My, he was bold! She hardly knew what to say—she’d just met him! “I, uh . . . I think that would be all right.” She felt her face go warm, and her tongue was thick, but Cody only smiled. What on earth would Mother say?
“I’ll just need you to sign your name on the register, right over here, and I require the first night’s fee.” She removed her cape and laid it aside, then walked behind the small wood counter. She flipped open a green ledger, hoping she looked like a professional businesswoman. She heard someone clear his throat and was surprised to see a man sitting just inside the parlor open to the foyer. Jedediah?
“I didn’t see you there, Jedediah.” Patience nervously fingered a button on her blouse. “Have you been waiting for me? Or are you here inquiring about a room?”
Patience could see Cody watching Jedediah as he rose and made his way to the front door, then paused. “It can wait. Looks like you’re a little busy at the moment,” he said, his gaze on the paint cans by the door. “Go ahead with your customer. I’ll be back a little later.”
“If you’re sure,” she responded, feeling awkward and flustered.
He tipped his hat at them and quickly closed the door behind him without another word. She turned back to the ledger.
“Now, show me where you want me to sign,” he said. “I’m used to sleeping in hard bunk beds surrounded by a lot of snoring cowpokes.”
“I’m sure you will be comfortable here during your stay. Did you decide whether you want to stay by the day or week?”
“Since no employment has miraculously appeared, I’ll pay for the week and then go from there. Maybe something will come up.”
“Very well. The front door is locked after ten o’clock in the evening,” she told him, keeping her tone as businesslike as she could, “but you have your own key to your room. If you want me to clean your room, that’s extra. But I can supply fresh bedding, even laundry services, upon request, for an additional charge.”
She pondered briefly why this man seemed to make her so . . . so discombobulated! He paid the amount she quoted for the week and accepted the room key. “I’m going over to retrieve my bags from the train depot where I left them,” he told her. “Thank you for your charming company. We’ll talk later about getting started on painting the outside. I can help with that at least until I find work. It’ll give me something to do.”
“You’re most welcome, and I appreciate your willingness to help me . . . Cody.” Her tone was matter of fact, but she fumbled with the register book and quickly looked away.
———
It wasn’t the first time Cody had had that effect on a woman, but he was no womanizer. It’d been a while since there was a woman in his life. He spent too much time going from ranch to ranch the last few years.
But she was attractive in a down-to-earth way. Nicely put together—not some frail slip of a girl who couldn’t lift a mop bucket. Sensual, though, without realizing it—an even better attribute when a woman wasn’t aware she had it all. She had a quick mind, he could tell from their brief time together, and he liked that.
He sure was curious about the man obviously waiting for her when they’d returned from the mercantile. “Jedediah,” she’d called him. Was he a suitor? He looked at her in some way that made his visit seem like it was more than simply to call on some kind of business matter.
Actually, the man seemed familiar somehow, not so much his looks, but maybe his voice? And the man was wearing a badge—the town marshal?
Well, anyway, he mustn’t get tangled up with a woman . . . or with a marshal. They both usually spelled trouble. Besides, he didn’t plan on being in Nevada City that long. Best that he stick to finding work and continue with his plans.
Jedediah’s thoughts perplexed him as he left the Creekside Inn. Patience had seemed a little shy while she’d been chatting with her customer. It was surprising, but appealing. The two seemed to know each other, by the sound of their conversation. Well, it was none of his business. But he wondered what it would take for him to cause her to blush so prettily? Easy now . . . She’s too rigid and perfect for someone like me. I can’t be hemmed in like that—even if she’d want to be!
A hint of cinnamon wafted on the breeze. He headed down to The Star Bakery, his belly rumbling in response. Fragrant mixtures of cinnamon and other spices filled the tiny bakery and made his mouth water. Hannah was busy at her wooden table, kneading a big batch of dough he knew would be fresh bread by noon. Behind the glass-fronted counter were all those baking delights to tantalize his senses.
“Howdy, Jed.” Hannah paused to wipe her hands on a cloth, then hurried over.
“Morning, Miss Hannah. I would love to have one of your cinnamon rolls. But,” he bent to peer through the glass at the shelves, “I don’t see—”
“My earlier customers wiped me out, but I always save one for you just in case.” Her round face beamed at him like he was her son.
“Aww, Miss Hannah, you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She reached under a linen cloth and placed the cinnamon roll on a piece of paper. “Want me to wrap it or you gonna eat it here?”
“I think I’ll take it with me and make myself some coffee. I always have work I should be doing.”
“No need to make your own. I just made some fresh. In fact, I’ll take a break with you, now that it’s finally settled down around here this morning.” Ignoring his protests, she poured two mugs of coffee. She carried them and he picked up his roll and followed her over to one of the small wooden tables.
“How’s life been treating ya, Jed?” She always got right to the point. “I heard you took the posse out. Anything I should know about? Robbers, criminals? You know I live alone here, and there’s plenty o’ no-accounts passing through.”
Jed laughed. “Why, Miss Hannah, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about. In fact, I’m pretty sure you can handle whatever comes your way!” He took a bite of the roll and a swig of coffee, looking into the older woman’s eyes. She’s a keen one, that’s for sure. In this rugged country, women—especially widowed women—learned survival skills or the worst could happen.
“To tell you the truth, we trailed that no-good outlaw until we reached the border of Idaho, then lost him. Just as well. Let the authorities there apprehend him.”
She gave him a serious look. “Can’t say as I blame you there. You have plenty of drunks and minor lawbreakers to keep you busy right here in town. Seen any more of Patience?”
He finished his roll, giving him time to consider how to answer. “Why do you want to know?”
“I guess you need lookin’ after, and I’m just the one to do it.” She gave him a wry smile. “Someone should.”
“Miss Hannah, don’t worry your wise gray head about me. I’m not worth worrying over.”
“Now, don’t say that, Jed. I know better. So, have you seen her lately?” She leaned forward expectantly.
“Well, yes and no. She agreed to pack boxed lunches for me and my men, but when I dropped by to pay her today, she was . . . well, otherwise engaged.”
Her brows knitted in a deep line above her nose. “Ya don’t say? Tell me about it.”
“Can’t rightly tell you. Some cowboy checking in as a boarder, I guess.” He flicked the crumbs he’d left on the table with his thumb.
“Mmm . . . That doesn’t sound like she was otherwise engaged, Jed.”
He snorted. “If you could’ve seen her face, you’d understand what I mean.”
“You’re beginning to sound jealous, but it doesn’t surprise me none. Patience is a fine catch. She lives by the Good Book and when she can get there, goes to church—”
Jedediah’s head jerked up and he slapped his thigh and forced a laugh. “That’s just the problem, Miss Hannah. She’s too perfect. Besides, I’m not looking for a woman, and she sure isn’t interested in the likes of me.”
Hannah’s eyes squinted. “You listen here, young man. You h
ave plenty to make a woman happy, and a little religion rubbing off on you can’t hurt you at all!” She began gathering their cups.
“Give it a chance, Jed,” she said in a low voice, “before you go making up your mind about how perfect somebody is. There’s no one perfect in this world, and that’s a fact. Even me.” She laughed at her little quip, then leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m watching out for you.”
“Well, thanks anyway, but I don’t need looking after.” He pushed his chair back, pressed a quarter into her apron pocket, and gave her a pat on the arm when the bell at the door’s entrance jangled.
“For all that tough exterior you put on, I know there’s a tender spot buried somewhere in you, and I aim to find it.” With a quick wink, she turned to greet her customers.
He greeted a few of the good townsfolk and stopped briefly to chat with the Larson family, who were in town for the day. The two youngsters hugged their father’s pants leg while the mother’s hip held their baby girl.
“Stop by sometime for Sunday dinner, Jed,” the woman told him. “No need for an invitation. Just stop by. We’re always home after we get back from church on Sundays. You’re welcome to come along to church too—just a short trip over to Virginia City. What do you think, Pete?”
Church again! he grumbled to himself. Glad we don’t have one in town or I’d be nagged to death.
Pete Larson was nodding. “Sure, and we’d be right honored for you to eat with us.” He grinned. “If you can stand the noise.”
“I’d be glad to, and I appreciate the offer.” He tousled the two boys’ heads and gave each of them a shiny penny. They grinned happily, pocketing the coins.
“What do you say to Marshal Jones, children?” their father prompted.
The boys shyly stammered their thanks.
“Go buy yourselves a stick of peppermint,” Jed told them. He reached over to the little baby and stroked her chubby arm. “My, she’s growing up fast. And thanks for the invite. I better get going now.” He tipped his hat and headed for the office.
Later this afternoon, he decided as he settled in behind the desk, I’ll go pay Patience for the box lunches before I forget. But he had a hunch the cowboy would still be hanging around.
After a dispute about a claim jumper was easily settled, the rest of Jed’s morning went by fast. He settled back in his chair to read the newspaper after lunch. When he heard a high-pitched cry, he leaped up and ran out onto the boardwalk. Just as he feared, two doors down and high up on a ladder was Patience, paintbrush in one hand, pail in the other, tangled up in her skirts. She quickly lost her footing and fell, screaming and hitting hard on her back. Fortunately, the ladder careened the other way.
Jedediah had almost reached her when the man he’d seen at Creekside earlier began to lean over her. But Jed charged straightaway to where she lay, very still. He pushed the cowboy to the side.
He knelt beside Patience. Her dress was torn, and the skirt was in some disarray. He pulled it down over her legs, knowing she would be humiliated beyond belief if she knew it was askew.
“You! Go get the doctor!” Jed barked at the flustered cowboy, who paused, then took off at a trot. Jed turned back to Patience. “Patience, can you hear me?” His heart banged against his ribs. She wasn’t moving. Had she injured her neck or head?
A few passersby drew close, forming a semicircle around them.
“Is she dead?” someone asked.
Irritated, Jedediah didn’t answer but leaned in close to feel the pulse in her neck with his two fingers—something he’d learned during his years of chasing outlaws. He felt the pulse throb against his fingertips. He was close enough that her rosewater fragrance was perceptible, and he moved back, unsure of his feelings.
Yellow paint splattered her pale face, so he took out his handkerchief to gently wipe the traces of paint from her cheek. Paint also clung to her hair on the same side, now unwound from its pins.
He didn’t want to move her until he knew how badly she was injured. Then he heard a weak moan and her eyes fluttered open, trying to focus. She took a deep breath, and her hand moved to press against her right side. Thank God.
“Take it easy now. You might’ve broken something. I’ve sent for the doc.”
Her eyes opened and she blinked, attempting to sit up. He slipped an arm under her shoulders. “What—I . . . ?” she murmured, looking up at him, her face furrowed into a frown.
He shifted onto his knees, supporting her back, and patted her hand. Something had unexpectedly moved him when he saw her fall, rendering her helpless, frail, and unassuming.
Where in tarnation is that doctor?
7
Patience blinked until her eyes finally focused on the face hovering above hers. The pain in her shoulder and head made her feel woozy, disconnected. Is that Emily?
“Oh, thank God!”
Patience could see the anxiety in the young woman’s face. “You gave us all quite a scare,” Emily said.
Patience tried to push herself up, but the throbbing in her head made her wince, and when she moved, her right side felt a sharp stab. Emily gently pushed her back against a pillow.
“What happened?” Patience asked, her voice sounding to her like it was coming from far away. “The last thing I remember is painting . . .” When she tried to look up at Emily, the room spun, and she felt slightly nauseated. She was in her bed, fully clothed minus her shoes. A quilt was draped across her legs. Late afternoon shadows fell across the room. How long had she been lying here?
“You hit your head when you fell off the ladder.” Emily’s hand rested on her shoulder. “You stay right there. Let me tell Doctor Gordon you’re awake.” With an anxious pat and a long gaze into Patience’s face, Emily hurried out the door.
Moments later Emily returned with the doctor. He introduced himself and examined her—looking into her eyes, then listening to her heart. He asked if she had any pain, and she pointed to her side. He carefully felt around the area and stopped when she winced.
Finally he straightened after a pat on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine with a few days’ rest. You have a mild concussion and a few bruised ribs, but I’d suggest not climbing a ladder anytime soon,” he told her with a little chuckle. “Actually, no ladders at all for you, and only light activities for the next couple of days.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Patience mumbled in a daze.
“Emily, if she throws up or seems confused, please come and get me.” He snapped his bag shut. Turning back to Patience he said, “That includes any visual disturbances, all right?”
Patience nodded her agreement, but even the slightest movement of her head caused pain and nausea. She was sure she would have plenty of reminders about her mishap with her body’s cautions to take it easy.
“I’m leaving some headache powder you can easily mix with water, to make your headache tolerable.” He walked to the bedroom door. “You were very fortunate, Miss Patience. I don’t need to see you again unless you get any of the symptoms I’ve just discussed with Emily.”
Patience couldn’t seem to think clearly. “Of course. Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll walk you out, Doctor,” Emily said, following him from the bedroom.
When Emily returned, she carried a fresh pitcher of water. She poured a glass, then sprinkled the powder into it, giving it a whirl with a spoon. She slipped an arm under Patience’s shoulders to lift her slightly, then handed the drink to Patience. “I’m going to let you rest, and I’ll tell the others that dinner will not be served tonight. The boarders will make other arrangements for a day or two.”
“But—but I can’t let you do that.” She tried to protest before swallowing the bitter-tasting water. “I can’t run the boardinghouse if I’m lying here, and I’ll lose the boarders I have . . .” Her voice trailed off weakly.
“Don’t be silly. They’ll understand,” Emily said briskly as she pulled the curtains together. �
��They’re boarding at the nicest, cleanest establishment in Nevada City,” she said as she turned back to the bed. “Perhaps it’s best if you try to sleep. You’ll feel so much better after you rest.”
“Thank you, Emily,” Patience said through a wobbly smile. Were those violets on Emily’s dress? Hard to keep her eyes focused.
“Do just as the doctor said. I can help you as much as I’m able, except for the time I’m at the café, of course.” Emily pushed Patience’s hair away from her eyes. “I’ll come back in a little while, rustle up some soup or broth for you.”
Patience was suddenly too tired to say any more. Her eyelids closed, and she felt her body beginning to relax.
Painting the inn would have to wait for a while.
When Patience opened her eyes, there was a fire in the grate, and it was dark beyond the curtains. She couldn’t believe she’d slept. Then it came rushing back—her fall from the ladder, and coming to her senses in her own bed.
She struggled to sit up, then carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed. She sat very still, waiting for a wave of dizziness to subside. The door opened, and Emily entered with a tray and a cheery greeting. “Hello, Emily,” Patience said. Her side felt mighty sore. She supposed she was very fortunate not to have broken her neck since Emily had told her she was nearly at the top of the ladder. My angel must’ve been watching over me. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought. For years her grandmother had told her that Patience had her very own guardian angel. She liked to believe it was true.
“I thought you might be awake by now,” said Emily. “I scrounged around the kitchen and found some leftover soup and bread. I hope this will do.”
Patience’s stomach growled in response, and they both laughed.
“I guess that was your answer.” Emily placed the tray in Patience’s lap. Taking a seat on the bed, she removed the linen napkin.
The Trouble with Patience Page 5