by Jodi Thomas
“Cowboy counsel?” Mina asked. “’Tis an Amarillo saying, I’m thinking.”
“A Texas saying, ma’am,” Briar announced in his best Lone Star drawl. “Which means that you don’t run off at the mouth about things that should be kept private.”
“Angel says she’s twenty-three,” Violet interjected, then cupped her mouth. “Uh-oh, Daddy, it ran off all by itself.”
“Violet!” Briar and Mina objected in unison.
“Well,” she defended, spreading her fingers just enough to let through her explanation, “It just came right out and I was too tired to stop it.”
“God help us both.” Briar made a visual pact with Mina as he offered his free arm to escort her out of the restaurant. “We’re going to need Him.”
Chapter 4
They walked only a few streets before opening a gate to a yard that housed a handsome wood cottage painted the color of her ancestral homeland and trimmed with white gingerbread molding. Was this the Duncan home? “Ye’re not thinking of putting her to bed and leaving her alone while ye escort me to the station, are ye?”
“No, ma’am. I’m not. You’ll both be staying.”
Her fingers unlocked from around the muscular band of his forearm and she backed away. No matter what employment he offered, she could not sleep under his roof with him. Though she had never worn a heavy cloak of propriety about her shoulders, she tried to maintain a thread of decency. “I’ll not be obliged to sleep in yer home, sir. ’Tisn’t fitting.”
“It wouldn’t be if I were going to be sleeping there with you.” Though his voice reassured, the deep timbre of it enticed with the playfulness of their earlier banter. His eyes darkened to moonlit globes framed in lashes of ebony. “I’m loaning you my bed.”
Mina’s heart altered its beat, as if it were a tossed stone skipping along the surface of a pond. A warm bed where she would be safe from her troubles was what she had hoped for so long that now, when offered, it seemed more dream than reality. But sleeping in a place that would be filled with the sights and scent peculiar to this man seemed more dangerous than any of those nights spent hiding under tarps on the wharfs of St. Louis. He’d captured her interest with that first look they’d shared when she disembarked. The allure only deepened the more they had talked…when he touched her hand at supper. She must remember her anger with him concerning his daughter’s welfare, lest she be swayed by his charm.
Despite the voice of reason stirring her thoughts, her feet moved forward as if they had a will of their own.
He accepted her hand again and guided her to the porch. “Bunking in at the office and letting you and Violet sleep here really is the logical thing for me to do, Miss McCoy. It’s getting late, so I’ll need to situate Violet for the night. After I remove a few of my things we’ll have our discussion, then I’ll be off to the station. No one will find fault with those arrangements.”
Our discussion? She reviewed their talk at supper and realized he meant to interview her about her qualifications for employment. She was tired, and it had been a long journey. But she must remain alert. She would tell him just enough to satisfy his curiosity and nothing else. “Very well, then. If ye’re certain ’tis no trouble to ye.”
“I’ve practically been there every night this last month. One more won’t make a difference.”
“Ye’ve left that wee lass alone in the house?”
“Let’s get out of the night air, shall we?” He opened one of the two front doors that graced the cottage’s facade. “And yes, I suppose I did. But I checked on her hourly to make sure she didn’t need me.”
“’Tis a good thing ye live so close to ye work. Not that ye have to worry about strangers getting off the train and needing a warm place to stay.”
“Touché, Miss McCoy.”
He left her standing in the parlor of his home while he disappeared behind a dark-wooded door that shone like a freshly washed apple at the back of the room. She set her valise down by the armchair made of the same wood and a red velvet backrest and cushion. Side tables held kerosene lamps designed in floral bouquets. Someone had lit one of them, offering a warm welcome to those who entered. Had Briar stopped by while he was gone to make the phone calls?
She noted another lamp hanging in the center of the ceiling, its mother-of-pearl base and crystal chandelier shade not quite as fancy as those she’d seen back east. Before she could notice further details of the room, Briar returned and waved her to the chair. “Please take a seat, Miss McCoy.”
“Yer home is lovely.”
He glanced about as he sat opposite her on a davenport of a similar design as the chair. “It’s one of the kit houses brought in from Sears, Roebuck. The family who ordered it pulled up stakes, so I was able to get it for less than the usual cost. I’m no carpenter by any means, but Nathaniel and I had a cussing good time putting it together.”
Naturally curious, she wanted to know more of what made his eyes spark with such a happy memory, but he steered the conversation back to the business at hand. At least he seemed capable of providing for his daughter, and quite well from the look of it.
“I thought we could start things off while Violet dresses herself for bed.” He lifted a palm. “Now don’t object…she won’t let me help her. Has something to do with her latest ‘suffer-gette’ doings.”
Mina smiled despite her initial reaction. Violet would be the sort to latch onto the craze that had menfolk drinking deep in their cups. The lass would be more than a handful once she took on her full petticoats. “So, ’tis yer questions I’ll be hearing now.”
“First, how do you know Nathaniel?”
A safe enough subject if she handled it just right. She noticed the Shoninger desk organ and wondered if he or Violet played the instrument. Her fingers rubbed together in anticipation of teaching the lass a few tunes. Playing a lively jig was the one true teaching her da had passed down to her before throwing her into the streets.
She looked Briar straight in the eye, a practice she found helped to convince people of her sincerity. “I knew him when he lived in St. Louis years ago. He was acquainted with me father.” She made sure she didn’t say friend to her da, so it would not be a lie. Seamus McCoy had few friends and Nathaniel was not among them. “He managed to get me a badly needed job. I told him I would pay him back one day for the favor.”
Lines creased Briar’s brow. “That had to be ten or more years ago. He’s lived here for more than eight.”
“Nine would be the whole of it.”
“You worked at fourteen?”
“Lots of people work at that age.” Her chin rose at the criticism.
“They do.” He looked apologetic for having offended her.
He couldn’t know he had touched on an embarrassing aspect of her life. She kept the reason she had been forced to take the employment secret from anyone who didn’t have to know. What had he called it…cowboy counsel? “And for that reason, ’tis here I am. To pay him back.”
“Sounds like you have a lot of experience working.”
She shifted in the chair, feeling as if she were losing ground instead of gaining a firm foothold. “More than I care to admit.”
“May I be blunt?”
His eyes had a way of looking at her so deeply that she could feel their searching as if it were a tangible touch that left smoke drifting in its wake. Like a blaze whose heat simmered long after the burn. “I prefer that ye speak yer mind,” she whispered, feeling vulnerable and unable to hide the breathy rush of her voice. “Ye can be certain, I will.”
“I need to know any reason you wouldn’t be a proper teacher to my daughter.”
Mina stood abruptly. “If ye mean to ask if I ever worked in an improper place, then ye can rest assure I have not.”
Genuine regret filled his face. “I’m sorry, Miss McCoy, if I’ve spoken out of turn. My daughter’s upbringing, no matter what it may seem, is of the utmost importance to me. I’m very careful of the women who come into her life because she is a mother
less child. As you can tell, she’s eager to attach herself.”
“That I can understand.” And she could, better than he would ever suspect. “So, have there been many? Women, I mean? Since her mother’s passing?” The fact that other women may have been close to the Duncans bothered Mina, more than she wanted to admit.
“I’ve tried several governesses. Let’s just say, none seemed up to the challenge.”
Mina was relieved to find her good humor again. “The lass has a crafty wit about her, even at this wee age.”
“I thought we were going to be blunt.” He laughed, a sound filled with both exasperation and pride. “She’s the devil’s own taskmistress at times.”
“I knew that from the moment I met her, but ’tis no deed yer lass has done that I have not stumbled over meself.”
“Good then, you feel up to the task?”
“Aye, and qualified to see her come out the better for it, I am. I worked four long years in Mrs. Higginbotham’s Lady’s School. I know all the refinements she’ll be needing and have taught them a time or two to others. There is, to me regret, the matter of diction. Though it doesna transfer across the wire as brogue, I’m not prepared to teach the lass proper English.”
“No need to concern yourself there. School will start back soon. It was canceled so families could work their ranches to stave off the drought. But if the weather doesn’t let up soon, there won’t be much to save and no reason to keep the children out of school. She’s taught diction there.”
“Am I to cook for her, then? See to her washing and such?”
Briar moved to the two brocade drapes that curtained off what must be another room. “The kitchen’s here. If you like to cook, I’d appreciate the help. If you don’t, then leave it to me. I’m more concerned with teaching her good manners and”—his gaze swept Mina—“appropriate fashion.”
Traditional, Mina decided, silently latching onto a seed for change she must plant in the man’s thinking. If she was expected to teach Violet how to conduct herself in the ways of the elite, then she must teach him to be more progressive. At least he had vinegar enough to know he needed help in the matter. “These are the latest from Paris, Mr. Duncan.” She tugged on her pants. “Mark me words, Mademoiselle Chanel’s fashions will soon fill ladies’ wardrobes everywhere in America. While ye men wage yer battles these days, ’tis freedom of movement we women are fighting for.”
Violet chose that moment to peek around the door. “I’m ready for you to tuck me in now.”
“Want to help?” Briar motioned Mina ahead of him.
Mina remained still just long enough to let him lead. She was pleased to be included in the obvious nightly ritual. She’d been certain he would argue with her about her clothing choices, but he didn’t. Instead, he’d let her comment pass. Perhaps he was just too tired to challenge her views.
Something about the way Violet’s hand went trustingly into her father’s and led him down the brief hallway warmed Mina’s heart. She’d been too harsh in her thoughts of Briar Duncan. He might be guilty of neglect. He might even be guilty of too traditional a view in his raising of his daughter, but it was clear he loved the lass dearly. There would never be a lifelong abandonment as her own parents had done.
Mina watched as father and daughter entered a room and knelt beside a four-poster bed whose plush lavender-colored quilt had been turned down. Hand-painted clouds drifted along the sky-colored ceiling, offering a billowy white pathway to the kite that flew among them. Though the room boasted only a rocking chair, night table, armoire, and lamp, it looked like a princess’s palace to Mina. Aye, this father dearly loved his daughter. Or, at least, he made a good show of it when no one was looking.
In unison, Briar and Violet cupped their palms in prayer.
“Dear God,” Violet began as Mina knelt at the end of the bed. “Bless everybody we love and help everyone be good to each other. Oh…and don’t let Jim Corbett get in too much trouble with his Pa ’cause I whipped him. He can’t help it if he’s dumber than—”
“Violet.” Briar opened one eye to look sternly at his daughter.
“Well, okay.” She peeked at him with her good eye, then shut it tightly. “I guess You might want to spend some more time on Jim, God. He needs lots of help. Oh yeah, best of all, thank You for sending me my angel.” She blew out a long sigh of relief. “I guess You was too busy to hear the part about hurrying up and send her. Amen.”
Briar leaned over and kissed the top of Violet’s head. “Climb in there before you get yourself in trouble.”
Violet leapt into the bed and pulled up the covers. She waited till her father tucked in the quilt and kissed her once more before she held her arms out toward Mina. “You gonna kiss me too, angel?”
“Wouldna miss it for the world.” Mina swept past Briar to press her lips against the cherubic cheek. “Now sleep, lass, we’ve got lots to do tomorrow.”
“Okay, but angel…” She wiggled one finger so Mina would move closer.
“Mina. Call me Mina.”
“You don’t have to teach me nothing, Mina,” she whispered. “I already love you.”
“I already love ye, too, lass,” she whispered back, both surprised and pleased that she meant it. “Now rest that sore eye so it can heal.”
Chapter 5
Briar lay on his back, staring out at the moon that rose over the high plains of Texas. The windows lining the eastern wall of the depot’s lobby gave an expansive view of the night sky blanketing Amarillo—a view that he needed to mull the choice he’d made today. The telegraph office had felt too confining, limiting his ability to think. He had tried stretching across one of the passenger benches, but his legs extended too far over the side and the seats were just narrow enough that he couldn’t curl up comfortably. There was nothing else to do but move his bed out here and set it up near the window. He shifted on the cot, threading his arms behind his head. The curious restlessness he had managed to hold at bay seemed to intensify while he waited for sleep.
Today had been eventful, to say the least. He’d never expected the strangely dressed woman to enter his own life. He’d surely never meant to allow her to take charge of Violet. Perhaps tomorrow would bring wiser thoughts. But as dinner had worn on, she’d looked increasingly tired and probably needed sleep more than he needed to determine the level of her qualifications.
Mina McCoy’s presence had filled the restaurant with a spirit he found intriguing and a concern for his daughter that he could only admire—two very becoming qualities that lured his mind away from the duties at hand and made him acutely aware of her as a woman. The sight of rambunctious little Violet nestled deeply in her lap, the smile of peace written across that cherubic face, had sealed the bargain in his heart, much less his mind. He marveled that his daughter had so easily come to trust the woman, since she gave few people that honor. Despite his interest in his new employee, he felt a twinge of something he could only define as envy. He doubted that Violet trusted him so openly.
And why should she? He’d been caught up passing off his own grief as a need to make her a living and give her everything he could. But he hadn’t given her the one thing she wanted most. The one thing she needed. Unstipulated love.
Oh sure, he’d made a good show of doing his duty. But the love he’d offered her always became a bargain between them—a quick fix to any time-consuming situation that arose. You do this, Violet, and I’ll do that. Yet, real love had been buried along with Katie Rose. Love offered without expecting something back. Love given without consideration of one’s own needs. Love offered without restraint. Miss McCoy was right. He had neglected Violet for far too long.
Briar bolted to his feet, needing a breath of fresh air. He threw on a shirt and boots then hurried outside, not taking the time to grab the rest of his uniform. Lantern light down the tracks reminded him that the porter was out checking the roundhouse and making sure the Eclipse was in good working condition for tomorrow. Though the windmill that pulled
water to fill the steam locomotives had survived hundreds of wind-storms, it was a contrary contraption at best, needing careful maintenance and plenty of patience. Nathaniel seemed the only man who could square off with the twenty-two-foot mechanical rogue and win.
Its wooden blades had taken on speed since Briar went to bed, indicating a good wind was gusting in from the southwest. The breeze would cool the yards and help the cattle waiting for transport to the Kansas City packing houses to settle down for the night. Maybe now would be a good time to check in on Violet and open her bedroom window to let in a breeze.
He made his way home, thinking of ways he could improve his schedule to allow him more time with her. Tomorrow, he could…Hell, it was already tomorrow. He’d have to do some quick thinking on how to make this the best Sunday he’d spent with her in a long time. Maybe there would still be a surrey available at the livery. If many of the newcomers in town were church-going people, he might have difficulty securing a ride and they’d have to walk. Not that he minded but the wind would wreak havoc on Violet’s curls. A shame the streetcars didn’t run on Sunday.
“Evenin’, Mr. Duncan.”
Deep in thought, Briar hadn’t noticed the constable leaning against the corner of the millinery shop. He started to tip his hat at the policeman then realized he’d left it hung on a peg along with his coat. “Officer Goodnight,” he acknowledged. “Everything quiet?”
“’Cept the wind. It’s stirring up a few tumbleweeds. Forget something over at the station?”
Briar remembered his state of undress and began fastening the shirt he’d left unbuttoned. “No, just checking on my youngun’.”
The policeman tapped his nightstick against the brim of his cap and started to move off. “Working day and night’s no kind of life to lead, Duncan. Take it from someone who seen life at its best and worst. No amount of money’s worth burning the fuse at both ends. Pretty soon it’ll blow up in your face.” He chuckled all of a sudden. “Kiss that little whirlwind of yours for me while you’re at it.”
