Much Ado About Mavericks

by Jacquie Rogers

  Blushed and a little winded, Suzanne took little Henry’s hand. “This next dance, you’re partnering up with either Teddy or Homer. You pick.”

  Henry screwed up her nose. “I pick Ben. I’m gonna marry him, too.” She looked at Whip. “Do cowhands get married?”

  “Yup, they shore enough do.”

  “Jake ain’t married.”

  “That’s just ‘cause ain’t no man been smart enough or fast enough to catch her.”

  “I bet Ben could. He’s smarter than anyone else in the world. And I bet he’s faster’n a steam train, too.”

  Whip winked at Mabel. “I bet he is.”

  * * * * *

  A French whore! Patience fanned herself. “I beg your pardon, mister. I’m a lady.”

  The bartender looked at her appreciatively and Patience shuddered. “I do like ‘em spunky. You’ll do right nice.” He handed her a glass and a bottle of whiskey. “You’ll be wanting this, I s’pose.” Then he yelled to the man sitting at the poker table with two others, “Fred, take the little lady here up to Tessie’s room. She wants a bath.” The bartender shrugged. “Looks clean enough to me, but you know women.”

  Patience nudged Reginald to speak up, and when he didn’t she said, “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Fred. Reginald will go with me.” Addressing the bartender, she asked, “What room is hers?”

  While she found the entire situation distasteful, she’d do anything for a hot bath, even allow some imbecile to think her reputation somewhat tarnished. And anyway, she wouldn’t be in this dreadful little village much longer. If all went well, she’d be Mrs. Benjamin Stoddard Lawrence by tomorrow afternoon.

  Her brother whispered, “I don’t think you want to do that. Why don’t we just find out where Ben’s ranch is and go there?”

  “Looking like this!” She dabbed at her once perfect coiffure, now dirty and horribly disarranged. Her brother had no sense at all sometimes. She certainly didn’t ever want Benjamin to see her looking like a tramp.

  “Upstairs and to the right, missy,” the bartender responded to her earlier question.

  “My name is not ‘missy,’ sir. It’s Miss Patience Morris. You may address me as Miss Morris.”

  “Patience, huh?” He refilled Reginald’s glass with watered-down whiskey. “I think your folks was dreaming when they named you.”

  She sniffed, then turned on her heel toward the stairs. “Reginald, are you coming.” It was an order, not a question, and her brother grabbed his whiskey and followed.

  Rapping on the door said to be Tessie’s room, she heard grunts and giggles.

  “Wait your turn,” a woman, Tessie, she supposed, called out.

  “Oh, my.” She stepped back. “Reginald, make them stop at once!”

  “Sister, you’ll just have to wait. There are some things you can’t stop.”

  “Nonsense, I can.”

  “That man in there paid money for his time. I doubt he’d be amused about you interrupting his good time.

  Money? She understood money. Rapping on the door again, she spoke firmly, “Sir, I’ll give you ten dollars to stop what you’re doing and leave.” She heard a loud groan, then silence for a moment.

  The door opened, the dirty man before her carried his boots and his suspenders drooped over his unbuttoned pants. “Ten dollars?”

  “Yes.” She dug the money out of her reticule. “If you leave this moment.”

  He took the money and left. Patience turned to her brother. “See? It’s that easy.”

  Reginald chuckled. “I have a feeling you made that man very happy.”

  She gave another ten dollars to Tessie to bring a bath, and in no time at all Patience relaxed in a tub of soothingly warm water. The young woman of questionable repute entered the room without knocking, carrying towels, and plopped on the bed. Evidently, her parents had taught the girl no manners whatsoever.

  “Wilson says you’re to fix yourself up right purty and go to the dance at the Bar EL. Says it’d be good advertising.”

  “The only place I’m interested in going is Benjamin Lawrence’s ranch, and only then after a good night’s rest.” She rinsed her arm, then soaped the ragged washcloth agan.

  The girl giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Why, you silly, the Bar EL is the Lawrence Ranch. Everyone knows that.”

  “Oh.” She threw the washcloth in the tub. A dance! She loved dances, and, tired as she was, a dance was probably the best place to talk Benjamin into coming home because all the men would undoubtedly swarm about her—she’d be the only real lady there. She’d wait for a waltz so she could dance close. By then, he’d want her, she knew it. He’d made advances before and she’d held him to chaste kisses. A few, not so chaste. But she knew he wanted her. Maybe she’d get him alone and let him touch her breasts.

  Seymour Johns had touched her there, with his mouth, too. What a feeling! She’d lost all good sense and let him go way too far, and now, concerned that she might be with child, she had to convince Benjamin to marry her as soon as possible.

  “Hand me the towel, Tessie. I’ll be ready shortly.”

  “Wilson said to loan you my new red dress since yours is dirty and torn.” She took it off the wall and held it up to her. “See? Right purty, ain’t it?”

  Patience restrained from wrinkling her nose at such a preposterous garb. The red velvet dress had a neckline cut indecently low. Definitely a whore’s dress. “I’ll brush my own dress out.”

  “No, Wilson says you’s to wear this here dress. He even gave me a dollar for the loan of it. He’ll take the money back if you don’t wear this.” She held it up to her again. “It’s a right nice dress. Expensive, too.”

  “Give me the towel.” She stood and dried herself, then wrapped the towel around her body and tucked the corner at her breast. With a critical eye, she assessed the gaudy red dress, then made her decision. Wearing such a low-cut creation could make her task of seducing Benjamin that much easier.

  Tessie hung the dress back on the hook. “Will you wear it? Please?”

  “I’ll wear it.” She sat on the bed and took her brush from her reticule. “Now, tell Mr. Fred to have a carriage ready in twenty minutes, then come back and help me with my hair. I’ll need more pins. And a bonnet to match the dress.”

  * * * * *

  “I ain’t doing it.” Teddy grimaced. “You do it.”

  Homer poked Teddy in the chest. “I ain’t doing it. You’re younger.”

  “I ain’t doing it. You’re older.”

  “You better do it now. Jake’s coming over.”

  Teddy gulped. “I’ll ask her to dance. You ask Henry.”

  “Uh, oh. Jake’s almost here. You better ask Henry to dance before you get in trouble.”

  “What are you boys doing in the corner? You’re supposed to be out dancing up a storm.” She’d heard the boys arguing and thought she better get them straightened out. Whether they liked it or not, they’d both dance with Henry before the night was over.

  Homer cleared his throat and gulped. “Uh, well, Teddy here was just about to ask Henry to dance.”

  “Was not!” the younger boy protested. “I ain’t dancing with her--she’s a girl!”

  “Liar.”

  Teddy popped him one in the arm. “I’m dancing with Jake. You’re dancing with stinky old Henry.” He bowed to Jake and offered his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Jake chuckled. “Good job, Teddy. Yes, I’ll have this dance.” Turning to Homer she said, “And you’re on your way to ask Henry, aren’t you?”

  The older boy hung his head and scoffed his boot on the floor. “Yes, sir.”

  “And the next dance,” Jake continued, “you’ll dance with me and Teddy will dance with Henry. Right, Teddy?”

  He scrunched he face into a grimace. “Do I gotta?”

  “Yup, now this here song just got started, so let’s take a spin around the floor. You remember your steps?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jak
e put her left hand on his shoulder and took the other hand in her right. Teddy couldn’t reach her waist so he grabbed her thigh with his right. “That’ll do. Let’s go.”

  A few feet away, she heard Henry say, “You’re only asking me to dance because Jake said so.”

  “Yup,” Homer replied. “Now dance, before we both get in trouble. I only have to dance with you once.”

  “Good.”

  “And then I’m eating a big ol’ piece of apple pie. Teddy gots to dance with you next, so you don’t get no pie.”

  Jake waited to chuckle until her half-pint partner led her too far away for other strays to hear. “You’re a heckuva dancer, Teddy. You’ll make some woman right happy someday.”

  “Aw, Jake, I ain’t ever dancing with no women. I’ll dance with you.”

  Good thing she had Teddy, because Ben had danced with every damned woman in the barn, including Pokie--except her. Not that she’d noticed. She did notice Ben partnering up with his mother. A good son should dance with his mother.

  “Ouch!”

  She had stepped on Teddy’s toe. “Uh, sorry, my fault.”

  “I know. You was watching Ben instead of me.”

  “Did you eat some of Mrs. Hiatt’s caramel candy?”

  * * * * *

  Growing irritated that Jake had ignored him the entire evening, he drew a beer and waited for the song to end. He had to admit, though, that watching a six-foot woman dance with a three-foot boy was amusing.

  “That beer for me?” Happy Jack asked, half teasing.

  “Sure.” He handed the mug to the singer--he tried hard but sang off-key most of the time. The beer did make him more enthusiastic, and overall, you couldn’t have a bad time with Jack around.

  Just as the folks started clapping, he drew another beer and looked for Jake. With blazing red hair and her height, she didn’t hide in a crowd well, and he spotted her by the dessert table.

  “Have a beer,” he said as he walked up behind her. “The next dance is mine.”

  “The next dance is Homer’s.” She took a long draw on the beer. “Then we’ll see.”

  “Are you avoiding me?” Her red hair was a bit frazzled, like it would be after she was properly bedded. His mouth went dry. Better get another beer, he thought.

  She wrinkled her brow. “Hell, no. I been here the whole damned night.” Finishing off the beer, she wiped her lip with her sleeve and handed the mug back to him. “I gotta find that kid.”

  Just then the musicians struck up Golden Slipper, only Happy Jack was singing Little Brown Jug. The crowd started laughing, and Marshal Hiatt yelled, “My wife makes damned good beer, huh, Jack?”

  The erstwhile singer started laughing, and then tumbled off the platform, taking two couples with him--one couple was Suzanne and Peter. Ben thought Peter could have let go of Suzanne’s waist a lot sooner when he helped her to her feet.

  Neil, the fiddler, didn’t miss a note. “Haul him out to the wagon and throw him in,” he said as he embarked on a vigorous chorus.

  Ben dashed over to help Peter carry Happy Jack, passed out cold, to the Walkers’ wagon. Wadding up an old flour sack he found, Ben shoved it under the singer’s head and threw a tarp over his still body to ward of the autumn evening chill. “Sweet dreams.”

  Back in the barn, he saw Jake dancing with Homer. He walked around the dance floor until he was as close as he could be without taking a partner himself. The next dance, by damn, was his. He could hardly wait to give Henry’s adoption papers to her, but more than that, watching her in the arms of other men made his blood boil. Now that she’d danced first with Teddy and now with Homer, he’d calmed down a bit. But only a bit.

  The song came to an end and he dashed to claim her, but Mabel caught him first. “Aren’t you going to ask your mother for a dance?”

  Not right now, Ma! “Sure,” he said as he offered his arm, then whispered to her, “Herd Jake towards me at the end of this dance, will you?”

  “Has she been avoiding you?”

  “You might say that.” As the musicians struck the first bars of The Lady Slipper Waltz, he swung her around so he could locate Jake again. Once he found her dancing with one of the cowhands, he danced his mother next to them. He planned to stay right next to her. By damn, the next dance would be his, no matter what.

  “Nice girl.”

  Ben chuckled, but he didn’t like that look in his mother’s eyes. “I could think of a lot of things you could call her, but ‘nice girl’ isn’t one of them.

  “She has a good heart and she’s smart as a fox.”

  Nodding, he said, “She is that.”

  “And quite pretty. Classic beauty, although she does her best to hide it.”

  “I don’t think she hides it at all.”

  She smiled, “So you did notice.”

  “I noticed.” She’d struck him dumb the moment he’d looked up from his tumble off the stagecoach. He sought her out several times a day, his hands itching to touch her. Every single night for the past three weeks he’d dreamed of her cornflower blue eyes and her fiery red hair and a body that promised burning passion. He’d spent three damned weeks with a hard-on.

  Yes, he’d noticed.

  Chapter 11

  Ben dashed to Jake as soon as the song was over, leaving his mother standing all by herself in the middle of the dance floor. He hadn’t realized his mistake until he’d already left her, but Whip was with her the moment he left, so she was all right.

  “My turn.” He took Jake in his arms and started waltzing. He knew it--with those long legs of hers and her delicious body, she was a very graceful dancer.

  “Don’t you think you oughta wait for the music to start?”

  He stopped suddenly, clutching her body even closer to his. Those marvelous breasts pressed on his chest. God, there is a heaven!

  Matt Paxton called out, “We was planning to take a little break, but I guess we’ll play one more.”

  The crowd laughed. Warmth crept up his neck, but he decided to bluster it out. “Yeah, it took me all night to get a dance with the belle of the ball.”

  Jake whapped him on the shoulder. “Hush, they’ll think more than what’s there.”

  “More what? You are the prettiest girl here.”

  The cowhands started laughing again. Ben glowered at them and they quieted. Luckily, the musicians began Jeannie With the Light Brown Hair. Thankful for a nice, slow tune, he couldn’t help but think Jeannie would have been more interesting with blazing red hair.

  “I’ve been wanting to dance with you all night.”

  She smiled a bit. “Nothing stopping you. I wore my garter just like the rest of the cowhands what drawed short straws.”

  “I like your topography better.”

  “I ain’t got a topography. Don’t want one, either, whatever it is.”

  He wanted to hold her tighter but they were the center of attention already. Mostly, he just enjoyed the moment. Because that’s all they had.

  “I did a few errands when I went to Silver City.”

  She looked at him with raised eyebrows, questioning.

  “I’ve got something for you.”

  Grimacing, she said, “You already done enough harm giving me that stupid dress. Every cowhand this side of Denver’s been funning me.”

  “You know I meant for you to have the Colts.”

  “I know it, and you know it. But unless you want Suzanne to find out, no one else knows it.”

  He brushed his lips across her cheek, hoping no one would notice. Her breath caught, and he smiled. “I thought you might wear it tonight.”

  “Hrmph.” She stomped on his toe. “I’m making curtains out of it.”

  “Why don’t you give it to Suzanne? It’s her size.” Toe smarting, he danced her toward the front door. “I need to talk to you alone.”

  “No, you don’t.” She held back when he urged her to go outside. “I don’t think what’s on your mind is what’s on mine.”

  “
Oh, I think it is,” and he pulled her with him, two-stepping into the chilly darkness.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the papers. His heart raced, not entirely from the anticipation of her reaction. “Jake, these are yours. You’re now Henrietta’s mother. Her name is Henry O’Keefe.”

  “Mother! I ain’t no mother. I ain’t got no idea how to be a mother.”

  He wished he could see her face, but the darkness hid it. “You can do it, Jake. And the papers are filed for Teddy and Homer, too. It’ll take a little longer since we don’t know who their parents are, but they’ll be ready by the time roundup’s over. Judge Glover’s working on it.”

  “But . . . I . . .”

  “Don’t worry, Jake. It’s for the best.”

  “I just hired ‘em on. That’s all.”

  “You’ve kept them fed and dressed. You’ve taught them their manners. They love you as their mother.” He raised his eyebrow and added, “Or father.”

  “I am right attached to them strays,” she finally conceded. Ben thought it sad that she had such an aversion to admitting she loved them.

  “There’s another thing. If their parents try to take them away, you now have a legal right to keep them.”

  She sighed. “That did fret me some. A little.”

  He waited, for what seemed the longest time. Then she flung her arms around him and kissed him right smack on the lips. Hallelujah, he thought for a moment she’d throw those papers right back at him.

  “There’s one thing,” she said as she drew back, leaving the cold to penetrate where her breasts had pressed against him. “Don’t tell the strays that I’m their mama.”

  “Why not?”

  “Hell, I don’t know!” She grabbed his arm. “Let’s go dance. They’re playing again.”

  He followed her into the barn, pulled her to him and started waltzing before she could escape again. She didn’t seem so resistant this time and she danced as gracefully as any Eastern debutante. More gracefully than most. Oh, how he wished he could have a woman like Jake. Her, in fact. There would never be another woman remotely as interesting as Jake.

  And how he liked the slow songs. He pulled her just a little closer, but not so close that she’d have reason to push him away.