Before the Larkspur Blooms (11 page)

“Jake, be reasonable. Lots of men don’t know who their fathers are. Why—”

“Save it for someone who cares, because I don’t.”

The bar doors swung open then, and Rome Littleton strode into the room. After a quick glance around and a silent nod to Jake and Gabe, he approached the bar. He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and placed it on the bar. “Where’s Kendall?”

“Emptying the trash,” Jake said, wrestling with his anger.

Gabe leaned in close, keeping his voice low. “Look at Chase and the good life he’s built for himself. He told me he took his name from this town, when he got tired of not having a last name. He never knew either of his parents.”

“I know that.” And he did. The story had helped him three years ago, but it couldn’t stop the thing deep inside that was eating him up. A longing for things that could never be. Things like respect. That was something Jake was going to have to earn for himself. “You about finished?”

Gabe stepped back. The spot on his jaw had turned red. “Yeah.” He walked out.

Rome gave Jake a quizzical look. “Buy you a drink?”

Jake nodded. Slid closer, anger rolling around inside.

Rome chuckled. “Shrug it off, Jake. Whatever the problem is can’t be that bad.”

Kendall was back, and he pulled an expensive bottle off a lower shelf under the bar. “Your usual, Rome?” He set a glass on the bar and poured, then filled Jake’s at Rome’s direction. Rome’s clothes were new; his boots looked expensive. The other men seemed to respect the loner from New Meringue.

“Like I said, shake it off. As you get older, you’ll find friendship is overrated. Doesn’t mean squat. It’s what someone can do for you; now that’s important. Figure out how you can work your disagreement with Gabe to your advantage.”

Jake glanced over to find Rome smiling at him, as if gauging his reaction to what he had just said. Suddenly the quiet saloon was suffocating. Jake glanced at his glass as an eerie feeling snaked down his spine. Without saying a word, he tossed it back and walked out.

T
hom circled around to the hitching post and his sleeping horse. The street was quiet. In his hands he carried the rectangular dish Hannah had offered as he’d exited the back door of the restaurant after fixing the water pump. Dwight had hovered the whole time and had even tried to interfere when Hannah approached him with it, but she’d turned on him like a she-wolf protecting her pups. Thom stifled a smile at the image.

Next door, the mercantile was dark, save for one lantern that illuminated Maude Miller inside sweeping up. He hesitated for a moment at the closed sign, then advanced and knocked on the glass. It took the old woman a moment to realize she wasn’t alone.

“Yes? Who is it?” she called as she leaned the broom on the long wooden counter. She looked out and took a step back when she recognized him.

“Hello, Mrs. Miller?” he said through the glass. “It’s Thomas Donovan.” He smiled, trying to put her at ease, but he could tell she was frightened. Probably thought he wanted to rob her or something. “I don’t know if you remember me. My mother was Katherine Donovan.” His family used to have an account at the store, but Hannah had said his mother had closed it after his father had died. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I was kept late at work. Do you think I might impose on you for a moment? It won’t take long.”

Her hand went to the white collar of her blue-and-tan dress, and her fingers moved nervously as the moments ticked by. It was
no use. He gave a little wave. “Thanks, anyway.” Feeling low, he turned to go.

He was almost to his horse when he heard the door open. “Mr. Donovan.” She widened the door a few inches but kept her foot behind it—just in case. “What was it you needed?”

He stayed where he was on the boardwalk. “I noticed today that you had a crate of pullets out back. And another of cockerels.”

“That’s correct.”

“I’d like to purchase three females and one male.”

She looked at him for a long minute, as if weighing the risk. “How would you pay for them?”

“Win Preston said he was going to come by and set up an account that would allow me to charge a few things until I got my first month’s pay. Did he do that?”

Her eyes widened, and her shoulders seemed to relax a little. “Why, yes. He did in fact do that yesterday, now that you mention it.” He thought she gave a little laugh, but he wasn’t sure. “I’m getting on in age, you know. If you stay put, I’ll catch up what you’re after and be right back.”

Thom waited next to his horse, cradling the ceramic pot from Hannah in one arm like a baby. It was slightly warm and smelled tempting, the rich aroma torturing his empty stomach. The door to the mercantile opened, and Mrs. Miller emerged with a gunnysack. The gray bag writhed as if alive, and fearful clucking filled the air. She handed it to him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome.”

She held out a small white bag. “A little surprise for you. No fair peeking.”

Warmth seeped through Thom’s chest.

“Go on now,” she prompted. “You don’t want to keep them in the bag for too long. Poultry traumatize easily.”

Thom hurried around to the left side of his horse. “Thank you, Mrs. Miller,” he said, slipping into the stirrup and mounting
awkwardly with all the things he had to carry. “You have a good evening.”

Thom stabled his mount in the small shed behind the inn and tossed the horse an armload of hay. He glanced about, looking for Ivan. Had the dog chewed through the rope and run back to the farm? With trepidation, he covered the ground to the porch and gently set the gunnysack in one of the rocking chairs. The chirping stopped, as if the young poultry sensed they were in new surroundings.

Kicking his boots clean, he opened the front door and stepped inside, instantly seduced by the scent of freshly baked bread. Mrs. Hollyhock turned from the stove, and Ivan, lying next to the fire, jumped up and ran to his side. It wasn’t a moment before the dog smelled the poultry on the porch and dashed to the door, barking.

Thom set the dish down and grabbed for his collar.

“Was Ivan a problem today?” he asked as Mrs. Hollyhock made her way over.

“I went out to check on his water, and he gave me the most sorrowful face.” Her tone was gruff, but her eyes crinkled at the corners and her lips tipped up. “I felt guilty leaving him out.”

“You needn’t worry about him.”

“I know. Now come eat.”

He picked up Hannah’s dish and gave it to Mrs. Hollyhock. “From Mrs. Hoskins for fixing her water pump.”

Violet removed the lid. “Bless that child.” She looked up at him with twinkling eyes. “Cottage pie. The whole county wants to know how they make it. There’s something just a mite different in the flavor—and for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.”

Thom led Ivan back to his spot by the hearth and told him to lie down and stay. The table was set for three, and a little flame
danced on top of a candle between their plates. There was an extra place set at every meal, and Thom had grown so used to it that he no longer gave it a second thought. Everyone was entitled to their secrets. “I hope you went ahead and ate your supper.”

She stirred something in a pot. “No. We’ll eat together. It’s potato soup and a fresh loaf of bread. Now, cottage pie, too.”

“I’m pretty rank.” He gestured to his clothes as he washed his hands at the sink. “I can take a quick splash in the creek. I promise to be fast.”

She waved off his concern. “You’re fine. Later, I’ll heat some water for a proper bath.”

Thom slipped the small bag from Mrs. Miller onto an empty chair as the rich aroma wafting from the stove made his mouth water. He thought of Hannah, her arms up to her elbows in bubbles, and it made him smile. Her flushed face had brightened seeing him instead of Win coming to fix her pump.

Ivan whined and looked to the door. Without getting up, the dog slowly inched closer, like a sneaky child.

“
Ivan
,” Thom said, sternly. “You stay.”

“That beast has been jist fine since I brought him in. Been lying by the fire as quiet as a mole. Wonder what has his dander up? Maybe he needs ta go out.” She raised an eyebrow knowingly.

Thom quickly sat at the table. He didn’t want the dog to spoil the surprise. If Ivan got the chance to get to the chickens, all heck would break loose. “I’ll take him out as soon as we eat. He can wait a few moments. My stomach is about to wear a hole right through.” She gave him a funny look. Thom flipped his napkin open and put it in his lap. With a slight turn of his body, he shot the dog a surreptitious glare. The shepherd dropped his head between his paws but didn’t take his eyes off the door.

Thom picked up Hannah’s dish and passed it. “Ladies first.”

Mrs. Hollyhock smiled and opened her mouth to respond, but before she could Ivan jumped up, bounded to the door, and began
digging energetically at the base. He let go a long, pleading whine followed by a bark.

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.”