother. She smiled.

  “Very well.” Jake turned to Hannah. “Tell me about yourself.”

  Sweetly, she said, “What would you like to know?”

  “I think you are enjoying my discomfort.”

  “But no, sir. Why would you think such a thing?”

  “Maybe because of that little smile teasing the corners of your mouth.”

  Her smile widened. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. Something inside him jerked like a cow reaching the end of a rope. It left him breathless and dizzy. Suddenly he was curious about her. What did she like to do? How did she spend her free time? Did she have free time? He had his doubts. This hotel needed a ton of work. “Is your mother alive?”

  “Yes. Alive and well and living with her new husband back East.” She ducked her head, ate a bite then looked at him. “What about you? Where’s your father?”

  “My father is also dead.” He heard his mother’s indrawn breath and patted her hand.

  “Things have never been the same since he passed on,” his mother said.

  “I’ve tried to continue his work.” It seemed he could never live up to his father’s ideals.

  “That’s not what I mean. You’ve done a very good job, my dear. I just never expected to have to grow old alone.”

  He laughed. “Alone? You have a cook who is also a dear friend. Audrey and the boys are in and out so often I’m surprised they don’t claim bedrooms. And then there’s me. We share the same house. When are you ever alone?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  He relented. “I understand what you mean.”

  Hannah watched the exchange and smiled. “Tell me about the ranch.”

  He settled back, comfortable with this topic. He talked about how his father had decided money was in cows not gold and picked a spot with lots of water and grass and protection. “He had a dream for Quinten to become the cattle capitol of the west. And when the railway came, he was ready.” He realized how long he’d been talking about the ranch and skidded to a halt.

  She smiled. “It sounds fascinating. I’ve always lived in the city. Father owned a successful mercantile store until his death. I always think of him smelling like old cheese and kerosene.” Her smile faltered for a moment. “My stepfather is a banker. My grandparents are the only adventuresome members of the family.”

  “Until now,” Jake said. “Seems to me you’ve acquired a man-sized adventure here. It looks like a ton of work.”

  “I’d say it appears considerably easier than trying to corral a herd of wild cows.”

  They all laughed though Jake’s amusement was tempered by annoyance. Chasing cows was men doing men’s work. Hannah’s trying to fix up this place on her own didn’t make a lick of sense.

  *

  Hannah toyed with her napkin. She would have enjoyed company—a pleasant change from eating alone or trying to converse with Mort—if it had been only Mrs. Sperling. But Jake robbed her of that enjoyment. He didn’t approve of her independence. Like Otto, he wanted her to conform to “acceptable” behavior, which meant being a docile woman who knew her place. No managing without a man’s input and help.

  She ducked her head so no one would see her smile. Jake’s help in the kitchen was laughable. Of course, like Otto, he’d probably willingly admit the kitchen was a woman’s domain. Hannah had no wish to become a man. Certainly no hankering to chase cows just to prove she could do a man’s work. She wanted only the freedom to make choices, express her opinions, and follow her dreams.

  She knew not all people longed for independence the way she did but God had given her the desire and now the opportunity. She’d not let criticism or adversity deter her.

  The door opened and two men strode in. She sighed. Either the whole town was illiterate or thought closed signs didn’t apply to them. The men wore big cowboy hats they quickly jerked off. “Mrs. Sperling,” each said.

  “Mr. Riggs and Mr. Martin,” Mrs. Sperling said. “Meet Miss Williams, new owner of the Sunshine Hotel.”

  “Miss.” They nodded toward her then turned their attention to Jake. “Our herds are a mile from town. I thought the buyers could come out there and see them.”

  Jake pushed back from the table and jerked to his feet. “None of them has showed yet.”

  “They ain’t here?” The shorter one, Mr. Martin, looked angry.

  “There’s a train due in twenty minutes,” Jake said. “Let’s go meet them.”

  He tossed some coins on the table. “Mother, while I’m out, try to get your rest.”

/>   Hannah’s cheeks burned. She hadn’t expected to be paid for sharing her meager meal with them. It had been a courtesy, but he’d effectively put her in her place—or rather, the place he expected of her—a willing servant to his demands.

  She grabbed the coins and hurried after him. “I don’t want—” But the door closed behind him and by the time she threw it open he was riding away. She stared after him, her insides coiling like the fire damaged curls of wallpaper. She sucked in several deep breaths before she returned to the table.

  “My dear.” The older woman patted her hand. “He didn’t mean to insult you. He’s just very single minded about business. He takes his responsibilities so seriously.” She sighed. “He was only fifteen when my husband was injured in an accident. Seth barely survived. He never walked again. Never got out of bed even. Although I miss him so much it was a mercy when he went. No more pain and suffering. I picture him in heaven, enjoying the use of his legs again.” She sniffled into a hankie.

  Hannah murmured her condolences but when she began to clear the table, Mrs. Sperling caught her hand.

  “Do you mind listening to an old woman’s prattle?”

  Hannah laughed. “You aren’t old nor do you prattle.” She sensed the woman longed for someone to converse with. Hannah wasn’t opposed to the idea. It had been lonely with only Mort or passersby to talk to. Work could wait. “I’d love to sit and chat.”

  Mrs. Sperling picked up where she left off. “Seth couldn’t move about but he still ran the place. Jake became his legs and hands. He expected a lot from the boy. And now Jake expects even more from himself.”

  Hannah didn’t want to hear about Jake. She especially did not want to listen to his mother excuse his behavior. “You have a daughter?”

  The woman smiled with pride. “Audrey. She’s the opposite of Jake in many ways. Never worries about responsibility. She knows how to enjoy life. She married Harvey, who owns the neighboring ranch.”

  “You’re very proud of her.”

  “I’m proud of both of them.”

  Hannah knew Mrs. Sperling believed her words but when she spoke about Audrey, her voice held a whole different tone than when she spoke of Jake—as if Audrey pleased her and Jake served her. She dismissed the idea. She was reading more into it than she had any right. She knew nothing about the family.