Leah peered at him. “I’m not sure what that comment is about, but I believe it’s time we dispense with being so formal. If you’re going to live and work on my ranch, you’d best call me Leah. Do you have any objection to me calling you Steven?”
He gently squeezed the fingers that lay on his arm. “Not in the least. And I must say I look forward to the challenge that lies ahead.”
Steven walked Miss Carlson back to the boardinghouse and then returned to the bank, barely noticing the traffic as his thoughts stayed fixed on the lovely redhead. He grinned when he recalled her comments about him being a greenhorn.
She might be surprised at the amount of work he was capable of doing. Excitement swelled at the idea of seeing Leah every evening. Getting blisters on his hands and toughening long-neglected muscles were small prices to pay to be in her company.
In spite of the delightful talk with the young lady, he was unable to shake the mounting disquiet he’d felt since the women at the boardinghouse informed him of the reason for his family’s absence.
Striding briskly across the bank foyer, he stopped in front of Parker’s barred window, thankful the bank was enjoying a brief respite from the normal brisk pace of business. Only the low murmur of voices across the lobby in Mr. Hunt’s office broke the peace of the afternoon. He cleared his throat quietly.
Parker raised his eyes, then almost saluted. “Mr. Harding. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t see you. How can I help you?”
“It’s nothing urgent, just a simple question. Did anyone stop by to see me earlier today?” He tapped his fingertips on the counter in front of the barred window.
“Yes, sir. Quite a number of people.” Parker pushed his visor a little higher on his forehead. “You don’t remember your appointments, sir?”
“Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I was referring to a personal visit—possibly my mother or sister. Did they leave a message for me while I was away or talking to a client?”
Parker shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of, but I was busy most of the morning with long lines and had to run an errand for Mr. Hunt. It is payday at some of the mines, you know.”
He scratched his chin. “It’s possible one of the other employees could have taken a message, although I can’t imagine any of them not setting it on your desk or giving it to me.” He frowned and glanced around the room. “I’ll make it my business to investigate and let you know. Is there anything else, Mr. Harding?”
Steven thought for a moment, then smiled. “I suppose not, but thank you for offering. Don’t take too much of your time making inquiries.”
The clerk shifted from one foot to the other. “Yes, sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Steven nodded and made his way to his desk. If his family hadn’t stopped to invite him, how should he handle it? He hated to make his mother or sister feel bad that they’d forgotten to include him in Jeffery’s good news. But the idea of being ignored, or at best, forgotten, rankled. He pushed it aside, ashamed of allowing anything so petty to clutter his mind. But the residue trickled into his heart and refused to be dislodged, no matter what he tried to tell himself.
Chapter Nine
April 15, 1881
Leah paced the front porch of her home, wondering for the hundredth time why she’d agreed to let Steven stay in the bunkhouse. She must have been captivated by those mesmerizing blue eyes and forgotten her good sense. A city man had no place on a ranch even if he had lived on a farm sometime in the distant past. He’d be more trouble than good.
If only he’d arrive while Pa was still in town. Four days ago when she spoke with Steven, they’d agreed he’d come that following weekend. She should have mustered the courage to send him a note with her regrets at making a poor decision, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him down. He’d been so eager and hopeful, and his confident air had stirred her resolve to stand up to her father and allow Steven to stay.
Pa would more than likely rail at her for allowing a banker access to his home, although Steven would be living in the bunkhouse, so he shouldn’t be in the way. At least, she hoped not. She still wasn’t certain how she felt about having him around every day. Then again, he worked at the bank and would probably want time with his family in the evening or the occasional weekend, so it was doubtful she’d see him much.
Millie poked her head out the door. “You’re going to wear a hole in that floor if you keep on pacin’. What’s got you in such a dither today? Your pa givin’ you fits again?”
Leah halted and sighed. “Not so much, although I’ll admit I’m a little anxious about what he’ll think when he finds out I’ve offered a bed to a banker.”
Millie’s brows shot up. “You didn’t tell Mr. Pape about Mr. Harding comin’ here? Why ever not?”
“I suppose I thought it would avoid trouble, but I can see now it might make things worse.”
Millie grunted. “Too late for that.” She gestured to Leah’s skirt. “Glad to see you at least put on a dress after doin’ your chores. ’Twould be a shame to greet that nice banker man in your smelly barn clothes and boots.”
Leah rolled her eyes. “After today that’s what he’ll see most of the time, so I’m not sure why it matters.”
Millie snickered. “Musta mattered some, or you wouldn’t a-gone to all the trouble to get gussied up.” She rubbed her hands down her white apron. “Guess I’d best get to work and find a way to soften Charlie up when he gets home.”
Leah grinned. “Are you planning to bake a treat?”
“Yep. That man has a special place in his heart, not to mention his stomach, for my molasses cookies. I’ll get a batch in the oven right quick and make sure to have cold milk on hand. Might at least get his attention off’n Mr. Harding for a few minutes.” She ducked inside and drew the door shut behind her.
The clip-clop of horse hooves approaching the house caught Leah’s attention. Steven Harding reined a striking bay gelding to a stop at the hitching rail and dismounted.
Leah stared. She’d never seen the man in anything other than city clothes. But this time he wore a rugged pair of dark blue trousers, a plaid shirt with a scarf around his neck, and a hat tugged down over his striking eyes. Her heart stuttered, then jumped back into full flight.
He unfastened his saddle bag, turned, and grinned. “Did you think I wasn’t coming?” The smile dimmed, and he stepped closer. “Miss Carlson—Leah—is anything wrong? I’m not late, am I?”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. Let’s get you settled. Is that all you brought with you?”
“I have another bag I left at the bank. I’ll borrow my mother’s buggy next time I go over and bring it back then. Where would you like me to put my horse?”
“In the barn. I have a stall ready with feed, and the outer door of the stall leads into pasture, if you’d prefer to turn him out.” She hurried him along, suddenly anxious to get the horse and banker out of sight before Pa arrived. The longer she could delay—or at least until Millie’s cookies could help work their magic—the better.
Steven followed Leah, struck anew over her grace and beauty. It wasn’t often you met a woman who worked as many hours as she did who still looked fresh and rested with the day half over. Maybe she’d slept in this morning and had a leisurely day. He’d half expected her to be dressed like a farmhand instead of a lady.
But if he wasn’t mistaken, Leah was troubled, and he guessed it had to do with her father. The one meeting he’d had with the man showed he might not be the easiest person to live with. In fact, Steven had racked his brain trying to think of a way to get on her father’s good side. Not that he cared too much whether Mr. Pape liked him or not, but he hated to see Leah distressed.
She pushed the wide barn door to the side before he could spring forward and help. “You can unsaddle out here or bring your horse inside, if you’d rather.”
“Inside is fine,
thanks.”
The next few minutes passed in silence as Steven made short work of stowing the saddle and the rest of his gear and stalling his gelding. He couldn’t miss the tension in Leah’s shoulders or the tightness in her voice. It might have been a mistake to move here, but he’d stick it out, at least for now.
Maybe her fears over her father’s disapproval wouldn’t be realized, and the transition would go smoothly. How bad could the man be, anyway? He looked to be at least in his midfifties, so he should have some common sense by this stage of life. Surely he’d see that having an extra hand on the place, even for a few hours a week, was a benefit, not an aggravation.
Leah silently beckoned and headed outside and around the barn. She walked with deliberate steps to a one-story clapboard structure with a stove pipe jutting from a shake-covered roof. A wide porch ran across the front and extended down one edge, with two rockers on each side of the door. A washbasin and pitcher perched on a shelf to the right, with a stack of firewood to the left.
It appeared neat and tidy and exuded an air of hominess. “This is where you’ll bunk. You’ll take your meals with our family.”
He stopped short. It never occurred to him that he wouldn’t do his own cooking. His pulse raced at the thought of eating a meal with Leah. He’d sat through any number of meals in polite company, but the idea of Leah Carlson sitting at the same table unnerved him. He wrenched his attention back to the bunkhouse. “How many ranch hands live here?”
She shrugged. “You’re it. At least for now.”
“You don’t have any other help?”
“We do, but Buddy and his wife, Millie, have the room in the house that used to belong to my brother, Tom. Between Buddy, me, and Pa, we’ve done a decent job of keeping up with things, till lately.”
She flung open the front door. “But it seems as if there’s more and more to do all the time. The herd has increased—lots of new calves this spring and colts old enough to work, plus equipment in need of repair.”
Steven heard the hesitation in her voice and sensed what she hadn’t said. The ranch might be expanding, but he doubted Charlie Pape was doing much to pull his weight. “This looks fine. Did you do the decorating?”
A blush enhanced her cheeks. “Millie helped. It’s not much, but we wanted it to be homey for—whoever came.”
The neatly made bed to the right of the door had a clean pillow, a handmade quilt in bright colors, and a washstand near the foot. Three other beds were devoid of bedding, but a stove in the back of the room burned with a cheery blaze, and a coffeepot sat on the lid, exuding a mouthwatering smell. Cream-colored curtains outlined the front windows, and two braided rugs, one next to the bed and another on the hearth, added more color. A rocker with a high back and padded seat had been placed near a rustic bookcase with several volumes on the top shelf.
He gave a low whistle. “It’s a sight better than the cabin that burned or my hotel room. I’m grateful, Miss Carlson.”
Her face broke into a wide smile, a trait so rare that it made him short of breath. “We agreed it would be Leah, remember?”
“Leah!” Boots thudded on the porch, and the door flew open. “What’s goin’ on around here? I put my horse in the barn, and there’s a gelding I ain’t never seen before. You’d better have a good explanation, girl. I don’t allow no tramp miners to bunk here, and you know it.”
Leah’s smile disappeared, and a hard, tight expression took its place. Steven’s heart contracted at the raw pain he saw reflected there.
By the time she turned and faced her father, though, all signs of anger were gone. “Hello, Pa. Millie should have a batch of cookies out of the oven by now, so why don’t we head into the house?” She took a step toward the door, but Charlie Pape didn’t budge.
“Cookies can come later.” He gestured at Steven. “Who might this rascal be, and what’s he doin’ in my bunkhouse?”
He scanned Steven head to foot. “Don’t look like no down-in-the-heels miner, but he ain’t no seasoned cowhand or bronco buster, neither. Those are new duds that ain’t never been worked in. Looks like he stepped outta some fancy store. Why’s he here?”
Leah opened her mouth, but Steven stepped forward and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Pape. I’m Steven Harding, and this clothing will get broken in soon enough, I’m sure.”
Pape ignored the extended hand. “Don’t really care if they do or not; it makes me no never-mind. But what you doin’ in my bunkhouse?”
Steven exchanged a glance with Leah. He didn’t care to stir up trouble between father and daughter, but he wanted to tell the truth. Funny, the man didn’t recognize him from their encounter on the road, but he should have expected as much, considering the condition he’d been in.
“Your daughter was kind enough to offer me a place to stay for a short time. She’s acquainted with my sister and knew my cabin was destroyed in the mine explosion.”
Pape’s brows rose. “You don’t look like no miner.”
“I’m not, sir. It was the only thing I found to rent when I moved to town last November.”
“Why didn’t you move in with your sister? She won’t take you in for some reason?” His eyes narrowed.
“No, sir, nothing like that.” Surely Leah had told her father about her friendship with Beth. “She recently married, and she and her husband live at the Jacobs’ boardinghouse on the edge of town.” He smiled, hoping the explanation would ease the tension building in the room.
Pape crossed his arms over his chest. “So move there.”
“I would have done so, but they’re full. Besides their normal boarders and three children, Mrs. Jacobs’s mother, Mrs. Cooper, lives there. They’ve decided not to take any more boarders, as Mrs. Jacobs is in the family way and needs rest.”
Pape took a half step back, and if Steven wasn’t imagining it, his face lost a little of its ruddy color. “Cooper, you say?”
“That’s right. Mrs. Frances Cooper.”
“She a short, handsome woman?” Pape held his hand up to just above shoulder height. “And cantankerous—bossy like—always goin’ on about somethin’?”
Steven bit his lip to keep from laughing, and Leah intervened. “Pa, that’s not a kind thing to say about a lady.”
The older man exhaled. “I bumped into her in town a while back, and I wouldn’t call her a lady. Tyrant or dictator, maybe.”
He scratched his chin. “All right. If you’re only here for a short time till you find another place to live, I suppose I can tolerate it. But you’ll pull your weight, you hear?”
“Yes, sir, I plan to.”
“You got another job?”
“I do, sir. But I’ll be happy to help with chores in the evenings and on weekends.”
“Give me your hands.” He reached out and grabbed Steven’s wrists. “Ha. Just as I figured. Soft. Woman’s hands. You’ll be a blistered mess in no time. Can’t see you amountin’ to much help, that’s for sure.”
Steven gave a grim smile. “That’s what gloves are for, sir. And I think you’ll see I can hold my own.”
Pape snorted and turned away. “Remains to be seen.” He jerked his thumb at the door. “Leah, let the man get settled whilst we go have ourselves some of those cookies. And while you’re at it, you’d better skin out of those fancy duds, as well. What possessed you to put that dress on ’stead of your trousers and boots?” He shook his head and disappeared outside.
Leah briefly closed her eyes, then met Steven’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not telling my father you work at the bank. It was enough for him to find you here. No telling what he’d done if he thought I brought you here to convince him to give us the loan.” She picked up her skirt and fled through the door.
Steven stood in the middle of the room, his stomach growling over the thought of warm
cookies, his hands already smarting from the blisters he knew were to come, and his heart hurting from the knowledge Leah’s words had revealed.
Columbia River Gorge
April 18, 1881
Tom leaned over the rail of the steamer and stared at the awesome sights around him. He’d been only fifteen when he’d made this trip six years ago, and he’d been so frightened that his pa would follow and drag him home that he’d cowered below deck most of the time. Now he was headed home to face his father, and he would never cower again.
He squared his shoulders and concentrated on the magnificent Columbia River and the gorge it flowed through, cut between the state of Oregon to the south and Washington Territory to the north.
A little boy at the rail pointed. “Hey, mister, what’s that waterfall?”
Tom dragged his gaze from the sight and smiled at the youngster. He’d been like that as a child, inquisitive and not afraid to approach a stranger. “Someone told me it’s called Bridal Veil Falls, because that’s what it looks like. Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” The boy popped a peppermint stick in his mouth and sucked on it. “We haven’t seen any houses for a long time. When we gonna get to a town?”
“I think we’ll arrive at The Dalles by sundown. You stopping there or going on?”
“Pa is working in The Dalles, and we live there. We been visiting my grandparents in Portland for the past two months, but Pa’s mighty lonely and said it’s time to come back. I’m glad.”
“Good for you.” Tom nodded at a plain woman wearing a modest gown who moved close to the boy. “Ma’am. I hope you don’t mind me visiting with your son.”
“Not at all, but I was going to tell him not to bother you.” She stroked the boy’s tawny hair and smiled. “He tends to talk too much at times.”
“I’ve enjoyed the visit. I haven’t had anyone to talk to—” He bit off the last word and turned his gaze back to the river. “Sure is pretty here.”
Dreaming on Daisies: A Novel (Love Blossoms in Oregon Series Book 3) Page 8