6

The next morning she set off to buy paint and supplies at Foster’s general store. She had to push her way through the other shoppers in hopes of getting waited on. Finally she touched the sleeve of a scrawny young clerk who didn’t appear strong enough to hoist the five-pound sack of flour balanced on his shoulder. But before she could speak, he said, “Sorry, ma’am, this will only take a few minutes.”

She pulled her list from her reticule, but he was already walking on.

“Hold on there, lad.” Patience heard a raspy voice from behind her. “Is that any way to treat a lady?”

Patience turned in the direction of a tall man moving toward them. His black hair beneath the fine black cowboy hat was so long that it brushed the top of his broad shoulders. He was smartly dressed in a paisley tan vest under his leather coat and sported a blue silk neckerchief knotted at the base of his throat. “Won’t you take a moment to find out what the young lady needs?” He stood waiting, feet spread apart in well-heeled boots.

Although the young clerk’s face flooded bright red, no doubt taken aback at the man’s intrusion, he stood his ground. “In time I will, but she has to wait like everyone else, mister.” He gave Patience a curt nod, then hurried away.

The man shrugged. “I tried, but how he could pass up an opportunity to serve a comely customer such as you is beyond me.” His blue eyes twinkled.

Patience felt her face grow warm. Comely—me? “Sir, I appreciate your efforts, but I can see the clerk has more than enough to handle. I shouldn’t have prevailed upon him to assist me. Thank you all the same. I’ll wait my turn and, in the meantime, see if I can locate some of these items myself.” She stared down at her list. Perhaps if I don’t look up, he’ll walk away. But he continued to stand there.

She couldn’t remember seeing him about town, but with so many coming and going daily, she’d be hard-pressed to remember every face—except for the fact that she wouldn’t likely forget his handsome face or his deep, raspy voice.

“I could help if you’d like,” he offered.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure you have better things to do.” She looked directly into his eyes, which crinkled at the corners. A slight smile parted his lips. Was he flirting or just being helpful?

He took a step closer and held out his hand, and she reluctantly placed hers inside his big, strong fingers. “Name’s Cody. Cody Martin.” He shook her hand firmly, holding her eyes with his.

She gave him a curt nod. “Patience Cavanaugh,” she said, pulling her hand away.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I have nothing but time. To tell you the truth, I just got into town. I’m looking for a job, so I’m completely free and at your service.”

“Well, that’s all good and well, and I do hope you find employment. But from your manner of dress, I’d say you’re more suited to ranching. Am I wrong in my assessment?” she asked primly.

He arched an eyebrow but smiled. “Matter of fact, that’s all I know, but I haven’t been lucky enough to snag employment in that field yet. May I?” he asked, motioning to her list.

Patience wasn’t sure if he really wanted to help or was only toying with her. Her experience with the ways of men was very limited. But somehow after a moment she found herself handing the list to him.

“Ah,” he murmured as he quickly scanned it. “I see you’re planning on doing some painting.”

“Why, yes. I own Creekside Inn, and I intend to spruce things up a bit.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that so? It just so happens that I’m looking for a room to rent, if you have any available. And I do know how to paint.”

She shook her head. “Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that. I do have vacancies, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to pay you for your services.” She took the list back.

His chuckle reverberated from deep within his chest. “It was an offer to help you while I find a job. I can pay for the room and board. I’m also pretty good with a paintbrush. You learn to do everything when you’re not out cattle punchin’.”

Patience was hesitant. She wondered how he’d be able to pay rent. “I see . . . Well, I can certainly rent you a room, and as far as the painting, we’ll have to see.”

“Right! Now, let’s see about finding the right paint and brushes, then you can lead the way to your inn.”

He was so friendly and energetic that suddenly she was giving in to his offer to help gather the items. Within a short time, she’d picked out suitable brushes and a paint color and, after a short wait in line, paid for it all.

Patience led the way down the boardwalk in the direction of Creekside. Her heels tapped a singsong rhythm against the boardwalk with Cody beside her, swinging two buckets of paint. It was a fine, sunny morning, and their pace evenly matched. Suddenly she was in good spirits, anticipating an improved boardinghouse filled with boarders. The man next to her was at least partly responsible.

“I’m determined to improve Creekside Inn to make it more appealing,” she told him. “I’m envisioning pale yellow paint out front to welcome boarders, then a fresh coat of paint for the parlor, along with new voile curtains that I can make myself to give the place a feeling of home and coziness.”

“I’m sure your ideas will improve everything. I’ll just be glad to have a place to lay my head tonight.”

“I believe the more my boarders feel at home, the longer they will reside. By the way, I serve breakfast and dinner for an extra fee. You’re on your own for lunch, and it’s up to you if you want those two meals included.” It was only half a block to Creekside, and soon Patience was swinging the front door open. “Mr. Martin, just set the paint pails here in the foyer for now.”

“Please call me Cody—my friends do.”

“Does that mean I’m your friend?” Patience caught herself, removing the silly smile from her face. I sound like a flirt! For goodness’ sake, what was wrong with her—acting this way toward some man who came along and paid her some attention!

“I certainly hope we can be. I’ve enjoyed talking with you and helping select paint,” he chuckled. His handlebar mustache nearly covered his upper lip, and it twitched with his smile. “Is it all right if I call you Patience?”

My, he was bold! She hardly knew what to say—she’d just met him! “I, uh . . . I think that would be all right.” She felt her face go warm, and her tongue was thick, but Cody only smiled. What on earth would Mother say?

“I’ll just need you to sign your name on the register, right over here, and I require the first night’s fee.” She removed her cape and laid it aside, then walked behind the small wood counter. She flipped open a green ledger, hoping she looked like a professional businesswoman. She heard someone clear his throat and was surprised to see a man sitting just inside the parlor open to the foyer. Jedediah?

“I didn’t see you there, Jedediah.” Patience nervously fingered a button on her blouse. “Have you been waiting for me? Or are you here inquiring about a room?”

Patience could see Cody watching Jedediah as he rose and made his way to the front door, then paused. “It can wait. Looks like you’re a little busy at the moment,” he said, his gaze on the paint cans by the door. “Go ahead with your customer. I’ll be back a little later.”

“If you’re sure,” she responded, feeling awkward and flustered.

He tipped his hat at them and quickly closed the door behind him without another word. She turned back to the ledger.

“Now, show me where you want me to sign,” he said. “I’m used to sleeping in hard bunk beds surrounded by a lot of snoring cowpokes.”

“I’m sure you will be comfortable here during your stay. Did you decide whether you want to stay by the day or week?”

“Since no employment has miraculously appeared, I’ll pay for the week and then go from there. Maybe something will come up.”

“Very well. The front door is locked after ten o’clock in the evening,” she told him, keeping her tone as businesslike as she could, “but you have your own key to your room. If you want me to clean your room, that’s extra. But I can supply fresh bedding, even laundry services, upon request, for an additional charge.”

She pondered briefly why this man seemed to make her so . . . so discombobulated! He paid the amount she quoted for the week and accepted the room key. “I’m going over to retrieve my bags from the train depot where I left them,” he told her. “Thank you for your charming company. We’ll talk later about getting started on painting the outside. I can help with that at least until I find work. It’ll give me something to do.”

“You’re most welcome, and I appreciate your willingness to help me . . . Cody.” Her tone was matter of fact, but she fumbled with the register book and quickly looked away.

———

It wasn’t the first time Cody had had that effect on a woman, but he was no womanizer. It’d been a while since there was a woman in his life. He spent too much time going from ranch to ranch the last few years.

But she was attractive in a down-to-earth way. Nicely put together—not some frail slip of a girl who couldn’t lift a mop bucket. Sensual, though, without realizing it—an even better attribute when a woman wasn’t aware she had it all. She had a quick mind, he could tell from their brief time together, and he liked that.

He sure was curious about the man obviously waiting for her when they’d returned from the mercantile. “Jedediah,” she’d called him. Was he a suitor? He looked at her in some way that made his visit seem like it was more than simply to call on some kind of business matter.

Actually, the man seemed familiar somehow, not so much his looks, but maybe his voice? And the man was wearing a badge—the town marshal?

Well, anyway, he mustn’t get tangled up with a woman . . . or with a marshal. They both usually spelled trouble. Besides, he didn’t plan on being in Nevada City that long. Best that he stick to finding work and continue with his plans.

Jedediah’s thoughts perplexed him as he left the Creekside Inn. Patience had seemed a little shy while she’d been chatting with her customer. It was surprising, but appealing. The two seemed to know each other, by the sound of their conversation. Well, it was none of his business. But he wondered what it would take for him to cause her to blush so prettily? Easy now . . . She’s too rigid and perfect for someone like me. I can’t be hemmed in like that—even if she’d want to be!

A hint of cinnamon wafted on the breeze. He headed down to The Star Bakery, his belly rumbling in response. Fragrant mixtures of cinnamon and other spices filled the tiny bakery and made his mouth water. Hannah was busy at her wooden table, kneading a big batch of dough he knew would be fresh bread by noon. Behind the glass-fronted counter were all those baking delights to tantalize his senses.

“Howdy, Jed.” Hannah paused to wipe her hands on a cloth, then hurried over.

“Morning, Miss Hannah. I would love to have one of your cinnamon rolls. But,” he bent to peer through the glass at the shelves, “I don’t see—”

“My earlier customers wiped me out, but I always save one for you just in case.” Her round face beamed at him like he was her son.

“Aww, Miss Hannah, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She reached under a linen cloth and placed the cinnamon roll on a piece of paper. “Want me to wrap it or you gonna eat it here?”

“I think I’ll take it with me and make myself some coffee. I always have work I should be doing.”

“No need to make your own. I just made some fresh. In fact, I’ll take a break with you, now that it’s finally settled down around here this morning.” Ignoring his protests, she poured two mugs of coffee. She carried them and he picked up his roll and followed her over to one of the small wooden tables.

“How’s life been treating ya, Jed?” She always got right to the point. “I heard you took the posse out. Anything I should know about? Robbers, criminals? You know I live alone here, and there’s plenty o’ no-accounts passing through.”

Jed laughed. “Why, Miss Hannah, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about. In fact, I’m pretty sure you can handle whatever comes your way!” He took a bite of the roll and a swig of coffee, looking into the older woman’s eyes. She’s a keen one, that’s for sure. In this rugged country, women—especially widowed women—learned survival skills or the worst could happen.

“To tell you the truth, we trailed that no-good outlaw until we reached the border of Idaho, then lost him. Just as well. Let the authorities there apprehend him.”

She gave him a serious look. “Can’t say as I blame you there. You have plenty of drunks and minor lawbreakers to keep you busy right here in town. Seen any more of Patience?”

He finished his roll, giving him time to consider how to answer. “Why do you want to know?”

“I guess you need lookin’ after, and I’m just the one to do it.” She gave him a wry smile. “Someone should.”

“Miss Hannah, don’t worry your wise gray head about me. I’m not worth worrying over.”

“Now, don’t say that, Jed. I know better. So, have you seen her lately?” She leaned forward expectantly.

“Well, yes and no. She agreed to pack boxed lunches for me and my men, but when I dropped by to pay her today, she was . . . well, otherwise engaged.”

Her brows knitted in a deep line above her nose. “Ya don’t say? Tell me about it.”

“Can’t rightly tell you. Some cowboy checking in as a boarder, I guess.” He flicked the crumbs he’d left on the table with his thumb.

“Mmm . . . That doesn’t sound like she was otherwise engaged, Jed.”

He snorted. “If you could’ve seen her face, you’d understand what I mean.”

“You’re beginning to sound jealous, but it doesn’t surprise me none. Patience is a fine catch. She lives by the Good Book and when she can get there, goes to church—”

Jedediah’s head jerked up and he slapped his thigh and forced a laugh. “That’s just the problem, Miss Hannah. She’s too perfect. Besides, I’m not looking for a woman, and she sure isn’t interested in the likes of me.”

Hannah’s eyes squinted. “You listen here, young man. You have plenty to make a woman happy, and a little religion rubbing off on you can’t hurt you at all!” She began gathering their cups.

“Give it a chance, Jed,” she said in a low voice, “before you go making up your mind about how perfect somebody is. There’s no one perfect in this world, and that’s a fact. Even me.” She laughed at her little quip, then leaned down and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m watching out for you.”

“Well, thanks anyway, but I don’t need looking after.” He pushed his chair back, pressed a quarter into her apron pocket, and gave her a pat on the arm when the bell at the door’s entrance jangled.

“For all that tough exterior you put on, I know there’s a tender spot buried somewhere in you, and I aim to find it.” With a quick wink, she turned to greet her customers.

He greeted a few of the good townsfolk and stopped briefly to chat with the Larson family, who were in town for the day. The two youngsters hugged their father’s pants leg while the mother’s hip held their baby girl.

“Stop by sometime for Sunday dinner, Jed,” the woman told him. “No need for an invitation. Just stop by. We’re always home after we get back from church on Sundays. You’re welcome to come along to church too—just a short trip over to Virginia City. What do you think, Pete?”

Church again! he grumbled to himself. Glad we don’t have one in town or I’d be nagged to death.

Pete Larson was nodding. “Sure, and we’d be right honored for you to eat with us.” He grinned. “If you can stand the noise.”

“I’d be glad to, and I appreciate the offer.” He tousled the two boys’ heads and gave each of them a shiny penny. They grinned happily, pocketing the coins.

“What do you say to Marshal Jones, children?” their father prompted.

The boys shyly stammered their thanks.

“Go buy yourselves a stick of peppermint,” Jed told them. He reached over to the little baby and stroked her chubby arm. “My, she’s growing up fast. And thanks for the invite. I better get going now.” He tipped his hat and headed for the office.

Later this afternoon, he decided as he settled in behind the desk, I’ll go pay Patience for the box lunches before I forget. But he had a hunch the cowboy would still be hanging around.

After a dispute about a claim jumper was easily settled, the rest of Jed’s morning went by fast. He settled back in his chair to read the newspaper after lunch. When he heard a high-pitched cry, he leaped up and ran out onto the boardwalk. Just as he feared, two doors down and high up on a ladder was Patience, paintbrush in one hand, pail in the other, tangled up in her skirts. She quickly lost her footing and fell, screaming and hitting hard on her back. Fortunately, the ladder careened the other way.

Jedediah had almost reached her when the man he’d seen at Creekside earlier began to lean over her. But Jed charged straightaway to where she lay, very still. He pushed the cowboy to the side.

He knelt beside Patience. Her dress was torn, and the skirt was in some disarray. He pulled it down over her legs, knowing she would be humiliated beyond belief if she knew it was askew.

“You! Go get the doctor!” Jed barked at the flustered cowboy, who paused, then took off at a trot. Jed turned back to Patience. “Patience, can you hear me?” His heart banged against his ribs. She wasn’t moving. Had she injured her neck or head?

A few passersby drew close, forming a semicircle around them.

“Is she dead?” someone asked.

Irritated, Jedediah didn’t answer but leaned in close to feel the pulse in her neck with his two fingers—something he’d learned during his years of chasing outlaws. He felt the pulse throb against his fingertips. He was close enough that her rosewater fragrance was perceptible, and he moved back, unsure of his feelings.

Yellow paint splattered her pale face, so he took out his handkerchief to gently wipe the traces of paint from her cheek. Paint also clung to her hair on the same side, now unwound from its pins.

He didn’t want to move her until he knew how badly she was injured. Then he heard a weak moan and her eyes fluttered open, trying to focus. She took a deep breath, and her hand moved to press against her right side. Thank God.

“Take it easy now. You might’ve broken something. I’ve sent for the doc.”

Her eyes opened and she blinked, attempting to sit up. He slipped an arm under her shoulders. “What—I . . . ?” she murmured, looking up at him, her face furrowed into a frown.

He shifted onto his knees, supporting her back, and patted her hand. Something had unexpectedly moved him when he saw her fall, rendering her helpless, frail, and unassuming.

Where in tarnation is that doctor?