Feeling suddenly out of place, Ansley stood so abruptly all the chatter ceased. “Are you okay, Auntie Ansley?” Hannah asked.
Her face warmed. “Of course. I just thought I’d start clearing the dishes for your aunt Teddy.”
“Clearing the dishes is my job,” Hannah said, and then she grinned. “But I’ll share, if you want.”
Seth gently tugged the girl’s braid. “Nice try.”
Slowly, Ansley sat back down.
“Besides,” said Teddy. “Remember, the first time you’re a guest. Next time you can help.”
Slowly, Ansley lowered herself back to her chair. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Are you coming to dinner again tomorrow night?” Jonah’s question caused an awkward silence to fill the air. Especially since Ansley was pretty sure he asked the question not because he hoped she would, but because he hoped she wouldn’t.
Obviously, Ansley couldn’t answer. She hadn’t been invited.
“Of course she is!” Teddy laughed out loud, a pleasant, infectious kind of laugh that included everyone in the room. “Good thinking, Jonah. And tomorrow I might just see how skilled our Ansley is in the fine art of dishing up rabbit stew. What do you children think? Shall we let her try?”
Her words set off a flurry of conversation from everyone at the table with not one, but two notable exceptions. Jonah sat, his arms folded across his chest staring at his empty plate. Forcing her gaze across the table, Ansley found Seth staring at her again. His eyes were hard as sapphires, his lips set in a firm line.
It was pretty clear his opinion of her mirrored their nephew’s. He considered her to be the enemy, although he apparently hadn’t said anything to Teddy about her real reason for continuing on in Prairie Chicken. Otherwise, the young woman would likely be giving her the same cold shoulder.
Ansley truly had no idea how long she would stay or what her plan would be. Still, she knew for certain that despite Seth Dobson’s animosity, she would never, ever abandon her sister’s children. And if she gained custody of the children, perhaps they could come back to Prairie Chicken during the summers. Her heart rose at the thought. Surely Mr. Dobson would see the generosity in such a plan. She would attend to their schooling, and he would get them each summer. If all went as planned, and these Dobsons weren’t too difficult, perhaps they could find a way to share equally in the children’s raising.
Chapter 4
Seth allowed Jonah to accompany him as he drove Miss Potter back to her boardinghouse. This served a twofold purpose. One, they’d be chaperoned, and two, he highly doubted she would be inclined to bring up the subject of taking over the children’s care if the boy came along.
And his plan worked perfectly. The two-mile ride from the homestead to town was quiet. He’d have to talk to Jonah about his attitude toward Miss Potter, which, he was ashamed to admit, bordered on rude. Frank and Rose would never have allowed it. But tonight, the moroseness suited Seth’s purposes.
They rolled into town and pulled up next to the boardinghouse after what seemed like hours. Miss Potter turned to Jonah. “Good night, Jonah,” she said. “I hope we will become friends soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Seth hopped down, walked around to her side of the wagon and helped her get down from the seat.
Accepting his gesture, she climbed from the wagon. “Thank you for your hospitality this evening, Mr. Dobson. I shall hire a wagon of my own and drive myself to your home for dinner tomorrow, so please do not trouble yourself with my charge.”
Those words brought a frown to Seth’s brow. Prairie Chicken was a friendly town, for the most part, but there were still scoundrels lurking about from time to time. And he couldn’t allow a lady to come and go the two miles after dark. “It’s no trouble, Miss Potter. I’d be obliged if you would allow me to fetch you home for supper.”
“That is truly kind of you.” She cast a quick glance at Jonah, who appeared to be all ears. When she turned back to face Seth, her smile wasn’t quite sincere. “But I am quite capable of fetching myself.”
Seth recognized the sound of stubbornness veiled in pleasantry. There would be no victory for him in this conversation. He offered her his arm. “Allow me to walk you to the door, at least.”
“Of course.” She slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. “You know we must discuss the children’s future.” She kept her voice low as they walked, presumably to keep the conversation private.
“I’ll never give them up,” Seth said.
“A point you’ve made abundantly plain.” She gave a sigh. “Clearly, Mr. Dobson, the children love you and Teddy. I could never take them completely from you. It wouldn’t be fair. But will you consider the possibility that Rose would have wanted me in their lives, as well?”
Relief washed over Seth. Perhaps he wasn’t going to be in for a fight, after all. Still, it was evident she wasn’t giving up the children altogether. “What do you have in mind?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But for every question there is an answer.”
“I reckon we can put our heads together and try to figure it out. But I don’t see how, with you living in Boston and us here in Kansas.”
“Well, God would not have led me all the way across the country just to go home without a family to love.”
Her impassioned words touched Seth’s heart, but they scared him, too. Because from all indications she was right. God had allowed her to find them, but did that mean He intended for Jonah, Hannah and Lily to travel to Boston and live with Miss Potter? Guilt pricked at his fragile ego where the children were concerned. He hadn’t always done the best by them—starting with their manners, as Mrs. Boatwright had pointed out earlier. And now they were in danger of losing the home their parents had built. Of course, no one had known Frank took out a mortgage on the farm. Frank had been the frivolous one of the family. And he always wanted to keep Rose in nice things so she wouldn’t regret giving up her wealth for him.
He felt Miss Potter’s hand on his arm and looked down into her kind eyes. “It is my hope to stay in Prairie Chicken until the end of the year so I can spend Christmas with the children. By then, perhaps we’ll have figured out a way for us all to share in their raising, as I know my sister would have wanted.”
The news that she was planning to stay for the next two months came as a surprise and raised Seth’s suspicions further. What exactly were her intentions? She turned at the threshold. “Good night, Mr. Dobson. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner. Thank you again for the lovely evening.”
Tipping his hat, Seth bid her good-night and turned to go.
“Mr. Dobson.” The soft sound of Miss Potter’s voice turned him back to face her. He waited for her to speak as she gathered a full breath. “You and your sister have done a remarkable job with Rose’s children. Whatever may come of my presence here in regard to their future, please know I find nothing lacking in your abilities to raise them.”
Seth pondered her words as he climbed into the wagon and flicked the reins. No doubt, she had meant to console him, but he couldn’t seem to squash the ball of concern forming in his gut. Miss Potter clearly wasn’t giving up the notion of taking the children to Boston.
Well, that would be over his dead body. He’d allowed himself to be taken in by a pretty face and wide, blue-green eyes for a minute. But the fact of the matter was, he’d promised his brother the children would be safe under his roof. That he would raise them as if they were his own, and nothing was going to convince him to go back on his word.
* * *
Ansley stepped into the bank the next morning. If she were to remain in Prairie Chicken for two months, she’d feel more comfortable depositing her funds in an account rather than keeping it all in the false bottom of her trunk.
The bank manager smiled a tentative greeting, then
led her to a wooden desk. He motioned for her to sit across from him in a hard wooden chair, nothing like the plush, comfortable chairs in the large, elegant bank Ansley was accustomed to in Boston.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“I will be staying in Prairie Chicken until after the holidays and feel I must deposit my money for safekeeping.” She presented him with several hundred dollars. His eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his chair.
“Why, yes, that is a fine idea.” He pulled out a form and took the quill from his inkwell. He began to write. “I understand you came from Boston to see Mrs. Dobson.” He glanced up. “I’m terribly sorry you had to come all this way to find out your sister is gone, Miss Potter,” he said.
“Thank you, sir. Everyone has been very kind.”
“I take it you’ve met the Dobson children, then?”
“Why, yes, on two occasions. And I am having dinner with them tonight, as well.”
Pushing the document across his desk, he handed her the quill. “Please sign on that line.”
Ansley did so and set the quill down.
Mr. Macomb glanced over the paper, shaking his head regretfully. “It’s such a shame about Frank’s farm.”
Though clearly the little inchworm was trying to manipulate her for some reason, Ansley frowned and allowed herself to take the bait. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
Looking down, he fidgeted with his glasses, wiping the lenses with his handkerchief. “Oh, heavens. I just assumed Seth would have spoken to you about it, considering you’re as much those children’s family as he is.”
“Mr. Macomb, perhaps you’d better just tell me whatever it is you think I should know.” She leveled a gaze at him.
His eyebrows rose, then he shoved the spectacles back on his nose and clasped his hands together atop his desk. “The fact of the matter is that Frank Dobson took out a mortgage on the farm. Seth has been working not only his farm, but also whatever extra work he can find to stay on top of things, but he’s fallen behind by two full payments. In another week I shall have no choice but to foreclose.”
The news seized her stomach. Mr. Dobson certainly didn’t seem like the sort of person to shirk responsibility. But then the banker hadn’t said he was behind on his own mortgage, but rather one he had inherited. Her heart went out to him at the thought that he had to work so hard to try to keep from losing Frank and Rose’s land—the children’s inheritance.
“Mr. Macomb, you don’t seem all that sorry, if you ask me.”
He shrugged. “I’m a businessman, Miss Potter. And while I don’t smile on the misfortunes of others, the sale of the farm would bring in a sizable sum for the bank.”
“How much is owed on the mortgage?”
He named a ridiculously small sum. Still enough she’d have to have her attorney send her a bank draft.
“I shall make arrangements to pay the mortgage in full. In the meantime, you may take the two payments we are behind from the account I am opening and apply them immediately.”
“Certainly, Miss Potter. I’ll attend to that this afternoon and send your receipt to the boardinghouse.”
Aunt Maude had not raised a fool. Ansley shook her head and plastered her most pleasing smile on her face. “Mr. Macomb, I do not intend to leave the bank without a receipt. Now, I truly do not want to squander my time sitting here until this afternoon. So if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate if you would apply the payments immediately and make out my receipt.”
In an instant, his face grew red. He cleared his throat and stood. “Of course,” he said, his tone tight. He scooped up the stack of bills she had placed on his desk and headed toward the door. “I’ll see to it.”
He returned within moments. “There now. Your account is set up in your name, and the mortgage is now current and out of danger.”
Ansley stood and took the receipt. “Thank you, Mr. Macomb. Now, if you wouldn’t mind keeping this between us, I would be grateful.”
Walking in step with her as she made her way to the door, the banker frowned. “You are suggesting I lie to Seth?”
“Of course not. But perhaps if he asks about it, you might just say an anonymous benefactor has settled the debt. I will certainly tell him eventually, but I would prefer he not hear about my involvement from another source.”
He hedged just for another beat, then nodded. “I’ll do as you ask.”
Ansley stuffed the receipt into her reticule and slipped it around her wrist.
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Macomb. Have a good day.”
He opened the door for her and stepped back.
Aunt Maude always said don’t reveal your hand too soon. The fact was she could see two outcomes once Mr. Dobson discovered what she’d done. On one hand he might be grateful and be more willing to talk sensibly about the children’s future. But on the other hand, if he felt she had somehow provided charity, he might be more difficult.
She stepped into a cool, sunny fall morning and turned toward the livery, where she intended to rent a wagon and horse for the duration of her stay.
“Miss Potter!”
She turned at the sound of her name echoing across the empty street. She cringed at the sight of Luke Carson hurrying toward her. Planting a smile on her lips she braced herself. “Good morning, Mr. Carson.”
“Mornin’. I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Oh? What can I do for you?”
He swiped his battered hat from his head and smoothed his hair across his forehead. “Well, fact is, there’s sort of this fall dance at the schoolhouse on Saturday. And since I heard you’re staying in town through Christmas, I thought you might let me escort you.”
Dread filled her. Propriety demanded a polite answer, something that didn’t reveal her revulsion. But there was simply no circumstance that would convince her to accept this vile man’s invitation.
“You honor me, Mr. Carson.”
His face brightened and Ansley hurried on before he got the wrong idea. “But I’m afraid I will have to decline.”
As quickly as he perked up, his face fell. He twisted his hat between his large hands. “I reckon you do.”
Ansley’s heart clenched in her chest. Reaching out, she touched his arm. “Perhaps, if I attend, you might ask me to dance?”
A slow grin spread across his face.
“Sure. I’d be proud to.”
“Well, good day, then, and perhaps I’ll see you there.”
“Miss Potter?”
With a sigh she turned back to him.
“Boardinghouse is thataway.” He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction she was heading.
“Yes, I’m headed to the livery to rent a horse.”
“Oh, well then, I’ll just walk with you. If I know Mr. Watson, he’ll try to swindle a pretty little gal like yourself.”
“I assure you, Mr. Carson, I am not the sort of woman to be swindled.”
His eyes showed his disappointment. “Oh, well, you mind if I was to walk you anyhow?”
That was the last thing she wanted. But since she’d just refused his invitation to the dance, Ansley couldn’t bring herself to decline his attempt at chivalry.
“All right, then. But I’ll do my own negotiating with Mr. Watson.”
Mr. Carson rattled on as they walked, but Ansley’s thoughts drifted to the upcoming dance.
It had been ages since she’d had any fun. Would Mr. Dobson ask her to dance? She couldn’t help the image floating through her mind. Resting in his strong arms as he turned her around the dance floor. A smile tipped her lips as she walked inside the livery.
Chapter 5
“What do you mean they’re already gone?” Seth frowned at the station manager, demanding to know what had happened to M
iss Potter’s things. Unable to sleep the night before, he’d had a sudden twinge of guilt at the thought of Frank’s sister-in-law doing without her trunks or having to pay someone to fetch them. After all, she was almost family, and Frank would have set out two days ago to pick them up. Seth had left the house at 3:30 to get there by first light, slushing through the muddy, rutted road for fifteen miles, only to discover the trunks weren’t there.
Frustration hit him hard and he slapped his hat against his thigh. “Who picked them up?”
The station manager shrugged. “A man stopped by. He said Miss Potter hired him to deliver her trunks to Prairie Chicken.” He waved a thick hand toward the crowded restaurant. “I got customers, mister. Between the train passengers and stagecoach stops, I ain’t got time to worry about one woman’s trunks. You want the truth? I was glad to get rid of them. They was in the way.”
Seth knew Ansley hadn’t commissioned anyone. She’d told him the night before she hadn’t done so yet. “So you just give anyone’s things away without checking a man’s story?”
The burly man scowled and puffed his cigar. “Mister, you accusing me of something?”
Seth eyed him. He doubted he packed the same punch as this man, but he was at least fifty pounds lighter and most likely twice as fast. He stood his ground. “Only incompetence.”
Clearly realizing Seth wouldn’t be intimidated, the station manager tossed his cigar to the ground and backed away. “If a person pays the fee and says he’s here to pick up trunks or whatnot, I give him the goods. Plain and simple. Now, you got yourself a beef with that, feel free to write a letter to Mr. Malone, who owns this station. Otherwise, I have things to do.”
“Fine. Can you at least describe the man to me?” The last thing he was going to do was let some scoundrel steal those trunks away from Miss Potter.
“Dark hair, kinda tall. I don’t know. That’s all I remember. I wasn’t trying to paint the fella’s portrait. Now, like I said. I got work to do.”
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