Anyplace But Here (Oklahoma Lovers Series Book 5) Page 5

  “Yes, I am.” It took all of her control to keep from bouncing up and down on the seat. Instead, she smoothed out her skirt, crossed her hands demurely on her lap, and looked around at the scenery they passed by. The dark green leaves on the trees indicating the end of summer, provided them with shade, and when mixed with the breeze from their movement, made for a pleasant ride.

  “Where are we going?”

  Hunter slowed down for a horse and carriage in front of them before turning to her. “There is a place outside of town that my sister, Ellie, told me about. It’s not exactly a park, but it’s unclaimed land with trees and a small lake. She and her husband, Max, have been there for picnics several times.”

  “Tell me about Ellie. And Max.”

  He returned his attention to the road. “They have quite a story, although I wasn’t around when this all happened. It was near Christmas last year. Ellie is a high school teacher and Max was the new principal. From what I understand,” he stopped to chuckle, “Max was introducing Ellie to several men in the hopes she would marry one of them and leave her teaching position.”

  “I guess they didn’t get along?”

  “From what I’ve been told, sparks would fly every day at the high school.”

  “Oh, dear. So how did they end up married to each other?”

  “Apparently, it came to Max’s attention that no one he introduced to Ellie was ‘good enough’ for her.” He turned to her once more. “They got married back in January and expect their first baby in October.”

  “What a wonderful story!” Indeed the tale had almost brought tears to her eyes. To have someone who held you in such high regard that no one else would do . . .

  She gazed at the passing scenery, thinking about her pathetic life. Who was she fooling in going about with Hunter? She wasn’t stupid; she knew he was attracted to her in the way a man showed interest in a woman. No matter how hard she tried to excuse her actions, in her heart she knew she was being very unfair to him. Depression overwhelmed her at the mess of her life.

  Hunter reached over and laid his hand on hers. “What’s the matter, honey? You look so sad all of a sudden.”

  She brushed a few tears away and smiled. “Nothing. I’m just touched by your sister’s story.”

  “I’ll have Tori invite you for dinner one Sunday when the entire family gathers. That way you can see for yourself they’re all not as wonderful as you might think.”

  Within minutes Hunter braked in front of a spot that could only be described as a slice of heaven. The sun peeked through the leaves, covering the ground with a dappled pattern. Wildflowers grew over the area, and the sunlight on the pond sparkled like bits of diamonds.

  They strolled hand in hand until they found a nice quiet spot under an oak tree near the pond. Once the blanket was spread out they relaxed against the tree, still holding hands. They shared an apple, the sweet crunchiness in her mouth adding to the perfection of the day.

  Hunter tossed his apple core toward the pond. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Emily’s heart jumped. A good surprise or a bad one? Had Hunter been asking questions about her?

  “What?” She hated the uneasy sound of her voice.

  He winked. “I’ll be right back.” He rose and walked to the blanket, then pulled up the edge. Underneath was a brown bag that he withdrew and handed to her, a shy smile on his face. “For you, Miss Cabot.”

  Taking the package from his hand, her heart contracted as she watched him. Her face flushed and she laughed when she opened the bag. A sketch pad and several well-sharpened pencils filled the space. “How did you know?”

  Sitting back down alongside her, he said, “A few times you’ve mentioned you like to draw and since I’ve never seen you do it, I thought you might need supplies.”

  “Yes. I do like to draw, and you are right, I have no supplies.” She hugged the pad to her chest. “Thank you so much. This means a great deal to me.”

  He drew his knees up and rested his wrists there. Looking out toward the pond he said, “Did you leave your drawing materials at home in Louisiana when you came to Guthrie?”

  She immediately went on alert. “Yes. I didn’t have much room in my suitcase so I didn’t bring them with me.”

  He plucked a piece of grass and brought it into his mouth, chewing on the end. “I understand. Travelling with a heavy suitcase can be a problem.”

  She flushed, knowing he didn’t believe her. Of course not, how much does a sketch pad and a few pencils weigh? She’d been so focused that day in just running, she’d left everything behind that she couldn’t fit in her reticule. Which meant she’d escaped with nothing more than the clothes on her back, the letter from The Harvey House, and her money.

  Hunter continued to chew on the blade of grass. He really didn’t want to make Emily uncomfortable, and he loved buying her the sketch pad and pencils, seeing her eyes light up that way. If only she would confide in him.

  He pulled the grass from his mouth and waved at the pad. “I’d love to see you draw something.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never drawn in front of anyone, except my parents.”

  “Do they encourage your artwork?”

  Emily shook her head. “They died over three years ago.” She seemed to pull herself back from the brink of something unhappy when she forced a smile and looked at him. “They loved my drawings. Once Mama recovered, she hung them all over the house. Even the ones she missed from when I was very young.”

  “Recovered? Was she ill?”

  She looked taken aback as if she hadn’t meant to say that.

  “Um, she suffered from melancholy for a few years.”

  “And your father?”

  “Papa loved my artwork, too. He would boast about my talent to all his friends. It was quite embarrassing actually.” The warmth and animation on her face when she spoke of her father was the first genuine emotion Hunter had seen from her. No clues there. Both parents dead. Another blank wall.

  Emily, what are you hiding from me?

  “I promise I won’t insist on hanging your drawings all over the walls at Jesse’s house if you allow me to watch you work.” He shifted over toward her, and handed her the pad. “Go on. Enjoy yourself.”

  She took a deep breath and opened the pad. “All right. But it’s been a long time.”

  Talent didn’t even begin to describe the way the pencil skimmed over her pad, creating a picture of the view right there in front of them. On the paper, the pond glistened and he could almost feel the slight breeze rippling the leaves in the drawing. Although he hadn’t seen one since they’d arrived, she sketched in a bunny rabbit, his eyes wide as he stared in their direction from the page.

  “Honey, you are amazing. That’s wonderful.” Hunter rose to his knees, and resting his hands on her shoulders, gazed down at her sketch pad. “I’ve always admired people who could create beautiful things from nothing more than their imagination.”

  She turned to him, her eyes bright with excitement. “Do you really think it’s good?”

  “Of course I do. Didn’t you just say your mama and papa loved your drawings?”

  “Yes, they did, but I thought perhaps they only said that because I was their daughter. That’s what . . .”

  “What?”

  She clamped her mouth closed as if afraid she would say more than she should. A little bit of a clue there. Someone after her parents had disparaged her art work.

  Hunter removed the pad from her hands and drew her into his arms. “I think you are a talented artist. And anyone who’s told you otherwise didn’t know what they were talking about.” His fingers played with the tendrils that had escaped her bun and danced around her face in the slight breeze. The flush on her cheeks told him her thoughts were going in the same direction as his. S
lowly, he lowered his head and took her lips in a soft caress. He moved his mouth back and forth, brushing his lips over hers. When she sighed he pulled her closer and took her with a savage intensity.

  The next morning Hunter strolled into Jesse’s office. His uncle looked up as Hunter approached. “Did you see this morning’s paper?” Jesse held out the copy of the Guthrie Sentinel.

  “I did.” Hunter settled into the chair across from Jesse’s desk. “I’ve had some tips about who is on the receiving end at the newspaper. Hopefully that will help lead me to whoever is feeding the information to him.”

  “There are days when I see what’s happening to Franklin, and I ask myself why I even want to be involved in politics. I’ll be facing another election for my territorial senate seat in a few months. I have a nice law practice, my children are doing well, and my lovely wife is one in a million.” He stabbed the paper with his index finger. “I don’t know why I bother with this nonsense.”

  “And the answer is?”

  Grinning, Jesse leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “I love being part of the early stages of Oklahoma statehood. We have a golden opportunity here to make our state one of the best in the nation. We have such a diverse population of Indians, Mexicans, easterners, and northerners that we can be dynamic and do great things for our people.”

  He turned and swept his arm toward the window behind his desk. “Look at the vast land we have here, and the resources. Ranching is keeping food on the table for a large part of our population. And oil. Mark my words, son, with automobiles becoming more popular and affordable for the average man, our oil industry will boom.

  “One day I hope to see Oklahoma use all this wind we’re troubled with put to good use. There’s just so much we can do . . .” He looked at Hunter. “What? Why are you grinning?”

  “I’m grinning because like it or not, Jesse, politics is in your blood. You just gave a great campaign speech.”

  Jesse gave a slight cough. “You sound like Tori. She always accuses me of using her as an audience of one for my next speech.”

  Hunter stood. “I have a few leads to follow up today.” He still contemplated looking into Emily’s background, but his sense of honor told him to wait for her to tell him. Hopefully, she would trust him enough sometime soon. All his protective instincts welled up to add to the niggling fear that she was in dire need of help, but either too stubborn or too scared to ask for it.

  He also needed to get back to his own search. Ten years with the Rangers hadn’t uncovered the information that drove him, and that still had the ability to keep him awake some nights. He’d been too distracted by one lovely blonde, blue-eyed angel.

  “Good. Stop back here later today because I have a couple of other clients who need some undercover work done.”

  At Hunter’s raised eyebrows, Jesse continued, “Wipe that look off your face, I’m not talking about spying on someone’s wife or husband.”

  “Whew. That is not something I want to get involved in.”

  “Me neither.”

  Hunter rested his hands on his hips and cleared his throat. “Before I go I wanted to ask a favor. I’ve been seeing a young lady.” He flushed at Jesse’s smirk. “She is alone here in Guthrie, works for the Harvey House. I thought Sunday I could invite her to dinner with the family.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  He shrugged. “Truthfully, I’m not sure. There are issues.”

  “There generally are. Especially in our family. Of course you can invite her. What’s her name? Or is that one of the issues?”

  “No.” At least I don’t think so. “Her name is Emily Cabot.”

  “We’ll look forward to meeting Miss Cabot on Sunday.”

  With a slight salute, Hunter turned on his heel and left the office.

  Every time Emily thought about dinner with Hunter’s family the next day, she broke into a cold sweat. How could she sit there with all those nice people and pretend she was someone other than Emily Smith, runaway abused wife of a lying, cheating bastard?

  Supposed they started questioning her? Would they be able to tell she was lying? Wasn’t his Uncle Jesse not only a Territorial Senator, but also a lawyer? Didn’t they tear people apart on the witness stand because they saw right through their lies?

  Stop it.

  Hunter would not be as wonderful as he was if he’d come from a family who would make her feel uncomfortable. She tamped down her fear as she finished putting the last of her hairpins in to anchor her bun. Stepping back from the mirror, she viewed herself. Dress and apron clean, starched, and ironed. Her hair was tucked neatly at the back of her head. She checked her hose for runs and shoes for a shine. She was ready to go.

  Saturday nights were the busiest for the Harvey House. Since word had spread about their delicious food, ample portions, and modest prices, a lot of the locals came to dine, along with the travelers. She would be quite tired by the end of the evening, and since Hunter was calling for her tomorrow at the boardinghouse for his family’s dinner, he would not stop by tonight.

  Satisfied with her appearance, she left her room and met the other girls in the lobby as they gathered to make the trip to the restaurant. It was another beautiful day, with a touch of impending autumn in the air. The girls chatted and bemoaned how busy the coming evening would be. With Sunday being a somewhat light shift, several of the girls were off, and they shared plans for the next day.

  “Are you seeing your beau tomorrow?” Helen Parker asked with a smirk on her face. She’d been teasing Emily since Hunter had started walking her home each evening. The good natured teasing didn’t bother her. Certainly not as much as all the lies she’d told everyone about herself.

  “Yes. Mr. Henderson is calling tomorrow to escort me to a dinner at his family’s home.”

  “What!” Several of the girls cried at the same time.

  “That sounds serious, Emily.” Mellie Davis danced around her. “Are you in love?” She batted her eyelashes and patted her heart.

  “Stop,” Emily said, trying hard to keep the blush from flaming her face. “It’s not serious. Mr. Henderson has two sisters and a sister-in-law he thought I might be friends with.”

  “Oh yes. I’ve heard that one before,” Helen said, rolling her eyes.

  “Did any of you see that handsome gentleman get off the train last night? He looked so sophisticated and I swear he actually smelled of money.”

  “Dorothy, how in heaven’s name did you have time to pay attention to someone getting off the train? We were so busy last night.”

  “Mr. Tinsdale had me take out the garbage again. I dropped it in the can, looked up, and there he was.”

  Grateful for the conversation moving away from her, Emily took the time to compose herself. If only she were just a young lady with a beau who wanted her to meet his family. But she’d already messed up her life and there was no turning back. The more time she spent with Hunter, the more the guilt piled up. If she were as honorable a person as Hunter, she would tell him outright that she was not free. He should no longer meet her, or take her on picnics, or buy her sketching materials, or bring her to meet his family.

  She fought back tears that threatened as they girls entered the restaurant.

  Emily’s feet already hurt and it was only three hours into her shift. Although grateful for her job, it was tiring work and long hours. She bustled back and forth, refilling coffee cups, finding more napkins for the little boy who spilled his milk all over himself, and re-figuring a check for a couple who added dessert after she’d presented their bill.

  She delivered two plates of meatloaf to an older man and woman whom she’d waited on several times before. After they assured her it looked wonderful, she glanced around her station, thinking she might be able to take a quick break. Her shoulders slumped when she noticed a new m
an had sat at one of her tables, his back to her. She thumbed her order pad until she came to a clean page then approached the new customer, pencil ready. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Harvey House.”

  The man turned and looked directly into her eyes. “Why, good evening, Emily.”

  Chapter 6

  Hunter applied the brakes to the automobile he’d borrowed from Jesse until he rolled to a full stop in front of Emily’s boardinghouse. He checked his timepiece, two minutes to one o’clock. He jumped from the vehicle and took the steps to the porch two at a time. He lifted and dropped the door knocker, then moved back, waiting for an answer.

  The door swung open. An older, thin woman, her bun so tightly anchored to her head that her eyes appeared oriental, glowered at him. “Yes?”

  A bit taken aback, he said, “Good afternoon, ma’am. I am here to escort Miss Cabot to my family’s home for dinner.”

  “She’s not here.” The woman slammed the door, the vibration knocking over a small flower vase set on a table next to him.

  Frozen for a moment, he just stared straight ahead, then once again raised and dropped the knocker. The door opened too fast. The woman had obviously not walked away.

  “Can you please tell me where Miss Cabot is?”

  “No I cannot tell you because I don’t know. She’s gone. Never came home last night and when she does show up it will be to gather her things. I don’t allow my girls to stay out all night. It’s against the rules. I run a respectable place, and I won’t have my—”