Deborah's Dilemma

by Caroline Clemmons

  Kirby’s face contorted into a demonic grin as he pointed the revolver at her. “Now I’ll finish you. Too bad the doctor went to all that trouble sewing you up for nothing.”

  “What is wrong with you, Norris Kirby? How can you hate people so much?”

  He took a step toward her. “I’m going to wipe out your family to pay them back for printing lies about me. Then they had the nerve to print that special edition about the election. Oh, I’ll bet your father was behind that.”

  “No, he wasn’t. He runs a business and accepted an advertisement.” There, her fingers found the slit of her pocket and slid inside. She pulled out the derringer and cocked it once.

  He heard the click and laughed at her. “You think that little pea shooter is going to stop me? Nothing can stop me, do you hear? They tried in Kansas and I beat them all. I’ll win here, too.”

  She squeezed the trigger, aiming for his stomach as Trey had told her. The bullet hit him in his right side and his hand holding the revolver lowered.

  As if astonished, he grabbed his wound and looked down. Although she knew it wasn’t deadly, blood blossomed around the injury and seeped through his fingers.

  A look of amazement was on his face. “Why you stupid woman, see what you’ve done?”

  She cocked the gun again and squeezed the trigger. This time, she hit him higher but still on his side. That was it. She’d missed the target she’d aimed for and now she was out of bullets.

  He leaned against the doorjamb. “I’ll show you what happens when people cross me.” He raised his revolver.

  She closed her eyes and prayed for her soul. The report of the gun firing was deafening. She waited for the burst of pain from the bullet. Nothing happened. She heard movement nearby.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes to behold a welcome sight. Trey helped Doctor Ross to a chair. Virgil stood over the lifeless form of Norris Kirby. She hated Kirby was dead, but if Virgil hadn’t shot him, she would have been killed. She was glad to be alive.

  Once the doctor was seated and recovering, Trey rushed to her. “I thought I’d lost you. Thought we were too late.”

  She tugged her skirt to cover her chemise but then she felt air on lower extremities and knew her ankles showed. What did it matter when she’d almost died?

  “How did you know Kirby was here?”

  Trey found a blanket and tucked it around her. “We were riding after him when we heard the first shot. Thank heavens we did. There’s thunder rumbling and we almost rode on. Your second shot made us certain it came from here.” He held her hand in his.

  Doctor Ross rubbed the knot on his head. “We need to get this young lady to her home so she can recover. I wouldn’t mind lying down myself.”

  Virgil looked from the doctor to Deborah. “I’ll round up some stretcher bearers and alert Joshua Paine. Then I’ll have to ride out and break the news to the widow.”

  Trey grimaced. “I don’t know if she lied purposely or if he put her up to it. She said he was laid up.”

  “Well, he’ll be laid out now. I’ll be back with some help.”

  Trey watched the doctor, who sat slumped in his chair. “Anything I can do for you? Would a wet rag on that lump help?”

  “My wife will tend to me once I get home. I sure hope Mrs. Ramsey doesn’t decide to have her baby tonight. I have a terrible headache.”

  Deborah’s parents rushed in.

  “Virgil said you’d been shot.” Mama grabbed her hand. “Oh, my darling girl.”

  She tried to smile. “All right now… thanks to Trey and Virgil... used derringer.”

  Papa eyes widened. “You… you killed Kirby?”

  Trey shook his head. “She sure slowed him down but Virgil fired the shot that killed Kirby. Deborah had used both bullets from the derringer.”

  Mama looked as if she would faint. “If you hadn’t had that little gun, he would have succeeded, wouldn’t he?”

  Deborah managed to say “Yes.” At least she thought she did. Suddenly, she wanted to sleep. She cradled Trey’s hand to her and closed her eyes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Trey couldn’t leave her side but he needed his folks to know what happened. While the four men who’d helped carry Deborah’s stretcher were still there he asked, “Is there anyone who could ride to the ranch and let my folks know what’s happened?”

  The Allen boys had seen the stretcher being carried and had come to see what happened.

  Zeke Allen Jr. raised his hand, as if he were still in school. “I’ll go. Quin will go with me, won’t you?”

  Quinton perked up. “You bet. We’ll go saddle up and leave now. I’ve never been to your ranch.”

  Trey looked at Zeke. “You know the way?”

  “Straight out south about five miles. I went there once with Papa.”

  “I’ll sure appreciate your help, boys. Be sure and ask your folks first. I reckon it’s safe enough now that the killer is dead. If they don’t want you to go, please let me know so I can get someone else.”

  Zeke poked his brother’s shoulder. “Come on, Quin. Let’s get moving.”

  The boys raced from the house.

  Mr. Dixon, one of the men who’d carried the stretcher, watched the boys leave. “Doesn’t look like you’ll need one of us. If you do, I’m just the third house up the street.”

  “Thank you.” Trey shook hands with the men then pulled a chair up to Deborah’s bed.

  Her mother and father hovered near her.

  Trey gazed from one to the other. “You might as well go to bed. She did lose a lot of blood but the bullet went through and the doctor stitched her wounds closed before Kirby attacked him. With Kirby dead, the threat against your family has ended. I hope you understand that I can’t leave her.”

  Her father nodded. “I reckon I do. Olive, we need to get some sleep. We’ll have to redo the front page early in the morning.”

  Trey was grateful they cooperated. “If she needs anything, I’ll call you.”

  In a few minutes, her mother was back with a tray. “I’m sure you missed supper. I made you a plate with enough for a midnight snack.”

  “Thank you, that was thoughtful.”

  She patted his shoulder. “You just make yourself at home in the kitchen if you want anything else.”

  Jeff yelled, “Will someone please tell me what’s happened?”

  Herman answered, “Coming, son.”

  Later, when the house was quiet and he’d eaten supper, he watched Deborah. Even after all she’d been through, she was beautiful. He’d almost lost her. He wasn’t taking that chance again.

  He gave thanks the bullet had missed her vital organs. Doc said it missed the lung by centimeters. That tiny difference should make her recovery faster.

  Even in sleep she clung to his hand. The lamp burned softly. Herman had brought him a couple of Jeff’s books but he couldn’t concentrate.

  He laid aside the book he’d tried in vain to read. While he held her hand, he rested his head on the bed near hers. He hoped someday they could share a bed as man and wife.

  ***

  Deborah came awake but couldn’t force her eyes open. Even so she knew the hand she held was Trey’s. She heard his soft breathing near her face.

  “Are you awake, princess?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Let me help you drink some water.” He held the glass and lifter her shoulders gently.

  “If you’re hurting, I can give you some laudanum.” He wiped her face with a damp cloth. She opened her eyes to gaze at his beautiful blue eyes full of concern.

  “I don’t want any. Were you here all night?”

  “Not really all night.” He took out his pocket watch. “Four o’clock. Not even dawn yet.”

  He tucked his watch back in his vest pocket and took her hand. Gently, he kissed each of her fingers. “Couldn’t leave you. Don’t ever want us to be apart again.”

  She cradled his large hand in both of hers. “We’ll have to be. I don’t th
ink either set of parents would let you move in with me.”

  He grinned. “I intend on you moving in with me as soon as you’re able to be up and around. I have plans for us.”

  “You have? Like what?”

  He leaned near and kissed her forehead. “We get married, have half a dozen kids, and live happily ever after until we die of natural causes while holding hands on our seventy-fifth anniversary.”

  “Sounds marvelous to me. That would make me ninety-seven. Not an altogether practical dream but a wonderful one.”

  He kissed her hand. “I don’t understand what you mean. Sounds sensible to me.”

  “What do we do in those seventy-five happy years?”

  “We travel to Boston once a year for the family meeting, take several trips to Great Britain and Europe, see San Francisco, Denver, Chicago, Miami, and any other place you desire.”

  She managed to grin at him. “We’ll be busy, especially with six children to rear.”

  “And think of all the grandchildren and great grands we’ll have.”

  “You do paint a beautiful life, Trey. Are you sure you want to spend it with me?”

  He brushed her hair from her face. “I’ve never been more positive of anything. Can you tolerate me for the rest of your life?”

  “I love you. I’ve been infatuated with you since second grade, but that’s grown into true love. I was so happy when you bought my basket at the church social.”

  “Ha, so you didn’t have to eat with Eric Barton.”

  “That, too, but so I could be with you. You were so gallant, coming to my rescue. I’d already thought of you as a hero but that elevated you to a knight in shining armor. I’m surprised you don’t ride a white horse.”

  “I’ll get one if you wish.”

  She kissed his hand. “No, don’t change anything for me. I love you just as you are.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Three weeks after being shot, Deborah stood in the church parsonage. She’d intended to get a dress that could be used as an evening dinner dress. Her mother, Marianne, and Judith had taken over.

  Rather than protest, she let them have their way within reason. She insisted they used the local Paris Fashions for the gown and trousseau rather than going to a large city. She had to admit the result was rather spectacular for Pearson Grove or anywhere else.

  White satin was modeled after a design from Paris, France. Brussels lace draped the skirt to the hem. The long train was detachable and mounted above a pointed back. The high neck guaranteed her injuries were hidden. Three-quarter sleeves descended from lace caps and ended in a turned back cuff. White kid gloves ended at the sleeves.

  A small white bow was at the left side of the throat. Ribbon from a white bow above the left breast trailed to tie into a larger bow at the left hip before descending further to a bow just above the hem. A tiny bow decorated each of her satin-topped slippers.

  Deborah felt jewelry was superfluous but Trey had given her a strand of pearls and ear bobs which she was pleased to wear. Her veil was tulle bordered in Brussels lace and anchored at the crown with a small pearl and rhinestone tiara.

  The local photographer snapped her photo. “As you requested, I’ll take more of you and your groom and families at the reception at the hotel.” He folded up his equipment and left.

  Her father appeared. “You look as beautiful as your mother did when we married.”

  Mama dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, you sweet man. You know our daughter’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.”

  He leaned over to kiss Mama’s cheek. “Depends on who’s looking, my dear Olive.”

  He gestured to Mama, Judith, and Marianne. “You ladies need to go to the church now. The sanctuary is packed and Reverend Patrick is ready to begin the ceremony.”

  After a long look over her shoulder Mama left accompanied by Judith and Marianne. Mama wore a rose gown while Judith wore lavender and Marianne wore gray.

  Felicity, Lula, and Corinne were her bridesmaids and wore blue taffeta dresses trimmed in lace. Each dress was a different shade of blue and designed slightly differently so the women didn’t end up with identical gowns. She’d asked Moriah to be a bridesmaid, but her friend refused because her baby was so small and still nursing.

  Alexandra was her matron of honor and wore a slightly darker blue taffeta gown trimmed in lace. The two Pate girls were flower girls in ice blue.

  Nadine smiled at Deborah. “Noreen and me ’member what to do ’cause we did this for Miss Alexandra.”

  Deborah smiled back. “And, you girls look so pretty.”

  Alexandra picked up Deborah’s train. “I’ll handle this train if someone else will carry our bouquets.

  Lula said, “Felicity and I have them.”

  Corrine moved ahead. “I’ll get the doors.”

  They left the parsonage and walked the short distance to the church. Deborah could hardly believe this day was real. She’d fantasized marrying Trey so many years, believing it was a foolish dream. Yet, here she was, walking to wed him.

  Papa helped her up the steps. The organist hadn’t quite become used to the new organ and it sounded loud enough to be heard for two blocks. Deborah didn’t care because helping raise money to pay for it had brought her and Trey together.

  The Pate girls led the procession and remembered to toss rose petals on the aisle and not on the congregation. Felicity, Lula, and Corrine followed, walking in step to the music. Alexandra smiled at Deborah and then joined in the procession. Papa patted her hand where it rested on his arm and they stepped forward.

  At the front of the church, Trey stood straight and distinguished looking. Beside him Ron Novak served as his best man. Jeff was able to stand well enough to be one of the groomsmen along with Virgil, Milton, and Scott.

  She’d selected too large a wedding party for this small church. Again, she didn’t care. These were her friends.

  The mothers had gone all out for decorations and there were white bows on the ends of the pews. Flowers were everywhere. There was barely room at the front for all the wedding participants. Deborah was certain the wealthiest bride in the country couldn’t have a nicer wedding.

  Best of all her groom gazed at her with adoration shining in his eyes. She suspected she looked at him the same way. Certainly, she loved him with all her heart.

  Reverend Patrick smiled at her before looking at her father. “Who gives this woman to this man?”

  “Her mother and I do.” Papa’s voice held a catch and she spotted tears in his eyes as he placed her hand in Trey’s.

  She returned her attention to her wonderful husband-to-be. Seventy-five years with this man wouldn’t be a day too long.

  Epilogue

  Boston, Massachusetts, Six months later

  Deborah clung to Trey as he whirled her around the floor in a waltz. They’d danced the quadrille and waltz and schottische and polka until she was breathless. He taught her the two-step, which was popular in Boston. This was nothing like the parties she’d attended at home but she loved tonight.

  As the waltz ended, she clapped for the small orchestra. “Hard to believe your grandfather is eighty-eight tonight. He could pass for Wade’s age. Of course, Wade doesn’t look his sixty-five.”

  “Thanks for planning this party. It means a lot to me as well as to WW.”

  She still found it odd he called his grandfather WW for the man’s name of Wade Wyatt Pearson. Although, now that she was Trey’s secretary, she knew there were enough men in the family named Wade and Wyatt to keep paperwork confusing.

  “He’s a kind man. I’m glad we could be here to help him celebrate.”

  Trey’s Great Aunt Eleanor glided over. “I can’t believe you included so many waltzes tonight. You Texans are scandalous.” She sailed away as if she had better places to be.

  Trey held Deborah’s hand. “I hope you don’t pay attention to Aunt Eleanor. She’s our family’s terror. And, she’s jealous of you for pulling this party off without h
er help.”

  “I had your help and that of several people who work for your grandfather.” She offered a conspiratorial grin. “We won’t tell Eleanor, though, all right?”

  Trey laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of telling the old girl. I’m sure it’s done her good to be upstaged for once. I wished I’d told her we wanted to include Indian dances but the orchestra didn’t know them and we couldn’t find a tom-tom. I may mention that when she comes by again.”

  “Trey, please don’t. She already hates me and is not that fond of you.”

  Deborah worried others might share Eleanor’s opinion. “Do you think I’ve overstepped? Have you heard any of your grandfather’s friends say something similar to Eleanor? Millicent has acted as if she thinks I’ve done well.”

  “Everyone except Eleanor is pleased. You did exactly what WW asked you to do. He’s as happy as a boy with a new puppy. That book of Texas sketches by that Austin artist was a big hit with him. Perhaps we can find a suitable painting to give him.”

  She wished she could have thought of a truly clever gift for his grandfather. Before she realized she’d spoken aloud, she said, “What can you get a man who has everything he wants?”

  Trey held his arm around her. “You’ve been considerate to put off our honeymoon until now. Winter isn’t the best time to visit Boston.”

  “I love your grandfather’s home and I’ve enjoyed seeing the city. I’m glad we’re here for his special day. He’s especially fond of you and our being here has meant a lot to him. He confided to me that you’re his favorite of his kin.”

  “I’m fond of him as well. He’s taught me a lot and not just about finances.”

  “People are starting to drift away. Let’s go stand beside WW.”

  They strolled near where WW was seated in a wingback chair. He had danced one waltz with her and one with Millicent, but spent the rest of the evening greeting people and accepting congratulations.

  When the last guest had gone, WW stood and grasped her hands. “Thank you for making this the best birthday I’ve ever had. You are a good granddaughter to me.”