Gideon Kendricks touched her sleeve, and she started. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your question.”
Will bumped the table, rattling the dishes. Tomasina shot him a curious stare.
“I was asking how you came to settle in Cowboy Creek,” Gideon said.
“I haven’t settled.” Caught off guard, she fumbled for a reply. “Not yet at least.”
“You have me intrigued.”
“I arrived on the cattle drive.” She glanced at the gingham napkin in her lap. “I’m a drover. I was riding point.”
Gideon leaned forward. “That’s fascinating. You drive cattle?”
Since he didn’t appear shocked, she warmed to the subject. “All my life. Brought in almost four thousand head on this last drive.”
“You have my undying admiration, Miss Stone. Such difficult work.”
Will snapped his napkin onto his lap. “Miss Neely is the director of the new opera house. She’s planning an inaugural performance next Friday.”
“How delightful,” Gideon declared, his rapt attention focused on Tomasina. “Will you be participating, Miss Stone?”
“I will be singing,” Pippa announced. “I can sing.”
Her tone had taken a desperate edge, and Tomasina looked between the two. She’d never seen Pippa flustered. Then again, she’d never seen a man who didn’t fawn all over himself when speaking with her. Except maybe Will. He was polite toward Pippa without showing her any deference. Pippa didn’t seem to mind Will’s indifference.
Gideon was clearly upsetting her. While the railroad executive wasn’t exactly ignoring Pippa, he wasn’t singling her out, either. And Pippa was accustomed to being the center of attention.
Gideon tossed Pippa a cursory glance and smiled politely. “I hope I have the opportunity to hear your beautiful voice.”
“Since you’re staying through the week, Mr. Kendricks,” Will interjected smoothly, “I hope you can attend.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Nels Patterson interrupted Gideon’s next question and took their orders. They each chose the house specialty—chicken-salad sandwiches with lemonade.
The conversation ebbed and flowed. Gideon was charming, and he appeared to be equal with his flattery, but Tomasina sensed a growing unease from Pippa and Will. If her fellow drovers had been acting oddly, she’d have called him out. Drovers were known for their plain speaking. Since that tactic clearly wasn’t appropriate in this setting, she’d have to find another way.
When the sandwiches were all but eaten, Tomasina stood. “Pie.”
Both men automatically stood.
Gideon tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“Aunt Mae, who runs the boardinghouse, provides pies for the Cowboy Café. They’re the best in town. Come look.”
Though mildly surprised by the offer, Gideon followed her to the glass case at the back of the restaurant.
She pointed to a particularly scrumptious peach pie. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Gideon?”
His ears pinkened. “You’re a lovely lady, Miss Stone.”
“Well, stop it. I don’t flirt. Pippa flirts. Flirt with Pippa.”
“I take it your affections are engaged elsewhere.”
“Where my affections are engaged is none of your concern.” She indicated another pie. “Some people enjoy a lemon meringue, but I’m partial to apple or peach.” She pinned him with a stare. “I think Pippa likes you, and you’re driving her mad.”
“Good.”
Tomasina hoisted her eyebrows. “Why is that good?”
Gideon had the grace to appear abashed. “I have a feeling Miss Neely is used to getting what she wants.”
Dawning understanding softened Tomasina’s annoyance. “Oh. I get it now. You like her, but you don’t want her to know that you like her.”
“I don’t know if I like her,” he grumbled. “I’ve only just met her.”
“You like her. Same thing happened to me at the schoolhouse in Abilene when I was eight. Tim Twohig used to put tacks on my chair because he liked me. Ignoring Pippa is just another way of putting tacks on her chair.”
“Are you always this forthright?”
Tomasina shrugged. “Usually. I’ve had to be more careful lately. The rules of being a drover are different than the rules of living in town.”
Nels approached the counter, wiping his hands on the towel tucked into the strings tying his apron around his waist. “Can I serve you folks some pie?”
“Four slices of apple,” Tomasina said. “You like apple pie, Mr. Kendricks?”
“I adore apple pie.”
“Excellent,” she said.
“You’re quite unusual, Miss Stone.”
She pursed her lips. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
“It was a great compliment. Your candor is refreshing.” Gideon motioned her back toward the table. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. In my line of work, I’ve become accustomed to playing games. I forget that not everyone understands the rules.”
“What is the point of playing games? Why not speak your mind?”
“The usual reasons. To test the waters. To save face.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing with Pippa,” Tomasina stated archly. “She has her choice of men in town, you know.”
“I know. And that’s the whole problem.”
Along with Nels’ assistance, they delivered the pie to the table. The rest of the dessert passed with little drama. Gideon took on the role of storyteller and regaled them all with anecdotes from his travels. He and Will staged a mock fight over the check and everyone left the restaurant in a chipper mood.
Once outside, Pippa managed a maneuver that neatly forced Gideon into presenting his elbow. Grinning from ear to ear, the gentleman flashed a triumphant look over one shoulder.
Tomasina shook her head. Gideon must know what he was doing. Pippa was practically hanging on his arm.
Will let the space stretch between the couples. “Gideon was certainly friendly.”
“He’s very handsome.”
Will squinted at Gideon’s back. “In an average sort of way.”
“He’s quite well traveled.”
“Anyone can sit on a train. How is that interesting?”
Tomasina warmed to her subject. She might not know the game as well as Gideon, but she was learning. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Will was a little jealous. And not of Gideon’s attention to Pippa.
“He’s well spoken,” she said coyly.
“If you like that sort of thing.”
She glanced across the street and caught sight of the boarded windows of the Drover’s Place. The recollection of the rumors floating around town dampened her good mood.
There was talk of running out the drovers, and the mood among the men was tense. “What is Sheriff Davis doing about the cowboys?”
“He believes they need a distraction.”
“What sort of distraction?” she asked.
“I suggested a rodeo. Maybe a sharpshooting contest.”
She gasped and faced him on the boardwalk, her hands on her hips. “Are you serious?”
“I was wrong, Tomasina Stone.” He grinned at her outrage. “You were right.”
She took his elbow once more. “Can I have that stamped into the brass plaque honoring the town founders?”
“No. You may not. That blasted monument is embarrassing enough.”
“They only meant to honor you.”
“I appreciate the sentiment.” He offered a crooked grin. “Not the execution.”
She enjoyed their verbal sparring. Thoughts buzzed around her brain, and as many scattered emotions chased around her heart. She’d always considered herself tough. Ove
r the past few weeks she’d discovered an unexpected thread of vulnerability in her heart.
She felt the play of muscles beneath her fingertips. More and more she feared he had the ability to pierce her guarded heart. What kind of future could they ever have together? Despite her instructions from Pippa this week, she was still the same person. The evening of the dance, though delightful, had only cemented her concerns. Will had ambitions and she wasn’t fit for the governor’s mansion.
In politics, everything was a chess game. Moves and countermoves. She preferred plain speaking. Only moments before Gideon had been flirting and playing a game, a game everyone at the table had understood but her. How would she ever survive in Will’s world? She was a bigger fool for even worrying about the agonizing pain of his rejection. She’d tested the waters, and she’d saved her dignity if not her heart. He’d been engaged to two women—two beautiful, accomplished ladies. Though Dora’s motives had been suspect, the truth was there.
Consider how Mrs. Lincoln, the former first lady, had suffered. Her husband’s position had only sheltered her so much. Tomasina had yet to earn her own esteem in this world, and she was tired of borrowing respect from someone else.
The rest of the walk passed in companionable silence, and they soon reached the hotel. Since Will was leading the meeting of the town council that afternoon, Gideon offered to walk Pippa to the boardinghouse.
Tomasina stepped into the lobby and discovered James Johnson slouched in one of the chairs.
He stood when he saw her and crossed the distance. “We need to talk. Alone.” He cast a pointed glance at Will. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
“Don’t mind me.” Will released her arm, his expression closed. “I should prepare for the meeting.”
Ever the gentleman. Even if he was curious, he’d never intrude on a private conversation. Her throat tight, she followed his ascent to the third floor.
James grunted. “I never thought you’d be walking out with someone like Will Canfield. He’s beyond your reach, Tom. He owns half the town.”
“Thanks for your concern, James, but I wasn’t walking out with him. We’re acquaintances, nothing more. Not that my relationship with Will Canfield is any of your business.” She adjusted her reticule over her wrist. Only days before she’d considered Pippa’s beaded bag a frivolity and now, here she was, wearing one of her own. How quickly times changed. “You said we needed to talk. What do you want, James?”
“I thought about what you said. About getting the Stone outfit back together. I think we should try.”
Her stomach twisted. She’d have the chance she’d been craving—a chance at earning her own respect in a job she knew well. No more floundering around, trying to find her place. James was offering her a chance at regaining a bit of her old life, her old confidence.
However, something in his expression gave her pause. “Why now, James? she asked, nervously biting down on her lower lip. “Why the change of heart? Does this have anything to do with Hannah Taggart?”
“No!” He reared back. “Why would you even ask that?”
“No reason. No reason at all.”
Chapter Eighteen
The next hour was agony for Will. He spoke his lines at the town-council meeting with practiced ease. He listened to Gideon Kendrick’s speech, nodding in all the right places, clapping at the correct time. All the while his thoughts were focused on Tomasina. He’d always known she’d leave Cowboy Creek. He’d assumed the date was off in the distant future.
He wasn’t an idiot. James Johnson was a fellow drover. The cowboys were moving on. If James was putting together a new crew, Tomasina was an obvious choice. There was no doubt in his mind about James’s motivation for seeking out Tomasina. The boy was ready to move on, and he needed her help.
His gaze kept drifting in her direction. She’d joined the meeting and taken a seat in the back, her mood inscrutable. Imagining her leaving with James Johnson wrung his insides into a knot.
When Remmy Hagermann elbowed him in the side, Will stood and cleared his throat. “We’ve given you all the information to the best of our knowledge. In conclusion, while any investment has risks, I believe an investment with the Union Pacific railroad is in the best interest of Cowboy Creek merchants and business leaders. Mr. Kendricks will be staying at the Cattleman Hotel for the duration. He’s available to answer any questions you might have.” He paused for a moment, looking out at the crowd, then went on. “I will be collecting your funds personally. Can I see a show of hands for those considering an investment?”
Every hand in the room raised.
Will nodded. “Excellent. There’s one more item on the agenda. As you all know, we’ve had some difficulty with the drovers in town.”
A collective groan erupted from the audience.
“There’s been a motion put forward to sponsor another rodeo and sharpshooting contest.”
The meeting descended into chaos. People both for and against the measure raised their voices. Amos Godwin sat in his chair, his arms crossed, shaking his head. Mr. Irving and Mr. Hagermann argued over him. Clusters of men formed, with people shouting and gesturing.
A familiar, ear-splitting whistle silenced the room. All heads turned toward Tomasina.
She smiled. “Gentlemen. The drovers are vital to the success of this town. Correct?”
The men mumbled their agreement.
“The drovers bring cattle. They also bring business. Money. They pass through every town from here to Texas and spread gossip along the way. Would you rather they praised or criticized Cowboy Creek? And don’t forget, eventually, those drovers will settle down and buy land. Wouldn’t it be beneficial if they settled in this fine town?”
Mr. Livingston guffawed. “Not if they come to drink and carouse.”
“I don’t believe they will,” she said matter-of-factly. “You want them to feel a part of your community. If they feel as though they are a part of something, they’ll change their ways.”
“Can you guarantee that?” Remmy demanded.
“No. I can’t.”
More grumblings followed her words.
“I can, however, guarantee that this town and your businesses will suffer if they decide to spend their money elsewhere.”
No one disputed her words. An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
“Help invest them in your community,” she said. “And they will care for that community.”
Mr. Livingston snorted. “They don’t buy anything from my store. Cowboys don’t need furniture.”
“They don’t buy any of the furniture you currently sell. But what if you sold something they needed? One of the fellows I know has a collapsible chair. The hinges fold in half. The chair fits on the chuck wagon. You could make a whole business out of building those chairs.”
“That’s all fine and good for Mr. Livingston.” Remmy stood and leaned his hands on the back of his chair. “How do the rest of us go about interesting them in our stores?”
“Mr. Hagermann is an excellent example of forward thinking. When the town founders sent for brides, what did you do, Mr. Hagermann?”
The owner of the mercantile puffed up. “I stocked the things women like to buy in my stores.”
The men laughed.
“Remmy sells stockings,” Timothy Watson hollered. “How does that help with a bunch of drovers?”
Remmy scowled. “You wouldn’t be laughing if you saw my books. My business has increased. I’ll be expanding before long.”
His words quieted the crowd.
Tomasina beamed. “Follow Mr. Hagermann’s example. Stock things the drovers buy. Run specials. Sales. You know what they purchase, the items they prefer. Place signs in your store windows advertising these items.” She spread her hands as though unfurling a banner. “Have
a special on tinned peaches.”
Mr. Booker of Booker & Son rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Tomasina moved toward the front of the room. “Take advantage of your specialties. The items that make your business unique. Consider the Cowboy Café. Everyone loves Nels’s chicken-salad sandwiches.”
“Don’t drag me into this.” The older man crossed his arms over his chest. “I already have cowboys eating in my restaurant.”
“Then cater to the cowboys who don’t eat in your restaurant. Sell the sandwiches in a bag, with a pickle, wrapped in wax paper. Call it the Drover’s Special. That’s only the beginning. Why stop with the drovers? Down South, a clever group of ladies who call themselves waiter-carriers bring meals right to the trains. The ladies line up on the tracks and folks plan their route just for a taste of those meals. Nels could fix sack lunches for the folks on the train who don’t have time for a sit-down meal.”
Rubbing his chin, Nels nodded. “Might work. Course, I’d have to hire more help.”
“If you make more money, you can afford to hire more help. That means Cowboy Creek is creating jobs. The more jobs, the better. Am I right?”
“Jobs bring people,” Will offered. Her ideas were inspired. They were all intelligent men, and yet none of them had considered these opportunities. “Jobs bring families.”
“Waiter-carriers for the railroad are only the beginning.” She paced in front of the group. “Nels can sell his sandwiches between shows at the opera house. Serve them with lemonade.”
Owen Ewing placed a hand to the side of his mouth and leaned toward Remmy. “People are sure gonna get sick of those sandwiches.” He spoke in a whisper loud enough the others could hear.
Remmy laughed.
“Use your imaginations, gentlemen.” Tomasina threw up her arms. “If people tire of one kind of sandwich, then make another. All of these ideas are simple, and many of them can be undertaken with little or no planning or cost. The cowboys living out of their tents need a shower and a shave at least once a week. The barber can run specials. The bath house can run specials.”
Special Delivery Baby Page 20
