Jane Bonander Read Free Page A

California.
    Dawn’s laughter tinkled through the air. With such a playmate, her sums certainly would be forgotten, and perhaps even her promise to pick berries.
    “Is this the boardinghouse?”
    Again Libby was drawn to the rich timbre of his voice.
    “Shore is. Riverside. Built in eighteen-seventy on the banks of Thief River by the late Sean O’Malley,” Burl recited. “May God Almighty bless his Irish soul.” He spat a stream of tobacco over the side of the porch, hitting one of Libby’s prize chrysanthemums.
    With an angry gasp, she flung open the door. “Burl Bellamy! How many times have I told you not to spit your disgusting tobacco onto my flowers?”
    He turned and grinned, exposing his toothless mouth. “Well, afternoon, Miz Liberty, how long you been standin’ there?”
    “Long enough to see you do it.” She put her fists on her hips and glared at him. “If you can’t use the spittoon, then quit chawing tobacco.”
    Lifting her skirt with one hand, she grabbed the sprinkling can she kept on the porch with the other and hurried down the steps to the grass. With her fingertips, she gingerly held the stem of her beautiful pink mum, then doused it with water.
    “There, there,” she soothed, almost feeling the mum’s anxiety.
    “Who knows, Miz Liberty? Mebbe tobaccy juice is just what them posies need,” Bert offered.
    Libby rolled her eyes and swung around. “That stuff is poison. To my flowers and to you.” The last three words lost their punch as she met the stranger’s gaze. She swallowed hard, having momentarily forgotten he was there in the flurry over her mums.
    His hat was still in his hand. His eyes were such a brilliant blue that they appeared to have been painted.
    “He’s wantin’ a room, Miz Liberty.”
    “She don’t rent to folks with dogs,” Burl announced.
    “Heck, Burl, that ain’t no real dog.”
    Libby continued to stare at the stranger, her mouth working but nothing coming out. For anyone to render her speechless was quite an accomplishment, she thought, bemused.
    “Mumser!”
    Hearing her daughter’s cry of alarm, Libby pulled her gaze to the other side of the path that led to the house, where more of her chrysanthemums grew.
    “Oh, no!” The damned dog was digging in her precious flower bed!
    Flinging away the sprinkling can, she flew at the dog, making threatening motions with her hands. “Get away! Shoo! Shoo!”
    With his rump in the air and his tail wagging, the pup clearly thought Libby wanted to play. She disregarded him and fell to her knees next to the flowers. Ignoring the playful growling and the tugging at her skirt, she replaced the dirt the little beast had dug up around the stems, pressing it over the roots.
    “I’m sorry, Mama. He just sort of got away from me.” Dawn was contrite as she bent to help her mother put the flowers to rights.
    “I don’t think he did any real damage.” Libby held a tight rein on her temper, which could be volatile. Although she never displayed anger in front of her daughter, she often felt as if she were going to explode. Like now. It was unreasonable to get emotional over flowers, but she’d worked so hard on them and they were truly the most beautiful mums in northern California. Everyone told her so. Why, perfect strangers would stop and compliment her on their beauty.
    She took a deep breath and continued to pack the dirt when she heard the keening rip of fabric, followed by Dawn’s gasp and cry.
    “Cyclops! Mumser! No!”
    Libby turned in time to see her battered one-eyed cat giving chase to what appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, a small shaggy mop racing over the grass. A length of her own lacy petticoat fluttered along behind the dog.
    Jackson cringed as he surveyed the chaos and covertly studied the girl. When he’d ridden up, his emotions had been exposed like raw nerves, but he’d quickly shoved them into the corners of his mind, where they belonged. His first glimpse of the girl had