Quinn's Promise

by Agnes Alexander

  Chapter 9

  Ina Potter passed the bowl of scrambled eggs. “Here, Quinn, you need to eat more. You’re not bigger than a flea.”

  “Men like women with a little meat on their bones,” Winnie said as she scooped eggs into her plate.

  “I don’t think I can eat another bite.” Quinn pushed the bowl away.

  “Quinn is a small woman,” Deborah said. “If she eats too much she’ll end up as wide as she is tall.”

  “I don’t see how any of you make it on what you eat. I’ve always believed you needed good food to get you through all the work a woman has to do in a day.”

  Marlene laughed. “Now, Mrs. Potter, you’re not big yourself.”

  She smiled. “I guess you’re right. A person’s body knows when it’s had enough.”

  “That’s right.” Deborah smiled at her. “We’d get lazy if we ate any more than we do.”

  Ina sat the bowl of eggs down. “Well, please don’t tell anybody I didn’t offer you plenty of food while you live here.”

  “You serve good food, Ina,” Winnie said.

  “She’s right. Your food is wonderful, Mrs. Potter,” Quinn said. “I’d highly recommend your boarding house to anyone who asked me. I’d also tell them the food is superb.”

  Ina Potter grinned. “Thank you, dear. That’s a nice thing to say.”

  A knock sounded on the front door. Ina stood. “Excuse me.”

  As usual, Winnie followed her. “It might be my niece,” she muttered.

  Quinn picked up her coffee. “I should’ve told her I didn’t want to eat a lot this morning so I can enjoy the meal Uncle Hank is going to treat us to at noon.”

  “I know. I wonder what they’ll serve at—”

  A stern voice traveled to the dining room, interrupting Marlene.

  “I said, I’d give it to Miss Stockton.”

  “That’s right. Give it to Mrs. Potter,” Winnie’s voice also carried.

  “No, ma’am. Hank told me to give it to her personally and that’s what I intend to do.”

  “Mrs. Potter is not going to let you come into her house to give anybody anything.”

  “I’m sorry, miss, but it wouldn’t look right if you started coming into my house.”

  “I understand, Mrs. Potter. Would you please have Miss Stockton come to the door?”

  “She’ll do no such thing. The Stocktons are ladies and they’d never lower themselves to talk to a whore like you,” Winnie bellowed.

  Quinn, followed by her sisters, came into the hallway. “What’s going on, Mrs. Potter?”

  “This woman wanted to see—”

  “Are you Miss Quinn Stockton?” the woman on the porch called to her.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Miss Stockton, please go back to the dining room. I’ll handle this,” Mrs. Potter said.

  “Listen to her, honey,” Winnie said.

  Quinn ignored Winnie and called to the woman, “What do you want?”

  “I have a message from your uncle.”

  “Please, ladies, Go back to the dining room. I’ll talk with this woman,” Quinn said.

  “You don’t need to lower yourself—” Winnie started.

  Quinn turned to Deborah. “Would you please take Mrs. Potter and Miss Goodspell back to the dining room? I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Come on, ladies.” Deborah put her arm around Mrs. Potter’s shoulder and took Winnie’s arm.

  Quinn moved to the door and Marlene stood behind her. “Hello, I’m Quinn Stockton and this is my sister Marlene.”

  The blond woman, dressed in a bright pink satin dress which was too short and too revealing smiled at them. “I’m Misty.”

  “Won’t you come in, Misty?”

  “I better not. Mrs. Potter and that other woman don’t want me here.”

  “I’ll handle them.” Quinn held the door open.

  Misty still hesitated. “Miss Stockton, ladies don’t invite me into their homes.”

  “Well, Misty, I’m inviting you. It’ll be easier to talk inside.”

  Misty stepped over the threshold. “I hope nobody sees me. I don’t want to cause you no trouble.”

  “You won’t.” Quinn opened the parlor door to the left. “Have a seat.”

  “This won’t take but a minute.”

  “All right, Misty. What message did my uncle send?”

  Misty took a note from her reticule. “He wrote this for you this morning.”

  Quinn took it and read aloud: “My dear nieces, I’m sorry I have to postpone our meal. There was a killing in town last night and Sheriff Montgomery got a posse together. I volunteered to go. If I get back in time for supper, I’ll come by and let you know. Uncle Hank.”

  Quinn handed the note to Marlene and turned back to Misty. “Do you know who was killed last night?”

  “Gus, at the livery stable.”

  “I’m sorry. Did he have a family?”

  “I think he did.”

  “My heart goes out to them.” Quinn smiled at her sadly. “Thank you for bringing this to us, Misty. I’m sorry Mrs. Potter and Miss Goodspell were so rude. Please don’t think my sisters and I would ever act that way.”

  “Mrs. Potter wasn’t so bad, but the other lady was pretty rude.” Misty gave her a strange look. “Maybe you should be more like her, Miss Stockton. It won’t do you no good if you’re friendly with the likes of me.”

  Marlene spoke up. “We know what it’s like to be snubbed by people, Misty. We’d never treat another woman that way.”

  Misty blushed. “Thank you, but I won’t expect you to speak to me if we happen to meet on the street.”

  “Of course, I’ll speak to you.”

  Misty nodded. “I’d better go now. I have some things to do at work. When Hank’s gone I look after things for him.”

  “I’m sorry if I kept you too long.” Quinn walked her to the door. “Thank you again for bringing the message.”

  “You’re welcome and thank you both for being so nice.” She turned quickly and rushed out the door before either Quinn or Marlene could say anything else.

  * * * *

  In the afternoon Quinn felt restless. Deborah was in the kitchen with Ina. Marlene was sewing a peach-colored dress for Deborah. Winnie had gone to her room for her regular afternoon nap. Quinn tried reading, but it didn’t hold her interest.

  Finally she threw the book down and went into the room where her sister was sewing. “I think I’ll take a walk. Would you like to come?”

  “I want to finish this dress for Deborah. I have yours cut out and would like to start on it before supper.”

  “I understand. I think I’ll go see what’s going on in town.”

  “If you decide to go into the mercantile, please pick me up a couple of yards of peach ribbon to match this.” Marlene snipped off a bit of ribbon and handed it to her.

  “I definitely plan to go to Benson’s so I’d be happy to get it for you.”

  Quinn went to the kitchen to invite Deborah to go with her, but Mrs. Potter was showing her how to make a special cake from dried apples. “Then I’ll be back before supper,” Quinn said. “I want to go to the mercantile and maybe the hat shop.”

  “Oh, please say hello to Mrs. Forester for me. She’s such a nice lady.”

  “I will, Mrs. Potter.” Quinn slipped out the door.

  It was a beautiful day and Quinn felt better as soon as she stepped outside. The sun was bright and the air warm.

  Her first stop was Benson’s Mercantile. As she entered, Hattie Benson was straightening the material table and smiled at her. “How can I help you, Miss Stockton?”

  Since this was her first time in the store, she didn’t know how the lady knew her name, but she accepted the fact news traveled fast in a town in this remote area. And probably the arrival of the three sisters would be counted news.

  Fishing the bit of ribbon out of her purse, she handed it to Mrs. Benson. “My sister needs two yards of this.”

  “
Oh, yes. She was afraid she didn’t buy enough when she got the material.”

  “I’ll look around while you cut this for me.” She moved over to a collection of shoes and boots thinking it wouldn’t be long until all of them would need new shoes. She hoped they could make do until they found jobs.

  The door jangled and a tall, elegantly dressed woman came into the store. Quinn couldn’t help hearing the conversation.

  “Hello, Mrs. Norwood,” Mrs. Benson said. “I’m glad you came in. I was going to send word to you this afternoon that your order is here from Chicago.”

  “I would’ve thought you’d have gotten in touch with me right away.”

  “It only came in this morning. I was going to have it delivered when Timmy got back from delivering Mr. Tucker’s supplies.”

  “Where is it? I want to make sure they sent the right things.”

  “Let me cut this ribbon for Miss Stockton and I’ll get it for you.”

  Mrs. Norwood turned around and looked at Quinn. “I’ve heard about you.”

  “Oh?” Quinn felt like a specimen in a bottle as the woman’s eyes studied her.

  “I’m Lola Norwood.”

  “And I’m Quinn Stockton.”

  “The sheriff said he had to ride with you on his horse from the broken-down stagecoach.”

  “That’s right.” For some reason Quinn automatically knew this woman didn’t like her. She didn’t know why.

  “I’ve cut the ribbon, Miss Stockton.” Mrs. Benson smiled. “I’ll get your package now, Mrs. Norwood.”

  In less than a minute Mrs. Benson returned from the back room with a brown paper-wrapped package. “Here it is.”

  Without a word, Lola grabbed the package and ripped it open. She pulled out a lacy black nightgown and grinned. “It’s beautiful.” She held it up to her body and turned toward Quinn. “You’re a young woman. Do you think this is appropriate for a woman’s wedding night?”

  Personally Quinn thought the garment a little overwhelming, but she muttered, “I suppose it is, but aren’t you already married?”

  “Oh, Miss Stockton, everybody in town knows Mrs. Norwood is a widow.” Mrs. Benson turned back to Lola. “By this remark may I assume the sheriff has proposed to you?”

  Lola laughed. “Not yet, but he’s certainly hinted at it. I’m sure it won’t be long.”

  Quinn didn’t understand the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach when she heard these words.

  Lola pulled out another revealing garment. “Think he’ll like this one, too?”

  Quinn shrugged and felt heat rising to her cheeks. “I know very little about Sheriff Montgomery’s likes or dislikes, Mrs. Norwood.”

  “Well, honey, I’m glad. With the right clothes, you might be competition for me.”

  Before anyone else could speak the sound of thundering hooves filtered through the store.

  “Oh, I hope they caught Gus’s killer. Mrs. Smithton is going to have a hard time raising six children without him.”

  “The woman shouldn’t have had so many.” Lola didn’t seem pleased Mrs. Benson’s attention had been drawn from her skimpy lingerie.

  “The poor woman,” Quinn said as she turned from Lola and followed Mrs. Benson out onto the plank sidewalk in front of the store.

  The posse was splitting up. Quinn watched as the Montgomery brothers, her uncle and two more men with tied hands headed to the jail. The other members of the posse went in different directions.

  “Oh, my poor Ashe,” Lola said as she came out to join them. “I’m sure he’s exhausted. I’ll go over to the jail and let him know that I’ll have a nice hot supper for him.”

  “I imagine all the men are exhausted, Mrs. Norwood.” Mrs. Benson’s voice was sharp.

  Lola threw her head back and a lock of her blond hair slipped out from under her bonnet. She went back in the store, then came out with her package under her arm. “Put this on my bill,” she muttered as she headed down the sidewalk toward the jail.

  * * * *

  What the hell’s going on? Ashe wondered as he glanced down the street and saw the women in front of Benson’s Mercantile.

  I hope Lola hasn’t shot her mouth off and offended Quinn.

  He then noticed Lola headed in his direction.

  Turning to Hank, he said, “Can you keep her out of here?”

  “You take care of your prisoners. I’ll see she doesn’t get pass me.”

  “Thanks.” Ashe and his brothers ushered the two criminals up the steps.

  As he opened the jailhouse door he heard Lola calling, “Ashe, I need to see you.”

  He ignored her and motioned the men inside.

  “Ashe, darling. I’m calling to you.”

  Ashe went through the door and closed it behind him.

  * * * *

  “Where’re you going, Lola?” Hank asked as he stepped in front of her, preventing her from going up the steps.

  “If it’s any of your business, I need to see Ashe.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “He’s not too busy to see me.” She tried to step around Hank.

  “Yes he is.”

  “He’ll always see me. I called to him, but I’m sure he didn’t hear me or he would have waited.”

  “He heard you, Lola.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because anyone in Tornado could hear you screeching at him.”

  “How dare you say that!”

  “Well, honey, it’s the truth. Any man would’ve shied away from that summons.”

  “Ashe wouldn’t have.” Lola turned her mouth into a pout. “He loves me, you know.”

  “You’re deluding yourself, Lola. Ashe Montgomery only enjoys going to bed with you. He doesn’t want you embarrassing him by screaming at him in public.”

  Her eyes blazed. “You son of a bitch!”

  “Surely you haven’t forgotten the good times we used to have, Lola. I think I know you better than anyone else in this town.”

  “That was the past, Hank.” She put her hand on her hip. “Now, get out of my way and let me go talk to Ashe.”

  “Give it up, Lola. You’re not going in there. Ashe is interrogating his prisoners.”

  “He can do that later.”

  Hank shook his head. “You haven’t changed, have you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t give a damn about anybody else. You only think of yourself.”

  “That’s not so. Only a few weeks ago I gave the church a hundred dollars.”

  “Do you want me to nominate you for sainthood?”

  “I don’t want you to do anything, but get out of my way. I want to let Ashe know I’ll have him a nice supper ready when he gets through with his sheriff stuff.”

  Hank grinned. “I don’t think Ashe will be coming for supper. How about letting me drop by? We can talk about old times.”

  “I have nothing to talk to you about, Hank Stockton.” She tried to dart around him, but he caught her arm.

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “What’s happened to you, Princess? You used to like it rough.”

  She stared at him and a tear came into her eye. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Then turn yourself around and head home. Ashe doesn’t want to see you.”

  “I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  “Lola, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but Ashe saw you trotting down the sidewalk like a bitch dog in heat. He told me to get rid of you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Have I ever lied to you, Lola?”

  She looked at him a long time. “I guess you haven’t.”

  “That’s right. Now be a good girl and head home. Ashe will come see you when he’s ready.”

  “But I want him to fall in love with me, Hank. I need to marry a respectable man so I can take my place in society.”

  Hank shook his head. “He’s never going to marry you and you might as well accept that.”

  Her ey
es flashed. “He will marry me. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “I feel sorry for you, Lola.”

  “How dare you! Nobody feels sorry for Lola Norwood.”

  He smiled at her and in a low husky voice he almost whispered, “Remember I know all about New Orleans. I have the right to feel sorry for you.”

  Lola reached up and slapped Hank so hard it echoed almost as loud as a bullet. She then turned and ran down the street.

  Chapter 10

  Ashe took the older of the two outlaws down the hall in the back of the jail where two cells were located. He put the man inside one and locked it. Going back down the hall, he closed the door which separated his office from the cells. When he moved behind his desk, Cal and Beck had the other prisoner sitting in a chair in front of it.

  Studying him, Ashe decided the boy was no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. “Okay, fellow,” the sheriff said. “What can you tell me about the killing?”

  “I can’t tell you nothing.” He wouldn’t look into Ashe’s eyes. “I don’t know nothing.”

  Ashe looked at Cal. “This young man doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.”

  “That’s the way with kids.” Cal pushed his hat back and propped his feet on the end of Ashe’s desk.

  “Never could trust the baby of the family.” Beck picked up the watch he’d put on the corner of the desk. “I guess this jumped in his pocket.”

  “I ain’t no baby.”

  Ashe raised his eyebrow. “According to that peach fuzz on your chin, you’re not a man either.”

  “Damn you. I pull my weight. Ask my paw.”

  “Who is your paw?” Ashe asked. “Maybe he’d like to know we have his little boy in jail.”

  The boy didn’t say anything.

  “Hey, Sheriff,” Cal said, “how long you gonna be talking to this fellow?”

  “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “We haven’t eaten since the murder last night. I was thinking of going over to the café to get a steak.”

  “Yea,” Beck agreed. “A nice thick one with a pile of potatoes.”

  “And apple pie for dessert?” Ashe asked.

  “Of course, apple pie. Why don’t we throw his ass in a cell and we’ll go eat. I’ll feel more like asking him questions then.”