Imitations of a Lady

by Kate Marie Clark

  Cora had chosen a blue dress, the color she imagined of the sea and consequently, her favorite of Charlotte Albany’s gifts. The gown was simple, yet bold and different. Lettie Williams wore only muted pastels and pinks with overdone laces and ribbons, and Cora’s attempts at fitting into that mold had been exhausted.

  Mrs. Davis had instructed all the Davis men about Milton and the truth about Cora. None seemed so surprised, except for Jesse. Though Cora’s companion assured her of her safety, agitation had eased its way into Cora’s chest, into her fidgety fingertips. And so, Cora did what she did best—she prepared to take matters into her own hands. She put her revolver in her skirt pocket to alleviate her anxiety, praying she wouldn’t have to use it.

  “Your punch,” Jesse said, handing her the glass.

  Cora smiled. “Thank you.” She took a sip.

  Jesse cleared his throat. “Your welcome, Cora.” He inhaled, shaking his head. “Still feels strange to call you anything but Miss Williams.”

  “I imagine so,” she said, studying his face. “But I’m still the same woman you’ve known this last month—at least the parts you cared for, the real parts.”

  He lifted his gaze, settling on hers. “I want to believe that… I mean, I do… It’s just a lot to take in.”

  Cora’s lips parted. She understood, far better than he could imagine. Though the guilt that had plagued her the last month was finally free, a new feeling had taken its place—regret. She hoped she could pick up the pieces of her mistakes.

  “Jesse,” she said, tugging on his arm. “I’m here now, willing to show you exactly the type of woman I am, and the type I’m not.”

  She handed him her glass and turned on her heels. She reached the platform-stage, where Mrs. Davis sat—the most prominent position of the party.

  “Cora,” Mrs. Davis said, wafting her fan. The evening air was uncomfortably hot. “What have you done, leaving my grandson to himself? Some lady will try to steal him, perhaps that abominable Miss Clemens.”

  “About that,” Cora said, smiling. “I wondered if I might open the dancing with a song.”

  Mrs. Davis narrowed her eyes. “You mean, show these people how it’s really done?”

  “More precisely—I’d like to show Jesse just what I’ve been working so hard to hide.” Cora grasped her companion’s hand. “I’m afraid not everyone is so forgiving of my impersonation of Miss Williams.”

  “Ha.” Mrs. Davis pulled Cora closer. “Only shows he cares for you,” she whispered, pinching Cora’s cheek. She pulled herself from the overstuffed chair and clapped her hands together, commanding the gathering. “My friends, thank you for supporting the thirty-third annual Davis Stampede. To begin our night, I wish to introduce you to my personal companion, and talented friend, Miss Cora Burns. She’ll be favoring us with the first song of the evening.”

  Cora closed her eyes for a moment and lifted her shoulders. She’d play no piano this time, offer no accompaniment. Instead, she’d sing alone. It was the most she could do to show Jesse. Cora Burns was not about appearances or pretensions or anything she’d pretended. She was about authenticity and having the courage to make her voice heard.

  And so she opened her mouth and sang the first note of Amazing Grace.

  Chapter 22

  Jesse’s eyes grew dry. He’d hardly blinked since Cora began to sing. And if the reaction of those gathered to dance were any indication of her performance—the town of Overstead was equally as moved. They stood in awe, some with tears streaming down their cheeks. When Jesse had first heard Cora sing, her timbre was rich and hypnotizing, effortless and bold. But this time, there was something more; this time, Cora Burns sang for him.

  He caught his breath, unconsciously filing through the guests to catch a better view of this beautiful, courageous woman—a woman left by her own mother at a tender age, but a woman that still managed to stand on firmly planted feet.

  A single note and his worries had fled? It was strange, unnatural. He wrestled within himself for a moment more. He couldn’t give in to her charms so easily. He needed to make her repent and regain his favor.

  Yet, the purity of her voice rang out, pulling him back to the present. He’d seen pieces of this woman from the start, and those were the pieces he’d cherished. Her temper, independence and bravery, her get-it-done attitude, and her tenderness.

  Cora Burns was just the woman for Jesse, and he hoped to deserve such a lady.

  When she finished singing, the crowd gave a thunderous applause and Cora bowed before stepping down to Jesse’s side.

  “Well done, my dear,” Grams said, lifting her hands. “Shall we get on with the dancing now?”

  A fiddle strain broke out behind her, and lively cheers sent the crowd dancing.

  Jesse narrowed the space between him and Cora. What could he say after such a performance? He bit the edge of his lower lip. “Mighty fine singing.”

  Cora smiled. “Thank you.”

  Jesse was tempted to scoop her up in that moment and kiss her squarely on the lips. But reason restrained him, and instead he took her hands and led her to the dance.

  As they spun in circles and skipped down the line, Cora’s brows grew heavy, knitting together like her tangled embroidery Jesse pretended not to witness. “What is it?” he asked, following her gaze.

  “I think I saw Milton.”

  Jesse pulled her closer. “Where?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure. It was only a flash, but I hardly slept last night, and I can’t tell if it was him or only my fancies. I do have quite the imagination.”

  “Then I’ll be sticking to your side for the rest of the evening. I won’t let him harm you.”

  She met his gaze, and the tension flooding her forehead relaxed. “I hope it won’t come to that. I hope Maggie was wrong, but if she wasn’t, I won’t let him take me either.”

  Jesse tightened his grip at her waist. “We’ll be quite the inseparable pair. Grams will have a hoot.”

  Cora grinned. “She’s a dear, kind soul—that grandmother of yours.”

  “Kind… I hadn’t thought of that as her defining quality before yesterday’s breakfast, but you know, I think you’re right. Grams is much better than I give her credit for.”

  “To think she knew all along—” Cora laughed, shaking against his side. “She’s quite the woman.”

  He rubbed a hand along his jaw, where a blush was rising. Jesse had never heard a prettier sound than Cora’s laugh—not her piano playing or talk, or even her breathtaking singing. He could get used to such a laugh. His eyes fell to her lips, and the urge from minutes before washed over him once more but with greater strength, greater urgency.

  “What is it?” Cora asked, looking up at him. “You look as if you’re contemplating the wonders of life.”

  He nodded, and a grin snuck across his lips. His eyes lifted to hers, then returned to her lips. “You could say that.”

  She laughed again, this time soft and spellbinding. “I believe you wish to kiss me, Mr. Davis.”

  “And what would you say to that?”

  She wrapped her hands around his neck and pushed to her tip toes. Her lips were dangerously close to his, and he could almost taste the punch on her breath.

  “I wouldn’t protest, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cora said. Her voice was throaty and cracked, immensely appealing.

  He closed the gap, bending down and lifting her simultaneously. Her lips melded with his, soft and tenderly at first and then with increasing movement and longing. Jesse, pulled back to break for air. Cora Burns was deliciously and wonderfully wild, a refreshing change from every other woman Jesse had known. What effect might this woman have on him if he were to continue kissing her? Jesse leaned down, determined to discover the answer…

  That’s when he saw the man behind her. The scar above his bristly lip, the size of his muscular build, the darkness of his soulless eyes. Jesse didn’t need Cora to tell him who it was. Milton had come for he
r.

  “Thought you’d escape me and play dress up?” Milton asked, leaning in.

  Jesse pulled Cora to his side and stepped in front of her. “You won’t be bothering Miss Burns. She ain’t your property, and she never was.”

  Milton laughed, repositioning the holster at his hips. “Is that so? I’ll be. You found yourself a real gentleman, Cora—something I never thought possible.”

  Milton lifted a fist to Jesse, and Jesse moved to the side.

  And then, Jesse’s world went black.

  Chapter 23

  Cora gasped, falling beside Jesse’s limp frame. He’d tipped backward and into a barrel of hay at the side of the stage, escaping the attention of the overcrowded dance.

  Cora had already prepared to send a bullet through Milton’s cold, dark heart, but this…? She lifted her chin, casting a threatening glare to the man towering above her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Milton threw back his head and laughed. “Course I didn’t, but that poor boy would have followed us, putting up a stink the whole way. You should be grateful I used my fist.” He jiggled his holster, twisting the gun into Cora’s sight. “I’m known for my trigger-reflex.”

  Cora dropped her gaze to Jesse and slapped at his cheek.

  Jesse roused, moaned, then fell back to the hay.

  “What do you say we get out of this place, get you back where you belong? You can’t fool these poor people any longer. Once they find out who you are, who your mama was—they’ll be glad to send you packing.”

  Cora swallowed back an angry retort. Milton hadn’t the least idea of the people of Overstead, especially that of the Davis family. They were kind and good, and infinitely forgiving, and they’d promised her a place at their side as long as she desired one. “I’m not what you make me out to be, Milton. These people know my history, and they’re willing to look past it.”

  Milton’s shoulders shook in laughter. Cora had almost forgotten the terrible sound, and the conniving such laughter hinted at. “They might be willing to forgive a simple singing saloon girl, but a prostitute? Most upstanding citizens wouldn’t allow such company.”

  Cora’s face burned in anger. “You know that’s a lie, Milton. I never so much as kissed a man in Crooked Creek.”

  “Is that so?” Milton said, lifting his bushy brows. “Seems like I caught you in the act just now with your gentleman. That kiss hadn’t the look of a first.” He flicked his head to Jesse. “Seems you don’t even remember what you have and haven’t done. Besides, I think they’ll believe my word over yours.”

  Cora stood, planting her feet. She’d imagined this moment, so many times. So many guilt-inducing times. She’d imagined Milton’s last words, the look on his face as he fell to the earth, and the strange sense of victory she’d feel. Cora put her hand to her skirt pocket, and her fingers slid over the revolver inside. Milton deserved a bullet—if not for Cora’s sake, then for Old Jez’s, the other girls, and every other person in Crooked Creek that had suffered at the hands of such a lowlife.

  “I’ve got us tickets on the next train out of here,” Milton said, stepping closer. “You don’t belong here anyhow. You need a permanent stage, a more appreciative crowd. You weren’t made for singing no hymns, Cora.”

  She staggered backward, a sting rising in her chest. Logically, Cora knew he was wrong. Milton only wanted to upset her, coerce her into following him. He knew her weakness, her heaviest sorrow, and deepest heartache. Her mama’s abandonment. The feeling of unworthiness flooded her senses afresh, the sting transforming into torrid torment.

  Milton laughed once more. “Amazing Grace, Cora? Ain’t no grace for the likes of you.”

  His taunt, meant to soften her resolve, sent a calming wave of confidence over her trembling soul. Amazing Grace. The words echoed in her mind and heart. Charlotte Albany’s gifts, Cora’s interesting journey into Overstead, and the glimmer of hope shining brighter each moment—it seemed grace abounded around her. Mrs. Davis and Jesse had shown her more than she deserved, and Maggie had shown Cora more than Cora had known existed. And God? Perhaps all of this was because of His grace.

  Her fingers slipped from the revolver, and she crossed her arms instead. “I won’t be going with you, Milton.”

  His jagged jaw dropped. “Don’t put it past me to shoot if needs be.”

  Cora swallowed. It was always threats with Milton. He got his way one way or another. She couldn’t fight him off if he took her. She couldn’t reason him into changing his mind. But she most certainly couldn’t, and wouldn’t, follow him. She couldn’t shoot him here and now, in front of the Davis family’s celebration.

  A flash of words—Charlotte’s letter. The money. She took a shaky breath. “Would you be willing to leave and never return if I were to bribe you?”

  Milton grinned. “I don’t take five-dollar bribes.”

  Cora closed her eyes, willing the tears to remain at bay. San Francisco, and the little of hope for her future, might slip through her fingers if she didn’t play her cards right. But freedom from this man and the plaguing anger seemed worth the risk. “And what of five hundred?”

  His broken laughter stopped, and for once, Milton was silent.

  She cracked open an eye.

  “You’re bluffing,” he said in reply, but his eyes canvassed her expression. “What are you playing at?”

  Cora sighed. “I’m not like you, Milton. I’m not playing at anything. I’ve five hundred dollars in my possession, and I’m willing to give it you, in its entirety, if you’ll give me your word.”

  Milton jerked his chin higher. “Let’s see it.”

  “Meet me at the back door of the house in five minutes,” Cora said, brushing off her skirt. “But not a word to these good people. I won’t have you causing a scene.”

  “You’ve got my word,” Milton said, chewing on his cheek.

  Cora wanted to sprint, to be free of Milton that moment, but the final act of the play was here, and she wouldn’t risk breaking her character this time. She wouldn’t be found out this time. She plastered her practiced Lettie-Williams smile across her cheeks, and zig-zagged through the crowded pasture, curtsying and greeting acquaintances, all the while knowing Milton would soon follow.

  Chapter 24

  Jesse grasped at his temples and rolled in pain. The fiddle and banjo from his momentary slumber persisted. His saliva tasted of metal and his jaw throbbed in pain. He flickered open his eyes, and the face of Miss Clemens shone down upon him.

  “I just saw you have some run-in with that awful man,” she said, fanning her cheek. “Shall I call the doctor, or perhaps fetch you a glass of punch?”

  That awful man. Jesse shot up, remembering his dance with Cora, in all its glory, and the scoundrel that’d sent him to his slumber. Jesse scanned the dancers, locating the top of Milton’s head. Thank goodness that man was so large.

  “Or shall I take you to the house to clean your wounds?” Miss Clemens said, brushing her fingers over Jesse’s arm. “I can’t stand to see such a strong man so helpless.”

  Helpless? Was that her attempt at offering him a compliment? He brushed a hand through his hair and shook off her touch. “If you’re really serious about wanting to help me, send Jude and my daddy after me. That man you spoke of—he’s dangerous. I can’t let him near Miss Burns.”

  Her face went white. “The Miss Burns that used to be Miss Williams?”

  He sighed in exasperation. Explaining anything to Miss Clemens was of little use. He grunted and picked up his hat from the hay floor. “Like I said, you know what to do if you’d like to help.”

  Jesse took off toward Milton without another word to the woman. Being around her infuriated him and only drove home the reality—Cora Burns was the woman for him. And if he wasn’t quick, he might lose her before he’d a chance to tell her.

  Chapter 25

  Five hundred dollars. Her hands trembled. The stocking was seemingly weightless, considering the importance its contents car
ried. She reached inside and pulled out the bills, waving them before Milton.

  He took the money from her hands, shoving it into his trouser and vest pockets until they bulged. “Well, I’ll be. I’m rich at last.” He placed a heavy hand around the back of her neck. “But you didn’t think I’d really leave without you, did you?”

  Cora’s stomach twisted. Horror flooded her senses, but she held fast. If ever a man was predictable, it was Milton. “Stop,” she cried through chattering teeth. Acting was much easier when one’s life depended upon it. “You promised to leave if I gave you the money.”

  “I promised not to say a word to those good people,” he said, chuckling in triumph.

  She dropped her hand to her pocket once more, fumbling for the gun. The moment had arrived, and if she’d ever doubted her decision, Milton’s greediness and forced hand were enough to reassure her. Behind the house and far from the celebration, Cora would shoot him.

  “The only thing left is to tell you the truth about your mama.”

  “No,” Cora said, shaking her head. He couldn’t play that card, not now, not when everything hung on her composure and determination.

  He ignored her protest and continued. “You want to know why she brought you to Crooked Creek? She could have dropped you anywhere. You must have realized there was a reason she took you there.”

  Cora wriggled from his grasp, falling to the back wall of the house. There was nowhere to go to escape his words. “I won’t believe your lies no more.”

  Milton lifted his hands in the air, as if proof of disarming. “I only speak the truth.”

  She placed her hands to her ears, forgetting the revolver in her skirt. Cora had a sinking feeling that whatever Milton had to say about her mother was more damaging than any weapon he could aim at her.

  “Your mama was one of my girls. She tried to flee to New Mexico when you were a baby, but I found her. She tried to reason away her deserting me after I’d given her a start. But I found her, and like all those that betray me, I gave her the punishment she deserved.”