Hearts in Hot Springs Read online

  Across the street, much had happened in the few moments it had taken him to speak to Katy. Miss Arnsby was standing toe to toe with the burliest of the two delivery men. She was quite red in the cheeks. Her hands were firmly planted on her hips and, though the freighter was at least a head taller than her, she didn’t back down. That woman had a fire like he’d never seen before, and he wanted nothing more than to shelter her from having to set ablaze anyone in her way.

  “I will not allow you in the back room. I don’t care what your orders are. I ordered the furniture and I’ll make sure it gets to the back room, not you.” Her voice was calm but firm and loud enough for him to hear across the street. She held back an inferno that he could see popping in her eyes as he drew near.

  “Miss, the order says: back room, Arnsby Hats and Pretty Things. Do you own the whole building or are you trying to steal this man’s goods?”

  Miss Arnsby closed her eyes and clenched her fists just as Mathias got close enough to be of help.

  “Good sirs, this,” he laid his hand gently on Miss Arnsby’s arm, “is Miss Arnsby, the only Arnsby in town. If she wants her goods left inside the door, then that’s where they should go.”

  The freighter nodded to Mathias but shook his head slightly at Miss Arnsby. “Don’t know why no woman has got to run a business anyway. There’s no way she can move this all by herself once we get it inside.”

  Mathias slid his hand to the small of Miss Arnsby’s back and felt her tense, though he was unsure if it was the freighter’s overly loud words or his meager touch that caused it. He directed her back into her store and to a seat behind the short counter where the old till from the cigar shop still sat.

  “Can I get you some water or will that make steam come out your ears?” he whispered, hoping to douse the fuse on her temper a bit.

  A wicked hiss escaped her lips and then she laughed. “I suppose I did come across rather hot. It’s just that … I’ve studied for so long to have this shop, so I could be respected. To have him refuse to listen to me, to assume I was some sort of thief, just because I wear a skirt... And frankly it’s embarrassing. Did he assume that those things weren’t mine, simply because I’m a woman?”

  Mathias had to admit, after seeing the size of the headboard, he’d wondered the same thing. Did Miss Arnsby have a husband coming? Whether there was or not, nothing he said could make the words the freighter had said go away. It was foolish to even try. It wasn’t right. Aside from standing up to the man—who was now bringing in another huge crate—what could he do? Mathias grabbed the jug near the back door and uncorked it, filling a short cup sitting next to it. As he returned, the men had gone back outside.

  “You know what you’ve done to make your life better. They don’t. They’ll probably never be back to this store, unless you ordered more.” He scanned the room, full with a headboard and footboard, a mattress, and scattered large crates.

  “I don’t believe I have anything left to be delivered. I had to set up a whole new home. I needed everything and,” she pinned him with a look, “though Katy was quite helpful, she assured me that the mercantile does not carry household items. I had to order them.”

  Heat rushed up his neck at her frank words. It was true, they simply didn’t have room for stoves, furniture, and other large items. Even their selection of cookware was small, simply because he couldn’t fit them in with all of the food and other farming necessities.

  “I’m sorry that I inconvenienced you.” He mumbled and took a step back from her. He’d wanted to have an excuse to talk to the pretty milliner all week, to see if her eyes were just as blue as he remembered, but her prickly side was not his favorite.

  “I wasn’t inconvenienced in the slightest. I knew how big Hot Springs was before I came here. I picked it specifically as it is the halfway point between where I studied and where I grew up. I love home but I’m not going back there.” She sipped the water he’d brought her, then set the cup on the table. Now that she wasn’t fighting, she had an oddly meek look about her. That developing need to protect her from having to defend herself built up a little more steam inside him.

  “Are you sure you’ll be able to get all of these things back to your living quarters? If you can’t… I could bring Katy over here after we close the shop and we could help.”

  It might be more appealing to her if there was a woman around. His sister could be that person. He had no business in her bed chamber, but how would she move all those things on her own?

  Miss Arnsby flattened her pretty lips then stared him straight in the eyes. Defensiveness grew between them once again.

  “That would be fine. We’ll have to eat at the hotel though. Until I get my stove pipe up, I have no way to cook or provide any sort of hospitality.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. “Don’t worry. We can go back to our house and put something together. It’s no trouble at all.”

  At least, he hoped it wouldn’t be. Katy had notions about what bothered her. Sometimes things bothered her that he’d never predict would.

  She tilted her head, then smiled. “It would be nice to eat a meal that wasn’t cooked at the hotel. A family meal. I haven’t had one of those in a very long time. Thank you, Mr. Horton.”

  His chest swelled under her light words of gratitude and he found he didn’t really want to leave. “You’re welcome. We’ll have the work done in no time and then you can come and sit at our table.”

  If he was lucky, and his sister didn’t meddle too much, he might even get a few minutes alone with Miss Arnsby before he brought her home that night. He nodded his goodbye and pulled his pocket watch from his front vest pocket. Only four hours until they closed the shop for the day.

  Nora grabbed the crowbar sitting behind her counter—the one and only thing she’d been able to actually get from the mercantile—and put it to use opening the largest crate. Even though the burly freighter had made her furious with his words, she couldn’t deny his help had been necessary. She couldn’t have lifted the rocking chair within its wooden prison. After prying off the lid, she was able to get to the side panel and wiggle it off. Which allowed her to see her new chair. It took some pulling, and maybe more grunting than was strictly ladylike, but her chair was finally free of its captivity.

  Now she had a place to sit and rest. Yet, every time she allowed herself to sit down, her gaze immediately wandered to the neat white painted false-front mercantile building. Horton’s Goods. The name was as simple and unassuming as the man himself, yet there was more to him than whitewash. There was Katy. The taciturn wife.

  She sighed as she let her gaze wander over across the street. How had the handsome, sandy-haired young man been strapped to a woman so much older than himself? What could’ve possibly drawn him to her? Katy barely spoke and never smiled. Her eyes were forever downcast… When she did speak, her words were barbed, though perhaps she was being unfair. Nora had only been in the store the one time. She prayed Mr. Horton and Katy’s lives were happier at home than how it appeared. She had never seen them together, but she would tonight. Katy might just come out of her shell around her beguiling husband. Nora would, if she were in Katy’s place. His smile alone warmed a room.

  A car wove down the street, perpetually honking and scaring the horse traffic out of the way, making Nora jump in her chair. Though Pierre had been full of motorcars, she still wasn’t used to their noise, smoke, and often angry drivers. Her brother-in-law, Barton Oleson, had one. He claimed they were great fun to drive, but nothing could top his horse. At least not yet. Barton was like the brother she’d never had. When he, Lula, and their brood of five children came to Pierre to visit, it filled her very soul to the top. Barton always joked that she was his favorite sister, but he said that to all his sisters-in-law. Whenever he was within sight of his wife, there was no question which Arnsby would always be his favorite.

  Movement from across the street brought her out of her thoughts as Mathias took a wide broom to the boardwalk in front of his store. Even doing something long considered women’s work, there was nothing she could find lacking in him. His arm muscles bunched under the black shirt he wore and, though he’d put in a whole day, his black trousers were spotless. He went without a hat and his hair was neatly trimmed. She shook her head and focused on the mess all around her. She’d never get moved in if she didn’t stop gawking at the married man across the street. And if she didn’t, then she couldn’t start working and make the money she needed to pay for the loan on the building.

  After piling the wooden slats in a corner in the back where the hole for her chimney waited for her stove, there wasn’t much more she could do without help. In a few hours, Mr. Horton would be bringing all her furniture back to her room for her. He’d assemble her bed. She’d had to be sensible and strong when she lived alone in Pierre to train under Mrs. Tillman, but her room had been furnished there for her.

  No man had ever come near where she slept before, with the exceptions of Beau and Barton. Beau was her brother-in-law by her oldest sister, Ruby. He had acted as her father for as long as she could remember. Barton had taken pity on her at his wedding. She’d fallen asleep in a church pew during the potluck afterward and he’d carried her to the wagon. There, Beau had taken over and brought her back to the hotel. She had a slip of a memory of being held in strong arms, gently transferred to other strong arms, then she’d awoken in the hotel room. At twenty-four, and as a woman with a profession, there wouldn’t be men with strong arms beating down her door to hold her now. She gave the impression that she didn’t need them, and maybe she didn’t. At least now that all the big orders were there.

  She could now say she’d done it. She’d made something of herself. All the Arnsby sisters were successful in their own right, but Nora ha
d wanted a trade. She’d loved drawing and creating beautiful things at home, and that had led her to create her first hat. The three years of apprenticeship had been difficult, but that was in the past. Now, her store gleamed from all the polishing. Her sign was bright and new, ready for people to come and shop. All that remained was getting her home in order, so she could flip the small painted sign on the front from closed to open… Then pray people would come in. She’d have to go to the Weekly Star newspaper and take out an ad. It was an expense, but how else would anyone know she was finally open unless she put her name in front of them?

  The clock struck four and she took a deep breath. Mr. Horton and his wife would be there shortly to help, and she was as jumpy as a grasshopper waiting for them. She told herself that she was excited to finally get a chance to know Katy better, but it was a falsehood. The only Horton that really held her interest, was Mr. Horton.

  Chapter 3

  Katy hadn’t spoken to him in two hours. Mathias knew how much she hated to go and do anything anymore, preferring to just go home, cook dinner, then hide in her room. The idea of visiting the new milliner would rankle her. She’d spent the last few years hiding. Even after he’d explained why he couldn’t be there alone with Miss Arnsby, she still didn’t relent and say something. Though she generally didn’t talk much, and perhaps she was out of her pique and just hadn’t let him know yet. It was just too hard to tell.

  “Katy? You ready to head on over to Miss Arnsby’s?”

  Her eyes flashed anger momentarily, the most emotion he’d seen from her in so long it surprised him. “No, I’m not ready. That young woman has only come in here once. Only once. And all she bought was a crowbar. Can you imagine? What does a woman need with a tool like that, I ask you? She doesn’t. Then, she got snippy when I didn’t have everything she needed to set up a home. I should’ve just sent her over to Custer.” Katy squared her shoulders, crossing her arms like a schoolgirl in a pout, and set her lips into a scowl.

  Mathias would’ve laughed if Katy had been talking about anyone else. She hadn’t had that many words come from her about any one person in a long time. But she was talking about Miss Arnsby, the very pretty woman he’d like to get to know better, and he didn’t want Katy scaring her off. Miss Arnsby must have given his sister quite a bad impression to not only make her speak but to get so angry.

  “Custer? Why, that’s a day’s ride away.” He’d never realized his sister’s mean streak was that wide.

  Katy sighed and offered a faltering smile, like she’d forgotten how. “Yes, I know, but if she’s going to complain about the service of the largest store within a day’s ride, then let her figure it out.”

  “I’m glad you just gave her the catalogs instead.” If his sister hadn’t, he’d never be able to show his face to Miss Arnsby again. That would be a crying shame. He’d like to have any excuse he could find to see her.

  “I’ll stay over there long enough for you to get things put in her room or for you to deal with whatever has you so bothered. Then, I’m going to walk back home and get supper started. No sense in starving just to help out someone who won’t be grateful anyway,” Katy snipped as she slowly cleaned off the counter and stored the rag underneath.

  “Now, Katy-May, give her a chance. You don’t even know her. Maybe you could find that she’s the friend you need.” And wouldn’t that just be wonderful? With his sister as her friend, he’d have a ready excuse to see Miss Arnsby…

  Katy sprung off her seat and tossed her bonnet on her head. “I don’t need the likes of her. That uppity hat maker will probably want to spend time with the Holderstrom’s and the Johnson’s. Once she’s done accepting our help and our food, don’t expect to ever hear from her again.”

  Mathias sorely hoped that wasn’t the case. Miss Arnsby had seemed so sweet and vulnerable the few times he’d had the occasion to speak to her, and he’d need to find more such occasions.

  He held the door for Katy, and she swept past him with her narrow black skirt. She’d only just recently given up wearing all black, even though it had been five years since she’d become a widow. Her heart was, even now, still mourning. She might never come out of it. Many women just wore black skirts, and wouldn’t notice her dark wardrobe, but he did. Katy’s heart would be forever broken if she never let anyone in to heal her.

  He held her elbow, gently guiding her as they crossed the street to Miss Arnsby’s new store. As if it were her own home entrance, and not a store-front, Miss Arnsby welcomed them in with a smile that had his heart turning to butter. If he wasn’t careful, she’d snare him. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d had his chance at love, and it had been all wrong. It was one thing to want to see more of her, another thing to let her have a part of him he’d long considered dead.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Horton, good to see you.”

  Katy’s head snapped up and Mathias held in a groan. He hadn’t warned Miss Arnsby that Katy was no longer a Horton. People in town just knew, but Miss Arnsby was new.

  “I am not a Horton. I was married. My name is Katherine May Kline, wife of Caleb Kline.”

  Katy’s back was rod-straight, but Mathias could already feel the weakness building within her, the weakness that led to tears if something wasn’t done quickly. Mathias stepped forward, blocking Katy from Miss Arnsby.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Arnsby, I forgot to mention and I’m sure you saw the store sign… I should’ve said something.”

  Miss Arnsby’s perfect lips were parted in shock and silent apology, but they were also beautiful. Mathias swallowed hard. He’d never seen such perfect lips.

  “Mrs. Kline, I am so sorry…”

  Mathias reached for Miss Arnsby’s elbow and swung her around toward the large crates, pointing to their contents as a pretense and lowering his voice to keep Katy from realizing he was talking about her. His sister hadn’t mentioned her husband was deceased and poor Miss Arnsby would get eaten alive if she continued to speak. He got her a few feet away from Katy to give his sister a moment to breathe and to get his mind off of things he shouldn’t be thinking on, like the soft pink bow of Miss Arnsby’s lovely mouth.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned she was my sister. Since I said that she lives with me…” Blast, did Miss Arnsby think he was married? He glanced down into those soft blue eyes, so full of truth, and realization dawned. She was looking at him in a new way, a way that —if he ever allowed his heart to love again—would have him a very happy man.

  “I just assumed…” she let her voice trail off.

  What else would she assume? It was the most plausible of explanations. No one ever allowed themselves to think of the horrible possibilities in life. Miss Arnsby had immediately thought the best of the situation and he was drawn to her all the more for it.

  “Mr. Kline is deceased. My sister is a widow and that’s why she lives with me.”

  Her mouth slackened again in surprise and he had the strangest urge to amaze her again, just so he could see that look once more.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. How horrible. It’s a good thing she has a brother who cares about her welfare.”

  Now it was his turn to be shocked. He’d never really thought about it. Katy needed him, and he’d offered what he had.

  “Well, it wasn’t really all that much. If my sister wasn’t there, I’d be all alone in that big house.” He clamped his mouth shut, realizing he sounded as if he weren’t happy with the situation. And maybe he wasn’t.

  A slight hint of lovely rose tinged Miss Arnsby’s ears. “Well, it’s a very good thing I won’t be called upon to perform such hospitality. I have seven sisters, five of them married, and all of them live at least a day away. Even if I turned my whole store into a room for them, I don’t think I could fit everyone in.” She laughed, making Katy spin on her heel and glare their way.

  Mathias picked up the crowbar Katy had been so angry about earlier and started prying open a crate.