Chapter Three
After stopping at the blacksmith's, Hank strolled to the small but well run hotel to eat. The normally ten minute walk, took closer to an hour. It seemed the women had done their work well. Offers of food, clothing and help at the ranch were given from the townsfolk. He knew they meant well, but every offer solidified his new status as a pitied single father who required help to accomplish anything.
Looking down to avoid eye contact, he sidestepped a large yellow dog sleeping in front of the seamstress's shop and bee lined for the hotel. Once inside, Hank found a table in the farthest corner and sank into a chair. Delicious aromas of food and baked bread enveloped him and his stomach grumbled in accord with his decision to eat.
"Hello, Hank. Coffee?" The innkeeper's wife stood looking at him, one hand on her bulky hip.
Finding no emotion, other than mild annoyance in her expression, Hank relaxed. "Just water, please, and some of that pot roast." He motioned to a man eating at another table.
"Coming right up." She lingered for a moment and his chest tightened. Seeming uncomfortable, she looked over her shoulder before leaning forward. "I know about Marjorie, saw her with that farm hand of yours just outside of town, a couple days ago. I didn't know she was leaving. Just thought you should know, you're better off. She would have made an awful mother. You'll do just fine on your own, Hank Cole. In a few days people will stop talking about this and move on to whatever is next."
She frowned and huffed at his silence. "I'll get that water and food."
Her words sunk in and realization broke through. Of course, she was right, once the news spread throughout town and everyone tired of talking about it, he'd no longer be the center of attention.
People in this town, for the most part meant well, maybe they pitied him on some level, but more than anything they wanted to help. Perhaps, like this woman, they agreed he'd do better on his own. Truth be told, if something like this happened to someone he knew, he'd offer help and more. Hank ate his meal with gusto, even the slice of pie placed in front of him when he thought he couldn't eat any more.
"There you are," In spite of her protruding belly, Carolyn Banks moved with surprising speed, across the mercantile to grab his arm when Hank returned. "I've got great news." She looked up with bright eyes. "Miles Dawson's Aunt Betty has been living alone since her husband passed several years ago. We explained to her about your need for someone to look after little Ashley and she readily agreed saying she'd gladly come and care for him until you find yourself a wife."
"A wife?" Hank's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.
Carolyn patted his shoulder as if soothing a child. "Of course, dear, a handsome man like you won't be single long. Before you know it, you'll be married and raising a brood of children."
Arthur Banks extracted his wife just as Hank was about to tell her that he'd no plans to marry--ever. "Now, now, dear, stick to the information you have for him so he can go talk to the lady and get back to what he needs to do."
A few minutes later, after being stopped by several more townsfolk who inquired about his situation and offered additional help, Hank made his way to see Miles, marveling at how many people the women had shared the news with in such a short time.
He hesitated upon arriving at the sheriff's office and with a resigned sigh, wondered if they approached whoever was in the cells to ask about childcare as well.
Miles Dawson looked up when he entered, his somber face not lightening at recognizing him. The sheriff's deputy, although a childhood friend, did not seem particularly happy to see him. His usual frown and downturned mouth in place, he grumbled and stood holding out his hand. "Damn lack of sleep is killing me."
"You already look dead Miles," Hank said, just to irritate him.
They shook hands and the deputy shuffled to a small cast iron stove and Miles poured a cup of coffee. "Help yourself." He motioned with his cup to another one.
"I came to see about this aunt of yours, Carolyn Banks says she's interested in coming to look after my son," Hank said, pouring his coffee. "I could sure use her help, if she's agreeable to the small amount I can pay."
A loud clanking noise sounded from the back. "I want coffee, too," a husky voice called out. Miles turned in the direction of the cell and then studied his cup. He disappeared down the short hallway and returned empty handed. "Next thing you know, I'll be cooking him breakfast."
"Who is it?"
"Toby Wise," Mile replied. "He shot John Davis during a fight last night and the sheriff’s keeping him ’til the judge comes next week. Davis is recovering, but he won't be using that left arm of his too well for a while."
The deputy glanced toward the coffee pot, and then seemed to think better of pouring another cup. He and Hank went to the doorway.
Standing outside, Miles rolled a cigarette and lit it. "I don't know if you remember her. Aunt Betty’s a sweet soul. She'd watch your son without charge to be honest. Has no need for money, my uncle left her well taken care of. She's bored, probably jumped to volunteer for the job as soon as Carolyn Banks mentioned it."
"Yes I do remember her. I'd be obliged to her for doing so. It's getting to be calving time and I'll be busy with that."
Miles watched his cigarette smoke twirl in the air. "I'm sure she's expecting you, lives in the house next to my parents, outside of town heading east."
"I know where your parents live, Miles."
"You haven't been there since we were teenagers, what ten years or so?" His flat eyes met Hanks. "Sorry to hear about your son's mother. Strange how some people are restless like that."
Hank swallowed the last of his coffee and handed Miles the cup. "Yeah, strange."
Betty Dawson's door burst open as soon as Hank rode up. His wagon laden with provisions he'd purchased from the mercantile and extra bundles that had appeared while he'd gone to see Miles.
He brought the horses to a stop and climbed down to meet the spry woman who hurried down the steps toward him.
"Well, I'll be. Look at how you've grown. I expected you to be tall, but you're a big fellow." Mrs. Dawson reached up and pinched his cheek, sending him straight back to being a teen again. "Come inside, let's talk." She slid her hand into the crook of his arm and walked him to the door. "I will need time to pack, of course, but that won't take long. I'll get Miles to drive me to your ranch tomorrow." Not allowing him to answer, she guided him to a chair in the front room and disappeared only to reappear with a slice of cake on a dainty plate. "Here you go, dear. Now, let's talk."
Although full after his meal at the hotel, Hank forked a large piece of cake and shoved it into his mouth waiting for Miss Betty to speak. The older woman beamed with pride when he smiled at tasting the delicious confection.
"I will not accept payment from you Hank, I'll take care of that precious child because it needs to be done and that's enough of a payment for me."
"I can't agree to that, Missus Dawson." Hank replied placing the empty cake plate on a small table beside him. "I expect to pay you for looking after my boy."
With a soft shake of her head, the older woman studied him and finally nodded. "Very well, two dollars a week and I will come back to town on Saturday afternoons and return to your house on Monday mornings. You can spend two days caring for him yourself. Is that agreeable to you?"
A smile curved his lips at her serious expression. "Yes ma'am."
Guiding the horses away from town, Hank realized Marjorie’s leaving while Ashley was still an infant was probably for the best. She'd never return and being so young, he wouldn't miss her.
Absently he rubbed his chest. Whatever he felt, the combination of betrayal and anger would lift with time and he'd heal. A smile curved his lips and he shook his head at how the women in town had rushed to his rescue. Women were an interesting lot, each so different.
Thanks to them his son would be well taken care of and he'd have the freedom to prosper the ranch, ensuring a good future for his son.
He br
iefly contemplated picking up Ashley from his sister’s, but decided to go home and unload his wagon. Afterwards, he'd check on his cows and get a good night's rest.