CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Two days later, Blake entered the Toggery, looking for Belle. The soft scents of new fabric, leather, and shoe polish wafted on the air. He’d been all over town, arriving at places just as she’d left a few moments before. At the café, Lavinia had not so slyly mentioned that Belle had recently received a telegram from Lesley, and then, as if she hadn’t just dumped a fresh road apple in his pocket, asked if he’d like a piece of warm chokecherry pie fresh out of the oven. Women.
In the light of the side window, he spotted Belle in deep conversation with Emma and Mrs. Smith, the woman Henry was involved with. He’d met her a few times but still hadn’t figured out what she meant to his friend. The women held several lengths of fabric between them. Laughter went up, causing him to smile. It felt darn good, having the threat to John’s daughters removed.
“Blake,” Emma called, giving him a quick, half-hearted wave. “Is Johnny over there? Seems he’s hidden himself away.”
Belle smiled, and Mrs. Smith shyly nodded.
“Let me have a look.” He walked around the shop, nodding to Mr. Buns, who looked about as happy as a colicky horse. Wasn’t difficult to guess he didn’t like all the changes coming to the store. The boy wasn’t behind a display of hats, or in the dressing room. At a rack of long dusters, Blake lifted one to find the child crouched underneath.
“Hello, Johnny,” Blake said softly, not wanting to frighten him. “That’s a good hiding spot.”
“Hi,” he whispered back with a slight lisp. He peered out along the floor, and a moment later up at Blake. “Want to hide wiff me?”
A little embarrassed warmth crept into Blake’s face. The innocence in the boy’s blue eyes was something Blake had lost at an early age. He saw caution there too, but not fear.
“Not today, but someday soon. How’s that?”
Johnny nodded, climbed to his feet, and took hold of Blake’s hand, surprising Blake again. He had little experience with children—except for the few months before the girls left the ranch. And then, he’d been a kid himself.
Now that Belle had a genuine reason to do so, she appeared at Blake’s side. “There you are, you little scamp.” She affectionately tweaked Johnny’s nose. “Your mama’s been looking for you.”
Emma and Mrs. Smith walked over. His mother took Johnny’s hand.
“Are you shopping for new clothes for the upcoming party?” Emma asked. “I’ll be happy to help.” She looked him up and down with a critical brow.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No. I have plenty to wear, thank you very much. Besides, we have time before that happens. I need to get the dance floor put in, close in some rooms, and have a few other areas at the building site to make safe. I wish you’d postpone this crazy idea until the house is completed. Wouldn’t that be better? Then you can show it off.”
“We’ll have another party when it’s finished, silly,” Emma replied, undaunted. “A housewarming.” The better he got to know each sister, the more mystifying layers he discovered. Emma was no exception.
He narrowed his eyes. “What has your color up? Are you plotting against your partner?” She snuck a quick look at Belle, who was smiling.
Emma went up on tiptoe and gave him a brotherly kiss on the cheek. “We’d never plot against you, Blake. You not only saved Katie, but Belle as well. And you’re a good fellow.” Her eyes sparkled with merriment. Apparently finished with the conversation, Emma put her hand on Mrs. Smith’s back and directed the woman to the other side of the store. But only after giving Blake a surreptitious wink.
“How does your arm feel?” Belle asked now that they were alone. She gazed at his arm as if it was the most intriguing subject she’d seen all year. Since their kiss, and then her ordeal with Dr. Dodge, Belle had been friendly—but also wary. He’d seen the questions in her eyes.
Problem was, he didn’t know how to get around the awkwardness without talking. And talking could make matters worse, since he was as confused as all get-out himself. He had to go nice and easy from this day forward.
He rolled up his sleeve so she could see the few stitches Moses had thrown in where the doctor’s scalpel had sliced. “A mite tender, but I’ll live.”
“Good. Good that you’ll live, I mean.” She blushed scarlet. “Have you been by to see Mr. Little?”
“Nope, sure haven’t. I planned to do just that when I went over to check on the livery, the madman doctor’s other casualty of the first blast. Maverick and Mavis are darned lucky no one was hurt and that all that was affected was a small outbuilding. Why?”
“Because I have, early this morning. He’s doing fine, and that’s good, but even in that nice, large boardinghouse room, Mr. Little misses the stinky old tannery and his cramped quarters above. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I had been thinking about tearing down what’s left and building something completely different.”
“Oh? Like what?”
She shook her head. “Not really sure. But I do know anything other than a tannery would break Mr. Little’s heart. And I’d not want to do that to a man so old.” She glanced over to her sister. “I’m leaving. Bye-bye.”
Emma shot a hand in the air but didn’t break her conversation with Mrs. Smith and Mr. Buns, who stood next to the drape that closed off the dressing room. Blake followed Belle to the door, not ready to let her slip away just yet. He’d been ranching for a couple of days and was in need of a little of her attention. Why? He tried not to ask himself.
He stepped out into the sunlight behind Belle and closed the door. The weather couldn’t be nicer for the last day of September. People were coming and going as normal, and everyone had warmed up to Belle and her sisters considerably. Seemed after the doctor incident, everyone felt as close as family.
“Good morning, Miss Brinkman,” Cash called as he led two horses down the middle of the street toward the livery. “Beautiful day.”
“Yes, i-it’s beautiful,” Belle called back haltingly. Blake didn’t miss her cheeks darkening.
Rogue! He may have only been fourteen, but with Clint’s son’s height and build, he didn’t look a day younger than twenty-one. “Good to see you too, Cash,” Blake called boldly. “I have several broken wagon wheels out at the ranch. You going that way soon?” Blake almost chuckled when the boy’s shoulders slumped.
“You’re incorrigible.” Belle softly laughed and looked away.
“Somebody needs to keep that boy in his place.”
“And that somebody should be you?”
“Why not?”
A smile appeared on her lips. She surprised him by taking his arm. “Oh, Blake, it feels so good not to be worried about somebody trying to scare us off—or kill you.” She let go his arm and turned a full circle. “And the beauty of Eden has seeped into my soul.”
But you received a telegram from Lesley. What did it say, Belle? And how did you respond?
“I can’t believe at one time I thought of the ranch as a means to an end. Was I really that shallow?” A couple of cowboys riding down the street tipped their hats to her, and she smiled. “Look across the street. Mr. Little is waving to us from his room.” She raised her arm and waved back, smiling broadly. “I need to bake him a dozen cookies.” She captured his gaze with hers. “You think he’d like that?”
Who wouldn’t? “I do, Belle. I think he’d like that very much.”
They were heading for the hotel in the calm of the day, but Blake felt an edge to his mood. What does that mean? It was almost as if Belle had taken him at his word, saying the kiss didn’t mean a thing. She’s gotten past it. Too bad it was ever present in his mind.