Nissa (The Widows of Wildcat Ridge Book 3) Page 6

  Hal shook his head. “You haven’t been out much, Buck, and when you do get to town, you think all women are dancehall types. Maybe next time Boss takes you into town, you should try attending church so you can see what the other kind of women are like.”

  Buck glanced over with a frown. “I know what the other kind of women are like. Even though I was pretty young, my ma was a good woman. Besides, Boss usually don’t stay in town long enough to attend no church. Sundays is usually when he heads back to the Grassy Fork.”

  “Most of these women are decent and have no interest in getting involved with a man who will only be in town a few days. That one there looks like she’s fallen on hard times, but my bet is, she’s the decent sort. She’d have found something easier to do than everyone else’s wash if she weren’t.”

  Buck sighed and shook his head at his too-serious companion. “You reason things through too much. Let’s go find a part of town where we can visit with some pretty women who don’t mind that we’ll only be around a few days.”

  The two left by the back stairs to necessaries shielded from the laundry area by a wood fence. From there, they made their way down the alley to Chestnut Street. As soon as they came out on the side of the road, the first thing they saw across the street was a fancy brick building with a sign reading “Crane Bank.”

  Hal nodded in the direction of the bank then pointed off to his right. “I think the mercantile is the building on the next corner to the west. I need to go over to the bank first so see if they’ll cash this draft Boss gave me. I heard there’s going to be a dance the night before the auction, so I figure I could stand to buy a new shirt and pay for a bath for that night. Also want to buy a couple of books if they have anything decent.”

  “Don’t buy none of those thick novels that make you think too much. See if they have some new dime novels.” Buck pulled his leather poke out from inside his pants waistline and jiggled it. “Figure I have enough for a couple of drinks, especially with what Boss gave us for food. Reckon I’ll save my draft for a bit.”

  Hal stepped into the dirt road. “See you in the mercantile.”

  g

  Hal’s impression as he entered the bank and pulled the door closed behind him was that the building appeared to be a mite pretentious for such a little, out-of-the-way mining town. He felt self-conscious, as if he drew the attention of everyone inside. His boots clicked as he crossed the marble floor to the available teller behind the counter with its high-gloss varnished wood finish and elaborate scrollwork on the metal cage. He raised his eyebrow in surprise at finding a woman behind the bars that separated customers from both the teller and the bank’s money. Usually, banks employed only men. Then again, this town did not have many men left to employ.

  “Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?”

  The soft voice that sounded like it belonged to a young woman rendered Hal speechless. He squinted and stared at the figure on the other side of the bars. She wore a black silk traveling suit, suitable for a grieving widow, Hal realized. Although her posture beneath her slumped shoulders bore evidence of the corset she wore under her clothing, he noticed, unlike many women who used a corset to accent their female curves, this woman remained flat-chested with a figure many men described as straight as a board. She styled her dark brunette hair, just a shade or two lighter than Hal’s own, into a severe bun. The style did nothing to diminish the clear, light skin of her face with her cheeks bearing a slight pink tinge. She had glanced up at him for a brief second, but her eyes, hidden behind her wire-rimmed spectacles, now focused on the countertop in front of her.

  Hal cleared his throat. “Yes, you may, Mrs….”

  The woman stood straight with her shoulders thrown back and lifted her chin to smile at him as she met his gaze. “It’s Miss. Miss Templeton.”

  Once again rendered speechless, Hal swallowed. The smile lit her face. Unlike the sour-faced, homely woman she appeared to be at first glance, her dress, usual facial expression and spectacles hid a beautiful lady.

  “Miss Templeton. A word with you, now!”

  Hal turned his head towards the short, richly-dressed man with mutton chop sideburns, a moustache, and a surly expression who had called Miss Templeton to him. He watched with interest as the woman, a brief expression of panic on her face, once again pursed her lips, dipped her head and assumed her slouched posture as she scurried towards the man who evidently held some position of authority in the bank. Although the man thought he spoke too low to be overheard, Hal picked up enough words to get the gist of the conversation. Hal maintained a straight face but inside he fumed.

  Her prim demeanor firmly in place, Miss Templeton returned to her workstation and stared at the countertop. “I beg your forgiveness at the interruption. How may I help you, sir?”

  “It’s Hal. Harold Summers, Miss Templeton. I came to see if the bank would cash a draft for me.”

  Never changing her expression, Miss Templeton glanced up then back at the polished wood counter that separated them. “That depends, Mr. Summers. Mr. Crane has just informed me that we are unable to honor any drafts for those who have come to participate in the horse auction. The assets of the bank are dedicated to serving the needs of the community.”

  “I see.” Hal understood more than this bank teller thought. He had overheard enough grumbling in the hotel lobby while he waited for Dallin to line up rooms for the three of them to know this same Mr. Crane intended to try to block the horse auction from taking place. “I’m just a worker here in town to help my boss. I only need enough to buy a few things at the mercantile and maybe some meals, plus chance using your local bath house. Spending outside money on goods and services in town would serve the needs of the community, would it not?” Hal smiled at the pretty woman who chose to hide herself behind a pinched-lipped expression and unflattering garb in hopes she would look at him again.

  Miss Templeton studied the draft he slid under the cage bars and replied without looking up. “This does not appear to be too great of an amount, not enough to buy a horse at the auction, I would think.”

  “No, I don’t intend to buy a horse. I already have one I use for work. I came in on the train.” Hal refrained from informing her his horse also came in on the same train.

  “I’m sure it would be acceptable for me to cash this for you, considering your intent to use the funds while you are in town. I assume you plan to be here a few days?”

  “Yes, I heard there’ll be quite the shindig, what with the dance and the horse auction. They’re always fun to watch, even if you aren’t there to buy.” Hal paused, wishing for her to look up again so he could try to study her eyes all but disguised by her spectacles. “Do you plan to be at the dance, Miss Templeton? If so, I hope to see you there.”

  “And why is that, Mr. Summers?”

  Hal had no intention of telling her all the reasons why he hoped this woman hiding something for whom he felt an attraction might be there. “Why, I hope I might ask you for a dance, maybe persuade you to tell me your first name.”

  Hal watched as she furtively glanced over toward Mr. Crane. He also looked over. Mr. Crane had assumed the stance of one filled with a sense of self-importance. He now talked with another customer on the other side of the room from the teller cage.

  Hal turned back at the sound of his money being slid across the counter towards him.

  Miss Templeton leaned forward until her face almost touched the bars. She looked him in the eye. “My first name is Birdie. Considering the dance is a community affair and we women from the church will be helping with refreshments…” Hal watched as Birdie checked once more that Mortimer Crane’s attention remained focused elsewhere. “Yes…yes, I believe it will be safe for me to attend the dance. I hope to see you there, Mr. Summers.”

  Momentarily speechless, Hal stared at Miss Birdie Templeton.

  Safe to attend a community dance?

  Hal folded his bills and shoved all his money from the cashed draft deep into his
pocket. He politely thanked the teller for her assistance and bid her farewell. He glanced again at her employer as he continued talking to a customer. As he walked out of the bank, Hal began to suspect why an attractive woman like Birdie Templeton assumed the appearance and played the part of a sour old maid.

  Chapter Eight

  W

  histling a tune he had often heard Curly play on his harmonica, Buck sauntered down the boardwalk on the side of the mercantile building. He rounded the corner and stared up at the sign that identified the place. Unable to read the sign, he knew the store with its two front glass windows on either side of the door was a mercantile by the barrels and bushel baskets of goods stacked next to its outside walls and all the gewgaws piled on narrow tables on the inside of the glass.

  “It ain’t polite to whistle in public, you know.”

  Miffed at the intrusion, Buck turned to face the woman who had spoken. “Says who?”

  Buck looked over the young woman who had criticized him on the public street. This one was younger—definitely out of the schoolroom, but not by too many years. Her face, with golden-brown eyes and a light splatter of freckles across her nose framed by her reddish-brown hair, appeared sort of cute. In spite of the clean but faded calico work dress she wore, she possessed a shapely, slender form eye-catching to any man. She looked nothing like the painted-up ladies of the evening he’d seen with their corsets pushing their bosoms out the top of their satin evening gowns designed to attract a man for one purpose only—to separate him from his money in exchange for a few minutes of pleasure. She was the kind of woman who wanted a man to take her for keeps, only Buck wasn’t in the market for that type of woman.

  Buck knew he should just ignore her and her snippy remark. However, as much as he needed to get rid of her, he refused to let her comment pass unchallenged. “Who says it’s not polite to whistle in public? Besides, criticizing a stranger in public don’t sound all that polite to me, neither.”

  “My ma always told my pa that, when he was still alive, that is. She’d tell him, ‘Jeb, it’s one thing to whistle in your own home, but you don’t go doing it in public.’” The young woman’s shoulders slumped with an air of defeat. “I suppose you’re right, it ain’t my place to correct you none, especially in public. Guess I owe you an apology for that. Ma says I’m my own worst enemy, because I tend to speak without always thinking about what I’m saying first, especially when I get a mite flustered.” Then she straightened up and grew defensive. “But how else do you figure I’d catch your eye so you’d notice I was here? You rounded that corner there, and all you done was look at all the Tweedies got to offer without looking at no one else being on the boardwalk with you?”

  His head cocked to the side, Buck placed his hands on his hips. “A mite flustered, huh? And why should I go noticing someone else on the boardwalk with me when it’s the mercantile I’ve got a mind to visit?”

  “Well, you know. To meet people. You here to buy a horse?”

  “No. I already got me a horse.”

  “Good. See, some of us here in town figure, with women still being in short supply out west and all, and most people knowing Wildcat Ridge is a town full of widows, some of the men who heard about the horse auction ain’t actually planning on buying horses. Some might come looking for wives understanding there’s a whole passel of nice women in town they might meet. I figured you might ought to want to meet one, yourself.”

  Buck raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You thought I might want to meet you?”

  “I can’t see why not. I got me a notion I might want to meet you. My name’s Miss Hilaina Dodd, what’s your name? And…are you married?”

  Buck shook his head. My, this sassy little gal was forward. “For your information, my name’s Buck Kramer—Buckley John Kramer if you want to get real particular about it, which I don’t. I’m not married, and I intend to stay that way. Since you’re so full of questions, let me ask you one. What kind of name is Hilaina? Don’t recall hearing that one before.”

  “It’s probably a regional pronunciation of Helena, a very old, but popular, woman’s name.”

  Buck looked behind him at Hal, who had joined them and made the comment. He returned his attention to the woman before him. “Is that your name? Helena?”

  “That’s what I done already said—Hilaina.” She looked between the two men. “He with you?”

  Seeing her mouth open and her shapely chest inhaling more air in preparation for asking more questions, Buck cut her off. “Yes. And before you go asking, his name’s Hal Summers, he’s not married, and he don’t plan on getting married, because as soon as this horse auction is over, we both will be headed back to the Grassy Fork Ranch in Colorado where we work and, believe me, it’s no place for women.”

  Hilaina once again slumped with discouragement. “Oh.”

  Hal chuckled and slapped Buck on the shoulder as he eased past his back. “She’s all yours, Buck. I’ll see you later in the mercantile.”

  Both Buck and Hilaina watched Hal enter the mercantile. After the door shut behind him, Buck turned to face the woman. Before he could politely make an excuses and leave, with a suspicious look on her face, she fired another question at him. “What was he meaning by saying, ‘she’s all yours?’”

  Buck shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess he’s leaving it up to me to say, ‘nice meeting you and good-by.’”

  “Why ain’t that ranch you both are fixing to go to fit for no women?”

  “You just don’t give up, do you?”

  Hilaina put one hand on her hip and stamped her foot. “No. I figure I don’t get nowhere by giving up.” Next, she sighed. “I’m right sorry. I know I talk too much. Ma says one reason Pa got to whistling so much was because that was one of the few times they could get me to hush up, because I was right partial to hearing him whistle.”

  “Is that why you stopped me—because I was whistling?”

  “Reckon so. Reminded me of my pa—not in a sad way, although I still miss him something fierce, but because it makes me happy he was my pa.”

  Buck had to admire the woman for having such strong, loving feelings about her parents. It also boosted his ego that she liked hearing him whistle—a talent not all the cow hands back at the Grassy Fork favored. “All right, I’ll answer you. It’s a pretty place, real easy on a man’s soul and all, but it’s also real isolated with no towns or schools or churches nearby. There’s a few ranches in the county miles from the Grassy Fork where the owners have wives. Word is, those women have a real hard time of it, especially when it comes time to bring a new life into the world. I think the nearest woman lives over a half day’s drive away from the Grassy Fork Ranch. So don’t even think about talking me into taking you there.”

  Hilaina bit her lip, defeat written on her face. “I reckon I won’t. I can’t. I got Ma here, and she already done told me she ain’t never leaving Wildcat Ridge. You see, my pa was killed in the mine, and she’s still taking it real hard. I mean, I am, too, but not like Ma. She done made up her mind to be buried close to him when her time comes. We live real cheap—Ma likes to call it frugal— in the poor part of town where the miners live. Well, where they used to live when we had miners still living here. She’s got her chickens and we got us a pig, so we got meat, and between the two of us, we grow a big garden and put food by, but it’s still hard with just the two of us. I can’t leave her. Just like most of these widows in town, I’d surely like to get married, too, but there ain’t hardly no men in this town worth looking at, and not being a widow with a business and all, I don’t got much to offer a man to get him to marry me, and then even if one was to look twice at me, he’d have to take me with the understanding Ma comes with me.”

  Buck stared at Hilaina, his annoyance at her chattering battling with his sympathy for her situation. “You done talking for a bit?”

  “For a mite, I suppose. I reckon I better let you go so you can join your friend. Even though you done made it clear you ain’t l
ooking for no wife, it was right nice meeting you, Mr. Kramer. Maybe I’ll see you at the dance.”

  “Guess it was a pleasure talking to you, too, Hilaina. Especially after you admitted you like my whistling, might as well call me Buck. Don’t go looking for me to dance all night with you, though. Wouldn’t want to keep you from dancing with all these men in town who might consider marrying you.”

  Hilaina huffed her annoyance. “That’s right fine, Buck Kramer. Don’t you worry none about dancing with me at all. I figure there’ll be plenty of men there for me to go dancing with.”

  Buck stood rooted in place several seconds as he watched the cute woman march away with a speed that made her rounded backside move from side to side in a manner he found far too appealing. He shook his head as he turned to enter the mercantile. He had to admit, he had enjoyed verbally sparring with the sassy thing. But, she was looking for a husband, and he was not interested in finding a wife. As much as he felt sorry for her situation, he needed to stay well clear of her. Buck quickly found Hal in the men’s clothing section.

  Before Buck could say anything, Hal offered Buck a knowing grin. “Don’t try to tell me that little gal was another one just right for me. We both know she was young enough to be just right for you.”

  Buck shook his head in denial. “No, she wasn’t right for me, not by a long shot. She’s sure-fire bent on finding a husband who will stay in town with her and her ma. I got no use for that.” Buck grimaced, stuck his baby finger in his ear and twisted it to and fro. “About talked my ear off. I thought she’d never hush up.”

  Hal’s grin widened. “She talks a lot, does she? What are you saying—couldn’t handle the competition?”

  Buck grunted and playfully punched his friend on his arm. “Let’s get what you need here and take it back to the hotel so we can find someplace to get a decent drink.”

  Chapter Nine