Free Anna Finch and the Hired Gun by Kathleen Y'Barbo Page B

had them cigars a whole lot longer than—”
    “I get the idea.” Jeb took his place across the table from the old codger. “But sometimes what you give up’s worth what you get.” He gestured over his shoulder at the housekeeper, who no longer banged pots and pans in the sink. “And Tova here’s quite the prize. Why, if I weren’t already sworn to permanent bachelorhood, I’d have to give serious consideration to the fact that you’ve been dragging your feet to make her your missus.”
    Elias’s bushy gray brows rose nearly to the brim of his Confederate cap. “Now see here.”
    “Come and look,” Tova said.
    Jeb swiveled in his chair to see the housekeeper staring out the window, a dishtowel covering the lower half of her face. He jumped up and joined her at the sink. “What is it?”
    Tova began to giggle. The reason stepped into the clearing between the stables and the kitchen. Tova’s son, Isak, had forsaken hisusual stable hand garb and made his way toward the house in an odd combination of trousers, boots, and a bed sheet wrapped around him to form a makeshift toga. Atop it all he’d placed a helmet-looking hat that under other circumstances might have given him the appearance of a gladiator.
    “Looks like that boy done gone off the deep end,” Elias commented as the back door opened and Isak tromped in.
    “I know the boss wants us all to dress like century mans but—”
    “Centurions,” his mother corrected.
    Isak shrugged. “That’s what I said. But I can’t do it. I won’t.” He shrugged out of the bed sheet and handed it to Jeb. “You tell me how a man can see to the horses without losing his dignity in that thing.”
    “Too late for that, son.” Elias pointed to the hat. “Even I wouldn’t wear that.”
    The young Norwegian tugged the helmet off and thrust it toward Jeb. “You’re the one who’s good at disguises. See how you feel wearing this. As for me, I’m going back to the barn to put on some decent clothes.” When his mother opened her mouth, he held up his hand to silence her. “Don’t say it, Ma. I’ve made up my mind.”
    He marched out of the kitchen, the door slamming behind him. Jeb didn’t have the heart to inform Isak all that rebellion was for naught.
    Tova’s face turned scarlet, and she snatched the bed sheet from Jeb. “I tell him he must dress as the others. This occasion is important to Mr. Beck. What sort of boy won’t listen to his mama?”
    Elias moved between them and grasped Tova’s wrist. They stoodeye to eye, the tall Norwegian and the Confederate veteran, and neither seemed inclined to so much as blink.
    “Leave him be, Tova,” Elias said, his voice low, his tone brooking no argument.
    Jeb stepped back, set the helmet on the table, then picked up his coffee cup. This was a conversation he didn’t intend to miss. Likely this would be the best entertainment of the whole evening, the Denver Orchestra and whatever else Daniel had planned for the governor’s reception included.
    Tova blinked first. “Leave him be? I’m his mother.”
    “And he’s a grown man.”
    The bed sheet fell to the kitchen floor, but neither seemed to notice.
    “A grown man,” Tova repeated with disdain. “What kind of man—”
    “The kind who finally figured out where to draw the line, Tova.”
    “But—,” she sputtered, though Jeb noticed she made no attempt to move away.
    “The kind who decides one day that enough is enough.” Elias inched closer. “The kind who won’t be told to change his ways when there ain’t no good reason for it ’cept to delay what ought not be delayed, you understand?”
    “Elias?” Tova’s normally restrained voice cracked. “We’re not talking about Isak anymore, are we?”
    “No, we’re not, woman,” he said. “Now, I’m determined to marry you come Tuesday afternoon right here in this kitchen, and soon as I kiss you proper, I’m going to fetch the reverend and tellhim to expect us. You get me, and you get the