The Hens_The Third Day Page 7

  Meizhen did her best to walk out of the diner gracefully, using all of her willpower not to stomp out. She had been trained not to show emotion while performing, but the bullies who had pestered Woody and insulted her had her seeing red. They were exactly the sort of ruffians she had been afraid Mrs. Walters would match her with, and a large part of the reason she was so delighted with Woody and everything he stood for. But knowing how lucky she was—or at least could be—did nothing to soothe the fire of anger burning in her gut.

  It was only made worse when Woody’s shoulders hunched slightly and be bowed his head a tiny bit to say, “I’m sorry about those men back there.” He sent a sharp frown over his shoulder at the diner.

  “They are not men,” Meizhen insisted. “They are untrained animals.”

  Woody huffed. “I dunno. Sounds like an insult to animals to me.”

  Meizhen relaxed somewhat at his comment, a soft smile returning to her lips. She put a hand on Woody’s arm. “Perhaps we should send your hens to deal with them.”

  Woody laughed. “I’d like to see that.”

  Meizhen laughed with him, but fell back into a somber mood all too quickly. “The truth is, I have known men like those ones before. They are too common.”

  “I hate to hear that.” Woody frowned in concern.

  “Nevertheless, it is true.” Meizhen sighed. “While I was traveling with Miles Kopanari’s theatrical show, I witnessed many tough men who considered themselves better than others because they were stronger, treating my fellow performers horribly. Miles was—and is—a kind, sophisticated man, but since he did not roughhouse with these men or drink with them and engage in lewd behavior with women, and because he cared for his mother, who traveled with us as a fortune teller, they called him names like ‘sissy’ and ‘Nancy boy’.”

  “Nancy boy?” Woody’s mouth twisted in disgust.

  Meizhen nodded sadly. “And they treated my friend, Miriam, as though she were no better than one of Madame Bonheur’s girls, when, in fact, she was a talented actress.” She paused. “I am glad that Miriam married and settled down when we were in Haskell, Wyoming.”

  “Did she?”

  Miriam nodded. “So many of our troupe decided to settle in Haskell that Miles disbanded the group. He left to return his aging mother to their home of Hungary, but he too intends to return and to learn the hotel business from Mr. Theophilus Gunn.” She stopped with a bashful smile. “But you do not wish to hear stories of people you have never met, I’m sure.”

  “No, no, it’s nice to hear about people outside of Noelle,” Woody insisted. “Sorta makes things seem less isolated, like they are up here, knowing there are other folks whose lives are kinda like ours.”

  Meizhen smiled at him. “You would like Haskell. Meiying is lucky to have settled near there. It is a much larger town than Noelle, and much of it has been designed by a wealthy but eccentric rancher, Howard Haskell.”

  Woody rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I’ve heard of him.”

  “Perhaps we will visit there one day,” Meizhen said, then pinched her lips closed as she remembered there was no guarantee they would ever be “we”. “If that is the way things go.”

  “Yeah.” Woody laughed nervously. “If it’s the way things go. I—” He stopped as a large, shaggy dog limped out from the alley between two buildings, making his way toward them. “Hey, Jock.” He let go of Meizhen’s arm and crouched to pet the dog—and to give him a hug—as he limped into Woody’s arms. “That foot still bothering you, boy?”

  Jock the dog barked as if answering. He clearly favored his right hind leg, but his tail wagged away as Woody smoothed his hands across his back, and his tongue lolled out as he panted happily.

  “Jock here got into a scuffle with a mountain lion a week or so back,” Woody explained. He shifted to gently explore Jock’s injured leg. “I patched him up as best I could, but he should be resting.” He directed the last part of his sentence to Jock, as though he were an unruly patient in a hospital.

  Meizhen noticed a neat row of stitches under the fur on Jock’s leg. Her brow lifted in surprise. “You sewed his leg?”

  “Yep,” Woody answered, leaving Jock’s leg to rub his ears and stroke his back. “And it looks like it’s healing nicely.”

  “Jock, there you are.” A harried, slightly older man with a Scottish accent approached them from between the two buildings. “Morning, Woody.” He stopped short at the sight of Meizhen, and a smile spread across his face. “Morning, ma’am,” he greeted Meizhen, taking off his hat and blushing. “I, uh, heard the brides got into town the other day.”

  Woody stood. “Dougan, this is Miss Liu Meizhen.”

  “Ma’am.” Dougan shifted his weight from foot to foot, blushing even brighter, his face almost as red as his hair and beard.

  “And this is Dougan McDonald,” Woody finished the introduction. “A man who should be keeping a closer eye on his dog.”

  “Mr. McDonald.” Meizhen nodded and smiled.

  Dougan continued to be tongue-tied, until Jock barked. Dougan blinked. “Right, uh….” He cleared his throat and blinked to focus. “I was keeping an eye on this one, but you know how he likes to run.”

  “He sure does.” Woody bent to give Jock’s head another rub. “But he’s not all the way healed yet. You’d think the snow would slow him down.”

  Dougan laughed. “Snow? Not this one. He likes to run no matter what the conditions.”

  “Well, not until that leg is all the way healed.” Meizhen couldn’t tell if Woody was talking to Dougan or Jock. She suspected both.

  Dougan laughed and whistled to call Jock to his side. “I’ll do my best to keep him still. I just hate tethering him to anything, though.”

  “Yeah, I understand.” Woody nodded.

  Dougan smiled at Meizhen again, his face still red. “Well, uh, I don’t want to disturb your, uh, walk.”

  “Oh, it’s no problem.”

  “Bye, then.” Dougan nodded to Meizhen, then turned to jog off with Jock, chuckling as he did.

  “He seems quite nice,” Meizhen said as they moved on.

  “Who, Jock?”

  Meizhen laughed. “No, Mr. McDonald. Although Jock seems like a good, friendly dog as well.”

  “Yeah, they’re a fine pair.” Woody chuckled, his cheeks growing as pink as Dougan’s. “Jock needs to keep outta trouble, though. And I feel bad for Dougan.”

  “Bad? Why?”

  Woody shrugged. “He didn’t get picked for a bride. And it seems to me that Dougan would be a good husband to a woman, even if he is a bit older.”

  “I think you must be right,” Meizhen agreed. Any man who Woody deemed worthy of a bride must, in fact, be worthy.

  They continued on in silence. Woody looked as though he were searching for something to say, but Meizhen was content simply to walk with him. Her thoughts were too jumbled and conflicting for conversation, but Woody’s presence settled her. She hoped it would settle her enough to come to a decision about the choice that faced her. But thoughts of Haskell brought with them thoughts of Meiying, which, in turn, made her think of family and the obligations that came with it. As easily as she could envision a life in Noelle with Woody, the possibility of having her family reunited in one place called to her as well.

  The spiral of her thoughts was kept from spinning out of control as a man in a thick coat and boots, and trousers that were damp from the snow, strode up to them as they approached a less built-up section of town.

  “Hey, Woody,” the man called. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  Woody stopped and turned, so Meizhen stopped with him. “Hey, Amos.”

  “Morning, ma’am,” Amos greeted Meizhen, a sparkle in his eye. He winked at Woody, then went on with, “I know you’re a bit busy today, Woody, but if you have a chance, could you drop by and take a look at my goat.”

  “Mabel?” Woody asked.

  Meizhen had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh. She wond
ered how Maybelle would feel to know Amos—she couldn’t tell if he was a miner or a rancher or something else—owned a goat with a name so close to hers.

  “Yeah,” Amos went on. “She’s gone off her feed, lookin’ a mite peaked. I’m hoping it’s just the weather, but you always seem to know what’s really botherin’ critters like her.”

  “Sure, Amos.” Woody smiled. “I’ll come by when I can. What’ve you been feeding Mabel?”

  “The usual. Oats, hay, anything else she takes it into her mind to nibble on.”

  Woody nodded, rubbing his chin. “She might’ve gotten ahold of something she shouldn’t. But I’ll come by later to see for sure.”

  “Thanks, Woody.” Amos waved, touched the brim of his hat for Meizhen, then continued on his way.

  “I bet Mabel got into Amos’s hooch again,” Woody said as they too walked on. “He’s gotta stop keeping it where she can reach it. Goats are smarter than people think.”

  “I’m sure they are,” Meizhen said with a smile.

  “But I’m sure everything will change once Amos gets his house built.”

  “He’s building a house?”

  “Yep.” Woody nodded. “Lots of fellas are. If the train comes to town, like it will if enough of us get married and prove to the railroad company Noelle is a good investment, then all sorts of people will show up. And we’ve got to be ready, which means houses instead of tents.”

  “I see.”

  Woody lost his smile and slowed his steps. He rubbed the back of his neck. Something was clearly bothering him, but Meizhen was patient, waiting until he was ready to spit it out. When he came to a complete stop in front of one new construction site, frowning at the snow in front of him, Meizhen decided she needed to help his thoughts come out.

  “Something is bothering you,” she prompted.

  He slanted a sheepish look in her direction. “It’s just that all these houses are being built or plan to be built, and all I’ve got to offer you right now is a loft in a barn.”

  She could have pointed out that she didn’t mind the loft, and that the barn was warm when so many other places in town weren’t, but she could see his thoughts needed to run their course. “Is that so bad?” she said to help him along.

  He let out a breath and turned to her. “I know I keep saying that Charlie would pay to build me a house for you to live in, but I wish that I had enough to build that for you myself.”

  “I know you do,” she said.

  “And even though Charlie pays me well, I don’t think it’ll ever be enough. It won’t ever be what you deserve.”

  Meizhen put a hand on his arm. “I would be happy with you,” she said, smiling.

  Woody returned her smile, but uncertainty still marred his expression.

  Meizhen tilted her head to the side. “Have you ever considered charging a small fee for caring for and tending the animals in town?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” he answered quickly. “Charlie already pays me to tend the mine’s donkeys, and Jack gives me all I need to look out for his pack mules.”

  “But others, like Mr. McDonald and Amos, and Dr. Deane yesterday with his pregnant horse,” Meizhen said. “Surely you could charge something for tending to those animals.”

  Woody continued to look uncertain. “I’m no professional. I’ve heard of something called a doctor of veterinary medicine, but I don’t have any schooling or training.”

  “And yet, you do very well with animals of all sort,” Meizhen countered. “And I suspect that this far away from a major city, you are the most expert person ranchers and farmers could call on.”

  Woody’s brow lifted at that. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “I’m sure many would be willing to pay for the services you provide. And perhaps that way you could earn what you need to buy your own house.”

  “Would you like that?” he asked, his expression filling with hope.

  She smiled, lowering her head and looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I would be happy with whatever life you were able to give me.”

  He breathed in as though her words had inspired him, and took her hands. “Because I want you to be happy,” he said. “I want you to be happy enough to choose me. Because…because….” He blew out a breath that formed into an icy cloud. “Because I think I’m falling in love with you, Meizhen. I know it’s only been a day, but I think you’re the most beautiful, most wonderful, sweetest, most amazing….” He stopped himself with a breath that sounded like a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

  “I think I do,” Meizhen whispered, her heart beating frantically. She leaned closer to him, lifted up on her toes, head tilted toward him.

  Woody’s grip on her hands tightened, and he swayed into her, bringing his lips toward her. She could feel his warmth, feel the excitement spilling from him, enveloping her. Her whole heart and her body cried out for him, wanting to be his forever. She closed her eyes, waiting for his kiss, feeling the warm brush of his lips so close to hers.

  “Hey!”

  They leapt apart as Chi-ming’s shout split the air. The pounding of Meizhen’s heart took on a sharper, fearful pitch. She searched around and had another shock when she spotted her brother charging toward them from farther down the snowy street.

  “I said no kissing!” Chi-ming called out.

  “I wasn’t—we weren’t—” Woody fumbled his words, startled at first, but resolving into more confidence than she’d yet to see from him. “Whether I kiss Meizhen or not is none of your business.”

  As proud as she was for him saying that, her heart twisted and fluttered as Chi-ming reached them, his expression set in anger. “It is my business,” he insisted. “She is my sister, and until she is married, I am responsible for her person and her reputation.”

  “Responsible, yes, but—” Meizhen scrambled to find a way to tell her brother that he didn’t own her, but he raised a hand.

  “I have received a telegram in answer to the one I sent yesterday to my friend in San Francisco,” Chi-ming said. “Chan Ka-Ling has returned.”

  Meizhen caught her breath.

  Woody blinked. “Who?”

  Chi-ming looked impatient, but explained. “The man one of my sisters was to marry when they arrived in America.” He focused on Meizhen. “His absence from San Francisco was temporary. He had traveled to Sacramento to open a second business there. If you had waited for him, he would have returned to marry you, or Meiying. But he has returned now, and he is still interested in taking you as his wife.”

  Meizhen pressed her lips together tightly, indignation battling with guilt. Perhaps she and Meiying had been too hasty in finding jobs and leaving San Francisco. Perhaps if they had just been patient, the man she was supposed to marry would have returned. Worse still, as much as her heart wanted Woody, Chan Ka-Ling did have the prior claim. She agreed to marry him long before she knew who Genevieve Walters and the Lost Lambs were.

  “Chan Ka-ling is a wealthy, powerful man,” Chi-ming reminded her. “As his wife, you will want for nothing.” He didn’t say it, but his implication was that with Woody, she would want for everything.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Our family’s honor rests on fulfilling this promise,” Chi-ming said.

  Meizhen wondered how true that was. She knew as little about Chan Ka-ling now as she did when she’d first come to America. She didn’t know if he was strict about promises and vengeful if they were broken, or if he would shrug and find another woman to marry if she said no. There was no way to tell but to go with Chi-ming to San Francisco. But if she did that, she would put the whole town of Noelle and its agreement with the railroad in jeopardy.

  Before she could answer, Chi-ming turned his ire back on Woody. “It is wrong to kiss another man’s wife. That is what you were trying to do in trying to kiss my sister.”

  “I’m sorry,” Woody said, his jaw more firmly set than usual, his eyes filled more with
frustration than shame for a change. “But I love her, and kissing her felt natural.”

  Chi-ming blinked in surprise. “How can you love her if you’ve only just met her?”

  “I can,” Woody answered, nothing more, nothing less.

  Chi-ming stared at him for so long Meizhen worried he would do something drastic. In the end, though, all he did was take her hand and step back with her. “It is not a good idea for you to be with my sister until this matter is resolved,” he said.

  “But I promised to spend the day with Woody,” Meizhen reminded him.

  “You have spent enough time with him,” Chi-ming said.

  “I could spend my whole life with your sister and it still wouldn’t be enough,” Woody said.

  Meizhen’s heart lurched so hard that it brought tears to her eyes.

  Chi-ming took a long time to answer. “You have spent enough time for today.” He turned to Meizhen. “We have much to talk about.”

  “We do,” Meizhen admitted. Though whether talking to Chi-ming would give her the courage to decide in favor of her heart or would simply wear down her resistance, she didn’t know. “I will come speak to you again tomorrow,” she promised Woody, wishing she could promise him more.

  As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “It’s okay. I know.”

  The smile he added did nothing to make her feel better. It only made her more certain that she wanted to marry him. Whether she could find the courage to stand up for that in the face of her obligations and her brother’s promises was another thing.

  Chapter 8

  When Charlie told Woody that he had no plans to shut the mine just because a bunch of brides had come to town—or even for Christmas, for that matter—Woody had questioned the decision. It seemed to him that the men who were getting married would want to spend some time with their brides. But after the way Chi-ming pulled Meizhen away with his announcement that she had an actual rich man, with a name and everything, waiting for her in San Francisco, and after Meizhen sent him that regret-filled look as she walked away with her brother, he was glad that he had mine work to focus on. The donkeys wouldn’t judge or scoff at him. They didn’t know how close his heart was to breaking for good.