CHAPTER 4

C HAPTE R 4

The next morning, Ava got up, dressed and hurried into the kitchen to find Gracie pounding dough on a board. "I recall determining my mother's mood by the force of her hand on the morning bread."

Gracie glanced in her direction and then returned to her task. "Suppose I am a trifle put out."

"Did Blanche or Slate set your morning off to a bad start?"

"No, you did."

"Me? I just walked into the room."

"Well, not you directly, but—what was that man's name? The one who is stalking you."

"Mr. Shilling from last night? He's not stalking me."

"What do you call it when a man hides in the shadows and watches a dinner party late at night, uninvited, I might add?"

Ava hesitated. "I never got around to asking him why he came. The baby was fussy, and I took him out of the noisy house for a few minutes."

"A woman should be able to step outside her door without fearing that a man is lurking in the shadows for goodness knows what reason." The dough received an extra hard pound after that statement.

"He did startle me at first, but he has always been kind and a perfect gentleman in my company," Ava said.

"To send a woman flowers, and invite her to dinner on her first day in town is not proper," Gracie fumed. "If you wish to portray a character of worth here in Blazer, you won't respond to such wooing."

"Don't be absurd. Dinner is a far cry from marrying a man the same day you land in town as you did."

"That was different. The coupling was prearranged by a reputable source."

"If I recall, it was Mildred Crenshaw from the Westward Home and Hearts Matrimonial Agency?"

"Why, yes, and she made a good match for Slate and me."

"I believe she was the one who signed the paper for my match as well, but I hightailed it in the opposite direction."

"Really? Pray tell," Gracie said, wiping her hands on her bib apron and approaching Ava.

"The note came with the money. I supposed the donor to be a man who wanted to marry me—why else would he set me free from my self-made prison? Whoever he is, he knows the hole I crawled out of, and I'll have none of that. His money provided the funds for me to run, as he suggested. I simply ran in a different direction."

"I think I understand, and I am glad you ran to us," Gracie said, hugging Ava. She pushed her to arms-length and held her gaze steady. "But just because a man in a fine suit pays a lady attention doesn't make the match any more right, even if he's unaware of your past. Be careful, that's all I ask."

"I will," Ava agreed. "I am only going out to dinner with a man who is visiting our town. I'd be a fool to encourage any affections to grow between us. I am not the least bit interested in mending a broken heart."

"Smart girl." She reached for Ava's hand. "Come over here and let me show you how to make bread and cinnamon rolls—they are Slate's favorite."

As she puttered around the kitchen, Ava sought to recollect the details of the short discussions that had transpired between her and Mr. Shilling. He was in construction and there in Blazer on business. He was a widower with a six-year-old daughter, Sheena, whom his mother cared for in his absence. He insinuated that his mother held them on a tight rein with notions as eccentric as his wife's had been—but that was her take on his words. It was none of her business to judge the characters of either lady.

When he had started to ask questions about her, even one as simple as about her relationship with Gracie, her throat had choked up with the fear that she might slip and give away her secret.

It would have been accurate to say that Gracie had searched her out after the new bride had found religion. Ava suspected her purpose in contacting the long-lost cousin had primarily been to drag Ava out of sin's pit and introduce her to the savior of her soul. At the time, the saloon girl, whose self-worth sat at an all-time low, had skipped over the religious applications included in her correspondence, but Ava felt more in the mood now to pursue knowledge in the spiritual realm. It certainly made for a newer Gracie than the rebellious child she'd met years ago.

Ava concluded it might prove difficult in her new life to relate partial truths in conversation, careful not to dive in so deeply that her past would become suspect.

She sighed, and Gracie must have taken it as fatigue. "The lunch dishes are done, and you've helped me non-stop since morning, Ava. You must still be tired from your journey."

"I am somewhat lacking in energy."

"Besides, you have a date to prepare for, and black circles under your eyes will never do. The man will think I am working you too hard."

"I don't mind helping, but perhaps I will lay down for a while before it's time to dress for dinner."

Gracie untied Ava's apron and gave her a gentle push toward the staircase. "Off you go. I'll see you later when you're well-rested."

Ava only intended to relax on top of the covers for a short while, but within minutes, she fell fast asleep. When she awoke, the sun was low in the sky, and she bolted to her feet.

The afternoon nap had worked wonders. She felt revived and grateful for having a clear head with which to control what or what not she disclosed during her dinner engagement. She wondered how long it would take for her responses to become second nature, for it was exhausting to consciously plan out every encounter beforehand.

Ava chose to wear her favorite new gown to dinner that evening. The least she could do was not to embarrass the well-dressed man in the three-piece suit who had extended the invitation to her. It was turquoise, with layers of flounce in the back and quite shapely in the front. Some ivory embroidered detail made the outfit exquisite, but it still landed somewhere at the low-end budget of fashionable attire. Determined to put on a good front, Ava had not wasted a penny of the money entrusted to her, carefully stretching out the funds for as long as possible to finance her uncertain future. In her wardrobe, she found shoes, a purse, and a shawl to compliment the ensemble. She wore her hair in an upsweep, not too harsh but not loose enough to be considered lewd.

Looking at the image staring back at her in the mirror, Ava grinned and said, "Now, you don't look half-bad all gussied up like a lady." Satisfied she'd done all she could, she headed for the door.

Slate was in the kitchen when she showed her face, and he whistled long enough to make Ava blush. Gracie turned from the cookstove and studied her. "Oh, my. You look just like your mama."

"Who looked just like your mama," Ava said, and the girls laughed.

"I took after my father: the blonde hair and the meat on my bones."

"Don't you go putting yourself down," Slate said, coming over to plant a kiss on her cheek. "Mrs. Yagger, you are a fine-fitting lassie who simply glows with motherhood on the horizon."

"She needs to get off her feet, Slate. Her ankles are swollen," Ava said, forcing the woman to sit at the table. "While I wait, let me dish out your portions. Where is Blanche tonight?"

"Having a sleepover at a friend's house," Gracie said. "She and Beth are impossible to keep apart."

"Well, I would think that with you being so close to delivery, the girl needs to help around here more," Slate said.

"I'm here now, Slate, and I promise to pull my end of the load. Tomorrow, I will follow instructions from the lady of the house while she rests with her feet up and sips tea."

"Just the same, it isn't like Blanche to shirk her chores."

"I told her she could go, Slate. She's just a child, and I won't be depriving her of that joy like me and Ava were."

Slate threw his hands in the air. "I give up. Three women in the house are too many to fight."

"Maybe soon, you will have four," Gracie teased. "What if the Lord thinks you need a girl instead of a boy? Are you ready for that?"

Slate chuckled. "Whatever he sends me, I'm ready for it, but in the meantime, please rest. This is your first, and—"

"Don't you dare say I'm getting up in years, Mr. Yagger," Gracie warned.

Ava chuckled. "Sit, both of you, and let me dish out your suppers."

She'd barely finished when a knock came at the door.

"Perfect timing. Sounds like loverboy has arrived," Slate said.

Ava looked horrified.

"Loverboy? I daresay you'd best watch your tongue, Mr. Yagger," Gracie roared.

"It's all right, Gracie. He was just joshing," Ava said after recovering from his remark. You just never knew what might come out of that man's mouth. "You two relax and enjoy your meal, and leave the dishes for me to clean up when I get home."

"I'll do no such thing," Gracie grunted. "I'm not an invalid."

"Of course, you're not, but I can help out once in a while. Besides, I slept this afternoon and will not be ready to retire until late."

The knock sounded harder, and Ava inhaled deeply. "I'm off now. You two behave while I'm gone." Ava laughed, grabbed up her purse, and hurried to answer the door. She opened it to see Mr. Shilling dressed in his usual finery, with a bouquet wrapped together with a yellow ribbon at the base of the stems.

He passed them to her as she stood staring. "Good evening, Miss Gardner. You look absolute lovely."

She took in the flowers, somewhat dazed. "You didn't have to bring me flowers again."

His brows raised. "Again?"

"Why, yes," she stammered. "A gorgeous arrangement arrived at our doorway yesterday, and I assumed…" Now, she was embarrassed, for he looked totally mystified.

"I am sorry someone beat me to the punch, but I spent an hour in a nearby meadow picking this fresh bunch to give you tonight. That's the way a gentleman gives gifts to a lady."

"But I've met no one else who might have reason to gift a stranger since my arrival."

"Perhaps your cousin's friends?"

"They would have said something when they saw them sitting in the parlor."

"And was there a card?"

"A welcome card, nothing more."

"Then, I see I have competition. A secret admirer. Apparently, someone saw you downtown yesterday morning and has laid claim to the newcomer."

"Then he should have signed his name," Ava said, a trifle annoyed. "I do not respond well to games men may choose to play."

"I shall remember that in the future," Orson said, a little too glibly for her liking.

"Give me a minute to put these in water."

Ava rushed back into the kitchen, found a long, narrow tumbler in the cupboard, and filled it with water. She ignored the questioning gazes coming from the couple seated at the table and plunked the flowers down between them. "Enjoy," she muttered, before hurrying back to the man at the door.

"Shall we go, Mr. Shilling?"