“She is—was—my sister-in-law.”
A slight frown, one of puzzlement, wrinkled Lizbeth’s alabaster brow, then smoothed away. “I’m to teach adult classes over the summer—there is a problem of illiteracy in Northridge, according to Miss McKutchen’s letters. In the fall, she—Miss McKutchen, I mean—plans to open a new school, just for the children of the smelter workers. She seems to feel that they’re getting short shrift under the present system.”
Bonnie was delighted, though a little miffed that Genoa hadn’t confided this ambitious plan to her. “It’s a fine idea,” she said sincerely. “The Patch Town children are regarded as second-class citizens by the more—prosperous residents.”
“Those who don’t work at the smelter, you mean?”
Bonnie shook her head. “Practically everyone depends on the smelter for a living in one way or another, but there is a social hierarchy all the same. Some of the crew bosses and shipping clerks and such have their own homes.” An old bitterness tightened Bonnie’s lips for a moment and sparked in her eyes. “They look down on those who have to live in Patch Town.”
“Patch Town? Miss McKutchen didn’t mention such a place in her correspondence—”
“It isn’t a place that anyone—especially the McKutchen family—could be proud of.” Bonnie sighed, suddenly feeling very dispirited and very much an outsider. Now, through some strange mental alchemy, Northridge and all the people there were real again, while the time in Spokane seemed but a fantasy. With the toe of her slipper, she nudged the side of her valise, tucked beneath the seat ahead, to remind herself that the music box was packed away inside, solid proof that Eli, for two days and two nights at least, had loved her as a husband loves a wife. “In all fairness,” she added belatedly, “the McKutchens are making an effort to correct the things that are wrong.”
The man in the seat just ahead—he wore the standard dusty bowler and dung-colored suit—turned to glare at Bonnie. His eyes were accusing brown beads, looking out of an acne-scarred face.
Bonnie felt threatened, though she met the ugly man’s gaze with an intrepid stare of her own. When he had turned around again, she said in a voice meant to carry, “North-ridge’s problems will be worked out fairly, provided there is no more interference from outside factions.”
The union man stiffened, but did not look back at Bonnie again. Nevertheless, she was very much aware of the sudden heavy silence that filled the car. “I’m forever saying imprudent things,” she confessed to Lizbeth, in a near whisper.
Lizbeth laughed. “Oh, but you’re honest, and I like that in a person. Isn’t it fortunate that we had each other to ride with? I fear I might have turned and gotten right back off this train if I hadn’t spotted you sitting here, a port in a storm.” She wrinkled her pert little nose and added in an undertone, “The smell! Mercy me, it’s insufferable, don’t you think?”
“There is a certain air,” Bonnie answered pointedly, and the ears of the odious man in front of her turned crimson at their tips.
For the rest of the trip, Bonnie and her temporary friend chatted about fashions, the pros and cons of living in Northridge, and the virtues of Miss Genoa McKutchen’s plan to upgrade the local system of education.
It was a sad relief to reach Northridge, to part with Lizbeth Simmons, who would have made an exemplary friend, to return to the realities of daily life. There would be no more staying in gracious hotels, no more elegant restaurant meals, no more ecstasy in Eli McKutchen’s arms.
On the cheerful side, though, Bonnie was looking forward to seeing Rose Marie again, for she had missed her daughter terribly. It would be nice to chat with Genoa—though she would have to be very careful not to let on what had really happened in Spokane—and have tea with Katie, who would no doubt be able to give a full accounting of all that had taken place during Bonnie’s absence.
The mood in Northridge was suspenseful; Bonnie sensed that the moment she stepped down from the train. The river looked to be swollen well beyond its normal levels and the sky was a formidable, glowering charcoal color. Mud sucked at the soles of Bonnie’s shoes and stained her skirts as she stepped down from the platform. Samuel, the son of Genoa’s cook, was on hand with the carriage, to fetch Lizbeth, but Bonnie didn’t want to ride. She needed time to gather her thoughts and feelings and drive them back into their proper places.
“Would you mind bringing Rose Marie and Katie to the store as soon as you can?” Bonnie asked Samuel, after politely refusing his offer to drive her home to the mercantile.
Samuel, a homely adolescent who would one day be a homely man, nodded. “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. McKutchen. I’ll do that.”
Was there a hint of a smirk on Samuel’s face and lurking in his tone?
Bonnie couldn’t decide and didn’t really care, one way or the other. There would be speculation, just because she and Eli had left town on the same train, but she couldn’t help that, so she wasn’t going to worry about it. She set her course for the top of the hill, the mercantile, home.
The board sidewalk leading up to the main part of town was slippery with streaks of mud, and the grain of the wood showed clearly, wetted by a recent rain.
Uneasily Bonnie looked back over one shoulder, toward the temperamental river. When she turned her face forward again, she saw Webb Hutcheson’s buggy, headed down the hill, make a broad turn in the street and come to a stop beside her.
Even though she didn’t look directly at Webb’s face, Bonnie sensed his quiet fury. He’d heard, then, that she and Eli had left Northridge on the same train. God knew what he was thinking, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been worse than the truth. Bonnie’s throat ached and she shifted the handle of the heavy valise from one hand to the other and back again.
“Hello, Webb,” she finally managed to say.
The answer was stony. “Climb in, if you want a ride.”
Bonnie hadn’t wanted a ride when Samuel had offered one at the depot and she didn’t want a ride now, but she felt so guilty over her rendezvous with Eli that she put the valise behind the buggy seat and got in.
Webb did not say a single word during the brief journey to the mercantile, but he followed Bonnie up the side stairs and waited behind her as she rummaged through her handbag for the key and opened the door.
The darkened kitchen had that musty smell that comes of emptiness, and Bonnie quickly opened the small window over the sink to let in some fresh air.
A chair scraped behind her and she knew that Webb was sitting down at the table. He meant to stay.
She closed her eyes for a moment and then started putting wadded pages of the Northridge News into the stove. She added kindling to this and lit a fire, then pumped water into the teakettle. All this was accomplished without so much as one glance in Webb’s direction.
“You might at least have told me you were going away,” he said quietly, when it was clear that Bonnie wasn’t going to take the initiative and speak first.
Bonnie took her yellow crockery teapot from a shelf, along with a fresh tin of tea, and measured in several scoops of the aromatic blend. Still she didn’t look at Webb. “I’m not your wife, Webb Hutcheson,” she said kindly in even tones, “and I don’t have to report my whereabouts to you or anyone else.”
“Damn it!” Webb exploded, one hand striking the tabletop with such force that Bonnie jumped, nearly dropping the yellow teapot. “Every busybody in this town is talking about you and McKutchen running off together—”
Slowly, clutching the teapot so that she wouldn’t drop it, Bonnie turned and looked directly into Webb’s furious blue eyes. “Don’t you dare lecture me, Webb. What I do is none of their business, and none of yours.”
Webb flushed, and it was clear by the white line edging his jaw that he was still angry. “By God, Bonnie, it is my business if you’ve been—been giving yourself to Eli McKutchen!”
Bonnie spoke softly, but she was just as furious as Webb. Maybe even more so. At that moment, she’d have loved to c
rown him with her teapot, but she was too fond of the piece to risk breaking it on a rock-hard skull. “Giving myself to Eli?” she echoed sweetly. “The way you give yourself to Earline Kalb, Webb? Is that what you mean?”
“Damn it all to hell, Bonnie,” Webb exploded, shooting out of his chair, sending it clattering backward to the floor, “I’m a man and that makes it different!”
Of course, she could always get another teapot out of another sack of flour. Bonnie spoke with acid sweetness. “It does?”
Webb sank back into his chair, running one hand through his hair. “I know it seems unfair,” he conceded generously.
Bonnie turned away, setting the teapot down on the counter with a thump, her shoulders rigid. “Only because it is unfair,” she said evenly.
Webb’s voice was hoarse, broken. “So you were with McKutchen?”
“I didn’t say that,” Bonnie replied. God help her, she couldn’t say it, though that would have been the kindest thing to do.
Eventually the water boiled and the tea was properly brewed and Bonnie joined a despondent Webb at the kitchen table. Not a word had passed between them in several minutes.
Unable to tell Webb the painful truth, Bonnie avoided the subject of Eli, pretended that it had never come up. “There were hordes of union men on the train, Webb,” she said, remembering the threats that had been made following the last article her friend had published concerning the strife at the smelter works. “They’re a rough bunch.”
“I saw them,” Webb sighed, staring down into his tea, which was still untouched despite the fact that he had laced it with measures of sugar and milk in his careful, methodical way. He had the look of a man who needed something stronger to drink than orange pekoe. “Stay out of their way as much as you can, Bonnie.”
Bonnie sat up a little straighter in her chair, ruffled by the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself. “I will not be a hostage simply because a pack of ruffians are roaming the town, Webb Hutcheson.”
The royal blue eyes were snapping when they rose to Bonnie’s face. “You are so damnably stubborn. Sometimes I’m tempted to paddle your backside!”
Bonnie couldn’t have been more surprised or more insulted if Webb had called her a name. There was no humor whatsoever in his gaze; he was totally serious. “Heaven help you if you ever try!”
Webb pushed back his chair and folded his arms across his broad chest, and that ominous glint was still clearly visible in his eyes. “I wouldn’t need any help from heaven, Bonnie. I can handle the job all by myself.”
Perhaps things would have been different if Bonnie hadn’t lost her temper, if she hadn’t openly challenged Webb with a saucy “You touch me, Webb Hutcheson, and I’ll scratch your eyes out!”
The expression on his face told Bonnie that she’d pushed the man too far. She opened her mouth to apologize, but it was too late. Webb reached out and caught Bonnie by one arm and the next thing she knew, she’d been flung across his lap. She struggled, of course, but Webb scissored her thrashing legs between his own and held her motionless.
“Webb!” Bonnie cried out, in a frantic appeal to his reason. She could feel his hand poised high above her very vulnerable bottom even though she could see nothing but the floor. “Webb, you can’t do this!”
“I know,” Webb said, with resignation, “and yet I’m going to.”
It was then, heaven be thanked, that Katie appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding Rose’s small hand in her own, and gasped, “Mr. Hutcheson, don’t! Please don’t.”
Webb gave a long sigh and released Bonnie, who scrambled to the opposite side of the kitchen and stood with her back pressed to the sink, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip, her eyes flashing with amazement and fury.
“I’ll go now,” Webb said, sounding and looking distracted as he rose slowly to his feet.
“I think that would be best,” Bonnie replied coldly.
When the door had closed quietly behind Webb, she turned to Katie, who looked horrified.
“I don’t want to hear another word about this incident as long as I live, Katherine Ryan. Do you understand me? It never happened.”
Katie swallowed. “Yes, ma’am,” she said.
Bonnie lifted her chin and went about setting her valise on the table and opening its stubborn catch. The music box Eli had given her was on top, carefully wrapped in one of her petticoats. She unwrapped it and traced the beautiful painted angel on its top with a wistful motion of her index finger.
“Isn’t that pretty, ma’am?” Katie cooed, admiring the box with wide eyes. “It’s an angel, and she’s got dark hair just like you do!”
Bonnie stiffened. An angel. Of course. She had been expecting some kind of snide attack from Eli, and she’d nearly missed it! Here it was, a subtle but effective reminder of her hurdy-gurdy days—or, more properly, nights—as the Angel.
She set the box aside, unwilling to give in to a primitive urge to send it smashing against a wall, and with a modicum of dignity brought out a small rag doll for Rose Marie and a bottle of jasmine-scented cologne for Katie.
Both girls were delighted with their gifts and, per Bonnie’s decree, Webb’s temporary loss of reason went unmentioned.
In the end, it was not Katie but Rose Marie who betrayed the humiliating secret. It happened the very next day, not fifteen minutes after the train from Spokane had arrived in Northridge.
CHAPTER 16
THE AFTERNOON WAS chilly and dark and the sky was heavy with rain. Because of this, Bonnie had built a busy, crackling fire in the store’s potbellied stove and lit several kerosene lamps. As Katie perched on the lid of the pickle barrel, reading, and Rose sat contentedly on the floor, playing with her new doll, Bonnie was in the rear storeroom, making space for the merchandise Seth had ordered for the rebuilding of Patch Town. At the sound of the little bell over the front door, she smoothed her hair and her skirts and went out to wait on the customer.
The “customer” was Eli, who stood watching Rose with such a disapproving expression that Bonnie’s attention turned instantly to her daughter.
Rose was mercilessly spanking her doll.
Eli’s gaze sliced to Bonnie’s pinkened face. “Is that how you discipline my daughter?” he demanded, in a quiet but nonetheless lethal tone.
Before Bonnie could answer, Katie closed her book with a snap and blurted defensively, “Of course it isn’t! Our Rosie’s only acting out what she saw yesterday, aren’t you, sweetling?”
Rose Marie now had no interest in her doll. She struggled laboriously to her feet and toddled over to Eli, who immediately lifted her into his arms. He smiled at the child and embraced her, but there was a chill in the gaze he turned upon Bonnie.
“Go upstairs, Katie,” Bonnie said calmly.
The girl hesitated. There was defiance in her manner, defiance directed not at Bonnie, but at Eli. “Shall I take the baby, too?”
Just the thought of the squall Rose Marie would put up at being separated from her beloved papa gave Bonnie the beginnings of a sick headache. “No. She’s fine where she is.”
Katie gave Eli one last insurgent glance and scampered up the stairs.
“What exactly did Rose see?” Eli wanted to know. There was a note of suspicion in his voice and a quiet obstinacy in his manner.
Bonnie bit her lower lip, reluctant to admit what had happened—or nearly happened—but fully aware that she had to do just that. If she didn’t explain, Eli would draw his own conclusions and the result might be a terrible misunderstanding. Finally she said, “Webb 1-lost his temper and—and he—”
Eli blanched. “He what? By God, if he laid a hand on my daughter, I’ll—” he paused, and a knowing look flashed in his eyes. He drew in a deep breath and let it out again. “Wait a minute. It wasn’t Rose that Hutcheson walloped, was it? It was you!”
“Webb didn’t wallop anyone, “ Bonnie hissed, red to her ears, “Katie came in just in time to stop him. And don’t you dare turn self-righteous, Eli M
cKutchen, because you’re no better than he is! Why, just the other day, you were threatening to do the same thing!”
“Are you defending Hutcheson?”
Bonnie gripped the edge of the counter. “Certainly not,” she said loftily. “I wouldn’t even consider forgiving Webb, were it not for the fact that I know he didn’t really mean to hurt me.”
Laughter sparked in Eli’s golden eyes but left his mouth unchanged. “Didn’t he?” Carefully, he set Rose back on her feet, and she went back to playing with her doll, though this time in a more kindly fashion.
Bonnie sighed and averted her eyes. “I suppose he did,” she conceded, unable to believe what had almost happened even now, after she had had a whole night to think about it.
There was a short silence and then Eli chuckled. It was a low, innately masculine sound. “How did you manage to provoke the poor bastard into losing his reason, might I ask?”
At last Bonnie was able to lift her eyes to Eli’s face. She straightened her spine and raised her chin. “It was the talk, I think. Webb was upset by things he’d heard about you and me. Too, he’d ordered me to avoid those union men who came in on the train yesterday and I said I wouldn’t be held hostage—” she paused, swallowed. “I guess I baited him, as well.”
Eli sighed and, to his credit, there was no look of triumph about him. “I can sympathize with Hutcheson’s position. At the same time, I’d like to break his neck. In fact, I mean to let him know that if he ever tries anything like that again, no matter what you’ve done to irk him, I’ll kill him.”
Eli sounded completely serious, and Bonnie shivered even though the snapping fire in the stove was keeping the store warm. “You are being most hypocritical, Eli,” she said evenly. “You might have responded in just the way Webb did.”
Eli shook his head in angry marvel. “You’re still going to see Hutcheson, aren’t you? You’re going to let him suffer for a while, and then you’re going to forgive him.”
“I would have forgiven you,” Bonnie pointed out, realizing only as she actually spoke the words that they were true.
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