Chapter Five
"Come on, Ashley, show your Papa," Mrs. Dawson urged the little boy who stood clutching the chair refusing to move away. On occasion he'd reach up with chubby arms for Hank to pick him up, not in the mood to showcase his new skills.
"Well, goodness." Mrs. Dawson frowned. "He's been toddling all around the house the last two days and every evening when you come home, he refuses to walk."
The grey haired woman shook her finger at the child who smiled broadly in return. "You are a rascal, want your Papa to carry you about, don't you?"
Hank didn't mind, as a matter of fact, he wanted to spend as much time holding his son as possible. Closing the distance he picked up the baby and swung him into the air bringing him down to kisses. The boy giggled reaching for his papa’s neck.
Mrs. Dawson chuckled on her way towards the bedroom she shared with the baby. "Spoiled is what he is and I have to take responsibility for my part. Spend too much time coddling him." The woman continued muttering until he heard the door close behind her.
As was their routine, the caregiver took a couple hours to herself after he came home in the evenings. She'd leave dinner on the stove for him to serve himself and retired for a rest, which she more than deserved as Ashley was growing to be a very active one year old. The woman was pleasant and good company, they'd settled into an easy relationship.
Mrs. Dawson stayed at his house everyday; she'd leave on Saturday afternoon and head to town and return on Monday morning. Her wagon was a familiar sight coming and going from Alder's Gulch, sometimes her nephew would accompany her and other times Hank. Thankful for the woman's no-nonsense ways, he ensured to pay her in a timely manner and did not allow her to do more than cooking, preferring to do the cleaning and washing himself. He was well aware he did not pay her enough for that.
His herd was growing, the fat cows numbered over two hundred now. All of Hank's hard work was paying off. If only he could drive the cattle further west, he'd make more money, but a drive was out of the question, not until Ashley was older. For now, he'd have to sell locally.
That night Hank rested on the porch steps, too restless to sleep. The only sounds the soft bristling of the wind through nearby trees and an occasional cricket calling for a mate. He lifted a guitar from the porch floor and strummed his fingers across the strings in a simple melody. Ashley and Mrs. Dawson had gone to sleep hours ago, but his mind refused to stop long enough for him to consider doing the same. Every so often restlessness came over him, like this night, making sleeping impossible.
It crossed his mind that he'd been alone without the company of a woman for longer than usual for him, but he quickly discarded the idea. What he needed was time with his sister and parents. That was it, he required more time with his family. Although his mother and sister stopped by regularly, months had past since he'd spent the day with everyone together. He'd visit Lisa Sunday; spend the day with her and the family. At the thought, his mind settled some.
Hank finished dressing Ashley after bathing him. The boy had finally walked for him and Hank crouched down on the floor urging the child to come to him once again.
It was early Monday morning, and the rising sun was already heating the day promising for pleasant weather.
Footsteps sounded on the porch, Mrs. Dawson returned from town. The door open and she called out to him.
"I'm in here Missus Dawson." He picked up Ashley to meet her at the kitchen door.
"Good morning Hank. My niece from Virginia arrived and you said it would be all right for her to stay here with us for few days. She came just yesterday," Mrs. Dawson told him while heading straight for Ashley, her arms out to the child who let out a squeal of delight.
"Yes, of course, Missus Dawson, I have long days planned and it will be nice to know you'll have help. If she doesn't mind sharing the room with you, Ashley can sleep with me."
"Oh thank you," She scooped up his son and turned to the doorway and peered out. "Goodness, I thought she was right behind me. Where did that girl run off to so fast?"
A child? Hank expected Miss Betty's visitor to be a teen-aged girl, not a child. "How old is your niece?"
Mrs. Dawson looked in the opposite direction. "Elizabeth, her name is Elizabeth and she's, oh, let me see." She placed her finger on her chin and gazed at the ceiling. "Goodness, I suppose she's about twenty four, now. She rode out with me on the wagon, surely some detriment did not come to her that fast. I'm sure she ambled off to look at something of interest." Mrs. Dawson settled Ashley on her hip and kissed the laughing boy's nose. "Hank, would you look around the house and ensure she's not come to harm? She's been through a tragic loss recently and I'm afraid she's not coping well."
Hat in hand, Hank walked outside toward Mrs. Dawson's wagon and turned in the direction of the barn. Next to a tree not far from the side of his house, a woman was bent at the waist petting his herding dogs. Both animals fought for attention, seeming to relish the scratch behind the ears she gave them. Her soft words lulled him closer to hear what she said.
"There, there don't worry, I'm going to pay equal attention to both of you," she told the dogs who continued to press against each other. He could not make out her features as long golden brown hair fell forward hiding it from him.
Most women kept their hair pulled up, but he preferred to see it loose like this woman wore hers. Seeming to sense his presence, she straightened and brushed the hair away from a stunning face. Brilliant green eyes widened at him and her pouty lips fell open. She reached out her hand towards him and then quickly retracted it. "You?"
Hank glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one. "Hello, miss, I'm Hank Cole. Missus Dawson, your aunt, cares after my boy."
Her brows came together and she studied him, her eyes shifting from his face to his shoulders and across the chest. Of course, Mrs. Dawson had said the woman was in shock after a disturbing loss. Hank wondered if that explained her strange actions and words.
"Would you please come inside, I'll bring your things in," Hank offered his arm which she took.
She flushed and pressed her lips together before speaking. "I'm sorry, I forget my manners. You must be Hank Cole. I'm Elizabeth Dawson. Excuse my astonishment, it's just you look so familiar. You remind me of someone..." She left off not finishing her thought.
Ah, so he favored someone she cared for, of course, that explained her reaction. "Is this man from Montana?" he asked just to make conversation.
"Oh no, he's not from anywhere..." her hand flew to her mouth. "You must think me mad. I'm sorry what I meant to say is no, he is not from Montana. What a lovely view." She changed the subject abruptly, stopped when they reached the porch and looked across the land to the fields where part of his herd fed. "I will stay here until you return with the bags, Mister Cole, I only have two small bags."
"Call me Hank."
"Thank you. I will, Hank." Her attention returned to the view and for a moment he looked in the same direction feeling pride in what he'd accomplished in such a short time.
Minutes later, he held a cup of coffee in hand while watching Ashley entertain the women who in return coo'd and offered enthusiastic applause at his little feats. The baby beamed, thoroughly enjoying all the attention.
Hank couldn't help but study Mrs. Dawson's niece, Elizabeth. Her exquisiteness was astonishing. He'd never seen a more attractive woman and certainly never expected to host someone like her in his home. The long burnished tresses were now knotted loosely at her nape allowing for loose ringlets to frame her oval face. A pert nose and pursed rosebud lips allowed her large, emerald green thickly lashed eyes to take prominence. She laughed at an antic of his son's. The sweet tingling sound sent a shiver falling from his chest.
He caught himself gawking and decided it was best he leave the room before his reactions to her got the best of him. Hank cleared his throat and stood. "If you ladies need anything, I'll be out and about, better get the day started.” He grabbed his hat and bee-lined for the door,
not giving them an opportunity to respond.
Once outside, Hank took a deep breath. Hot blooded is what Marjorie called him upon their first meeting. Although the last months kept him busy between the ranch chores and caring for Ashley, he'd spent more than enough nights wondering how much longer he could hold out without the company of a female. He'd even considered going to town and finding a willing woman at the saloon, just for relief, but he never followed through.
How long would Elizabeth Dawson remain? Surely Mrs. Dawson had told him, but like most things that did not require much attention from him, he'd not paid much heed, especially since he'd expected a teen and not a mind numbing beauty.
He reached the barn and saddled his steed, mounting and guiding the restless animal towards the open. With automatic precision, his fingers handled the reins of his horse. The animal's methodic gait along with the morning air cooled his temperament, until the evidence of his new visitor's affect on him deflated.
As was his nightly routine, Hank stepped out to the porch with his guitar and sat. He began to strum a melody that his father often played when he was a boy.
"The baby is asleep, he's in your bed." Elizabeth had neared and he'd not heard her. The sound of her voice surprised him and his fingers slipped across the strings of the guitar with notes that did not resemble more than a mess. Elizabeth winced and smiled at him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
The sight of her pretty face so close brought his body to full attention and Hank bit back a curse. "I was just about to head inside." He hoped his curt words would prompt her to retreat, to go back inside and to the bedroom she'd be sharing with Mrs. Dawson.
Elizabeth didn't move away, instead she moved closer and lowered to sit next to him. "I want to thank you for allowing me to stay for a few days. Saturday I will return to my aunt's house."
He nodded and stood, putting enough distance between them to allow him not to inhale her soft floral scent, but not so much to come across as rude. Like a shield, he held the guitar across his midsection.
"You're welcome to stay as long as you wish, Miss Dawson," he replied. Please leave sooner and don't ever cross my path again.
Her bright smile took his breath. "How absolutely hospitable of you, Hank. I could never take advantage of such an offer." Her speech told of high breeding, which he was sure meant she'd never remain in the Montana territory. "Please call me Elizabeth."
"How long do you plan to remain here in Montana?"
Her face pinched and she looked past him into the darkness of the hidden sun. Sadness stole her smile. "I don't plan to ever leave. I have moved here to live permanently."
"I see." He didn't. Why would a beautiful city woman move to the untamed Montana Territory? "Well, good night, Elizabeth."
He motioned her inside and followed, barred the door and headed to his bedroom.