Newton (Prairie Grooms Book 9) (11 page)

A
fter Mrs. Upton
took the cake out of the oven, it had to cool before she could frost it. Arya decided to go for a walk. She left the hotel and headed down the street to the other end of town, breathing in the cool fresh air after being in the warm kitchen all morning.

She wasn’t sure how frosting was made, but she knew what it was. She’d had cake several times since coming to Clear Creek, not to mention cookies and pies. Each was foreign to her, but they were all delightful. She also knew that Newton loved them as much as she did.

She looked forward to learning how to make his favorites, along with what Mrs. Upton called “main dishes” – soups, stews, pot roasts (about which she grudgingly admitted that Mrs. Dunnigan’s were the best), roasted fowl and other things. But she realized she’d have to do a lot of hunting in the future if she was to feed her husband such fare. Either that, or find a way to make money and buy them from the local farmers like Mr. Van Cleet did. As Mr. Van Cleet didn’t have to do his own hunting, he must be rich too.

Newton hadn’t shown up for lunch, but she knew where he was. Mr. Van Cleet himself had come into the kitchen and given her the message. For a rich man, he was very nice. She’d known rich men before, from other tribes, and many had tried to barter for her hand in marriage, but her father had refused all offers. Several times she thought a fight would break out, one that would lead to war. Thankfully, none had come to that.

Perhaps that’s why her father had married her off to Newton. He wasn’t foolish enough to pick a fight with her father or Mr. Awahnee, who had presented Newton to her father in the first place. She wondered what had become of the tall dark man and his wife. After she and Newton were married, they’d just seemed to disappear.

She brushed the thought aside as she went inside the mercantile. Surely there was no harm in looking at all the wondrous things that lined the shelves. She knew she had to give Mr. or Mrs. Dunnigan money in order to take any of them out of the building. But as she had none and nothing to trade, she would have to leave empty-handed. The thought made her sad, but she decided to look around anyway.

“Howdy there,” Mr. Dunnigan said as she entered. He and the sheriff sat at a small table by a huge window at the front of the building. They were playing a game of some sort. She’d seen them do this before but hadn’t asked Newton about it. She walked over to where they sat and studied the game board and pieces. “What is this game?”

Sheriff Hughes turned in his chair. “This here, Mrs. Whitman, is what makes us get up in the morning.”

Arya stared at him a moment then at the board. “It … does?”

The men laughed. “Let’s just say it’s something we enjoy,” said Mr. Dunnigan. “It’s called checkers.”

“Checkers,” Arya repeated. “How do you play it?”

“Let us finish this game and we’ll show you,” Sheriff Hughes said. “Now watch this.” He picked up one flat round piece and made it hop over several others. “Ha! How do ya like that, Wilfred?”

Mr. Dunnigan groaned. “Dagnabit, Harlan, that’s three games in a row! Here, Mrs. Whitman, you can take my place. Since the sheriff seems to be in such fine form today, he can teach you how to play.”

Sheriff Hughes laughed boisterously. “I win the week! Victory! Glorious victory for me!”

“Ya don’t have to overdo it, Harlan,” Mr. Dunnigan said in a huff. He marched to the other side of the mercantile and went behind the counter.

The sheriff was still chuckling when he motioned Arya to take the empty chair. “He’s just mad because this makes
two
weeks in a row that I’ve won.”

“I’m not selling you anymore lemon drops or licorice whips, Harlan!” Mr. Dunnigan yelled across the store. “Not until I win!”

“Empty threats,” the sheriff explained. “He always does this when he loses.”

Arya smiled. This would be fun. “How do we play?”

The sheriff began to arrange the pieces on the board. “Let me get everything set up, then I’ll give you a lesson. Where’s Newton, by the way?”

“He went to the Triple-C Ranch.”

“Oh. And what are you doing, other than about to play a game of checkers with me?”

She shrugged. “Mrs. Upton is teaching me how to bake a cake. It is cooling, so I took a walk.”

The sheriff nodded. “What kind of cake?”

“Chocolate.”

“Chocolate, you say? She wouldn’t happen to be baking that for teatime, would she?”

“For lunch, she said.”

“Well, I’ll have to mosey on over there later. In the meantime, let me see if I can teach you a few things.”

“Don’t teach her how to cheat!” Wilfred called across the room.

“I ain’t gonna teach her how to cheat!” He turned back to Arya. “Don’t listen to him. Like I told you before,
he’s
just angry because I won this week.”

Arya giggled at the way he said it so proudly. “Teach me.”

Sheriff Hughes nodded, smiled and did just that.

N
ewton rode
into town with an unsettled gut. He and the Cooke brothers still hadn’t come to an agreement on how he could work for them. The thought of being separated from his wife every night made him cringe. He didn’t know if he could do it.

He did find out that the cabin the Kincaids occupied actually belonged to Cozette’s father and stepmother, Anton Duprie and the Countess Van Zuyen. The countess, of course, was the mother of Princess Madelaina of Dalrovia. And wasn’t that an astounding story – the exiled princess, her nobly-born mother, and Mr. Berg, the loyal soldier turned town blacksmith. There was one for his father and Imogene to write about – it would probably sell like mad. Perhaps he ought to suggest it to them …

But he had more important matters that needed his attention. What was he going to do about work? The Triple-C was his best option, monetarily speaking, but it would mean being separated from his wife. The Kincaids’ home had only one bedroom – Arya would have to sleep on either the sofa or a pallet on the floor – and was too small for both couples to live in, so he’d have to bed down in the bunkhouse. The same was true with Jefferson and Edith’s home.

And neither one was more than a short-term solution. Even if they could make it work, what would happen if Susara and Logan found they had a child on the way? For that matter, what would happen if he and Arya found
they
had one on the way? No matter how he looked at it, he and Arya were going to need their own place. But how on earth could he make that happen?

Newton reached the livery stable, dismounted and led the horse inside. “Mr. Adams?” he called.

Chase Adams popped out from behind a stack of hay bales. “Mr. Whitman – back so soon?”

“I’ve been gone for hours,” Newton informed him.

Chase pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “So you have. Where did the time go?”

“I wish I knew,” Newton commented. “I can unsaddle the horse and rub him down if you like.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m just finishing up here. By the way, Lena and I would very much like to have you and your wife join us for supper some night.”

It was all Newton could do not to gape at him. A dinner invitation? He hardly knew the man. “Thank you – that’s very kind of you to offer.”

“Lena’s been talking about it. She feels bad that she doesn’t really have anything to contribute to your wife’s, uh, education. Especially since Mrs. Kincaid seems to be covering most of it, she and the other women in town.”

“I understand. I don’t expect all the women to contribute. By Heaven, when I think about it, I can’t get over how many actually are.”

“You’ll find the folks in Clear Creek are a mighty generous bunch, Mr. Whitman. Then again, there’s quite a few people around here that are related to you.”

“Your wife included.” Good grief, what was he thinking? Of course his cousin would want them to come join her and her husband for dinner. “Tell Lena I accept your invitation. Arya and I will look forward to it.”

“She’ll be happy to hear it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get a few things done before I head home.”

Newton nodded, led the horse into a nearby stall and started to unsaddle him. When he was done removing the horse’s tack, he rubbed him down and fed him, then helped Chase feed the rest of the horses before leaving to go search for his wife. After all, it was well after teatime.

Where
had
the day gone?
he thought as he entered the hotel’s dining room. Not to mention Arya – he didn’t see her anywhere. He inquired of Mrs. Upton, who informed him that she hadn’t seen her since shortly after lunch.

When he did find her, he could hardly believe his eyes. Not only was she engrossed in a game of checkers with Sheriff Hughes at the mercantile, she was winning. He’d never seen the sheriff sweat the way he was now. “Don’t do anything to break my concentration!” the older man grumbled. “Doggone if your wife isn’t beating the pants off of me!”

Newton stood behind the sheriff and folded his arms across his chest. He looked at Arya in disbelief. “You mean to tell me she’s been winning all afternoon?”

“I showed her how to play the game once, before lunch.” the sheriff lamented. “Once. And now she’s killing me!”

Arya’s head shot up from the board in alarm. “I hurt you?”

Newton burst out laughing. “No, darling … except perhaps his pride.”

“He deserves it!” Wilfred called from across the room. “That’s what he gets for beating me the last two weeks!”

“Quiet, Wilfred, I’m trying to concentrate!” the sheriff shot back.

Newton couldn’t help but smile. He had to admit – Arya was a fast learner. Then a sound from outside caught his attention, and he looked out the window just as the stage pulled up in front of the mercantile. He turned to Wilfred. “Is it time for Willy already?”

Wilfred pulled out his watch and looked at it. “No, it’s only four-thirty. He’s early.”

The sheriff finally made a move, then took his eyes off the board for a moment to look outside. Arya, in turn, wiped out three of his pieces. “I am sorry,” she said, drawing his attention. “I hope that didn’t hurt too much.”

Sheriff Hughes turned back to the board. “Not again,” he groaned.

Arya grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

“Newton, get your wife out of here before she ruins my reputation,” Sheriff Hughes pleaded. He twisted in his chair to face him. “And swear to me you won’t tell a soul?”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Newton replied as Wilfred joined him in staring out the front window. They all watched Willy the stagecoach driver climb down from his perch and open the door of the stagecoach.

“Great jumpin’ horny toads!” Wilfred gasped. “It can’t be!”

Sheriff Hughes jumped out of his chair so fast he knocked it over. “Great Scott! It is!”

All four watched Duncan Cooke, His Grace the Duke of Stantham, disembark from the stage to stand at the foot of the mercantile’s front steps.

A
rya saw
the man standing next to the stagecoach extend his hand to help a woman get out. She was petite and strangely beautiful, her features not unlike Ayra’s, and she briefly wondered if that was how others saw her. She couldn’t tell what color her hair was because of the funny hat she wore. She’d seen other women with hats, but this one looked much finer – made of straw, with a wide ribbon across its brim that was tied under her chin. What did Susara call that … a bonnet?

“Arya,” Newton said as he reached for her hand. “Let’s go meet His Grace.”

She pulled her hand out of his, then looked between him and the people gathering outside. She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet this man or his wife.

“Arya, what’s wrong with you?” Newton asked. “Come along now.”

She took one last look at the crowd and gave him back her hand. He drew her up from her chair and led her outside and halfway down the mercantile steps. Grandma and Doc Waller were hustling down the street toward the scene, Doc Drake and his wife Elsie not far behind. The Mulligans also came walking over from the saloon. In fact, everyone in town seemed to be heading their way.

It made Arya nervous and she tried to back away, but Newton put an arm around her. “It’s all right, darling,” he soothed. “Here, let’s go where we’re not so closed in. He led her back onto the porch, where they had a much better vantage point and weren’t in the middle of the chaos.

“Land sakes, Duncan!” Grandma Waller cried as she shoved her way through the crowd. “We didn’t expect you this soon!” Arya watched the woman grab him, pull him into a hug, then kiss him on the cheek. “We’ve missed you so much!”

Grandma did the same with the duchesses as people started to form lines around the couple. It was the most hugging and kissing Arya had ever seen. Some of the people even cried. A wild cacophony of greetings followed: “I can’t believe you two are home at last!” “It’s been so long – so, so long!” “Did ye have a good trip then, lad?” “How long are you going to stay?” “I bet you can’t wait to have some of Irene’s pot roast!”

Then … “Duncan Cooke!” Arya jumped as Mrs. Dunnigan appeared in the doorway of the mercantile, a ladle in her hands. “Move it, out of my way, step aside!” she huffed as she shoved her way through the crowd. She reached the couple and held her ladle up threateningly. “Where have you been?”

“My dear Mrs. Dunnigan,” the duke said diplomatically. “Put that ladle down and give us a kiss.”

Mrs. Dunnigan gasped in shock. “I’ve a mind to smack you with this for saying such a thing!”

“Ah, go ahead and kiss her,” Wilfred said with a grin.

Duncan smiled slyly and, in one swift move, grabbed the ladle from her hand, put his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek.

“Let go of me, Duncan Cooke, you scoundrel!”

Duncan laughed as he let her go. “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Dunnigan.”

Arya watched in fascination as Mrs. Dunnigan blushed from head to toe. She then grabbed the Duchess and gave her a hug.

Newton sighed. “Well, my dear, it looks as if Their Graces are going to be occupied for a while. I would still like you to meet them, though.”

“I do not want to.”