Tiffany mumbled, “I’m going to cook.”
“You? In a kitchen?”
“Don’t make it sound so ridiculous.”
“But you don’t know how!”
“I intend to learn.”
Tiffany held up the book she’d purchased, then quickly stuffed it back into her reticule before Anna could see how thin it was. She couldn’t help wondering how much information it could contain if she could fit it in her purse. But she’d definitely surprised Anna.
“You’re really going to do this? I was sure you would have given up this notion of impersonating a housekeeper by now and demand to be taken to your father’s ranch.”
Anna might view her as a spoiled, pampered rich girl who’d never lifted a hand to help herself, but she was failing to take into account Tiffany’s stubbornness. “I’m not quitting and I will learn to cook. Besides, whether I hate my job or not, it’s still better than meeting my father.”
Anna shook her head sadly. “Is it really?”
Oh, God, Tiffany suddenly felt the urge to cry. She’d thought she was done with tears on his account. She glanced away without answering, concentrating on keeping the tears at bay. They had already turned onto a side street with small houses on both sides, yet another stable farther down, and a quaint church at the end of the street.
Anna opened the fence gate at the second house they came to, then glanced behind them once more, apparently to make sure Degan was still maintaining a discreet distance, before she said, “You still haven’t mentioned Hunter Callahan.”
This subject definitely quelled the urge to cry. “Because I’ve already found out that he’s a philanderer. He’s even trying to seduce me.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? It means he likes you.”
“You’re missing the point. He doesn’t know I’m Tiffany Warren, so it means he’s cheating on me! And I also saw him flirting with one of the Callahan maids today in town.”
“Why do you sound so indignant about it? You haven’t ‘officially’ arrived yet. Did you really think he would remain celibate all these years? It’s what happens after the marriage that counts, not before—well, not before the couple even meets.”
Tiffany could see the logic in what Anna was saying, but logic had no place in the welter of emotions she was experiencing. It was almost as if she considered Hunter to be hers, when she didn’t want that at all!
“I wonder if your two months in Montana have even begun yet,” Anna added. “As long as you’re pretending to be someone other than yourself, no courtship can commence.”
“My mother stipulated that time period for me to decide if I want to marry Hunter, not for him to decide if he wants to marry me.”
“But how is he going to woo you if he doesn’t know it’s you?”
Tiffany didn’t want to answer that because her answer would be she didn’t want to be wooed, at least not in Montana. Her goal was to go home to New York so she could live a normal life, the life she’d been raised to expect. But she did have one other goal she hadn’t completely thought through yet, so she didn’t want to mention that either. She wanted to hear both families’ views of the feud to see if she could find a way to defuse it without having to marry a cowboy. In that she was thinking of her brothers’ safety, not just the promise she’d made to her mother.
When she didn’t answer, Anna pointed out, “You don’t have to pretend with these people, you know. So you don’t want to stay with a father you don’t know. Fine. But the Callahans are expecting you, too. They’ll be pleased to have you under their roof. Having been betrothed to the eldest son your whole life, you’re practically like family already.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “That negates my plan of getting to know what they are really like.”
Tiffany put an end to the irritating conversation by knocking on the seamstress’s door. Agnes Martin was a sweet old lady who led them into her parlor and offered them tea. Tiffany was surprised to find that she already knew Anna.
“Have you decided to work for my husband, Miss Weston?” was the first thing Agnes said.
“I’m still thinking about it, ma’am,” Anna replied, then blushed when Tiffany gave her a questioning look.
“Good, he could really use the help and—”
A gasp from the hall drew their eyes to a young man holding a broom. He was a little taller than Tiffany, but she could tell from his face and his scrawny physique that he was a few years younger than she was.
The seamstress was immediately contrite. “I’m sorry, Andy, I know you wanted that job, but my husband is too old to teach someone his trade. Miss Weston is already an experienced carpenter.”
Embarrassed, Agnes excused herself and left the room to get the tea. Tiffany, incredulous, asked the maid, “How did that come about? You’ve only been here a day!”
Anna grinned. “I explored the town yesterday after you left. I was passing the furniture store and heard the hammering inside. I love the smell of fresh-cut wood and couldn’t resist going in. The Martins were both there and we started talking. The moment I mentioned my father is a carpenter and that he taught me a thing or two, the owner offered me a job.”
“You’re not actually considering it, are you?”
“Do you know how rare it is for a woman to get offered a job like that? It would never happen back East. So, yes, I am thinking about it. It would give me something to do until you come to your senses.”
As Agnes was returning with a tea tray, Tiffany heard her say to her helper as she passed him in the hallway, “I don’t have anything else for you to do today, Andy, after you finish up the sweeping. You can check with me again next week.”
Tiffany, mindful that Degan was waiting for her outside, told the seamstress what she needed and was taken to the back room where Agnes worked. Although she only wanted a few skirts and blouses, and nightgowns, measurements still had to be taken and materials selected. She was too impatient to look through Agnes’s design books though and simply told her to make something suitable for kitchen work and offered to pay her extra if she could finish the order in just a few days.
Then it occurred to her to ask, “Does that boy need a job?”
Agnes nodded. “Indeed he does. He even mucks out the stable in exchange for feed for his horse and a bale of hay to sleep on. He’s tried to obtain more gainful employment everywhere in town, but he’s not experienced in anything other than odd jobs, and there aren’t even many of those around here. I’ve been letting him do some of my own chores because I feel sorry for him.”
“Is he reliable? Trustworthy?”
“Yes, and polite, too. He arrived in town a few weeks ago. Hails from Wisconsin. He’s not a drifter, but I expect he won’t be around any longer than it takes him to earn enough to move on. He’s just not having any luck with that. Do you have a job for him?”
“I might, for a couple of months at least—but not if he’s going to leave before he barely gets started.”
Agnes shrugged. “Ask him. He came West to find his father, has been going from town to town looking for him, but some steady work might convince him that earning more’n his next meal for a while might help him achieve his goal. Let me fetch him for you before he leaves, and you two can figure it out. Oh, and if you’re interested in marriage, keep our sheriff in mind. He’s a good man. We’d hate to lose him just because he’s hankering for a wife and can’t find one here.”
Tiffany was not going to reply to that gossipy tidbit, but Agnes didn’t seem to expect her to, and a few moments later the lanky teenage boy, broom still in hand, came in to meet her. He had freckles, sandy-brown hair, and brown eyes. Tiffany understood now why he was so skinny—he probably wasn’t getting a meal every day, much less three. But he was presentable, clean, and Agnes must have told him he was going to be offered a job because he looked so eager.
Tiffany smiled at him. “I’m Jennifer Fleming.”
“Andrew Buffalo, ma’am,” he offered bashfully.<
br />
“Well, Andrew, I’ve been hired to cook at a ranch near here and I need a kitchen helper. The job doesn’t require experience, just hard work and diligence. Are you interested?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Tiffany was nearly as excited as the boy appeared. She had accomplished all of her errands after all. So much for Degan’s and Hunter’s both scoffing at her intention to find a helper.
But before she celebrated a victory she had to learn more about Andrew. “I do require that you keep the job for two months at least—or as long as I do.” When the boy nodded, she continued, “So tell me a little about yourself. Mrs. Martin said you came West to look for your father. Do you have reason to think he’s in Montana Territory?”
“Well, the last place he wrote from is a ghost town now. But that was several years ago. Heard the land up here is rich with ore. Figured he would have heard it, too, so I thought I should at least check some of the bigger mining towns like Butte and Helena. Just haven’t earned my way that far West yet.”
“He stopped writing?”
“Yeah, after the last of us kids were grown. I finally figured out he wasn’t coming home. Him and my ma never did get along. She never expected him to come back.”
“So you don’t know if he struck it rich, or—or if he’s even still alive?”
Andrew shook his head. “I don’t think he’s dead, but I don’t think he’s trying to strike it rich anymore either. His last letter was full of despair, said he got claim-jumped, that it was too dangerous to go it alone anymore, so he was going to mine for someone else.”
That was so sad, and Andrew’s mission seemed next to impossible. The West was just too big a place to find his father if he had no trail to follow.
“You haven’t thought of giving up and going home?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I think of it each time my belly growls. I take work when I can find it, long enough to save up enough to hit the next town. I’d really like to at least see my pa once more before I go home, maybe beat the tar out of him for leaving us for something that never did pan out. I don’t know. Each time I think I’ve had enough, I get the gumption to go on. It’s not as if I’m needed back home. My sisters are married and my ma is fine, she’s a hatmaker with her own shop. But maybe my pa needs me.”
“You’re a good son, Andrew,” Tiffany said with a smile. “If you’re agreeable to my terms, gather your belongings and meet me at the restaurant for lunch. It’s my last stop before we return to the ranch.”
He gave her a big smile and rushed out of there so fast she nearly laughed. She rejoined Anna in the parlor, so pleased with her success she had to share it. But mindful that Degan might soon be banging on the door, she invited the maid to lunch.
Anna declined. “Agnes already asked me to share hers. Besides, do you really want your employers asking me questions over lunch?”
Tiffany winced. “No, I’ll see you in a few days then when I pick up my work clothes.”
“No wincing and no complaints. You can end this charade at any time.”
Tiffany walked away in a huff, and when she stepped outside, it wasn’t Degan sitting on the porch steps waiting for her. Hunter had taken his place.
Chapter Twenty
“DID MR. GRANT RETURN TO the ranch?” Tiffany asked as Hunter stood up.
“No, he had a few errands of his own, and since you’ve already taken up half the day with yours, I told him to go ahead. He’ll be meeting us at the restaurant. I hear you’re still determined to stop there for a meal.”
His tone sounded aggrieved, but she was feeling too good about her accomplishment not to share it. “I’ve hired a boy named Andrew Buffalo to help in the kitchen. You may have seen him running out of here.”
“Yeah, couldn’t help noticing when he nearly tripped over me. But what do you mean you hired him? Didn’t think you’d find anyone, but since you did, you should’ve just let Pa know so he could decide whether to hire him.”
“I wasn’t asking for permission. Your father can pay him or I will. But your previous cook had a helper. If you think I won’t insist on the same, think again.”
Since she was pretty much butting heads with him, the last thing she expected to hear at that moment was his laugh.
“You’re damned bossy—for an employee,” he said with an engaging grin.
“Thankfully I don’t work for you, but for your father,” she retorted.
“Do you really see a difference? Around here, a Callahan is a Callahan.”
“Where I come from, a housekeeper isn’t a cook.”
“Yeah, but I definitely like the idea of you working for me,” he said with another laugh.
Why would that remark so amuse him? Or were they even still talking about the same thing? Feeling suddenly out of her depth, Tiffany headed back toward the restaurant and what would hopefully not be her one and only good meal for the next two months.
“You said his name is Buffalo, huh?” Hunter said as they returned to the boardwalk on the main street. “You know that’s a fake name, right?”
“Is it? Does it matter?”
“No, as long as he’s not running from the law.”
“Don’t be absurd. He’s just a boy.”
“So? I’ve seen them younger than him in gunfights. You’d be amazed at how many boys come West looking for excitement and, when they don’t find any, create some of their own. But it’s usually only the ones that run into trouble that change their names.”
“If he were an outlaw, he’d likely be well fed, don’t you think?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Mrs. Martin has vouched for him,” she gritted out.
“Agnes did? Well, hell, why didn’t you just say that to begin with? I’ll trust her judgment.”
His approval came too late. Whether he’d meant to or not, he’d put a damper on how good she’d been feeling about hiring Andrew, and now she was annoyed with Hunter. So when he tried to take her arm to cross the street, she pulled her arm back and kept walking down the boardwalk. The restaurant was still nearly a block away, and someone had just ridden by, stirring up dust, so she was not crossing the street just yet. Then she realized they were approaching one of the town’s saloons, where a few men were loitering out front. Miners by the looks of them. They’d just passed two other hefty men leaning against a storefront who made her think of the two miners she’d seen earlier who’d been trying to provoke Hunter with their stares. They might even be the same two. . . .
She heard Hunter’s exasperated sigh. “I haven’t killed anyone lately. I guess I’m due.”
Tiffany immediately did an about-face, even though she was sure he was exaggerating. He had to be! But she was willing to concede the point he was making with that alarming statement. “Let’s cross the street now.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to walk us straight into trouble?”
She finally noticed his grin. She could have hit him for deliberately frightening her like that.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t left town yet, Mr. Callahan. Might I have a few moments of your time?”
They both turned and saw a middle-aged man who had come up behind them. His stiff-crowned hat with the short brim and his expensive business suit were more suitable for the city than a small ranching town. Dressed in fashionable, Eastern-style clothes, the man stood out as much as she did. Then it occurred to her, could this be the mining executive Anna had mentioned?
“I don’t think so,” Hunter replied curtly. He obviously knew the man and didn’t like him. The two hefty miners who had been leaning against the storefront walked over and stood a few paces behind the well-dressed man. “If you have anything else to say, you know where to find my pa.”
“Your father hasn’t been a reasonable man. As his eldest son, your opinion could sway him.”
“What makes you think my opinion isn’t the same as his? Your smelters are spitting out a crazy amount of soot. There’s no way to prevent it from floatin
g across the range.”
“The range is vast, you certainly don’t need it all. You’re being offered a fortune to concede that point.”
“Our answer isn’t going to change, Harris. Why don’t you just cut your losses and move on?”
“We could ask you the same question.”
The man no longer looked so affable as he turned and walked away. Executive? More like a strong-arm for the mine owner. But the moment he left, those other two men who had been close enough to hear what had been said both stepped forward to confront Hunter. One, the taller of the two, actually tried to shove him!
Hunter must have expected something because he quickly knocked the man’s hand aside. Without taking his eyes off the man, he told Tiffany, “Go on to the restaurant while I take care of this. I won’t be long behind you.”
She stepped out into the street to get out of the way, but she didn’t go far. He might be confident that he could defuse their aggression, but she wasn’t so sure, especially when more miners were at the saloon down the street and two of them, obviously drunk, were weaving their way over to see what was going on.
“You’re making a big mistake, boy,” the shorter man said. “We got no work, thanks to you and your family.”
“Then why haven’t you left town?”
“We been told to stick around, that there—”
“Shut up, Earl,” the other cut in, then said to Hunter, “We got a message for your pa. Not for you to deliver, mind you,” he added with a snicker. “He’ll figure it out when they carry you home.”
Tiffany winced when Hunter doubled over. He’d blocked the first punch, but both men swung at him at the same time! What happened to the miners just baiting and not throwing first punches as Degan had said? Because a porchful of witnesses in front of the saloon would back them up that Hunter started it? Were they forgetting that she was there to say otherwise? Or didn’t they care? But Hunter’s having to fight two at a time was ridiculous. Her hand gripped her parasol a little tighter, for what purpose she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to let these two brutes beat him senseless. Where was the town sheriff?