A Promise to Believe in (5 page)

Rafe was starting his day with a double bourbon when Joe walked through the front door. The glass was midway to his lips when Joe bellowed out his name.

“I’m right here, Joe,” Rafe said, putting a hand to his head. “You don’t need to yell. My head already feels like it’s about to rupture.”

“Didn’t see you sittin’ there in the dark. Sorry about that.” Joe made his way to Rafe’s table. “I have a dozen or so crates for you. Thought maybe I could get that boy of yours to unload them while I eat lunch. I’m on a tight schedule today and can’t waste any time.”

Rafe nodded. “Cubby’s in the back. I’ll let him know.”

“Good enough. Tell him they’re the crates at the back of the wagon. You got my money?”

“Don’t I always? Drink?” Rafe questioned, holding up his glass.

“It’s a little early for me, Rafe.” Joe shook his head. “I’d never make it to Old Town if I started drinking now.”

“Suit yourself,” Rafe said, downing the drink. He got to his feet and yawned. “So what’s new in the world?” He went to the bar and grabbed the cashbox. Counting out the money due Joe, he added, “Any Injun problems?”

Joe grinned. “Not betwixt here and Salt Lake. Had a few grizzlies givin’ folks problems down Ennis way. There’s some floodin’ on the Madison—the Gallatin, too—but I don’t reckon it to be too much of a problem here. Had a letter from my sister down in Fort Worth. Guess they’ve been havin’ a rough time of it with twisters and bad storms. Hail laid down their crops three different times.”

Rafe yawned again. “Cubby!” he called out, forgetting about his head. He put one hand to his temple while handing Joe the cash with the other.

“Yeah, Pa?” The boy came from the back room, broom in hand.

“Go unload the freight wagon. Joe will show you what belongs to us.”

The boy put aside the broom and nodded. Joe smiled at Rafe. “Pleasure doin’ business with you. I’m sure to see you on my way back. Save some of the good stuff for me.”

Rafe nodded. “Do me a favor and see if you can’t get those Gallatin girls to sell me their place while you’re sharin’ lunch with them.”

Joe and Cubby both turned at this. “Sell to you?” Joe asked. “I can’t imagine those girls selling out for any reason, least of all to you.”

“Everybody’s got their price.”

“Yeah, well, I doubt the girls can be moved that easily. It’s like I was tellin’ that young feller who rode up with me—those girls might have lost their pa, but they ain’t lost their minds. The roadhouse serves them well. I can’t see them leavin’ now.”

Rafe narrowed his gaze and fixed the old man with a hard stare. “What young feller are you talking about?”

“That city dude who asked me to ride him to the Gallatin House. He’s over there right now gettin’ ready for his lunch. That’s where I wanna be, too, so enough with the questions. Like I told you, I’m in a hurry.”

Rafe let them go. He knew Joe could be quite cantankerous if pushed. He needed to know, however, who it was that had come to see the girls. Maybe it was a lawyer sort, or worse still, some distant male relative who’d actually inherited the property.

He frowned and decided it couldn’t hurt to make a visit to the Gallatin House. He could feign the need to order a pie or two. The girls didn’t care for his company, but they’d tolerate his commerce. Maybe he’d even beg to stay for lunch. It wasn’t beneath him to invite himself in, if it served his purpose.

“I can’t believe your rude, outlandish nerve,” Lacy said as she stepped in front of Gwen. “Who in the world are you to come here and suggest any of us are hussies?”

The man removed his hat and fixed Lacy with a hard stare. He seemed completely void of emotion—except perhaps anger or indignation. Yes, that was it. The man seemed downright offended.

“One of you certainly is that or worse,” the man countered.

Gwen watched as Joe and Cubby went to the back of the wagon. Joe seemed to be pointing out what belonged to Cubby’s father. She wondered for a moment if Joe had any idea who this man was and why he’d insisted on coming to Gallatin House.

“My brother was Harvey Bishop. I was told he married a Gwen Gallatin and then died shortly afterwards. I want to know which one of you is that woman.”

“Well, people in hell want . . .”

“Lacy! Curb your tongue,” Gwen rebuked.

“Well, he should curb his. He’s no gentleman.”

The man stood his ground. “Which one of you married my brother?”

Beth stepped up to declare, “I hardly think it’s any of your business. Harvey told us he was an orphan, so for all we know, you, sir, are a liar. If not, then Harvey couldn’t have cared much for you or your interference in his life, or he would have mentioned you.”

Gwen was touched by her sister’s protective nature. She kept looking at the man to detect some resemblance—some memory of Harvey in the man’s stern expression—but there was nothing. This serious stranger was nothing like the man she’d married.

“I think you should go next door if you’re looking for a room,” Beth said, crossing her arms. “You’re acting like an animal, and that’s where they bed down.”

“Beth!” Gwen exclaimed and stepped forward to put her hand on Beth’s shoulder.

“Well, he is. He’s being ridiculous. How dare he accuse you . . .” She put her hand over her mouth.

Gwen watched the stranger assess her even more closely. “So I take it you are the woman I’m looking for,” he said, his voice void of emotion.

Gwen nodded. “I am Gwendolyn Gallatin, and yes, I was married to Harvey Bishop. But my sister is right. Harvey told us he had no living family.”

“Well, he lied,” the man replied. “Not surprising, but that’s beside the point. We have some business to deal with. Just the two of us.”

“You’ll deal with all of us or none of us,” Lacy stated firmly. She stepped between Gwen and the stranger, and Beth did likewise.

“That’s right,” Beth said. “We would hardly allow our sister to be subjected to such a rude and vulgar man by herself. Why, you might take some kind of liberty with her, for all we know.”

The man smiled at this, and Gwen felt her knees go weak at the way his features took on an amused—almost mischievous—look.

“Is there a problem, girls?” Joe interjected. “You look like a pack of mama bears defendin’ their cub. What’s got you hidin’ behind your sisters, Miss Gwen?”

“This man, that’s what,” Lacy said. “He’s causing a conflagration of emotions inside of me.”

Joe frowned and rubbed his chin. “That don’t sound good, Miss Lacy.”

“This man claims to be the brother of my sister’s deceased husband,” Beth added. “He’s mean-tempered and . . . well . . . he’s just plain mean.”

“Stranger, I didn’t reckon you to be a problem for these ladies, or I’d never have brought you to them.”

“I don’t intend to be a problem for them,” the man replied. “On my mother’s behalf, I’ve come here on business.”

“Harvey’s mother is still alive?” Gwen questioned. She felt a growing confusion. Harvey had told her his mother was dead. He had regaled her with sweet stories of his mother’s kindness and the joy he’d known before she’d passed away. She bit her lip and forced her eyes to meet those of the stranger.

“Our mother is very much alive, I assure you.” This time the man’s tone had softened. He seemed to understand that Gwen was just as confused as he was.

“Can we discuss this further over some grub, ladies? I have a schedule to keep, and I’m fallin’ behind.” Joe raised his eyebrows in a hopeful gesture.

“Come on in,” Gwen said, moving to the door. “We’ll have food on the table in two minutes. Beth, Lacy—come help me. Joe, show our guest to the table.”

“Sure thing, Miss Gwen.”

The girls headed into the kitchen while Joe and the stranger could be heard talking in the dining room.

“What in the world do you suppose he’s after?” Lacy asked in a whisper. The dining room and kitchen were open to each other in one great room, and Gwen knew Lacy didn’t intend to be overheard.

“I have no idea. I’m just as stunned as you two,” Gwen said as she sliced pieces of ham for sandwiches. “I suppose, however, we shall soon find out. Mr. Bishop hardly seems the type to be refused. Beth, please stir the stew and make sure it’s warm enough.” Beth nodded and immediately went to work.

“You aren’t going to let him stay here, are you?” Lacy asked in disbelief.

“I suppose we really haven’t a choice. He’s come all this way,” Gwen said. She positioned the ham on a plate and then began to slice cheese from a large wedge.

“But he obviously hates us—especially you,” Beth said, testing the stew. “He would make a perfect villain in one of my books. He’s got beady eyes.”

“I thought you said he was dashing, with the bluest eyes you’d ever seen,” Gwen said, amusement in her tone. She drew a deep breath. “His eyes are quite beautiful and very blue.” She cut two more pieces of ham, then put aside the knife. “You mustn’t be too hard on him. He obviously loved Harvey a great deal, so we have that in common. We simply have to convince him that I am neither a gold digger nor a killer.” She smiled at her sisters but inwardly felt as if the impossibility of her statement was a weight around her neck. How did one go about convincing a man unknown to them that he could trust them and believe their every word?

Beth and Lacy delivered the food to the table while Gwen brought the coffeepot. She poured Joe a cup and watched him take a large gulp before setting the mug back down.

“Good as usual, Miss Gwen.”

“Thanks, Joe.” She topped off his cup, then moved to the other man. “Mr. Bishop, would you care for coffee?”

He looked at the table rather than meet her gaze. “Coffee is fine.”

Gwen poured him a cup, then motioned for Beth to bring the cream and sugar. It was a routine they were all quite familiar with. Meanwhile, Joe began to pile his plate with food.

“Ain’t no one got better grub than you girls.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be coming through, Joe. I can fix something else if this isn’t enough. I do have pie, as well.”

“No need to fix anything else, Miss Gwen. There ain’t time. I’ve gotta push on. Just pack me up a couple of pieces of that pie, and I’ll eat them on the road.” He looked at the other man and back to the girls. “I just wanna know one thing.”

Gwen looked at the older man. “And what would that be?”

“You lettin’ this man stay, or do I take him with me?”

Gwen looked at Harvey’s brother as the man raised his eyes to hers. Something told Gwen that this man wouldn’t be forced to go with anyone. He wasn’t a city dandy to be pushed around. She could see in his eyes that he was a man of decision and determination.

“He can stay, Joe. He has business here, just as he’s said. Maybe stop back by for him on your way through.”

“What kind of business, if I might ask?” Rafe questioned, standing just inside the dining room.

Gwen frowned. “What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?”

“I was hoping to buy a pie or two. You got any for sale?”

“I’ll have some this evening. Right now I’m down to my last one. Come back around five.”

Rafe nodded and looked at Bishop. “So what is it that brings you to town, stranger?”

“I hardly see that as any concern to you.”

“Well, sure it is. You’re a customer, and customers are always my business,” Rafe said with a big grin. “My saloon is just next door. If you’re staying here, you’ll want to know that, because these little ladies don’t serve spirits. They’re temptress women.”

“Although I’m sure these women can be tempting, do you actually mean
temperance
women?” Bishop asked.

Beth was snorting a giggle under her breath. Rafe was not happy to be corrected but held his temper. “What I mean is they don’t agree with alcohol of any kind.”

“That suits me quite well, for I myself am a temperance man,” Bishop replied. He looked at Joe and added, “I have my horse. You needn’t worry about coming back for me, now that I am familiar with the trail to Salt Lake.” His expression seemed to darken as he muttered,
“Hoc volo, sic iubeo; sit pro ratione voluntas.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Lacy questioned.

“It’s been my experience that men who have to hide behind foreign words do so because they have nothing of import to say,” Beth said, sticking her nose in the air as if greatly offended.

The man smiled. “It’s Latin and means, ‘This is what I want, such are my orders: my desire is reason enough.’ ” He fixed his gaze on Gwen. “In other words, I’ll leave when I have what I came for.”

To Gwen, his statement sounded more like a threat than mere comment.
What have you come for?
She couldn’t imagine that she could offer him anything that would satisfy or justify a trip of this great length. Still, something deep within told her that everything in her life was about to change yet again. The curse was working its tiresome strategies against her. There was nothing to do but endure and hope for a painless conclusion. Unfortunately, Mr. Bishop didn’t look like the painless type.

CHAPTER FOUR