Her Montana Man by Cheryl St.john Read Free Book Online

child. When he’d heard the news of Jenny Lee’s death in
    town the day before, he’d also heard clucking and lamenting about the poor dear child and grieving
    husband she’d left behind. He knew what it was like to lose a mother.
    Jonas halted that train of thought. “Your nephew?” he asked.
    “This is Tyler. Tyler, meet Mr. Black.”
    Tyler obediently sat straight and looked at him.
    “How do, sir.”
    “Pleased to make your acquaintance, young man.”
    Tyler looked to Eliza for approval, and she smiled. He tucked himself right back with his head under her
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    chin. “Are you sleepy?” she asked.
    “Only a little.”
    “All this company is tiring, isn’t it?”
    “Are they all Mama’s friends?”
    “They came because they cared for her, and they want to show that they care about you, too.” She
    rubbed his shoulder. “Why don’t we go upstairs? You can change out of your suit jacket and lie on your
    bed for a little while.”
    “I don’t want to go yet,” he answered.
    “All right then. You may sit with me a while longer.”
    Jonas thought perhaps he should go, but just as he was about to excuse himself, Eliza spoke. “How is
    Miss Holmes?”
    “Good, I reckon. She’s a fine worker.”
    “Housekeeping you said?”
    “Uh-huh.” Oh, he was a witty conversationalist.
    “Do you employ a number of people?”
    “About twenty.” He explained about the operations of the hotel and the saloon and how many it took to
    keep both businesses running. “Handle the employment vouchers myself.”
    “How does that work exactly?”
    “Well. You know a lot of men have been lured West by gold or adventure or the dream of land. Reality
    of it is most of ’em end up needin’ jobs. Oh, a few strike it rich and are the moneymakers, but the rest
    are the real workers. The ones who actually dig trenches and tunnels and drive spikes. Ones who harvest
    crops and fell trees.”
    She nodded, showing her interest.
    “Those kind of jobs move around with the railroad and with the seasons. Railroad, farmers, mine owners
    and the state all let me know when they need laborers. I sell vouchers for those jobs and the industry
    owners pay me commission when they hire.”
    She didn’t respond, and he couldn’t read her expression. “I already know your brother-in-law doesn’t
    have any use for what I do.”
    She glanced away and then back at him. “I don’t understand why he calls you a slave trader.”
    “Maybe he wishes he’d thought of it first?” he suggested with half a grin. “Dunno. They aren’t slaves,
    they’re hardworking men. I’m doin’ ’em a service by locating the jobs. They call themselves hoboes, you
    know.”
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    “I didn’t. What does that mean?”
    “Just means a migratory worker.”
    “Not tramps.”
    He shook his head. “Tramps and bums beg and don’t want to work. These men are the backbone of
    industry all the way from here to the Dakotas and up into Canada.”
    “What about their families?”
    “Most of ’em have never been married. Some are immigrants who left wives behind in other countries.”
    Jonas glanced over and noticed Tyler had fallen asleep in her arms. He was a good-sized boy and must
    be getting heavy. “He’s asleep.”
    She nodded. “I could tell. He was exhausted. He never sits on my lap anymore. The fact that he did
    today, not caring who saw, says a lot. Do you think you could help me?”
    “What can I do?”
    “I don’t think I can lift him from where I sit, and I’d never make it up the stairs. I’d hate to wake him to
    get him to his bed.”
    Jonas glanced around, not spotting Tyler’s father. He stood and bent to take the boy from her arms,
    getting one arm behind his knees and another around his back. Jonas’s arms brushed Eliza Jane’s as she
    released Tyler, and she met his eyes.
    Heat like