A Man for Annalee (7 page)

“See the log cabin yonder at the edge of the fruit trees? That’s the bunkhouse. The men take care of the cattle and the range. Now that your grandpa’s gone, they tend to the chickens and the milk cow.” He looked at her and caught her staring. His expression softened, and he whispered, “Are you paying attention, lil’ greenhorn?” He pulled her closer to him.

She nodded, feeling the heat of a blush kiss her cheeks, embarrassed he’d caught her watching him.

“I love it when you blush.” His head inclined toward hers, and her stomach did a twitchy thing. He wouldn’t kiss her, would he?

“It’s so isolated here.” Cora’s words jarred them from their private moment. She moved beside Annalee and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. “Do you think you can handle being so alone?”

She stepped away from Boone’s warmth, sensing Cora’s unspoken message about propriety. “I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t know where I belong anymore.” She squared her shoulders, determined to show some grit. “But I’m not leaving until I’ve gone through Grandpa’s house and looked over his property. I owe him that much.”

Boone placed his hand on the small of her back and led her toward the steps. “I’ve spent many a winter’s evening in this cabin with your grandfather. It’s well built to resist the elements.” Nugget raced them up the steps and sat at the door whining. “Old Nugget was partial to Lee Tanner too.” He opened the door for Annalee, and she stepped inside.

She stood at the bottom of a narrow stairway, her sweeping gaze taking in every unkempt detail. Stale wood smoke, dirty living, and something foul made her nose twitch. “Kindly leave the door open, Boone. This place needs airing out.”

To her right was a sitting room with a wooden rocker placed near the large stone fireplace in the end wall. A brass spittoon sat next to the rocker, and by the huge stains on the wooden floor, her grandpa had missed more often than he’d hit. She shuddered at the disgusting sight.

A rolltop desk, its cubicles crammed with papers, sat next to the window in the back wall. There was an old stained divan, its upholstery torn, with a spring rising from the seat. A table covered with a catalog, a broken harness, and a pouch of chewing tobacco was under the window in the front wall. Both windows were covered with grime.

Although the cabin’s current condition was depressing, there was a surprising, unexpected sense of comfort. The place exuded permanence and strength. Slowly pivoting, she could see possibilities. Her seamstress mind was already making curtains and braiding rugs.

Behind her, Cora voiced disgust. “Oh my, this will
never
do.” She was clucking her tongue as usual.

Annalee pivoted toward Cora. “It’ll take a lot of elbow grease. A lot of time spent on my knees, scrubbing.”

Cora’s face scrunched into a frown. “Surely you aren’t thinking of staying! Not here.”

Annalee crossed to the bottom of the steps and into the kitchen. A scarred wooden table covered with dirty dishes and a couple of opened tin cans sat in front of a window. There were two mismatched chairs, one missing its back. A black cast iron four-hole cookstove dominated the room. On the floor next to the stove was a pair of boots caked with dried mud. A hand pump and sink sat under another grime-covered window at the back wall. She opened the door next to the pump and stepped onto a back porch. Several boards were missing. A large garden still held a couple of pumpkins, blackened with frost damage.

She came back inside and closed the door. “He wasn’t much of a housekeeper, was he?”

Cora looked at huge black cobwebs draping the corners of the room and shuddered. “How could anyone live like this?”

Boone scratched the back of his neck. “Well, Cora, single men have different standards than women.”

Annalee was halfway up the narrow wooden steps when Cora replied in a huffy manner. “Look around this hovel, young man, and show me
one
standard. Humph!”

Upstairs, Annalee found two bedrooms with slanted ceilings, each with a small window in the end wall. One room was empty. What was obviously her grandfather’s bedroom had an unmade bed, its sheet and blanket patched many times. A pair of yellowed long johns hung over the bedpost. Worn, faded clothes hung on pegs. The bedside stand held a kerosene lamp with a blackened chimney and a dog-eared Bible. An armoire sat cattycornered near the window. On the wall opposite the bed hung a tintype of her when she’d turned eighteen. The fact that her picture was the last thing her grandpa saw at day’s end touched her.

Horses pulling a wagon approached. Boone was stepping outside when Annalee hurried down the steps to investigate. “Who is it, Cora?”

“Levi Olafsson and Three Fingers Hollister. Levi makes furniture. Looks like he has a delivery.”

“A delivery? Of what?” Annalee stepped around Cora and went outside to join Boone. “What is it?”

“Evidently Lee ordered some furniture before he was shot.”

A tall, burly man, his brown hat tugged low over his eyes, jumped down from the buckboard. He removed his hat, revealing a mop of silvery blonde hair. His blue-eyed gaze swept over her. “Hell’s bells, if you ain’t a beauty.” His face turned beet red, and he gave a quick bow. “Meant no disrespect, ma’am.”

Boone’s hand went to the small of her back. “Annalee Gallagher, this is Levi Olafsson. He’s the best furniture maker in the territory.”

Levi blushed again. “Shucks, Boonie. Don’t embarrass me like that. I’m yust pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Annalee.”

She smiled. “I’m honored to meet you, Mr. Olafsson. You have a delivery?”

Levi silently stared at her.

Boone cleared his throat.

Annalee waited.

Boone stepped closer to her side, almost in the proprietary manner she so often saw her da do with Momma. “The lady asked you about the delivery.”

Levi nodded. “Sorry, ma’am, that beautiful smile of yours made my heart stop. I vas yust vaitin’ for it to start beatin’ again.”

Annalee’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Oh my,” she gushed. What a charmer he was.

Boone muttered a curse under his breath.

Levi crumpled his hat in his huge, beefy hands. “The day your grandfather got your telegram, he came into my furniture shop full of pleasure. Said he needed some t’ings to make you feel more comfortable here. He vas so excited ’bout your coming, Miss Annalee.” His head bobbed as he spoke.

“I’m touched. I wasn’t sure how he really felt about taking me in.”

“For sure, he vas right grieved about your momma, an’ your poppa, too, don’t t’ink he vasn’t. But he vanted you to come. He ordered you a bed and a chest of drawers.” Levi glanced back at the loaded buckboard. “Bought a new dining table and matching chairs. Said a lady liked matching chairs.”

“Yes, we do.” She smiled through a veil of tears.
Oh, Grandpa, if you were here, I’d hug you so hard...

Levi blushed and ducked his head.

Boone groaned.

“I got a table fer ya ta put next to yer bed, too.” The man standing on the buckboard wiped his face with a dirty rag.

Boone placed his hand on the small of her back again. His continual touching was making her jittery. “Miss Annalee, meet Three Fingers Hollister.”

Annalee gave an involuntary shudder at the sight of Three Fingers, surely not at the warmth of Boone’s hand on her back. Three Fingers, a walking mud-pie if ever she saw one, was looking at her as if she were the last jellybean in the jar and he had a shiny penny in his grubby hand. “Hello.”

She showed the men where to put the furniture, wishing she’d had the chance to get the cabin cleaned before the new things were brought in. Once the bed was set up, she rubbed a hand over the carved headboard. “You do beautiful work, Mr. Olafsson.”

He removed his hat and blushed again. “I’d be honored if you’d call me Levi, ma’am. Right honored.”

Boone, who was carrying in the bedside table, stopped dead in his tracks. He looked from Annalee to Levi. His eyes narrowed, and he set the wooden stand down, the noise echoing through the room before he stalked out.

“Well, what got into him?” She turned and studied Levi. “You were only being neighborly.”

“Yust two men trying to mark their territory, Miss Annalee.” When her eyebrows arched, he ran a hand through his hair, obviously hunting for the right words. “Vomen…single vomen are rare out here. And vhen a beautiful one, like you, moves into a community, vell, single men are bound to get ideas.”

“Ideas, is it?” Her hands fisted on her hips. “Just
what
kind of ideas are you speaking of? Because I’ll have you know I’m a graduate of Miss Feather’s Finishing School for Refined Ladies of Culture and Proper Decorum.”

Levi squirmed and studied the tops of his boots. “Honest, Miss Annalee, I meant no disrespect. I meant it as a compliment.”

They both turned at the sound of more horses coming up the dirt lane. “Now, who?” Annalee turned on her heel and headed for the steps. Outside, another buckboard rolled to a stop. “Who are you?”

A dark-haired young man jumped down and gave a lecherous grin. “No, darlin’, who are
you?
”

How Boone got to her side so quickly, Annalee didn’t know, but his normally jovial voice was steely serious. “You’d do well to show the lady some respect, Clarence Stoner.”

Clarence’s hands clenched and unclenched a few times. “Meant no harm.”

“I know you’re used to dealing with the soiled doves at the Red Garter, but Annalee here is a lady.” A muscle in Boone’s cheek twitched, his displeasure obvious.

Clarence smiled when he stepped forward. “Annalee, is it?”

“Yes. Annalee Gallagher.”

“Well, I owe you an apology, misspeakin’ like I did. But you is a purty lady, and I gots me a powerful weakness fer purty ladies.” He shot Boone a glance when he heard him growl. “My father and I run Stoner and Son’s Mercantile. I’m here to deliver things old man Tanner ordered when he heard you was a-comin’. And if anything don’t meet with your approval, you just let ol’ Clarence know. I do aim to please.”

His smarmy smile made her skin crawl. “How did you know I’d be here today? How did Levi know?” She turned to Boone.

“Word spreads, Annalee. I mentioned it when I rented the buggy to bring you and Cora here today.”

“I see.” She walked to the buckboard and peeked under the protective canvas at a green velvet settee and matching chair. “I don’t believe it!” She reached out to touch the plush upholstery. Two pretty kerosene lamps with green bases also caught her eye. A gasp escaped her lips. “A tall case clock. What fine-looking wood! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!” This was better than Christmas morning. She ran to the rear of the buckboard, throwing back the canvas. “Look! A brass tub for bathing!”

Clarence sauntered over next to her. “Yeah, I figure you oughta look
real
…” Before he could finish, Boone had him by the scruff of the neck.

“Either you tame that tongue of yours, or I’ll take out your teeth.” He shook Clarence. “I warned you about talking to her like that.”

Clarence broke free of Boone’s grasp. “What’s wrong with you? You’re as touchy as a thumb what’s been mashed by a hammer.” He narrowed his eyes at Boone. “You layin’ claim to her yourself?”

The muscle twitched in Boone’s cheek again. His steely gaze stayed glued to Clarence, and his voice was low when he spoke. “Annalee, go inside.”

If this man thought she was going to miss
one
word of this conversation, he really was a clabber-headed fool. “No.”

He gave her a quick glance. “Do what I say, now.”

She folded her arms at her chest. “I listen to
no
man. I’ve been my own boss for years.”

When Clarence guffawed, Boone scowled at him. “I’m telling you for your own good, Annalee, go inside.”

Levi stepped into the conversation. “The lady said she listens to no man. I figure that means you, too, Boonie. You and me is good friends and all, but a lady’s vishes come first.”

Three Fingers hurried around Levi to stand in front of Boone. “Yeah, let
my
woman be.” His lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing two blackened teeth.

Boone’s eyes nearly bugged out when he yelled, “Your woman?”

“That’s right. You a-heard me and whatcha gonna do about it?” He raised his fists.

To her surprise, Three Fingers threw a punch. Suddenly, all four men were fighting. They hit, kicked, elbowed, grunted, groaned, cussed, and rolled around in the dirt. A flurry of eight arms and legs stirred a dust storm. All the while, Nugget circled the fracas, barking and growling.

A brawl! And it was over her. “Stop! Stop it, I say!” When her shouted pleas went unheeded, she stormed up the steps.

Cora stood on the porch wringing her hands. “Oh dear, oh dear! Whatever shall we do?”

Annalee stormed by Cora, madder than a hornet in a Mason jar. “I’ll show you what I’m gonna do.” She marched into the kitchen and Cora followed. Reaching for a large pot hanging from a peg, she went to the pump. “Get that other pot over there. We’ll fill them both.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’m going to show them who’s boss on this piece of land.”

Both women carried their heavy water-filled pots to the brawling gang of hooligans. “When I count to three, toss your water on ’em. And try to get as much on Three Fingers as you possibly can. He smells like he hasn’t bathed since Lincoln was President.”