by Judith Stacy
He’d walked a short way, mulling it over in his mind, when a wagon pulled up and the driver shouted to him.
“Sheriff, there’s something going on out by my farm you might want to check on,” the gray-haired man said.
Jared didn’t recognize him. “Where’s that?”
“Name’s Pitney. My place’s west of here.” He nodded back the way he’d come. “Them folks across the road from me ain’t sounding too good. I heard the missus screaming.”
“Which neighbors?”
“Them McCafferty folks.”
“Maybe she’s having the baby?”
“No, sir. Ain’t that kind of screaming.”
“Well? How do I look?”
Mattie spread out her arms and stood straight, waiting for Mrs. Nance’s answer. The woman squinted, tapped her finger against her chin, looked her up and down, then pronounced, “You look every bit the prosperous businesswoman you are.”
Smiling, Mattie touched her hand to the skirt of her gray dress. It wasn’t her best. Her best dress was the dark blue one she’d worn to Del’s funeral. But since that day, Mattie had been unable to put it on. This morning, more than ever, she didn’t want to be reminded of her failures.
“Mr. Burrows can’t say no,” Mrs. Nance predicted.
“I don’t see how he can,” Mattie agreed, using the small mirror near the cupboards to pin her hat in place. “I’ve already gotten the okay from the town council to host the supper. All I need now is the money to pay for everything. Surely Mr. Burrows will grant me a loan.”
The money she’d made from the sale of her mother’s brooch had covered the expenses of the proposal, with a little left over. Her presentation, which had cost a pretty penny, was a necessary business expense, as Mattie saw it. Especially given the fact that the town council hadn’t wanted her there in the first place. She couldn’t have done anything less and been awarded the supper.
“Mr. Burrows has been running the bank for a long time,” Mrs. Nance said. “He knows a good business deal when he sees one.”
Mattie gave herself one final look in the mirror, slipped into her cloak, then picked up her satchel and handbag and turned once more to Mrs. Nance. “I’m going over there right now and get this handled.”
Mrs. Nance smiled kindly. “You’ll do just fine.”
As Mattie left the kitchen of the Cottonwood, the wind whipped her cloak and skirts around her and a fat raindrop landed on her cheek. She hurried toward the bank, hoping this storm wasn’t a premonition of things to come.
Despite the rain, which kept everyone else out of the bank, Mattie had to wait to see Mr. Burrows. She sat primly in the straight-backed chair outside his closed office door, mentally rehearsing the things she intended to tell him.
She’d never asked for a loan before, never even asked for credit at any of the stores in Stanford. Maybe, for once, Del would have come in handy, since he obviously had no qualms about asking for such things.
Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, Mattie envisioned the grand night at the Cottonwood that loomed ahead. The Eastern investors, prominent citizens, businessmen, ranchers, mine owners, town officials, all assembled in her restaurant. The supper would be glorious, sure to be talked about for years to come in Stanford.
But for Mattie, the best part was that with the profits she’d earn from hosting the supper, she could invest in her restaurant. She’d improve her menu, return it to its previous high standard. She’d rehire the Spencer girls, and Billy, of course. All her old customers would come back. Business would flourish.
And her baby’s future would, too.
Mattie smiled to herself, imagining how grand it would be, how all her problems would be solved, once Mr. Burrows approved her loan.
Finally, after another half hour dragged by, the office door opened and the banker stepped out. He wore a cravat and a coat; the buttons strained across his belly
Mattie bounded out of her chair, her heart suddenly racing in her chest. “Mr. Burrows, thank you for seeing me.”
He pulled his watch from his pocket and frowned at it. “I don’t have much time, Mrs. Ingram.”
She tightened her grip on her satchel. “It’s important that I speak with you.”
He grunted as if he doubted it, then motioned her inside his office.
Mattie sat on the edge of the chair in front of his big desk. One wall of his office was covered with books, another held cupboards and shelves of ledgers. A clock ticked ominously in the silence.
“All right, then, what is it?” Mr. Burrows asked, his leather chair groaning and creaking as he sat down.
Mattie gulped. This had seemed so much easier when she’d rehearsed earlier.
“I’m here to ask for a loan, Mr. Burrows.”
He glanced at the papers on his desk. “Is that so?”
“Yes, sir. It’s to cover the expenses of the supper I’m hosting.”
His heavy brows drew together so deeply his eyelids all but disappeared. “You mean to tell me that you don’t have the money to pay for the supper?”
“I have some of it.”
“But not all of it?”
“Well, no. If you’ll recall, Mr. Burrows, I’m decorating the restaurant extensively and cooking a grand meal.” Mattie’s hand shook as she drew a tablet from her satchel and presented it to him. “I’ve prepared this detailed list of requirements. I’ve noted the money I already have, and estimated how much more I’ll need.”
Mr. Burrows’s cheeks puffed out as he looked down his nose at her tablet. Mattie’s throat went dry, but she had to say something. She couldn’t stand the silence.
“The Cottonwood Café has been in business here in Stanford for a very long time, as you know.”
Mr. Burrows didn’t respond.
“I can repay the loan as soon as the supper’s over. I’ll bring the money to you right away.”
He grunted, still studying the tablet of figures. Mattie’s mind worked feverishly, trying to think of something else to say, something that would impress Mr. Burrows. She wished she could decipher the furrow of his brow, the way he chewed on his lip. Was that a good sign? Did it mean he understood the estimates she’d prepared? That he would approve her loan request?
“Very nicely done,” Mr. Burrows said, passing the tablet back to her.
Mattie nearly fell out of her chair with relief. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Burrows. You won’t regret this. I’ll pay you back as soon—”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Ingram, you don’t understand. I’m not approving your loan.”
Her stomach lurched and her heart banged in her chest. Mattie opened her mouth, but no words came out.
“Good day, Mrs. Ingram,” he said, rising from his chair.
“But—but wait.” She shook her head frantically. “I don’t understand. Why not grant my loan?”
“First of all, it isn’t good business to go committing yourself to a big supper, and have the whole town counting on you, when you haven’t got the money to pay for it.”
“But businesses get loans all the time for this sort of thing. I know they do,” Mattie said. “You’ll get your money back, Mr. Burrows. I know the restaurant business inside and out. I’ve been running the Cottonwood for—”
“Well, that’s just not true,” Mr. Burrows said. “Your parents ran the restaurant, and it wasn’t long after they died that your husband took over.”
A sick knot jerked in Mattie’s stomach. “Del?”
“And since he died, your business has fallen off considerably, now isn’t that true?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Mrs. Ingram, it’s no secret that you’re paying debts all over town.”
“Those aren’t my—”
Mr. Burrows held up his thick hand. “My mind is made up. I cannot under any circumstances grant you that loan.”
“But—” Mattie’s throat closed off and tears pushed against the backs of her eyes.
“And I expect you to go to the council and
let them know another restaurant will have to host the supper.” Mr. Burrows opened his office door. “Good day, Mrs. Ingram.”
Mattie managed to keep her head up and her back straight as she gathered her handbag, satchel and tablet. She managed to keep her tears at bay, and somehow managed not to punch Mr. Burrows square in the nose as she left the bank.
But when she reached the boardwalk and slipped into the solitude of the alley next door, in the shelter of the building that kept the last of the storm’s raindrops at bay, she couldn’t hold in her emotions another second.
“Oh!” That pompous old windbag! How dare he talk to her that way! What a fool he was, thinking Del had run the Cottonwood well, and that she was the one who’d handled it poorly. That the debts Del had piled up were hers. Mr. Burrows had blamed her—her—for everything that was wrong, everything Del had caused.
Mattie paced fitfully, tears springing to her eyes. Then anger overtook her. She wanted to go back into that bank and tell that awful Mr. Burrows how wrong he was. She wanted to make him listen to her explanations. She wanted to force him to give her that loan. She wanted…
Jared.
He sprang into her mind so unexpectedly, Mattie gasped. Jared? She wanted Jared? At this, one of the worst moments of her life, she wanted Jared?
Yes. Yes, she wanted him. She wanted to see him, talk to him, touch him. She wanted him to look at her in that reasonable way of his and tell her everything would be all right. She wanted to lean against him and feel his arms around her, hear him assure her everything would be fine.
Yes, she wanted Jared, and she wanted him now.
Chapter Eighteen
The worst of the rain had stopped, but a fine mist continued as Jared rode back into town. Beneath his poncho he was relatively dry, but that did nothing to improve his mood.
On days like this, he hated his job. And not because of the weather.
Despite the light rain and the low-hanging gray sky, a number of folks went about their business on the streets of Stanford. Jared was cold, damp and anxious to get a hot meal in his belly, but couldn’t stop watching everything and everybody as he rode through town. That’s when he saw Mr. Hopkins.
The old man sat huddled in the doorway at the side entrance of the Silver Bell Restaurant, trying to make himself as small as possible, trying to stay dry.
Jared pulled his horse to a stop. “You got someplace to get out of this weather, Mr. Hopkins?”
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter and pulled his threadbare coat tighter around him.
“Are you drinking again?” Jared asked.
“No, sir, Sheriff,” he answered clearly.
Jared scanned the sky, judging the possibility of more rain. “Yeah? Well, you look like you’re drunk to me. Get on over to the jail. I’ll be there in a bit.”
Jared stayed until Mr. Hopkins got to his feet, then took his horse to the livery and walked back to the jail. The place was quiet when he arrived. Billy wasn’t around, since they had no prisoners, except now for Mr. Hopkins. Jared lit a fire in the potbellied stove, then found the old man standing in a cell, staring at the wall.
“Go on into the office,” Jared told him. “Warm yourself by the fire.”
While Mr. Hopkins ambled into the office, Jared went into his room and changed into warm, dry clothes.
“Get out of those wet things,” he said, joining Mr. Hopkins by the fire.
Jared held his hands out, warming them, as the old man shucked off two worn, tattered coats. Beneath them was a frayed, black leather sword belt, trimmed with two rows of embroidery, fastened with a U.S. Army regulation belt plate.
“Were you in the army?” Jared asked.
“Yes, sir, I was.” Mr. Hopkins draped his coats on the back of the rocking chair near the stove. “It was my privilege to serve under Major Meade with the Army of the Potomac.”
That was the most Jared had ever heard Mr. Hopkins say. “After you warm up, go on back to the cell. I’ll get something to eat over here in a while.”
Jared went outside then and watched the wagons and carriages make their way through the rain-softened dirt of Main Street. The wind had died down and the mist had dispelled. The air smelled fresh.
His heart sinking heavier in his chest, Jared tried not to think very much at that particular moment. If he studied the situation for the rest of his life, he still wouldn’t figure it out.
Even after all these years of being a lawman, he didn’t understand some of the things people did to one another. Especially people who claimed they loved each other. How? Why? He didn’t know.
Billy came striding up the boardwalk, his face grim. “Heard you went out to the McCafferty place.”
Jared’s jaw tightened.
“This ain’t good, is it?” Billy said, shaking his head. “I told you my aunt Frannie says there’s something mighty peculiar about that Mr. McCafferty, and my aunt Frannie is almost always right.”
“She surely is in this case.” Jared pulled on the tight muscles of his neck. “I’ll fill you in on everything in a while, Billy, but right now get over to the Cottonwood and pick up a meal. We’ve got a prisoner.”
“Yes, sir.” Billy turned to leave.
“And don’t let Mattie come back with you. I don’t want her out in this damp weather.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And find Mr. Pitney and have him come by the jail before he leaves town today, will you?”
“I’ll do it, Sheriff. Quick as a bunny.”
Jared watched Billy hustle down the boardwalk, then turn back to him and lift his shoulders helplessly, before hurrying on his way again. Jared had no idea what Billy was trying to get at until he saw Mattie barreling toward him.
Pink colored her cheeks. Her cloak billowed out behind her, and the little feather on her hat lay straight back.
At that moment, Jared didn’t care that she might be mad at him. Nor did it matter that she was out in the damp weather, negotiating slippery surfaces, and he ought to fuss at her for being careless, in her condition.
What mattered to Jared at the moment was that Mattie was full of good health, running over with determination and drive. For all the aggravation and anguish her hardheadedness caused him, he took comfort in the fact that she could fend for herself, that she would stand up for herself. And always, no matter where he went or what he did, she would take care of his baby.
Jared’s heart pounded harder as he watched her approach. How he loved her. How he wanted to hold her, take care of her, be at her side always. Darn, stubborn woman. Why wouldn’t she let him?
It was something. What, he didn’t know, exactly. But it was something.
Something more than her wanting her independence, wanting to run her own life. Something more, even, than the way Del had treated her.
And if Jared could figure out what it was, he’d stand a hell of a better chance at getting her to marry him.
He straightened, bracing himself, as Mattie charged up to him, her nose flared a little, her breath heaving. Lord, she was pretty when she was fired up. Just about the prettiest thing Jared had ever seen. Yet he dared not smile.
Mattie planted herself in front of him. “I want you to go arrest that Mr. Burrows!”
“Mr. Burrows? The bank—”
“No! Wait! Don’t arrest him. Shoot him!” She pointed her finger at Jared. “And don’t just wing him, either.”
“Now, Mattie—”
“No! Shooting’s too good for him. Hang him!”
Jared studied her for a few seconds, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I really can’t hang the man, Mattie.”
She clenched her fists. “I am a citizen of this town, and you are the sheriff. I insist you do something! The man deserves to be punished!”
“Okay.” Jared nodded toward the jail. “How about if I throw him in a cell and you can poke him with a stick?”
Mattie’s eyes narrowed and she ground her lips together, apparently visualizing the possibility. Then
she shook her head. “Not nearly bad enough. What else can we do?”
“Hold on, Mattie.” He stepped closer and looked down at her. “What’s got you so riled up?”
“Oh! That awful Mr. Burrows. You should be mad at him, too, Jared,” she told him. “He’s robbing your son of his future.”
“Whoa. Stop.” Jared waved his hand. “Back up. Start at the beginning. What’s this all about?”
Mattie drew in a big breath, pushing away most of her anger, and told him that she’d been to see Mr. Burrows about a business loan.
“He turned you down, huh?”
“Yes. And don’t you dare offer to loan me the money yourself, Jared, or give it to me, either. I’m going to manage this supper on my own.”
Jared held up both palms in surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of offering you the money.”
“Well, good, because—”
Mattie stopped short as something on the boardwalk across the street caught her attention. Jared followed her line of vision but saw nothing unusual, just the townsfolk going about their business.
Whatever it was took the anger out of Mattie completely. She seemed to wither right before his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing from her to the folks on the other side of the street.
“Hannah Keaton.” Mattie’s gaze followed each step the woman took.
“Tom’s wife? The fella who owns the feed store?” Jared had seen her in town before—one of the women he’d come to notice all the time now who, like Mattie, was expecting a baby. “What’s she got you so upset for?”
“She’s the one,” Mattie whispered, still watching the woman. “The one Del followed here to Stanford. The one he was in love with…while he was married to me.”
Jared glanced at Hannah Keaton, then back to Mattie. “You’re sure?”
“He told me,” Mattie said softly. “Sometimes I can’t help but wonder…” She seemed lost in her thoughts for a moment.
“Wonder what, Mattie?”
“I wonder if that’s Del’s baby she’s carrying.”
Jared studied Mattie’s face, the little wrinkle in her brow, her lips pressed together, and knew there was something more.