Promise Me (34 page)

silver highlights curl around her friendly face.

“What's your name, darlin'?” Sam asked.

She quirked an eyebrow at him and dimples appeared at each corner of her shapely mouth. “I'm Harriet Parmeter, the proprietor of this hotel. And if you're askin' so's you can come courtin'—don't waste your time on pickin' flowers for me.” She leaned toward Sam and winked. “I'd rather have some good whiskey instead!”

Both Sam and Robert roared at her spunky response as she poured their coffee then whirled to the table next to them. They watched as she chatted with her customers, brought orders from the kitchen, whisked dirty dishes off the tables and then set them for new customers.

“It appears she's in need of some help,” Sam commented.

Robert blew on his coffee, lifted his gaze to watch Harriet Parmeter for a moment then shrugged.

“Appears so.”

Sam was silent, then nodded. “An extra pair of hands around this place would be a big help to Mrs. Parmeter. I expect she'd be willing to take on some help, if the offer was put to her right.”

Robert sipped from his cup slowly and took his time as he considered his partner's comment.

“I s'pect so, what with the town growin' and her business bein' brisk, especially on a night like tonight. Everybody for miles around wants to be in town for the New Year's celebration.” He put the four legs of his chair back onto the floor. “Mayhap I'll go ask the lady about employment.”

Sam didn't have time to object as Robert scraped back the chair and rose to his feet. He slipped through the door of the kitchen with a silent, easy gait.

Harriet Parmeter leaned into the oven of the cast iron stove and Robert was met by her round, shapely bottom as she balanced herself to remove a pan. He stopped to take a deep breath. In his opinion, a woman's ass was one of the loveliest sights on God's green earth. If the woman was a full-figured and mature creature, the pleasure was intensified a thousand times for him.

Harriet straightened, turning to put the skillet of cornbread on the table behind her. Her eyes opened wide and a strawberry blush crawled up from her ample bosom to tinge her cheeks when she noticed Robert standing behind her.

“Ya nearly scared me outta my skin, Mister.” She made a noise of disapproval. “Customers ain't allowed in the kitchen.” She snapped a linen dishtowel in his direction. “Scat! Get yerself back in the dinin' room and I'll be out shortly.”

Robert shifted from foot to foot and held his hands behind his back. He wasn't good at talking, that was Sam's job. But if they were ever going to succeed at their new assignment, he'd have to find a job that gave him access to miners, travelers and gossip. The dining room of a hotel seemed like the perfect solution. Not to mention the establishment was owned by Harriet Parmeter.

He nodded. “Beggin' your pardon, ma'am, but seein' as how you're so busy and all, I was wonderin' if you'd have a job for someone like me.” He swallowed, reluctant to look away from the soft brown eyes staring back at him.

Harriet frowned. “I ain't got no horses to buck-break or cows needin' to be punched. Most of what I need done around here is emptyin' slop pails, scrubbin' floors and haulin' wood.” She sniffed. “All the men I've hired have run-off soon as they got a poke for minin' or somethin' better came along.”

Robert nodded. “I understand, and I ain't plannin' on stayin' in these parts much beyond next spring. But I could be a good help ‘til then.”

Harriet was quiet as she put her hands on her hips and sized him up. He blushed as her gaze swept down from the top of his head to the toes of his boots. He wondered if she was going to ask him to open his mouth so she could see his teeth. He almost neighed and fought the urge to stomp a foot.

“You might do, if you ain't afraid of hard work. I can't pay much but I'd give you a room to sleep in and three good meals every day.”

Robert nodded. “That sounds fair.”

“What about your handsome friend out there, he lookin' for work too?”

He shook his head. “I'd say he's more interested in searching for business opportunities.”

Harriet snorted. “Gambler?”

“Sometimes,” Robert answered. “But he's got some education and a bit of money. “

Harriet grabbed a knife and started slicing the cornbread. “What's your name?”

“Robert Holcomb,” he said as he removed his woolen coat and started to roll up the sleeves of his linen shirt. “I'll just start washin' up in here right now if you don't mind.”

Harriet loaded a tray with plates and balanced it across her arm. “I ain't gonna argue with you, Robert. We got a dinin' room full of hungry folks in town for the big doin's tonight and I believe in makin' hay while the sun shines.” She slipped out the door.

Robert took a tin pan to the reservoir of hot water on the stove and filled it. He returned to the sink and pumped some cold water in it, then grabbed the bar of soap and rubbed it in his hands. He could hear Harriet's bright, cheerful laughter through the door, and he smiled. So far, he'd seen no sign of a Mr. Parmeter, and he felt a jolt of awareness that hit him without warning. If Harriet wasn't a widow, it was going to be a real temptation to rein in his desire to make her one.

It was many hours later, after washing a ton of dishes by Robert's estimation, that he slowly climbed the stairs to the room Harriet had assigned him earlier in the evening. Despite the late hour, the street outside was still filled with the celebration for New Years. The Chinese rockets had been lit hours ago, but men were shooting off their guns as they yelled out their greetings and stumbled through the streets.

There were a lot of drunks out there, Robert concluded, and not being a drinking man he had no desire to go out and join them. His bed was looking pretty good right about now. He might not be able to fall asleep, but he could get his boots off and stretch out.

“Get your hands off me you son-of-a-bitch, or I'll give out a yell that'll bring the roof down.”

Robert paused when he recognized Harriet's voice coming from one of the rooms at the end of the hall.

“Ain't nobody gonna hear you with that racket out in the street,” a deep voice drawled. “You know you want it, woman, so stop fightin' me.”

It was all the reason Robert needed to dash up the stairs. He could hear a crash from behind the door and then a muffled thump. He didn't bother to knock; he kicked at the door and stumbled into the room.

A man lay sprawled across the bed and Harriet Parmeter brushed crockery across the pine floor with her foot. She looked up as Robert stood in the doorway with his gun drawn.

“Damn drunks cost me more in pitchers than they're worth!” She turned to glance at the man and then shrugged her shoulders. “I'll charge him an extra dollar tomorrow for the trouble.”

“You can put that gun away, Mr. Holcomb, no need to shoot anybody tonight.” A smile played across her lips. “I do appreciate you comin' to my rescue though —you're a regular hero, ain't you?”

Robert blushed as she closed the door behind her before leaning back against it. She seemed to see him, really see him, for the first time since he'd walked into the kitchen.

“You worked hard tonight and I never heard a word of complaint,” she paused to consider him more, “no cussin' neither, which I sure appreciate.”

She stepped closer and Robert didn't move. He could smell her cinnamon, coffee and honey scent and he inhaled deeply. She smelled like warm bread from the oven, sitting by the fire with spiced cider comfort. Harriet Parmeter smelled like home. Her rosy lips formed a sweet smile and his heart thumped against his chest.

She lifted up on her toes to grasp his chin gently. “Happy New Year, Robert,” she whispered before putting her lips on his. He felt frozen to the spot, as if the howling North wind had brought a blizzard into the room. He was too surprised to respond; too afraid she'd pull away from him if he so much as grasped her around the waist to pull her closer. Finally she leaned away from him, a flirt of a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes. She turned to go to her room.

Robert felt like his boots were stuck to the floor. He needed to say something but his mind was blank. She stood outside her room, and he finally found his courage.

“Mrs. Parmeter,” she turned with one hand on the brass doorknob. “I believe we're in for a special New Year,” he paused to look down at his feet, knowing his neck and face were probably red as a ripe apple. He finally looked up to see a delighted smile on her face. “I. . . I, appreciate you taking me on and giving me work,” he said.

She cocked her head at him like a curious crow sitting on a fence post. “There's more to you than most folks can see, Mr. Robert Holcomb, it's gonna be interestin' to figure you out!”

When she finally closed the door to her room, Robert grinned. “If you only knew, Mrs. Parmeter,” he said softly as he passed her room, “if you only knew.”

###

The End

About the author...

A love for American History drew Deborah to the field of education and she holds a teaching degree in Social Studies with an emphasis on American History. This explains her interest in the American Revolution, the Civil War and Westerns. She resides in a small town near the Cascade Mountains in the Pacific Northwest. She's the winner of the Molly Award for the most Unsinkable Heroine for Sinclair Redford the heroine of
Beneath A Silver Moon
. She's received the Open Book Award from Pacific Northwest Writers, the Stella Cameron Award and was named Librarian of the Year in 2009 by Romance Writers of America. She loves writing about strong, smart women who aren't afraid to challenge the men they love. She's employed by one of the busiest library systems in the U.S., and believes in the power of books to change lives.

Visit her at
http://www.debschneider.com

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@cowgirlibrary

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Deborah Schneider

For more about her paranormal and steampunk books written as Sibelle Stone,

Visit
http://www.sibellestone.com

Thank you for taking the time to read, “Promise Me”. If you enjoyed this book, please review it at the website where you purchased it.