Anger rolled in his stomach. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
She planted both hands on her hips. “I can’t think of any other reason why you want me locked in my room.”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t have to. It’s evident you don’t want me traipsing around without you at my side. Why? What are you afraid I’ll do? Rob the place?”
“No.”
She lifted both brows.
“Wichita is a tough town, and while you are here, you’re my responsibility.”
“I’m no one’s responsibility.” Anger shimmered in her eyes as her glare narrowed. “I can take care of myself.”
“Not here you can’t.”
She spun around and stuck the key to her room in the lock.
The animosity filling the air caused Dal to sigh. “Ellie, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just—”
“Just what?” She opened the door and spun around in the frame to face him. “Want me to know my place? Trust me, I do.”
The door slammed shut before he could spit out a word.
Chapter Eight
Ellie paced the room much like she had last night, but this time anger drove her footsteps. She couldn’t exactly say why. The mishap at Abigail’s store wasn’t completely her fault. And it wasn’t Dal’s, either. As he had pointed out, it was a misunderstanding. And she had no desire to go traipsing about town. She had seen enough ruffians leaning against the buildings for her to know walking around alone wouldn’t be a good idea. Still, she didn’t like the thought of being banished to her room.
But it wasn’t as if Dal had done that, either.
So then, what was wrong with her?
Catching her image in the mirror above the dresser, she stopped pacing.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Ellie Alexander. You’re what’s wrong.” Stepping closer, she stared at her reflection. “You spent the morning buying everything needed to sew a spectacular wedding gown, and the entire time you were wishing it was your gown. Wishing that you were planning a spring wedding for yourself. That was foolish. So foolish a complete stranger pointed out Dal would never marry someone like you.”
Spinning about, she plopped onto the bed. “I don’t want to be married to Dal or anyone else,” she said softly to herself. “It never even crossed my mind until that nasty woman said I couldn’t be.”
Ellie stood and once again glanced in the mirror. She’d never claim to be beautiful, but with her hair pinned back and wearing Clara’s clothes, she didn’t look like her normal pauper self. As a matter of fact, there was no reason why she couldn’t be married to Dal. It wasn’t as if she was homely or ignorant. What it came down to was the fact that he’d never want to be married to her. She didn’t even like him, so why should that matter?
It didn’t. Not at all. Letting out a growl, she mumbled, “I should never have come on this trip. Never.”
But she had, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
Spinning away from the mirror, she spied the gray cape she’d carelessly tossed upon the bed after entering the room.
Or is there? She was here for Clara, not herself or Dal, and she had to remember that.
Ellie picked up the cape and flipped it over her shoulders as she headed for the door.
* * *
Just as Dal had imagined, the meeting with several other cattlemen concerning the Texas fever epidemic took all afternoon. They’d created a quarantine proposal for the entire association to vote upon tomorrow, but in truth, Dal couldn’t remember much of the conversation. Cattle were his livelihood, and keeping those Texas longhorns from infecting his herds should have been foremost in his mind, but thoughts of Ellie kept overriding everything else.
At first he’d assumed it was because curious glances at the meeting told him Ed Mansel had already spread the word that Caroline thought Ellie was Mrs. Dal Roberts. He’d considered explaining the misunderstanding, but the more he thought about it, the less he cared what Caroline or Ed or anyone else thought. His mind had turned solely to Ellie. Besides her embarrassment, he’d wondered about her being stuck in the hotel all afternoon. She had to be bored out of her wits. He knew she wasn’t the type to sit around doing nothing. It was more than a three-mile walk for her to come to the ranch to see Clara, and more than five miles from her shanty to Buckley, closer to six, yet she walked it, there and back, a couple of times a month from what Clara had said, and she visited his sister more often than that.
“Oh, Mr. Roberts, I’m sorry, Ellie has already left.”
Dal glanced up, not realizing he was passing the shop they had visited that morning.
“She must not have known you were coming to walk her back to the hotel. She asked if my assistant could, knowing you’d be upset if she walked it alone,” Abigail Hollingsworth said.
“I would be,” Dal admitted.
“She said as much, and please allow me to apologize for what happened earlier today,” Abigail continued. “Ellie explained the misunderstanding on the train with the older couple, but I must say, that still didn’t give that woman reason to be so rude. If I discover who she is, I will never allow her in my store again.”
“I agree.” Dal was more concerned about Ellie going back to the store than Caroline’s behavior. He’d witnessed how rude Caroline could be long ago and he didn’t envy Ed in the least. “Did Ellie get everything she needed?”
“Oh, she bought everything this morning. This afternoon she borrowed my back room to start sewing your sister’s wedding dress. She’s an excellent seamstress. I tried hiring her on the spot, but she said she couldn’t move away from Buckley until after Clara’s wedding. I do plan on hiring her then. She’s exactly what I need.”
A hard knot formed in Dal’s stomach.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Abigail said. “I have to lock up and get home to make supper for my family.”
Dal nodded and his pace increased as he headed for the hotel.
Chapter Nine
The food was delicious, but the silence from across the table meant anything Ellie attempted to swallow needed to be washed down with gulps of water. Finally, laying down her fork, she asked, “Did your meeting this afternoon not go well?”
“It went fine.”
Dal’s tone was as sharp as the knife he’d used to cut his steak, which caused her hands to tremble slightly. He was upset about something, and she was inclined to believe it included her. “That’s good.”
“How was your afternoon at Abigail Hollingsworth’s store?”
She flinched inwardly but held her chin up to meet the icy glare in his blue eyes. “It was very nice, and productive. I made a good start on Clara’s dress.” Drawing in a breath of fortitude, she continued, “You have no cause to be upset about that. Mr. Reynolds allowed one of his clerks to escort me to the shop and Abigail’s assistant walked me back. I couldn’t just sit around here doing nothing all day.”
“So you decided to snag yourself a job.”
“Snag a job?”
He set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, sewing for Abigail.”
“I sewed Clara’s dress, and plan to do the same tomorrow.”
“And made plans to move to Wichita after the wedding.”
It was a statement, not a question, yet she answered, “Perhaps. I will need to talk with James and Daniel, but it is what I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Work for a dressmaker?”
“To begin with. Someday I’d like to have my own shop, just like Aunt Jenny used to talk about. But that will take money.”
“The same aunt who stole your money and ran away with the drifter.” He folded his arms across his chest.
Angered by his attitude, she glared across the table.
&n
bsp; “What about Clara?” he asked.
Goose bumps rose on her arms. “What about her?”
“Have you considered how she’ll feel if you move to Wichita?”
Abigail’s offer had surprised Ellie, and she’d immediately refused, at first. But afterward, while she’d worked more on the dress, she’d thought about it. Seriously. “I told Abigail I couldn’t consider her offer until after Clara’s wedding.”
“She’ll still need friends after the wedding. The ranch is a lonely place.”
Ellie knew all there was to know about loneliness, and she had considered Clara’s feelings. She’d considered a lot of people. She always did.
Her swirling thoughts stopped abruptly when Dal pushed away from the table.
“We should return to our rooms,” he said.
For the first time, the tightness of his lips and the glint in his blue eyes saddened her more than irritated her. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He waited until they were crossing through the arched threshold that led from the dining room to the hotel lobby before he said, “Then you should have stayed in your room rather than going job seeking.”
Irritation zipped up her spine. He was back to being his arrogant self, a fact which shouldn’t surprise her. “Why are you upset that Abigail offered me a job? It’s none of your business.” The glare he cast her way was more than insufferable. “It’s not,” she insisted. “I’ll finish Clara’s gown before deciding, so you don’t have to worry that she’ll be disappointed.”
“I know she won’t,” he said sternly. “I’ll make sure of that.”
Hitching her skirt higher in order to take the steps faster, she said, “Then we have nothing to argue about, do we?”
“I believe we do.” He marched up the stairs just as fast. “I didn’t agree to bring you to Wichita in order for you to sell your wares.”
“Sell my wares?” Her irritation was fast turning into full blown fury. “I’m not selling my wares, but even if I was, you would have no say about it. You have no say in what I do at all.”
“As long as you are in my care, I do.”
“I’m not in your care.”
Taking hold of her arm, he propelled them both down the hall toward their rooms. “I beg to differ. As long as I’m paying your way, you are in my care.”
There had been a million times when she’d wished to have money, but right now, she’d practically sell her soul to have enough to be able to pay her own way. A sense of pride, the small amount she did have, made her want to explain.
“I’d much rather have stayed home. I only came because Clara insisted upon it.” Pulling the key from her pocket, she shoved it in the lock. “I’m sewing her gown for free, in exchange for my share of the costs of this trip.”
As his hold on her arm lessened at her words, she shot into the room and spun around to slam the door shut.
Dal stopped himself from grabbing the door before it closed with a bang that rattled the wall, and his hand balled into a fist. Damn it. He shouldn’t care if she wanted to move to Wichita and work for Abigail or anyone else, but he did. The depth of his anger said his feelings had little to do with Clara’s dress. It was more that Ellie knew nothing about living in the city. Nothing about the dangers. There were far more of those here than in her isolated sod shanty.
It irked him, too, that she’d wasted no time in making sure Abigail knew about the misunderstanding of them being married.
He turned about, but rather than entering his own room, he headed for the stairway. Several of the men in town for the cattlemen’s meeting would be gathered across the river in the Delano district, which didn’t have to abide by Wichita’s gambling and prostitution ordinances. Dal supposed there was no reason why he shouldn’t join them.
* * *
Ellie was still on Dal’s mind as he entered the Mulberry Tree Saloon—named after the landmark that used to signal the end of the trail for the cattle drives. The place was known for an attraction that used to bring in droves of men. The Running of the Doves had been a regular event put on by the saloons in the area. Wagon loads of doves, or saloon girls, were taken to the river where the cowboys who were fresh off the trail stopped to bathe. The doves would strip naked and at the sound of a gun, race back to the saloons with the cowboys, whooping and hollering, running behind them. The walls of the Mulberry hosted pictures of the naked winners.
“Dal Roberts!”
He turned at the sound of his name and moved toward a table surrounded by several men who had been at the meeting that afternoon.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Joe Thomas said. “Figured you’d be busy with the feisty little filly Mansel said you’d got hitched to.”
Chapter Ten
Ellie’s mood wasn’t any better in the morning than when she’d gone to bed, and the pounding on her door told her Dal’s wasn’t, either. “I’m coming,” she muttered, while gathering up Clara’s gray cloak. She had half a mind to wear her old coat. Dal would be too embarrassed to walk down the street beside her then. If he still insisted upon escorting her and tried to explain to others that she had worn the old coat to keep from getting dirty, she would correct him by saying it was the only coat she had, and that it was so large because she shared it with her brothers.
Half a mind wasn’t enough to convince her, however, so she let the thought go and flipped the gray cloak over her arm before opening the door.
The “good morning” she’d been about to say stuck to her tongue at the sight of Dal’s face. One of his eyes was black-and-blue and his bottom lip was split. The anger she’d harbored dissolved. “What on earth...?”
“Don’t ask,” he mumbled.
“Who—”
“I said, don’t ask.”
Despite his surly attitude, compassion welled within her. “You need to put something on—”
“I slept with a beefsteak on it,” he said. “Are you ready?”
Ellie stepped out of the room, pulled the door closed and locked it, all the while wondering how he’d ended up in such a condition. The how was easy to imagine, but not the why. “I sincerely hope the other man, whoever he was, fared worse.”
She cringed at how Dal flinched slightly, but met his somewhat crooked grin with one of her own when he replied, “He did.”
“Good.” His attitude might anger her at times, but she didn’t loathe him and certainly didn’t want to see him hurt. “I’m sure I can find the shoe store on my own if you don’t feel up to it.”
“I’m up to it,” he answered. “If I left you alone, knowing you, you’d get a job there, too.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but his smile told her he was teasing, therefore she simply said, “I don’t know anything about making shoes.”
He chuckled. “Well, that’s good.”
This time, his comment didn’t elicit irritation. Instead, heat rushed to her face. She understood he was teasing her, but she couldn’t figure out why that pleased her, or exactly what it made shift inside her.
They ate a large breakfast again, and easy conversation flowed between them, not only as they ate, but as they walked the numerous blocks to the shoe store. There she tried on several pairs of shoes until she found the exact pair that would match Clara’s dress.
“You’re sure those are the right ones?” Dal asked.
“Certain,” she answered. “We wear the same size, and these will look perfect with her dress.”
“I’ll pay for them and have them sent to the hotel.”
“Thank you.” She handed over the shoes and sat down to put on her boots, which looked all the more worn and tattered surrounded by all the new pairs.
Dal returned to her side just as she stood. “Ready?”
“Yes. That was the final thing on my list.”
“Good.” He led the way out of the door. “I have some things I need your help with.”
“You do?”
“I do.”
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
Their first stop was at a store the likes of which she’d never seen. Besides other expensive merchandise, it had display cases of jewelry. She was in awe of the sparkling jewels, and couldn’t fathom where to start when Dal insisted she help him pick out a set of cuff links for Bill and a necklace with matching ear fobs for Clara. In the end, she chose some with blue stones, knowing they would match Clara’s eyes. After paying and receiving the assurance his purchases would be delivered to the hotel, Dal ushered her out the door and into the store next door, where he asked her to pick out a new winter cape for Clara.
Once again thinking of her friend, Ellie was drawn to a blue cloak, but Dal had her try on a brown cape with a soft fur collar. It was the loveliest thing she’d ever seen and much heavier and warmer than Clara’s gray one, but she still had to point out that the blue would look nicer with Clara’s eyes and blond hair.
“That’s all right,” he said. “I like this one.”
“Do you even know if Clara needs a new cloak?” she asked.
“Clara would have bought one if she were here.”
Ellie couldn’t say that wasn’t true. Clara had more clothes than anyone she’d ever known, and most likely would appreciate the brown cape as much as a blue one. Leaving the store, she pulled the gray cloak tighter together at her chin.
“With the way the temperature’s dropping, I wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed. Here, put this on,” Dal said, draping the brown cloak he’d just purchased over her shoulders.
Attempting to pull it off, she said, “I can’t. It’s brand-new.”
Dal’s hands held the cloak on her shoulders. “That’s right, it is. And it’s yours.”
“No, it’s not.”
He stepped around her and fastened the hook beneath her chin. “Yes, it is. I just bought it for you.”
Western Spring Weddings Page 23