Somewhere during the morning, she noted that Mr. GW Hart himself arrived with two more of his sons.
Pa browsed about, throwing out comments to the neighbors who had snubbed him in the past and filching food from the baskets and platters. He hadn’t had breakfast, Jane reminded herself, and she refrained from scolding him. The visitors seemed to exercise restraint as well. She didn’t hear one of them say anything scornful to her father. In fact, Emma Hart laughed gaily when she caught him sneaking a cookie from a basketful of them that Mrs. Allen had brought.
Jane fought back the discomfort that came with having other folks notice her and do good deeds for her family. They would have a new house, and it would be clean. The roof wouldn’t leak when these folks got done with it. When she saw a small wood-burning stove in the back of the Mortensons’ wagon, she caught her breath. They needed a stove, for sure, but would the mercantile owner expect them to pay for it? That was a large gift.
Meribeth Mortenson walked toward her, smiling. Her blond hair looked soft and fluffy around her face. “Hello, Jane. I hope you don’t mind.” Meribeth smiled apologetically and waved toward the wagon where her husband and Crockett and Hays Hart were unloading the small box stove. “We used to have that thing in the storeroom, but we’ve got another now. Michael had stuck it out in the barn, but when Crockett told me you had to fix all your meals over a campfire, I thought maybe you could put it to good use.”
“Oh, Mrs. Mortenson—”
“Meribeth.”
Jane swallowed and nodded. “Thank you kindly. That’s … that’s quite a gift. Or…? Do you want it back later?”
“Heavens, no. You keep it as long as it’s useful. If you get a cookstove one day, pass that on to someone else.”
“Thank you.” Jane’s mother had always cooked in the fireplace, and Pa had promised many times to buy her a stove, but there was never enough money. Odd that they got a stove after all their worldly belongings were burnt up. It didn’t have a bake oven, but even so, her life would be a lot easier now.
She went back to help the others set out the food. Annie Hart smiled at her. “Crockett said some folks had come around yesterday with some lumber and coffee.”
“They did, and a lot of people said they’d come today.” Jane smiled apologetically, thinking of one small gesture among many. “Crockett brought us a couple of tin cups to go with the coffee, and I was so grateful. Emma and Hays had sent over a coffeepot, but I guess no one thought about cups.”
“Oh my goodness. You should have mentioned it.”
“We made out all right,” Jane said. “I don’t like to ask for stuff.”
“Of course not, but—honey, is there anything else basic that you need?”
“I can’t think of anything right off.” There were so many things they could use, but making their needs known made Jane feel like a beggar.
“Well, if you do, you tell us. And when we go tonight, I’ll leave a couple of those ironstone mugs we brought for the luncheon. We have way more than we need.”
Jane could hardly imagine that, with so many people living under one roof at El Regalo, the huge house at the 7 Heart ranch. How could one have too many dishes for so many people? And the boys who had married were building their own homes, too, and would need dishes. But then, with the fortune GW Hart had amassed, they could probably afford whatever they wanted.
She gazed over to the site of the new house, where the framing for the walls was rising. Crockett and his brother Bowie, the long-haired, wild-looking one, were hefting a six-by-six beam from a wagon. Why would a man like Crockett care about a dirt-poor girl like her? When this project was finished, he would probably go back to being the rarely seen neighbor from the big spread that dwarfed the Haymaker ranch.
Crockett worked side by side with Ben most of the morning. The young man wasn’t too sure of how they should commence building or where the doors and windows ought to go. After a few rounds of advice from the more opinionated neighbors, they set to work on the outer walls of the building. When they stopped for a break, the framework of the four walls was standing, as well as interior walls to separate the kitchen, the sitting room, and two bedrooms. Ben had insisted he would sleep in the loft over his father’s bedroom. Even so, the house would be larger than what they had lived in before.
Caro brought them each a drink of lemonade, and they sat down on the end of the Harts’ wagon. Crockett took a long swallow and savored the tart flavor.
“So, Ben,” he said. “Jane tells me you might go work on the Bar L.”
“Thinkin’ about it.” Ben sipped his lemonade.
“How would Jane and your pa get on if you did that?”
Ben lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “I know Pa’s no help anymore. But if Janie could hold things together here and I could earn some money…”
“So you want to keep this ranch going for the long haul?” Crockett asked. “Not just cut loose and forget about it?”
“I wouldn’t do that to Jane.”
“Good.” Crockett drained his cup and then looked at the young man. “If it was just you, though? What would you do if you didn’t have to think about Jane and your pa?”
Ben gave a short laugh. “That won’t happen.”
“Seriously.”
Ben met his gaze and sobered. “I’d sell this place and go to college.”
“College?”
“Yeah. And medical school, if they’d take me.”
Crockett gave a low whistle. He should have suspected the boy had thwarted ambitions. Probably Jane did, too, but they were stuck here on this run-down spread.
He jumped off the wagon. “Come on, let’s help the crew get the roof framed.”
He didn’t get a chance to talk much to Jane—at least, not without half-a-dozen other people close by—until evening. If possible, the food for supper was even more diverse than lunch had been. The Hart women had been cooking for several days in preparation for the event, and it seemed a lot of the other women of Hartville had, too. The men took over the barn, where a couple of them had cleaned out the main floor that afternoon, as a place to wash up and don clean shirts before the meal.
Jane met up with Crockett as he left the barn.
“Been waiting for you,” she said. “I don’t know how to thank you, but I wanted to try.” Her eyes gleamed in the rays of the setting sun as she looked toward the new house, all framed and covered with board siding.
“It’s what folks do when a neighbor needs a hand,” Crockett said.
Jane shook her head. “Not for us. Not usually. I think most of them came because you asked them to—the Harts asked them to.”
That made Crockett feel a little uncomfortable. His own family could have done a lot more for the Haymakers over the years, but he knew his father had avoided Boyd like the plague. That attitude had rubbed off on him and his brothers to a certain extent, though they always thought the kids were all right.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” he muttered. Jane’s green eyes looked strained and almost fearful. Was she afraid they would all abandon her family once the dancing was over?
“Look, Bowie and Houston and I are set to come back Monday and help Ben get the shingling done.”
“You don’t need to.”
“We know we don’t, but you’ve got to have a tight roof before the next rain. The three of us will be here, and maybe a few others if we can hound them into it.”
She was silent for a moment then said, “I can see that’s settled, so I won’t argue. I’ll just say thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” Crockett paused and looked down into her face. Jane was so serious, and perhaps fearful. He needed a bride. Could she be the one? And what would his father think if he proposed to Boyd’s daughter? His mouth went dry. “Would you—would you save me a dance, Jane?”
Her smile blossomed, and suddenly he knew it could work. Boyd and his lazy ways didn’t matter. Jane would gladly labor to make her ranch and her family
succeed.
“I surely will.” Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink in the twilight.
Crockett grinned and walked over to join his brothers. If he did ask Jane to marry him, his goal would be to put that smile on her face every single day.
The empty barnyard brightened in the twilight, with a bonfire at each end. While everyone finished up their dessert and the musicians tuned their instruments to Hays’s fiddle, Jane helped the other women put away the leftovers and return the dishes to their owners.
When the music began, she looked around for Crockett, but she didn’t see him. She pushed down her disappointment. He’d said a dance, not the first dance.
To her surprise, Chisholm was the Hart brother who approached her first. He doffed his hat and gave a slight bow.
“Miss Jane, would you dance with me?”
“I—” She looked around and saw Chisholm’s wife, Caro, dancing with her father-in-law, who seemed to be enjoying it immensely.
“I suppose so. Thank you.”
She let him take her hand and lead her to the edge of the area where the dancers swirled. He put his hand on her waist, and Jane lightly laid her left hand on his shoulder.
“Thought it might be the best way to talk without anyone overhearing,” Chisholm said softly as the music flowed about them.
“Oh.” Jane felt her color rise and glanced about quickly for her father. He was over near the depleted refreshment table, talking to a couple of the ranchers. He held a tin cup in his hand, and he looked cheerful. Jane hoped no one had slipped in a bottle or a flask, but she supposed that was too much to ask in a mixed gathering like this. If Pa got drunk, she would just have to deal with him later.
“About the Louisiana banknotes,” Chisholm said.
Jane whipped her attention back to him. “Right.”
“You heard about the robbery at the State Treasury in Austin?”
Jane squinted up at him. “Well, yes, but that was a long time ago.”
Chisholm nodded. “Part of the money that was taken was in Louisiana banknotes.”
“But … if one of the robbers hid it in our cave, why didn’t he come back for it? Or spend it before now?”
“Too recognizable.”
They moved with the music, and Jane took special care not to touch him more than was necessary. She stumbled a bit, and Chisholm grabbed her arm to steady her.
“All right?” he asked.
“Yes. Sorry. I’m not a very good dancer. I haven’t had much practice.” In fact, the last time she had danced was at an end-of-the-year school program, when she was fourteen and the pupils performed a square dance for their parents and the townsfolk.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said with a grin. “I haven’t told anyone else about…” They passed close to Mr. and Mrs. Mortenson, who were dancing much closer together than they were. Chisholm lowered his voice. “About what you told Crockett.”
Jane nodded.
“Is it all right with you if I show the sample to my boss?”
The back of Jane’s neck prickled, and her throat felt dry. Why did this prospect scare her? She knew. If the money was from the robbery, the most likely suspect would be her pa. What if he was arrested? And if the word got out—which it would—their ranch might be overrun with people looking for more of the loot.
“If people find out,” she began.
“I’ll be discreet,” Chisholm assured her.
“I … suppose you have to.”
“It’s the best and quickest way for me to find out more about it. If it is from the Treasury robbery, it would be the first of the money recovered since that night. It could be important.”
Jane’s legs felt like sticks of firewood as she moved in time with the music. “I’ll have to trust you.”
“Yes. You trusted Crockett, and I hope you can do the same for me. I’ll do all I can to make sure your family isn’t hurt, Jane. If it does implicate someone local…”
“You mean my pa.”
His mouth flattened into a sober line. “Well, yes. Or a neighbor. But it could be that someone who fled Austin stashed it there when he realized he couldn’t spend it freely. It might be someone who’s long gone.”
The song ended, and they stopped moving and clapped. Suddenly, Crockett was beside them.
“Time for my dance, Janie?”
“Oh. Yes, I guess.” She looked at Chisholm.
“I think we’re done,” Chisholm said with a smile. “Don’t fret about this, Miss Jane. Let us handle it.” He nodded to his brother and walked away, toward where his wife was standing with her sisters-in-law, fanning herself and laughing.
“You all right?” Crockett asked.
“I think so. It’s a little off-putting.”
He nodded. “If you don’t want to dance … Would you like a drink?”
“I’d love some of that lemonade, but then I’d like to dance, Crockett. If you can stand my clumsiness.”
“I saw you dancing with my brother. You weren’t clumsy.”
“You lie, but I’ll forgive you.” There. She’d managed to flirt with a man, another first for Jane Miranda Haymaker.
Someone threw more wood on the nearer bonfire, and Crockett’s eyes reflected the flying sparks.
“Time for a square dance, folks. Form your squares.”
“Let’s get that lemonade, and then we’ll show these folks how to dance,” Crockett said.
She gulped down a half cup of the sweet beverage, and then he pulled her over to join a square. Ben was part of it, with one of the Allen girls. He smiled across the space in the middle of the square at Jane. He looked almost happy. Happier than she’d seen him in years. Jane smiled back and crooked her arm through her partner’s, glad that her slow dance had been with the Ranger, not with Crockett. She might have crumbled into a pile of ash if she’d had to waltz with Crockett first thing. But maybe later, before this odd evening had ended.
She found herself short of breath as she whirled around. The old moves from the school program didn’t match up with everything Austin Hart called out, but somehow she managed to keep up. When in doubt, she followed Crockett’s lead or imitated the other women in her square.
When it was over, she stood laughing and clapping with the rest, with the fire-lit night still spinning around them.
The music started again almost at once, this time slower, to let the dancers get their breath. Many of the dancers drifted to the sides of the crowd, but others joined them. Jane started to walk away from the makeshift dance floor, but Crockett seized her hand.
“Hey, won’t you have this one with me? I know you can waltz.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t he afraid other people would pair them up if they danced together twice in a row?
“Are you sure you want to do that?” she asked, still a little breathless.
“I’m sure.”
He pulled her into his arms, and out of self-defense, Jane put her hand up to his shoulder. Crockett seemed to want to dance a whole lot closer than his brother had. Her face felt hot, but maybe that was from the exercise or the heat of the bonfire.
As they turned around with the flow of the music, she spotted Pa, heading inside the barn with one of Mr. Allen’s cowboys. That couldn’t be good.
“Everything all right?” Crockett asked.
“Yes. Well, no.”
His eyes widened, but he didn’t miss a beat of the music.
“I was wondering about Pa,” she confessed. “I’m afraid someone’s brought him some drink.”
“If you’d like, I’ll go check on him after this dance.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t talk after that. Telling him her fears about her father embarrassed her, but she also felt relieved that someone else knew and didn’t judge her. She glanced up at him, and he smiled at her, causing such an odd lurch in her stomach that she looked down and tried to concentrate on her steps.
The song came to an end, and they stood apart and clapped. When Hays poised
his bow over his fiddle again, Crockett said softly, “I’ll check on your pa.”
She glanced toward the barn and saw Pa stagger out the doorway.
“Never mind. There he is.”
Chapter Six
Jane called Crockett’s attention to her father just in time for him to see Pa trip and nearly fall on his face. Her cheeks heated, and she was glad for the semidarkness to hide her shame. Mr. Mortenson, who stood nearby, reached out to steady him. Pa turned and laughed heartily at something the storekeeper said.
“Think he’s all right?” Crocket said.
Jane looked down at the ground. “As all right as he’ll be until morning.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “Not as much as me.”
The music was gentle and soothing, and Crockett leaned close. “One more dance?”
“Thanks, but I think I need to rest.”
“Sure. Come have a seat.” He led her to some benches people had brought. After supper, the men had arranged them around the yard, outside the dancing area. Crockett steered her to one beyond the circle of firelight, away from the people.
“Thank you.” Jane sat down, very conscious of him settling beside her.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” he said.
Jane peered at him, trying to read his expression. “You mean, besides the money?”
“Yeah. I, uh…” He cleared his throat, looked up at the moon, and then looked back at her. “I’d like to court you, Jane.”
She swallowed hard, but a painful lump remained in her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
She wanted to. Very much. She had always liked Crockett, though he was a few years older than she. And he’d been very kind to her and her family. He’d seen her father stumbling drunk, and he still wanted to call on her. But would he change his tune if her father was revealed to be a felon?
Seven Brides for Seven Texans Romance Collection Page 36