A Taste of Heaven Read Online Free PDF

the
results but she raised her voice a bit to be heard by those in the
back. It was intimidating to address a group of strange men. “I-I
wish I could've fixed something a little more hearty, but I
couldn't find any meat in the pantry that wasn't spoiled.” She
gestured behind her in the general direction of the kitchen. “The
best I could do was biscuits and gravy, with cherry pie for
dessert.”
    When they didn't move, Libby felt her cold
hands grow icy. Maybe biscuits and gravy weren't acceptable? Mr.
Osmer had told her they didn't need fancy food. If she didn't make
a good impression on these men, she certainly wouldn't be able to
win over Tyler Hollins. Well, there was no helping it now—the
supper was cooling on the long tables inside, and it was all she
had for them tonight.
    “Well, gentlemen, supper is served.”
    It was as though she'd fired a gun. She
jumped out of the way as they stampeded through the door. There was
a lot of jostling for seats, and the sounds of bench legs scraping
over the plank flooring and tin plates clanking against the
silverware. Libby stood in the doorway, her mouth open slightly as
she watched the men fall on the food like starving refugees. There
was no conversation at the tables; the business of eating took
precedence over everything else. But as she passed among them,
pouring coffee, nods and bashful smiles were directed at her, and
any doubts she may have had about the meal evaporated.
    As soon as each man had finished, he left the
table. Libby wasn't used to that—where she came from, people
lingered after meals, wanting more coffee, more tea, more service.
Most of all, she wasn't accustomed to being thanked.
    “Much obliged, ma'am. That was a good
supper.”
    “Thanks, Mrs. Ross.”
    “I ain’t had cherry pie since I can't
remember.”
    By the time Libby sat down with her own
biscuits and gravy, she was almost too tired to eat. With the plate
in front of her, she stopped to massage the back of her neck and
rub her temples. Even her braid felt heavy resting on her back. She
swore this had been the longest day of her life, and she still had
dishes to wash. Cleaning the kitchen itself would have to wait
until tomorrow.
    Just then, the door opened and Joe Channing
walked in. He hadn't been part of the original rush of diners, but
had come in later.
    “Thanks again for supper, Mrs. Ross. You did
a fine job on such short notice.”
    Libby never thought of herself as Mrs. Ross.
It was hard enough for her to remember to introduce herself with
that last name instead of Garrison. The only other name she'd ever
imagined for herself Brandauer. “You can call me, Libby, Mr.
Channing.”
    “I'll do that ma'am, uh, Miss Libby, if
you'll call me Joe.”
    She gave him a tired smile. "All right,
Joe."
    *~*~*
    Later that night, Libby lay in the big bed
upstairs. She was bone weary but sleep wouldn't come. Until last
summer, her life had had a relentless sameness. She hadn't been
happy, but there had been security in the monotony, knowing that
today would be the same as yesterday, the same as tomorrow. Then
Mrs. Brandauer had discovered the secret of Wesley and her.
    That had led her to Ben Ross's shack, and the
horrible months that followed. Now she slept under a strange roof
that belonged to a man she hadn't met, a man who might put her out
on the road as soon as he returned.
    She pulled the linen sheet closer to her chin
and closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn't see Ben's shroud in her
dreams.
    *~*~*
    It was almost midnight when Tyler Hollins
pushed through the swinging doors of the Big Dipper Saloon, tired,
saddle-sore, and dirty. A few late-night customers lingered in the
smoky retreat, and a listless card game was underway at one table.
The primary goals on his mind were a beer and a bed. He got his
beer and settled at the corner table, crossing his ankle over his
knee.
    “By God, Ty, you look good enough to eat,”
Callie Michaels called across the room. Callie owned the saloon