Moonlight With Alice (The Matchmaker's Ball Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Ranse reached down, grabbed Juke by the collar, and brought him up to his feet. “The next time you see that particular young lady, she’ll be armed with a lot more than just a pair of scissors. You stay away from her, Mr. Bonham, and from the other women in town too. Until you can learn some manners and get your behavior under control, maybe you should stay tucked up here in the saloon.”

  Juke shrugged out of Ranse’s grasp. “I’m not fond of the way you’re treatin’ me, Deputy,” he said. “Seems to me, you’re takin’ the power of your badge a little too far.”

  “I could take it off, meet you in the back alley, and show you the power of a concerned citizen if you like.” Ranse leaned forward and spoke in the man’s ear. “Keep your nose clean, Bonham. I’m going to be watching your every move.”

  He spun on his heel and left the saloon before he could say much more. Bonham and men like him rubbed Ranse wrong. They thought themselves above the law and did everything they could to pussyfoot around the rules. Well, that wasn’t going to happen in this case. He’d known from the second he made eye contact with Mr. Bonham that this one was going to be a challenge, and a challenge was definitely something Ranse could handle.

  It was getting to be about dinnertime. He walked back to the office and let KC know his doings and their results, then headed over to the Hearth and Home. He needed something warm to fill up his insides, which had been left cold and unsettled by his encounter at the saloon.

  While he waited for his food, he thought back on his interview with Miss Givens. She certainly had been full of fire. He’d met with several women over the years who had unpleasant encounters to report—most of them were tearful or nervous. Not Miss Givens. She’d been trembling, but it only took him a moment to realize she was quivering with rage, not fear. She knew she’d been treated unfairly, and she wasn’t about to stand for it. He respected that a great deal.

  He was left with a feeling of foreboding, however, because he knew Bonham’s type. The man wouldn’t take kindly to being turned in to the law, and it was likely that he’d seek out some kind of revenge. He’d want to have a word with Miss Givens, scare her good—or worse—and Ranse wasn’t about to let that happen. Now that he’d escorted her home and knew where she lived, he’d be keeping an eye on her—and it certainly wouldn’t be an unpleasant assignment.

  ***

  Alice had slept well after she finished her evening of sewing. Her eyes were a little dry, but that was to be expected from hours of working by lamplight—they’d straighten themselves out as the day went on. She washed up and dressed, looking forward to a bright new day and the chance to start afresh. The day before had left a mark, and she was eager to put it behind her.

  When she opened the door to the boarding house, she was surprised to see Deputy Hawkins standing on the sidewalk. His back was to her as he looked up and down the street, but she would have recognized him anywhere, and when he turned and gave her a smile, her heart flipped in her chest.

  “Good morning, Miss Givens,” he said, touching his hat. “I hope you don’t mind an early call.”

  “Of course not, Deputy. I’m surprised, but not unpleasantly so. How may I help you?”

  “There are two things, actually.” He reached into his pocket. “I’ve brought you something.”

  A small pistol lay in his palm, an abalone shell handle picking up the morning sunlight. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she said, reaching out to take it. “This is for me?”

  “It is. It will fit into your bag or a pocket in your gown, and I’ll show you how to use it.”

  She smiled. “No need, Deputy. I’ve been using pistols most of my life—my father insisted that I know how.”

  “I thought as much when you said the gun was lovely. I haven’t often heard a woman describe a weapon that way.”

  “Well, it is lovely. A lot of craftsmanship went into this, and not just on the part of the mollusk. Thank you, Deputy.” She slipped the pistol into her sewing bag. “A perfect fit.”

  “Good. I’m also here to escort you to the theater—if that’s where you’re going. I could just as easily escort you to the mercantile, the telegraph office, the tea room . . .”

  She tilted her head to the side. “You spoke with Mr. Bonham.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  When the deputy didn’t answer immediately, she pressed, “And what did he say?”

  “He was rather polite at first, actually. He invited me to sit and have a drink with him. Wasn’t until I declined that things went a little south.” Hawkins looked up and down the street again, then at her. “Miss Givens, you’re the sort who can take the truth head-on, so I’ll tell you right out. Men like him don’t appreciate being turned in, and I’m expecting him to approach you again to teach you a lesson.”

  “I was supposed to keep my mouth shut, was I?” Alice shook her head. “He chose the wrong woman if that’s what he was expecting.”

  “I’m glad you stood up to him—he needs to understand where his boundaries lie. We’ll just keep an eye on you in the meantime, and he’ll either settle down or he’ll leave town.”

  The deputy’s voice sounded overly confident, and Alice fixed her gaze on him. “You’re saying that to calm my nerves, aren’t you?”

  He met her gaze, studying her eyes, and then he smiled. “I should have known better than to try that. Chances are, he’ll approach you again, there will be a scuffle, he’ll end up in jail, and we’ll be able to stick him on a train out of town. However, there’s also a chance that he’ll become more aggressive, and his approach will be more of an attack. That’s why I brought you the pistol, and that’s why I’m escorting you to work. Now, it’s entirely possible that he’ll settle down—that’s why I brought it up in the first place. It’s just that statistically speaking, it’s not likely.”

  “I’d rather know the odds on every scenario than to be caught off guard with something I didn’t expect,” Alice told him. She wasn’t frightened necessarily, but her skin had begun to crawl, and she knew the precautions they were taking were wise. If the man had merely grabbed her arm, she wouldn’t feel so apprehensive now, but the things he’d said afterward . . . She hadn’t even been able to repeat them to the deputy. She’d only been able to allude to them.

  “Shall we be on our way?” Hawkins motioned toward the street, and Alice realized they’d been standing there chatting when they should have been walking toward the theater. Mr. Westcott wasn’t picky about her arrival time, but Ronald would be meeting her for his fitting, and she hoped he wasn’t becoming impatient.

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this,” she told the deputy as they rounded the corner. “I’m sure you have quite a long list of things to do today, and my small troubles must be keeping you from it.”

  “True, we’re kept pretty busy, but that’s why we’re bringing in a few more men,” he replied. “And think of it this way, Miss Givens—if we send a solid message that we don’t tolerate this kind of treatment of our citizens, we’ll be creating a safer atmosphere for the other ladies in town in the future. Precedents must be set, and you’re helping us set one.”

  “I suppose that means I’m creating history or something?”

  “Something.” He flashed her a smile. “Keep that positive attitude, Miss Givens. It will serve you well.”

  When they reached the theater, it wasn’t Ronald waiting for them, but Mrs. Morgan and Will Meeks sitting in her buggy out front. “Good morning,” she called out. “I hope you don’t mind—I couldn’t wait to get started on my gowns.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. Just one moment while I unlock the door.” Alice fished in her bag for the key, then opened the door wide to accommodate the wide trunk Will was maneuvering into the building. Mrs. Morgan was right behind him, but the deputy stayed outside, and Alice noticed that he was surveying the property. Looking for hiding spots, perhaps? Once again, the thought made her skin crawl. Oh, she hoped they were taking unnecessary precautions and that someday, s
he’d laugh about all this.

  Will set the trunk down in the corner of the costume room, and Mrs. Morgan slipped a few coins into his hand. “I can drive the buggy back myself,” she told him. “Thanks for your help with the trunk.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Morgan.” The boy nodded to both women, then made his escape the way he’d come. Mrs. Morgan watched him with a smile on her face.

  “That boy has certainly shot up in the last couple of years, hasn’t he? I look at him and remember that scrawny little child running around town looking for odd jobs, not the young man he’s become—and studying medicine, too. I nearly call him ‘Willie’ half the time before I remember that he’d like to be ‘Will’ now.” She sighed and shook her head. “Time does fly by whether we want it to or not, and we do outgrow our gowns whether we want to or not. I suppose I shall have to succumb to the measuring tape.”

  Discussing Mrs. Morgan’s gowns with her was a nice distraction from the other things weighing on Alice’s mind, and the ladies had a nice chat while they decided what to do with each piece. Then Mrs. Morgan became serious.

  “Tell me, my dear, why a deputy is prowling around the theater, looking as though he’s expecting a murderer or a bank robber to pop out of the woodwork at any moment.”

  Alice hesitated to answer. She hadn’t meant to drag anyone into her situation, but there was no use at all in trying to hide something from Mrs. Morgan. She recapped her story from the day before, trying to keep her voice light so as not to worry the woman, but Mrs. Morgan had a strong reaction anyway.

  “That’s simply dreadful! Oh, you poor thing!” She snatched Alice into her arms and gave her an unexpected hug. Alice was just glad she wasn’t still holding her pincushion.

  “I’m fine,” Alice said when Mrs. Morgan let her go. “Deputy Hawkins is just being diligent.”

  “I knew I liked him.” Mrs. Morgan gave Alice a sympathetic look. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, and if you aren’t able to start on my dresses right away, I understand.”

  “I can’t imagine anything keeping me from them,” Alice replied. “I’m not going to let this small incident keep me from moving forward.”

  “That’s the spirit. Well, I must be off—take care of yourself, my dear.”

  After Mrs. Morgan left, the theater felt a little spooky—it echoed, as it always did, and Alice closed the door to her work area, not willing to allow herself thoughts of being alone.

  A moment later, the deputy knocked, and Alice let him in.

  “I’ve gotten a feel for the layout of the place, and everything looks fine,” he said. “I think you should keep the outer door locked when you’re here alone.”

  “I agree,” Alice replied. “And I’ll speak with Mr. Westcott when he arrives.”

  “Good. Best to keep him apprised, especially when there are several pretty young ladies working here.” He paused. “I’ll be patrolling the street, Miss Givens. You still have your pistol?”

  “Yes. I’ve moved it into my pocket.”

  “Good,” he said again. “I’ll be going now, but I won’t be far off—and you’ll lock this door behind me, won’t you?”

  “Yes, and I won’t unlock it again until someone else from the theater arrives.”

  He nodded. “Have a good morning, Miss Givens.”

  She watched him stride away, then closed the door and locked it, checking to make sure the key was safely in her pocket next to the pistol. Not all her dresses had pockets, and now she wondered at her oversight. She believed she’d go through every dress she owned and correct that mistake as soon as possible.

  When Ronald arrived, she let him in and only gave him a vague answer as to why the door was locked. She’d save that explanation for Mr. Westcott to give—this certainly was an inconvenience, and she was truly starting to resent Mr. Bonham for interfering in theater business. If she had to spend her day locking and unlocking doors, she never would get anything useful done at all.

  Chapter Four

  KC Murray came into the office and hung up his hat, then sank into his chair. “I rode out to the camp Ab Helm told you about, and sure enough, Juke Bonham’s one of the new miners in town,” he said. “He wasn’t there at the moment, but some of other miners were, and they confirmed he was with them.”

  “So, he doesn’t have roots here yet—no house, nothing like that.” Ranse gave a nod. “All the easier to roust him out.”

  “I’m hoping he chooses to leave of his own accord,” KC replied.

  “We’re all hoping for that, but we’ll have to see what actually happens. We’re taking precautions just in case, and with any luck, this will peter out.” Ranse stood up and walked over to the window, peering outside. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he felt he should be vigilant anyway. “Did Bonham have any family with him?”

  “Didn’t seem to. I didn’t notice any women or children in the camp, and when I asked, no one knew about a brother or father.”

  “Good. That gives him even fewer ties to this place. I wondered about sending him down the line to another mine that might be hiring.”

  “There are always mines hiring, but how would you convince him to go?” KC asked.

  Ranse scratched his chin. “I could pay his train fare.”

  KC shook his head. “You can’t do that, Hawkins. You lay down money for one person to move and soon they’ll all be asking for help. Our job is to keep the people of Creede safe, not to relocate everyone we feel poses a threat.”

  “Relocating them reduces the threat.”

  “And costs a great deal of money.” KC studied Ranse. “I can tell you’re quite taken with Miss Givens, but you’ve got to think reasonably. You can’t be paying special attention to her case just because she’s caught your eye.”

  Ranse was about to protest and say that wasn’t his motivation at all, but then he snapped his mouth shut. Yes, she had caught his eye, and yes, he was paying special attention to her. How could any full-blooded man not be attracted to her petite frame, her blue eyes, her flaxen hair? She was the first woman he’d looked at since taking this job, and he’d be lying if he said she wasn’t having an impact on him. There was nothing wrong with that, but he did need to keep a proper perspective about the situation.

  “I’ll expand my concerns and follow him a bit instead of her,” Ranse said at last. “I think it would be good for us to know if she’s his only interest or if he’s bothering other ladies in town.”

  “That’s a good idea. We don’t want anyone else getting hurt while we’re protecting her.” KC leaned back and crossed his ankles on the edge of his desk. “I appreciate your diligence and focus, Hawkins, but I need you keeping your eye on the bigger picture, all right?”

  “All right, sir.” Ranse turned toward the door, then paused. “You say Bonham’s not at the camp?”

  “No, and he wasn’t at the mine, either. I talked to the shift manager—seems the new men aren’t scheduled to start until Monday.”

  “Giving them a few days to get into trouble before they’re put to good use.” Ranse didn’t like that idea. First stirring up chaos at the pub, now approaching at least one young lady on the street—he wished Monday wasn’t so far down the road. “I’ll go walk around a bit and make sure things are calm.”

  “And I might ride to Bachelor and make sure the saloons out that way aren’t hosting any more wanderers,” KC added. “This campsite seemed able to hold more men than we’ve seen here in town, and I’d like to know where they’re spending their time.”

  Ranse nodded. He knew they couldn’t paint all the miners with the same paintbrush, but if they were traveling together, they were at least acquaintances if not friends, and they could share some of the same attitudes. KC was wise to look into it.

  A stroll up and down the street didn’t raise any alarms—business seemed to be going as usual. He greeted several of the townspeople, answered a few questions, and generally made his presence known, which was the real purpos
e of his walk anyway. Then he stepped into the Frog Knees, deciding it was time to tighten a few thumbscrews.

  The bartender looked annoyed when he walked up to the bar. “What can I do for you now, Deputy?”

  “I thought I might have a glass of lemonade.”

  “We’re fresh out of lemons, and the train won’t bring more until tomorrow.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Ranse leaned his elbow on the bar and turned, scanning the room for familiar faces. “Haven’t seen Mr. Bonham today, have you?”

  “No, but I don’t expect my customers to sign a logbook or anything.”

  Ranse turned and faced the man. “Remind me of your name.”

  “Barker, sir.”

  The word “sir” wasn’t spoken with the sort of respect it should have been. “Are you the full-time bartender around here?”

  Barker shrugged. “I trade off.”

  “Well, let me explain something to you, Barker. The businesses in this town operate under the protection of the law. You’re allowed to serve drinks and offer saloon girls because the town says you can. If you go against the wishes of the town, you lose that right, meaning that you lose your job. It’s in your best interests to work with me instead of against me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Barker looked down at the bar and nodded. He didn’t look at all contrite or apologetic, but at least he wasn’t being as disrespectful.

  “Now, I’m going to be coming in here from time to time just to make sure things are running smoothly. You might tell Mr. Helm that so he can know to expect me. There’s nothing worse than company showing up unannounced, don’t you think? And you might also tell Mr. Bonham and any of his friends that I’ll be by—I’m sure they wouldn’t want to miss one of my visits.” Ranse reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, which he flipped onto the bar. “A down payment for my next glass of lemonade.”