Before the Larkspur Blooms (7 page)

C
hase reined up at the old two-story barn Logan Meadows used as a hall whenever its residents had to talk about something important. Looking around, he finally found a spot and tied Cody to the hitching rail between the other horses. The barn, with its missing boards and open roof, sat in a clearing a good distance behind the hotel and appraiser’s office. From the sound of the commotion inside, he was late. Entering, he scanned the faces for Gabe and Jake.

Spotting them against the left wall, he picked his way through the crowd to stand by their side. The room resounded with heated talk. Frank Lloyd and another man stood at the front of the room, deep in discussion with Albert Preston and a few others seated on the first row of benches.

Gabe leaned over. “You’re late,” he whispered.

“Couldn’t be helped. What’s going on?”

“That’s the new spokesman for the railroad next to Frank,” Jake said angrily. “Seems Mr. Peabody has come up with a few more requirements for Logan Meadows if we want the railroad coming through our town. Who’s to say the railroad don’t keep on upping the stakes on us every chance they get?”

“Gentlemen,
please
,” the dandy said. “I assure you, every town from the East Coast to the West Coast has gone through these same growing pains.” He pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his finely tailored jacket and swabbed his forehead. “I’m
not asking for the moon. Please just hear me out, and then I’ll take questions.”

Frank held up a hand. “Give Mr. Peabody your attention so he can speak.”

The railroad man smiled his appreciation. “Thank you, Mr. Lloyd. As my colleague already informed you three months ago February, the Union Pacific plans to lay track through your town. Logan Meadows will—”

“Will it be here or New Meringue? That’s all we want to know!” someone yelled out. “There’s a lot of money being spent in hopes—”

“As I stated earlier,
that
decision has yet to be determined and depends solely on you townsfolk. The Union Pacific is bent on making traveling as enjoyable as possible for its customers. Every stop must count. No one wants to pull up to a broken-down ramshackle of a place with nowhere to eat and nothing to see. Tourists want to be entertained. Experience something they don’t have back home. You, on the other hand, want to seduce them to stay on, buy property, help Logan Meadows grow into a thriving community.”

Chase leaned forward, nudging Gabe. “Has he said yet what any of the new requirements are?”

“Yeah,” Gabe grumbled. “Larger schoolhouse. Several more eateries, a town hall.”

Chase folded his arms over his chest. “Pretty tall order when you consider the overall general repairs of the town they held over our heads before.”

“Don’t forget about the park and festival grounds we built last month,” Jake added. “Don’t feel right.”

“Sir!” A female voice rang out from the back of the room. Several men moved aside to let Hannah Hoskins through, followed by Maude Miller. “Have you given any thought to what will happen if we do all the things you ask and the train does not come to Logan Meadows? Without it, this town is not large enough to
support three or four restaurants. I, for one, don’t want to lose my livelihood.”

Jake straightened. “Hannah sure is a firecracker.”

“Agreed,” Gabe responded, the admiration in his voice hard to miss.

Chase eyed the two young cowboys he and Jessie had taken under their roof three years ago. They had grown into fine men right before his eyes. He could not be prouder if he was their father. Still, he wondered if Jessie was right—he should be encouraging them to find good women and settle down, start families of their own.

“My niece is right, Mr. Peabody,” Frank said, affirming Hannah’s statement. “Many of the townsfolk have already taken out loans with the bank.”

Mr. Peabody looked annoyed. He lifted his chin and leveled an accusing stare on the crowd before turning to Frank. “Well, that should make you a happy man, Mr. Lloyd. Business must be good.” His gaze bounced around the room, and then his eyes narrowed. “The forward-thinking citizens of New Meringue do not seem to have the concerns that many of you are voicing here. They comprehend that their property values will increase more than four- or fivefold as people migrate from the east and their town grows in population. Merchants will get rich selling supplies to a flood of newcomers. Perhaps the good people of Logan Meadows like their lifestyle just the way it is now. Mayhap they don’t want progress at all. Would you rather remain small, uncivilized?” He coughed into his hand. “I never intended to imply that the railroad
had
to come through Logan Meadows.”

Anger slammed Chase. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.
Why, the little vermin.
He stepped forward, feeling Gabe and Jake at his back. These boys would both need a ranch of their own in the years to come, and he intended to help them get started. Yes, the railroad would be a vast boon for the Broken Horn. And it was also true the extra cattle next year would
be an enormous strain if plans didn’t work out. But they would figure something out. They had prospered in the past, and would again in the future, by the sweat of their brows and strength of their backs. No one was going to bully them! “That almost sounds like a threat, Mr. Peabody,” he said, his hat still dangling in his fingers. “I don’t think that’s how you meant it to come out.” Chase looked around at all the nodding heads. “Or did you?”

“A threat? Of course not. I was only pointing out that without progress your town will eventually die out. What does not go forward sooner or later stalls and then backslides. Nothing stays the same.”

Chase could have heard a fly hiccup as everyone mulled over the man’s words.

“A real snake in the woods,” Jake whispered close to Chase’s ear. “He sure knows how to work a crowd.”

“I’d like to smash him with my boot heel,” Gabe whispered.

The racket of stagecoach wheels, jangling steel chains to leather trace, and thundering hooves made everyone look out the open double doors. “Whoa, there,” a deep voice called out. Dust swirled as the stage horses were pulled to a halt in front of the alley next to the El Dorado Hotel.

“That would be the twelve o’clock from Denver,” Chase said. “Right on time like clockwork. Amazing how they can do that.”

“That’s all I have for today,” Mr. Peabody said, as if thankful for the distraction. “I’ll return in two weeks to address any new concerns you may have. Just keep one thing in mind while I’ve gone back to the conveniences of New York City, where new gadgets and gismos are imported daily from far-reaching countries, where crystal and silk are things of the ordinary.” He pointed out to the stagecoach. “Consider what your poor, threadbare lives were like before you got the daily stage.” He sniffed loudly and swatted at a fly on his arm. “That little forward step has greatly improved your livelihoods and connected you to the rest of the world. Just think what the railroad could do.”

As the crowd dispersed, Hannah kept her gaze on the dumpy man from the Union Pacific, angry he would not commit with a straight answer. The stances and faces of her fellow townsfolk said they shared her frustration.

Maude took her by the elbow. “Come on, girl. It won’t do any good to hang around here. You best get back to your restaurant and me to my store.”

Hannah harrumphed. “I’m not ready to leave yet, Maude. I need to get a close look at that railroad man. See what Mr. Peabody is
really
thinking.” She pushed forward, and Maude dutifully followed. She was almost to the front of the room when Dwight stepped in her path, fingering his deputy’s badge the way he always did, as if to reinforce his own importance.

“Just what are you up to, Hannah?” Dwight asked. Taller than Caleb had been, he towered over the two women. “I can see in your expression you have something planned.” He tilted his head toward the spot where Mr. Peabody was trying to escape the crowd that had surrounded him. “This is men’s work. Leave it to us.”

Hannah arched a brow. “What I’m planning is none of your concern, Dwight. I’m a business owner. I have as much at stake as the rest of the townspeople.” She didn’t miss the tightening of his mouth or the displeasure in his eyes, but that didn’t stop her. “Just because your cousin was my late husband, you’ve no right sticking your nose in my life every chance you get. You’ve got no claim on me.”

Dwight cleared his throat and glanced at Maude; to his credit, he looked sheepish. “I wish you’d stop being so prickly toward me, Hannah. I’m a deputy sheriff with a good income. You’d be hard-pressed to do better.” He lowered his voice. “Besides, who better to be a father to Markus than his uncle?”

Hannah couldn’t help laughing. Dwight’s conceit and stubborn hardheadedness were unbelievable. Problem was, her mother
kept encouraging him as much as Hannah was discouraging him. “Dwight, please. I’ve already made it as clear as I can. Now, let me by before I lose my chance to speak with Mr. Peabody.”

Too late. The railroad representative pushed his way through the men and hurried away.

Dwight cleared his throat again, but this time it sounded more like a deep growl. Hannah turned, surprised. “Don’t you try to intimidate me, Dwight. I’m no frightened field mouse you can send scurrying for cover!” Even standing as tall as she could, her eyes came only to his badge. A tiny seed of uncertainty planted in her belly at the livid glint in his gaze.

Maude took her arm, eyes rounded in warning. “This crowd is closing in on me. I need some air.”

“Yes, let’s go. Good day, Mr. Hoskins,” she said, nodding politely.

“I’ll see you for dinner Sunday evening. Your mother invited me over to visit Markus. She thinks he’s getting unruly and needs a man’s influence.” It was impossible to miss his gloating expression.

Hannah bit the inside of her cheek and kept her face carefully blank as she helped Maude through the crowd to the back of the dusty gathering area. Once they were blessedly outside, she sucked in a lungful of fresh, cool air. A few feet away, Chase Logan, along with Gabe, Jake, and one of his ranch hands, Blake Hansen, stood beneath some alders in deep conversation. Blake was flanked by Rome Littleton, one of her least favorite people. He’d made an attempt last year to catch her attention, coming into the restaurant and making a pest of himself. When she let him know she wasn’t interested, he’d never come in again. She was glad. There was something very disturbing about the ranch owner from New Meringue besides his prominent nose—she couldn’t help but feel something dark lurked behind his eyes.

“Hannah,” a woman’s voice called.

Brenna Lane, a widow who had three children of her own and had recently taken in another parentless child, hurried in her direction. Brenna’s ragged appearance, as well as her thinness, made Hannah’s heart ache. It was apparent the young mother gave all the leftovers Hannah sent her to the children, keeping little for herself.

Maude patted Hannah’s arm. “I’ll see you back at the restaurant.” The older woman’s gaze darted back toward Dwight, who was now talking with someone else. “You take care.”

Hannah laughed carelessly, although she didn’t feel it. “Him? Oh, he’s just a big nincompoop.”