If the horse belongs to him, that is. She mentally shook herself, annoyed at the thought. Ralph’s accusing him of stealing didn’t necessarily make him a thief.
The fussing child drew her attention. The man was bouncing the boy on his lap to quiet him. He’d called the little chestnut-haired boy Toby, but what was his name? Toby plopped a dust-covered thumb into his mouth and laid his head against the man’s chest. Strange that he has a child with him but no wife. He said the boy was missing his mama. Is he meeting her on the trail?
The sheriff stepped forward and placed a hand against the side rail of the buckboard. “What’s your name, son?”
“Phillips.” The terse answer seemed to be torn from the man’s lips, and no smile softened the words. “I’m Justin Phillips, and this is my son, Toby.”
Sheriff Ramsey stretched out a hand toward the stranger, who hesitated before grasping it.
“You just passing through our little burg or staying for a while?” The sheriff doffed his hat and wiped a sleeve across his brow then shoved it back on his gray head.
The man on the wagon shrugged. “Haven’t rightly decided. Thought I’d try to find a meal for me and the boy, maybe get a bed for the night. I’ve no set plans.” He glanced toward Alex, his dark brown eyes giving her a small start.
“Will your wife be joining you soon?”
“No. She passed away a few months back. It’s just me and the boy.” He looked down the street. “Is there a hotel around?”
Ramsey nodded and fingered his mustache. “Sorry to hear about your missus. There’s the Last Chance Hotel, but it’s no place for a child. Just one big bunkroom on the second floor. Mostly miners use it, and you have to climb a ladder from the outside. Saloon is downstairs but there’s a nice little restaurant to the side, and there’s a candy store and barber shop t’other side. The hotel can get a mite rough at times.”
“Nothing else?” Justin patted the little boy’s back and whispered something in his ear.
The sheriff nodded and pointed up the street. “There’s a boardinghouse on the edge of town. Miz Alice Rice runs it. She’s a spinster—and a good Christian. She don’t tolerate no drinkin’ or swearin’ in her establishment, and she serves a right fine meal if you’re a mind to spend the night. Real reasonable, and she’ll even allow you to draw a bath.”
Justin nodded, settled the child deeper on his lap, and reached for the reins with his right hand. “Thank you. I’ll swing by Miss Rice’s place and see if she has a room for me and Toby.” His eyes shifted toward Ralph as a hint of a smile touched his lips. “After my welcome in Last Chance, I wasn’t sure I’d get any help.”
He cast a glance toward the parson, gave a sparse nod, and then looked straight at Alex. “Ma’am.” He tipped his hat, but his eyes lingered for a moment and a quizzical look touched his features.
Alex stared back, feeling powerless to break the gaze. A slow blush rose up her neck and warmed her cheeks. She opened her lips, unsure of what she should say, when the slap of the reins on the horses’ rumps snapped them shut again. She spun toward the church and ducked her head. She could hear the buggy moving down the road but didn’t look back. The sheriff and parson could see the pair off.
Alex directed her steps toward her waiting horse. The visit with Elizabeth would have to wait until tomorrow. She’d been gone long enough.
The man stood in the shadows of the blacksmith shop, his mind replaying the scene he’d witnessed in front of the church. A stranger in town wasn’t part of his plan, but from the looks of things, he was a drifter and would probably be moving on. The man slipped around to the back of the building and untied his horse. Time to go stir things up a bit. Alex didn’t need to get too comfortable out at that ranch, no sir.
Chapter Five
Justin slapped the reins on the team’s haunches and turned the wagon in the direction the sheriff pointed, toward the other side of the small town. He’d keep his eyes open and get the lay of the land. It wouldn’t hurt to look around before heading to the ranch. Ben Travers’s request for secrecy kept him from telling the sheriff his business. Time for that after he got Toby settled and spoke to Travers.
His thoughts drifted back to the attractive woman he’d seen at the church. She’d met his gaze without flinching and with no hint of coyness in her eyes. Molly had flirted with every man she met—offering empty promises and stirring men’s pulses. Somehow Justin didn’t get the same impression from the girl at the church—she didn’t seem the type to put a lot of stock in her looks.
The horses’ hooves raised little puffs of dust in the wide street that stretched between the buildings scattered along each side. A sign announcing CRAMER’S DRY GOODS STORE swayed in the light breeze that swept down from the surrounding cedar-and-pine-dotted hills cradling one side of Last Chance.
Justin’s eyes were drawn to the saloon and gambling hall across the street. Such establishments used to be his home away from home. Never again, not with Toby in his life. He’d made a pledge that no liquor would touch his lips after he assumed care of his boy, and he’d see that the promise remained intact.
The batwing doors of the establishment swung open, and a young man in rider’s garb fell onto the wooden boardwalk. Justin slowed his rig. A ruddy-faced man with red hair and a bartender’s apron stepped out and looked down at the prostrate figure. “No fightin’ in my joint, you hear? Come back when you’re feelin’ better.”
He grasped the man by the wrist and hauled him to his feet then gave him a none-too-gentle shove toward the horses hitched at the rail. “Climb on yer horse and head out. No sense in getting yerself beat to a pulp—or shot.”
The man dusted his shirt with a curse and then untied the reins of a sorrel gelding standing relaxed at the rail. He pulled the horse’s head around and stuck the toe of his boot into the stirrup then swung up into the saddle without another word. Justin shook his head, remembering the days when he’d been in the man’s situation—though never as early as mid-afternoon.
The aproned man turned his head and glanced at the slow-moving rig. He met Justin’s gaze and tipped his head. “Nice stock you’ve got, stranger.” His booming voice held a hint of an Irish brogue. “Passin’ through, or stopping for a while?”
Justin brought the team to a standstill. “Thanks. I’m stopping at Miz Rice’s boardinghouse.”
“Riley is the name. Mosey back and join us for a drink after yer settled.” A broad smile lit the man’s round face and crinkled the skin around the blue eyes.
Justin shook his head and picked up the reins. “Sorry. I’ve a son to care for and can’t be leaving him.” Toby had curled up on the seat of the buckboard with his head on Justin’s leg, sound asleep.
Poor little guy. The past two weeks had tuckered him out, with no time to play and few regular naps or healthy meals. Last Chance seemed friendly enough, and if Miss Rice had a room for more than one night, he’d settle there while he checked out the situation at Travers’s ranch.
Riley raised a hand and turned back toward the doors. “Aye. Good afternoon, then.”
“Afternoon.” The creak of the wagon’s wheels muffled Justin’s reply, and the man disappeared back into the dimly lit interior of the saloon.
A huge yawn closed Justin’s eyes for a second, nearly causing him to miss spotting a young boy bolting across the road in front of his team. “Ho, there! What’s your rush, son? You about got stepped on.”
The boy he remembered as Johnny bounded up on the boardwalk, paused, and turned back. “Nope. I’m pretty quick, and no horse will get me. Miz Rice give me a nickel for some eggs at the store, and I’m supposed to hurry. She’s baking somethin’ for her boarders.” Johnny’s freckles stood out against his sunburned face, and his mischievous eyes sparkled.
Justin’s mouth watered at the thought of eating something home-baked instead of dry biscuits and jerky. “You’d better get a hustle on, but be careful of those eggs. Miss Rice mightn’t be too happy if you bring them back brok
en.”
“Yep, she’d lick me for sure.” Johnny waved then darted through the rough-hewn door of the general store.
Justin clucked to his team and smiled at the space of time it took to travel the short distance to the boardinghouse. Quite a busy, friendly little town. A hand-painted sign posted above the door of the clapboard building next door read DOCTOR IS IN. He shook his head in amazement. You didn’t often find a doctor in a town that boasted so few people, but the surrounding mines and ranches probably brought in a fair amount of business. A small hotel on the far side of the doctor’s office and a barbershop across the road completed the picture, and he guessed that the church might double as a school on weekdays.
A weathered gray-and-white house at the end of the street was identified by a sign nailed to the picket fence in front as MISS RICE’S BOARDINGHOUSE. Colorful flowers hung in a bucket from the rafters of the small covered porch, and the tidy path to the house boded well for the cleanliness of the place. Green gingham curtains fluttered in front of the half-open windows to the left of the porch, and a hand-lettered sign reading WELCOME hung on the front door.
Justin pulled his team to a halt and moved Toby’s head from his knee. Placing a bedroll gently under the boy’s cheek before stepping down from the wagon, he tied the horses to the nearby gatepost and lifted the sleeping child into his arms.
His knock at the door brought the sound of rapid footfalls landing on a wooden floor, and seconds later the door swung open. A small, birdlike woman peered out from under bright red hair peppered with gray, which billowed around her face in unrestrained clouds. A pair of spectacles perched on the tip of her thin nose, and a long, slender finger reached up to push them back in place. She might have been forty, or she could’ve been fifty-five. It was hard to tell. Life could be hard on women in this country.
“Yes?” Her wary gaze swept over him in an instant, but when it landed on the sleeping child in his arms, her expression softened. “Come in! You’ve got your hands full, mister. Come lay the boy down in my parlor.”
Justin stepped over the threshold onto the well-worn fir floor and followed his hostess two strides down a short hall to the doorway of a side room. His glance took in the green curtains and half-raised window. This must be the room he’d seen from the road. Clean and tidy like he’d expected, it was sparsely furnished with a small sofa, two button-backed rosewood chairs, and a round side table. A picture of a farm graced the mantel above the fireplace in the middle of the far wall, and a large braided rug claimed the room’s center, its deep green and yellow hues bringing both color and a sense of tranquillity to the area.
Miss Rice bustled into the room and beckoned Justin over to the flowered sofa under the window. She reached up and drew down the sash, dimming the evening light, and patted the seat. “Lay him down here.”
Justin bent and placed his sleeping son on the brocaded surface. The tiny woman placed a knitted afghan over the boy, tucking it under his chin with gentle fingers. She touched her finger to her lips and nodded toward the door. Justin followed her back into the hall, still within sight of Toby.
Miss Rice swung toward him and crossed her arms over her bosom. “What’s your name, young man? You wanting a room for the night?”
Justin swept his hat off his head and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Yes, ma’am. The boy and I would like to stay for a few days, if you have room and don’t mind taking a child.”
Her eyebrows shot up into her unkempt hair, the only thing that appeared out of order in what he’d seen of this tidy home so far. “Mind? Of course I don’t mind. I’d never turn a child away. Never. Can’t say as much for a lot of parents, but children have to come first. Yes, sir, they do.” She jerked her head down the hall and crooked a finger at him. “Follow me. What’d you say your name was?”
“Phillips, ma’am. Justin Phillips.” He followed her down the hall, glancing into another small room. A table set for six nearly filled the space opening onto the roomy kitchen.
“It’s Alice Rice, not ma’am. But you can call me Miss Alice. Most folks do.” She stepped through the kitchen doorway that led into the dining room and pulled out a straight-backed chair. “Have a seat. Coffee?”
“Yes, ma’am—I mean, Miss Alice. I’d appreciate that.” He placed his hat on the neighboring chair and took the seat offered. “Nice place you have here.” Lace-edged curtains trimmed the window, and the glass sparkled in the late afternoon sun. The top of the pine table was waxed to a high shine, revealing the craftsmanship and care someone had lavished on the sturdy piece of furniture.
Miss Alice bustled into the kitchen and pulled open a cupboard door, exposing a stack of plates and bowls. She reached for two dark brown mugs and stepped across the kitchen to the wood stove in the corner. A coffeepot sat on the metal grate. Grasping the handle with a towel, she poured the mugs to the brim and set one in front of Justin.
Finally, she pulled out a chair and sank onto its hard surface with a sigh. “My feet aren’t what they used to be.” The cup of coffee sitting beside her went untouched, but she waved at Justin, urging him to drink. “What brings you and the boy to town?”
“We’ve been traveling for the past two weeks, and this looked like a nice spot to stop for a while,” he hedged. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed to catch the fact that he’d avoided answering her question directly.
“That your boy?” Her tone sharpened and she leaned her bony elbows on the table, peering at him through her eyeglasses.
Justin took a sip of the hot brew and set the cup back on the table. “He is. His name’s Toby and he’s just three. His mother died awhile back and I’m hoping to find someone to help with his care.” There. He’d said more than he’d planned or wanted, but this woman didn’t look like someone who’d give up easily when on the hunt for information.
She tilted back in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap, her face relaxing out of its harsh lines. “Too bad. I’m sorry you lost your missus.” Her tone turned brisk. “I serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and you can have a room with two beds, if you’d prefer, or one full-sized instead. I have five rooms to let, with three of them filled. No smoking in the house, no chewing or spitting, no swearing or taking the Lord’s name in vain, no drinking, and no lady friends in your room. That clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat up straight. She didn’t seem to mind that he’d used “ma’am” this time. “How much does each room cost?”
Her posture relaxed. “The room with one bed is cheaper, as there’s less linen to care for. It’s eight dollars a week, and the room with two beds is nine. That includes board. I won’t charge you any extra for your little man since he won’t eat much. ’Course, you can save a little if you pay by the month.” She reached out and patted his hand. “Don’t mind me, son. My bark is worse than my bite, although I don’t tell everybody that. Pays to keep them guessing, know what I mean?” The hazel eyes twinkled and a small smile softened the strict lines of her face.
He grinned at the perky little woman. “I reckon I do. Don’t worry, I won’t give away your secret.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “One bed is fine. I’d better get Toby up to our room where he can get a proper nap. Would you have any place I might give him a bath? I’m afraid it’s been awhile since either of us have cleaned up proper.”
“I do. I have a big washtub in the shed off the back of the house. I’ll heat water on the stove, and when you’re ready, you say the word. You can pack the hot water outside and draw cold water from the well and make you a right fine soaking bath.”
She walked to the back door of the kitchen and pulled it open, stepped outside, and pointed a few yards down the porch. “Right back there is the tub, in that little room on the end, and back yonder”—she beckoned across the small yard to where a small, circular brick wall sat, a wooden framework above it—“is the well. I’d let you pump it here in the kitchen, but it’s faster to draw out a bucket and dump it into the tub.”
“Come on. You can bundle up the child and I’ll take you to your room. You’ll meet the other boarders at dinner.” She started to exit the room then swung back around and raised her hand. “One more thing—visitors are allowed in the parlor.”
“Yes, ma’am. But I don’t intend to have any visitors.” A vision of the brown-haired girl at the church rose in Justin’s mind, but he pushed it back down. He’d been down that road once before and found little to recommend it. No, a hired woman willing to care for his son while he worked would be the best thing for Toby. A wife wasn’t in the picture.
He followed Miss Alice back to the parlor, a feeling of relief sitting firm in his chest. Rest. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Chapter Six
Alex peeked through the small, dirty pane of glass next to the door of the assayer’s office. Seeing no one, she pushed the door open then stepped over the threshold into the dimly lit room. In a building this small, kerosene light and a tiny window had to suffice. Lumber was easy to come by with the mill just outside of town, but windows were scare.
Her gaze drifted from the cluttered desk to the rough-hewn shelves covering one wall. An empty chair rested a few feet from the worktable, which was strewn with ore samples. Instruments lay where their owner had dropped them, and silence blanketed the room.
It didn’t appear as though Samuel would be gone long, with the room unlocked and in disarray and his assistant, Fred, nowhere in sight. But still, Alex didn’t like to wait. She wanted an answer to allay the worry growing inside.
Love Finds You in Last Chance, California Page 5
