Two days following the hog-tying incident, Will called entrance to the knock on his door.
Tomasina appeared, a stack of towels in her outstretched hands.
He raised his gaze from his ledger. “They’re not pink.”
“I didn’t wash them. I’m only delivering.”
“How is kitchen duty?” he asked.
“Never ending.”
He absently tapped the letter resting on his desk. “I forgot to apologize the other day for what happened with Mr. Daniels.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I’ve given Mr. Rumsford more latitude in refusing guests in the future.”
“Mr. Rumsford is only happy when the hotel is full of guests.” She lowered her chin and gazed at him from beneath her hooded lids. “Which means he turns a blind eye to all sorts of things.”
“Really.”
Tomasina stacked the towels on a chair for him to put away later. “Don’t mind me. I shouldn’t be gossiping. Forget I said anything. Don’t fire Mr. Rumsford over my silly comment.”
“Never apologize for honesty.” He sat back in his chair and slid one hand into his vest pocket. “Any other observations you might share?”
“Oh, no. I’m not falling into that trap.” She bustled around the room, straightening pillows and opening the curtains with a snap. “I’m not a snitch.”
“You’re not a maid anymore, either. Quit fussing with the knickknacks.”
She heaved a sigh and flopped onto a chair set in front of his desk. “Are you worried about something or planning something? I can’t tell with you.”
“Worried.”
“A burden shared is halved.”
“I did something I regret, and now I have to face the consequences.”
“This is getting interesting.” Tomasina rubbed her hands together. “Spill your guts.”
“You might take a little less delight in my suffering.”
“I might. But I’m not gonna.” She flashed a teasing grin. “What’s got your chaps in a twist?”
He slid the letter across the desk. “Daniel and I sent away for a mail-order bride.”
“So what? I heard you sent away for twelve of them, plus the four that came last month. What’s the big deal?”
He heaved a sigh. “This bride is for one particular man. She’s coming to meet Noah.”
“Noah Burgess? The recluse with the half-wolf dog who only comes into town for supplies?”
“That’s the one.”
She arched a brow. “Does he know you sent away for this bride?”
“No.”
“You are in trouble.” She threw back her head and chortled. “He’ll have your hides for pulling this stunt.”
“The news only grows worse.” Grimacing, he tapped the letter with his index finger. “Read this.”
She dutifully took the paper and scanned the contents. Expressions flitted across her face: humor, confusion and dawning sympathy. Whether for him or for the prospective bride, he wasn’t certain.
Reaching the end, she folded the letter and slid it back across the desk. “What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. Yet. I’ll speak with Daniel and we’ll find a solution.”
“You owe that woman an apology. Consider all the things she wrote. Constance Miller is a flesh-and-blood person. She has hopes and dreams, and she’s looking forward to a new life. With Noah. I’ve never even met the man, but from the rumors I’ve heard, he isn’t sociable in the best of circumstances.”
Will raked his hand through his hair. “I know.”
“Can you fess up real quick like? Before she makes the trip?”
“Too late.”
Tomasina pursed her lips. “Then you’d better tell Noah.”
“I will. After I speak with Daniel. There’s no use saying anything too soon. Once we tell him, Noah will stew. Since she’s already on her way, my friend might as well live in peace for a few more days.”
“Oh, I see. It’s Noah you’re worried about.” She smirked. “You wouldn’t be wanting a few more days of peace for yourself now, would you?”
“I gave up on peace the minute a certain redheaded rabble-rouser dropped into my life.”
“That’s fine thanks for saving your life.”
“Maybe we’re worrying for nothing. Constance has never met Noah. She’s never met anyone in town. There’s no reason she won’t find a husband.” Will tipped back his head and studied the dangling crystals of the chandelier. “For all we know, they may even fall in love.”
Tomasina snorted. “Not likely. From what I’ve heard, Noah isn’t looking for a bride. He won’t be happy when one arrives for him unannounced.”
“It’s too late now.”
“Why don’t you marry her?”
“Me?” A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “That’s ridiculous. She’s coming for Noah.”
“Just a minute ago you were passing her off to any eligible bachelor in town. You’re an eligible bachelor, Will. Why not you?”
“Because...because I don’t want to court her.”
The idea was hardly far-fetched. Up until a few weeks ago he’d been looking forward to settling down and starting a family. Dora had seemed a perfectly reasonable companion at the time. He was no longer willing to settle. His heart hadn’t been engaged before. Their breakup had revealed the truth.
“You still think Noah will like her.” A wry smile stretched across Tomasina’s face. “You’re a romantic.”
Oh, thank goodness. Her conclusion was better than anything he might have invented.
Will discreetly blotted his damp forehead. “I’m not a romantic.”
She stood and sashayed toward the door. “Will Canfield is a hopeless romantic.”
“Say one more word and I’m firing Mr. Rumsford.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I might.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure Constance Miller will step off the train and Noah will fall madly in love with her at first sight. When Constance sees him, little hearts will appear over her head and stars will shine from her eyes.” Turning, Tomasina placed her hands in prayer beneath her chin and fluttered her eyelashes. “They’ll marry each other and live happily ever after.”
She made a few annoying kissing noises for good measure. Will took her ribbing in stride. At least she hadn’t scolded him as Leah had. As was her habit, Tomasina cut to the heart of the matter. There was little chance of this situation ending well, and a very good chance Noah would never speak with him again.
“Tomasina,” Will called, “when is your next shift in the dining room?”
He was only being polite. He certainly wasn’t planning his day around her work schedule.
“Tomorrow morning. I’m serving breakfast. Why do you ask?”
He ate in the dining room quite often. Tomorrow was as good a day as any other for eating downstairs. “I’ll keep watch for rowdy guests. Someone has to save them from you.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Be nice to me or I’ll tell Noah your little secret.”
His gaze lingered on the swish of her skirts as she exited the room. With her sharp mind and quick wit, she was wasted at the Cattleman Hotel. What was her father thinking—raising her as a drover? Mr. Stone must have known she’d never survive in the profession without him.
Tucking the letter into his breast pocket, Will blew out a heavy breath. His own behavior was not above reproach. Who was he to judge others for their poor decisions? Mr. Stone hadn’t expected to die. Perhaps he’d had other plans for Tomasina’s future.
Either way, Will was on borrowed time with her.
Too bad, really. She was far more entertaining than facts and figures.
How would she feel about formal dinners and endless campaigning? His hands grew cold and he recognized the familiar dread that always preceded a fruitless battle. He pictured the future he’d built for himself, only this time something was missing.
He imagined the next months, the next days, even the next hour without her, and each second stretched before him with endless gray monotony.
What an irony. He’d decided to run for office because he missed the adrenaline of working toward an important cause.
Running for governor was tame compared to battling wits with Tomasina Stone.
* * *
Tomasina faced the hotel cook. “I wonder if we could keep this latest development between the two of us.”
The man gave her a look she was becoming all too familiar with lately—an expression that landed somewhere between anger and exasperation.
“You were on a trial period as part of the dining room staff. Your actions this morning have nullified that agreement.”
“Those children drove me to it.”
“The children were rather unruly, yes. I agree with you. We cannot, however, compel them to scrub the floors.”
“I don’t see why not.” Tomasina took a seat on a stool in the corner of the kitchen. “If someone makes the mess, they ought to clean it up.”
“That’s not the way things work around here.”
She lifted her chin. “It should be.”
The moment the family of four had come through the door, two of the older boys had begun taunting her. They’d deliberately tossed crumbs on the floor when their father wasn’t looking. One of them had even tripped her. The little beast had pretended it was an accident. When a plate had mysteriously slid off the edge of the table, she’d had enough.
Though she hadn’t boxed their little ears, she’d threatened the punishment. And she’d been more than willing to follow through on that threat.
“You can’t go boxing people’s ears and threatening violence toward the patrons, Miss Stone.”
The cook leaned over a vat of soup. The scent of chicken broth sent her stomach rumbling. The boys hadn’t been ornery enough for her heated reaction. She’d been short tempered of late. The conversation with Will had festered in her thoughts. The idea of him getting hitched to one of the mail-order brides had stuck in her craw. That was ridiculous. Of course he’d marry. He seemed the type of fellow who was building an empire. Folks who built empires needed a legacy, and children were an obvious solution. Her anger bubbled back to the surface.
The cook glanced at her. “You’ll find something you’re good at, but working with people doesn’t suit you.”
“You might be right.” Tomasina slumped on her perch on the kitchen stool and sighed. “It’s frustrating, you know? I’m already good at something. I’m good with animals. I know how to rope, ride and shoot a gun.”
“Well, that’s a place to start.” The cook chucked her on the shoulder. “You’ll find something you enjoy. Preferably something that doesn’t require contact with the public. Keep looking.”
“It’s no fair, being a woman,” she grumbled.
Mrs. Foster pushed her way through the swinging doors into the kitchen then patted her hair into place. “What is it now? I was having a rest when Simon alerted me to another disturbance.”
“I’m not cut out for work in the dining room,” Tomasina said.
“I’m shocked. Shocked, I say.”
“Me and the cook were trying to figure out if I was good at anything.”
“You drove cattle before, I believe,” the older woman remarked. “There must be skill involved in that.”
“Yeah. But who wants to see someone rope a calf? There’s no pay in that.”
“I disagree. When Mr. Foster was alive, we attended a show in Abilene. Mr. Foster had a sister living there. Fussy woman. Anyway, they had a fellow who did tricks with a rope. He’d make it twirl around and jump in and out of the ring.”
Tomasina’s eyes lit up with interest. “And people paid to see that?”
“They most certainly did.”
“Rope tricks are easy.”
Tomasina and the other cowboys often tried to show up one another with their tricks. It had never occurred to her that someone might actually pay to see that dubious talent.
“I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip. “I don’t think I can turn roping into a whole career. I’m not fit for anything respectable.”
Mrs. Foster harrumphed. “Crying about your lot isn’t going to change things, young lady, that’s for certain. A body has to make their own way in this world, by and by. When Mr. Foster was alive, I never worked. After he passed, there simply wasn’t enough money. The children were grown and gone. They had families of their own. I read an advertisement for a housekeeper. I’d never been farther west than the Mississippi, but I figured I’d been comfortable for long enough. It was time for me to try something different. I don’t regret the decision.”
She raised her eyebrows and tipped her head forward. “I don’t regret that decision even the past few days, when your employment here has been a singular challenge. I enjoyed seeing Mr. Daniels all trussed up. That lecherous old coot will think twice before he smacks another bottom. You must be good with a rope, because I don’t know how you managed to get the better of him.”
Tomasina smothered a laugh. “I caught him by surprise.”
“You’ll find your way, Miss Stone. Nothing ever stays the same. People think change is bad. Sometimes it is. But oftentimes change can open up a whole new world of possibilities.”
Planting her chin on her hand, Tomasina sighed. There was a difference between choosing to make a change and being forced to change. Maybe she’d given up on riding as a drover too soon. Maybe she’d given up on convincing James of starting up their own outfit too soon. Maybe, maybe, maybe...
Her hand strayed to her forehead. Recalling the gentle pressure of Will’s lips after the incident with Mr. Daniels, the strange feeling returned. That fluttering that began in her stomach and spread through her limbs.
The gesture had meant nothing to him. A comforting peck. Yet the sensations he stirred lingered. Rubbing her hand against her cheek, she felt once more the rough wool of his coat when he’d held her at the drover camp. She closed her eyes and heard the beating of his heart against her ear.
To him, she was nothing more than an annoyance. A nagging difficulty he’d yet to solve. One way or another, she’d solve her own problems.
She’d redouble her efforts in locating a solution. Sometimes the best way out of a difficulty was to circle back around to the beginning.
She knew right where to start.
“You’re right, Mrs. Foster.” Tomasina stood and untied her apron. “I’m good at roping and riding. Roping and riding is what I should be doing.”
“That’s the spirit, dearie.” Mrs. Foster pumped her fist. “What’s your plan?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I have one!”