He screamed again and collapsed onto the desert, clutching his leg and writhing in the dirt.
“A good place for you,” Georgina said, satisfied with her handiwork. Then she sought out Dev, who was still fluttering over the bandit. “Thank you,” she said with a grateful smile. He tipped his ghostly hat at her.
“You’re welcome,” said Ash Barrett.
Georgina turned to him and sucked in a breath of hot air. She was just about to tell him exactly how “grateful” she felt toward him when she remembered that Dev could only be seen if he chose to be. She doubted that Dev was about to show himself to Ash and thus decided to grit her teeth and keep her mouth shut. Ash would probably think she was crazy, too, if she kept talking to someone he couldn’t see. It galled her to see him take all the credit but she figured it was better than him thinking she was a lunatic.
Georgina’s tight rein on her temper collapsed as soon as the Sheriff resumed speaking. “Thank God we got here in time!” Ash declared. “Are you hurt, Miss Witherspoon?”
Fueled by her leftover terror, her anger flared. This was the last straw. It was bad enough that the sheriff of Picacho Wells had taken his precious sweet time in getting here, but now he actually expected her to thank him for finally showing up.
“In time?” she asked incredulously. “You got here in time? In time for what, pray tell? What did either of you do to save me?”
“Help me,” the outlaw sobbed from the dirt. “Help me! She’s crazy! She tried to kill me!”
Georgina grimaced at him. “Honestly! Some people are too ridiculous to live. He was going to do awful, lewd things to me, Sheriff, and now he’s whining because I shot him, which is nothing compared to what he planned to do to me! Arrest him at once!”
She realized that Ash was staring at her in a half-puzzled, half-delighted way. Her heart executed an excited leap. She lifted her chin proudly. She could take care of herself, by gum, and Ash wouldn’t be able to deny it any longer.
Payton grabbed her arm. She turned and frowned at him.
“Release my arm if you please, Mr. Pierce. I’ve had enough of being manhandled today.”
The gunman moaned again and Georgina gave him a swift kick to shut him up. She didn’t care if he was in pain. Not after what he’d planned to do to her.
Ash slipped his gun into his waistband. Mr. Pierce, Georgina noted acidly, hadn’t bothered to arm himself before he dashed to her rescue. How he had planned to save her from an armed bandit without a weapon, she had no idea, and she really didn’t care enough to ask. “And now, if you will all excuse me, I must be on my way to the ladies’ quilting society. Sheriff, I will stop by the jail to press charges once the meeting ends.”
Ash’s grin made her heart thump like a woodpecker. “You’re really something, you know that, Miss Witherspoon?”
She felt her cheeks get hot and turned to climb back into the buggy. “I shall take that as a compliment, Sheriff. “
“Good. Because it was meant as one.”
“Thank you.”
Good heavens, if she didn’t get out of the line of Ash’s gaze pretty soon, she was going to fling herself into his arms and beg him to have his way with her. With some difficulty, she settled herself on the buggy seat, clicked at her horse, and started on her way to town.
Georgina smiled as she drove off. While she hoped nothing like this would ever happen again, she was pleased to know that she could protect herself if it did.
“That was a close call, darlin’.”
She nearly jumped out of the buggy when Dev suddenly materialized beside her. She’d forgotten all about him “Thank you very much for helping me, Mr. O’Rourke.”
“You’re welcome.”
Georgina didn’t really mind Dev sitting next to her, even though his aura was very chilly. Actually, what with all the nonsense that had gone on in the sunshine back there, the coolness of Devlin’s essence felt rather refreshing. “I have to admit I was worried there for a minute or two.” And if that wasn’t an understatement, she’d never uttered one. She amended, “I was quite worried.” Scared to death was more like it.
“You should have been. That there’s a bad man.”
“Yes, I noticed that quality in him “
“But the sheriff, now. Well, child, that man’s fallin’ head over ears for you.”
Georgina’s astonishment was unfeigned. “What? What did you say?”
“Pisht, girl, there’s no need to holler.”
“I beg your pardon. But I do believe you’re mistaken on that score, Mr. O’Rourke. Mr. Barrett and I don’t care for each other at all.”
She was not encouraged when Dev went off into a gale of laughter.
Chapter Twelve
When she arrived home later that afternoon, Georgia had already decided to approach Maybelle and try to get her to talk to Dev, at least. She figured that, as long as Devlin had performed heroically, there was no point in wasting his helpfulness. If she could convince Maybelle that her dead lover was a hero and a savior of innocent maidens’ virtues, perhaps Maybelle would finally admit that she loved him and he’d go away. Georgina used to be fairly adept at wheedling her parents; perhaps her grandmother would also prove to be susceptible to a good wheedle.
As she approached Maybelle Murphy, who looked to be as cantankerous and unwheedleable as ever, she began to doubt her plan. However, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight and so she resolved to add a little drama to spice up the story some. Couldn’t hurt, and Georgina had noticed that Maybelle seemed to enjoy drama.
“You know, Grandmother,” Georgina said as she approached her, trying to appear casual, “if it wasn’t for Mr. O’Rourke, I might well be lying dead in the desert right now.
Vernice dropped a small pot she’d been carrying to the stove and slapped her hands to her cheeks. “Merciful heavens! Whatever—good gracious, Georgina, what—whatever is the—how could such a thing—”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Maybelle, never one to beat around the bush, glared first at Vernice and then at Georgina.
“I mean that I was accosted outside of Picacho Wells today by a vicious gunman who wished to do me harm.”
“Good Lord in heaven!” Vernice paled and staggered backward. Georgina almost wished she’d been slightly less dramatic, if only for her poor aunt’s sake.
“Fortunately, Mr. O’Rourke saved me.” He’d helped, at any rate, and Georgina didn’t aim to be proud with her grandmother. She’d save her pride for Ash Barrett. She’d as soon Maybelle consider her dead lover a hero as Georgina a heroine. Maybe then they would all be able to sleep through a whole night.
“You’re joshing!” Maybelle sounded scornful.
“I am not!” Georgina began to feel the least bit disgruntled. “The horrible man planned to do evil things to me, and then shoot me!” At least she presumed that had been his intention. She was positive about the evil things part.”
“Well, I’ll be jigged.” Maybelle’s expression held respect.
About time, too. “What happened?”
“Oh, Georgina! I knew I should have gone—it was so stupid of me—just because I have a little cold—oh, I’m so sorry!”
Feeling guilty, Georgina took time to hug her aunt before continuing with her story. “It’s not your fault, Aunt Vernice. That awful man might have hurt you if you’d been with me.”
“Ha! I thought you said Dev rescued you. Do you mean to say, you think he’d let Vernice get shot and not you?” Maybelle snorted contemptuously. “I wouldn’t be surprised, at that.”
Irked, Georgina snapped, “I do not mean to say any such thing! I’m sure Mr. O’Rourke would have saved Vernice, too!”
“The girl’s right, Maybelle.”
Oh, wonderful. Georgina frowned at Devlin O’Rourke. She’d hoped to soften her grandmother’s heart toward him, but she didn’t trust him not to ruin everything. She gestured for him to go away, but he paid her no mind, which didn’t surprise her.
“Goodness gracious sakes alive!” Vernice sank into a chair and pressed a hand over her heart.
Maybelle snorted. “A fate worse than death, my hind leg. It would do you good to have a good roll in the hay, Georgina. Only not with an outlaw.” She grinned evilly at her granddaughter. “Ash Barrett would be a good choice.”
“Aye, your grandmother’s probably right about that, girl.”
Vernice cried, “Mother!” in a stifled voice.
Georgina scowled for a moment at her grandmother and Dev, decided she couldn’t win this one, and retired from the lists. Drat the contentious old couple, anyway.
After his ill-fated attempt to save Georgina Witherspoon from rape and plunder, Ash tried like the devil to avoid running into her. He discovered, as she had, that it was impossible to avoid others when one lived in a community as small as Picacho Wells. He did, however, fight tooth and nail when Sally Voorhees asked him to sing in a trio with Georgina and Payton for a special end-of-summer service the minister was planning
Not only did Ash not want do anything at all, ever, for as long as he lived, in conjunction with Payton Pierce, but if he had to stand next to Georgina for however long it took to sing a song, he wasn’t sure he would be able to account for his actions. Nearness to her brought out something primitive in him, and he was pretty sure the churchgoers of Picacho Wells would consider it obscene.
“Shoot, I can’t sing, Sally,” he said, in a voice closely resembling a whimper.
“Nonsense, Ash. You have a lovely baritone voice. I remember it from when you and Phoebe used to attend services.”
Ash’s stomach cramped at the mere mention of Phoebe’s name. Lord, Lord, he remembered those days. She used to go to church because she could dress up and flaunt her finery in front of the other ladies in town.
She also used to say that she couldn’t bear staying in that awful house alone with Ash for one minute longer. And she invariably continued, explaining that even if the folks in Picacho Wells were simpletons and rubes, they could talk. Unlike Ash who, she claimed, remained silent in order to torment her.
That wasn’t the reason for his reticence, of course. He had clammed up because every time he tried to sweet-talk Phoebe out of her dismals, she went off into a tantrum.
He’d learned shortly after the marriage rites had been spoken that he couldn’t win. He grimaced, remembering, then shook off the mood.
“Besides,” he said to Sally, “I have to work.”
“Nonsense. Even sheriffs get Sundays off, Ash Barrett, and you know it.”
He did know it, but he resented her bringing it up when it had been such a handy excuse. “Well, Sally, you never know. If something comes up, I’ll have to attend to it. You know that’s the truth. That’s what the city government pays me for.”
“Oh, don’t be so obstinate, Ash. Nothing will come up that needs the sheriff’s attention on a Sunday morning. Nothing ever happens.”
She was pretty much right about that that it. Nevertheless, Ash continued to fight. “Wait just a minute there. Miss Witherspoon had an encounter with an outlaw only the other day.”
“That wasn’t on a Sunday. It was on a Thursday. And it didn’t happen in town.”
She sounded so reasonable, Ash begrudged it since she seemed to be determined to rope him into this singing thing. Georgina’s encounter with the crook could have happened on a Sunday and in town, curse it! “Crooks don’t necessarily respect the Sabbath the way the rest of us do, you know.”
Sally tutted at him. “Miss Witherspoon is well able to take care of herself, as you ought to know by now.”
Yes, he knew it. He frowned at Sally because he still didn’t want to admit that a fancy-dancy city girl didn’t need a man to help her survive in the big, ugly world. He continued to balk. “Maybe. But not everyone is as lucky as she is.”
“It wasn’t luck that saved her, and you know it. Anyhow, this has nothing to do with outlaws kidnapping ladies. This has to do with your singing in a trio for the special summer service. We need you, Ash.”
“There’s got to be someone else in town who can sing baritone, blast it.” He was finding it difficult not, to use a bunch of “damns” and “hells,” and realized his vocabulary hadn’t improved any since he’d left Galveston when he was sixteen.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse, Ash. You know as well as I do that the only other man in town who can sing a note is Frank Dunwiddy, and he has to watch all those children while his wife sings in the choir.”
“Can’t she watch the kids for a few minutes?”
Sally shook her head. “No. She deserves one morning’s rest from those children, Ash Barrett, and if you don’t believe it, you try taking care of seven children twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”
Shoot. Put that way, Ash had to admit poor Mrs. Dunwiddy probably did deserve a break on Sunday mornings. He wished he wasn’t such a fair-minded man. It would save him a lot of grief.
Sally continued her assault. “Just because you choose not to use your voice for the Lord’s good, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. After all, one ought to use the gifts one is given. Don’t you think so?”
She smiled at him so sweetly that Ash, who had been prepared to bellow out another refusal, couldn’t. He hemmed and he hawed and hawed and hemmed, but Sally won in the end.
“Miss Witherspoon created the harmonies, Ash. She wrote them herself. She’s a very talented lady.”
“Yeah,” said Ash. “I’m sure she is.”
Sally Voorhees laughed at him.
It transpired, therefore, that on the first Wednesday in August, Ash found himself participating in choir practice. What’s worse, he found himself standing with Georgina and Pierce in front of the choir as Sally Voorhees played the introduction to “Come, Christians, Join to Sing” on the piano.
Georgina stood between him and Pierce which was, to Ash’s mind, a good thing, or his impulse to commit mayhem might have overcome him, to Pierce’s detriment. She was the one handling the melody. He and Pierce were supposed to chime in with the harmony in the chorus.
Since Georgina only came up a little farther than his shoulder, Ash had a good view over the top of her head of Pierce. He’d as soon not. But there was no help for it. He frowned at Pierce, who frowned back.
“Come, Christians, join to sing,” Georgina began in her clear, beautiful soprano voice.
“Alleluia! Amen,” sang Ash and Pierce.
Georgina glanced up at Ash. She looked startled. Ash glowered down at her. Confound it, he might have been roped into singing this stupid song, but he’d be hanged if he’d let Pierce out-sing him.
“Loud praise to Christ our king,” sang Georgina.
“Alleluia! Amen,” sang Ash and Pierce again, even louder than before.
This time, Georgina glanced up at Pierce, who stared out into the empty sanctuary, attempting to appear holy. At least that’s what it looked like to Ash, who had already loathed the man on principle, and who had started piling up specifics against him in recent weeks. Ever since Georgina had come to town, as a matter of fact.
“Let all with heart and voice, before his throne rejoice; praise is his gracious choice,” Georgina sang, her own voice reverberating gorgeously through the church.
“Alleluia! Amen,” shouted Ash and Pierce.
Georgina clapped her hands over her ears then raised an arm to signal Sally to stop playing.
As soon as the music ceased, Ash heard titters and muffled laughs from the choir. He turned around and scowled at the dozen or so old ladies sitting there. They all tried to look innocent, but he knew better. He felt pretty foolish, although he wasn’t about to let it show. Pierce, he noticed, was trying to look innocent, too. The snake.
Georgina cleared
her throat. “Perhaps we should begin again, gentlemen.” She placed special emphasis on gentlemen. “I don’t believe you need to sing quite so loudly. The sanctuary is small, and there are only the three of us.” She shared a sugary smile between Ash and Pierce. Ash wanted to punch Pierce in the jaw for receiving so lovely a smile from her.
This was terrible. If he didn’t get himself under control pretty soon, there was no telling what might happen. He vowed to spend at least an hour tonight after he got home in remembering every lousy minute of his marriage to Phoebe. If that didn’t cure him, maybe he should just put a bullet in his head and get it over with.
“I believe,” said Payton Pierce in a superior squeak, “that Mr. Barrett should soften his voice some. He’s much too loud.”
“Me?” Ash’s attention sprang instantly from Phoebe and bullets to the brain and fixed on Payton Pierce. “Me? You’re the one who was hollering.”
“I was not hollering, Mr. Barrett.” Pierce put on his most gallingly noble expression.
“Sounded like it to me,” Ash grumbled.
“Er, gentlemen, I believe you could both soften your voices some and the hymn would sound the better for it. It’s such a pretty hymn. We don’t want to overpower it.” Georgina smiled at them again. “All right?”
Ash didn’t like it that she was treating him the same as she was treating Pierce. Pierce wasn’t anything special. Pierce was a banker, for God’s sake. He was a pallid shadow of a man compared to Ash. Pierce hadn’t ever done anything interesting in his whole life. He hadn’t fought Indians. He hadn’t ever gone up against bad men in the territory. He hadn’t been elected sheriff by a whole town. Hell, he hadn’t been elected to anything by anybody.
“All right, Sheriff?”
Ash realized Georgina had been speaking. He frowned at her. She seemed taken aback for a second, and then she frowned, too. Ash recognized that frown of hers. It cheered him up some.
“Sure,” he said. “That’s fine.” He wished he knew what she’d said that he’d agreed with.
Spirit of Love Page 18