The sheriff looked at the ground and kicked at the dirt, awkward under the praise. “Don’t hardly ever use my gun,” he said. “No point in killin’ a man just ’cause he’s got a little red-eye in him. Whompin’ him in the head with my pistol seemed to do the job. Mostly, I just give ’em a stern glare, and they back down.”
At least he wasn’t a cold executioner like Wyatt Earp and some of those others were said to be.
Lark said, “I’m surprised you allow the saloon to stay open, sheriff.”
He shrugged. “The Cross-eyed Bull? Men are entitled to a little fun and a drink now and then, Miss Lacey. The town council allows it because it brings in money from trail hands and the railroad workers. So as long as the boys behave themselves, I pretty much leave it alone. The Cross-eyed Bull ain’t too bad a place. It don’t have many of those hussies, those wicked women workin’ there, fillin’ men with whiskey and charmin’ them outta their pay.”
Those hussies, those wicked women. If this upright man only knew that Lark used to serve drinks in a place about like the Cross-eyed Bull, he’d be so shocked, maybe he’d never speak to her again. If he’d seen the tight, skimpy costume she wore, he’d probably keel over like he’d been hit between the eyes. No, he wouldn’t understand. She hoped devoutly that he never found out.
She didn’t want to think about the past, only the future as she looked up at him. “I reckon I need to see the inside and figure out where to place shelves and counters.”
“I’ll go get Jimmy and some of my maids,” Mrs. Bottoms said. “Sheriff, you’ll bring us some water?”
He nodded. “Anything to help out this lovely lady.”
Mrs. Bottoms turned and left.
The two of them went inside and stood in the dim light, looking around at the dusty shelves and dirty windows. A tumbleweed blew across the wood floor, and the door hung at an awkward angle, almost off its hinges.
“There’s an awful lot of work here for a real lady to do,” he said.
“I was raised on a ranch,” Lark said, putting her hands on her hips. “I can handle it.”
“You got spunk,” he said softly, “I like that.”
Now it was her turn to flush. “Everyone in town’s been awfully nice to me.”
“It’s a good town,” he murmured. “They been good to me too. I see a great future for Rusty Spur, especially when we’re gettin’ new citizens like you.”
There was a long, awkward silence.
“Oh,” he said, reaching into his jeans, “here’s what little money I got to invest.”
“I hate to take it, knowing you’re saving for a ranch.”
He put the crumpled bills in her hand and closed his big hand over hers.
There was another awkward moment as they looked into each other’s eyes. Finally she forced herself to pull away, when it was the last thing she wanted to do. “I’m much obliged for all your help, Sheriff,” she said.
“I’m glad to do it,” he stammered, swallowing as if he weren’t quite sure what to say. They were alone in the dim store, and for a moment she wondered if he was trying to get up the nerve to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her very much. A moment passed. He was standing so close, she could feel the heat of his big, virile body. She wanted him to grab her, sweep her up in his arms, and kiss her like she had only dreamed of being kissed. Her pulse quickened as she looked up at him.
“Well.” He cleared his throat. “I reckon I better get you that bucket of water.” He turned and strode away, his long legs making big strides.
Damn. She sighed, watching him go. What would it be like to be Mrs. Lawrence Witherspoon? She’d come here because of his friends’ meddling, and she certainly hadn’t intended to stay. Yet here she was, thinking about how it would be if he kissed her until she was breathless and then kissed her some more.
Mrs. Lawrence Witherspoon. They wouldn’t have much money, but there were things more important than money. Her mind went to how it would be at night in his arms. She really didn’t know much about that part of marriage, but she’d be willing to let that big man teach her. He’d be honorable too, and not want to take her virtue unless he married her. Not like that rascal of a brother who surely never passed up a chance to get a girl’s drawers off. She frowned just thinking of Larado. She’d wager his stalwart brother could be as good a lover with a little practice.
Mrs. Bottoms returned with two Mexican girls and Jimmy, all carrying soap and mops and brooms. Then the sheriff brought a brimming bucket of water in each hand. They made sort of a party of scrubbing the place down, and finally, it was almost finished.
Mrs. Bottoms wiped her sweating face. “I reckon that about does it. Me and the girls got to get supper ready at the hotel. Come on, Jimmy.”
He looked from Lark to the sheriff, grinning. “I want to stay with them.”
“Come on, boy, you can peel potatoes. I reckon these two can finish up alone.”
“Sure we can, run on.” The sheriff pushed his hat back and leaned against a counter.
Lark sighed and wiped her wet hands on her apron. “We’ll be there after a while. I’m getting hungry.”
The others left, although Jimmy kept looking back over his shoulder.
The pair stared after them in the growing dusk.
“That’s a nice boy,” the sheriff said. “If I were a family man, I’d adopt him.”
“You’re very sweet,” Lark said. “Maybe we could take him for a train ride when it finally gets here. I hear he’s loco about trains. By the way, I’m much obliged for your help.”
“For you, Miss Lacey, anything.” His voice was low as he looked down at her.
She knew he was trying to get up the nerve to kiss her and she wanted him to, badly. Would he think she was too forward if she kissed him instead?
He just kept looking at her. “You—you got a smudge on your face,” he said. He pulled his bandana from his hip pocket, reached out, and wiped her cheek slowly. His fingers were soft against her cheek.
“Thank you,” she said. “I must look a mess.” She tried to brush her untidy hair back and laughed.
“I think you’re as purty as a speckled pup in a red wagon,” he said, his expression serious. “I’m awful glad you came to town, Miss Lacey.”
“I am too.” She felt like the worst kind of person, deceiving a fine, upright man like this one.
“Can I—can I ask you a question?” he stammered.
Was he going to ask permission to kiss her? Yes, she shouted in her mind, hell, yes! She nodded with enthusiasm.
“I was wonderin’ if I could walk you home after church tomorrow?”
“What?”
He shuffled his feet some more. “I know there’ll be lots of fellas wantin’ to court you, but after all, Bill and Paco did write you on my behalf.”
“Are you—are you asking to court me?”
“Don’t say no yet, Miss Lacey,” he begged. “I ain’t got much yet, but maybe if someday I can raise the down payment on that ranch….”
Don’t say no? Was he loco? At that moment Lark wanted nothing more than to grab him and kiss him until he was breathless, but of course, this Texas gentleman would be horrified at that forward behavior. She had to remember to act like her demure twin. “I’d be right proud to have you walk me home after church, Lawrence. We’re having apple pie.”
He grinned. “My favorite. Made with your two little hands, I’ll wager.”
“Uh, not quite. Mrs. Bottoms has had me doing other things.” Actually, Lark couldn’t cook an egg so a dog would eat it—no, not even a starving hound.
At that point she wished devoutly that she knew how to cook. In her mind, she pictured herself in a dainty apron, placing a well-cooked meal with lots of apple pie in front of this wonderful man. He would catch her hand and kiss her fingertips while he declared it was the best he’d ever eaten. Who was she kidding? A coyote wouldn’t eat Lark’s cooking. Uncle Trace said her cooking would poison a billy goat that was used to eating ca
ns.
It was getting dark outside. She imagined him finally getting up the nerve to kiss her when the room was shadowed in darkness.
“Uh,” said the sheriff, “I’d better walk you back to the hotel, Miss Van Schuyler. I wouldn’t want to compromise your reputation by keeping you out after dark without a chaperone.”
Oh, please compromise my reputation, Lark thought with hope. Take me out back to that stall full of straw and tumble me around until I look like the dogs have had me under the porch. “I—of course.” Damn him, why hadn’t he just kissed her without worrying about her reputation?
“We’ll stop and see about your new pet afore we leave,” he said. They went out back to where Magnolia stood hip deep in good hay, chewing contentedly. The donkey looked up and brayed when she saw Lark. “Looks like you’ve made a friend for life,” the sheriff said. “That’s what I like about you, miss, you’re so kindhearted. I hope, as we get to know each other better, you’ll feel kindhearted to me.”
She was feeling kindhearted enough to back him against the wall and kiss him and tousle his black shock of hair, but of course she did not. “I really like you, Mr. Witherspoon.”
“I wish you would call me Lawrence.”
She was already thinking, Mrs. Lawrence Witherspoon. Yes, that would look good embroidered on her linens. “I’d be happy to…Lawrence, and you must call me…Lacey.”
Land’s sake, what a tangled web she’d woven. How could she get away with him calling her by her sister’s name the rest of her life?
The rest of your life? Lark, are you out of your mind? You’re only staying until you feel safe enough to stop hiding from the law. When you do, you’ll just flee this town.
“Oh, Miss Lacey”—he fumbled with his cowboy hat—“I couldn’t presume to be that forward with a real lady, especially one I ain’t got to know well yet.”
She took his arm, and they started toward the door and out onto the wooden sidewalk. “Lawrence, I believe I’d like to get to know you a lot better.”
And she meant every word of it.
Chapter Seven
That night, Lark dreamed that the sheriff took her in his arms. “You’re prettier than a speckled pup,” he whispered, and then he kissed her. The kiss was as wonderful as she had imagined in all those romantic novels she’d hidden under her bed back at Miss Priddy’s Female Academy.
“Make me the happiest sheriff in the whole Lone Star State,” he said, kissing her again and again. “Miss Lacey, will you do me the honor of marryin’ up with me?”
Miss Lacey? Uh-oh. Lark awoke with a start. Now there was a mess she hadn’t considered. If she married that handsome hunk of a man under her sister’s name, would it be a legal union? Would their children be…oh my God, bastards? On the other hand, for kisses like the ones Lawrence Witherspoon would offer, she might be willing to live a lie the rest of her life.
She hardly slept the rest of the night. The church bells tolling on the warm May morning woke her as the tiny church alerted everyone within a mile (which was the whole town, really) that services would soon begin.
Hurriedly, Lark dressed in her blue gingham with the pert bustle. Putting on a big white hat with flowers on the brim, she grabbed her lace parasol, ate a quick bite in the kitchen, and ran out to climb in Mrs. Bottoms’s buggy. Paco helped her in back. Jimmy sat up next to him as they started for church.
Jimmy grinned at her. “You’re beautiful. When I grow up, can I marry you?”
“Jimmy!” said Mrs. Bottoms.
Lark leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m old enough to be your mother, Jimmy. When you’re grown, you’ll think I’m an old lady.”
He grinned. “The sheriff thinks you’re beautiful too.”
“Oh?”
Paco was driving. “Jimmy,” he said, “don’t tell everything you know.”
Lark smiled to herself. “Does the sheriff always come to services?” she asked as they drove down the dusty street.
“Heavens, child, you’re really taken with him, aren’t you? I never thought these mail-order-bride things worked out.”
“Remember”—Paco looked over his shoulder—“Bill and me get to be best men.”
“You’re getting a little ahead of yourselves.” Lark felt herself flush as they reined in before the little white church.
Mrs. Bottoms said, “The sheriff is usually too busy patrolling the town to attend, but I have a feeling he’ll be there today.”
They entered and found a pew. It was a beautiful little church with stained-glass windows. Lark reached for a hymn book and looked around. No Lawrence. Oh well.
Then just as the congregation stood to sing the first hymn, Lawrence came down the aisle and slipped in the pew next to her. When he grinned and she scooted over to make room for him, her heart almost skipped at beat. His handsome face was tanned from the west Texas sun, he smelled of bay rum hair tonic, and his dark hair was slicked back. They shared a hymn book, and she wasn’t sure if he had deliberately touched her hand or if it was accidental.
He had a good, strong voice, she thought with admiration as they began to sing: “There’s a church in the valley by the wildwood, no lovelier place in the dale…no spot is so dear to my childhood as the little brown church in the vale….”
After services, he offered to walk her back to the hotel.
“I don’t know. I came with Mrs. Bottoms,” Lark said. She didn’t want to seem too eager, as shy as he was.
“Oh.” He looked disappointed and fumbled with the brim of his Stetson hat. “Well, then—”
“But I offered old Miss Wiggly a ride,” Mrs. Bottoms interrupted. “So I reckon Miss Van Schuyler will have to walk.”
“In that case,” the sheriff grinned, “I’d be right proud to walk you back, ma’am.”
“Of course.” She opened her parasol against the warm sun.
“Oh, young man,” Mrs. Bottoms called after him. “Do stay for dinner. We’ve got pot roast and apple pie today in the hotel dining room.”
“Hmm,” the sheriff said. “And is there some good cornbread to go with that?”
Lark laughed. “You know there is. Come on.”
Mrs. Bottoms’s buggy left with Jimmy hanging over the backseat, grinning at them. The pair strolled leisurely away from the church.
“You know,” Lark said, glancing sideways at him, “I think you must be identical twins. You look exactly like your brother.”
He paused, his face grim. “You know my brother?”
Land’s sake, what had she done?
“Uh, no, but I thought you said you were an identical twin.”
He frowned, his face dark as a thunderstorm. “Miss Lacey, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss my brother. We ain’t seen each other in a while, and we didn’t part on good terms.”
“Well, my sister and I had a little rivalry going too. It does get old having to deal with someone who looks like you.”
“It’s more than that.” He seemed reluctant to talk about it. They resumed walking. For a long moment she did not think he would say anything else, and she scolded herself for mentioning Larado.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” she apologized.
He looked sideways at her. “Well, you don’t know—nobody around here does—but my brother is a rascal of the worst sort.”
And a real lady-killer, Lark thought. “No! Really?”
“Yes ma’am,” he nodded. “He—he’s just a saddle tramp, really, not makin’ much of hisself, chasin’ women, drinkin’, and gamblin’. He ain’t got a serious bone in his body, and he don’t act very gentlemanly to ladies. Why, if he got the chance, he’d pull your drawers off—pardon me for sayin’ that, but it’s the truth.”
You can say that again, Lark thought.
“Matter of fact, ma’am, I been tryin’ to live Larado down all my life. He’s a devil with the ladies too. Why, if he were here, you’d be so smitten with him, you wouldn’t give me a second look.”
Lark sno
rted. “I don’t know about that. He sounds pretty shallow and uninteresting to me. And he probably thinks he’s more a devil with the ladies than he really is. I doubt if he’s all that charming.” She thought of Larado’s crooked grin, his swaggering walk, and the way he just melted her when he gave her that look.
Oh please, God, don’t strike me with lightning for lying. She looked up at the sky anxiously, but it remained clear and blue.
Lawrence gave her a searching look. “You—you don’t think you’d prefer him to me?”
“Oh, my, no.” She paused and looked up at him. “Why, every woman wants a serious, no-nonsense man she can depend on—one who’s home every night at six, doesn’t drink, chase women, or gamble.”
“You think?”
She gave him an encouraging nod, and they began to stroll again.
“And what’s your twin like, ma’am?”
She didn’t really want to talk about Lacey, afraid she’d reveal too much and trip herself up. “Well, let’s just say she’s really different from me. Lark’s a tomboy who likes to ride, and rope, and shoot—not ladylike at all.”
“Sounds like a challenge to any man,” he said. Somehow, that annoyed her. Larado might prefer the real Lark, but she’d expect Lawrence to choose the staid Lacey.
They walked to the hotel and sat down at a table in a big, sunny window of the dining room. It seemed the hotel was famous for its Sunday dinner, and rightly so. There were heaping platters of fried chicken and pot roast. There were steaming bowls of vegetables from Mrs. Bottoms’s garden. There were hot rolls and cornbread in heaping piles, with fresh butter from the local cows.
She noticed Jimmy shoveling in the food and then helping Paco carry empty plates back to the kitchen.
“Ah, iced tea,” smiled Lawrence with satisfaction as the waitresses hurried to their table. “The mother’s milk of the South.”
He could eat like a real man, Lark noted as he plowed into his platter while she tried to eat daintily. Finally there was bread pudding, chocolate cake, and apple pie with homemade ice cream to finish dinner off.
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 10