How Miss West Was Won

by Diane Darcy

  “Pie?” Luke, glassy-eyed, looked confused. “No. No pie.”

  The men all had an expectant air, and Grace wasn’t sure whether to be wary, or amused. She remembered Mr. Carmichael becoming intoxicated a few times with his friends, and Grace couldn’t help the good cheer that rolled through her. “What are you up to this fine afternoon?”

  Luke grinned at her sloppily. “I’ve written you a … it’s a …” He looked at Sawyer.

  “A love poem,” Sawyer said in an undertone.

  Luke nodded. “Yes! It is! It’s a love poem.” He waved a hand. “It’s for you. Like the ones in that book you like so much. Do you remember how I didn’t drop your book into the birdbath?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I remember.”

  “Here.” Luke held out a wrinkled piece of paper. “Read it.”

  “No,” Sawyer said. “You should read it to her. It’ll be more romantic that way.”

  More amusing, was what Sawyer’s tone implied and Grace bit her lip again.

  Luke looked at his friend, then nodded. “Yes. I’ll read it to her. She’ll like that, won’t she?” He turned to face Grace. “Won’t you?”

  Grace was biting the inside of her cheek now. “Yes. I’d love that.”

  Luke squinted at the paper. “It took a long time to write it.” He glanced around at his friends and they all nodded and murmured agreement.

  “Hours,” one of his friends said.

  “All day,” said another.

  Luke cleared his throat and started. “Grace, you have beautiful eyes and you look like dessert, and I like the way that you sway your skirt.”

  Minnie giggled.

  Grace bit the inside of her lip.

  Luke glanced up and nodded. “It’s because you have hips.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “You are short, and have long dark hair, and if you think I shoot bad then I don’t care.”

  Sawyer bent his head and put a fist to his mouth.

  “Don’t forget the trees,” one of the inebriated men jabbed him in the shoulder, whispering loudly.

  “And the canoe,” said another.

  Luke shot the men a glare. “I’m gettin’ to it.” He took a breath. “Grace, you don’t like to gamble, but that’s all right, because you are sweet and a beautiful sight.”

  Grace smiled, a curve of her lips, and clenched her teeth to keep the laughter from spilling out.

  “Trees are pretty and some come in pairs but you are the best I hereby swears.”

  One man nodded drunkenly. “That was mine.”

  Grace pressed her fist tight to her lips, cleared her throat, and nodded.

  “You race canoes and you cheat to win, but that’s all right because you make me grin.”

  Luke turned the letter over and then back again. “That’s … that’s all I have.”

  Grace nodded, her eyes watering with the effort not to laugh.

  “Do it!”

  “Do it now.”

  Luke dropped to his knees. “Will you marry me, Miss Carmichael?”

  Shock, surprise, and disbelief raced through her as the desire to laugh faded away. She stared at Luke in shaken disbelief. He was actually asking her to marry him?

  Minnie burst out giggling.

  Grace looked at his friend Sawyer, who shrugged.

  It wasn’t that she wouldn’t like a proposal from Luke; she would. But first of all, she wanted him to ask Grace West to marry him rather than Miss Carmichael. And secondly, she didn’t want him to be drunk when he did it. She wanted him to mean it.

  “How about it, missy? You got an answer for the mayor here?” One of his drunk friends asked.

  Her lashed dropped to hide her eyes.

  Luke swatted at him. “Give her a moment. She’s thinking about it. I want her to think about it.”

  She glanced up again, her interest caught by that heartfelt declaration, not sure what to think. Did he really want her?

  “Take off your hat!” His friend took off his own and swatted Luke on the shoulder with it.

  As Luke removed his hat, so did the drunken bunch.

  Grace had to wonder if he meant any of this or if perhaps he’d done it on a drunken dare? “Um …”

  “Did she say yes or no?” One of them asked.

  “I don’t know.” Luke looked at her with confusion.

  Sawyer hauled Luke to his feet and slapped him on the back. “Sounded like a maybe to me.”

  He looked at Sawyer. “That’s good, right?”

  The men wandered away, offering Luke their congratulations. Sawyer dragged Luke along with them and Grace, her heart pounding, turned to Minnie.

  “Did that just happen?”

  Minnie giggled again. “Unfortunately, it did.”

  As she helped Minnie fold the table cloths, stack the pie tins, and plates, and round up the forks, Grace’s heart ached.

  If she were actually a Carmichael, she might have accepted his drunken, rambling proposal.

  Forget about propriety and fairness.

  Or even better, if he already knew she was Miss West, then she definitely would have said yes.

  And she’d let him worry about his newly engaged state in the morning.

  It was hardly her fault he was proposing while inebriated.

  She heaved a long and weary sigh.

  She had to tell him.

  Since when had she become such a wishy-washy mess? She had been charged with making sure those in her care were no such things, that they had the skills and tools they needed to get on in life. She was acting like a fourteen-year-old girl, in desperate need of instruction.

  Would he be angry when she told him the truth?

  He would have the right to be, she acknowledged. She’d given him every encouragement and all of it without telling him the truth.

  She’d kissed him. And … her cheeks went hot as she remembered what else she’d allowed. His arms around her, their bodies pressed together, the kisses to her neck.

  There was no more putting it off. She simply had to tell him the truth and let the cards fall where they may.

  Chapter 25

  “Joe,” Sawyer said. “Get the mayor another cup of coffee.”

  Luke pounded his head against the bar. “What did I do wrong?”

  Sawyer laughed again.

  Luke took a swipe at him and missed. “Shut it.”

  Still laughing, Sawyer helped him back onto his barstool.

  A cowboy who’d lost out in the last poker match took a swig of his drink. “Maybe you should’ve chased her down until she could give you the answer you wanted to hear?”

  Luke considered that. They both liked it when he chased after her.

  Another man spoke up. “Maybe you’ve had a lucky break? Do you really want to hog tie yourself to a woman for the rest of your life?”

  Did he?

  She’d brought laughter back into his life. He could actually picture her in his home all too easily.

  Why hadn’t she said yes?

  He’d been courting her, hadn’t he?

  He might not have wanted to admit it to himself, but surely, she’d noticed?

  Was it her family? Was it the fact that her father wanted her to come home? He remembered Louise’s parents, the way they’d interfered in his marriage, encouraging his wife to visit San Francisco without him.

  Sudden jealousy twisted his gut. He just knew, knew that her father wanted her to go home to marry someone else.

  Maybe he should send a letter to the man and tell him to back off.

  He laid his forehead on the bar and snorted. That would go over really well, wouldn’t it?

  Dear Mr. Carmichael. I have your daughter, and I’m not giving her back.

  He sighed. “I thought ladies liked poetry?

  “They do.” Sawyer smiled. “But I’m not sure that what you wrote could exactly be classified as poetry.”

  “I’ve been courting her too,” he admitted.

&
nbsp; “How so?” one of the men asked.

  “We raced canoes. I took her shooting. Twice.”

  “Shooting!”

  “Racing!”

  “Don’t you know you’re supposed to float them around the lake. While they look pretty and spin parasols and such?” the drunk beside him sputtered.

  “What about flowers? Chocolates? And girly things like jewelry?” The man on his other side was most insistent.

  He hadn’t done any of that. His forehead was still firmly planted on the bar as he shook his head. Why hadn’t he done any of that?

  Sawyer handed him another warm cup of coffee. “You could wait until tomorrow and hope you come to your senses.”

  The old man that had been sitting on the end spoke up for the first time. “Give her a chunk of gold. That’ll do the trick.”

  Gold? Louise had liked expensive necklaces, rings, and bracelets.

  He could do this. He sat up, drank more coffee, and then his jaw firmed. He could do it right. He wanted to marry her. He really wanted to marry her. And she deserved a perfect proposal.

  Luke stood outside the mercantile and waited for Lyle Thomas to come down and unlock the door.

  There was a reason he didn’t like to drink too much. Some men could hold their drink a little better than others. He’d had to admit to himself a long time ago that he was one of the others.

  No doubt his skipping church today also left a poor impression on Grace. But, luckily, he wasn’t the only one who’d missed.

  Lyle had as well, and so Luke would be able to get a hold of some candy, to go with flowers he’d plucked on the way over here. He looked around to see if anything else caught his eye, anything that might please a lady, so he could court her properly.

  As soon as church let out, he’d head over there and try to intercept her. The widow Braxton was usually busy talking to the reverend anyway, so he’d offer to walk Grace home. Just like a proper gentleman would.

  He winced a bit.

  He hadn’t acted too gentlemanly with Grace so far, had he? But then he hadn’t realized he’d been courting her.

  His head pounded and he knew it served him right.

  Finally, Lyle unlocked and opened the door. “Thanks Lyle.”

  “You bet. Must be urgent? You’ve never had me open the store on a Sunday before.”

  “Urgent enough.” Luke went inside and looked around. He stopped in front of the candy counter. Would she like a bag of candy? What kind of candy? When he lived in San Francisco, they’d had chocolate candies in pretty boxes but he didn’t see anything like that here. “Do you have any more candy, Lyle?”

  “Candy?”

  “You know, the kind ladies like.”

  “As far as I can tell, ladies like the same kind of candies as anybody else.”

  “Do you have any pretty boxes?”

  “Pretty boxes?”

  This town was just too blasted small. It didn’t have any of the niceties of San Francisco. Lyle wouldn’t know a nicety if it walked up and shook his hand.

  Luke took a breath and let it out. “All right. How about you put candy in a bag for me. Maybe a little bit of everything. Make sure you’re generous with the amount.”

  Lyle held up a drawstring bag. “You want I should put it in this?”

  It wasn’t nice like a box, but it would have to do. “That will be fine.”

  While Lyle poured candy into the bag, Luke took a turn around the store. He didn’t see anything that would catch a young lady’s eye. There was material, of course. But that would make a lousy gift. Here, sew yourself a dress.

  He looked at the canned goods, the shoes. “Do you have any more books?”

  “No. They go pretty fast. I could order you another one if you want? How did you like that poetry book?”

  That’s right, he’d given Grace the poetry book. He relaxed a little. That was an especially good gift for a lady. At least he hadn’t done everything wrong. “It was good.”

  “Did you read all them poems?”

  Lyle was fishing. He probably knew he’d given it to Grace, but Luke wasn’t admitting to anything. He just shrugged. “Not all of them.”

  Lyle held up a bag. “Candy is ready. You want anything else?”

  Luke glanced around the store one last time. When his gaze landed on the guns, he cringed a little bit. What had he been thinking? He shook his head, and headed back to the counter. “That’ll be good.”

  “So, candy was your big emergency?”

  “What can I say? I have a sweet tooth.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  Luke paid Lyle, and headed for the door.

  When he arrived outside, he saw that church had let out and wandered in that direction. The bag, stuffed with candy, suddenly felt conspicuous in his possession. He held it in one hand, then the other, then cradled it between his forearm and biceps. He should’ve thought this out a little better. Hopefully he could get Grace to go off with him, and that would be that.

  He didn’t need the busybodies getting in his way.

  When he finally spotted Grace in the crowd, his heart sank. She was standing right next to Mrs. Braxton. He considered leaving, contacting her later, maybe even climbing the ladder to her room to see her.

  He let out a breath. Again, probably not the proper way to court a girl.

  The bag felt heavy, conspicuous, and several people looked at it. He was feeling a bit foolish when he glanced at Grace again, and caught her eye.

  She waved him over.

  He sighed. Might as well get this over with. As he approached, the widow Braxton noticed him and her gaze sharpened.

  “I understand you were drunk last night.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I was.”

  “During our Fourth of July celebration? As the mayor of our town, don’t you think you should be setting the example?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It won’t happen again.” Maybe if he just agreed with everything she said, he could get Grace away that much the sooner.

  He looked at Grace, and her gaze seemed soft, searching. Not necessarily a bad thing, especially after yesterday. “Grace? Is there any chance I can walk you home?”

  Mrs. Braxton took a breath, and he was pretty sure she was about to run him off, when shots rang out in the air.

  Luke spun around, dropped the bag of candy, and reached for his gun. It wasn’t there. He’d left it off this morning, thinking that courting Grace and guns no longer went together.

  Men yelled in the distance, and he rushed toward the noise. Two more shots rang out, and there was a cry behind him. He swung around. Minnie Foster held her arm as blood soaked the sleeve of her dress.

  Luke’s head jerked up, his body tensed for attack, his fists clenching. He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He watched Grace rush to the other girl’s side.

  “Josiah! Amos!” Luke called to the young men. “Grab Minnie and bind that wound!” He did a quick scan of the crowd to see if anyone else was injured, then rushed toward the bank where he could see Gabe shooting at two men who raced away on horseback.

  He caught up with Gabe, running alongside him toward the stable. “What happened?”

  “The bank was robbed.”

  “Let me grab my gun, and we’ll go after them. Is anyone hurt in the bank?”

  “I don’t know. You get your gun and the horses, and I’ll check.”

  They met back a few minutes later, and Gabe, looking mean and dangerous, shook his head and took hold of the horse Luke had quickly saddled for him.

  Luke handed him an extra gun and some cartridges. “Everyone all right in the bank?”

  “Hinton is pretty shook up. Apparently, they jumped him when he headed over here after church.”

  “Minnie Foster is shot in the arm.”

  Gabe’s eyes hardened even more as he swung up on his horse. “Let’s go.”

  Luke was right behind him.

  Grace’s heart pounded. Who had shot Minnie?

  Her eyes darte
d nervously as the group of them made their way to Mrs. Braxton’s house. The blood reminded her of the day she’d been slashed outside the library protecting Penny.

  Mr. Stewart, Margaret’s father, carried Minnie, and her head rested on his broad shoulder as Grace held her hand.

  “It hurts! It hurts!” Minnie gripped her arm where a length of cloth had been wrapped around it. “I can’t believe somebody shot me in the arm! Why do things like this always happen to me?”

  “You’ve been shot before?” Grace asked. More to distract Minnie than because she believed the other girl had actually been shot in the past.

  Minnie sniffed. “No. I’ve never been shot. But I fell off the roof once! And one time a horse bucked me off and I landed on a fence. And then one time I got lost out by Ryder Pond in the pitch dark, and had to spend the night out there!”

  Minnie sounded so indignant that Grace pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Who would believe she’d find anything to smile about in this situation?

  They carefully took the girl up the steps to Braxton House and, as per instructions, placed her directly into a bottom-floor guest bedroom.

  Mrs. Phillips spread down oilcloth on the mattress and they lay Minnie on top of it. “Does Orchard City have a doctor?” Grace asked.

  “No, we don’t.” Mrs. Braxton answered. “Amos, I’m going to need you to ride into Santa Ana to get Doctor Benson.”

  Amos nodded once and took off.

  Mrs. Braxton carefully pulled back the strip of linen that had been torn from Grace’s underskirt and wrapped around Minnie’s arm. Grace leaned forward as the wound was exposed.

  “Does the bone look broken?”

  Mrs. Braxton’s hands were gentle and she moved Minnie’s arm, one way, and then the other. “I don’t think so. Let’s get this washed up and then we can be ready for a professional opinion when the doctor comes.”

  Mrs. Phillips came in with hot water, and a bottle of antiseptic. But it was Mrs. Braxton who redressed the wound. There were a few whimpers, but for the most part, Minnie stayed stoic throughout.

  When Mrs. Braxton was done she sat back in her chair. “I think the bullet is still in there. We’re going to have to let the doctor get it out.”

  Minnie released a shuddering breath. “Who shot me?”