Frontier cinderella, p.10
Frontier Cinderella, page 10
Her head came up, eyes wide and startled. “You did?”
He took her hand and cradled it in his. “Yes, darlin’. There’s only one gal for me.”
“That’s cause there’s only one unmarried gal in the whole area!” someone shouted, and the others laughed.
“Two if you count the schoolteacher,” someone else put in.
“You really ought to let someone else give it a try, Yeager,” another hollered. “You can’t keep all the pretty gals.”
She was turning redder with each complaint.
“Maybe I should have waited until they were gone,” he muttered.
She eyed him under her lashes. “I’m glad you didn’t. It was beautiful.”
He leaned closer. “No more beautiful than you.”
She skuttled back so fast she nearly overset the closest table. “I best get back to work.”
Harry shook his head as she vanished into the kitchen. He was still doing something wrong.
He took his guitar back to his cabin and returned to help clean up, but Ciara shooed him out.
“I have plenty of helpers tonight,” she said. “Go to bed, Harry. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He leaned closer. “You wouldn’t say that if it was you and Kit courting.”
She put both hands on his shoulders and gave him a shove. “I didn’t have to say that to Kit. Katie Jo needs time to think about things. Be a gentleman and give it to her.”
He angled his head to try to see into the kitchen. Katie Jo and Zeke were both at the sink, one washing and the other drying.
“If she wants me gone,” he told Ciara, “she can tell me.”
Katie Jo turned to meet his gaze, her own shadowed. “Good night, Harry. See you in the morning.”
Defeated, he inclined his head and left.
But he made sure to be one of the first in the door on Saturday.
“Katie Jo and Zeke are sleeping in this morning,” Ciara said, plunking down a platter of griddle cakes. “I’m sure you’ll see them when you get back from work.”
Harry forked up two cakes and shook his head.
“Someone’s in a dark mood,” Kit said as they followed Drew out into the forest a short time later. A cold mist hovered in the air, as if the clouds wanted to rest on the ground for a time, and everything was moist and musty smelling.
“You would be too if the woman you wanted to marry wouldn’t give you the time of day,” Harry grumbled, shifting his axe on his shoulder.
“She talks to you,” Jesse pointed out from behind him.
“To be clear,” Drew said, stopping in front of the last big fir they needed to cut down, “are we talking about Katie Jo McAllister or Alice Dennison?”
“Katie Jo McAllister!” Harry thundered, earning him a rare scowl from his boss.
Drew generally only worked a half day on Saturdays, so Harry hurried back as soon as the big woodsman gave the all clear. At least the clouds had risen up over the trees again, making everything more gray than wet. Maybe he could take Katie Jo for a walk, talk about their future.
But, once again, Ciara refused him entrance.
“We have work to do, Harry, and you’ll only get in the way,” she said, arms crossed over her chest as she stood in the front doorway.
Frustrated, he plopped down on the planks of the porch and prepared to wait until she turned the restaurant sign to Open.
Movement showed through the trees on the other side of the inn a moment before the blacksmith strode out of the path leading to the mercantile. His eight-year-old son was skipping along beside him, glancing up at his father from time to time as if completely content to be in such company. The smile his father bestowed on him said he felt the same way.
Harry couldn’t remember his father looking at him that way. He couldn’t remember his father much at all, truth be told. And none of the distant cousins had ever taken the time to walk with him, share a moment.
Cows need milking, boy. Hop to it.
Didn’t I tell you to bring in more wood for the fire? What have you been doing all day?
If you weren’t so worthless, maybe your ma and pa would have found a reason to live.
He pushed away the ugly memories. He was building his own family, one where encouragement and love would lead the way. He’d spend time with his children, help them grow up straight and strong, knowing their parents would always care.
Zeke, who had been hanging onto the rope supporting one of the big swings as if wondering whether to try sitting, crossed the space and dropped down beside him. “Busy place, ain’t it?” Before Harry could answer, he grimaced. “Sorry. It’s a busy place, don’t you think?”
“I generally like busy,” Harry said, glancing back over his shoulder at the door. Female voices echoed from within, punctuated by an occasional giggle. “Ciara said they were working. Does that sound like work to you?”
“They’re planning another dress for Katie Jo,” Zeke said with a sigh. “She already has two. Uncle Cole says trousers and shirts are more practical.”
“More practical for us,” Harry said. “There’s something about a gal in a dress that makes a man look forward to the day.”
Zeke frowned. “Why?”
“Ask me that in a couple years,” Harry said with a grin. He rose. “Sounds like they’re going to be busy for a while. I have work to do too.”
Zeke sighed. “Wish I did.”
Harry eyed him. “You want to help finish my cabin?”
“Would I!” The boy leapt to his feet. “Which way?”
Harry led him up through the woods to the claim. The boy stood a moment, glancing around with narrowed eyes, as if he saw more than the clearing and the trees surrounding it.
“Barn over there, I bet,” he finally said.
Harry nodded. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“Best drainage when it rains, and you’re not too far from the creek to bring water.” He frowned at the house. “I don’t know why you didn’t put boxes under the windows like at the inn. You could grow herbs right there to grab for dinner, and it would look nice too.”
Harry considered the side of the cabin. “Good idea.” He looked back at the boy. “How’d you get so smart?”
Zeke shrugged, though his lean cheeks were turning pink. “You lay around often enough, you have time to think about all sorts of things.”
Harry nodded. “I bet you do. So maybe you can help me with something else.”
“Sure,” Zeke said eagerly.
“What can I do to please your sister?”
***
Katie Jo had thought Harry might poke his head in the door when the dining room opened at five, but she didn’t catch sight of him until they’d fed the first ravenous round. Then he, Jesse, and Zeke showed up, begging plates. Ciara filled one for Jesse and Katie Jo’s brother, but she tilted her head toward Harry.
“Why don’t you serve him, Katie Jo?”
Ciara didn’t fool her. She managed multiple plates all the time. She was matchmaking, plain and simple. Very likely that was why she’d brought Alice and Nora over that afternoon to talk about dresses.
Now Katie Jo pulled down one of the clean plates and slid in behind the big stove next to her friend. Ciara had told her that one of the reasons she’d known she might succeed in opening a restaurant in the settlement was this stove. Most folks in the area, like Katie Jo, cooked over the fire. Only a handful had any kind of stove, and nothing to match this black iron six-burner wonder with its two ovens, warming drawer, and silver trim. Now Katie Jo batted away the steam from the big kettle of soup with one hand and looked at Harry. “We have bean and bacon soup and beef stew tonight. Which would you prefer?”
He leaned against the door jamb. “Surprise me.”
That steam was warmer than she’d expected, for her skin was heating. She slopped some stew on his plate and added two of Ciara’s biscuits. No one quite matched those of Levi Wallin, but hers were the closest Katie Jo had ever tried.
“Much obliged,” Harry said as he accepted the plate from her. “I’ll be back for dessert.”
He didn’t even look at the blackcap pies on the sideboard.
She swallowed, watching out the door as he loped for the porch.
“You seen Miss Dennison?” Jesse asked, accepting his plate from Ciara.
“Not since this afternoon,” she admitted. “And it’s a full house at the moment, so I’m not sure where I’d put her if she did come looking.”
He nodded. “Fill me another plate. I’ll take it to her.”
“That’s real nice of you, Jesse,” Katie Jo told him, grabbing up several of the biscuits to add to the plate Ciara was putting together.
“Just being neighborly,” he said. He accepted the plate with a nod of thanks to them both and followed Harry out the door.
“Thanks,” Zeke said, taking his plate from Ciara. “Don’t suppose you have any of that lemon pound cake left from last night.”
Ciara smiled at him. “I saved a slice just for you. It’s down in the root cellar. If I left it up here, someone was bound to eat it.”
He grinned, set his plate on the sideboard out of the way, then propped open the hatch that would let him down into the root cellar. Kit had recently installed the door, so Ciara didn’t have to go outside every time she wanted access to the storage room.
Katie Jo glanced out the doorway in time to see more men enter the restaurant. “Two came in,” she reported. “They’re taking the table by the stairs, which just emptied. Best I get it cleaned fast.”
From down in the root cellar came a thump and a cry. She froze.
Ciara must have heard the noises too, for she started forward. “I’ll see to them. Check on Zeke.”
With a nod, Katie Jo scrambled for the hatch.
A short ladder led down into the ground beneath the cabin. The Wallin father had excavated a space that ran under most of the kitchen and out onto the garden, where another door could be used to access it. Kit must have factored in Ciara’s skirts when he’d designed the new opening, for Katie Jo had no trouble navigating the rungs in her dress. The light pouring down from the kitchen allowed her to make out a figure slumped among the sacks of cornmeal and flour.
“Zeke!” Keeping her head down, for the space wasn’t tall enough for her to stand upright, she scurried over to her brother.
He sat up, rubbing his head. “Don’t fuss. I’m fine.”
“Are you?” Katie Jo peered closer. He looked as if he’d paled again, and she thought she detected a tremor in his fingers. She crouched and started running her hands over his legs. “What happened?”
“Talk louder,” he said, pushing away her hands. “I can’t see your lips down here.”
“Sorry,” she said, raising her voice as she rocked back on her heels. “What happened?”
“Bent to pick up a rock in the way, then straightened and hit my head.” He scowled up at the beams crossing the ceiling and supporting the kitchen. “I guess I’m taller than I thought.”
She stood carefully and offered him a hand to help him rise. “You’re growing. Only to be expected.”
He glanced around, spotted the wrapped piece of poundcake lying half open in the dirt, where he must have dropped it in his fall, then picked it up and sighed. “Well, I ruined this, I guess.”
“There are ginger snaps for dessert tonight,” Katie Jo told him, directing him toward the ladder. “A serving is two. You can have four.”
She caught his grin before he climbed up ahead of her.
Ciara was back at the stove, stirring the soup. “Everything all right?” she asked.
“Everything’s fine,” Katie Jo assured her, shutting the hatch behind her. “Eat your dinner, Zeke, then you can commence sweeping.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said before grabbing his plate and four of the cookies and heading out the back door.
“He’s a good lad, your brother,” Ciara said, ladling some of the soup into a bowl. “I don’t understand why your uncle won’t let him come in more often.”
“Uncle Cole worries,” Katie Jo said, going to work on the dishes, which were starting to pile up. “I think he just likes to have us close, so he can keep an eye on us. He forgets we’re grown.” She glanced out the kitchen window, spotting Zeke sitting on the porch, plate in his lap and cookie in one hand. “I forget sometimes too.”
“I heard Drew had the same problem with Beth,” Ciara commiserated, setting the bowl down and grabbing another. “His father died when he was eighteen, and he had to help raise all his younger brothers and her. I imagine Kit and I might fret too when Grace comes of age, sooner if wives continue to be scarce.”
Out in the main room, a door slammed. Katie Jo leaned forward to try to get a peek at their newest customer. Logan Bradshaw was ushering his son through the door. Likely the blacksmith was tired of doing all the cooking himself or maybe he just wanted to give his son a treat.
“The big table was finishing when I came through,” Ciara told her. “Will you check on it after you get the new folks settled?”
“Happy to.” She shook water off her hands and ventured out.
They were on their third round of diners when Harry returned.
“How’s everything going?” he asked as she was wiping spills off one of the tables.
“Busy,” she said. “But that’s nothing new.”
“What is new?”
She glanced at him. His head was cocked, so that a lock of mahogany-colored hair drifted down over one eyebrow. With his brown eyes alight, he looked as if he was sure she would say something inspiring.
She couldn’t think of anything inspiring.
“Nothing, I suppose,” she allowed, picking up her rag and heading back to the kitchen.
He followed her to the sink and leaned against the sideboard, where she piled the dishes to dry. She started washing her next set, and he took the dish she had dunked in the rinse water and began drying it for her. “Do you like working here?”
She cast him a glance. “You know I do.”
“Why?”
The second dish slipped from her fingers. He caught it, rinsed it, and set about drying it too, all while peering at her with that same intensity.
Ciara pulled another batch of biscuits from the oven and frowned at her, as if she were just as perplexed by him.
“I like the bustle, I suppose,” Katie Jo answered. “I like seeing what Ciara comes up with for menus.”
Her friend grinned at her.
“And some of the customers are funny,” Katie Jo allowed. “Just the other day, one asked if he could have sugar for his bacon and bean soup. Can you imagine?”
He chuckled. “That would be something.” He held out his hand for the next plate. “What else?”
She scrunched up her face. “You trying to have a conversation, Harry?”
He beamed. “Yes, exactly. What do you think about the weather? I’m hoping for a late winter. How about you?”
“Rain holding off is always good.” She shoved her hands deeper into the warm water. “Why do you want to have a conversation while I’m working?”
He shrugged. “Zeke told me you like it when people listen to you. I can’t listen if you don’t talk.”
“There is that.” She rinsed off a bowl and handed it to him.
“Am I doing something wrong?” he asked.
She sighed, letting her fingers bathe in the suds. “I can see you’re trying to be nice to me, Harry. I’m just not sure how long it will last.”
He straightened. “Understandable. I have to prove myself to you. Will you let me take you to church tomorrow and walk you home afterward?”
That really did seem like courting. Something fluttered inside her, fast as the wings of a dove, climbing into the sky. “That would be real nice.”
“Good. Now, I’ll stop talking and let you work. But I’m here if you need anything.”
And he was. He moved tables so Zeke could sweep. He brought in more coffee beans for Ciara and ground them up for the morning. After that, he ducked out the back door.
“Did we finally scare him off?” Ciara asked, picking up one of the last of the gingersnaps and taking a bite.
Katie Jo spread her hands. “I told my uncle that Harry Yeager doesn’t scare easily.”
“You’re right,” he said, coming back through the door juggling an iron hook, screws, and a screwdriver. “That root cellar is too dark. I’m going to install this in a beam so you can hang a lantern if you like.”
“I like this new Harry,” Ciara said with a grin to Katie Jo as he clambered down the ladder.
Truth be told, so did she, maybe more than she should.
Chapter Twelve
When Katie Jo came down for breakfast Sunday morning in her gingham dress, Harry was already seated at the big table and watching the stairs, as if he couldn’t wait for her to appear. Before she even reached the bottom, he had popped out of his chair and come to meet her, offering her his arm.
She raised her brows. “It’s just across the room, Harry. I can manage.”
He leaned closer. “It’s not about managing, darlin’. It’s about having the right to hold you close a moment.”
Someone must have tightened her corset strings, for she was nearly breathless as she put her hand on his arm.
Zeke followed her a moment before striding past them to sling a leg over the bench. She and her brother had slept in a bed in the corner of the loft, the framed walls of the planned rooms looking like winter-bare trees around them.
Now Harry led Katie Jo to his place at the foot of the table.
“That’s where you sit,” she protested.
“That’s where my lady sits now,” he insisted, handing her down. He went to perch on the end of the bench closest to her. Jesse, at the head of the table, nodded good morning to her before reaching for his coffee.
Kit carried in Grace and put her in the tall, wheeled chair the Wallin family had given them. The baby had a wooden spoon in one hand, and she waved it at Katie Jo as well. Katie Jo wiggled her fingers to wave back. Grace chortled.
As Kit took his seat opposite Harry, Ciara brought in scrambled eggs, toast, and blackcap preserves, then took her seat next to her husband, with Grace in easy reach. Kit folded his hands and bowed his head.
