A Promise to Believe in (9 page)

The driver grunted and stomped off toward the front door. “Good to see you again, girls,” he called out. “I’ll be back through in a few days.”

“Nice to see you too, Ralph. We’ll be expecting you,” Gwen called from the large, open sitting room.

Hank immediately fixed his gaze upon her. She wore a brown woolen skirt and a starched yellow blouse. The color served to draw out the blond highlights in her hair. She had attempted to pull her hair back, but uncooperative curls managed to slip out here and there, softening the severity of the look. Her smile faded as she turned to face Hank’s scrutiny.

“Good morning, Mr. Bishop. Breakfast is on the table. You’re late.”

“I apologize. For my tardiness, as well as my harsh words of yesterday.” He watched her for any reaction, but she seemed void of emotion. She stared at him for several seconds, then nodded and started for the dining room.

“Wait. Please.” He crossed the room, trying his best to disguise the pain he felt. Gwen immediately noticed it, however.

“What’s wrong? Did you sleep crooked—get a crick in your neck?”

“I’m afraid what ails me is much lower.” He grinned and rubbed his lower back with both hands. “I’m not exactly sure what happened.”

He thought she seemed to pale a bit, but Gwen looked away so quickly he couldn’t be sure. “We have some rubbing liniment if you need it,” she said in a barely audible voice, then added, “but a soak in the hot springs would probably suit you better. We have fresh towels on the back porch.”

“That sounds quite inviting. Thank you.”

Several men came rushing from the dining room. “Thanks, Miss Gallatin. The food was delicious,” one said as he fought to button his coat. “Wish we could stay a spell. I haven’t seen gals so pretty since leavin’ Colorado.”

Gwen laughed. “I doubt Ralph would allow for the delay, but thank you for the compliment.”

The others mumbled their thanks as they headed for the door. Hank moved aside to let two other men pass as they stumbled from the stairs and dragged toward the door.

“Gentlemen, I packed a little breakfast for you, since you slept too late to join us,” Gwen announced. “The food is already on the stage.”

The bleary-eyed men nodded and murmured thanks. Within moments, the house quieted considerably. Gwen stepped to the open doorway and out onto the porch. Hank, meanwhile, made his way to the breakfast table.

Beth and Lacy were already hard at work cleaning up the mess left behind. Beth smiled. “Coffee?”

It was like a bolt of lightning had struck. Hank remembered the young woman offering him coffee the night before. He remembered, too, that he had grown quite sleepy drinking the concoction. She must have drugged him! That’s why he couldn’t remember. That was also why he’d woken up on the floor.

He looked at her for a moment as she held up the pot. “I don’t know,” he said, toying with the cup on the table. “Seems like your coffee gives me a backache.”

Beth’s eyes widened innocently. “I’ve never heard anyone complain about my coffee before.”

“Perhaps they’ve never had your special blend,” Hank said. He held her gaze and shook his head.

“Maybe the wild Montana Territory is just too much for you to handle, Mr. Bishop,” Beth suggested. “Maybe you should try to catch the stage before they pull out.”

“Maybe it’s not the territory but its women who are most dangerous,” Hank countered.

“What’s he going on about?” Lacy asked as she came into the room with a large tray. She began gathering up dirty dishes and looked as innocent as her sister.

Hank wasn’t fooled. Someone had put something in his coffee last night. He was certain of it. They most likely had to haul him up the stairs—and probably dropped him several times on the way. No doubt that would account for his sore backside.

“Mr. Bishop’s travels are catching up with him,” Beth told her sister. “I was just suggesting maybe he should head on home and leave Montana behind him.”

“As I said before, I’ll leave when I have what I came for. Not until.” He folded his hands together and eyed Beth quite seriously. “Should I have any more trouble from the coffee, it will be your backside that hurts. Not mine.”

Beth lowered the pot, while Lacy gasped. “How dare you?” Beth looked at her sister and then back to Hank. “You are a very crude man.”

“And you, Miss Gallatin, are a very dangerous young woman. Drugging people is not a safe thing to try, unless you are well acquainted with what you are doing. I’m hoping that is not the case. I’d like to keep you from further embarrassment and difficulty. I won’t press charges against you this time, but should there be a second time, I won’t hesitate to mete out my own brand of justice.”

“What is this all about?” Gwen asked from the doorway.

“He’s threatening Beth,” Lacy said, hands on hips. Her blue eyes blazed in anger.

Hank finally allowed his gaze to leave Beth’s face as he met Gwen’s stunned expression. “I don’t know who all had a hand in last night’s adventures, but I was simply warning that it had better not happen again.”

Gwen’s expression suggested she clearly knew what he was talking about. “Beth, Lacy, go take care of the dishes and clean the kitchen.”

Beth picked up the coffeepot and started to leave, but Hank held out his cup. “I’m going to trust that this pot hasn’t been tampered with.”

Beth poured him a cup. “I’m surprised you have the gumption to risk such a thing.”

He smiled. The spunky young woman amused him. All of the Gallatin girls were full of spit and sass, as his mother would say. Hank was certain it had served them well in the harsh and isolated territory.

Gwen went into the kitchen while Beth and Lacy finished gathering things. She returned just as her sisters headed off to see to their work.

“I hope this stayed warm,” she said, putting a plate of eggs and bacon, fried potatoes, and beans in front of him. “I have biscuits and gravy, as well.” She left to retrieve the promised food as Hank began to dig in to the potatoes.

Hank thought long and hard about the girls and how he could best handle the situation with them. He was desperate to get information. He had to find the things that belonged to him—to his mother—and do it soon. His mother would suffer greatly if she couldn’t manage her affairs and regain her reputation. Reinstating her financial status would easily do that. The stocks Harvey had stolen were worth more money than he could have ever imagined. Their value had only increased as the years had gone by, and if he hadn’t squandered them or used them for kindling, they would offer a tidy sum, with which their mother could spend her final days in ease.

Gwen put the gravy and biscuits in front of Hank. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, this is fine. Very nice, thank you.”

She eyed him curiously for a moment. It seemed she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and went to work wiping down the other tables.

Watching her, Hank thought her quite a beautiful woman despite her simplicity. Or maybe because of it. The women he’d known and escorted in Boston were definitely cut from a different cloth. They would never have lowered themselves to do menial chores like cleaning a table. Not one of them would even consider working at a business such as a stage stop. Yet this woman and her sisters seemed more than happy to keep their house, care for strangers, and be independent of masculine assistance.

Such women, Hank thought, would never be intimidated into revealing information. They were much too self-sufficient. These women had faced worse adversaries. No, to get what he wanted from them, Hank would need to handle things in a completely different manner. He might even have to go so far as to woo one of them. But which one?

He considered the matter as he ate. There was Lacy Gallatin. She was a beauty with hair the color of cinnamon. Her manners suggested a certain shyness—even uneasiness—in dealing with people. The right man might be able to work such a woman to his advantage, but Hank worried that it would take too much time. The feisty tomboy was much too unpredictable. She gave the impression that she listened to no one and did just as she pleased. That wouldn’t serve his purpose.

Beth was next in line. She made quite a feminine contrast next to her younger sister. Where Lacy was boots and grit, Beth was lace and flowers. There was something about her that suggested long walks with parasols and elegant teas. Hank could easily see her in a formal sitting room, gloved hands, hat perfectly placed on her head. But she’d already proven herself to be dangerous.

Hank was certain she was the mastermind behind his ill-fated cup of coffee. Beth might appear as soft as satin, but behind that façade, he could well imagine a wily creature capable of outmaneuvering her adversaries with crafty thought and planning.

That left Gwen. Hank saw her straighten and allowed himself to study her. His gaze was apparently intense enough to bring her attention back to him.

“Did you need something?”

Hank pushed back his plate and shook his head. “Not with regards to breakfast.” A thought came to him. “I wondered if you might be willing to show me where my brother is buried.”

Gwen’s expression softened. “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it. You must surely want to pay your respects. Let me put this away,” she said, waving the cloth in her hand. “When I’m finished, I’ll show you the way.”

“Take your time.”

Hank watched her bustle around. He couldn’t hear her words as she spoke to her sisters, but he knew it had to do with his request as they glanced his way. Gwen would be the one to appeal to, despite her also having been his brother’s wife. Her nature was gentle and kind. She was easily moved to be helpful, and her emotions could also be used to his advantage.

“If you’re ready,” Gwen said, approaching, “I’ll just get my shawl and bonnet. It’s not a far walk.”

Hank got to his feet. “I’ll wait for you on the porch.”

He went outside and immediately noticed the large dog on the top step. The animal’s coat glistened golden in the sunlight, and his expression seemed quite mournful. Hank had always loved dogs. He remembered begging his mother to allow them to have a pet.

“What’s the matter, fella?” he asked, sitting down beside the animal.

The dog lifted his head momentarily and received Hank’s greeting. Taking this as a friendly sign, Hank smiled. He reached out and began petting the dog with long strokes.

“That’s Major Worthington,” Gwen said from behind. “The Major hasn’t been himself, I’m afraid, since Father died. It’s only been a short time, and he continues to mourn him something fierce.”

Hank looked into the animal’s baleful eyes. Yes, it did appear he was sad. “It’s hard to lose the ones we love,” Hank murmured, not really knowing why. He got to his feet and faced Gwen. “I’m sorry about your father. What happened?”

Gwen made her way down the steps and headed for the road that ran in front of Gallatin House. “There was a shooting,” she said.

Hank quickened his pace to keep up with her and was surprised to find Major Worthington at his side doing likewise. “A shooting?”

He saw the pain in Gwen’s expression. “A bunch of cowboys were celebrating outside the saloon. They began to fire off their weapons, and without warning, a bullet hit my father.”

“What was he doing in the midst of such rowdies?”

Gwen frowned. “It was my fault. I sent him to have the Lassiters sharpen some knives. He wouldn’t have been out there otherwise.”

“That hardly makes it your fault,” Hank replied. “It was an accident.”

“I suppose.”

She left the main road for a smaller side road that barely could qualify as a path in Hank’s estimation. She pointed ahead. “The cemetery is just up there. See where the trees are? It’s not far from the river. My father is buried next to Harvey.”

“It sounds like they were good friends,” Hank said, remembering earlier conversations.

Gwen nodded. “He was like a son to Pa. My father thought him the most remarkable of young men.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “I thought so, too.”

“If you’ll hold her,” Nick instructed Lacy, “I’ll tend this gash.”

One of their prized brood mares had taken a fall and managed to puncture her side. The cut on her hindquarter was quite deep and couldn’t be ignored.

“I’ve got her,” Lacy called from in front of the nervous animal.

Nick went to work while Lacy spoke in a soothing tone to the mare. “That’s a good girl. Easy now.”

“I hope this doesn’t bring on her foal,” Nick said, shaking his head. “She’s not due for another month.” The minutes seemed to drag by as he worked. The horse was patient, but Nick knew she wouldn’t tolerate his actions for long.

Lacy was encouraging. “I think she’ll be fine. The fall itself could easily have killed her baby or caused the mare to go into labor. The fact that it hasn’t happened is a good sign. Look how well she’s already recovered.” She pulled the mare’s head close and stroked her rhythmically. Nick admired Lacy’s way with animals.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. The baby is still active, so if we can just get her through this, we ought to be fine.”

“That’s a good girl,” Lacy crooned.

Nick put ointment on the wound, but the mare wanted no part of it. She tried to sidestep Nick’s ministering, then pressed forward, as if she could somehow escape the stall.