Her Montana Man (11 page)

“Eight-thirty or thereabouts,” she replied.

“Will you get me that water and then a cup of coffee, please?”

“Want me to reheat it?”

He shook his head, and then realized she wasn’t looking at him. “No.”

“Right away.” She shot out the door and returned with the pitcher, her face turned away. “Here ya go.”

She set the pitcher on his bureau and fled, the outer door slamming behind her.

Jonas poured the tepid water into the ironstone bowl, dipped a cloth, washed and dried. Everything

took longer using his left hand. He finally worked up lather in his shaving cup and dabbed it on his face.

Awkwardly, he picked up the razor, got it open and made a first attempt to scrape it over his beard,

nicking himself with the first stroke. He hissed as a knock sounded at the door.

“C’mon in,” he called. “Set it out there, I’ll come get it.”

“Come get what?” Eliza headed toward the sound of Jonas’s voice. She’d cleaned last night, and started

on the ledgers early this morning. There were a few things she needed to clarify before she finalized the

numbers.

Entering his room, she stopped in her tracks. Jonas stood in front of the massive bureau. The first thing

she noticed was the length of his legs, followed by the arresting shape of his bare backside and the width

of his broad shoulders. Her heart chugged to a halt at the same time her feet stopped moving.

An oak frame suspended the mirror in which she saw his lathered face, dark eyes staring back at her,

and the image of a rock-solid chest. Her heart started up again, but at a breakneck speed.

“What is this, the Union Pacific station this morning?” he asked.

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“You said to come in!”

“I thought you were Francine!” He swished the razor in a bowl of water and shook his head.

The red-haired housekeeper was welcome to walk into his bedroom while he was buck naked?

“Not like that!” he added. “I mean I thought you’d stop out there!”

“You said come in!” she repeated.

They’d been shouting at each other since she’d spotted him and he’d recognized her.

“She’s bringing coffee,” he explained.

Eliza turned on her heel and shot into the sitting room, the image of his sleekly muscled body foremost in

her mind. The picture would be lodged there for the rest of her life.

“Eliza Jane?” he called.

“I’m going down to the office.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

“Take your time.” She fled into the hall and leaned against the wall, her hand pressed to her breast, her

face hot.

Francine approached carrying a tray holding a cup of coffee and a covered plate. They looked at each

other. Did Jonas have something going on with this young woman?

“Did you just walk in there?” Francine asked with wide-eyed concern.

Eliza’s head felt light. She nodded.

“Was Mr. Black out of bed?”

Mr. Black?

“He certainly was.”

“Is he mad?”

“I think so.”

Francine nodded. “Want to take this tray in?”

Eliza shook her head.

“Will you stand right there while I do?”

“Okay.”

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Francine balanced the tray and knocked. She opened the door and called in, “I’ve got your tray, Mr.

Black! I’m bringing it in now.”

The wariness in her voice amused Eliza, and the humor in the situation struck her. “Did you walk in there

earlier?”

Francine looked back. “I thought he was gone and I went to make his bed. He was still lyin’in it.” She

called into the room, “I’m setting your tray on the table out here. Your coffee’s nice and hot.”

“Thanks,” he returned. “Let’s forget this mornin’, can we?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Black. Done forgot it already.”

She hurried back to the hall, pulling the door closed behind her. She looked at Eliza, and Eliza saw the

worry drain from her face. Francine pursed her lips as though holding back a smile.

Laughter welled up in Eliza at the same time. They both turned and ran for the stairway before humor got

the best of them. They held it in all the way down the stairs, round the bend in the landing, but their

laughter burst out by the time they reached the kitchen.

Eliza laughed until tears ran down her cheeks, and she held her aching side. The release felt wonderful.

She hadn’t laughed so hard in a good many years, and felt a trifle guilty that it was at Jonas’s expense

that she did so now.

“What’s so all-fired hilarious?” Lilibelle asked from where she stood, stirring something in a kettle on the

stove. “I could use a little humor.”

Francine straightened, wiped her eyes on her apron and composed herself, but a grin remained on her

face as she cleaned up the table where she’d apparently made Jonas’s breakfast.

Eliza didn’t answer Lilibelle, either, instead taking a deep breath. With a new spring in her step, she

headed for the foyer and the clean office where her paperwork waited.

onas showed up half an hour later, freshly shaven, red nicks dotting his jaw. She’d been waiting for him

with her stomach aquiver. How could she look him in the eye and not die of mortification? How would

she
ever
look at him and not imagine him just the way she’d seen him? How would she ever stop thinking

about Jonas wearing nothing but shaving lather?

“You cut yourself,” were the first words out of her mouth.

“I shaved left-handed.”

“I could have…” She started to say
helped you,
but then realized the folly of that thought on top of the

embarrassing incident.

“What do you say we discuss the mornin’ and then put it behind us, so that every time we look at each

other, you don’t blush and look away?”

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She placed the pen in its marble holder, folded her hands one atop the other and looked him square in

the eye. “What is there to say?”

Now that she’d given him her full attention, he flattened his lips in a line and then pursed them, the

expression making her suspect he wasn’t so sure he knew how to address this particular situation. The

cuts he’d dotted with alum still stung, but nothing like the pain that throbbed in his arm and shoulder.

“Do you want an apology?” she asked.

“No.” He looked aside briefly and then at her. “
I’m
sorry for your discomfort.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” she assured him. “I didn’t have the vapors, I won’t be having nightmares, and I

won’t ignore you. I’m quite all right.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

He gave a satisfied nod. “Good.”

“It’s a good thing you practiced your apology on me, however, since you’ll be presenting it again.”

He picked up on her reference. “I need to apologize to Francine, too?”

“I’m thinking of starting a ladies’ society,” she answered. “Women who’ve seen Jonas Black naked.

There are two of us already. If we ask around, I’m sure we can recruit more.”

His dark eyes widened momentarily, and then he laughed. “That was a shockin’ thing for a respectable

lady to say,” he told her, but he was still chuckling.

She couldn’t resist laughing herself. His surprise at her unexpected arrival was funny, after all. “Well, it

made you laugh, and you were taking yourself far too seriously. Can we get on with the payroll figures

now?”

And that easily, the morning’s incident was relegated to a matter they had laughed about.

As they worked, Jonas listened to her suggestions and asked her opinion more than once. It was

impossible not to compare his easy acceptance and respect for her ideas to her father’s bullheaded

certainty that she wasn’t capable of anything more than following directions.

When they broke for lunch, he invited her to join him in the dining room. She asked him a question about

a particular delivery that had been a problem a few days earlier.

“That’s work, and this is lunch.” His smile was a little strained, and she guessed his arm was bothering

him.

Ward appeared at the doorway, Luther Vernon beside him. Ward spotted them at their table and

pointed. Luther headed for them. He was a big man, and the black suit he wore with a white shirt had to

have been custom-made for his frame.

“Someone’s here,” she alerted Jonas as he approached.

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Looking up, Jonas set down his fork. “Afternoon, Mr. Vernon.”

Luther held his hat in one hand, a folded piece of paper in the other. “Black.”

“Got somethin’ for me?”

He held out the paper. “I have a message for Miss Sutherland.”

Eliza wiped her fingers on her napkin and took it from him.

“I’ll wait for your answer.”

Eliza turned the paper over, recognizing the parchment and the seal as the same her father had always

used. The sight made her miss him at the same time it jabbed a splinter of fear into her heart. Royce had

taken over everything in her life that had once been good, and he had twisted it into something despised.

She slid her fingers beneath the fold, broke the wax and opened the missive.

I’ll be joining you in the dining hall for supper at seven sharp. See that Tyler is in bed for the night. I

won’t have his schedule disrupted.

At Royce’s demand, resentment rose up strong. He’d probably written this from the comfort of her

father’s chair, even using the man’s pen while posing as someone important. A real man had to earn

respect, and Royce didn’t have it in him to earn anything more than disgust. He controlled people, rather

than led them. Fear tempered Eliza’s indignation and she took a calming breath.

She glanced up at Jonas, who seemed curious, but who had politely looked down to study his plate.

Luther stood waiting.

Royce knew she wouldn’t refuse. He was still controlling her, even though she’d moved from the house.

She couldn’t defy him. The secret he wielded like a loaded gun had the power to destroy her life. He’d

become a man of influence in this town, the man holding the Sutherland purse strings. He reveled in the

power it gave him. “Tell him I’ll be waiting at seven.”

Luther turned and headed for the door.

Eliza placed the note in her pocket. “My brother-in-law will be joining me for supper.”

“He probably misses his boy.”

She said nothing, but noticed Jonas had only picked at the steaming chicken and noodles on his plate.

Eliza reached over and placed the backs of her fingers against his cheek.

Jonas glanced up in surprise.

“You’re warm,” she told him. “You should be resting.”

“I do feel a mite tuckered, that’s for sure,” he replied.

“Why don’t you go lie down after lunch? Lock the door,” she added.

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After a halfhearted smile, he drank from a glass of water and glanced around the room at the serving

girls and the customers. “Solid idea.”

Eliza finished her meal, and then the two of them left the room, Jonas heading for the stairs.

Her reaction to that note or invitation or whatever it had been was disturbing. Her demeanor had

changed the instant she’d seen Vernon. Jonas grew increasingly curious about Eliza Jane every time he

observed something like that. She’d been wary around him at first, but he liked the fact that she seemed

comfortable now. She even teased and occasionally stood up to him. It bothered him that there were

things he didn’t know about her. He had no right to pry, but he could sure observe. He planned to keep

an eye on her and on all the activities going on around here…but for now he needed to rest.

Eliza asked Ada if Tyler could spend an hour or so with her boys that evening, and the woman was glad

to accommodate them. “How far do you live from the hotel?” Eliza asked.

“Our house is behind Doc and Etta’s,” Ada told her.

“It faces east on Birch Street. But Daniel can see he gets home.”

“No, I’m sure a walk will do me good after supper.” Once she was certain that sending Tyler home with

them would be no trouble, Eliza thanked her.

For the rest of the afternoon, whenever Eliza thought of Royce, she felt sick. The hotel dining room was

a public place, she assured herself. Her brother-in-law cared about appearances, and he would use this

opportunity to make them look like two people sharing their grief.

“He’s not worth the nickel it would cost to put a bullet in his head,” she said aloud, shocking herself with

her train of thought and her fierce animosity. For Tyler’s sake, she had to control her feelings.

She was still telling herself that a few hours later, as she stood brushing out her hair while Tyler sat at the

desk. He finished adding the numbers on his slate and turned it so she could see the sum.

“You’re such a bright and clever fellow,” she told him, walking over to cradle his chin and rub her thumb

against his freckled cheekbone.

“Mama always said that,” he told her. He laid down the slate and chalk and stared at the desktop. “I

miss Mama. An’ I miss my room.”

Eliza knelt where he sat and urged him to turn and face her. She placed her hands on his knees and

looked into his blue eyes, now swimming with tears. “I know you do, sweetie. I miss her, too.”

A tear rolled down his cheek and sliced another shred from her already-ragged heart. “You won’t get