Wishing on Buttercups

by Miralee Ferrell

  Wilma stepped aside as Beth pressed close to the table.

  Brent crafted a weak smile. “Darling, I am so sorry. I would have told you the truth, but I thought you’d hate me. Believe me when I tell you my love for you was never false. I’ll marry you today and never ask for a dime. I swear.”

  Beth swung as hard as she could, her open palm making contact with his cheek. The sound echoed through the room, and a buzz arose from the remaining patrons.

  Brent placed his hand over his reddening cheek. His lips twisted. “Truth be told, I never wanted you anyway. You and your aunt are nothing to me.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I would have overlooked your background for a price, but I should be thanking my stars I didn’t marry someone taken by Indians. If word had gotten out, I’d have been a laughingstock in the East.”

  It was all Beth could do not to cringe, but she lifted her chin instead. “Get out of my sight. You are despicable.”

  “Not so fast, Beth.” Wilma beckoned toward the door. “Sheriff, I’m glad you have arrived.”

  A middle-aged man strode across the room, weaving between the empty tables. Beth turned to her aunt. “But you said you followed Brent from the saloon.” Her glance flew from her aunt to the sheriff.

  Wilma smirked. “A boy standing outside this establishment hoping to earn a coin fetched him for me.” She nodded at a towheaded boy hovering near the doorway. “Come here, son.”

  He trotted across the room. “You already paid me, lady. You don’t owe me nothin’.”

  She dug into her skirt pocket and pulled out a two-bit piece. “You earned this as well.”

  He stared at it for a long moment. “Golly! I ain’t ever had two of these of my very own. Thank you, ma’am. Ma will be tickled.” He dashed for the door and disappeared.

  Wilma nodded to the sheriff. “This is Brent Wentworth. I believe he is wanted in several states. I shall come by later to inquire about filing charges.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grasped Brent’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go. I’ve got a tolerably comfortable cot waiting in my jail.” His boots echoed against the wood floor as he drew Brent toward the door.

  Wilma slumped into a chair. “I hope you will forgive me, Beth, for not telling you. I never thought we’d see him again.”

  Beth bent over and wrapped her arms around her aunt. “I forgive you, Auntie. But after today, it’s going to be hard to trust another man again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jeffery hadn’t touched his book in days. Gloom had surrounded him since Beth had turned her back on him and walked out. She had been cordial at meals, but distant, and already he missed her companionship. He glanced across the dining table at her and frowned. She was avoiding his gaze again. What had happened to change her attitude toward him? Was it possible Beth wasn’t being forthright with him about her feelings? He’d hoped she might understand his desire to court her, and he would have said so if she had given him the chance.

  A knock sounded at the front door. Jeffery scooted his chair from the dinner table, suddenly eager to get away. “I’ll get the door if you’d like me to, Mrs. Jacobs.”

  Micah stood. “Thank you, Mr. Tucker, but I’m expecting a visit from an attorney. He has put me off several times, and I’m hoping that might be him.” He disappeared down the hall, and the muted sound of male voices drifted from the foyer.

  Swift footsteps made their way back to the dining room, and Micah stepped into view, a wide smile creasing his face. “I suppose I should have taken you up on your offer, Mr. Tucker. The caller is here to see you.”

  Jeffery stood, looking from Mr. Jacobs to the front of the house, wishing he could see through walls.

  Mrs. Cooper waved toward the doorway. “Do not stand there with your mouth agape, young man. You have a visitor. Go greet him, and if it is someone you care to visit with, I will bring you coffee in the parlor.”

  He gave a brief bow. “Thank you, ma’am. You are correct. I should not keep the gentleman waiting.” He turned to Mr. Jacobs. “Did he happen to give his name?”

  Micah hesitated. “He did, but he asked that I send you in without saying. Forgive me, but I think it’s better if I follow his wishes. I seated him in the parlor.”

  Jeffery shot a look at Beth. Was it possible someone from the magazine had arrived in town? Something between dread and excitement danced along Jeffery’s spine, and he hurried out of the room.

  A man with his back turned stared out the window. His erect form and perfectly tailored clothing sent splinters of awareness through Jeffery. He cleared his throat, almost hating to have the man turn. No matter that he hadn’t seen that stance in two years, he would know it anywhere. Jeffery’s boot echoed on the hardwood floor, and the man swung around.

  “Hello, Jeffery.” Mark Tucker didn’t extend his hand or move toward him. He simply stood there, hands locked behind his back, an unfathomable look cloaking his expression.

  Jeffery’s entire being stilled as he attempted to process the emotions that assaulted him. “Father.” So much he wanted to say, but only that one word escaped. He longed to rush across the intervening space and pump his father’s hand but another part of him wanted nothing more than to dash the other direction.

  He took a step forward and halted as another thought pushed to the fore. Why was he here? Mark Tucker did nothing by halves and certainly not without careful consideration. It was a long journey from their family home in Ohio to Baker City, Oregon, and not one the older man would have taken without a specific reason. And Jeffery was certain he knew exactly what that purpose might be.

  He tucked his hands deep into his pockets. As much as he wanted to greet his father with warmth, he wouldn’t allow it to show. Not yet, at any rate. “What brings you so far west, sir? I’m guessing it’s not pleasure.” Jeffery carefully schooled his features.

  His father tapped his toe against the floor. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  Jeffery lifted his chin. “Are you staying at a hotel?”

  “Not any longer than I must.” He brushed a thin film of dust from his sleeve. “I’ll be returning as soon as I’ve gotten what I came for.”

  “And what might that be?”

  He drilled Jeffery with a hard stare and strode forward. “You.”

  Wilma clucked to herself as she headed through the parlor to answer the firm knock at the front door. It seemed the entire household was falling apart. It had all started when that good-for-nothing Isaac Lansing sent his letter of intent-to-sue. Then Jeffery’s father had arrived, and Jeffery had been scarce as hens’ teeth. Beth appeared to do everything in her power to avoid the poor boy. Why, the air was drawn as tight as a bowstring when those three were in the same room. If it weren’t for Caleb’s presence, she’d pack her bags and return to Kansas, now that she knew Brent Wentworth was safely behind bars and not apt to bother Beth again.

  On the other hand, if she did that, Jeffery would be left alone with his difficult father. Wilma hated the thought. She liked the young man and had hoped Beth’s affections might swing his way. The knock repeated, a little louder this time. Wilma hurried across the foyer. “Give me a moment; I’m coming.”

  Breathing hard, she swung open the door and stepped aside, waving the person inside. “No need to knock.” She surveyed the young man, possibly a few years older than Beth, as he gave a slight bow, then stepped past her. His day-suit and top hat were clean and serviceable, but she was happy to note they weren’t reminiscent of either Wentworth or Isaac Lansing.

  He offered a hesitant smile. “I beg your pardon, madam. I wasn’t certain if I should enter or announce my presence first. I hope I didn’t disturb your rest this fine morning.”

  “Fiddlesticks, the sun has been up for well over an hour. Were you looking for a room, or visiting someone?” She smothered a grin that tried to escape. The plain-spoken que
stion almost sounded like Frances. Had she been around the woman so long she’d begun to imitate her behavior? “Forgive me, I did not mean to be rude.” Wilma spread her hands and smiled. “How can I help you?”

  “My mother and I will be moving to town in November. I’m hoping there might be two rooms available.”

  Wilma peered into his deep-blue eyes, trying to gauge the type of man he might be. If he was another Isaac Lansing, she’d send him packing without so much as a howdy-do.

  He returned her gaze without flinching, and Wilma slowly relaxed. Nothing but honesty shone from his face, and those eyes—they seemed vaguely familiar.

  He twisted the hat in his hands. “I’m sorry if I’ve come at a bad time.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. Why don’t you wait here a moment? Mrs. Jacobs is finishing breakfast preparations. I’ll fetch her.”

  Wilma entered the kitchen. Beth cracked an egg into the bowl on the counter and set the shell on the growing pile to her left. She looked up. “Getting hungry, Auntie?”

  Wilma halted and glanced from Beth to Katherine. “I didn’t realize you were helping this morning.”

  Beth nodded. “Katherine’s been tired recently, so I decided she needed an extra pair of hands.” She gestured in the direction of the dining room where Lucy and Zachary were setting the table. “Not that she doesn’t already have two wonderful helpers.”

  Katherine brushed the back of her hand across her forehead, moving an errant curl. “I told her she isn’t expected to lend a hand with the cooking, but she insisted.”

  Wilma looked around the room, then directed her attention toward the stairway. “It feels like we’re family, and with you in a family way, it’s not going to hurt either of us to help. Is Frances not well this morning?”

  Katherine lifted a brow. “I’m not certain, but I didn’t want to bother her in case her gout has flared up. Besides, Beth appeared quite early, so there was really no need.”

  “You seemed in a hurry to get here, Auntie,” Beth added. “Is everything all right?”

  “Oh my.” Wilma pressed the palms of her hands against her cheeks. “I nigh forgot. You have a visitor, Katherine. Or I should say a prospective boarder. I told him I’d fetch you right away.”

  Katherine heaved a sigh and put down the spoon she’d used to stir the oatmeal. “We don’t have another room available. I hate turning anyone away, but Mr. Tucker’s father took the last one.”

  Beth placed the last platter of food on the table and surveyed the area critically. Everything looked perfect. She wasn’t certain why it mattered so much, but she wanted Jeffery’s father to approve of the home where his son had chosen to live.

  Discovering Brent’s deception and betrayal had been difficult, but she was starting to see she couldn’t live in a world of anger. She’d spent far too many years dabbling around the edges of hurtful emotions already, and her friendship with Jeffery had helped put her feet on a more solid foundation.

  But could she trust him? Really trust him? So many fears had shaped her life since her earliest memories, but Beth was determined to rise above them, with God’s help. The words breathed into her spirit. She knew God could be trusted, but a tinge of sadness seeped through her heart thinking about her possible future.

  Lately, in spite of what happened with Brent, she’d come to realize she wanted a relationship with Jeffery, if God allowed. But she’d made such unwise choices in the past. She touched her fingers to her lips. The gentle kiss Jeffery placed there didn’t feel like a poor choice.

  She couldn’t forget the warmth of his lips on hers and his tender solicitude. But Brent had been the same way when they’d met—charming, caring, and ever attentive—and look what he had done. All to gain access to her aunt’s money.

  Beth shivered at the realization of how close she’d come to committing herself to him while in Kansas. Loathing nearly choked her. She should have seen through his declaration of love.

  She adjusted a chair, hesitant to call everyone to breakfast with her mind still in a whirl. Could a man like Jeffery be seriously interested in courting her?

  Footfalls sounded behind her, and she swung around. How much time had passed since Katherine left the room?

  Aunt Wilma stopped beside her and patted her arm. “It looks very nice, but I think we’ll need another place setting.”

  “Oh?” Beth looked the length of the already full table. She could squeeze another plate at the far end.

  “Katherine asked the young man who arrived to stay to breakfast. She felt terrible she couldn’t offer him and his mother rooms.”

  “Is his mother with him?” Beth glanced toward the parlor.

  “I don’t believe so. He said they’re moving here, and he’s come to find lodging. Seems like a nice young man. He reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite recall who it might be.”

  “Did you get his name?” Beth’s heart beat faster. Surely one of the young men she knew from home hadn’t arrived. None of them had paid her much mind when they’d lived in Kansas, and she couldn’t think of a single one she’d care to see. “You don’t think it’s one of Brent’s friends, do you?”

  Aunt Wilma started. “Certainly not. Whatever made you say such a thing?”

  Relief weakened Beth’s muscles, and she shrugged. “I suppose I’m still a little anxious.”

  Wilma planted her hands on her hips. “If one of his friends shows up, it won’t matter. The scoundrel is in jail, and that’s where he’ll stay, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “I can’t believe I trusted him.” She shook her head.

  Wilma drew Beth into the circle of her arms. “I am so sorry you had to endure that. But you can’t let it cloud your perception. Why, Jeffery Tucker is a fine man, as is Caleb.”

  Beth broke free of her embrace. “What are you up to, Auntie? What does Jeffery have to do with this?”

  “Nothing at all,” her aunt replied swiftly. “I don’t care to have you think every man is cut from the same cloth as Wentworth. Jeffery is simply an example of an honest man.”

  Katherine stepped into the room followed by a well-built man a full head taller than Beth. “I’d like to introduce Mr. Steven Harding. Mr. Harding, this is Beth Roberts and her aunt, Mrs. Roberts.”

  Mr. Harding inclined his head. “I’m pleased to meet you both.” He studied Beth. “Something about you …” He appeared thoughtful. “Is Beth a family name? Short for Elizabeth, and after your aunt, no doubt?” He smiled warmly at Aunt Wilma.

  Beth tilted her head. “Yes. I mean, no.” The words almost stuck in her throat. She’d nearly told him her pen name was Elizabeth. “My aunt’s name is Wilma, and mine is Beth. I’m not certain it’s a family name.” She bit her lip, aware she’d said too much.

  He smiled. “No matter. Are you from this area originally?”

  Aunt Wilma stepped forward and placed her hand on Beth’s arm. “We’re from Kansas. What brings you to Baker City?”

  “Business. My bank is putting in a new branch office in town, and I’ll be transferred from La Grande next month. I’m hoping to find a place for my mother and myself.”

  Aunt Wilma nodded. “I saw the new brick building; it’s quite fancy for a bank. Will you be managing it, Mr. Harding?”

  “I’m afraid not, but I am one of the officers. I will be handling the loans to miners, ranchers, and such.”

  “I see.”

  Masculine voices mingled with a childish one neared the room, and Beth turned, her heart skipping a beat. Jeffery and his father entered, accompanied by Mandy. She clung to the older man’s hand, chattering so fast Beth could barely make out a word. Mr. Tucker gazed down at her, apparently intent on catching every syllable, his face drawn in concentration.

  Jeffery approached Mr. Harding and extended his hand, shooting a glance toward Beth. “Hello, I’m Jeffery Tucker, and this is
my father, Mark Tucker. Will you be lodging here?”

  Steven Harding shook his head, his fine blue eyes clouding. “Pleased to meet you both. I regret Mrs. Jacobs doesn’t have room and doesn’t believe that will change before we move.”

  Mark Tucker straightened and looked from his son to the stranger, a slight smile curving his thin lips. “Oh, but I’m sure there will be, Mr. Harding. Two in fact.”

  Beth sucked in a breath. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Tucker?”

  “I understand it could snow in the mountain passes any time, and I don’t care to be stranded here. Jeffery and I will be returning home soon.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jeffery couldn’t get Beth’s face out of his mind. Apparently, his father’s declaration had shocked her. It had been hours since those words were uttered, and her image was as clear as though it happened moments ago. Dismay, chased by—what? Resentment? Alarm? He couldn’t be sure. She’d walked out of the room right after the announcement. When she returned, she had avoided looking at him the rest of the meal.

  He glared into the mirror above his bureau and jerked at his tight collar, hating the thought of not seeing Beth this evening. Somehow he must let her know he hadn’t agreed to go home with his father. He gritted his teeth. The record would get set straight with his parent at dinner tonight, that he could promise. That was the only reason he’d agreed to dine with him at the Arlington Hotel. He didn’t know when he’d have the opportunity to speak with Beth alone, but speak to her he would. Did she care if he went home? Hope pulsed through Jeffery’s veins until he recalled the resentment that had shone in her eyes.

  Time to turn his attention elsewhere before he choked. He loosened his grip on his collar, picked up his jacket, and shook it. The man who’d arrived at breakfast … what was his name? Steven Harding. He seemed a pleasant enough sort, and Beth didn’t appear at all interested in pursuing his acquaintance. Dark hair, a firm jaw, and an erect bearing, all things that seemed to attract women, but Beth had barely spoken to Harding throughout the meal. Jeffery grimaced. Of course, she hadn’t deigned to speak to him either.