Dreaming on Daisies (6 page)

Chapter Six

Baker City, Oregon

April 4, 1881

Leah entered the bank and paused, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. She’d wanted to come the day of the explosion but decided she should wait a few days. Somehow she doubted she’d find Mr. Harding at his place behind his desk tending to business the day his home was destroyed. Besides, as anxious as she was to obtain her loan, she wasn’t callous to the man’s loss, and she hadn’t yet gathered the courage to approach her father about signing the papers.

It was probably a mistake coming here without Pa’s approval, but a part of her hoped Mr. Harding was wrong. Maybe Mr. Hunt would agree to give her the money without Pa’s endorsement. No matter what, she had to try.

Leah stepped into line at the teller window behind a woman she vaguely recognized—Mrs. Evans, if she remembered correctly, who occasionally filled in on the piano at church. They’d not had occasion to talk much in the past, and Leah cringed at the idea of doing so now. The older widow had a reputation of being a gossip and a busybody. Leah kept her face averted, hoping the woman wouldn’t sense someone behind her.

Mrs. Evans pivoted and tapped her on the arm. “I say, aren’t you Mr. Charles Pape’s daughter?” She tipped her head to the side and the outrageously ornate hat teetered precariously. The gaudy assortment of flowers, butterflies, and birds danced as though working to right the creation.

Leah swallowed the giggle that threatened to erupt. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Leah Carlson.”

Mrs. Evans nodded, and her double chin quivered. “I knew your mother. Too bad about her. And a real shame your father never attends church. I’m sure it would make a powerful difference in his life if he were to start.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure you’re right.”

The matron raised her brows. “So? Why doesn’t he?”

Leah stiffened. The woman was certainly direct. “He has a lot to take care of on the ranch.”

“As does every man who owns a business or farm, but most of them manage to find time for the Lord.” She looked down an imperious nose at Leah. “But the majority of God-fearing men don’t spend their evenings in the saloon, either, I suppose. He needs a woman to take him in hand.”

Leah bit back a grin. “You seem to know quite a bit about my father, Mrs. Evans. Are you applying for that position?”

Mrs. Evans recoiled, her face blanching. “I should say not! It appears the teller is free, and I’m next. Have a good day, Miss Carlson.” She rushed toward the teller’s cage.

Someone touched Leah’s shoulder, and she swiveled.

Steven Harding stood nearby, his lips twitching. He stepped a little closer and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “I came to rescue you, but from all appearances you did fine on your own.”

This time Leah allowed a chuckle to escape. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Harding. I wondered if I’d escape being crushed by that hat, but I managed to survive.” She looked up into the man’s warm gaze, suddenly noticing how close he stood. A spicy scent wafted to her, and her eyes strayed to his strong jaw and cleanly shaven cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a half step back. “I hoped to speak to you, if you have time.” She followed him, chagrined now that he’d overheard her comments to Mrs. Evans.

He stopped at his desk and held the chair for her as she sank into it. Leah waited for him to take his place on the other side. “I suppose I should apologize for my behavior with Mrs. Evans. It wasn’t courteous to speak to an older woman in that manner.”

“Actually, I rather enjoyed the exchange.” He placed his elbows on the arms of his chair and laced his fingers together.

“I beg your pardon?” Leah’s lips parted, and she snapped them shut before her mouth hung open.

He dropped his voice. “She gives no end of grief to my tellers, and it was a nice change, seeing someone else get the last word. I’m not sure how you managed it, but I applaud you for pulling it off.”

Leah settled against the round spindles, amazed at the difference in the man when he smiled. His deep blue eyes gleamed with laughter, and his normally serious face encompassed her in warmth. She’d thought him handsome before, in a more austere fashion, but he was anything but severe now. In fact, she was having trouble corralling her galloping heart and runaway thoughts. That must change, and quickly. “Do you have word on my loan application, Mr. Harding?”

The smile faded. “Yes, but I’m afraid it may not be what you’re hoping for.”

Disappointment smote her, and she couldn’t tell if it was due to his words, or the departure of that charming smile. “Mr. Hunt turned down my request.”

“I’m afraid so. As I expected, he wants to speak to your father. If he were to come in, it’s very possible Mr. Hunt would reconsider.”

“Possible?” Her throat closed over the word, and she worked to breathe. “But I thought you said there would be no problem if Pa agreed.”

Mr. Harding’s eyes were sympathetic. “That is what I had hoped Mr. Hunt would agree to, and he still may. But I have another idea you could mull over, if you’ll be so kind as to listen?”

“Of course. If there’s another way of securing the funds, I’d love to hear it.”

“Well, that’s not exactly the case.” He held up his hand as she started to speak. “Give me a moment, and I’m sure you’ll understand. Then if you have more questions, I’ll be happy to answer.”

“All right.” She placed her folded hands in her lap.

He hesitated. “I assume you heard about the explosion at the mine?”

Leah gave a brief nod, unsure what this had to do with her situation.

Mr. Harding kept his steady gaze on hers. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll get right to it. My cabin was destroyed, and I’ve moved into a hotel. An expensive one, I’m afraid. I’m looking for another place to live, and you need another hand at your ranch. You did say that’s what part of the money would go for, correct?”

She scrunched her forehead. “Yes, but what does that …?”

“I thought you might consider allowing me to live in your bunkhouse for a while. It would be a great favor, and I would help with chores in the evenings and during my days off. That would save you from hiring someone right away, in case your father doesn’t agree to the loan.”

Leah was rarely at a loss for words, but she felt as though every last one had dried up in her brain—or gone to sleep and refused to awaken. She blinked a couple of times, trying to take in what he’d offered and what it would entail.

Finally, she managed, “I appreciate the offer, and I truly am sorry you lost your home, but I don’t think it would work. I need a full-time, experienced ranch hand, not a banker with his roots in the city who probably doesn’t know one end of a branding iron from the other.”

A twinge of guilt tugged at her conscience, remembering how the women at church had prayed, but she pushed it away. She couldn’t offer a home to every displaced man in Baker City, or she’d fill her bunkhouse ten times over.

“I may not be as uneducated about ranch life as you might think. I have some experience from childhood on a farm.”

She smiled, hoping to soften her response. “It would be a long drive each day to and from town, and doing work you aren’t accustomed to.”

Gathering her reticule from the chair beside her, she got to her feet. “But thank you for trying to help. If you wouldn’t mind talking to Mr. Hunt one more time, I’ll see what I can do about getting my father’s consent.”

“Of course.” He rose and held out his hand, grasping hers in a gentle but firm hold.

Her heart fluttered again, and she stepped away. “Would it be all right if I come back at the end of the week?”

“Yes, and if your father will sign the paper I gave you, and I can present it to Mr. Hunt, it may take care of the issue. Thank you for considering my suggestion, and I do understand why you don’t care to accept it.” His stiff smile said otherwise, but Leah didn’t want to delve deeper.

She took a step backward and bumped into the low railing that separated his space from the rest of the bank. “Thank you. Good day.” Right now she wanted nothing more than to escape the sadness in his eyes before she blurted out her willingness to give him a place to stay, even if he would be completely useless at the ranch. That wouldn’t do at all. She didn’t need a city man getting in the way.

Leah pushed through the gate and then paused, ashamed at how selfish she must appear. She straightened her spine. This was ridiculous! Why couldn’t she do what she thought best without battling a guilty conscience?

Besides, Pa wouldn’t be happy about her inviting a strange man onto the ranch. But did she really want to base her decision on what Pa would think, when he’d done so little to keep up his end of the work lately? Or was it more important that she at least attempt to please God, even if it meant going against what was comfortable?

She heaved a sigh and turned. “Mr. Harding, if you are unable to find new accommodations soon, let me know. Your sister is my friend, and I don’t want to see Beth’s brother living in an expensive hotel when I have an empty bed in the bunkhouse you could use for a few days.”

Before he could reply, Leah bolted through the gate and headed for the front door of the bank. What had she done? If Steven Harding accepted her offer, he’d be more trouble than help. But for some reason she couldn’t quite account for, the thought of having a handsome man on the ranch left her somewhat breathless.

Steven stared at the back of the intriguing, frustrating, beautiful woman as she all but ran from the bank. Leah Carlson lived up to her flaming red hair with her independent, albeit stubborn behavior and outspoken personality.
Intriguing
was the most apt word, however. Miss Carlson drew him in a way that set his heart racing whenever she was near.

He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, smiling to himself. He’d always wondered what type of woman would captivate his interest and never once thought it would be a feisty female rancher who preferred denim to calico. But, on the other hand, he couldn’t imagine it being anyone
but
her.

It was no longer a matter of finances or the inconvenience of how far from the bank he must ride. He liked the idea of not having to go days—or weeks—at a time without seeing her. He’d find a way to change her mind about helping her at the ranch for his own sake, as much as for hers.

April 7, 1881

Three days had dragged by since Leah’s visit to the bank, and she still hadn’t corralled her father about the loan. She sloshed through the barnyard, which was heavy with mud from the recent downpour, and pushed open the door to the oversized barn. Pa had insisted on building it three years ago, even though the old one was adequate.

She glanced down the alleyway, appreciating anew the multiple stalls and tack room. Pa didn’t do things halfway, and while she didn’t agree with this expense, she couldn’t help but admire it. But it was more evidence of their fragile financial state. If she didn’t get a loan soon to purchase more cows and hire another ranch hand, it could all come crashing down.

“Pa? You in here?” She walked to the tack room and peeked inside but found it empty. Soft footfalls overhead and fine hay dust filtering through the ceiling boards alerted her. Heading to the ladder, she climbed up to the hayloft. “You want help feeding?” She stepped onto the upper floor, keeping one hand on the side rail of the ladder.

Her father brushed off his jeans and grimaced. “Naw, I’m about finished. You’ve done enough today without doin’ my work too.”

Leah’s heart lifted. He hadn’t been drinking and appeared to be in an affable mood. “Do you have a minute?”

“What for?” He stepped to the trap door in the floor and raised it. He pitched several forkfuls of hay into a feed trough in a stall below, then moved to the next trap door. “Need help with somethin’ you didn’t get done?”

“I was hoping to talk.”

He propped the pitchfork against a wall and turned. “I told you I don’t wanna hear any more about what you think I’m doin’ wrong.”

She gripped her hands together. “It’s not that, Pa. It’s about the ranch.”

“What about it?” He glanced around. “The work is done for the day, and we had a fine crop of new calves this spring. Not sure what there is to talk about.”