closed her eyes. She was the daughter of Captain Hayes and his first wife. Her father was very likely the richest man in the county. She could walk into any store in town and buy whatever she liked on account.
But, Laurel almost said aloud, she didn’t have enough cash to buy a cup of tea.
The ten dollar gold piece had been a gift from the headmaster when she’d graduated. Laurel had kept it with her for two years, hoping one day she’d be brave enough to buy a train ticket for as far as ten dollars would take her. Once she’d asked if she could have the salary her father paid the last bookkeeper. Her father had laughed and told her she was lucky to have a roof over her head and food to eat.
“Miss?” The young maid stood at the doorway with a wicker tray the size of a plate. “A lady upstairs ordered this tea, then said she didn’t want it. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d take it.”
“But I haven’t—”
“There ain’t no charge for it.” She set the tray on the table next to Laurel.
“Thank you.” Laurel smiled. “You’re very kind.”
Rusty curls tossed about her shoulders. “We all do what we can, miss, to help each other.”
Laurel felt humbled by the maid. She offered her hand.
“I’m Laurel Hayes.”
“I’m Bonnie Lynn.” The maid laughed nervously. “Pleased to meet you, I am.” Now it was the maid’s turn to be uncomfortable. “I got to go.”
“I hope to see you again,” Laurel said. “Thanks for the tea.”
Bonnie Lynn nodded and hurried out of the room.
Laurel leaned back and sipped her tea. She’d let go of her ten dollars on a hope. A hope that if it paid off would allow her to go all the way to Kansas City, or Houston, or maybe even Santa Fe. She’d have enough money for the train and then a few months at a boardinghouse. She’d look for a job at a bank or as a bookkeeper. She was good at what she did. Her father’s books had never been off a penny since she’d started managing them.
Lost in her daydreams and plans, Laurel didn’t hear Jeffery Filmore come into the hotel until he was at the door to the parlor. He always reminded her of a bear someone had dressed up and trained to act proper. When he removed his hat, his hair wiggled across his balding head like thin, wrinkled wool and his complexion always appeared sunburned.
“There you are,” he bellowed. “I saw your sisters come in and guessed you’d be about.”
Laurel didn’t answer. She never answered his ramblings for Jeffery talked only to hear himself.
She expected him to storm off, but he barged into the room and stuck out a piece of paper. “Your father wanted a list of the names of those who entered for best all-around in the rodeo. You can take it out and save me a trip. I know it’s not as many as he’d hoped would enter, but after seeing some of the rough stock a few of the men backed out. They say one of the steers turned on a roper and killed him in El Paso last month. Some of the bucking horses look like they’re too mean to be worth the bullet it’d take to kill them.”
“Isn’t that the kind of stock a rodeo needs?” she asked.
“Yeah, it makes for wild rides and a man who puts much value on his life would be wise to stay in the stands and watch.”
She lowered her head, hoping he’d leave.
Like a nervous elephant, he shifted from foot to foot.
Finally, she looked up.
He didn’t wait for her to ask any questions. “I’ve come to terms with your father, Laurel. We’ll marry the end of August. No frills, just a small ceremony after Sunday services so I can teach you what you don’t know that afternoon. My bank records require a higher standard than your father’s ranch accounts.”
“But . . .”
He rushed on as if he already knew what she might ask. “You’re to have a new dress, of course, for the wedding, but nothing too fancy. I see no need for parties, or a honeymoon. I’ve already had that with my first wife, and your father agrees with me that such things are just a waste of money.”
Laurel stared openmouthed at his ramblings. She wanted to shout that she’d never been asked to marry him and, if she had been, she would have said