One of the boardinghouse brides put a slice of pie on a plate and handed it to Jack, along with a fork. Butch shook his head. Why did such a cute girl want to wear overalls, go fishing with the boys, and be called by a boy’s name?
He moved closer to the table, but lost his courage as he reached the back of the church. For some reason, Jack had it in for him. Yeah, sometimes he lost his temper when the kids ranted at him and blamed him for things he hadn’t done, but he tried to get along. It just seemed that nobody wanted to get along with him.
He sniffed his shirt, hoping it didn’t smell. The kids constantly berated him for carrying the hog stench, but he could never catch the odor on his own clothes. He hadn’t taken a chance tonight, though. He’d scrubbed clean his nicest shirt and overalls, even though both were faded and frayed. The dance was for folks of marrying age—he knew that—but he had just hoped to be able to get a slice of the pies he’d heard they’d be serving. His mouth watered, and he forced his feet forward.
The bride whose hair was nearly the same color as Jack’s saw him coming and smiled.
“Sure now, would you be caring for a slice of pie?” She smiled at him and held up the pie knife.
He sucked in a breath and nodded, unable to believe his good fortune. Jack eyed him suspiciously as she continued to finish her pie.
“Would you care for apple or peach?”
What a choice. “Um…apple, I guess.” He was pretty sure he remembered his ma baking apple pies, but it had been so long that his memory had dulled.
The lady handed him a fork and a plate with a fat slice of pie. The dancers noticed the food being served and drifted toward the table while the music faded. Even the musicians were setting aside their instruments and heading for the feeding trough, as if they thought they’d miss out. Butch got out of the way and reverently carried his pie to where Jack stood eating hers.
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Her spiteful tone grated on him. Why did she dislike him so much? “Same thing as you, I reckon.”
“And what’s that?”
“Eating pie.”
She shook her head, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. “I can eat pie every day. I came to watch the shenanigans.”
Her comment gored him to the core, but he doubted she meant to hurt him. Of course she ate pie every day; she had a ma to fix it and guests who probably expected dessert served with their meals. Even though he wanted to savor each bite, he shoved the pie into his mouth, and in seconds, it was gone. He licked his fork and then his plate, catching every little taste that was left.
“Eww…don’t you got no manners?”
He halted mid-lick and glanced out the corner of his eye. His pa always licked his plate—said that was how he helped with the washing. Didn’t other folks do the same?
Jack eyed him like he was a crude no-good. He lowered the plate and set it on the empty table behind the brides that held a bowl of soapy water. He shoved his hands into his pockets, not quite ready to leave. If there was any pie left after all the dancers got their share, maybe he could have another slice.
He moseyed back over by Jack. She took her last bite and frowned at him. She held up her nose and sniffed, then looked down at his boots. Butch ducked his head and gazed down. Rats, he’d forgotten to clean them, and he’d fed the hogs just before leaving. He sniffed, but didn’t smell anything bad.
Jack walked around him and took her empty plate to the wash table. She cleaned her plate in the soapy water then dipped the plate into another bucket of fresh water, and dried it off. Then she did the same with his plate and their forks. Butch stood mesmerized by the action. Why would she wash his plate? Should he have done that?
He’d thought the brides would tend to the dirty dishes. He wandered around the churchyard, waiting for the folks to finish eating and start dancing again. Soon enough, the music filled the night air again, and the ladies were quickly claimed while the men without partners stood around the dancers, awaiting the next song.
Jack washed more of the dirty dishes, with the brides helping once all the serving was done. Butch kept his eye on the half pie that was leftover. He couldn’t tell if it was peach or apple, but that hardly mattered. He just had to get another slice. Maybe if he offered to help…
He meandered back to the food table. “I…uh…could fetch some clean water, if’n y’all need some.”
“Why, ’tis a kind offer you make, young man.” The Irish gal dumped the rinse bucket and handed it to him. “If you’d be so kind as to refill this, I’ll have another slice of pie waitin’ for you when you return.”
His heart jumped, and he grabbed the pail. “Yes’m, that sounds fair to me.”
He hurried around to the back of the church where a well had been dug, and in a matter of minutes, he’d filled the pail and returned to the washing table.
Jack leaned against one side of it, eating a cookie. She scowled at him. Butch grinned. Knowing he’d get to eat another piece of pie made his whole world look better, for the moment, at least.
He slowly ate his second slice, closing his eyes and savoring each bite.
“You’re gonna have a bellyache, eating all that.”
Butch eyed Jack, who held another cookie in her hand. “What about you? How many cookies have you eaten?”
She made a face at him, shoved her treat into her mouth, and then helped herself to another one. The rate she was eating those, there wouldn’t be any left by the end of the next dance.
Dan Howard wandered back to the table, looking a bit green himself. He fiddled with the brim of his hat and stirred up dust with the toe of his boot. Miss Bennett kept casting glances his way, her cheeks turning red. Finally, Mr. Howard closed the distance between him and the woman. “Would you…ah…care to…ah…dance with me?”
Miss Bennett nodded, looking shy, but her eyes glimmered. She looped her arm through the livery owner’s, and they strode off together. Butch finished his pie and got a sudden idea.
It wouldn’t work.
But then, maybe it would.
He’d never know if he didn’t try.
He set the plate on the table and walked back to Jack. She tilted her head to look up at him.
“What do you want?”
This was a stupid idea. He knew it, but he had to ask. “Would you care to dance?”
Jack’s blue eyes widened, and he thought she would gag. She fanned her hand in front of her face and looked as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Finally, she said, “Eww…you’ve got to be kidding.”
Butch shook his head, not quite ready to give up.
“I don’t know how to dance, and besides, I’m wearing pants. How weird would that be? Anyway, I wouldn’t dance with you if you were the last person on earth.” She crossed her arms, hiked up her little chin, and marched off.
Butch’s insides ached as bad as when his pa had beaten him. He knew she wouldn’t dance with the likes of him—and anyway, he didn’t even know how to dance. She’d probably just kept him from making a fool of himself. Still, her rejection ached as bad as a gunshot wound would. Someone touched his forearm, and he jumped.
“Don’t let the lass bother you.” The pretty Irish gal—Miss O’Neil, he thought—smiled up at him. “She’s at an age where she’s not yet attracted to males. Give her a few years, and all that will change.”
He offered the woman a half-smile and then sauntered away, tired of hearing the festive music. Jack wouldn’t change, no matter how many years passed. Why did she have to hate him? What had he ever done to her?
One thing was certain: He would never ask her to dance again. Ever.
Jack stomped back home, her irritation burning, not so much from Butch’s offer to dance as from her reaction to his surprising question. Imagine, her dancing with Butch Laird. Why, her friends would never let her live that down. She shivered and turned around, walking backward. Her steps slowed, and her gaze scanned the crowd. He was gone.
Hi
s rank pig stink made her nearly retch, although she had to admit he didn’t smell nearly as bad tonight. In fact, he looked as if he had on clean clothes. Had he been planning all day to ask her to dance? Had he gotten cleaned up just to look nicer for the social?
Something in Jack’s gut twisted as she remember the hurt in his black eyes when she so adamantly refused to dance with him. She didn’t like disappointing people, but why should it bother her to upset him?
He was her enemy.
But hadn’t the preacher said something about loving your enemies? She shuddered as a sick feeling twisted her belly at the thought of loving Butch Laird. She’d rather eat a grub worm.
She picked up a stick and dragged it along the picket fence in front of Polly and Dolly’s house, making a clicking sound with each picket it hit. Why did she feel guilty for being mean to Butch? The fact that she’d told a falsehood that caused him to spend two days in jail still bothered her. She heaved a sigh and flung the stick into the street.
Too late, she noticed the cowboy riding there. His horse squealed and kicked up his hooves when the stick hit its flanks. “Hey, kid!”
Jack took off running and dashed between the Dykstra house and Mr. Castleby’s. She ran past her house and down the side of the Sunday house where Luke had lived before he married her ma. The house sat empty now, so she opened the door and darted inside. Her side ached, and her chest heaved. She peeked out the window, relieved when she didn’t see the cowboy looking for her.
“It was an accident.” She dropped the curtain and looked around the dim room. “I didn’t mean to hit that horse.”
Butch claimed he hadn’t meant to hit her at the river that day, and she kinda sorta believed him. But hadn’t he done other things to her and her friends?
She sat in the rocking chair across from the cold fireplace and rocked. Why did she struggle so much with her feelings for Butch? Was she being unfair to him?
He had been nice tonight. Hadn’t done anything to upset her besides asking her to dance. And he’d politely offered to fetch that water for Shannon.
Jack squeezed her head with her palms. All this thinking about Butch was making her head hurt. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as he seemed, but the thing was, if she befriended him, every other kid in school would turn against her. And how could she stand that stench all the time?
Nope, they just had to stay enemies. There was no way around that.
CHAPTER 12
Leah swayed to the rhythm of the lively music. Dan Howard wasn’t a half-bad dancer, especially compared to the other men she’d sashayed around the grass with tonight. Working at the food table had kept her busy, but now that most everything was gone, she had no excuse not to dance with the men.
“That was some good-tastin’ pie, Miss Bennett. As good as my own ma used to make. You ought to open up a bakery.”
Leah felt her cheeks warm at Dan’s compliment, and being so near to him made her pulse race. “Thank you. But what do you mean by ‘used to make’? I know your ma was doing poorly that day I visited, but does she not bake at all anymore?”
Dan pursed his lips and stared over her head. “She hasn’t been doin’ too good the past few weeks.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Does she need some help with the house or the cooking?”
Dan’s dark gaze pierced hers, sending delicious tingles throughout her body. Not since Sam had a man had such an effect on her.
“That’s right nice of you to offer, ma’am. I don’t like asking for favors, but Ma could use some help, and it would do her good to have another woman’s company.”
Leah smiled. “Then I shall go visit her under one condition.”
Dan’s eyes narrowed, as if he suspected she was going to ask for the world. “What would that be?”
“That you quit calling me ma’am. It makes me feel like a spinster.”
Dan leaned his head back and laughed, warming her face and delighting her whole being. For a big man, he was quite comely. His dark hair and eyes blended well with his tanned face, sun-kissed from hours of working outside.
He pulled her a tiny bit closer and leaned down. “You’ve got a deal…ma’am.”
“Oh, you.” Leah smacked him lightly on the chest and felt it rumble as he chuckled. “Do you think your mother would be offended if I offered to do some cleaning or baking?”
Dan twisted his lips to one side, and he gazed up at the sky. “I don’t know, but she needs more help than I can give. Maybe I should just hire you to clean house.”
Leah stopped dancing and held up her hand.
Dan glanced around at the moving couples surrounding them and fidgeted. “Did I say somethin’ wrong?”
“I offered my services freely. I will be offended if you try to pay me.”
His lips twitched, and a gleam entered his gaze. He tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been put in my place, well and good. But we should get back to dancing unless you’d prefer someone else for a partner.”
Leah peered over her shoulder and saw several men staring at them, looking as if they’d like to cut in. She held out her hand to Dan and allowed him to pull her close. If it were proper, she’d only dance with him. She enjoyed how safe she felt in his thick arms. She loved his eyes, and how his deep voice sounded almost like a caress. He made her feel special with the looks he gave her and the gentleness of his touch. She never figured on falling for a livery owner, but she had.
Did she dare hope he might one day come to care for her?
The music ended, and several other men swarmed Leah. Dan stepped back, looking disappointed that their time together had ended. “Maybe you could save me another dance before things end tonight?”
Leah smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”
Dan tipped his hat and started to walk away, but he stopped. “When this shindig is over, I’ll help you get all the dishes back to Polly’s and see you home.”
Leah curtsied, but another man claimed her hand as the music started. By the end of the social, she couldn’t have said who all she’d danced with, but her feet ached, and her heart was full. Dan had stood at the outskirts of the dancers, watching her, almost as if keeping guard. The only other person he’d danced with had been Polly Dykstra. She and her sister came over to watch the dancing after finishing up at their businesses. But with all the lonely men at the social, the two older women were soon in the midst of it all. Leah smiled. Polly and Dolly had only lasted for three dances, but when they left, their cheeks were rosy, and both women were smiling. That was probably the best time they’d had in a long while.
Leah stacked the plates, surprised to find almost half a pie left when she lifted up a towel that had covered the dish. Had something been wrong with it? She swiped her finger through some juice on the empty side of the plate and stuck it in her mouth. The sweet taste of apples and cinnamon teased her senses.
“Ah ah, no sampling the wares.” Dan Howard stood on the other side of the table, watching her with sparkling eyes.
“I just wondered if something was wrong with this pie since some of it was left.”
“I think the men were more interested in dancing with you pretty women than eating.”
Leah chuckled. “That’s a first.”
“You might be right about that.” Dan shoved his hands in his pockets. “So what do you need me to do?”
Shannon hurried over. “I’m here. I’ll start carrying the dirty dishes back to Polly’s.”
“I’ll go with you.” Leah glanced at Dan. “Just let me wipe down this table, and then you can return it to the back of the church.”
“And the smaller table belongs in front of the pulpit. Perhaps one of the Corbetts will help carry it.”
“No need. It’s just a little table, ma’am. I can manage it myself.”
Leah and Shannon exchanged a glance. Shannon collected the dirty pie and cookie plates, while Leah wiped off the table. Dan hoisted up the bigger of the two, and Leah hurried around him to open the church door
. She followed him inside, but as the door closed, all went dark.
Dan banged into something. “Where’d you say to put the table?”
Leah struggled to see something in the blackness. “Against the back wall.”
“Uh…where is the back wall?”
Leah couldn’t help giggling. “I have no idea. Maybe I should get a lantern.”
The table scraped against the floor as Dan moved it. Leah heard it clunk against something—the wall, she hoped. Dan’s footsteps came in her direction, and he suddenly bumped her. Hard.
“Oompf.” She flailed her arms and whacked his as he grabbed hold of her upper arm.
“Steady now. We don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”
Her hand came to rest against his chest—his very solid chest. She felt the warmth of his skin through the chambray and the rise and fall as he breathed. Sam hadn’t been much more than a boy when he’d first kissed her and asked her to marry him, but there was nothing boyish about Dan Howard. She just might swoon at being alone in the dark with him so near. His warm breath brushed her forehead, but he made no move to leave.
“Miss Bennett.”
“Leah. Please call me Leah.”
Could she hear a smile in the dark? Because she was sure he’d just smiled.
“Leah…I want you to know that you caught my eye when you first came to town.”
Her heart turned a cartwheel. “I did?”
“Yep, but I thought for sure that Luke would pick you.”
“Truly? Why did you think that?”
He was quiet for a moment, but his hand ran slowly up and down her arm, stirring her senses. She’d never considered he’d had his eye on her. Why would she when she was battling so hard for the marshal’s affections? She’d never dreamed then that another man might be interested in her.
“Talking heart matters ain’t easy for me. I’d…uh…like to take you for a buggy ride come Sunday.”
Leah smiled. Since when was a buggy ride a heart matter? Maybe his feelings weren’t as strong as hers. They hardly knew each other.
“I reckon we oughta go.” He stepped forward, without warning, and nearly knocked her down again. His arms tightened around her and crushed her against his chest. She just stood there, and then slowly lifted her hands to his back and relaxed her head against his chest. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm that she was sure matched her own. Dan’s hand caressed the side of her head.
Second Chance Brides Page 12