Authors: Penny Richards
Still, if she needed this job to bolster her spirits, he couldn't object. Maybe she was like Tolley, who still felt the need to prove himself. In fact, Rand knew that feeling himself, and all too well. Further, Marybeth was right that folks wouldn't think too highly of either of them if he supported her and they ended up not getting married. She didn't need to know he was paying her rent. Mrs. Foster had promised not to give away their little secret. The old dear might talk about many of the happenings in town, but she also could keep a secret if asked to.
So he'd learned a few things about Marybeth today that might help him if their relationship continued to move forward. She had something in her past still affecting her, and because of that, she needed to prove herself. Also, she wasn't hard to persuade about a matter if he gave her good enough reasons. He hadn't lied about dangerous transients passing through, but saw no reason to warn her specifically about Hardison.
Best of all, she looked awful cute when she got riled. He'd have to play that to his advantage. In the most innocent way, of course.
Her workday ended at four o'clock and Rand made sure he was waiting outside the bank door, leaning against the hitching rail as he had that morning. He hadn't seen Hardison during either trip to town, and the preacher said he hadn't, either. For a man who'd been so broken up about his own sin the day before, the gunslinger didn't seem to be in any hurry to learn about how to live the Christian life.
When Marybeth emerged from the bank, Rand straightened, swept off his hat and gave her a deep bow. “My, my, Miss O'Brien, you sure must have an easy job 'cause you look fresh as a daisy, just like you did this morning.” Earlier he'd forgotten to compliment her, which Nate had told him was an important part of courting.
“Humph.” She stuck her pretty little nose in the air. “Don't think you can sugarcoat your obvious disdain for my job, Mr. Northam. I'll have you know I've been busy all dayâ”
“Fetching coffee all day? Are your feet tired? I can hire a rig to drive you home.”
“Oh, you.” She smacked his arm and strode off down the boardwalk.
With a laugh he caught up and fell into step with her, having to shorten his long stride considerably to do so. “How was your day, Marybeth?”
She shot him a sweet smile. “Very exhilarating, thank you very much. I love typewriting almost as much as I love playing the piano.”
“Mmm. Glad to hear it.” Glad to see the sparkle in her eyes even though he hadn't put it there.
“Why, thank you.” She rewarded him with another of those smiles.
Oh, mercy, how he wanted to plant a kiss on her pretty ivory cheek. When he'd done it before, she hadn't objected. Maybe he would when they reached Mrs. Foster's front porch. Or maybe he'd at least ask her permission. Yes, that was the idea. Make sure she didn't mind before he started acting like he could kiss her anytime he wanted to. In the meantime he wanted to stay on her good side, and he knew just how to do it.
“I checked with Mrs. Winsted over at the general store,” he said. “She made sure my letters got on the train headed over to Del Norte. Sheriff Hobart will have his in the morning. The other letter will take another day or so to get to Wagon Wheel Gap by stagecoach, depending on roads and bridges.” He inhaled deeply after that long speech and enjoyed the delight on Marybeth's face.
“Oh, Rand, thank you again. I won't be able to sleep tonight wondering what the sheriffs will have to say. This is so exciting.” She executed a happy little skip and then put a dainty gloved hand to her lips and resumed her more sedate pace. “Goodness. What will people think if they see me hopping down the street?”
Rand chuckled. “I would hope they'd think you were happy to be with me.”
As happy as I am to be with you.
She looped her arm in his as they turned down Pike Street. “I am, Rand. Just be patient with me, will you?”
From the bright look in her eyes, he believed her, and he'd do all he could to be patient, to give her all the time she needed to decide she liked him enough to consider marrying him.
They reached Mrs. Foster's front porch where he walked her up to the door. When she paused before going inside, Rand removed his hat and cleared his throat.
“Marybeth, I don't want to presume anything, so I'm asking your permission to...well, I'd really like to give you a peck on the cheek.”
“Why, Mr. Northam, I don't recall you asking permission the last two times you kissed me. Why so shy all of a sudden?” Merriment danced in her eyes. Was her happiness due to being with him or his writing letters about her brother or her good day at work?
“Well...” He drawled the word out slowly. “Nate got after me for kissing you without asking, so I thought I should ask this time.”
Suddenly serious, she blinked, and her eyes reddened just a little. “That's very sweet of both of you. It makes me feel...very special.”
“You are.” Now he knew one more thing about her: she didn't know what a fine lady she was. Maybe over time he could remedy that. “Well?”
She laughed. “Oh, all right. Just a quick kiss.”
He did make it a quick one. Then he let out a whoop, jumped down the front steps and barely felt his feet touch the ground all the way back to the livery stable to pick up his horse.
* * *
“Do not be nervous, Miss O'Brien.” Mr. Means stood off to the side as Marybeth took her place in the teller's cage. “You have watched Mr. Brandt for two days now, so you know what to do.”
She gave him a shaky nod just as the bank's front door opened, jangling the bell that hung above it. She turned a smile toward the customer but had to force herself to keep it in place. The leering man from the train. She hastened to remind herself he was also the one who'd prayed with Reverend Thomas in front of the whole church last Sunday.
Removing his hat, he approached the cage wearing a smile of his own. “Good afternoon, ma'am.” He glanced around the area and seemed to notice Mr. Means in the background. “Good afternoon, sir.” Now he settled a pleasant gaze on Marybeth, one devoid of any impropriety. Without the leer, he wasn't bad-looking, though in no way could he compare to Rand.
Rand, who would be coming soon to escort her home from work. She'd enjoyed their walks back to Mrs. Foster's these past few days. It always made her days even more pleasant. First, though, she had work to do.
“Good afternoon, sir.” She swallowed hard. Her first time to help a bank customer! “How may I help you?”
“I'd like to open an account, if I may.” He reached into his nicely pressed black frock coat and pulled out a leather wallet that looked new.
“Of course, sir.” Marybeth reached into a drawer for a ledger, a small booklet in which she would record the deposit. She turned to the front page and dipped her pen into the inkwell. “What name, please?”
“Dathan Hardison.” He bent forward to watch her write, but the bars of the cage kept him from coming too close. Still, she caught the pleasant scent of his shaving cologne. He spelled out his name as she carefully printed it on the page.
When the ink dried, she turned to the first lined page. “And how much will today's deposit be?”
He pulled some large bills from the wallet, along with a handful of five-dollar gold coins from his trousers' pocket, and shoved it all through the small opening below the bars. “Three hundred and eighty-five dollars.”
Marybeth did her best not to gasp. That was a small fortune. Maybe there was more to Mr. Hardison than she'd thought. Maybe he'd come to Esperanza to open a business. “Very good, sir,” she said in a monotone voice that mimicked Mr. Brandt's.
She counted the money, put it in the drawer and recorded the amount in his ledger, adding her initials beside the figures. Before handing the booklet to him, she also wrote the amount in her teller's ledger. “This booklet will serve as your receipt, Mr. Hardison. Whenever you wish to make a deposit or withdrawal, be sure you bring it with you.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He gave her a friendly smile that included Mr. Means. “Begging your pardon, ma'am, but would it be too forward of me to ask your name?”
To her relief, Mr. Means stepped forward. “Good afternoon, Mr. Hardison. Permit me to introduce you to my new assistant, Miss O'Brien. Miss O'Brien, this is the gentleman who joined the church on Sunday.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Marybeth thought her response sounded better than saying right out that she recognized him. “How do you do, Mr. Hardison?”
“Miss O'Brien.” He gave her a gentlemanly bow before turning his attention to Mr. Means. “If I may, I'd like to make an appointment with you regarding some business matters.”
“I happen to be free right now.” Mr. Means stepped over to the locked door leading out of the teller's cage. “Miss O'Brien, you may close up here now.” He gave her a meaningful look and she returned a nod. “I shall see you tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
While her boss exited the tiny chamber and relocked it from the other side, she gathered the deposits of the day, counted them and made sure they matched the numbers in the ledger. After initialing the entries, she carried everything to the unlocked safe in the darkened back corner of the room. Mr. Means hadn't given her the combination to the safe, which was fine with her. He'd left it open, however, so she put everything inside, closed the heavy door and spun the dial to secure the money.
Satisfied that she'd done everything properly, she took the key hanging at her waist and unlocked the teller's cage, exited and relocked the door. Finally she untied the leather strap from her belt and dropped the key in the lockbox outside Mr. Means's office. After a last look around the wide bank lobby, she went to her desk to retrieve her hat and gloves.
How proud she felt of her first four days of work. In addition to typewriting the letters Mr. Means had written, she'd learned the duties of a teller so she could take Mr. Brandt's place when he went to dinner or perhaps became ill. Marybeth had learned his wife was expecting a happy event, so he would need some time off for that. She would be more than pleased to fill in for him any time Mr. Means asked her.
Wouldn't Da be amazed that a daughter of his could handle money so impartially, never once thinking of stealing it for her own use? Marybeth lifted a silent prayer that Jimmy had taken after Mam, not Da, in regard to money. As for Marybeth, she had decided the best way to avoid temptation was to regard the bills as pieces of paper and the coins as bits of metal. The only money she wanted was what she earned and what Mam had left to her. If Jimmy still had that locket, the two of them would be set for life and never have to depend on anyone else.
Outside in the afternoon sunshine, Rand waited in his usual spot. When he straightened and gave her that wonderful smile, she felt a twinge of guilt over her recent thoughts, and even more so when he stepped over and bowed, one hand behind his back.
“Marybeth, I don't know how you do it. A long day at work, and you still look as fresh and pretty as one of my mother's roses.” To emphasize his words, he pulled a bouquet of red and white roses from behind his back. “For you.”
“Oh, Rand, what a lovely surprise.” She took the flowers and breathed deeply of their sweet, heady scent. “Thank you.”
She took his offered arm and they ambled down the boardwalk under a sunny sky. Happiness bubbled up inside her such as she'd never known. Yet she couldn't decide whether it was being with Rand or having a successful day at work.
“That's not my only surprise for you today.” He gave her a smug grin that threatened to undo her giddy heart.
“Indeed? Well, then, surprise me again.”
“First of all, Susanna's waiting at Mrs. Foster's to meet you.”
“How nice.” Marybeth's pulse quickened. Would his sister-in-law like her? Would they become friends? “Is the baby well? Did she come, too?”
The questions appeared to please Rand, because his grin broadened. “She did. Say, do you like children?”
“Yes, I do. Very much.” Of course she would have to marry to have children of her own. Maybe she'd have to settle for enjoying other people's children. “I'm looking forward to meeting Lizzy.”
“She's a sweetheart.”
As they turned down Pike Street, Marybeth started to ask Rand what her next surprise was. Before she could speak, a rider came along beside them.
“Good afternoon, folks.”
Marybeth shaded her eyes and looked up into Mr. Hardison's smiling face. At least it seemed like a smile. With the sun behind him, it was a little difficult to tell. When she started to greet him, Rand stopped beside her, his posture suddenly stiff and his shoulders hunched up.
She shuddered. There he went again with those changing moods of his. When Da's shoulders used to hunch up like that, there was sure to be a brawl. What was it about Mr. Hardison that set Rand off this way? If they fought, she would walk away and refuse to speak to either of them ever again.
Chapter Seven
R
and ground his teeth and moved between Marybeth and Hardison. What a cheap trick to pull, coming up on them on horseback to give himself an advantage. If he wanted to kill Rand, why not just bushwhack him and then run off to Texas or someplace? He swallowed hard, knowing he had to answer the man.
“Afternoon, Hardison.” His hand under Marybeth's elbow, Rand resumed his walk and continued to guide her down the street.
“Mind if I tag along with you folks?” He reined his horse a little closer to Rand's right side, making it impossible for him to draw his gun if he needed to protect Marybeth.
“If you hadn't noticed, we're busy having a private conversation, so, yes, I do mind.” Rand kept his eyes straight ahead.
“Ah. Then I won't interrupt you.” He gave a throaty chuckle that seemed to hold a hint of a threat. “I'll leave you to it. Good day, Miss O'Brien.”
The jangle of reins and clip-clop of hooves gave evidence that he'd turned back, but the oily, familiar way he addressed Marybeth sent an icy shiver down Rand's back.
“Where did you meet thatâ” Rand glanced down to see her disapproving frown. He met it with one of his own. Instead of saying “polecat,” as he felt inclined to, he finished his question with, “man?”
“He came into the bank today. Mr. Means introduced us.” Her defensive tone did nothing to calm Rand. Had he merely been a customer or was Hardison seeking her out? Worse, was she somehow attracted to the well-dressed gunslinger? He didn't ask her any of those questions because he didn't want her upset when she met Susanna.
“Well, I suppose if you had a proper introduction, it's all right.” Far from it, but Rand wouldn't tell her. He'd stick with the plan he, Nate and the preacher had come up with and just watch the man. Only trouble was that Hardison wasn't doing what they expected, which was calling Rand out at some inconvenient moment when a lot of people he cared about could get hurt. The gunslinger was weaseling himself into the good graces of those people. Even Miss Pam had remarked out of the blue that the “new Christian” ate at her café three times a day. Rand knew she was glad for the business, and he supposed even polecats needed to eat. He also had no idea of how to figure out what Hardison's next move would be.
They were about to arrive at Mrs. Foster's house, so he decided to warm the coolness between him and Marybeth. Only one thing was sure to work. “I hope Lizzy's not down for a nap so you can see her at her best. When she first gets up, she can be a little cranky.”
His ploy worked because Marybeth looked up at him and her eyes brightened. “I wish we'd stopped by the general store and bought some candy. That's a sure cure for crankiness.”
He gave her a smug, teasing grin. “All taken care of.” He retrieved a small brown paper sack from his trouser pocket and handed it to her. “You can give her one of these lemon sticks, and she'll be your best friend.”
“Aren't you clever?” Marybeth peeked inside the bag and then tucked it into her reticule. Her smile of appreciation eased Rand's concerns considerably.
He still couldn't imagine why she seemed friendly to Hardison. The man was years older, probably in his midthirties. While he was well-dressed and could put on proper manners, he didn't seem to have anything to recommend him to a young girl. Or maybe Rand was misreading her reactions. Other than his mother and sister and the Eberly girls, he didn't have much experience with women, and he didn't understand a single one of them.
How would Marybeth react if he just plain out told her Hardison was out for revenge and they all needed to be careful around the man? Of course he wouldn't without first talking to Nate and Reverend Thomas. But he sure would like to gain her trust. Maybe the letter in his pocket would help him do that. He hadn't opened Sheriff Hobart's reply yet because it was his third surprise for her. He thought she'd be pleased if they opened it together. A prickle of excitement spiked inside his chest. Yes, reading the letter together would be just the thing to gain Marybeth's trust and maybe make her real happy in the bargain.
* * *
“Here we are.” Rand kept his hand cupped under Marybeth's elbow as they climbed the steps and approached the front door.
She could hear ladies' voices coming through the open front window, and her nervousness returned. Not that it had completely disappeared or been helped by the encounter with Mr. Hardison. She couldn't understand why Rand disliked the man.
Now, as he smiled down at her, his hand still under her elbow, an odd and slightly thrilling thought popped into her mind. Was Rand jealous? Was he concerned that because she'd put off their marriage, she might find some other man to care about, to marry? Indeed, that must be it. Her heart gave a little twist at the thought. As kind as he'd been to her, he deserved to know she would do no such thing. Maybe if she revealed her nervousness over meeting his sister-in-law, he would forget all about their encounter with Mr. Hardison.
“Stay close to me.” She leaned toward him and spoke in a whisper. “I do so want Susanna to like me.”
“How could she not like you?” The way his face brightened and the gentle squeeze on her arm assured her she'd said just what he needed to hear. But unlike the manipulations she'd used on Da to avoid his tempers and beatings, this was a good thing. Now a pleasant warmth flooded her chest, and somehow she liked Rand all the more for it.
He opened the door and nudged her over the threshold and into the parlor. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
Mrs. Foster and her guest set down their teacups and rose to greet them.
“Wan!” A darling little blonde girl in a pink calico dress toddled toward Rand, her hands reaching out. “Up, up.”
“Hello, little dumpling.” Rand lifted her to the ceiling and the child rewarded him with squeals and giggles. Then he lowered her and nuzzled her neck, bringing more squeals.
Marybeth thought her heart would melt on the spot. This big, strapping cowboy playing with a baby and obviously adoring her. She'd never seen a man so taken with a child.
Rand settled the baby on his left hip and beckoned Marybeth forward. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Foster. Susanna, this is Marybeth, my...” His pause caused the room to go silent...and yet another thread of guilt to wind through Marybeth. He'd almost introduced her as his bride-to-be, yet he had the good manners to respect her wishes in that regard.
“You don't have to tell me who this is.” Susanna rushed over and grasped Marybeth's hands. “This is Marybeth O'Brien. I would know you anywhere from Rosamond's description. She's written all about you.” Shorter by several inches, she stood on tiptoes and kissed Marybeth's cheek. With blond hair a little darker than her daughter's, Susanna was a true beauty, even more so because she was expecting and had that maternal glow many women took on when a baby was on the way. Her soft Southern accent only added to her charm. “Welcome to Esperanza. We all hope and pray you'll love it here.”
The warmth of her greeting soothed away Marybeth's concerns and brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you. How could I not love this town? Everyone's been so kind.”
Susanna tugged Marybeth over to the settee. “You sit down. I'll make a fresh pot of tea.”
“No such thing.” Mrs. Foster picked up the silver tea tray. “You two girls sit down and get acquainted, and I'll fetch more tea.” She looked at Rand. “Coffee for you?”
“Tea's fine. Thank you, ma'am.” He sat in the chair nearest Marybeth, the baby still content in his arms. “If you haven't figured it out yet, this is Lizzy.”
“How do you do, Lizzy?” Marybeth reached out her hand.
Lizzy turned away and burrowed her face in Rand's shoulder. He gave Marybeth a significant look, glancing down at her reticule, where she'd hidden the candy. She leaned over toward Susanna and asked in a whisper, “May I give her a lemon stick?”
Susanna's enthusiastic nod caused her blond ringlets to bounce, adding to her charm.
Marybeth caught Lizzy's eye. Then, with lavish gestures, she opened her reticule and pulled out a lemon stick. She made as if to put it in her mouth just as Lizzy's hand shot out.
“Me.”
“Oh, do you want this?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Mama, may she have it?”
“Why, yes, she may.”
“Here you are, Lizzy.” With great ceremony, Marybeth presented the candy.
Lizzy's eyes sparkled as she grasped it and stuck it in her mouth.
While Susanna instructed her baby in how to say “thank you,” Marybeth glanced up at Rand. The sweet, intense look in his eyes almost took her breath away. Approval? No, more than that. But surely not love, either, after knowing her less than a week. Yet she basked in the glow of that look through her entire visit with Susanna and late into the evening.
Only after she went to bed did she remember he'd hinted that he had more surprises. Apparently he'd forgotten all about it, too. Or maybe it was the candy. Surely it was too soon to have letters back from the sheriffs about Jimmy. Either way, she'd enjoyed being with Rand and meeting Susanna and Lizzy. It wouldn't be too hard to feel at home with this family. Except that she desperately longed to find her brother, the only family she had left in the world. Until she learned the truth about Jimmy's whereabouts, even if he'd gone to Mexico or California or who knew where, she would never have peace.
* * *
Rand had driven Susanna halfway home in the buggy before he remembered the letter. She needed to get home to put Lizzy down for her nap and start supper, so he couldn't very well turn around and go back to town. Maybe it was best this way. If Sheriff Hobart had bad news, he could find a way to tell Marybeth without her going into shock.
After supper and evening chores, he went to his room to read the letter. Sure enough, it was a disappointment. The sheriff hadn't seen any short, wiry, red-haired Irishmen in the area over the past seven or eight years. The lawman was well-known for his memory of faces, names and happenings, so Rand took his word without hesitation. Somehow he'd have to tell Marybeth, and the sooner the better.
Cautioned by the way things had turned out on Thursday, Rand opened his mail right away on Friday. The letter from the sheriff of Wagon Wheel Gap said he couldn't recall anyone of Jimmy's description. Irishmen, yes, but none with such bright hair, short stature and no brogue. He added that he'd been there less than a year and so would ask the old-timers if they knew anything about a Jimmy O'Brien.
Rand's heart ached for the disappointment Marybeth would experience when he gave her the news. But it wouldn't be fair to her if he put it off.
At four o'clock he met her at the bank and invited her to an early supper at Williams's Café. “I went by Mrs. Foster's and told her I planned to ask you out. She said it was all right with her as long as I brought you home before dark.” He gave her a smile he didn't really feel, but it seemed to work.
“Thank you, Rand. I understand Miss Pam fixes roast beef on Friday nights, so this will be a fitting end to a wonderful week.”
They walked the block and a half to Williams's Café, speaking to several people as they traveled. Marybeth had met some of them at church and some at the bank, so introductions were few. In a way, Rand felt a little jealous that he hadn't been the one to introduce her, but in another way, he was proud that everyone seemed to like her...and especially that she seemed to like everyone. Maybe that was why she had been pleasant to Hardison. She'd never made an enemy.
Seated across the table from him in the café, she looked as pretty as a picture. Before he could give her the bad news about the letters, she spoke.
“Rand, I've noticed this town doesn't have a saloon. In all of the stories we've heard back East about the Wild West, it seems there's always a saloon where the troubles begin.” Her innocent, trusting gaze bored just a bit deeper into his heart.
“That's because my dad and the other founders of the community voted to keep spirits out.” He tried not to sound too proud, as though he'd been responsible for the decision. After all, he'd ridden over to the saloon in Del Norte plenty of times to play poker, and look where it had gotten him. He'd killed a cardsharp whose cousin now wanted revenge. “We want people to feel safe and be safe here in Esperanza.” And if they weren't safe, it was his fault.
“No liquor.” The wonder in Marybeth's voice and eyes was something to behold and resembled her expression just after she'd been rescued from the rattlesnake, as though she couldn't quite believe it. “That's remarkable.”
“I suppose.” Rand shrugged. “If more towns adopted that law, there'd be a lot less wildness to the Wild West.”
She laughed, and he detected a note of relief in it. He wanted to ask what that was all about, but Lucy approached the table to take their order. They'd have to talk about it later because he had an idea it meant something significant to Marybeth.
“You're looking mighty fine this afternoon, Rand.” Lucy stood close to him, her skirt brushing against his shoulder. “What can I get for you, sweetie?” He wished she wouldn't be so familiar with him, but the poor girl was still missing Seamus, so he'd tolerate it for now.
“Two roast beef dinners.” He looked at Marybeth. “That is, if you'd like the same?”
She didn't so much as glance at Lucy. “Yes, thank you.” The chill in her voice rivaled a winter wind off of the San Juan Mountains.
As the waitress moved away from the table, Marybeth finally slid a look at her departing form through narrowed eyes and her pretty lips formed a disapproving pucker. To her credit, she didn't say anything, but Rand had an idea she wanted to. He'd best move the conversation on to the letters, no matter how hard it would be to disappoint her.