Tessa shook her head. “I don’t have the money.”
Gideon turned with an exasperated sigh and put his hands on his hips. “There you go again. Can’t you just let me fix it because I want to?”
Wariness prodded her. Nobody put themselves out without expecting something in return. She wondered if he expected favors she was unwilling to give. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
He picked up the lantern, and the light played across the space between them. His eyes studied her, but not the way the hotel clerk’s did. Even in the flickering light, she saw something different about Gideon, but she couldn’t distinguish what it was.
“The Bible says, ‘A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly.’ I just want to be your friend, Tessa. There aren’t any strings attached.” He handed her the lantern and picked up the handles of the wheelbarrow. “C’mon, let’s go find this place Kilgore was so generous to give you.”
When they reached the corner of the alley bordering the hotel, Tessa halted. “If you’ll please put my things right here, I can manage. Thank you for your help.”
Gideon frowned. “But—”
“Please.”
Gideon chafed at the memory of Tessa setting her jaw and insisting he leave her things at the corner. Her stubborn stance declared there was no use arguing the point. He’d done as she requested, deposited her belongings and left, but he’d fought with his pillow all night thinking about it.
The following morning as Gideon swept off the boardwalk, a friendly voice hailed him.
“Hey Gideon.”
Gideon looked up.
His friend, Ty Sawyer, set the brake on his wagon and hopped down. A thatch of blond hair stuck out in a dozen directions when he removed his sweat-stained hat, and his lopsided grin reminded Gideon of the trouble they used to get into together in their childhood days.
“Hey Ty. Haven’t seen you in town for nigh onto a month.”
They tromped into the store where Ty promptly helped himself to a handful of gumdrops from the jar on the counter. “Came in for supplies. A pound of coffee, cornmeal, couple pounds of bacon, beans, some white sewing thread, and some ten-penny nails.” He popped an orange gumdrop in his mouth and looked around. “Where is everybody?”
Gideon propped the broom in the corner. “Probably over at the Willow Creek Emporium.”
“Hmph, Kilgore’s place? It’s not likely I’ll ever do business with Kilgore again. That land deal soured my opinion of him.”
Gideon scooped a handful of nails and dumped them into a sack. “Is this enough?”
Ty glanced into the sack. “That’ll do. I had the down payment for that piece of bottomland I’d been looking at. You know the place where we used to hunt rabbits?” Without waiting for Gideon’s reply, Ty continued. “Mr. Sewell said the bank would carry a loan for five years.” Ty shook his head. “A week later he turned me down, and I found out it was Kilgore who denied the loan.”
“How could he do that? Mr. Sewell’s the bank president, not Kilgore.”
Ty chewed another gumdrop. “I heard Kilgore’s bought out fifty-one percent of the bank stock.”
Gideon scowled. “But why would he refuse you a loan?”
Ty snorted. “Never got a straight answer on that, but you know who owns that piece of bottomland now?”
Gideon raised his eyebrows. “Not Kilgore.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why? He’s not a farmer.”
“No, he ain’t. Mr. Sewell told me the new owner might sell me the property, but the price suddenly tripled.”
Footsteps on the boardwalk drew Gideon’s attention. Kilgore stood in the open door, an arrogant smirk on his face. He puffed his stubby cigar and ambled inside.
Ty counted out his money and handed it to Gideon before picking up his purchases. “See you around, Gideon.” He headed toward the door.
“Thanks, Ty.”
The young man sent a stiff nod in Kilgore’s direction. “Mr. Kilgore.”
Kilgore stuck his thumbs in his suspenders and replied with a condescending snort. “Sawyer.” Kilgore sauntered to the counter. “Say, Maxwell, you should come to the hotel and see the pretty little tart I just hired to wait tables. She’s sassy and holier-than-thou, but I’ll tame her in short order.”
The disrespectful reference to Tessa set Gideon’s teeth on edge. “That’s no way to talk about a lady, Kilgore.”
Kilgore sneered and blew a puff of smoke in Gideon’s direction. He turned and cast a wide glance around the store. “When you get ready to unload this dump, you know where to find me.” He exited and strolled down the boardwalk.
Self-accusation burned in Gideon’s chest. If only he could have hired Tessa himself. The prospect of Kilgore paying Tessa an honest wage for an honest day’s work filled him with misgivings.
Tessa’s feet throbbed as she bumped open the kitchen door with her hip. Her stomach growled at the aroma of the beef stew, pork chops, steak, and fresh biscuits on her tray. She forced a smile as she placed steaming platters before three men at a corner table.
“You’re new here, ain’t ya?”
Tessa set a basket of warm biscuits on their table and started toward the next table where a party waited to order, but the man in the plaid shirt and leather vest grabbed her hand.
“Hey now, don’t be in such a hurry.” The dark-haired cowboy waggled his thick eyebrows. “Why don’t you stick around, and maybe me and you can get better acquainted.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart accelerated as she twisted her arm trying to extract her hand.
He tightened his grip.
Her stomach constricted, and nausea rose to her throat. “Please excuse me. I have other customers.”
The man’s laughter drove chills down her spine, and he reeked of whiskey. “We was gonna order dessert. Maybe you can”—he cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder and leaned toward her—“offer some suggestions.”
She yanked her arm free and took a step backward. “Our dessert menu for today is”—her voice trembled—“apple pie, chocolate cake, or raisin pudding.”
“Tessa!” Mr. Kilgore’s voice boomed across the dining room, and every patron in the place turned in his direction.
Tessa scurried over to her boss. “Yes sir?”
“I’m not paying you to stand around and chat. If you can’t attend to your duties, I don’t need you.”
Tessa felt every eye in the dining room on her as she stood under the lash of Kilgore’s upbraiding. Her face burned, and she couldn’t gulp enough air to satisfy her lungs.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kilgore. I tried to—”
“If your trying isn’t good enough, I’ll find someone else. Now get back to work, and don’t let me catch you lollygagging again.”
Her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. She’d listened to Papa’s tirades for as long as she could remember and survived them. Subjecting herself to Mr. Kilgore’s abuse wasn’t any different except that Mr. Kilgore was paying her. She needed this job.
She took orders from two other tables and scurried to the kitchen to find Flossie at the sink pumping water over her hand and groaning. “Flossie, what’s wrong?”
The cook growled under her breath and continued to pump water.
Tillie spoke up as she filled the orders Tessa left on the serving counter. “She spilled hot grease over her hand. I told her to pour cold water over it.”
Tessa peered over Flossie’s shoulder. Angry blisters already formed on the inflamed skin. Tessa grimaced, imagining the pain.
Flossie dipped her head to one side and wailed. “What am I gonna do? If I tell Mr. Kilgore I can’t work for a few days because of this, he’ll fire me. This job is the only thing keepin’ us goin’ since our wheat crop got flooded out last year.”
Tessa’s heart broke for the woman. Her hands mechanically filled coffee cups and cut slices of pie as she tried to think of a way to help Flossie. Sympathy shuddered through her as
she left the kitchen with her loaded tray.
As she set two plates of apple pie before a lady and a gentleman, an idea gradually formed in her head. She cleared off adjacent tables and hurried back to the kitchen where Flossie leaned forlornly against the big worktable, holding her hand in obvious agony while Tillie applied goose grease to the blisters. “Flossie, I’d like to help you.”
“Why?”
Tessa blinked. Why indeed? Maybe the way Gideon helped her had something to do with it. When everyone in her world had left her, Gideon stepped forward. She remembered the verse about having friends he quoted to her. Mama taught that verse to her when she was a little girl afraid to go to school for the first time. Gideon brought it back to her memory.
She smiled at Flossie. “Because the Bible teaches if we want friends, we must first be a friend.”
A furrow dented Flossie’s brow. Maybe she wasn’t familiar with the scripture, or she simply didn’t trust Tessa. Perhaps both.
She’d have to show Flossie she was serious. “When do you usually do your baking?”
Flossie cast a doubtful look in her direction. “Early in the morning, before the breakfast crowd starts coming in. Why?”
Tessa looked at both Flossie and Tillie. “If we work together, I think everything can still go smoothly and Flossie can keep her job.” She turned to look directly at the cook. “Flossie, you can still cook. It will just take you a lot longer to do things with one hand. But we can help, can’t we, Tillie?”
Tillie shrugged. “Sure. I’ll help wherever I can.”
Tessa gave Flossie an encouraging smile. “Tillie can lend a hand cutting up the vegetables and preparing the meat. I’ll come in early, the same time you do, but I’ll do the baking, and you can get started on the day’s menu.”
Flossie stared at Tessa while she cradled her injured hand. “You would do that for me?”
It felt good to smile. “Yes. I don’t want you to lose your job, Flossie. And besides, I really enjoy baking.”
Flossie grunted. “And I hate to bake. I only did it because I had to.”
Tillie glanced toward the door. “What if Mr. Kilgore finds out?”
“He never comes into the kitchen, and as long as the work gets done, why should he care?”
Flossie hesitated then nodded her head. “I don’t know why you’re doin’ this for me, but I appreciate it.”
“C’mon, let’s get the kitchen cleaned up and ready for tomorrow.” Tessa plunged her hands into the soapy water and made short work of the dishes. In less than an hour, she slipped out the side door and made her way to the shed.
The ramshackle, lean-to structure constructed partially of sod blocks and partially of irregular widths of boards wasn’t much to look at, but at least it had a roof. Unexpectedly, Gideon came to mind. She wasn’t sure why it mattered to her, but she was glad he hadn’t seen the place the night he helped her carry her things.
She pushed open the door. “In a few months I’ll have enough saved to afford a room at Mrs. Dunnigan’s place for the winter.”
She pulled the much-mended quilt from the trunk and spread it on the earthen floor. Flossie had given her a leftover biscuit and a spoonful of cold gravy to take home. She added the last bit of cheese and a few crackers to finish out her meager meal. As she nibbled, she pretended the biscuit was still hot and fresh and the gravy warm and savory instead of cold.
She wrapped the last two crackers in the paper to save for her breakfast, but when she started to return the bundle to the cabinet, something caught her eye. She stared hard through the shadows, trying to determine what it was. Then it moved—no, it scurried. She bit back a scream.
Chapter 5
Scat!” Tessa banged her hand on the trunk lid to scare the mouse away. She wasn’t inclined to share either her quarters or her food with rodents. A shiver sent gooseflesh up her arms.
If she planned to read Mama’s Bible, she’d best hurry. Night shadows loomed, driving the rays of sun behind the horizon.
Tessa took a seat in the doorway with the book angled to catch every bit of available light. She flipped pages until she came to Psalm 27. Her eyes scanned the verses she’d previously read, and she turned the page. Her lips formed the words as she read the rest of the psalm in the dusk. Her finger traced the last verse.
“Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart.”
She closed the book carefully and laid it in her lap. The last bit of light faded, but the words she’d read echoed in her mind.
“It sounds like a promise. God, Mama always told me I could trust the words of this book. It says You will take me up since Mama and Papa are both gone. Does that mean You’ll take care of me? Is that what I’m supposed to wait for?”
She leaned against the doorframe. “And what about Gideon? He says he wants to be my friend. But what if he goes away, too?”
God’s answer didn’t echo from heaven.
Fatigue draped around her like a heavy cloak. She scooted aside and started to close the door only to realize she’d be closing the mice in with her.
A shudder rippled through her. Which was better—sleeping with mice or leaving the door open so anyone could enter? She shrugged at the obvious. The mice could come and go as they pleased whether she shut the door or not, and a closed door didn’t offer security since there was no latch. Tomorrow she’d find a stout stick to brace the door closed.
She stretched out on one side of the quilt and pulled the other half over her. Her eyelids grew heavy as she listened for the skitter of tiny feet.
A cacophony of laughter accosted her ears. Faces of men loomed before her, their leering eyes hungry as they reached out to grab her.
She pulled away from one only to bump against another. She gasped and whirled in the opposite direction where another man closed in. Her breath caught in her throat, strangling her screams. The men laughed as she pushed against them.
In the middle of the encroaching sea of intimidating faces was Mr. Kilgore. His stubby cigar waggled up and down as he repeated his declaration of the wages she’d earn working at the Blue Goose.
She strained for breath as panic filled her. “No, I won’t! Leave me alone!”
Kilgore guffawed. “The friendlier you are, the more they buy, and if they like you, they might stick around … stick around….”
“A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly.” Gideon’s smiling face came into view. “I thought we were friends. You can only have a friend if you be a friend.”
She almost took a step toward him but halted abruptly when another face in the crowd pushed forward.
“You ain’t worth nothin’.” The hateful accusation spewed from Papa’s lips. “It’s your fault. You ain’t worth nothin’….”
Tessa lurched awake with a cry. Sweat dripped from her temples and slid down her cheek. Or was that a tear?
She consciously slowed her breathing and lay back down on the quilt. Without a clock, her only means to gauge the time was the level of noise coming from the saloon. The earlier fever pitch was now silent. She didn’t know what time the establishment closed, probably the wee hours. If she allowed herself to go back to sleep, she might rise too late to help Flossie with the baking.
She rose and shook the quilt, hoping her unwelcome visitors found someplace else to spend the night. The door squeaked as she pushed it open. No illumination from the street lanterns reached the shed. Blackness enveloped the alley.
Her hands groped along the brick wall as she made her way toward the side door that opened to the hotel kitchen. Once inside, she struck a match and found the lamp hanging over the worktable. The wick caught easily, and she slid the glass globe back into place. After she fed the banked coals in the cookstove, she crossed to the cavernous pantry.
From the shelves she gathered spices, sugar, and a crock of lard. Three large baskets of apples sat beside the flour barrel.
By the time Flossie came in the side door with her hand wrapped
in a clean rag, three apple pies wafted their cinnamon fragrance through the kitchen, while Tessa crimped the crust of three more on the worktable.
“Good morning, Flossie. How is your hand feeling today?”
The cook looked down at the makeshift bandage and shrugged. “Don’t help to complain. I just hope it don’t get no fever in it.”
Tessa started to suggest Flossie have the doctor take a look at the burn but held her tongue. Doctors cost money. She bit her lip and returned to her task.
A week after taking over the baking, Tessa’s apple pies and chocolate cakes earned numerous compliments. Working the dough with her fingers gave her satisfaction, and pulling fragrant pastries from the oven brought a measure of contentment she’d not known for a long time.
Tillie stuck her head in the door. “Tessa, there’s a girl out here who wants to know if you can make a wedding cake.”
Tessa looked up from the chocolate cake she was frosting and thought for a moment. “Sure.” She considered the cost of the supplies and the extra time involved. “Tell her … two dollars and a half.”
Flossie smirked as Tillie left to deliver the message. “Don’t reckon Mr. Kilgore knows about our arrangement yet, but if folks keep asking for special orders, he might wonder why.”
Flossie unwrapped her hand, and Tessa crossed the kitchen to inspect the wound. The inflamed red flesh didn’t appear to be healing as fast as Tessa hoped. “Flossie, you must go see the doctor.”
The woman shook her head. “Even if I had the money for a doctor, I couldn’t take the chance of Kilgore finding out.”
Tessa wondered if Gideon carried a burn remedy at the mercantile. It couldn’t hurt to ask.
The thought of Gideon ignited a warm rush of feelings—the same feelings she’d experienced when his face appeared in her awful dream a week ago. Having Gideon close by felt comfortable. Maybe because he wanted to be her friend. She refused to entertain thoughts of his being anything more.
Brides of Iowa Page 4