Home Before Sundown

by Tinnean

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Thompson blushed with pleasure. “Make yourselves comfortable.” She touched her hair again. “I’ll just freshen up and bring some refreshments.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but we don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” She smiled and hurried toward the door just as a man who was as tall as she was short came in. She paused, straightened his lapels, tugged him down to plant a kiss on his cheek, and whispered something in his ear.

  He smiled fondly as he watched her bustle away. Then he turned to Tom and Olivia, offering his hand. “Mrs. Pettigrew. Mr. Pettigrew. How do you do? I’m Edward Thompson, Father Ed. My wife tells me you’re new to Chelsea.”

  “Yes. We didn’t mean to disrupt your day,” Tom said. “My wife and I and our son have just moved in a few streets away.”

  Olivia reached out and twined her fingers with his, and Tom glanced at her.

  “Olivia?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” She released his hand, and he missed her touch.

  Father Ed cleared his throat. “Please, sit down and tell me what I can do for you.”

  “We really don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Tom escorted Olivia to the settee, then sat beside her.

  “Not at all. This is my job.” He took a seat across from them in an overstuffed armchair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Now. What may I do for you?”

  Tom felt his insides twinge with excitement. It had been a long time since he’d made an announcement like this, and he smiled at Olivia and took her hand. “My wife is expecting, and I want her to have all the help she needs. I was wondering if you knew of a widow, perhaps, who might be willing to work for us.”

  “I understand. With two little ones—”

  “No, George will be in school.”

  “He will?” The priest looked surprised, curious, but he didn’t ask.

  “I was a widower before Olivia and I married.” He went on to tell Father Ed something about himself—knowing a man of God would want to be sure whoever he sent to Tom and Olivia wouldn’t be taken advantage of. So Tom mentioned how he’d trained horses for the cavalry, how he and his partner had run an operation catching and gentling wild horses, and how he now drove a hansom cab. Olivia listened raptly, and he felt bathed by her fascination.

  He didn’t bring up his stay in California. Don Jorge might be married and with a passel of kids now, but Tom wouldn’t take any chances on his son’s safety.

  “I see, I see. And may I ask how old your son is?”

  “George turned eleven earlier this year.”

  “I have a son the same age. Perhaps you’ll permit George to play with him?”

  “I’ll mention it to him. Having a friend will be good for him, but he needs to care for our horses after school—”

  “You have horses? Would you mind letting Franklin help out? He’s been pleading with me to get him a horse. He saw a man and a boy put on an exhibition a few months ago—in the East Village, I believe—and that’s all he’s been able to talk about.”

  Olivia giggled softly, and Tom knew she must have realized Father Ed was talking about him and George.

  “I have no objection if you don’t, but caring for your mount takes a lot of work. George will expect him to muck out the stalls and help with the grooming.”

  “All the better. It will teach Franklin if he desires something a good deal, he’ll need to work for it.”

  “Work for what, dear?” Mrs. Thompson came in bearing a tray laden with cups and saucers and plates holding slices of pound cake.

  “Mr. Pettigrew has a son Franklin’s age. He also has horses.”

  “Ah. And you’ve agreed to permit our son to help in the care of your horses? Thank you, that’s a splendid idea.” She placed the tray on a table. “Do you take cream and sugar in your coffee, Mrs. Pettigrew?”

  “Yes, please. I see you have a copy of the Leatherstocking Tales,” she said as she accepted the coffee.

  “Yes. Franklin is very fond of them.”

  Olivia smiled broadly. “I enjoyed them myself. Although…” She glanced at Tom and blushed. “Father frowned on them. I had to sneak them into the house.”

  “You can read whatever you choose,” he told her. Tom had noticed the book too. He preferred books like The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo and had often read to George from them when his son was younger.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “How do you take your coffee, Mr. Pettigrew?”

  “Black, please.”

  Mrs. Thompson handed him his cup, then served her husband and herself and took a seat beside him.

  “This coffee is excellent,” Olivia said.

  “Thank you. I’m so pleased you’re enjoying it.” She began to speak of where she did her shopping, and Olivia listened intently. “I’m sure you’ll become familiar with the neighborhood quite soon, but if there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  The ladies seemed to be getting on well, and Tom turned to the priest.

  Father Ed had been tugging his lower lip, and now he looked up with a pleased expression. “I’ve been giving your request some thought.”

  “Yes?”

  He nodded. “I believe I do know someone.” He turned to his wife. “The Pettigrews need a cook and someone to help around the house. What do you think of suggesting the position to Mrs. Hall, my dear?”

  “That’s an excellent idea. I’ve been very worried about her and her brood,” Mrs. Thompson said. “She lost her husband a year or so ago when he burst a blood vessel here.” She touched the center of her chest.

  Father Ed nodded and continued. “She’s got eight children, including a set of twins. They range in age from sixteen to two. Bart, her oldest son, is an apprentice carpenter, while Mary Agnes, the oldest girl, works as a maid in a house on Park Avenue. They do their best to help the family, but it’s been difficult for them.”

  “I’d like to meet her before I make any decisions. I’ll be leaving my wife in her care, and there was a situation…”

  The priest blinked but said, “Of course. Jane, didn’t you tell me Mrs. Hall had some free time this afternoon?”

  “Yes. The poor woman has been running herself ragged. She cooks for us on occasion, and as a matter of fact, this pound cake is something she baked.”

  Olivia took a bite of the cake. “This is delicious!”

  Tom smiled at her pleasure and tried a piece of cake. She was right, it was delicious.

  “Perhaps she can teach me to cook,” his wife murmured.

  “Only if that’s what you want, querida,” he said. “Remember, you’ll be raising our baby.”

  “You’re expecting a baby?” Mrs. Thompson clapped her hands. “How wonderful! But…you’re little more than a child yourself.”

  “Jane.”

  She turned bright red. The blush seemed painful given the color of her hair. “I beg your pardon. That’s none of my business.” She rose. “I’ll just send Franklin to fetch Mrs. Hall so you can meet her.” She scurried out of the room.

  * * * *

  Later, on the drive home, Olivia sat very straight beside Tom and folded her hands on her lap.

  Tom would have liked it if she’d snuggled close to him.

  “Do you think George will like Franklin?”

  “I do. He’s definitely crazy for horses, and that will go a long way in George’s book.” It would be good for his son to have another boy as a friend. From the little George had said, he hadn’t met anyone at the school he attended that he wanted as a friend.

  After Franklin had returned with Mrs. Hall, he’d stared at Tom until finally Tom excused himself and approached the boy, whose eyes grew huge.

  “You’ll…you’ll really teach me how to take care of a horse and how to ride?”

  “I will. It’s not an easy job.”

  “I’ll
work hard, I promise I will!”

  Yeah, the two boys would be good together. Franklin had been so excited about the possibility of learning to ride and meeting George that he’d pleaded to be allowed to escort their cook/housekeeper to the cottage. His father had smiled indulgently and permitted it.

  “I like Mrs. Hall,” Olivia said, interrupting his thoughts. “She strikes me as a very nice woman.”

  She was short and plump and not very old in spite of having so many children, with brown hair and eyes, and was cheerful for a woman who had a brood of children to bring up and no man to help, except for her oldest son. But she and Olivia had seemed to get along well, even though Olivia was so much the younger.

  “She does. She should be at the cottage by now and have dinner started.”

  “How often can we have her?”

  “She’ll need to have time for her family and any other people she cooks for, but I think as often as she’s willing to come to us. She’ll work out very well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For Mrs. Hall. For telling Father Ed that George was my child also.”

  “Ah. That was why you took my hand?”

  “Yes. You didn’t have to…I know Father always made a point of insisting Lewis was his son alone and Mother was just…my mother.” She sighed. “I always had the impression he was annoyed she didn’t give him another son.”

  “I’m sorry. Both Lewis and your mother lost out because of how your father chose to see things.”

  “You’re a good man, Tom. Thank you for marrying me. I…” She sat up even straighter, so much so it must have hurt her backbone. She fussed with the fingers of her gloves.

  “What’s troubling you, mi vida?”

  “Is that Spanish? You said something in Spanish earlier, but…What did you just call me?”

  “My dear,” Tom said smoothly. He wasn’t certain how she’d feel about being called “my life.”

  “Oh. That sounds so lovely.”

  Tom looked forward to whispering love words in Spanish to her.

  “Tonight…Are you going to want to do to me what Barron did?”

  “I won’t ask that of you.”

  “You…you don’t want me?”

  “I won’t lie to you—I’d like nothing better. But I won’t force you to do something you don’t desire.”

  “Am I supposed to…to desire marital relations?” She shook her head. “Forgive me, I’m being foolish. I know they’re necessary to give my husband a son.”

  “Who told you this?”

  “Aunt Hester. She’s Father’s sister. After Mother passed away, Aunt Hester came to take over the household. A few years ago, Aunt Hester took me aside.” Olivia’s cheeks were very red. “She told me I was never to be alone with a man until I married, that I would belong to my husband and he would teach me everything I needed to know about…about what happens between a man and a woman at night. I assume she meant what Barron did.” Her brow furrowed, and she looked completely, adorably puzzled.

  Tom would have loved nothing better than to kiss her. Instead, he shook his head. “I’ll give you all the time you need to get used to me. And if you have any questions, you just go ahead and ask me.”

  “Thank you, Tom.” She looped her arm in his and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

  Now that was more like it.

  “We’re home,” he said.

  “So soon?”

  “Would you like me to turn Sancho Panza around? I’m sure we have plenty of time before dinner.”

  “No. I’m a little tired. I think I’d like to lie down for a little while.”

  “All right.” It was a good thing he’d told George to make sure the covers were off the bed. He remembered how tired Analeigh had been while she carried both their children.

  For a moment, he thought of the little girl they’d lost. It was so easy to lose a child, but this time, Tom intended to do everything in his power to see Olivia and the babe she carried were safe.

  “Tom? Is something wrong?”

  “No.” He smiled down at her and drove the mule around the side of the cottage to the stable. Sunrise and Nightfall came to the paddock fence and stood watching them with dark, liquid eyes. “I’ll need to buy you a horse.”

  “Really? But you already have two.”

  “So we’ll have three.”

  She gave a happy sigh. “I always wanted a horse—a golden one with a flaxen mane and tail—but Father wouldn’t permit it.”

  “Why?”

  Olivia shrugged. “He said horseback riding wasn’t something a lady would do.”

  He couldn’t understand that. As pompous as Don Jorge was, he’d encouraged his daughter to ride and had put Analeigh up on a horse even before she could walk, just as she and Tom had done with Georgie.

  The only explanation he could come up with for St. Claire’s refusal to let his daughter ride was…No, come to think of it, he had no explanation for it. It was very strange, but of course Tom didn’t say so aloud.

  “Whoa, Sancho.” He hopped down and ran around to Olivia’s side, placed his hands on her waist, and swung her off with an easy movement.

  “Hi, Papa. Hi, Mama!” George was sitting on the top rail of the paddock fence. Franklin sat beside him, looking enthralled at being so close to the horses. Tom hoped they were becoming friends.

  “Hello, son. Franklin.”

  “Excuse me, please. I’m going to put my lovely bouquet in water, and then I think I’ll lie down.”

  Tom took her hand and brought it to his lips. Olivia stared at him wide-eyed.

  “Hasn’t anyone kissed your hand before?”

  She shook her head.

  If he ever ran across that selfish boy, he’d kick his ass. Tom kissed her hand again. “Get used to it, querida.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile and strolled to the house. Only when the door closed behind her did he glance at the two boys. “I hope you two had an enjoyable afternoon.”

  Franklin nodded, his smile shy. “Thank you again for letting me help with the horses.”

  “You’re welcome. George, why don’t you return the dogcart to Hudson’s?”

  “Can Frank come with me?”

  “Sure.”

  George hopped down. “Come on, Frank. I’ll show you how to drive Sancho Panza, then we can ride him home.”

  “Both of us?”

  “Yeah. He’s a good mule. Here, Papa.” George handed him a carrot. “The cook at the hotel let me have a bunch of carrots. We’ve already given Sunrise and Nightfall a few, but maybe Mama would like to feed them one. We’ll give Sancho Panza the last one.”

  Tom took the carrot and broke it in half. “Thank you, son.”

  George grinned at him, then went to the mule, rubbed his ears, and broke another carrot in two. “Here, Frank. Remember how I showed you.”

  Franklin held his hand flat, put the carrot on his palm, and offered it to the mule, who made short work of it.

  George gave the mule the other half of the carrot, then caught up the reins and climbed onto the dogcart. As soon as Franklin was seated beside him, George clicked his tongue and shook out the reins. Sancho Panza flicked his long ears back and forth and set off at a brisk trot.

  Tom leaned against the fence. “He’s a good boy, isn’t he?”

  “He is.” Olivia came to stand beside him, her cheeks flushed and a happy smile on her mouth.

  “I thought you were going to take a nap.”

  “In a little while, perhaps. I had to come back to tell you how happy you’ve made me. The cottage is spotless, although Mrs. Hall claims she had nothing to do with that. She is an excellent cook, though. Wait until you smell the wonderful scent of the roast duck. Oh, I missed the boys.”

  “They’ll be back soon. Would you like to feed the horses a carrot?”

  “Yes, please!”

  Tom took Olivia’s arm, opened the gate, and led her into the paddock. He opened her hand an
d placed half the carrot on it. “Keep your fingers straight. Sunrise is a sweetheart, but she does love her carrots.”

  “Won’t Nightfall be jealous?”

  Tom chuckled. “He’ll wait his turn. He knows who the boss is.” He was pleased to see his wife follow his directions. The last thing he wanted was for her to lose a finger. “Good work. Now do the same for Nightfall.”

  She did, and then she stroked their noses and faces. “They’re wonderful. Oh, Tom, I’m so happy.”

  Tom slid his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. He’d see if Hudson knew of a horse sale, and on his next free day, he’d take Olivia to pick out a mount for herself.

  A golden one, with a flaxen mane and tail.

  Chapter 15

  It was a good thing Papa and Mama would be a while visiting with the rector of the Church of the Beloved Apostle because it took George a while to get the horses settled into the paddock behind the cottage. They were curious about their new home and trotted around the perimeter of the fenced-in area and explored, lowered themselves to roll in the dirt, bounded to their feet and kicked up their heels.

  George leaned against the fence and watched them, happy with his life.

  A calico cat approached him and stropped herself against his leg. “Well, hello,” he said. “You must be the cat Papa told me about. Are you welcoming me to our new home? Thank you.” He crouched beside her and stroked her ears and back. He paused as he ran his fingers along her sides and under her belly. “Hmm. I think we’re going to have more than one baby around here.” From the feel of it, she’d be having her kittens very soon.

  George would have to tell Papa. He’d always said cats were their own people, but it might be good if a friendly hand was available when she started giving birth.

  After a final scratch, he dusted off his hands. “Time to go to the butcher and buy my mama a duck for dinner.”

  But first he’d do as Papa had said and pay a visit to the grocer.

  * * * *

  It took longer than he’d expected to make arrangements at the grocer—mostly because the grocer liked to talk—but finally George made it to the butcher, who also seemed to like to chat, and bought a nice, plump duck. With that done, he practically danced home. He didn’t know when Papa and Mama planned to return to the cottage, and he still had to remove the covers from their bed.