Free A Promise to Believe in by Tracie Peterson Page A

she clearly knew what he was talking about. “Beth, Lacy, go take care of the dishes and clean the kitchen.”
    Beth picked up the coffeepot and started to leave, but Hank held out his cup. “I’m going to trust that this pot hasn’t been tampered with.”
    Beth poured him a cup. “I’m surprised you have the gumption to risk such a thing.”
    He smiled. The spunky young woman amused him. All of the Gallatin girls were full of spit and sass, as his mother would say. Hank was certain it had served them well in the harsh and isolated territory.
    Gwen went into the kitchen while Beth and Lacy finished gathering things. She returned just as her sisters headed off to see to their work.
    “I hope this stayed warm,” she said, putting a plate of eggs and bacon, fried potatoes, and beans in front of him. “I have biscuits and gravy, as well.” She left to retrieve the promised food as Hank began to dig in to the potatoes.
    Hank thought long and hard about the girls and how he could best handle the situation with them. He was desperate to get information. He had to find the things that belonged to him—to his mother—and do it soon. His mother would suffer greatly if she couldn’t manage her affairs and regain her reputation. Reinstating her financial status would easily do that. The stocks Harvey had stolen were worth more money than he could have ever imagined. Their value had only increased as the years had gone by, and if he hadn’t squandered them or used them for kindling, they would offer a tidy sum, with which their mother could spend her final days in ease.
    Gwen put the gravy and biscuits in front of Hank. “Can I get you anything else?”
    “No, this is fine. Very nice, thank you.”
    She eyed him curiously for a moment. It seemed she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned and went to work wiping down the other tables.
    Watching her, Hank thought her quite a beautiful woman despite her simplicity. Or maybe because of it. The women he’d known and escorted in Boston were definitely cut from a different cloth. They would never have lowered themselves to do menial chores like cleaning a table. Not one of them would even consider working at a business such as a stage stop. Yet this woman and her sisters seemed more than happy to keep their house, care for strangers, and be independent of masculine assistance.
    Such women, Hank thought, would never be intimidated into revealing information. They were much too self-sufficient. These women had faced worse adversaries. No, to get what he wanted from them, Hank would need to handle things in a completely different manner. He might even have to go so far as to woo one of them. But which one?
    He considered the matter as he ate. There was Lacy Gallatin. She was a beauty with hair the color of cinnamon. Her manners suggested a certain shyness—even uneasiness—in dealing with people. The right man might be able to work such a woman to his advantage, but Hank worried that it would take too much time. The feisty tomboy was much too unpredictable. She gave the impression that she listened to no one and did just as she pleased. That wouldn’t serve his purpose.
    Beth was next in line. She made quite a feminine contrast next to her younger sister. Where Lacy was boots and grit, Beth was lace and flowers. There was something about her that suggested long walks with parasols and elegant teas. Hank could easily see her in a formal sitting room, gloved hands, hat perfectly placed on her head. But she’d already proven herself to be dangerous.
    Hank was certain she was the mastermind behind his ill-fated cup of coffee. Beth might appear as soft as satin, but behind that façade, he could well imagine a wily creature capable of outmaneuvering her adversaries with crafty thought and planning.
    That left Gwen. Hank saw her straighten and allowed himself to study her. His gaze was apparently intense enough to bring her attention back to him.
    “Did you need