Brides of Iowa (8 page)

Gideon shook off the guilt. It wasn’t unimaginable to want a wife and family one day as long as he didn’t allow his priorities to become out of order. Wanting the kind of marriage his parents had was a fine aspiration. But his first priority was selling the mercantile and purchasing the land. Next, he’d strike a deal with the man from Illinois to purchase a stallion. Finding a wife should come later, after he had a place to offer her.

When he arrived back in Willow Creek, the first person he spotted was Henry Kilgore. Why did it always seem like the man was watching him? Kilgore thrust out his chest and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, the ever-present cigar hanging out one side of his mouth. As Gideon rode past on his way to the livery, Kilgore nodded to him with a half smirk, like he knew to whom Gideon planned to give the daisies.

Walking into the dining room and handing Tessa the flowers was a stupid plan anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her or jeopardize her job. If he couldn’t think of a better idea, he’d wind up taking the flowers home to Martha.

“I’m telling you, I think you should open a bakery. Just look at these orders. Three whole cakes and five whole pies, and that doesn’t include all the servings we sell to the diners every day.”

Tessa brushed a floury hand across her chin and continued rolling out piecrusts. Tillie’s imagination was running away with her. “Where would I get the money to start a bakery? Sure, I like the idea, and I truly do enjoy baking, but just think of everything I would need.”

Flossie snorted. “It ain’t likely you’ll ever make enough money here, working for Kilgore.”

It was true. Her wages barely covered her thrifty needs. The old sock she used to tuck away a bit of savings toward her winter rent remained pitifully slack. How she wished she could afford to look elsewhere for a better paying job. When she made up her mind to survive, she took the first job that came along. Now she feared finding anything better was a fairy tale.

Tillie shrugged. “It’s nice to dream.”

Tessa had to admit it was an admirable goal, albeit an impossible one. She lifted her shoulders. “I appreciate your compliment. It was a very nice thing to say.”

Flossie turned her head to look at Tessa. “We’ve got a problem, you know.”

“What problem?”

Flossie held up her hand. “My hand is getting better since I started using that Porter’s Liniment Salve Gideon Maxwell gave me. I can’t keep expecting you to do all the baking. But the customers didn’t rave about my desserts like they do yours, and if I start doing the baking again, we’ll start losing business.”

Tessa barely heard Flossie’s description of what she deemed a problem. Her focus hung on the cook’s first statement. “Gideon gave you that salve? I thought you’d gone to the doctor.”

Flossie shook her head, and another lock of mousy brown hair escaped its pins. “No, Gideon brought it from the mercantile. I tried to tell him I didn’t have money to pay him, but he just said I needed the salve now and I could pay him later. He told me to soak my hand in eucalyptus tea, too.” She turned her hand over to show the healing blisters to Tessa. “See how much better it looks?”

Tessa arched her eyebrows. “That was a very kind thing for him to do.” But Gideon’s kindness wasn’t a surprise. She’d already been the beneficiary of his thoughtfulness more than once. Perhaps it was true that not all men were like Papa. They weren’t all drunkards, nor did they all care only for themselves.

“What do you think?”

Tessa’s face warmed. What did she think? She thought Gideon Maxwell was a very nice man. Very nice indeed. “About what?”

“Weren’t you paying attention? I asked you what you think we should do now that my hand is getting better. Fact is, I should be able to start doing the baking again in another day or two.”

Tessa folded the pastry dough over and laid it into the pie plate in front of her. “I haven’t given it much thought. I rather like doing the baking. Tillie does more of the serving than I do, although I help her as much as I can. You really do have your hands full just cooking the meals.”

Flossie put her hands on her ample hips and stared at her. “Tessa, you’re only getting paid thirty-five cents a day because Mr. Kilgore still doesn’t know you’re doing all the baking.”

Tessa shrugged. “The tips have gotten a lot better.”

Flossie laughed. “That’s because folks love your desserts, not to mention your biscuits, your white bread, and your yeast rolls. The tips won’t be as good when they start eating the stuff I bake again.”

Tessa and Tillie exchanged looks. “Flossie, you aren’t thinking about telling Mr. Kilgore, are you?”

Worry lines dug trenches across Flossie’s forehead, and she turned back to the stove. “I don’t want to. But it’s not right that you’re doin’ so much work and not gettin’ paid for it, Tessa. Before you came here, I’d never had anyone do something so nice for me like you did.”

Tessa heard a sniff coming from Flossie’s direction. She didn’t know what to say. The feeling Flossie described was familiar to her. The day they buried Mama, she experienced more kindness than she’d ever thought existed in the world, and she didn’t know what to do to repay the people like the preacher, Mrs. Dunnigan, and Gideon. Especially Gideon.

“Why don’t we just continue the way we are? I’m not complaining. I keep trying to tell you I like to bake. It’s more enjoyable than waiting tables and dodging rude men.” She slid three pies into the oven and wiped her hands on a towel. “As soon as those pies come out of the oven, these loaves of bread will be ready to go in. I’m going to go help Tillie clear tables.”

Several diners lingered at their tables over second cups of coffee.

Tessa removed plates and bowls and collected as many compliments as she did tips. She smiled and thanked the patrons and encouraged them to come again. With her tray loaded, she balanced it carefully through the kitchen doors and traded it for a clean, empty one. “Flossie, can you check the water reservoir to make sure we have plenty of hot water? I’ll be right back and start these dishes.”

Tray in hand, she pushed the kitchen door open again and headed for the other side of the dining room. At the second table, she came face-to-face with Gideon Maxwell.

“Hello there.”

“Hello, Gideon. It’s nice to see you. Did you enjoy your meal?”

Gideon smiled. “I ate dinner at home. My sister, Martha, is trying to learn to cook before she gets married in a couple of months, and I’m her victim. That is, I’m her loving big brother, so I have to—I mean, I
get
to—eat everything she cooks.”

His smile as well as his teasing comment about his sister warmed her and made her wonder what it might be like to sit across the table from him and listen to his rich voice and watch his eyes twinkle. She’d wanted to know him better from the first day she met him, but it hardly seemed appropriate, his being a business owner and her nothing more than a serving girl.

“Do you need more coffee?”

“No, thanks. I just stopped in for a slice of the best apple pie this side of the Mississippi River, and I don’t want to wash the taste out of my mouth with coffee.”

Heat filled her face, and she couldn’t keep from smiling. She lowered her eyes and reached to take his empty plate, noting there wasn’t a single crumb left on it.

“I understand you are the one doing the baking.”

She caught her breath and glanced to the right and left. “We’d rather nobody knew about that.”

Gideon gave her a knowing look. “You mean you’d rather Kilgore didn’t know about it.”

She didn’t know how he’d become privy to the information, but she merely nodded. Gideon could be trusted. “I really like doing it. Tillie even told me I should open a bakery. Of course that’s ridiculous. Opening a new business takes money, and I don’t make that much. But it was fun to think about.”

Gideon nodded. “That does sound like an interesting idea. You should give it some consideration. Maybe you could get a loan from the bank.”

“Pfft! Me? Why would the bank want to loan me money? No, it’s silly to even allow myself to dream about such a thing.”

Gideon appeared to be about to disagree when his expression darkened abruptly.

A hand grabbed Tessa’s upper arm and jerked her around. Mr. Kilgore’s ferocious expression bore down on her like an awakening grizzly in spring-time. “Didn’t I tell you not to stand around dawdling?” His fingers dug into her flesh so hard she winced.

Gideon was on his feet in an instant, grabbing hold of Mr. Kilgore’s arm. “Let go of her, Kilgore!”

Her boss pulled away from Gideon so forcefully she nearly dropped her tray and lost her footing. “Gideon, please. It’s all right. I shouldn’t have stopped to talk. I’m sorry, Mr. Kilgore. It won’t happen again.”

Gideon grabbed the man’s jacket lapel and necktie all in one powerful grip. “I said let go of her, Kilgore.”

“Who do you think you are, ordering me around in my own hotel? I have half a mind to call the sheriff and have you thrown out of here.”

The man’s bluster didn’t make Gideon back down an inch. As soon as Mr. Kilgore released Tessa’s arm, Gideon turned loose of the man’s garments.

Mr. Kilgore swore and pointed to the door. “Get out, and don’t you set foot in here again.”

Tessa’s heart pounded in her ears. Fear dug cruel claws up her throat, as she held her breath, anticipating the men coming to blows.

Mr. Kilgore whirled around to growl in her face. “You’re fired. Clear out of here.” He tossed a few coins at her feet. “That should cover whatever I owe you.”

The flinch that shuddered through her felt too familiar.

T
essa stooped and picked up the coins with a trembling hand. When Papa left her, she thought groveling at a man’s feet would become nothing more than an ugly memory, but she was wrong. She could feel Mr. Kilgore’s glare boring into her, but the man wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing her cry.

Ignoring the stares of the diners, she fixed her eyes on the kitchen door and walked resolutely between the tables. No more exchanges between Gideon and Mr. Kilgore roared behind her, so she assumed Gideon had left as well.

As soon as the kitchen door closed behind her, she sagged against the worktable and let the tears come.

Flossie and Tillie came immediately to her side.

Flossie patted her on the back. “We heard him bellowing all the way in here.”

Tillie slipped an awkward arm around Tessa’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Tessa.”

Tessa dried her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Those pies ought to be just about ready to come out, and the bread is ready to go in.”

“Oh, who cares? Let the old buzzard bake his own pies.”

Tessa shot a glance at Tillie. “Don’t let them burn, or Flossie might get fired, too. Remember, he thinks she’s doing the baking.” She hung up her apron and exited the side door, only to run squarely into Gideon.

Remorse defined the lines carved in his forehead. “Tessa, I’m so sorry you got fired. But I couldn’t sit there and let him put his hands on you.”

She stared at him in astonishment.

He must have taken her silence for anger, because contrition filled his tone. “I apologize. It doesn’t change anything, and it’s my fault you got fired. Please allow me to help you find another job.”

Words failed her. Never in all of her nineteen years had she ever seen a man apologize for anything, much less for losing his temper. Twice now Gideon had sprung to her defense. Her eyes remained riveted on his face, and the words she wanted to speak refused to line up in the right order.

“I … It … it wasn’t … your fault. I … I—”

Gideon grasped both her hands. “Did he hurt you? Is your arm all right?”

Lucidity finally made its way back to her brain. “Yes.”

“Yes, he hurt you?”

“No, he didn’t hurt me, and yes, my arm is all right. Gideon, why?” Her hands seemed to not have a purpose. She clasped them together and held them to her chin. “
Why
did you get angry? Why did you grab him? I’m not worth your trouble.”

Gideon jerked his head up, his eyes darkened. “Don’t say that, Tessa. You shouldn’t believe those things your father told you. You’re a lady, and I will never stand idly by while a lady is treated disrespectfully.” The anger on his face softened. “And besides that, you’re not just any lady. You’re … well, you’re special.”

His face flushed crimson. Perhaps he didn’t mean to say what he’d just said. Maybe, like her, he had a hard time putting words together when he was upset. At any rate, his hangdog look spoke volumes. He regretted what happened—but did he regret defending her, or was he just sorry she’d lost her job?

“Well, thank you, Gideon. Don’t worry. Something will work out. Mama always said tomorrow will be brighter.”

He gave her a tiny smile, lifted his fingers in a half wave, and walked away.

She turned and walked toward the shed. Maybe Mr. Kilgore wouldn’t care if she stayed there tonight. She hadn’t planned on having to look for a new place to live so soon.

She turned the corner at the end of the alley and stopped short. Stuck in the door handle of the shed was a bouquet of daisies. They looked rather forlorn and slightly wilted, but they seemed to echo Gideon’s words. She was worth something, even if it was just a bunch of wildflowers.