Her Montana Man

“Everyone feels helpless,” she answered. “They want to do something.”

He nodded and took a bite of chocolate-frosted cake, even though there was plenty of other food on his plate. He caught her looking and grinned sheepishly. “Sweet tooth.”

Side by side, they ate in silence. He finished, and Delores Cress came by to take his plate and return with a cup of coffee. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Eliza held her half-empty plate out to Delores.

“Would you like coffee?” the other woman asked. “I have water on and can make you some tea.”

“No, thank you.”

Jonas sipped the brew, then turned to find a spot on a side table to set the cup. He leveled his gaze on Eliza.

“When my father died, you were one of the ladies servin’ food and coffee.”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “I remember.”

He looked away, searching his mind for words. “I recall your kindness that day. You told me that my father was a good man and that you would miss him.”

“He was a good man.” Her gaze rose to his then.

“And I’ve missed him. He was kind to my family. Diligent. He always came out day or night, rain or shine to take care of Jenny or my parents.”

“That day…I knew you understood,” he told her,

“that words were inadequate. You didn’t say all the things people normally say at a time like that. You had already lost your mother.”

Eliza shrugged. “Words are cheap. It’s what we do that determines who we are.”

Her straightforward manner surprised him, but he admired her practical philosophy. He wondered if she was thinking about him fighting Baslow in the street the other day, wondered if she thought that scuffle defined who he was.

Her gaze was steady, sending the same disturbing feeling it always elicited across his nerve endings. Why was it her presence made him look into himself with questions? Did that fight define him?

She unsettled him.

“Thank you for the flowers.” Her cheeks turned pink, bringing fresh color to her pale complexion. She held his gaze only a moment longer, then glanced away, confirming her embarrassment.

“Appreciate that you spoke up,” he answered.

“You’d already thanked me.”

He had. But the words hadn’t felt adequate. Well, truth was he’d groped for an opportunity to paint himself in a better light in her mind. Why in tarnation he gave it a second thought was a concern, though.

Across the room, a woman spoke to a youngster, and he rose from where he sat on the hearth to leave with her. The remaining platinum-haired boy stared after them, then his gaze moved across the people crowding the room toward the hallway. Jonas sensed confusion and fear. Finally, the child spotted Eliza Jane. He got up and crossed the room to them. “Aunt Liza?”

She reached out to place the backs of her fingers against his cheek in a loving gesture. “Your friends left?”

He nodded, his blue eyes wide and shining. Then so softly that Jonas could barely hear him, he asked, “Could I sit on your lap for a little while?”

Eliza Jane’s composure must’ve been tested, because she pursed her lips and tilted her head, but recovered and answered swiftly, “Of course you may.”

She smoothed the skirts of her black dress, and the boy raised one knee and sidled onto her lap. Her arms came around him, one hand smoothing his hair from his forehead. She pressed a kiss against his temple, and her eyelids drifted closed as though his very scent was a comfort. He snuggled against her.

Jonas’s chest got a tight feeling. Her sister’s child. When he’d heard the news of Jenny Lee’s death in town the day before, he’d also heard clucking and lamenting about the poor dear child and grieving husband she’d left behind. He knew what it was like to lose a mother.

Jonas halted that train of thought. “Your nephew?” he asked.

“This is Tyler. Tyler, meet Mr. Black.”

Tyler obediently sat straight and looked at him.

“How do, sir.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, young man.”

Tyler looked to Eliza for approval, and she smiled. He tucked himself right back with his head under her chin. “Are you sleepy?” she asked.

“Only a little.”

“All this company is tiring, isn’t it?”

“Are they all Mama’s friends?”

“They came because they cared for her, and they want to show that they care about you, too.” She rubbed his shoulder. “Why don’t we go upstairs? You can change out of your suit jacket and lie on your bed for a little while.”

“I don’t want to go yet,” he answered.

“All right then. You may sit with me a while longer.”

Jonas thought perhaps he should go, but just as he was about to excuse himself, Eliza spoke. “How is Miss Holmes?”

“Good, I reckon. She’s a fine worker.”

“Housekeeping you said?”

“Uh-huh.” Oh, he was a witty conversationalist.

“Do you employ a number of people?”

“About twenty.” He explained about the operations of the hotel and the saloon and how many it took to keep both businesses running. “Handle the employment vouchers myself.”

“How does that work exactly?”

“Well. You know a lot of men have been lured West by gold or adventure or the dream of land. Reality of it is most of ’em end up needin’ jobs. Oh, a few strike it rich and are the moneymakers, but the rest are the real workers. The ones who actually dig trenches and tunnels and drive spikes. Ones who harvest crops and fell trees.”

She nodded, showing her interest.

“Those kind of jobs move around with the railroad and with the seasons. Railroad, farmers, mine owners and the state all let me know when they need laborers. I sell vouchers for those jobs and the industry owners pay me commission when they hire.”