“Uh-huh.” She went into her room and closed the door. How stupid of you, she scolded herself. If she didn’t care anything about the man, why should she care if he sneaked away for a romp in the hay with the whore? Because if they got caught and the secrets came out, Lark herself was in jeopardy. At least, that’s what she told herself. She put the chair under the doorknob anyway.
The next morning was Sunday. When she got up, Larado was already frying eggs. “You want some?”
“You cook any better than I do?” she asked.
“Nope. Between us, we’d poison a hog.” He grinned.
“Don’t give me any ideas,” she said. “I’m going to church this morning. You want to come?”
“The church might collapse if I occupied a pew more than two Sundays a month.”
“You might chance it. Besides,” she kept her voice icy, “I imagine Banker Barclay and his wife will be there. It’s good for business, you know.”
“Does it matter to you if I come or not?”
“As any Texan would say, it don’t make me no never mind.”
“Well, maybe I will, then. After all, we need to keep up appearances of a happily married couple.”
She made a choking sound as she sipped her coffee.
“By the way, I got a good deal on a buggy and a gray horse. The livery stable is deliverin’ it this afternoon.”
“I didn’t think we could afford a buggy.”
He grinned at her. “He’s so pleased I’m protectin’ the town, he almost gave it to me.”
“Huh, if he only knew.”
They dressed and walked over for morning services. Lark wore a light green lawn dress and a big white straw hat with daisies on the brim.
He smiled. “You look purty as a fluffy kitten with a ribbon around its neck. Who you dressin’ up for?”
“Not you,” she snapped. Actually, she didn’t intend to be outdone by that blonde. She noticed with a frown that the sheriff wore his badge and his gun belt. “Larado, is that really necessary?”
“Suppose there was some kind of trouble durin’ services?” he asked. “People would expect the sheriff to be armed.”
“The most exciting thing that might happen is if old Miss Wiggly dozes off and falls out of her chair in the choir section during the sermon.”
He grinned. “Most of the congregation’s asleep by then—they’d never know the difference.”
The church was full this sultry summer morning, and when Lark looked around, she saw Dixie and the plump banker in a row across from them. She nodded to the woman politely, and Dixie grinned back—but she didn’t seem to be looking at Lark. She was looking at Larado.
The preacher was on a roll today, banging his Bible on the pulpit. The louder he got, the more the paper fans advertising the local funeral home flapped as the congregation stirred the hot air. His sermon was about how much hotter hell was than Texas, and they should all give that some thought and mend their wicked ways.
Mrs. Bottoms and Jimmy were sitting behind them, and she heard Jimmy say proudly, “There ain’t no place hotter than Texas.”
People around him giggled, and the old lady shushed him. Citizens who had heard him were nodding with a smile. Everything about Texas was bigger and better. But then, the preacher was originally from Gainesville, which was north—almost to the Red River—which almost made him a Yankee. So what did he know about west Texas heat?
Lark thought about the bank robbery and silently agreed with the preacher about wicked ways. Finally the service was almost over, and they reached for the hymnbooks.
“Number three hundred,” the minister announced. “‘Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow.’”
She shared the hymnal with Larado. When their fingers touched, she felt a charge of electricity. He looked down at her as if he had felt it, too. “…Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Praise God, all creatures here below…”
Lark noted that Larado lifted the songbook higher and seemed to be squinting at the words. He couldn’t read, she thought, despite all his denials. She had to find a way to teach him without hurting his pride.
Then services were dismissed, and people stood about on the lawn talking of small things like the weather. Texans always talked about the weather, taking an almost perverse pride in how hot it got. There was also talk of the Fourth of July festivities planned for day after tomorrow.
The banker and his wife walked over and joined them. Dixie wore an expensive lavender silk dress and a hat with big ostrich plumes on it. “Well,” she said, “so nice to see you again, Mrs. Witherspoon. I hear you have a lovely shop.”
Lark smiled guardedly. “Some say it is. I hope you’ll come in and look around.”
The fat banker put his arm around the blonde’s waist. He was too short to put it around her shoulders. “Honey, you go in there and just buy anything you want.”
“You see?” Dixie said. “He just spoils me rotten.”
The banker smiled and nodded. Sweat gleamed on his bald head in the heat. “Anything my darling wants, I’m gonna buy for her. Reckon we’ll be building a fine new home, too.”
“You movin’ into the new bank buildin’ apartment this week?” Larado asked.
Barclay smiled with satisfaction. “Yep. We open the new bank tomorrow, and word’s spread. I reckon folks’ll be bringing all that money out from under mattresses to put in my bank.”
Mrs. Bottoms walked up just then. “Well, heavens, you won’t ever have to worry about bein’ robbed—not with our sheriff on guard.”
Lark made a choking sound. When everyone turned to look at her she said, “I’m sorry, I must have swallowed a gnat.”
The banker nodded toward Larado. “Why, one of the reasons I chose this town was that my darling Dixie here heard this town had a sheriff who kept things peaceful.”
“He sure does,” said Mrs. Bottoms. Then she wandered away looking for Jimmy.
Lark called after her, “Look down at the telegraph office at the depot. You know how he loves talking to old Bill about trains.”
About that time, Magnolia came trotting down the street, mingling with the crowd. She began to bray.
The banker jumped. “What in the name of hell? Oh, I beg your pardon, ladies.”
Larado laughed. “My wife has a pet donkey we can’t seem to keep locked up.”
“Yes.” Lark smiled a little too sweetly. “We have several asses in the family.”
“I beg your pardon?” said the banker.
“Never mind,” Lark said. The man must be blind not to notice the way his wife was eyeing Larado, like a hungry Texan eyes a big, juicy steak. “Reckon we’d better go, honey. I left dinner cooking in the oven.”
“Yep,” Larado said. “My wife is such a great cook. We must have you two over for dinner sometime.”
Lark made that choking sound again.
Dixie smiled. “I’m afraid my talents lie in other directions—but of course, when we get our fine new home built, I’ll have servants doin’ the work.”
“Well, darling,” the banker looked at Dixie, licking his lips, “let’s get back to the hotel, shall we? After dinner, I want to take a nice nap.”
Larado’s eyes gleamed and he looked at Lark. “Sounds good to me.”
Lark glared back at him. “You don’t need a nap,” she said pointedly.
“Oh, yes, I do.”
The four nodded their good-byes and joined the crowd scattering from the church.
“Well, as you could plainly see,” Larado said, “Dixie’s the one eyein’ me like a coyote eyein’ a lamb.”
“Oh, my! You’re just so innocent,” Lark scoffed.
“Now I didn’t say that, I just said I didn’t start it.”
“Yes, but you were returning that look she gave you.”
“Maybe I was just thinkin’ how nice a nap after dinner would be.”
“You can have a nap,” Lark told him. “You just can’t have the dessert the banker is probably going to get.
”
“Oh. Well, you can’t blame a man for tryin’. You think he knows about Dixie?”
Lark puzzled over that a moment as they walked, the donkey trailing along with them. “Hard to tell. Maybe he never visited the Last Chance Saloon. What worries me is if he finally figures out where he met us.”
Lark managed to fry a chicken for dinner and chop a little salad. Larado gobbled it up, looking doubtfully at the lumpy gravy.
“I haven’t figured out how to keep the lumps out.” Lark shrugged.
“That’s all right—I love lumps in my gravy,” Larado declared and poured some on his lumpy mashed potatoes.
“I ought to put the lumps on your head.”
“Now, sweetie—”
“I’m not your sweetie.”
“Don’t I know it.” He gave her his most charming smile. “That’s all right, I didn’t marry you for your cookin’.”
“If you think that’s gonna get you a little dessert with your nap, don’t hold your breath.”
He sighed. “I don’t reckon there’s any real dessert?”
She shook her head. “You really are trying to be a hero, aren’t you? After my hard biscuits and lumpy gravy, would you really be willing to chance one of my pies?”
“Reckon I’m not that brave, but maybe someday you’ll learn to cook.” He got up from the table, pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. “Well, if that’s all I’m gonna get, I’ll go out and wait for Ben to deliver the horse and buggy. You want to see it?”
She shook her head.
“After that, reckon I’ll ride out and look over that ranch I’d like to buy.”
“She going to meet you out there?” She felt a twinge again of that unfamiliar emotion.
“Now why would you think that? She’s probably under that fat man right now, payin’ for those jewels she was wearing this mornin’.”
In her mind, she saw the whore spread out with the fat man naked on top of her. The thought made her shudder. “Too high a price, if you ask me. You do whatever you want—I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
“I thought you weren’t in the least domestic?” He leaned against the doorjamb.
“Somebody’s got to do it—we’re running out of dishes.” She wondered then if she could learn to make pies and cakes. She suddenly wanted to best Dixie at something, and she didn’t think she could do it in bed.
“After the buggy gets here, you wanta go look at the view with me? There’s only a shack, but there’s a hill that would be a good place for a fine ranch house later.”
“I’ve seen that place, remember?” She shook her head. “I don’t see any point in going again. You know as soon as I have enough money, I’m leaving.”
“Maybe I’ll leave first,” he said.
“That’d be okay, too.”
Larado went out, and Lark watched through the window as the new surrey and horse were delivered and he took them into the little barn out back. Later, when Lark heard a horse leaving she ran to the window and looked out, watching him ride away on Chico. What a mess. She couldn’t imagine that they would be able to keep this masquerade going much longer—and yet, she was coming to love this little town. If things had been different, she might have been happy to stay in Rusty Spur, running her small shop and blissfully married to the local sheriff. Except he didn’t care anything about her.
Lark returned to the kitchen, thinking about home. No doubt Aunt Cimarron would be having the usual big Fourth of July celebration for all the people on the ranch. She wondered how her twin was doing. Probably married by now to that Homer What’s-his-name. Lark had thought him a bit dull, but he was Lacey’s type. Lark felt a wave of homesickness and wished she could be at the ranch for the holiday, but of course she was too proud to go home now that she’d made such a mess of her life.
As she finished the dishes she heard the sound of a buggy’s creaking wheels and ran to the window. There was a buggy passing, but it didn’t stop. She frowned when she recognized the livery stable’s rented rig. Driving it was Dixie, and she was all alone. Now just where did that slut think she was headed?
Larado rode out to the ranch with a heavy heart. Things were going from bad to worse. First he hadn’t cared about Lark, he’d only wanted to ensure she kept her mouth shut. Then he’d taken her virginity in a wonderful night of passion, and he couldn’t stop thinking about that. Just when he’d thought she was softening toward him and they might have a chance at happiness, Dixie and the banker had showed up—and Lark wouldn’t believe he was innocent this time. Well, that cinched things. He didn’t know what Dixie’s game was, but he figured it was only a matter of time before—if he didn’t clear out of town—he’d be exposed. That would bring trouble to Lark. He didn’t want to hurt her. Worse than that, sooner or later his worse secret might be revealed, and then he’d be in real danger. He’d been lucky so far.
He rode out to the land he wanted to buy and didn’t have a chance of ever getting. Tying his horse to a tree, he sat out on the rise and watched the valley below. Here was where he would build that big, fine ranch house if he had plenty of money. The original house was not much more than a shotgun shack in the area of the oil seeps. Larado reveled in the view and wished Lark were there to enjoy it with him.
He heard a horse whinny and whirled around. In the distance, he saw a buggy coming toward him. Lark? His heart skipped a beat. No, it was a bay horse pulling it. He squinted as it came closer and he recognized the driver. It pulled up and the driver stepped down. “Dixie, what the hell you doin’ out here?”
“Now, honey,” she crooned as she came to him, “that ain’t a nice way to greet me after I went to so much trouble to get to Rusty Spur—just ’cause I heard you might be here.”
“I ain’t glad to see you.” He turned away. “What happened to Snake? You tell him about the fake money?”
“I really never got the chance. And anyway, I heard he murdered a marshal tryin’ to hold up another bank a few days later. They say he’s in Huntsville, waitin’ to be hanged.”
“He got me in enough trouble.” Larado shook his head.
“What I want to know is how you ended up as a lawman?” She laughed.
“It’s no joke with me, Dixie.” He frowned at her. “Oh, I took it to begin with just because I was desperate and lookin’ for a place to hide out awhile. But I like protectin’ folks and the respect I get.”
“Respect?” she scoffed. “Are you loco? There’s no money in bein’ a lawman.”
“Sometimes there’s more important things than money,” Larado said.
“No, there ain’t,” Dixie said. “Why do you think I ended up with the banker? I do my duty in his bed, and he buys me stuff. I like that.”
“You always were a whore at heart.”
“You sound pretty high and mighty,” she said with disdain, “considerin’ you’re married to a saloon girl from the Last Chance.”
“Be careful what you say about her, Dixie—she’s different than you.”
“Oh, so that’s the way it is, is it?”
“Naw.” He shook his head and sighed. “She don’t care no more about me than a penny with a hole in it.”
“So you two are just hiding out here, pretendin’ to be law-abiding citizens?”
He glared down at her. “We are law-abidin’ citizens, Dixie. That thing back in Buck Shot was just a big mistake.”
“You think the good citizens here would be understandin’?”
Larado shrugged. “I never understood exactly what happened. One minute, I was blowin’ my nose, the next thing, Snake’s got his Colt out, then everyone’s yellin’ that we’re robbin’ the bank.”
Dixie studied her nails and laughed. “You’re as innocent as a baby about some things, Larado.”
“I don’t reckon I understand.” He took off his Stetson and ran his hand through his shock of black hair.
“It turns out Snake didn’t get nothin’ much but silver in his bank bag, either.”
> “Then who got all that money the newspapers said was took?” He blinked at her.
“You figure it out. You see which man I ended up with, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “It don’t make no sense. Are you tellin’ me Barclay robbed his own bank?”
“Yes.”
Larado swore under his breath. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“We’ll probably all be. The banker got away with the money, but you two got the blame.”
He glared at her. “You little bitch. You could have gone to the sheriff and explained, and you didn’t?”
She didn’t look at him. “I—I’m sorry about that, Larado. I was mad at you over that Lark and besides, the law might not have believed me nohow. Anyway, I reckon it don’t matter now since you’re safe and Snake’s in prison, waitin’ to hang.”
“I ain’t really safe as long as I’m tied to that bank robbery.” He exhaled in an angry rush.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Well, I reckon Snake deserves what he’s gettin’. Huntsville’s a tough prison. I sent a railroader named Otto there a few weeks ago.”
“How come you married Lark? You care about her?”
“Naw,” he lied, shaking his head. He didn’t want Dixie to think he was soft. “I’m just tryin’ to keep her mouth shut, that’s all.”
“That’s good to hear.” She put her hand on his arm, running her fingers up and down the sleeve of his shirt. “You know, Larado, Barclay might plan to pull this whole trick again.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, sooner or later, some outlaw will hear about this fat bank and try to rob it. I reckon Barclay will slip him the fake money bag and hide the real money for himself. The townsfolk will never know the difference.”
“Suppose I tell everyone about Buck Shot?”
She laughed and ran her fingers up and down his arm. “You can’t do that without your part coming out and putting you and your lady at risk. Barclay’s a respectable banker. You think anyone would believe you, especially when they hear you’re wanted for robbin’ that bank?”
He didn’t answer, understanding the truth of her words.
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 21