The old woman stood and set her napkin beside her plate, a lifetime of worry scrunching her brow. “Trouble must be out there, Thom. I’ll get my shotgun.”
Thom knew the surprise was up. He stood. “It’s not trouble. It’s your birthday present.”
Violet’s eyes widened. “My, my—what?”
“Your birthday present. Surely you haven’t forgotten,” he teased.
Violet looked away for a moment. “Why, I guess you’re right. I did forget.”
“I have a small gift for you out on the porch. I guess Ivan knows what I’m about.” For the first time since meeting Mrs. Hollyhock, the old woman was speechless. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
He opened the door, and Ivan lunged out. Thom had to hurry to reach the poultry before the dog. He placed the squirming bag into Mrs. Hollyhock’s arms, and her eyes popped open.
Carefully, she opened the sack. “Chicks! I can’t believe it. I’ve missed having my little friends.” She smiled shyly and her eyes filled. “I keep forgettin’ and goin’ out to collect eggs.” For a moment, Thom was afraid she’d dissolve into a ball of tears. “In no time we’ll have newly laid eggs every day!”
The shepherd circled them excitedly, trying to get a good sniff of the interesting bag.
“I’d like ta put them in the coop right away,” Mrs. Hollyhock said. “Poor little things must be mighty scared.” She handed the sack back to him. “I’ll be right back with the lantern. Don’t let that beast get too close.” She pointed a crooked finger at Ivan. “Sit!”
Thom clamped his mouth shut when Ivan’s haunches dropped immediately, as if the dog knew he’d better watch his p’s and q’s. Ivan gazed longingly at the poultry bag, and a soft whine resonated from his throat.
“But what about supper?” Thom asked. “Won’t it get cold?”
Her nostrils flared. “Chicks come first.”
Later, with the chicks securely housed, they sat back down at the table. “You were right, Violet. Hannah’s concoction is tasty. And so is your soup and bread.”
“I’ll bake something ta send with you tomorrow. Hannah and Susanna are always on the giving end. I’d like ta do a little something for them.”
Thom knew better than to object, even though the last thing he wanted to do was search out Hannah—again. Dwight wouldn’t waste a moment spreading around what had happened earlier today, exaggerating every detail. Another visit would only add fuel to the fire. Win usually did errands in the mornings. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind dropping Mrs. Hollyhock’s gift by the restaurant for him. He pushed his chair back and rubbed his belly. “I’m gaining weight.”
“I noticed it, too. You’ll be as big as an ox when I get through with ya.” Her crooked smile turned her face into a vast prairie of wrinkles.
He retrieved the bag off the chair and slid it over to her.
“What’s this?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t looked inside yet. Something Mrs. Miller sent along. She told me not to peek, so I didn’t.”
Mrs. Hollyhock regarded the little cloth bag dubiously, so Thom pushed it closer. “Go on. Take it. It’s your birthday, you know.”
“She meant it for you, Thom—not me, I’m sure,” Mrs. Hollyhock said. She withdrew a big chuck of fudge and eyeballed it for several moments. “You’ll soon learn that Maude and me jist can’t seem to get along. She thinks I’m a busybody, and has told me so more times than I care to count. All I’m trying ta do is help the poor, addle-brained woman turn a profit.”
Thom stretched out his legs, getting comfortable as he took a bite of the fudge and chewed. He hid his smile as he watched the old woman’s face grow pinker, thankful Hannah had told him about her birthday. He might actually be able to build a life here again in Logan Meadows. Be a part of the community. He’d been doubtful, but now optimism filled his chest, pushing away the ghosts of his past, the bullet, Levi. “What chores do you need done before I bathe tonight, Violet? Don’t hold back on me.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hannah stood in front of the dining room window, polishing the salt and pepper shakers on table number two. The cheerful tune she hummed felt hypocritical. Her usual Saturday lunch crowd was nowhere to be found. Did the one and only diner, a guest from the El Dorado, notice her discomfort? Muted voices floated in from the lobby.
Down the boardwalk, Dwight stood in the doorway of the saloon, a satisfied smile plastered on his face. Hannah scowled. She’d never speak to the deputy again if she could help it, after the way he’d treated her in her own kitchen last night. She had the right to associate with Thom or anyone else she pleased.
Somewhere outside, a shot went up, startling her, and the saltshaker slipped through her fingers, bounced off the table, and shattered into pieces as it hit the floor. Salt spilled everywhere.
The man stood, concerned. He started around his table. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
She groaned, eyeing the mess she’d created. “Yes. Just clumsy. I’ll get the whisk broom and dustpan and be right back.”
Back at the mess, Hannah squatted, her lavender dress billowing out around her like a giant umbrella.
The man wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Guess your luck’s gonna go bad now.” He grinned, and she resisted a prick of anger pooling in her belly. “You better throw some over your shoulder.” He took a long drink from his glass of water.
“I’m not superstitious,” Hannah replied. She forced a smile. “A mess of spilled salt isn’t going to control my destiny.” That was a fact. She’d worked too hard to think her success or her failure was due to anything other than backbreaking labor and God’s blessings.
A round of laughter erupted outside. Hannah turned hastily, hands still full, and searched out the window, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the shot. It soon exploded into full-fledged dismay. A handful of young men blocked the street, their arms locked at the elbows. Behind them was Thom on his horse. They wouldn’t let him pass. Hannah couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but by their expressions and gestures, she was sure they were stewing for a fight. Dwight, she thought.
“It’s the jailbird. I wonder what he’s gone and done.”
She spun around. “He hasn’t done anything,” she replied defensively. “He has a right to live in Logan Meadows as much as any of us. He served his time.” She felt desperate to get outside. “If you’re finished, sir, your meal comes to thirty-five cents.” She held out her hand as he fished around in his pocket.
He placed a few coins into her palm. “Keep the change.”
As soon as he left, Hannah dashed into the kitchen and discarded everything, tossing the money on the drain board. Then she ran out the front door and down the boardwalk, trying to hear what was happening.
Without turning, Thom knew the moment Hannah came out of her restaurant behind his horse. Of course she would hear the commotion from the crowd. He removed his hat and dug his hand through his hair as he took stock of the men—if you could call them that—blocking his way. Anger roiled through his belly, hot and acrid. Truth be told, most of them were gangly kids, and he could whip all eight without much trouble. But that’s what Dwight wanted. An excuse to lock me up.
A fight would be more dangerous than that, though. The doctor’s words came back to him: any jostling could move the bullet. Then again, it might never move at all.
“Step aside!” Thom demanded, replacing his hat. He pressed his horse forward with a firm nudge of his heel, and the reluctant gelding tried to step forward. But the line held, causing the horse to snort and throw his head, confused. Thom squeezed forcefully, and the horse lunged, opening a path and spurring a round of taunts and shouts from the agitators. A husky youth clad in overalls reached up. Thom slipped his foot from his stirrup and kicked out, aiming for his shoulder but nicking his face in the process. The young man yelped. Blood gushed from his nose. His friends closed in around Thom’s horse.
From the corner of his eye, Thom saw a f
lash of lavender and knew Hannah was on her way. Anger surged. Didn’t she know she was likely to get hurt? She needed to back off. Let him fight his own battles. He’d tried to make that clear to her last night. The more she got involved, the worse it would be for her. And him.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Dwight catch hold of her as she rushed by, swinging her around to an arm-twirling halt.
Rage exploded inside him. He reined his horse around, intending to go back, but someone encircled his waist and yanked him from the saddle. The warm loaf of bread Mrs. Hollyhock had made for Hannah and Susanna that morning fell from its cloth bag and tumbled into the dirt.
Surrounded and on his back, Thom took one blow to his face. Amid shouting and taunts, he drew up his knees and catapulted his attacker into the others, successfully knocking several down in the process. He scrambled to his feet, ducked a punch, then slammed his fist into another assailant’s belly. Circling, he guarded his face with his fists, but he never had a chance to throw another punch.
A gun blast brought them all up short.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Skedaddle!” Maude Miller shouted from the porch of the mercantile. Her smoking shotgun rested in her arms. “Go on. Get! Don’t you have work to do somewhere?” The men gathered took a step back, surprised. “None of you are to show your face in my store for a full week, you hear? It won’t matter to me if you’re starving to death. You won’t be getting anything here!” She looked down the walk toward Dwight. “Includes you, too, Deputy. Disgraceful. That’s what it is. I’m thankful your pa’s not still around to see the likes of this.”
With his hat, Thom brushed the dirt from his pants and picked up the flattened loaf that the frightened horse had smashed. He gathered up his reins, trying to calm his fury. He’d like nothing better than to teach them all a lesson. If this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life, he didn’t need it. He took a step toward the livery.
“Mr. Donovan,” the old woman called.
Thom stopped and turned, the pain in his jaw still pulsating.
“After your shift today, will you please come by the store? There’s something I’d like to speak with you about.”
He nodded. Hannah was still in his line of sight, and he saw her stomp down on Dwight’s instep. Dwight let go with an angry curse. She started his way, but Thom stopped her with a look.
“I will, Mrs. Miller. Thank you.” He tipped his hat.
“I’ll look forward to talking with you.” She shot the remaining roughnecks an angry glare.
Squaring his shoulders, Thom led his horse down the street. He kept his gaze riveted on the big double doors of the stable, feeling self-conscious and out of sorts. Hannah’s mother was among the growing number of curious spectators. By her side stood a wide-eyed boy, barely reaching to his grandma’s middle. His shaggy brown hair was windswept, his body wiry and strong. But it was his eyes that grabbed Thom. They were a startling color of blue that matched Hannah’s exactly. Mrs. Brown saw him looking. She frowned and stepped around the boy, shielding him from Thom’s view.
This was the first time he’d seen Mrs. Brown since his return. There had never been any love lost between them. She’d been indifferent to Anne Marie, which his sister didn’t seem to mind, but whenever he’d come around to pick her up or drop her off, Roberta had made sure he knew exactly where he stood with her. Snide little remarks about his appearance or the way he spoke, with the slightest hint of an Irish brogue, were her specialties. Thom felt the cold chill of her eyes even now. He tipped his hat, making her already-ruddy cheeks deepen in shade.
No one said coming home would be easy. He reached up and stroked the horse’s warm neck, thankful when he reached the livery. Stepping into the cool sanctuary of the barn, he called, “Win, I’m here,” in a voice that surprised him with his steadiness.
Win poked his head out the door of the smithy. His easy smile helped smooth Thom’s ragged nerves. “Good to see you, Thom. You’re just in time to help me shoe a horse. He’s a kicker and you—” Win’s smile fell. He took in Thom’s rumpled appearance. “What happened?”
It would be so easy to tell Win what Dwight was up to. So darn easy. In turn, Win would report it to Sheriff Preston, and the game would be up. But then he’d still have to prove himself to Dwight and the rest of the town—at least to those Dwight had poisoned against him. There was no getting around that. No, it was better he make it through this one day at a time—on his own.
Win was still waiting on his answer. “Just had a little upset on the way in, nothing much.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah.” Thom would take care of Dwight himself, or he’d never have a moment of peace in his life. He’d find a way of stopping him. He just didn’t know how yet.
Between horse grooming and stall cleaning, the day passed quickly. Before Thom knew it, it was time to go home. He wiped his hands and face the best he could. He’d wondered all day why Mrs. Miller would want to speak with him, and he was about to find out. He closed up shop, saddled his horse, and started down the quiet street. At the mercantile, he looped his reins around the hitching rail and went inside.
“There you are,” Maude said, swooping out of the back room. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten.”
He doffed his hat and remained in the entry.
He was at a loss. It had been years since he’d had to make polite conversation with anyone, never mind the fact that she was an older woman he hardly knew. “Er, we enjoyed the fudge you sent out. We both would like to thank you again for that.”
“Both?” She waved him off. “That was nothing. A little welcome home gift—for you.”
Welcome home? He glanced away, and a tiny portion of his rejected heart warmed up.
“Mr. Donovan, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
His curiosity multiplied with each tick of the big grandfather clock in the back of the store. “Thom’s fine, ma’am. Just call me Thom.”
“Fine,” she said as she came closer. “I’ll get right to the point. Once the rainy season sets in, this place is no better than my kitchen colander with rivulets running this way and that. My inventory gets damp and moldy. If I don’t have enough receptacles to catch all the drips, I have to borrow from Hannah at the restaurant, then spend the rest of the day running to and fro dumping them out.” She paused and took a breath. “I’m so exhausted by closing time I can hardly fall into bed. Then I worry the whole night long.”
She peered up at him through her scant lashes, a small smile playing around her lips. Was she batting her eyelashes? “If you haven’t already noticed, Thomas, I’m a mature woman.”
“Ma’am?”
She seemed to be measuring her thoughts. “Well, the sheriff said you have quite a lot of experience with carpentry. What I’m leading up to is this—would you be willing to put a new roof on my store? For pay, of course.”
He’d done his share of carpentry in prison. He was good. Reflex made him rub his palms together. “I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Miller, but I’m not sure I’d have the time to do it with my job at the livery.” Carpentry paid so much better than the work he was doing now. He hated to turn it down.
“Yes, I realize that. I thought you could work for me in your spare time, perhaps. All the shingles you’d need are in my back room. I have a small rental house on Oak Street that is also due for a new roof. I’d pay you ten dollars for the mercantile and five for the house.”
He had no idea why she’d hire him over anyone else. “That’s a lot of money, Mrs. Miller.”
She ran her wrinkled hands down her apron. “That it is, young man. Are you saying you don’t want the job?”
He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know how fast I can have it finished for you, but I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Just start when you can.”
Again, thankfulness mixed with a large dose of humility rumbled around in his chest. He nodded and re
placed his hat. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He turned and reached for the porcelain doorknob.
“Wait. I almost forgot.” She hurried over to the mail counter and took a tattered envelope from a covey of small boxes fixed to the wall.
Returning, she held it out to him. “All the way from the bonny green hills of Ireland. It arrived yesterday.”
She was trying so hard to make up for the fray that had happened in the street on his way into work today. “Thank you for this.” He put the letter into his front pocket and gave it a pat. “I better get going.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hannah held tight to the reins as the buggy jiggled down the road. She did her best to avoid the ruts caused from the winter runoff, but that proved nearly impossible. Markus, worn out from the morning he’d spent playing with Sarah out at Chase and Jessie’s ranch, snuggled next to her side. His flushed face and his half-mast eyes said he’d soon be sound asleep.
She tried not to think about Thom, but that was as difficult as avoiding the ruts. Two days had come and gone without exchanging a word. She’d wanted to talk to him after that horrible fight Saturday, but the look on his face told her to keep her distance. She missed him. She missed his smile and his voice. She missed how she felt when he walked into the room. She missed the way he looked deep into her eyes, even when he didn’t mean to. Warmth coiled around inside, stealing her breath.
A sharp bump in the road brought her out of her musings. What am I doing? Thom had made his position perfectly clear. A burst of pain pushed away the warm feeling as she remembered him standing in her kitchen, arms crossed and eyes flinty. The fact that he’d known all along that she was sweet on him made the rejection all the worse. I’m done with him, she thought. Dwight popped into her mind, and she grunted. As a matter of fact, I’m finished with men in general.
Agitated, she straightened in her seat. “Look, Markus,” she said, nudging him. She pointed to the rolling meadow halved by the narrow but fast-flowing Shady Creek. A doe and two fawns stood knee-deep in the wild grass, watching their approach.
Before the Larkspur Blooms Page 8
