Cora clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s a marvelous idea. Everyone loves a reason to come together for a visit, especially before winter sets in.”
Franklin looked at Boone and smirked. “Plus it would give our Annalee a chance to meet all of the single men in our area.”
The smile slid off Boone’s face and a muscle bunched in his jaw. “She’s already been spoken for.”
“To my understanding, there’s been no formal declaration.” Franklin puffed out his chest, no doubt feeling in charge of the situation.
In response, Boone set both feet on the floor and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “Don’t try to rile me, Franklin. I’ve already made up my mind. She’s the one I want.”
“Excuse me, but I have a say in all this, you know.” How dare they talk about her as if she weren’t in the room? “I have no plans on getting spoken for or engaged.” Her angry gaze shifted from Boone to Franklin and back to Boone again.
“Now, lil’ greenhorn, no need in getting riled.”
She stood and planted her fists on her hips. “Don’t you ‘lil’greenhorn’ me. You…you bossy, arrogant galoot.”
Boone jumped from his seat. “Galoot?” he repeated, his eyes wide.
Leaning in, until they were almost nose to nose, Annalee growled, “Yes, and an insufferable galoot, at that. Cora, Franklin, if you’ll excuse me, I have a headache.” With that she flounced out of the parlor and up the steps. No man pushes me about and plans my life as if I don’t have the good common sense God gave me.
****
Annalee didn’t know what to expect when she dressed the next morning for her first visit across the creek. Concerns about what kind of home she’d find made her stomach churn. She had to have a plan in case she couldn’t stay there. Miss Feather might never have prepared her for being homeless, but she had taught her how to be resourceful.
She would stay in Cicero Creek and open her business. Make friends with the women. As for the men, well, if they were all as domineering as the marshal, she wanted no parts of them. She wished Franklin was taking her and Clara to the ranch, and not Boone. No doubt the man would be just as irritating today as he was yesterday.
She ran a hand over her hair, pushing a loose hairpin into her chignon. Would Boone think she looked nice? She snorted. As if she cared one whit what that arrogant fool thought. That would be the day, when she dressed to impress a man, especially a certain tall annoying marshal.
Later, when Annalee descended the steps, her eyes locked with Boone’s. The foyer seemed dwarfed by his tall frame and broad shoulders. He was turning his hat in his hands, a bemused expression on his handsome face. “Afternoon, lil’ greenhorn.”
Her temper flared at his insolence. Why the man was deliberately provoking her. And after she’d dressed especially to please him, too. The rapscallion didn’t even have the good manners to compliment her.
Annalee hiked her chin as she marched to the door. Her greeting as she passed him was clipped. “Marshal.” When a soft chuckle rumbled behind her, she whirled, giving him a scathing glare. Squaring her shoulders and drawing herself up to make her appear taller than her five-foot-two height, she vented some spleen. “In the future, Marshal Hartwell, you will kindly address me by my name.”
He set his hat on his head, tilting it at a rakish angle. When he reached around her to open the door, he whispered in her ear, “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, lil’ greenhorn?”
She shivered at his proximity. “You, sir, are an insufferable fool.” This time when he laughed she ignored him. Still, just to prove her point, she marched to the buggy and climbed into the back seat next to a yellow dog, leaving Cora no choice but to ride up front with him. When Boone helped Cora into the buggy, she winked at Annalee.
Once he was seated, Boone picked up the reins and set the horses in motion. “Annalee-e-e,” he said loudly and with exaggeration, “you’re sitting next to Nugget. Hope the two of you don’t get into a snarling match, ’cause Nugget just hates to lose.”
“Oh, ’tis full of blither and blather you are.” She reached a tentative hand to touch the dog’s head. His tail wagged, and he licked her fingers. Then he laid his head on her lap. “I’m glad to see you’re smarter than your master.”
Boone glanced back at Nugget. “Traitor,” he growled. “Now, Annalee, you’ll notice all of the businesses and offices are built on one side of the street. Your grandfather made his wishes very clear when he donated the land to the town.”
At the corner stood a brick structure that contained two businesses, Cicero Creek Bank and the Cicero Creek Courier. Next to it was an eatery, oddly named Beans for the Belly. Adjacent to the eatery was the jail.
There were a couple of riders on the street, their horses kicking up dust, and half a dozen people strolled on the boardwalk in front of the businesses. What struck her was the quiet and the purity of the air here in Cicero Creek. With all of the industry in Chicago, the air was often awash with foul-smelling smoke coughing from tall chimneys. Crowds of people hurried to and fro on the streets as cool winds blew in from the lake. This slower, quieter pace would take some getting used to.
She was pleased to see there were a few stores: Stoner and Son’s Mercantile, Olofsson Furniture and Cabinetry, Evans Boot and Saddle Making, and LeMann’s General Store.
She smiled at the conflicting sign in Gertie’s Bakery window: Expert Teeth Pulling. A sign squeaked, swaying overhead on the building’s second story: Gertie’s Boarding House: Clean Sheets Extra.
Four horses were tied to the hitching post in front of the Red Garter Saloon. Next to it was Billy’s Barber Shop and Coffins. Before they passed the schoolhouse, Boone turned the buggy toward the tree-lined creek.
Chapter Seven
They crossed the creek where it was roughly twelve feet wide. Once Boone had the buggy out of the water, he drove under a wooden arch rising out of stone posts. Hanging from the split-rail arch was a wooden sign that read, “Annie’s Ranch.”
He pointed to the sign. “Your grandfather took down the sign that said, ‘Tanner’s Ranch’ and hung this after he found out you were coming. He was as excited about having you move in with him as a kid at Christmas with an orange in his stocking.”
A warm rush of emotion swept through Annalee. Grandpa had renamed the ranch in her honor, using his nickname for her. She smiled and squared her shoulders, thrilled that the ranch—her future home—carried her name.
Boone urged the team up a hill where a narrow lane had been cleared of pines and cottonwoods. At the top of the hill sat a log cabin, so silent it screamed of loneliness. Annalee didn’t know whether to cry or to turn tail and run.
He stopped the buggy in front of the steps leading to the covered porch. After helping Cora down, he wrapped his hands around Annalee’s waist and set her on the ground. She slowly surveyed the area. Chickens pecked the dirt around a leaning, patchwork chicken coop. Two horses nickered a welcome inside the confines of the split rail fence adjacent to the stable. Trees were in rows beyond the outbuildings, like empty desks in a schoolhouse.
Boone saw where she was looking. “Those are Lee’s prized orchards—apples, peaches, pears, and cherries. About twenty acres’ worth. He owns eight hundred acres on this side of the creek. About four hundred on the other side. Raised cattle mostly, some hogs and chickens.”
“I don’t know anything about farming or ranching. I’m a seamstress.” Her heart sank as reality hit. “I’ve never lived alone, much less out in the wilderness. Never gathered an egg or chopped wood.”
Boone smiled. “You’ll learn.”
“Can I see the bunkhouse from here?” She hoped having the ranch hands nearby would lessen this solitary feeling grasping at her with frigid fingers.
He took her arm, escorted her closer to the barn, and pointed off in the distance. When he did so, his other arm encircled her. She tried to ignore his nearness, really she did, but the warmth and strength of him beguiled her. He smelled of ba
y rum, leather, and the outdoors. His deep voice made her toes curl in her boots.
“See the log cabin yonder at the edge of the fruit trees? That’s the bunkhouse. The men take care of the cattle and the range. Now that your grandpa’s gone, they tend to the chickens and the milk cow.” He looked at her and caught her staring. His expression softened, and he whispered, “Are you paying attention, lil’ greenhorn?” He pulled her closer to him.
She nodded, feeling the heat of a blush kiss her cheeks, embarrassed he’d caught her watching him.
“I love it when you blush.” His head inclined toward hers, and her stomach did a twitchy thing. He wouldn’t kiss her, would he?
“It’s so isolated here.” Cora’s words jarred them from their private moment. She moved beside Annalee and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Do you think you can handle being so alone?”
She stepped away from Boone’s warmth, sensing Cora’s unspoken message about propriety. “I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t know where I belong anymore.” She squared her shoulders, determined to show some grit. “But I’m not leaving until I’ve gone through Grandpa’s house and looked over his property. I owe him that much.”
Boone placed his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the steps. “I’ve spent many a winter’s evening in this cabin with your grandfather. It’s well built to resist the elements.” Nugget raced them up the steps and sat at the door whining. “Old Nugget was partial to Lee Tanner too.” He opened the door for Annalee, and she stepped inside.
She stood at the bottom of a narrow stairway, her sweeping gaze taking in every unkempt detail. Stale wood smoke, dirty living, and something foul made her nose twitch. “Kindly leave the door open, Boone. This place needs airing out.”
To her right was a sitting room with a wooden rocker placed near the large stone fireplace in the end wall. A brass spittoon sat next to the rocker, and by the huge stains on the wooden floor, her grandpa had missed more often than he’d hit. She shuddered at the disgusting sight.
A rolltop desk, its cubicles crammed with papers, sat next to the window in the back wall. There was an old stained divan, its upholstery torn, with a spring rising from the seat. A table covered with a catalog, a broken harness, and a pouch of chewing tobacco was under the window in the front wall. Both windows were covered with grime.
Although the cabin’s current condition was depressing, there was a surprising, unexpected sense of comfort. The place exuded permanence and strength. Slowly pivoting, she could see possibilities. Her seamstress mind was already making curtains and braiding rugs.
Behind her, Cora voiced disgust. “Oh my, this will never do.” She was clucking her tongue as usual.
Annalee pivoted toward Cora. “It’ll take a lot of elbow grease. A lot of time spent on my knees, scrubbing.”
Cora’s face scrunched into a frown. “Surely you aren’t thinking of staying! Not here.”
Annalee crossed to the bottom of the steps and into the kitchen. A scarred wooden table covered with dirty dishes and a couple of opened tin cans sat in front of a window. There were two mismatched chairs, one missing its back. A black cast iron four-hole cookstove dominated the room. On the floor next to the stove was a pair of boots caked with dried mud. A hand pump and sink sat under another grime-covered window at the back wall. She opened the door next to the pump and stepped onto a back porch. Several boards were missing. A large garden still held a couple of pumpkins, blackened with frost damage.
She came back inside and closed the door. “He wasn’t much of a housekeeper, was he?”
Cora looked at huge black cobwebs draping the corners of the room and shuddered. “How could anyone live like this?”
Boone scratched the back of his neck. “Well, Cora, single men have different standards than women.”
Annalee was halfway up the narrow wooden steps when Cora replied in a huffy manner. “Look around this hovel, young man, and show me one standard. Humph!”
Upstairs, Annalee found two bedrooms with slanted ceilings, each with a small window in the end wall. One room was empty. What was obviously her grandfather’s bedroom had an unmade bed, its sheet and blanket patched many times. A pair of yellowed long johns hung over the bedpost. Worn, faded clothes hung on pegs. The bedside stand held a kerosene lamp with a blackened chimney and a dog-eared Bible. An armoire sat cattycornered near the window. On the wall opposite the bed hung a tintype of her when she’d turned eighteen. The fact that her picture was the last thing her grandpa saw at day’s end touched her.
Horses pulling a wagon approached. Boone was stepping outside when Annalee hurried down the steps to investigate. “Who is it, Cora?”
“Levi Olafsson and Three Fingers Hollister. Levi makes furniture. Looks like he has a delivery.”
“A delivery? Of what?” Annalee stepped around Cora and went outside to join Boone. “What is it?”
“Evidently Lee ordered some furniture before he was shot.”
A tall, burly man, his brown hat tugged low over his eyes, jumped down from the buckboard. He removed his hat, revealing a mop of silvery blonde hair. His blue-eyed gaze swept over her. “Hell’s bells, if you ain’t a beauty.” His face turned beet red, and he gave a quick bow. “Meant no disrespect, ma’am.”
Boone’s hand went to the small of her back. “Annalee Gallagher, this is Levi Olafsson. He’s the best furniture maker in the territory.”
Levi blushed again. “Shucks, Boonie. Don’t embarrass me like that. I’m yust pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Annalee.”
She smiled. “I’m honored to meet you, Mr. Olafsson. You have a delivery?”
Levi silently stared at her.
Boone cleared his throat.
Annalee waited.
Boone stepped closer to her side, almost in the proprietary manner she so often saw her da do with Momma. “The lady asked you about the delivery.”
Levi nodded. “Sorry, ma’am, that beautiful smile of yours made my heart stop. I vas yust vaitin’ for it to start beatin’ again.”
Annalee’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Oh my,” she gushed. What a charmer he was.
Boone muttered a curse under his breath.
Levi crumpled his hat in his huge, beefy hands. “The day your grandfather got your telegram, he came into my furniture shop full of pleasure. Said he needed some t’ings to make you feel more comfortable here. He vas so excited ’bout your coming, Miss Annalee.” His head bobbed as he spoke.
“I’m touched. I wasn’t sure how he really felt about taking me in.”
“For sure, he vas right grieved about your momma, an’ your poppa, too, don’t t’ink he vasn’t. But he vanted you to come. He ordered you a bed and a chest of drawers.” Levi glanced back at the loaded buckboard. “Bought a new dining table and matching chairs. Said a lady liked matching chairs.”
“Yes, we do.” She smiled through a veil of tears. Oh, Grandpa, if you were here, I’d hug you so hard...
Levi blushed and ducked his head.
Boone groaned.
“I got a table fer ya ta put next to yer bed, too.” The man standing on the buckboard wiped his face with a dirty rag.
Boone placed his hand on the small of her back again. His continual touching was making her jittery. “Miss Annalee, meet Three Fingers Hollister.”
Annalee gave an involuntary shudder at the sight of Three Fingers, surely not at the warmth of Boone’s hand on her back. Three Fingers, a walking mud-pie if ever she saw one, was looking at her as if she were the last jellybean in the jar and he had a shiny penny in his grubby hand. “Hello.”
She showed the men where to put the furniture, wishing she’d had the chance to get the cabin cleaned before the new things were brought in. Once the bed was set up, she rubbed a hand over the carved headboard. “You do beautiful work, Mr. Olafsson.”
He removed his hat and blushed again. “I’d be honored if you’d call me Levi, ma’am. Right honored.”
Boone, who was carrying in
the bedside table, stopped dead in his tracks. He looked from Annalee to Levi. His eyes narrowed, and he set the wooden stand down, the noise echoing through the room before he stalked out.
“Well, what got into him?” She turned and studied Levi. “You were only being neighborly.”
“Yust two men trying to mark their territory, Miss Annalee.” When her eyebrows arched, he ran a hand through his hair, obviously hunting for the right words. “Vomen…single vomen are rare out here. And vhen a beautiful one, like you, moves into a community, vell, single men are bound to get ideas.”
“Ideas, is it?” Her hands fisted on her hips. “Just what kind of ideas are you speaking of? Because I’ll have you know I’m a graduate of Miss Feather’s Finishing School for Refined Ladies of Culture and Proper Decorum.”
Levi squirmed and studied the tops of his boots. “Honest, Miss Annalee, I meant no disrespect. I meant it as a compliment.”
They both turned at the sound of more horses coming up the dirt lane. “Now, who?” Annalee turned on her heel and headed for the steps. Outside, another buckboard rolled to a stop. “Who are you?”
A dark-haired young man jumped down and gave a lecherous grin. “No, darlin’, who are you?”
How Boone got to her side so quickly, Annalee didn’t know, but his normally jovial voice was steely serious. “You’d do well to show the lady some respect, Clarence Stoner.”
Clarence’s hands clenched and unclenched a few times. “Meant no harm.”
“I know you’re used to dealing with the soiled doves at the Red Garter, but Annalee here is a lady.” A muscle in Boone’s cheek twitched, his displeasure obvious.
Clarence smiled when he stepped forward. “Annalee, is it?”
“Yes. Annalee Gallagher.”
“Well, I owe you an apology, misspeakin’ like I did. But you is a purty lady, and I gots me a powerful weakness fer purty ladies.” He shot Boone a glance when he heard him growl. “My father and I run Stoner and Son’s Mercantile. I’m here to deliver things old man Tanner ordered when he heard you was a-comin’. And if anything don’t meet with your approval, you just let ol’ Clarence know. I do aim to please.”
A Man for Annalee Page 5