Dreaming on Daisies (3 page)

Chapter Three

March 16, 1881

Leah shook out her gray linen dress, eyeing the wrinkles. Why did Millie have to be in town when she needed her? Of course Leah had used a flatiron before, but she was handier with a branding iron than with using a flatiron to press wrinkles from cloth. The last time, she’d gotten distracted and burned a hole in the middle of her best skirt. That couldn’t happen now. It was vital she make a good impression at the bank.

She looked out her bedroom window, willing their buggy to materialize. Several minutes passed, but the only thing that appeared in the road was Buddy’s brown mutt, Rusty. He planted himself off to the side and stared toward town.

Leah chuckled. It appeared she wasn’t the only one longing for Millie’s arrival. That dog doted on the older couple and, while Buddy claimed the animal was his, Rusty swayed to Millie’s side more often than not.

At least the rain had stopped a few days before Beth’s wedding, and in the three days since, the deep mud had finally started to dry. This time of year they could still get snow flurries, but hopefully nothing would stick. Roundup would begin soon, and the dry weather would be a blessing. Nothing like roping a calf and trying to hold on to the slippery critter while tying its feet and applying a brand.

She draped the dress over her arm and headed for the kitchen. There was no help for it—either do the job herself or go to town in a wrinkled garment. After a while she replaced the flatiron on the shelf and returned to her room, where she slipped into the gray gown. It was plain and serviceable. After all, she didn’t want to appear gaudy for her visit to the bank. Better to look like the serious, hardworking woman everyone knew her to be and make a good impression.

One last peek in the mirror stationed above her cherry bureau showed everything in place. She ran a hand over the smooth wood grain. Her mother had loved this piece. Pa had given it to her as a wedding gift twenty-two years ago, not long after Leah’s first birthday.

He’d been the only father she’d known, since hers died shortly after her birth. Leah remembered laughter and hugs those early years of her childhood. Then, for some reason she never understood, everything changed. Ma withdrew, and Pa spent most of his time outside. That hadn’t bothered Leah at first, as she worshipped the man and became his shadow, attempting to emulate his every action.

If only Ma’s death nine years ago hadn’t changed him so much. Something inside Pa seemed to die, and his drinking accelerated shortly after that. She tucked a wayward strand of hair into the knot at the base of her neck and grabbed her shawl.

It did no good thinking of the past when everything she loved was in jeopardy. Time to see what could be done to change the present, and hopefully some part of the past could be redeemed as well.

She stepped outside and drew her heavy woolen shawl close around her shoulders, knotting it across her chest. The wind coming off the Wallowa Mountains had a bite to it, and Leah was thankful for her warm gloves and lined bonnet.

Hurrying across the barren space between the house and the barn, she approached the barn and drew open the heavy door, wincing at the grating screech of the hinges. Another chore Pa had ignored that she’d have to tackle.

Why hadn’t she thought to harness the horse to the extra buggy before putting on her good dress? She hurried to the stall and removed a rope hanging on a hook to the side, then swung wide the door. A shadow fell across her path and she started. “Pa?”

“What you up to, Leah girl? Dressed mighty fine for a trip to the barn, ain’t you?” Weary eyes peered at her from under the brim of his hat. “You’re lookin’ pert today, whatever the occasion.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. How long had it been since Pa had spoken to her in such a gentle voice? She glanced at him again, worried at the sight of the stooped shoulders and tired eyes. He must not be sleeping well, as she saw no evidence of alcohol. “I’m headed to town.”

“Huh.” He grunted and pivoted away, then grabbed the harness off a nearby peg. “Suppose you want the mare hitched.”

Surprise wrapped itself around her heart. “I can do it. No reason to bother you.”

“Ain’t no bother. Hate to see that fancy dress mussed.” He clucked to the mare, and she stepped forward, nuzzling his pocket. Grinning, Pa pulled out a carrot stub and offered it on the flat of his hand. “Good girl. Bet you’d like to get out and stretch your legs a mite, wouldn’t you now?”

He ran a hand over her forelock and stroked her face, whispering endearments too low to reach Leah’s ears. Looking back to her, he scowled. “You didn’t tell me what you’re up to. Lots of chores to be done before the day ends.”

Why was it that most of the sweet words he managed to utter were saved for the horses and dog? She turned away, regret and bitterness leaving a sour taste.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be long. There hasn’t been a day that I haven’t done my share of work and more.” She bit back the rest of what she’d like to say, but Ma always told her to treat her elders with respect, even if they didn’t always deserve it.

A few minutes later, Leah stepped into the buggy and took the reins her pa offered. “Thanks.”

“Drive careful. The mud is pretty much gone, but the sky don’t look good. Could get another storm before nightfall.” He stepped back, lifting his hand. “Don’t suppose it would do any good to ask you to bring home a bottle?”

Irritation at his request ate away every bit of the warm sensation in her heart at the earlier concern in Pa’s voice. “No, sir, it would not.” She slapped the reins against the mare’s rump. “Get along there.”

Why did his life have to revolve around the comfort he got from a bottle? She’d done everything in her power to make Pa’s days easier since Ma’s death, but it hadn’t seemed to help. She’d given up asking him to attend church. In the early years he’d managed to find an excuse, but lately he’d simply said no.

Within thirty minutes of leaving, Leah stepped down from the buggy and wrapped the reins around the hitching rail in front of the First Commercial Bank. Hopefully she could speak to Mr. Hunt, the bank president, and get this over quickly.

She pushed her way through the heavy wood door with the engraved plate glass set in the center. This brick building had been the talk of the town when it went up a few years ago, but now several others had joined it, and it no longer seemed out of place.

There were still plenty of wood-framed structures, but fancy brick edifices had sprung up along the main street, and talk was that a wealthy man was thinking of building a large, ornate hotel, the like of which this city hadn’t envisioned. The last she’d heard, the town had grown to a little over twelve hundred souls—more than she’d ever thought would be drawn to this area. Of course, that’s what gold and silver did. It changed things … and people.

The door thudded shut behind her, enveloping her in a hush. Two tellers spoke in low tones to their customers, and a man worked at a desk in a far corner, his profile slightly toward her. An office door beyond him was ajar, but Leah couldn’t see inside. Hopefully Mr. Hunt would have time to see her.

She didn’t relish driving into town again this week, even if it wasn’t raining. That wind bit clear through her shawl and bonnet. She removed the bonnet, smoothing a lock, which seemed to have a mind of its own.

Leah crossed the polished wood floor and stopped in front of a teller’s cage, then waited for the man to look up.

“May I help you, miss?” His dark eyes flickered over her face.

“Yes, thank you. I’d like to see Mr. Hunt.” She removed her gloves and placed them on the counter in front of the barred window.

He raised his brows. “Is he expecting you?”

“No, but I’m sure he’ll see me. My father does all our ranch business here.”

“Is your father with you, then?” He leaned to the side and peered behind her. “What might his name be?”

“Mr. Charles Pape, and he’s not with me. Could you please let Mr. Hunt know I’m waiting?”

“I’m afraid not, miss. He’s not in right now. May I ask the nature of your business?”

“You may not. I don’t care to discuss that with anyone but Mr. Hunt.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I asked so that I may direct you to someone else.”

Leah tapped her toe. “I’m sorry, but you are the one who doesn’t understand. I don’t care to see anyone else.” She motioned to a row of chairs placed along the side of the room. “I’ll wait until Mr. Hunt returns.”

The clerk sighed. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have a long wait. He’s out of town until next week. You can come back then, but I can’t guarantee how long it will take to work you in. Mr. Hunt is always on a tight schedule, especially when he’s been gone for a time. Now, if there’s nothing else I can help you with?” He glanced at the man standing behind her. “I have several other customers waiting.”

“Fine.” Leah kept a rein on her frustration. The last thing she cared to do was make a scene in the one place that could help her. “You mentioned directing me to someone else.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m here to inquire about a loan.”

The gate in the low wooden barrier between Steven and the clientele entering and leaving the bank opened, and he swiveled his chair. The clerk stepped aside and beckoned to a woman dressed in a demure gray gown. His gaze traveled to her face, and he stiffened. He’d know that red hair and those green eyes anywhere. “Miss Carlson to see you, Mr. Harding.”

He rose and extended his hand. “Miss Carlson, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

She halted midstride. “I … I …” Turning, she beckoned to the clerk, who had headed to his station. “Excuse me, but I think there’s been a mistake.”

The man paused. “You want to see someone about a loan, miss. Mr. Harding handles the loans when Mr. Hunt is away, and ofttimes when he’s here.” He glanced from Miss Carlson to Steven. “Is there a problem?”

Steven shook his head. “All is well, Mr. Parker. You may return to your duties.” He stepped aside and motioned to the chair in front of his desk. “If you’d care to be seated, Miss Carlson, I’d be happy to help you.”

She appeared riveted to the spot. “Maybe I should leave.”

Something was amiss here, and Steven struggled to decipher what that might be. “I’m not sure I understand. Mr. Parker said you were here on business. Did you change your mind?”

The attractive redhead hesitated, seemingly torn between the seat he offered and the front door. Then her expression softened. “I beg your pardon.” She sat but didn’t lean back against the spindles. “You surprised me, that’s all.”

“Ah.” Of course. He should have understood immediately. “You thought I worked at the saloon, I suppose.” A smile quirked one corner of his mouth, and he pressed his lips together to keep it from blossoming further.

A soft flush colored her cheeks, making her all the more attractive, but she didn’t lower her eyes. “I imagine I had that coming. I hope you’ll forgive my ill temper and poor manners, Mr. Harding.”

Contrition bit at his heels. He didn’t make a habit of jesting with women—he’d simply hoped to lighten the mood and make her more comfortable. She had responded like a lady, and his admiration raised another notch. “Not at all. I am the one who must beg your forgiveness for my uncouth remark.” He placed his forearms on the desk. “Now, how may I help you?”

With a tiny smile, she settled into her chair. “Thank you. I’m here for a loan.”

Steven stifled his surprise. It wasn’t completely uncommon for a woman to request financial assistance, but from what he understood, Leah Carlson was single. “On behalf of your father?”

She stiffened. “Why would you assume that to be the case?”

He picked up a pencil and rolled it between his finger and thumb. “You aren’t married, and you live with your father. However, I may have jumped to conclusions. Would you care to explain?”

“I want to borrow against our ranch so we can increase our herd and hire more employees. Since the land is unencumbered, that shouldn’t pose a problem, should it?”

Leah stared into Steven Harding’s blue eyes. How could she ever have thought him a ruffian? His clothing as well as his buggy should have given her pause when he brought her father home, but at the time her anger at Pa had blinded her to those details. Seeing him in his work environment, it was all she could do to mask her embarrassment and ask for his help.