Trinket nodded. “We don’t want to talk about the war. Hell, there’s still idiot men out there that ain’t too sure it’s over, the way they act. Them Texas cowpunchers act like the South won, and you get ‘em together with some Yankee miners, you got yourself some trouble, just like last night.”
Fannie pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yup. Out here, men kill other men over money and women. That’s it. It’s easy. In war, no one knows why men kill other men ‘cepting the leaders. Instead of killing one man, they make thousands of men kill thousands of other men, all so’s the leaders can have even more money and women. The only thing the other men get is dead.”
“Hello, ladies!” Reese took off his hat as he strode into the room, carrying two good-sized boxes. “Having a little meeting?”
The sight of him turned Lucinda’s legs to liquid, and words refused to form. The kiss—one kiss, and she had wanted more. She fanned herself with the lesson plan paper.
Fannie spoke up. “We was about finished.” She stood and motioned for the others to do so. “Trinket, you can have an extry hour each day to mend the curtains and such. I’ll help Gus fix up the tables and chairs. Felicia, you’re in charge of fixing the chinks in the floor, and Chrissy, I want you to get Midas to make damned good and sure that the chandelier don’t crash on our heads. Petunia, you can go get your bath.” She waved them out of the room. “Get along, now.”
Thinking discretion—escape, more accurately—was the best plan, Lucinda made her excuses. “I’ll help Sadie with supper.”
Fannie winked at her. “You do that.”
She knew! Fannie knew everything! Lucinda hurried to the door. But Reese blocked the doorway with the bundle in his arms.
“No, stay.”
Reese handed Lucinda one of the boxes. “This is for you.”
Lucinda eyed it suspiciously. “For me?” Why would he get her anything? It couldn’t be the school supplies because he didn’t even know what she’d ordered.
“Go ahead, unwrap it,” he urged.
A gift? Had he purchased a gift for her? Until Trinket had given her the blue dress, no one had ever given her a gift except Miss Hattie, who’d given her second-hand clothes. They were decent, but used, nevertheless. Then there were the sachets that the students at Miss Hattie’s School for the Refinement of Young Ladies received every Christmas.
But never, ever had anyone given her a gift that came wrapped. She ran her finger over the string.
“Are you going to unwrap it, or stare at it all day?”
She glanced up at Reese, who, magically, stood beside her. A tremor ran up her spine at the sight of his warm eyes and, well, shoulders.
He pulled a pocketknife out of his vest, unfolded it, and offered it to her, handle first. “Cut the string with this.”
“Oh, no! If I untie it, I can use it for other things. Waste not, want not, you know.”
“Open the damned thing, then.” He folded the knife and tucked it in his pocket.
Her fingers fumbled as she untied the knot, but finally the string fell from the package. She unwrapped the paper carefully, so as to not tear it, only to find another layer of brown paper encasing the mysterious object. If only he’d quit watching her.
When she painstakingly removed the second layer of paper and opened the flaps on the box, she discovered a most wondrous sight.
A beautiful green evening dress! She stared at it a moment, then couldn’t resist touching it. She carefully removed it from the paper and held it up to herself. Oh dear, it was much too low in the front for any decent woman to wear. But the beautiful lace and pearls around the neckline and sleeves surpassed anything she’d ever owned before, even the dress Trinket had recently given her.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t possibly accept such a gift from any man, especially a brothel owner. Most especially from one who made her insides melt like honey every time she caught a glance at him.
“My, ain’t that pretty?” exclaimed Fannie.
Lucinda winced inwardly. Fannie looked exceedingly pleased and so did Reese. But such a personal gift would never be condoned by polite society.
She put the dress down and turned toward him. “I . . .”
Reese smiled. She wished he wouldn’t do that. A smile like that from him could turn her into a blithering idiot in one second flat.
“Look under that tissue paper—there’s more.”
She did, and pulled out a red and yellow striped parasol. Bewildered, she held it up, staring.
* * * * *
Reese watched as Lucinda stood with one eyebrow raised, staring at the green and gray parasol like it was a new breed of porcupine. Maybe he shouldn’t have purchased the extras, but he thought all ladies liked matching doodads to go with their dresses.
“It goes with the dress.” He stood his ground but would’ve preferred to be just about anywhere else—fighting bears, maybe.
Mankind would never figure out females. At this point, his prospect looked dim. Lucinda’s eyes had lit up like a Fourth of July firecracker when she first held the dress up to her sweet bosom, but she seemed reluctant to take it. It did match the swatch of material Fannie had given him—Mrs. Bulworth had assured him so.
Strange thing, too, she acted like he’d stepped out of bounds by buying her the damned thing. Of course that couldn’t be true since she’d given him the money to buy it in the first place. Well, indirectly. He’d refused the money Fannie had offered.
He watched her lay the parasol back into the box so gently that the paper didn’t make a sound. She sent a glance to Fannie as horrified as any he’d ever seen, reminding him of a soldier’s first look at battle. Apparently, she didn’t like what he’d bought and her gentility prevented her from saying so.
She redirected her gaze to the floor. “It...the parasol, I mean, is, well...interesting…er, lovely, I mean.”
She doesn’t like it. Damn. Hoping he could exonerate himself with the hat—women did seem to like them ugly—he reached into the second box and pulled it out. “And here’s your new bonnet.” He handed her a gray bonnet with blue flowers and a green bird perched right on the top. “Isn’t this what you ladies like?”
Fannie snatched the hat away. “Thanks, Reese! I needed an orange and blue bonnet.” She grabbed the parasol, too. “Felicia’ll love this red and yellow parasol.
Hell and tarnation! Lucinda probably thought he was some sort of addlebrain. Now he knew why she looked so puzzled—the colors weren’t the same. Women! Why didn’t they do what he did and wear the same damned thing every day. It would sure save a man a lot of bother.
“I got work to do.” He grabbed his hat and made for the door. He just wanted to get out of there while the getting was good.
Fannie followed him right out to the barn and into Buster’s stall. Hell, there wasn’t an inch of earth on this planet where a man could get some peace and quiet. He picked up a brush and began grooming the horse as if Fannie weren’t there. As if avoiding her could even be an option with the ornery biddy.
“Fer Pete’s sake, Reese. You brung her a green dress, a red and yellow striped parasol, and an orange bonnet piled high with blue flowers and a yellow bird perched on top.”
He brushed at Buster’s mane in a vain hope that Fannie would take the hint and go away.
She glared at him. He felt it right through the back of his head. “I admit, you done all right with the dress. It’s plumb gorgeous,” she said as she pushed herself between him and Buster. Then she planted her fists on her hips and he knew he was in for it. “But that there hat and parasol just don’t go. You didn’t give the clerk the color swatch, did you?” She waggled her forefinger at his nose.
He shuffled his feet ever so slightly and did his best to ignore her by moving around her and continuing Buster’s brushing. “I was in a bit of a hurry...”
“What’d I tell you ‘bout buying ladies clothes? You can’t see yer colors worth a tinker’s dam, so you come up with some of th
e godawfullest combinations in all creation.”
“Mr. McAdams?”
Reese turned toward the sweet voice he knew was Lucinda.
She held the boxes he’d given her. “I’m pleased that you went out of your way to purchase these lovely things, but you must understand that as an unmarried lady, I can’t possibly accept them.” She placed the boxes carefully on a saddle tree. “I’m sorry,” she said as she hurried out.
He turned to Fannie, who chewed her lip and drew a circle in the straw with her toe.
“What the hell was that all about, Fannie? First, she wants me to buy her a dress, then she turns the damned thing down.”
“Sometimes ladies change their minds,” Fannie murmured as she crept away, acting like she wanted to make a run for it.
She ought to feel sheepish, Reese decided. And prissy-faced Miss Lucinda Sharpe, too. This wishy-washy crap had gone as far as it was going to. He had a ranch to work and another herd on the way from Baker City.
Dratted women, anyway.
Chapter 11
A week later, Lucinda stood on the porch and waited for the stage to come in. The school supplies were overdue, and misgivings had convinced her that she’d been completely wrong in spending Mr. McAdams’s money so extravagantly. But the supplies had long been shipped and she couldn’t undo what she’d done.
“Logan!” Petunia yelled as she dashed out of the Comfort Palace and into the road to meet the stage. Really, Lucinda mused as she watched Petunia’s skirts fly and her arms flail, she simply had to talk to Petunia about her deportment. Flagging down stages simply was not in a lady’s repertoire.
She dreaded the stagecoach’s arrival, having had second, third, and tenth thoughts about ordering all those school supplies. Mr. McAdams would be furious. The desks would be brought in by the freight wagon due in tomorrow. She expected only the small items—paper, pencils, and maybe some of the books—to be on the stage. The most frightening item on that stage would be the invoice for everything.
Gus ambled out of the Comfort Palace and stood beside her. “You look a little worried there, missy.”
“Me?” She breathed in the autumn air. “I’m just enjoying the nice weather. I thought it would get cold long before now.”
“Most times it does. Last year we had ten inches of snow by now.”
“How soon do you think it will snow this year?”
“Don’t know,” Gus chuckled, “but I imagine it’ll start storming just about the time Reese gets the bill that just came in on that stage.”
Lucinda sighed. “Does everyone know about the school supplies?”
“Everyone but Reese, poor soul.”
The stage pulled in and Petunia pounced on the hapless Logan before the dust settled.
Gus chuckled. “That man don’t have a chance.”
“Doesn’t,” Lucinda corrected.
“Not a chance in hell,” Gus agreed. “By the way, are you all set to go to Oreana tomorrow?”
“Oh yes! I’m looking forward to it very much.”
“Gus!” the stage driver called. “Haul your sorry ass over here and give me a hand.”
“All righty, hold your horses.”
She watched as Logan and Gus carried several boxes to the office. She had wanted to keep the supplies in her room, but Fannie had pointed out that undoubtedly Reese would want to see what he had to pay for. The last time he’d been in her room—her heart skipped a beat and her face flushed with heat—it wasn’t a good idea to give him a reason to go there again.
“You got chapped lips?” Fannie asked. “Sadie’s got some bag balm that’ll fix you right up.”
“No, why?”
“Well, you was licking yer lips.”
If Fannie only knew. “Oh.”
“You feeling all right?”
“Yes, of course.” Other than aching in unmentionable places every time she thought of Reese.
“Why are you all red-faced, then?”
“Too much sun, I’m sure.”
Fannie laughed and sent her a sideways glance. “In the middle of September?”
Lucinda chose not to respond.
“Reese oughtta be here pretty soon to settle up with Logan over the school supplies.”
“He knows?”
“Naw, he don’t know, but he always shows up when the stage does. Logan fought under his command in Wyoming, along with Midas and Titus, and they’re all good pals.”
Lucinda swallowed. She heard galloping hoofbeats and turned to see Reese riding into town. Debating whether she should stand her ground or retreat to her room, she stared at the handsome figure of a man.
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Reese said as he slipped off his horse and tied the reins to the hitching post. “Fannie, have Gus cool down Buster for me, will you?” He tipped his hat to Lucinda as he strode up the porch stairs. “Miss,” he greeted, then disappeared into the Comfort Palace.
She could barely breathe while she waited for the yelling she knew was imminent. Not a sound. She waited some more. No one came out to put Buster away. Not able to tolerate the wait, and because the horse would probably be the only one who didn’t either yell or make fun of her, she untied his reins from the post and led him to the barn for grooming. That she didn’t know the first thing about horses seemed to be the least of her worries right now.
After leading him into his stall, she slid the bridle off him. “I suppose you’re tired of this saddle pinching you.”
She tried to loosen the cinch, but it was so snug she couldn’t get it to budge. “How did he get this so tight?”
Buster nickered, but didn’t offer any information. She worked the cinch until it loosened.
“There,” she said as the cinch strap fell open, “I bet that feels as good to you as when I remove my corset.”
“Would you me like to try it?”
She nearly fainted at Reese’s voice. His tone projected an ominous immediate future. Slowly, she turned toward him to see his face reflecting fury. She decided to let his inappropriate comment pass.
“Do you have any idea what your stupid, impulsive purchase has done?”
Her throat tightened and she couldn’t have uttered a word even if she could have thought of anything to say.
“I’ll tell you, then. You have just caused me to take the money I’ve saved to pay for my new herd—that’s already on its way, I might add—to pay for your precious school supplies. Enough supplies to teach half of Idaho Territory.”
“I...” Her voice squeaked and she concentrated on relaxing the fist-sized lump in her throat. She cursed herself for such impetuous behavior, but she blinked back the tears and looked him straight in the eye. She couldn’t—wouldn’t back down now.
“You probably think I’m a rich man, living off a bunch of women, don’t you?”
That’s exactly what she thought, but she didn’t move a muscle. She’d never give him a clue that she felt sorry for him.
“Go ahead and think that.” He slammed the stall gate behind him as he left. Halfway to the barn door, he stopped. “By the way, where does the money come from that you are living off of?”
He stomped out. The building seemed empty, and she wondered whatever had possessed her to do such an insensitive thing. Much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. She’d been irresponsible with his money, no matter how ill-gotten.
Well, she’d show him. She’d pay him back every penny, even if it meant teaching the ladies until springtime. By next May, every single lady at the Comfort Palace would be able to read, write, cipher, and comport themselves well enough to impress even Miss Hattie.
And she’d dump all two hundred dollars on Mr. Reese McAdams’s desk just before she caught the stage out of town.
* * * * *
The morning sun warmed the brisk autumn air as Lucinda rode with Gus to the suffragist meeting in Silver City. She could barely contain her excitement and sent thanks to heaven that the jostling wagon covered up her need to fidget.
“I haven’t been to a suffragist meeting since I left St. Joseph.” Of course, the real reason she had to smile had to do with conversing with like-minded women—women who could speak with the entire ing at the end of a word.
“I expect you’ll feel right at home, huh?”
The wagon jerked and Lucinda grabbed the armrest to keep from getting bounced off. The pillow Fannie had given her helped cushion her backside, but it also made balancing more difficult as the wagon jostled over the bumps, or craters, as the case may be. “Yes, I met Miss Anthony in St. Jo. I doubt she’ll remember me, but anyone who’s ever met her will never forget her. She’s a powerful orator and passionate about the cause. With her on our side, all states and territories will most certainly grant women the right to vote within the decade.”
Gus shook his head. “I don’t know. You have to get the voters on your side first, and she ain’t too good at that. Men are the ones who’ll decide. You piss them off, you don’t have any more chance to get what you want than a woodpecker on a brass knocker. Plus she’s pissed off the Rebs right from the git-go.”
“She needed to be radical to get people’s attention.”
“What if she does recognize you? Are you going to tell her you live in a whorehouse?”
Piffle! She’d been so caught up in the excitement of attending her first suffragist meeting in Idaho, she hadn’t even thought about her precarious situation. Her credibility would be ruined forever, not to mention her hard-won reputation.
No, odds were that the question would never arise. Most likely, only women would be at the meeting, and even if one of their husbands were a Comfort Palace customer, he wouldn’t have seen her at the brothel. And even if he did, he certainly wouldn’t have the gall to tell his wife he’d been there. Still, the chance of discovery remained. The best way to deal with these strange circumstances was to take the initiative herself before she could be attacked.
Much Ado About Madams Page 15