Love Finds You in Last Chance, California (8 page)

A weathered gray-and-white house at the end of the street was identified by a sign nailed to the picket fence in front as M
ISS
R
ICE
’
S
B
OARDINGHOUSE
. Colorful flowers hung in a bucket from the rafters of the small covered porch, and the tidy path to the house boded well for the cleanliness of the place. Green gingham curtains fluttered in front of the half-open windows to the left of the porch, and a hand-lettered sign reading W
ELCOME
hung on the front door.

Justin pulled his team to a halt and moved Toby’s head from his knee. Placing a bedroll gently under the boy’s cheek before stepping down from the wagon, he tied the horses to the nearby gatepost and lifted the sleeping child into his arms.

His knock at the door brought the sound of rapid footfalls landing on a wooden floor, and seconds later the door swung open. A small, birdlike woman peered out from under bright red hair peppered with gray, which billowed around her face in unrestrained clouds. A pair of spectacles perched on the tip of her thin nose, and a long, slender finger reached up to push them back in place. She might have been forty, or she could’ve been fifty-five. It was hard to tell. Life could be hard on women in this country.

“Yes?” Her wary gaze swept over him in an instant, but when it landed on the sleeping child in his arms, her expression softened. “Come in! You’ve got your hands full, mister. Come lay the boy down in my parlor.”

Justin stepped over the threshold onto the well-worn fir floor and followed his hostess two strides down a short hall to the doorway of a side room. His glance took in the green curtains and half-raised window. This must be the room he’d seen from the road. Clean and tidy like he’d expected, it was sparsely furnished with a small sofa, two button-backed rosewood chairs, and a round side table. A picture of a farm graced the mantel above the fireplace in the middle of the far wall, and a large braided rug claimed the room’s center, its deep green and yellow hues bringing both color and a sense of tranquillity to the area.

Miss Rice bustled into the room and beckoned Justin over to the flowered sofa under the window. She reached up and drew down the sash, dimming the evening light, and patted the seat. “Lay him down here.”

Justin bent and placed his sleeping son on the brocaded surface. The tiny woman placed a knitted afghan over the boy, tucking it under his chin with gentle fingers. She touched her finger to her lips and nodded toward the door. Justin followed her back into the hall, still within sight of Toby.

Miss Rice swung toward him and crossed her arms over her bosom. “What’s your name, young man? You wanting a room for the night?”

Justin swept his hat off his head and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Yes, ma’am. The boy and I would like to stay for a few days, if you have room and don’t mind taking a child.”

Her eyebrows shot up into her unkempt hair, the only thing that appeared out of order in what he’d seen of this tidy home so far. “Mind? Of course I don’t mind. I’d never turn a child away. Never. Can’t say as much for a lot of parents, but children have to come first. Yes, sir, they do.” She jerked her head down the hall and crooked a finger at him. “Follow me. What’d you say your name was?”

“Phillips, ma’am. Justin Phillips.” He followed her down the hall, glancing into another small room. A table set for six nearly filled the space opening onto the roomy kitchen.

“It’s Alice Rice, not ma’am. But you can call me Miss Alice. Most folks do.” She stepped through the kitchen doorway that led into the dining room and pulled out a straight-backed chair. “Have a seat. Coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am—I mean, Miss Alice. I’d appreciate that.” He placed his hat on the neighboring chair and took the seat offered. “Nice place you have here.” Lace-edged curtains trimmed the window, and the glass sparkled in the late afternoon sun. The top of the pine table was waxed to a high shine, revealing the craftsmanship and care someone had lavished on the sturdy piece of furniture.

Miss Alice bustled into the kitchen and pulled open a cupboard door, exposing a stack of plates and bowls. She reached for two dark brown mugs and stepped across the kitchen to the wood stove in the corner. A coffeepot sat on the metal grate. Grasping the handle with a towel, she poured the mugs to the brim and set one in front of Justin.

Finally, she pulled out a chair and sank onto its hard surface with a sigh. “My feet aren’t what they used to be.” The cup of coffee sitting beside her went untouched, but she waved at Justin, urging him to drink. “What brings you and the boy to town?”

“We’ve been traveling for the past two weeks, and this looked like a nice spot to stop for a while,” he hedged. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed to catch the fact that he’d avoided answering her question directly.

“That your boy?” Her tone sharpened and she leaned her bony elbows on the table, peering at him through her eyeglasses.

Justin took a sip of the hot brew and set the cup back on the table. “He is. His name’s Toby and he’s just three. His mother died awhile back and I’m hoping to find someone to help with his care.” There. He’d said more than he’d planned or wanted, but this woman didn’t look like someone who’d give up easily when on the hunt for information.

She tilted back in her chair and clasped her hands in her lap, her face relaxing out of its harsh lines. “Too bad. I’m sorry you lost your missus.” Her tone turned brisk. “I serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and you can have a room with two beds, if you’d prefer, or one full-sized instead. I have five rooms to let, with three of them filled. No smoking in the house, no chewing or spitting, no swearing or taking the Lord’s name in vain, no drinking, and no lady friends in your room. That clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sat up straight. She didn’t seem to mind that he’d used “ma’am” this time. “How much does each room cost?”

Her posture relaxed. “The room with one bed is cheaper, as there’s less linen to care for. It’s eight dollars a week, and the room with two beds is nine. That includes board. I won’t charge you any extra for your little man since he won’t eat much. ’Course, you can save a little if you pay by the month.” She reached out and patted his hand. “Don’t mind me, son. My bark is worse than my bite, although I don’t tell everybody that. Pays to keep them guessing, know what I mean?” The hazel eyes twinkled and a small smile softened the strict lines of her face.

He grinned at the perky little woman. “I reckon I do. Don’t worry, I won’t give away your secret.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “One bed is fine. I’d better get Toby up to our room where he can get a proper nap. Would you have any place I might give him a bath? I’m afraid it’s been awhile since either of us have cleaned up proper.”

“I do. I have a big washtub in the shed off the back of the house. I’ll heat water on the stove, and when you’re ready, you say the word. You can pack the hot water outside and draw cold water from the well and make you a right fine soaking bath.”

She walked to the back door of the kitchen and pulled it open, stepped outside, and pointed a few yards down the porch. “Right back there is the tub, in that little room on the end, and back yonder”—she beckoned across the small yard to where a small, circular brick wall sat, a wooden framework above it—“is the well. I’d let you pump it here in the kitchen, but it’s faster to draw out a bucket and dump it into the tub.”

Justin nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Miss Alice. I haven’t had a sitdown bath for longer than I can remember. Toby’ll think he’s in heaven.”

“Come on. You can bundle up the child and I’ll take you to your room. You’ll meet the other boarders at dinner.” She started to exit the room then swung back around and raised her hand. “One more thing—visitors are allowed in the parlor.”

“Yes, ma’am. But I don’t intend to have any visitors.” A vision of the brown-haired girl at the church rose in Justin’s mind, but he pushed it back down. He’d been down that road once before and found little to recommend it. No, a hired woman willing to care for his son while he worked would be the best thing for Toby. A wife wasn’t in the picture.

He followed Miss Alice back to the parlor, a feeling of relief sitting firm in his chest. Rest. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

Alex peeked through the small, dirty pane of glass next to the door of the assayer’s office. Seeing no one, she pushed the door open then stepped over the threshold into the dimly lit room. In a building this small, kerosene light and a tiny window had to suffice. Lumber was easy to come by with the mill just outside of town, but windows were scare.

Her gaze drifted from the cluttered desk to the rough-hewn shelves covering one wall. An empty chair rested a few feet from the worktable, which was strewn with ore samples. Instruments lay where their owner had dropped them, and silence blanketed the room.

It didn’t appear as though Samuel would be gone long, with the room unlocked and in disarray and his assistant, Fred, nowhere in sight. But still, Alex didn’t like to wait. She wanted an answer to allay the worry growing inside.

Alex stepped out the door and peered up the dusty street, hoping to spot Samuel’s stooped form heading her way. The sauntering figure of a man coming toward her drew her attention.

“Miss Travers.” Sheriff Carl Ramsey paused to tip his hat, exposing his shaggy gray locks. “Business with Samuel?”

She hesitated then pulled the door closed behind her and joined the sheriff on the walkway. “Yes, but he’s out right now. May I speak to you in your office?”

His gray brows rose but he nodded and gestured for her to move ahead. “Certainly.” He adapted his long stride to her shorter one. How she hated wearing a skirt. Trousers gave a sense of freedom that this tangled mass of fabric could never do. She was sorely tempted to disregard her father’s wishes and wear them to town, but Martha would scold her if she tried. Wearing men’s pants while working on the ranch was one thing, but doing so in town was another.

Sheriff Ramsey ushered her into his office. He waited until she had seated herself and then sank behind his desk, sticking his long legs out to the side and propping one foot over his knee. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” His smile crinkled the corners of his mouth and reached up to his twinkling eyes.

Sunlight streamed through the small window positioned above his desk and threw sparkling rays over the scattered papers. Sarah must have cleaned again; the shining windows testified to her handiwork. Alex sniffed, taking in the scent of freshly scrubbed floors. “You’re lucky to have a wife who loves to clean.”

He chuckled and straightened the pile on his littered desk. “Yep. Sure am. Drives Sarah plumb batty that I won’t let her touch my desk. I know she’s itchin’ to come in when I’m gone and make everything neat and tidy, but I told her ‘Hands off.’ She don’t need to be worryin’ about who’s busted out of jail or wanted by the law.”

Alex grinned. “Sounds like Sarah. You’re lucky to have her, you know.” She removed her straw hat and placed it on her lap then smoothed her hair back from her face. “You heard about my father taking out a note against the ranch?”

His eyes widened a bit then narrowed. “No, sure haven’t. Surprises me, though. Your pa didn’t seem the type who’d go in debt.”

She nodded. “Exactly. You asked about my business with Samuel. It seems Papa may have found gold on our land.”

The sheriff’s mouth dropped open. “Ah-huh. Well, now.” He sucked in a breath and shook his head as though trying to clear it. “Who’da guessed it.”

“He dropped ore samples off to be assayed, and I’m hoping to get the report. I was hoping he might’ve mentioned it to you, maybe given you an indication where it was located. With the gold gone that he borrowed from the bank…”

“Gone, you say?” Sheriff Ramsey leaned forward and placed his large hands flat on the desk. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Mr. Elton said Papa borrowed money and took it in gold. It wasn’t found on him, and I’ve not found it at the house. I’ve searched the area where he fell but didn’t find anything. Uncle Joe knew he’d found gold, but Papa never told him where.”

“Uh-huh. That might bear lookin’ into some. Yes, sir. Think I’ll take me a little ride out to where he fell for another look-see around.”

“Thanks, Sheriff; another set of eyes would help.”

The sheriff held up his hand. “One more thing, Alex. You’ve known Carter Foster for years. His pa and yours were friends and neighbors. He might be a good man to turn to if you keep havin’ trouble.”

She placed her hat back on her head and tied the ribbon under her chin. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I don’t think it’s anything Uncle Joe and I can’t handle. Just thought you should know, you being the law and all. I’d best get back and see if Samuel’s returned.”

He pushed up from his chair, making it creak in protest as his lanky frame rose. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”