Nissa (The Widows of Wildcat Ridge Book 3)

by Zina Abbott

  “Nissa, you don’t need to tell me this if it upsets you.”

  “I want to tell you. The widows in this town don’t understand, and I surely cannot say anything to my children. If they can’t think well of their father, how can they grow to think well of themselves? But, as much as his death threw me into poverty, it also freed me. I no longer feel trapped, forced to do the will of an overbearing man to keep peace or prevent him from beating me, or having my son threatened with being beaten to pressure me to obey him. Worst of all, he left me and his children destitute and subject to Mortimer Crane’s abuses. At least now I can socialize with the women in town—if they are willing to talk to me even though they know I was the wife of a man who toadied to Mortimer Crane and made the lives of some of their husbands difficult. I am free to make my own decisions. I’m not sure I’m willing to give that up.”

  Dallin turned and stared off in the distance, rubbing his chin as he considered her words. “As much as it disappoints me, I think I can understand. I want you to realize, Nissa, I’m not that kind of man. I don’t want to be that kind of man—not to you or any woman. In the short time I’ve known you, I’ve come to care for you. I’ve come to care for your children. However, I can see you need more time.”

  As much as she hated to show weakness, Nissa felt the tears welling up in her eyes. “Thank you, Dallin. I surely don’t wish to insult you, but I want you to know why I don’t think I’m ready for an offer of marriage, not even from you.”

  In spite of his expression of disappointment, Dallin nodded in acceptance. “I want you in my life, Nissa. If all you are willing to be is my housekeeper, I’ll take you with me and let you work for me until you decide it’s time for a change. Maybe someday you’ll be ready for marriage again, either to me or someone else.”

  A sob escaped Nissa’s lips. “Thank you, Dallin. I appreciate your understanding. I do want to go with you. The children and I—we need to leave Wildcat Ridge and build our lives somewhere else. I will work hard for you and do my best to help your ranch be as successful as possible.”

  Dallin clapped his hands on his knees and leaned forward to rise from the chair. He turned and held out his hand to help Nissa rise from hers. “Nissa, I still wish to take you and the children to supper tomorrow night. Also, I understand there will be a pre-auction dance here at the hotel afterwards. I’d appreciate it if you would attend with me.”

  “Dallin, I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

  Dallin laughed in his usual quiet manner and shook his head. “None of that, Mrs. Stillwell. As my new housekeeper, I feel it is my responsibility to see to the welfare of you and your children until we get back to the ranch.” He grew serious. “Besides, it’s too lonely to eat alone, especially after getting used to eating with you, Jamie and Molly. We don’t get to attend dances or socials all that much in the Colorado high country, so I want to take advantage of a dance while I’m here. But, Nissa, there is no one other than you I wish to dance with.”

  Nissa’s thoughts immediately went to her children. What will I do with them if I go to the dance?

  Once again, it was as though Dallin read her thoughts. “We’ll take the children with us. Even if we can only stay part of the time, they’ll be fine. Jamie needs to learn to dance sometime, and he might as well take the opportunity while he has it to at least watch.”

  After Nissa nodded her agreement, she gazed into Dallin’s eyes as she wished him farewell. She watched as he leaned his face towards hers as if to kiss her. Then he backed away with a smile and wished her goodnight.

  Nissa’s gaze followed him as he walked towards the opening to Front Street that led to his hotel room. She raised her fingers to her lips, lips that remained untouched.

  Why do I feel so disappointed Dallin did not kiss me?

  Chapter Twenty

  A

  t the sight of the vision in a white shirtwaist and dark blue skirt standing in the doorway, from where he had been leaning against the dry sink counter in Maggie’s kitchen, Hal straightened fully upright. The horse and buggy waited in the alley outside the back door. He had already loaded the picnic basket under the seat. All he needed was Birdie, and now she stood before him, the royal blue shawl wrapped around her and clenched tightly in both hands. The straw hat with its veil covered her face.

  Maggie briskly walked towards Birdie. She pulled the veil down so the bottom edge hooked under Birdie’s chin. Next she inspected the chignon pinned loosely beneath the white back bow attached to the veil. She clasped her hands with satisfaction. “You look lovely, dear. Now, no need to hold that shawl so tight around you. It’s still warm outside, although later when it cools you will probably be glad you brought it.”

  “I’m just so afraid the wrong people might see and recognize me.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No need to worry about that. You look like yourself, instead of how people are used to seeing you, but in that get-up they’ll mistake you for me. What’s more, by the time Mr. Summers brings you home…” Maggie turned to face Hal although she continued to speak to Birdie. “…it will be almost dark. You need to focus on relaxing and having an enjoyable evening.”

  As Birdie released a self-deprecating laugh, Hal offered her his arm. He drew her closer, and he marveled at the difference in her. Through her veil, he noticed she had not hidden her beautiful dark eyes behind her spectacles. The faint pink that glowed on her cheeks when she smiled stirred his entire being, not just his heart. He anxiously anticipated having her alone with him somewhere she felt safe enough to lift the veil off her face.

  Hal helped Birdie down the stairs and into the buggy. As much as he would have preferred to call for her properly at the front door, he had taken the time to drive the buggy down Pine Street in front of the boarding house to the far end of the block. Hopefully, Buck had not seen or recognized him from the dining room window as he passed. After he turned on Lilac Street, he next turned down the alley bordered by the backs of outhouses, trash piles and kitchen gardens so he could call for her at the back door. Now, only a few feet from Chestnut Street, they could turn west, cross Pine Street, and ride past the cemetery to whatever secluded spot Maggie had directed Birdie to guide him to.

  Even though they had an hour or more of daylight left before the sun dipped behind the mountains to the west, the intense glow in the western sky prompted Hal to tip his head so the brim of his hat shaded his eyes. He noticed Birdie held her hand up to shield her eyes.

  Hal leaned forward and turned towards Birdie. “Are you sorry now you didn’t bring your parasol?”

  “Oh, no. That is too recognizable. Most people in town would know it is me with you were they to see that parasol. I even take it with me when I walk to church.” Birdie pointed ahead. “There’s a dirt road off to the right about a quarter of a mile past the cemetery. We’ll turn there. See those trees up against the ridge? That’s where we are going.”

  Hal squinted as he looked in the direction where Birdie had pointed. A hint of a smile lifted his cheek. The area looked cool, inviting and secluded. He could hardly wait to get there and enjoy his meal alone with Birdie. Anticipation coursed through him, and he felt his throat tighten, rendering him almost speechless. Hal coughed to clear his throat. “I appreciate you being willing to come with me on a picnic supper, Birdie.”

  Birdie jerked her face towards his, and her smile showed through the veil. “I wanted to. It’s been so long since I’ve done something out of the ordinary, something for me, especially with a new...I’m glad to be going with you.” Still smiling, Birdie faced forward once more. She lifted her face to the sun but closed her eyes against the glare. As she relaxed against the back of the buggy seat, she dropped her shoulders and her grip on the shawl, which then slid down until it rested in the crooks of her arms. She inhaled deeply then released her breath quickly.

  Hal dared to study her for only a few seconds before he forced his eyes forward once more. With regret, he focused on the back of the trotting horse
taking them to their picnic destination rather than on the beautiful woman next to him. By dropping her shawl and relaxing against the back of the seat, Birdie had revealed something else about herself. However, it would have been rude for him to continue to stare at her.

  Birdie was not built flat as a board like he first thought when he saw her at the bank. Not that it really mattered to Hal—he felt attracted to her even then. He would bet money whatever corset she wore now was not the same one she wore under her black business suit. Whatever she wore now revealed her true figure. Although her underpinnings were not tied to accentuate a large top and a tiny waist, she possessed curves any man could appreciate.

  Birdie Templeton remained a mystery, someone he grew to appreciate as he gleaned more about her character and true nature. He could hardly wait to arrive at their picnic spot where they could sit together and talk. Already, her beautiful face, eyes and figure beneath her attempts to disguise them appealed to him more than any woman he could recall knowing. The melodious tone of her voice, when it was not disguised by her sour faced teller persona, had also ensnared his interest. He knew she was afraid of attracting the wrong kind of attention from Mortimer Crane.

  Tonight Hal hoped to find out what else filled the mind and heart of Birdie. For Hal suspected that, as far his mind and heart were concerned, they were already lost to this woman.

  Hal drove the buggy next to the trees bordering the far side of the meadow that connected with the cemetery. Birdie pointed out a path they might take a few feet inside the trees to a small grassy area laced with fragrant pine needles. Hal brought the picnic basket and blanket to her and left her to set up their picnic supper while he tended to the horse. When he returned, she had spread the blanket on the ground and placed the food from the basket on top. She had pulled the veil off her face and folded it over the top of her hat.

  Hal took Birdie’s hand and helped her sit on the blanket. He wondered if he dared sit next to her but worried she might think he behaved in too forward a manner. He chose not to risk frightening her, and he sat across from her where he could study her face.

  As Hal leaned back against one hand and relaxed, his quick survey of their picnic spot convinced Hal Birdie had guided him to a perfect setting. A gentle breeze blew through the evergreen trees over their heads, and the sound of a small stream trickling across rocks in the distance created background music better than any band in any ballroom. The light filtered through the trees as the sun moved towards the west. At one point, the rays illuminated Birdie’s face so that it glowed even more than usual. The quiet and peace of nature enveloped them.

  However, none of their surroundings fazed Hal. The picnic meal they partook of, although he knew it tasted wonderful, did not capture and hold his attention. All Hal wished see and hear, all he felt the desire to feel and touch and taste, was Birdie Templeton.

  Birdie visibly relaxed before him as she ate her meal. As they spoke, Hal carefully studied her. His suspicions from the buggy were correct. She wore a corset beneath her skirt and shirtwaist that showed off her natural form instead of hiding it. Judging by the way Birdie sat with her arm outstretched and the side of her body curving as she leaned against it, he guessed she felt much more at ease. He hoped part of the reason was due to her being with him.

  The longer they spoke, the more Birdie opened up to him. She told Hal of how she and her father had come to Wildcat Ridge after the death of her mother. Her father had worked as an accounting clerk for a large silver mine in Colorado. He spent so much time caring for his wife that, just before her death, the mine let him go. He had little saved after he paid off the doctors, and he and Birdie struggled for several months. Desperate to accept a job anywhere, he moved Birdie with him to Wildcat Ridge after accepting a position as Mr. Crane’s paymaster. He also kept records of the mining supplies brought in to the mine and the loaded ore transported out to be processed in Gold City.

  Birdie paused her story long enough to look away for several seconds then back at Hal with an intensity he had not seen in her expression before. “My father was honest, Hal. I know Mr. Crane’s business practices in some of his ventures are questionable, at best. But, when it came to his bank and his mine, he put honest men in positions that would provide a cover for the more underhanded methods he resorted to in his other businesses. If he didn’t keep the customer bank accounts correctly, I couldn’t work there.”

  Hal could not get enough of her as he watched her expressions as she spoke. He raised an eyebrow and tipped his head. “I’m relieved to know he does not expect you to do anything dishonest, Birdie. However, in just the short time I’ve been here, I’ve heard some tales about the man that are rather unsavory.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. Of course, my father did not know when he first came what kind of a man Mr. Crane is. Based on his experience tracking the cost of supplies for the silver mine he used to work for, he realized it after several months when he noticed there was not enough wood for support beams being brought in for the tunneling being done. He lost sleep many nights worrying if he should stay or seek work elsewhere, especially after he warned Mr. Crane and was told to stick with the bookkeeping and payroll and let those in charge of the mine manage things there.”

  “Why didn’t he leave?”

  Birdie’s voice sank to a hoarse whisper. “He planned to. He saved his money and had most of it shipped out through a mutual business associate who settled in Curdy’s Crossing to his bank account he still kept open in Denver. I…I don’t know if Mr. Crane learned of his plan, or if it is a coincidence, but the next thing we knew, my father suffered a freak accident on his way home from the mine. One of the ore wagons taking a load down to the rail yard was being driven too fast for the curves coming down the mountain. My father was on the inside of a bend that had a steep wall of dirt on one side and dropped straight down on the other. When he saw the team and wagon coming, he crowded his horse towards the dirt bank, waved his arms and hollered as loud as he could. He told me later the driver, who was dressed like ninety percent of the miners and wore a bandanna over the bottom half of his face, never looked in my father’s direction. It seemed to Papa like he aimed the horses towards him. My father’s horse panicked, fought my father’s efforts to control him, bucked my father off and ran down the road ahead of the team. Papa rolled down the bank soon enough to get his legs caught under the wheels of the wagon.” Birdie halted her story and looked away, tears glistening in her eyes.

  Silence hung in the air for several seconds until Hal scooted closer to her and claimed one of her hands with his. He cringed as he envisioned the scene. “Is that how he died?”

  Birdie shook her head and stared down at her lap. “No, not right away. He was found later by some other miners who got him down to Dr. Spense. Both legs were crushed and they had to be amputated, one above the knee and one just below. Papa suffered a great deal of pain. Of course, there was no way he could return to work at the mine. Finances became quite difficult for us again. We were living in one of the houses for miners, but Mr. Crane told us we had to move out. Maggie said we could have a room at the boarding house. She gave us one downstairs with two single beds. I’m not sure, but I think she hoped my father might notice her and….” Birdie shook her head. “That is neither here nor there. She helped me take care of him, plus she let us pay for only the room and have board in exchange for me helping her in the kitchen and with the cleaning.”

  “Sounds like Mrs. Loftin has been a friend for quite some time.”

  “She has. Papa recovered slowly. I think he lost the desire to keep going, but knew he had to for me. We sold everything we could, including our horse to Maggie and the buggy we drove here to the livery. Finally, once Papa was well enough he could manage by himself with only occasional help from Maggie or me, I knew I had to get some type of position. I already worked as a domestic at Maggie’s, and I truly hoped to find another kind of work elsewhere. Papa had taught me all he knew about accounting, so I told him I
planned to apply for a job at the bank. I knew most banks don’t like to hire women, but I also knew the bank in Curdy’s Crossing had a female teller.” Birdie leaned towards Hal and whispered conspiratorially. “That’s what gave me the idea I could do it.”

  “I’m happy it worked out for you. I just hope this Crane fellow isn’t being dishonest with the bank’s holdings but hiding it from you.”

  Birdie bit her lip as she gazed at Hal with eyes pleading for understanding. “I do, too. All they ever have me work with is the teller window and customer accounts. The only money I count is my own till. The manager and our other teller take care of the rest. I suppose Mr. Crane could be up to something with the bank’s holdings, and I’d never know about it.”

  Hal laughed. “You told me before the bank manager hired you without Mr. Crane knowing it. I guess it worked out well for you. Just one question—why did you decide to start dressing for work as you do?”

  Birdie straightened again as an expression of disgruntlement clouded her face. “I don’t know why some men must conduct themselves in such a disgusting manner when it comes to women. I guess if they are of that bent, they behave disrespectfully towards men, too, but in a different way. Anyway, when I told my father and Maggie of my plan to apply for work at the bank, they both tried to discourage me. At that time, they knew far more about what kind of man Mr. Crane is than I did. When I insisted on applying for a teller position, spelling out for them very methodically the financial realities of our situation, they finally relented and said I could accept a job there—under certain conditions. Papa recruited Maggie to put together a work outfit for me. She picked out a…well, underthings to redistribute my physical form, and she altered an old silk traveling suit of hers to fit over it. Papa insisted when I’m at the bank, I’m to always wear an old pair of his spectacles he used for reading. He said they weren’t too strong, which is why he needed to get a new pair. He claimed most men would only see the glass and wire frame, and not notice my eyes behind them. That was what he wanted—for Mr. Crane not to notice my eyes, or…or find any other part of my appearance noteworthy.”