Before the Larkspur Blooms

by Caroline Fyffe

  Thom nodded. Why not? He was tired of walking on eggshells. He hadn’t done anything wrong. After pulling over a chair, he poured some black brew into a none-too-clean cup and sat down. Looking uncomfortable, Chase stood and retrieved a chair. He turned it around and straddled it.

  “Chase was just telling me about the close call you had yesterday at the picnic with little Shane. Thank God you two were able to right the situation before the child was hurt.”

  “I want to thank you, Donovan,” Chase said. “Your clear thinking helped save my son. I was remiss in not saying so yesterday. I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” He took a sip of his coffee, remembering the size of the scorpion. “It was Ivan who sensed the danger.”

  “Well, the dog belongs to you. Jessie and I are indebted.”

  Thom accepted his thanks with a nod. “I have something I need to talk to you about.” He looked at the sheriff. Chase stood to leave. “I’d like you to stay, Chase. It may or may not concern you. I don’t know.” That got both men’s undivided attention. Logan sat.

  “Go on,” Albert said, sitting forward.

  “Eleven days ago when I arrived in Logan Meadows, a man from my past was playing cards in the saloon. The head of the rustling outfit that I mistakenly hooked up with when I was a boy.” He turned and looked directly at Chase. “Rome Littleton.”

  Chase jumped to his feet. “Rome Littleton!” His voice was hard, accusing. If he and Chase had come to a truce, it was now gone.

  “That’s right. The night the law closed in, he’d ridden out late and was nowhere to be seen. Everyone was hanged there on the spot, and I was taken in to stand trial.” He gave Albert a look he hoped the sheriff would interpret correctly—he didn’t want his medical history divulged, even to Chase. “Until yesterday, I didn’t know there was any rustling going on. Now that I do know, I feel compelled to say something.”

  “Why didn’t you come forward before?” Chase, a handful of years older, was wiser by a mile.

  “I should have.” Even though he knew Chase had a right to be angry, Thom didn’t like the blame he sensed being tossed his way. He’d not broken any laws.

  “Maybe my prize bull would still be in my pasture if you had.”

  Thom’s guarded mood veered sharply toward anger. His face went hot.

  As if wanting to break the tension, Albert stood and went to fill his cup. “What’s done is done. You can’t place that at Thom’s door, Chase.”

  “I’m a falsely convicted ex-convict. For rustling, no less.” Unable to sit a moment longer, Thom stood. “How would the good townsfolk take it if I was to march into the sheriff’s office and, first thing, accuse one of their own of cattle stealing?” Thom felt the tic in his jaw as he clenched and released. Hang on to your temper, he cautioned himself. “Littleton was never convicted of anything. Hell, no one alive but me even knows he was part of the gang. It’s my word against his. And I don’t feel like going back to prison.”

  Chase’s eyes took on a glint of understanding.

  “What’s he do here in Logan Meadows?” Thom asked. “Own a ranch? What?”

  “He’s been around these parts going on two years. We don’t know much about him ’cept he owns a spread over in New Meringue. Comes into town from time to time to play poker,” Albert said, now back in his chair.

  “He knows my man, Blake Hansen.” Chase was shaking his head as he gazed at a spot on the wall behind Albert. Looked as if he was going over in his mind every detail he knew about the man. “Jake found him and another fellow riding around on Broken Horn land for the heck of it last Tuesday. Said they were looking for rustlers, since his ranch had been hit, too.” He paused and looked at Albert. “I think we should keep this just between us until we know more.”

  Thom shifted his weight. “There is more. He brought his gelding into the livery. Horse threw a shoe and came up lame. Win pulled the rest and said the animal needed some time off. Littleton rented a mount from Win for the time being. Horse’s still there.” They exchanged glances, digesting that information.

  The cling of spurred boots neared the door. Dwight stopped as soon as he entered, taking in the scene. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly at Thom.

  Albert stood. “Morning, Dwight,” he said, going back to the coffeepot. “We were just talking about the new depot. Word has it the men are breaking ground within the week.”

  “That so?”

  “Indeed. A Union Pacific wagon arrived yesterday, and the workers are camping in the festival grounds. I want you to keep an eye out for any shenanigans. I won’t stand for anyone starting trouble in my town,” Albert said.

  Dwight smirked. “How many?”

  “About twenty. More will arrive in a day or two.”

  Thom pushed his hat on. “Well, I need to get over to the livery.” He set his empty cup on a tray next to the stove. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Anytime, Thom,” Albert said. Chase just watched him go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Hannah pushed through the line of people waiting to get into her restaurant and stopped in the doorway of the Silky Hen, her mouth agape. She had never seen anything like it in her life. Especially on a Monday. The note from Susanna asking her to get to the restaurant as soon as possible was crumpled in her hand.

  Markus laughed in delight. “Can I help, Mommy?”

  The room was loud, packed with customers, and hot. She knew some faces, but others were a complete mystery. People ate from heaping plates, and others looked at her with expectant eyes. Her mother clomped by, red-faced, her hair drooping in her eyes. Two bowls of stew tottered in her hands. “Don’t just stand there, Hannah. Susanna needs your help in the kitchen!”

  “Hey, lady. When are we gonna get some food?” a portly man yelled from the far wall. He pounded a weighty fist on the tabletop. “Been here a good half hour and don’t even have a glass of water to show for it.”

  His partner nodded. “Yeah. I’m hungry!”

  “You’re next,” Roberta replied in a weary voice. “I’ll be right with you.”

  That jarred Hannah out of her surprised stupor. Pushing past four scraggly looking men and a teenage boy, she practically ran through the swinging kitchen door, Markus in tow. A countertop filled with pots and pans and a sink overflowing with dirty dishes greeted her.

  Susanna gasped, “Thank God you’re here. We’ve been running since I first unlocked the door!”

  Susanna’s usual put-together charm was blown to bits. Her milky-white skin was drenched in sweat. Gravy and an array of other foodstuffs marred her white apron. Her always perfectly tied apron bow was totally cockeyed. That alone said just how hard-pressed she really was.

  “We’re practically out of everything,” she said, gasping. “And we still have a passel of mouths, mostly male mouths, that we need to feed. Here.” She shoved a large ceramic bowl into Hannah’s arms as she blew a drooping hank of hair from out of her eyes. “You can finish the biscuits and get them in the oven. I need to slice the roast and make more gravy for six orders of beef and gravy.”

  Hannah took the bowl but set it to the side. They needed help. And fast. For as long as she could remember Thom had always been there for her. From the time he’d picked her up off the ground, to the afternoon he’d stood up to Roberta after Hannah had hidden in his wagon, telling her mother Hannah had fallen asleep in the back and hadn’t known she was on her way to New Meringue. Yes, Thom would help her if he could. She snatched a pencil from her mother’s pocket as the older woman rushed into the kitchen. As fast as she could write, she scribbled out a note on the back of the one Susanna had sent her and put it in Markus’s hand. “Run over to the livery. Be quick. Maybe Win will let him come to our rescue.” She gave Markus a little push. “Hurry, son!”

  Markus raced through the back door, and Hannah grabbed her apron. She finished the dough, rolled it out on the floured countertop, and cut out two dozen biscuits with the rim of a coffee cup. Tossing them
haphazardly onto two baking sheets, she shoved them into the hot oven. That done, she snatched the knife from Susanna’s hands and turned her friend toward her. With a napkin, she wiped the sweat from her face. “I’ll take over in here. You go out and help Mother. Those men are running her ragged.”

  “Gladly. Anything to get away from that hot beast.” She gave the oven a scornful stare. “Now, don’t forget about the biscuits in the oven—they’re all spoken for—and start a new batch as soon as the six beef and gravy plates are ready. The railroad men are going through them like a lamb on fresh clover.”

  Roberta scurried into the kitchen. “Hannah, I need a chicken plate, two beef and gravy plates, and, and—” Her mother looked like she was going to faint.

  “Mother, sit here.” Hannah pulled out a chair and gently eased her down.

  “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten what the lady in blue asked for.” Roberta struggled to get up as she rummaged through the pockets of her apron. “Where is the order? I’ll go ask her again. She’s been patiently waiting for a long time.”

  “No. You just stay put for a few minutes. It’s not worth ruining your health over.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Susanna can ask her again.”

  Hannah worked the pump handle and caught some water in a glass. She set it on the table. “Now, take a sip, and then breathe. Try to relax. Everything is going to be OK.”

  Quickly, Hannah sliced up a loaf of bread and flopped the slices onto a dinner plate. “As soon as you feel up to it, you can go around and offer a slice to people who have been waiting the longest. It should hold them over. But not yet. Take a few more moments off your feet.”

  That done, she mixed up a new batch of biscuits and set them aside for when the others came out of the oven in three more minutes. She turned up the heat on the gravy and added a smidge more flour-water mixture to extend and thicken it faster, stirred it a few times, and then left it to simmer. Grabbing one of the last three clean plates, she sliced several good portions of the pot roast and put it on the plate, then added an extra scoop of green beans, since all that was left of the mashed potatoes was a dirty pot.

  An angry voice rang out in the dining room. “Where’s my supper?”

  Thom pushed his way through the front door, Markus riding on his back. He was just in time to see a beefy man catch Susanna by the back of her apron sashes and pull her back. With her hands full of dirty plates, she almost toppled over.

  “Why, you hooligan,” she sputtered, her face clouding up. “I’ve never seen anyone with worse manners.”

  Thom set Markus down and strode over to the table. “Take your hands off the help.”

  The pudgy man’s face scrunched up and his hands fisted. “Me and my men have been in this poor excuse of a restaurant for too long. She keeps ignoring us.”

  Susanna shook her head. “That’s not true. I was getting to your table next.”

  Thom stood over the man with Susanna safely behind him. “I’m only telling you this once, so listen up. The next time you touch her, or anyone else working or eating here, I’ll throw you out on your backside. Do I make myself clear?” Thom looked around at all the men and the few women in the restaurant, gauging the strength of his words. “Today’s business was a surprise to the proprietor. Tomorrow, I can assure you, the place will be ready for you all.”

  Everyone clapped except the fat man. Smiles replaced scowls.

  He found Hannah in the kitchen, red-faced and covered in flour. He almost laughed. “Thomas Donovan at your service.”

  She looked up. “Thom! Thank you for answering my cry for help.”

  Roberta watched them from a chair at the small table. She looked away and pursed her lips.

  Rapidly scanning the room, Thom snatched a milk stool from the broom closet and set it in front of the sink. “Markus, how would you like to make two bits?”

  The boy’s eyes grew round, and a smile almost as circular as the horseshoe he’d been pounding ten minutes ago lit his face. “Two bits? Sure!”

  “Climb on up. I want you to wash these plates and set them here.” Thom cleared away a spot within easy reach for the boy. “I’ll rinse and then dry them in a few minutes. Be extra careful because I have a feeling your ma is going to need each and every one in the months to come.”

  Hannah, still working to fill six plates, glanced at him as she worked. A sweet smile pulled the corners of her mouth.

  “All right.” The boy took the rag and plunged it in the sink of soapy water, then attacked the top plate of a ten-tall stack. Taking his job seriously, he scrubbed with force. Thom turned to find Chase Logan watching him from the back door. Hannah spotted him a moment later.

  “What’s going on in here?” Chase said, laughing. “All heck’s breaking loose.”

  Hannah smiled. “You can say that again. It’s the men from the railroad and other newcomers, too. Mr. Peabody was right—business is booming.”

  He stepped in a few feet and removed his hat. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Yes. I need more meat by tonight. Cut up and wrapped. Can you do that?”

  “You bet. Anything now?”

  She went over and handed Chase a cookie. Her expression said that was all she could spare. “Actually, yes. Can you stop by the mercantile and tell Maude to triple the things I usually pick up on Monday evening? I’ll need plenty of canned goods as well as apples, raisins, and any other dried fruit that she has. I think I’ll be baking for most of the night. Other than that, we’re OK now. Thank goodness Thom came to our rescue. If you can supply me the beef for tomorrow, that will be a huge help.”

  Thom looked at Hannah. “What’s that smell?”

  “Biscuits!” She dashed to the oven and yanked the door open.

  “They’re OK,” he said from behind her. “Just getting brown on top.” He grasped a pot holder and pulled them out, then took the knife from Hannah’s hands. He motioned to the last roast in the work area. “I’ll slice it up.”

  She nodded. “I’ll make more gravy.”

  “And I’ll get back to work.” Her mother picked up the plate filled with bread and stomped out of the room.

  An hour later, Hannah wiped a splotch of gravy from the plate rim she was filling with the last clean spot of her apron. What a wonderful, exciting, money-making day. It was hard to believe. Things were looking up. Now, she could pay Susanna her wages without worry, and she’d worked the whole afternoon with Thom. He’d cooked, cleaned, and even made several batches of biscuits. She’d been amazed by his culinary talents. He’d gotten her mother to laugh several times, too, although Roberta had tried her best not to. Sighing, Hannah scrunched her cramped toes, and pain radiated up her legs.

  She set the plate on the shelf above the stove. “Order up,” she called toward the dining room. She placed a note card Maude had made for her under the biscuit. After Chase delivered the message to the mercantile, Maude had put up her “I’ll Be Back in Ten Minutes” sign and hurried over. They’d come up with an idea, and Maude had printed cards that apologized for the skimpy portions and promised a nice oatmeal raisin cookie upon redemption on their next visit to the restaurant.

  Susanna shuffled in, picked up the plate, and was gone.

  The crowd had dwindled. It was five minutes before seven—almost closing time. Thom helped Susanna straighten up out front, and Roberta had gone home. Markus was still at his job, albeit moving very, very sluggishly.

  “Tired, Markus?” Hannah asked, rubbing his sweaty little back.

  The boy nodded.

  “You’ve done enough, sweetheart. I can finish that now.”

  He dried his rubbery red hands and climbed off the stool. He sat down with a plop and rested his elbows on his knees.

  “You did a fine job. If you hadn’t taken over when you did, we would have run out of dishware. You earned your pay today without a doubt.” There was no response. She looked down to see he had fallen asleep.

  The door swung
open. Thom spotted Markus and stopped in his tracks. He caught the door, then closed it quietly. His gaze moved up to hers, and she almost melted. Tenderness filled his eyes. They held hers for several long moments, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt he loved her. He could protest all he wanted; she’d never believe him. What an extraordinary father he’d make for Markus. The two had bonded.

  Thom gifted her with a lazy I-love-you smile. “What a good-hearted little cowpoke,” he said, nodding to Markus. “And a hard worker t’boot.” He reached out and took her hand, dragging his thumb slowly across the back.

  He’s finally come to his senses.

  He led her over to more privacy by the back door. All was quiet in the dining room. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Her heart did an excited somersault in anticipation.

  A second passed.

  “Hannah?”

  Opening her eyes, she read the confusion on his face. She straightened and cleared her throat, embarrassed.

  “You should take Markus home. He’s all but worn out. I’ll pick him up so he won’t awaken.”

  Hurt, she looked at the sink and all the hours of work that remained. “I can’t leave. There’s still too much left to do before tomorrow.” Susanna came in, saw them standing hand in hand, twirled around, and left. Thom’s amused expression added to her disappointment.

  “Susanna’s been here for hours,” Hannah protested. “She can take him home for me, and Mother will put him to bed.” A pang of guilt pricked her insides. “That way I can clean up and get prepared for tomorrow. I have roasts to cook and pies to bake.” Her excitement over such a profitable day paled as she contemplated Thom. Couldn’t he feel her love? What was holding him back?

  Thom shook his head. He strode over and gently picked Markus up without waking him, then placed him in her arms. “Can you manage?”

  “Of course. But—”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “He needs you, Hannah. You’re his ma. Later, after he’s asleep and you’ve had a few hours to rest, then you can come back. Susanna told me she has been helping you for a long time and knows everything you do. We’ll wrangle this place into shape and then start cooking and baking. Tomorrow, after my chores at the livery are done, I’ll stop back to help.”