Town Social

by Simmons, Trana Mae

  "Damn it!" Jake grabbed her and dragged her further away from the ladder. "Don't you have any better sense than to stand right under that thing and take the risk of it falling on you? Where the hell are your brains, woman? I'm starting to think you're just an accident looking for a place to happen!"

  She stared in wide-eyed horror at the ladder for a second, then glanced at Jake's face. Rather than the outrage she anticipated she saw deep concern, which belied his angry words. A preparatory sniff escaped her, and his face blurred when tears misted her eyes. Suddenly her finger stung, her swollen eye throbbed, and even her tongue hurt again. Burying her face on his shoulder, she flung her arms around his neck, unable to choke back the sobs springing through the fear clouding her mind.

  "Aw. Aw, shoot, Sunny," he murmured, gathering her closer. "I didn't mean to yell at you. Dang it, it scared the living daylights out of me when I saw you reaching for that rope."

  "And in typical male fashion," Sunny heard Ginny say, "you hollered and cursed at her, instead of realizing she'd just had the wits scared out of her! Here, give her to me."

  Sunny sought to turn toward the comfort Ginny offered, but Jake refused to release her. Sweeping her into his arms, he started walking.

  "I'll take her to your office, Gin," he said. "She can rest there a minute, and we can make sure she wasn't injured."

  "I'm not hurt," Sunny assured him, wiping one hand across her eyes and holding onto his neck with her other arm. "I can walk. Please, put me down."

  "Nope," Jake said. "Not until we get out of this darn mess and have a safe place to put you — down or otherwise. I swear, Sunny, you need a keeper to look after you."

  She tried to muster up some indignation at his words, but traces of her fright when the ladder tumbled down at her lingered. Had it indeed landed on her, she would have had a lot more severe injuries than she'd already suffered to contend with. Right now, having a keeper look out for her didn't sound half bad, especially one with such a nice, broad chest to cuddle against and muscular arms to hold her . . .

  She sighed lazily, dropping her head on his shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut. All too soon, she felt him lowering her and looked up at him from a reclining position on a soft settee in a strange room.

  "You're in Ginny's office," Jake explained. He hovered over her, concern still shadowing his whiskey eyes as he reached to brush a lock of hair back from her forehead. "Feeling better?"

  "Yes," she admitted. "I . . . I don't understand why I'm so awkward lately. I thought I outgrew that after my first couple adolescent years."

  "You're definitely not an adolescent any longer, Sunny."

  His appreciative gaze ran over her, and all at once she became aware of her sprawled arrangement — the way her dress skirt twisted under her and how tightly her position drew her bodice across her breasts. The darkening in his eyes assured her Jake was totally aware of it, also.

  At a slight noise, she wrenched her scrutiny toward Ginny, who stood at the foot of the settee with a glass in her hand and a contemplating look on her face. The redhead quickly smiled at her and handed Jake the glass.

  "I'll be back in a minute," she said. "Something needs my attention in the bar."

  Before Jake could stop her, Ginny hurried from the room and Sunny sat up. "Heavens, I need to go check on Teddy."

  "You're not going anywhere for a minute or two," Jake ordered, extending the glass to her. "You wait until you're a little less shaky. Teddy's fine with Ruth for a little longer."

  "Ginny's right," Sunny blurted. "About your typical male attitude. I don't appreciate your bossiness one iota!"

  "And in typical female fashion," Jake responded, "you can't tell the difference between bossiness and consideration. Drink this darned glass of water!"

  He shoved the glass at her, and Sunny grabbed it. The coolness felt wonderful, and she immediately decided it would taste better going down her throat than it would look spattered on his stern face. She drank half of it before she lifted the glass to her forehead and ran it back and forth, flicking out her tongue to catch a drop of water spilling from the corner of her mouth.

  "Ummmm. Oh, that's just what I needed. I wonder if Ginny would consider making some ice for us to use at the performances. We could have iced drinks for a additional draw."

  Glancing once again at Jake, she saw him staring fixedly at her. A dribble of water she'd missed slithered down her chin and dropped to the bare skin above her dress collar, Jake's eyes dropping with it. The water droplet traced on downward, beneath her collar, and Jake sighed with what could have been disappointment. Her skin flushed so hot she almost expected steam to rise from the droplet's path.

  "I really need to get over there and check on Teddy," she repeated.

  Thrusting the glass at him, she jumped to her feet and swept past him while he juggled the glass in his hand. Out in the saloon, she reluctantly stopped when Ginny called to her.

  Holding out a pitcher and brown paper bag as she approached, Ginny said, "Take this ice with you and put it on your eye when you get home. And don't forget your tea. Let me know what you decide about using the building. I'd love to be able to tell you that I'd let you have it for free, but I've been a businesswoman too many years. We can work it out, though. Repairs for rent for a while, then maybe a percentage of your draw or something. How does that sound?"

  "Uh . . . sounds perfect to me," Sunny said, too anxious to get away to prolong their discussion. Any minute Jake would appear to make sure she could cross the street without getting trampled. "That way we won't have to come up with a lot of money at first, other than what we'll need for supplies for repairs."

  "Get the merchants to contribute things you need like paint and lumber," Ginny suggested. "And the men to do the labor."

  "Good idea. I'll let you know when our first planning meeting will be, so you can get credit for all your help."

  Sunny edged toward the door, while Ginny threw back her head with laughter.

  "I'll be there. Most definitely," Ginny called as Sunny pushed open the red batwing doors.

  Pausing briefly halfway through the doors, Sunny called back, "Thanks for the ice." Past Ginny she saw Jake lounging in the office door, thumbs cocked in his pants pockets and hat low over his eyes. As clearly as if he'd spoken she knew he was waiting for his own thanks for keeping her from being injured beneath the falling ladder. The best she could do was nod her head at him.

  ~~

  Teddy propped her doll on the table that evening while Sunny spread the flower-printed material for her dress on the kitchen table.

  "We gots to watch close, Dolly," Teddy said. "So's we'll know how to make you a dress when Miss Sunny's done."

  "We have to watch close," Sunny corrected her, nodding encouragement when Teddy repeated her words. "Is that what you've decided to name your doll? Dolly?"

  "I think so. We talked about it for a long time today, 'cause a name's a real important thing. Dolly's a happy name, and I want her to be happy, like I'm starting to be."

  "We? Oh, you mean you and your doll talked about it? I see. I had a doll I used to talk to like that, and we had some really interesting conversations from time to time. Even when my mother was busy, she was always there to listen to me. I'm awfully glad you're starting to feel happy again, Teddy."

  "Can Dolly sleep with me tonight?" Teddy asked.

  "I don't see why not. However, if talking to her when you wake up at night doesn't help, you can still bring her with you and come into my bed."

  Teddy swung her legs back and forth, propping her chin on her palm as Sunny laid one of the other dresses on the material for a pattern.

  "I still miss Pa in the day," she admitted in a quiet voice. "But nights are worse. Did you miss your pa when he was gone, Miss Sunny?"

  "I never knew my father," Sunny said, picking up the scissors rather awkwardly due to her injured finger. "But I miss my mother terribly yet."

  "How come you didn't know your pa? Did he die before you
was born?"

  "To be truthful, Teddy, I don't really know. You see, my mother would never talk about him. He evidently provided for us, since my mother didn't have to work and we always had adequate money to get by on. We weren't by any stretch of the imagination rich, though. My mother was a widow, which means my father's dead, but that's about really all I know. I don't know if he died before I was born or while I was too young to remember him."

  "Gee, it's sorta like me, 'cept it's my mama I don't know."

  "Well, maybe when you get older, Teddy, we can see what we can find out about her."

  "Is that part of why you came back here?" Teddy asked astutely. "'Cause you're old enough now to try to find out somethin' 'bout your pa? Was he from here?"

  "Again, I don't know, Teddy . . ."

  A crash sounded in the hallway outside the kitchen door. Startled, Sunny snipped an inch too far with the scissors. The tip of them cut into one of the sleeves on the pattern dress, and she uttered a muffled 'darn it', before tossing the scissors aside and starting out of the kitchen to investigate.

  In the hallway, she found Cassie bending down to pick up the metal tray she'd used to carry her supper to her room. The plate and cup lay shattered on the floor.

  "Let me help, Aunt," Sunny said. "I'll get the broom. I already found out today how easily it is to get cut on broken dishes."

  Cassie straightened, peering at Sunny with a strange look on her face.

  "Are you all right, Aunt?" Sunny asked. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

  "No, I don't appear to be quite as clumsy as you," Cassie said in an even voice. "I overheard you and the child earlier today, speaking of your accidents. You must be more careful, you know." Turning away, she started back toward her room. "I'll appreciate your cleaning that up, Miss."

  The words to tell her aunt both she and the child had names got mixed up with the indignation in Sunny's mind at her aunt's gall in ordering her to clean up the broken dishes. Not that she hadn't already offered, but only to help. The bedroom door closed before she could think of an appropriately impertinent comment to fling after Cassie, and her shoulders slumped. Sighing in defeat, she went to fetch the broom.

  Teddy followed her back to the hallway and held the dustpan for her. The little girl carefully carried the almost-overflowing dustpan to the trash can in the kitchen, and Sunny heard her giggle.

  "What's so funny, young one?" Sunny asked.

  "Just was thinkin' that you and Miz Foster both sure break a lot of dishes," Teddy said, dumping the shards into the trash can and sneaking a look over her shoulder. "Maybe you oughta get tin dishes, like me and Pa used."

  Sunny joined her laughter, nodding her head. "Maybe we should," she agreed. "At the very least, we need to start being more careful."

  After leaving the broom on the back porch, Sunny returned to the table and picked up the scissors. She didn't know what had startled her aunt and made her drop the tray of dishes, but it couldn't possibly have been the same thing that had caused her to break the glass at Ruth's. She couldn't comment about that to Teddy, though. She couldn't imagine Aunt Cassie being distracted by thoughts of blatant masculinity to the point where she injured herself.

  At least the ice had taken care of the swelling on her eye. The purple had faded towards a sickly greenish yellow, and she could try to cover up the bruise with powder before she went to church in the morning. And if that ranger also happened to be in church, she'd make darn sure she sat in the opposite section of the pews from him, as far away as she could get. She had to protect herself against this unexplainable clumsiness around him!

  "Miss Sunny?"

  "What, Teddy?"

  "Is you just gonna stand there looking at the material? Or is you gonna cut some more on it?"

  "Are you," Sunny corrected. "Uh . . . I was just looking at the cut I made by mistake, when the noise from the tray Aunt Cassie dropped in the hallway startled me. I think it can be sewn up easily enough and not even be noticeable."

  She glanced toward the kitchen door, a slight frown on her face. What on earth could have startled Cassie into dropping the tray of dishes? Surely her aunt would have mentioned it if she'd seen a mouse or something in the hall way.

  Teddy stifled a huge yawn, and Sunny laid down the scissors. "It's past bedtime for you, Teddy. I lost track of time while we were working on your dress. Why don't you get changed into your nightgown, and I'll come tuck you in."

  "Aw, it's not even dark yet," Teddy pleaded. "I used to stay up lots later than this."

  Sunny bit back a smile, remembering how many times she'd begged her own mother to stay up later. Her mother had never actually ordered her to bed, but she now realized she had used her own method of discipline.

  "Well, Dolly looks awfully sleepy," she told Teddy. "And Rowdy's already curled up on his rug on the back porch. You'll all have lots more energy to play together tomorrow, if you all get a good night's sleep."

  "Guess you're right," Teddy agreed around another yawn. "'Sides, I's got that pretty nightgown to wear tonight."

  "I have that pretty nightgown," Sunny corrected.

  Teddy giggled at her as she slid from her chair. "Nope, it's my nightgown. It's too little for you."

  With a saucy glance at Sunny, clearly denoting Teddy was well aware she'd won that word game, the little girl tucked her doll under her arm and skipped from the kitchen. Sunny shook her head tolerantly, then walked over to the sink to get Teddy her ritual glass of bedtime water. The child was so bright, she was going to be a joy to teach.

  She carried the water glass into Teddy's room and set it on the bedside table. Picking up the story book she'd been reading to the little girl the previous evening, Sunny settled in the rocking chair and waited until Teddy completed her prayers. After Teddy climbed into bed and snuggled under the light, summer weight blanket, Dolly on the pillow beside her, Sunny began to read. But Teddy slipped into sleep before Sunny had even completed three pages of the continuing story.

  When she returned to the quiet kitchen, she was too restless to work on the dress again. She should go on to bed, since the church service would begin early in the morning. Yet she would only toss and turn right now. She would almost even welcome Aunt Cassie's company right now — almost. At least she could ask Aunt Cassie what had startled her in the hallway.

  She wandered towards the front door and on out onto the porch. The cooler night air flowed over her, and she thought of the pitcher in the kitchen, now holding only melted ice cubes. Wouldn't it cause a stir if she went to Ginny's to return the pitcher and ask for a cold drink?

  She stared down the street. The lights from both the saloons on the far end of town twinkled in the distance. She would no more go there at this time of night than she would undress and walk down the street at high noon, she admitted to herself with a smile. But she bet the people down there were having fun with each other, rather than prowling around a lonely house with a sleeping child in one bedroom and a cantankerous, embittered woman holed up in another.

  It was so beautiful out, it seemed a shame to close things up and go to bed. The sky — the Texas sky — spread over her in a wide, endless black swathe dusted with sprinkles and clusters of stars. She wrapped her arms around a porch post, laying her cheek against the cool wood and staring overhead. That was the Big Dipper over there, but she'd never studied constellations enough to recognize anything else.

  Off in the distance, a coyote howled. Sounded like one, anyway, with that little yip, yip along with the howl. She didn't think Texas had wolves, but whatever it was, it was far enough away that she didn't have to worry about it. A horse nickered, and she glanced toward the stable, catty-cornered across the street.

  As though he'd sensed her gaze on him, one of the men standing by the corral fence straightened and turned toward her. Even from this distance, she recognized that physique. Well, surely she was far enough away from Jake to be safe from the fumbles. He hadn't even been in Ruth's kitchen at first this morning, thou
gh. To be safe, she left the post and sat down on the porch step. She wasn't going to let him run her off from this beautiful night.

  The shorter man beside Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the house, then concentrated again on the horse inside the fence. When the other man removed his hat for a minute and wiped his forearm across his head, a glint of light from the low-hanging moon shown on his partial baldness.

  Charlie Duckworth, she thought. Such a memorable name. Where on earth . . . ? Of course. Duckie! She'd heard her mother say that name a time or two when discussing her childhood with friends. Or was it just her childhood? Had her mother ever mentioned Charlie Duckworth in regard to their life in St. Louis?

  Sunny drew in a shocked breath. Could the rumors be true? Had Charlie eloped with her mother, then abandoned her? Did he even know there had been a child . . . Sunny?

  Where there's smoke . . .

  If it were true, it would have been very logical for her mother to change her name to something less noteworthy than Duckworth, if she were so ashamed of being abandoned that she wanted to pass herself off as a widow. Widowhood was an acceptable status, not like being an abandoned wife. Evidently the man had made financial arrangements for his wife and daughter, but that darned sure didn't make up for the fact he'd deserted them, leaving her mother to raise their child on her own! And leaving Sunny without a father's love!

  Teddy's mother had done the same thing — walked out on her husband and child. Tompkins had not kept that secret from his daughter. Sunny could stomach a mother leaving her child even less than a father.

  For a moment she wondered if she should even pursue the identity of her own father — whether it would be worth the pain her discovery might bring. Just as quickly, she knew she definitely wanted a chance to confront the man — lambast him for his desertion and show him that she had turned into a fine person despite his lack of interest in her life.

  Revenge is sweet. She'd never really believed that saying before, but she had every right in the world to know who her father was. And it further devalued her opinion of Jake Cameron to think he might count a deserting husband and father as his friend. Ruth had said the two of them were extremely close.