Nissa (The Widows of Wildcat Ridge Book 3)

by Zina Abbott

  Hal, his hands clasped behind his back, continued to walk beside her. “I had no intention of causing you discomfort, Miss Templeton, so it is I who am sorry. I’m just trying to understand your concern. Perhaps it is me you find offensive. If that is the case, please say so, and I’ll cross the street to see you arrive safely home.”

  Birdie against stopped and stared at him with amazement. “No, oh, no. I don’t find you offensive at all. But why would you want to see me home when there is no need?”

  “Because I find you to be intriguing.”

  Birdie inhaled audibly and shook her head. “Oh, no! I cannot afford to be intriguing to a man—any man, for any reason.” She paused and looked around to see who might be witnessing the two of them speaking. “It’s Mr. Crane—I can’t afford for word to get back to him that a man chose to speak to me outside of my role as a teller. I believe the reason he has not fired me in an effort to persuade me to work in one of his other places or put me out on the street without a job is because men do not find me appealing. I dare not take the chance word will get back to him that a man took an interest in my welfare, no matter how impersonal and altruistic your motives might be.”

  Stunned by her concern, Hal stared at Birdie and spoke slowly. “I’m afraid my motives are neither impersonal nor altruistic. I want to get to know you better.”

  Birdie’s voice lowered to a frantic whisper. “Why? Mr. Summers, I cannot afford to lose my job. You must go away and stop concerning yourself with me.” Once they reached the corner of Chestnut and Pine, she stopped.

  Hal waited in silence for her to indicate which direction to go.

  She nodded to the building across the street to the north. “I’ve reached my destination, Mr. Summers. I live in the boarding house over there.”

  “Then let’s get you off the street.” Hal took Birdie by the elbow and pulled her toward the edge of the boardwalk. He stepped into the street then, seeing her reach to adjust her spectacles to see better, helped her keep her balance while she stepped down. He pulled her at a fast walk across the street, Birdie’s parasol waving to and fro as she struggled to keep up with him.

  Hal opened the door to the boarding house and guided her inside before he shut the door. “Is there a guest parlor where we might talk a little more privately?”

  Birdie nodded towards the room to the right of the door. She entered before Hal, closed her parasol and stepped to the far corner of the room away from the front window and the doorway leading into the dining room already set for supper. She propped her parasol against the side of an upholstered chair and, with her hands clasped together in front of her, she turned to face Hal. “Now, Mr. Summers, why did you truly feel it to be so important to follow me into my home?”

  “Please, sit down, Miss Templeton. I’m sure you could use the rest after being on your feet all day.”

  Birdie offered a reluctant smile as she lowered herself onto the edge of the sofa seat. “How would you know? Do you also perform work that keeps you on your feet all day?”

  Hal sat in the chair next to the sofa. “No, but many days I spend more hours than I can count in a saddle. Same effect, different part of the body. Now, you asked a question out there. I want to answer it, plus I have a few of my own for you.”

  Birdie’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What question, Mr. Summers? Please, don’t be teasing me. I’ve had a long day.”

  “You asked why I wanted to get to know you better. You are a puzzle, Miss Templeton. You seem to make yourself appear stiff and formal—inapproachable even. Except, there were a few times I got a glimpse of an entirely different person.”

  Birdie removed her spectacles and rubbed her fingers along each side of her nose where the nosepieces pressed against her skin all day. “Surely, you understand the importance of a person in the type of work I do maintaining a professional demeanor.”

  “Yes. Except a few times you let it slip.”

  Birdie dropped her hand holding the spectacles to her lap. She stared at Hal with an expression of panic on her face. “I’m sorry.” She lowered her gaze and shifted her eyes side to side. “I hope I didn’t offend you. If Mr. Crane…”

  Hal shook his head and laughed. “Far from it. When you smiled and told me your first name, I saw a different person. As much as you try to appear stand-offish and professional most of the time, I decided I wanted to know the woman whose face lit up like a lantern when she smiled. Even behind your spectacles your eyes, which are very pretty, by the way, glowed. It’s too bad you need the spectacles to see.”

  Birdie opened her mouth as if to say something, and then dropped her gaze to her lap. She slowly folded the earpieces against the lenses of the spectacles and placed them in her reticule. “I…I must have suffered a momentary lapse.”

  Hal shook his head. “You even told me your name is Birdie. Is it a nickname for something like Bernadette?”

  With a smile, Birdie turned to Hal. “No. It is my true given name. The story my mother tells is after I was born, I opened my mouth just like a baby bird in the nest waiting for a worm. Since she intended to call me Birdie, she found no need to officially name me anything else.”

  Hal sat back in the chair, stunned at the transformation on the face before him. “Birdie Templeton, you are a beautiful woman.” He desperately wished to see her hair groomed in a looser, softer style. He gripped the chair arms to keep from reaching over to pull the pins out of the severe bun she wore.

  Birdie looked everywhere but at Hal. She clenched her hands together in her lap. “No, I can’t be. I mean, I thank you for the compliment, but I don’t dare be beautiful. Please, don’t flatter me.”

  Hal tipped his head and studied her. “It’s not flattery. I’m not attempting to be flirtatious for any improper purposes. Why does it upset you to hear me compliment you?”

  Birdie looked down and studied her folded hands. “It is like I told you before. It’s Mr. Crane who must never…I know I may be dismissed from the bank anyway if Mr. Crane follows through on his threat to shut down the one here and move the accounts to his bank closer to his mine on Clear Creek. I doubt he will agree for me to move with the accounts and retain my job.” Birdie looked up. “I will need to leave Wildcat Ridge when that happens. I still have a few things to do before I’m prepared to go. I can’t afford to get fired before then.”

  “If I were you, I’d get out before he closes the bank here.”

  Birdie shook her head. “No. If I apply for other teller positions in another town, leaving here before Mr. Crane announces the bank is closing would be seen as abandoning my responsibilities. Besides, Mr. Crane has been in an uproar this week, what with people coming into town for the horse auction. He is taking his anger out on everyone who crosses him. I don’t want any trouble from that man.”

  “Birdie, are you in the parlor? I thought I heard you come in.”

  Hal stood upon hearing the older woman’s voice and nodded as she entered the parlor. He noticed Birdie also sprang to her feet, a look of panic on her face.

  The woman’s gaze quickly traveled between them. “Oh, I didn’t realize you have company, Birdie.”

  “He’s…ah…not really company. I mean…”

  Hal reached out his hand to shake. “Hal Summers, ma’am. I’m a wrangler for the Grassy Fork Ranch in Colorado. I’m here with my boss for the horse auction. I met Miss Templeton at the bank. Since then I became aware of some undesirables who rode into town and already caused trouble for the laundress at the hotel across from the bank. I offered to see Miss Templeton safely home.” Hal glanced at Birdie. He knew she did not entirely agree with his view of the matter, but at least she didn’t openly contradict him.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Summers.”

  “Hal, ma’am. I prefer Hal.”

  Well then, Hal, I’m Maggie Loftin. Do you have accommodations until the auction, Hal?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My boss put us up at the hotel, although I suspect I’ll spend some of my nights
in the livery keeping an eye on things.” At the landlady’s raised eyebrow, he explained. “We rode the train in but brought our own horses. Once we leave the railroads going home, the way back to the ranch can only be traveled by horse, mule or a wagon pulled by horse or mule.”

  “I do offer board without room, Hal. I know we have a good café in town, but if you would like to make arrangements to eat breakfast and supper here, let me know.”

  Hal glanced over to Birdie, who appeared to watch the exchange with interest. At least, she didn’t bristle with objections. He turned back to Maggie. “Tonight I need to meet with my boss for supper, Mrs. Loftin. However, I’d like to pay for two suppers so I may join you tomorrow and the next night. I’ll let you know later about breakfast and the night of the dance.” He looked over at Birdie, her eyes now wide. “Birdie…Miss Templeton said she thought she might attend the dance.”

  Maggie blinked with surprise and turned to Birdie. “That’s wonderful, Birdie. I’ve been telling you to get out more.”

  “Yes, well, it is a community dance.” Birdie’s forehead wrinkled with concern, and she turned to Hal. “I don’t want to deprive Maggie of additional income, but, Mr. Summers, I ask that you not accompany me home from work. While we are at the table, please do not let on that we have met and become…friends. Rumors get started so easily, you know, and I already expressed to you my concerns regarding the bank.”

  Hal watched Birdie glance between him and Maggie Loftin, concern written on her face. He hated that she feared Mortimer Crane discovering that behind the façade she assumed each working day, she hid the attractive woman she truly was. He also realized Maggie Loftin studied the two of them.

  Maggie over at Hal. “Hal, might I suggest you see to our Birdie’s safety for the reasons you explained, but you do so by watching from the opposite side of the street from her/” Maggie turned to Birdie. “Birdie, come in the back door like you usually do. Five minutes or so after, Hal can enter the front door and join us at the table. Agreed?”

  Hal nodded and almost sighed with relief when Birdie bobbed her head affirmatively.

  “Good. That’s settled. If on the second night you two would rather eat alone and visit, I’ll set the small table in the kitchen for you. The others won’t need to know you’re there.” Maggie prepared to leave them. As an afterthought struck her, she turned back. “And Birdie? Once you get inside, take those spectacles off and put them away like you have now. We both know you don’t need them to see.”

  Hal heard Birdie gasp in response to her landlady’s claim. He snapped his head to study her more closely. The look of guilt on her face as she glanced his way confirmed the truth of Maggie’s statement.

  After seeing the surprise on Hal’s face, Maggie smiled at him. “She hides behind them, Mr. Summers, just like she hides behind a few other things including…” Maggie wiggled her fingers in a disparaging gesture towards Birdie’s now-folded parasol. “…that flapping bat on a stick she covers her face with when she’s outside. I would like to see her get in a situation where she feels no need to take these measures to protect herself.”

  Hal gazed into Birdie’s round, dark brown eyes no longer shielded by the glare of her spectacles. He began to realize he had barely scratched the surface of understanding Birdie. He had come to Wildcat Ridge to help his boss with the horse auction. He would never feel satisfied unless, before he left, he discovered the real Birdie Templeton.

  Hal bid Birdie farewell so she could prepare for that night’s supper. As he walked out the door, he realized with a sigh that Birdie might capture his heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  June 24, 1884

  H

  aving put on a clean work dress and taken extra care with her grooming that morning, Nissa found Diantha at the hotel’s front counter going over the register. “Diantha, do you know if Mr. Walsh is still in his room? I have his laundry ready to return to him.”

  Wearing a pleased expression borne of having her hotel fully booked, Diantha looked up. “He left a little while ago with his men. They’ve been in and out several times, but this last time, I overheard Mr. Walsh say something about going next door for breakfast.” Diantha’s mouth smiled wide. “Don’t you look nice this morning, Nissa.”

  Nissa waved off the compliment. “With all these strangers in town, I thought I’d try to look as neat as I can. However, once I start leaning over hot tubs of laundry water, it won’t last.”

  Diantha offered her a knowing look. “I see. If Mr. Walsh returns soon, I’ll let him know you have his clothes ready.”

  Nissa walked through the now-empty hotel dining room and into the kitchen with its door to the outside. She had already fed the children and seen them dressed for the day. Since most of Diantha’s customers would be in their rooms until the auction and would not need daily sheet changes other than towels and small linens, Nissa expected a light work day. Except for small jobs she might pick up from townspeople, she decided she would wash her own laundry.

  Nissa reflected on the pleasure of enjoying a light wash, rinse, hang and iron day, especially since the night had been short on sleep for her. After supper, and about the time the evening began to cool, she had taken Jamie and Molly over to the laundry shed porch to sit and play quietly while she fired up the stove enough to heat her irons. She brought Mr. Walsh’s still-damp shirts and pants in off the line, and, starting with his shirts, pressed them. The moist socks she brought inside the shed and hung them on the inside line. Grateful Diantha’s late husband had added a lock to the building’s door to discourage passersby from entering and helping themselves to clothes and equipment, she left his neatly folded clothes on the shelf in the shed.

  Nissa rose early to mend the rest of Mr. Walsh’s clothes by lamplight. She had noted Mr. Walsh’s undergarments, although not completely worn out, could have used a needle and thread taken to them prior to when they arrived in her laundry. The one pair, especially, would need to be replaced soon. She also sifted through her collection of old buttons to replace two that were missing from his shirts. Only one sock had needed darning.

  Nissa tightened a hairpin in the side of her chignon. She could not explain why she felt the need to take greater care with her grooming that morning. She never concerned herself with her appearance when Dinky Moon stopped by to pick up his laundry. Unlike her feelings with James when he had first come courting, Dallin Walsh intrigued her. She felt a heightened awareness at even the thought of him. For reasons she did not understand, she felt discomfited that for her first introduction to Dallin Walsh, he had caught her looking bedraggled and at her worst after already working several hours.

  However, it could not be for any desire to impress him in order to attract his attention. After her experience with being James Stillwell’s wife, she felt no desire to remarry. True, she had explained to Diantha, and any other widows in town who asked, the reason she did not seek a husband at that point was because running a laundry did not seem the type of business to attract a man. It was a woman’s job—and not a very desirable one at that. She knew in her own mind she simply did not wish to find herself in the same situation with another man she had endured with James—stuck, often forced to make unpleasant choices and endure abuse to protect her children while trying to work around an overbearing and self-centered man.

  As much as she had not been able to get Dallin Walsh, and his kindness offered to her and her children, out of her mind, she repeatedly told herself she felt no romantic inclinations regarding him. She refused to think too much about the attraction she felt towards him. No matter the cause, it certainly could not be romantic in nature.

  Nissa realized her copper pot had heated the water to the right temperature to add it to the cold already in her wash tub. Just as she reached for the handkerchief to tie her hair out of her face, she heard Dallin’s voice call her name.

  A grin on her face she seemed incapable of controlling, Nissa stepped into the doorway of the laundry shed and spotted him out
by her woodpile. Dallin had squatted next to her children and now spoke with them.

  Upon seeing her, he rose to his feet.

  “Good morning, Mr. Walsh. I see you received my message your clothes are ready. I have them here in the laundry shed, all neatly folded for you.”

  Dallin followed her into the building. “Thank you, Mrs. Stillwell. Might I say, you look very lovely this morning.” Dallin’s face darkened with a hint of a blush. “I hope I didn’t embarrass you. I don’t mean to be too forward.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Walsh. You didn’t embarrass me at all. I appreciate your kind words.” Nissa tried to tell herself to not make too much of him noticing her efforts and complimenting her. Still, her spirits soared after his words.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  After they finished the money exchange, Nissa turned to gather up his clothes.

  Dallin stopped her by placing his hand on her arm. “Mrs. Stillwell, I want to ask you…I mean, I am extending an invitation…” He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m not very good at this.” He inhaled deeply, as if gathering his courage. “Mrs. Stillwell, I’d appreciate it if you would join me for supper tonight at the Crystal Café next door. Well, it would be me and my men. Will you eat with us?”

  Her lips parted, Nissa stared at Dallin, not sure what to say. She and James had rarely eaten out together, although James often spent suppertime with Mr. Crane. How wonderful it would be to enjoy a nice meal at the café.

  Nissa glanced out at her children now focused on the woodpile. Evidently, Dallin had encouraged Jamie to find a suitable candidate for their boat. With a sinking heart, she knew she could not accept. Under no circumstances would she allow this man to treat her to a sumptuous meal while her children ate the usual plain fare she served. Besides, who would watch them while she was gone? Not Diantha—this week with all her hotel rooms filled, she stayed busy. Regret written on her face, Nissa looked back at Dallin. “I’m sorry, Mr. Walsh. I must decline. I do appreciate the offer, though.”