by Jill Gregory
"Not if he grows up fast and settles down with a nice sensible girl." Maura smiled.
"You mean someone like me?" Nell looked hopeful for a moment, then she sighed. "He'll never pay attention to me. I'm not... the type of woman he prefers."
"Then he's just plain crazy. You're smart and you're pretty, and you have a caring heart." Maura suddenly marched to the door. "Just a moment."
"Wait—what are you doing?" Nell gasped, and one hand flew to her throat.
But Maura was already calling across the street. "Lucky, could you come here a moment, please?"
When he stomped into the store, hat in hand, he scarcely glanced at the black-haired girl busily counting eggs into a basket. "Something I can do for you, Miz Lassiter?"
"Yes, I'd like you to carry some boxes to the wagon for me. This one, to start"—she indicated the carton containing the canned goods and a sack of flour. Then she thrust the cream-colored slippers across the counter toward Nell. "And, excuse me, Nell dear, I'll need a box for these shoes."
Before Lucky could reach the carton of goods, Maura stepped in front of it, blocking his path. She gave him a brilliant smile.
"Lucky, have you met Nell Hicks? Her father is the owner of this establishment."
"We've met. Sorta." Lucky flicked a cool glance at Nell, then turned back to Maura. "If you'll just step out of the way, Miz Lassiter—"
"Well, the problem is, I'm not quite finished yet. I think I'll wait for Mr. Hicks—he can help me with the rest of my purchases. Nell here was just going to have a glass of lemonade and when I saw you outside, I realized that you must be dreadfully thirsty, standing there in the sun and all. So why don't you have a glass of lemonade with her—would that be all right, Nell?"
She rushed on when Nell threw her a blank, frozen look.
"Of course it will—and you two can just go ahead and get to know one another."
Nell's cheeks were now two shades brighter than the boa. She threw Maura a panicked glance and stared mutely at the rangy young ranch hand. "W-would you like some lemonade?"
"Nope. But you go right ahead."
"I—I don't want any either. I changed my mind," she added quickly, when Lucky shot her a puzzled glance. "Is there... anything else I can help you with?"
Lucky ambled along the counter, eyeing the goods stacked on shelves, refusing to let his glance rest on the dark-haired girl. "Could use a pack of cards and some tobacco while I'm here," he muttered.
"Oh. Do you enjoy playing cards?" Nell asked as she reached up to a shelf for the items he'd mentioned. Maura began studying yards of sateen, then strolled along to the candy jars.
"I reckon."
"I do too." Nell tried out a smile, small dimples showing in her flushed cheeks. "I play gin rummy with my father nearly every night. Perhaps you'd like to... to join us sometime?"
"Not likely, little girl." Lucky shoved his hat back on his head. "I only play poker—and for pretty high stakes."
"Oh, pardon me!" Nell's eyes took on a glittery sparkle. "I didn't realize I was speaking to such a fancy-pants, big-time gambler."
"I never said I was a big-time gambler." Lucky's eyes narrowed—much like Quinn Lassiter's when he was irked. "I said I don't play gin rummy."
"Maybe you're afraid of losing," Nell went on sweetly, as if he hadn't spoken. "Maybe you're afraid of losing to a girl."
"The day a girl beats me at any card game is the day I eat my spurs!" He glared at her. "Reckon those Campbells would've been mighty sorry if they had run off with you—you'd have talked 'em to death with that sharp tongue of yours. And if that didn't work, you'd have stomped 'em at gin rummy!"
Lucky slapped his hand against his thigh, chortling at his own humor, while Nell went pale as snow.
The girl turned away, knocking into a jar of penny candy, grabbing it before it crashed to the floor. As Maura threw her a distraught glance, wishing she could box Lucky's ears, the young cowhand seemed to sense that he'd exceeded the bounds of civility.
"Hey—reckon you know I was just foolin' with you," he said gruffly, stepping sideways, trying to see Nell's averted face.
She didn't answer, but busied herself with moving the jar of penny candy to a shelf.
"I know it's nothing to joke about," he tried again. "I mean, I'm sure you were plenty scared. I mean, it would be only natural—"
"Will there be anything else?" Nell interrupted frigidly, whirling back to face him with lifted chin and set mouth.
He met her icy stare and a frown spread across his face.
"No, ma'am, there won't be." He slapped down some coins, scooped up the pack of cards and tobacco, dumped them in his vest pocket. Then he lifted the carton of goods from the counter.
"Miz Lassiter, I'll wait for you outside." He threw Nell a black look over his shoulder, but she'd already flounced away.
The moment the door swung shut behind him, Maura rushed over to Nell.
"I'm so sorry. He's not usually so rude! I can't imagine what got into him."
"He hates me!" Nell stared out the window at the young cowhand, who had spotted yet another saloon girl in the street and was striding toward her. "And I hate him!"
"Hmm, I can see that." Maura stifled a sigh.
She saw no such thing. She saw Nell's eyes glistening as she watched Lucky plunge into playful conversation with the saloon girl.
"The May Day dance is coming up shortly," she murmured as Nell set the shoes into a paper-lined box and handed them to her. "Perhaps you two can patch things up there."
"I'd sooner eat a cow pie." Nell straightened her shoulders and marched back behind the counter, but Maura saw her glance once more out the window at Lucky and the saloon girl, whose high-pitched laughter echoed clear into the store.
Her heart went out to the girl. She understood just how she felt. It hurt to care for someone who didn't care for you in return.
Care for someone? Who are you trying to fool, she asked herself ruefully. You love Quinn. And even if he wasn't nearly as rude to her as Lucky had been to Nell, he was equally indifferent.
And though it didn't seem to be wildly experienced saloon women he pined for, he certainly wasn't pining for her. She couldn't begin to compete with his yearnings for freedom.
When Serena Walsh entered the general store just as she was about to depart, she had to struggle to keep from staring at the woman. Serena certainly knew how to fix herself up. Today she wore a green taffeta gown, bustled, a matching hat and light peach-colored shawl.
"Good day, Mrs. Lassiter."
"Good day."
Remembering what the ladies of the Hope Sewing Circle had said about Serena, Maura forced herself to smile and appear friendly. She knew all too well how it felt to be an outsider, and she didn't have it in her heart to shun anyone. But she couldn't stop herself from wondering exactly how Serena Walsh felt about her husband. If this dashing, self-assured creature hadn't been able to win Quinn's heart, how could she—plain old Maura Jane Reed—hope to do so?
What makes you think she hasn't won his heart? a small voice inside her asked. Maybe she has, maybe she will always own it, and you're only the girl he married because you're going to bear his child. He came here to Hope, didn't he? And she just happened to be here?
He came because of his land, she told herself. You're being ridiculous. But as she met Serena Walsh's frank smiling glance, uncertainty churned inside her.
"What pretty shoes." Serena's eyes barely skimmed the cream-colored slippers inside the box. "Are they for the dance?"
"Yes, they are." Maura tried to speak warmly. "They match the new dress I've been sewing for the occasion."
"Oh, yes, you and all the other ladies of the famous Hope Sewing Circle. I'd heard you were invited to join." It was said with a faint sneer, but Maura saw that Serena's hands clenched around her reticule. "Such an upstanding group of proper ladies."
"They've all been very kind to me." Obviously, Serena was disturbed at her exclusion, but she hid it well beneath a veneer of contempt
. Uncertain what to say next, Maura latched eagerly onto another topic.
"Will you be attending the May Day dance, Mrs. Walsh?"
"Why, yes, matter of fact, I will," the woman drawled with that faint tinge of the South honeying her tone. "The Tylers have kindly invited the entire town—even the scandalous widow Walsh." The smile on her full lips didn't even begin to soften the sarcasm in her voice.
"I'm surprised that Quinn agreed to go—he never cared much for dances, as I recall. Oh, he attended them occasionally, but didn't stay long. He's a loner, you know."
"I do know. But he's a family man now and we're both looking forward to joining in the festivities."
It wasn't quite true, Maura reflected with a slight twinge of guilt, but Serena with her smug air needn't know that Quinn wasn't exactly counting the hours until the dance. In fact, he'd only agreed to accompany her because she'd pointed out how odd it would look if Mrs. Quinn Lassiter came to a town dance alone.
And Maura had absolutely refused to stay away.
Serena's eyes held a knowing gleam as she studied Maura a moment.
"Hmm, we'll see." She actually laughed. Then abruptly she turned toward Nell, who had been silently witnessing the exchange.
"Two dozen eggs, five pounds of sugar, and a pound each of potatoes and turnips," she said crisply.
Maura fled.
"Something wrong, Miz Lassiter?" Lucky asked when he loped over to her.
"No, Lucky, everything's fine."
But everything wasn't fine. She was jealous of Serena Walsh, a woman who kept implying that she knew Quinn better than his own wife did. She found she was trembling as she rode in the wagon beside Lucky. She wanted to ask Quinn about the woman, but didn't dare. She couldn't bear to have him know how deeply she cared, how much she wanted things to be different between them. If he thought she was worried about his feelings for Serena or jealous of her, he would suspect the truth.
I'd rather die than have him know, Maura thought, staring sightlessly ahead at the delicate spring landscape rolling past. I might not ever have his love, but I certainly don't want his pity.
So she turned her thoughts to the May Day dance—her very first dance—and tried not to think about Serena Walsh or anything else. Her dress was nearly finished— she had only to finish the sleeves and sew a row of buttons down the back. That was something she could do this very evening.
Before starting supper she fetched the sewing basket she'd found in the metal chest upon arriving at the cabin, and plunked Ma Duncan's jewelry box inside it. There were ten tiny, exquisite pearl buttons in the enamel box, buttons that would perfectly accent her gown. She set the basket beside the sofa to cheer her as she began peeling potatoes to go with the fried chicken she'd discovered was one of Quinn's favorite dishes.
She was humming, thinking ahead to the dance, and to the pleasant dinner she would have ready when Quinn came home from the range, so she didn't see the shadow cross the front window, or the dark slim figure peer inside and around the cabin, then slip around to the back and show himself briefly at the kitchen window before ducking back.
She never heard footsteps, and didn't see the man slip away into the trees when Quinn and the ranch hands approached from the south.
Maura only knew that she felt a prickling of fear for a moment when she heard the sound of horses' hooves. But when she saw that it was Quinn and the men returning, she laughed at her own foolishness.
Ma Duncan would have said someone had walked over her grave. But it was only that she was tired, and a bit queasy at the end of the day from the smell of frying, and she wanted her dress to be completed—and Quinn to admire it.
She set the table as the men washed up at the pump, and thought no more about it.
Chapter 22
After supper Maura fetched her dress from the bedroom and settled, with the sewing basket beside her, into the comfortable armchair with the flowered cushion that Quinn had bought for her in town.
"It'll be a good place for you to sit and feed the baby," he'd told her when he brought it home last week.
Touched, she'd tried to thank him, but he'd brushed it off. "We'll need a cradle too. I'll start carving one, soon as I find the time."
The armchair felt so comfortable that she took a deep breath and relaxed for a moment in the glow of the lantern before picking up the dress, and digging out needle and thread.
Tomorrow was the next meeting of the Hope Sewing Circle, but with any luck, the dress would be finished tonight and she could get started next on a nice soft little quilt for the baby.
She looked forward more than she could say to the meetings of the Hope Sewing Circle. The everyday gossip about the weather, who was sick and who was with child, which children were the brightest in Grace's classroom, and which caused trouble, the newest items one could order from the Sears, Roebuck catalog, and, of course, the plans for the May Day dance filled her with a quiet pleasure unlike any she'd ever known. She felt that Edna and Alice were on their way to becoming real friends. Friends. She, Maura Reed Lassiter, was, for the first time in her life, making friends.
And with all her heart she was looking forward to the May Day dance. Though still plagued nearly every day by queasiness and light-headedness, even that didn't stop her from anticipating ahead to the party at the Crooked T Ranch, wondering what it would be like, imagining how it would feel to dress up in the pretty yellow silk gown, to mingle with all the people from miles around, to laugh and perhaps even dance.
The idea of dancing with Quinn nearly took her breath away, until she remembered one thing.
She didn't know how to dance.
She was going to make a fool of herself in front of the entire town.
"Something wrong?"
Quinn saw Maura start and drop the needle and thread into her lap.
"There you go, startling me again!" she scolded, but there was a soft chuckle in her throat. "I thought you were going into town with Lucky to play cards."
"Changed my mind. But you didn't answer my question." He didn't tell her that he'd had a strange feeling all day, that for some reason he wanted to stick close to home tonight. Especially since not just Lucky but all the ranch hands had decided to go to town. He didn't want to leave her out here all alone.
Coming closer to the armchair, he studied her. He liked looking at her. Her hair had such a pretty sheen in the lamplight, and even in a worn old dress she always looked so fresh and neat. Usually her eyes were warm and smiling, but tonight when he'd come in, they'd looked sad. And her mouth had drooped.
"Feeling sick again?"
"No. I'm fine."
Scooping up what she'd dropped, she tried once more to thread the needle, but only succeeded in pricking her finger.
She gave a yelp, and stuck her finger in her mouth.
"Fine, eh? I don't believe it. Tell me what's wrong."
Maura drew a breath. He was so close, she could have reached out and touched his hand, clasped hers around it—but she didn't. She'd agreed to the kind of marriage he wanted, and she could never let him know that she wanted so much more, a closeness, a bond that, for his part, just wasn't there. If she touched him, he might see in her eyes how she yearned to touch not only his hand, but every part of him, including his heart.
She gripped the needle instead.
"Out with it, angel." Quinn suddenly scooped the yellow gown from her lap and tossed it onto the old sofa. He took the needle and thread and dropped them into the sewing basket, then yanked her from the chair. "I know that look. Something's bothering you."
It amazed her that he knew her so well. And scared her. If he could guess that she was upset, could he also guess her innermost feelings, thoughts, wishes?
Please, no, she prayed.
"I was thinking about the May Day dance."
"What about it?"
"I think I told you that I've never been to a dance before. Or any kind of a party." She rushed on because she didn't want him thinking she was trying to
make him feel sorry for her, or worse, feeling sorry for herself. "So I'm greatly looking forward to this one—except for one thing. Oh, Quinn," she finished in despair, "the whole town is going to laugh at me!"
"Why the hell should anyone laugh at you?"
"It's so foolish, I hate to mention it, but ... I don't know how to dance," she confessed, her lips trembling.
He groaned and let go of her. "Is that all?" He raked a hand through his hair. "Woman, you had me worried."
"It's silly. I know that." Maura lifted her chin, a gesture of defiance and strength, yet he heard the slight quaver in her voice. "But when the fiddlers start to play and everyone takes to the center of the floor, I'm going to wish like anything I could join in."
"And what makes you think there will be fiddlers and dancing if you've never been to a party before?"
"Alice told me, of course. She said that John Hicks and Jethro Plum play the fiddle better than anyone in the whole territory, and Harvey Ludstone, the barber, is a wonder on the harmonica, and that every year they roll up the rugs in the parlor and push back all the furniture and everyone dances till their boots fall off. And also," she added confidentially, innocent, excited eyes turned up to his, "I know about parties because I spied on one in Knotsville once."
"Is that so?" He was enjoying the flush that had come into her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes. "And what did those brothers of yours have to say to that?"
"Oh, they never knew. Ma Duncan didn't know either. I was only about twelve at the time, but that was old enough to want to see what it was all about. It was a Fourth of July dance and was held in the schoolhouse, and nearly the whole town turned out for it. Ma Duncan didn't go because Pa Duncan had died only a month earlier and she didn't think it was proper, but Judd and Homer were there." She frowned. "Everyone steered clear of them, and though they got drunk they didn't hurt anyone that night."
"And you?"
"I walked all the way to the schoolhouse by the light of the moon." A dreamy note entered her voice and her eyes grew rapt as the memory enveloped her. "Everyone was inside and I could hear the music. It made my heart..." She searched for the right word.