Read Online Texas Pride: Night Riders by Leigh Greenwood - Free Book Online
Authors: Leigh Greenwood
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the money to pay him.”
“If he will lend me his tools, I will be happy to fix the door for you.”
A look of surprised hope bloomed in her eyes. “You will?”
“Of course. A gentleman should never hesitate to help a lady.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not from around here.”
“No, ma’am. My name is Ivan Nikolai. I come from Poland.”
“I never met anybody from Poland before. How do I know you can fix my door?”
“Doors stick in Poland, too.”
That appeared to be all she needed to know. “I’m Sadie Lowell. Most folks call me Widow Lowell. I sell clothes and other fashionable items for ladies. I’ve got a customer coming by this morning who just about keeps me in business. I can’t ask her to come in the back door.”
“All I need is some tools.”
She eyed the doorknob in her hand, a look of determination taking hold. “Gordon can’t refuse to help me now.” Beckoning Ivan to follow, she headed down the boardwalk.
Ivan estimated the Widow Lowell was probably about fifty. She was short, rotund, and looked every year of her age. She appeared to be a woman who had been content to leave everything to her husband. Widowhood had forced her to become independent, a change she still found uncomfortable. She turned and entered the store Ivan had left only a short while ago. She marched straight to the back where Mr. Thompson was talking to a young woman with two little boys clinging to her skirts. Widow Lowell waited until the young woman finished her business and left with her little boys begging for sticks of candy they saw under glass at the front of the store.
“Gordon,” she said to Mr. Thompson, “this young man has offered to fix my door. He just needs to borrow your tools.”
“Sadie, I told you I’d—”
“You’re full of promises, Gordon, but you never keep them. I need help right now because I can’t get the door open.”
“I’d do it right now, but I can’t leave the store.”
“I don’t want you to leave your precious store. I do want you to lend your tools to this young man so he can fix my door.” She waved the doorknob at him. “This came off when I tried to open up.”
Mr. Thompson wasn’t happy with the widow, but he seemed to know he didn’t have much choice. He led Ivan to a room at the back of the building, which he used for nearly every part of the business of the store he didn’t want his customers to see. Boxes in the process of being unpacked vied with crates piled in corners and along walls. A desk was covered with a litter of paper. There was barely room to walk. They edged their way to a corner toward a large box of tools. “Sadie Lowell is a valued member of this community,” he said to Ivan. “You’d better be able to do what you say you can.”
“You are welcome to inspect my work.” Ivan wasn’t impressed by the condition of Mr. Thompson’s tools. Having selected what he needed and placed everything in an empty box, Ivan headed back toward the store. “I should have everything back within an hour.”
“How are you going to fix the door?” the widow asked as they walked back to her store.
“I will take the hinges off from inside,” Ivan explained. “Maybe all I need to do is shave a little of the edge.”
It was easy to remove the pins from the front door hinges. It was a lot harder to unstick the door from the frame, but he managed it after about ten minutes. “I will take it out back and shave it down a little.”
He attracted the attention of three boys who were playing in the space behind the store. They asked a steady stream of questions as he worked.
“You can come over to my house,” one boy said. “My ma says all the windows stick.”
“Do you know how to build a clubhouse?” another asked.
“Can you fix a broken wagon?” the third boy wanted to know.
“My pa says no man worth his salt rides in a wagon.”
“Your pa don’t have a busted leg.”
“He wouldn’t have a busted leg if he’d got
“If he will lend me his tools, I will be happy to fix the door for you.”
A look of surprised hope bloomed in her eyes. “You will?”
“Of course. A gentleman should never hesitate to help a lady.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not from around here.”
“No, ma’am. My name is Ivan Nikolai. I come from Poland.”
“I never met anybody from Poland before. How do I know you can fix my door?”
“Doors stick in Poland, too.”
That appeared to be all she needed to know. “I’m Sadie Lowell. Most folks call me Widow Lowell. I sell clothes and other fashionable items for ladies. I’ve got a customer coming by this morning who just about keeps me in business. I can’t ask her to come in the back door.”
“All I need is some tools.”
She eyed the doorknob in her hand, a look of determination taking hold. “Gordon can’t refuse to help me now.” Beckoning Ivan to follow, she headed down the boardwalk.
Ivan estimated the Widow Lowell was probably about fifty. She was short, rotund, and looked every year of her age. She appeared to be a woman who had been content to leave everything to her husband. Widowhood had forced her to become independent, a change she still found uncomfortable. She turned and entered the store Ivan had left only a short while ago. She marched straight to the back where Mr. Thompson was talking to a young woman with two little boys clinging to her skirts. Widow Lowell waited until the young woman finished her business and left with her little boys begging for sticks of candy they saw under glass at the front of the store.
“Gordon,” she said to Mr. Thompson, “this young man has offered to fix my door. He just needs to borrow your tools.”
“Sadie, I told you I’d—”
“You’re full of promises, Gordon, but you never keep them. I need help right now because I can’t get the door open.”
“I’d do it right now, but I can’t leave the store.”
“I don’t want you to leave your precious store. I do want you to lend your tools to this young man so he can fix my door.” She waved the doorknob at him. “This came off when I tried to open up.”
Mr. Thompson wasn’t happy with the widow, but he seemed to know he didn’t have much choice. He led Ivan to a room at the back of the building, which he used for nearly every part of the business of the store he didn’t want his customers to see. Boxes in the process of being unpacked vied with crates piled in corners and along walls. A desk was covered with a litter of paper. There was barely room to walk. They edged their way to a corner toward a large box of tools. “Sadie Lowell is a valued member of this community,” he said to Ivan. “You’d better be able to do what you say you can.”
“You are welcome to inspect my work.” Ivan wasn’t impressed by the condition of Mr. Thompson’s tools. Having selected what he needed and placed everything in an empty box, Ivan headed back toward the store. “I should have everything back within an hour.”
“How are you going to fix the door?” the widow asked as they walked back to her store.
“I will take the hinges off from inside,” Ivan explained. “Maybe all I need to do is shave a little of the edge.”
It was easy to remove the pins from the front door hinges. It was a lot harder to unstick the door from the frame, but he managed it after about ten minutes. “I will take it out back and shave it down a little.”
He attracted the attention of three boys who were playing in the space behind the store. They asked a steady stream of questions as he worked.
“You can come over to my house,” one boy said. “My ma says all the windows stick.”
“Do you know how to build a clubhouse?” another asked.
“Can you fix a broken wagon?” the third boy wanted to know.
“My pa says no man worth his salt rides in a wagon.”
“Your pa don’t have a busted leg.”
“He wouldn’t have a busted leg if he’d got
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