Before the Larkspur Blooms

by Caroline Fyffe - Prairie Hearts Series 02 - Before the Larkspur Blooms

  Thom straightened and ran his arm across his sweaty forehead. Win was looking up at him, the reins of the horse already in his hand.

  “I don’t mind.” That’s a barefaced lie. He’d be lucky if God didn’t strike him dead right there in the loft. After their conversation yesterday it would be awkward seeking Hannah out, even if it was to help.

  “Thanks. I meant to do it earlier and forgot,” Win said, smiling up at him. He was younger than Albert by two years and shorter by three inches. They both had brown hair and thick eyebrows. Today Win hadn’t shaved, leaving a thick stubble covering his square jaw. “I’m usually called upon to fix things around town, you know, pumps, windmills, and such. Her pump is pretty straightforward. You know where the tools are in the storage shed?”

  Thom nodded.

  “Good. It’s free of charge given that she’s a widow. In exchange, she usually sends me home with a nice meat pie or something else just as tasty. It’s yours, of course. I’m late or I’d do it myself.”

  The muscles in Thom’s jaw tightened. “No problem. I’ll take care of it just as soon as I’m finished here.”

  Win nodded. “Tell her I’m sorry I forgot about it,” he called as he left. “I expect she’s plenty annoyed with me.”

  The clip-clop of hooves finally faded. Thom climbed down and stabled the six horses, running a brush quickly over each. Mentally he ticked off the list of chores Win expected him to complete before leaving. As he rushed to finish, Maximus, Win’s orphaned bison calf, followed him around, hungry for attention. Thom constantly had to sidestep to keep from being tripped. With a handful of hay, he persuaded the bison into his outdoor pen, then fastened the gate. Lastly, in the grain room, he found the barn cat asleep on top of three sacks of oats.

  “Out you go.” He picked her up and set her in the aisle outside the door. “Time for you to go to work.” He snapped the padlock closed as she blinked up at him sleepily.

  Thom glanced down at his clothes and curled his lip at the grime that stuck to him like a magnet. He swiped at his hair, divesting it of bits of hay and cobwebs he’d collected in the loft, but he knew it did little to improve his appearance. Lifting his arm, he gave a sniff. He was due a bath, but he’d not be able to accomplish that until tonight, after supper. Well, there was no help for that now. Collecting a wrench and a handful of silver washers from the shed, he took his horse’s reins and headed up the street.

  Up to her elbows in bubbles, Hannah attacked a dirty pot with her scrub brush, anxious to get home to Markus. Thank goodness she’d had a busy turnout today—twenty-four meals, seven with dessert. Just like old times. If only more days could be like this one.

  It wasn’t hard to figure out that the two new restaurants were hurting business. Charley’s had opened on the north end of town seven months ago, causing a pinch. Then when an older couple new to town had heard about the railroad, they’d opened Nana’s Place. That was three months ago, and half of her regular clientele had gone missing the first week. Still, it was hard to begrudge them trying something new.

  Someone rapped on the back door. Thank goodness Win’s finally here. With her hands still in the water, she glanced around for the dish towel, and in the process gave the temperamental water pump a withering stare. Another day like today, hauling water from the hotel, would be the end of her.

  The knock sounded again. Normally she would have called for Susanna to get it, but today her helper had a headache and Hannah had sent her home.

  “Come in, Win,” she finally called in exasperation as she caught sight of the dish towel beneath a pile of soiled dishes. What a day for the pump to slow to a trickle. The sink was overflowing with dishes, and pots and pans all but hid the drain board. Thom stepped in, and she pulled up short.

  “Thom.” She yanked her hands from the bubbles and dried them on her apron. Hair drooped in her eyes, and her face was moist. Even in her wet dress, the room felt several degrees warmer as she struggled for something to say.

  He held a wrench in his hand. “Win sent me over to have a look at your water pump.”

  His gaze roamed around her kitchen in every direction except hers. If her eyes weren’t playing a trick on her, there was a blush creeping up his neck. A kernel of pleasure budded inside her—she felt it sprout, blossom, and ripen as he took a deep breath and shifted his weight from side to side. With his hot and cold moods he might say he didn’t want to come to dinner on Sunday, but here, now, alone with her in the restaurant, he was unable to hide the softening of his eyes, the slight curve of his lips.

  A replica expression of a day long ago but not forgotten. She’d baked a cherry pie for his fourteenth birthday. Excitedly, with only the light from one candle, she’d gotten up at midnight so her mother wouldn’t know what she was about, then hidden the sweet away until after school. Late in the afternoon after chores were done, she’d run across the expanse of her father’s field and then the Donovans’, with the covered pie held firmly in her hands. She’d found Thom in the barn. He’d been surprised at first, but soon the expression he was trying so hard to hide now had crept over his face, warming her adolescent heart to overflowing. Despite Thom’s gruffness yesterday and now, he was pleased to see her—and he couldn’t tell her otherwise.

  Thom closed the few feet between them and looked the pump over a moment before turning to her. “This pump?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “Yes.”

  “A ragtag group of children were at your back door. Took off as soon as they saw me. Looks like they were carrying something.”

  “That would be Brenna’s brood. If I have any leftovers to spare, or an extra this or that, I hang it out my back door. Maude at the store does the same. My friend Jessie Logan also helps out. It’s a group effort.” She gave him a caring look. “Times are tough for a lot of people these days.”

  His eyes softened. “Guess they are.” They were staring at each other in silence. She glanced away, and he reached for the pump handle, working it up and down. “Sorry about my condition. You may want to step back a couple of feet.”

  “It’s no worse than mine.” She ran her hands down the front of her dress. “It’s been a madhouse all day. I haven’t had a second to even look in the mirror.”

  Thom glanced at her over his shoulder. “You don’t show it.”

  Hannah warmed further at the compliment and shrugged. She tried to distract herself by folding some clean towels left on the small table they used for a break. Despite what she thought she knew of Thom’s expressions, he’d been clear about his feelings for her when they’d talked in the restaurant, and she’d best remember that. Though it hadn’t stopped her from lying awake last night, thinking about him.

  “Logan Meadows suits you,” she said, watching him bend back to his chore.

  Her statement drew him around to look at her questioningly.

  “I can’t help notice how tan you are. You—” She closed her mouth. Even in the short time he’d been home, it seemed he’d gained weight and his face had been kissed gently by the sun. “You must be spending a lot of time outside with the livestock.”

  He looked amused. “Spend most my time chasing Win’s bison calf around. Maximus can be a nuisance.”

  “Oh.” That was the best she could come up with with him gazing at her like that. “Can—can I get you anything? A cold glass of chokecherry juice?” Without waiting for his answer, she snatched a tall glass off the shelf and hurried into the storeroom, where they kept a few chunks of ice in a pail as often as possible to try and keep the room cool. From a pitcher, she filled the glass to the top, added a heaping teaspoon of sugar, and stirred.

  Thom was taking the contraption apart with his wrench. She set his drink on the counter next to him. “Here you go. I think you’ll like it. It’s fresh.”

  He straightened and picked up the glass, his biceps flexing as he held the drink to his mouth. He drained it to the bottom, and his eyes opened wide as he handed it back to her. “That was sweet!”<
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  She laughed, and he smiled ear to ear. “That’s the way you used to like it,” she replied. “With lots of sugar. Remember? Your mother always made it best.”

  His smile ebbed. Before he could glance away, hurt, dark as a moonless sky, shadowed his eyes.

  “Thom, I’m so sorry about your family. It must be very difficult to hear about your parents like you did. I wrote to you after your mother passed on, but my letter was returned unopened. It was the hardest letter I have ever written. I know it was the same for her when she wrote to tell you about your pa. It also came back unopened. She grieved over that a lot. That you didn’t know.”

  He stood silent.

  “I have her things. There aren’t very many. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  He nodded.

  “Anne Marie finally wrote to me a few weeks ago. She lives up in Montana. Until now, nobody knew where she was. She’s expecting a baby,” she said, wanting to cheer him up. “I can give you her address.”

  He looked down at her, his eyes unreadable. “Thank you.”

  Unable to stop herself, she slipped into his arms and laid her head against his chest. His arms came around her.

  “Hannah, please. I smell like a week-old stall. I can notice it myself, and that’s saying something.”

  He hadn’t yet set her away. “You smell fine to me. I’ve been dreaming about giving you this hug since the moment I saw you sitting in the restaurant with Albert.” She squeezed, but it wasn’t returned.

  “I think I know where you’re going with this, Hannah.” His husky whisper sent a tingle up her back. His heart beat slowly against her ear. “It just can’t be. Too much has happened. We’re different. It’d be nothing but heartache for you, and you’d be a problem for me, too. It would be a whole lot easier if you didn’t keep this up.”

  She leaned back so she could see into his face, search his coffee-brown eyes. “Keep what up?”

  “You know. I see it in your eyes.” It might have been her imagination, but she thought he pulled her closer. “You don’t have to say a word for me to know what’s going on in your head.”

  All the years yearning for him fell away. Now, it was just the two of them, and she didn’t want to regret not taking a chance. “Thom, I have something to tell you,” she started slowly.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Hannah.” He stepped back, putting space between them. “I can tell by your tone it’s nothing I want to hear.”

  Hurt blossomed in her chest, but she knew Thom, knew he couldn’t mean it. He’d been through a lot, and it was his own hurt talking. She reconsidered her actions, but only for a moment. Too much time had already been lost, and truths that should have been said a long time ago needed saying now. She folded her arms across her chest and stepped in front of the water pump, making it impossible for him to get to the contraption without going over the top of her.

  Thom’s eyebrow arched. “Go on, then. Spit it out.” He also crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her, giving as good as he got. “I’ve yet to be able to stop you from doing something that you’ve set your mind to. Go on, or I’ll never get home.” There was irritation in his voice, but she didn’t miss the smile tugging again at the corner of his lips. “The time you wanted to come with Caleb and me to deliver a plow to New Meringue and we said no because you were just a girl, you squirreled away in the back of our wagon until it was too late for us to turn around. I was so blaming mad at you! We had a hard time explaining that one away.”

  “I remember. That was just a few weeks before you ran off.”

  He nodded.

  “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I’m not a girl anymore. If your leaving has taught me anything, it’s that every day is precious.” She stopped. Worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I know I never told you,” she began uncertainly. “But…” She searched for the right words to show him how much he meant to her. How devastated she’d been when he’d left town. How overcome with pain when they’d heard he’d been sent to prison. The look on his face said he’d not make this easy.

  “After you left, I waited for you to come back. I prayed you would. Night after night I begged God to bring you home. Your sister got fed up with me, and my mother was beside herself thinking I’d lost my mind.”

  “You had a schoolgirl crush.”

  Hannah sucked in a breath. “You knew?”

  He chuckled. “Kinda hard not to.”

  Hannah swallowed. He’d known—all those years. Yes, they’d been young, but lots of couples met in school, got married, loved each other till their dying day. He’d known and still didn’t return my feelings. She felt compelled to continue even though the ground where she stood seemed to rock. “It wasn’t until three years after you left that we got news you’d been in prison the whole time. I never believed you were guilty, Thom. You’d never do something illegal like rustling cattle. Caleb, you know how much he loved you, well—he saw I was pining away for you, saw my anguish—he tried to make up for it. He invited me to supper almost every Sunday. Once I turned fifteen he asked me to every social that year. Gave me his coat when I was cold. I couldn’t help but respond to his kindness.”

  Thom’s stalwart expression made her wish she hadn’t launched into this at all. “Finally,” she continued, although her bravado was waning, “he started talking about marriage. After my father passed away, my mother was fearful of everything. Afraid I’d end up a spinster. Afraid we would lose everything without a way to support ourselves. Afraid to stay on the farm unprotected.”

  Thom reached out and smoothed a wisp of hair from her face, his eyes softening. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but all this has nothing to do with who we are now, Hannah. No one can turn back the hands of time. Not even you. Don’t you think I would if I could?”

  Why couldn’t he bend just a little? Meet her halfway. In exasperation, she stamped her foot and the old plank boards gave, causing a slight sway in the floor. A second later, a decorative plate slipped from a narrow display shelf above the door. It fell and shattered with a loud crash.

  Thom ached to pull Hannah into his arms, kiss the sweet lips that had just confessed her devotion. But he couldn’t. All the hurt and disappointment he’d already caused those who loved him…Hannah deserved so much better. Especially since she’d already suffered through Caleb’s death, and at such a young age. She needed someone who could care for her and her son for years to come. Someone she could lean on. He had no idea what his future held, not with a bullet ready to drop him. He was damaged goods.

  He had to keep a clear head, do what was best for her. While he tried to think of what he could say to make her understand, he stared at the remnants of the broken plate.

  A quick rap on the back door startled both of them.

  “Is everything all right in here, Hannah?” Dwight came in without invitation. He glanced at the plate and then back at Hannah. “I heard something shatter. Are you hurt?”

  The deputy’s posture all but snapped straight when he saw Thom. His wide-eyed concern vanished as his hand lowered to the handle of the Colt 45 strapped to his leg.

  Thom swore under his breath. Exactly what I have been trying to avoid. It wouldn’t take much to get himself shot or sent back to Deer Lodge. Not much at all, especially with Dwight’s predatory temperament watching his every move with wolflike precision. The warden had warned Thom. People were afraid of ex-convicts. He had to be twenty times more observant of the law than most.

  “What the devil is going on in here?” The white bone china crackled and popped underneath Dwight’s boots as he strode possessively toward Hannah.

  Thom gritted his teeth and looked down at the floor. Surely Dwight would notice her flushed face. The tears glistening in her eyes.

  “He try to hurt you, Hannah? In any way at all? Did he put his hands on you?” Dwight’s fingers curled around the handle of his gun. “You can tell me. Did he make improper advances?”

  “Of course not!” Hannah said
firmly. Sparks fairly sprang from her eyes. “That is outrageous. Win sent him over to fix my water pump. He’s been a perfect gentleman in every way.”

  “I don’t know if I believe you, Hannah. Why didn’t Win come himself, like he always does? Mayhap this jailbird just wanted a moment alone with you. Do a little sweet-talking.” He jerked his gaze toward Thom. “Perhaps he’s hungry from all those years locked away.”

  Thom dug deeper for his quiet. He’d learned how to play the game, but it rankled more with Dwight than it had with any prison guard. He uncurled his fingers in an attempt to relax and took deep breaths through his nose. “I came to fix the pump, Dwight,” he said, counting backward from five. “Just doing my job. Nothing more.”

  Dwight jammed a finger into Thom’s chest, trying to push him back, but Thom held his ground. They both knew Dwight had him where he wanted him. Without Sheriff Preston here, Dwight could claim anything. “You’re to call me sir whenever you address me. You understand, mick jailbird?”

  Hannah threw up her hands. “Be serious! No one calls you sir. Why should Thom?”

  A line of crimson started on Dwight’s neck and slowly crept over his face toward the unkempt hair hanging down into his eyes. Thom didn’t like what he saw before Dwight’s small eyes darted over to Hannah. “Because I said so. That’s all the reason I need.” He looked back at Thom. “Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” Thom said clearly, this time locking his gaze on the pink-and-green wallpaper. “Now, sir—can I get back to work? I have chores waiting for me back at the inn. It’s getting late.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you killed Levi Smith and then ran off with your tail between your legs. You’re nothing more than a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Stop it!” Hannah shoved Dwight in the chest with both hands. “That was an accident. A boyhood fight. Levi pulled the knife to use on Thom. He stumbled and fell. Thom was cleared of any wrongdoing, and you know it! He didn’t kill Levi. Levi killed himself.”