Hank’s breath whooshed out of him. Please God that didn’t mean something was wrong with Molly again. Sadly, the child didn’t seem to be getting any better. Some holidays they were going to have if she didn’t perk up. The strain on Miz Bishop’s face was visible every time he saw her. She split her waking hours between working in the kitchen and taking care of her daughter. Soon Doc exited the hotel and headed toward him. He dipped his head in greeting as he passed Hank and pushed the door open to enter the saloon.
Casting one last glance down the street, Hank ground out his cigarette with the toe of his boot, pushed both doors open and followed Doc. “How’s Molly?”
“Croup’s really bad. At first I thought her symptoms suggested diphtheria—why I had you put her in a room away from the other guests—but now I don’t think so.” He faced the bar, raised his hand to signal Sam. “Beer.” He turned back to Hank, bracing a thumb on the side of his face and rubbing four fingers back and forth over his forehead. “Join me?” Sam brought him a beer as well, and Doc continued, “She’s still one sick little girl, and she certainly isn’t out of the woods yet, but I don’t think it’s diphtheria. I think she needs to be out in the sun more. Told her ma that, but she says she has to cook during the day to repay you. You need to do something about that, Beaumont. That young woman is killing herself—between all the hours she spends cooking and the time she spends with her young’un.” He took another draught, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Sunlight?” Hank raised a brow.
“Yup, might help. Definitely won’t hurt. Still, keeping her away from others is a good idea until I know for certain what she has.”
“How about a buggy ride?” An idea formed in the back of his mind.
“Might work. Have to bundle her up really good since it’s cold. Doesn’t have to be long, but I think being outside a little every day will help.”
“You go get Molly and a heap o’ blankets. I’ll fetch my buckboard from the livery stable.”
As Doc agreed, they both hurried out of the saloon.
As soon as Hank hitched up his horse, he returned with the wooden supply wagon. “Hand her up, Doc.”
Wrapped in blankets, six-year-old Molly’s blue eyes grew wide as she looked around town. “We’re going for a ride? Really and truly?”
Doc smiled. “That’s right little lady. Really and truly. You can’t stay gone long, but I think being outside is just what the doctor ordered.” He winked at Hank. “You have a good time with Mister Beaumont now.” He started to walk away, then called over his shoulder, “Be sure to tell Miz Jessica hello when you see her.”
Hank growled and urged his horse forward.
Nosy old man!
* * * *
“Jessie! Jessie!” Molly called before a coughing fit overtook her.
Jessica looked up and shaded her eyes to see who called her. As soon as she saw them approaching, she rewrapped her long red scarf around her neck, put both hands in the white warming muff and rushed toward the old wooden wagon.
“Molly, are you all right?” Her eyes shifted to Hank. “What’s wrong? Is Missus Bishop all right? Why are you—”
“Everything’s fine,” Hank assured her. “Miz Bishop’s visiting with that young lieutenant from Fort Redrock. Young man seems right smitten with her. Anyhow, Doc said being in the sunlight a short time every day might help Molly, so I volunteered to take her for a ride.”
“And you just happened to come by the pond?” Andrew stepped up beside Jessica, his green eyes boring into Hank’s.
“Good to see you, too, Drew. Forgot you’d be out here today.”
“Yes, and you’ve got some cheap grazing land to sell me, too.” Andrew glared at Hank. “Do you really think I’m that gullible?”
Jessica gave him a weak smile before glancing at Hank. Something was definitely not right between the two men. Why would Andrew be so upset Hank and Molly had ridden by? She thought they were best friends. Surely the barber couldn’t be jealous. Why he’d barely spoken to her except in passing before yesterday. Taking Molly out for a ride to get her out of the small room, it didn’t seem inconceivable Hank would want her to see the beautiful pond. With the large trees filtering sunlight through their leaves, it was the perfect spot to visit. Which is why she’d stayed longer than she should have with Mister Kingsbury. She really did need to get back to the hotel. Not to mention, she was freezing. She pulled her navy blue coat tighter about herself.
Molly patted the seat next to her. “Ride back to town with me, Jessie? There’s plenty of room here.”
Jessica glanced at Andrew, then back to Molly. “I came with Mr. Kingsbury Molly. It would be impolite to—”
“Puh…leeeeeeze.” Molly’s winsome smile took Jessica’s breath away. She’d been so certain the young girl was going to die, yet she’d clung stubbornly to life—even looked a little better with the red blush to her cheeks from the cold weather. Though he hadn’t said it to Jessica, she’d overheard Doc speaking with Valicia, fearing Molly had diphtheria. The child’s cough hadn’t let up. Her glands on the left side were swollen, as were her tonsils. The kindly doctor had said it was when she complained of her ear hurting as well as the other symptoms that he suspected the deadly disease. Valicia had tried to keep Jessica out of their room since the night they’d settled in, but Jessica would hear none of it. She already loved this little girl and wasn’t about to stay away. She prayed for her healing every day, begging God to save the child. In between running the hotel, she spent hours reading to her or telling her stories.
She looked over her shoulder at Andrew just as he raked fingers through his light brown hair. “We were just talking about heading back to town before they arrived. Would you mind terribly if I rode back with Molly?” Andrew didn’t look pleased and his eyes narrowed as he looked at Hank who still sat on the buckboard’s wooden seat—a slow grin edging up the corners of his mouth.
“Well, I don’t—” Her escort glanced back at the black buggy he’d rented for the day.
“Please, mister. Can Jessie ride back with me and Mister Hank?”
Andrew helped Jessica up beside Molly, who’d inched closer to Hank to allow more room.
Under his breath, he muttered, “Pretty low to use a child, Beaumont.”
Hank merely gave him a smile. “See you back in town.”
Riding back to town on the wooden buckboard, Jessica tried, and failed, to keep her eyes off Hank. Finally she quit trying. “It was very nice of you to bring Molly out for a ride.” She placed her arm around Molly and hugged her.
“Doc suggested it.” His eyes tried to avoid hers as well.
Her heart flipped over. Could he have come here on purpose? Looking for her?
She chuckled and couldn’t resist teasing, “Did he now? And what was it Mister Andrew meant about using a child?”
Hank growled, then urged the team faster. “Mister Andrew’s a fool.”
Jessica couldn’t help it. She laughed. For the first time since Geoffrey died, it felt good to laugh. But, oh, how she missed her brother.
~4~
“Are you crazed?” Hank stood in the hotel’s lobby and stared at the empty space on the wall behind the counter, a spot of wallpaper brighter than the rest where it had been covered for years.
“Last week I asked if you’d help and you ignored me, so Missus Bishop and I took it down earlier today while the pies she’d made were in the oven.” Jessica narrowed her eyes at him, clearly daring him to disagree with her.
The article in question—the huge portrait of Beau and Angel—sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. The new painting hadn’t arrived yet, but for some reason the obstinate woman had to have the portrait removed today. What was he going to do now? He couldn’t tell her. Didn’t want her to think he was crazy. No one else would have helped her take it down either, but Miz Bishop wouldn’t know that since she probably hadn’t heard the legend of his grandparents. While he was sure the new picture she w
as bringing in would look just fine, he hated to think what calamities would befall the hotel—or the women.
Some of the changes she was making to the hotel looked right nice. She was putting her mark on it, making the place classier, just as she’d put her mark on his heart without ever lifting a finger.
But she really should have left the portrait alone.
He had to get her out of town now. Before Beau or Angel revealed themselves. Of course, once they did, she’d flee town quicker than a train leaving the station.
And she’d take part of his heart with her. He couldn’t help that. Couldn’t undo what he felt. But he had to protect her.
Hank sniffed. Cherry pie. There was nothing he could do about the picture now. It was too late for that. He’d better get his pie now and take it with him, before the resident spirits got mad and things maybe went flying through the room. No, he’d come here to ask her to join him for dinner tonight. Surely he wasn’t too much of a coward that he had to stay away from the hotel until retribution hit. Was he?
Or was he really afraid she’d turn him down if he asked her to dinner?
* * * *
Hank finished off the last of the pot roast on his plate, then smiled up at Valicia. Jessica wished he’d look at her like that once in a while. But no, he never graced her with anything aside from frowns. He saved those stunning smiles for other people.
“You outdid yourself with this, Miz Bishop. It was delicious.” Hank sat back and patted his flat stomach.
A blush crept up the young woman’s cheeks. “Thank you, Mister Hank. I used one of the recipes Jessie gave me.”
His eyes shifted between the two women, then fastened on Jessica. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”
The sound of her laughter was music to his ears. “I can’t, but our cooks certainly could. They gifted me with several of their receipts before I left home. Now that I know how much everyone likes them, I’ll write home and ask them to send more.”
Valicia interrupted. “Would you like some pie, Mister Hank?”
“The cherry pie I smelled earlier? You bet.” He looked around the restaurant. “I think we’re just about the last of the diners, Miz Bishop. After you bring the pie, you go upstairs and spend the rest of the night with Molly.”
“But Mister—”
“You’ve been around Miz Ashbury too long,” Hank teased.
“Sir?”
“She never listens to me, either.” He chuckled. “Now do as I say. Fetch our pie and then retire for the evening. Go spend some time with your daughter. Miz Ashbury and I will clean up down here.” He locked gazes with Jessica. “We are partners in this business after all.”
After they’d polished off the pie, Hank leaned back in his chair. “Miz Jessie, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but I need to talk to you about that picture. We need to put it back where it was.”
Her eyes met his, a question in them. She had the most expressive eyes he’d ever seen. Usually whenever around him they sparked with anger, but he’d never forget the first time he’d seen her. She’d come to a land she knew nothing about, lost a husband before they’d ever arrived in town, and would have probably been ravaged by a man Hank didn’t regret killing. She’d looked terrified. And something inside his heart had melted. The walls he’d built around himself to protect his feelings had come crumbling down with one look from those soft, brown eyes. He’d wanted to protect her then—and he wanted to protect her now. Forever.
“Jessie…” He stopped and cleared his throat. This was not going to be easy. “There’s something I haven’t told you about this hotel.”
Jessie? Had he just called her Jessie? She started to push her chair back to stand, but he stopped her by covering her hand with his.
She pulled her hand from beneath his. If she didn’t put distance between them, she’d probably shame herself with her actions. She wanted him to hold her again. Like he had on the day they’d met. The day he’d rescued her. Only this time she wanted it to be because he wanted to. She doubted he’d ever do that.
“Is this where I get the The Hotel’s Haunted lecture?” She offered him a knowing smile.
He looked surprised. “You’ve heard?”
She laughed. “Of course I’ve heard. From many people. Some of the visitors who’ve checked in that are traveling further West to San Francisco have actually asked if I’ve seen the ghosts myself.” She glanced up to the top of the staircase banister and gestured with her forefinger. “It appears that area up there seems to be one of their favorite spots. Obviously, I had to tell the guests I was sorry I hadn’t. I think they were greatly disappointed.”
“And you haven’t rushed back to Boston?” He shook his head in clear disbelief.
Jessica fingered the black ribbon on her arm, looked down at her dark green dress, then back up to Hank. “Nope, appears I’m still here.” She smiled. “I don’t scare easily, Mister Beaumont. Geoffrey thought coming out here would be good for me. For a time, I strongly disagreed with him. Yet I’ve changed my mind since. I see his wisdom now. It’s not easy living in the West, but I rather like it here. You’re not going to anger me enough to send me back, and you’re not going to scare me away with ghost stories you made up to bring in customers. I own part of this hotel, Mister Beaumont, and you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”
A strange look flitted across Hank’s eyes. Surely not desire. No, she was seeing what she wanted to see and it was no more than wishful thinking on her part. This man had absolutely no interest in her as anything other than a business partner.
Hank walked around the table and grasped her arms. “This isn’t a joke, Jessie. You may think we’re a bunch of uncivilized people, but Angel and Beau are real. They’re my grandparents. I may not be as good as some folk, not knowing who my pa was, but I know who my grandparents were. And they were good people. I’d hate for you to…” He dropped his hands and she saw pain in his eyes. “Aw, heck, never mind. You’re going to do what you want anyway. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.” He slowly headed for the front door.
“Mr. Beaumont,” she called out. He kept walking. “Hank, please…” He didn’t look back.
And her heart broke.
* * * *
“That boy’s hurting.” Beauregard Beaumont sat atop the banister and watched his grandson stride from the hotel.
“He’s not a boy anymore, Beau. He’s growed to be a fine man. But yes, he’s really hurting.”
“I’ve never seen him like this, Angel. Usually he don’t feel nothin’.” He put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer.
“Oh, he always feels. He just buries it inside like most men tend to do.” She turned her eyes away from the door to peer at Beau. “Oh, don’t glower at me that way. You know it’s true. You always did.”
“I did no such thing.”
She cast him a glare. “Don’t argue with me, Beau. We don’t have time for that. We have to come up with a plan to help Hank.”
“What do you have in mind?” His hand shot out to keep her from toppling over the banister when she leaned out to look down at their picture on the floor behind the desk. “Careful, love. You aren’t as graceful as you used to be. You’re getting old, you know.”
“Beau, spirits don’t get old. We’re exactly as old as when we died,” she said in exasperation.
He chuckled, knowing she was aware of his teasing. “Well, we weren’t exactly spring chickens then either.” He studied her lovely face, unchanged with the passage of time, the face he so loved. “But you’re still as beautiful as you ever were.”
She smiled and patted his arm. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Easing off the banister, she floated down to stand in front of the picture.
When Beau didn’t join her, she glanced upward. “You planning on sitting there all night or are you going to help me return this picture to its proper place?”
“I don’t have to come down there to help you do that.” Wi
th a few moves of his hand, the picture was again hanging on the wall. Beau rubbed his hands together as if brushing off dirt. “There, are you happy now, my love?”
“About the picture, yes. About Hank, no.” A small frown came to her beautiful lips as she hovered halfway between the floor and the rail where he sat.
“That’s the problem. We can’t. He has to do it himself.”
She floated the rest of the way up to sit beside him, locked her eyes with his. He reached out, and cradling her face, ran his thumb back and forth across her chin. “I don’t know how to help him, Angel. What does he have to do?”
“I’d like to say make Jessie fall in love with him, but I think the problem is more that he’ll have to open his heart to her. I don’t think he knows how to do that. Or he’s simply afraid to try.
“We weren’t the best examples for him you know.”
He glowered at her. “That wasn’t my fault, woman. How many times did I ask you to marry me? I would have done it in a heartbeat. You’re the one that always said no.”
“Only because I wasn’t good enough for you. I didn’t want to—”
“Nonsense!” he roared. “You’re as good as any woman that ever lived in this town. I loved you then and I love you still.” He paused and lowered his voice. “We might not have had that piece of paper from the preacher, but you were my wife. I told you I loved you before God, and I meant it.”
She reached her arm around him and gave him a side hug. “And I loved you with every breath I had.” She tilted her head. “That’s it. That’s exactly what Hank needs to do. Fall in love.”
Beau leaned backward and grabbed the banister. “Love? Have you lost what little sense you had? What if he falls for this Easterner and she won’t have nothing to do with him because of who he is? What if she crumples under the fight to survive out here and rushes back home to servants that do anything if she just lifts a finger? Do you truly want that young man going through all the pain of falling in love and then see his heart broken?”
Her eyes softened with remembered moments. “Pain? Is that what we had, Beau?” She waited silently until he replied.
Forever Love Page 3