Love Inspired Historical November 2014 (61 page)

Agnes entered the kitchen. “Thank you for doing those for me. You know, you really do too much.” She pulled a clean mug out of the cupboard. “When you get done with those, why don't you sit down and have a cup of tea with me. I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes before we have to get busy again.”

Leah dried the pot and put it away. She picked up the washbasin and carried the dirty water to the back door. “Do you mind if I dump this first and then put Molly down for her nap? That way we can talk in peace.”

“That will be fine.” Agnes sat down at the table. She poured hot tea from the teapot.

It had become a daily ritual for them to sit down for a few minutes while Molly napped. “Good.” Leah pushed the door open and carefully walked to the edge of the house where they tossed out dirty dish water. She noted that the hot water melted what little snow had accumulated there. Then Leah headed to the other side of the house where Molly would be playing.

Just before she rounded the corner, Leah heard the little girl talking to someone. Thinking Molly was playing make-believe she didn't give it much thought. Then a low grunting sound answered the little girl.

Leah became instantly alert. What on earth was Molly playing with? Maybe a dog? Or had she come into contact with a black bear? She'd heard one of the express riders talking about bears being in the area. But weren't they hibernating now?

Leah hurried around the corner of the house and saw a little boy. Had he made that noise? Well, maybe they were pretending he was a dog or a bear.

His dark eyes widened and then he ran. Leah could tell from his clothes and darker skin that he was an Indian child. Probably no more than six years old.

“Molly, who was that?” Leah asked, trying her best to be calm. Her gaze searched the trees that the little boy had disappeared into.

The little girl shrugged. “I don't know. He doesn't talk very good.”

He probably spoke better than Molly, only in his own language. Leah didn't press the issue, but asked, “Have you played with him before?” She took Molly's hand and began walking toward the house.

“No.” Realizing that Leah was taking her inside, Molly pulled her arm. “I don't want to take my nap.”

“I know, sweetie, but if you don't rest, you will be cranky for the rest of the day.” Leah held fast to Molly's hand and helped her up the back stairs.

When they got to the kitchen Molly pleaded with Agnes. “Miss Agnes, please tell Leah I'm too big for naps.” Despite her words, Molly yawned.

“Nope, you need your rest.” Agnes took a sip of her tea. “Besides the sooner you go down, the sooner you can get up.”

Leah had no more trouble out of the little girl. Once they were upstairs, Molly took off her shoes and climbed into the bed they shared. “I still don't like naps,” she complained.

“I know.” Leah handed the rag doll to Molly.

“Thanks.” She cuddled the doll close and within a few minutes was fast asleep.

Leah would have liked to crawl in bed with her. She stifled a yawn and shut the door. She and Agnes had been working doubly hard the past few days to keep the house clean in order to make a good impression on Mr. Slade, the pony express division agent.

Mr. Slade had kept all the men busy and Leah had seen very little of Jake, other than meals and their nightly Bible reading with Molly. Her thoughts went to the little Indian boy. Molly said she'd never talked to him before. Should she mention the boy to Jake? With Mr. Slade about, everyone seemed a little higher strung. Maybe now wasn't the best time to mention the child. After all, he was probably no older than six, so what harm could he do?

She walked into the kitchen. Once more Leah yawned.

“Maybe Molly isn't the only one who needs a nap.” Agnes motioned for Leah to join her at the table.

She did as she was bid. A hot cup of tea sat before her. She inhaled its rich fragrance before answering. “No, I'd rather stay up with the grown-ups.” She smiled over her cup.

Agnes laughed. “Not me. If I could, I'd take an afternoon nap, too.”

Leah took a sip from her tea. “Mmm, this is good.” She set the cup back down. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well, your wedding is coming up soon and we haven't discussed what type of flowers you will be carrying, what kind of cake I should bake or discussed your wedding dress.” Agnes stood up and went to the cookie jar.

While Agnes put cookies on a plate, Leah said, “I'm not sure I'll be carrying flowers. After all it is the dead of winter. Where would we get them?”

Agnes set the plate on the table. “I've thought of that. Maybe we could get some plastic ones from the general store here or in Julesburg.” She picked up a sugar cookie and munched around the edges of it.

Leah didn't like the idea of fake flowers. She shook her head. This wasn't a real marriage, but she would like for everything about the ceremony to be real.

“No?” Agnes said, breaking the cookie in half.

Again Leah shook her head. “No, if I can't have real flowers, I don't think I want any.”

Agnes reached out and patted her hand. “I understand. Well, what about the wedding cake? What flavor would you like?”

Leah drew a blank. She had no idea what Jake's favorite flavor of cake might be. Was that something other brides knew about their future husbands? Or did she simply make the decision and not worry about what he'd prefer? “I'm not sure about that either. What is normally served at weddings?” Leah asked, praying Agnes wouldn't realize how little she knew about Jake and his preferences.

“My wedding cake was simple. One layer, more like a loaf than a cake, but everyone seemed to enjoy it.” Agnes set her cup down.

Leah leaned forward. “Do we have the ingredients for it?”

“I believe so.” Agnes went to the cupboard and pulled out a cookbook. “My mother wrote the recipe in here for me.” Agnes returned to the table and flipped through the pages of the book. “Here it is. Let's see, we'll need one pound of butter, one of sugar, ten eggs, half a pint of brandy, a glass of wine, three nutmegs, a tablespoonful of mace, one pound of flour, two of currants, one of stoned raisins and half a pound of citron.”

“I'm not sure about the alcohol in it, Agnes. What about Molly?” Leah shook her head.

Agnes waved her hand. “Oh, that cooks out. It will be perfectly safe for everyone to eat.” She looked up and grinned. “Please let me make the cake for you, Leah.”

“You're sure it will cook out?”

Agnes nodded. “I promise...”

She looked so happy that Leah didn't have the heart to take this from her. “Then I'll be most appreciative if you will make the cake for us.”

“Good. Now that that's settled, we need to start thinking about a wedding dress.” Agnes shut her recipe book.

Leah smiled. “I already have a wedding dress. I thought I would be marrying Thomas, so I brought my wedding dress with me.” She didn't tell Agnes that she'd worked several days for the local seamstress to get it.

“Well, then, I guess that's settled.” Agnes sighed. “I suppose I better check on the lamb stew.” Agnes stood up and walked to the large pot sitting on the stove.

Leah carried their cups to the washbasin. Setting them down, she glanced at Agnes. The older woman had her graying hair pulled up into a bun at the back of her neck.

Agnes stirred the stew and glanced over at her.

“Thank you, Agnes. I'm glad you will be by my side during the wedding.”

Tears filled the older woman's eyes. “I'm glad to be able to help.”

Before she started bawling, Leah smiled and left the kitchen. For the first time in her life, she felt as if another woman really cared about her. Was it possible that she finally had people in her life who could love her? Care what happened to her?

Chapter Fourteen

J
ake hummed as he left the barn and headed up to the house. He couldn't help but wonder what wonderful concoction Leah had baked today. She had a knack for creating pies and cakes that filled his senses long before he arrived at the table.

Since Leah's arrival they'd added two wooden rockers to the front porch. Right now, the preacher sat in one of them. His voice drifted across the yard. “Let me guess. The smell of peach cobbler has you coming to the house early tonight.” He grinned to soften the words.

Jake laughed. “You better believe it.”

“I envy you, young man.”

Jake took the steps two at a time and then joined the preacher. “How so?” he asked, taking a seat and inhaling the sweet scent of sugar and cinnamon.

Reverend Rice rocked gently. “You get a new bride for Christmas who can cook and has a soft heart for old men.”

What did he mean by that? Was he calling himself old? “What old men would that be, Reverend?”

Gentle laughter spilled from the preacher. “Myself, of course.”

Jake looked at him. “You, sir, are not that old.”

The reverend patted the Bible on his lap. “Yeah, I am. But enough about me. I'm curious, young man. What are you going to do after the telegraph lines run this way and the pony express has run its course?” His gray eyes searched Jake's.

“Well, I'll have to talk to Leah but I'm thinking I'd like to start a horse ranch.” He looked out across the snow-covered yard.

“That's a fine plan.” Reverend Rice nodded. “Any idea where you might start this ranch?”

Jake leaned his arms on his thighs. “Well, I'd have to sell my place in Texas then we could stay here in Colorado, but if we do I think I'd like to move into the mountains.”

“It's mighty pretty up in the mountains.”

The sorrow in the preacher's voice had Jake asking, “Why do you ask?”

His gray eyes looked deeply into Jake's. “After your wedding, I think I'll retire and find a cabin somewhere. I'd like to just rest.”

“I didn't realize that preachers retired.” Jake muttered it more to himself than to the preacher.

Reverend Rice stood. “Everyone retires at some time or another.” He walked to the door. “It's a good thing that you are young and can have several young sons to leave that horse ranch to when you retire.” He opened the door. “You coming?”

“No, I think I'll sit here for a moment longer,” Jake answered. He'd not thought of what would happen to the ranch once he died. Retirement had never entered his mind, but if a preacher could retire, well, it bore thinking about.

“Don't wait too long. That cobbler will be about ready to eat and I'd hate for Will to get it all before you get a shot at it.” Rice laughed and went inside.

Jake blew on his hands to warm them. His marriage to Leah was to be a marriage of convenience, nothing more. But one didn't acquire sons without making the marriage real.

He'd not given any thought as to why people had children. Sitting on the porch in the cold, his mind began to count off the reasons. Sons to take over the farm or ranch, daughters to help their mother in her old age, and what man didn't want a legacy of some sort? Molly could take over the farm and help Leah, but would his niece want to? Would Molly marry someday and move away, leaving his life's work to another?

And then there was Leah. Who would take care of her in her old age, should he die? Sadness enveloped him. By offering Leah a marriage of convenience had he sentenced them both to a life of loneliness?

* * *

The stagecoach arrived with three passengers. Leah scooped cookies onto a plate and picked up the coffeepot. She didn't know where Agnes and Molly were, but she knew what needed to be done.

Two women and a man entered the house, shivering.

Offering a bright smile, she greeted them. “Please, come on inside. I have hot coffee and cookies ready.” Leah laid the plate on the table and set the coffeepot beside it. “Give me a moment and I'll have cups for you.”

“Oh, thank you, my dear.” The older of the two women hurried to the table. She looked longingly at the fireplace and around the warm room.

Leah hurried back into the kitchen and grabbed dessert plates and five mugs. She placed them on a tray and carried it all back into the main room. Most of the time only men traveled through, so the arrival of two women set her heart to pounding with joy.

When she reentered the room, Leah said, “I'm Leah Hollister. I hope you have had a good trip so far.” She'd heard Agnes introduce herself in that manner many times.

“It's nice to meet you, Miss Hollister. I'm Christina Watts, friends and family call me Chrissy, and this is my daughter, Savannah Watts.” She smiled and continued with the introductions. “This is my son, Michael.”

“It's nice to meet you all. Please help yourself to refreshments.” Leah poured them each a cup of coffee.

“Oh, thank you, dear.” Mrs. Watts took the mug Leah offered her with a smile.

Once everyone had filled their plate, Leah said, “We can always move closer to the fireplace, if you ladies would like to.”

As they walked, Leah observed how quiet Savannah and her brother Michael were. Neither said anything while their mother talked as if she hadn't had a living soul to talk to in weeks.

“This has been the worst trip ever,” Christina Watts said as she plopped down on the settee. “Besides being bitterly cold, we had that bunch of Indians chasing us, and we'd no more than escaped from them when a group of men tried to rob the stage. Can you believe that?”

Leah drew up a wooden chair from the dining table. “Really?”

Mrs. Watts waved her hand. “I imagine it's because the weather is a little better this way. It's cold, but the icy rain and snow no longer plague us. As long as it was snowing, we had no trouble at all.”

Mr. Edwards's feet pounded on the rug by the door. He carried three large suitcases and two smaller ones tucked under his arm. “Thanks for your help, young man,” he growled at Michael Watts before dropping their suitcases in a pile beside the door and leaving.

“Oh, dear, son. I do believe you should have offered to help the driver with our baggage.” Mrs. Watts looked at her son.

Michael shrugged his shoulders and bit into a cookie.

Mrs. Watts refocused her attention on Leah. “The luggage is inside now, so I guess no harm was done.”

The sound of the stagecoach leaving didn't stop the three of them from eating the cookies as if they hadn't had a decent meal in weeks.

Leah frowned. Why hadn't Michael helped the stagecoach driver? Was he lazy? Slow in the brain? Or just unthoughtful? Leah studied the young man.

Michael looked to be somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. He was tall with a slim body, brown hair and blue eyes, but nothing special to look at. A smirk pulled at his lips when he caught her looking at him. With the back of his hand he wiped at the cookie crumbs on his lips.

Leah quickly looked away. She didn't want his attentions. Next, she focused on Savannah. The girl looked much like her brother—tall, slender, blue eyes and brown hair, but her nose leaned to the right as if it had once been broken. She kept her head down and didn't make eye contact.

“I declare, I hope you have a couple of rooms for us. I think I could sleep a week,” Mrs. Watts said. “Are the beds on this floor? Or upstairs?”

Something didn't feel right. Normally passengers didn't ask where they'd be sleeping. It was times like these that Agnes wished South Platte had a hotel or even a boarding house for visitors to stay in. Most were just happy to have a clean bed and only stayed overnight. Except for the pony express superintendent, Jack Slade. According to Agnes, he stayed a few days, did his inspection and then moved on to the next pony express home station.

And then there was the way the two adult children looked back and forth at each other. Almost as if they were sharing a secret. Mrs. Watts stood, looking up the stairs. She'd already scanned the room they were in, seeming to take in everything at once.

“Mrs. Frontz will be back in a bit. You can ask her about the rooms.” Leah felt Michael's gaze upon her. She turned to find him staring and licking his lips. He truly was disgusting in his overdramatization of the action. Leah stood. “Please enjoy the coffee and cookies. If you will excuse me, I need to go check on lunch.” She made a hasty exit, not waiting for Mrs. Watts's permission to be excused.

When she got to the kitchen door, Leah looked back. Christina Watts and her children were huddled together talking in low tones. That feeling that something wasn't right crept up her spine and into her hair.

She went to the oven and pulled out the last two loaves of bread. The warm fragrance soothed her frazzled nerves. Maybe she was overreacting to the Watts family.

Agnes came through the back door. “Did you take care of our boarders?” she asked as she hung up her coat.

“I gave them coffee and a plate of cookies to tide them over until lunch. Where's Molly?” Leah placed the bread on cooling racks.

“She's with Jake. The child loves horses almost as much as he does.” Agnes smiled. She came farther into the room and stopped. Her gaze searched Leah's face. “What's wrong?”

Leah shook her head. “I can't say anything is wrong. I just have a strange feeling about Mrs. Watts and her grown children.”

“What kind of strange feeling?”

She lowered her voice. “I can't describe it.”

Agnes grinned. “Honey, you've been out of sorts ever since we started planning this wedding. Could it be you're just on edge because of that?”

Leah didn't think so, but didn't want to alarm the woman. After all, she could be wrong about the Wattses. “Maybe.” She moved to the pot of beans on the stove and lifted the lid to stir them. “Oh, before I forget, Mrs. Watts is asking about rooms.”

“I'll take care of that.” Agnes left the kitchen. Leah heard her introducing herself and telling them about the rooms that were available to the stage passengers.

Leah felt the need to find Jake. She didn't know why but knew she wanted him close. Crossing the room, she reached for the coat Agnes had just taken off but stopped short. If the Watts were a threat to the station, it wasn't wise to leave Agnes in the house alone with them. She took a deep breath and went back into the main room.

“The rooms are straight up these stairs.” Their feet pounded on the steps as they climbed the steps. “The third floor is mine and Mr. Frontz's quarters. Leah and Molly's room is right here.”

Leah felt her throat tighten. She wished Agnes hadn't shared that bit of information. Normally it didn't bother her, but she didn't like the uneasy feelings the Watts family brought out in her.

“Mrs. Watts, your room is right here beside Leah's. Mr. Watt, I'll give you the room next to your mother and sister.”

Leah heard the bedroom doors open. She knew Agnes was waiting to see if they were satisfied with the accommodations. A sense of unease continued to plague Leah. Fearing for Agnes, she mounted the stairs.

At the top, she heard Mrs. Watts say, “Oh, they are lovely and will do nicely. After the places we've stayed in, these will be more than sufficient for our needs.”

“I'm glad to hear that. Lunch is at twelve. Dinner is at five sharp. The price of the rooms is...”

Mrs. Watts interrupted her. “Who is staying in the room next to Michael's?” Her voice sounded sharp, as if she believed Agnes had withheld valuable information from her.

In a tight tone, Agnes answered, “That would be Reverend Rice.”

“Did you hear that, children? We are staying under the same roof as a preacher.”

Leah watched as both Michael and Savannah nodded their heads. A hard glint entered Michael's eyes and she wondered what he could have against preachers. Or did he know Reverend Rice?

For the first time, Leah heard Savannah speak. “Who will be bringing up our bags?”

“Since the men are all busy right now, perhaps you and your brother can bring them up.” Agnes smiled. “I'm sure your mother would appreciate you doing so.”

Both Michael and Savannah scowled.

“Thank you for that suggestion, Mrs. Frontz. I'm sure my children will be happy to fetch the luggage.” Mrs. Watts's voice sounded anything but pleased.

“Well, if that will be all. We will see you at lunch, should you choose to eat with us.” Agnes walked to the stairs with her head held high and her gaze straight ahead. Her anger must have blinded her to the fact that she'd forgotten to tell them the cost of their rooms.

Leah followed the older woman back down the stairs.

Once they were both in the kitchen, Agnes hissed, “I see what you mean by them. Mama Watts tries to let on that they are just regular boarders but there is something that I can't put my finger on.” Fire blazed from her eyes. “And did you hear the way they implied we should bring them their bags?”

Leah nodded. She heard a commotion on the stairs and eased the kitchen door open to peek out. Michael was juggling with the big bags and Savannah walked in front of him holding the two smaller ones. “Well, I'm glad you didn't give in. Michael and Savannah are carrying them up now.”

Agnes gave an unladylike snort. “With the way they behave, what do you think? Do you think they are wealthy? That could account for their high-handed rudeness.”

“If they are, they don't dress the part. Savannah's dress is about a half inch too short for her. Michael's boots are scuffed and worn. Mrs. Watts might have money, but if she does, she doesn't use it to buy her children decent clothes.” She slipped onto a stool beside the table.

Agnes stared out the kitchen window. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure, anything. Just ask.” Leah stood, waiting for orders. She expected Agnes to ask her to clean.