She straightened. “I’m perfectly fine. Your door is off kilter. Look, it’s hanging crooked.”
“Sure, you’re fine,” he said and she felt him take her by the arm.
They stepped out into the sunshine. “Tell me something, Mr. Turner. Why did you kiss me last night?”
“Because I wanted to.”
“Why did you want to?”
“You ask a hell of a lot of questions, lady,” he said with a tight grip on her arm.
“I want answers. What did you do to my lips? I’ve never been kissed like that before. It felt good, real good.”
He laughed. “I kissed you passionately. Whoever you’ve been kissing must not have known how to do it properly.”
She could feel the frown drawing her forehead together. “I’ve only been kissed twice in my life. Once by Smithy Jones and another time by Matthew Pender. Both were dreadful bores.”
“Good day, Mayor,” a woman called.
“Good day,” Abigail responded, smiling and waving.
“You might want to just walk beside me quietly,” Jack said, “so as not to draw too much attention to the fact you’ve over imbibed. I think the two of us out together is drawing enough attention without showing everyone you’re drunk.”
“I did not over imbibe. A lady does not drink too much hard liquor.”
“I’m not going to question if you’re lady.”
“I am a lady.”
“Well, if you’re not drunk, then I should let you walk back to the store alone,” he said, letting go of her arm.
Abigail felt as if her feet were walking on board the deck of a ship that was rising and falling on a wave in the sea. “Whoa, why is the sidewalk moving?”
He laughed and grabbed her arm again. “Yes, you’re drunk.”
“It’s not a bad feeling.”
No wonder men liked to hang out at the bar and drink until they could no longer walk. The alcohol made you feel warm and calm and relaxed.
“Not yet it isn’t, but just wait. Either this evening or tomorrow morning, you’re going to wish you’d never heard of demon alcohol.”
“This is not a demon. More like a warm blanket.”
Jack laughed out loud at her. The man was beginning to irritate her with his smart comments and making fun of her.
They arrived at the mercantile. “Who’s watching the store?”
“My friend Bella. She’s the first one of my friends to arrive. You’re going to love them all. They are such great women. Strong and independent, fighting for equality.”
He shook his head. “Good Lord, I better get you inside before you start preaching women’s rights, right here on the sidewalk.”
She turned and looked up at him. “Preaching? I’m merely telling you about these wonderful women who are going to change the world. They’ll go down in history.”
“Yes, and my grandfather was General Lee.”
She stopped. “Really?”
“No. Now come on, we better get inside the store. I just hope for once you don’t have any customers.” Opening the door, he helped her into the building.
“Bella, I’m back,” she called.
The young woman came around the corner and stopped. “Oh, my God. You’re drunk.”
Abigail laughed. “Yes, I am. I had two drinks of whiskey at Mr. Turner’s saloon. They weren’t bad. I mean the first one just about killed me, but the second one went down nice and smooth and left such a pleasant warm feeling.”
“Maybe we better get you upstairs and let you lie down and rest.”
“Okay,” Abigail said with a giggle. She turned to Jack. “Thank you for the drinks. I really enjoyed them. And thanks for the kiss last night.”
He smiled at her. “You’re welcome, but I’m concerned with you walking up those stairs. Are you certain you can make it?”
“Bella will help me. Good day, Jack Turner.” She waved to him.
“Good day, Abigail.”
Abigail wrapped her arm around Bella’s waist. “He’s not bad. In fact, he’s kind of nice.”
When they got to the third step, they stumbled. Jack was right there to catch them. Without his help, they would have fallen to the ground.
Abigail giggled. “I don’t think I can climb the stairs.”
“Let me help you,” he said and swung her up into his arms, leaving Bella watching them.
She clasped her hands behind his head, and he hurried up the stairs. “Wow, you are so strong. This is how I’ve always envisioned my husband taking me up to bed the first time.”
Jack stared down at her, and she could feel the heat from his gaze even in her dazed state, but he didn’t respond to her admission about her wedding night.
“Which room is yours?” he asked gruffly.
“The one on the right,” she said.
He turned into the bedroom and set her down on the floor.
“Will you kiss me again?”
For a moment, he hesitated. Then his mouth covered hers. The feel of lips was even better this time. This time she felt like her knees were going to collapse as he sapped the strength from her body, and she wanted more. So much more.
Abruptly, he let go of her mouth.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring down at her. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”
He laughed. “That’s my secret.”
“Wow, if you could bottle that up, I could sell a million of them.”
“I need to be going.”
She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her one more time. She kissed him this time.
He stepped out of the kiss. “Good day, Abigail. You might want to take some aspirin later today to help with the headache.”
“Good day, Jack,” she said, rubbing her hand across her mouth. “Next time we’re going to talk about our businesses,” she said with a hiccup.
***
Abigail’s head throbbed like the beat of a drum. Poor Bella had been stuck running the store yesterday afternoon and taken care of Abigail last night. Her stomach had refused the taste of whiskey, and she’d lost her lunch. Then this morning she’d awoken with her head pounding, lethargic, and crankier than a mama bear.
Whatever the ingredients in whiskey were, they weren’t agreeable, and she regretted trying to show him she was just as capable as the next man of holding her drink. She couldn’t and wouldn’t ever try again.
“A Mrs. Barton is here to see you,” Bella said.
Abigail ever so slowly and gently went downstairs. Whatever the woman wanted, Abigail hoped it was quick, so she could lie down again. Only when she was flat did her head not pound out the rhythm of her heart.
“Abigail, are you feeling okay? I was quite concerned when I heard you’d gone into the saloon,” Mrs. Emily Barton said, gazing over Abigail like she could see the alcohol oozing from Abigail’s pores.
“I’m fine. Just a little under the weather today.”
“Can we sit and chat?”
“Sure, come back here to the parlor,” Abigail said, leading the way. “Would you like some tea?”
“Oh no, I won’t be long.”
They sank into the posh chairs Abigail’s mother had upholstered.
Emily glanced around the room, looking uncomfortable. “First off, I wanted to come by today and let you know the women in town are with you in recalling this horrible law. Yes, my husband is one of the council members, but just about every woman in town I’ve spoken with wanted me to tell you to continue the fight. Personally, I’ve refused to cook for my husband and I told him I wasn’t going to drive twenty miles to another store. So therefore, he can go without eating.”
Abigail smiled. Part of her felt excited the women were standing up for her, but another part knew this would only make the men angrier. This could be the reason nothing had been done yet. Every day she expected to wake up and find out she’d been shut down.
“Thank you. I appreciate your support so much,” she said. “It means the world to me.”
r /> “But, Abigail, when you go into a saloon and drink the men’s liquor, that gives our husbands even more reason to want you gone. They’re watching you. You’ve got to be on your best behavior, or you’ll lose to the men,” the woman said gently. “I don’t think you understood what you were doing yesterday, or at least, I hope not.”
She was correct. Abigail had made a huge mistake going to the saloon. She knew better, but the ever-powerful attraction to Jack had her seeking him out and wanting to get even for buying her dinner. She’d even asked him why his kisses were so powerful and begged him to do it again.
“You’re right. Jack bought me dinner the night before, and I wanted to pay him back by purchasing a glass of whiskey. Only I’d never had alcohol before. I won’t do that again.”
The woman sighed. “Good. We want you to win your fight with the city. It’s time someone stood up for the women in this town.” She rose from her seat. “I’ve got to go before Tim finds out I’m here. He’d be most upset.”
Abigail walked her to the door. “Thanks for coming to talk to me, Emily. I’m so glad the women are behind me, and I promise there won’t be any more trips to the saloon.”
“Great,” Emily said and gave Abigail a quick hug. “Good luck with your fight. Be strong.”
“Thank you,” Abigail said and shut the door behind her.
Turning around, she faced Bella. “The women in this town are waking up. They’re with us.”
***
Later that same day, the bell above the door tinkled and Abigail came out from the back with a greeting. “Hello.”
Two angry looking men walked up to the counter.
“Miss Abigail Vanderhooten?”
“That’s me,” she said, a trickle of fear scurrying down her spine.
“I’m Tim Barton from the city council, and this is Sam O’Brien from the council. You’re breaking the law by owning this business.” The man’s face was an ugly twist, and for a moment, Abigail feared he was going to crawl over the counter and threaten her.
She took a step back. “My father has been dead less than a month, and you expect me to have the mercantile sold?” she asked, trying to stall the inevitable.
“There are any number of buyers wanting to purchase this place, and you’ve refused every one of them.”
How did a sweet woman like Emily put up with a brute of a man like this? She’d been so nice and sincere, and this man was like a raging bull. The only thing missing was the drool coming from his mouth, and Abigail expected that at any moment.
“This is my birthright. My father left it to me in his will. The business is mine,” she said softly. Her determination caused her to raise her chin and meet his gaze head on.
The man slammed his fist down on the counter. “I don’t care. We are here to uphold the law, and there’s an ordinance in this town that says a woman cannot own a business or property. That includes your birthright.”
Abigail felt the bristles rise on the back of her neck. The man was crazy.
She smiled at him. “Don’t you think that law has been on the books a little too long? That maybe it’s time for it to go away?”
The man’s face turned red, and she feared he would drop dead from anger right there in her store. That would certainly not be good for business.
“No, I do not. My faith tells me women are to be seen and not heard. You have no power, and you cannot own anything,” Sam O’Brien said, standing by Tim.
“My faith tells me God would want me to be able to take care of myself and to help others in the process. Currently, I employ my good friend Bella, but I’m hoping soon I will be able to hire more women to help me run the store.”
Tim shook his head. “No. This needs to stop now. By the end of next week, you’ll be shut down if not sooner. I’d highly suggest you sell this business and get out of town. We don’t need your kind living here, influencing our women. We only want women who are Godly and obey their husbands.”
She laughed. “You don’t need a wife. You need a child who has to ask papa for permission. I feel sorry for Emily. A man who takes care of his wife and treats her as an equal, that’s a real man.”
The man’s eyes darkened with anger, and she saw his fists clench at his side. Fear raced along her spine, causing her knees to quiver.
“Get out of town, Miss Vanderhooten, before it’s too late, before the wrath of the town council runs you out of town.”
Anger at the man’s abuse roared through her like a lion, and her fear disappeared. She doubled up her fists and leaned over the counter. “Listen here, I’m not going to let you or anyone else scare me into selling. I’m not leaving the store my father built. I’m not leaving my birthright. Now, I think it’s time you gentlemen left before I contact the newspaper and tell them I’m being harassed by the city government.”
Chapter Six
Jack pulled his wagon up in front of the store. He had worried all day yesterday about Abigail, but he hadn’t had a chance to check on her. Plus, he was afraid she’d throw something at him if she felt as bad as he imagined.
Alcohol sickness was something he gave up years ago. His limit was one drink on Saturday night to celebrate the end of his workweek. The rest of the time he stayed away from liquor. When you served it every day, you saw the unpleasant effects on people.
After stepping down from the wagon, he tied the horses to the hitching post then opened the door to the mercantile. His breath stopped at the sight of Abigail bent over, her skirts falling to the front, exposing the back of her legs almost to her knees. The woman had nice legs that went with the rest of that luscious body she kept under tight wraps.
She jumped up and blew the hair away from her mouth. Her face was red, her blonde hair disheveled, and her mouth so full and ripe and tempting. She looked good enough to eat.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
She frowned at him and shook her head. “You should be ashamed of yourself for selling that poison.”
He laughed and walked the rest of the way into the store. “I didn’t force you to drink it. In fact, I warned you, and you insisted on a second glass.”
She put down the rag in her hands and approached him. “Today, I feel better. But yesterday, I would have thanked anyone who shot me and put me out of my misery.”
The urge to reach out and stroke her soft skin was almost unbearable. She was so cute, all messy looking with her attitude firmly back in place. The woman he enjoyed was certainly in fine form. “Anytime you feel like you want to try whiskey again, let me know.”
Shaking her head, she said, “I received a visit from Emily Barton warning me about the dangers of going into the saloon. Proper ladies did not go into that evil place. Then later that afternoon, I had a visit from your fellow city councilmen. Did you send them calling on me?”
He frowned. This was a direct disobedience of the instructions he’d given the council. “I’ve told everyone we are to wait and make a decision at next week’s meeting. I’ve sent no one to speak with you. Who visited you?” Without her saying so, he knew it had to have been the jackass and his cohort in crime. Those two could stir up more crap in town than a gossipy group of women. They were worse than any ladies auxiliary he’d ever dealt with, including that bunch who wanted to outlaw liquor.
“Tim Barton and Samuel O’Brien,” she said quietly. “They warned me to get out of town.”
His stomach clenched as rage roared through his body like a wild herd of horses out on the plains. Before the day was over, he’d speak to the sheriff about keeping an eye on Abigail and her store. Sometimes men lost their heads over the silliest causes, especially when they felt endangered. And Tim’s ego was as fragile as china on a shelf in a hurricane.
“This afternoon, I’m driving out to check on some property I’m considering buying. Would you like to ride along?” he asked. He hadn’t intended to ask her to go with him, but just seeing her caused him to long to spend more time with the spirite
d little blonde.
She glanced around the store. Her friend came to the door that separated the living quarters from the retail area of the building. “I can watch the store this afternoon. In fact, I just fixed some lunch. Why don’t you two take it and have a picnic? If you’ll give me five minutes, I can have it all wrapped up for you.”
“Bella, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that,” Abigail said, walking toward her friend.
“After yesterday, you could use the outing. Now, just give me a moment to get this all together.”
“If you don’t mind,” Abigail said, pulling down the rest of her hair. All those blonde curls spilled around her shoulders, and he suddenly ached with longing to touch it.
She ran her fingers through it, and in a matter of seconds had it pinned back up off her neck. She removed her apron and grabbed her reticule off the counter.
A picnic sounded great. The weather was perfect, the sky was clear, and the wildflowers were just starting to fade. It would be an ideal day to have an outing.
“I’m all set. I just hope the ladies from church don’t mind me going chaperonless with the bar owner.”
He smiled. “Seems to me if anything inappropriate was going to happen, it could have been when you came into my saloon.”
Bella came back through the door with a basket. “I put in some fried chicken, canned fruit, napkins, and a jar of water. You two enjoy.”
Taking Abigail by the elbow, Jack led her toward the door. She turned and waved goodbye to Bella.
Once outside, Jack helped Abigail into the wagon, untied the horses, and climbed in beside her. He clicked to the team to get them moving.
People stopped and stared at him riding out of town with Abigail.
“Oh no, the gossips are going to be busy this afternoon.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “We’re not going to be gone long. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them we were looking at property out of town for you to build your new store on.”
She laughed. “That would solve my problem, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, it would.” But she wouldn’t be close enough for him to keep an eye on her, and that thought didn’t exactly sit well with him. The simplest thing would be to refute the law and end this fight.
Wild Western Women Ride Again: Western Historical Romance Boxed Set Page 26