Lisa Plumley - [Crabtree 02]

by The Scoundrel

  “All by myself,” Eli piped up proudly. “I wasn’t s’posed to, but my chaperone missed the train.”

  “Still,” Grace persisted, showing all the doggedness of a born crusader, “it wouldn’t hurt to give Mama the address.”

  He inclined his head toward Fiona. “I’d hate to give you false hope of a reply, Mrs. Crabtree,” he said gently. “Lillian is not the woman she once was.”

  What in the world did that mean? Sarah wondered. She knew about Lillian’s remarriage, of course. Daniel had told her that much. And she knew the rudimentary details of his sister’s voyage overseas, also. But how, exactly, had Lillian changed?

  When the McCabes had lived in Morrow Creek, she and Sarah had been too far apart in age to share more than a passing acquaintance. But now they were family, as her mama had pointed out. Surely Sarah deserved to know more.

  In the awkward silence that filled the parlor, Eli tugged Daniel’s sleeve. “Where’s Italy?” he asked. “Is it far away? As far as I came on the train?”

  Innocently, he scrunched his nose, awaiting a reply.

  None was forthcoming. Daniel merely fitted another puzzle piece, appearing to ponder the question. His reaction both concerned and annoyed Sarah. Had Daniel actually neglected to tell Eli where his mother was? It would be like him, she realized, to skirt the issue. After all, this was a man who’d failed to announce his own wedding.

  “Yes, it’s very far away,” he said at last. He ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. “Eli, why don’t you go see if Cook has any of that honeyed milk you like? Maybe you can have a glass, if you ask the way I told you to.”

  A mischievous gleam came into Eli’s eyes. “With a big smile and a little wink?”

  “That’s right.”

  Sarah shook her head. It just fit. Daniel had taught the boy to be a rascal like himself but hadn’t explained the facts of his new life to him. Her husband was a scoundrel for more reasons than mere flirting with the ladies in town.

  A grin. “All right. Cook! Hello, Cook!”

  Filled with childish enthusiasm, Eli ran to the kitchen. His skinny shoulders bobbed beneath the shirt Sarah had sized with room to grow—one of her earlier stitchery attempts. The door slammed behind him.

  Daniel saw her face. “What’s the matter? Charm comes naturally to him, I swear it.”

  Her family exchanged telling glances.

  Sarah was having none of it. “You didn’t tell him?”

  Daniel gave her a brooding look.

  “Lillian didn’t tell him?” Sarah pressed. Heedless of their surroundings, she rolled her eyes. “Heaven help us. Hardheadedness runs in the family.”

  “Sarah, that’s enough.”

  “But what does Eli believe he is doing here? Visiting?”

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  His ominous tone stopped her. Of course, it was all well and good for him to be mysterious. But she wanted answers.

  Frustrated, Sarah looked to her family for help. To a person, they suddenly became engaged in other pursuits. Molly and Marcus scrutinized their sheet music, Papa adjusted his spectacles and Mama polished her silver coffee service. Even Grace pretended absorption in the plain piped trim on her dress.

  That was when Sarah knew she’d seriously overstepped her bounds. Grace didn’t give a fig for fashion. If even she were embarrassed by this conversation…

  Well. She’d simply have to wait till later to uncover Daniel’s secrets. And Lillian’s. It was as plain as that.

  “So.” Awkwardly, Sarah folded her hands in her lap. “Would anyone care for a game of charades?”

  Chapter Nine

  “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah told her sisters.

  They’d met at the town mercantile, ostensibly to shop for a holiday gift for Mama. In reality, they’d planned this occasion immediately after Sarah’s visit to the Crabtree household. She’d pleaded with Molly and Grace to meet with her privately, to help her decide what to do about Daniel and Eli.

  “I’m at my wit’s end. I buttonholed Daniel after we came home, but I could get nowhere with him!” Sarah picked up a pretty thimble set and turned it over. “He says he’s already told me all he knows about Lillian.”

  Molly nodded. “Perhaps he has.”

  “No, he hasn’t. He’s told me the facts of how Eli came to him, certainly. On the train, bearing a letter, and so forth. Also a bit about Lillian’s new husband—a wealthy Philadelphia businessman somewhat older than Lillian. But Daniel’s told me none of the important things. How he feels about it all, how it affects him, how he hopes it will turn out.”

  Her sisters nodded in understanding—Grace a little less readily than Molly.

  “I’m his wife!” Sarah replaced the thimble set with a frown. “I need to know what’s in Daniel’s heart.”

  “You can never know anything about a man,” Grace opined, “because they don’t know anything about themselves. Why, just yesterday I had a set-to with that irritating Jack Murphy, and—”

  “Are you still on about him?” Molly looked surprised. “I thought the two of you had come to some sort of an agreement.”

  Grace and the saloonkeeper shared space in the same building at the edge of town. Grace wanted it for conducting meetings and rallies and ladies’ aid society projects; Jack Murphy wanted it to provide men with boardinghouse rooms in addition to the whiskey and ale he already offered. Both sisters’ sympathies naturally lay with Grace.

  “I’ll never come to an agreement with that man!”

  “Yes, yes. We know.” Sarah moved to a display of painted trinket boxes, uncomfortably aware that her sisters had clearly forgotten her presence. Again. “But in the meantime, I have a real problem.”

  “Daniel’s silence on this issue is not that much of a problem,” Molly said reassuringly. “He is your husband. Eventually he’ll tell you everything. When he’s ready.”

  “Or he won’t,” Grace put in. “Because men only ever do what they want to do. It’s the natural outcome of our patriarchal society.”

  Sarah didn’t feel prepared for one of her sister’s suffragette lectures today. She sighed. “I did learn one thing of interest. Do you know why Daniel’s family moved away from Morrow Creek all those years ago?”

  “I was young when they left,” Molly said. “I can hardly remember it. But I assume they missed the States?”

  “Or couldn’t make a go of their business?” Grace added.

  “No. It was neither of those things.” Sarah leaned closer to keep her news private in the overstuffed shop. “Lillian’s first husband didn’t like Morrow Creek. He’d just been passing through when he met Lillian, and he wanted to return to the States. He told her to choose between living here with her family or returning east with him—”

  “And she chose him?” Grace asked, disbelieving.

  “Over her own family?” Molly looked appalled.

  Sarah nodded. “‘Without blinking twice,’ Daniel said. I’d say he’s still upset over the matter…except he insists he has no feelings on the subject.”

  Just remembering their fruitless conversation upset her all over again. Why was it that Daniel claimed utter honesty when she knew he was holding things back?

  “That doesn’t explain why the entire McCabe family left here, save Daniel,” Grace pointed out. “Lillian could easily have gone alone.”

  “I know. But according to Daniel, his mother always had a taste for finery. Moving to Philadelphia suited her.”

  Molly shook her head. “I don’t understand it.”

  “I do.” Grace seemed thoughtful. “But then I’ve always wanted to travel. Any excuse would do.” Her eyes shone. “There’s so much more to be seen, to be tried, in this world than can be contained in Morrow Creek.”

  Sarah and Molly stared at her.

  “Merely as a point of interest,” Grace clarified, shelving her enthusiasm along with a pair of knitting needles. She moved to a tumble of crochet yarn, examining the varied color
s. “Mama would enjoy these, don’t you think so?”

  They chose a few, eventually placing them in the basket on Molly’s arm. No harm in actually accomplishing some errands, Sarah reasoned, while she poured out her frustrations.

  “Does Eli talk about his mother?” Grace asked.

  “At first he did. Quite a lot,” Sarah confided. “Daniel told me so. But now…” She paused, considering it. “Now he seems busy with other things. He mentions his mama rarely—but happily, when he does.”

  “That’s because Eli is a good boy, glad to have you to care for him,” Molly said loyally. “He knows you love and provide for him, and that’s all any child needs. In time, things will get easier.”

  Sarah hoped so. “I still don’t understand about Lillian, though. Daniel said she’s changed…but what would make her send away Eli?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Molly said staunchly.

  “Only one person knows that,” Grace said. “And she is all the way in Italy. Let it go, Sarah. I know your flights of fancy probably have you imagining all sorts of unlikely things, but the truth is, you have a life of your own—one that includes Eli and Daniel. One that’s moving forward! You must move forward with it. Stop dwelling on things you can’t help.”

  Discontentedly, Sarah added a skein of wool to the basket. Perhaps Grace was right. She’d already done all she could about the situation between Daniel and Eli, short of dragging the answers she wanted from her husband by force. Likely, he would tell her the rest in his own time. What she hadn’t yet taken care of, and what still remained in her power to affect, was her marriage. She could definitely help that.

  While merely asking Daniel to cooperate with her wishes hadn’t proved satisfactory, that didn’t mean there weren’t still other tactics to be tried. With her sisters’ help, it was still possible Sarah could get through to the man she loved…and make him love her back. Possibly, once that happened, everything else would fall in place, too.

  “All right.” Brightening, she looped her arms with her sisters’. She steered them all toward the clerk, ready to be finished with the mercantile. “I’ll try to be patient. For now. But while I have you both here, there’s one more teeny thing I need your advice on….”

  When Daniel had agreed to marry Sarah, he hadn’t expected his life to change much. He’d figured things would go on nearly as they had been—except for getting help caring for Eli, of course. But as it turned out, getting hitched had changed his whole life in unexpected ways, both large and small.

  That fact became real to him as he stood on the fringes of the Morrow Creek annual winter social, a mug of hot mulled cider in one hand and, oddly enough, no woman on his arm. That in itself was a change—and not much for the better. Raucous fiddle music played, lamplight gleamed and snow piled outside at the darkened windows. Inside, though, it was warm. All around him, his friends and neighbors swept past in pairs, dancing. They talked and laughed, gussied up in their finery.

  Feeling surly and alone, Daniel squinted overhead. Evergreen boughs—provided by the Copeland lumber mill—brightened the space. Each bore a bright, tied-on ribbon, courtesy of the ladies’ auxiliary committee. Those ribbons were a daft notion, as far as Daniel was concerned. If ponderosa pines were meant to flash gaudy silks and satins, they’d grow bows on themselves and have done with it. But the greenery seemed popular with those present—almost as popular as the cider.

  Daniel took another sip, feeling the hot brew spread pleasurably through him. Privately, he felt his contribution to the yearly social was best. Without his enormous metalwork chandeliers overhead, none of the other decorations would have been visible. Each November, he spent part of his chilly days repairing and seeing to the creations, the only fancywork ever to come from his smithy. Each fixture, created in a Spanish style, held multiple lamps, their chimneys polished to a high gleam that showcased the brilliant wicks inside.

  They were fine workmanship. Even if he was the one to say.

  Feeling unaccountably restless, Daniel shifted to the right. He went on watching the dancing. He’d been coming to this shindig, he reflected, since he’d been old enough to know what a lady kept beneath her bustle. At first, he’d been a gangling boy, all elbows and shoulders and big sloppy feet. Then he’d been a man, all brawn and sweet talk and enough certainty for ten of himself. Now he was a husband, with a child in his care and a wife in his keeping.

  Somewhere along the way, his certainty had gotten away from him. Where once he’d known and understood and loved many women, now Daniel felt confounded and bewildered and riled up by a single one. Where once he’d arrived with a beauty on each arm, now he escorted just a solitary freckled female. Where once he’d felt wanted and talented—and yes, damn it all, sated—before the night ended, now he wondered if he’d ever stop feeling hungry and confused and annoyed.

  ’Twas all Sarah’s fault, blast it. She was up to something new. This time, Daniel didn’t have a clue how to cope with it.

  Across the room, he glimpsed her. His stupid heart skipped a beat, forcing him to frown and gulp more cider. If only the damned stuff had some kick to it. But Grace Crabtree’s Women’s Temperance Union had gotten here first and declared the whole social a teetotaler’s haven. There wasn’t a spot of whiskey to be found anyplace. How, Daniel wondered, was a man supposed to make merry under those intolerable circumstances?

  He glanced to Sarah again. She’d arranged her hair in a fussy style, with fat curls cascading down her back. When he’d teasingly tugged one earlier, she’d actually slapped his hand away for fear of spoiling them. Remembering it, Daniel shook his head. This, from the same woman who’d caught frogs with him at the edge of Morrow Creek? Less than a year ago?

  Limned by the lamplight of his chandeliers, Sarah was the very picture of decorum now. Not like when they’d run laughing to grab those frogs—him with his britches rolled and her with her face flushed and her skirts hitched up. Then, she’d been carefree and understandable. Now, she perplexed him.

  Sarah strode at the edge of the dancing to meet a friend. Moving with her characteristic vigor, she was a sight to behold, all strong female and damnable…certainty.

  She talked and laughed in the group of women she met, waving her arms and making the bustle sway on her favorite green dress. It wasn’t even a fancy dress, Daniel groused to himself. It didn’t have shiny silk or ribbon trim, like the dance-hall ladies’ gowns did. It didn’t offer a single glimpse of scandalous petticoats beneath it, nor did it display so much as a hint of bared bosom. But it did, unfortunately, stir his interest.

  Confounded, Daniel finished his cider. He didn’t want to feel his gaze drawn to Sarah; didn’t want to feel pulled to join her. She was his wife, not some piece of skirt he needed to coax and cajole and flatter. She was his already. So why did it feel as though she slipped further away from him each day?

  Hell. He stared into his empty cider mug and felt his frown deepen. Flattery wouldn’t have helped anyway. Not with Sarah. With Sarah, Daniel was neither the most affable man in the territory nor the most handsome. He wasn’t the strongest or the bravest. He was only himself. Her husband. The man who slept chastely beside her in his bed—their bed—the bed that turned less comfortable every night.

  Why that bothered him these days, he didn’t know.

  He had to find Murphy, or even Copeland. One of them would know where to wrangle a drink with some spirit to it. Tonight, of all nights, Daniel needed it.

  “What is wrong with Daniel?” Grace peered across the room to the spot where Sarah’s husband stood. “He is positively glowering.”

  “I know.” Excitedly, Sarah hugged herself. Then she remembered she was attempting to behave like a lady tonight, and demurely folded her hands at her skirts. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “Wonderful?” Molly peered closer. “He looks fit to chew the decorations and spit them out. You call that wonderful?”

  Sarah nodded. “I do.”

  Looking jointly perplexed, her s
isters examined her.

  “Because your strategy is working!” Sarah announced triumphantly—and a trifle impatiently, too. Didn’t they know how important this was? “It’s working!”

  “To capture Daniel’s attention?” Molly asked.

  “To gain his cooperation?” Grace wanted to know.

  “Yes.” Smugly, Sarah fanned herself. “To both questions.”

  She’d never seen such expressions of awe on their faces. Not even when she’d passed her tests to become a schoolteacher.

  “My goodness,” Molly said. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Excellent!” Grace raised her cider. “To Sarah’s imminent victory!”

  With her cup partway raised, Molly cast her sister a disapproving look. “It’s not a battle, Grace.”

  “Oh, yes. It is indeed a battle.” With her usual conviction, Grace nodded. “Sarah wants one thing, Daniel another. By my reckoning, that makes it a battle.”

  “Only because they are a man and a woman,” Molly argued. “You think every relation between the sexes has to be a battle.”

  “It is a battle, whether we wish it or not. That is the nature of social conflict.”

  “But that suggests there can only be one victor.” Catching the eye of someone in the crowd, Molly waved. “When I know from my own experience that both parties can prevail.”

  Curiously, Sarah glanced in the direction of Molly’s greeting. Marcus stood beside Daniel now, joining him at the cider bowl. Ahhh. Molly had been waving to her husband.

  Imitating her, Sarah tried to catch Daniel’s eye. While Molly and Grace volleyed arguments, completely forgetting her existence, she waved her fan. She wiggled her fingers, tossed her hair…even puckered her lips in an attempt to blow a kiss in Daniel’s direction.

  All her efforts failed.

  Dispiritedly, she rejoined the conversation.