Maggie's Beau

by Carolyn Davidson

  “Maggie?” Beau wakened and sat upright, running long fingers through his hair. “What’s going on, honey?” He rose, yawned widely, then tucked in his shirt in an effort to make himself presentable. “Who’s out there?” he asked, as the voices from the sheriff’s office rose again in volume.

  “Where’s Maggie?” It was Emily, and Maggie laughed aloud at the sound of her sister’s frustrated cry.

  “I’m back here, Emily,” she called. “I’m in the cell, here in the back.”

  “I’m here, too, Mags,” called Roberta, her deeper tones readily recognizable to Maggie.

  “Now listen here, ladies. Your sister is under arrest, and you can’t just strut in here and make demands.” Tom Clemons was obviously doing his best to maintain order, but Maggie could only grin as she heard the stampede of heels and the muttered threats of the two women as they headed in her direction. Apparently they could indeed make demands, and it would take more than the sheriff of Green Rapids to halt their progress, if Maggie were any judge of the happenings just beyond the nearby door.

  It burst open, Emily and Roberta rushing across the threshold, only to skid to a stop as they caught sight of Maggie in the cell. “Merciful heavens, you’ve locked her in with a man, Sheriff!” Emily said, disbelief coating every syllable.

  Roberta strode ahead, as Emily spoke. “Just give me the key, sir. This is not even decent.” Tom stumbled in their wake, his haste making him clumsy, and then shoved in front of them to stand directly in front of the cell door.

  “You’ve got this all wrong, ladies. Your sister has not been abused.”

  “Have you taken a good look at her?” Emily’s eyes filled with tears as she reached for Maggie through the bars. “Oh, baby, what has this man done to you? Just look at yourself, all wrinkled and mussed up.”

  “I don’t have a mirror,” Maggie said bluntly. “And if this man has wrinkled and mussed me up, it was his right. This is my husband, Emily.” She reached behind herself to find Beau and was pleased to find his hand available. “Come here, Beau. Meet my sisters.” Tugging him to her side, she glanced up at his amused grin.

  “You’re married to him?” Roberta asked, tilting her head to one side as she peered through the dim light at Beau.

  “She’s not wearing my ring yet, but we’ll take care of that today,” he said. “You can check with the preacher. The Reverend Bryant married us in his parlor yesterday afternoon, and Willie was the witness.”

  “Willie?” Roberta answered. “You mean Wilhelmina? Prim and proper Wilhelmina Bryant? And you call her Willie?”

  Beau’s lips twitched. “Nah, but her husband does.”

  Roberta shook her head disbelievingly, and then peered past Beau into the shadows of the cell. “How come it’s so dark in there, anyway?” she asked. “Doesn’t this place have any windows?”

  “Looks like Beau covered the bars,” Tom observed. “You shoulda closed the shutters before I left, Jackson. I sure didn’t think of it.”

  “We managed to stay warm,” Beau said, with a glance slanted in Maggie’s direction. “Didn’t we, sweetie?”

  Maggie groaned, an audible sound that obviously pleased Beau, if his chuckle was anything to go by. He left her side to pull the table from the window, and sunlight poured into the cell. Emily’s moan of distress mirrored Maggie’s and her hands reached through the bars to draw Maggie forward.

  “Are you all right?” she asked quietly, her sharp eyes narrowing as she scanned her sister’s face. Her index finger touched Maggie’s lips. “Your mouth is swole up,” she murmured, her anxious look asking a silent question.

  “He’s good to me,” Maggie whispered. “Beau would never hurt me, Em.”

  “If you say so,” Emily returned. She turned to the sheriff. “What do we have to do to get Maggie out of there?”

  “I’m headin’ out right now to Beau’s place and maybe I’ll have the answer to that within the hour,” he told her. “In the meantime, you ladies are gonna hafta be patient. I can’t let her out till I make a decision.”

  “How about me?” Beau asked.

  “You’re free to go,” Tom said quickly. “You didn’t have to be in there to start with.” Deliberately choosing the correct key from the ring he held, he bent to the lock, twisting the key and opening the cell door with one easy motion. “Sorry you can’t leave with him, ma’am,” he told Maggie.

  “Beau?” Her eyes felt damp and she touched his arm as he paused beside her.

  He bent to touch her lips with his and whispered a promise. “I’ll only be gone long enough to find you something fresh to wear, and some breakfast for both of us.”

  She nodded, satisfied, and watched him walk past Emily and Roberta, nodding politely to both of them. The sheriff closed the cell door with a clang of metal on metal and followed Beau. “Here’s your shotgun,” he told him. “I took it out of your buggy last night.”

  The men left the office, and Maggie heard the door close behind them. With a rush, Roberta and Emily pressed against the bars. “Now tell us everything,” Emily insisted.

  “Have you seen Mama?” Roberta asked, and then the queries flew as the sisters spoke rapidly, their voices overlapping as they prodded Maggie into the details of her stay at Beau’s ranch.

  “Mama’s pretty bad off,” Maggie said finally. “She was in the house with no fire going in the stove, and Pa had messed up her mouth. I tried to make her go with me, but she…”

  “She’s afraid of Pa,” Roberta finished. Her mouth trembled as she spoke the words. “I’m still scared to death he’ll catch me somewheres without Amos along. I got a good memory,” she added, “And I’ve been worried to pieces about you, Mags. I felt guilty leavin’ you there, but I couldn’t stand for one more black eye, I swear.”

  Emily nodded agreement. “Paul says if he ever gets a good shot at Pa, he’s as good as a dead man.”

  “Are you both happy?” Maggie asked, even as she knew the futility of the question. Their faces beamed as the two women nodded in unison. “I got a house to take care of and a baby under my apron,” Emily said proudly.

  “And my Amos just bought me a new carpet, direct from St. Louis,” Roberta added. She cast a longing look at Emily. “I’m hopin’ to catch up with Em here right soon. Amos says we can’t have Paul and Emily beatin’ us to the punch.”

  And then they quieted, exchanging glances as if the same thought had entered their minds. “Ah…Mags?” Roberta spoke cautiously. “You didn’t do it, here…last night, I mean?”

  Maggie felt a blush rise, and she shook her head. “No, of course not. We just…we just slept. Beau wouldn’t…” And then she halted, the events of the night past turning her cheeks even more crimson. “We only got married yesterday.”

  “I can’t imagine he waited,” Emily murmured, a tiny smile edging her mouth. “I’ll bet he can’t wait to get you home.”

  “You’re right there, Em,” Beau answered from the office doorway. His hands holding a tray of food, he stepped past the sisters and placed it on the floor. From one corner of the tray he produced a damp towel and passed it through the bars. “Wash up a little, honey,” he told her, “While I pour you some coffee. Tom’s wife had fresh bread baked already this morning. Said she set it to rise last night.”

  Maggie inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful, Beau. So does the bacon.” The cloth was rough, but wet and clean and she used it liberally on her face and neck, then scrubbed at her hands with it. Beau waited patiently until she finished, then traded the cloth for a steaming cup of coffee. Backing up to the bench, she settled there and bent to breathe in the fragrant steam. “I didn’t know I was so hungry,” she told him.

  His grin was sheepish. “I’ll have to admit, I sneaked a piece of bread on the way over here. Wasn’t easy balancing the tray on one hand while I walked, but I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I’m just glad you found something to eat.”

  “Tom sent me to his place. It’s ju
st around the back, and his wife knew I was coming. He must have figured I’d be hungry.”

  Emily and Roberta watched as Maggie ate, taking turns as they told her of their husbands and the townspeople they’d met. She listened, her heart swelling with joy, thankful that her worries on their account had been needless.

  “Pa said you were like two cats, and you’d land on your feet,” she said with a grin. “For once in his life, he was almost right.”

  “Anything was better than what we put up with at home,” Emily vowed, and Roberta seconded her words, nodding her head vigorously.

  “Would you ladies go to the Emporium and find your sister something to wear?” Beau asked. “You can probably choose better than me. Just make sure you get everything she needs, and don’t forget a comb.”

  With a chorus of farewells and promises for a quick return, the sisters parted company and Maggie watched as Beau slid down the bars to the floor, resting against the iron barrier. “It won’t be long now,” he said. He lifted a piece of bread from the plate beside him and took a bite. “Sure you got enough to eat?” he asked. “There’s more here.”

  Maggie watched him, his own shirt wrinkled, yet concerned that she not go out in public without a change of clothes. His eyes were shadowed, his beard a dark growth against his jaw and he’d spent the whole night holding her close and keeping her warm. Her heart felt full to over-flowing as she reached through the bars to touch his shoulder.

  “Beau? I haven’t even thanked you for taking care of me last night.”

  He shot her a look of surprised pleasure. “You’re my wife, Maggie. That’s part of my job.” A roguish gleam in his eye set her heart to dancing and he turned his head to press his lips on the back of her hand. “The rest of my duties are going to be pure pleasure, sweetheart.” His warm breath blended with the brush of his tongue on her fingers as he continued.

  “Once we get out of here, we’re going to the Emporium again to buy you a ring. I forgot all about it yesterday, and don’t think that doesn’t make me feel like a poor excuse for a bridegroom.”

  “I don’t need a ring,” she protested. “My mama never had one, and she sure knew she was married.”

  “Don’t ever compare yourself to your mother,” Beau told her, his hand capturing hers as he turned to face her directly. “She’s been through hell, and you’ll never know the fear of having an abusive husband. I’ll never knowingly hurt you, Maggie.”

  She clasped his fingers and nodded. “I know that.”

  It had been a most enlightening session, with Maggie sliding into fresh clothing as Emily and Roberta vied for the opportunity to show off their newly acquired knowledge. Whether or not she was willing to believe the things they’d confided amid whispers and giggles, the coming night promised to be one she would never forget. And should their predictions be on target…Maggie squirmed with delight, tightening her grip on Beau’s arm.

  He sent her a sidelong glance. “What’s got you all in a dither?”

  She shrugged and grinned up at him. “I’m just pleased to be out of jail. He sure was mad at Pa, wasn’t he?”

  “Yeah. The thing is, Maggie, no matter whether you own an animal or not, it’s wrong to abuse any creature the way your father did that horse. It’s not against the law, but it’s wrong, and I think by the time the sheriff got done with him, your father got taken down a peg or two. All his threats didn’t amount to a hill of beans when everything came to light.” He halted halfway across the street and his expression was stern.

  “That doesn’t mean you were right, honey. Stealing a horse is about the worst thing you can do in these parts. The sheriff was within his rights to put you in jail. It’s just a good thing he persuaded your pa to let me buy the pitiful creature.”

  “How much did it cost you?” Maggie asked quietly, her good mood forgotten.

  “Two dollars.”

  “You can take it out of my wages,” she said, holding on to her hat as Beau quickened his pace, causing her to scamper in order to keep up.

  He shot her a quick flash of white teeth and deep dimple. “You don’t have wages anymore. You’ve signed on for a lifetime, girl. From now on you’re a full partner in my ranch.”

  Maggie halted, and Beau swung to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  “You don’t mean that, Beau Jackson. Women don’t have their name on a deed. I don’t think you can…”

  “Watch me,” he said firmly. “When you have a ring on your hand, we’re going to the bank and change the name on my deed.”

  And so they did. With a wide gold band gleaming on her finger, Maggie sat on the edge of a burnished walnut chair in the bank president’s office, watching as Beau ordered the changes made. Her thumb had about rubbed the finish off the ring, she figured, by the time they left the bank, and she was certain that every eye in town was on them as they rode down the rutted road toward home.

  “Now, any other questions?” Beau asked.

  “Yes. When can we invite my sisters out to your place for dinner with their husbands and all?”

  “It’s our place, Maggie,” he corrected her, his arm nestling her snugly against his side. “And you can invite them whenever you want to.”

  She rested her hand on his thigh and squeezed it, giddy with the joy of discovery. Eager for the hours ahead when she would help to carry her store of earthly belongings up that wide stairway to the room upstairs. The place where her marriage would truly begin.

  “When did you buy me the nightgown?” Maggie asked, holding it up before her. She turned to look in the mirror as Beau met her gaze in the glass.

  “When you were changing clothes at the jail,” he told her. “Do you like it?”

  “How could anybody in their right mind not like it?” she asked, her hands filled with the soft lawn fabric. “Would you look at all the lace and those bitty little buttons, and the ruffle on the bottom.”

  Beau did as she asked, dutifully taking note of the cream-colored lace and the wide ruffle she admired. The buttons were another matter, he thought, wondering how long it would take him to undo them once he got Maggie smack-dab in the middle of his bed. The bedroom door was closed, and they stood in lamplight, the soft glow lending a gleam to Maggie’s eyes, and fetching a bloom to pinken her cheeks.

  “Why don’t you put it on?” he suggested, turning to sit on a nearby chair. He lifted one foot to the other knee and tugged at his boot. It slid from his foot and he worked at the other, his gaze never swaying from Maggie. She stood stock-still in front of the mirror, and then turned halfway, her knuckles white as she gripped the gown before her.

  “You mean right now? Right here in front of you?”

  He shrugged as though it mattered little one way or the other. “I won’t peek if it’ll bother you to have me look.” And then he ducked his head to watch his hands unbutton his shirt. He stood, pulling it from the waistband of his trousers, and shed it quickly. “How would it be if I undid your dress?”

  Her mouth trembled, but she nodded and turned her back to him, offering the curve of her spine. He worked slowly at the buttons, his fingers relishing the soft skin beneath the new dress. She wore another new chemise and he ran his finger beneath the strap, sliding it over her shoulder. “You going to take this off?”

  Her nod was an abrupt movement of her head, and she took a deep breath, sliding from the dress, allowing it to pool around her feet. Her fingers worked at the ties of her petticoat and it fell atop the dress. Turning in the circle of clothing, she faced him, her cheeks glowing, her eyes shiny.

  “You’d might as well see what you got for your money, Beau. I’m not much to look at under the fancy clothes you got me.”

  And wasn’t that a tall tale, he thought, his breath lodging in his throat. Her waist was slender, her hips rounding, and her breasts…those warm, round, plump treasures he’d only begun to appreciate, tempted him to abandon his plan, and instead to lift her from her feet without another moment’s hesitation. Yet, he couldn’t do
it, could not deprive himself of a moment of this unveiling she’d instigated. Her upper legs covered by drawers, and with pink garters holding white stockings in place at her knee, she was a picture of womanhood such as he’d never seen.

  Not that there’d been that many women in his life. He’d been a bit of a rogue before the war, but since Sally’s treacherous behavior, he’d steered clear of all but a few women, and those had filled but a temporary spot in his life.

  “You’re beautiful, Maggie,” he breathed, and meant every word. She was not a pampered creature such as the faithless Sally had been, but instead bore calluses on her hands and displayed strong limbs that spoke of long hours of hard work. Some of it for his benefit.

  He reached beneath her chemise to undo the ties on her drawers, and her breath hissed past his cheek as he bent to lower the garment to the floor. “Step out of them, Maggie,” he told her, and she obeyed.

  In white stockings, pink garters and a dainty short chemise, she was a dream he had only dared to hope for. Her long dark hair hung in waves, touching the curve of her hips as she turned her head. “I don’t have anything else to take off, except for my stockings and garters, and my shimmy.” She leaned closer. “That’s what Emily calls this thing. Cora at the store said it was a chemise, but Em said Paul told her it was called a shimmy.”

  “I don’t care what you call it, honey, so long as you let me take it off.” His voice sounded rough and raw, as though he’d swallowed a pint of whiskey without pause for breath. His whisper was ragged as he took the hem of her garment in his hands.

  “Damn, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He swallowed, then lifted the chemise slowly, waiting lest she deny him, but she only watched, eyes intent on his face as he stripped it over her head.

  And then looked in the mirror behind her. His heart thumped in an unmerciful rhythm as he scanned the length of her. The curves of her lush bottom were firm, the line where her thigh began was a crease that lured his fingers to touch. The rest of her back was covered by the dark veil of hair and he settled for that. Time enough to put his hands on all the places that tempted him. For now, he would be content with holding handsful of that luxurious length of dark silk.