interested the beast was heading back to the barn.
“Come on, horse. Let’s go.” He tucked the stems of the daisies inside his shirt and swung into the saddle. All the way back to town he accused himself of getting off track. After all, the purpose of his excursion was to take another look at the parcel of land he wanted to purchase, not daydream about the woman with whom he might one day share that land.
Gideon shook off the guilt. It wasn’t unimaginable to want a wife and family one day as long as he didn’t allow his priorities to become out of order. Wanting the kind of marriage his parents had was a fine aspiration. But his first priority was selling the mercantile and purchasing the land. Next, he’d strike a deal with the man from Illinois to purchase a stallion. Finding a wife should come later, after he had a place to offer her.
When he arrived back in Willow Creek, the first person he spotted was Henry Kilgore. Why did it always seem like the man was watching him? Kilgore thrust out his chest and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, the ever-present cigar hanging out one side of his mouth. As Gideon rode past on his way to the livery, Kilgore nodded to him with a half smirk, like he knew to whom Gideon planned to give the daisies.
Walking into the dining room and handing Tessa the flowers was a stupid plan anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her or jeopardize her job. If he couldn’t think of a better idea, he’d wind up taking the flowers home to Martha.
“I’m telling you, I think you should open a bakery. Just look at these orders. Three whole cakes and five whole pies, and that doesn’t include all the servings we sell to the diners every day.”
Tessa brushed a floury hand across her chin and continued rolling out piecrusts. Tillie’s imagination was running away with her. “Where would I get the money to start a bakery? Sure, I like the idea, and I truly do enjoy baking, but just think of everything I would need.”
Flossie snorted. “It ain’t likely you’ll ever make enough money here, working for Kilgore.”
It was true. Her wages barely covered her thrifty needs. The old sock she used to tuck away a bit of savings toward her winter rent remained pitifully slack. How she wished she could afford to look elsewhere for a better paying job. When she made up her mind to survive, she took the first job that came along. Now she feared finding anything better was a fairy tale.
Tillie shrugged. “It’s nice to dream.”
Tessa had to admit it was an admirable goal, albeit an impossible one. She lifted her shoulders. “I appreciate your compliment. It was a very nice thing to say.”
Flossie turned her head to look at Tessa. “We’ve got a problem, you know.”
“What problem?”
Flossie held up her hand. “My hand is getting better since I started using that Porter’s Liniment Salve Gideon Maxwell gave me. I can’t keep expecting you to do all the baking. But the customers didn’t rave about my desserts like they do yours, and if I start doing the baking again, we’ll start losing business.”
Tessa barely heard Flossie’s description of what she deemed a problem. Her focus hung on the cook’s first statement. “Gideon gave you that salve? I thought you’d gone to the doctor.”
Flossie shook her head, and another lock of mousy brown hair escaped its pins. “No, Gideon brought it from the mercantile. I tried to tell him I didn’t have money to pay him, but he just said I needed the salve now and I could pay him later. He told me to soak my hand in eucalyptus tea, too.” She turned her hand over to show the healing blisters to Tessa. “See how much better it looks?”
Tessa arched her eyebrows. “That was a very kind thing for him to do.” But Gideon’s kindness wasn’t a surprise. She’d already been the beneficiary of his thoughtfulness more than once. Perhaps it was true that not all men were like Papa. They weren’t all drunkards, nor did
“Come on, horse. Let’s go.” He tucked the stems of the daisies inside his shirt and swung into the saddle. All the way back to town he accused himself of getting off track. After all, the purpose of his excursion was to take another look at the parcel of land he wanted to purchase, not daydream about the woman with whom he might one day share that land.
Gideon shook off the guilt. It wasn’t unimaginable to want a wife and family one day as long as he didn’t allow his priorities to become out of order. Wanting the kind of marriage his parents had was a fine aspiration. But his first priority was selling the mercantile and purchasing the land. Next, he’d strike a deal with the man from Illinois to purchase a stallion. Finding a wife should come later, after he had a place to offer her.
When he arrived back in Willow Creek, the first person he spotted was Henry Kilgore. Why did it always seem like the man was watching him? Kilgore thrust out his chest and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders, the ever-present cigar hanging out one side of his mouth. As Gideon rode past on his way to the livery, Kilgore nodded to him with a half smirk, like he knew to whom Gideon planned to give the daisies.
Walking into the dining room and handing Tessa the flowers was a stupid plan anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her or jeopardize her job. If he couldn’t think of a better idea, he’d wind up taking the flowers home to Martha.
“I’m telling you, I think you should open a bakery. Just look at these orders. Three whole cakes and five whole pies, and that doesn’t include all the servings we sell to the diners every day.”
Tessa brushed a floury hand across her chin and continued rolling out piecrusts. Tillie’s imagination was running away with her. “Where would I get the money to start a bakery? Sure, I like the idea, and I truly do enjoy baking, but just think of everything I would need.”
Flossie snorted. “It ain’t likely you’ll ever make enough money here, working for Kilgore.”
It was true. Her wages barely covered her thrifty needs. The old sock she used to tuck away a bit of savings toward her winter rent remained pitifully slack. How she wished she could afford to look elsewhere for a better paying job. When she made up her mind to survive, she took the first job that came along. Now she feared finding anything better was a fairy tale.
Tillie shrugged. “It’s nice to dream.”
Tessa had to admit it was an admirable goal, albeit an impossible one. She lifted her shoulders. “I appreciate your compliment. It was a very nice thing to say.”
Flossie turned her head to look at Tessa. “We’ve got a problem, you know.”
“What problem?”
Flossie held up her hand. “My hand is getting better since I started using that Porter’s Liniment Salve Gideon Maxwell gave me. I can’t keep expecting you to do all the baking. But the customers didn’t rave about my desserts like they do yours, and if I start doing the baking again, we’ll start losing business.”
Tessa barely heard Flossie’s description of what she deemed a problem. Her focus hung on the cook’s first statement. “Gideon gave you that salve? I thought you’d gone to the doctor.”
Flossie shook her head, and another lock of mousy brown hair escaped its pins. “No, Gideon brought it from the mercantile. I tried to tell him I didn’t have money to pay him, but he just said I needed the salve now and I could pay him later. He told me to soak my hand in eucalyptus tea, too.” She turned her hand over to show the healing blisters to Tessa. “See how much better it looks?”
Tessa arched her eyebrows. “That was a very kind thing for him to do.” But Gideon’s kindness wasn’t a surprise. She’d already been the beneficiary of his thoughtfulness more than once. Perhaps it was true that not all men were like Papa. They weren’t all drunkards, nor did
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