Emma prayed for a way out but knew there wasn’t going to be one. She put her hand in Silas’s sweaty one, and he led her out to the dance floor as she looked back to Eliza with dread written on her face. Eliza only showed helplessness, unable to rescue her this time.
The music started, and to Emma’s dismay, the dance required her to have more time spent with her partner than any other dance.
“I noticed you lookin’ out at the barn quite a lot this afternoon, Emma,” Silas said, his breath reeking of onions and rhubarb pie. Not a pleasant mixture at all, she thought. “Were you lookin’ at someone special?” His smile clearly stated that he thought he was the lucky man.
Emma’s eyes were immediately drawn to where Thatcher had been standing before, but he was no longer there. She caught a glimpse of his new crisp, white shirt that had replaced his previously sweat-filled one and frowned as she saw who he was dancing with. Nancy Jane. How that girl got to him so fast was beyond her.
“I was just watchin’ the barn goin’ up. Not lookin’ at anyone in particular.” Emma was a horrible liar, and anyone who heard her knew it.
She looked to Silas who was smiling slyly, the sight of it making her cringe. She usually had the patience to deal with people but not in that moment and certainly not with that man.
Taking a deep breath, Emma tried to concentrate on other things, not on the fact that Thatcher was dancing with Nancy Jane, or that she herself was dancing with a man whose belly reached her own.
“It sure is a pretty night,” she said, hoping to make light conversation before Silas could return to the topic of why he and Emma would be perfect together.
“Not as perty as you are, Em,” he said.
Well, that didn’t work, she thought. Fighting the urge to sneer at his calling her such an intimate name, her eyes darted to Thatcher again, and a blush rose to her cheeks as the handsome man caught her starting. She immediately looked away, the frustration in his eyes intimidating. Was he annoyed with Nancy Jane or…or was it Emma herself for staring at him so much?
Her brow furrowed with worry until she saw Silas glance over his shoulder to see who she had been watching. He directed his attention back on her, his chin jutting forward. “I don’t like that Deakon boy,” he said.
She was immediately fixated on his comment. “Why not?” she asked, genuinely shocked.
“He’s a proud feller who ain’t got a penny to his name,” Silas said. “And I ain’t goin’ to back down ’cause of him like them other boys did. I can ask you to dance if I want to.”
Back down like the other boys. What was he talking about? Did he mean to say that the men weren’t asking her to dance because of Thatcher?
The other men in the town were the least of her concerns, however, as Silas continued. “If’n he was smart he’d get on out of town here and find other people the likes of him. His kind don’t belong here.”
“His kind?” Her jaw clenched, anger filling her soul. The man was absolutely crazy! Thatcher fit more in Thundercreek than Silas himself did!
“Yeah, his kind,” he continued. “He’s a good for nothin’ cowboy who’ll amount to nothin’.”
All respect Emma had for Silas Gyver, what little there had been, disappeared in that instant. But before she could say a word in Thatcher’s defense the song ended. She dropped Silas’s hand like a heavy hammer and, not wanting to be near him further, said, “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Gyver,” and walked away.
“Don’t go too far, you hear,” he called after her. “I’ve got more dances for you!”
“Well doesn’t he beat all,” she muttered quietly, not believing the audacity of the man, saying such rude things about as great of a man as Thatcher Deakon, her good friend, and then expecting her to dance with him again.
She scanned the crowd looking for Eliza but was unable to find her. The music for another dance began, so she moved off the dance area completely and stood near the outskirts, hoping to spot her from there. Although she didn’t want to dance with Silas ever again, she’d always had a hard time with refusing people. Eliza, on the other hand, wouldn’t be afraid to help her out.
Another song began, another dance alone, and Emma started to lose faith in the man who had made her promise to dance with him on more than one occasion. Why had he not asked her yet? And why had he already danced with Nancy Jane?
More songs continued, and Emma began to feel hot in her blue dress, though the night was much cooler than any they’d had that summer. Fanning herself with her fingers, she tried to cool herself down. She spotted Silas Gyver again walking towards her with a possessive grin on his face, and she grimaced. No, no, she thought, not again. I can’t possibly do it again! Her eyes darted around the crowd for an escape, but she was stuck.
Just when the man reached her, Emma’s heart skipped with joy as Seth stepped in between them. “Sorry, Gyver,” he said, tucking Emma’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “It’s my turn to dance with her.”
“Well, alright,” Silas said, frowning, “just don’t take her for too long.”
Seth didn’t bother answering, and Emma clung to her brother as they walked away. “Thank you so much, Seth! I couldn’t have danced with him again!”
“No problem, Em,” Seth said with a smile. “You just have to stand up for yourself, you know? Tell him ‘no’ next time he comes ’round.”
“I just couldn’t do that. I’m too chicken,” she said, pursing her lips.
“Ain’t that the truth.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma asked as the music started, slightly offended.
“It means,” Seth started with a pointed look, “why don’t you make your way over there and tell Thatcher you want to dance with him.”
“I would never do somethin’ like that, Seth,” Emma said.
“Don’t I know it. And don’t he know it, too! Just go on and try it. You never know. Somethin’ good might just come out of you bein’ bold for once.”
Emma only shook her head. She looked to Seth and was relieved to see that he was smiling and still happy with her even if she was a coward. “Thanks again, Seth.”
He nodded, and they carried on dancing. Emma saw Thatcher dancing with yet another young lady, a nearby settler’s daughter who wasn’t afraid to make her intentions known. Trying to shake the feeling of sickness and worry away, Emma told herself that she shouldn’t be feeling that way about a man she hadn’t known for very long. She couldn’t help it, though.
Her stomach churned, and Emma was relieved when the fast-paced dance wrapped up. Though she did enjoy herself, she knew she needed to sit down, or she was going to reveal the contents of her stomach to everyone on the dance floor. The second the dance ended, she saw a bustle of girls practically running towards Thatcher’s side, all wanting to get the next dance with him.
It only made matters worse for Emma. Far worse. She sighed, shaking her head. She didn’t know how much longer she could take this.
***
Thatcher watched Emma walk off the dance area with Seth and tried to follow her, but the gaggle of women around him stopped him in his tracks. He wished James wasn’t engaged so he could take some of them off him and let Thatcher finally dance with Emma.
Staring and trying to get her attention, he thought of how attractive she looked, that blue dress framing her womanly figure beautifully, making her perfect blue eyes stand out even more. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and dance until the night ended.
“Oh, Thatcher, honey!” came the shrill voice he had soon come to despise. “It’s my turn for another dance, suga’!”
He saw Emma turn and glance at him, but before he could even wave, she turned the opposite direction without a smile. Frowning in confusion and unable to say anything in protest, he let Nancy Jane lead him again to the floor.
***
Trying not to notice that Thatcher was once again dancing with Nancy Jane, Emma finally found Eliza who had taken to a chair in her exhaustion
. “That dance of yours and Seth’s looked mighty fun, Em!” Eliza said. “I sure wish I had the energy to get out there and dance like I used to.”
Emma smiled. “Don’t worry, Eliza. Next gathering, come Christmas, you’ll be ready to hop up and down again.”
Eliza laughed, but her smile soon faded as she eyed Emma. “Em, honey,” she said softly, pulling her down to sit in the chair next to her, “what’s wrong?”
“Oh nothin’. I’m just tired.” She tried to give a reassuring smile, but it turned into some sort of a grimace. Oh well. She already knows I’m lyin’.
“I already know you’re lyin’, Em,” Eliza said.
See, she thought wryly.
“Now tell me what’s on your mind.”
Emma didn’t have to say a word. All she did was look to where Nancy Jane was pushing herself closer to Thatcher and Eliza knew everything. “Why that little hussy,” Eliza said, her teeth clenched together. “I’d like to bend her over my knee and give her a good wallopin’!”
“I don’t think she’d fit on your lap, honey,” Seth said, coming up behind her and kissing the top of her head.
The three of them smiled at the idea as they watched Nancy Jane fawning all over Thatcher and sneering at all the women who passed by and watched her jealously.
“But I’m sure Emma wouldn’t mind takin’ over for you there, Eliza.” Seth said. “What with the way she’s glarin’ up a storm at her.”
Emma realized she was scowling and raised her brows.
Eliza and Seth laughed. “Come on, darlin’,” Seth said, tugging gently on his wife’s hand. “Let’s get you out on that dance floor.”
“Oh, Seth,” Eliza protested, “I don’t think I could. I’m plum tired enough as it is.”
“Nonsense, sugar,” he said with a wink and an exaggerated grunt as he pulled her up on her feet. “We’ll take it easy.”
They waved to Emma who was once again on her own, and she sighed. Well, she thought, sitting alone sure as all get out beats dancin’ with Silas Gyver again.
A few women came over to speak with Emma, asking how the inn was doing and how she was holding up. The conversations were always pleasant, but Emma just wasn’t in the mood to speak much that night.
Feeling restless, she stood and walked towards the refreshment table, pouring herself a glass of the lemonade left over from lunch that afternoon. She let the tangy liquid slide down her throat, and she shuddered with delight from the sour taste. However, her delight was short-lived as she felt someone standing close, watching her.
“Why, Miss Marchant,” came the high-pitched voice from behind, “what’re you doin’ over here all by your lonesome?”
How could she handle it? “I was thirsty, Nancy Jane. That’s why I’m over here with a glass in my hand.”
She knew the comment wasn’t kind, but she didn’t let it bother her too bad as she continued to drink, her back turned to the young woman until she gained the nerve to turn around and face her.
Nancy Jane was beautiful, there was no denying it. Her blonde hair was piled up in an elegant chignon, curls spilling out on either side, her green dress accentuating her eyes. She was the envy of every girl there. Seeing her beauty close up proved only to upset Emma further, and Nancy Jane knew it.
Unnerved and exhausted, Emma moved her gaze to the dance area. There, Thatcher was dancing with yet another girl, and Emma felt her heart break in two. Why would he be with all those other women when she thought he wanted to dance with her? The evening couldn’t go on much longer, was he waiting until the end to ask her? Or had he asked all those other women to save him dances, as well? She couldn’t breathe.
“He’s quite handsome, my Thatcher,” Nancy Jane said, looking in the same direction Emma was. “Don’t you think?”
Emma tried to shake off her words, but everything pointed to the fact that what she was saying could be true. Perhaps he was Nancy Jane’s.
When Emma didn’t respond, Nancy Jane continued. “You know, he asked me to dance this song, too, but I told him we simply can’t anymore. People will start to talk and all.”
Emma remained silent, unable to remove her eyes from the man who caused turmoil in her heart, mind, and soul.
“I wouldn’t bother starin’ at him so much if I were you, Emma Marchant,” she carried on. “He’ll probably be more annoyed with you if you keep it up.”
“More annoyed?” Emma said, flushing red at being caught staring at him, and by Nancy Jane, no less.
Her smug smile stretched across her smooth skin. “Yes. That’s all he seems to talk about, how annoyin’ you can be. What with him havin’ to save you from that horse you couldn’t control, now you pinin’ for his attention day in and day out. Really, it gets annoyin’ for the rest of us, too. It’s quite obvious that he would feel the same way.”
Tears filled Emma’s eyes. It couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t have been so happy to see her when she was well after the accident. He wouldn’t have asked her to save a dance for him.
She turned her gaze away from Nancy Jane’s eyes so she couldn’t see the affect her words had on her. “Now, Miss Marchant,” Nancy Jane said, moving to walk away, “if you’ll stop botherin’ him and leave him be, he’ll be able to pay more attention to the people he wants to, rather than those he feels obligated to.”
Emma’s eyes dropped to the floor, unable to look up to Nancy Jane’s wicked smile. Her heart was breaking, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
Spinning around, Emma gathered her skirts in her fists and walked briskly from the gathering. She moved in the shadows, not wanting to draw more attention to herself, not wanting to be annoying. But as soon as the lights were behind her, she took off in a dead run towards the river.
***
Thatcher had seen Nancy Jane speaking to Emma when he’d been shoved into another girl’s arms, and all the while he wondered what they were talking about. By the looks on both of their faces, he was certain it hadn’t been pleasant. As soon as the music stopped, Thatcher led his partner back to the crowd and somehow managed to sidestep the group of ravaging girls, moving on to look for Emma and asking around if anyone had seen her. No one had.
Her absence confused him, and he fought the urge to feel hurt and abandoned. There must’ve been a reasonable excuse for her not being there. After all, he had asked her to save him a dance a number of times. But did that mean anything to her?
Nancy Jane startled him out of his thoughts with her slinky arm wrapping around his waist. “It’s time for another dance, suga’,” she said.
He immediately shrugged out of her grasp, setting her arm none too gently aside.
“Why, Thatcher, honey,” Nancy Jane began, pink lips pouting, “what’s the matter?”
“I already told you, Miss Tilman,” he said through his clenched teeth. “We’ve had our dancin’ for the night.”
“Why, how could you ever say a thing so mean to me, your sweetheart?” Her face contorted into a sour expression.
A few people around heard, and their eyebrows rose with questioning. Thatcher was through dealing with the girl.
He gripped her arm and dragged her to the edge of the group. Once they reached the outside of the dancing area, he whirled around to face her, releasing his hold and pointing a threatening finger in her face. He had never before been rough with a woman, let alone rude, despite any low opinion he had of them, but this one…this one deserved it. Deserved it and needed it. “Now you listen here, Miss Tilman,” he began. “We are not together, nor will we ever be. I’m not lookin’ for a relationship. But I’m sure there are plenty of other young men here tonight who are. So go and flock ’round them now. Not me any longer. I’m done.”
Nancy Jane gasped and stomped her foot. A few of the women near enough to hear the reprimand snickered. “You can’t talk to me like that, Thatcher Deakon, you’ve no right!”
“Whatever suits you, Miss Tilman,” Thatcher said, not listening any longer as his eyes scanned the crow
d for Emma’s long brown braid, blue dress, and blue eyes. “I’m through here.” And with that, he turned and walked away.
“You’re not goin’ to find her, Mr. Deakon,” Nancy Jane spit after him. “No matter how hard you look!”
He froze in his tracks and looked back. “Why not?” he asked, then paused when realization hit. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her exactly what she needed to hear.”
His mind ran wild with ideas of what she could’ve possibly said to make Emma so upset, and his heart hurt because of it. How anyone could even think about being rude to a woman as sweet as Emma was beyond him.
“You tell me what you said to her, Miss Tilman.” Thatcher’s voice rose as more spectators turned to watch.
“Now don’t pitch a fit, dumplin’,” Nancy Jane said, twirling a curl around her long finger. “I simply told her how she’s been gettin’ on everyone’s nerves lately, is all.”
Thatcher saw right past Nancy Jane’s sugarcoating. Shaking his head with disgust, he walked away once more.
She let out a short squeal. “Thatcher? Where are you goin’ off to? Thatcher!”
He didn’t respond, only walked in the direction he guessed Emma had gone. She must’ve needed some peace, and he knew where she went to receive it.
***
Emma wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to keep warm, trying to dispel the sense of loneliness engulfing her. The moon was covered by heavy clouds laden with un-poured rain, so she followed the sound of the river. She could see the silhouettes of the buildings in town far away, but she didn’t change her direction, following the water’s course instead and taking the long way home.
The wind blew brisk air for a summer’s night, and Emma wished she would’ve remembered to take her shawl. She didn’t really care though, so she continued walking in silence, feeling the darkness around her thicken as she followed the river.
How stupid she felt. How utterly stupid. And the more she thought of it, the worse she felt. What had she been thinking, that he hadn’t asked any other girl that night to save him a dance? There were plenty of beautiful women in Thundercreek, plenty of younger, much more attractive women than herself. And she was stupid enough to think a man as handsome as Thatcher, a man as wonderful as Thatcher, would like her above all else. How ridiculous she was.
A Secret Fire (Western Historical Romance) Page 11