“I diverted her with railroad talk. Jobs. The men I’d be hiring, local and from neighboring towns. It’s just good business. She told me she owns the butcher shop. An army marches onits stomach. Likewise, full bellies build railroads. Mrs. Springer understands that.”
“She’s a savvy businesswoman and an honest one. You can depend on her for fair prices and good product.”
That was Roen’s sense also, but he was glad to have it confirmed. “About Clay... what do you suggest is the best way to approach his mother? How much of a factor is the money that Clay will bring home?”
“Money’s never much motivated Lily,” said Ben. “Not that I’ve ever seen. She was a couple of grades ahead of me in school and smart as a whip, but she missed a fair amount because she took care of her mother—a woman who was perpetually ailing or claimed she was. I lost touch with Lily for a lot of years but caught up again when I moved from the ranch into town and became Sheriff Brewer’s deputy. She does all right for herself and her family, but I know that what she cares about is that her children get a good education and make what they can of that.”
“I can offer Clay a better than good education working alongside me.”
Ben did not offer encouragement. He leveled serious eyes on Roen and said, “Then you better be ready to tell Lily about that.”
Chapter Four
Lily Salt did not look up from her work when she heard someone knock at the front door. She continued to deftly rip out the side seam in Abigail Saunders’s cornflower blue dress, the same one she had altered a month earlier. Abigail was increasing at what Lily considered an alarming rate, some of it on account of the baby, but most of it on account of Abigail’s craving for crullers and her husband’s indulgence in getting them for her.
“See who’s at the door, Lizzie.”
Lizzie, who was playing a memory card game on the floor at her mother’s feet, leapt up and darted like a water sprite from the parlor to the door. Her cap of yellow curls bounced like springs. In preparation for greeting the visitor, she patted her hair before she set her hand on the doorknob.
“But don’t let whoever it is in until I say,” Lily called after her. “Unless it’s Mrs. Fish.”
“I know, Mama.”
Lizzie turned the knob and pushed at the door. She positioned herself in the narrow opening and stared up at Roen Shepard, her eyes wide, her mouth parted in a perfect O.
“Hello, Lizzie.”
Lizzie did not return his greeting. She shut the door on him and ran back to the parlor. “It’s Mr. Shepard, Mama. What should I do?”
Lily’s hand stilled. Her fingers tightened on the seam ripper but she did not set it aside. Mustering calm, she said, “That depends on what he wants. Did you ask him?”
“No.”
“Then do that.”
Lizzie hurried back to the door. Roen was standing exactly as he had been, just as if she hadn’t rudely closed the door in his face. “Clay’s in school,” she announced.
“I thought he would be. Hannah and Ham, too, I imagine.”
Nodding, Lizzie opened the door a little wider but made no move to invite him inside. “I’m supposed to ask why you’re here.”
“There’s something I’d like to discuss with your mother. She’s here, isn’t she?”
Lizzie hesitated and then nodded. “She’s working on a dress for Mrs. Saunders.” She shut the door again and retreated to the parlor, where she parted the curtains at the front window and peered out at an angle where she could see Roen. “He’s just standing there,” she told her mother. “I told him Clay’s in school and you’re working, but he’s just standing there.”
“Lizzie, come away from the window before he sees you. What does he want?”
“He wants to talk to you.”
“Yes, but what about?”
Sighing heavily, Lizzie went back to the door, this time dragging her feet. She stood in the opening and asked, “What about?”
Roen blinked. “Pardon?”
“Mama wants to know what about.”
“Ah. Well, about a job. For Clay.” This time when she began to close the door, Roen inserted his foot. “Please. Not again.”
