Hot Lead and Cold Apple Pie

by Anne Garboczi Evans

Her green eyes got a sparkle to them as she shook her head again. “The scripture says rejoice always, and there is no proviso to exclude men who have lost their one true love, so I’m afraid you’d have no choice but to be happy.”

  “I never said you were my one true love—” he started, feeling lightheaded.

  She made it sound like a dime novel.

  “You see,” Ginny said. “You’re not even sure you do want me.” She grinned triumphantly.

  Was she serious or joshing him?

  “Now rationally—”

  “If I wasn’t sure I wanted to marry you, Ginny Thompson, I sure wouldn’t be asking.”

  She moved her pretty shoulders in an exasperating shrug. “You’re Gilman’s sheriff now. You’re stuck in a rather small selection pool of eligible women. Maybe I just topped the list.”

  Rapid protests rose to his tongue.

  “Of course, I know everyone in town, so I could easily help you identify more women of a suitable age.”

  All right, he was done here. “I don’t need a matchmaker. I need an answer. Will you marry me or won’t you?”

  She screwed her mouth up. “That depends.”

  “On what?” Proposal or not, his voice went from understanding to clipped.

  “On…” Her voice faltered and she fidgeted in the chair.

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, he waited.

  “If…” She toyed with the paper in front of her, pulling it forward, pushing it away, turning it.

  He brought his hands out of his pockets and inclined his head just a tad as he looked at her. “If?”

  “I don’t know. I just—” Neglecting the papers all together, she twisted her fingers around each other. The neck of her dress cut down, exposing the white of her throat. Her collarbone slipped under the fabric, leading to the curve of perfect shoulders.

  He slid the ring box out of his pocket and got down on one knee. “Virginia Thompson will you do me the honor of—”

  “Please get off your knees. As in right now. Immediately. Please.” Her voice held a note of desperation.

  That was his answer? Not even a chance for the future? And why was he doing all this thinking still on his knees? “You hate me that much? I didn’t know about the sheriff aspirations I swear, or—”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just if you stay on your knees any longer, Cherry’s going to make me marry you, and I’d really prefer to make up my own mind about it.”

  He stood. “What?”

  “Long story, you wouldn’t want to know.” Ginny chewed her lip. “I think—”

  “Yes?”

  She took one deep breath, swelling the bodice of her dress and let it out slowly before plunging into the words ahead. “I think I will marry you.”

  “You will?”

  Standing up, she looked at him, moved a step closer, and then, sitting down on the desk edge on his side, she nodded firmly. “Yes.”

  She was really going to marry him? A smile rose to his mouth almost as fast as he reached her. His hands went around her waist. “I’ll love you forever and we’ll be amazingly happy.”

  She smiled at him.

  Shoving his hand into his pocket, he fumbled for the jewel box again. Do you want me to kneel to do this, or can we move forward?”

  “You can neglect kneeling,” she started.

  No need for more encouragement, he slipped the small diamond on her ring finger.

  “I told Cherry you wouldn’t, you know. She didn’t believe me.” Tilting her chin up, Ginny studied him with a strange mixture of happiness and bafflement. “Maybe I should have asked you to kneel. More romantic that way as a story to tell our grandchildren.”

  Ignoring her words, he leaned forward toward the adorable mouth that spoke them.

  She jerked her hand up so fast that half her hair fell out of its pins. “You know you can’t do that. It was only all right on the mountains because our lives were in danger.”

  He backed up an inch. “Do what?”

  “Kiss me.” A horrified expression sat on her pretty mouth and cheeks.

  “Why ever not?”

  “Charles, third grade. Remember?” Her green eyes held a depth of solemnity he didn’t know she was capable of.

  He stepped in closer. “I just asked you to marry me. I think your uncle will understand.”

  “That’s what Charles thought, too.”

  He brushed her cheek, stroking away fallen wisps of hair. “Are you afraid to?”

  Outrage swept over her face, complemented by a good portion of utter disdain. Her hands dug into her hips. “I most certainly am not.”

  His hands still on her shoulders, he fixed a penetrating gaze on her.

  Her green eyes were unblinking, radiating supreme confidence in the high ground of her position.

  One moment of hesitation, and he pulled her to him. He had one hand around her waist, the other touching that beautiful hair as he dipped her back. He found her mouth, those kissable pink lips now touching him as he kissed her.

  As he pulled back, a gasp escaped her lips, her breathlessness visible by the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “You shouldn’t have kissed me without asking.” Indignation on her face, she paused as if contemplating her next action. Suddenly, a mass of warm calico hit him. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she jumped into his arms. His hands shot forward to catch her.

  Her elbow resting on his shoulder as he supported her, she brushed the fingers of one hand down across his face, catching on the areas that hadn’t come all the way off when he shaved this morning.

  She bent her neck and swept her lips against his. Pausing there, she pressed in closer, burying her kiss deep.

  She broke the kiss and letting go of his neck, slid down.

  Frozen in an open position, his eyes tried to take in the sight before him as his brain chugged through processing with all the success of a wagon in a mud pit.

  “And that’s for kissing so amazingly. I never knew a kiss would be like that. I hope you haven’t had too much practice.” A heavenly smile brightened her lips as her eyes sparkled.

  He found her waist, pulling her close again as he touched the silk of her hair with his other hand.

  Her hand brushed his, sunshine in her raised gaze. Then she jumped. “Oh, I completely forgot. I have to meet Cherry at the general store. We’re looking at one of the back rooms for our detective office.”

  “Your detective what?”

  “Oh, the detective agency we’re launching. Cherry’s really quite good at figuring things. You and Uncle Zak would have completely missed the plum preserve case and Widow Sullivan’s connection to the gang if it wasn’t for Cherry.” Ginny moved her hands to the back of her head and began tidying up fallen strands of hair.

  His foot moved back on the wooden board he stood on. “You sure you have time for a secretary’s job and a detective agency? Then when we get married, will you still work or—”

  “Oh, I’m resigning from the secretary position. I mean it was nice and all with Uncle Zak, but any law enforcement establishment that completely disregards the plum preserve case isn’t entirely competent. Details are what solving cases is all about, so it’s clearly high time we had a new force in this town.”

  Cal stared at her. “Just how big is this detective agency going to get?”

  “Huge, most likely. We’re hoping to take on Denver cases by next spring.” Her hair now neatly in place, Ginny started scooping up scattered papers.

  He shifted his fee. “What about when we have children?”

  She jerked her head up. “That’s right, no general store aisles.” She pursed her lips.

  Again, he stared at her. “General store what?”

  “I suppose we’ll just have to fight over who gets their help on cases. You can have the brawnier, more stupid ones. All they need to do is shoot and ride horses to work in the sheriff’s office, you know. I’ll need the intelligent ones for the case-solving at the agency.”

  H
e felt his mouth gape. There had been a time once when he imagined an orderly life. He’d move up the ranks in the Houston gang division, one promotion a year, just on schedule. One of those years, he’d find a nice, church-going woman to marry. Come home every night to a little clapboard house, listen to the breeze play through the shrubs outside as he and the wife nestled close, and the family dog barked at a squirrel.

  “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the ring. It’s very pretty.” Ginny sailed toward the door. Almost there, she turned and walked back to him. “I love you, too.” She leaned up and pressed her pink lips to his mouth, just a peck, and then she left.

  And now he had a fiancée. He shook his head as he moved back to the office. But even amidst the cloudy fog of his own thoughts, he couldn’t keep a smile from breaking through. Ginny Thompson was going to be his wife. The next fifty years, if he managed to survive them, were shaping up to be the best of his life.

  21

  The gold band felt strange on her left ring finger. Ginny twisted it and the evening sun caught on the corners of the diamond. Her gaze slipped over to Cal on the pebbled street beside her. The falling sun cut a swath of shadow and light across his back. He looked ahead, the perfect time to look at him.

  The cut of his chin in profile had a definite Texas Ranger look. Her gaze ran down to his vest where a gold star shone proudly. It really should have been her star, but she had to admit it looked remarkably attractive on him.

  She shifted her high-heeled boots on the street. She couldn’t quite imagine that she was engaged to Cal Westwood. On the other hand, she really couldn’t imagine him ever leaving or her not seeing him again. Breakfasts were boring enough affairs now that Uncle Zak had summarily uninvited Cal from staying at their house. Uncle Zak didn’t even know Cal had kissed her—a beautiful kiss that still made her feel all jostled inside when she remembered it, sort of like scrambled eggs.

  Gaze falling, she slid her ring back and forth. The gold made a brilliant background for the diamond, the whole delicate thing perfectly molded together.

  “Going to wear out that ring if you keep looking at it.”

  Her gaze startled up and she found him looking at her. She shifted one of her eyebrows along with the corner of her mouth. “Would that make me unengaged to you?”

  “No.” He clutched her hand to his heart, right there in front of the schoolhouse steps. Even worse, half the town already sat inside that building for Wednesday night prayer meeting. Then again, the schoolhouse door had already closed. She moved closer to him. His arm felt warm around her back, all secure and safe like a patchwork quilt and a fire on a winter evening.

  Leaning down, he let his lips touch her ear. “I love—”

  “Me?” She flashed her gaze to him.

  He caught her other hand and spun her in, pinning her to himself. “Yes, you.”

  She smiled at him and looked up into those blue eyes. They had so much more color than velvety-brown. Slowly, she reached up and just touched her finger to his cowlick that shot sandy-brown hair up from his forehead.

  Mrs. Clinton walked up to the church, resplendent in her Wednesday night prayer meeting best, the yellow shade of her dress completely overshadowing Mr. Clinton’s sparse black suit.

  Hands dropping, Ginny tried to put a respectable three or four feet between her and Cal.But he didn’t let go and she found her back pressed up against the star on his vest, the metal poking into her dress fabric.

  “It’s not as if the town doesn’t know,” he said, low as a whisper.

  “But…” Her heart galloped. A nervous feeling tingled down her fingers. She’d never actually stood this close to a man before.

  “I heard the news. Congratulations!” Running forward between the swish of over-gathered skirt fabric, Mrs. Clinton wrapped her in an expansive hug.

  After Ginny managed to find her way out of the volumes of yellow, Mrs. Clinton proceeded to repeat the gesture with Cal.

  Cal’s sheriff star caught on her dress when Mrs. Clinton finally pulled away and Cal no longer smiled.

  “Love is a wonderful thing.” Mrs. Clinton waved a handkerchief in the air. “Why when John and I got hitched, I couldn’t sleep for weeks after the ceremony just to think of how glorious it was to be married to the man of my dreams.”

  “Yes, me neither, sweetheart,” Mr. Clinton said and squeezed his wife’s hand.

  It sounded like Cal muttered, “Probably because you were in the same house with Mrs. Clinton.”

  But Cal wouldn’t actually be that rude—would he? Ginny thought of the thirty-three quilts left to piece, whose squares still rose in mountain peaks throughout the dining room at home, and found it in her heart to forgive him.

  “When’s your wedding, dear?” Mrs. Clinton pinched Ginny’s cheek and the various fine metal rings on the woman’s hand squeezed her flesh.

  Ginny looked to Cal. He looked back at her. She squinted and twisted at her ring. “Uh…sometime this year, I guess.”

  “I must be getting busy, then. You can count on the whole Temperance League to help you with preparations.” Mrs. Clinton turned to Cal and narrowed her eyes. “You can rest assured of that, Sheriff Westwood. We are very strong supporters of men settling down, choosing a wife, having children, and turning away from the life of drunkards.”

  Cal crossed his arms over his star, his mouth decidedly shut.

  “I was thinking ruby for the church decorations.” Mrs. Clinton fixed the ruffles on her dress sleeve. “Hmm…if you set a date for the end of September, there will be some lovely ruby mums in my garden that we can use. I’m thinking some sort of arch or dais up front for you to walk under to say your vows. Where are you honeymooning by the way?”

  Ginny tried to signal to Cal, but he didn’t even look at her. Rather, his fingers clenched and unclenched around hers as he studied a far-off mountain crest. The cattle-sized carpet bag of quilt pieces rose up in front of her, just as it did in her nightmares, the jaws of the bag open to bite and consume.

  “The Temperance League would be happy to decorate your room there too. I’m thinking something stylish. Lots of carved glass, some beautiful scents—I make the most lovely peony perfume from my garden—maybe some bronze candlesticks. And candles, yes, lots of candles. I’m thinking blue would probably be the best color.”

  “Why blue?” Cal asked, a disquieted look in his eyes.

  “Shh.” Ginny almost slapped him. Never ask Mrs. Clinton a question. Never, never, never ask Mrs. Clinton a question. One question could turn a twenty-minute monologue into a three hour one.

  “Prayer meeting is starting, dear.” Mr. Clinton tapped Mrs. Clinton on the shoulder.

  “I’ll talk to you two later then. Don’t worry. I’m not near out of suggestions yet. I’ll plan you the most beautiful wedding the town of Gilman’s ever seen. So just get a good rest at night and leave it all to me.” The voluminous folds of Mrs. Clinton’s dress followed her backside through the schoolhouse door.

  Ginny tore her hand away from Cal and grabbed both his shoulders with desperate vigor. “We can’t let this happen. I’m not walking down a Mrs. Clinton-planned aisle. Let’s elope.”

  “You want to elope?” He furrowed his forehead.

  “Yes. Please!” The fingers of both her hands dug into his arm as she turned her face up, pleading.

  “You’re a girl. Haven’t you always dreamed of a wedding?”

  Her panting slowed, and she managed to pry her fingers off his arm. “A couple of years ago, I did decide I wanted Fluffy to be there. Dress her up in a little green dress or something, you know. But I can do that in the sheriff’s office with Uncle Zak reading the vows.”

  At Fluffy’s name, Cal shivered. “Does that creature really have to be at our wedding?”

  “Of course. Fluffy was my best friend for years. Then Cherry helped me with piano and became my friend, too.” Smoothing the wrinkles from Mrs. Clinton’s hug out of her dress, Ginny waited for her heartbeat to slow. It would be all right.
They would elope and once the thirty-three quilts were finished, there would be no more Mrs. Clinton-initiated torture chambers.

  “Cherry? What about me?”

  Her gaze moved up to him. He looked adoringly into her eyes. There was something romantic about the way he looked at her. It made little quivers in her heart and perhaps even as far as down as the pancreatic organs“I told you I loved you and that makes it all rather different. More quivery and heart pounding for one.” Touching his arm, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “May we please get married tomorrow and forestall Mrs. Clinton?”

  His arm went around her waist and tightened. He didn’t seem entirely opposed to the idea of getting married before two more dawns had passed. Yet, a troubled look came to his eyes. “We wouldn’t even have a place to live. I haven’t started searching for a house yet.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Assistant Sheriff Person.” The voice came from a pile of dirty newspapers and half-empty bottles. “Oh, sorry, you’re sheriff now. Sheriff Westwood. Hmm…doesn’t quite sound right, but guess I’ll get all used to it eventually like.” Silas stood up and walked closer.

  Letting go of Cal’s arm, she tried to summon patience. Mrs. Clinton would make everything horrid, that much was certain. Peony perfume? Blue candles? What about a morning wedding on the main street? Everyone wore normal clothes, five-minute ceremony, and it was over. They could all eat breakfast at home.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing, you see, and I’d like to help.” Silas brushed off half a newspaper page that had stuck to the holes in his jacket.

  “Yes?” Turning, Cal gave Silas a remarkably respectful amount of attention. Inside the schoolhouse, the hymns had begun and a melody of sopranos through basses accompanied by a somewhat squeaky piano rose up through the darkening air.

  “The room in the jail that I stay in. It’s real nice, soft bed, exceptional view from the window, though there are some bars on it. It’ll be hard, but I can stay away from drink a couple weeks anyways and let you both use the cell. I might need to take my comfy blanket back though, ’cause I’ve got awful attached to it. But Miss Ginny, I bet she has all kinds of quilts she’d bring for you both.”