Courting Trouble

by Deeanne Gist

  Feeling awkward and a bit conspicuous, she picked up the sheet music on the upright piano and focused on the pieces she’d be sight-reading. A few minutes later the rest of the orchestra joined her but did not take the time to tune up. Instead, the lights dimmed and Mr. Creiz conducted them in the prelude.

  The music moved quickly and robustly. Essie’s fingers flew across the keys, and by the time they hit the crescendo she was out of breath. The men whistled and stomped. The lights went out. The curtain rose.

  Essie slipped through a side door in the pit, skirting the auditorium and entering the deserted lobby, where statues and friezes of nymphs, cherubs, and winged figures decorated the hall. The gold carpet cushioned the sound of her heels.

  She found Adam by the balcony steps. He beckoned her over and she hurried to his side.

  ‘‘Come on,’’ he said, ducking under the rope that cut off the balcony entrance.

  ‘‘It’s closed,’’ she said. ‘‘No one else is up there, are they?’’

  ‘‘No, ma’am.’’ He lifted the rope. ‘‘It’s reserved. For the two of us.

  Now, hurry before someone sees us.’’

  She dipped under the rope and followed him up the steps. At the top, the sudden darkness disoriented her. He grasped her hand and tugged. Instead of leading her to the first, or even second, row of seats, he settled them into the buzzard roost at the very back of the deserted balcony.

  The stage had been transformed into a fancy ballroom, complete with flamboyant wall sconces, chandeliers, grand paintings, and gigantic windows. A lovely woman in a lavish gown sat center stage, earnestly visiting with an imaginary gentleman.

  Her voice was high, affected, and gushingly southern. ‘‘Ah, so kind of you to find me this charming nook, Mistah Rushah. I feel some bettah now, thank you. And I believe I would like a cup of chocolate.’’ She waved her handkerchief and called after the imaginary man, ‘‘Vewah light refreshments, Mr. Rushah, vewah light!’’

  Adam rested his arm on the back of Essie’s chair, running a finger along her shoulder. She pretended not to notice. But behind her schooled features, she was paying very strict attention.

  When the imaginary gentleman left the stage, the southern belle’s manner changed entirely. She leaned back on the settee, sighed, and spoke to the audience in a natural voice. ‘‘Thank goodness that insipid specimen is gone. That ponderous old Smith came down full weight on my foot!’’

  She thrust her foot before her. ‘‘These slippers are several sizes too small but so Parisian, you know.’’ Sitting up, she took a furtive look around. ‘‘I don’t believe anyone is looking. I’m going to slip this one off—just got to stretch my poor toes a little!’’

  The woman crossed her legs and began to slowly lift the hem of her skirt. The men in the audience shouted and whistled. When she’d exposed one stocking-clad leg up to her knee, she bent forward.

  The neck of her bodice gaped, causing another roar of approval from the men. She ran her hands down her calf and made quite a show of removing her shoe.

  Essie watched with horror and fascination, her heart hammering in her chest. Adam’s hand made its way to the back of her neck. He slipped a finger inside the top edge of her collar and moved it back and forth like a pendulum.

  ‘‘Gracious!’’ the belle exclaimed. ‘‘I’ve danced a hole as big as a dollar in my stocking.’’ She leaned back and lifted her foot in the air, exposing her toes and rotating her ankle round and round. A profusion of petticoats teased the men, offering them brief glimpses of her legs.

  ‘‘My, what a relief to have that shoe off,’’ she sighed.

  Adam leaned closer, placing a kiss on Essie’s neck. She caught her breath, then closed her eyes as he continued his foray, only to reopen one eye when the actress continued with her monologue.

  ‘‘Here comes an English lord,’’ the actress said, ‘‘strutting with importance, like the peacock he is.’’

  Adam touched her chin, turning it toward him and gaining her full attention. He lowered his lips to hers.

  ‘‘I’m going to shock him,’’ the actress said. ‘‘Shatter his delicate English nerves. I’ll play the wild, woolly Western girl.’’

  Their kiss deepened and he slipped his arms about her. She touched his face, exploring it as if she were blind. Learning the texture of his skin, the angle of his jaw, the softness of his eyebrows.

  ‘‘We believe in women’s rights out West, Lord Catchum.’’ The actress’s voice had turned loud and nasal. ‘‘Disgusting? Not a bit. Did you ever see any Western women? Didn’t? Missed the experience of a lifetime. They’re awful smart. I’m a specimen.’’

  The armrest bit into Essie’s side. Adam took her hands and placed them behind his neck, then he began to explore her face, but with his lips.

  ‘‘Why, they know as much about business as the men do. Yes, sir, they doctor, practice law, and extract teeth without pain. Then they make things red-hot for the saloon people—especially in Texas.’’

  The men in the main gallery below them hooted and bellowed. Adam’s hands roamed, igniting an intense, deep desire. She didn’t scold him for his boldness but instead wondered what he’d do if she were just as bold with him.

  ‘‘How do they look? Purty well, as a whole. Most of them got rather big waists, but then, there’s lots o’ air out there in Texas that’s got to be breathed, and they couldn’t do it harnessed in an eighteen-inch belt.’’

  Adam groaned and rested his forehead against hers. ‘‘I don’t know how much more o’ this I can take, sugar,’’ he whispered.

  ‘‘You want to stop?’’ she asked. ‘‘Why?’’

  He grasped her head between his hands and kissed her hard on the lips. ‘‘Let’s get outta here.’’

  ‘‘The orchestra.’’

  ‘‘Leave it. You shouldn’t be playin’ for this kinda show anyway.’’

  He picked his hat up off the seat next to him, put it on, and ushered her to the exit. Pausing, he pulled her against him and kissed her soundly one last time while cloaked within the theater’s darkness.

  ‘‘I’ll overlook your breach of propriety in not proposing to me,’’ the actress scolded. ‘‘You look startled, Mr. Catchum.’’

  Adam released her. ‘‘Come on,’’ he whispered.

  They’d almost made it down the stairs when Adam stopped short.

  Uncle Melvin stood in the lobby, his widened gaze tracking their descent, his sheriff ’s badge twinkling in the gaslight. For a moment he was frozen like one of the statues, but he quickly came to life.

  ‘‘Just what do you two think you’re doing?’’ he hissed, striding toward them, displeasure evident in his expression.

  Essie caught her breath, her pulse shooting up to an alarming level, and she quickly touched the back of her hair to make sure all was in place.

  Adam held up the rope.

  Forcing down her panic, she slipped under it. ‘‘Good evening, Uncle.’’

  ‘‘Don’t ‘good evening’ me. What’s going on?’’

  ‘‘Why, nothing. I’m playing incidental music with the orchestra, but Adam came to tell me he didn’t think it a good idea for me to stay.’’

  ‘‘What were you doing in the balcony?’’

  ‘‘I couldn’t very well sit in the auditorium with the men.’’

  Uncle Melvin glanced between the two of them. ‘‘Why didn’t you stay in the pit?’’

  ‘‘I tried, but when the woman on stage began to remove her slippers, I became uncomfortable and retreated to the balcony.’’

  He absorbed this bit of information and she hoped the barrage of questions was over and that he wouldn’t catch her in her lies. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could create answers without tripping herself up.

  ‘‘What about you?’’ he asked Adam.

  ‘‘I saw her outside during the before-show parade. When she left the pit, I followed to make sure she was all right.’’

  Mr. Garitty,
president of the Opera House, joined them. White hair encircled the sides of his head, leaving the top shiny. ‘‘Is there a problem, Sheriff?’’

  Uncle Melvin turned. ‘‘Did you know Essie was playing in the pit tonight?’’

  He shook his head. ‘‘Not until I saw her during the overture and asked Mirus about it.’’

  ‘‘She has no business being here.’’

  ‘‘I agree. If I’d known earlier, I would have warned her.’’

  Essie touched Uncle Melvin’s sleeve. ‘‘I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to ascertain what show is playing next time. But no harm done. Adam has said he wouldn’t mind seeing me home.’’

  The sheriff scrutinized her. After a moment, he moved his attention to Adam. ‘‘I’ll take her home, Currington. You can return to the show.’’

  ‘‘It’s no trouble for me, sir,’’ Adam said.

  ‘‘Nor me.’’

  Adam looked at her. ‘‘Well, then. Good evening to you, Miss Spreckelmeyer.’’ He touched the rim of his hat and pushed through the main entrance of the theater, the door clicking shut behind him.

  ————

  Essie guided Cocoa out of the livery to where Uncle Melvin waited. So far, she’d managed to keep her irritation in check. But she was not at all pleased at having her evening cut short.

  They rode together in silence. When they turned onto her street, the anticipated lecture began.

  ‘‘That was a fool thing you were doing back there, girl.’’

  She said nothing.

  ‘‘What possessed you?’’

  ‘‘I’ve never been to a ten-cent show. How was I to know what it was like?’’

  He tipped his hat back and scanned the sky. ‘‘You’re not talking to your pa. You’re talking to me. So quit stretching the blanket. You know good and well there’s a reason you ain’t never been to a ten-cent show. Now, what were you doing there?’’

  ‘‘I went there for a clandestine meeting with an unsavory man,’’ she snapped. ‘‘What do you think I went there for?’’

  He yanked his horse to a stop. She kept going.

  ‘‘You better stop that thing right this minute or I’ll hobble your ears.’’

  She stopped.

  He pulled up next to her. ‘‘Your mother’s been tellin’ my Verdie that you’ve been acting something awful lately. I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. What’s gotten into you?’’

  ‘‘Oh, I’m sorry,’’ she sighed. ‘‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off.’’

  He touched his ankles to his horse’s side. She did the same.

  ‘‘Wanna talk about it?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Not particularly.’’

  ‘‘Well, I don’t know if I’m gonna give you a choice this time.’’

  She looked down at the reins in her hands. ‘‘I’m just tired, is all.’’

  ‘‘Tired? Of what?’’

  ‘‘Of being pestered for riding a bike. Of being scolded for acting like a man when I’m helping Papa with the business. Of having my every move criticized. Mother called me an old maid, you know.’’

  He sucked in his breath. ‘‘That ain’t true.’’

  ‘‘Oh, but it is.’’ A rush of renewed anger swept through her. ‘‘And that’s when I decided that if I was going to live the rest of my life in that house, then I was going to make a few changes. And it was going to start with Mother.’’

  They rode into her yard and he watched her dismount. ‘‘Just what is it you plan on doin’?’’

  ‘‘I’m not a child, Melvin. I’m thirty years old. It’s time to cut the apron strings. Live my own life. And if that means playing the piano at the ten-cent show, then I will do so. And I don’t care what Mother or anybody else says.’’

  She walked Cocoa to the barn, suppressing the urge to say even more. Melvin dismounted and followed, holding Cocoa while Essie shoved the bar up and pulled the massive barn door open.

  ‘‘Thank you,’’ she said, reaching for Cocoa’s reins.

  He didn’t release them. ‘‘Go on inside, girl. I’ll put her up for you.’’

  ‘‘No. I know you have things to do. I can do it.’’

  He touched her elbow. ‘‘You’ll ruin your gown. Now, go on.’’

  She hesitated. ‘‘You sure?’’

  He nodded. When she reached the back door, she looked at her uncle. He stood by the barn, watching her.

  ‘‘Are you gonna tell Mother where I was?’’

  ‘‘I thought you didn’t care about her opinion anymore.’’

  She fingered the buttons on her coat. ‘‘I don’t. But that’s no reason to borrow trouble.’’

  He took his time answering. ‘‘Those ten-cent shows can get purty rough, Essie. Tonight’s was not so bad. But most of the gals up on that stage—or worse, the ones in the audience—aren’t even fit for a drinkin’ man to hole up with. If you start playin’ piano for them, the fellas are gonna think you’re something that you’re not.’’

  She dropped her gaze.

  ‘‘Is that what you want? You want your name to come up right alongside the names of those saloon gals who bare more hide than an Indian?’’

  ‘‘Of course not,’’ she whispered.

  ‘‘Then you better tell Creiz you ain’t playing for any more of them ten-cent shows.’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir,’’ she replied, then slipped inside and gently closed the door behind her.

  ————

  Melvin put Cocoa to bed, then returned to the Opera House. As town sheriff, he tried not to stray too far from the ten-cent show, in case of trouble. But he’d never expected to find his niece in attendance.

  Moving into the lobby, he headed to the west wall, trying to reconcile in his mind what all she’d said to him, none of which bode well.

  He wished he’d not revealed his presence to her. That way, he could have followed and seen for himself what was going on, if anything. With Currington involved, though, their actions were immediately suspect.

  Essie might be thirty years old. She might think she was all grown up. But she always saw the good in people. Never the bad. And if Currington had designs on her, she’d be a sitting duck.

  Melvin positioned himself against a column in the theater’s lobby and waited. When the show ended, the men poured out. Adam was easy to find, being taller than most.

  Melvin pushed his way through the crush and grabbed Adam’s arm. ‘‘You got a minute?’’

  They stepped to the side, letting the others swarm past.

  ‘‘Sheriff,’’ Adam said.

  According to the judge, this boy was hardworking, responsible, and good with Jeremy. So what was it that just didn’t sit right?

  ‘‘I wasn’t happy to see my girl here tonight,’’ Melvin said.

  ‘‘No, sir. I felt the same way when I saw her.’’ Adam shook his head. ‘‘She’s awful smart about some things, but I’m thinkin’ she wouldn’t be able to tell the skunks from the house cats.’’

  Melvin pulled a toothpick out of his inside pocket and worked it in between his teeth. ‘‘And which are you, Currington? A skunk or a house cat?’’

  Adam took a hard look at the sheriff. ‘‘I’m not gonna take offense at that ’cause I know yer just concerned about Miss Spreckelmeyer. But if anybody else had asked, I’d o’ kicked ’im so far it would take a bloodhound six weeks just to find his smell.’’

  ‘‘You threatenin’ me, son?’’

  ‘‘Just statin’ a fact, sir.’’

  ‘‘Well, then, let me state a fact for you,’’ he said, pointing the toothpick at Adam. ‘‘I put a lot of stock in my girl. I find out somebody’s been playin’ her, and he’ll end up shaking hands with St. Peter. I can promise you that.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be sure to pass that along, sir.’’ Adam touched his hat and headed down the stairs to the street.

  chapter FIFTEEN

  ESSIE THOUGHT OF ADAM constantly, yet she still forced herself
to stay away from the fields until Friday. She knew Jeremy wouldn’t have given her presence a second’s notice, but she didn’t want to risk being discovered, nor risk losing Adam by being too forward.

  Hamilton had said men liked to do the chasing. So she’d decided if Adam wanted to see her, he’d figure out a way. Only, he hadn’t.

  Maybe he had decided to lay low for a while after their close call at the Opera House. Whatever the reason, she’d not seen hide nor hair of him.

  But no matter, for today was Friday and today she’d take the boys some lunch. She wanted to wear a skirt instead of her bicycle costume, so she left in plenty of time to walk out to the Twelfth Street fields.

  The sun warmed her skin, counteracting the briskness of October’s air. The few trees sprinkling town offered bouquets of red, yellow, and orange foliage.

  She hoped she hadn’t overdone it with her toilet. The grayish green gown she wore had a short Louis Seize coat with a cutaway that opened widely onto a double-breasted white vest with two rows of buttons. A large cravat of white chiffon draped her bust, and a green straw hat trimmed with ribbon and black plumes perched smartly atop her head.

  Adam didn’t even try to conceal his pleasure at seeing her. He stepped back from the rig, wiped his neck and forehead with his large red handkerchief and tracked her progress as she approached.

  He took in her attire and her hat. She felt a spurt of pride. Hats were her one weakness. The wider, the taller, the more ornate, the more she liked them.

  And wearing a fabulous hat would be rather pointless if the rest of her ensemble was lacking. So, she found herself indulging in the very latest of fashions.

  ‘‘Miss Essie,’’ he said, ‘‘you are the purtiest thing I ever did see.’’

  ‘‘Hello, Adam. And thank you.’’

  ‘‘What’d ya bring us?’’ Jeremy asked.

  She handed him the basket. ‘‘Why don’t you go pick us out a spot of shade. We’ll be right there.’’

  Jeremy grabbed the basket and hustled toward the big bois d’arc tree.

  ‘‘Where ya been?’’ Adam asked. ‘‘How come you haven’t been out here all week?’’