by Kit Morgan
“You didn’t hear the whole story, and the way Mr. Turner tells it is wonderful!”
Matthew fought against a moan.
“I think they’re revolting,” Charlotte said with face full of shock. “That last part, anyway.”
Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. At least one of them retained her tender sensibilities. Miss Smith, on the other hand, looked about to bust a gut, she was so enthralled. She sat on the very edge of the love seat and leaned over the table toward him. Enough of this! “Deputy Turner, my father has returned and needs some assistance with the wagon. As I am in no shape to help, would you mind?”
“Of course not, love to lend a hand.” He stood, stretched, and tipped his hat to the women. “Ladies,” he said, with a dazzling smile, and left the room.
Matthew sighed and took his seat. “More tea?”
“Oh, I can’t think of tea now!” Rose exclaimed. “How long do you think it will take them to unload your father’s wagon?”
Matthew stared at her, eyes wide. “Could take awhile,” he told her flatly.
She sucked in a breath and stared starry eyed at the door. Who would have thought a woman could be won over with blood and guts? Well, two could play at that game! Tom Turner wasn’t the only one who could weave a tale of gore.
Matthew looked into the teapot. Cold. Drat, he’d have to make some more. “I sawed a man’s leg off once,” he stated matter of fact.
Rose gasped, her attention swung to him faster than a fly on a horse. Charlotte looked about to faint.
Uh oh … how to proceed? He wanted to win back his Miss Smith’s attention, yet, didn’t want to upset Charlotte. “Ah, I assisted one of the doctors when he had to do a surgery. I learned a lot from him. I hope to work with Doc Brown soon.” He froze and waited for them to respond.
They didn’t. Instead the two sat there and stared at him. The temptation to reach over and close Miss Smith’s mouth was over whelming. Charlotte still looked like she was going to faint, her brow furrowed in concentration (not to faint, was his guess) and began to pale.
A knock sounded at the door. All three jumped at the sound. “Mr. Quinn? It’s Summer and Elle Riley. May we come in?”
“Yes!” he called out. Rose and Charlotte both gave him a questioning look. He smiled, cleared his throat, and said in a calm voice, “Come in.” Not that he had to, Summer and Elle were already through the door.
“We came by to gather up Rose. It’s time for us to get back to the farm.” Summer explained. “Did you have a nice visit?”
Rose bounced on the settee as she turned. “Oh yes! You should have heard the stories Deputy Tom … I … mean Deputy Turner told us.”
Summer and Elle exchanged a quick look. “He does love to tell stories,” Elle added.
“All that blood …” Charlotte remarked as she stared straight ahead, her voice weak.
“Charlotte,” Matthew began. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”
Charlotte fanned herself with a gloved hand. “I’ll be fine, give me a moment. I never could stand the sight of blood. Apparently, talking about it does me just as ill …”
Matthew stood, and eyed her. Would she be all right? He looked between the seated women. His intended saw it all as a grand adventure. In fact, the more he thought on it, the more he realized she’d make a good doctor’s wife. After all, if he took over Doc Brown’s practice one day, he’d need a wife with her gumption. Charlotte, however, looked a little green around the gills, not they type of person to assist him in a doctor’s duties should the need arise. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“What about you?” Charlotte asked. “How are you holding up, your ankle …”
“My ankle is of no consequence. I’m fine.”
“I hope so,” said Elle. “The dance is in two weeks. You are going?”
“Of course, wouldn’t miss it.”
“Then we’d better help Rose pick out some fabric for a dress,” Summer suggested. “We have a few minutes before Clayton comes to get us, let’s see what Mrs. Quinn has up front.”
Rose stood. “All right.” She turned to Matthew. “Thank you for a lovely afternoon.” She looked down at Charlotte who still fanned herself. “And thank you for acting as chaperone. I enjoyed having you here with me.”
Charlotte lifted her flushed face and smiled. “Thank you … I mean, you’re welcome.”
Rose could feel the gratitude radiating off the girl. She glanced to Summer and Elle who were intent on the door, and already heading for it. They hadn’t ignored Charlotte, but didn’t go out of their way to acknowledge her, other than a simple “hello.” Was it like that all the time for the girl? Rose decided she’d befriend her, and see where it would lead. After all, everyone needed a friend.
Five
Rose perused the fabrics, but truth be told, was much more interested in the goings on behind the mercantile. She puzzled over the handsome deputy and his reaction to the attention she gave him. Attention she wasn’t sure she should be giving in the first place, besides, what good did it do her? Matthew hadn’t even been in the room!
The three sat in silence for a few moments before Tom, (why was she thinking of him by his first name?) started telling them about the townsfolk in his hometown. The stories instantly captured Rose, and she’d sat on the edge of her seat for him to finish each and every one. They were short, but funny, and made her want to visit the quirky little place.
“Look at this plum!” Elle said. “Isn’t it lovely?”
Rose pulled her thoughts away from Tom Turner, and back to the business at hand. She looked at the beautiful satin. “That is pretty! Oh, but I could never afford it.” Good Heavens! She hadn’t thought about money until now. How could she afford anything? She wasn’t married, and had no money of her own. She would have to ask Matthew to purchase anything she might want.
“We’ll have Mrs. Quinn hold it for you,” Summer said. “That will give you a chance to discuss it with …”
“Matthew,” Rose said. “I was just thinking the same thing.” She turned away from them. “Matthew,” she spoke again, lower this time. She wanted to hear how it sounded.
The bell above the door rang, and Clayton walked into the mercantile. “Hello ladies, are you ready?”
“We just need to have Mrs. Quinn put this bolt of cloth aside,” Summer told him and looked around. “Where is Mrs. Quinn?”
Charlotte entered from back hall. “She’s helping Mr. Quinn unload the wagon out back. Do you want me to get her for you?”
“No, I’ll do it myself. I want her to hold this for Rose,” Summer said and set the bolt of cloth on the counter. She brushed past Charlotte and proceeded down the back hall.
Charlotte watched her go, before she turned to Clayton. She said nothing, and offered him a smile.
Clayton’s brow furrowed. “Are you all right, Charlotte?”
“Of course. Why would you ask?”
“Well because you … er … aren’t talking.”
She let go a tiny sigh, and gave him a half-hearted smile. He looked her up and down like she’d just contracted some horrible disease. Yes, it was unlike her not to chatter up a storm around him, but he was no longer in her sphere of “things to live for” and the sooner she got past all the silly notions her mother had put into her head over the years, the better. She strolled to the counter and fingered the satin Summer left behind. “This color will look good on you,” she said softly to Rose, and smiled.
Clayton stared at her, jaw slack, before he glanced to Elle. She caught his questioning look and shrugged. She’d never seen Charlotte so subdued before either.
“It’s so pretty,” Rose said. “But unless Matthew buys it for me, I can’t get it.”
Charlotte smiled. “He’ll take care of it, I’m sure. You’re his bride, aren’t you?”
Rose smiled and looked to the floor.
“Do you sew?” Charlotte asked.
“Not real well, but yes.”
�
��I can help you if you need it.”
“Rose’s face brightened. “Thank you, I think I’ll take you up on that. I could use the help and I’d like to get to know you better.” She stepped to the counter and took Charlotte by the hand. “I just know we’ll be great friends.”
Clayton’s eyes looked about ready to pop out of their sockets.
Charlotte caught the look and gave Rose’s hand a squeeze. “I’m sure we will.”
Summer reentered the storefront. “Mrs. Quinn will set it aside.” She turned to Clayton. “I guess this means we’re ready to go.”
He still stared at Charlotte, who looked at him with about as much interest as a frog does a beefsteak. She realized she’d spent all those years pursuing something she would never have, and should have seen it a long time ago. The moment Clayton married his first wife Sarah, to be exact. But no, her mother had done such a fine job of carving Clayton’s name across her heart, she’d thought of no one else, even when he was married! After Sarah was killed in an accident, it only added fuel to a smoldering flame. Once the mourning period was over, she went after him with a vengeance, and for what? He had no interest in her, other than friendship, and she hadn’t been any good at that either! She looked at him with Summer at his side, and felt a flicker of happiness for the couple. She hoped, in time, it would grow into rejoicing. She didn’t want the bitterness of her past to sour her future, and knew being happy for Clayton and Summer would help.
Charlotte let go of Rose’s hand and turned to Clayton. She tried to still her racing heart. She had to start somewhere with this, it might as well be now. She swallowed hard, marched up to Clayton, and said. “I want you to know … how … happy I am for you and Summer.”
Clayton glanced to his wife, then back to her. “Thank you,” he said and looked her in the eyes as a smile curved his lips. “I can see you’re sincere. Speaking for the both of us, that means a lot, Charlotte.”
She swallowed back the lump in her throat, her stomach knotted with emotion. She would not cry in front of them! She nodded to them both. “I do mean it,” she choked, brushed past them, and hurried out the door.
Clayton looked to his wife. “Wow, where do you suppose that came from?”
Summer glanced to the door and back. “Maybe she’s finally figured out you’re taken.”
Elle took Rose by the elbow and joined them. “I think Abbey getting married helped. Charlotte’s been different ever since.”
“I’ve only just met Charlotte, but I like her,” Rose added.
“That’s because your life hasn’t been cluttered with her antics,” Clayton said with a smile. “But enough of Charlotte Davis. Let’s go home.”
Elle hooked her arm around one of Rose’s, and the four left the mercantile. But not before Rose looked over her shoulder in a last attempt to glimpse down the back hall. But whom was she hoping to see? Her intended Matthew Quinn, or Tom Turner?
* * *
The next day, Clayton drove Rose into town so she could spend more time with Matthew. Mrs. Quinn decided it would be good to show Rose around the mercantile (as she was soon to be family) and had her behind the counter with her when Tom came in.
“Mornin’ Mrs. Quinn,” he called to them as he stomped the snow from his feet. He turned and looked out the door’s glass. “Comin’ down pretty good, out there.”
“Warm yourself by the stove, Deputy. Is there something I can get you?”
“A new pair of boots would be nice. These are plumb wore-through.”
“Ah, boots. I have just the pair!” She turned to Rose, “There’s a ladder in the corner, bring it here, will you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rose spied the ladder, and went to fetch it. It was a tall ladder used to obtain things from the higher shelves, some of which went from the counter up to the fourteen-foot high ceiling, with various goods stacked on each. Rose struggled to pull the ladder from its resting spot, and carried it the few feet to Mrs. Quinn. She heard Tom chuckle and glanced at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that a itty bitty thing like you with that ladder … well, it’s a right comical sight.”
Rose glared at him, but in a playful way. He laughed at her as Mrs. Quinn placed the ladder against the shelves and braced it. “Be a good girl and climb up there and fetch me that dark brown box.” She turned to look over her shoulder. “I’ve got two pair that ought to fit you.”
“That’s mighty fine, Mrs. Quinn. Let me see them both.”
“After you get the first pair, get me the light brown box next to it.”
Rose nodded, but made no move to climb the ladder.
“Well don’t just stand there, get going,” Mrs. Quinn urged.
Rose gulped, her breathing suddenly ragged. She took hold of each side of the ladder with a death grip, drew one deep breath, and began to climb. Within seconds her legs began to shake. So did the ladder.
“Whoa there, girl!” Tom cried and ran behind the counter before Mrs. Quinn could protest. “What are ya doin’ climbin’ a ladder if ya know ya can’t?”
Rose was half-way up, her arms wrapped around the ladder in a bear hug. Tears escaped with the sudden embarrassment of her situation. She should have said she was afraid of heights and, Mrs. Quinn could you please do it for me? But no, she had to go and attempt to do it herself. Good grief, she was no more than five feet off the ground, and shaking like a leaf! Two large hands were suddenly at her waist, and she gripped the ladder harder.
“Let go, I won’t let you fall, I promise.”
His voice was soft, gentle, and Rose felt her spine relax at the sound of it. But she still could not let go. “I’m sorry,” she rasped. “It gets worse every year. Before you know it, I won’t be able to even stand on a tree-stump!”
“At least you can make fun of it,” he chuckled. “Now c’mon, let me help you down.”
“Oh dear, maybe I ought to help?” Mrs. Quinn suggested as his hands closed about her waist in a firm grip.
Rose sucked in her breath at the contact. “Oh!”
“Let go now. I won’t let you fall, you’re safe with me …”
Safe. A word she’d not known for sometime. But when it came to Tom Turner, she knew it to be true, and released her grip.
He lifted Rose from the ladder, swung her around, and set her on her feet. “There, safe back on the ground. Now don’t go anywhere, ya hear?” He scrambled up the ladder, retrieved both boxes, and came down just as fast. He looked down at her, smiled, and winked before setting them on the counter. Rose watched in fascination as he walked around to the front-side, and looked at the boxes. “Why, thank you Miss Rose for getting these down for me!”
Mrs. Quinn shook her head. “That’s Miss Smith to you, young man. And thank you.”
“You’re welcome ma’am.” He gave his attention back to Rose. “It’s okay, I used to be afraid of heights too, until I fell out of the hayloft that is. Then for some reason, I wasn’t afraid anymore.”
“You weren’t? I fell out of tree once and ever since then, I’ve been afraid of high places.”
“Maybe falling out of the hayloft is what used to scare me, and after I’d done it, I didn’t have to be afraid anymore.” He shrugged. “That’s what they call, a theory.”
Rose smiled. He made her feel better already. Others always made fun of her fears, but not this man. She looked to the boxes on the counter. “I guess you’ll want to try these on?”
His eyes never left her face as he leaned over the counter. “Yes, ma’am.”
She could feel the warm brush of his breath as he talked and shivered with a delicious chill. For the first time she noticed his scent … it was so … manly.
“Ahem …”
Both turned to Mrs. Quinn, who stood looking down her nose at them. “Rose, why don’t you go to the back, and put a kettle on the stove. I’m sure you and Matthew will be ready for tea soon.”
Rose nodded, took one last look at Tom, and forced herself to leave. Oh good grief!
What was she doing? Lord help me! I shouldn’t be feeling so … so … giddy!
As soon as she was gone, Mrs. Quinn stabbed Tom with a look of disapproval. “Deputy Turner, might I remind you that it is my son who will be marrying that girl. Remember your place.”
He stared at her. “I met no disrespect ma’am.”
“You should’ve let her get down on her own.”
“But ma’am, anyone could see how frightened she was, and I thought …”
“I don’t care what you thought, you remember your place. Maybe we ought to order you your own bride.”
“I was just trying to help, that’s all.”
“Maybe so, but what if Matthew saw you with your hands on her like that?”
“It won’t happen again, ma’am.”
“That’s better. Now, which pair of these do you want?”
He watched her open the boxes, and pull out the boots. He grabbed a pair, lifted a foot and held the bottom of the boot flush against his own. “This’ll do.”
“Are you sure?”
“As sure as I know that little gal would have fallen.”
Mrs. Quinn’s head shot up at the remark. “Tom Turner, mind your own business.”
He dug into his pocket, pulled out some money, and placed it on the counter. “Don’t worry, ma’am, next time I’ll let her fall.” He took the boots, and turned to leave.
Mrs. Quinn stood, her mouth open at the remark, and then looked to the money on the counter. “Don’t you want your change?”
“No ma’am,” he said over his shoulder as he left the mercantile. He went out the door and into the street, turned, and headed for the Sheriff’s office. What was wrong with him? He ought to go have Sheriff Riley horsewhip him for his behavior, but he couldn’t help himself! The thought of Rose getting hurt galled him, and he had to help! He recognized the signs of fear, could see the stiffness in her back, the way she hesitated before climbing the ladder, the shortness of breath, the shaking. Had he been any different when he was terrified of heights? Any height? She’d only been five feet off the floor, but it was enough to set her panic into motion. She would have hung on to the ladder until forced down, and a lot more would have been hurt than had she fallen on her tender rump. He remembered what it was like to be teased and made fun of. It wasn’t until later that he over came his fear, thanks to Colin Cooke, a cattle rancher from Clear Creek. He’d fallen out of a hayloft too, (albeit with a little help from his brothers) and landed on a pitchfork no less! He hadn’t been fond of heights either, but got over it real quick when he met his wife, Belle. After all, if he hadn’t fallen out of the hayloft, he never would have had the chance to speak with her. Poor Colin had a pain-filled courtship, but it all worked out and he now had a beautiful wife and family.