Her Montana Man. Cheryl St.John

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СКАЧАТЬ had protected the Holmes woman from a man she obviously feared. The way he’d stood up to her tormenter spoke volumes about Jonas’s character.

      “You should probably take care of that hand,” she said.

      He glanced down at his knuckles. A nasty gash and blue-tinged swelling were evidence of the pain Baslow would be feeling for a while to come. Jonas flexed his fingers with a nod. “It’ll be fine.”

      Bonnie returned with a rose-patterned plate holding a frosted tea cake.

      Jonas glanced from Eliza to Bonnie. “Ladies.”

      Eliza nodded a farewell.

      “Jonas,” Bonnie replied.

      He turned and exited the shop. The bell tinkled twice, echoing into the subsequent silence.

      “What do you make of that?” Bonnie asked.

      Eliza looked at her, puzzled.

      “I’ve seen the man toe-to-toe with miscreants before, but I’ve never known him to set foot in here. You must’ve made a powerful impression.”

      “I don’t know about that,” she replied, quickly looking down and stirring sugar into her tea.

      “How is Jenny Lee today?” Bonnie asked, changing the subject.

      “Sit down for a few minutes,” Eliza invited, then tasted the lemon-frosted pastry and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “It’s a fair day, as her days go.”

      Bonnie sat with her hands folded under her chin, studying Eliza. “And she still insists that you take time for yourself every afternoon.”

      Eliza picked up her cup and blew across the surface of the fragrant liquid. “She’s concerned she’s a burden. Of course she’s not, but she says the least I deserve is an hour a day to myself. I come to walk Tyler home from school anyway, so I may as well arrive in town a little early.” She glanced at the brooch timepiece pinned to her dress. “My time’s been cut short today.”

      She took her coin purse from her pocket.

      “Your refreshments are complimentary today.” Bonnie extended a hand to prevent Eliza from producing a coin. “You barely had time to enjoy it.”

      “Regardless, you brewed it.”

      “You’re my best customer,” Bonnie argued. “I can give you a cup of tea now and then if I like.”

      Eliza smiled and picked up her hat. “Thank you.”

      After Bonnie walked her to the door, she exited the shop and headed east. Nearly every structure along Main Street was made of brick. Prior to firing them, she could remember stamping the bricks, like those that comprised Brauman’s Leather Goods, alongside her father and three other men.

      A loaded wagon rumbled past. Eight years ago they’d sold the bricks that paved the street for a dollar seventeen a thousand. She’d overseen each wagon that left the yard. She’d be leaving a part of her behind when she left this town.

      Eliza abandoned Main Street for the open lots between the businesses and the school yard. Three weeks of sun and little rain had dried ground that had been soggy from melted snow only a month ago. Reaching the shade of an ancient sycamore, she sat on the grass, tucking her skirts around her, to await dismissal.

      Four years ago she’d persuaded the town council to replace the wood frame schoolhouse with brick by telling them of the hazard from flying sparks cast by the woodstove. They’d insisted on painting the building white, and she’d had no problem with that as long as the children were safe. She’d supervised construction herself, as well as donated half the bricks, plus a fireplace and chimney.

      A team and wagon driven by a young farmhand in a straw hat rolled to a stop near the sound little structure. The same fellow came to town each day to collect sons and daughters from outlying farms. School remained in session until fall when the children were needed to work in the fields.

      The door opened. Miss Fletcher used a hook and eye from the door to the rail on the banister to hold it open. A line of children streamed from the building into the sunlight, some running, others chatting with friends.

      Tyler’s pale blond hair stood out from the others’, and Eliza Jane’s heart swelled with tenderness as it had every time she’d seen him since the moment he was born.

      He walked between two other boys, their heads bent over something Timmy Hatcher held in his cupped palm. Timmy spoke and Tyler and the other boy nodded and laughed.

      Eliza stood and walked to the hard dirt path that led from the school toward town. Girls with braids passed with shy greetings.

      Tyler looked up and spotted her waiting. He said a hasty goodbye to his friends and continued forward. He used to run to her, eager for a hug, but he would turn eight his next birthday, and he saved his hugs for bedtime now. She extended a hand, but he pretended he didn’t see it and walked beside her, two books under his arm.

      “Did Miss Fletcher give two assignments for this evening?” she asked.

      “Yep. The arithmetic is hard, too.”

      “Fortunate for you, you’re such a smart boy,” she replied.

      He nodded in all seriousness. “Mikey Kopeke has a harder time. And his dad don’t let him do his homework cause he has chores.”

      “A lot of the children have chores,” she said. “Their parents need them to help with the animals and the crops more than they need them to memorize times tables.”

      “Papa says when you know your times tables and letters you don’t have to work so hard all your life.”

      Eliza Jane felt a little sick, the way she always did at the sight or mention of Royce Dunlap. “Papa’s right about getting a good education,” she told him. Tyler loved Eliza Jane’s brother-in-law with the fierce loyalty a boy felt for his father, even though Royce was forever preoccupied with new business ventures and office matters. More often than not her heart ached for Tyler. No child should go through what he had with an ill mother and an emotionally distant father. Especially not this child.

      “Mama’s having a pretty good day today,” she told him, trying to sound assuring. Days like this were so much easier on him.

      “But she won’t get better,” he said, without looking at her.

      Her chest ached at the truth as well as the fact that someone so young and vulnerable had to face it. It was unfair that he had to learn about life this way. “No, Tyler. She won’t get better.”

      He glanced up at her then, his blue eyes sad and trusting. If she could change the world for this boy, she would. She hated feeling helpless. She hated feeling responsible.

      But most of all, Eliza hated feeling guilty.

      Chapter Three

      It was a warm sunlit afternoon, and they walked the rest of the way home in silence, pausing at the wrought iron gate to admire Sutherland’s finest cherry-red brick, the clean lines of the white window caps and functional СКАЧАТЬ