Silver Creek - G.L. Snodgrass Page 0,22

Helen continued, “That’s the problem. Youth is wasted on the ones who don’t know how to use it. Shame if you ask me.”

Rebecca continued to frown then slowly smiled. “If you don’t stop. I’ll tell Chester that you call out his name in your sleep.”

Helen’s face blanched as she spun to confront her friend. “I never.”

Smiling, Rebecca grabbed Pap’s order and backed through the batwing doors. Helen’s scowl making the world feel safe again.

As she placed his order down, Pap nodded to the far corner where Luke sat. Rebecca noticed that he’d poured his own coffee. “I see I got competition,” Pap said with a toothless smile. “But I ain’t sure he’d treat you as good as me.”

Rebecca once again felt her cheeks flush. What was it about people in this town? Why couldn’t they just mind their own business? Couldn’t they see that Luke didn’t think of her like that?

Bending over she whispered, “Pap, I’d be careful or I might forget to bring you any cobbler.”

He laughed, but she noticed that he stopped teasing her.

Taking a deep breath, she ran her hands down over her apron then stepped over to Luke’s table. It was upsetting that he’d gotten his own coffee. She would have preferred to have something for her hands.

“How did it go?” she asked, desperately curious.

“Fine,” he said with a shrug of those wide shoulders. “Pretty much as I expected.”

Her brow creased with confusion. “Did you learn anything?”

“No, not really. Got a sense of the lay of the land. But mostly I just poked at the bee’s hive.”

Rebecca cringed inside. She was tempted to once again ask him to let the matter drop but she knew it would be fruitless. She was about to ask more when Helen called out that his order was ready.

She returned quickly with his meal then pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. “What next?”

He started to cut into his steak then shrugged. “I’ll ask around. Maybe ride out to your ranch.”

She frowned, “When you go, can you let me know. I’ll give you some flowers to take for my uncle’s grave. I can’t leave Helen alone, we’re too busy.”

He blanched for a moment then laughed out loud. She noticed it was the first time he had laughed since his arrival. Suddenly she realized that the war might have changed him more than she had known. He should laugh more.

“I don’t know Becky,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee. “Riding across the range with a bundle of flowers ain’t exactly a way to put fear in people’s hearts.”

“Is that important. Having people being afraid of you?”

“It helps,” he said before taking another bite.

“That is a shame,” she said as she looked off in the distance. “It seems like a lonely life.”

An awkward silence fell over them until the door opened and three miners stepped inside. Soon, Rebecca found herself too busy to focus on Luke. Between a rush of new customers and washing dishes in the back, it was a good hour before she could take a moment to return to Luke. Her heart fell when she found his chair empty and a quarter next to his plate.

He’d left without saying goodbye. Why? Did he really think so little about her that it hadn’t even occurred to him? No, she thought, that wasn’t fair. The man had crossed a continent to come help her. But still, deep inside a bitter disappointment began to build.

Would it always be like this? she wondered. Her wanting any little bit of his attention and him oblivious to her. It seemed like such a miserable life. The only thing worse would be a life with no Luke at all.

.o0o.

After the meal, Luke made his way to the Red House Saloon. As he walked, he remembered Becky and tried to shake the heart aching impact she had on him. He’d stepped into the restaurant to find her bent over a table clearing dishes. It had sent a bolt of need shooting through him. A need that he had to ignore.

Putting it aside, he focused on the task before him.

When he stepped into the Red House Saloon he paused to let his eyes adjust. Pretty much like any saloon within five hundred miles. A long bar to the left with a gold-framed mirror up on the wall. He wondered if it had come in from San Francisco or Saint Louis. Tables and chairs. Sawdust covering the floor to soak up the spilled beer