After breakfast the limousine and chauffeur were waiting and Hank almost groaned. Another day of touring and lectures.
An hour later they were standing in the Kingman Museum, which, as far as Hank could tell, was a tribute to the Caulden family.
“My father bought four ranches at one time,” Amanda was saying. “They were very inexpensive because the silt from the mines nearby had caused the Glass River to flood and deposit the silt over the land. At great expense, my father dredged the silt off the land and exposed the rich soil underneath. He also put a stop to the mining.”
“I bet he did,” Hank murmured.
“Then he irrigated the land and—”
“Became rich,” Hank put in.
Amanda looked away. Again he was making it clear that he didn’t like her or her family.
“When did your father buy this museum?” he asked on a hunch.
“Two years ago.” She didn’t understand why he laughed at that.
“Come on, I’ve had enough. Let’s go outside.”
“But it isn’t time yet. We still have forty-two minutes in here.”
“I plan to spend forty-two minutes enjoying the out-of-doors.”
Reluctantly, she followed him outside. She hoped Taylor wouldn’t find out that they had left the museum early. And now what was she to do with him? She started toward the waiting limousine but he wasn’t with her. She turned and looked at him standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking more like a very large little boy than a man. She did so wish he would stand up straight like…like Taylor did.
“How far is it to town?” he asked.
“Two and a quarter miles,” she answered.
“Somehow, I thought you’d know. I’ll walk. I’ll meet you at the Opera House.”
Amanda felt a moment of panic. She just knew he’d never show up at the Opera House and she had a hideous vision of having to tell Taylor that she had “lost” Dr. Montgomery. “The driver can—” she began, then stopped because he was walking rapidly toward town. With a sigh, she told the driver where to meet them, then, holding her hat on, she hurried after Dr. Montgomery.
When the car went by and he saw she wasn’t in it, he turned back to see her scurrying along after him. Impatiently, he waited. You’d think I’d want a beautiful young woman along, he thought. But Amanda was about as real as a magazine photo. “I don’t guess I’m to be trusted alone, am I? Might meet with some union leaders and do something awful, right?”
Amanda suddenly felt very tired, tired from staying up most of the night trying to learn what she needed to know for this man, tired of missed meals, tired of his snide comments. “I am doing my best to make your stay pleasurable, Dr. Montgomery. I’m sorry if I’m failing.” She kept her shoulders back in the posture Taylor had taught her—taught her with the help of a steel brace.
He relented. Maybe she couldn’t help being a cold little prig any more than he could help being what he was. It wasn’t right to be angry with her because she wasn’t what he wanted her to be. So she walked as stiffly as a poker with two legs, so she pulled her hair back so tight her eyes were stretched, so she spoke only in facts, so she dressed like somebody’s mother, so she had no humor, no warmth, no passion about her. It wasn’t his business.
“I apologize, Miss Caulden, I have been rude to you. It’s just that I haven’t had my days planned for me since I left my mother’s house, and I’m afraid I’m too old to start over again. Look, there are some children playing. Couldn’t we just sit still for a while and smell the roses, so to speak?”
“Roses?” she asked. “There are no roses in the schoolyard.”
He groaned, then took her elbow and began to lead her toward the fenced schoolyard. School was out now, but there were three young children playing on the swings and seesaws, and a pretty young mother standing nearby. He left Amanda near a bench under a giant oak tree and walked toward the group. More than anything in the world, he wanted to see a friendly face.
“Hello,” he said, and the woman turned. She was indeed pretty and she smiled at him. It seemed to be ages since a woman had smiled at him.
“Hello,” she answered.
“I’m—”
“No, don’t tell me.” She looked past him to Amanda sitting primly on the bench. “You must be the Cauldens’ guest. Some teacher or something, right?”
“Close enough,” he answered, holding out his hand, which she shook. “Hank Montgomery.” He nodded toward the children. “Good-looking bunch. Father still alive?”
She laughed. “He was an hour ago.”
“My loss,” Hank said with a sigh.