Her Montana Man (7 page)

of you remember Dr. Black. He was a godsend to the Sutherlands. I still miss him as I’m sure many of

you do.”

Neighbors nodded in agreement.

Her gaze found Jonas standing beside George Atwell. Jonas nodded in recognition.

“More recently,” she continued, “over the past couple of years, Dr. McKee was Jenny’s doctor. She

trusted him, and he did all he could to make her more comfortable. Dr. McKee, you have a kind heart.”

Hands in pockets, Kerwin McKee looked at his shoes. The man next to him nudged his shoulder.

“I’d like you to have my father’s desk set,” Eliza told him. “It’s carved teakwood and there’s a humidor

and some other pieces that can sit on your office desk.”

“No call for that, Miss Eliza Jane,” the doctor said.

“No argument. Jenny would want you to have it,” Eliza told him. “So do I.”

Continuing, Eliza turned to her friend. “You all probably know what a godsend Nora has been to my

family. She was always here for my mother. She helped Jenny and me through our father’s illness. I

couldn’t have made it through without her. There’s no way to say thank you for such selflessness.”

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Tears welled up in Nora’s eyes. Her husband came and stood beside her and put his arm around her

waist. “Your mama was my dearest friend,” she said with a sniffle, and took a hankie from her pocket to

dab her nose. “She would have been so proud of you.”

Eliza ignored the emotions that tried to undermine her purpose. She had to save herself and Tyler, and

she was going to do it right. “I have a little something for you, too, Nora. Just so you know how much

you are loved by the Sutherlands.”

Eliza walked several feet into the hallway, and a few people moved aside to make way for her. She

reached up and took the Horace Vernet painting from where it hung on a cord from the crown molding

and carried it to Nora. “You always admired this. We want you to have it.”

The observers murmured and a few whispered.

Nora looked at Eliza with surprise, but genuine pleasure touched her wary features. “What a generous

gift!” she said with a tearful smile. “I never dreamed to own something so lovely.”

“Well, it’s yours.” Eliza glanced at the nearby faces, seeing smiles and a few tears. Her gaze moved

unerringly until she found Royce standing stiffly near the dining room doorway. He wore a fierce scowl,

and his neck was brick-red against the white collar of his starched shirt. She remembered his hand at her

throat and his smug pleasure at robbing her. She could still do something to save herself.

“Since rumors spread so quickly,” she said, deliberately allowing her gaze to linger on her brother-in-law

for a moment before looking away. “I’d like all of you to hear this firsthand. Tyler and I will be going to

stay at the hotel temporarily. My sister is no longer here, and Nora won’t be at the house daily. It would

be inappropriate for my brother-in-law and I to live under the same roof without a chaperone.

“I don’t wish to burden my brother-in-law with domestic concerns, so Tyler will attend school as usual

and I will care for him as always.

“We haven’t had time to make any definite plans or sort things out, and…Well, the truth is, I need some

time away from this place where all my memories are so fresh.” Eliza didn’t have to fake the tremor of

emotion that wavered in her voice.

“Of course you do, dear,” Miss Fletcher said. “You’ll have plenty of time to decide what to do after the

two of you have observed a mourning period.”

Eliza nodded, and with quiet words of encouragement, the other guests agreed.

Edward Phillips, the banker, turned to Royce and laid a hand on his shoulder. Royce drew his ominous

stare from Eliza, and Luther Vernon blocked her view.

She had never been sure what position Luther held to earn his place on Sutherland Brick’s payroll. He

never dressed like a factory worker and most often accompanied Royce. But all of her questions about

the operations of the business had been met with contemptuous instructions to stay out of Royce’s way.

She’d won this hand. She’d bought herself a couple of months at the most. Royce couldn’t defy her

public decision to observe propriety, but he would be biding his time until the allotted weeks of mourning

had passed. And then he would play his trump card. By then Eliza needed to have a better plan. There

was still time to set aside some cash for train fare and travel—if she could get a job.

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There was one person she could ask to help her find a job and keep it a secret from Royce. Her gaze

sought and found him. He appeared to be listening to Reverend Miller, but his awareness was focused on

her.

She was placing her last hope on Jonas Black.

Jonas paused in the hallway. A torrent of complaints, punctuated by the clattering of pots and pans,

streamed from the kitchen at the back of the hotel on the ground floor.

“Told ya she’s been howlin’ like that for half an hour,” Quay told him. “Phoebe came and got me, but I

barely got m’ head inside the door afore she started throwing skillets.”

Jonas glanced at the massive door, wishing he could just leave until the storm passed. He had to be the

one to assuage Lilibelle’s temper however. “I’ve got this. You go check in the delivery that’s pulling up in

the alley.”

“Thanks, boss.” Quay lit out before Jonas could say another word.

Jonas glanced at his pocket watch, relieved that breakfast guests were well on their way for the day and

there were no guests in the foyer or dining room. He strode along the polished oak floors until he reached

the kitchen door. After only a momentary pause, he pushed it open.

“What’s all the racket about, Lily? You’ve sent the girls runnin’ for cover. Is it your intent to chase off

the kitchen help?”

“It’s my intent to prepare salmon steaks with mustard sauce for supper this evening, but I can’t make

salmon steaks if I don’t have salmon!” Lilibelle gestured wildly with the wooden spoon she held. The

starched white apron that covered her ample bosom and rounded belly drew attention to the fact that not

only was she twice the size of any other person who worked in the kitchen, but twice as clean. Lilibelle

Grimshaw cooked for the hotel dining room, and she was a stickler for setting and following rules, and

that included menu plans.

“I do see your dilemma,” Jonas said with all seriousness. “That would be the recipe with parsley and

butter I like so well?”

“The
very
one!” She struck the spoon against the cast-iron stove and it shot out of her hold to flip in the

air and clatter on the smooth oak floor. “The train’s come and gone and Pool tells me they didn’t bring

the salmon. I sent him off to the telegraph office with a piece of my mind.”

“Well, the supplier deserves that, if not worse for disappointin’ you.” Jonas walked around the long

worktable that separated him from the cook and stooped to pick up a kettle, then glanced at the open

back door and the crates outside. “What
did
they deliver?”

“Duck!” she shouted and slammed a skillet on the worktable.

“I guess duck is a lot more difficult to prepare than salmon,” he said, as though wondering.

“Duck needs to be roasted slowly,” she replied, then turned to pick up a white towel and dab her red

face with the damp corners.

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“How do you make that sauce that goes on it?”

“With grated orange peel and wine, a little Worcestershire and cayenne. It’s not all that tough.”

“That’s sounding awfully tasty to be truthful. And your rice always turns out just right.”

She picked up the wooden spoon from the floor with a grunt and mumbled.

“I’m thinking duck would be a good choice for this evenin’,” he told her. “You can make salmon once

that incompetent warehouse puts your order together correctly. I’ll handle that myself.”

“They should reduce the cost for the inconvenience,” she said with a haughty flick of her pudgy fingers.

“I’ll see that they do.”

“Get on about your day then, and let me get to work on dinner,” she told him. “Where are those silly

girls who are supposed to be peeling apples?”

“I do believe you scared ’em all away, Lily. Remember some of these girls have been boxed around a

mite. They take to cover when tempers flare and things start flyin’.” He fixed her with a square look.

She acquiesced to his wisdom with a quick nod and a grimace. “If you see the shrinking violets out

there, tell ’em I’m not going to bite their heads off,” she replied.

“I’ll tell ’em.” Jonas skirted the back hall and dining room, finding Yvonne and Nadine folding napkins

and making themselves as small as possible. “Apologies for that,” he said, jerking a thumb over his

shoulder.

“She’s calmed down now. Give her a couple more minutes and then act like nothin’ ever happened. You

okay?”

Both women nodded, and Jonas offered them an apologetic nod before grabbing his hat and heading for

the door.

In the wide foyer, a woman stood at the front desk, a stack of colorful hatboxes at her feet. His heart

recognized Eliza Jane with a burst of pumping blood before his eyes registered the fact with his brain.

“Miss Sutherland?”

She turned. “Good morning.”

“Didn’t expect you so soon.” Her sister’s funeral had only been the day before.

She glanced at Ward, the man who handled the desk and guests. He had filled out a few lines in the

registry book, and then turned to search for a key. “I’m prone to facing what needs to be done,” she

said.

“We have somethin’ in common then. How’s Tyler?”

“He was quiet this morning. He wanted to go to school, and I saw no reason to hold him out if he was

up to it.”

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“Takes after you by gettin’ on with things.”

“Perhaps.”

“Let me help you with the rest of your things.”

“There’s a wagon out front,” she told him.

“Are there a couple of strong men aboard?” he asked with a grin.

“I often travel with several strong men at a time,” she replied, “but today I brought only one. Will he

do?”

“Reckon that depends on the size of your trunks.”

“My trunks have been known to make grown men cry,” she told him. “Perhaps you’ll want to send for

reinforcements.”

His gaze went from her twinkling eyes to Ward, who by now was dangling the room key above the

counter.

“You go open the door to room…” Jonas paused.

“Twenty,” Ward replied.

“Room twenty,” Jonas repeated, “and I’ll do my best not to cry.”

She smiled, apparently amused with their banter. “I shall be waiting. On which floor will I find room

twenty?”

“The third,” Ward and Jonas said at the same time.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy the view,” she added.

Jonas headed outside. Indeed, if six trunks were any indication, she’d brought enough to stay several

weeks, if not months. He eyeballed the smallest one, thinking to warm up to the largest, but the lad

who’d been waiting on the curb jumped into the back of the wagon and drew that particular piece of

luggage toward him.

“Third floor,” Jonas told the young man, then wrestled a trunk onto his shoulder.

By the time they’d both made two trips, they looked at each other, and in silent agreement, each took a

handle and shared the weight.

“One more,” he said to Eliza Jane on the way out of the room again, trying not to wheeze as he said it.

He and the driver of the wagon looked at each other again. “Last one,” Jonas said.

“The last,” the boy agreed. Perspiration shone on his upper lip. They had to set down the trunk on the

first landing to catch their breath. Then again at the top of the stairs. Both put on their poker faces and

carried their burden into Eliza Jane’s room as though it was the first.

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She handed the boy several coins and thanked him. He left with a sideways look at Jonas, leaving the

door standing open.

She’d rented one of the larger rooms, one with two beds and a sitting area, a gateleg table and writing

desk. A braided rug and two chairs sat before a brick fireplace.

“I never knew what a nice hotel you owned here,” she told him. “I’ve eaten in the dining room, of

course, but I’ve never seen the rooms.”

“They’re not all this grand. You asked for a big one.”

“I put the bill on the company tab.”

“No problem there.” He started for the door. “I’ll leave you to your unpackin’. If you have need of

anythin’, just let Ward know.”

“Jonas.”

He liked the sound of his name when she said it. He stopped and turned back. “Miss?”

“I’d like to speak with you. Please.”

The door was still open to the hall behind him. If anyone passed in the hallway, there would be no

speculation. “What is it?”

She took off her straw hat and looked for a place to set it. She found a peg just inside the door, but

hanging it brought her closer to where he stood.

Her hair was black and shiny, and today she wore it in a loose knot, with a curling length hanging down

her back. She’d somehow nestled in a nosegay of tiny pastel paper flowers. Foolish of him to notice such