Lazy Days Page 2

  Hallie prayed her heartbeat would slow down. If it didn't, she might faint.

  Amidst curious glances from Mr. and Mrs. Jebson, they stepped out onto the boardwalk. She walked a few paces and then turned around, fisting her hands in her skirt. Just ask him. All he can do is say no.

  Before she could speak, he said, "Mrs. Wells, I'd like to offer my condolences on the loss of your husband. He was a good man."

  "Thank you, Mr. Jerome. Yes, he was a very good man. He also said that of you." She paused considering how to proceed. Mr. Jerome's blue eyes and intent stare unnerved her and muddled her thoughts. She grazed her teeth over her bottom lip.

  "Ma'am, please say whatever it is that's troubling you."

  It's now or never. "Um, I'm not sure if you heard that Thomas and I sold our farm and just about everything we own, including the animals. For years, he wanted to move west. It was a dream that eventually became my dream as well. We purchased a reservation with a wagon train headed out of Westport next month. The money we received from the sale of our property was for the purchase of a wagon, oxen, supplies, and also to hire hands to help with the building of our cabin on one hundred acres that Tom bought in the Willamette Valley in Oregon." She'd spoken the words in a rush and ended with, "The new homeowners are taking possession soon. They've been accommodating since Tom's death, but they sold their own place and need to move in."

  Hallie watched Mr. Jerome furrowed his brow. After a long silence, he asked, hesitantly, "So, what is it you need from me?"

  * * *

  The expression on Mrs. Wells' face wasn't giving Cooper a good feeling. She wanted something and he definitely had the notion he wasn't going to like what it was, especially when she couldn't meet his eyes.

  Unexpectedly, her emerald gaze stared directly at him and his gut clenched, and when the breeze blew a stray lock of her light brown hair across her forehead, he almost moved his hand to tuck it back under her bonnet.

  "Mr. Jerome, would you be interested in driving my wagon to Oregon? I would pay you well."

  Cooper blinked, forcing himself to look away from the pleading in her eyes. "Uh, well, ma'am…" He glanced back. She looked like she was about to cry. "Uh, ma'am, now that would take me away from my place through planting season and harvest, and longer." He dreaded her expression if he flat out refused.

  "I would pay you whatever you would make during harvest and more." She blinked and brushed at a tear that kept welling up in one eye. "Mr. Jerome, I'm desperate. I have no home. I have no husband. I have no family to turn to. I have a young son to care for. And I have very little time to prepare before departure. The wagon train leaves the end of April. Believe me, if I were capable of driving the oxen myself, I would do so. But, as you can see, I am neither large, nor strong. I fear I would kill myself and my child. Besides, I doubt the train master would even allow me near the team after he saw me crack a whip." She gave a pathetic smile at her attempt at a joke.

  Cooper forced his eyes away from hers and glanced down the street at the big SALOON sign. He wanted that drink. Stalling for time, he removed his Stetson, slapped it against his thigh, replaced it, scratched his neck, and finally met her gaze again. "Give me some time to think about it."

  Her joyous expression transformed her face from plain to pretty. Dammit, Cooper. Just tell her no and walk away.

  * * *

  After thanking and excusing herself from Mr. Jerome, Hallie went back inside the shop and finished making her purchases. Then she stepped to the outside wall of the general store to call down the narrow alley for Timmy.

  "I'm comin', Ma."

  While she waited for her son, she couldn't stop the surge of hope that kept trying to break free. Since Tom's death her emotions were in constant turmoil, worrying for the future of her son and herself. Life without a husband was not easy, especially if one were destitute of a home. Mr. Jerome said he'd ride out to her place in a couple of days with his answer.

  Glancing down the street she saw him exit the livery and mount his horse. He was a big man and the thought of him driving the oxen and protecting her and Timmy on the five-month journey filled her heart with hope yet again.

  Timmy rounded the corner of the building yelling goodbye to Mr. Jebson's sons and holding a lizard firmly, but gently, in his grasp. He looked up and smiled. "See what I found, Ma."

  Hallie ruffled his blond hair, a shade lighter than his father's had been, and smiled.

  Timmy eyed his mother. "Ma, you okay? You look kinda…happy, again."

  "I'm feelin' better. How about you?"

  Timmy sighed. "Yeah, I'm feelin' better, too." He paused. "But I sure miss Pa."

  Hallie knelt and hugged him. "We're always going to miss him, son. But we have to go on."

  Two days later, as promised, Mr. Jerome trotted his horse to the front of her cabin. The nervousness that had been giving Hallie stomach trouble for days now started her heart pounding furiously. What would she do if he said no?

  * * *

  Cooper glanced around the tidy yard surrounding Mrs. Wells' cabin. Beds of climbing roses twisted their vines up the posts and lattice of the porch, promising a burst of color and fragrance any day now. His gut twisted. He was going to tell her that he wouldn't be accompanying her on the Oregon Trail. Hell, it had only been a short time since his return from the nightmare of war and he'd dreamed of farming his own land for years.

  Refusing to let his thoughts drift to the things he had seen and done in that God awful war, he turned his attention to the front door opening.

  Mrs. Wells greeted him with a shy smile and his gut twisted some more. "Good afternoon, Mr. Jerome. Please come in and have some tea."

  Cooper wanted to blurt a refusal of the tea, decline his assistance in driving her wagon, and gallop the hell away from her green eyes.

  "Thank you, ma'am. That would be right nice."

  He followed her inside. The cozy atmosphere fairly reeked with a woman's touch. She motioned to a large table in the center of the room.

  "Please have a seat, Mr. Jerome. I also have oatmeal cookies just out of the oven. Do you like oatmeal cookies?"

  Cooper saw her wring her hands together. She was as nervous as he was. "I like them very much."

  She smiled, waited for him to sit, and then rushed to a sideboard, pouring a glass of tea and placing cookies on a plate. Bringing her offering to the table, she set it in front of him and then sat down across from him.

  Cooper removed his hat and stowed it on the chair next to him. Mrs. Wells said, "Oh, where are my manners? Let me hang your hat on the hook by the door." She started to rise.

  "Don't worry about it." He shot a hand out to stop her and immediately wanted to curse when he saw her eyes widen at his touch. He jerked his hand back and lifted a cookie. "Aren't you having one, too?"

  Still flustered, she said, "Oh, not now. I always eat pinches of cookie dough while I'm baking. By the time they come out of the oven, I'm too full to eat any more."

  She bit her full bottom lip, something Cooper decided was a habit when she was nervous, and he quickly glanced away. This was becoming more difficult by the second. He said, "Looks like we might get some rain this afternoon."

  Mrs. Wells didn't respond and he glanced back at her. She wore a sad expression.

  "You've come to decline my offer, haven't you, Mr. Jerome?"

  Damnation! Don't look at me like that. "Uh, y…"

  The door burst open and her boy ran in. "Howdy, Mr. Jerome. Are you takin' us to Oregon?" he asked loudly.

  Cooper looked at the scrawny, tow-headed boy with a dirt-streaked face and cowlicks sending his hair in several directions, and his heart dropped to his feet. The boy reminded him of…

  Mrs. Wells said, "Timmy, it's very rude to interrupt grownups by bursting into a room. As for Mr. Jerome accompanying us to Oregon, he said–"

  Cooper interrupted. "I said, yes. I'll be driving your oxen and making sure you're settled in your new place." He glanced at Mrs. Wells' ro
unded eyes and wondered when he'd lost his mind.

  Timmy shouted, "Yes! Thank you! Thank you!" He ran to his mother and hugged her. "Oregon—here we come!"

  Cooper looked from the boy to his mother just as two big tears slid down her cheeks. Quickly, she swiped them with her apron and returned her son's hug. "Timmy, you go feed the chickens while Mr. Jerome and I discuss the particulars of the move."

  "Sure, Ma." He looked at Cooper and grinned, showcasing a missing front tooth.

  After the boy slammed through the door, Mrs. Wells asked, "Why did you change your mind? Was it Timmy?"

  "Yes, ma'am. But it's not something I want to explain."

  "Then I'll not ask you to."

  An awkward silence filled the cabin.

  "Um, ma'am, why don't you tell me everything you can about your scheduled departure time, so I can make some plans?"

  Chapter 3: First Names, Please

  Cooper nailed the final board in place covering the door of his humble cabin, hoping to deter thieves while he was gone. He'd already delivered his animals, all but Sweet Pea, to a neighbor's care.

  Shaking his head, he wanted to berate himself for his spur-of-the-moment decision to help the Wells widow and her son, but with everything in him, he knew it was really the only choice he had. Life was harsh for a woman without a husband, especially a woman with a young son and no home. He sighed.

  The poor woman couldn't be much older than twenty-seven or eight, if that, and with her farm already sold, she was in deep trouble if she didn't remarry. He'd seen plenty of destitute women trying to survive during the war. A few lucky ones got jobs as teachers, but even that didn't pay much. Hell, he didn't even know if Mrs. Wells had an education, although she'd seemed learned. Some women took in washing, which paid little and aged them almost overnight, while others finally turned to prostitution to put food in their children's mouths. Although unlikely, just the possibility of that poor woman forced into a life of degradation sickened him. And the boy, God help him, the boy reminded him of another boy. Yep, he'd done right by her and her son.

  With a final sigh, he checked his saddle bags and mounted Sweet Pea.

  * * *

  Hallie twisted around in the buckboard to check on Timmy sitting next to Daisy Smithson, the only child of the new owners of her farm. The red-haired girl with a mischievous tilt to her chin whispered in her son's ear. Timmy jerked his head back and shouted, "No way!"

  Hallie smiled at the antics of the children and turned back around. Watching Timmy momentarily gave her respite from the finality of leaving the home that she and Thomas had shared. As the buckboard pulled onto the road in front of the farm, however, she said a silent goodbye to her dear husband. Goodbye, my love. I'm following our dream.

  Brushing a tear aside, she basked in the familiar terrain that she might never see again. Mr. Smithson seemed to realize her need for reflection and did not interrupt her musings.

  After several minutes travel, Hallie broke the silence. "I'd like to thank you again for the ride to town and the kindness you and Mrs. Smithson have shown Timmy and me by allowing us to remain on the farm even after you'd moved in."

  The sweet man, whose wife was just as sweet-natured, replied, "It's the least we could do considering your circumstances. If we hadn't already sold our own place, we could have canceled the transaction so you could stay on."

  "Now, I don't want you to fret about that. This is what Thomas wanted, and he put that same vision in me. I just feel blessed to have Mr. Jerome driving our wagon. For awhile, I wasn't sure how things would work out, but the good Lord sent us a good man."

  "I'm right happy to hear that, ma'am." Mr. Smithson shifted the reins to his other hand, guiding the horses around a pothole.

  After almost an hour, they arrived on the outskirts of town. "Now where exactly are you meeting Mr. Jerome?" asked Mr. Smithson.

  "He said he'd meet us in front of the Grand Hotel. We're traveling by stagecoach to St. Louis and then on to Westport Landing by steamboat." Hallie could barely contain her excitement. She glanced around at Timmy and he gave her a smile that warmed her heart.

  Mr. Smithson pulled the buckboard to the main cross street in town and guided the horses to the hotel, sitting on a corner. Contrary to its name, the Grand Hotel wasn't so grand with its faded façade in desperate need of whitewash and repairs.

  Hallie anxiously scanned the few men smoking and laughing on the wide porch and an older couple strolling the warped boardwalk. Glancing farther down the street she saw Mr. Jerome dismounting his mare. As if her presence were a magnet, he turned and looked directly at her. Hallie's heart hammered. She was entrusting her life, and the life of her son, to a man she'd met fewer times than the number of fingers on one hand.

  Mr. Jerome tipped his hat and then wrapped the reins of his horse around the hitching post.

  Mr. Smithson jumped off the buckboard and came around to help Hallie down. Timmy and Daisy scrambled off the wagon's bed and Hallie chuckled when the impish girl unexpectedly planted a kiss on Timmy's cheek.

  "Cut it out!" he admonished and jumped backward.

  Daisy only grinned. "Don't forget what I said."

  Timmy rubbed his cheek and replied, "You can't know that."

  "Yes, I can."

  "Cannot."

  "You just wait and see, Timmy Wells," Daisy huffed, and climbed onto the seat Hallie had vacated.

  Distracted by the exchange between Daisy and her son, Hallie jumped when Mr. Jerome said, "Mornin', ma'am," and placed her hand over her heart.

  "Sorry, ma'am. Seems I have this way of startling you."

  "No. No. I'm just nervous about leaving a place I've lived for so many years." She paused and then remembered Mr. Smithson. "Goodness, where are my manners? Mr. Jerome, I'd like you to meet Mr. Smithson. He’s the gentleman who purchased my farm and he and his family have been angels during this difficult time. And this is his daughter, Daisy."

  Mr. Smithson stuck out his hand. "I'm pleased to me ya, Mr. Jerome."

  Mr. Jerome offered his hand in a firm shake. "Likewise, sir." He nodded and smiled at Daisy, "And pleased to meet you, too, little lady." He turned his attention to Timmy. "Good to see you again, Tim."

  Daisy responded, "Howdy, sir."

  Timmy responded, "You, too, Mr. Jerome."

  He glanced at the back of the wagon. "I take it that's your trunk, Mrs. Wells."

  "Yes. It contains all my worldly possessions," Hallie laughed nervously.

  Mr. Jerome reached and tugged the trunk to the edge of the wagon bed. Mr. Smithson grabbed the handle on the other end.

  In a flash, the trunk was safely stowed at the edge of the boardwalk to be reloaded when the stagecoach arrived. Hallie opened her reticule to peer at her pocket watch—ten thirty. The stage was due to arrive at twelve and leave at one with fresh horses for the four to five hour journey to St. Louis. She sure hoped it was on time.

  Hallie glanced at her son, who was casting sour looks at Daisy. What is wrong with Timmy's attitude? She scowled and motioned for him to stand beside her.

  Mr. Smithson reached to pat Timmy's shoulder. "Well, Timmy and Mrs. Wells, I guess this is goodbye. I wish you all the best in your new life and I'm right sorry about your husband."

  "Thank you, Mr. Smithson. Again, I appreciate all you and your wife have done for Timmy and me."

  Mr. Smithson smiled. "Well, you know our address, so don't forget to write. My Sarah loves gettin' letters."

  Daisy smirked. "Yeah, Timmy, don't forget to write. Cause if you don't, someday I'll find you." She grinned, revealing a missing tooth just like Timmy's.

  Timmy grumbled and gave her another sour look. Hallie chided, "Son! Mind your manners and tell Daisy goodbye."

  He gave his mother a rebellious look, something unusual for him, and mumbled, "Bye, Daisy."

  Hallie shook her head and was about to chastise him again when Mr. Jerome touched her elbow.

  "Ma'am, you and Tim best wait on the porch while I c
heck to see if any wires have been received about stagecoach delays.

  The touch of Mr. Jerome's hand sent Hallie's heart racing. "Yes, of course." She stepped away from him and turned her attention toward her son. "Timmy, change your attitude and come with me." She grasped his hand and pulled him toward the porch as Mr. Smithson called a final farewell, commanded the horses, and flicked the reins. The buckboard pulled into the dusty road and Daisy waved goodbye to Timmy, blowing him a kiss.

  Her son made a disgusted noise and turned his back toward the street.

  Mr. Jerome motioned to two chairs on the hotel portico. "Why don't ya'll have a seat and I'll be right back? Can I bring you some tea or lemonade before I take care of business?"

  Timmy appeared to have reverted back to his congenial self and waited for his mother to respond. Knowing that lemonade was one of her son's favorite drinks, she said, "Thank you, Mr. Jerome. Lemonade would be much appreciated."

  Mr. Jerome started to turn away, but paused. "Ma'am?"

  "Yes, Mr. Jerome?"

  "Do you 'spose we could do away with the formalities since we're going to be traveling together for the next few months? Please call me Cooper. May I call you Hallie?"

  Hallie felt her face flush scarlet and stumbled over her reply. "Oh…yes…that…that would probably be best, Mr. Jerome." His lips quirked and Hallie felt her face flame brighter. "I…I mean…Cooper."

  Cooper's half grin turned into a full one. "Well, 'scuse me, Hallie and Tim; I'll be right back with your lemonades."

  Chapter 4: Traveling Companions

  The stagecoach departed only two hours past its scheduled time. Cooper shrugged and said he'd waited for as long as two days for a coach to arrive. Now, over an hour into their journey, Hallie's excitement mellowed and she felt her eyelids droop; sleepless nights had caught up with her.

  Timmy, after discussing the Wild West with the only other child on the coach, a younger boy, around five, who couldn't stop fidgeting, now leaned against his mother’s shoulder and succumbed to sleep. And the boy who’d asked his parents every few minutes, "Are we almost to St. Louey?" yawned, crawled onto his father's lap, and also fell asleep, his soft snores filling the coach.