Page 36 of Brian and Cora
His surprise must have shown on his face, for she chuckled. “Good isn’t it? Mr. Bellaire’s cook added ginger and garlic and a dash of Cajun spice. The ginger should help if your stomach is upset.”
Before he lowered his gaze, he caught a glimpse of knowingness in her gray eyes. Annoyed, he kept drinking. The warmth hitting his stomach seemed to help ease the nausea.
“More?”
Avoiding eye contact, he handed back his mug for a refill.
Seth entered, carrying Brian’s Stetson, coat, and gun belt from the wagon and the saddlebags and bedroll from Marshal. “My wife laundered everything of Brian’s.”
The woman flashed him a smile. “So helpful of her.”
He set the bags and bedroll near the door, hung their hats and his coat on the rack, and held up the gun belt, asking Brian where he wanted it placed.
Brian pointed to the shelf above the front door where he kept his Winchester. “But if you could open the pouch, I saved one piece of candy.”
“My children sure did like that taffy.” He coiled the belt, wrapping the length around the pouch and holster with his Colt .45 and reaching up to place it next to the butt of the rifle. He walked to hand Brian the rather battered piece of candy, before going over to the sink.
While Seth washed his hands, the woman dished up two plates of food and handed one to each man. “I’ve already eaten. Good thing, because I don’t think there’s room for three at that table.”
As they took seats and bowed their heads for silent prayers, she rummaged in one of the drawers of the hutch and pulled out silverware and brown napkins.
Brian knew he didn’t have napkins. Almost never needed them.
The men ate hungrily.
Seth finished first, laid his fork and knife across the plate, folded his napkin, and pushed back his chair a few inches. “Mighty enjoyable meal. My Trudy is as fine a cook as can be?—”
“—I can vouch for that,” Hank agreed.
“But sometimes, it’s nice to eat food flavored a bit differently.”
The woman held up her hands. “Not my doing. Mr. Bellaire’s cook is originally from New Orleans, and sometimes prefers to use Cajun spices.”
“Mr. Bellaire seems like a character,” Seth commented.
“A generous one!” She sprang to her mentor’s defense.
“There’s no reining in that man.” Hank glanced at her. “Only by your aunt conspiring with his daughter to keep him at home—” he looked toward Brian “—who knows what he would have done while up here.”
She giggled, an infectious sound.
Infectious like a disease, he hastily told himself. Not like enticing.
“Mr. Bellaire’s quite the director.” Hank pointed in three directions. “This, this, this. The idea of helping you, Brian, happened at a tea party, where many of the good ladies of Sweetwater Springs were all too eager to express their ideas. The list got longer and longer and longer. You’re lucky you’re not living in a mansion. If the man had another week, you would be.”
Her eyes lit with glee. “And immediate access to more shops and merchandise.”
Brian glowered. Enough of this chit chat.
Hank pushed back his chair and stood. “Thank you, Miss Collier, for your hospitality.”
“Call me Cora.” She swept a luminous smile at all of them. “The people of Sweetwater Springs are so delightfully informal.”
Seth rose to his feet. “When you have a chance, Cora, come pay us a visit. My Trudy complains when she goes too long without visiting with other ladies. Since our last babe, her energy hasn’t been as robust, and thus, we haven’t gone into town as often as we used to.”
Under the fringe of her bangs, the woman’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She’s better now,” Seth hastened to say. “I’m just a mite protective of her health.”
