Dreaming on Daisies (4 page)

“Well, now.” He leaned forward. “I require a few more details. Is your name on the ranch deed, Miss Carlson?”

She blinked. “No, it’s not. But I help my father run it. In fact, at this point I do many of the outdoor chores as well as care for the books.”

He tapped his pencil on the desk. “I see. But you don’t have a legal interest in the land, is that correct?”

Her hope was evaporating as fast as a raindrop on a hot skillet. “What does that have to do with my request?”

“Everything, I’m afraid.” He placed the pencil carefully beside a stack of papers. “I wish I could help, but we would need Mr. Pape’s signature to grant a loan.”

“But I’ve lived there and worked the ranch alongside him my entire life. It will be mine someday.”

“Be that as it may, it’s still legally his property. We would have to place a lien against the deed, and we can’t do that without his permission.”

“Is it possible to acquire a personal loan?” She gripped her gloves and bonnet lying in her lap.

Sorrow or pity darkened his eyes. “Are you employed, Miss Carlson?”

Impatience touched her words. “I told you I work on our ranch. I have no time to work anywhere else. It’s a full-time job keeping things running there, especially when Pa—” She jerked to a stop. Mr. Harding had already seen too far into her personal life when he’d brought her father home after his all-night binge in town. She needn’t make things worse.

“I see.” He leaned forward. “Do you draw a salary?”

Her heart sank as realization set in. “I suppose that’s necessary, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so. The bank would want assurance the loan would be repaid, and you must have the ability to do so.”

“But if I had a job that paid a salary, I wouldn’t be asking for money.” Annoyance oozed from her voice, but she didn’t care. “That is the silliest thing I have ever heard.”

Steven Harding closed his eyes briefly and sighed. “I’m sure it seems that way, but it
is
bank policy.”

“I’ve lived in this town my entire life, and my reputation is above reproach. You can ask any of the merchants where we do business. We pay our bills.” She hesitated as a horrible thought hit. “Does this have anything to do with my father’s condition when you brought him home? I assure you; he’s a hard worker and cares about the ranch.” Warmth stole into her cheeks yet again, and she had to steel herself not to avert her gaze. She would never have come if she’d known Mr. Harding was the person in charge of approving applications. If only he hadn’t stumbled upon her father when he’d been drinking.

“This isn’t personal, Miss Carlson. If it were up to me, I’d consider giving you a loan, but my hands are tied.”

She rose swiftly. “Then it appears I was directed to the wrong person. I’ll return when Mr. Hunt is available and take the matter up with him.”

Steven stood and held out his hand. “Please. Give me another minute, won’t you?”

Leah hesitated, then slowly sank back onto her chair. “Have you changed your mind?”

He winced. “Not exactly.”

She started to rise again.

“Wait. I’ll take the matter up with Mr. Hunt on your behalf next week. Since your father is a customer here, it’s possible your request for a small loan will be approved, although I can’t make any promises. Would that meet with your satisfaction?”

She studied him for a long moment. “It would.” She allowed a small smile. “And I appreciate your offer to help. Shall I come back to see you next week?”

He shook his head. “I’m not certain when I’ll have the opportunity to speak with Mr. Hunt. I do a bit of traveling to mines and ranches on bank business. Since I know where you live, why don’t I swing by after I’ve spoken to him?”

Leah’s mind raced. Did she want her father to know her plans? She hadn’t thought the matter through that far. All along she’d simply assumed she could walk in and borrow a few hundred dollars—enough for a couple of good broodmares and operating money to tide them over until they could sell the four-year-olds they’d finish training this summer. Never once had she considered her father should be included. At one time she would gladly have consulted him, but his erratic behavior no longer made that an option. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer returning. I’d rather not have our ranch employees speculating on why a banker is visiting.”

“Of course.” He rose and offered his hand. “Give me at least a week, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Chapter Four

March 30, 1881

Steven pulled Mr. Hunt’s door shut behind him and crossed to his desk, regret and frustration battling in his mind. Nine days had passed since Leah Carlson’s initial visit. She’d let several more days pass, then had visited him again yesterday, to determine if he’d attained a decision from Mr. Hunt. At least he’d managed an audience with the man, but little good it had done.

He ground his teeth. Where was the joy that used to accompany this job? When he was in his teens, he’d longed to leave the farm and find a new start in the city, certain he could make a difference in people’s lives. But from what he’d observed, his boss hadn’t developed an iota of mercy in that regard.

The past thirty minutes had been spent laying out Leah Carlson’s request and balancing it with the young woman’s sterling reputation, all to no avail. John Hunt didn’t give a fig whose pride he trampled on, regardless of the years they’d banked here.

Of course, as he’d told Miss Carlson, it was bank policy not to loan money unless the customer had a job or property as security, but he’d hoped Mr. Hunt might make an exception. Maybe he was the one being irrational, and he’d allowed the young lady to cloud his good judgment.

Steven intentionally relaxed his tight fingers. No sense in getting worked up over something he couldn’t change and hadn’t expected to happen in the first place. Would he have reacted so if it had been a man who’d requested the loan? He shook off the thought, surprised at the realization that a personal attraction to Miss Carlson might have prompted this response.

He could only pray Miss Carlson didn’t arrive today. Hunt was in a foul mood over the loss of some mining business he’d hoped to acquire. Steven had barely escaped with a scathing comment concerning his lack of discernment in what type of people were worthy of loans.

Apparently the subject of Mr. Pape’s proclivity for tipping the bottle had made its way to his boss’s ears. It mattered not that Pape’s daughter was cut from a different cloth.

Possibly the best option was to drive out and let her know. Then he remembered her request not to do so. He placed his head in his hands and concentrated. There had to be a way to help. He’d tackled tougher situations in the past, and this one was important. A vision of emerald green eyes and creamy skin rose in his mind. Yes, sir, he’d find a solution, if it was the last thing he did at this bank.

At that instant the quiet of the morning shattered as a loud boom rocked the building and rattled the windows. Steven sprang to his feet and bolted for the front door, joining the tellers and customers at the expansive glass window overlooking the street.

Mr. Parker turned a pasty face to Steven. The teller’s lips were trembling. “What do you think? An accident of some kind? That surely wasn’t thunder.”

Steven winced. “It sounded like an explosion. I hope something hasn’t gone wrong at one of the mines.” He pressed through the knot of people and gained the entrance. Men in rough miners’ garb raced down the street, all seemingly intent on reaching the same destination. Stepping outside, he flagged down a passerby and grasped the man’s arm. “Any idea what’s happened?”

The fellow’s eyes darted from Steven to the men disappearing around a far corner. “A man rode through town spreading the word. He said dynamite blew in a small munitions shack next to the Quartz Lode Mine, on the outskirts of town. Took out several buildings around it. Not sure if anyone was hurt or not.” He shook his arm free and sprinted forward.

Steven slumped against the brick face of the building. The one-room cabin he called home was located at that mine site, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was only a stone’s throw from the shed where the explosives were stored.

Charlie Pape scratched his chin and stared at the messy barn. How had it gotten this way, and where was Leah when he needed her? A flicker of memory illuminated his fogginess, and he snorted. That ding-blasted bunch of women who worked on quilts at the church. He wagged his head and spat. Not that he had anything against the women, but making quilts for a bunch of heathens was a waste of time, if you asked him.

Wouldn’t his gal be better off helping him on the ranch? After all, since Tom ran off so many years ago, he had no one else to leave it to when he passed on to glory. Or wherever he ended up. He scowled. He didn’t plan on dying anytime soon, so it didn’t much matter. The point being, the ranch had a lot of work needing done, and he was only one man. ’Course, Buddy pulled his weight as much as he could with his bad back and all.

But no two ways about it, Charlie missed Leah when she wasn’t around. He didn’t plan to let her know that, how-some-ever. The last thing he wanted was her getting a big head.

He plucked a pitchfork out of the straw and bent over the pile he needed to move. Why had he ever thought to put it here in the first place? Another memory niggled—spending an hour pitching all this straw out of the loft onto the barn floor one night after he’d returned from the saloon. He could hear Leah’s chiding almost as clear as it had been when she’d found him, accusing him of having too much to drink and not knowing what he was doing.

At the time he’d bristled and stormed around, informing her he was her pa, not her child, and, by jing, he did
too
know what he was doing. As he gazed at the looming pile still planted right where he’d tossed it, he wondered if that were true.

But it wouldn’t do to start second-guessing his decisions, even if they did seem foolish in the full light of day. And it surely wouldn’t do to let Leah guess he’d wondered a time or two if the drinking needed to stop. But how to do that was the question. And what would fill the void if he did?

Leah halted her mare in front of Baker City Community Church and sat, enjoying the peace that flooded her. The building was so much more than a one-story structure with a bell tower and a stained-glass window.

These past three years she’d built a deep friendship and sense of family with the group of women who congregated here once a month to work on a quilt for a needy family. Occasionally they gathered more often, and each time Leah came away with her strength and faith renewed. Not that the women often delved into topics from the Bible or prayed together. It was more the unity and fellowship they enjoyed, as well as having a safe place she could bare her soul with sisters who loved her.

A shiver ran through her as a brisk spring wind kicked up. Even though it was one o’clock in the afternoon with the sun shining, the cold still penetrated. She climbed from the buggy and tied the mare, eager to see how many made it today. The group had grown this past year since Katherine’s mother, Mrs. Frances Cooper, arrived, as well as Beth Roberts—no, Tucker now. Leah would have to make a conscious effort to remember Beth’s married name, and her aunt, Wilma Marshall. Another change, but not quite as difficult, as she’d not been well acquainted with the lady before she married Dr. Caleb Marshall last December.

Hurrying up the three steps, she tugged the door open, eager to arrive in the warm side room where the quilt frame was set. She stripped off her gloves, hat, and coat as the heat from the wood stove penetrated and hung them all on a hook. Excited chatter emanated from within, and Leah stepped inside, glancing from face to face.

Katherine, her close friend and owner of the boardinghouse, sat on one side, her rounded belly evidence of the growing baby due in two months. Her face glowed as she leaned over the cooing baby in Ella Farnsworth’s arms.

Virginia Lewis bobbed her head at something Hester Sue Masters was sharing, and a silver curl escaped her cap. Wilma Roberts, no,
Marshall
—Leah smiled, amazed that she’d gotten it wrong already—stood not far away chatting with her close friend and Katherine’s mother, Frances Cooper. Everyone was here except Beth, but since she’d only been married a couple of weeks that wasn’t terribly surprising.

She lifted her hand in greeting and waved at Katherine, who made a move to rise. “Please don’t get up, Katherine. I’m guessing you’ve been on your feet enough today. How is everyone?”

Voices echoed from both sides, and Virginia enveloped her in a hug. The warmth spreading through her now lodged deep in her heart. She could always count on Virginia’s tenderness, no matter the situation or person involved.

Katherine patted the chair beside her. “Come look at this darling baby girl. I think she looks like her mama.”

Leah perched on the seat and leaned forward as a proud Ella sat the baby on her lap and bounced her. The little one wore a hand-sewn gown with a drawstring at the neck and smiled and cooed as the ladies crowded close. “She’s beautiful. I’m so glad you brought her. We’ve missed you on the days you’ve stayed home with her.”

Ella beamed. “Missy had a cold last month, or I’d have been here. I’m thankful we don’t have to deal with colic anymore. But I’ve been goin’ stir crazy not gettin’ to see you gals. I’m sure glad she’s doin’ better and the doc said I could take her out of the house.”

Frances clucked her tongue. “Poor dear. I remember when Katherine had colds as well as colic. I do not believe I slept for a solid week. That is one part of raising a baby I do not miss.”

Wilma nudged her in the side with her elbow. “Be careful what you say, Frances. Since Katherine’s baby is coming soon, you might well experience it again.” She winked at Katherine, then sobered. “Not that I wish it, you understand. No mother enjoys dealing with a fussy child. We’ll pray little Missy stays healthy from now on, as well as the baby joining our household.”

Frances smirked. “I wondered if you had forgotten that you will be within earshot of the baby, should she have a tummy ache or any other ailments that keep her from sleeping. In fact, I will be calling on you to help walk the child when Katherine and Micah require rest, so I would suggest you take those prayers seriously.”

Wilma rolled her eyes. “I declare, Frances, you do beat all. Caleb and I won’t be living at the boardinghouse forever, but I’ll do my part with pleasure, until the day comes we find our own place.”

She patted Ella’s hand. “I’m glad she’s better, and I imagine your husband is quite proud.”

The first-time mother nodded and smiled. “He shore is, ma’am. At first he was hopin’ for a boy, but now he wouldn’t trade her for a dozen sons.”

“I should say not!” Hester Sue interrupted. “I’ve raised both, and I must say girls are a sight easier when they’re young—until they start noticing boys, that is. Then they go plumb loco.” She rubbed her hands down the sides of her skirt. “Guess we should get to work. I reckon this quilt ain’t going to finish itself.”

Virginia pulled up a stool and patted it. “Katherine, you should stay off your feet. And if you get too tired, tell us. We’ll quit early.”

Katherine rubbed the small of her back and grinned. “It’s actually more comfortable standing. This little one seems to enjoy kicking every time I sit.”

Hester Sue ran her gaze up and down Katherine’s frame. “I’d guess from the way you’re carrying it, this one’s a boy. You got two girls already, so that might be a welcome change.”

Leah glanced at her friend, wondering how she’d take that comment. Katherine’s daughters, Lucy and Mandy, were two of the sweetest children she knew. Of course, Hester Sue hadn’t meant to be unkind. She was simply a little gruffer than most.

Katherine chuckled. “I’m not really caring if it’s a boy or a girl. But if Micah had his way, it would be twins. One of each.”

She shook her head. “He has a son, so he’d like a daughter, but I have daughters and have always wished for a son. But we’ll be happy with either.”

Leah threaded her needle and plucked her thimble from the basket. “There appeared to be some excitement when I drove into town. A lot of miners milling about the streets and smoke in the air at the far end of town. Does anyone know what happened?”

Several voices chimed in at once before Frances took command. “There was an explosion at a mine. That is why Beth did not come today. She and her mother wanted to make sure Steven was all right, since he lives somewhere in that area.”

Leah’s heart jumped. “How terrible!” She placed her thimble on the stretched quilt and gave Frances her full attention. “Was Mr. Harding or anyone else hurt? It would be terrible if the miners were injured. Beth and her mother must be worried sick about Mr. Harding.”