Bluebonnet Belle

by Lori Copeland

  It was a sense of peace that had drawn him when he first visited here six months earlier. The doctor in him demanded it, the man in him wanted it.

  “Papa was asking about you before I left. He worries that you’re being a fool. He asked if you had come to your senses—”

  Gray cut her off. “How is Louis?”

  “Oh, chéri,” she complained, “someone has stolen your mind in this town! You are surely not thinking clearly!”

  He suddenly lost his patience. Francesca was a beautiful, charming, but spoiled young woman who’d been raised in the lap of luxury, a woman who used her position as leverage to get whatever she wanted. Position her father had earned for her.

  Louis DuBois had come to the United States from France shortly before Francesca was born. Starting with little more than ingenuity, he’d built a successful group of medical clinics in Dallas. Francesca was his only child, and he wasn’t subtle about his desire for his daughter to marry Gray.

  At first Gray had toyed with the idea; what sane man wouldn’t be intrigued by the offer? Then sanity had returned and he’d decided marriage to Francesca was too high a price to pay for what a life of bondage it would in essence be.

  He watched as she rose from her chair and sauntered to the mirror. She appeared to be studying her reflection, but he was aware of the intensity of her deep blue eyes.

  “Papa is not a patient man,” she mused. “I fear he will soon tire of asking you, Gray, and bring someone else into the clinic.”

  Gray heard the veiled threat in her voice. Submit or else. His independent streak refused to compromise.

  “You could return to Dallas and never have to work long hours again. There will be three other men to see to your patients when you have better things to do. Papa will furnish everything we would ever want or need.”

  She turned ever so slightly to allow him a better view of what he was refusing. “This would be the perfect time.” Her voice took on a husky timbre, as she mistook his silence for conformity. “The old Tealson mansion is up for sale—I’ve always wanted that house. It has been left to molder a bit, but it’s such a beautiful place. I will decorate it, make it the showplace it should be. We will throw the biggest, most elaborate Christmas parties the city has ever seen! It will be so…”

  As she droned on about the possibilities, Gray’s mind turned to Dignity, and Lydia Pinkham’s show a few days earlier. The nerve of that woman, claiming her elixir could cure everything from cramps to kidney ailments. And women were listening to the exaggerated claims!

  His irritation eased when he thought about the spunky young woman who’d pretended to faint. Surely if she was the girl he had seen at the mortuary, she would have said so. He smiled. She’d felt rather at home in his arms—

  “Gray? Gray?”

  Francesca’s strident tone drew him back.

  “Sorry. You were saying?”

  “You’re not listening to me. You do miss me, don’t you?”

  “Of course, Francesca, but my work keeps me busy and I get distracted.”

  “If you would only return to Dallas, your life would be so much easier. There is no need—”

  “Francesca, we’ve talked this to death.”

  “You are entirely too practical, Gray Fuller. But I can wait. For you I will wait.”

  “Francesca…”

  “Oh, I remember that silly declaration, when you said the wedding was off, but you didn’t mean it.” She came closer and kissed him lightly. “I forgive you, darling. You are coming to Dallas on the twelfth? You know Papa is entertaining some very prominent doctors, and he’ll expect you to be there.”

  Though Gray would begrudge the time, he would be there. He’d have the next installment on his debt to Louis by then. Though DuBois had assured him many times that repayment wasn’t necessary, Gray was determined to owe him nothing but gratitude before the next year was finished.

  “Gray!” she wailed. “You promised!”

  “Of course I’ll be there, Francesca.” He jammed his arms into his jacket. “I’ll instruct all my patients that they are under no circumstance to become indisposed on the twelfth.” Suddenly he needed fresh air.

  “Oh, wait! I have something for you.” She picked up a small hatbox and carefully opened it. “You’re going to adore this.”

  Gray stared at what he had to assume was a hat, though he’d never call it that himself.

  Holding it up for inspection, she grinned. “Isn’t it just the most extraordinary thing?”

  Extraordinary? Every bit of that.

  “Very nice. You’ll look lovely in it.”

  “Me? Oh, you silly goose! It’s not for me, it’s for you.”

  Gray’s heart sank. Surely she didn’t expect him to wear…that.

  “It’s marvelous, isn’t it?” She turned the hat around.

  “What is it, exactly?”

  “A pillbox hat. It’s the latest thing in bicycling attire. You’re to wear it with tight-fitting knee britches, a very tight, military kind of jacket, and when you’re cycling down the street, you carry a bugle to warn pedestrians of your approach. I ordered it from France.”

  “I don’t bicycle.”

  “No?” She frowned. “Well, you should. It’s the most amazing sport. Daddy bought me one…. Of course, I’ve purchased britches and a jacket for you also, so we can dress alike when we cycle.”

  “I don’t have a bicycle.”

  Her eyes sparked devilishly. “You do now!”

  She smiled as she turned the hat round and round. “Here. Try it on.”

  Feeling stupid, he let her settle the navy-blue pillbox atop his head. This was what marriage to Francesca would be like. Manipulated, controlled…Between her and her father, he wouldn’t stand a chance of being his own man. He felt even more certain that God’s plans for him didn’t include this woman and a Dallas practice.

  Gray stood before her wearing the ridiculous hat, wondering how much he could be expected to tolerate for money’s sake. If Louis called in his loan early he would have to cease practice; he couldn’t afford to do it. He had to keep peace with Louis’ daughter until the loan was paid in full. But he would not marry her. He rode horses, not bicycles.

  Francesca ignored his protest, clapping her hands with delight. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the surface of his glass-fronted bookcase, Gray grimaced. The hat made him look like an organ-grinder’s monkey. All he needed was a tin cup.

  “Francesca, I don’t wear hats.” Feelings be hanged; he wouldn’t be caught dead in it.

  “Nonsense.” Standing on tiptoe, she kissed the end of his nose. “You look splendid, darling. Absolutely splendid.”

  He looked like a fool. A splendid one.

  “I have to go. I have patients to see.”

  “You work much, much, much too hard, Gray.” She tried to wind her arms around his neck. He promptly removed them.

  Relinquishing her hold, she sighed. “When will I see you again? I will be waiting,” she promised. She blew him a kiss as he left the room.

  As he walked through the lobby of the hotel, he carried the pillbox hat hidden beneath his jacket.

  Eyeing the trash receptacle, he pushed temptation aside and walked out the front door. Francesca had an elephant’s memory. She recalled every article of clothing she’d ever purchased for him.

  For now, at least, he was stuck with the thing.

  Chapter Three

  “How much?”

  April told her customer the price, folding brown wrapping paper around a bottle of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound. “And thank you. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”

  The past week had been a bonanza. Sales were up, and women were beginning to return for second bottles.

  April was starting to relax. Apparently Gray Fuller hadn’t recognized her. At least she assumed he hadn’t. Grandpa hadn’t blown up, and he would if he knew what she’d been up to.

  It was enough that Riley wouldn’t approve of he
r involvement with Henry. Learning about her involvement with Lydia Pinkham would do him in.

  April worried about his health, but his lectures bothered her, as well. He was stubborn and easily worked into a tizzy when she did something that went against the grain. It was best to just keep to herself things that would cause Grandpa fits.

  “Miss?”

  April returned to the business at hand. “I’m sorry. How many bottles?”

  “Five. I wouldn’t start a day without a dose of the elixir.”

  “Wonderful.” April smiled, counting out the woman’s change.

  By the time the rally was over, April’s feet hurt, her back ached and she was thinking about taking a sip of Lydia’s elixir herself. Not a big one, just enough to revive her sagging energy.

  “Well, we’ve had a good day,” Mrs. Pinkham commented as she sank into a chair beside April’s table. It was nearing dark now, and the last happy customer had left the meeting hall with a bottle of vegetable compound.

  “We made eighteen dollars today,” April told her.

  “Eighteen? That’s wonderful.”

  April put the money into an envelope and handed it to Mrs. Pinkham, then began placing the remaining bottles of compound into a box. Dan would carry it to the carriage later. She glanced up, smiling when she saw another of Lydia’s sons, Will, busily gathering up pamphlets the crowd had left behind.

  Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Lydia closed her eyes wearily. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could place a bottle of compound in every woman’s hand?”

  “The way sales are picking up, that might not be so implausible.”

  “Oh, my dear.” She chuckled. “It’s a very large world, and there are so many, many women who are trying to cope with female problems…. If they only knew there were alternatives.” She smiled at April. “I appreciate all you’re doing, dear. You’ve been a big help. Very dedicated.”

  April hesitated, then decided to tell the truth. “I believe in the healing powers of the compound, Mrs. Pinkham, but I also see this as my ministry.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Ministry?”

  “Yes. I believe God has called me to help women, and he brought us together for that purpose. We’re doing more than selling a compound. We’re providing God-given health to the women of Dignity.”

  “My,” Lydia said faintly. “I am indeed indebted to you for your service. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, Mrs. Pinkham. Thank the good Lord for taking pity on us women.” April grinned. “And you and your family for making the long journey from Massachusetts.”

  “Ready to go, Mother?” Will called.

  “Coming, dear.” Getting up, Lydia smoothed back a stray hair. A tall, striking woman, she was imposing enough to compel people to accept her claims. “We’ll not have a meeting tomorrow, dear. Dan is traveling to Austin to look into new market opportunities.”

  April tried to conceal her relief. She’d spent three weeks hiding, evading Dr. Fuller. He wasn’t coming to the house as often, yet she had to be on guard every moment for fear something or someone would alert him to the fact that she was Riley’s granddaughter. Very soon the Pinkhams would move on and her covert activities would cease. Every rally she attended left her anxious and full of guilt. If it wasn’t for the community’s concern for their kindly old undertaker, Riley would already know what his granddaughter was doing.

  Lydia hesitated a moment at the door. “Is Henry coming for you?”

  “Yes, he’ll be here any moment now.” Consulting her pendant watch, she noted the time. Henry was always prompt. If today’s meeting hadn’t ended early, he would be waiting now.

  “I’m glad he’s working with us. He’ll be going with Daniel tomorrow. They have sound ideas for getting the compound into stores all over Texas.” Lydia shared a tired smile. “Well, there’s advertising copy for the newspaper to write yet tonight. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Henry was going to Austin with Dan again? Why hadn’t he told her? April wondered. That made the third trip in as many weeks, trips he’d failed to mention.

  Checking her appearance by feel, April carefully rearranged her hat on curls that had taken her a full hour to fashion. She hoped she looked pleasing to Henry today. She’d worn the princess-style dress he favored, recalling how he swore its bluebonnet belle color exactly matched her eyes. The dress was outrageously overpriced, but Grandpa was good about letting her purchase whatever she wanted from the mail-order catalogs.

  Turning slowly, she glanced down, perusing the cut of the dress. The jacket was fashioned atop a full overskirt. The buirasse bodice was tight and molded to the hips—an effect, if the look in Henry’s eyes was any indication, he appreciated.

  Tugging at the close-fitting waist, she wished she could wear the style without a long, tight corset. It was a good thing her job required her to stand, for the skirt of the dress was so tight, she couldn’t have hoped to sit with any semblance of grace.

  Straightening the stiff sleeves, she absently reached for her reticule and turned toward the front door of the small meeting hall to see if Henry had arrived.

  He had not, but it was still early. She’d told him seven o’clock, and it was barely six forty-five. Yet, she hoped he would hurry. They had so little time together anymore. His involvement with the compound kept him working long hours, sometimes late into the night.

  Henry Trampas Long. Yet another secret she was keeping from Grandpa. One that would most certainly give him fits if he ever learned of it. Grandpa didn’t see Henry as she did. Handsome, with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, Henry was admittedly more a “woman’s man” than a “man’s man.”

  Although they’d just begun working together, she’d known Henry all her life. They’d been schoolmates during their growing-up years.

  Henry was a natural-born charmer. He got the nickname “Sweet Talker” after he’d persuaded the teacher to end classes a week early one summer. Miss West, clearly enchanted with her handsome pupil, who was a mere two years younger than she, had fallen for his concocted story about spring fever being counterproductive to learning.

  As they grew up, April and Henry had had their spats, but after they left school she began to view him differently—less as a former schoolmate and more as a potential suitor.

  At first April wasn’t sure how she felt about the gradual change in their relationship, but then she realized how exciting it was to be courted by a man like Henry. Not only did they know one another well, but also he could charm the petals and thorns off a rose.

  Grandpa, of course, still saw Henry as the fool who’d turned over outhouses and played pranks on unsuspecting Dignity residents. It was easy for him to consider Henry’s occasional appearances at the front door as innocuous.

  But April didn’t consider anything about Henry innocuous. Their relationship was growing closer every day. In fact, he’d been dropping hints recently that led her to believe he was about to propose any day now. If it wasn’t for his precarious health, she would tell her grandfather about Henry. She didn’t like keeping things from him, but she didn’t dare say anything until Henry actually proposed. April prayed the good Lord understood the situation, and while he wouldn’t approve of deceit, he would understand the sensitive issue.

  Hearing Henry’s runabout buggy turn the corner, she stepped to the doorway, watching him masterfully bring the bay to a halt in front of the building. Smiling, he climbed down, his wry grin half hidden beneath his flaxen mustache.

  April’s heart swelled as she watched him approach. He was indeed a fine figure of a man, resplendent in a navy-blue, double-breasted cutaway coat over a matching vest, with slim trousers in a subtle check pattern. A jaunty tie was just visible beneath the collar of his snow-white shirt.

  His hair, thick and full, was tamed somewhat by pomade, his mustache meticulously trimmed. He carried a flat-crowned hat in his left hand, and his gaze was pinned directly on her.

/>   “My bluebonnet belle,” he murmured, reaching for her hand as he approached.

  “Henry,” she whispered, embarrassed that he would utter such an endearment in public, though delighted he would be so daring.

  Concern filled his face. “Have I kept you waiting?”

  “No, we finished early. You’re right on time.”

  Assisting her into the conveyance, Henry climbed aboard, and, with a smile in her direction, gently slapped the reins against the horse’s rump.

  “I hear we had a very good day,” he commented as the buggy rolled along.

  “A very good day. No problems, and we sold a number of bottles.” Turning in the seat, she looked at him. “Henry, Lydia said you were going to Austin.”

  Glancing sideways, he smiled. “Didn’t I mention it to you?”

  “No…no, you didn’t.”

  “Really? I thought I had. Dan and I will be looking for new marketing possibilities.” He glanced her way again. “Why?”

  “Well, there’s the Founders Hall event next week…”

  The party was an annual gathering everyone looked forward to. April had purchased her dress months ago, a frivolous evening-blue silk.

  Meeting her troubled gaze, he smiled. He was merely doing his job. There would be other events, his eyes suggested to her.

  “I’m sorry, dearest. It was thoughtless of me not to mention the trip earlier, but I kept hoping it could be delayed until after the Founders Hall celebrations. Alas, it can’t be.”

  She ignored the awful sense of disappointment she felt, vowing to conceal it. It would only make Henry’s business commitments more difficult.

  Arching his brow in concern, he said, “Forgive me, dearest?”

  “Of course, Henry, it can’t be helped.”

  “Dan and I will be going to Austin tomorrow. Had I known sooner, I’d have planned something special for us today.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “I’m not sure. A few days.” He reached over to clasp her hand. “Miss me?”

  “You know I will.”

  “We’ll have a very special supper when I get back.”