Jim leaned toward her. “That’s called the stomp dance. Can’t imagine where they came up with such an original name.”
She glanced at him, and his black eyes twinkled with mirth. Smiling at his joke, she watched as the children finished and left the stage. A man with trained dogs followed. The lively animals did some amazing tricks. Next came an opera singer, whose shrill voice made Sasha cringe.
In spite of the woman’s less-than-stellar performance, Sasha relished sitting back and being part of the audience and enjoying the show instead of having to race around applying makeup or preparing to go onstage herself.
The singer attempted a high note and missed. Beside Sasha, Jim squirmed on the bench. He leaned forward, fiddling with his hat, but she was certain he held his hands over his ears on purpose.
She pressed her lips together but couldn’t help laughing. He glanced back at her, his neck reddening when he caught her watching him. Sasha leaned over, wanting to put him out of his misery. “Would you mind if we go look at some of the wares that are for sale?”
Relief brightened his countenance, and he jumped up, offering her his hand. She took it and allowed him to guide her out of the quickly dwindling crowd. She felt sorry for the performer, but not enough to endure any more of her strained singing.
Jim tucked Sasha’s hand around his muscled arm again. She glanced up at him, proud to be escorted by such a nice-looking man. That she felt so comfortable with him surprised her. Still, she didn’t want to get her hopes up that he might have feelings for her. They’d barely just met. He might be willing to escort her around town, but what white man would want a relationship with a half-breed?
Her uncle had told her about the Upper Creeks, who were full-blooded like him, and the Lower Creeks, who were of mixed race. Sasha felt stuck between two worlds—that of the whites and that of the Upper Creeks, which was her heritage—neither of which would completely accept a woman of mixed race.
“So, what do you want to look at?”
Jim’s question pulled her from her troubled musing. She glanced around, and her gaze landed on a colorful display of handmade quilts. She pointed toward them. “There. Uncle Dewey might like a locally made quilt for his new room, rather than something fancier from a store.”
Jim nodded and guided her toward a clothesline tied between two trees. Three beautiful quilts hung there, brightening the stark landscape. Sasha loosened her grip on Jim and lifted the edge of a multi-colored coverlet. Though the fabric in the design looked to be from previously worn clothing, nobody could deny the quality of the tiny stitches.
Jim leaned over her shoulder. “These are made by the oil widows.”
She peered up at him, nearly gasping at his nearness. He stared at her a moment before stepping back. “Oil widows?” she finally rasped.
He nodded. “Most often when an oil worker dies, his family has so little money that they continue to live in Rag Town. Some of the widows collect used clothing and make these quilts. Nice, aren’t they? I took a couple home last time I went.”
Sasha longed to ask him about his home but thought it would be improper since they barely knew each other. She refocused on the quilt. “What colors do you think Uncle Dewey would like best?”
Jim moved to the quilt beside her. “Seems like most of his shirts are some shade of blue. I guess he might like this one.”
Sasha studied the design that was mostly blue and white with a little red and green. A woman who’d been helping a customer sidled up beside Jim. “That’s a flying geese pattern. See, it loosely resembles a flock of geese in flight.”
Sasha nodded but turned her eyes toward on the woman. She couldn’t be too much older than Sasha, but she had a haggard look about her. The worn dress hung on her thin frame as if she’d lost weight since making it. A towheaded boy about four years old ran toward her and hid behind the woman’s skirt.
“I see you, Philip.” A darling urchin with wispy blond locks skipped in their direction. She reached behind the woman and touched the boy. “Tag, you’re it.” The girl smiled at Sasha and darted away with the barefoot boy close on her heels.
“I’m sorry for the interruption, but children are good at that.” A red blush stained the woman’s pale cheeks as she studied the ground.
“It’s all right. I grew up with kids all around.” Jim’s kind words were meant to soothe the woman, but a spear of shame pierced Sasha’s heart. She’d never been wealthy, but she’d always worn pretty clothes and shoes. Never once had she been required to go barefoot or wear frayed rags like those poor children. Though she’d only planned to buy her uncle a quilt, she changed her mind and bought a second one to help out the poor widow.
Jim held her purchase while Sasha dug around in her handbag for the money Dewey had given her. She felt a bit odd spending money that wasn’t hers, but she was furnishing his home as he had requested. Sasha handed the woman ten dollars, but a frantic looked passed across her face.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I have no change.” Her gaze darted between Sasha’s and the ground, as if she were afraid Sasha might change her mind about the purchase.
“I have some money.” Jim stuck his hand in his pocket.
Sasha touched his arm. “That’s all right. I don’t need any change.”
Jim’s eyes sparked with surprise, but the woman took a step backward as if she’d been slapped. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly accept more than the quoted price.”
“But—” Jim’s light touch on her back halted Sasha’s objection. She didn’t mind the woman keeping the whole ten dollars. It was obvious she needed the money.
Jim pulled out eight dollars and handed it to the lady and gave Sasha’s money back. “I’ll square things with Dewey later.”
As they walked away, she glanced up at Jim. “Why wouldn’t she accept more than the price?”
“Stubborn pride.” He pressed his lips together. “As much as she needed the money, she still wouldn’t accept more than what she thought was fair. That would be charity. And she’d never accept charity.”
Sasha pondered his words as she purchased a soft pair of beautifully beaded moccasins from another vendor. They would be nice to wear around the house instead of her uncomfortable shoes. She followed Jim to the wagon, where they deposited their purchases. He checked on the horses, then came around to stand next to her, leaning his elbows against the side of the wagon. She nibbled her lip, knowing she still owed him a thank you.
“I want you to know how much I appreciated your help at Whitaker’s Hotel.”
A charming smile tugged at his lips. “I thought that was you. I didn’t get too good of a look, what with things happening so fast and all.”
“Yes, well, I did scurry out of there rather quickly.” Sasha returned his smile as she studied his handsome face. His hair and eyes were black as midnight. His skin, darkly tanned. He was tall like a towering pine tree, and his powerful, well-muscled body moved with an easy grace. She’d never admit to watching him work, but she enjoyed doing so. He glanced away, staring off at the crowd, and Sasha realized she’d spent too long observing him. Heat warmed her cheeks, and she searched for a safe topic.
“So, you had a bunch of siblings?”
“What?” Jim glanced at her, his brows puckered. “No, only one—a sister.”
Sasha blinked. “But I thought you said you grew up around a lot of kids.”
Jim chuckled. “I did. But they were my cousins, not siblings. My aunt and uncle raised me after my parents died.”
A wave of guilt washed over Sasha for bringing up the subject. “I’m sorry about your parents.”
“It was a long time ago.” He flipped his hand in the air and pushed away from the wagon. “I guess we ought to track Dewey down and make sure he hasn’t gotten into any trouble.”
Sasha peeked up at Jim, unsure if he was serious or teasing. She remembered seeing the three men who’d accosted Dewey and wished now that they’d all stayed together. She’d just found her uncle a
nd didn’t want anything to happen to him.
“My family lives in the Oklahoma Territory,” Jim said, as he guided her back toward the throng of people. “Uncle Mason has a farm there. Ever been on a farm?”
She shook her head, wondering what it would be like to live away from a big city most of your life. Allowing Jim to lead her, she marveled at how comfortable he was to be with and to talk to. It was almost as if they were friends.
Suddenly, Jim stopped, and she stumbled to a halt. “Not again.” A muscle ticked in his jaw and his gaze narrowed.
Sasha looked around, trying to figure out what had raised his ire, and she saw her uncle surrounded by the same three men who had visited the ranch the day before. Jim tugged her out of the main flow of people and tucked her up against the millinery store. “Stay here.”
Because of the noise of the crowd, she couldn’t make out Dewey’s conversation, but she did hear “cheat Indians” and “can’t read” when he lifted his voice. She edged around some old men sitting in front of the barbershop, hoping to get close enough to hear.
Jim marched up to the trio and shoved his hands to his hips. Dewey glanced at him, looking a bit relieved. “You men are slow learners. Mr. Hummingbird is not interested in leasing his land.”
“He’s a slow learner.” Tall Man waved his hands in the air as he argued with Jim. “He could make hundreds of thousands of dollars from oil rights.”
“You’re just going to have to take no for an answer.” Jim leaned toward the man. “Dewey’s answer is no.”
Tall Man’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his fists. He was a good two inches taller than Jim but not nearly as well built. “You need to learn when to butt out, kid. This isn’t your concern.” He shoved Jim.
Taken off guard, Jim stumbled back into a picket fence. It leaned sideways from his weight but didn’t break. He regained his footing and tightened his fist.
“There’s no call to get rough.” Dewey stepped forward holding out his hand, palms up. “We can handle this peacefully.”
A man hurried past Sasha, then stopped and turn around, staring at her. A slow smile lifted his lips. “Well, hello there.” He tipped his hat, and his dark eyes glimmered. “Pardon me, miss.”
The well-dressed, darkly handsome man was obviously Indian. He stepped in front of Jim, virtually ignoring him. With a wave of his hand, the three men backed off and stood to the side, glowering at Jim, who glared back.
The man held out his hand to her uncle. “I’m Roman Loftus. Sorry if these men have been harassing you, Mr. Hummingbird. They tend to get a little overexcited when they smell a sure thing.”
Jim relaxed his stance a bit, as did Dewey. Mr. Loftus kept his back to her, but he turned his head, displaying his perfect profile, and waved away the three men. They scowled and grumbled but walked off.
A group of men behind her laughed, and she missed hearing what Mr. Loftus said. He turned, along with Dewey and Jim, looking her way. The man’s wide smile didn’t warm her as Jim’s did, but there was no denying his handsome looks.
She walked over to the group, and the man tipped his hat again. “Roman Loftus. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Di Carlo.”
Sasha noticed that he already knew her name. Confidence practically oozed from him. She smiled, accepting his out-stretched hand, and he grasped her fingertips, then leaned over and kissed her knuckles.
Surprised, she darted a glance at Jim. He didn’t appear too happy.
Dewey nudged his head toward the man. “His father is Gerald Loftus, a prominent Creek oilman.”
Surprise surged through her. She hadn’t realized that some of the oil companies were actually owned by Indians rather than white men.
“Miss, it would be my great pleasure to escort you and your uncle to supper this evening.”
Sasha stifled her desire to roll her eyes at his flowery actions, but the fact that he omitted inviting Jim irritated her. She glanced at her uncle, and he shrugged. She couldn’t help looking at Jim, who stood frowning with his hands on his hips.
“Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Loftus, but we ate not too long ago, and I do believe we are heading home soon, so as to make it before dark.”
Mr. Loftus pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes for such a brief moment that she wasn’t sure of his intentions. He didn’t look like a man who took rejection well.
“Perhaps another time then.” He smiled, tipped his hat, and strode off without a comment to Dewey or Jim.
“Arrogant—” Jim glanced at Sasha and closed his mouth.
There was very little conversation as Sasha, Dewey, and Jim gathered their purchases and readied to leave. The confrontation had broken the wonderful mood of the day.
As they headed home, Sasha peeked at Jim riding his horse beside the wagon. He looked so comfortable in the saddle. He turned his head and caught her staring. A slow smile tilted his finely shaped lips.
She looked away, hoping her time in Indian Territory would be a long one. Just maybe there was hope for a half-breed and a carpenter.
Eight
Sasha studied the two carpets at the Tulsa store. One would go well with the quilt she’d purchase for her uncle, but he told her not to do anything fancy for his new bedroom. Finally, she pointed to the one with the rose design, which would go in her room. “I’ll take this one. And I’d like to order some curtains out of that sheer fabric with the rose pattern we looked at earlier.
“Do you have the window measurements?” The store clerk peered up at Sasha over the top of her wire-frame glasses.
Sasha looked at Jim. He pushed away from the window he’d been staring out and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a piece of paper. He handed it to the woman, his eyes glazed with boredom. Sasha pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Shopping obviously wasn’t his favorite chore.
“I imagine you’ll be needing some blinds for the windows also.” The clerk glanced up from the paper expectantly. No doubt she’d make a hefty commission off Sasha’s purchases.
“Yes, I will. For all the bedrooms.”
A spark glimmered in the clerk’s eyes, but Jim scowled. Apprehension knotted her stomach. Was he tired of waiting on her? Or did he think she was spending too much of her uncle’s money?
Dewey had been adamant that money was no object. She was to furnish his home in any manner she saw fit. Still, as much fun as it was to buy furnishings, she couldn’t shake feeling guilty for spending so much.
Having to pay her own way at such a young age had forced her to save her money. Spending so freely now went against every fiber of her being.
Jim stood in front of the window, again staring out. He rolled his head to the side and back as if working out the kinks. She’d tried to get him to leave her to shop when they’d first entered Mayo’s Carpet store, but he’d refused. Maybe she should try again, because he was making her anxious.
“Jim.”
He spun around, hope brightening his onyx eyes. “Ready to go?”
She shook her head, and his expression dimmed. “No, and it may take a while. The house has a number of windows.”
“You don’t have to buy everything in one day, you know.” A shadow of annoyance crossed his face.
“No, but then we’d have to come to Tulsa another time. I don’t want to keep taking you away from your work.”
He nodded and turned toward the window again.
“I don’t suppose you could go to the hardware store and see about ordering the items we need for the bathroom? That would save us some time.”
Jim glanced over his shoulder, looking pleased. “I can do that. Just tell me what you want.”
She explained what she and Dewey had decided, and Jim eagerly strode for the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob. “Stay here until I come back.”
Sasha nodded, not sure whether to be thrilled about his protectiveness or perturbed by his bossiness.
“That husband of yours doesn’t want to let you out
of his sight.” The clerk pushed her glasses up her nose. “He must love you an awful lot.”
Sasha blinked, completely taken off guard. She wanted to explain Jim wasn’t her husband but didn’t want to embarrass the kind clerk. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a measure of delight being paired with such a thoughtful, pleasant-looking man.
That afternoon, Jim escorted her to her seat on the train, then went to see about getting their purchases loaded. She thumbed through one of the store catalogs, wondering what type of furniture her uncle would like for the downstairs area.
She’d been able to order some bedroom furniture and a dining set at Harper’s Furniture Store but held off buying for the parlor area, hoping to get Dewey to help her. It was his home, after all.
Sasha gazed around the train. This car had seats that all faced the same direction. She let out a sigh, thankful she didn’t have to sit across from any gentlemen seeking her attention. Jim slid in beside her, and her heart skipped a beat. A manly scent of sweat and dust drifted her way.
“All set.” He shot a sideways glance at her. “The depot clerk said he can ship the furniture as soon as Harper’s has it ready. Then we’ll just have to pick it up at the Keaton depot.”
“That sure makes things easier on you, doesn’t it?”
He nodded and glanced at the open catalog on her lap. “More shopping?”
“Well, there’s still the rest of the downstairs to furnish.”
Jim pressed his lips together and turned to look out the window across the aisle. She couldn’t help feeling again as if he were displeased with her for some reason. Maybe he just didn’t like spending time in town.
At least she’d had a wonderful time. She thought about her afternoon with Jim. Other than showing a little impatience, he’d been a perfect gentleman all day. She loved that he was relaxed around her and not trying to win her favor. But then, he probably had no interest in a half-breed like her.
Tired, she laid her head against the window and looked out at the people scurrying around the depot. A fancy touring car pulled up and parked near the gate, and a man wearing goggles and a long travel coat hopped out and helped a woman exit the vehicle. Sasha wondered how they could stand to wear a coat in this heat.
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