Banking on Temperance: Book Three of the Cotillion Ball Series (Crimson Romance)

by Lower, Becky

  Temperance should be able to replicate what her parents had, only if she could erase all thoughts of Basil from her mind. She needed to transfer all the feelings she had for Basil — her knight in shining armor — over to Jeremiah. He was going to be the true savior of her family, if only she could find her way back to the love she once had for him.

  Back to the love? Now that was an interesting thought. You have to at one time have been in love in order to get back to it. Had she ever been in love with Jeremiah? Really? When Basil’s facial expression changed last night from humor to ardor, and it seemed as if he wanted to leap across the table and crush her to himself, her body’s core pooled with a need so profound she nearly doubled over from it. Jeremiah had never affected her in such a manner.

  But possibly, now that she was familiar with how Basil kissed, perhaps she could teach Jeremiah the proper way to kiss a lady. Then she could develop the same feelings for him that she had for Basil. Couldn’t she?

  She took a deep breath as the little lane leading to the soddy came into view. Yes, that’s exactly what she would do. Jeremiah was a strong, capable man who was merely lacking in a few of the refined social graces embodied by Basil, who had far more experience with the ladies. Jeremiah’s lack of experience should be a point in his favor. So why did she keep thinking of it as an attribute to Basil? Oh dear. The road ended long before her thoughts did.

  • • •

  Temperance slid off her horse just as the door to the soddy burst open and her younger brothers and sisters came tumbling out. They had been cooped up in the damp, smelly, little sod house since the previous afternoon, and were ready to jump and play in the snow. Temperance grabbed them in a group hug and laughed as they separated into boys versus girls for a snowball fight. Her money was on her sisters to win that battle.

  Even though they were a non-violent family, they each took a turn learning how to handle firearms. After all, they needed to provide meat for themselves, on the edge of civilization. Call it fate, or genes, or whatever. Her father had been no good with a rifle and neither were her brothers. She was an expert marksman with a gun and Prudence had great aim, too. If it ever came to a battle, give the sidearms, or the snowballs in this case, to the ladies — at least in the Jones family.

  While Justice took care of getting her horse back to the stable, Temperance walked into the dimly lit interior of the soddy and spoke to her mother, who was boiling water for another load of laundry. Already, the scent of the harsh lye soap they used hung in the air. Martha turned from the large tub of hot water and smiled at her. “Where did you end up last night? When you didn’t come right home when the snow began, I figured you’d have to stay in town. It did come down mighty fast. Did you get a room at the inn?”

  Now that would have been sensible. “No, Ma. By the time I realized it was snowing so hard that I couldn’t leave, it was too late and the inn was full. I took one of Mr. Fitzpatrick’s blankets and slept in the small office of the bank last night. It was uncomfortable, but better than trying to come home when I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.”

  And that’s the very first time I’ve lied to my mother.

  “Well, I’ve been on pins and needles the better part of a day now. Mr. Walters, you know that nice postman in town, rode all the way out here yesterday with a letter for you. Said he thought it was an important piece of mail, so he wanted to hand-deliver it. He hurried back to town before the snow prevented him from being snowbound, but wasn’t it nice of him to come all this way?” Martha smoothed a stray lock of hair back from her face and got a strange, secret smile on her face. At least that’s what Temperance thought.

  “It seems to me he went above and beyond what a postman should be doing. Had you even met him before? Why would he come all this way out here, knowing you’re a woman alone?”

  Temperance hoped to deflect away questions regarding where and how she had actually spent the night by focusing on her mother’s strange visit from Mr. Walters.

  Martha raised her voice. “There was no intention on his part other than to deliver the mail, Temperance. How dare you even suggest such a thing! To answer your question, yes, I had met Mr. Walters before yesterday. He and I have talked in the post office a time or two. He expressed his sorrow for poor Samuel’s passing just last week when I ran into him on the street. He was merely doing his duty by delivering the mail, regardless of the weather.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean to cast aspersions on his character. Of course he was merely doing his duty. He seems to be a nice man. Where’s the letter?”

  “What?” Martha shook herself and wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, it’s right here. It’s from Jeremiah. Maybe it will tell you when to expect him! Do open it quickly.”

  With trembling fingers, Temperance tore open the envelope and unfurled the solitary piece of crude stationery. She read it quickly, and then glanced up at her mother with tears in her eyes.

  “He’s not coming.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the time she was scheduled to clean the bank again, Temperance had formulated a plan. And she needed Basil’s help to pull it off. Which meant she had to give up her idea of finding a new job, at least for the time being. Basil was the only person in town she could talk to, and right now, that was more important than any discomfort she might be feeling caused by their close encounter the other night.

  Lifting her hand, she knocked at the back door and took a deep breath while she waited for him to open it and let her in. She smoothed down her muslin skirt and made certain the stray tendrils of hair that had been pried loose by the wind as she rode into town were back in place.

  Basil opened the door quietly and stood to one side as she ducked into the large open room. She had not seen him since the awkward morning after the snowstorm. She took a moment to feast her eyes on him. Then, with a great force of will, she broke off her perusal, took a deep breath and said, “I must talk to you.”

  “Certainly, Temperance. Shall we discuss your matter in the small office where you slept the other night?” His grin told her he was attempting to make her smile at their secret. Her mouth twitched, but she needed him to get serious, since she had important things to discuss with him.

  “I’m not in the mood for any of your shenanigans, Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t respond as she led the way to the chair opposite his desk in the main room of the bank. “Here will be fine. Please, sit down.” She motioned for him to sit at the desk. He nodded, and sat down.

  Temperance took a deep breath, and continued. “I had a letter waiting for me when I arrived back home the other day.”

  “From Jeremiah, I assume?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And when is your hero going to arrive in town and put everything to right?”

  Temperance squirmed in her seat and avoided looking directly at him. “He’s not coming. Rebecca Stoughton convinced him to stay in Pennsylvania with her. They married a month ago.” Her eyes sparkled with frustrated tears and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

  Basil expelled a long breath. “I’m sorry, Temperance. I know how much you were counting on him.”

  She finally raised her eyes to look across the desk. “I, uh, I thought he loved me.” She choked on the words.

  “Maybe he did for a time. But life, and absence, has a way of changing things, and a person’s priorities have to shift in order to keep up. He never really wanted to leave Pennsylvania in the first place. If he had, he’d have come with you last spring, harvest or no. What will you do now?”

  Her eyes snapped as she began to discuss her plans. “It’s obvious that Justice is not yet a man, and can’t lead us on the wagon train. So, we are left with two choices. Either we hire a man to come with us, or I impersonate one.”

  Basil’s laugh erupted in her e
ars.

  “Are those such impossible plans that you would scoff at them?”

  “Not the first plan. You might be onto something there. Perhaps there is a man in town who is so desperate to escape the trappings of an established town that he’d be willing to take the helm of your wagon, with your mother about to give birth on the trail, and your siblings all trailing along behind him. But I can’t think of any person in town whose straits are so dire. Or any man who would be reputable enough for you to consider for the job. After all, he must be a safe, reliable person. You don’t want to head into Indian country with a man you can’t trust. I’ll think about it and see if any come to mind who you might approach.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Fitzpatrick. That would be most helpful.”

  He glanced across the desk. “Ah, so we’re back to Mr. Fitzpatrick again, are we? Well, I refuse. I’m going to keep calling you Temperance.”

  “You are within your rights, sir, since I am merely your employee. But, to me, you are Mr. Fitzpatrick.”

  She ignored the devastating smile on his face, and waited for him to get serious again. He shrugged his shoulders before he replied.

  “But as for your second plan … ”

  “What, you don’t think I could pull off masquerading as a man? You said yourself, I’m good with a gun, and I’m an expert horsewoman. I don’t even see why we need a man with us.”

  Basil lifted his hands into the air and began ticking off his points on his fingers. “Because you’re going to be heading into deserts, mountains, crossing raging rivers, and facing Indians, not all of whom are going to welcome you with open arms in the same manner the Lafontaines have done. How do you think your wagon is going to get up the Rocky Mountains? Even if you have enough money by spring to trade in those skinny mules of yours for healthy, strong oxen, there’s still going to be the need for a strong shoulder to push the wagons along. And you’re too small, whether you decide to dress in a skirt or in pants.”

  Tears were threatening again. “Can’t I at least try? My family is counting on me, and I wasn’t able to keep Jeremiah’s interest for even a few months. He married someone else and turned his back on us when we most needed him. I must find a way to finish what my father started, and get my brothers safely to Oregon, and out of the way of the war that’s coming.”

  “Ah, Temperance,” Basil spoke softly. “Jeremiah just faced the truth a bit sooner than you. He knows what you have been trying to deny, but he was brave enough to do something about it. As much as I dislike him, I have to applaud the man. You two weren’t meant to be together. You weren’t in love with each other. But while you clung to the idea he would help your family, he realized that without love, what you were asking him to do was a huge commitment with no payoff.”

  “But he rejected me.” She lowered her eyes and pleated her skirt with her fingers.

  “Which only proves the unworthiness of the man. Temperance, he is a fool, and you don’t need a fool in your life.”

  “Possibly not, but I need some man in my life if we’re ever to get to Oregon.”

  Basil was silent for a minute while his gaze raked over her body and face. Then he stood up, scraping his chair back from the desk. “All right then, if you want to be a man, we need to put you into the proper attire and see how you do.”

  Temperance’s hopes went up a notch. “Really? Will you help me? I brought some of Justice’s clothes with me. Can we begin my lessons on how to be a man right after I finish my work?”

  • • •

  “So, how do I look?” Temperance came out of the little office room dressed in her brother’s clothing. Basil smiled at her attire and twirled his finger in the air. She nodded and executed a pirouette that would make a ballet dancer jealous. “Well?”

  Basil tried to take his mind off how her brother’s pants hugged the swell of her hip. And how the rough shirt she had tucked into those pants only highlighted her bosom. He pressed his lips together and gave her a critical glance.

  “You resemble a twelve-year-old girl playing dress-up.”

  Temperance was crushed. “Can we fix it? Maybe if I cut my hair … ” She reached into her bag and brought out a large pair of scissors. She grabbed a lock of her hair and positioned it between the blades. Basil’s hand encircled her wrist and he removed the scissors from her hand.

  “No.” His strangled voice sounded strange even to him. The thought of her chopping off her lovely, flowing light brown curls grabbed him in the gut. “You can do that later, if you decide to go ahead with this idiocy. For tonight, let’s just shove your hair under a cap.”

  “Well, what else can I do?”

  “You can start by binding yourself up.” He swirled his hand in front of her chest area. She blushed under his perusal.

  “Oh. I thought I was so small that no one would notice.”

  “Believe me, Temperance, people will notice. I notice.”

  Her blush deepened. “All right then. I did bring a length of muslin to use for that purpose if necessary. What else?”

  Basil pondered her smooth face for a moment. “I have an idea.” He moved over to the wood stove and opened the door. Sticking his fingers in the ash, he returned to her side and took hold of her chin. He painted on thicker brows and added a dusting of ash around her cheeks and chin, to emulate whisker growth. He blended it in with his fingers and his handkerchief, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin under his fingers. He was loath to stop, but if he didn’t soon, they’d be right back where they were the night of the snowstorm.

  Being so close to her lips was way too tempting. And he was enjoying this playful side of Temperance, who was usually so focused on her work and family that she had little time to have fun. He also was aware this was not a game to her, but rather, serious business. He made one final pass with the handkerchief to blend his work, and held onto her shoulders while he took one last look.

  “May I see?” She moved restlessly under him. Reluctantly, he backed off and let her run to the mirror in the small room off to the side. “I’ll be just a minute.” She closed the door to wrap her chest in binding. Opening the door again, she tucked her hair up under her large hat and took one last look in the mirror. “It might work at that,” she said hopefully.

  She walked back into the large room of the bank, and Basil grinned. “Not if you keep walking that way, swishing your hips.”

  “I don’t ‘swish.’ But if I am not walking in an appropriate manner, show me how I’m to do it.”

  “You’ve got to put some attitude into it, and have a swagger about yourself. Sort of this way.” He walked from one end of the room to the other. “Now, you.” He stood in the corner as she executed a graceful glide across the floorboards. “No, you’re not an actress on a stage. You’re a rough, tough cowboy who can shoot the feathers off a chicken at fifty paces. Watch me.” He exaggerated his hip movements and his stride. She tried again.

  “That’s better. So, with the attire and the swagger and the fake mustache, you might pass for sixteen.”

  “Sixteen? But, as a girl, I’m eighteen!”

  “Perhaps you should stay a girl then, Temperance.” Basil smiled at her. Her back straightened and her chin, ash and all, came up a few degrees. Uh-oh. By now he could tell what the lift in her chin meant.

  “I’m determined to see this through. It’s my last hope.”

  Basil sighed. “All right then. Let’s do some play-acting. Pretend you’ve just come into the tavern and you belly up to the bar. What do you do next?”

  “I’d order a sarsaparilla.”

  He raked his hands through his hair. “See? This is just what I mean. Sarsaparilla? What gun-toting man is going to want that to drink?”

  “I see what you mean. I guess I’d order an ale, then.”

  “All right. That’s better. Let me hear you place your or
der.”

  She grinned up at him, suddenly getting into the spirit of this adventure. “Barkeep, bring me a beer!”

  “You’re getting there. Just try to say it in a deeper voice. Most boys lose their tenor voices by the time they’re twelve or thirteen.”

  “Oh, right.” She lowered her voice. “Barkeep, bring me a beer.”

  To Basil’s ears, her lowered voice sounded seductive rather than manly. But he was enjoying her obvious delight in the game, so he didn’t try to change it. He could listen to her use that delectable voice all night.

  “Can we go now?”

  “Go where?” Basil’s stomach took a dive as he suddenly realized she wanted to test her disguise in front of strangers.

  “Well, to the tavern, of course. I’ve wondered how the inside of it was decorated. Now’s my chance, Basil.”

  He gazed into her face, and caught the flash of excitement in her eyes. He could deny her nothing. He only hoped he could defend her honor, if it came to that.

  With trepidation, he opened the door to the street, and they crossed to the bar together. This was not going to go well.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Temperance’s excitement ratcheted up as they approached the swinging double doors of the saloon. She put on her best swagger and followed Basil into the tavern. The air was thick with cigarette and cigar smoke and a gentleman was in the corner of the room, pounding out a lively tune on a tinny, slightly out of tune piano. Men were sitting around rough-hewn tables, playing cards and drinking beer and whisky. No one bothered them as they walked through the room and went to the bar.

  “What’ll it be tonight, Basil?” The barkeeper was familiar with his clientele. “Who’s your friend?” He threw a quick glance to Temperance, who kept her eyes cast downward.

  “Two beers, Zach. This here’s my nephew, just newly arrived in town from back east. He goes by the name of … ”

  Oh Lord, they’d forgotten to give her a name. She took a gulp and held out her hand to the bartender. At least her hand was callused enough to resemble a man’s hand, even if it was small. She gave him the first name that sprang to mind, and remembered to lower her voice. “Jeremiah. Pleased to meet you, sir.”