Before the Larkspur Blooms (24 page)

“Of course.”
Home.
He pushed the sentiment away.

At the top of the stairs, they passed the open door to Roberta’s bedroom, where she sat in her night coat, reading. She closed the book, then stood. Her forehead creased and her mouth twisted as she recognized Thom carrying her grandson.

I
n here,” Hannah whispered. She pulled back Markus’s quilt and plumped his pillow. As Thom held the child, Hannah pulled off his boots. Thom laid him on the bed and stepped back, fully aware of Roberta hovering in the doorway. He could feel her eyes boring a hate-filled hole in his back.

Deftly, Hannah stripped the tyke of his pants, socks, and shirt, and then tucked the blanket around him. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek and traced a little cross on his forehead.

She turned and murmured, “They’re only little for such a short time. Sometimes I don’t want him to get any older.” Roberta harrumphed from the doorway, causing a tiny smile to pull Hannah’s lips up. “May as well face the music,” she whispered, her eyes searching his.

“May as well.”

They turned in unison, walked out of the room, and he closed the door with a soft click.

Roberta stepped back and then followed them down the stairs.

“Mother, you needn’t stay up to visit with us. Tomorrow is the day you help in the restaurant. You don’t want to be tired.”

“Yes, Hannah, I know,” she said, hurrying past and going into the kitchen. “I just want to make myself a cup of tea.” She disappeared into the other room.

“Can you stay a moment?”

“Hannah.”

“Just a moment, I promise.”

Feeling more than a bit uncomfortable, he sat on the sofa. She sat, too, with a good, respectable space between them. Sounds of clinking and clanking from the kitchen made him chuckle.

“I know, I know,” she whispered. “She’s still the exact same.”

“I don’t know how you stand it.”

Hannah’s eyes gleamed with merriment. “She’s my mother. I have to stand it.”

He shrugged. “I guess that’s so.”

“Would either of you like a cup?” Roberta called. “Water will be hot soon.”

“No, thank you,” they replied in unison.

“She must have had the water hot from before,” Hannah said. “Now, she’s having another cup just to act as chaperone.” She settled back against the cushions, getting comfortable. “Now that the roof on the mercantile and Maude’s rental are finished, what will you do? Spend more time at the livery?”

Thom leaned back and crossed his feet at the ankles, resting one arm along the backside of the sofa. “That was my plan. Then yesterday, Albert came by and asked if I’d like to help on the construction of the depot when they get started. Right now, they’re cutting lumber and digging the foundation. There’ll be several men from the Union Pacific directing and helping, so it shouldn’t take all that long.”

She sat forward excitedly. “That’s wonderful. You’re meeting all kinds of new people, making contacts. Won’t be long before you’re not a stranger in town anymore.”

He gave her a skeptical look, knowing what she was trying to do. “Maude really helped me get a leg up, and now this. I have to say I’m very grateful.”

“Just what are you grateful for, Mr. Donovan? After all that’s happened to you, I can’t imagine you being thankful for anything.” Roberta came shuffling out of the kitchen, unmindful of the woolen socks on her feet and blue housecoat. She held a teacup
between her hands. Easing into the chair opposite them, she set the cup carefully on the table.

Hannah gave her a pointed look. “Mother.”

“I’ve been hired on to help build the new railroad depot west of the festival grounds,” Thom said.

Roberta tipped her head up and raised an eyebrow. “We can see the depot from here. There’s a lot of activity going on.” She cleared her throat.

He nodded. “Did I tell you, Hannah, even Win is primping up the livery?” he added, struggling for something to say. “Yesterday we built a small enclosure up close to Main Street on the west side of the livery barn. It’s for the two pet buffalo, sort of an attraction for travelers. Everyone coming from the train depot will have to pass by. Win hopes they’ll become the town mascots, so to speak.”

Hannah’s approving nod encouraged Thom to go on.

“He said there’s fascination with bison, especially since they’re disappearing from the prairies.”

Roberta sniffed loudly. “The day those smelly creatures become our town symbol is the day I move out of Logan Meadows.” She sipped her tea. “It’s bad enough that on warm days I have to close my windows. Now, you say I’m going to have to see the object of my irritation every day as well? I’ll have to talk with Frank about that tomorrow.”

“You could take the long way around, Mother. So you wouldn’t have to pass them. The doctor
did
tell you to get more exercise each day.”

Great
, Thom thought. Now, he’d gone and made trouble for Win. “They’ll get moved out back each evening, Mrs. Brown. I can’t see that being a hundred feet closer would make that much difference.”

“You wouldn’t, Mr. Donovan, but I do.”

“Thom.”

Roberta leaned back in surprise as if trying to figure him out. “Excuse me?”

“Thom. You should call me that.”

Hannah’s mother set her cup on the table with a rattling thud and stood. Thom blinked. Her image wavered before his eyes, making his stomach queasy. He looked away. Jammed his finger and thumb into his eyes.

“Thom?” Hannah’s voice held concern. “Are you all right?”

Not wanting to make a scene, Thom opened his eyes. The outer edges of his sight were dim, fuzzy. He blinked and then smiled into Hannah’s face.

“I guess falling down today knocked some sense out of me. I’m fine. Just a nagging headache coming on.”

Roberta stepped over to the sofa and sat on his other side. She placed a warm palm on his forehead. “You fell today, Mr. Donovan? Did you hit your head?”

O
n the back porch, Chase pulled a chair over to another so he and Jessie could sit side by side. She was wound as tight as a spring after the close call they’d had with Shane. His son and daughter were now peacefully asleep in their beds, but he was sure it would be hours before he and Jessie were that lucky.

“Go on and sit,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He went to the parlor and took two small crystal glasses from the sideboard and filled each with a good portion of sherry. The aroma drifted up, making his taste buds tingle. The bottle had been a gift from Frank three years ago, when they’d moved back to Logan Meadows and onto the ranch. They used it sparingly and only on special occasions.
Tonight is one indeed
, he thought, glancing at Shane’s room. He carried the dainty, slim-stemmed glasses with care onto the back porch.

“For you,” he said, handing a glass to Jessie.

“Thank you.”

He sat. They sipped, lost in their own thoughts.

He took another, smiling to himself when Jessie did the same. It was a rare occasion when she took any spirits at all.

“That tastes good,” she said. “Warm.”

He grunted. The field out back rolled down the gently sloping hill to a flat spot where a small fork of the South Laramie flowed shallow a few months out of the year. Spring runoff from the mountains had it gushing, but come summer it dried to a bed of
rocks. The main barn and several corrals were in the front of the ranch, a pretty picture for arriving or departing guests.

“You all right, Jess?” She was still, except for the rise and fall of her chest and the occasional lifting of the glass to her lips.

“Yes. Just thinking.”

“I know.”

“I couldn’t have stood it, Chase. If something were to happen to Shane, I’d die myself. I couldn’t go on.”

“Don’t talk like that. Nothing is going to happen to him. Or anyone.” He set his glass on the railing and took her hand in his own, feeling it quiver. “But if something
did
happen—you
would
go on. That’s a fact. I don’t ever want to hear you say different again.”

An owl hooted down in the draw, followed by the yip of a coyote.

The breeze lifted her hair, and it shimmered in the moonlight. “You cold?” he asked.

“Not bad. This sherry is doing the trick and warming me from the inside out.” She gave a small laugh, and he smiled.

“It does have a way of doing that.” He stood.

“Where’re you going?”

“Never you mind.”

Chase entered the kitchen and crossed the main room to their bedroom. Opening the dresser, he rummaged around, looking for Jessie’s shawl. As he took it from the drawer, a letter fluttered to the floor, coming to rest haphazardly on his boot.

It was a letter from the orphanage, from Mrs. Hobbs. He’d never met the woman, and from Jessie’s stories, he didn’t want to either.

He bent and picked it up.
It’s not opened.

Curious, he went back to her drawer. Pushing some hankies, a bonnet, and one unmentionable aside, he looked around. He was a bit shocked to find a letter she’d received several months back, opened, and another one still intact.
Why wouldn’t she open the
others? Letters? Unopened letters?
He turned them over, looking for some clue.

A chill crept up his spine. What was this about? He looked at the postmark. It had arrived this week, the other two, months before. He shoved the letters in his back pocket and picked up the shawl.

Jessie collected the two empty glasses, intending to take them inside. She was uneasy. Not in a mood to sit out here alone, pondering today and all the things that could have gone wrong.

Chase stepped out as she reached for the door. “Whoa, where you off to? I just got your shawl.”

“I’m not in the mood to sit and talk, Chase. I need to do something. Keep moving.”

“Oh, it’s not all that bad.” He took the glasses from her hands and set them down. She let him drape her favorite black-and-pink shawl, a gift from him, over her shoulders. “There. Now, come sit on my lap. That’s not negotiable, Mrs. Logan. I’m telling, not asking.”

It was a game they played. He’d never bully her into doing something she didn’t want to do, so at times, this was their way of avoiding a fight. If one or the other said it was not negotiable, the other complied, no questions asked. And who knew, perhaps he felt as restless as she did and needed a little comforting himself but was too proud to ask.

He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, settling her in. His warmth cocooned her in safety, and she rested her head against his large, firm chest.

Chase.

My husband.

She ran her hand down the front of his shirt and back up, enjoying the feel beneath her fingertips.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes. This was a good idea.” There was nothing an embrace wouldn’t fix. The owl hooted again, familiar and soothing. “I feel better already.”

“Good. We aim to please.” He chuckled, and the rumble against her ear sent a ripple of warmth to her belly. She was safe. The children were safe. Chase wouldn’t let
anything
happen.

“Tomorrow’s going to come early. You tired?” he asked.