“Is there anything Tomasina doesn’t know?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. Neither Millie nor Minnie ceased giggling from the moment they stepped off the train. I’m all for a good laugh, but those two are beyond the pale.”
“Shall I scratch them off my list of potential daughters-in-law?”
Russ grimaced. “I’ve given up on the marriage market for the time.”
Anna’s name sprang to mind. He admired her. She was witty and smart, and she’d make any man a fine bride. He simply couldn’t stomach spending the rest of his life competing against her late husband. Besides, she didn’t want to marry anyone, let alone him.
“See?” His mother squeezed his arm. “It’s all settled. Visit Anna as a friend. If people draw the wrong conclusion, that’s none of your affair. No harm done to either of you.”
“You make a sound argument.”
He had no romantic interest in Anna, and she certainly wouldn’t mistake his intentions. The innocent ruse suited both of them. He’d lost two fiancées to other men already, he wasn’t about to lose out in love to a dead man.
His presence would chase away the less zealous suitors and discourage Millie and Minnie from setting their giggling sights on him. They’d done quite of bit of uncomfortable pointing and whispering at the train station this morning.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” His mother tilted her head. “I make sound arguments quite often, except you and your brothers are too headstrong to listen most of the time. You seem awfully concerned about Mrs. Linford. You’re certain you’re not holding a candle for Charlotte?”
“Absolutely not.”
When he looked back at that time in his young life, it wasn’t Charlotte’s face he pictured.
He pictured Anna’s laughing smile.
Chapter Five
Anna gaped at her surroundings. “Surely there’s been a mistake.”
Russ had accompanied her to the hotel after the shoot-out. They’d signed in at the desk, and he’d tipped his hat, urging her to rest and promising to check on the doctor. The porter had shown her to a perfectly lovely room in The Cattleman. She’d freshened up and was considering a nap when another flustered porter had appeared, insisting she’d been given the wrong room.
He’d obviously been mistaken.
The grandiose suite he’d insisted was the correct room featured an enormous sitting area and a separate bedroom. Fringed curtains the color of pine needles draped leaded glass windows, and tufted burgundy velvet furniture flanked the fireplace at precise angles. Plush oriental rugs in exotic shades of tangerine and burnt umber covered the floor.
She brushed her hand over a marble-topped table. “This is definitely a mistake.”
Turning to correct the error, she discovered the porter had already deposited the key on a side table and disappeared with silent footsteps. She hovered in the archway separating the bedroom and the sitting area, hesitant to move farther into the room lest the rightful occupants suddenly appear.
A knock sounded, and she stifled a yelp. Pressing a hand over her rapidly beating heart, she crossed the room and opened the door to a carnival of blue, yellow and pink flowers set in an enormous glass vase.
“Oh, uh, dear,” Anna stuttered. “I am definitely in the wrong room.”
“This is the place.”
A robust, middle-aged woman in a black dress with a crisp, starched white apron wrapped around her ample waist charged into the room. She set the vase on the marble-topped table and adjusted a few petals before stepping back.
“Perfect.” She dusted her hands. “I’m Mrs. Foster. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, just send for me. All the rooms are equipped with a bell that rings in the kitchen.”
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake,” Anna said. “This room is far too grand. I should be in the other room. I don’t know why I was moved.”
“This is your room all right, no mistake. Poor Nigel is in for a tongue-lashing when the boss finds out what happened. There was a mix-up with the names, you understand. It’s all cleared up now. This is the room Mayor Canfield specified, and I never argue with the boss.”
“The mayor owns this hotel?” He’d arranged the finest room for Russ’s bride. Perfectly acceptable considering the two were friends. Except she wasn’t Russ’s bride. “I can’t take advantage of his hospitality.”
“He can afford it. He owns half the town. He’s a town founder, after all.”
“I’d prefer a smaller room.” Something more suited to her status. “I prefer less expensive...accommodations.”
“Oh pshaw.” Mrs. Foster flashed her palm. “After what you’ve been through, you deserve a little pampering. He sent along the flowers.”
Anna opened the card and scanned the contents. The mayor wished her a speedy recovery and repeated his invitation to dinner along with Russ. She held the card against her chest. Now to find a polite way of refusing. People might read more into her relationship with Russ if they appeared together socially. Not to mention dinner with the mayor was out of the question since she planned on becoming one of his employees.
“Mrs. Foster,” Anna said, “do you happen to know who oversees the hiring of the hotel staff?” Perhaps she didn’t need Russ’s help after all. He’d done so much for her already, she mustn’t trouble him further.
“That would be me,” Mrs. Foster said. “I do all the hiring.”
“I was hoping to find a job. Is there anything available?”
The housekeeper heaved a great sigh and rolled her eyes. “Oh no. Not again.”
“I’m a hard worker,” Anna rushed to say. “I promise you.”
“I’m sure you are, but you’re also young and pretty. You’ll be married by the end of the year, and I’ll be out another maid again. They all leave just when I get them trained. I can’t afford the lot of you. I spend most of my salary on wedding gifts these days.”
“I’m not one of the brides. I’m not looking for a husband. I’m widowed, you see.”
“You poor thing.” Mrs. Foster patted Anna’s clasped hands. “I lost my own Mr. Foster. Still, you’re young. You have plenty of time ahead of you. There are lots of good men in Cowboy Creek. Plenty of scoundrels, too, but I’ll steer you right.”
“I promise I won’t let you down.” She’d stay as long as she could, that much was true.
“We’ll see.” The housekeeper glanced around the room. “Is your trunk arriving later?”
Anna recognized her battered carpetbag. “I left my luggage on the train.” She pressed her palm to her cheek. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten all about her trunk. “I’ll only have the two dresses until it’s delivered. It’s probably still at the station.”
“Then let’s get your dresses aired and pressed.” To her credit, Mrs. Foster didn’t show any judgment of her meager belongings. “I’ll have a tray sent up. Mayor Canfield said you weren’t feeling well. What should I tell visitors?”
“Visitors? I won’t be having any visitors. I don’t know anyone.”
Her heart did a little leap, and she mentally chastised herself. There was no reason for Russ to bother on her account. He obviously had much more important things to consider, yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She hadn’t been prepared for the changes in him the years had wrought. If only he’d turned to fat and grown an enormous wart on his nose. If only he’d been nasty and unhelpful and condescending.
She didn’t want to like him. She didn’t want to remember the naive girl she’d been all those years ago. That girl was gone, and the memories were too painful.
Mrs. Foster grasped a pillow from the settee a slapped some air into the feathers. “There’s always a welcome wagon in Cowboy Creek. You’ll have visitors. New folks in town are a novelty. I’ll tell them you’re resting.”
“I
’d appreciate that.”
Anna’s stomach rumbled. Despite being ill earlier, she was famished.
“Come along. Everything is ready for you.” The housekeeper took Anna’s hand and led her toward the bedroom. “You’re as pale as a sheet on bluing day. You’ve had an ordeal, and you need to rest. I’ll send up some toast and tea to soothe your stomach.”
“That sounds marvelous,” Anna said. She’d have preferred something more substantial but hesitated to ask.
“For dinner, I’ll order up some stew,” the housekeeper continued. “There’s a fine stew today. And dessert. Oh, my word. There’s a new miss in town, and she bakes desserts that would make a grown man weep. She’s sent over a chocolate cake with cherry filling. I’ll send up a slice with dinner. Do you like chocolate?”
“I adore chocolate.”
“Then you’re going to have a delicious experience.” Mrs. Foster grasped the door handle. “Rest. You’ve had a terrible ordeal, and you look as though you haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in a month of Sundays. I’ll take care of everything.”
As the door shut, pressure built behind Anna’s eyes. She couldn’t recall a time in her life when anyone had pampered her. And that’s exactly how she felt. Pampered. The experience was heady, and one she’d best not grow accustomed to.
She ran her hand along the embroidered counterpane. While she was grateful to both Will Canfield and Russ for the solitude to recuperate, guilt gnawed at her. She was living a lie, taking advantage of the mayor’s hospitality while allowing people to make assumptions.
She sat on the bed and pressed her palms into the firm mattress. Since this room had already been arranged, she might as well stay the night. Tomorrow she’d start her search for a job. Mrs. Foster had been kind, and Anna loathed making more trouble. If she convinced Russ of her sincerity, he could assure the mayor and the hotel’s housekeeper of her suitability.
Though inexplicably exhausted, sleeping during the middle of the day felt like a luxury she didn’t deserve. She stood and crossed to the sitting room. Perhaps she’d make a list of things to do. With that in mind, she took a seat on the settee and rested her head against the tufted bolster.
Appealing to Russ about her future employment meant an excuse to see him again. Her stomach flipped, and she gave up trying to control the reaction. Somewhere along the way, her emotions had careened out of control, and she’d best get ahold of herself. She was nothing to Russ, and he was nothing to her. He was a girlish infatuation that had long since died. She didn’t believe in love.
She certainly didn’t trust her own heart.
If her time in Cowboy Creek was limited, she needed another destination. Perhaps somewhere in California. As she considered the cities along the west coast, her eyes drifted shut. She didn’t know much about California beyond what she’d read in books, but at least she’d be far from Philadelphia.
A soft knock jerked Anna awake, and her heartbeat kicked.
Bolting upright, she checked the clock and gaped. Gracious, she’d slept for nearly two hours, and she felt as though she’d hardly blinked. The knock sounded again, this time more insistent. She rushed to the door and paused, patting her hair in the mirror and smoothing her rumpled skirts, then pinched her cheeks to add some color.
“Who is it?” she called.
“Russ Halloway.”
Her breath caught, and her fingers quaked on the ornate brass handle as she opened the door. Russ stood on the threshold, a tray crowded with silver-domed dishes in his outstretched hands, his hat hanging from his fingers.
He’d combed his hair over his temple, but the purpling bruise near his left eye had nearly swollen shut the lid. His suit and tie were crisp and expensively tailored, yet even with the wainscoted corridor framing him, there was still that same touch of uncivilized power she’d sensed this morning.
“I offered to bring this up myself,” he said.
“Come in.” She swept her hand aside. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”
Her stomach rumbled, and Russ laughed.
“Just in time, I see.” He stepped into the room and set the tray on the low table before the burgundy velvet settee. His hat he put on the side table. “Mrs. Foster said she tried to deliver toast and tea earlier, but she didn’t want to wake you. You’d best eat this offering, or she’s going to be in fits. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you. I had a rest.”
“Excellent. I checked on the doctor before coming here. She’s still assisting the midwife. The case appears dire, and I didn’t want to pull her away.”
“You did the right thing. I’m fine. Only shaken. How about you? How is your head?”
“Not even a twinge. Looks far worse than it feels.” His smile was sheepish. “I’m not going to turn any heads this way.”
“You look quite rakish.”
“I suppose that’s something.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll go now. I wanted to ensure you were settled after all the commotion this morning. I should have known that Will would take care of everything.”
“He even sent over flowers.”
Russ scowled at the flowers. “He’s a good man. Too good sometimes. I should have thought of that myself.”
“Don’t bother on my account.” Anna gazed longingly at the stew on the tray. Though famished, she had something else she needed to do. “I spoke with the housekeeper, Mrs. Foster, earlier but she was reluctant to hire me. She fears I’ll marry and leave her in the lurch. Is there any way you could put in a good word for me?”
“I’d be happy to assist, but surely there’s something else you’d rather do? You shouldn’t be extending yourself so soon after your illness.”
“The exercise will do me good.”
“If you insist.” He crossed toward the door. “I’ll leave you to your dinner.”
“Stay if you like. I’d prefer not to eat alone.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite.” She’d had far too much time alone lately. No one had been certain what to say after her husband’s death, even before the rumors had started. She’d become something of a pariah following his shocking murder. “Should I have them send up another tray? I suppose it’s rude to eat in front of you.”
“Not rude at all.” Russ took the seat opposite her and rested his ankle on his bent knee. “My mother is staying with me for a few weeks. She normally lives with my brother Seth, but he recently married. She’s giving the newlyweds some time alone. Not that Seth and Marigold will ever be alone, with all those children.” He rested the back of his head on the domed edge of the settee. “While I enjoy having a hot meal prepared for me each evening, my mother is under the mistaken impression that I have the appetite of a farmhand.”
“If she lives on a ranch, I suppose she’s accustomed to feeding farmhands.”
“I suppose,” Russ said. “She’s going to call on you tomorrow. I hope that’s all right.”
“She needn’t trouble herself. I’m not... Well, we won’t be traveling in the same social groups. No one wants their maid as a guest at dinner. I don’t want there to be any awkwardness.”
“You’ll find society is much less strict west of the Mississippi. We don’t stand on ceremony.” He lifted his head. “Especially when eating. Stop staring at your dinner. You must be famished.”
“I am.” She took a bite of her stew and nearly swooned. “This is delicious. Tell me about your work here in Cowboy Creek.”
For the next twenty minutes, Russ carried the weight of conversation. He regaled her with stories of the unique court cases he’d encountered and offered tidbits of insight into his friends and family. Anna finished her stew and took a bite of the enormous slice of chocolate cake that accompanied it.
She collapsed back onto the settee with a sigh. “Mrs. Foster was right. That is a delicious
experience.”
Russ grinned. “I’ve never seen anyone so enamored of chocolate cake.”
“Then they’ve never eaten this particular chocolate cake.”
“Must be Deborah’s work. I’ve only seen that reaction from people sampling Miss Frazier’s baking. She’s only been here a month or so, and her baking skills are already legendary around town.”
“If this cake is any indication, I can see why.” Anna paused. “Would you like a bite?”
“No. Thank you.” He patted the flat plane of his stomach. “I’m still suffering through my mother’s attempt to fatten me up.”
Though Anna had only meant to eat half of the gargantuan slice, she soon found herself pressing the tines of her fork against the plate, gathering the last of the crumbs.
Russ stood and adjusted the wicks on the lamps.
Though she’d slept most of the afternoon, with her stomach full and the sun setting in the distance, her eyelids drooped once more. “Thank you for what you did this morning. I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m afraid it was.” The cake settled like a rock in her stomach. “The holdup was entirely my fault. The porter offered to carry my bag at the train depot, and I declined. I told him that I had precious cargo inside. It was an offhand comment. I had no idea anyone was listening, and the outlaws mistook my words.” She choked back a sobbing breath. Crying didn’t solve anything. “Poor Mr. Ward might have been killed.”
Russ took the seat beside her, and the cushion dipped. He rested his hand on hers. “You are not responsible for the criminal behavior of others. Trust me. I’m a lawyer. I know these things.”
“But none of this would have happened.”
“They’d have simply held up someone else. Which means you did a great service to a complete stranger. I might not have been around to save the day had they targeted someone else.”
“You very much saved the day.” She desperately wanted to smooth her hand over his bruised temple. “I’m extremely grateful.”
“You’ll give me a big head.” He touched the lump on his temple. “Bigger than I already have.”
His Substitute Mail-Order Bride Page 7