“Jonathan?” Augusta swung to face the girl, her eyes wide with surprise. “How did you know that?”
“He told me. He saw me pulling weeds in the garden and he came over to lend a hand, and he said my name was pretty. So I asked him what his was, and he told me. I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” Her blue eyes filled with tears and Augusta was stricken as she watched Beth Ann’s mouth tremble.
Her arms surrounded the young girl and she held her closely. “No, of course you didn’t do anything wrong. It was kind of him to help you, and even nicer to share his name with you.” She set her away and met the teary gaze. “Maybe it’s you he’s sweet on, Beth Ann, and not me, as Pearl believes.”
A flush crept up the wan cheeks and Beth Ann protested, her head shaking, her words spurting forth in a quick denial of any such thing.
The women halted their work and gathered around the girl, and even Pearl touched Beth Ann’s nondescript hair with a kind hand as they assured her that Augusta was only teasing. Bertha watched from the stove and flashed a look of understanding, nodding wisely as if she condoned the development of this clutch of women into a family.
A sharp rapping on the front door caught Augusta’s ear and she hastened down the hallway to answer the summons. Her footsteps lagged as she set eyes on Roger Hampton, hat in hand, peering through the screen. “What do you want, Mr. Hampton?”
“I thought I’d stop by since your handyman seems to have taken a hike out of town. Thought you might enjoy a gentleman’s company.”
“And you consider yourself as such?” Augusta asked, a haughty note coating each word. She stood back from the door and slid her hands into her apron pockets. “Did you come for any particular reason? Or were you just riding through the neighborhood?”
“I suppose my visit is to ascertain your reasons for staying here instead of coming with me back to Dallas,” he said quietly, apparently deciding to present his better side.
“I have a home here, and responsibilities,” she told him firmly.
“And a man chasing after you,” he added with a frown. “A man who is operating in a most secretive manner. Even the sheriff is checking up on him.”
“And what makes you think that concerns me?” she asked, her mind spinning as she wondered again where Cleary had gone.
“There’s been a rash of robberies—train robberies—lately. The gang is hitting shipments of cash and gold in an area surrounding Dallas, and your Mr. Cleary seems to be spacing his out-of-town trips to coincide with each event.” He rocked back on his heels and his features formed a smug grin. “Just thought you might want to chew on that bit of information while you’re awaiting his return.”
“Well, I certainly appreciate your coming out here to fill me in on all the latest news. But I doubt very much if Mr. Cleary’s business has anything to do with bank robbers. He is a gentleman of the first order.”
“Is he, now?” Roger’s mouth tilted in a smile that did little to increase his appeal in Augusta’s eyes. “I heard that he was taking liberties with you, right here on the front porch of your place, just a few days ago.”
“Liberties?” she asked, thinking furiously of the kiss she’d almost received. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Hampton.”
“Don’t you?” He smiled, his mouth a taunt. “Well, I just wanted you to know that I’ll be leaving town before long. My work in Dallas will no longer wait for my appearance there. If you change your mind, I’d be delighted to purchase a ticket for you to accompany me.” He stepped back from the screened door and placed his hat on his head.
“I’d think the atmosphere there would be more conducive to a woman of your stature, Miss Augusta. In fact, I’ll be willing to marry you here, before we even got on the train together. And I’ll warrant that’s a better offer than what you’ll get from your Mr. Cleary.”
“I told you I wasn’t interested in your offer before I left Dallas, sir. I haven’t changed my mind.” Scathing words spun in her mind, but she set them aside, simply bowing her head and speaking one last phrase as she backed away from the door. She could not help but recognize that her inheritance was more appealing to Roger Hampton than she, herself, was. And that thought galled, tainting her final words.
“I wish you well, Mr. Hampton. Good day.”
His mouth was grim as he narrowed his eyes, peering through the screen as she turned aside. “When you discover what a scalawag you’re tangled up with, I’ll expect to hear from you, Miss Augusta.”
She heard his footsteps as he clattered down the steps, and her mind clung tenaciously to his words as she stood facing the flowered wallpaper in the hall.
…a rash of train robberies lately…spacing his out-of-town trips to coincide with each event. Even the sheriff is checking up on him.
She been trusting all of her life, certain of her instincts. Learning that she was the child of a woman of ill repute should have made her more wary of her intuition, yet she’d accepted Jonathan Cleary’s appearance on her doorstep and refrained from questioning him about his circumstances.
The man had almost kissed her. Good grief! And she’d been more than willing, had he but bent a bit closer, had Pearl not interfered with her call to the table. Apparently she’d lowered all her barriers to him, and all but given him permission to ply her with his attentions. She shook her head at her own foolishness and stiffened her spine.
Just wait until he reappeared. Just wait.
The fourth day came and went, and still there was no reappearance of the man she yearned for. Cleary. Jonathan Cleary, Augusta reminded herself, a tinge of hurt creeping into her thoughts as she reflected that he’d not deemed her worthy of such a confidence. She looked from her bedroom window, scanning the starry horizon.
It was almost a mile to his house, she mused. Perhaps he’d returned already and was even now readying himself for bed. As if she cared, she thought, tossing her head.
And yet, he crept further into her thoughts and she closed her eyes, visualizing his muscular form. Maybe he was undressing, freeing himself from the constriction of shirt and tie, for surely he would be dressed as a gentleman to pursue his business.
Whatever his business was, it was sure to be something refined, she decided, no matter what Roger Hampton’s veiled accusations had implied. Maybe he was in charge of…she inhaled deeply as her mind balked, and her thoughts churned with various occupations the man might be involved with.
Cleary didn’t appear to be a businessman, although his manners were impeccable. He was adept with tools, and his intelligence could not be disputed, but his talent seemed to lie in getting things accomplished. Like the chickenyard and coop. And like repairing the shingles on the roof, supervising the men from the boardinghouse next door as they worked to his specifications.
She opened her eyes, leaning her forehead against the upper windowpane. It was warm, holding the heat of the day, and she lifted from it. A movement beneath a tree in the front yard caught her attention as a figure stepped from under the low branches. A man, tall, wide through the shoulders, his hands at his sides.
It was Cleary. How she knew for certain was not important. Maybe it was his size, or the broad expanse of his shoulders, his stance seeming taut as he looked up at her window. Whatever inner message filled her mind with the knowledge, it was the beating of her heart and the quickening within her body that made her aware of his presence. She stepped back from the glass and bent to peer through the lower half of the window, where the screen kept night bugs from her room yet allowed soft breezes to enter.
The man watching lifted his hand in a salute of greeting, or perhaps a gesture willing her to come to him, then tucked it neatly in his trouser’s pocket. And waited.
She turned to the bed, snatching