Moment in Time, A (Lone Star Brides Book #2)

by Tracie Peterson

  Marty knew the truth of it, but she didn’t want to admit it. Admitting it gave credence to Jake’s choice, and that was something she couldn’t do. He hadn’t cared about her feelings. He hadn’t listened to her pleadings or even taken into consideration her ideas for alternatives. It caused her great pain to know that her desires weren’t important to him.

  Robert Barnett settled back in the saddle and waited for his father to catch up. The day was chilly but otherwise not too uncomfortable for working out on the range. He and his father had just finished checking on the herd in the north pastures and knew it wouldn’t be long until they’d have a great many new calves. New calves equaled more stock, and more stock meant more financial security—at least eventually. With the country suffering a depression right now, Robert knew they might well have to sit on the herd for a long time before being able to sell at a reasonable price.

  Of course, profit wasn’t everything, and Robert knew his father to donate animals to some of the charities and poorhouses. Kindness and concern for his fellowman was something Robert’s parents had instilled in him from the time he was a little boy.

  “There will always be someone less fortunate than you,” his mother had told him on many occasions, “and you must remember that what you do for them is serving the Lord himself.” Robert always took that to heart—maybe too much so. He was always finding some poor soul to take on as what his mother fondly called his “special project.”

  His father’s bay made good time closing the distance between them. William Barnett rode a horse as if born to it and had made certain his son could do the same. Robert couldn’t help but admire his father’s daring as he put the horse into a fast gallop and jumped the narrow ravine that divided the two sections of the north range.

  “Ma would have your hide if she saw you do that,” he said as the bay came to an abrupt halt about ten feet away.

  “Your mother isn’t out here, and I’ll have your hide if you say anything to her about it,” his father replied.

  Robert grinned. “Yeah, well, I’d just as soon not have a tanning from either of you. So I guess I’ll keep my mouth closed. What’d you find?”

  “Most of the herd has stayed together on this side,” he said. “There’s a good mix of brands—Atherton’s, Watson’s, and ours for a good start. I saw a few head that belong to some of the smaller outfits, as well. We’ll get ’em all sorted out at roundup.”

  Nodding, Robert turned his horse toward the south. “The cows seem to be in good shape. Most look to be expecting. Hopefully the weather will hold and we’ll have a mild winter.”

  Father drew up alongside as they made their way back toward the ranch. “The talk at the Grange was that it would be.”

  “You been hangin’ out at the Farmer’s Association again?” he asked with a grin. “What will the other ranchers think?”

  His father laughed. “My guess is they’re listenin’ to whoever will help them keep their stock alive and well fed.

  “Plenty of good feed out here.” Robert scanned the open grasslands. A carpet of brown and gold had replaced the rich greens of summer. He breathed in the surprisingly dry air and smiled. This was his home, his land. His parents had long ago told him of their plan to pass it on to him, and in turn he had developed a deep love of all that he could see.

  “That smile on account of the party tonight?” his father asked.

  The comment pulled Robert’s thoughts back to the immediate. “Not exactly.”

  “I thought maybe you were thinking of a particular young lady. You know the holiday season is a good time to propose.”

  “I know that everyone figures that’s where my mind is most of the time,” Robert replied.

  “Well, it’s long been figured that you and Jessica Atherton would marry. Now that she’s just had her nineteenth birthday, I thought maybe you two would be makin’ an announcement.” His father threw him a wry smile.

  “Yeah, well, folks have been figurin’ a lot of things that aren’t necessarily so,” Robert countered. “As far as I’m concerned, Jessica is too young and too spoiled.”

  “She’ll grow up fast enough. Besides, you’re twenty-seven. You ought to settle down and start a family. You’re gonna need a good number of sons to help you keep up with this spread.”

  Robert considered the comment. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have a family, especially a wife. He’d long been desirous of that very thing, but he loved Jessica Atherton like a sister, not a woman to marry.

  “Pa, I . . . well . . . Jess and I don’t have a lot in common. I care about her, don’t get me wrong.”

  He shifted his weight in the saddle and realized his back and shoulders were weary of the ride. By the look of the sun’s position he’d been in the saddle for nearly eight hours without many breaks.

  “What are you sayin’, son?”

  “I’m sayin’ that I don’t know that I can marry her. She doesn’t want a ranching life. She’s told me over and over that she wants to live in a big city with loads of servants and free time.” He shook his head. It was hard to even imagine such a life and how a man might fit into the scheme of things. “I know some people expect us to marry. Mostly her ma and mine, but honestly, I don’t know that I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

  “Marriage is a real important thing, son. You don’t want to be toying with the girl’s affections if you don’t intend to do the honorable thing.” His father’s weathered face bore considerable concern.

  “I’ve never toyed with her affections, Pa. I haven’t even kissed her.” He felt his face grow hot. The topic had suddenly become embarrassing. Truth was he’d not kissed any girl other than his mother and sisters. He’d had plenty of chances, but his mother and father had always put into his heart the need for chastity and caution when it came to stirring up romantic feelings.

  “I didn’t mean to suggest you hadn’t treated her right. I just want you to be sure that you don’t lead her on.”

  “I don’t think Jessica loves me any more than I love her. We’re just like brother and sister or good friends. And I hope we will always be that—after all, we grew up knowing each other’s families. We’re all close, and I don’t want to lose that.”

  His father nodded. “Well, make sure of your heart. I know you’ve long taken up the affairs of the broken and wounded. Don’t let your heart be swayed by guilt or worry over what folks will think. She’ll recover a lot faster if you just lay it on the line with her. I don’t want to see either of you compromising or giving in just to keep the other from feeling bad.”

  “I just don’t know for sure what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Have you prayed on it?” his father asked.

  “I have. I still am.”

  William Barnett smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Maybe tonight at the party you’ll get a feel for what you’re supposed to do.”

  “Christmas seems a bad time of year to tell someone you aren’t gonna marry them, especially when everyone figures you will.”

  “Christmas is still two weeks away, and the truth is never something to be delayed. Think about it, son. You may have more feelings for her than you realize. Might be that the expectations are what’s clouding your heart. Give it to the Lord and see where He wants to take you.”

  Father was right, of course. He always offered wise counsel, and Robert would do well to heed it. Still, he hated to hurt Jessica. She might be a pampered child, but she was still deserving of genteel consideration, and he did care about her. Putting the matter to the back of his mind, Robert gave his father a grin and touched his spurs to his mount.

  “Right now He wants to take me home to some of Ma’s great cooking. Race you back!” His sorrel gelding shot forward in a streak of red.

  Chapter 3

  Alice gave a quick glance in the mirror to check her blond hair before heading out to wait tables at the Denver Daily Diner. She’d been blessed to get a job so quickly, despite her scarred face. The owner, Fr
ank Bellows, told her that it didn’t matter to him. The clients he catered to were mostly rough and rugged railroad men whose aim was to eat quickly and get back to work. She could still hear the words of Mr. Bellows: “You’re still kind of pretty—enough to entice them to buy an extra piece of pie. Just keep your face turned to the right and maybe they won’t notice the scar.”

  But Alice knew that wasn’t enough. The scar was still noticeable, although after a year it was finally starting to fade. Marty’s idea to use whale oil on the scar had helped in a most remarkable way.

  Touching her fingers to the line that ran from just below her earlobe to her chin, Alice couldn’t help but relive the horrible moment. Memories of the night her attacker cut her flooded her mind. She could almost smell his putrid breath and the stench of cigarettes.

  “Place is filling up, Miss Chesterfield. Best get out there,” Bellows said as he passed her on his way to the storeroom.

  “Yes, sir.” Alice pulled on a pinafore-style apron and tied it securely. She was grateful the man had been willing to take a chance on her, and she didn’t want to let him down.

  In the dining room the counter was already full. Some of the men had been waited on by Mr. Bellows and were happily focused on their meals, but others were waiting for attention.

  She smiled and approached the counter. “Who’s first?”

  “Me,” a burly man in oily denim announced. “I’ll take the beef sandwich special—three of ’em.” He drew out a large handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping his face, he quickly added, “Cup of coffee, too.”

  “Sure thing,” Alice said.

  “I’m next,” a skinny but equally dirty man said, motioning Alice to the far end of the counter. “Give me a bowl of gravy and biscuits, a ham steak, and a glass of milk.”

  Alice jotted down the order and hurried to the next man. She took five orders in all before turning them over to the cook. By this time even more men had crowded into the small diner. It looked to be a very busy day.

  Without regard for her aching back or sore feet, Alice maneuvered amidst the hungry men, dealing out menus and coffee like a gambler might deal cards. She smiled and for a time forgot about her scarred face. The men were hungry and didn’t seem to care all that much that she was damaged. They were mainly interested in filling their empty bellies and getting back to work before the lunch whistle blew. No one wanted to risk losing a job in this economy.

  “Order for four more beef sandwiches,” she announced, putting two tickets on the cook’s counter.

  The man glared at her. He wasn’t at all the pleasant sort. “I only got two hands,” he told her.

  Alice didn’t wait to comment. She had a half dozen pie orders to deliver, and since desserts were something she had sole responsibility for, she didn’t want to take time out for conversation.

  By the end of the lunch rush, Alice felt like she had barely managed to meet the demands of the men. There was a great deal of improvement needed before things would run smoothly.

  Hurrying to gather the dirty dishes and clear the tables, Alice nearly ran over Mr. Bellows. He reached out to steady her. “Whoa there, li’l gal.”

  “Sorry. I should have been looking where I was going.”

  He nodded toward the now-empty dining room. “You did a good job there. I have to say you surprised me.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I know I’ll get better with time.”

  “Tell Joe I said to get right on those dishes after he puts another batch of roasts in the oven.”

  Alice nodded and hurried with an armful of plates and cups to the kitchen sink. Joe, the cook and dishwasher, stood to one side of the room picking his teeth. He noticed her and frowned.

  “Ain’t no end to it.”

  Feeling self-conscious as he continued to stare at her face, Alice motioned toward the dishes. “Mr. Bellows asked me to tell you he needs those dishes done as soon as you get the roasts in the oven.”

  “I know my job. Nobody’s gotta tell me.” He pushed his hand back through his greasy hair. The man’s slovenly appearance was only worse after working the noon rush.

  Alice didn’t like him, nor did she like the way he always seemed to be watching her. She didn’t mean to be so judgmental, especially at their first meeting, but the way he watched her reminded her of Mr. Smith—almost as if he were studying her for some troublesome purpose.

  Alice thought to apologize for offending the man, but she didn’t want to encourage conversation, so she simply deposited the dishes on the counter and returned to the dining room for more.

  With the tables finally clean, Alice set to sweeping the floors. She was just finishing when Mr. Bellows appeared in his coat and hat. “I’m taking the noon monies to the bank. We did good today. I’m sure you made some decent tips.”

  There hadn’t been time to check, but Alice did feel the considerable weight of change in her skirt pockets. Mostly it was pennies, but even those added up. “I suppose so,” she murmured.

  “Good. I hope so. This job don’t pay much, so those tips are gonna make all the difference. That’ll encourage you to be extra nice to the fellows.”

  “Is it always this busy at noon?”

  Bellows shrugged. “Not always. A lot of the married workers bring their own lunches and might stop by for hot coffee. Others are single and don’t have anyone to look after them. Many who used to work for the railroad shops here are out of work now. It’s anybody’s guess as to when things will turn around. I figure the word got spread about you being here and most came out of curiosity. With any luck, they’ll be back.

  “When you’ve finished cleaning up in the front, you can head out. Tell Joe I’ll be right back to handle any customers.”

  Alice nodded and watched Mr. Bellows leave. She was weary to the bone but glad to have a chance to earn a little money. She hurried to finish wiping down the counters and was just about ready to leave when she noticed Joe watching her again. Remembering Mr. Bellows’s comment, Alice cleared her throat.

  “Mr. Bellows said he’d be right back and will handle any customers once he returns.” The man gave a brief nod but said nothing. He kept watching her with his piercing gaze, leaving Alice most uncomfortable.

  A sense of dread crept up her spine. She hesitated a moment. “Is something wrong?”

  He smiled. “Just wondered if you’d like to step out with me tonight. There’s a good place a few blocks away where we could hear some music and maybe dance. Good food, too. I know you made some tips today, so maybe you could treat me to a cold beer or two.”

  The man’s comment left Alice confused. “You . . . you want me to buy you a beer? Or two?”

  “Sure and maybe some supper.” He laughed. “I can’t leave until after the roasts and pies finish baking, but I figure we could have ourselves a little fun.”

  Regaining her composure, Alice undid the ties of her apron. “I don’t think so. I have responsibilities.”

  “You ain’t married. I heard you tell that to Bellows. So you can’t have that much to be responsible for.” He once again pushed back his oily hair, as if it were the only thing out of place on his person. “I know how to show a gal a good time, and I can clean up good.”

  “I’m sorry. No.” Alice hung her apron and went to retrieve her coat. “I’m expected at home.” She pulled the coat on and hurriedly buttoned it. Then, retrieving her bonnet and securing it over her hair, she made her way toward the back of the kitchen.

  Joe deliberately blocked her path to the door. “You’re kind of uppity for a gal who’s all marked up like that. Ain’t like you can rely on your looks to get yourself hitched. You be nice to me, and I might even think about lettin’ you be my steady gal. I don’t much mind the scar, since you got a fetchin’ backside.”

  Alice couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. Her eyes widened and she stammered for words. “I . . . you can’t be . . . Oh my . . .” She stopped attempting to make sense. “I have to go.” She looked past him to the door, wi
shing she could somehow will herself outside. For a moment she feared he might try to force her to stay.

  However, with a grunt, Joe shrugged and stepped away. “You’ll change your tune soon enough. Ain’t gonna be just any man who’ll want you around—leastwise not the marryin’ kind. No one’s gonna want a wife lookin’ like that.”

  Alice hurried past him and out the back door before he could say another word. The man was abominably rude, but she knew he was right. No decent man would want a disfigured woman. Tears came to her eyes, stinging as the December wind hit her face. She did her best to control her emotions, but this time of year was especially hard. It was only the second time she’d faced Christmas without any family of her own.

  Pulling her coat tight, Alice fought to regain control of her thoughts. Joe was just one of those unpleasant sort of men who preyed on vulnerable women. His nonsense needn’t upset her any more than it had. Alice was fully capable of taking care of the matter, and if he got out of hand, she would tell Mr. Bellows. Hopefully the proprietor would be so pleased with her service that he wouldn’t brook such nonsense from his cook.

  With her emotions back in check as she approached the orphanage, Alice vowed to put the matter behind her. It was just one incident, and now that Joe knew how she felt . . . well . . . they could put the discomfort aside and do their jobs.

  Inside the orphanage Alice caught the aroma of freshly baked bread. It gave her a sense of security and welcome. Marty was a marvel at baking. Her biscuits were always light as a feather and her cinnamon rolls the best Alice had ever tasted. Making her way to the kitchen, Alice paused in the doorway to breathe in the scent as Marty peeked into the oven.

  “Ah, you’re here at last,” Marty said as she pulled several loaves of bread from the oven.

  “Yes, it was a busy lunch, and it took time to clean up afterward.”