Lilah hesitated a moment, then turned her back to him. He must have forgotten about buttoning her dress that disastrous night at his hotel. Quite aware Tabor couldn’t see her face, she smiled slyly. Had she known that night what wonders lay in store for her, she wouldn’t have been so quick to run away.
With his jacket tossed over his shoulder, Tabor made quick work of fastening the tiny buttons.
“Thank you,” she said softly, reminded by his warm touch of the gentle magic those fingers could work on her body.
Tabor stood back and looked at her again, his eyes beaming approval. Blue silk swathed her body, accentuating her soft feminine curves. Her hair hung in a cascade of curls rich in color as a vein of gold. The pearls at her throat were the same ones she had once lost in his hotel room. What a long way the two of them had come since then. She wore Delilah’s perfume, the scent that reminded him of Oriental silk and spice and darkened rooms. As he breathed deeply of it, he was suddenly aware of his rapid heartbeat. As it was every time he was close to Lilah, the pull of desire grew stronger. It was by sheer force of will that he stood in the hall and conversed politely instead of luring her to his bed.
“You’ll be the talk of the town, Miss Lilah Damon. I’ll be lucky not to have to fight a dozen cowboys over you.”
She threw her head back and gave an airy laugh. “Between fights, don’t forget I’ll want to dance.”
He shot her a twisted smile. “You’re a heartless witch, woman. Tell Sarah to get a move on or none of us will get in any dancing.” Before he left, Tabor gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
She and Sarah went down together, Sarah in a plum-colored muslin dress with lace collar and short cuffed sleeves, her black eyes sparkling with a youthful light. Lilah met Wyrick Young and felt shame creep over her when her first thought was that the heavyset man with the intriguing white handlebar mustache was Sarah’s lover. Wyrick was utterly charming and had a trace of a southern drawl which he said had followed him all the way from Georgia.
Even the self-assured Sarah pinkened when Wyrick presented her with a nosegay of wildflowers to pin at her waist. Not to be outdone, Tabor presented Lilah with a corsage of white rosebuds trimmed with pink ribbon. She had told Tabor a bald lie when she said white roses were her favorite flower, and yet she found it touchingly sweet that he still remembered the remark. She thought perhaps from now on she would cherish white roses.
Wyrick’s buggy held three comfortably. Tabor rode alongside on a saddle horse. Lilah didn’t give much notice to the length of the ride in; the conversation was too spirited for that.
On the edge of town, music and light poured from the wide-flung doors of Tompkin’s hay barn. Cowboys and ladies in Sunday best clothes strolled the hay-strewn path leading into the lamp-lit interior. The livery, handy next door, had put up a temporary row of hitching rails. Wyrick drew the buggy up to the barn, where Tabor dismounted and assisted Sarah and Lilah down. While the ladies waited, Sarah tapping her foot to a fiddler’s tune, the men moved down the line of horses, buggies, and buckboards.
“All set, ladies,” Wyrick’s deep bass voice boomed over the fiddle’s whine as he and Tabor returned.
The dancing was in progress under the flag-draped lofts. Those who weren’t on the dance floor stood around and clapped while they caught their breaths. As soon as Sarah had given her cake to the ladies in charge of refreshments, Lilah found herself in Tabor’s hold, skipping down a double line of dancers. The only face she knew was that of Sally Ann Caufield, but it wasn’t long before that cool one was replaced by dozens wide with smiles.
When every couple had traveled through the arch, double pairs of dancers broke off and festooned the floor. Lilah lost sight of Tabor but occasionally picked out his laughter in the happy sounds of the dance. The fiddlers never tired and the music went on and on. People around Sandy Flats were a friendly bunch and Lilah discovered most of the cowboys and ranchers dancing the reel already knew her name. Her head spun with trying to keep new names and faces together. She was glad when she twirled into the arms of Wyrick Young.
“Whew!” he said. “Reckon I could talk you off the dance floor and over to the refreshment table for a glass of cool lemonade?”
“With a word,” Lilah answered.
Glad for a short rest, she hooked her arm through Wyrick’s elbow and accompanied him to a corner of the barn where there seemed to be almost as much activity as on the dance floor. Those who hadn’t come to dance, Lilah discovered, came to eat. The choices were good, since every woman around Sandy Flats had spent part of the day baking. Lilah took a glass of lemonade. Wyrick got a slice of Sarah’s cake as well. Once he had introduced her to another dozen people, the two of them found a bench and sat down.
“This your first barn dance, Lilah?” Wyrick asked.
Lilah shook her head. “Papa took me sometimes when I was a little girl, but I never got to dance. I’ve been to my share of balls in London and San Francisco.” She smiled gaily. “But they weren’t like this.”
Wyrick laughed. “I’ve been to a few of those San Francisco soirees myself. A man has to stand around like he’s had a fencepost run down the back of his coat. No, sir. Those pretty affairs aren’t for me.” He pointed to the lively dancers on the floor, laughing and yelling to each other in complete abandon. “This is more my style. Or it was.” He mopped his brow, then went on. “Ten years ago I could have outlasted the best of them.”
The music stopped for a minute, then started up again. A young cowboy walked over and asked Lilah to dance. Wyrick urged her to go on, but Lilah started to refuse, finding it difficult to forget Aunt Emily’s remonstrances that a lady never danced with a gentleman who hadn’t been properly introduced. But when she saw Tabor and Sally Ann glide by she had a quick change of heart. With a petulant smile on her face, Lilah stood and took the cowboy’s arm.
As soon as the dance ended, another cowboy hurried to her side and asked her to dance. The routine continued, and no sooner did the music end than Lilah found herself besieged by requests for the next dance.
Her fourth partner was a rangy boy hardly out of his teens. “I’m Ben and I reckon you’re the Miss Damon staying over at the Cooke ranch.”
“Yes, I am. And you may call me Lilah.”
Ben responded with a boyish smile and a whoop as the fiddler’s strings spurred the dancers to pick up the pace. During the last four dances Lilah had seen Tabor spin by once with an elderly lady who was surprisingly light on her feet. The last two, though, he had again held Sally Ann. Getting in step with the music, she told herself it was quite all right for Tabor to be dancing with Sally Ann. This wasn’t the sort of formal ball she was accustomed to. The number of times partners danced together meant nothing.
In fact there were no formalities at all. The ladies had no dance cards and everyone from the oldest to the youngest took a turn dancing. A spin around the floor meant no more than a howdy on the street. Reminding herself that everyone was here to have a good time, she tried to concentrate on the music and avoiding Ben’s awkward feet. But her eyes kept searching for Tabor’s black hair and Sally Ann’s crimson dress.
“Lilah’s a mighty purty name,” Bent told her loudly. “And I reckon you’re just about the purtiest girl here.” He lowered his voice as he went on. “Ain’t really no need in you being shy about it.”
“Shy?” Forgetting about Tabor and Sally Ann for a moment, Lilah looked into Ben’s smiling face. What an odd thing for a stranger to say. What had prompted it? Inside her head a little bell of warning rang. “Where did you get the idea I’m shy?”
Ben’s face puckered up in annoyance at himself. “Dern my skin!” In his agitation he missed a series of steps and Lilah had to be quick to avoid getting her toes crushed. “I wasn’t supposed to say nothin’ about that. But you can thank your friend Sally Ann for lookin’ out for you.”
Lilah’s temper sped high color to her cheeks, affirming Ben’s belief that she suffered from shyness. Lilah swallowed t
he barbs on her tongue and offered Ben a smile that would have dissolved even a stronger man.
“Sally Ann’s the sweetest thing,” she said softly. “Always looking out for her friends. What is it I ought to thank her for tonight?”
Seeing he hadn’t caused Lilah to become upset, Ben relaxed and told her what she wanted to know. “Sally Ann got the boys together and told them all to be sure to ask you to dance tonight, seein’ as how otherwise Tabor would be stuck with you for every dance. ‘Course none of the boys minded askin’, you bein’ so purty and all.” He winked conspiratorially at her. “No need for you to look for a chair again, ma’am. The boys are gonna keep you dancin’ all night long.”
Poor Ben might not have deserved it, but Lilah stomped his instep anyway. He let out a muffled yelp of pain.
“Oh, Ben! I’m so sorry,” Lilah cried. “I don’t know how that happened. Does it hurt?”
Ben gritted his teeth, unwilling to admit Lilah’s tiny foot had inflicted so much agony. “Just a mite,” he said, his voice climbing.
Fortunately the fiddler stopped about that time. Lilah thanked Ben for the dance, then watched without an ounce of sympathy as he limped off the floor. Hiding herself behind a pair of portly matrons, she scanned the room as the jump-alive music started again. Sally Ann Caufield had a few well-chosen words coming her way and Lilah was in a frame of mind not to care who else heard them.
She forced herself to appear calm when Sarah tapped her arm. “Having a good time?”
“This is all so stimulating,” Lilah replied, keeping her lips fixed in a smile. “Have you seen Tabor?”
“Not for a while.” She glanced around. “He’ll turn up.”
Hanging on to Sally Ann, Lilah thought, that sneaky little cat. With the next dance well started, she decided she wouldn’t be hounded by any more of the cowboys Sally Ann had set on her. Slowly she made her way through the crowd, watching the dancers. Spotting Tabor and Sally Ann exiting the barn’s back door brought a flash of anger across her face. She stopped dead in the floor and got bumped by a boy of about ten brushing by her skirts, his hands and face sticky with taffy candy. The boy gave her an idea. She stopped the youngster.
“Do you know Mr. Tabor Stanton?”
The boy turned his candy-coated face up and smiled at the pretty lady. “Shore do,” he said.
“Well, I’ve been looking all over for him,” Lilah said sweetly. “I think he might be outside. Would you mind stepping out there and telling him there’s a message for him at the refreshment table?” Lilah held out a coin and the boy eyed it covetously.
“Thank you, miss,” he said hollowly. “But my ma wouldn’t let me take no money fer bein’ polite.”
“You take it anyway and buy yourself some more candy,” Lilah told him. She pressed the coin into a gummy hand. “Don’t forget, it’s Mr. Stanton you’re looking for.”
The boy hurried off and Lilah hid behind a stack of wooden boxes near the door. A few minutes later the boy ran back in, and shortly behind him came Tabor and Sally Ann.
“I’ll wait for you here, Tabor,” Sally Ann’s honeyed voice crooned. “Don’t forget my lemonade when you come back.”
Tabor gave her a distracted backward glance and a nod, then cut a path through the crowd to reach the refreshment table across the barn.
Smiling smugly and fanning herself with a Japanese silk fan, Sally Ann waited in the open doorway. She gave a surprised little staccato cry when Lilah appeared and caught her by the elbow.
“Well, Miss Popularity herself.” Sally Ann recovered quickly and smiled. “You’ve become the belle of Sandy Flats tonight,” she said innocently. “It must be that lovely dress.”
Behind her smile Sally Ann appraised the dress and jewels and to her disappointment tallied up a figure that surpassed the cost of her ensemble.
“Maybe it is,” Lilah replied, her voice as falsely sweet. “Or maybe it’s just that the men of Sandy Flats are starved for a look at a pretty face.”
That was too much for Sally Ann. “Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “Why, I arranged...” Sally Ann covered her mouth with her hand.
Lilah took the opportunity to grasp her elbow again, and while Sally Ann still suffered from surprise, ushered her out the door and into the shadows of the barn.
“I know what you arranged, you conniving little wench.”
Sally Ann jerked her elbow free and gave a snickering laugh. “Serves you right,” she said. “Coming down here and interfering in things that are none of your business.”
“And what would that be?” Lilah asked icily.
“Tabor Stanton is my beau,” Sally Ann insisted hotly. “Why, we’re going to be married someday.”
“Oh!” Lilah cocked her head to one side. “Then doesn’t it seem rather peculiar to you that he’s invited me for a visit?” She went on without giving Sally Ann a chance to respond. “And I don’t have to contrive to have a dance with Tabor.”
The truth nettled more than any sharp thing Lilah could have said. Sally Ann’s eyes flashed fire and she swung her hand at Lilah’s cheek. The sound of the slap was as loud as a clap of thunder and echoed in the one Lilah gave her in return. Sally Ann screeched and dove for Lilah, but Lilah quickly stepped aside and Sally, losing her balance tumbled forward, spiraling against a water trough. She caught herself just before she plunged into the water.
She turned to face Lilah.
“Tabor might enjoy a little tryst with you,” she said, her voice cold and mocking. “But when it’s over, he’ll come back to me. We’ve been lovers since the day I turned sixteen. He promised to marry me and he will. You’ll see!” She braced herself on the edge of the water trough and jeered at Lilah. “He only brought you here to make me jealous.”
Sally Ann’s words unleashed something harsh in Lilah. It completely slipped her mind that she wanted nothing more to do with Tabor after the end of the week. All she could see was Sally Ann’s red dress and taunting face and the opportunity she had missed.
Muttering a cry of cold fury, Lilah drove herself into Sally Ann and sent the unfortunate girl toppling backward into the trough. Soaked from head to foot, Sally Ann began a sputtering that quickly became a tearful wail, but in between cries she managed to hurl a lifetime of oaths at Lilah.
Lilah left Sally Ann to climb out of the trough alone. Her cheek still red from Sally Ann’s slap, she marched back through the barn, her head held high. Dancers stopped in mid-step and conversations stopped in mid-sentence as she breezed by. Once she had passed, a tittering of whispered talk started behind her. Lilah ignored the stares, the whispers, everyone.
Baffled because no one at the refreshment table could explain why he had been summoned to receive a message, Tabor claimed a glass of lemonade and started back to Sally Ann. She was being as pesky tonight as she had been as a pigtailed girl following him around town. He hoped the lemonade would pacify her while he gracefully said what needed saying. He was anxious to get away and find Lilah. The last he had seen of her was when she had spun by in the arms of Ben Wagner, her face so intent on the young cowboy’s that she hadn’t even noticed him.
Dammit! He hadn’t expected to get separated from her so early in the evening. And seeing her locking eyes with Ben had irritated him to the point he had almost walked off from Sally Ann and demanded Lilah restrict her dance partners to him alone.
If he hadn’t felt so bad about embarrassing Sally Ann, he would have done it. He’d taken her outside to try to make her understand she ought to set her sights on some other man. But that kid had come along and interrupted, and since Tabor still had Judd Chapman on his mind, he’d rushed inside. While he was tying up his horse, one of the men from the Paradise Saloon had told him a stranger had been in asking about him. He doubted it was Chapman, but the description was close, and as a precaution he had asked that word be sent to him if the man came back.
The kid must have made a mistake, or maybe he was only playing a joke. He supposed Sally Ann was still wai
ting for him by the back door. Before she made a fool of herself and started any more tongues wagging about the way she had asked him to dance, he had to explain things to her. Her infatuation with him was getting out of hand. She’d be mad, but she’d get over it. Anyhow, she had plenty of suitors mooning over her.
Tabor heard a murmur run through the crowd and wondered at the cause of it. The fiddling stopped and he looked around like everybody else. Where the hell was Lilah? He didn’t see her anywhere inside. If she was out walking with one of those skirt-hungry cowboys, there was going to be hell to pay. Where the devil was she?
Like the trapdoor on a gallows, Tabor’s mouth fell open as he came face-to-face with Lilah. He almost spilled Sally Ann’s lemonade when he saw her blazing eyes and fire-red cheek. Nose in the air, she marched past him without a word.
“Lilah!” Had one of those cowboys gotten fresh? Tabor handed the lemonade to the nearest person and caught up with her just as she passed through the main door. He had blood in his eye for whoever had done this to her. “Your face,” he mumbled. “What happened, sweetheart?”
Lilah whirled around and nearly cut him to the ground with her enraged look. “Ask that hussy who’s waiting for you out back,” she hissed, and turned her back on him.
Guessing what had happened, Tabor looked around for Sally Ann. He wondered which of them had gotten the worse of things, then concluded it would turn out to be him. Though Lilah resisted his touch, he led her out of sight of the crowd.
“Don’t move from this spot,” he warned. “I’ll get Sarah and Wyrick and we’ll leave for the ranch.”
Stamping her foot as he walked away, Lilah did precisely the opposite of what he had asked just as soon as he walked in the door.
Tabor hurried through the buzzing crowd. The fiddlers had started up and a few couples had gone back to dancing, but they stopped too when Sally Ann, wet as a drowned cat, stumbled in the back door.
“Just look at me,” she moaned, holding the sodden, dripping crimson skirt away from her legs. She caught sight of Tabor and lifted reproachful eyes to him. “Look at what that San Francisco tart did to me.”
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