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But did she really want her employer involved in her dilemma that way?
Better to turn her thoughts to what she would prepare for Mrs. Flanagan’s evening meal and let the other matter simmer a bit.
A simple vegetable soup, perhaps, or a potpie could be prepared with very little thought and would leave her mind free to ponder her situation...
What would Mr. Walker and his two charges be doing for supper tonight? Maybe she could convince Mrs. Flanagan to invite the Walker family to dine with them one night soon. Having company to ease the monotony of the widow’s days would be good for her, whether she would be willing to admit it or not.
And it would, after all, be the neighborly thing to do.
* * *
Riley hurried Pru and Noah along. There were several things he still had to do this afternoon, and the sooner he settled the children at the hotel the better.
The most pressing matter was to get a telegraph off to Mr. Claypool. He always made a point of letting the Pinkerton detective know where to reach him when he arrived in a new town.
Then he wanted to take River for a run. The horse had been cooped up in that train car for much too long and would be ready for some exercise. And truth to tell, Riley was, too. He missed being on horseback—there hadn’t been nearly enough opportunity for him to turn loose and ride lately.
His mind drifted back to Miss Vickers. She was an interesting lady. At first glance he’d thought her a tomboyish adolescent. The way she’d stood so casually at the corral fence, elbows on the top rail, laughing with Noah—no wonder he’d gotten the wrong idea. And her slight build had only reinforced that impression.
Rushing to Noah’s aid with such disregard for her own well-being or dignity as she had, and then taking her fall with a touch of humor rather than dismay—there weren’t many grown ladies who would have done such a thing.
It was only when he’d stooped down to check on her that he’d realized his mistake. That engagingly rueful smile had most definitely belonged to a woman, not a child.
It was when their gazes first met, though, that he’d found himself thrown off balance. He’d never encountered quite that combination of innocence and humor before, especially mixed as it was with an air of maturity and resolve.
It was such a curious mix he wondered if he’d really seen all that in one quick glance. Still, the impression had remained with him. Of course, her cheery smile, and the dimple that kept appearing near the left corner of her lip, had contributed to the unexpected air that seemed to surround her. It bestowed on her a kind of unconventional attractiveness, even when she was sitting in the dust with a chagrinned look on her face. He hadn’t been so taken by a woman in quite some time. For just a heartbeat he’d been tempted to linger, to get to know her better.
And that had brought him up short. Because he couldn’t afford to let himself be diverted by such fetching distractions now, no matter how intriguing. Especially when there was no chance it could go anywhere. In another few days he and the kids would be moving on again.
“Uncle Riley?”
Noah’s words brought his thoughts back to the present. “Yes?”
“That Miss Vickers lady seems nice, don’t you think?”
It appeared he and Noah were thinking along similar lines. “I suppose.” Actually, “nice” seemed inadequate. Not everyone would have gone to such lengths to come to the aid of a stranger and then brushed off his thanks so modestly.
“And there are probably lots of other nice folks in this town, too, don’t you think?” Noah’s tone had taken on a cajoling quality.
“Could be.” Riley had an idea where this was headed and tried to cut it off. “But there are nice people everywhere.” He gave his nephew a little nudge. “Besides, who wouldn’t be nice to a great kid like you?”
Noah grinned up at him, then pressed on. “Anyway, since there are such nice folks here, don’t you think it would be okay for us to stay longer than a few days?”
There it was. “We’ve talked about this before. We don’t stay very long in small towns. Big towns are better for long stays.” Places where it was easier to disappear and not stand out so starkly. The only reason he’d stopped here in the first place was because the kids, especially Pru, had seemed unusually restless. It would do them good to get out and move around and get some fresh air and sunshine. “Besides, I have to be in Tyler for a meeting by Wednesday morning.”
Riley could tell Noah wasn’t satisfied with his answer. “I promise I’ll find us a nice big town to spend some time in real soon. Maybe you two could even go to school for a while.” He gave his niece’s shoulder a nudge. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Pru?”
The girl nodded. “I miss going to school.”
“That’s settled then. By the time school starts next month, we’ll be someplace where we can stay put for a while.” Assuming they could keep their relentless pursuer off their trail.
To Riley’s relief, they’d reached the hotel by this time and it ended the need for further conversation.
This whole business of moving from town to town, never staying in one place for long, was taking its toll on all of them. If only there was some other way. But he couldn’t afford the luxury of letting them set down permanent roots anywhere.
The well-being of the children depended on his keeping them several steps ahead of Guy.
His stepbrother.
The kids’ father.
Chapter Three (#ulink_80a2f9aa-1bf5-5b86-8307-6aff9c8a5aeb)
Cassie Lynn pushed open the door to Mrs. Flanagan’s home, her mood considerably different from the cheery one she’d had when she’d left here just one short hour ago. So much had happened in such a short period of time.
Dapple sat just inside the door, tail swishing impatiently. Seeming to sense her mood, the normally imperious tortoiseshell cat stropped against Cassie Lynn’s legs with a sympathetic purr.
She bent down and stroked the animal’s back. “Thanks, Dapple. You can be really sweet sometimes.”
That was apparently too much for the feline. He gave Cassie Lynn a baleful look, then turned and stalked down the hall, the very picture of affronted dignity.
With a smile, Cassie Lynn headed for the kitchen. “I’m back,” she called out as she set her shopping basket on the kitchen table. “Sorry I took so long.”
Mrs. Flanagan wheeled her chair into the kitchen. “Rather than apologizing,” the widow said acerbically, “tell me what that father of yours wanted.”
Cassie Lynn should have realized her employer had known he was there. How much should she say? “He wanted to give me some news about Verne and Dinah.”
Mrs. Flanagan raised a brow. “They’re expecting a new young’un, are they?”
“No, at least not that I know of.” She started putting away the items she’d purchased at the mercantile. “But they are moving out and planning to set up their own place.”
There was a moment of silence, but even with her back turned, Cassie Lynn could feel the keen stare the widow had focused on her.
“I’ve known Alvin Vickers most of his life,” Mrs. Flanagan finally said, “so I know he didn’t come all the way into town just to deliver news like that. He wants you to move back to his place and take care of him, doesn’t he?”
Cassie Lynn reluctantly glanced back over her shoulder and nodded.
“You didn’t agree to go, did you?”
“Not exactly.”
The widow’s eyes narrowed. “What does not exactly mean?”
Rather than give a direct answer, she hedged. “He was very insistent.”
“You mean he tried to roll right over your objections!”
Cassie Lynn gave her a tight smile that was part grimace. “I appreciate you’re concerned about me, but—”
“Ha! Who said I was concerned about you?”
When she’d first come to work here, Cassie Lynn had been taken aback by Mrs. Flanagan’s vinegary tongue, but it hadn’t taken her long to see behind the woman’s facade to the soft heart beneath. So she didn’t take offense at the words.
The woman settled back in her chair with a determined frown. “I’ve got a stake in that bakery business you’re trying to start, remember? And you can’t run it from that back-of-beyond farm.”
Cassie Lynn felt compelled to defend her father. “He’s my pa. I owe him—”
Mrs. Flanagan actually wagged a finger at her. “Cassie Lynn Vickers, you’re twenty-two years old, a grown woman by anyone’s reckoning. You need to grow some backbone and make that father of yours listen to you.”
Cassie Lynn grimaced, then turned away. Mrs. Flanagan might not say that if she knew the whole story. “At any rate, I told him I wasn’t leaving here as long as you needed my help.”
“Well, that’s something.” The widow gave a decisive snort. “And I have a feeling that I may need your help for much longer than we first expected.”
Startled, Cassie Lynn shot her a quick glance. Then, making up her mind, she decided to share her plan. “I do have an idea about how I might get around this.”
Mrs. Flanagan straightened. “Well, bless my soul, you do have some gumption, after all.” She leaned back with a satisfied nod. “Let’s hear it.”
Cassie Lynn took a deep breath. “It appears the only excuse my father will accept is if I was spoken for. So that’s what I intend to do—find a man to marry.”
The widow’s brow went up. “Just like that, you’re going to go out and find yourself a suitor?”
“I didn’t say it would be easy.” Cassie Lynn tried to keep the defensiveness from her tone. “And it’s not as if I expect anything romantic.” She didn’t have any notions of finding a fairy-tale prince who would look at her, fall instantly in love and whisk her away.
After all, she’d already contemplated a businesslike marriage with Mr. Chandler when she’d first come to town. So she’d already come to terms with that kind of arrangement.
But Mrs. Flanagan was frowning at her. “You’re much too young to be giving up on love. Don’t you want at least a touch of romance in your life?”
“Romance is no guarantee of happiness. And even if that was something I wanted, in this case there’s no time for such schoolgirl notions. So a more practical approach is called for.”
“I see.” Mrs. Flanagan crossed her arms, clearly not in agreement with Cassie Lynn’s argument, but willing to move on. “Is there a particular bachelor you’ve set your sights on?”
“I’ve been pondering on that and I have a couple of ideas. The main thing, though, is I’ve decided what requirements the gents need to meet.” She’d given that a lot of thought on her walk home.
“And those are?”
“Well, for one, since I want to continue pursuing my goal of opening a bakery, the candidate will need to be okay with having a wife who does more than just keep his house. And it would also require that he live here in town so I can be close to my customers, for delivery purposes.”
“Surely you also want to consider his character.”
“Of course. He should be honest, kind and God-fearing.” She didn’t expect affection—after all, this would be a businesslike arrangement—but she did hope for mutual respect.
“And his appearance?”
Cassie Lynn shrugged. “That’s of less importance. Though naturally, I wouldn’t mind if he’s pleasant to look at.” Like Mr. Walker, for example.
She shook off that thought and returned to the discussion at hand. “But none of that matters unless I can find someone who’s also open to my proposal.”
“And you’ve thought of someone who meets this list of qualifications?”
“Two. But I don’t really know the men here very well, so I was hoping that perhaps you could give me some suggestions.”
“Humph! I’ve always thought of matchmakers as busybodies, so I never aspired to become one.”
“Oh, I don’t want a matchmaker—I intend to make up my own mind on who I marry. I’d just like to have the benefit of advice from someone who knows the townsfolk better than I do. And who has experienced what a marriage involves.”
“Well, then, much as I’m not sure I approve of this plan of yours, I don’t suppose I can just let you go through it without guidance of some sort.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Flanagan. I can’t tell you what a relief that is.”
“Now don’t go getting all emotional on me. I said I’d help and I will. Tell me who these two gents are that you’re considering.”
“The first name that occurred to me was Morris Hilburn.”
“The butcher?”
Cassie Lynn nodded. “From what I can tell, he meets most of my criteria. Of course, I won’t know how he feels about having a wife who runs a bakery until I talk to him.”
“Morris Hilburn is a God-fearing man with a good heart, all right. But he is not the smartest of men and he’s not much of a talker.”
“Book learning and good conversation are not requirements.”
“Think about that before you rule them out. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with a man whose idea of conversation is single syllable responses?”
Cassie Lynn paused. Then she remembered the fate her father had in mind for her. “There are worse things.” She moved on before her employer could comment. “The other gentleman I thought of was Mr. Gilbert Drummond.”
“The undertaker? Well, I suppose he might be someone to look at. Then again, he strikes me as being a bit finicky.”
“There are worse qualities one could find in a man. Besides, a woman in my position doesn’t have the luxury of being choosy.” More’s the pity. “But I’m open to other suggestions if you have any.”
“I’ll need to ponder on this awhile.”
“Unfortunately, my time is short.” She hesitated a heartbeat, then spoke up again, keeping her voice oh-so-casual. “There’s actually a third candidate I’m considering.”
“And who might that be?”
“I met a newcomer to town while I was at the livery. He just arrived on today’s train.”
“A newcomer? And you’re just now telling me about this? You know good and well part of the reason I hired you is to have someone to bring me the latest bits of news.”
Cassie Lynn laughed. “And here I thought it was for my cooking.”
“Don’t be impertinent. I want to hear everything. How did you meet him? Is he a young man or more mature? Is he handsome? Is he traveling alone.” She waved impatiently. “Come on, girl, answer me.”
She decided to respond to the last question first. “He’s traveling with two children, a niece and nephew. I met the little boy first. Noah is about seven and such an endearing child—intelligent, curious, outgoing. The little girl, Pru, seems shy and quiet.” Cassie Lynn searched her memory for all the little descriptive details, relating these tidbits as vividly as she could, knowing Mrs. Flanagan loved getting these glimpses of the outside world she was missing.
After a few minutes of that, however, her employer interrupted her. “Enough of the kids,” she said with a grumpy frown. “Tell me about the uncle.”
Cassie Lynn paused a moment to pull up Mr. Walker’s image in her mind. “He has hair the color of coffee with a dash of cream stirred in, and his eyes are a piercing green.” A glorious shamrock-green that she could still picture quite vividly. “He’s lean but muscular, if you know what I mean, like he’s used to doing hard work.”
