Before the Larkspur Blooms

by Caroline Fyffe

  CHAPTER TWO

  Here you are.” Hannah Hoskins set one bowl of stew before Gabe Garrison and the other in front of his friend Jake. She rolled her weight off the sore pads of her feet to her heels and wiggled her cramped toes. The new boots she had ordered would have to wait—business was dismal. She was just scraping by. All she could do was pray that things would pick up when the railroad—if the railroad—came through. Until then, she’d have to cut back on everything that wasn’t absolutely essential—like new boots. How she’d rein in her mother’s excessive spending, though, gave her pause.

  “Thanks, Hannah. That looks delicious.” Gabe rubbed his hands together, then put his face over the bowl and took an extended whiff, closing his eyes in appreciation. One thing about Gabe, he always appreciated a good plateful of food.

  Jake smiled shyly before looking away. Where Gabe was clean-shaven and combed, Jake was wild. Not unkempt, just his own man, as she liked to think. He stepped to a different drum. Local boys now, they had come to town three years ago with Chase and Jessie Logan, and the Logans’ little girl, Sarah. The family had expanded when Shane was born the following year.

  Hannah peeked under the napkin in the breadbasket to make sure they had enough biscuits. “Tell Jessie that Markus is over his cold and is full of vim and vigor. Any day she wants to bring Sarah into town to play is fine.”

  “Will do,” Gabe mumbled around a mouthful of stew.

  Hannah laughed. “You boys always cheer me up. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “We’re hardly boys,” Jake said softly. “I’m nineteen, almost the same age as you.”

  Was Jake puffing out his chest? If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was flirting. The gaze he leveled at her stopped her in her tracks, and her cheeks actually felt warm. “I may only be one year your elder, Jake, but don’t forget I’m a mama, too. Because of Markus I’ve grown up fast.” She smiled to soften her words, but before she could say anything else, the door opened.

  “I’ll be right with you, Sheriff,” she called as Albert entered the restaurant and hung his hat on the rack. A tall fellow dressed in raggedy clothes followed close behind, and something about him caught Hannah’s attention. Was it the way he walked? Well, solving that mystery would have to wait. While she refilled the water glass of her one other customer, the men seated themselves at the table by the window.

  “Susanna,” she called out. “Albert’s here.” The antique Dutch pendulum clock above the wooden sideboard chimed twelve noon. “Can you believe it? He’s right on time.”

  Walking over to the table, she said, “Good day, Sheriff.” Then she looked at the stranger, and deep black eyes met hers. A momentary bolt of confusion rocked her.

  “I’m hungry as a horse,” Albert replied. “What’re the specials?”

  She quickly gathered her composure. “Let’s see.” She looked down at her notepad to break the gaze from those eyes. “Cottage pie topped with breadcrumbs, baked chicken, one order of liver and onions, and the usual beef stew. The latter has lots of meat and potatoes. What sounds good?”

  “I’ll have stew. I can smell Gabe and Jake’s all the way over here. What about you, Thom?”

  Hannah snapped up straight. The sharp intake of her breath couldn’t have been more obvious.

  Thomas Winslow Donovan in the flesh!

  Yes, of course, why hadn’t she seen it sooner? His silky chestnut locks were cropped short and he was thin—awfully thin. A shadow of a beard had replaced the baby-soft chick fuzz that had once covered his square jaw, but heaven’s saints above, Thom was home! She took a good, long, heart-shuddering look, slowly drinking in his every detail. If they had been alone, she would have thrown herself into his arms and hugged him until he got mad, just like old times.

  “Up you go,” Thom said, lifting her from the dry, sun-scorched July dirt after she’d fallen from her saddle. She was seven and he was ten. He dried her tears with the tail of his shirt. “Are you hurt?” he asked on bended knee, turning her around, checking for scrapes and bruises. “Nope, you’re good as new. Takes more than a little fall to hurt you, Hannah-Bobanna.” He stood, and his smile sent a strange fluttery feeling rolling around in her heart, making her cheeks heat almost painfully. From that moment on, Thom was more than the brother of her best friend—he was her champion, and she found herself looking for him before school and after, and every moment in between.

  A slight quiver took over her hands, so she locked them behind her back as she pushed away the memories. “Hello, Thom,” she finally made herself say, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. He looked up at her with that haunted black gaze. “It’s mighty nice to see you,” she said. “When did you get back?”

  His eyes roamed her face briefly before he glanced away. “Just today. A few minutes ago, actually.”

  Sheriff Preston grinned. “You two know each other? Well, fine. Hannah Hoskins owns the Silky Hen, Thom. A big responsibility for such a slip of a girl. But don’t let her small stature fool you. She’s strong as an ox and twice—no—thrice as cantankerous.”

  “Sheriff Preston! Being a cantankerous ox is hardly how a woman wants to be thought of.” She laughed, but she didn’t miss the muscle clenching at the side of Thom’s jaw when Albert mentioned her last name.

  “You and Dwight?” he asked. “You were Hannah Brown the last time I saw you.”

  His voice was still honey-warm, slow, and thoughtful. How she used to hang on each and every word that came out of his mouth. Even though his hair was now short, she remembered it ruffling in the breeze as they walked home from school, the warm scents of dry earth and brittle grass filling the air. Their group of friends was always the same: Thom, his older brother, Roland, Anne Marie, and Hannah. Levi Smith walked with them, too, even though he was Dwight’s friend and a bit callous. He lived past their farms on the same road. Occasionally Caleb joined them when he was coming out to visit. Caleb and Levi loved to tease. They would snatch one of her books, or slate, tossing it back and forth to keep it from her until Thom stepped in to intervene. It was all done in fun, but she used to fantasize that Thom defended her because he secretly adored her as much as she did him. Other times, she and Anne Marie would lock arms and totally ignore the boys, walking along behind them in quiet conversation.

  All those good times. So long ago. She dropped her hands to her hips. “Dwight? You know me better than that. No, not Dwight. His cousin Caleb. We weren’t married long, God rest his soul. Four months to the day of our wedding. He caught the flu and passed on.” She paused, remembering the day. “It was terrible. That was a little over five years ago.”

  Thom’s expression was unreadable; he glanced down at his hands resting on the tabletop. He and Caleb had been close. Even though Caleb lived in town and Thom on the farm next to hers, the two boys were often together with their heads bent over some book or playing a game of chess. Where Thom was dark, Caleb had been fair, but as opposite as they could be in external things, their hearts seemed to be cut from the same cloth. It was natural Thom would take the news of his friend’s passing hard. Has he been told yet about his own family?

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just blurted the news about Caleb like that.” She cleared her throat softly. “The restaurant was his pa’s, if you remember. When he passed on, being Caleb was the only child, it went to him. We have a small son, so someday, if things go as they should”—and I can keep it afloat—“he’ll inherit it, too.” She glanced back toward the kitchen, wishing Susanna would come to her rescue. She was babbling on like an idiot and sounded crass, all this talk about money and dying and such, but she didn’t know what else to say. As much as she used to dream about Thom and his wide shoulders and dashing smile, she’d eventually convinced herself that he never even knew she existed except as his little sister’s pesky best friend. Taking a deep breath, she glanced into his face to see what, if anything, he was thinking.

  Before Thom could respond, the kitchen door swung
open and Susanna hurried over to join them. Tall and slender, she looked pretty in her dress and apron. Her wavy black hair was piled high on her head. She set a small plate of something that looked like a cross between custard and cobbler in front of Albert. “I need you to taste that.” Finally noticing Thom, she smiled and gave him a quick once-over.

  “What is it?” Albert took the spoon and scooped out a large bite. He brought it to his nose. “Smells good.”

  As Albert tried Susanna’s new creation, Hannah couldn’t stop herself from looking at Thom again. Their eyes met and held. She reminded herself to breathe.

  “Susanna,” Hannah said, gently tugging her sleeve to get her attention. “This is Thom. Thom Donovan. Do you remember me telling you how he used to be the smartest boy in class? I can’t remember a time he ever missed a spelling word or math problem—not even once. He was—”

  Thom cleared his throat self-consciously, but he seemed to relax a little. “You’re exaggerating, Hannah. If you want to bring up the past, I recall going out to spend a leisurely day at the fishing hole. All was fine until a strange sound caught my attention—something of a grunt—and I went to investigate. I was rewarded with a pinecone painfully cutting my scalp open.”

  Hannah gasped and then laughed. “I’ve apologized for that more times than I can count. When are you going to forgive me?”

  “Did she throw it at you?” Susanna asked incredulously. Her large eyes were riveted on her friend.

  A slow smile crept over Thom’s face. “No. She was sitting on a branch at the top of a pine tree, spying on me. She hadn’t realized just how high she’d climbed until a breeze came up and the branch she was perched on began to sway. She was terrified to come down.”

  Hannah nodded, willing herself not to blush. “That’s right. After Thom found me, he climbed up, bloody head and all. I was so scared and embarrassed I started to cry. It took him hours to coax me down.”

  “What exactly is this?” Albert interrupted, pointing to the dessert. “The texture is quite different. A bit lumpy.”

  Susanna whisked it off the table. “It’s in the experimentation stage. I’ll tell you later.” She turned for the kitchen. “Hmmmm, texture. Lumpy…” she mumbled as she walked away.

  The brief distraction was enough for Hannah to find her footing and calm her jittery nerves. “Now, what were you saying?” she asked, picking up where they had left off. “Stew for you, Albert. What about you, Thom?”

  “The same for me.”

  She could tell he was happy to see her, too. His expression had softened, and a light had come into his eyes. She’d cried for days, even months, after he’d left. By then, she’d been twelve and him fifteen. He was her first love, her only love, even if he’d never known it. Finally, Anne Marie had had enough and had given her a stern talking-to. Then the horrible news had come about him going to prison. One year grew into two, then three. Thoughts and dreams of Thom ever coming home faded. Now, here he was again, as if the past had never happened. Except it had. So much had changed. She wondered if he even knew the extent of it all.

  “Albert, your usual cup of black coffee?” He nodded, and she looked at Thom. But he’d slipped off into his thoughts and seemed a million miles away. “Thom?” she asked. “Would you like coffee, too?”

  He blinked. His expression was hard. “Sure.” It came out gruffly, and she wondered at the reason. Yes, much had changed. And not just here in Logan Meadows.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jessie Logan hummed softly as she moved about the large front room of the ranch house, dusting cloth in hand. Shane had finally given up his babbling and fallen asleep, which gave her precious little time to get things in order before Chase showed up hungry as a horse and wanting his noon meal.

  At the mantel she paused, set her cloth aside, and picked up the small wooden picture frame that held the infant-size woolen bootie she had knitted for Sarah all those years ago in the New Mexico orphanage. She’d kept it with her since the day she’d left the horrible place, traveled north to Wyoming on the orphan train, married Nathan, met Chase after Nathan’s death, and married him—all so she could be reunited with Sarah and adopt her.

  She held the framed bootie to her chest and closed her eyes, tamping down the panic that washed through her at the thought of the letter she had received from Mrs. Hobbs, the mistress of the drafty old orphan’s house. A mystery of sorts was brewing over a woman who had visited there. Jessie had yet to share the news with Chase. No use both of them fretting.

  Bitterness toward Mrs. Hobbs, the woman who had treated Jessie and all the other children so cruelly, bubbled up inside her. The time the old crow sent Sarah to the root cellar to be taught a lesson still had the power to infuriate. She would not be surprised if the letter was some sort of mean-spirited prank just to upset her. She set the keepsake back on the mantel, vowing not to let Mrs. Hobbs have any more control over her happiness. In all actuality, it was probably nothing at all.

  “Mommy, I need help,” Sarah called from her spot at the kitchen table. The child’s slender legs hung six inches from the floor as she practiced writing the alphabet. “I can’t make the tail of Mr. Y go like a fishhook. It’s squiggly like a worm. Something’s wrong.”

  When she’d married Chase, he couldn’t read a word. Now, after months of Jessie’s instruction, he was not only literate, but also an enormous lover of books. He took great interest in learning new words every night. Two years ago, when Sarah had turned five, he had taken on the task of teaching her her letters himself. Every time Jessie witnessed his abiding patience with Sarah, she nearly burst with love. Next year, when Sarah was old enough to go to school in town, the child would already know all her letters and would be reading simple sentences.

  “Let me see.” Jessie leaned over her daughter’s small shoulder, her heart swelling. Sarah’s waist-length nut-brown hair was brushed to a high sheen and her little hands worked busily as if her assignment was of the utmost importance. “Why, you’ve just turned the fishhook in the wrong direction. Try it again the other way.”

  A horse nickered outside. Going to the window, Jessie saw Chase tying Cody, his bay gelding, to the hitching rail. He stroked the horse once on the neck and headed for the back door. It wasn’t but a moment before the door opened. “Anyone home?” he called out playfully.

  Jessie rushed to shush him. “Quiet, please,” she said, slipping into his arms. “Your son has finally decided to give me a break. I don’t want you waking him before I get a few more things accomplished.”

  “Is that so?”

  Jessie ran her hands up the chilly fabric of Chase’s vest, admiring the dark flecks of gold in his expressive brown eyes. He pulled her close as he lowered his face to hers. Even after three years of marriage, he still makes my heart flutter around like a newly hatched butterfly.

  Chase brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “And just what are those things that need doing?” He chuckled and kissed her neck.

  She tried to sound annoyed. “You may think I don’t do all that much, but if I ever stopped doing them, you’d be surprised how fast this home fell down around your e-e-ears.”

  She struggled to get the last word out coherently. He was trailing warm kisses around her earlobe, making it impossible to think of anything but him.

  “Oh, I’m sure it would, honey. I don’t doubt that for a second. And to tell you the truth, I’d hate to find out.” He pulled back and put his nose in the air. “I smell something good. What’s cooking?”

  She smacked him on the chest. “Is that all you ever think about, Chase Logan, what you’ll be eating for your next meal?”

  He tented his brows. The look he gave her said she was his next meal.

  Instantly, her insides warmed. She couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She turned and preceded him into the kitchen, where Sarah still worked at the table.

  Chase hooked his hat on one of the brass wall pegs, then started for Sarah. Before he reached
the table, she turned and lifted up the slate she’d been working on. “Look, Pa. I finished the whole alphabet.”

  He took the slate from her hands and studied every letter. “You sure did, pumpkin. And you did a mighty fine job.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. Sarah’s smile revealed a missing front tooth. There wasn’t a man in the world who could love the child more than he did.

  “Where’re Gabe and Jake?” Jessie asked as Chase got comfortable at the table. “I thought they were coming here for lunch.” With thick cotton mitts, she opened the heavy oven door and extracted a plate heaped full of shepherd’s pie. Steam wafted up when she set it in front of Chase.

  “Actually, no. They went into town, said they wanted to see if there was any new Union Pacific news. I think Jake just wanted to get another moment with Hannah. That boy’s acting like a lovesick pup.”

  Jessie shook her head. “I hope not. I don’t think she feels anything more for him than friendship. Not only that, Mrs. Brown doesn’t think any man is good enough to wipe her daughter’s boots, let alone marry her now that Caleb has passed on.” Her spine stiffened at the thought of going up against Hannah’s mother for any reason. “I’d hate for Jake to get hurt.”

  “It’s bound to happen sooner or later. Part of growing up.”

  She poured a tall glass of fresh water and put it on the table beside Chase’s meal. “I know. Still, I think he harbors a lot of pain inside that he doesn’t share. I just wish both he and Gabe would find nice young women to settle with.”

  Chase swallowed and then wiped his mouth with his napkin. “They’re young yet, sweetheart. Give ’em some time to sow a few wild oats.”