Chapter 23
Traveler’s Rest appeared before them. It was nothing more than a tiny settlement, and Ben could count only three buildings as they rode down the hill toward it.
Still, he looked forward to whatever safety and shelter they could find there. The last couple of days had been harrowing, and even if they were only allowed to sleep in a barn it would feel like a luxury.
“Ben, I’m so sorry for what you went through,” Hattie told him softly. “I truly am, and it means a lot that you would open up to me like that.”
He swiped away the last of his tears with his handkerchief, embarrassed that he’d allowed himself to get so emotional. He didn’t know Hattie well enough to be crying in front of her. He’d only meant to speak enough of his own truth that she might be inspired to reveal some of her own.
She looked hesitant, biting her lip and staring down at her lap. “I suppose it does seem rather odd that I know my way around a gun.”
“It’s been handy, but yes,” Ben agreed. He could be polite to her no matter how much she held back, but his concern was growing.
He had an important mission to complete, and he needed as much information as possible if he was going to get through it.
“It doesn’t seem like the daughter of a rich land baron would have those skills. ”
“Well, I’m not the typical daughter of a rich land baron,” she said with a wry smile. “My sister is—was. She wanted the pretty dresses and the hair ribbons and the tea parties. I liked to play outside and get dirty. My mother was always so upset by it.” She smiled.
Ben’s stomach fluttered. Hattie really was quite beautiful, but sometimes her stubborn attitude made it a little harder to see.
“Eventually, once I got old enough, Papa decided to take me shooting. He packed everything up and took me out to a field in the middle of nowhere. He showed me all the parts of a little pistol he had and explained how to use it. Then he had me shoot at an old can.”
Hattie’s smile broadened, revealing a slight gap between her two front teeth. “I wonder sometimes if that little expedition was supposed to turn me away from such things and fix my tomboy ways, but it had the opposite effect.”
“You liked it?” Ben hadn’t ever met a woman who enjoyed shooting. Then again, he hadn’t been around a lot of women. There were plenty of nurses and cooks that traveled with the army, but they were too busy to do anything they truly enjoyed.
“Oh, yes. There was just something about it. I don’t quite know how to explain it.
Papa took me out often after that, and eventually he let me hunt with him.
Mama was disgusted when I’d bring home dead birds or rabbits, and she went on and on about how unladylike that was, but she cooked them right up for supper. ”
Ben’s stomach growled at the mention of a hot meal. “So that’s how you got to be so good at shooting, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said, the blanket around her shoulders shifting slightly as she shrugged. “I’m sorry if it threw you off.”
“Considering that it helped keep us alive, I think I can get past it.” They both laughed.
“Did he teach you anything else?” Ben asked. He sensed that there was something else Hattie wasn’t telling him, something more than just hunting trips with her father.
“Plenty, I’m sure. And I’m also sure I frustrated both of my parents to no end.” Her smile slowly faded. “They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”
“No.” Guilt spread through his chest, hot and shameful. Hattie had already revealed her family’s awful death at the hot springs. The same men who’d killed her family were after her, but Ben had the gall to question her on why she knew how to pull a trigger. “They didn’t.”
The clouds had been slowly moving in while they talked, and flurries of snow had started up again. Little white flecks stuck to the horse’s manes and the tarp on the back of the wagon. The ground was already covered from the previous storm, and a fresh new blanket was forming on top of it.
“Looks like we’re just in time.” Ben slowed the rig as the ground leveled out and they entered Traveler’s Rest.
A stable stood on the left. A large, open awning extended out from the side of the barn. The furnace and anvil that sat there were evidence of the blacksmith that sometimes occupied it, but the furnace was cold and dark.
To the right, a tiny general store showcased wares in the window. Ben felt a bit of hope at the sight, wondering if he might be able to get enough supplies that he could head straight for home after a night’s rest, but the windows were dark there, as well.
The best sight of all was the two-story building that stood next to the general store.
It was painted a reddish brown, and the curtains in the windows looked dingy.
“Traveler’s Rest Inn” was painted in large letters just below the second-story windows, and squares of light shone out through some of the glass panes.
Ben pulled the rig up in front of the inn. “You stay here. I’m going to step inside and see if they have some rooms for us.”
“I can go with you,” she volunteered.
He eyed the state of her clothes. His shirt and her blanket covered most of the blood, but they couldn’t risk anyone looking at her too closely. “It’s better if someone stays with the wagon. I’m sure you’re capable of protecting it, anyway.” He winked as he climbed down from the seat.
A rusty cowbell rang as he stepped through the door, but the squeaking hinges made a louder announcement. The common room at the front of the inn was small, and the furniture was shabby, but a warm fire glowed and the smell of hot food drifted from the kitchen.
A man sat facing the fire with his feet propped up on a stool. He lifted his head and blinked sleepily at Ben. “Mama’s in the kitchen,” he said.
“Oh. Thank you.” Ben crossed the room and knocked on a swinging door as he opened it. “Hello?”
“Hm?” A small woman stirred a cast iron pot on the stove, but she looked up when he entered.
Her gray hair was captured in a harsh knot at the back of her neck, and her shoulders were hunched from years of cooking and cleaning.
Her wrinkles were so deep and numerous that it was hard to tell if she was scowling or if she just looked like that.
“Are you the proprietor?” Ben asked politely.
“The what? Oh. Yes. I run the place. You lookin’ fer a room?”
“Two, if you’ve got them.” Ben scanned the cluttered kitchen table.
It needed a thorough scrubbing, but it would have to be emptied of its numerous boxes, cans, and bags before that could happen.
A stack of tattered books sat on a barrel, and a box of bullets sat on top of it.
Items of every shape and size were stacked or piled in every square inch of the kitchen.
Mama put her hands on her hips. “I don’t. You can have one, but that’s all I got.”
“You’re full?” Ben asked. It was a rude question, but he couldn’t imagine there were many people who would come to such a remote place in the middle of winter.
“That man from Prescott,” she said, gesturing with her head toward the common room. “Plus, my sons are here.”
That made her smile, which was less appealing than her scowl as her loose, wrinkled skin folded over on itself.
He swallowed. He hadn’t anticipated the expense, but neither had he anticipated having Hattie with him. He’d just have to make do. “One room will be fine then.”
“It’ll have to be.” She barked the price at him and held out her hand impatiently. When Ben paid her, she examined the coins closely before stuffing them in her pocket. “End of the hall on the right.”
“Thank you. I need to put my horses up in the stable. Who do I see about that?”
“Me, and it’ll cost you extra.” She held her hand out again.
He was running low on money, but Ben had one more question. “Is there a place I can get some laundry cleaned?”
Mama let out a dry cackle. “I could do it for you, but you couldn’t pay me enough! I already spend all my time cookin’ and cleanin’, and I ain’t gonna wash yer drawers, too!”
“I didn’t mean to imply—”
“But there are a couple of big washtubs on the lean-to in the back, and you can use them if you want,” Mama continued. “I’m about to put some soup and bread out front for the guests. It’s not much but take it or leave it.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Ben walked outside to find Hattie shivering in the wagon. “We can take the horses across the street. You can go on in, if you’d like, and I can tell you where the room is.”
Hattie lifted her gaze up, taking in the battered building. “I’ll just come with you.”
He didn’t mind her company as they drove across the street and left the horses and wagon in the care of a young boy. The kid was just about as surly as Mama was, but he spoke softly to the horses as he led them to their stalls.
“What’s the matter?” Ben asked as they walked toward the inn. He was looking forward to a meal and a bed, even though Mama could’ve used a few tips from Sister Matthews. The old nun would’ve been horrified to see the state of the place.
“There’s just something about this place. It gives me the creeps.” She shivered again.
He studied the inn, looking more closely than he had before. The paint was peeling, and the hitching post didn’t look like it would stand for another season. For a brief moment he got the sensation that someone was watching them through one of the windows, but he couldn’t see anyone.
“I thought maybe you were put out because we’ll have to share a room,” Ben said.
“You only got one?” Hattie raised her narrow brows.
He smiled sheepishly, realizing he hadn’t made that very clear when he’d come back to the wagon. “It was all she had. I swear. I tried to get two. We don’t really have any other place to go.” He doubted Mama would give him his money back even if they packed up and moved on.
“No, that’s fine. We’ve already shared the back of a wagon,” Hattie reasoned, shivering again.
A fresh flood of heat moved through his body. All of this was inappropriate, and it put Hattie’s reputation at risk. Then again, she didn’t have anyone left to worry about her reputation. They’d have to do their best.
Ben worried she was catching cold. She’d been living under the orphanage for a month, had nearly been killed at least four times that he knew of, and the temperatures were dipping swiftly.
“It won’t be so bad once we get in front of a fire.
This weather is enough to make anyone feel a little off.
Plus, there’s a place we can get washed up. ”
Mama was still in the kitchen when they entered, so Ben poked around until he found the lean-to the old woman had referred to. It was little more than a covered porch with a water pump and a few wash tubs.
“I can ask her for some hot water,” Ben offered.
“No, that’s all right.” Hattie put her dirty clothes in the bottom of one of the tubs and began filling it. “Cold water is best for this, anyway. Hand me that soap over there.”
He fetched the bar of soap. It was covered in lint and didn’t look as though it’d been used in a while.
Ben rinsed it off, handed it over, and then gave her a washboard from a nail on the wall of the inn.
The accommodations were crude, but Ben reminded himself to be grateful as he filled a washtub for himself, as well.
When they were as clean as they could easily make themselves in such a situation, they went back inside. The man from Prescott still dozed by the fire and didn’t look up as they hung their clean clothes up to dry by the fire. Ben led the way down the short hall to the last room on the right.
“Oh,” he said as he swung the door open.
The small window was so coated with dirt that it could hardly be called a window at all.
There were a few pegs on the walls for clothes.
Some of them had been broken off, and nobody had repaired or replaced them.
A rusty oil lamp waited on a rickety table, and the muddy boot prints of previous travelers smeared the floor.
The bed that sat against one wall was short, narrow, and clearly made for just one person.