Hattie

by Vivi Holt

  “Did you hear? We’re gonna go to the town picnic.” Daisy skipped in a circle, one hand to her mouth and her pinky finger raised high. “My oh my, won’t we be grand?” She burst into giggles, her stomach shaking.

  Hattie rolled her eyes. “Yes, indeed – cracked hands, stained house dress and all.” She dabbed at a rather large stain on her bodice with a grimace. She could at least change her clothes – thankfully her bags were still at the courthouse when she got back that horrible day, and she’d hauled them to the Roan herself. But now, most of her dresses looked as bad as the one she was currently wearing.

  “Never mind all that. The sheriff will be there.” Daisy raised an eyebrow and grinned, revealing large white teeth.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You know full well what I mean. I never saw the man visit the saloon so often as he has since you’ve been here. And every time he comes, he makes sure to bump into you, or just plain asks to see ya. He’s smitten, is what he is. Smitten!” She threw her head back and laughed.

  Hattie stalked to the looking glass and fiddled with her hair. “I don’t know what you mean. He updates me on their search for Jack, that’s all. I can assure you, Sheriff Milton is no more in love with me than he is with Sally. Quite possibly less.” She pushed a hairpin back into place and took a long slow breath.

  She honestly wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or not. She’d noticed the sheriff’s attentiveness to her, but had shrugged it off. After having her heart broken in New York, then marrying an outlaw, she wanted to stay well away from men, the handsome sheriff included. She had to focus if she wanted to get home again – focus and work hard. And she wouldn’t let anyone, not even the tall, broad-shouldered lawman, get in the way of that.

  Ed lifted a hay bale from the wagon bed and carried it over his head to set in the field beside the small white chapel that sat on the rise overlooking Coloma. The structure shone in the summer sun, and he could feel a trickle of sweat winding its way down his back while he worked.

  His two deputies were helping him set up the annual picnic. Hans Bergman and Lee Perez’s button-down shirts stuck to their skin in the dry heat. Lee shifted his Stetson back from his head and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I think we’re about done,” he said, shooting a hopeful grin at his boss.

  Hans sighed and slouched down onto a bale. “Phew! I bet folks’ll be glad it’s an evening picnic with this heat.”

  “Yeah, the sun’s about to set – everythin’ will cool off then.” Ed wiped his face dry with his kerchief. “You fellas go get yourselves a drink of lemonade. I can see Sally’s already set up the drinks over yonder.”

  Hans and Lee happily complied, hurrying to where Sally stood, behind a table with a large punch bowl filled to the brim with ice-cold lemonade and slices of fresh lemon. Ed licked his lips and followed. He wondered if Hattie would make it, and was trying to think of a way to ask Sally without being teased. She’d given him no respite in recent weeks when he’d visit the saloon in hopes of speaking with the young woman. Lately he’d stayed away – he hadn’t seen her in at least a week.

  He’d been feeling the frustration build lately over the search for Jack Miller, Hattie’s no-good husband. The scoundrel had managed to stay just out of reach. It didn’t seem to matter how often they put together a posse and went after him, he was always a step ahead of them. They’d found his camps twice in recent weeks, once even with warm water in a pot over the fire, the embers still glowing. But no sign of Jack or his friends, and no trails to follow for more than a mile.

  Ed so wanted to catch the cur – and not just because of the robberies, though that would be reason enough. He’d finally admitted to himself that he was intent on bringing the man in for Hattie’s sake. He didn’t know how it would help, but somehow it seemed it might.

  He should really just forget all about her. From what Sally told him, Hattie’s plan was to save enough money to go back to New York and her family first thing. Sally didn’t mind – she’d only given Hattie a job out of the kindness of her heart. In her words, the girl was about as bad a waitress as one could imagine.

  Ed reached the lemonade table and dipped himself a large cup, downing it in three gulps. His gaze traveled over the picnic area. He had to admit, it looked downright pretty with lanterns around the space, picnic rugs dotting the dusty ground and tables and chairs set up against the side of the white chapel.

  The first wagons arrived, and he wandered down to meet them. People were showing up on foot as well, mostly folks who lived in town – the farmers and ranchers traveled by wagon. By the time he reached level ground, they were parking and settling their horses with feed bags, amidst a buzz of activity.

  Daisy and Hattie appeared by his side, and his heart lurched. Daisy offered him a gap-toothed grin beneath her white bonnet, and Hattie smiled demurely from under a wide-brimmed blue one. “Good evening, Sheriff,” cried Daisy in her Irish brogue, extending her pudgy hand.

  “Daisy, Hattie, how are you?” He took off his hat and kissed their hands. He longed to kiss more than just Hattie’s delicate hand – his cheeks flushed with warmth at her touch.

  As Daisy dragged Hattie off toward the lemonade and plates of sandwiches that had been laid out, Hattie glanced at him over her shoulder, and the depth of her wide hazel eyes made his breath catch in his throat. Why did she affect him the way she did? He had to pull himself together. He couldn’t let himself fall apart over a woman married to an outlaw, who would be riding the train back east at the first opportunity.

  Ed was the sheriff of Coloma and he’d worked hard for the privilege. He couldn’t afford to lose his heart to a debutante from New York, no matter how much she made it race.

  Hattie sipped lemonade as townsfolk and ranchers descended on the picnic area. A band next to the chapel, two men with violins and one with a harmonium, began playing. Her foot tapped to the music, and she grinned as various couples converged onto a flat, dusty square of land and began to dance.

  Daisy lurched into the chair beside her with a grunt, a plate full of victuals balanced in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. “Ye get something to eat yet?” she asked between mouthfuls.

  Hattie shook her head. “Not yet. I’m just enjoying the dancing. It feels so wonderful to be outside on a gorgeous night like this. Would you look at those stars – they’re stunning! They light up the entire landscape …”

  Daisy chuckled through a mouthful of ham and bread. “Ye’re quite the poet, Hattie Stout.”

  “It’s Miller,” replied Hattie reluctantly. “Hattie Miller.”

  “If ye says so, lass. But surely you’re not gonna keep his name, are you?”

  “I don’t know.” Hattie felt a lump form in her throat that made it hard to speak. “I don’t know what to do or think.”

  “Well, never mind all that tonight. We’re gonna have some fun. Did ye see some of the blokes out here? Right handsome fellers.” Daisy set her plate on the chair as she stood, dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief and shoved it into her skirt pocket with a grin. “I’m gonna go find me someone to dance with. Watch me food, will you?” Waving goodbye to Hattie, she headed toward the dancers.

  Hattie watched her leave, crossing her ankles in front of her. It felt rather lonely to sit on her own watching the groups and couples dotted around the field having such a grand time.

  A shadow fell over her and she glanced up to see Sheriff Milton standing there. She was taller than average, but he made her feel downright petite. He looked at her with a half-grin on his handsome face. “Care to dance, Miss Stout?”

  She wanted to correct him about her name, but the words wouldn’t form. Her cheeks flamed and she gave a quick nod of her head, then raised her hand to him. He took it and she stood to follow him.

  When they reached the rest of the couples, the song wound to a finish and everyone stood around, a little out of breath, waiting for the music to begin again. It was a slow waltz this time, and the sheriff g
ently pulled her close. She arched an eyebrow in surprise – he was graceful despite his size, especially for a lawman from a frontier mining town. Where had he learned to dance like that?

  The ground seemed to fly by beneath their feet and the world spun around them. She found herself smiling before she realized what she was doing. He had one hand on her back, the other holding hers firmly, and his eyes were fixed on hers. She’d never noticed before how blue they were and how they crinkled around the edges when he smiled. The music faded into the background, along with everything else around her. “Where did you learn to dance, Sheriff?”

  His eyes sparkled. “I haven’t always lived in Coloma, Miss Stout.”

  “Oh? Where are you from?”

  “Staunton, Virginia originally. My aunt taught me to dance, preparing me for society. I never ended up in society as she deemed it, but it’s still served me well.”

  Hattie thought so too. She didn’t want this dance to end. She didn’t want to go back to the cramped room she shared with Daisy, whose snoring would wake the dead; didn’t want to work her fingers to the bone tomorrow in the saloon. She only wanted this moment, this dance, this man, forever.

  Chapter 5

  Hattie woke to the sunlight streaming in through the thin curtains, groaned and rolled over in her narrow bed. Her neck was stiff and her feet ached dully from the dance. She and the sheriff had danced for as long as they could stand, stopping only to eat. They’d sat comfortably side by side on a picnic blanket and discussed their families and lives before moving to Coloma. She’d told him all about her father’s fall from grace and her journey west as a mail-order bride.

  Their discussion made her ponder her time in the West. It wasn’t all a nightmare – she’d made friends she’d never have thought she would. The love she felt for Daisy and even her surly boss Sally ran deeper than anything she’d felt for the friends she had back home.

  Then there was Sheriff Ed Milton – the thought of leaving him behind made her throat ache. He’d always been so kind to her. The first time she met him, she’d considered him a rough-necked cowboy. But time had changed her opinion of him, and though she wanted nothing more than to return home, she couldn’t help a twinge of regret at leaving him behind.

  A sound outside caught her attention – someone was shuffling by the door? She was used to all kinds of noises – living above a saloon, people came and went by her room at all hours of the day and night. Daisy went in and out of their room at odd times as well. But this sound was different from what she’d grown accustomed to. She stood with a yawn and shuffled in bare feet over to the door, easing it open.

  She remembered the first time she’d realized that Daisy was what her mother had once referred to as a “soiled dove.” She’d been shocked beyond measure, her eyes wide as saucers. But Daisy had just laughed it off and told her she’d find herself in the same situation soon. “Ye’ll be just like me, if Sally has her way. Everyone starts out in the dinin’ room, waitin’ tables. But stay here long enough and ye’ll be entertainin’ the men before ye know it.”

  That was the moment Hattie had vowed to herself to only stay long enough to save money for train fare. She’d never be pushed into selling herself the way Daisy and the other women in the saloon had.

  She peered out and saw an empty hall, turned her head to look in the other direction and gasped when she saw Daisy seated against the wall, her head resting on her bent knees. One eye was blackened, and there was an ugly red welt down her cheek. Her clothing was torn, her skin exposed all the way down to her stomach on one side. “Daisy!” she cried, rushing out the door to kneel by her friend. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Daisy glanced up at her with streaks of tears running down her dirty face. She sobbed when she saw Hattie and knuckled her eyes.

  “Who did this to you?” asked Hattie, anger flaring. But Daisy just shook her head and kept sobbing.

  Hattie helped her to her feet, bundled her into their room and kicked the door closed behind them, then helped her to her bed. Daisy buried her face in a blanket, and Hattie lifted her feet onto the bed, unlaced her boots and tucked her in. She poured her a cup of water from the pitcher beside the washbowl and passed it to her friend.

  Daisy hiccupped, then gulped a great mouthful of water, her hands shaking around the cup. The sobbing soon subsided. Hattie sat beside Daisy on the bed and rested a hand on her arm.

  “What happened to you?” she whispered, frowning thunderously.

  Daisy took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes, then gasped at the pain and exhaled shakily. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have poked fun … it’s just, ye know, I can’t help meself sometimes. I joke around, tease a bit. Well, I guess this feller didn’t have a sense of humor …” She forced a wry smile, then collapsed into a fresh bout of tears.

  “One of the men you … see… did this to you?” Hattie’s heart thudded and her cheeks flamed. Something had to be done about this. It wasn’t right for anyone to be treated this way, certainly not the fun-loving friend she’d grown to care so much about over the past weeks.

  “Don’t fret o’er me.” Daisy opened the drawer beside her bed, tugged out a clean handkerchief and blew her nose loudly into it. “I’ll be fine – I’ve survived worse, I’ll tell ye that. It was me own fault – sometimes I forget me place. Sally won’t be pleased when she hears about it. She’ll say I’m drivin’ the men away and they won’t come back if I make ‘em upset. Oh, what if she throws me out this time? She’s threatened before. This could be the final straw …” She sniffled and covered her face with the handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes.

  “I can’t believe Sally would do that,” Hattie argued. “I mean, she lets me stay. She’s got a soft heart – she wouldn’t make you go unless you wanted to. And please don’t say it’s your fault – there’s no excuse for any man to treat you that way, no matter what you said.” She was furious. If only she could get a moment with that man, with a heavy vase in her hand or perhaps a stick, she’d make sure he never hurt another woman again. She’d have a word with Sally– surely the saloon owner could make sure that type of man never set foot in the place again.

  Daisy looked up, and Hattie was dismayed to see the outline of the bruise around her eye darkening to a savage purple. “Oh, Hattie, me dear sweet girl … ye really are from another world, aren’t ye? Don’t ye know Sally’s keepin’ ye around just to get ye into the business? She says ye’d fetch a pretty penny. The only thing stoppin’ her from makin’ ye do it right now is the sheriff breathin’ down her neck. Soon as he stops givin’ ye his attention, ye’ll end up like the rest of us. Mark my words.”

  Hattie recoiled in horror. “No, no … that’s not right. Sally wouldn’t do that. She cares about me – that’s why she took me in. She told me so herself – said she couldn’t bear to see me go hungry.” She shook her head and stood to pace around the tiny room.

  “How do ye think it all started with me?” Daisy’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “I was just a girl when she took me in. Promised me the world. Told me how much she cared. Then when me other options were gone and I’d gotten used to livin’ under a sturdy roof and eatin’ three square meals a day, she told me if I didn’t do as she asked, I’d have to leave. I’d be on me own, without a penny to me name or a friend in the world. Oh, she said she felt like a mother to me and wanted what was best for me, so couldn’t I see to help her keep the place runnin’, seein’ as how she had bills to pay? It all began so simply – just one time, to help her keep the wolves at bay. And next thing I knew …” She wiped her eyes again.

  Hattie rested her hands on her knees, her breath coming in great gasps and her head spinning. She thought she might throw up, though she hadn’t eaten anything since the picnic the night before. Could Daisy be right? It sounded too horrible, but something about it rang true with things Sally had been saying since she arrived, about how much she cared and how she stood between Hattie and destitution.

  “You just res
t, Daisy dear. I’ll hurry down to the kitchen and ask the cook for a poultice or some oil for your bruises and those awful cuts.” She patted Daisy’s arm, then dressed quickly. As she pinned the last hairpin, securing it in a chignon at the back of her head, she scurried from the room and down the long hall.

  Hattie couldn’t think about Daisy’s words just then. She had to keep moving. There was nothing she could do about it right now except help her friend, so that’s what she set her mind to. Then, when it was quiet later and she was alone with her thoughts, she’d think it all through. That would be the time to figure out a way forward.

  Ed rubbed his wrist and grimaced. He’d taken a spill from his horse a week before when crossing a creek on the trail of what was now being called “the Miller Gang.” His wrist had taken the bulk of his weight and was still tender. He turned his hand in a slow circle, working out the kinks, and fumed over his personal failure to track the men down.

  He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood with a yawn. He wasn’t the type of man who enjoyed sitting for long, but sometimes there was paperwork and he was the only one who could do it. Out of habit, he checked that the handgun on his left hip was loaded, flicking it open and spinning the chamber to count the bullets, then making sure the safety was still on. He closed and reholstered it, then repeated the procedure for the one on his opposite hip. “I’m just headin’ out for a bit,” he told Hans, who sat behind his desk with his feet propped on it.

  Hans didn’t move. His hat rested jauntily over his face, a light snore resounding from beneath it.

  Lee glanced up from where he was stacking playing cards one on top of the other to build a paper fort. “Hokay, boss. See you later.”