Under a Falling Star (13 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

H
annah Donovan hurried through the doors of the Silky Hen, her thoughts crashing around like a handful of marbles in a tin can. She passed several occupied tables, and several that needed cleaning. So much for sneaking out for the funeral; her absence had put them all behind. Besides serving the multitude of hungry customers, she and Daisy were responsible for preparing food to deliver to some of the homes housing other folks. It was no easy task feeding so many people for such an extended period of time.

How could Albert have kept such information from Susanna? From all of them? She felt hurt, and even angry. She had advised Susanna to wait until she’d heard the whole story, but that didn’t do anything to stop her own wayward thoughts from conjuring up all sorts of reasons for Albert’s wife, ex-wife, whoever she was, coming to town with a son in tow. At the thought of the child, Hannah softened. He looked around Markus’s age. He was a cute little dickens, with serious, dark eyes that reminded her all too much of Albert’s.

She pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen to find her mother huddled close in conversation with her best friend, Mrs. Brinkley. Every time Hannah saw the woman she was reminded of the time her mother had planned to buy an expensive bolt of fabric out from under Mrs. Brinkley’s nose. Thankfully her mother had changed a lot since then. Roberta’s apron was spotted with gravy, and it seemed she hadn’t looked in the mirror for some time, since she had a streak of flour across her forehead.

The two women snapped up straight when Hannah entered the room. Daisy glanced over from whatever she was mixing, a relieved smile playing at her lips, and Markus, seated at the round break table in the corner, was too engrossed in what he was doing to even look up.

“Hannah, you’re back.” Her mother’s guilty expression stirred her anger. Thinking about Albert was one thing, gossiping quite another.

Hannah crossed the room and kissed Markus on the top of his head. “Yes, I am. Looks like you’ve been busy out there.”

Mrs. Brinkley patted Roberta’s hand and hurried toward the door.

“Don’t leave on my account,” Hannah called.

“I just stopped in for a second,” she said. “I have supper to see to myself.” The matronly woman waved and was out the door, but popped her head back in a moment later. “You have a new table out here.”

“Thank you,” Roberta said. She turned to Hannah. “I just heard the news!” The excitement that tinged her mother’s voice set Hannah’s teeth on edge. “I can’t believe my ears. Albert has a son! And what about the boy’s mother? Why was she on the train coming to Logan Meadows? It’s such a mystery.”

“And
none
of our business, Mother. Out of respect for Susanna and Albert, I hope you won’t speak of this to anyone. It’s going to be difficult enough for Susanna without wondering what everyone is thinking—and saying.”

Roberta cocked her brow and darted a look at Daisy’s back, as if embarrassed to be scolded in front of her. Lifting her chin, she started for the door.

“I’ll see to the new table,” Hannah said, feeling a bit contrite for her actions. “You’ve worn yourself out again today. Sit with Markus and have a cup of tea.”

Her mother reached out and ran a hand down Hannah’s arm. “I commend you for your loyalty to your friends. I promise I’ll be more careful with my words.” She winked. “All that said, I do think I’ll have that cup of tea now that you’re here. I haven’t had a break since early morning.”

“Good, you do that.” Hannah plucked her apron from the wall pegs and tied it around her waist as she proceeded into the dining room. She took a moment to scan the room, spotting a lone man at the table by the window who hadn’t been there a minute ago. Albert’s table, she thought with a wry smile. The one he took every day to eat his lunch and talk with Susanna.

As she approached, she recognized Mr. Babcock as the man she’d met when she brought biscuits and coffee to the train. “Welcome to the Silky Hen,” she said, trying not to notice his broad shoulders and rugged good looks. “I’m glad you decided to stop in.”

“Good day, Mrs. Donovan. I just got off my shift at the bank—as a matter of fact, your husband took over for me.”

At his engaging smile, she felt her face heat up.

“Gabe Garrison spoke so highly of your fried chicken with all the fixin’s, I just had to come give it a try. I hope you haven’t run out.”

“Of fried chicken? Never. Would you like a cup of coffee with that?”

“Please.”

Hannah practically twirled in her shoes and hurried off. Strange he’d come in today and sit at that particular table. She’d heard the talk around town, how Mr. Babcock came from Susanna’s hometown and how he’d helped Dr. Thorn set that poor girl’s arm. Seemed he and Susanna got along very well indeed. Ashamed for the direction her thoughts had strayed, Hannah went straight to the china cabinet without looking at her mother. She was doing the same thing her mother had been doing when she arrived. Speculating on things that weren’t her business.

“One fried chicken, Daisy,” she said over her shoulder as she gathered the items.

“Anyone we know?” Roberta asked, stirring the silver-plated tea infuser around in her cup of hot water.

“Well, sort of. It’s Mr. Babcock, the man—”

“—responsible for all that money in Frank’s bank! I’ve yet to meet him. Is he alone?”

Hannah was ready to push out the door, cup and saucer in one hand, the pot of hot coffee in the other, but stopped. “He is, but I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to intrude on his privacy.”

“Oh, pooh. This is Logan Meadows not St. Louis. We don’t hold to all those silly rules. I’ll only say hello.”

With a sinking feeling, Hannah preceded her mother through the door and across the room. She set the cup and saucer on the tablecloth in front of Mr. Babcock and filled it, hearing her mother’s approaching footsteps.

“Mr. Babcock, I wanted to come out and meet you.”

He was just lifting his cup to his lips, and set it back down and stood. “Ma’am?”

“Yes, I’m Roberta Brown, and Frank Lloyd, the owner of the bank, is my brother. I’m also Hannah’s mother. I’ve heard about the shipment from Denver you’re guarding, and how you had to dynamite the top of the train to get that poor guard out, as well as the money.”

Before Hannah could stop her, Roberta pulled out the chair opposite Mr. Babcock and sat down with her cup of tea. “I hope you don’t mind a little company . . .”

As Mr. Babcock was taking his seat, Hannah was heralded by a table who wanted to pay their bill, and then another who needed a refill on water. She wanted in the worst way to get back to Mr. Babcock’s table and draw her mother away before she had a chance to interrogate him about Susanna and their past. She hurried into the kitchen for a tray to clear the dirty tables, then made a beeline back to the table next to Mr. Babcock’s. As she approached, the two let out a round of laughter. What was going on?

“Your supper will be ready shortly, Mr. Babcock,” she said, sending her mother a glance. “Mother, give Mr. Babcock a little time to unwind from his stressful day.”

Mr. Babcock shook his head, then smiled. “I’m enjoying something else to talk about besides trains, guards, and the like.”

Roberta beamed.

“Your mother is quite entertaining.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Order up,” Daisy called from the kitchen.

Hannah just stood there.

“Go on, Hannah,” her mother said. “I’ll be right in.” She graced Mr. Babcock with a smile. “There is one thing else I’d like to know.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I
t w
as five minutes until six, and Susanna had more than a few jitters inside at the thought of seeing Albert. She wanted—
no, needed
—to speak with him, but every time she imagined the confrontation, a burning pit of anxiety pinched her stomach and ignited a flash of anger at his deception. Nothing felt right since that moment at the funeral. Why had that woman been on the train? To reconcile? Now she was buried in one of the coffins, and the boy whose head barely reached Albert’s belt buckle was his son.

Why hadn’t he told her about his boy? Surely he must have known. Thank heavens she hadn’t had a chance to follow through on her self-proclaimed promise to speak her heart to him. To tell him she loved him. Let him know she was ready to make a lifelong commitment.
Oh, heavens above!
The humiliation then would have been unbearable. It was bad enough now.

And what about that poor woman he married? Had the circumstances played out for her in just the way her mother said they would for Susanna if she ever gave her heart to a man? Maybe for Albert, the romance had been all about the chase, and as soon as they’d consummated their love, his ardor had cooled, and he’d left her with child. She wouldn’t be the only woman in the world to be fooled in such a way.
Thank you, Mama. You were right. I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.

Finished with the cup she was washing, Susanna set it on the towel she’d laid out on the counter and fished in the bucket for another. A handful more of the patients had left this afternoon, bringing a measure of relief. Some families had bought wagons from anyone willing to sell and were setting out on their own.

Brenna entered the room with a tray holding more dishes. “Dr. Thorn said you should take tomorrow off, Susanna. I can easily manage this on my own now that more of the patients have gone. And from now on, we’re to rotate our days. The infirmary won’t be needed much longer.”

Since the funeral, Brenna had hovered over her like a mama cat.

“Actually, that sounds good,” Susanna responded. They stood looking at each other, the undiscussed topic heavy in the air. “How could he do it, Brenna?” Susanna said, finally giving in to her need to talk. “How could Albert lie to me like that? I’m shamed and humiliated. As well as embarrassed and hurt.” She gave a deep sigh.

“And angry?”

She nodded. “Yes. Exactly. That’s why I’ll take tomorrow off. I think I could sleep for a whole day and a half, and still not feel rested.”

Brenna came forward and rubbed Susanna’s back. “Say no to anyone who asks for your help. You have dark circles under your eyes. If you don’t get some rest soon, you’re going to get sick and end up in one of these beds.”

Susanna smiled. “I don’t know about that.”

Brenna stepped back and gave her a stern look. “Well, I do. And I insist.” She paused. “Are you going to see Albert tonight?” she asked as if it were the most natural question in the world. She was trying to figure out what was going on, as much as Susanna was.

“I promised him I’d stop by as soon as I was off.” She glanced at the wooden pendulum clock and her stomach gave a nervous squeeze. “I should probably get going. Will you please keep a close eye on Julia? Losing her aunt has been traumatic for her. She doesn’t have a home to return to.”

“Of course I’ll look after her. I’ve become quite fond of that young woman myself.”

“By tomorrow, Dr. Thorn said she’ll be able to get outside for some fresh air. Maybe sit in the sun and read.”

“Don’t say another thing. I’ll fix up a nice place for her in the rock garden outside. And I’ll even bring one of my books from home, just in case she’s run out of reading material.”

Susanna went to the shelf that held their personal items and gathered up her shawl and reticule. “By the way, do you know what Maude intends to do with the rental now that Greg has moved in with you? Is it spoken for?”

“She hasn’t said anything to me. Why?”

Susanna didn’t want to discuss Albert’s plans until they were firmed up a bit more. “Nothing important.”

Understanding moved across Brenna’s face. “Say no more. Just remember you’re one of the strongest women I know. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. Now, I better get a move on.” She glanced at the clock as she passed into the main room. It was ten minutes after. She hadn’t meant to linger for so long.

Passing through the alley, Susanna stepped onto the boardwalk between the mercantile and the El Dorado Hotel at the same time Dalton stepped out the door of the Silky Hen. His face lit with pleasure when he saw her.

“Suzie, you’re the exact person I was hoping to see. Are you finished with your shift?”

She liked his gentle camaraderie. With Dalton, she didn’t have to face the troubles at hand. He knew her past, and still accepted her. She didn’t have to think of the embarrassment of being hoodwinked by someone she thought loved her. His expression reminded her of the time they’d come face-to-face in the livery in Breckenridge, both in their early adulthood. She’d been dropping off a neighbor’s horse who’d thrown a shoe, and surprised Dalton shirtless in the forge. His chest and arms shimmered in sweat and the sight had made her blush painfully.

Remembering how self-conscious he’d been that day brought a smile. Now would be the perfect time to ask him to keep what he knew about her to himself. She glanced in the opposite direction toward Albert’s office, then back at Dalton. “Yes, I just left.”

He strode up to where she stood. His gaze touched her lips briefly, making her look away. “Then can we take a little walk? I haven’t had a chance to thank you for helping me find Terrence and his parents. I appreciate that. The Sadlers are very kind. Funny though, how Mrs. Sadler seems to rule the roost out at the inn.”

“That was nothing. With your description I spotted the boy right away.”

Beth Fairington pushed through the mercantile doors, a feather duster in her left hand. Turning, she spotted them, and her mouth momentarily pulled down into a frown.

“Susanna, Mr. Babcock,” she said. Her tone was the most pleasant Susanna had ever heard her use.

Susanna had tried to like the woman, she had. But the way she looked down her nose anytime Susanna had business with her made that utterly impossible. “Hello, Beth,” she replied. “How are things in the mercantile?”

Beth smiled at Dalton when he tipped his hat. “Better now that emergency supplies have arrived from New Meringue. But what a chore keeping the accounting straight between the borrowed items. It’s given me the most atrocious headache.” She rubbed her temples as she gazed up at Dalton through her scant lashes. “Thank goodness Maude doesn’t mind doing most of it.”

Susanna snuck a peek at Dalton. It wasn’t hard to see that Beth had her sights set on him as a possible suitor.

“How is the guarding business going, Mr. Babcock?” Beth asked.

“Fair to middlin’. I’ll feel better when the soldiers arrive. I don’t like putting everyone out. Once they do, I’ll have a little more time to get reacquainted with Suzie—that is, before we load the cash and move it out.”

Beth was fingering the feather duster in a poor attempt at seduction. At his words, she fumbled the implement and shot a calculating glance at Susanna. “Suzie?”

Susanna had just started thinking that perhaps the hard-edged woman was changing her ill-mannered ways. The malicious light in her eyes said different.

“I was sorry to hear about you and the sheriff,” Beth chortled, unable to hide her glee. “Were you as shocked as the rest of the town? Keeping a wife and son under wraps must be a mite difficult. I’m just so sorry things didn’t work out. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

Susanna tamped down her ire. “You’ll be the first one I come to, Beth. I so appreciate your kindness. Thank you.”

Beth’s nasty expression turned into a pout when she realized Susanna hadn’t taken her bait. “I was only stating the facts. You must know everyone is talking about you.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if to clear away what she’d just said. “I’m sorry. That just slipped out.”

Serves me right for engaging her. I certainly know better.

Dalton tipped his hat. “Good day. Suzie and I have some catching up to do.” He placed his hand on the small of Susanna’s back to usher her away.

Beth’s face turned stony. “I merely offered my condolences to my friend Susanna in her hour of need. Anyone with a heart would do the same.”

“Your comments were meant to inflict pain more than anything else,” Dalton said. “It would do you well to mind your own business and tend to your own heart. Perhaps you’d have more friends.”

Beth’s face flushed crimson. “Haven’t you heard, Mr. Babcock? I don’t have a heart, just a hard chunk of granite in my chest.”

Dalton didn’t miss a beat. “People can change, if they want to.” He looked down at Susanna, and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks at his affectionate gaze.

Beth turned and marched into the mercantile, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled and the bells over the door sounded like a symphony.

Susanna watched with dismay. Poor Beth. It must be lonely not having any friends.

They walked a few steps until they were out of view from the store, then stopped. The sheriff’s office was only three buildings up and Susanna felt a burning need to get there. She was already quite late.

“How did you know?” she asked softly. “About Albert’s past and his son?”

He gazed up the street for a moment. “I heard about it in the restaurant. But don’t let that bother you. You need to hear Albert out. Give him a chance to explain.”

She should have known the men would stick together. “So, you’re on Albert’s side?”

He took both her hands into his own and waited until she looked up into his eyes. “No, I’m on your side. But I don’t want you making any important decisions without taking the time to think them over. I want your heart free and clear.”

As much as she wanted to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about, she did. A woman could get lost in his eyes if she let herself. “Dalton. I don’t—”

His gaze wandered to her lips again, and this time he deliberately let it linger. “I think you know. It was a moment of fate that brought me to Logan Meadows and us back together. I’ll not pretend that doesn’t mean a lot to me.”

She dropped her eyes to their still-joined hands. What was she doing? Discreetly extracting them, she glanced up to see Win watching from his guarding post at the haberdashery. “I need to be going, Dalton. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

She started to turn away and then realized she might not get
another chance alone with him. “I wonder if I can ask a favor of you.”

His brows rose. “Anything.”

“No one here in Logan Meadows knows my past.” She didn’t want to say any more.

“Your past?”

Surely he understood what she was referring to. He looked at her so long she began to wonder, then said, “You mean . . . about your mother?”

Was he playing dumb on purpose? “Yes.”

A look crossed his face—not pity, but understanding, and conviction. “You don’t have a past. Your mother may have, but not you. I’m sorry you’ve been carrying that around with you all these years. You have nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, I’ve always thought you one of the most honorable women I’ve ever known.”

She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Honorable?

“Look at me,” he said softly. “Please.”

She did. His sincerity moved her deeply as an invisible warmth wrapped around her. She pulled away, fighting back her feelings.

“Your past is safe with me. Now and always.”