grabbed her sleeve and hauled her around.
“Not so fast. My only business is to see that you and your mama are settled and to offer my help with moving the rest of your things.”
“Is that all? In that case, you needn’t worry. We’re just fine.”
He cast another doubtful peek at the house. “Well, if you say so...”
“I do.” She took his arm and urged him toward the steps. “Shall we go?”
He settled his hat lower, studying her from under the brim. “Well, yes, ma’am,” he said, allowing her to lead him from the porch. “I guess so.”
***
In the distance, a high bank of black clouds closed on the horizon, a dark swirling wall with a fluffy white top. It snuffed out the light as it inched forward, pulling a curtain over the bright, sunlit morning. Buddy wondered what more rain might do to the rutted streets of Humble. The lowland area of Southeast Texas suffered frequent flooding, but he’d heard more thunderstorms than usual had rumbled through the small town in recent weeks.
He glanced at Miss Bloom, who had remained silent for most of the ride. Quite out of character for the spirited young thing he’d first met in the hotel. He found it odd he hadn’t seen that woman since, except for a glimpse on Mrs. Dane’s porch.
Buddy pulled up to the crowded boardwalk in front of the Lone Star Hotel and set the brake. Hopping down, he made his way around the wagon with the mire sucking audibly at his boots. Necks craned as he helped Miss Bloom down, careful to keep her dress out of the mud. When he offered his arm, she took it, and he led her through the mob to the door of the hotel.
Inside, he intended to hang back a respectable distance to allow her to conduct business in private, but she clung to his arm and steered him straight to the counter.
“Morning, Sam.” She beamed at the clerk. “I’m going to need a room for a few weeks for Mama and me.”
Sam frowned. He seemed loath to be the bearer of bad news, especially to her. “I’m dreadful sorry, child. There are none to be had.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Hmm, I expected as much. When do you suppose that will change?”
The little man shook his head. “Not in the foreseeable future.”
“I see.” Her slender fingers drumming a rhythm on the countertop, she stared at a large portrait dominating the far wall as if the mustachioed man in the frame might lend her wisdom.
The aging clerk pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher with a palsied hand. “If you don’t mind my asking, has something happened out at your place?” His anxious expression and the way he hovered near Charity reminded Buddy of a brood hen and her chick.
The pretty hatchling smoothed her fluff and released a weary-sounding breath. “It’s quite complicated, really. You see, Mr. Pierce here saw black stuff on Mama’s chicken and—”
Buddy took hold of her shoulders and pulled her back, upsetting her balance as well as the angle of the blue feather protruding from her straw hat. “What the lady’s trying to say is”—he stared into her startled eyes, using his to flash a warning—“there are much-needed improvements going on at their house. It’s not the safest place for them just now.”
Sam eyed Buddy, his frown deepening. “As I recall, you’re not a registered guest of the hotel, so why do I see your face in my lobby most every day of late?”
Buddy nodded. “Nothing gets past you, does it? You’re right, of course. I’m not official.” He grinned and held out his hand. “Name’s Buddy Pierce. I guess you might say I’m a guest of a guest.”
Ignoring Buddy’s hand and his explanation, the man turned back to Charity. “Is there something else I can do for you, my dear?”
She stepped to the counter again, adjusting her hat and frowning at Buddy before she answered. “I understand there’s a waiting list.”
“Why, yes, there is.”
“Can you put us on it?”
“I can, but I warn you, it’s long.” He pulled a ledger from
“Not so fast. My only business is to see that you and your mama are settled and to offer my help with moving the rest of your things.”
“Is that all? In that case, you needn’t worry. We’re just fine.”
He cast another doubtful peek at the house. “Well, if you say so...”
“I do.” She took his arm and urged him toward the steps. “Shall we go?”
He settled his hat lower, studying her from under the brim. “Well, yes, ma’am,” he said, allowing her to lead him from the porch. “I guess so.”
***
In the distance, a high bank of black clouds closed on the horizon, a dark swirling wall with a fluffy white top. It snuffed out the light as it inched forward, pulling a curtain over the bright, sunlit morning. Buddy wondered what more rain might do to the rutted streets of Humble. The lowland area of Southeast Texas suffered frequent flooding, but he’d heard more thunderstorms than usual had rumbled through the small town in recent weeks.
He glanced at Miss Bloom, who had remained silent for most of the ride. Quite out of character for the spirited young thing he’d first met in the hotel. He found it odd he hadn’t seen that woman since, except for a glimpse on Mrs. Dane’s porch.
Buddy pulled up to the crowded boardwalk in front of the Lone Star Hotel and set the brake. Hopping down, he made his way around the wagon with the mire sucking audibly at his boots. Necks craned as he helped Miss Bloom down, careful to keep her dress out of the mud. When he offered his arm, she took it, and he led her through the mob to the door of the hotel.
Inside, he intended to hang back a respectable distance to allow her to conduct business in private, but she clung to his arm and steered him straight to the counter.
“Morning, Sam.” She beamed at the clerk. “I’m going to need a room for a few weeks for Mama and me.”
Sam frowned. He seemed loath to be the bearer of bad news, especially to her. “I’m dreadful sorry, child. There are none to be had.”
She bit her bottom lip. “Hmm, I expected as much. When do you suppose that will change?”
The little man shook his head. “Not in the foreseeable future.”
“I see.” Her slender fingers drumming a rhythm on the countertop, she stared at a large portrait dominating the far wall as if the mustachioed man in the frame might lend her wisdom.
The aging clerk pushed his wire-rimmed glasses higher with a palsied hand. “If you don’t mind my asking, has something happened out at your place?” His anxious expression and the way he hovered near Charity reminded Buddy of a brood hen and her chick.
The pretty hatchling smoothed her fluff and released a weary-sounding breath. “It’s quite complicated, really. You see, Mr. Pierce here saw black stuff on Mama’s chicken and—”
Buddy took hold of her shoulders and pulled her back, upsetting her balance as well as the angle of the blue feather protruding from her straw hat. “What the lady’s trying to say is”—he stared into her startled eyes, using his to flash a warning—“there are much-needed improvements going on at their house. It’s not the safest place for them just now.”
Sam eyed Buddy, his frown deepening. “As I recall, you’re not a registered guest of the hotel, so why do I see your face in my lobby most every day of late?”
Buddy nodded. “Nothing gets past you, does it? You’re right, of course. I’m not official.” He grinned and held out his hand. “Name’s Buddy Pierce. I guess you might say I’m a guest of a guest.”
Ignoring Buddy’s hand and his explanation, the man turned back to Charity. “Is there something else I can do for you, my dear?”
She stepped to the counter again, adjusting her hat and frowning at Buddy before she answered. “I understand there’s a waiting list.”
“Why, yes, there is.”
“Can you put us on it?”
“I can, but I warn you, it’s long.” He pulled a ledger from
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