Hannah's Dream (Wild Rose Country Book 2)

by Linda Ford

  “What happened to your father?” At her startled expression he added, “I know he died. I’m wondering how.”

  “Pneumonia.”

  “Oh.” His mind flooded with questions, but a man could hardly blurt out things like, how long did it take? Did he suffer?

  “It was mercifully quick,” she said, answering his unspoken questions.

  “That’s a blessing.”

  “I suppose you’re right though it didn’t seem like it at the time. I thought my world had ended. In some ways it did. My father had gone into debt to build a big house. I guess he thought that’s what Mother wanted.”

  “Did she?”

  She shrugged. “I shouldn’t speak poorly of her, but it does seem she prefers comfort to independence. It’s the only reason I can think of for her marriage to Otto.”

  Jake tried to digest that. His father had made him promise he would always see his sister and mother were kept comfortable. He assumed that’s what a man did for a woman. But Hannah made it sound less than second best.

  She chuckled. “I’m afraid Otto bit off more than he could chew when he got me in the bargain. I’d sooner be less comfortable and more independent.”

  “Independence carries a price—responsibility.”

  Her gaze caught his. In the half-light her eyes looked dark and bottomless. He could feel her thoughts reach out to him and dig deep into his heart as if trying to fathom his meaning. For a moment, he thought she would acknowledge the truth in his words, but she only chuckled.

  “Comfort can carry a price too. Especially when the payment for a person’s comfort is paid for by someone else. I’ll take the alternative.”

  Disappointed by her stubbornness, Jake swiped his plate clean and leaned back. All sorts of arguments crowded his mind, proofs she was wrong, but at the set of her mouth he guessed she didn’t care much about proof.

  She went to the cupboard and pulled some cookies from a tin, placed them on a plate and put them on the table. “The boys were so tired tonight they didn’t even stop for cookies. I’ll have to be sure they get some before they go out tomorrow.”

  He jerked forward. “I suppose Mother wore herself out, too?”

  Hannah smiled. Her eyes twinkled. “She seemed glad enough to go to her room.”

  He glanced at the ceiling wondering if he should check on her.

  “I’m sure she’s sound asleep by now,” Hannah said.

  He pulled his attention back to her. Why did she grin so widely? Just looking at her made him smile in response. He liked the way the skin around her eyes crinkled. He wanted to pick out the flecks of wallpaper peppering her hair but guessed she might take objection to such a bold move.

  She blinked before his stare. “Tell me about your father.” Her voice sounded husky. “Your mother said he had an accident.”

  “Yeah. Trampled by a bull.”

  Her eyes widened. She sucked in her breath in a quick little jerk then didn’t seem to be able to let it out. She scrubbed her lips together two, three times, and then air escaped her lungs like a hot wind off the dry plains. “How awful.”

  “It wasn’t pretty.”

  “I’m sorry. And you were still young.”

  “I don’t remember being young.” He had grown up really fast after his father’s accident. “My father died inch by inch in agony but he never stopped being in charge. And in the months he lived, he taught me everything I’d need to know to take over.” He’d learned long ago to speak of it without feeing anything, to think of his father’s death with emotional detachment. A man had to move on from such things, concentrate on his responsibilities. There wasn’t room for weakness. His father had taught him well.

  “Does it seem strange to you that your father’s death gave you more independence and responsibility than you wanted and my father’s death deprived me of mine?”

  “It’s not more’n I can handle.”

  “Of course not.” Her eyes carried unspoken disagreement.

  He wanted to prove her wrong. It had never been more than he could handle. He would never falter in his responsibilities.

  “And you’ve bitten off more than you can chew.” He circled his head, indicating the hotel.

  She fiddled with her napkin a moment then fixed him with a solid stare. “As you said, it’s not more than I can handle.”

  He didn’t want to agree. In fact, the more he got to know Hannah, the more he wanted to protest. But somewhere between the fried potatoes and the last crumb of cookie, things between them had shifted. And he didn’t want to spoil this new feeling—like the moment a horse stops bucking and realizes he can either fight or cooperate. Bad example. Yet somehow it fit. He and Hannah had somehow, somewhere in the discussion, silently, mutually, he hoped, agreed they could be friends. Not wanting to spoil that flush of understanding or whatever he decided to call it, he refrained from saying anything about the hotel.

  He pushed his plate aside. “That was good. Thank you.” He rubbed his hands over his thighs.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to toss me some coins?” She breathed hard.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “You did last night.”

  He tried to remember. Riggs and Martin had stormed in, ready to do business. He’d gone with them to meet the train, expecting the buyers. Had he unthinkingly dropped some money on the table, as he normally would when eating out?

  He had. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I suggest you do so in the future.”

  “I apologize.”

  She considered him a moment, then nodded.

  He thought she meant to say something more, but a bell clattered somewhere in the distance.

  Hannah bolted from her chair. “Someone’s in the lobby. Can’t anyone read the closed sign?” She pushed the doors open and headed across the dining room.

  Jake jerked to his feet. “Watch the hole in the floor.” Someone was going to get hurt.

  He followed her, skirting the hole. The lobby, lit only by the light from the kitchen, lay in shadows. A cowboy clung to the desk, swaying as he leered at Hannah crossing the room.

  “I’s here for room,” he slurred.

  Hannah took her place behind the desk. “I’m sorry. We’re closed.”

  The cowboy swung his head around to stare at Jake, the movement almost tipping him over. He grabbed the desk, pulled himself upright and turned back to Hannah. “Aw, lady. Bet ya can find me a room somewhere.” He leaned over the desk, leering again.

  Hannah stepped back. “No sir. I can’t. But I’m sure the Regal will have room for you.”

  “Wizened up old guy runs the place. Not like here.” He grabbed for Hannah, but she ducked out of his reach.

  Jake had seen enough. He crossed the room in three strides. “Cowboy, you’re done here.” He kept his voice low, but the young man jerked up, not missing the sound of an order. Jake squeezed the man’s elbow and accompanied him to the door. He fought the temptation to shove him into the street.

  Even so the cowboy stumbled and almost fell.

  Jake watched, knowing his wish to see the boy flat on his face in muck was not very Christian. He slammed the door and turned the lock. He faced Hannah.

  She hugged her arms around herself, her eyes wide and dark.

  “Did he scare you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not at all.”

  His insides burned at her denial. “He was drunk. He might have hurt you.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m not completely helpless.”

  “You’re alone here. How did you think you’d stop him?”

  “Just because I’m not a man doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”

  Something had been simmering since he’d seen her on the ladder and then caught her as she fell. It reached the boiling point as the drunk threatened her. It now spilled over, searing through his insides. This helpless feeling when he thought about her situation—wanting to protect her, knowing she resented his
suggestion that she needed it.

  “He’s bigger, stronger than you.”

  She reached under the desk and pulled out a bat, brandishing it like a sword. “I’m not entirely unprepared.”

  He pulled up straight and stared at her. His hot, humorless surprise made him laugh. “A bat? Do you think he was going to throw a ball?”

  “I’d pretend his head was a ball.”

  With two quick strides, he closed the distance between them. She must have seen the anger in his eyes, or guessed at it. She started to back away.

  He shot his arm out and snatched the bat from her hand. “Now how would you stop him?”

  Even in the poor light he could see he’d made her angry as she glowered at him. “I wouldn’t try. I wouldn’t have to. Because”—she stalked to the desk and leaned over, pushing her face so close he eased back six inches before he could stop himself—“I wouldn’t be here. If I was open—and I’m not—Mort would be at the night desk.”

  “Your fine-sounding argument didn’t keep that cowboy out.”

  “I normally keep the door locked after dark.” She leaned forward another inch. “It’s only unlocked tonight because I had to wait for you to come in.”

  He pushed his face closer. “Don’t be so stubborn. This is not a safe place. The work is too much, the risks too great, the—” He forgot his third reason as he breathed in the scent of wallpaper paste from her hair and a whisper of something so sweet he thought of fields of wild flowers so full of nectar a thousand bees danced in joy. His gaze dropped to her mouth. His thoughts skittered so wildly he couldn’t begin to capture them.

  Hannah pulled back. “You are gravely mistaken, Jake Sperling, if you think I can’t do this. I can and I will.”

  He reined in his thoughts. He had never before in his life felt the desire to shake a woman until her teeth rattled. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “When you find you can’t, I’ll help you pick up the pieces.”

  She snorted. “I suggest you don’t hold your breath waiting.”

  He smacked the bat to the top of the desk and stalked to the stairs.

  *

  Hannah waited until she heard his door shut. Only then did she sag against the desk. The drunk had frightened her. But it wouldn’t happen again. In the future she’d be sure the door was locked or Mort was at his job as night clerk.

  She went to her room and sank to her bed. Shivers ran up and down her spine. She opened her Bible and read for a few minutes. Finally, admitting the words weren’t making any sense, she closed her eyes and prayed, Thank you, God, for keeping me safe. She just wished it hadn’t been at Jake’s hands. Why was he so determined to see her fail? Didn’t he have enough to worry about with his own family and his ranch to run?

  She went to the chiffonier again and pulled out the case containing her father’s pocket watch. She pressed it to her chest, forced her thoughts away from the drunk, and with a little more effort, away from Jake. She focused on what her father would have said. “My independent little girl.” “You know your mind. I like that.” “Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do it.”

  He’d encouraged her independence. He admired the quality in her. It became her defining characteristic.

  She returned the case to its place and prepared for bed. Under the covers, she whispered another prayer. “God, please help me not to fail.”

  *

  Hannah woke the next morning, her determination solidly in place. Mrs. Sperling and the boys came down as Hannah mopped the lobby floor.

  “Do you have our cookies,” Luke yelled.

  Hannah was beginning to wonder if one of their parents had difficulty hearing. That would explain why they felt the need to talk at the top of their voices. “I promised them cookies yesterday for being so good,” Hannah told Mrs. Sperling.

  “Why don’t we go find breakfast then come back for tea?” their grandmother asked.

  The boys screamed their delight at the idea.

  “Do you mind?” Mrs. Sperling asked Hannah.

  “That would be fine.” She glanced up the stairs.

  “Jake left to see if the buyers had come on the early train. He’s worried about the cows.” The older woman shook her head. “I can’t understand why the buyers haven’t come. I’m sure Seth could have persuaded them.”

  Hannah wanted to protest. Jake had surely done his best. But it wasn’t any of her business and she turned back to her work as Mrs. Sperling left with the boys.

  The lobby cleaned, she headed upstairs to tidy the rooms the Sperling family used. She finished the task and returned to the main floor.

  The door opened and three men in suits entered.

  “I’m closed,” she called.

  “We’re not wanting rooms,” one said. “But we are here on business. Are you Miss Williams?”

  “I am.” She hurried over to the desk, feeling the need to look official. “How can I help you?”

  “Allow me to introduce myself.” The first man stepped forward. “Mayor Stokes.” He bowed slightly, his bowler hat pressed to his chest. “These two gentlemen are Mr. Wass and Mr. Bertch, members of the town council. Mr. Bertch is also the safety inspector.”

  They nodded, shifted from foot to foot and avoided direct eye contact with her.

  Hannah told herself she had nothing to be concerned about but still every nerve in her body went into quivering attention. “To what do I owe this honor?” Maybe it was a welcoming committee.

  Mayor Stokes, apparently the official spokesman, pulled a paper from his pocket. “It’s about the fire. Or should I say, the water bill from the fire.”

  She blinked. “What do you mean?”

  The mayor harrumphed. “As you know, or being new in town, perhaps you don’t, but the town is dependant on well water for its supply and we have instituted a policy that if anyone exceeds reasonable use, they should pay for it.”

  “Really. Who determines what is ‘reasonable use’ and when it is exceeded?”

  “Why the town council of course. It’s part of our job.” The other two men nodded vigorous agreement.

  The mayor continued. “We almost pumped the well dry dowsing your fire. Here’s your bill.” He shoved the piece of paper toward her.

  At first, she didn’t take it but he shook it demandingly.

  She opened it and read the amount and gasped. “This is outrageous.”

  Mayor Stokes looked as if she’d personally called him a blackguard. She hadn’t, but she began to think she’d be correct if she did. The other men found something very interesting to study on the wall behind her.

  She pressed her lips together to keep from sputtering. “Could you be so good as to tell me when this water rationing policy came into effect?”

  The mayor ignored her question. The other two continued to study the wall.

  Their silence was answer enough. “Is that all?” she demanded.

  “There’s one more matter. I told you Mr. Bertch is the safety inspector. He’s here to inspect the hotel.”

  Hannah’s cheeks grew hot. Her stomach tensed. “My hotel is not open for business yet. When it is, it will pass any sort of inspection.”

  Mayor Stokes blinked several times. “I understand you have guests here right now.”

  The Sperlings. She could hardly deny it though they’d practically forced her to allow them to stay. “Temporarily,” she muttered.

  “Then Mr. Bertch is obligated to conduct his inspection.”

  The three of them marched toward the dining room. Mr. Bertch pulled out a pad of paper and pencil and began to make notes. Hannah knew he had no need. The damage was plain as they must know. Everyone in town knew.

  He circled the room, Mayor Stokes and Mr. Wass treading on his heels. He barely glanced into the kitchen, returned to the lobby and pretended to inspect it. Only his gaze went up the stairs.

  “Miss Williams, this place is not safe for habitation.”

  Chapter 5

  “It will be,” she prot
ested. “I need time to fix it.” Time, money and supplies.

  The three men put their heads together and muttered and then Mayor Stokes faced her. “We’ll give you three weeks to pay the fine and complete the repairs. If they aren’t complete then we’ll be forced to impose further fines.” He cleared his throat. “We’re being more than generous. We could condemn the place today and board up the door.”

  Mr. Bertch dropped a paper on the desk then the three marched toward the door.

  She read the notice they left.

  This is to inform Miss. Williams that the Sunshine Hotel must pass a safety inspection in three weeks time or be fined a hundred dollars.

  Her cry of outrage brought Mort from the back yard. “Problems, Miss?”

  She waved at the paper on the desk as she hurried to her room to think this through in private.

  She sank to the edge of her bed. It seemed obvious the mayor and his associates had targeted her, but why? Was it the money or did they want her out of town? Maybe like Jake, they thought it wasn’t a job for a woman. She looked at the drawer holding the little black case. Her father would expect her to handle this. But how? She considered her choices. Quit? Not an option. Ask for help? Briefly she let her mind swerve toward Jake. Would he help her if she asked, or side with the town fathers? Probably the latter. That left her with one alternative. She had three weeks. In that time she had to get the hotel ready for occupancy and earn enough to pay the water fine.

  Hannah headed back to the lobby and stood looking around. With a little bit of wallpaper, it would be presentable. Why couldn’t she take in guests with the same arrangement she had with the Sperlings? Reduced rates because the dining room wasn’t available. If she had the dining room door closed off, surely Mr. Bertch couldn’t condemn it as unsafe? It would be inconvenient for her to have to go outside to get to the kitchen, but if it meant paying guests, she would do it.

  She marched up the stairs to study the eight unoccupied rooms all with considerable smoke damage. She knew much of it could be scrubbed away with soap and water—and lots of elbow grease. Well she better get started.