He turned to see Hannah Wheeler standing there, Bob the rooster tucked under one arm and her medical bag under the other. “Hello,” he said, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “No, ma’am, I don’t. That was more of a . . . well, I was talking to my dead mother, if you’re looking for the truth.”
“I’ve no quarrel with that,” Hannah said, giving him a smile.
“What brings you out this way? Is someone feeling poorly?”
“Some twins with a stomachache. To be honest, I think they were just hankering for a visit from Bob.” She nodded down at her rooster. “I’ve had more children pretend to be sick since he came along . . . they think he’s something else.”
Bob tilted his head from side to side.
“He thinks he’s something else too.” Jake grinned.
Hannah laughed. “He does at that. Have a good day, Jake.”
He tipped his hat and watched her as she walked away. That rooster just stayed flopped over in her arms like he was perfectly fine if his feet never touched the ground again. He was spoiled, that one.
Not unlike Miss Regina Stoker.
A man could give himself a heart condition carrying around this kind of ire. Jake closed his eyes, forced another deep breath, and focused. He could do this. He would simply push Miss Stoker as far from his thoughts as he could every time her name was mentioned or he saw her face or he smelled her perfume or heard her voice. That would be a lot of pushing he’d have to do, but it wasn’t impossible. It would simply take diligence, and he’d always prided himself on his diligence. It’s just that this time, he’d be using it to forget a woman and not for roping a tricky steer.
Chapter Seven
Callum Bing looked genuinely glad to see them when he opened the door. “Ladies! What a pleasant surprise. Is everything all right? I hope you’re well.”
“We’re well, but we’re more than a bit rumpled,” Regina said.
“My goodness, we can’t have that. Please, come in and have a seat.”
As soon as Regina had taken a spot on the sofa, she reached into her bag and removed the two letters he had written in this very parlor the previous day. “I do hope you’ll explain.”
He took the letters, skimmed them, and looked back up. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand your question.”
“Why did you say that you would personally be responsible for our debts? Please don’t misunderstand—we’re very grateful for your generosity—but we can’t accept it. It’s too much, especially when you don’t know us.”
“For all you know, we could run up a huge list of debts and then board the next train for California,” Ariadne interjected.
Reverend Bing smiled. “You almost sound like you’ve planned this out, Miss Ariadne.”
“I haven’t planned it, but I do want to see California someday.”
He laughed. “Well, I’m quite sure you won’t be doing it on my credit. Miss Regina, have you ever met someone and had a certain sense about them, a knowing that they were trustworthy? Perhaps not—perhaps I’m singular in that. But when the two of you came here yesterday, I sensed that I could trust you, and I felt that I should help you. I realize it’s a risk I’m taking, but I feel confident that I won’t regret it.”
“But how can we accept it? We have nothing to give you in return, nothing that could even compare,” Regina replied. She couldn’t explain the magnitude of what he’d done—he’d shown them that there were truly good people all over the world, and he’d removed a great deal of their fear in relocating to a place so very far removed from what they were used to.
“All I desire in return is your friendship. When I die, if I have not a penny in my pocket, but my quiver is full of friends, I’ll die a rich man.”
Regina clutched the papers, wishing she knew what to do. He had paved the way for their success and made it so much more possible than it would have been on their own, but he’d done it at great personal cost. He might insist that it was nothing, but it was very much something—something significant.
“Stop arguing with yourself about it,” the reverend said gently. “I have made this offer of help with no strings attached, and I’m not worried about it in the slightest. Take it. Build your business. Perhaps you could serve me up a free cup of tea from time to time—but truly, this is my gift to you.”
Regina blinked away a tear that had suddenly appeared in her eye. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I think he wants you to say yes,” Ariadne said, grinning at the pastor.
“Me? You’re my business partner. What do you have to say about all this?”
“I say . . . I say that if he’s willing to exhibit this kind of faith in us, we’d better get busy and do what we can to deserve it.”
Regina looked from her sister to Reverend Bing and back again. What would her father have advised? What was her heart telling her to do? “All right,” she said after a long minute. “We’ll proceed. But I promise you this, Reverend—you won’t lose one dime because of us.”
“And I believe you,” he said. “I’ve believed in you from the moment you showed up here yesterday. There’s a place for you here, a slot for you to fill, a job for you to do, a way that you can contribute. I’m rather excited to see what that turns out to be.”
“Me too,” Regina replied, somewhat under her breath.
Mr. Honeycutt was waiting with the horse and buggy. His own horse was still tied to the back, looking utterly bored. Regina noted that she was much more concerned with the thoughts and feelings of the horse than she was with the thoughts and feelings of its owner. She wouldn’t mind hearing that Mr. Honeycutt had perished in some sort of unexpected tornado, or was perhaps carried off by a group of bloodthirsty Indians. That reminded her that she wasn’t actually certain what tribes lived in Colorado, and if they were bloodthirsty or peaceful. They might have to travel a distance to find any Indians useful to her cause.
He helped them into the buggy without saying a word, and they began the drive back to Creede. Regina not only sat on the end of the bench this time, but she sat on the very edge of it, determined to keep as much distance between herself and that man as possible. When he delivered them safely to the building that would house their shop, she thanked him politely and then spun on her heel and went inside. She would not prolong the goodbyes by noticing how the blue of his shirt brought out his eyes, or how little bits of his hair curled around his ears. Such observations would only distract her from her real purpose, which was starting up a business.
Ariadne followed her inside and closed the door. “Oh, it’s quite nice,” she said, turning in a circle to see everything.
Regina blinked. She’d been so angry at Mr. Honeycutt that she hadn’t taken a moment to look at the building they’d be using. It had quite a lot of charm, and she could imagine what it would look like with paint and curtains and furniture. It already had a small stove in the corner, which would be perfect for heating kettles of water, and it would be a simple thing to have shelves built.
“I wonder what the bedroom looks like,” Ariadne said, gathering up her skirts and climbing up the stairs. Regina followed, her anger dissipating as she allowed her imagination to run free with all the possibilities.
It was quite a large bedroom, with a bureau in the corner as well. It too could use some painting, but it would be livable, and Regina knew they’d be able to make a home for themselves. They could do a small amount of cooking downstairs, and she was already making plans to save for a larger stove to replace the one in existence. “This could work,” she said at last. “This could actually work.”
“We need to go over to the mercantile,” Ariadne said. “We need to get a tick for the bed, and some food, and . . .”
“And so many things.” Regina nodded. “Let’s eat our supper at the hotel tonight—I’m too tired for anything else—but yes, the mercantile should be our first stop.”
They closed the front door carefully and made sure they had the key that had been left for
them. Then they walked down the street to the mercantile, Regina hoping they were still open. It was getting later in the day, and she had no idea about the store’s hours.
“Hello,” called out a pretty woman behind the counter. “You must be the Stoker sisters.”
“Yes,” Regina said slowly.
“I’m Toria Jackson. We’ll have your tick ready for you in a couple of minutes.”
“How did you know we needed one?” Ariadne asked.
“Jake Honeycutt was in here a little while ago and said he heard tell that you were missing one. He asked if we could deliver it to your new shop.” Toria’s eyes darted back and forth between them. “Is that all right? Did he ask for something he shouldn’t have?”
Regina shook her head. “I’m just amazed that he took the time to do that.” Especially when she had obviously made him angry.
“But how did he know?” Ariadne’s eyebrows had a little wrinkle between them, the one she got when she couldn’t figure something out.
“We were talking about it when we walked out to the rig from the reverend’s,” Regina reminded her. “He must have overheard us.”
“That’s so sweet,” Ariadne beamed. “Isn’t that just so sweet?”
“I think it’s very sweet,” Toria said. “But that’s how Jake is. He doesn’t say much, but he’s very thoughtful.”
“I think he has plenty to say, and that he says it very freely.” Regina forced a smile. “But I can’t deny that ordering the tick for us was very kind of him.”
“I’m just glad we still had a few in stock. With so many people moving in, it’s been difficult to stay on top of demand. Now, what else can I get you?”
“We need to place a fairly large order for supplies for our shop. Millie Bing says you have several catalogs we could look through?”
“I do. Why don’t you take them home with you tonight? We’ll be closing in twenty minutes, and that’s not nearly enough time for you to decide what you need. Just return them in the morning.”
“Thank you. Mrs. Jackson. That’s so kind of you.”
She lifted a hand. “That’s Toria. Now, what else can I get you for tonight?”
The sisters chose out some bedding, a loaf of fresh bread that Toria had baked herself, a jar of jam, some soap, and two towels. When Toria’s stepson John came down from the attic carrying the tick, he loaded everything into his delivery wagon and helped them arrange the bed how it should be.
“Now for dinner and then bed,” Ariadne said. “I honestly don’t recall ever being so tired in my life.”
“Dinner and then bed,” Regina agreed.
While at the hotel, they rummaged through their trunks and packed what they’d want for the night in a smaller valise. They arranged for the rest of their things to be delivered in the morning and settled their bill, then went “home” to their new little shop. As Regina locked the front door before ascending the staircase, she said a silent prayer of thanks for all the blessings of that day, for the reverend’s generosity and the kindness of the people of Creede. She paused, then also gave thanks for Jake Honeycutt and the way he’d stepped in when he was needed most. That admission stung her pride a bit, but perhaps her pride needed a bit of stinging.
Ariadne fell asleep almost immediately, but Regina was fascinated by the catalogs and couldn’t stop poring over them. She took some paper and a pencil from her bag and began to jot down a list of the things she thought they would need, having more fun than she’d expected. There were so many patterns of tea cups available, so many designs of curtains. They would probably save money if they bought fabric and made the curtains themselves, but neither of them could sew, and ordering them ready made seemed like the best option. She wrote down which ones she liked and would take measurements in the morning.
Once she’d written down all her favorites and also a few alternatives in case Ariadne didn’t care for something, she was finally able to go to sleep. She put out the lamp and snuggled down into bed, realizing that it was her bed, these were her blankets, and that was her pillow. She had used her inheritance and chosen out her own things. If owning something as simple as a bed made her this happy, she could only imagine what it would feel like to purchase something with money she had earned from the shop—very good indeed. They were becoming more independent every day.
***
Royce Clark squatted down by the fence post and looked at the wire Jake had brought him out here to see. “Looks like a cut to me,” he said, pushing his hat back on his head. “I thought we were done with ranchers being messed with.”
“You don’t think it’s regular wear?” Jake asked. He didn’t think it was either, but he sure didn’t want to be jumping to conclusions like sabotage and whatnot. Those were words no rancher wanted to hear.
Royce shook his head. “Cut’s too clean. We’ll need to set up a rotating guard—they’re cutting pretty close to where the cattle are grazing, and my guess is that they plan to come back, finish the job, and make off with some of the herd. We’re pretty close to the timberline here—what if the guard camped out there in the trees, where they won’t be seen?”
Jake nodded. “I’ll take tonight’s shift.”
Royce came to his feet and clapped Jake on the shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll talk to the others and we’ll plan out a schedule. I tell you what, if it’s not one thing out here, it’s another.” He looked out across the huge herd of cattle. “I’ve spent my entire adult life building this place up so I’d have something to leave my children, and I’ll be jiggered if anyone’s going to swoop in here and try to take it away from me.”
Jake understood. He’d been here long enough to see the way Royce Clark had poured himself into this land, into the animals, into everything he touched.
“Jake, on second thought, let’s have Ginger take tonight’s watch. I’d like you to ride into Creede with me—I want to let KC Murray know what’s going on.”
“Sure thing.” Jake had spent more time in town than he had on the ranch as of late, which didn’t suit his private nature very well, but he’d do what needed to be done, and he agreed that the law should be informed.
He took another quick bath and shook his head when he looked at his laundry pile. He hadn’t had a minute to think about soaking his clothes, and he didn’t have many to start with. He’d pick up a ready-made shirt at the mercantile while he was in town. He was due for one anyway.
And it had nothing whatsoever to do with a certain Englishwoman and wanting to look nice for her. He’d pound any man to a pulp who dared say it.
Well, maybe not a pulp … but they wouldn’t like to hear what he had to say about it.
Chapter Eight
With the exception of the curtains, Ariadne loved everything Regina had chosen. They picked a new curtain pattern together and then they were off to the mercantile, eating slices of bread with jam as they walked. Regina had added some other things to the list as well—some nails or hooks for their dresses until they could build a proper closet, a wash basin for the corner of their room, a bucket for carrying water, and several other little items that she’d never considered went into housekeeping. And then when they started cooking, they’d need even more . . . She was starting to realize the reverend’s wisdom in helping them establish a line of credit.
Toria pulled out some order forms and began to fill them out, showing her appreciation for choices the sisters had made. “Oh, those are darling teacups,” she said when she reached that part of the order. “I can’t wait to sit in your shop and drink from one of these.”
“And there are matching plates for the cakes,” Ariadne pointed out. “Our stove is just big enough to bake those, but we’d like to know a price on a larger unit so we can save up for one.” She would be the one in charge of making the cakes. Regina wouldn’t know the difference between a flour sifter and an Easter bonnet.
Toria flipped through another catalog and found what they were looking for, and Regina noted the price. It was so difficult to
make plans when they didn’t know how much profit to expect, but she supposed that was just part of their new adventure.
The door to the store opened just as Toria was adding up Regina’s total, and she glanced up and smiled. “Oh, hello, Jake. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Regina felt her spine stiffen. Toria couldn’t mean Jake Honeycutt—surely there were other Jakes in town. But then she heard his voice. “I came in with Mr. Clark on an errand and thought I’d stop in. You still have some ready-made shirts available?”
“I sure do. I moved them over next to the fabric table.”
“Thanks.”
Regina heard his footsteps going back farther in the store, and she released the breath she’d been holding.
Toria leaned across the counter. “What’s the matter, Regina? I thought you and Jake were on friendly terms, the way he requested that tick for you.”
“I’m not sure what sort of terms we’re on,” Regina replied. “All I know is that I’ve never met a more stubborn man in all my life.” She might be willing to admit that she’d been partially at fault for their spat, but that didn’t remove him from the equation at all.
Toria chuckled. “We’ve all got some stubbornness in us, haven’t we?”
“We do, and some were given a more generous helping.”
Ariadne’s mouth was twitching, and Regina was not amused to see how hard her sister had to fight not to smile.
“And she thinks this is all so very delightful,” Regina continued, nodding toward Ariadne. “She’s been forbidden to speak of it—otherwise, she’d be teasing me even now.”
“Well, I haven’t been forbidden,” Toria said with a smile of her own. “I think you and Jake would make a wonderful couple.”
Regina felt her face turn bright red, and she whipped her head around to make sure Mr. Honeycutt wasn’t standing right there. “We would not,” she whispered. “We don’t even like each other.”
Tea For Two (Cowboys & Angels Book 15) Page 5
