A Lady in Defiance (16 page)

Naomi swallowed. “What’s the matter, Mr. McIntyre? Afraid you
might lose a few dollars if we dally over supper and actually
enjoy
the
meal?”

McIntyre appraised her, noting the shimmering golden hair
that cascaded down her shoulders, unflinching wide eyes, squared shoulders and
tanned skin that glowed against her starched white shirt. Sassy, opinionated,
beautiful, and an absolute joy to tease. He smiled. “Your Ladyship, the
only
thing I am afraid of is losing money.”

Naomi’s lips tightened into a thin line and her eyes
narrowed, but she didn’t pursue the verbal battle. Certain he was the winner of
their little exchange, McIntyre cleared his throat and moved on. “Mr. Donoghue and
I have finished the blueprints for both the restaurant and the hotel. We have a
crew coming in tomorrow to start the renovations. Here,” he pulled some papers
out of his vest pocket and unfolded them, “is a project list. The second page
is the estimated cost to complete it.” He passed it down to Naomi.

She went straight to the back page and took in the bottom
line with raised eyebrows, then scanned both pages more carefully. With her
disapproval evident, she handed the paper to Rebecca. “Mr. McIntyre, your labor
costs are entirely unreasonable. Why is everything in Defiance so high?”

“It’s a matter o’ supply and demand.” Ian’s answer sounded
rushed to McIntyre, as if he was trying to avoid more fireworks. Yet, lighting
a fire under Naomi was entertaining sport and he intended to continue. She was
far more attractive flustered and frustrated than she was as a grieving widow.

McIntyre laced his fingers over his plate. “Most of the men
in this town want to look for gold and a lot of them find it one way or the
other. The more gold comes out of the ground, the higher the prices of
everything climb.”

The answer apparently didn’t wash with Naomi. “I purchased
two stoves last week that cost us almost twice what we would have paid in Cary.
Profit is one thing, but blind greed is another.”

“Greed is often in the eye of the beholder, Mrs. Miller.
Defiance doesn’t sit on a flat, easy plain with railroad tracks all around. We
are in a difficult and remote location. That adds significantly to our freight
costs. Not to mention, the men who do the carpentry work around here leave the
gold fields to take on jobs for royalty such as yourself. In their minds,
they’re giving up a possible strike to make a day’s wages. They just want their
time to be well spent.”

“Do these men work for you?” The tilt of her head told him
she already knew the answer.

McIntyre sliced off a piece of roast, but did not take his
eyes off her. “You can hire my men and I’ll see to it that the job is done
right, or you can piecemeal the work, putting together carpenters with an
unknown amount of skill, expertise and work ethic and see what you get. Don’t
let your pride make you foolish, Your Ladyship.”

He could see neither option appealed to her, but would she
have the wisdom to let his crew do the work? He enjoyed watching her squirm
under the subtle, pleading looks from Rebecca and Hannah. They begged her to
choose the devil they knew as opposed to ones they didn’t.

Naomi nodded in reluctant compliance. “Very well then, Mr.
McIntyre.” He had the distinct feeling she would say the name Lucifer with more
warmth. “But what about supplies,” she asked. “Items we can’t get from
Montgomery Ward, such as groceries?”

McIntyre glanced over at Emilio. He was uncomfortable
discussing the details in front of the boy and sensed he was uncomfortable
being there. As McIntyre was pondering a way to excuse Emilio, the boy
practically inhaled his last bite then asked if there was anything else he
could do before he left.

McIntyre waved his hand. “I think they’re done with you for
the evening.”

Rebecca leaned forward. “Thank you again for letting us
occupy so much of his time. Emilio truly has been a Godsend…and, as usual, we
certainly could use him again tomorrow.” She leveled eyes filled with hope on
McIntyre.

He, for some reason wasn’t exactly pleased with the way the
sisters were all but adopting the boy, but his usefulness to them was
undeniable. He would have to continue to trust that Emilio would keep his yap
shut around Rose, as they had discussed. He dipped his head. “That would be
fine.” As Emilio stood up to depart, McIntyre snagged his sleeve and spoke
softly. “I’m sure Rose is not hearing any of this.” Emilio simply shook his
head and left.

When she heard the front door shut, Naomi followed up on that
subject. “Speaking of Rose, why was she so bent on picking a fight with us? We
don’t even know her.”

“You rarely need to know someone, Mrs. Miller, to assume they
are your enemy.” McIntyre shrugged, knowing there was no way to explain Rose to
a woman like Naomi. “Rose is territorial and she had incorrectly assumed you
had crossed into her
domain
, if you will. I have since clarified her
boundaries.”

“Again,” huffed Ian, but he clenched his jaw too late as the
complaint escaped.

The girls waited for an explanation. McIntyre’s first
reaction was to change the subject back to the hotel, but perhaps if they knew
what Rose was really like, they would be less inclined to dally with her…as
Naomi had clearly thought to do. Having these girls cut up−or
worse−would serve no purpose and only complicate matters. 

“Last summer I added a new Flower to my garden.” He preferred
using that euphemism for such delicate company. “However, Rose got it into her
head that Black-eyed Suzy was attempting to steal my affections.” McIntyre reached
for his water and raised it to his lips. “After a few cross words, Rose stabbed
her in the neck.” He tossed back a sip, and in the sudden stillness, the sound
of the water going down his throat was deafening.

Hannah clutched her throat. “Is she all right?”

“She did not die and I sent her back to Denver, costing me a
lost investment of $700.”

This time he knew the hush was brought on by the
insensitivity of his summation. Perhaps McIntyre had been a little too crude,
but he was what he was and he was not here to impress these girls. While her
sisters, and even Ian, looked shocked at the callousness of his remark, Naomi
merely stared at him with irritated disdain. Her eyes told him that she not
only
expected
such insensitive comments, but that they defined the core
of who and what he was. She had him pegged as a worthless heathen and nothing
short of a miracle would elevate him to something better.

He shook off the unexpected irritation her opinion caused him
and decided to find the humor in vexing her. It was a game. How far could he
push her before he turned on his charm and reeled her back in? Childish, he
admitted, but he suspected the conquest would be so well worth the effort.

He set his cup down softly. “I apologize for the crassness of
my remark, ladies, but the Garden is after all, a business. It’s not wise to
become attached to my Flowers.”

Naomi bounced her fork in her hand as she made no attempt to
hide her disdain. “Is that why you’ve given them the names of plants rather
than people? So you don’t have to deal with their humanity…or your sinfulness?”

That ignited a real spark of annoyance. He was not going to
engage in a conversation about sin. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he never
delved into his spirituality and certainly would not do so now. “Perhaps
someday, Your Majesty, I will be inclined to listen to a sermon, but this is
not that day.” Their eyes warred as he thought about reminding her of her
Pharisee-like arrogance. He would not let her, or anybody else−but
especially
not her−preach to him about the way he lived his life.

Ian cleared his throat to break the tension. “Mrs. Miller, I
think it goes without sayin’ that McIntyre lives by a different book than ye,
namely a ledger.” He cast a reproving glance to his friend. “Politics and
business do make strange bedfellows.” He scanned the sisters’ faces. “Perhaps
if we just stuck to business,
hotel
business.”

When no one responded, McIntyre finally took his eyes off
Naomi. He was more than willing to get back to the important conversation but
having her look down her nose at him like that was, well, a difficult pill to
swallow. No, he wasn’t a missionary feeding the homeless and adopting orphans,
but Her Holiness wasn’t perfect either. Clearly, she was far from it. He
decided he was indeed going to enjoy showing her just how human she was.

Saving all that for another day, he went back to
his
salvation: business. “I expect the hotel renovations will take approximately
three months or so. However, if we go ahead and order the kitchen and dining
room items immediately, Ian and I are in agreement that you can have the
restaurant open perhaps by the end of September.”

The discussion of things to do, orders that could be sent by
telegraph, cost of the project, and a million little deadlines and details kept
them talking until well after ten. Though the conversation was at times as
strained as government negotiations with the Ute Indians (at least between
himself and Naomi), business was accomplished.

There was something else going on at the table as well.
McIntyre didn’t miss the subtle but friendly glances between Rebecca and Ian
during the evening. Or the way their conversation stuttered if their elbows
happen to brush. His first reaction led him to wonder how such an alliance
might impact the business. Since there was nothing he could do about it at the
moment, he opted to let it play out on its own. At least for now.

When Hannah nodded off at the table, everyone concluded it
was time to end the meeting. They would pick back up in the morning. Ian warned
the girls that the carpenters would arrive with the sun. He and McIntyre then
thanked their hostesses for the meal, telling them they would let themselves
out.

As the two men grabbed their hats from the counter out front,
Ian shook his head in disgust. “Mac, I say this in the spirit of friendship. Ye
need polishing. Ye’ve the manners of a goot.”

“A what?”

“A goot.”

McIntyre frowned, wishing his friend would learn to speak
English. Ian sighed in frustration. “The farm animal−”

McIntyre yanked his hat down. “Never mind. I understand your
point.”

Scowling, he stepped into the cool night air and watched the
busy street for a moment. His emotions were unclear, bordering as they were on
irritation and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. Naomi was a
frosty, but entertaining, handful. The bustle of Defiance reminded him, though,
that he may have more to worry about than playing cat-and-mouse with Her
Highness. Three beautiful, respectable women were an explosive ingredient in a
town that was a powder keg anyway.

He hadn’t counted on keeping randy miners and hostile
prostitutes away from the sisters, while butting heads with Naomi in an honest
attempt to help build their business. He had his own matters to manage,
including a mine with over a hundred employees. Now he had to keep an eye on
Ian and Rebecca, too, to make sure any relationship developing there was in
his
best interest.

Frankly, manners were the least of his concerns.

~~~

Naomi dried the last plate and set it in the rack next to the
sink. The pan of dishwater needed to be dumped, but it could wait till morning.
She had finished cleaning the kitchen alone after insisting that Rebecca and
Hannah retire. Wisely, they had left her alone. The events of the last several
days, much less the last few weeks, weighed on her like boat anchors. She
needed time alone and knew she wouldn’t sleep anyway...again. The infernal
beating of that out-of-tune piano every night was enough to make her scream.
Now someone had added a tortuous harmonica.

Trying hard to shake off the frustration and sadness, Naomi
grabbed a quilt they had packed dishes in, wrapped it around herself and headed
down to her spot by the stream. Sitting down on a large piece of driftwood near
the water’s edge, she gazed up at the richly glittering night tapestry. She
could stare at the infinite weaving of twinkling lights, shooting stars and
ancient constellations for hours. In the vast grandeur of the Colorado sky she
could lose herself. The beauty of it was the only thing
right
with this
place.

She had come here every night since stumbling into Defiance.
In her heart she wanted to pray, but the grief was still too fresh, her anger
too blinding. Instead, she had just floated away into the velvety, twinkling
heavens or drifted off with the gurgling sound of the stream. She felt God
approved; her spirit was weary and sometimes all a parent needed to do was hold
his child. Words could come later.

Tonight, however, there was no peace in the works of His
hand. She was angry. She was grieving. She was tired of holding it all back.
And, finally, she was ready to pray.

“I am failing you so badly, Father. My relationship with you
is in shambles and this is the last place on earth you should have sent me.”

Naomi sat still then for a long time considering things,
seeing the faces of Grady O’Banion, those two harlots on the street, the
Flowers from The Iron Horse; not to mention, Rose, and Mr. McIntyre. Their ugly
attitudes in her mind were representative of the whole town. “I don’t like
these people, God, and I don’t have compassion for any of them.” She was
whining, but at least she was praying. “I know you want me to care, but they’ve
all
chosen
their lives here. They choose to wallow in whiskey. They
choose to debase themselves and barter in flesh. Then so be it,” she fussed
dismissively. “Your own Word says that a man reaps what he sows.”