For Such a Time as This: A Women of Hope Novel Read online

  The boys grew mute.

  The girls rushed to the lady’s side.

  “Oh, Miss Livvy!” cried a petite blonde with bouncy curls. “They’re horrid, these boys. Look. Just look at what they did to my lovely new dress.”

  The young lady—Miss Livvy as the girl had called her—dropped down to the child’s level, clearly more concerned about the besieged girls than about the possible soiling of her gray skirt.

  “I saw what happened, Melly,” she said. “Go home now, girls. But as you do, would you please stop by Mrs. Tucker’s home and let her know I’ll be late? I might not even make it today after all.”

  All three nodded and stepped away. Before they left, however, Miss Livvy seemed to have another thought. “If any of your mamas is upset with the state of your clothes, please have her speak to me. I’ll vouch for you.”

  With a chorus of agreement, the girls scampered away. The young lady then turned to the tight knot of boys. “Now, gentlemen, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

  “Ah…”

  “Um…”

  “Er…”

  “Hm…”

  When none of them responded, Miss Livvy prodded, “Well?”

  Silence reigned on Main Street.

  She went on. “Aside from the apologies you owe the three young ladies—”

  “Aw…”

  “Nah…”

  “Really?”

  “But…”

  “Aside from the apologies you owe the three young ladies,” she repeated, “there is still the matter of that runaway pig.”

  Eli stifled a laugh. A pig? He crossed his arms, enjoying the moment.

  “Oh, no!” the red-haired boy cried. “Pa’s gonna kill me if he sees Rufus’s not back in his pen.”

  Rufus. Eli smiled, he couldn’t help himself. Albert Brown, a friend of his son Luke, would soon be facing a dressing down, if not a switching, from his father. Mr. Brown put a lot of stock in his pigs.

  Miss Livvy seemed to agree with his assessment, as her lovely features brightened with her own smile. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided to torment the girls,” she told Albert.

  “Uh-huh.” He took a step away from the gathering. “Reckon so. Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  Miss Livvy crossed her arms, Bible and purse hugged close. “Not so fast. You have some friends here, don’t you?”

  With a lingering look in the direction of the offices of the Bountiful Scribe, the town’s weekly paper, and the schoolhouse, Albert stopped. He wiped the dusty toe of one shoe on his other trouser leg. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The other boys donned differing levels of worry.

  “And did your pa say for you and your friends to chase his swine around town?”

  He blushed under his freckles. “No, ma’am. He don’t rightly know Rufus’s gone.”

  “Then it would seem that you gentlemen could well be called thieves. You took a hog that didn’t belong to any one of you. After all, Rufus wasn’t given to you.”

  “Oh, but—”

  “That ain’t how it happened—”

  “Not so—”

  “Nah—”

  “And,” she said as though they hadn’t argued, “thieves are fair game for Marshal Blair, don’t you think?”

  Four pairs of eyes opened wider than ever. The boys began to argue, their statements indecipherable since they spoke one over the other.

  She went on in her calm, even voice. “So. What’ll it be, gents? Shall I send for the marshal or will you set things to rights again?”

  “SOOO-oo-eeyyy!” shrieked the aforementioned porker as it reappeared, galloping back down Main Street toward Miss Livvy and the boys.

  “There!” the lady cried. “A chance to do your duty, gentlemen. Catch him—Rufus—and return him before I’m compelled to fetch Marshal Blair.”

  The boys pelted off after the squealing swine, each determined to beat the others to their quarry.

  Eli caught sight of the three girls peering out from around the corner of Metcalf’s Mercantile. Apparently they’d stayed to watch the boys get their just deserts.

  The hog darted toward them.

  The girls squealed.

  The pig did as well.

  The boys pursued the animal, one of them managing to get a hand on its ear, but the creature changed direction, and the would-be captor fell to the dirt.

  The girls laughed.

  Jonathan Davidson, another of Luke’s friends, bounded upright and dusted off his clothes. “That’s not funny.”

  “Neither was chasing us, Jonny!” said the small blonde. Her headful of ringlets bobbed with her indignation.

  Miss Livvy donned a slight smile and seemed to settle in to observe.

  Eli followed suit.

  Young male glares flew toward the girls as they tried to capture the pig who, after his taste of freedom, did not intend to be caught. He darted and weaved from street-side to street-side, the boys in hot pursuit. The girls found the situation hilarious.

  No matter how hard the boys tried, each time any of them came close to laying hold of the animal, the pig wriggled out of their clutches. The would-be trappers grew grimier with every pass, as the girls giggled and cheered on the elusive prey.

  “Miss ’Livia!” Albert bellowed after he, too, landed face-first in the dust. “It ain’t funny. Make ’em stop laughing!”

  Miss Olivia arched a brow. “The young ladies didn’t find being chased by runaway livestock particularly humorous, gentlemen.”

  The pig turned back toward the way he had come, but a fifth boy, dirty and breathless, blocked his escape.

  Eli recognized the fifth trouble-maker. In a flash, he stomped down the street, anger and frustration burning in his belly.

  “Lucas Andrew Whitman!” he roared from just behind Miss Olivia. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Chapter 2

  Olivia spun to see Mr. Elijah Whitman, owner of the Bank of Bountiful, glaring at the madness in the middle of the street.

  The silent boy, the one with the black hair and blue eyes wide and full of alarm, stood frozen before the man. “He-hello, Papa…”

  Olivia could almost touch the change in the air. “Mr. Whitman?”

  “Yes?”

  Those eyes… goodness! They seemed to see right through her. A shiver ran through her. Olivia tried to bring her reaction under control. A woman couldn’t help but admire Mr. Whitman’s rugged features, his broad cheekbones, square jawline, high forehead, and shiny black hair. He was a most imposing figure of a man, blessed with wide, strong shoulders, a superior height, and an undeniable air of competence, power, and skill. He looked as if he would be as comfortable on horseback as he surely was behind a desk in the elegant bank.

  A lesser woman would be forgiven for a swoon in his presence.

  Oh, Olivia, how silly. You’re no simpering ninny, so stop behaving like one.

  “If… uhm… you would allow me, sir? I—ah… I believe I have this matter under control.”

  “Control?” The banker gestured toward the children, the hog, even the appalled milliner, who’d stuck her head out the front door of her store. “This hardly seems under control.”

  Nerves struck then, but Olivia went on. “Oh, but it is, sir.” She tipped up her chin. “And if you’ll allow me a moment, I’ll be happy to explain.”

  Mr. Whitman’s brows drew close. “That should be good. Proceed, Miss Livvy… Olivia”—confusion altered his expression—“just who are you?”

  “Miss Moore.” She blushed at his pointed scrutiny. “Olivia Moore.”

  He nodded. “Go ahead, then, Miss Moore. I look forward to that explanation.”

  A gnawing took up residence in the pit of her gut. Oh, Lord Jesus. I do need your help. Please don’t turn a deaf ear on me now.

  Only too aware of the male scrutiny, Olivia urged the scamps in the street once again to recapture the creature. “Work together, gentlemen. I’m sure you can come up with as good
a plan as your earlier one, especially since this time, it will be the right thing to do.”

  As the boys doubled their efforts, she turned to the girls. It was their turn to appear sheepish. Olivia fought yet another smile. “I think you’d all best go home. This time, for certain. Your mamas will be wondering where you are. I will see to everything on this end.”

  The former victims skipped off, smiles wreathing their sweet faces.

  Within seconds, the boys’ renewed efforts bore fruit, and the swine was surrounded. They urged Rufus back toward the alley from where they’d all originally come with the same cacophonous results. But before the boys and their prize vanished, Olivia extracted a promise from the other four to return and report to her once each had apologized to the hog’s rightful owner.

  As the scoundrels went on their way, Olivia released a heartfelt sigh.

  “That challenging?” The man at her side didn’t mask his amusement.

  “Indeed!”

  As soon as the word escaped her lips, heat flooded her cheeks. What must this important man think of her? First, he’d found her on Main Street with a group of squabbling children and one filthy pig. Then, she’d almost confessed she’d met her match in the handful of youngsters and the ornery swine.

  He laughed, a cheery, robust sound that made Olivia feel better, to her surprise.

  “I do understand,” he said. “I have a daughter as well as Luke, and they trounce me more often than I care to admit.”

  She responded with a rueful smile. “They do have nimble minds, don’t they?”

  “And overabundant energy.” He sighed. “I don’t know if others have the same experience, but ever since I was widowed—”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  A faint grimace, as though he’d swallowed something distasteful, twisted Mr. Whitman’s attractive features. He shrugged and averted his gaze. “I appreciate your condolences, but they’re not necessary. Life is full of unexpected trials and difficulties. A man must just… cope.”

  His words surprised Olivia. Especially their flat, emotionless timbre, not what she would have expected from a bereaved man. “I… see.”

  Mr. Whitman looked on the verge of saying more, but he shook his head and stared toward the alley where the kids had disappeared. “I only wish,” he said in a strained voice, “that everyone was as willing to accept children’s unique peculiarities as you have been.”

  What an unusual thing for him to say. Taken aback, she repeated her bland, “I… see.”

  He turned, and his bright blue eyes, so much like his son’s, met Olivia’s. His smile, although void of humor, revealed his intent to keep their conversation pleasant. She appreciated his effort.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t think you do, but it’s very nice of you to try. My children are only twelve and ten, but they’re certain they’ve grown beyond the need for supervision and adult care. They have chased away the three highly qualified nannies I’ve hired so far.”

  The memory of Luke beating sticks to drive the hog along burst into Olivia’s mind. She couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up. Yes, the boy was a rascal, but an older and wiser adult should try to think like a youngster every once in a while. That would help figure out how best to deal with them. Goodness knew her two brothers and two sisters had enough mischief in them to fill even Mr. Whitman’s Bank of Bountiful vault.

  “I wouldn’t cast all the blame for your predicament with the nannies on your children,” she said. “I suspect the nannies must have been lacking in one way or another.”

  He arched a jet-black brow. “Were you that generous when the boys and the pig—”

  “We’re back!”

  Although Olivia had been ready to explain how her large family had taught her a number of lessons on handling children and the scrapes they got into, she was relieved when the four boys ran up and halted in a line before her, their grubby faces beaming with self-satisfaction.

  “And…?” she said.

  “And we returned Rufus and we apologized and we watched Mr. Brown yell at Albert for taking his hog.” The blond-haired one the girl had called Jonny had clearly enjoyed his friend’s discomfort a mite too much.

  “Consequences,” Olivia said. “They do follow our actions. While you fellows have returned the stolen pig, apologized for the theft—”

  “It weren’t no theft—”

  “We just borrowed Rufus—”

  “And he’s back now. No harm done—”

  “Excuse me!” It took some doing to make herself heard over their statements. “It strikes me that you’re in no position to argue. At least, not right now. It’s likely time for you gentlemen to return home, don’t you think?”

  Three of them nodded and nudged each other along, more than ready to escape the scene of their crimes. The fourth, Luke Whitman, darted nervous glances toward his father. He must have reached a decision, since with a grand display of bravado, he hooked his thumbs into his trousers front pockets, and sidled off after the others. That is, he tried to sidle, but didn’t get far.

  “Lucas,” Mr. Whitman said, “you really do not want to wander off again today, young man. You and I have some talking to do. About pigs and girls and the proper activities for Sunday afternoons.”

  The three others picked up their pace.

  “But, Papa…” Luke’s voice held a lot of pleading and a dose of dismay. “We already apologized.”

  “Like Miss Moore said, there are consequences to a man’s actions. I’m not so sure an apology is quite enough, son.”

  His comrades in crime broke into a run.

  Luke hadn’t taken his gaze from his father’s serious face. “Aw…”

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Miss Moore,” the banker said. “But please, should Luke misbehave again, just bring him to me. I won’t have him trouble you further.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia caught the mutinous glare Luke sent his father while the man was looking at her. The boy’s crossed arms suggested more trouble to come. But it would be Mr. Whitman’s problem.

  “I understand, sir.” She gave Luke a pointed look. “I’m sure whenever we meet again Luke and I will do just fine. We understand each other, don’t we, Luke?”

  The boy responded with a series of vigorous nods. To emphasize his answer, he added, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “It’s been… interesting,” she said to the two Whitmans, “but now, I must be on my way, too.”

  As she stepped up onto the sidewalk to resume her walk to Addie’s house, she heard Mr. Whitman sigh. “It’s no wonder you’ve chased off every nanny I’ve hired,” he told his son. “Just what do you have to say for yourself?”

  “They’ve been just awful, Papa. ’Sides, Randy and I don’t need a nanny. Nannies are for babies. Randy’s practically grown up, and I’m no baby. And they smelled nasty, too, like vinegar and sour milk.”

  Stifling a laugh, Olivia slowed her steps.

  “All three of those ladies came with the best recommendations, Luke. I must assume the trouble lies with you and Miranda.”

  “Nah. It was them.”

  “I can see we’re getting nowhere. We’ll discuss the matter again when we get home. After we have dinner. Let’s just make certain you offer the next one your full cooperation and you treat her with the proper respect.”

  “The next one? Who’re you gonna bring home now?”

  Olivia forced herself to walk, head forward, gaze on the sidewalk below. She couldn’t let her curiosity take over.

  “I don’t know, Luke,” Mr. Whitman said, sounding tired. “I really don’t know. I suppose I’ll have to put another advertisement in the Seattle paper. Perhaps in Portland and San Francisco as well.”

  “Oh, no, Papa! Don’t do that. I got an idea. A better idea.”

  Olivia paused in front of Selkirk’s Millinery to stare at a confection bristling with feathers and bows.

  “Really, Luke?” Mr. Whitman said. “An idea? About a nanny.”<
br />
  “Uh-huh.”

  “That would be…?”

  “It’s simple, Papa. You just have to hire the right nanny this time.”

  “And just who would that be?”

  “Um… how about her? Yeah, I want her.”

  In the reflection of the store window she saw the boy, arm extended, index finger pointed straight at her.

  Goodness! What an awkward moment. In the middle of the most awkward of days. What could Mr. Whitman possibly think of that? She really shouldn’t have lingered to listen. Pretending not to have heard or seen, she resumed her walk, her heels clicking a brisk pace against the wooden sidewalk.

  After Cooky cleared away the dinner dishes, Eli headed for the parlor, well aware that his son had fled upstairs as soon as he’d swallowed his last bite. Just outside the oak pocket door, he paused. “Luke! Please come back down here. I did tell you we would discuss this afternoon’s disaster after we ate.”

  He headed for his favorite armchair to wait for the boy. Long minutes later, he heard slow, heavy footsteps on the stairs, accompanied by unintelligible grumbling. Luke appeared in the doorway, brows drawn down, eyes narrowed, lips bunched up into a knot. Eli braced himself. It looked as though they were headed for another unpleasant argument. Not something he had the stomach for, but something he knew he had to do.

  Weariness struck. While his marriage to Victoria had been a phenomenal disaster, and the children showed evidence of years of her… indifference, the situation with the children had only worsened since her death. He’d come near to the end of his rope. And yet, he still didn’t know how to reach Luke and Randy. Both were driving him to distraction with their unruly behavior, their unwillingness to listen and mind their elders, and their unreasonable antipathy toward the well-qualified, experienced nannies he’d hired.

  Luke crossed his arms, his expression more closed, if possible.

  Eli studied his son for a handful of minutes, hoping Luke’s appalling stubbornness would fade. But as the tall case clock in the entry hall ticked off the minutes, he recognized that the boy was digging in his heels again, just as he’d been doing whenever Eli attempted to discipline him for quite a while now.