by Tracey Cross
Frowning, she sat up, still weak, but knowing she was getting better. In the other corner, Danny lay on his pallet, staring up at the ceiling, hands behind his head, elbows to the sides, as if he’d just been sent to bed.
“Mr. Lloyd?” She stood on weak but steady legs, her gown wrinkled from three days’ wear. She pushed at the wrinkles as she padded across the room. Mr. Lloyd had spread hay on the wet spot to soak up the water.
“You look better,” he observed. “On the mend, I’d say.”
“I think so.”
“Hi, Ma,” Danny whispered from his bed. “You slept the day away again.”
Mr. Lloyd chuckled.
Jane walked to her son and knelt beside him. Her arms ached for the feel of his body in her arms. “I know the rule is that you don’t get up once you’re put to bed, but how about bending a little? I could sure use one of your hugs.”
“Sure! That okay with you, sir?” He glanced around Jane to the man at the table.
“Fine with me.” Mr. Lloyd grinned. “I suppose you ought to do whatever your ma says from here on out.”
Danny slid effortlessly into her arms. Jane drew him close, then wrinkled her nose. “What day is today?”
“Friday.”
“Good. Tomorrow is bath day! You need one.”
He lay back down, screwing his face into a scowl. “I hate baths.”
Jane giggled and reached down to tickle his tummy. “I know you do, but you smell much nicer after you’ve had one.” She tucked the cover up around his shoulders and bent to kiss him. Her head spun as she sat up.
“You okay?”
She’d almost forgotten Mr. Lloyd was still in the room. Had he been watching her?
“I’m fine. Just moved a bit too fast.”
Before she could try to stand, he was at her side, offering his hand.
She had no choice but to take it and did so, wishing his hand weren’t so warm and comforting. He released her as soon as she was steady on her feet. “I have some stew set back on the stove for you. It should be mostly warm.”
“Thank you. That was thoughtful.” Considering why he was here.
“If you sit down, I’ll get it for you.”
“No thank you, Mr. Lloyd. I can get my own.”
He scrutinized her for a second, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Fighting a wave of dizziness, she forced herself not to sway or close her eyes. Instead, she walked forward blindly past the dark spots in her vision. After a few gulps and deep breaths, the dizziness passed, and she dipped the stew into a bowl.
She sat at the opposite end of the table and bowed her head. Silently she thanked the Lord for her food, then ate just as silently, allowing Mr. Lloyd the privacy of working on his papers.
Finally, he looked up and glanced to the corner where Danny now slept soundly. With a serious expression, he said, “I suppose we should discuss the original reason I arrived unannounced on your doorstep.”
Dread gripped Jane, robbing her of appetite. She pushed away the half-eaten bowl of stew. How would she ever convince Mr. Lloyd to give her time to raise the money he was owed? If he wanted the homestead so badly he’d travel almost 280 miles from Deadwood, she doubted very much there would be any reasoning with him. But for Danny’s sake, and the sake of the little one inside her, she had to try.
“Your husband approached me approximately one year ago and requested a sizable loan to expand his freighting business into a general store.”
“A general store?” Jane felt foolish. Her husband had never confided the addition to his freighting business. “I had no idea.”
Mr. Lloyd nodded. “He wanted to buy his own freight and sell mainly dry goods. Men do it all the time. Some succeed. Some don’t. I’m sorry to say, your husband’s venture was an abysmal failure.”
Jane closed her eyes for a second. Of course Tom had failed. “I see.”
“He hired a man who couldn’t stay out of the saloons, who squandered every dime the market brought in. By the time your husband came back to Deadwood with his last load of freight, the man had been killed for cheating at cards. That’s when I reintroduced myself to Mr. Albright. He believed his clerk had been paying my fees each month. However, when we compared accounting books, his was vastly different from mine.”
Jane hoped with all of her heart that Tom had truly believed the payments were being made. Otherwise he was an adulterer, a liar, and a thief to boot. She didn’t want her son’s name associated with such dishonor. “How much have you been repaid, Mr. Lloyd?”
Before he answered, she remembered Hank had already told her.
His face reddened. “Nothing.”
Jane stood and walked to the counter. She poured a cup of coffee and offered some to Mr. Lloyd. He slid his cup over and nodded his thanks.
“I know this is a terrible shock coming to you at such a time. Your husband is dead, and now to learn you’ve lost your business and your home…”
Jane set the pot heavily on the stove and whipped around. She walked around the table, forcing Mr. Lloyd to move back a little to look her in the eyes. “I don’t understand how a homestead can be part of your business deal with my late husband. It’s a homestead.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Albright. Your husband signed it over to me three months ago. It’s mine now.”
“But it still belongs to the government. We haven’t worked it long enough to have a clear deed.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am aware of that. I will take over the soddy, the outbuildings, and the fields and homestead for the rest of the time remaining on your claim.”
Danny stirred and cooed as he slept.
“My husband had no right to put up this land, this home. He didn’t work this land. I did. We hired the well dug. He never lifted a finger. You don’t own the rest of the time on this place. You won’t own a soddy and a barn and garden. You’ll own my blood and sweat. Sir, if you take this place, you’ll be stealing my son’s legacy right out from under him.”
Breathless, she slid into her chair, refusing to meet his gaze. Her hands shook as she brought the mug to her lips and took in a fair gulp of the lukewarm coffee.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Albright.” He cleared his throat and closed his ledger book. “I’m a businessman.”
“And I, sir, am a mother. What would you have me do—a woman alone in this land?”
“I’m glad you asked. I—”
Jane’s stomach twisted as he faltered in his conversation. “I won’t enter another marriage of convenience,” she said quickly. “I know you’re fond of Danny. But I’m determined to keep that resolve.” With renewed courage she stared him head on.
His lips twisted into a smirk. “And if I had intended to propose, I would be as determined to persuade you to change your mind—seeing as I am so fond of the little man. However, my proposal was of a different nature.”
Jane’s face burned. She pressed a cool palm to her neck as embarrassment speared through her like shards of burning rocks. “I apologize for my presumption. What did you intend to propose?”
He reached forward and covered her other hand with his—warm and altogether uncomfortable. Jane jerked away, knocking the table and sloshing both cups of coffee. Mr. Lloyd snatched up his ledger, removing it from the path of a line of threatening liquid.
Jane jumped to her feet, retrieved a cloth from the counter, and sopped up the mess. “I’m so clumsy. Please forgive me.”
He took hold of her wrist. Gently. Slowly she looked down into a kind face. “Sit down for a minute. There’s no harm done here.”
Slowly she inched back down until her body folded into the wooden chair. “Mr. Lloyd, you have done a great deal for my son and myself during the last couple of days. And I am grateful Danny was not left to his own devices during my illness. But I cannot possibly give up this homestead. Not while there’s breath in my body and my child depends upon me for his well-being.”
Mr. Lloyd’s eyebrow slid upward, giving him a rakish ap
pearance. Jane’s heart raced as he folded his arms across his chest and thrust his long legs out in front of him. He tipped the chair back until it balanced on two legs. “Indeed? And how would you stop me from claiming what is legally mine?”
“But it’s not yours. It’s mine. My husband barely even knew how to find his way home he was gone so much.”
His gaze darted to her hand and back to her face. “I am sorry to distress you. But I’m afraid I have plans for the land that are already set into place. There’s nothing I can do.”
A short laugh jutted from her throat. “Nothing except throw us out with nowhere to go? I suppose I can try to go to the Fort and take in laundry.”
But in that instance she knew the so-called laundresses following the army usually performed other unsavory and unacceptable services as well. She would never stoop so low.
The front legs thudded on the dirt floor. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What is it to you where we end up?” she challenged. “Since you have no intention of doing the honorable thing.”
“And what would that be? Give you my rightful property?”
“My property.”
His shoulders rose and fell as he took a steadying breath. “As I’ve been trying to say, I am not tossing you into the mud, Mrs. Albright. In fact, I’m offering you fare to anywhere you’d like to go. East, west, Texas. Anywhere you and Danny might call home.”
“We call this place home.”
A scowl marred his face, and he stood. He lifted the coffeepot, offering her some. She shook her head. He poured himself a cup and sat back down.
Clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling, she rested her forearms in front of her on the table. She swallowed hard. “Mr. Lloyd, I appreciate your kind offer. However, I would like to make a counter-proposal.”
In the month following her husband’s death she had spent time caring for the oxen and studying the freight wagon. She had been forming a plan, should this day ever come. Inwardly, she prayed for mercy. Please, let this work.
“Oh?” He sipped his coffee, scrutinizing her over the chipped rim. The calculated look intimidated Jane, but she straightened her shoulders with determination. Danny’s future was worth putting forth the effort of negotiating.
“Perhaps you would allow me to deliver freight to and from Deadwood as your employee until the homestead portion of the debt is paid.”
Silence permeated the room as he stared at her, as though waiting to hear the part of her proposal that made sense. Finally, he shook his head. “Mrs. Albright, I’m not sure I understand. The note combines the homestead and the business. They’re not two separate loans.”
“Yes, I understand. But I don’t believe I’d want to keep the freighting business. As a matter of fact, the law requires that I live on the homestead and keep it up. I couldn’t do that if I were gone all the time. So this is just until my homestead is clear of debt. You may have the wagon and the oxen.”
“But the homestead has already passed into my hands. It’s already mine. Even if I were of a mind to hire a female to deliver freight, which I am not, mind you, there is no point in the exercise. The debt is paid by the transfer of property.”
Every time he said the homestead belonged to him, Jane wanted to scream. To shove her calloused hands toward his face. To show him the bruises on her body from the hard labor of caring for this place. What right had he?
“Besides, how on earth would you handle freighting? A woman isn’t cut out for that kind of work.” His eyes examined her, as though trying to picture the scenario.
A glimmer of hope ignited deep inside, but she forced herself to remain stoic. Perhaps he was beginning to soften to the idea. “Tom told me once of a woman freighter. If you hadn’t noticed, Mr. Lloyd, I am anything but small and soft. I’m strong, sturdy, and tall for a woman.”
“Yes, but freighting is hard work. Heavy work, and not only loading freight. The oxen are large and stubborn; you have to know how to crack a bullwhip.”
“Mr. Lloyd, I have been feeding the oxen every day. I think they like me.”
He chuckled from his chest. “You think they like you? Mrs. Albright. It simply isn’t possible.”
Standing, he tucked the ledger book under his arm and reached for his cup. He set it on the counter and turned, slid his chair back under the table, and leveled his gaze at her. “Tomorrow I’ll be leaving for Deadwood to get some things in order. My offer of train fare for you and Danny still stands. Kindly begin packing your things, and be ready to move in three months’ time. That’s when I’ll arrive back here—with the marshal, if I must.”
Bitter disappointment muted Jane. All she could do was nod.
As she lay in bed that night, she tried to picture a place where she and Danny could start over. In a city, she’d be working many hours in a factory or as a domestic. She knew how many torturous hours she would be forced to work to provide the most meager of livings for the children. She would never see them. After living with Mama Rose in the county orphanage most of her life and being denied maternal affection, Jane was fiercely determined that her children would never be left to fend for themselves. So a city was not even a consideration.
The other choice was to try to homestead herself. She could file another claim, but she didn’t have the strength to build her own house of sod. At the very least, Tom had done much of the heavier chores early on. She couldn’t afford to hire a man to help.
Despair sat heavily on her chest, like a fallen tree, as she considered her last option. One she’d sworn never to consider again. Marry again. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she imagined beginning another chapter in her life with another strange man sharing her bed.
It was too much to bear.
Chapter Three
Franklin awakened with a start. What was wrong? His heart raced, and he sat up, reaching for his pistol. Light streamed in through the cracks in the barn walls the same as it had for the last two mornings. Still, something seemed—different.
From his pallet in the loft, he glanced over the edge into the barn’s ground floor. The horses didn’t seem upset, but his gut tightened with foreboding. And his gut was hardly ever wrong.
He noted the oxen hitched to the wagon. What was she up to?
The smell of frying bacon tempted his hollow stomach. Perhaps he only felt strange because he had been the one doing the cooking the past couple of days. Jane—he couldn’t quite think of her as Mrs. Albright when alone with his thoughts—was well and clearly attending her child and home. Still, something felt off.
He slipped on his boots, kept his senses alert and pistol in hand as he climbed from the loft. As he stepped out into a brilliant spring morning, everything seemed still, as though he were the only human being in the world. He’d felt this way only one other time. Those childhood memories flooded back to him as though no time had passed between the day his mother had died and now.
Deep down he knew he wasn’t in the same moment. He knew where he was, but the lines between past and present blurred. His bootsteps picked up pace. He ran to the soddy and flung the door open.
Jane spun around from the stove, flinging bacon to the floor. “Mr. Lloyd! You gave me a start!”
“I’m so sorry.” Franklin scanned the tidy room. Nothing seemed amiss, other than the bacon on the floor. He stepped forward quickly, before Jane could retrieve the meat. “I’ll get that. I’m so sorry. I thought—” He shook his head, walked with greasy bacon in hand to the door, and tossed it out to the dog.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Lloyd? You seem upset. I hope you aren’t coming down with my illness.” She frowned, searching his face. “Sit down. I’ll pour you some coffee. Breakfast is almost ready.”
Franklin wasn’t accustomed to being told what to do, but he obeyed without question, stopping at the washbasin to clean his hands before sitting down to breakfast.
Jane’s smile of approval sent rays of sunshine to his heart.
“I’m sorry
for bursting in on you that way.”
She set a cup in front of him and poured from the pot. “It’s no matter.” A slight smile tipped one corner of her mouth. “Cheyenne is pleased, I’m sure.”
He chuckled and sipped his coffee, admitting that her brew was vastly superior to his own. “Why is the wagon hitched up?”
“I was practicing with the oxen. You were right. They are stubborn animals.”
Staring at the formidable woman, he forced back a comment about her own stubbornness. “Why are you practicing?”
She shrugged. “I hoped a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast might change your mind.”
He swallowed another sip of the bitter brew. “May I have a bit more sugar, please?”
“Certainly.”
He glanced around. “Where’s Danny?”
“I sent him to gather eggs. He should be back soon.”
“Would you join me for coffee?” He pushed out the chair catty-cornered from him.
Her face darkened to a pretty pink, but she shook her head. “I have to watch the breakfast, or the dog will be getting a lot more than he bargained for, and we’ll go hungry.”
This woman surprised him with her kindness. After their last conversation, he’d fully intended to be given a cold shoulder this morning. “You seem to be feeling much better.”
She smiled. A touch of gray still ringed her eyes, but her steps seemed quick and sure as she went about preparing the meal.
He, on the other hand, was feeling strange. His eyes wanted to close, and his vision was beginning to blur.
“Are you all right, Mr. Lloyd?” Jane stood over him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“I must have taken a touch of your illness, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, dear, perhaps another cup of coffee might help. Unless you intend to return to bed, as I did.”
That was out of the question. He pushed his cup toward her, amazed at the colorful blur that followed the action. “Please.”
“Of course.” She filled his coffee once more.
The cup shook, sloshing coffee onto the table as he tried to lift it to his lips. “I beg your pardon,” he said, barely able to hear his own voice. Or was it too loud?