Surprised by Emilio’s observation, Billy’s other eye flew open. “No, I don’t think so.” Not that he wanted to give Emilio any kind of slap on the back, but truth was truth. “If you knew how to fight, I would have beaten you.”
Emilio frowned. Gently, he touched his swollen jaw and worked it back and forth. “I do know how to fight.”
“No, no you don’t.” Beginning to stiffen up like an old man, Billy shifted. “You know how to brawl. There’s a difference.” Emilio’s perplexed look deepened, and Billy sighed.
“Boxing. It has rules. It makes you and your opponent more equal so the outcome is determined by skill, not by how much sand you can throw. There’s strategy and you try to find weaknesses—”
“That’s what I thought I was doing.”
Well, Billy couldn’t really argue with that. Emilio had tackled him, knowing he had to stop Billy from throwing punches. He could respect that move.
He heard the quick thump-thump-thump of boot heels and shifted on the step as Hannah emerged on the porch. Her cheeks were still flushed and little golden wisps of hair drifted around her face. Eyeing the boys disapprovingly, she stood with her arms wrapped around a basin of water and a brown canvas bag hanging from her shoulder. “You go on a short, simple errand and come back looking like this?” Shaking her head, she sat down beside Emilio and placed the basin on the floor between them. “How did the buffet table fair?”
Neither of the boys responded. She gave up with an indignant huff and dug through her bag. She pulled out a roll of cotton gauze, cut and folded it into roughly a four by four square, doused it with witch hazel and handed it down to Billy. “Here, put this on that nose. Yours looks worse than his.”
Billy did as he was instructed and was surprised at the relief, though the smell made his eyes water. “Got anything for my hand or my eye?”
“Yes, in a just minute.” Her voice had softened a bit. More gentle and low, it reminded him of good things, peaceful things. He could use a little peace. So far, his trip to Defiance had been a train wreck.
Hannah went to work on Emilio, gently clutching his face and cleaning up the mess. He was all wide-eyed and gawking like a school boy as she fussed over him. Billy forced himself to watch and not say a word.
“Hmmm,” she murmured as the blood wiped away, revealing a good cut intersecting his fat upper lip, as well as the one on his cheek. “I don’t think you need stitches, but that’s going to be pretty tender.” With a light touch, she rubbed a horrid-smelling salve into the wound and the cut on his cheek. The boy wrinkled his nose at the odor.
She held Emilio’s hands one at a time, and gingerly wiped witch hazel over his bruised and bloodied knuckles, lingering, in Billy’s opinion, a bit too long over each finger.
“Wiggle your fingers.” Emilio did as ordered. Hannah nodded. She worked on with confidence and efficiency, seemingly unaware of Emilio’s puppy dog eyes. Billy wished he was. “Nothing is broken. Wash your hands a lot, though, and use soap so these cuts don’t get infected.”
Billy couldn’t help but see how much Hannah had grown up. He recalled one of the last times he’d seen her back in Cary. Billy had followed her crazy trail of sock puppets from the church sanctuary to the basement, picking them up as he went along. He had six in his hands when he caught up with her at her Sunday school class–a class for which she was always harried. The children never seemed to mind. They adored her, with or without her puppets.
So did Billy.
And now here she was up to her elbows in blood, tending to the aftermath of a stupid brawl.
Emilio took off his hat and placed it humbly across his chest. “Thank you, Hannah. You’re a good nurse.”
Hannah beamed. Blushing as bright as a June rose, she smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Git on inside.” Hopelessness as heavy as a wet wool blanket fell over Billy. Would he ever make her blush like that again?
She took a deep breath as Emilio disappeared inside the hotel. Straightening her shoulders, she turned her attention to Billy. “Come here.”
Her firm, deep gaze made him long desperately for better days. “Yes, ma’am.” He moved as fast as his aching body would allow and settled into Emilio’s seat.
By now, the floor of the porch was covered with bloody rags, ointment jars and bottles of tinctures. She touched his nose lightly and he flinched, but mostly because he thought her touch might hurt. “Can you breathe through it?” He sniffed a breath. “All right. Good.” She used water and witch hazel to clean his face, assessing the damage with a skilled eye. “Could be worse.” She unwrapped a thin, rectangular strip of meat, so cold ice crystals still clung to it, and draped it over his nose.
“I thought you were supposed to put meat on a shiner,” he questioned, his voice nasally.
“This is special meat. It was soaked in … well, things you don’t want to know about.”
Billy twitched an eyebrow, but held the steak in place, feeling like an idiot. He watched her closely as she examined his right hand, touching lightly, pressing on his digits. She moved with grace and confidence, and like a surprise punch to the gut, the awareness that he was losing—maybe had already lost her—sucked the wind out of him. “You don’t need me. You don’t need anybody.”
He caught the slightest hitch in her breath. She pressed his thumb and rotated it slowly back and forth. Finished, she sat back and released his hand. “Maybe that’s the best way to be.”
Billy thought of Eleanor, back in Dodge City. Life was hard out west for a woman. He admired any of them who could make it here. He saw now that Hannah would have made it, with or without her sisters, and without turning to anything like prostitution. He had to hand it to her.
“Here, Hannah, I thought you might need this.” They pulled away from each other as Mollie stepped on to the stoop, toting a pitcher of fresh water.
“Oh, yes. Thank you.”
The girl set it down and tossed the basin of red-tinged water over the rail. “How are the boys?” she asked, handing Hannah the empty bowl.
Billy bristled at being called a boy. Maybe Emilio was a boy …
Hannah poured the fresh water into the basin and shrugged. “Somehow they managed not to break anything.”
“All right, well, I’ll go ahead and get the green beans simmering. Holler if you need anything.”
Hannah thanked her and turned back to the patient. Mollie excused herself and Billy stared after her retreating figure till she closed the door. She reminded him a lot of Hannah. Close in age, their coloring and shapes were so similar. But Mollie had age behind her eyes, as if she’d done a hard round or two in life. “So what’s the story with Mollie?”
Hannah fastidiously studied his purple lip as she dabbed witch hazel on it. “I don’t think she’d mind me telling you. She used to work for Mr. McIntyre.”
“She was a Flower?” He pulled back, leaving Hannah’s hand in mid-air. Mollie carried herself so primly and properly in her buttoned-up calico dress. That explains the age in her eyes.
“The day she accepted Jesus, a customer had nearly beaten her to death.” Hannah winced and Billy could see she still ached for her friend. She dabbed at his lip again. “I’ve never seen a human so abused. But everything worked out. She’s happy now and is so full of the Lord. She has a beautiful spirit.”
“She’s definitely beautiful,” he agreed absently. Hannah’s jaw tightened and her lips thinned into a tense line. Billy didn’t miss the change in her expression. Was she jealous? Did he dare to hope? He focused on her, willing her to look at him, or at least notice how close they were. Her hand grew warm on his cheek but she kept an emotional distance between them.
“I doubt Emilio started the fight,” Hannah said as she carefully dabbed the smelly ointment on to his lip. “He’s a gentle sort. What sort are you?”
What sort am I? The sort who wants to keep swinging.
“I don’t know. I want to do the right thing.” He thought about the courage it had taken t
o get to this point and how he had nothing to show for it, except more cuts and bruises. “I just keep making mistakes, though.”
Her hand paused and she offered him a sympathetic smile. Shaking her head, she laughed softly. “I can’t take you seriously with this on your nose.” She peeled up the steak, laid it over his right eye, and pressed his hand to it. “That’s so much better. Keep it there for a while,” she said, dipping a cloth in the fresh water. “You know, I’m very fond of Emilio.” Billy’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t make a sound. After what he’d said about Mollie, maybe this was just a little revenge. “But I don’t think I love him. Yet.”
She wrung the rag with small hands not afraid of work. Determined, she finished wiping away the stubborn spots of blood around his nose. “He’d be easy to love. He’s a good man.”
“So I hear. Repeatedly.” Hannah chuckled at his sullen tone. But Billy was a little tired of everyone defending the gre—he stopped the word. Emilio deserved at least some respect. He could fight like a man.
“You’re probably a good man too, Billy.” Hannah switched to working on his hands, her head bent over them as she talked. “I’m having trouble seeing it … seeing past the hurt.” She painted more of Emilio’s concoction on his knuckles, still stubbornly avoiding his gaze.
What he wouldn’t give if they could just go back and start over. “You don’t know how many times, Hannah, I’ve wished I would have handled things differently.” He clutched her hand, the desperation to get through to her almost strangling his voice. “I’ve come fifteen hundred miles for you. I left my home, my family’s fortune, my mother. I’m all out of ideas. I don’t know what else to do.”
“Good.” Her expression softened and transformed into something downright angelic. “Now God can help you.”
~~~
Twenty-Six
“You want her to stay here?” Naomi hated the angry tone in her voice. It made Amanda’s gaze hit the floor like a dog about to take a beating. But really, here?
Charles gave the girl an apologetic nod and took Naomi’s arm, pulling her several feet away from the hotel’s registration desk. “I realize I didn’t think this out very well, but you needn’t be so rude.”
“I didn’t expect you to parade these women in front of me, Charles.” He frowned and stole embarrassed glances around the room. Naomi bit her lip, but wasn’t really sorry the handful of customers in the dining room had heard her.
Taking a breath, he spoke more calmly. “I would not do that to you, Naomi. You don’t understand. I don’t believe I ever …”
“You’re not sure?”
Naomi knew her knee jerk reaction wasn’t going to be kind. She clamped her jaws shut, forcing herself to take a moment. She knew this about Charles. He’d admitted his past. He hadn’t gilded the lily in any way. To be fair, she’d told him she could take it.
And so she would. If it took every ounce of humility and self-control she had.
Naomi avoided Charles’ drilling stare and glanced over at the girl. She was hugging herself and tapping her toes frantically. Naomi assumed the girl would be more comfortable sitting in a dentist’s chair, especially after that welcome.
“Amanda only worked for me for a short time, Naomi. She married a miner, but, apparently, that relationship has come to an end. ”
Naomi sighed. She had humiliated Amanda out of jealousy … irrational, immature jealousy.
“She wants out.” Charles gentled his voice. “I want to help her. Like I did Lily and Iris and Jasmine.”
Like I tried to do with Amaryllis.
The thought shamed Naomi for the lie it was. She hadn’t tried to help Amaryllis. At least not because she loved her or had compassion for her. She had made the girl an offer out of a sense of obligation. Because it was the right thing to do.
Naomi, her shoulders bent with humility, marched back over to Amanda. She touched the girl on the elbow. “Amanda, my apologies. I didn’t understand. You are more than welcome here.”
The girl smiled, but it trembled. “No, I’m the one who doesn’t understand. Mr. McIntyre, what is it you want me to do?”
“For one thing, quit the business.”
“And do what for money?”
“About that …” Charles gazed at Naomi. His earnest expression said he was waiting for forgiveness and permission. Knowing she was the one who needed forgiveness, she nodded. McIntyre placed a hand lightly on Amanda’s shoulder. “We’re going to figure a way to send you to Wellesley. To become a teacher. And maybe you won’t be the only one.”
Amanda’s mouth fell open. Naomi’s heart burst with pride. “Charles.” She slid her arms around his elbow. “That is won—”
“Forgive my manners, Amanda,” he interrupted Naomi, stopping her praise. He grasped her hands with a surprising firmness, as if her touch was praise enough. “This is my fiancée, Naomi Miller. We’re getting married in a few days.”
Amanda blinked and her mouth formed a startled o. Finally, she managed, “I don’t know what to say. Mr. McIntyre,” she thrust out her hand, “thank you.” The two shook. Her smile widening, Amanda reached out to Naomi. “Thank you, Mrs. Miller. I hope the two of you will be very happy.”
“I’m sure it will be interesting.” She grinned at Charles, but held on to Amanda’s hand. “But let’s talk about you.”
Naomi led the way over to a corner table and motioned for them to take a seat. Their table was at the front of the dining room and Naomi stole a moment to gaze longingly out the window at the beautiful azure sky full of wispy clouds. There were times, thankfully few and far between, when she wished she and her sisters had bought a farm instead of a six-day-a-week restaurant. She missed being outdoors.
“I’m no St. Francis of Assisi,” Charles tossed Naomi a wink, pulling her back to the moment, “but I can take a stab at righting a few wrongs. Amanda, if you’re serious about becoming a teacher, I’ll set up a scholarship for you.”
The girl smiled cautiously. “A scholarship? You mean it?”
“I will pay your tuition to Wellesley or wherever you’d like to go, and provide you with expense money as long as you’re in school.”
She tilted her head. “Do I have to pay it back?”
“Only by becoming the best teacher you can.”
Amanda studied the salt and pepper shakers on the table and pushed a stiff tawny curl behind her ear. “That would be such an amazing life … so different. I don’t know what to say. Or do.” She looked up at Charles and Naomi to explain. “I mean, in the meantime. I mean, thank you very much, Mr. McIntyre, but I imagine it will take time to get things set up. What do I do in the meantime, if not …?”
Naomi reached across the table and touched the girl’s hand, noting her skin was such a pretty shade of chocolate. “Amanda, is there any chance you can cook? We could use an extra person badly. None of us are getting any time off. Your room is free and so are your meals. Oh, and we’ll pay you, of course.”
“Before you answer that,” Charles leaned forward and spoke in a somber tone, “you should understand my terms for the scholarship. As of this moment, you are done working in saloons. Period. If you go back on your word, I’ll cancel the scholarship. What you do with your education after school will be your business.”
Amanda pondered the offer for several seconds. Naomi couldn’t imagine what in the world could stand in the way of grabbing a brighter future. Finally, the girl stuck out her hand to Charles. “Mr. McIntyre, thank you. I can do this. I will make this work, for both our sakes.”
~~~
Billy didn’t go back inside after Hannah was done with him. He knew he should. After all, Mr. Perfect was in there probably building some Louis XIV furniture or installing a newfangled ice box.
But I don’t think I love him. Yet.
He’d be easy to love. He’s a good man.
He didn’t understand what Hannah meant. Did she love Emilio or didn’t she? Was there still a chance for her and Billy? And what was that
about now God can help you?
Disgusted with the cryptic hints, Billy drifted to the corral and waited for Prince Valiant to approach.
Huffing and snorting, the horse trotted up to him. He shook his head and pawed the ground with his hoof, communicating a familiar desire. Billy grinned as the message sank in. He draped the steak over the fence. “Yeah, let’s go for a ride.”
Minutes later, horse and rider loped across a high mountain meadow bathed in late afternoon sun. Riding bareback and using nothing but Val’s halter and lead line for control, Billy tried to lose himself in the experience. The rhythm of the ride, the horse’s powerful muscles rippling under his legs, the exhilaration of controlling a thousand pound animal, it nearly always cleared his mind. He even forgot the ache in his nose and hand.
Wind rushing past his ears, he breathed in the scent of pines and horse sweat and lolled with the nice, easy canter. Prince Valiant, though, wanted more. They entered the woods, a grove of widely spaced aspens, and Billy held the pace. Sun flickered through the budding spring leaves, peppering them with light. The two followed a ridge for a good half hour. When the trees opened up, they found themselves on the edge of wide, steep pasture covered in thick grass.
They had the feel of the ride. Their rhythm had melded into one.
Billy smiled. “Yah! Git up!”
He kicked the horse with his heels, tightened his legs, and grabbed a handful of mane with his sore hand. Billy hunkered down and Prince Valiant lunged forward, reaching a full gallop in three beats. Billy’s heart thundered in his chest as he watched the ground race by. Exhilarated, he shut his eyes for a moment and listened to the rhythm of pounding hoofbeats and the wind of freedom rushing over him. Faster and faster. The horse stretched out long and lean, hooves striking the green grass below like lightning bolts.
The hill sloped down and Billy aimed Prince Valiant for a shadowy opening in the trees about two hundred or so yards ahead. As he picked a point at which to begin reining him in, the horse stumbled. In a flash, the world turned upside down. Dirt and grass flew. Prince Valiant screamed. Billy’s head smacked the ground and his breath whooshed out of him. Before he knew what happened, he was staring at up at a blue sky, dust swirling over him.
Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2) Page 17