The reminder that he was losing his help strained his smile, but for Breanna’s benefit he kept it in place. Mrs. Clark had recently been widowed and was going back East to live with family.
“I hope you will be happy living with your daughter back East.” He reached out to clasp the woman’s hand. “Thank you for all your help this past year.” He didn’t want to imagine what a mess he would have made of things if she hadn’t been around.
Mrs. Clark accepted his hand, then a hug from Breanna.
“Tell those boys goodbye for me. All right, Breanna?” Mrs. Clark asked.
“Yes, I will.” Breanna sniffled.
Mrs. Clark’s words were another reminder that he’d left Oscar in charge and Jonas needed to get back to the homestead. The seventeen-year-old was older in spirit than his age suggested, but it was the first time Jonas had left the seven boys home with only his neighbor Walt Nelson nearby to watch over them. And Jonas knew how little it took for two of those boys in particular to get into mischief.
He tried to be a good father, but he felt as if waves crashed upon him from every side. Sometimes he felt he was drowning.
“Shall we go and get our breakfast?” he asked, hoping to distract his daughter from melancholy.
It seemed to work, for she accepted his hand and they set off down the boardwalk toward the café he’d passed on his way to the Calvin Bank and Trust earlier this morning.
“Papa, can we go and visit Mrs. Clark at her daughter’s house?”
“Perhaps you can go and see her when you’re older.” As for him, he had vowed never to go back east of the Mississippi River. Only bad memories waited there.
“Can I have biscuits and gravy for breakfast?”
Jonas squeezed Breanna’s hand in his. “We’ll have to see what they’re serving this morning. It might be flapjacks or something else.”
Thankfully, his daughter was a lot like him. Not a picky eater. In his childhood, he’d lived through several hard winters eating garbage back in Philadelphia. And his daughter had never known that kind of poverty. He resolved that she would never know it.
* * *
Penny darted out the bank door, nearly knocking into Mrs. Stoll, who ran the boardinghouse.
“Excuse me!”
Penny had had a line of customers when the farmer had been in the bank to see her father, and hadn’t been able to get away to talk to him. When Mr. Silverton had arrived a few minutes after the farmer had gone, she’d rushed to count the money in her till, fumbling and miscounting once in her haste.
And now she hurried out onto the boardwalk, trying to guess where the farmer would’ve gone. Hoping he hadn’t already left town.
There were plenty of people out on the boardwalk, wagons and horses lined the hard-packed streets. Where would the farmer have gone?
She guessed the grocery, and headed in that direction. She allowed herself to be distracted for only a moment by a lovely chestnut-colored mare with white socks on three of its feet, pausing only to admire its conformation before she hurried on.
As she passed the undertaker’s, she caught sight of Mr. Abbott speaking to another man on the boardwalk and ducked into the space between two buildings. The two men had their backs to her, so hopefully Abbott hadn’t seen her.
As she peeked out from her hiding place, Penny saw a tall man with broad shoulders in a black coat exit the café. Was it the farmer?
And what were Abbott and his friend doing? They appeared to be conversing in low tones but showed no indication of moving along down the street.
Penny glanced after the man in the dark jacket. He was entering one of the stores down the street, but she couldn’t tell which one. She edged closer to the boardwalk, wondering if she should just cross to the other side of the street and hope Mr. Abbott didn’t see her.
“Miss Castlerock?” Penny heard the man with Mr. Abbott ask incredulously. Her ears perked at hearing her own name. “Isn’t she a bit…hard to please? I mean, she’s mighty fancy…”
Immediately up in arms at the mean-spirited assumption, Penny bit back a response and reminded herself she didn’t want Mr. Abbott to see her.
“She’s beautiful, all right,” the man continued. “But high-spirited…”
Mr. Abbott chuckled, not a pleasant sort of sound at all. “Yes, she’s much like Annie was in the beginning. My first wife was used to having her own way, as well.”
His first what? Wife? Did Father know that Herman Abbott had been married before?
“But she quickly learned obedience was the best thing for her. Taming her spirit was…”
Mr. Abbott’s voice lowered and Penny couldn’t hear the rest of his words. A shiver of unease crawled down Penny’s spine. While his words weren’t an outright threat, they certainly sounded sinister. The question was, would her father believe what she’d overheard?
“Doesn’t matter.” Abbott’s voice rose again. His confident air rankled her. “Her father wants to solidify our business dealings and I’ve convinced him that marrying his daughter will further our connection. Once we’re married, she’ll do as I say.”
“Not likely,” Penny muttered under her breath. To either part.
“After all, there are ways a woman can be brought to my way of thinking, regardless of how strong-willed she is.”
Penny’s outrage would no longer be contained. “You’ll get no such acquiescence from me,” she spat, stomping onto the boardwalk.
The two men turned toward her, surprise registering on their faces.
Instead of being embarrassed, or getting angry, like her father would’ve, Mr. Abbott’s eyes glinted with something unidentifiable. “Miss Castlerock. I thought you were helping at the bank this morning? If you’re quite finished, I’ll escort you home.”
“That’s not necessary. I am perfectly able to see myself home.”
His eyes narrowed. “I insist.” He took her arm in an iron grip and pushed her down the boardwalk. “I’m sure your father wouldn’t appreciate you making a scene in front of his acquaintance.”
She tried to yank her arm away, but he held fast. “If you’re finished at the bank,” his patronizing tone told her he suspected she’d made up the engagement at the bank, “I’ll call around with the buggy after lunch.”
“I’d prefer not. I usually go calling with my mother in the afternoons.”
“I’m certain she can spare your company for an afternoon.”
Angry at his continued presumption, she stopped cold. They’d almost reached Penny’s street corner, and she wanted to be across the way, where she thought she’d seen the farmer go into one of the buildings.
“Do you honestly think we’d suit?” she demanded. Never mind her new reservations. At least for now.
Again, that unholy light sparked in his eyes. “Oh, I’m certain of it.”
“But you don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough.”
His enigmatic comment did not reassure her. “Really? What is my favorite pastime? My favorite food?”
“There is plenty of time in the future to learn those things… Or perhaps your likes will come to align with mine in time. Your father and I both think you and I would make a fine match.”
She wasn’t convinced; the man wasn’t even listening to her.
“I’ll call for you after the noon meal.” He patted her hand, tone condescending.
She pulled away from his touch and used both hands to shake out her gown. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d forgotten Ethel needed some eggs and butter.”
Quickly, Penny ducked into the General Store, the closest building, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Abbott hadn’t followed her.
His high-handedness infuriated her, but it was the cold, calculating gleam beneath his stern manner that frightened her.
She was so intent on evading Abbott’s attentions that she scarcely noticed the man with a little girl perusing the dry goods nearby. Until the small child gasped and tugged on Penny’s skir
t.
“Miss—”
Penny turned to the child just as the little girl’s father exclaimed, “Breanna!” and pulled her away by the arm.
It was the farmer. Relief swept through Penny even as she glanced over her shoulder. No one entered the building behind her. No Abbott.
The man bent and spoke to his daughter in a tone too low for Penny to hear—though she tried—but she hated for the girl to get into trouble, especially when Penny was about to ask him for a favor. “It’s all right,” Penny interrupted, and the man turned a surprised face to her.
He straightened to his full height and shifted the hat he held between his hands. “I’m sorry—your dress—” One of his hands jerked awkwardly toward her skirt.
Penny glanced down and saw a handprint that looked suspiciously like melted licorice now marred the pale yellow silk of her skirt.
“Is it ruined?”
“I’m sure it isn’t,” Penny said, though she wasn’t sure of any such thing. Perhaps Ethel knew of a remedy to remove the stain. Penny wasn’t worried about the dress, though. She had much bigger problems today.
Mr. Hyer, the General Store owner, addressed the farmer and both men turned away, the farmer pulling a piece of folded paper from his shirt pocket. Probably his shopping list.
“Miss?”
This time the little girl’s voice was tentative and she kept her hands clasped behind her.
Penny shifted her skirt and squatted to speak at the girl’s level. “Hello. My name is Penny. What’s yours?”
“Breanna,” came the soft reply.
“I see you are helping your father with his purchases.”
“Yes’m. Miss?”
“Yes?”
“I never seen a dress so pretty as yours.” The girl’s awed whisper was accented by her wide brown eyes.
“Why, thank you.”
Breanna’s eyes darted from Penny to a nearby mannequin wearing a frilly, child-size gown.
Penny couldn’t help but notice the state of the girl’s dress—a simple calico print, worn in some places, too short. She’d noticed the farmer’s ill-fitting suit last night, but in the daylight, its worn condition was apparent as well. Penny knew her grandfather’s homestead hadn’t created much income in its early years. Not until he’d obtained a couple of good breeding mares and begun raising fine horses. It appeared her grandfather’s neighbors did not have enough funds to obtain newer clothing.
Her heart pinched a little for the girl who wished for pretty things.
“Are you and your father in town for long?” Penny pried, a glance revealing the farmer still in conversation with Mr. Hyer.
“We stayed the night in a fancy hotel, but today we have to go home.” This was said in such a matter-of-fact tone that Penny had to hide a smile.
The farmer glanced over his shoulder and started to turn as he caught sight of Penny and Breanna conversing, but Penny sent him what she meant to be a charming smile to reassure him. She hoped he was receptive to her plea—she wouldn’t go on a buggy ride with Mr. Abbott, nor any other activity.
The farmer rejoined Penny and Breanna, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I hope she wasn’t being bothersome.”
“No, no,” Penny said quickly, straightening up from her crouch. “Actually, I was hoping to find you.”
His raised eyebrows communicated his disbelief. “Why?”
Well, it wasn’t the most positive of responses, but Penny thought of Mr. Abbott’s advances and soldiered on. “My mother wanted to thank you for delivering Grandfather’s letter to us. And…I’m afraid I’m going to press upon your goodwill.”
His expression closed. Breanna watched both adults with rapt attention.
“In his letter, my grandfather indicated he has been a bit under the weather, and my mother wishes to send me and my brother out to visit him. Unfortunately, our father is too busy to arrange to take us. I was—we were hoping we could convince you to allow us to ride along with you to Grandfather’s place. If you have room in your wagon.”
He was silent, mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t understand her request.
“I know it is an imposition,” she rushed on, praying he wouldn’t say no. “We’d be willing to pay you a sum for your services, of course.”
Still he didn’t respond, only clutched his daughter’s shoulder and stared at Penny. He was going to deny her request. Panic seized Penny’s chest and she knew it must be showing on her face. She needed this man’s cooperation.
“Please, I—” Her throat closed over the rest of her words. What else could she say? She had to obtain his agreement.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he cleared his throat. “All right.”
Chapter Three
“Are you certain you want to do this? You haven’t spent more than an afternoon with your grandfather since you were younger…won’t you be bored on the homestead?”
I don’t have a choice. I won’t be pushed into courting a man I can’t abide.
Penny reassured her mother with a smile, clutching the small satchel she’d quickly stuffed with a couple of her older dresses and her tooth powder. She was acutely aware of the hall clock ticking away, every moment bringing Mr. Abbott’s pending visit closer. “Grandfather needs someone to help, and I’m sure Sam and I can manage for a bit.”
The sound of hooves and the creaking of a wagon in front of the house were a welcome sound. Penny flipped aside the curtain to ensure it was the farmer—she’d been so concerned with getting his agreement earlier that she had completely forgotten the proprieties and hadn’t properly introduced herself to the man—then moved into the foyer.
“Sam!” she called up the stairs. “It’s time to go!”
Her mother trailed her onto the front veranda and across the lawn as the farmer set the brake on his wagon and hopped down. He tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”
The little girl’s head popped up from inside the wagon and she leaned out over the side, arms hanging down as she smiled at Penny.
Mother looked to Penny for introductions and Penny felt her face heat. What good was an education at one of the finest ladies’ finishing schools in Philadelphia if she forgot her manners at inopportune moments?
“I’m terribly sorry for my rudeness earlier, but we weren’t properly introduced. I’m Penny Castlerock and this is my mother, Mary.”
An expression Penny couldn’t classify crossed the man’s face before he removed his hat and clutched it between his hands—a nervous trait? She’d seen him do it at least twice. “Jonas White.”
He seemed to be waiting for a reaction to his name, but Penny didn’t know what he expected. When she’d seen him at her father’s party, she’d experienced a moment of recognition, but couldn’t place where she’d seen him before.
“I’m sorry—” she stammered. “Have we…met before?”
A flush rose in his cheeks. “Not formally. But several years ago, I worked as a bricklayer’s apprentice in Philadelphia.”
And suddenly, she knew why he seemed familiar.
“You repaired the home next door to the finishing school.” And had been fired for compromising one of the other girls in Mrs. Trimble’s Academy.
A glance at the brown-haired girl hanging from the wagon made Penny’s heart beat uncomfortably. Was this the child born from that union? It had to be.
Penny’s mother looked between Jonas White and Penny, obviously sensing the sudden tension. If Penny told her mother the truth, she would never agree to let Penny ride along to her grandfather’s homestead, Sam’s presence notwithstanding.
But perhaps accepting a ride from a man with such loose moral standards wasn’t the best idea, either.
She’d brought this conundrum on herself—her impulsiveness in pushing for a ride. If she’d waited for her father to figure out a way for her to visit her grandfather’s homestead, this never would have happened.
But she still needed to escape Calvin—and Mr. Abbott—for a while
.
The front door slammed, and Sam tromped down the steps, a satchel slung over his shoulder, scowl etched on his face.
Time to decide. Stay in Calvin and attempt to ward off Mr. Abbott’s advances, or go with this man and hope for the best.
* * *
This was a bad idea.
Jonas had known it the moment he’d agreed to give Miss Penny Castlerock a ride out to Walt’s place. And he thought it again as recognition flared across her expressive face.
Now she remembered him. And although she carefully schooled her expression, he saw the flash of derision cross her features. He knew what she thought: the same thing that all those folks who’d believed the scandal back in Philadelphia thought. That he had fathered Breanna out of wedlock.
He knew the truth, but what if she mentioned his past, or at least what she knew of it, in Philadelphia in front of Breanna?
He should never have agreed to allow her to ride along, but he’d been concerned for his friend and mentor, Walt, who had seemed a bit under the weather lately. And Walt’s place had been getting more run down; Miss Castlerock’s brother could help him get things back in order. Although the boy, who was obviously related to Miss Castlerock with that shock of auburn hair and the same bright blue eyes, didn’t look as if he knew the first thing about working on a homestead.
Jonas’s last hope that Miss Castlerock would change her mind dissipated as she reached out and embraced her mother. “I’ll write a note when I can to let you know how Grandfather is doing.”
Jonas turned away to check the horses’ harness. “Seat’s not too wide. One of you will need to ride in the back.” He and the general store proprietor had arranged the goods to leave enough room for someone to sit back there.
It was too much to hope that Miss Castlerock would sit in back. Instead, the boy grumbled as he climbed into the wagon. His attitude reminded Jonas of his son Edgar when Jonas had found him on the streets of Cheyenne and taken him in. Unwilling to help, sullen…but Edgar had responded to Jonas’s steady presence and the hard work that had been assigned to him.
The Homesteader's Sweetheart Page 3