Silver Belles and Stetsons

by Caroline Clemmons

  “That money was never found.” The judge’s point blank statement hit him like a gut punch.

  “What are you saying?”

  “Could be you’re back here to recover the money.”

  “Judge Spencer, I’ll vow on a stack of bibles I never touched that money, and I don’t know where it ended up.” He leaned forward. “Are you going to sell me the building or not? If not, I need to look around for another one that will work.” He turned to leave the office. If he’d pegged the judge right, the man wouldn’t turn down money. Even from an ex-prisoner.

  “I want two hundred dollars for the building.”

  He stopped and took his time facing the judge. The smug look on the man’s face proved the judge upped the price knowing Van wanted the building.

  “Is it in need of repair?” If the building would take days to make inhabitable, he wasn’t going to pay that high of a price. He’d lose precious sales and work time.

  “It’s a sound building.”

  “Write up a bill of sale with the provision if I come across anything that needs repaired, I will bill you for the expense.” It was his turn to grin smugly.

  The judge scowled but scribbled on a paper. Van counted out two hundred dollars in ten dollar bills. He still had plenty to live on and purchase supplies until the business in this town picked up. The outside orders from his usual customers would keep him afloat until then.

  Judge Spencer handed him the paper. He read it. Everything seemed in order. He signed and slid the money across the desk.

  “The key,” he asked, holding out his hand.

  The judge dropped a key in his hand. He wrapped his fingers around it, feeling a newfound sense of worth. This was his first step at claiming his life back. And hopefully his father’s respect.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, Judge.” Van left the office tucking the bill of sale into his jacket pocket. He strode down the board walkway to his building. The dusty windows told how long it had been since someone inhabited the establishment. He’d have to clean the place up before he could move things in. After a tour of the building and something to eat, he’d see if there were any young men looking to make money.

  He unlocked the door and entered the main showroom. The spacious room with only a few shelves on one wall would hold his inventory and provide an area to set up his work bench.

  “Meow?” A calico cat with yellow eyes entered from the back room. It stopped, tail quivering above its back and stared at him.

  “Hey, kitty, you keeping the mice out of this place?” Van squatted and the cat came over rubbing its head on his knee.

  The cat turned, raised her tail in the air, and walked to the backroom. She stopped, looked over her shoulder at him, then marched forward and disappeared.

  Van smiled. The thing he’d missed most in prison was not being around animals. He’d grown up riding a horse, doctoring cattle, and playing with an old tri-color mutt. Guess he and the cat would be roommates. He stepped into the back room.

  Looked like he had two roommates.

  A pallet of blankets stacked neatly against the inside wall of the room and two dresses hanging on nails directly above the pallet told him a female had taken to living in his back room. The judge must not know or he would have surely thrown her out.

  Van stepped into the space. It was apparent whoever lived here had sparse belongings. A couple ribbons sat beside a hairbrush on a crate below a cracked mirror. One pair of well-worn boots sat at the end of the pallet. A small valise stood at the head of the bedding.

  He backed out. Until he found out who this person was, he didn’t want to bring anyone else into the building. It was obvious she’d been trespassing. He didn’t want to get her in trouble if she had nowhere else to stay. He climbed the stairs to the upper floor and found the living area to be satisfactory other than a need to be cleaned.

  His stomach growled. He’d get a meal, ask Brett to stable his horses and hang onto his wagon and goods until tomorrow, then check out the Red Dog saloon. Once his business was set up, he’d ride out to the ranch and see what kind of reception he’d get.

  ***

  Tessa leaned against the bar, giving her feet a break. The room was still packed and it didn’t look like the bunch would leave any time soon. Marge and Vi had gone up and down the stairs so often they started serving drinks to keep from being dragged up there again. Which had brought Floyd’s attention to her.

  He gripped her arm tight and leaned across the counter, breathing his nasty air into her face. “You could help take up the slack with some of these boys lookin’ for a good time.”

  She jerked her arm from his grasp. “I told you. I don’t do that.”

  “If you want to keep this job, you better start.”

  She whirled away from the bar as a man stepped through the door. He was a good six feet, broad shoulders, dressed better than a cowhand but not so flashy as a dandy. Standing just inside the door, he scanned the room. His gaze rested on her long enough to bring heat to her neck. She grabbed the whiskey bottle Wesley ordered and crossed to the gaming table.

  “Tessa, darlin’ sure you wouldn’t want to run your hands over my winnings to bring me good luck?” Wesley drawled. He’d been matching the unsuspecting mark drink for drink, which was unusual. He usually pretended to drink, duping his mark into thinking he was just as drunk then taking him for everything he had.

  She leaned down next to his ear and whispered. “Wesley, you shouldn’t be playing cards in this state. “

  “You’re right darlin’. In this state I should be showing you a good time.” Before she could gain her senses, he’d pulled her down onto his lap and covered her mouth with his. She shoved at his face, and he captured her hands, holding them down between them as he continued to try and kiss her. He rubbed the backs of her hands against the bulge in his lap.

  “No! Get! Let me go!” she screeched. Laughter erupted at the table. Rage and embarrassment heated her face and flamed her actions. She shoved her hands into his crotch, and he let go with an oath.

  Tessa shot to her feet putting space between her and Wesley.

  An iron grip shot pain up her arm and swung her around. “You don’t treat customers like that!” Floyd’s hand shot in front of her face. She scrunched her eyes shut, waiting for the blow.

  “No!” growled out a deep voice.

  Floyd’s grip released on her arm. She opened her eyes. The latest arrival to the saloon had Floyd by the front of his shirt.

  “You don’t hit women.” He shook Floyd like a rug and flung him.

  Tessa, held her breath as her employer landed hard on a table, glasses shattered to the floor, and patrons shot to their feet to avoid the collapsing table.

  “Did they hurt you?” The stranger’s deep voice drew her gaze to his face, a half a head above hers.

  She shook her head, rubbing her arm. His eyes, a dark, shiny brown, held her captive. He swallowed and reached out, brushing her hand from her arm. His gaze dropped to the redness caused from Floyd’s grip. The planes of his jaw twitched, and his eyes lit with anger.

  “Get away from my help.” Floyd regained his feet and charged toward the stranger.

  “If this is how you treat your help, I’m surprised anyone works for you.” The man turned a steely stare on her boss and sidestepped his charge.

  Tessa grinned inside as Floyd shot passed the stranger and landed on the floor.

  The stranger didn’t spare her employer a glance. He clasped her hand in his and dragged her to the door.

  “You leave with him and you’ll never work here again!” Floyd shouted from his spot on the floor.

  Tessa tried to pull out of the stranger’s grasp.

  “She doesn’t need your job,” the stranger said.

  She stared at the man. Shaking her head she backed away. His eyes didn’t leer like most men. They stared her straight in the eyes, no wandering to her exposed chest or legs, and held her gaze.

  “She’ll be wor
king for me.”

  She started to protest.

  “In my boot shop.” He opened the door and waved an arm toward the street. “How about it? You want to be a clerk?”

  A respectable job. She glanced around at the drunks and leering glances. Away from this atmosphere and out of these clothes. She didn’t know the man, but she felt safer with him than Floyd and believed he didn’t want more than to help her.

  She nodded. “Yes. I hate working here.” Tessa moved passed him and out the door. The minute the cold December air hit her bare shoulders she shuddered. Her shawl was in the backroom of the saloon.

  The stranger draped his jacket around her and looked down at her. “I’ll walk you home. You can start tomorrow. We have to get this building cleaned up.”

  Fear shook her body watching his Stetson-topped head tip toward the empty building she lived in.

  Chapter Three

  Van worked hard to wash away the images of the men handling Tessa like she was a whore. He’d witnessed the fear and humiliation in her large green eyes. Now fear widened those same eyes. Only this fear was almost frantic.

  “What’s wrong?” He stepped closer.

  “I-I…” She glanced at the building in front of them and then at her feet.

  The calico cat slinked around the corner of the building, set its yellow eyes on Tessa, and trotted over, lacing back and forth around her ankles.

  “You and the cat seem to be friends.” The minute he spit the words out it dawned on him—Tessa was his squatter.

  She bent, scooped the cat into her arms, and buried her face in the animal’s thick fur. Van’s heart squeezed.

  “I have a feeling it’s your pallet in my storeroom.” He motioned to the cat when her face and wide eyes appeared over its back. “The cat and I met before. In the back room.”

  She sucked in air then coughed. The cat launched out of her arms. Tears streamed down Tessa’s rosy cheeks.

  Van slipped an arm around her and maneuvered her into the building, away from the prying eyes peering through the saloon doors and from the street around them. Inside, he closed the door and moved to add wood to the potbelly stove he’d started before heading to the saloon.

  She stood just inside the door, huddled in his coat, the whole time he added two sticks of wood and placed a chair beside the stove.

  “Sit and get warm.” He maneuvered her to the chair and she sat.

  “W-why are you doing this?” she asked, gazing up at him, searching his face.

  He could stare into her spring green eyes—round and wondering like an innocent child—all day.

  “You didn’t look like you wanted those men pawing you, and I need help setting up and running my shop.” And I can’t let your life be awful because of me.

  “Who are you? Why are you here? In Pleasant Valley?”

  Van swallowed the wad of shame strangling his throat and studied the stove. She deserved the truth but would she understand his part in her father’s death? He wouldn’t know until he told her. He looked her square in the eyes.

  “I lived in Pleasant Valley some years back and after learning a trade decided to return and reconnect with family.” There, until she heard his name that should suffice.

  “Who’s your family? I’ve been around here my whole life, I probably know them.” Tessa pulled his coat tighter around her shoulders.

  The action reminded him of the men at the saloon and her scant clothing. “Why don’t you go back and change into your clothes. I’ll get a pot of coffee going. Then we’ll sit down and discuss what I see as your job.” He turned his back to her and dug in the box he’d placed by the stove. The old battered pot he used for shop coffee was in it somewhere.

  The cat’s purring and the soft skim of her shoes across the wood floor faded. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. The muscles started knotting when she’d asked about his family. Damn! Sooner or later he’d have to tell her, but it would be best if he could keep it quiet until she fully trusted him and learned to see he wasn’t the same boy who raised havoc on the town just to get his father riled.

  Muffled stomping sounded outside the door moments before a young woman with a smile entered. A basket covered with a cloth hung from her arm. She stared his direction, and her eyes lit up.

  “You don’t remember me but I’m the little girl who followed you and Brett around like a puppy.” She flushed. “And it paid off. Brett married me because he figured he’d never shake me loose.”

  Van had pushed pieces of his childhood before the robbery to the farthest reaches of his mind. Staring at the woman and remembering jaunts with Brett, images slowly emerged like flipping pages in a picture book. He crossed the floor and hugged the petite blonde woman.

  “Beth. Of course. Brett mentioned you when I met him earlier. You’ve grown up from that pigtailed girl we found so annoying.”

  She laughed and blushed. “Yes, it took him long enough to notice though.” She held out the basket. “When Brett said you were back and moving into this building, I thought you could use some food…” Her gaze darted to the backroom.

  Van shifted in time to see surprise and embarrassment flash in Tessa’s eyes before she stopped just inside the room.

  “Tessa has agreed to work for me as my clerk.” He didn’t miss Beth’s raised eyebrow as he swept an arm wide. “And help clean this place and stock the shelves.”

  Beth handed the basket to Van and scurried across the floor. “That’s wonderful! Oh, Tessa, I’ve hated you working in that saloon. This will be much better.” She took Tessa’s hands in hers and smiled.

  Van watched Tessa’s shoulders gradually slump and her body shift to a casual stance. Her full wide mouth tipped at the corners. His heart slammed to a stop at the sight.

  “I’ve hated working there, but no one else would hire me.” Her eyes shone with dull acceptance.

  “Why wouldn’t anyone else hire you? You’re intelligent and from what I observed in the saloon a hard worker.” Van knew why, but he wanted to hear her version.

  Tessa moved away from Beth, taking several steps even farther from him. Her eyes glistened when she finally looked at him.

  “Because my father was unjustly wronged and that has followed my mother and me for years.”

  His gut felt perforated like a shoe sole full of tiny awl holes made one by one with the banging of the hammer on the awl. Her life was miserable because of his stupidity as a young man. How could he make it up to her? There had to be more ways than giving her a job.

  Beth shot a look his direction, her lips pursed as though she waited for him to say something. He wasn’t about to blurt out his feelings or he had been a cause of Tessa’s troubles. Not yet. Not until she was comfortable with him and wouldn’t run back to the saloon.

  “I’m sorry. People can be cruel when it isn’t warranted. Rumors and lies spread and become consumed more readily than the truth I’m afraid.” He stepped toward Tessa to place a comforting hand on her arm.

  “Humpff!” Beth shot him a dagger-filled glance. “I see some things about you haven’t changed.” She turned to Tessa. “If you need a break from here come on over to the house for a cup of tea.” She scurried out of the shop, her skirts whisking the dust on the floor into swirling shapes.

  Tessa frowned. She’d never known Beth to be rude. But her parting comment to the man—whose name she still didn’t know—was unlike her friend. If Tessa planned to work for him, she should learn his name. Her thoughts stopped like a wagon wheel stuck in mud. He knows my name.

  “How do you know my name? We haven’t exchanged them yet.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at the man. His gaze roamed over her face, then stopped, gazing into her eyes. His were like looking into a cup of coffee; dark, brown, and emitting a sense of comfort.

  “You haven’t changed all that much from the little girl I remember hanging around your father’s barber shop.”

  His words were flattering and insulting at the same time. He remembered h
er, but he thought she still looked like the willowy child who everyone shoved food at because they thought she was too skinny.

  “Not the body. You’ve definitely grown into a fine figure of a woman, but your hair is the same color and your big green eyes always made me stop and stare at you back then. They’re like two spring leaves with a touch of dew.”

  Something vibrated in her chest and her fingers tingled. No one had ever spoken to her or about her in such a manner. A bubble of happiness rested in her throat halting any words. Warmth and softness rubbed around her ankles shifting her thoughts and breaking the hold of his words.

  “So who are you? Why don’t I remember you?” She bent, picking up Patch and scratching her between the ears.

  The man’s hesitation pricked her skin like the time she knew Floyd laid in wait for her in the backroom of the saloon. The cat squeaked and catapulted out of her arms. Her unease had caused her to squeeze the animal.

  “I guess I best tell you before someone else does.” The man moved away from her, lifted the boiling coffee pot, and poured two cups. “Take the chair.”

  He motioned to the one chair by the stove. After she sat, he handed her a cup of coffee. His hesitancy to tell her who he was started her skin to itching and prickling again.

  “Why are you so reluctant to tell me?”

  “I left here a boy and soon learned what it took to be a man. I’ve returned a man who paid for his poor judgment.” He placed the cup on the shelf by the stove and knelt in front of her. “I didn’t come back to open old wounds for anyone. When Brett told me you were working in the saloon…I wanted to storm in there and drag you out and hand you everything I own. But that wouldn’t make things right. Then I saw how you were being treated, and I do need help, so, I offered you a job. If you don’t want to take it after I tell you who I am I understand. But know there will always be a job here for you.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and stood, shifting so she couldn’t see his face clearly.