Read Online A Promise to Believe in by Tracie Peterson - Free Book Online Page B

confusion only mounted.
    “Why am I on the floor?”
    He looked at the bed and then to where he sat. Could he have fallen out of bed? That seemed highly unlikely. Especially given the fact that his pillow had accompanied him and landed under his head. Further investigation revealed that Hank was fully clothed. He even wore his boots.
    Struggling to his feet, Hank eased back onto the mattress of the bed and stared up at the ceiling for several minutes. Why couldn’t he remember? He rubbed his closed eyes and tried to force his thoughts to clear.
    He was at the Gallatin House. He’d wanted to talk with Gwen last night, but she’d been offended by something he’d said. What was it? He shook his head and yawned again.
    A quick glance at his watch told him it was still early. He could hear activity going on in the hall and remembered that a stage had come in last night. He knew there were at least half a dozen men traveling and vaguely remembered them at the supper table. He recalled the men getting up from the table and heading to the saloon.
    “But I stayed to talk to Harvey’s wife.” He opened his eyes and tucked his hands under his head. Clasping his fingers together, he stared thoughtfully at the butter-colored ceiling.
    The wafting aroma of fresh coffee prompted his thoughts. He had been drinking coffee. There was pie, too. He remembered because the girls had offered him seconds. He’d passed on the dessert but had nursed several cups of coffee as he waited for Gwen to return to the room. She never came. At least, not that he could remember.
    Hank sat up, moaning softly as pain spread across his back. What in the world had caused him to be so sore and stiff? He rubbed his muscles as best he could and got to his feet. His clothes were hopelessly wrinkled, but there was little to be done about it. He hadn’t had time to get his other things washed. This had been his last clean shirt. He’d heard the girls offer to do laundry for one of the stage travelers, so he supposed he could pay them to take on his clothes, as well. As for now, there was nothing he could do but go downstairs as he was. The coffee was beckoning him, along with the hope that it would wake him up and clear his mind.
    The stairs seemed particularly challenging as Hank made his way to join the others. Every step seemed to jar him. Perhaps he was coming down with something.
    “We’re headin’ out in ten minutes, whether you’ve had your breakfast or not,” the stage driver bellowed from the bottom of the stairs.
    Hank looked at the man, narrowing his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m not one of your passengers, but if any remain upstairs they most certainly could have heard that declaration.”
    The driver grunted and stomped off toward the front door. “Good to see you again, girls,” he called out. “I’ll be back through in a few days.”
    “Nice to see you too, Ralph. We’ll be expecting you,” Gwen called from the large, open sitting room.
    Hank immediately fixed his gaze upon her. She wore a brown woolen skirt and a starched yellow blouse. The color served to draw out the blond highlights in her hair. She had attempted to pull her hair back, but uncooperative curls managed to slip out here and there, softening the severity of the look. Her smile faded as she turned to face Hank’s scrutiny.
    “Good morning, Mr. Bishop. Breakfast is on the table. You’re late.”
    “I apologize. For my tardiness, as well as my harsh words of yesterday.” He watched her for any reaction, but she seemed void of emotion. She stared at him for several seconds, then nodded and started for the dining room.
    “Wait. Please.” He crossed the room, trying his best to disguise the pain he felt. Gwen immediately noticed it, however.
    “What’s wrong? Did you sleep crooked—get a crick in your neck?”
    “I’m afraid what ails me is much lower.” He grinned and rubbed his lower back with both hands. “I’m not exactly sure what happened.”
    He thought