“Mrs. Bottoms,” Lawrence said as they finished and the lady stopped by the table, “I believe if you was a little younger, I’d marry you.”
The lady chuckled. “And if you were about twenty years older, I might take you up on it. I’m sure Miss Van Schuyler is a great cook, we just haven’t let her show her talent yet.”
“Uh,” Lark stammered. She didn’t want to be put to the test. She looked toward the window. “Land’s sake.”
The others turned to look. Magnolia grazed in the flower box in front of the hotel window. When she looked up, pink petunias hung from both sides of her mouth.
“Magnolia, stop that!” Lark called, scrambling to her feet. Magnolia surveyed her and then calmly returned to eating the flowers. Everyone in the dining room laughed.
“I told you what burros are like,” Lawrence said, getting up. “I fed and watered that little rascal before I came to church. You’ll have a tough time keepin’ that donkey penned up.”
They both went outside and confronted the donkey.
“Oh, Magnolia,” Lark said, “you must not get in people’s gardens. You must stay in your pen.”
Magnolia gave her a big-eyed look, then she gravely flicked her long ears and returned to eating petunias.
“You’re wasting your breath.” The sheriff smiled. “Besides that, they’re pretty worthless except for prospectors.”
“Let’s go put her back in her pen,” Lark said.
“All right,” the sheriff shrugged, “but I reckon she’s learned to open the gate, and from now on she’ll keep gettin’ out.”
“Can’t we just change the latch?”
“Sure, but she’ll figure it out. Burros are smart and stubborn, and they have a mind of their own. Just like some women.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I—I mean, some women, but not you, Miss Lacey,” he stammered and shuffled his boots. “You’re a genteel lady.”
“Of course.” No, her sister was a genteel lady. Lark had always thought Lacey dull and prissy. “Let’s take Magnolia back.”
They started walking down the street, the little donkey following along happily. When they got to the stable behind the shop, she walked right into her pen and got a drink of water from the bucket.
“Now, Magnolia, you must stay here and not go wandering up and down Main Street.”
Magnolia raised her velvet little muzzle and looked at Lark. Then she snorted and began to eat the corn in her feed bucket.
The sheriff laughed. “I don’t think Magnolia gives no never mind about rules and regulations. You just figure she’ll be a nuisance from now on.” He leaned against the fence and smiled at her. “You get your stuff ordered for the shop?”
She nodded. “Ought to have it up and running in a few days.”
“Good. The railroad should be buildin’ into Rusty Spur in a couple more weeks. There’ll be settlers arrivin’ and the ladies will be wantin’ gewgaws and pretties. If you run short on money, remember—I might could get an advance against my salary from the town council.”
She shook her head. “I’d hate to take any more of your money, knowing you’re saving for that ranch you want.”
“Would you like to ride out and see it?” He sounded like a small boy with a new toy.
“Of course.” What she really wanted was to spend more time with him.
“I’ll go down to the livery stable and get a rig.” He sounded eager. “Now you wait right here, Miss Lacey.”
She nodded and he strode away. She looked after him, wishing she knew how to straighten out this mess she had made of her life. Well, if things got too serious with Lawrence Witherspoon where it looked like it might lead to complications, she could do what she had always done—run.
In a few minutes, here came the sheriff with a horse and buggy. “I was hopin’ you’d like to see the place,” he said, jumping down. He came around to help her up into the rig. His hands were big and strong, almost encircling her small waist as he lifted her to the seat. For just a moment he hesitated as he lifted her, and she thought he might kiss her. She took a deep breath, wanting him—no, willing him to kiss her. Instead, he sat her up on the seat and came around to climb up himself. They started down Main Street at a leisurely pace, nodding to people they saw sitting on porches or standing in groups and visiting.
“A right friendly place to live,” said Lawrence.
“It sure is,” Lark agreed.
“Good place to spend the rest of your life, maybe settle down,” he said.
“Hmm,” Lark said, not certain what to say. She couldn’t stay the rest of her life here, not while she was using her sister’s name and had that bank robbery thing to worry about. She was already homesick for her family, and she couldn’t imagine never again having contact with any of them.
They drove in a pleasant silence, listening to the sound of bobwhite quail in the grass. Longhorns grazed in pastures as the couple passed.
She heard a sound and looked back. “Oh, my.”
Magnolia was galloping after them as fast as her spindly little legs could carry her. “Eee haw, eee hawww.”
It was a horrible sound that made Lark wince and the buggy horse snort.
Lawrence looked back and chuckled. “I told you it was nigh impossible to keep a burro penned up. Next thing you know, someone will bring you another, and then you’ll have two donkeys. Then Magnolia will have a foal, and you’ll have three. You could end up with a pasture full, and burros live a long time.”
“Oh well.” Lark shrugged and decided there was no point in getting upset about it. As soon as Magnolia caught up with the buggy, she walked along behind it as if she too had been invited to come along for the fun.
They drove up on the crest of a small rise, and the sheriff reined in. “This is where I plan to build my house. Look at the view.”
“It’s breathtaking!” Lark exclaimed. “Why, I bet you can see all the way to New Mexico Territory from here.”
“Not quite, but far enough.” He came around and helped her down. This time as he lifted her she put her hands on those wide shoulders, and for a moment, they stood looking at each other. He was so close she could see the slight shadow where he was already needing a shave, and the curve of his sensual mouth. Under her hands, his shoulders were muscular and seemed taut.
He kept looking at her. “Miss Lacey,” he gulped. “Oh, Miss Lacey.”
“Yes?”
“Uh,” he pulled away. Abruptly, there was sweat on that rugged face. “Let’s walk around some.”
He wasn’t going to kiss her. He was simply too shy, she thought. Well, sooner or later….
“It’s beautiful land,” she said, looking out across the valley.
“Ain’t it, though?” He beamed at her. “It does have some worthless acres that ain’t good for nothin’ cause of that oil seepin’ up, but a man could run a few cows, raise some good horses, start a family. That is,” he stammered, “if he could find the right woman.”
“I reckon he could,” Lark agreed. Was he hinting that she was that woman? Could she possibly marry him without him ever finding out she had known his brother? She sighed.
Now the handsome face saddened. “’Course, it’s just a dream, ’cause it would take a miracle to get this much money. I’ll never earn that much as a sheriff.”
She took his hand. “Well, maybe if my shop does well, I can not only pay you back, but lend you some money to help buy this place.”
“Oh, I couldn’t let you do that, ma’am, well, not unless we was married. Then I reckon it would be all right.”
She wanted to get away from all this talk about marriage when her common sense told her it could never be. Magnolia stopped grazing and came over, chewing at the edge of Lark’s lace parasol. “My! I reckon we ought to get back to town”—she pulled away—“before this furry little rascal chews up my parasol completely.”
When she reached out to pet Magnolia, the little animal set up an ungodly braying. Both
of them started and then laughed.
“I swear,” Lawrence said. “Anybody never heard a donkey would sure be startled out of his boots by that racket, wouldn’t he?”
“It is sort of a horrible sound,” Lark admitted. “And very loud for such a small animal. Well, let’s get back to town.”
He helped her back up into the buggy. “Thanks for coming out for a look, Miss Van Schuyler. I ain’t showed this place to anybody but little Jimmy and Paco. Paco would like to own the land next door, but he’s got no money, either.”
“Well, maybe if you ever get rich, you can loan him some.”
He slapped the horse with the reins and they started off. “Reckon there’s no chance of that unless I marry a rich woman or rob a bank somewhere.” He laughed, but Lark didn’t. Oh, if this innocent and naive man ever found out about what Larado had done, he’d probably die of shame. So what would he think of Lark if he knew that she’d been involved too? She didn’t want him to think badly of her.
“Come on, Magnolia,” she called to the burro. “We’re going back to town now.”
“You think she understands English?” The sheriff grinned.
“I reckon she does, she’s following the buggy.”
And indeed she was, contented as a hound dog, trotting back to town.
The railroad was coming. Excitement built in the town as the tracks moved closer and the June weather grew warmer. Men were already arriving to build new businesses, anticipating the settlers who would rush in with the train. New buildings were going up, and there was talk of paving Main Street. The supplies for Lark’s new store arrived, and in just a few days, business was booming among the ladies of Rusty Spur. There was going to be a big celebration the day the first train pulled in, and all the ladies wanted to look their best.
Lark wondered if the sheriff was avoiding her, or maybe he was just busy. With the sudden growth of the town, he seemed busier than usual, keeping the place peaceful.
He had been right about Magnolia; there was no way to keep her penned up. Today, Lark looked out the window of her shop and saw the little donkey pulling hay off the back of a wagon parked in front of the general store. Oh, Abner Snootley would have a fit about that if he saw it. Bertha Snootley had come in several times, but she was not one of Lark’s favorite customers. She was too demanding and arrogant.
Jimmy was just passing by.
“Hey, dear,” she called. “Would you put Magnolia back in her pen?”
“Won’t do no good, miss,” the boy smiled. “She’ll just get out again.”
About that time, there seemed to be a disturbance down at the saloon. Lark took a deep breath. Uh-oh. Something for the sheriff to deal with. She stepped out on the sidewalk, looking that direction. Other people were coming out of stores or pausing on the sidewalk to look.
Jimmy frowned. “I better get the sheriff. He’s the only one who can keep law and order around here.” He took off running down the street.
Lark waited, as did everyone else. In seconds, she saw the sheriff’s lanky form come out of his office and stride toward the noise. By now there were two drunks falling out through the swinging doors of the the Cross-eyed Bull and fighting in the street, rolling under the hooves of two bay horses tied at the hitching post. The horses whinnied and tried to rear. The men rolled over and over as they fought in the dirt.
“Hey,” someone yelled, “you better scat, here comes the sheriff.”
One of the drunks stumbled to his feet. “I ain’t afraid of no stinkin’ lawman. I kilt one or two in my life.”
He was fumbling for his pistol as Lawrence walked up. “Don’t do it, hombre,” he whispered.
“Watch out, Sheriff, he’s a gunfighter,” someone warned.
“Uh-huh,” Lawrence said coolly. “I said, keep that gun in its holster, mister.”
“You better do as he says, Jack,” someone yelled. “That sheriff used to be a Texas Ranger!”
The man was going for his pistol anyway. In that split second, Lark held her breath as the sheriff pulled his own Colt. No doubt, Lawrence was a dead shot. She held her breath, waiting. Instead, Lawrence whacked the drunk up the side of the head with the barrel of his pistol. The drunk collapsed like a tornado had hit him.
The crowd cheered.
“Bravest thing I ever saw!” someone yelled.
“What do you expect from a ex-Ranger?” someone else said.
Lawrence shrugged. “No use killin’ him just to show off my fast draw. Some of you fellas drag him down to the jail and we’ll let him sober up some.”
Lark heaved a sigh of relief and ran down the street to him. “Oh, Lawrence, I was so afraid for you.”
He holstered his pistol. “All in a day’s work,” he said. “Never had to kill one yet.”
Paco looked up at him, his dark eyes big with admiration. “You must be the fastest gun in the West, Sheriff, sí?”
“Yes,” said Jimmy, “the fastest!”
Lawrence shrugged. “Bein’ fast don’t matter none, Paco—havin’ a cool head and thinkin’ fast is better. You remember that now, hear?”
The blacksmith stepped out into the street. “Three cheers for the best, the toughest sheriff in all Texas! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!” The crowd joined in the cheering.
Lawrence only looked embarrassed. “I ain’t tryin’ to build no big reputation, but I hope every hombre who saw this just now will pass the word that the sheriff of Rusty Spur is a true Texan and ain’t gonna allow no hard cases to shoot up our town.”
The crowd murmured agreement as they began to scatter. “He’s a tough one, all right, toughest sheriff in Texas.”
Lark took his arm. “You know that your reputation is liable to draw gunslingers to this town?”
He patted her hand and they started to walk back toward her shop. “If we get any would-be Billy the Kids, I’ll show them just how well I can shoot, but I won’t kill them if I don’t have to.”
“You’re a brave man,” Lark gushed as they walked. “We’re gonna need you even more as the town grows.”
He shook his head. “Once word gets around that the sheriff’s tough, gunslingers will avoid this town. Then maybe I can resign, turn the office over to Paco, and just do a little ranchin’.”
She heard a sound and looked back. Magnolia was following along behind her like a dog.
Lawrence laughed. “I warned you about that little critter. There ain’t a flowerbed or a vegetable garden safe from a donkey. I saw Mrs. Snootley shooing her out of her yard just yesterday.”
“I hope they understand that I try to keep her penned up, I really do,” Lark said. “The only one who really complains is Bertha Snootley. But then, she complains about everything. She’s been wanting to know if I’m ever going to get hats from Paris.”
“Paris, Texas?”
“No, silly, Paris, France.”
“They named a town in some foreign country after ours?”
“You know, Lawrence, Texans might think this blasphemous, but Texas is not the center of the universe.”
“But of course it is. Don’t the Good Book say that on the eighth day, God made Texas?”
“I’m not sure that’s the way the scripture reads.”
“If it doesn’t, it should,” he said with confidence. “Oh, speak of the devil, and here she comes now,” Lawrence warned.
“Oh no.” Lark paused in the doorway of her little shop. The big woman was heading toward her, head high and nose in the air. “You’d think she was royalty, the way she acts—and worse yet, she wears the hats, then returns them and says they weren’t satisfactory.”
“I don’t mind a gunfight,” Lawrence said, “but I don’t want to get in the middle of a tiff with ladies.” He turned to go. “Afternoon, Mrs. Snootley.” He tipped his big Stetson and kept walking.
“Well,” said Mrs. Snootley by way of greeting, “I see that dirty little beast is out again, doing her business on the street.”
“I try to
keep her penned up,” Lark apologized.
“You ought to just shoot her,” the woman snapped as she glared at Magnolia. Magnolia brayed so loudly, both women jumped.
“Well, I think she’s offering an opinion.” Lark smiled. “Now, what can I help you with today?”
“I saw a new hat in your window.”
“All right, let’s go in.”
They went inside, and the pompous woman went to check the merchandise. “There’ll be a big party to welcome the arrival of the first train and I want to look nice. Besides, I’ve heard gossip we’ll be getting a new resident, a banker and his wife from back East.”
“Oh, really?”
The lady looked down her nose at Lark. “As a social leader of Rusty Spur, I intend to show them this isn’t just some jerkwater hick town. Why, we might end up as big as San Antonio or Austin. If I had more time, I’d go into Abilene to shop, but I don’t have time—so I’ll just have to buy whatever you’ve got in your tacky little shop.”
Lark bit her tongue to hold back her retort. “I’m sure we’ll find something to suit you.” No doubt the cheap woman would certainly wear whatever she bought one time, then insist on returning it.
Mrs. Snootley picked up a pink straw hat with a wide brim. Lark had added a flowing pink veil, and the brim was a profusion of pink and burgundy flowers.
“That’s quite expensive,” Lark warned.
“Well, then,” the snooty lady said, “I’m probably the only one in town who can afford it, aren’t I?”
Lark wasn’t sure what the proper response should be. “It’s a lovely hat,” she said.
Mrs. Snootley put the hat on and walked over to look at herself in the cheval mirror. Since she was a short woman, the hat’s brim was much too wide for her. She looked as if she were standing under a giant pink toadstool. She walked up and down, admiring herself in the mirror. “What do you think?”
“It’s a lovely hat,” Lark said again.
“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I doubt you’ve ever been to the capital or seen real fashion. I’ve been to Paris, you know.”
“How nice.” Lark doubted that.
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