if she knew how a man could feel about a woman.
“Walk you home, Miz Jane? Barton Springer’s the name, case you don’t remember. Drove a wagon for Wells Fargo and knew your daddy.”
Jane tipped her parasol so the shade covered the man’s weathered face. “Mr. Springer, of course I remember you. You were a great help to my father and Uncle Junius at the newspaper office.”
He grinned and fell in step beside her. “Sure sorry to hear about your pa, Miz Jane. ’Specially so soon after Mr. Junius. What you gonna do, now he’s gone?”
“The first thing I will do, Mr. Springer, is stop by the mercantile. I am going into business.”
His bushy gray eyebrows twitched upward. “You, ma’am? All by yourself?”
“All by myself. I’m going to rent the store next to the mercantile. Then I intend to purchase some bolts of fabric—muslin, I think, or perhaps sateen—and some thread. Oh, and maybe a lantern so I can work in the evenings.”
“You gonna need some help totin’ them things, Miz Jane. I’m puttin’ myself at your service.”
Jane surveyed the bent figure trudging beside her. He looked healthy enough, but his right shirt-sleeve was pinned up, indicating a missing arm. She couldn’t bear to embarrass him by declining his offer.
“That is most thoughtful of you, Mr. Springer. First, however, I wish to inspect my place of business. Mr. Wilder said it was right next to the mercantile, but I don’t recall seeing anything that looked like a store.”
The old man gave her a sideways look. “No wonder in that, I guess. ’T’aint much of a store, more like a…well, you’ll see fer yourself, it’s just yonder.”
“I don’t care what it is, Mr. Springer, it’s a start. For me, it’s a whole new life!” For a fleeting moment she wondered at herself, talking so freely about her plans. She’d been taught never to speak of things other than the weather and recipes for rheumatism medicine and who’s having a baby, and here she was chattering on about her ideas. Maybe it was because Mr. Springer’s blue eyes snapped with intelligence. Or was it because he was a sweet, frail man whom she sensed was a bit lonely for company? Perhaps he was a kindred spirit. His interest in her venture seemed so genuine she didn’t even mind too much that he was a Yankee.
“You don’t mind me sayin’ so, Miz Jane, you been frownin’ somethin’ fierce ever since you come outta the bank. I never seen anyone look more serious.”
Jane stopped midstride and stared at him. “‘Serious,’ Mr. Springer, does not begin to describe my state of mind. I am committed. Determined. Resolute!” She stopped herself from adding “desperate” only because he was pointing at something behind her.
“There ’tis. Your store.”
Jane whirled to see. “Where? I don’t see a—Oh, you mean that little add-on next to the…? Oh. Oh, my.” Her heart sank.
A tilting clapboard structure no wider than the back end of a wagon leaned against the mercantile building. She stepped closer. The single window, slightly wider than the plain plank door, was so grimy she could not see through the glass. No matter. At the moment, she couldn’t face looking inside. A weathered wooden sign swung on a chain in the wind. Mercer’s Feed & Seed. Cash Only.
“Used to be Rafe Mercer’s feed storage room. Looks kinda worse for wear, don’t it?”
Jane’s mouth was as dry as field cotton. “It looks like the darky quarters back home in Marion County. Only not as clean.”
“Miz Jane, I jes’ gotta say this. This ain’t no kinda place for a lady. Why don’t you take your momma and go back where you come from?”
She bit down hard on her lower lip. “I cannot, Mr. Springer. My mother is…unwell at the moment, and…”
And she had no money for train fare, other than what Mr. Wilder had lent her. Besides, even if her mother could travel, she couldn’t leave Dixon Falls with Papa’s debts still unpaid, and now, on top of that, there was the bank loan to pay back.
The old man’s eyes narrowed in unspoken understanding. “I bet you’d hightail it outta here if’n you could find a way.”
“I’ll find a way,” Jane said quietly. “And the first step is to take down that awful sign and scrub that window.” She nodded her head politely. “Good day to you, Mr. Springer. I’d best visit the mercantile and purchase an extra bar of lye soap.”
“You tell Mr. Mercer I’ll tote yer supplies on over to your store for ya. Meanwhile, I think I’ll mosey on down to the Silver Cup and have some words with an old friend.”
“Dell, you outta be horsewhipped fer what you’re puttin’ that gal through. This ain’t no way to court a lady like Miz Jane.”
Rydell downed the last of his whiskey and looked at Lefty across the oak table. “The courting part comes later. First, she’s got to give up that fool notion about supporting herself and her mother by making dresses.”
“You gonna let her work herself to the bone so’s you kin pick up the pieces? Dell, her hands ain’t never done nothin’ but play the pi-anna and embroider tea towels.”
Rydell looked straight at his friend. “I want a wife who’s a partner, not a decoration.”
“Then choose some other gal. Lord knows you’d have yer pick.”
Rydell ignored him. “Jane’s got more inside her than she knows,” he said. He smoothed one finger around the rim of his glass. “I’ve waited for ten years. I’m willing to wait some more.”
Lefty plunked his beer glass down so hard the liquid sloshed over the side. “You waited ten years cuz her daddy ran you off. Now that he’s gone, why’nt you jes’ grab her? I seen you do that with plenty of other women, so don’t say you don’t know how. Jes’ do it!”
“Lefty, you ever think about a man and a woman? What it means for them to be together?”
“Hell, yes, all the time. Nuthin’ complicated ’bout that. Hug ’em, kiss ’em, and rope ’em quick.”
Rydell grinned. “You’re a smart man, Lefty. How come you’re so dumb when it comes to women?”
“I’m a good forty years older’n you, boy, so I know what I’m yakkin’ about. Women is women.”
“There’s more to it than that. Jane is…Jane. She’s not ready.”
The older man groaned. “You’re a smart man, too, Dell. How come you’re so dumb when it comes to Miz Jane?”
Rydell rose and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “She’s a spinster. Overeducated. Underexperienced. But I like her. Always have. She deserves the chance to learn who she is.”
Tossing a coin on the table, he strolled toward the saloon doorway. “Besides,” he said over his shoulder, “she won’t suffer long. As green as she is in the ways of the world, inside of a week she’ll drop into my hand like a ripe peach.”
“I
