Marissa cautiously rested her hands on the rail, more aware of his confident, inherent strength when they were alone. “They could have seen your gift-giving as something more than what it was.”
“Such as?” The sun set against the planes of his face.
Since they were alone, Marissa saw no need to mince words. “It hasn’t slipped by me that the three of you have been working together. The Arthurs want to make a respectable woman out of me. I assume you do too, but for a different reason.”
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
He was more astute than that. It was just a Southern gentleman’s polite way of obtaining information without being forceful. “They want me to believe in Jesus, and you want me to join your church. That’s why they gave me a job at the store, and that’s why you gave me the Bible.”
With a thoughtful frown he tilted his head. “I still don’t see how those are devious aims. You sound as though we were all plotting something malicious against you.”
“So you do have an aim. You admit to wanting to see me become a member of the church.”
“What’s wrong with that? We all need to accept Christ for our eternal salvation.”
She held onto the porch rail as though she’d fly away like the dry brush in the prairie winds. Preachers and their preaching. Did they never stop? “And wouldn’t it help church membership if you had a saloon girl give her testimony?”
“I’d never manipulate a person into doing something they were averse to. Why are you speaking this way?”
His voice contained a sorrowful note. Marissa was ashamed of herself for ruining the evening. Things could have been said with more tact. “Because I feel manipulated. Jason said that you might use me as an example for the town, that I could help you draw in the sinners.”
“Jason seems to be very good at twisting the truth.”
“Is he right?”
“No. After what he did to you, how can you give anything he says a serious thought?”
Marissa stared off in the distance. Rowe only knew a portion of the despicable, lecherous things Jason had done. If he were to find out about everything, including the rape… she bit her lip. He could never know. It was too disgusting. “Jason may be a horrible man, but he’s no fool when it comes to recognizing people’s motivation.”
Rowe spoke with great deliberation. “Marissa, you’ve been around so much of his cynicism that you think I’m using you when I’m trying to encourage you. If you join the church, I want it to be because you choose to.”
“And the gift of the Bible? Was it also to encourage me?”
Solid and austere, he straightened his posture. “Yes. I told you that I gave it to you because Jason destroyed the one you inherited.”
“That’s an acceptable reason.”
“Good. Now are you done doubting my intentions?”
The door swung open. Zachary padded onto the porch in his gray knitted socks. “Oh, you’re still here, Reverend? I thought Marissa was watching the sunset so long she forgot it went down for the night.”
Neither of them laughed at his jest. A cricket hiding somewhere in the grass chirped twice and immediately ceased its noisemaking, as if it too realized that a cheerful evening serenade was not welcome.
Zachary frowned from one person to the other. “Say, you heard about the fair in Claywalk next week, haven’t you?”
“I haven’t,” said Rowe.
“Well, there’s dancin’, food, games. You’ll like it. You’ve been there a few times, haven’t you, Mari?”
“When I was a child,” she replied, hoping that her flat monotone wouldn’t arouse more suspicion as to the heated nature of the previous exchange. Zachary knew something was amiss, she could tell. Naturally curious and sociable, he was going to inquire about it from her later on.
“If you’re not too busy, Reverend, why don’t you go to the fair with Mari? You need to take a breather from all that church work, and she needs to have some good clean fun for once.”
“That depends on her answer, sir.” Rowe turned to her. “Would you like to accompany me to the fair next week, Marissa? I would be honored if you would attend.”
There was no saying nay in front of Zachary. Her only excuse would be she had nothing to wear, and Zachary would tell her that what she had on could be washed and pressed in time for next Saturday.
“Yes, I will accompany you. Do you dance?”
“Not in years, but perhaps you could refresh my memory.”
Their stiffly polite dialogue seemed to satisfy Zachary, who held the door open for Marissa. “We better go back on inside, Mari. Rebecca will come behind me if she thinks we all went out here for some fresh air and didn’t include her.”
Marissa accepted the opportunity to return inside the house. “Have a good evening,” she murmured quickly, slipping past Rowe.
“Good evening, Marissa. Till next Saturday, then.”
Through the screen door she viewed his retreating steps from the house. One week until she had to speak to him once more. After the way she accused him and nearly rejected his gift, it would be a wonder if he showed at her doorstep again.
Chapter 15
ON THE MONDAY before the fair Marissa returned to the Walsh seamstress shop for her newly fashioned clothing. Everything that she ordered from Linda was designed for function, not fancy enough for wearing to festivals or parties. With neutral brown and navy skirts and basic white blouses as her choices, she had no idea what could be put together for Saturday.
Chiding herself, Marissa didn’t think she should give the fair too much attention. After all, Zachary wanted her to go just so she would have a chance to get out of the house. No one expected her to be the belle of the ball, so to speak. Rowe would dance with her out of courtesy, if he hadn’t changed his mind about being her escort.
Marissa felt odd at the thought of dancing with Rowe, as if tiny butterflies in the pit of her stomach stopped fluttering and suddenly took to swan diving. She had danced with dozens upon dozens of men, so why did the thought of dancing with this one man upset her so?
As Marissa entered the seamstress shop, Linda leaned on the front counter, her face contorted in a mix of worried brows and downturned lips.
“Are you alright?”
The young seamstress twiddled the pearl buttons on a pair of ladies’ gloves. “No, I’m completely wretched. Sophie is angry with me, and I’ve caused the store to lose business.”
“How?”
“The new cloth that Sophie ordered just came in, and she wanted me to make it up in time for the fair. When I said that I didn’t have enough time to sew the fancy design she wanted, she refused to buy the cloth and left here in a big huff.”
“That sounds like Sophie. I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.”
Linda eyed her speculatively. “Do you want the white fabric made into a dress for you, Marissa?”
She jerked her head up. “Are you sure Sophie won’t mind?”
“She doesn’t want it anymore. Sophie told me to sell it and give her the profit.”
Linda placed the fabric on the counter. It was fetching, with blue thread delicately woven throughout its borders. Marissa touched the loose edge of the fabric bolt. The material gave off a soft sheen as it glided through her fingers. “This is pretty, but I don’t want to ruin friendships over a dress.”
“My family’s store will be ruined if I don’t sell it.” Linda pushed unruly tendrils off her damp forehead. “The cost to import it was more than what we earned in the first half of winter.”
Marissa eyed the fabric. “The material itself costs as much as a fully sewn dress, correct?”
“Yes. I’ll subtract the import price if you buy it. I’ll lose money from shipping, but it’s not everything, at least.”
It was a fair offer. Marissa wouldn’t be able to afford it if it was made into a gown. However, she could fashion something simple on her own. Rebecca might be of help. “Instead of making my dress, sell me
this fabric, and I’ll do it myself. Sophie can’t say anything about that. You’ll make money for the shop too.”
“That can work,” Linda agreed. “I do thank you for this.” The seamstress was hesitant at expressing gratitude, perhaps embarrassed for the time spent taunting Marissa, right alongside Sophie.
“Thank you, Linda, for sewing my clothes so quickly.”
Marissa paid what was owed and left the store with a small start to a new wardrobe and an extra fabric bolt under her arm. Already her mind fashioned the design of the dress she would create for the fair. The next several days would mean long nights in the company of thread and needle, but at least she wouldn’t look like she went from stocking shoes to running to the ticket booth.
“Thank you for coming. Stop in again.” Marissa handed the newly purchased gaiters to Hunter Myerson, one of the ranchers who lived about five miles from the town.
“My wife will enjoy these.” Myerson stuffed the neatly wrapped package in his rucksack. “It’ll help take her mind off the ones she muddied on the way to church last Sunday.”
“We’ll be getting more shoes in next month. Invite her to take a look the next time you come into town.”
“I’ll do that. Have a good day, Miss.” The rancher collected the rest of his purchases from the trip and left.
Marissa glanced at the clock in the corner. Four customers visited since the store opened, and now it was set to close in two hours. Aside from utilitarian work boots, shoes were still low on people’s priorities in a small town. The general store got the most business, as more residents came in for hardware and tools.
The Arthurs had already gone home, due to Zachary having some trouble with his back that morning. Marissa basked in their confidence of her abilities, leaving her in charge as a learning experience.
She busied herself with straightening behind the counter.
“So this is what you’d rather do than pour drinks.”
Marissa froze at the sound of the all too identifiable, chilling voice as Jason entered the store. Her body drained of its life-giving warmth as he presented her an awful smile.
Tobacco-stained teeth displayed themselves behind long drab-brown hair that hung in greasy strands about his shoulders. The door shut behind him, and he slid the bolt into place. Her stomach dropped.
“Can’t say that this place doesn’t hold its charm.” He casually tossed a glance about the room. “But a shoe shop don’t suit you, darlin’.”
Around the nose his face was oddly misshapen and slightly bulbous, giving the eyes a squinty appearance. For over two weeks she had managed to avoid him—probably because he was cooped up waiting for his nose to heal. She should have known the respite wouldn’t last.
Marissa drew a long, deep breath until her lungs couldn’t hold any more air, exhaled, and willed her voice to stay low and calm.
“A shoe shop suits me just fine, Jason. Unlike my prior place of employment, I’m in a respectable position.”
“As a cobbler’s assistant? Where’s the money in that?”
“It’s not about money. It’s about being fair and honest to customers as well as earning a decent living. I don’t go to bed feeling guilty.”
Beneath the counter there was a magnifying glass and a dull pair of scissors. Nothing that she could use to defend herself if the situation called for it.
Jason edged two paces closer to the counter. “Since when did fairness and decency become important to you?”
“Since the day I saw how you truly dealt with your customers and employees.”
Loud, raucous laughter sounded throughout the interior of the shop. “And here I thought you were going to say since you gave your life to Christ. I thought for certain that preacher man would’ve convinced you to already.”
In a fleeting moment Marissa cast her vision away from Jason. “He tried.”
“And what happened, sweetheart?” Jason feigned concern. “Didn’t you want to save your immortal soul, or was it the good reverend you were thinking about giving yourself to?”
She held her ground. “He has little bearing upon the decisions I make.”
“Of course he doesn’t, darlin’. As sure as you’re born.” Jason picked up a wooden shoe last and examined the bottom side with detached interest.
“It’s true. As a matter of fact, what you did to me the night I left the saloon and the years leading up to it made me see how much I needed to leave that place. No man had to tell me.”
“You haven’t been the same since Winford came here.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to see things for what they really are. Now, please leave. You have no business in this store.”
“Is that any way to treat a payin’ customer?” He put the shoe last back and started pacing around the room. “Old Zachary wouldn’t be too happy to hear about this.”
“He would if he knew to whom I was speaking.” Marissa watched his every movement, every footstep for where he might veer, and every hand motion for the slightest twitch.
“That senile old coot wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. Neither would your preacher beau. Is Winford gonna thump me on the head with his Bible?”
“His fist to your nose seemed to do the trick.”
Snarling at her defiance, he shouted, “You are my woman that I’ve looked after for three years. You belong to me. I took you from your ma when she was on her deathbed.”
Marissa lifted her chin and met his wild, possessive gaze straight on. “My mother was feverish when you lied to her about erasing her debt. She thought you would look after me until I turned eighteen, not have me assume her job. She didn’t tell you to use me or my body. Or beat me.”
Jason snatched an item from his waistcoat so fast that Marissa jumped backward, expecting a firearm. Snickering at her reaction, he slapped the item on the countertop. A piece of paper. She looked closer. It was the old contract that bound her to him.
“Read the fine print.” With a stained thumbnail, he indicated to a paragraph near the very bottom of the last page. “There’s a clause that states you have to work for me if the business starts goin’ sour. You have to continue until the business restores itself before you can leave.”
Marissa dared to take her eyes off him long enough to read the tiny letters of the paragraph. He was right.
In the event of debt, slowing sales, or infrequent customers, this employee hereby agrees to maintain employment with employer until the state of the business has been restored satisfactorily.
Her own signature mocked her from the bottom of the page.
“Guess you should have read more carefully before you signed, eh?”
“I trusted you.” Her eyes flew back up to meet his. “I was eighteen when you gave me this contract, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She picked up the three-page agreement, scanning the paragraphs to see if there was anything else she had missed. “How am I to know when your saloon has been restored satisfactorily? You could have me working for years.”
“Ain’t the law grand?” Jason took the contract from her. “I’d better see you back at the saloon by the end of next week, or I’ll get a circuit judge to enforce this. You’ll go to jail.”
“I’m not going back to your saloon. When I tell the judge what you’ve done to me, he won’t enforce that contract.”
“You’ll have to prove it first.” He slid the papers back into the pocket of his waistcoat. “You’d have to hire a lawyer, which I don’t believe you can afford. And even if there is a witness from town, he won’t get himself involved to help a woman with your bad standing.”
Marissa grew sick at the truth of his words. Just when she thought she had broken free of him, he snatched her back like an animal chained to a sturdy post, slackening long enough to let her think she had escaped his hold.
“Don’t forget that I can sue the Arthurs for stealing my employee while she’s still under contract. You don’t want to hurt their business because of your mistakes, do you?”
“Get out of here, Jason.” Her voice trembled slightly as she held back utter distress. Rebecca and Zachary gave her a home and entrusted her with so much of what belonged to them. Everything they worked so hard for could be destroyed because of her.
Jason beamed, proud of the control he regained. “I wonder what Rowe Winford would think of you now. The woman he thought to redeem is going back to the den of iniquity.”
“Rowe sees beyond who I once was.”
“You try to hide it, but I know you’re sweet on him. He won’t have you as his wife. You’re far from the gentle, sheltered woman he’ll pick to marry. Do yourself a favor and stick to the only thing you’re recognized for.”
Marissa didn’t take her eyes off Jason until he exited the store. When he swaggered out of view, she bolted from the counter, locked the doors, and ran into the storeroom. There, in the midst of crates, shoes awaiting repair, and spare display shelves, she gave herself over to a flood of tears.
Chapter 16
MARISSA KNEW SHE couldn’t stay locked in the storeroom with the crates and ledgers forever. Eventually someone would notice that the store had been closed for over an hour and would alert the sheriff. Given that Jason already promised to get the law involved in their dispute, Marissa had no desire to see McGee’s face sooner than she had to.
She lifted her head from her hands and wiped the tears from her face. Crying was not helping matters. Other women could resort to such means in assurance of rescue, but she did not have the privilege of being a damsel in distress. She used to be, still was, a saloon girl. No one save a judge could get her out of that predicament.
But what judge would hear her case? Jason had the binding agreement and records to prove the slowing sales in his business. She was the one who looked guilty by running away.
Marissa stood to her feet and shoved a hand in her dress pocket for her change purse. Barely enough money to hire a wagon to Claywalk, much less a lawyer. She shot down the idea of asking to borrow money from the Arthurs. They did enough for her. She needed to solve this problem without them.
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