She watched out the window over the sink as he crossed the wide backyard, his long stride quickly eating up the distance. He unlatched the gate to the chicken pen, and the hens flocked to him. She could hear his baritone singsong call beckoning any strays from the henhouse to come and get it. He certainly hadn’t lost his ability to work with critters while in Boston.
Once he ducked his head and disappeared into the structure, she shook herself. She really must get over these foolish reactions. What did he say about a bathroom? Here? The hotel had bathrooms, but to her knowledge, none of the houses in Esperanza boasted such a luxury. Perhaps Nolan Means, the banker, and his new wife, Electra? Would such a thing even be possible?
Tolley’s thoughtfulness softened her annoyance over his refusing to help with housework. In coming up with such an unselfish idea for Mrs. Foster, maybe he’d changed more than Laurie thought.
* * *
Showing the pugnacious rooster who was boss with a harmless shove of his boot—twice—Tolley took his time feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs. No sense in hurrying back to the kitchen, where Laurie would try to lasso him into washing dishes by batting those big blue eyes at him. In their younger years, he’d never noticed how pretty all the Eberly girls were. Now he regarded Laurie as prettiest of the lot, maybe because of that sassy little dimple in her left cheek. Without too much trouble, she could probably get him to do just about anything. Except washing dishes or doing any other housework. He must stand firm about that.
A quick glance at the garden let him know it didn’t need watering, for dew still sparkled on some of the leafy plants. For a moment, Tolley stood in the middle of the grassy yard, breathing in both the familiar musty smell of chickens and the invigorating scent of country air. Mrs. Foster’s house lay close to the outskirts of town, but even in the center of Esperanza, the air was fresh and clean. Another reason to be thankful for being here. Sometimes the city smells of Boston had almost choked him.
Despite his exhaustion from the two previous days, he hadn’t slept well last night. He kept waking up from dreams of his father dying, of Mrs. Foster lying helpless at the bottom of the stairs, of Laurie looking like a lost waif with all the work before her. Yet when he awoke early this morning, the water situation bothered him most. When Laurie returned to Denver—a day he didn’t look forward to because he would miss her friendship—Mrs. Foster would have to take care of her boarders by herself. It didn’t make any sense for her to carry heavy buckets of water up that curved back staircase with its narrow treads.
The obvious solution? A bathroom. If his sister and brother-in-law could install bathrooms in their hotel three blocks from Mrs. Foster’s house, why couldn’t Tolley install one here? Boston had boasted water and sewage systems for almost forty years, so why shouldn’t Esperanza step into the modern world? Maybe not right away, but in the near future. For now, he’d have to figure out all the details for a single house. The more he thought about it, the more excited he got. Laurie hadn’t seemed interested, but he’d convince her. Now to figure out the details.
Back in the house, Laurie no longer worked in the kitchen, so he left the basket of eggs for her to tend. Although he hadn’t done that chore in a long time, he remembered how to tell which hens were brooding. He supposed Mrs. Foster sold her extra eggs at Mrs. Winsted’s mercantile. If he wasn’t mistaken, Mrs. Foster’s flock should increase by eight or ten in a week or two, which in turn would increase her income. Later today he’d muck out the chicken pen and pile the droppings in the wooden compost bin by the back fence.
He wanted to discuss the bathroom with Laurie, but maybe he should visit Nolan Means and see about renting that empty office space two doors down from the bank. The idea made him smile.
He’d wash his hands in the dishwater, but Laurie might come downstairs and think he’d changed his mind about washing the dishes. Instead, he returned to his room by the front staircase and used the cold water from his pitcher.
Yep, this house needed a source of water on the second floor. This morning, Laurie had carried pitchers of hot water upstairs for everyone. Tolley admired her willingness to work hard and give up her time to help a needy widow. Admired a lot about her. But for now he needed to concentrate on his own part in helping Mrs. Foster. He’d done a lot of building in his life, even helped dig a few wells. But piping water up to a second floor and digging a cesspool at the back of the property might raise unique challenges.
He must not fail at this. Maybe his brother-in-law could offer suggestions. Despite his wealth and position, Garrick had participated in every part of building his hotel. Tolley hadn’t gotten along with the Englishman when he came to Esperanza, but when he and Rosamond visited Tolley in Boston on their honeymoon, they’d put the past behind them.
Dressed for business in the suit he’d worn on the train, he emerged from his room just as Laurie came from Mrs. Foster’s chamber, her arms laden with laundry.
“I’m going to the mercantile. Do you need anything?”
Those big blue eyes blinked with obvious surprise, and something twanged in his heart like a cowboy plucking his guitar.
“Let me think.” She walked toward him, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully.
He’d never noticed how pretty and smooth and plump her lips were. Sure would be nice to—
“You could take the wash to Chen’s Laundry,” she whispered. “Don’t tell Mrs. Foster, though. I’ll pay for it.”
“Laundry again today?”
She nodded. “It never ends. Apparently she does towels and kitchen linens on Wednesday and the boarders’ clothes and sheets on Thursdays.”
“Whew. That’s a lot of work for a little old lady.” Tolley didn’t know where toting laundry fell on the list of women’s or men’s appropriate chores, but he’d do it this once until he found out. “I’ll take it.”
He waited by the front door while Laurie gathered the guests’ laundry and bedding. She dragged it down the stairs all bundled up in a sheet. When he slung it over his shoulder, the weight made him wince. What a heavy load for a little gal like Laurie. How much harder for old Mrs. Foster.
“See you later.”
Laurie held the door open, and he stepped outside as Doc Henshaw rode up from the south.
“Hey, sis, Tolley.” He dismounted and came to the front door carrying his black bag. “I want to look in on Mrs. Foster. How is she?”
“In pain.” Laurie’s delicate eyebrows bent into a worried frown. “And a little dizzy. I gave her another dose of laudanum in the middle of the night, as you said, but she wouldn’t take any this morning.”
“Probably best.” Doc eyed the laundry and clapped Tolley on his free shoulder. “Glad to see you’re helping out. Good for you.”
An odd and foolish sense of satisfaction swept through Tolley. He admired Doc, so his approval meant a great deal. If his father had ever once said anything like that—
As if he’d heard Tolley’s thoughts, Doc continued. “I was out at Four Stones just now. The Colonel is doing as well as can be expected. I’m optimistic about his recovery. Pray for him and for your mother. She won’t leave his side.”
“Thanks.” Tolley’s suddenly raspy voice held more emotion than he wanted to reveal. He cleared his throat. “See you later.” He lumbered off down the street, feeling the weight of his burden like the ragmen he’d seen carrying similar loads in Boston, where they scoured the streets for cast-off cloth to sell to the paper mills.
In spite of Doc’s approval, Tolley could only picture his father lying still on his bed, face immobile, a face that might never show approval for Tolley. A selfish thought, of course. Poor Mother sat beside her husband day and night. That was her way. He’d even admit to harboring some pity for his father. Yet if the Colonel recovered, Tolley wanted to have a long list of accomplishments to show him so he’d no longer be ashamed of his
youngest son. Or, at the least, so he could no longer ignore Tolley’s very existence.
The residential areas of Esperanza had grown since Tolley left for Boston, with numerous new houses on every street. More businesses had come to town, such as the six shops lining the south side of the Esperanza Arms, his sister’s hotel. With a bank, a mercantile, many other small businesses, even an ice cream parlor, now the community would be able to boast about having its own lawyer.
After depositing the washing at Chen’s Laundry on the east side of town near the railroad tracks, Tolley strode up Main Street to the bank. Then he cooled his heels in the lobby for a good half hour, wondering whether the banker would refuse to see him. But why? Nolan Means owed him for helping to thwart a bank robbery four years ago. That should give him some favor in the man’s eyes.
Don’t be defensive. Trust the Lord to bring about His will for you. Remembering Reverend Harris’s wise words soothed Tolley’s growing uneasiness, and none too soon.
Nolan entered the lobby through a door beyond the teller’s cage and strode across the space, hand extended. “Good morning, Tolley. It’s good to see you back in town. Let’s go into my office.”
“Thanks.” After shaking his hand, Tolley followed him into the well-appointed room. The banker’s polished mahogany desk and chair didn’t show a speck of dust. Oil paintings adorned the walls, and several figurines graced the bookshelves and side table. Tolley could imagine his own office furnished this lavishly, as befitted either a banker or a lawyer. “Thank you for seeing me.”
Nolan chuckled. “Would I ever refuse to see a Northam?”
Tolley grimaced. Echoing Nolan’s question, would he ever earn respect without relying on his family name? Fortunately, Nolan was making his way around the massive mahogany desk and didn’t notice Tolley’s involuntary reaction to his rhetorical question.
“Have a seat.” Nolan sat and waved toward one of the brown leather chairs in front of his desk. After they’d exchanged general news—Nolan’s recent marriage, the Colonel’s tenuous health, Mrs. Foster’s accident—he asked, “What can I do for you?”
“I understand the bank owns that building on the other side of the sheriff’s office. I’d like to rent it.”
“Ah.” Nolan sat back and steepled his fingers. “So you’re a lawyer now.”
A statement, not a question. Tolley smiled, but not too broadly. “Yessir. I have my credentials from Harvard and a letter from Judge Thomas, the Colorado attorney general, welcoming me into Colorado’s judicial system.” In his own ears, he sounded a bit of a braggart. Or a boy reciting his lessons.
Nolan apparently thought no such thing. His eyebrows arched, and he gave Tolley a broad smile. “Congratulations. That’s quite an achievement for—”
“A former troublemaker?” Tolley wanted to bite his tongue. What had Reverend Harris said about not criticizing himself?
Nolan chuckled. “I was going to say for such a young man.”
“I turned twenty-two last month.” And no family there to celebrate with him. Uh-oh. Self-pity. Another habit the good reverend warned him against. “Twenty-one is the minimum age to practice law here in Colorado...legally, that is.” He grinned.
“A clever bit of wordplay, eh?” Nolan laughed aloud. Tolley could grow to like this former stuffed shirt. Maybe his recent marriage had mellowed him. “So you’d like to hang out your shingle next to the jail, not in your sister’s hotel?”
Now Tolley laughed. “It’s the only way I can show my independence.”
“I know all about that,” Nolan said. “It’s why I moved here from New York. Out here in the West, a man can make his own reputation.”
Tolley grunted his agreement. Yes, he could easily see becoming friends with this man.
Nolan dug into the center drawer of his desk and pulled out a key on a metal chain. “Here you go. Rent is five dollars a month.”
Tolley’s lawyer instincts sent out an alert. “No contract?”
“Absolutely a contract.” Nolan stood and stuck out his hand. “A handshake and a good man’s word is contract enough for me.”
“Thank you, Nolan.” As they shook hands, Tolley appreciated the respect this man showed him. He took the key and made his exit. Once he’d checked his new office, he couldn’t wait to get home and tell Laurie about this milestone in his professional career.
Home? Laurie? Where did that thought come from? Mrs. Foster’s boardinghouse wasn’t his home. And he should want to tell his family first, not Laurie. Except, he couldn’t bear to go back to the ranch only to be sent away again. Anyway, his family didn’t seem interested in what he was doing. Laurie did.
Marriage hadn’t been in his immediate plans, but he kept thinking marriage to Laurie would be a real feather in his cap, an accomplishment the Colonel could neither disapprove of nor ignore when...if...he woke up.
* * *
Laurie thought her back might break from putting fresh sheets on the beds, toting water up the stairs, scrubbing the rooms and weeding and watering the garden. In all her years of visiting this house, why hadn’t she noticed how hard Mrs. Foster must work to keep body and soul together? Her widow’s pension from the War must be pitifully small.
Before noon, she started a pot of beans and fatback for supper. The two older boarders always ate dinner at the hotel, so she needn’t prepare a midday meal for them. Tolley would probably dine at Williams’s Café, but she still prepared enough soup to include him.
“Vegetable soup. My favorite.” Mrs. Foster grimaced in pain as Laurie helped her sit up. After Laurie placed the tray on her lap, Mrs. Foster tried to use the spoon with her shaking left hand but only managed to dribble the soup down the front of the apron Laurie had put on her. “Oh, dear.”
“It’s all right.” Laurie dabbed up the spill with a napkin and took the spoon. “Let me feed you.”
Tears formed in Mrs. Foster’s eyes. “What a mess I’ve made of things.”
“Now don’t start that again.” Laurie gave her a teasing smile. “I’m grateful Doc says you’ve only sprained your ankle. We’ll pray you’ll be back on your feet soon.”
“My broken arm won’t heal any time soon.” Mrs. Foster viewed her splinted right appendage. “I won’t be able to play the organ for a long time. Or even show my students proper piano technique.”
Laurie had already decided what to do about both situations. “You leave those to me. Your job right now is to get well.”
Mrs. Foster gave her a sad smile. “But, my dear, what about your position at the conservatory this coming fall?”
“My dear, haven’t you always told me to take no thought for tomorrow, as the Lord said?” Laurie struggled with her own fears about losing her teaching position, but nothing could be done about it. She must do right, which meant helping Mrs. Foster. “Besides, we have all summer for you to get well before I go back to Denver.” While her brother-in-law said the bones of older folks took longer to heal, Laurie would pray for the best, more for her mentor’s health and comfort than for anything to do with herself.
That afternoon, when she thought she’d earned a short rest, Seamus and Wes arrived from Four Stones Ranch with Tolley’s trunks, so she guided them upstairs to his room. Shortly after they left, she greeted Mrs. Foster’s six piano students. By the time she’d finished the last lesson, she needed to make the corn bread and cook the tender turnip greens she’d harvested from the garden.
She’d grown up on a ranch and known hard work all her life. But at home, many hands made light work. While she’d never abandon Mrs. Foster, this day wore her out. How had the dear lady managed all of this work, plus helping Laurie achieve her dream of becoming a conservatory teacher?
In spite of her encouraging words to Mrs. Foster, Laurie knew she must get back to Colorado’s capital city in the autumn. Otherwise her position would b
e given to someone else, and Laurie would be forced to say goodbye to her dreams forever. Which made her prayers all the more urgent. Perhaps even desperate.
Chapter Four
“A bathroom?” Mrs. Foster’s weathered face crinkled with puzzlement as she sat against her pillow. “Why, who ever heard of such a thing?”
“I think it’s just the thing.” Laurie sat in the bedside chair and patted the lady’s uninjured arm.
“Same here.” Tolley stood at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets, feeling like a schoolboy who wanted to please his teacher.
“But I can’t afford—”
“We aren’t going to talk about money.” Tolley playfully wagged a scolding finger at her and grinned, but he meant it. Several years ago, his family had made the final payments on this house, the least they could do for the widow of Major Foster. If Foster hadn’t stepped in front of the Colonel at Gettysburg, taking a bullet himself, Tolley might never have been born. The old major suffered the rest of his life from the injury, finally passing away six years ago.
“Oh, dear, I don’t know.”
“We do.” Laurie’s blue eyes sparkled, and her smile brought out that dimple. My, she was pretty today. Every day, in fact. “All we need from you is your permission, and we’ll get started.”
Tolley could see she enjoyed this as much as he did. Having a partner would help greatly, especially this partner, especially since no one in his family cared for his company. But he mustn’t think about such things now. “What do you say, Mrs. Foster?”
The lady set her hand against her cheek and gave him a wobbly smile. “I won’t turn down such a generous gift, my boy.” Her eyes watered, and she dabbed at them with a linen handkerchief. “But where will you put it?” She peered toward the open door as if trying to envision the new room’s placement.
“We can convert the smallest bedroom, the one I’m in now,” Laurie said. “I can move to the empty one next to you.”
“Since the smaller room is at the back corner and over the kitchen, the plumbing will be easy.” Maybe not easy, but Tolley relished the challenge of installing the required pipe system.
Cowboy Homecoming Page 5