Tolbert tossed back the last of the whiskey, buckled his gun belt in place, and charged outside, yelling to some of his men to saddle his horse and follow him. They’d ride to town, find Noah Brandt, and force him to tell Tolbert what he wanted to know.
Chapter Eight
Sunday passed in a pleasant blur. Abby attended church with Suzanne, not caring who learned she’d returned to Splendor. She had a job and a place to live. Her father could no longer compel her to return to the ranch to live under his expectations of her.
After church, Suzanne prepared food for her boarders, then packed a picnic for her and Abby. They borrowed Doc Worthington’s wagon, heading east toward a small hill overlooking the town. Abby tried to conceal her interest as they passed the livery, then felt a stab of disappointment to see it closed with no smoke coming from the forge.
Noah often worked Sundays to keep up with the increasing demand for his services. She knew he hoped to hire help at some point, perhaps training one of the new arrivals needing work. It appeared he’d decided to ride to his cabin, or perhaps visit the Pelletiers.
Within no time, they’d arrived at a special spot Suzanne loved, then ate their meal. Abby stretched on a blanket afterwards, closing her eyes and summoning up an image of Noah walking down the street to his livery the night before. Before she knew it, Suzanne’s voice called to her and she sat up with a jerk.
“You’ve slept for almost an hour.” Suzanne smiled as she set the basket back in the wagon. “As lovely as the day is, we need to start back. Those boarders of mine get grumpy when their supper is late.”
Her leisurely Sunday ended as they made small talk on the ride back to town. After helping Suzanne with a few chores, she fell into bed, anticipating the following day.
She’d woken up Monday and jumped out of bed, excited to return to work. Mr. Clausen had praised her on Friday, handing her a small amount for her one day of employment, which she immediately deposited into her new account.
By noon, her feet ached, yet she felt a strong sense of accomplishment.
“Miss Tolbert, why don’t you take your lunch now? You can finish what you’re doing this afternoon,” Horace said, then turned at the sound of the front door opening. Nick Barnett, part owner of the Dixie Saloon, entered and walked toward him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Clausen. I wonder if you might have a moment,” Nick asked, glancing at Abby and offering her his best smile. “Hello, Miss Tolbert. Are you working here now?”
She beamed at his lack of judgment that King Tolbert’s daughter would be paying her own way by working in a bank.
“Yes, Mr. Barnett, I am. My first day was Friday.”
“And she’s doing quite well,” Clausen added before turning back to Nick. “Why don’t we go into my office, Mr. Barnett?”
Abby grabbed her reticule and the lunch Suzanne packed earlier, and stepped into the bright sunlight. Selecting one of the four chairs lined against the outside wall, she opened the lunch and took small bites of the biscuit stuffed with ham as she watched the activity in town.
The bank sat at the opposite end of the street from the boardinghouse, across from the church and the Dixie. To the outrage of the minister and congregation, the city had gone ahead and allowed the saloon to open within thirty yards of the church. In truth, city leadership consisted of five key citizens…Mr. Clausen, Stan Petermann, owner of the general store, Amos Henderson, owner of the Wild Rose, Bernie Griggs, who ran the telegraph office, and King Tolbert, who generally sent one of his men to town with instructions on the way he wanted the town to proceed. The vote on the new saloon had been four to one, with Amos the one dissenting member.
Abby watched as wagons filled with supplies moved past, and people walked along the wooden boardwalk. From her spot, she could see the north end of town, which led to the Pelletier and Tolbert ranches, but she couldn’t see the livery, which stood back from the main street.
Abby finished her lunch and turned to grab her reticule when she recognized a rider entering town from the north. Several ranch hands accompanied her father, all making a sharp turn toward the livery. Abby’s senses went on immediate alert. She dashed toward the livery, almost passing the jail before dashing inside.
“Sheriff Evans, please, you must go down to the livery,” she gasped, trying to breathe.
Gabe Evans looked up from his desk, then stood when he saw the look of despair on Abby’s face. “What’s going on?”
“My father. He and some of his men are headed for the livery. I don’t know why, but I’m afraid he’s going after Noah. Please, can you go there with me?”
He grabbed his hat and escorted Abby down the street, hearing shouts as they rounded the corner. Both stopped at the sight before them.
Three of Tolbert’s men had Noah pinned, while another landed blows to his face. Gabe pulled out his gun and fired into the air.
“Let him go. Now!” Gabe pointed the gun at the men restraining Noah.
Tolbert turned, his face red with anger, then spotted Abby.
Gabe fired another shot in the air, then one in the dirt at the men’s feet before they dropped their hold and stepped away.
Abby barely noticed her father walking toward her. Seeing Noah bloodied—and at her father’s orders—jolted her, forcing her to look at him in a different way.
“Abby, where have you been?” His voice didn’t soften as he approached. If anything, his rage seemed to refocus on her.
She backed away as Tolbert reached for her. “Don’t touch me.”
“You don’t understand what happened here.” His gaze flickered between her and Noah, who wiped a sleeve across his bloodied face.
“I understand more than you think, Father. What you did here is despicable. What did you hope to accomplish by beating up Noah?” Her voice rose as her anger increased. “Did he tell you he accompanied me to town safely, or did you even ask before setting your men on him?”
“You are my daughter—”
“Not any longer.” She ran past him, stopping inches from Noah, who splashed water on his face and arms, then grabbed a rag. Her gut clenched at the bruises and swelling. “I’m sorry, Noah.”
He dropped the rag and turned toward her. “Your father’s been looking for an excuse to do this since you and I first met. Bringing you back to town, behind his back, was all he needed. It’s not your fault.”
“You four…to the jail.”
They turned at Gabe’s command, watching as he trained his gun on Tolbert’s men.
“You can’t take my men to jail. They’ve broken no laws.”
“What do you call assault, Tolbert? I have room for you, also.”
“I didn’t lay a hand on Brandt.”
“Maybe not, but you gave the order.”
“Is that what my men said?” he smirked, knowing none of these men would turn on him.
“Not yet, but several nights in jail can change a story.”
“You can’t hold them that long,” Tolbert complained, his earlier bravado fading.
Gabe ignored him, marching the men to the jail and into cells.
“Are you all right?” Abby asked Noah after Gabe disappeared.
“Yes, I’m fine. You can go on now. I know you have a job and I’m sure Mr. Clausen isn’t aware of what happened.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know?”
He tilted his head, a warm smile lighting his eyes. “It’s a small town, Abby.”
She didn’t want to leave, especially with her father still hovering in the background, but she needed to return to the bank. “Perhaps I’ll see you in the bank.”
“Perhaps.”
She nodded, then turned to leave, walking past her father without sparing him a glance.
“Abigail, I want to speak with you.”
“I can’t now, Father. I have to return to work.”
Tolbert’s jaw flapped, but nothing came out. Instead, he followed her, watching as she stepped into the bank. His anger r
eturning, he pushed open the door to see Abby take her place behind one of the teller windows. He stormed inside, letting the door slam behind him.
Horace Clausen had been on his way to speak with Abby when Tolbert marched up to him, stabbing a finger into his chest.
“What is my daughter doing working at this bank?”
“Good afternoon, King. Would you care to come into my office?” Clausen worked to keep a straight face as Tolbert’s eyes bulged from their sockets. After a customer rushed into the bank moments before, telling everyone how Tolbert’s men roughed up Noah, the banker knew this moment would come.
“I want to know why you hired Abigail. We both know she doesn’t need the money. Her place is at home, taking care of the house and—”
“We’ll talk about this in private.” Clausen’s tone cut through Tolbert’s outburst. He quieted, but only until the door to the office closed. “Have a seat.”
“I don’t want a seat. I want answers.”
“My main teller quit and Abigail asked for the job. Since her education supported it, I hired her. So far, she’s doing remarkably well.”
“And where is she living? In the back of the bank? Or with the blacksmith?”
Clausen held his temper at the insult to Tolbert’s own daughter. “I don’t think she’d be too pleased if you spread rumors about her, especially ones that besmirch her reputation. Now, sit down and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“You certain you don’t want to press charges?” Gabe sat across the desk from Noah, studying the bruises, swelling, and cuts adorning his face.
“You said yourself the circuit judge won’t be through for a few more weeks. That means you’d have four mouths to feed and clean up after them. They’re not worth your time.”
“And the damage to you?”
“These?” Noah touched his face. “Scratches.”
Gabe choked out a laugh. “If you’re sure…I’ll keep them overnight, then set them loose in the morning. Did you see where Tolbert went?”
Noah folded his arms across his chest and looked away. “The last I saw, he followed Abby to the bank.”
“You didn’t follow him, make sure he didn’t cause another scene?”
“She’s not my concern, Gabe. Not any longer.” Noah dropped his arms and stood, defeat and regret written on his face. “I’d best get back to work.”
Gabe checked on the prisoners before making the decision to visit the bank. He didn’t know how Tolbert would react to Abby working, but wanted to be close in case he pulled any more of his antics, hurting others in the process. A few feet from the bank, Tolbert burst outside, mumbling to himself and passing Gabe without acknowledging him.
“You all right, Tolbert?” Gabe asked, but the man ignored him.
After a few steps, he stopped, then swung back toward Gabe. “I want my men released.”
“Not today. They’ll spend the night in jail, then I’ll make a decision.”
Tolbert glared at Gabe, then swore, turning toward his horse. Gabe didn’t move until the dust settled behind Tolbert as he rode out of town.
“That wasn’t so bad.” Horace placed a hand on Abby’s shoulder as her father stormed out. “He didn’t disown you or close his accounts.” He dropped his hand, trying to make his comment sound light to relieve her tension, but the words sounded flat, stilted.
“Today anyway. You’re right, though. It could’ve been so much worse.”
Clausen looked over her work and smiled. “You’ve done well, Miss Tolbert. To be honest, you’ve caught on much faster than I anticipated. Do you have any questions?”
Abby allowed herself a tentative grin, although she beamed inside at her boss’ praise. After living with her father’s constant badgering, any encouragement felt wonderful.
“No. It all seems quite clear.”
“That’s good.” He checked his pocket watch. “I have a meeting and won’t be back before closing. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.” Abby looked at the longcase clock across the lobby. She hoped her father had already left for the ranch. Even though he’d been angry, he hadn’t exploded the way she expected. His clenched teeth and barely concealed fury when he told her he disapproved of her working might have been uncomfortable, but at least he hadn’t shouted. To appease him, she’d agreed to spend Sunday supper at the ranch.
Abby finished the last of her work and grabbed her light coat. She planned to work on the boardinghouse books when she got to her room, then help in the kitchen—if Suzanne let her. Perhaps she’d take supper with Suzanne instead of sitting in the dining room where she’d be forced to eat alone.
Crossing the street, she passed the Dixie Saloon where piano music already drifted outside. Abby tried to keep her gaze straight ahead and not let it wander toward the livery, but her efforts were wasted. The bright glow of the forge drew her attention. She stopped in the shadows outside the boardinghouse, watching Noah move toward the anvil with a burning piece of metal in his tongs. He picked up a hammer and pounded the softened material. Long, hard strokes at first, followed by short precise raps to form whatever he worked to produce.
He raised the hammer, gripping it with strong fingers, the muscles in his back and arm taut, revealing the strength in his powerful body. She suspected there were no soft spots anywhere on him, as beads of sweat glistened on his sun-browned skin. Clutching her hands together, she fantasized about running them down his arms and chest, feeling the knotted cords of muscle and crisp hair.
Without warning, he stopped the hammer in midair and turned, looking straight at the spot where she stood. Abby shifted further back against the wall, hoping he hadn’t discovered her watching him. She couldn’t bear to embarrass herself in front of Noah again.
After a moment, he lowered the hammer and grabbed a rag, dragging it across his forehead before tossing it aside. He didn’t look back, just picked up his hammer and continued to pound the cooling metal.
Abby scooted along the outside wall, pushed open the door of the boardinghouse, and slipped inside. She exhaled a deep breath and shrugged out of her coat before passing the dining room on her way to the kitchen. She’d been lucky. He hadn’t seen her staring, admiring him and imagining how it would feel to touch him. Abby took a moment to calm her racing heart before stepping into the kitchen, inhaling the rich aroma of roast meat.
“Just in time for supper,” Suzanne said without turning from the counter where she piled roast, potatoes, and gravy on a plate, setting it aside, and doing the same with another. “Sit down and I’ll prepare one for you.”
Abby hung her coat on a hook and walked to the stove, inhaling deeply. “I’d rather wait and eat with you, unless you have other plans.”
Suzanne snorted. “The only plans I have are to clean up and get off my feet when all the customers leave.”
“Good, I can help. Who are these for?” Abby grabbed the two plates brimming with food.
“The couple next to where Nick is seated.”
Abby nodded. She’d seen Nick Barnett in the bank earlier and knew the saloon owner rented a room from Suzanne so he wouldn’t be forced to stay upstairs night after night, listening to the sounds of the soiled doves and their customers in adjoining rooms. She smiled at him as she passed his table, setting the food down in front of a man and woman she’d never met.
“Please let me know if you need anything else.” Abby glanced around, noting everyone else seemed deep in conversation or content to eat in silence.
“How is your job going, Miss Tolbert?” Nick asked as his gaze caught hers.
“Very well, Mr. Barnett. Of course, I’ve only been there two days.”
Nick found her self-effacing nature in sharp contrast to her father, although she’d never be considered a wallflower or timid.
“Clausen seems to be a fair man. I’m certain you’ll do well.”
She bent closer, as if sharing a secret. “Yes, he is somewhat unusual. I believe I might be the first female he�
�s hired to handle money.”
Nick’s laugh drew the attention of other diners, causing Abby to straighten, a light blush creeping up her face. “That’s certainly good news, Miss Tolbert.” His laugh settled into a warm smile.
“Well…I’d best get back to the kitchen and help Suzanne.” She could feel her heated cheeks all the way to the kitchen. She didn’t know why her openness bothered her. He’d never say a word to Mr. Clausen, she felt certain of that, but Abby hadn’t expected her comment to spark such an amused reaction. Of course, Nick seemed to be a little more understanding of the few choices open for women. Gossip was he made sure any woman who worked in his saloon wanted to be there and already had experience. He turned away any female who came to him with her virginity intact—at least those were the rumors.
After the last diner left and Nick returned to his saloon, Abby and Suzanne shared a quiet meal, neither feeling the need to fill the silence. Abby’s thoughts shifted between Noah, her father, and her job, still not quite reconciling the changes in her life over the past few weeks.
Her father had contained his anger at her new living arrangements and job while inside the bank. She held no illusions about what to expect when she visited him for Sunday supper. He’d push to bring her home with the purpose of sending her away again, this time under the watchful eyes of his men. She would be as resolute in her right to choose. Although necessary, it would be a miserable encounter. It was time King Tolbert learned his daughter had dreams of her own and would no longer be controlled by a domineering father.
Chapter Nine
“Whoa.”
Gabe watched from outside the jail as the stagecoach pulled to a stop near the livery. Seemed as if every stage coming through required Noah’s expertise to repair a problem before they could head out. He had to hand it to his friend—Noah picked the right business and right town to ply his trade.
Gabe ambled down the boardwalk, passing the Wild Rose and stage office before stopping to watch the passengers debark. A woman and two small children stepped off first, the boy and girl running into the arms of a man Gabe recognized as the new owner of a ranch south of town. Similar to many others, he and his family had been uprooted by the war. Rather than rebuild, they’d chosen to travel west, see what the frontier held for them.
Sunrise Ridge (Redemption Mountain Historical Western Romance Book 3) Page 7
