How Miss West Was Won

by Diane Darcy

  Grace reached out to clasp one of Minnie’s hands once more. “Hush, hush. It’s all right. You just rest now. We’re going to let the men figure that one out.”

  Chapter 26

  Hours later, the doctor had come and gone, and Grace had a raging headache.

  The doctor had dosed Minnie up with laudanum, extracted the bullet from her arm, and stitched her up. She’d be hurting for a while, but luckily there were no broken bones.

  It had not been pleasant for anyone. Hearing her scream had been a trial.

  It didn’t help that Luke had shown up to announce that though the bank robbers hadn’t gotten away with much, they had gotten away.

  The widow Braxton had glared daggers at Luke every time Minnie had so much as whimpered.

  Luke, in turn, had paced. “Now do you see why we need a doctor in this town? This is just what I’m talking about! We need to draw professionals here. Doctors, lawyers, a dentist. Not all the folks living here can afford to go to the big city. And, of course, we need a school. We need more amenities.”

  The widow had shot back. “And do we need a new jailhouse? For all the criminals that you are enticing to this town?”

  And so it had gone, until the doctor had made Luke leave the room. Doctor Benson had just finished up when Mr. Sawyer Graham burst into the room looking panicked and making more demands of the doctor. “What is the matter with her? Who did this? Fix her. Fix her now.”

  The poor exasperated doctor had thrown him out as well.

  When he’d still made a nuisance of himself through the door, Mrs. Braxton had insisted that the reverend remove him from her property.

  After assuring himself Minnie would live, Sawyer finally took his bad-tempered self elsewhere.

  Now, it was hours later and Grace, still sitting in a chair beside Minnie, noted that she was finally in a deep sleep and no longer thrashing about. Grace decided to go out and get some fresh air to see if it would help with her pounding head.

  When she went outside, Luke jumped up from the swinging chair at the end of the porch. “Grace.”

  “What are you doing here?” she knew she sounded impolite, but it had been a long day.

  “I wanted to make sure Minnie was all right, and I was hoping to see you.”

  “The doctor seemed to know what he was doing, so that was a relief. She’s asleep now.”

  Luke nodded. “Good. That’s good.” He took a breath, opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, took another breath, then closed his mouth again. Finally, he said, “Did you get the bag of candy?”

  “What?”

  “I … I bought you …” He rolled his shoulders and took another breath. “Never mind.”

  “Is there any more news about the man who shot Minnie?”

  Luke winced. “One of them was recognized so we know who he is; we just haven’t found him yet.”

  “Who is he?”

  Luke rubbed the back of his neck. “It was one of the men in town for the tournament. The other was likely his good friend.” He straightened. “I guess they decided they had a better chance stealing money than winning it.”

  Luke sounded dangerous and determined. And while Grace understood this wasn’t what he’d wanted, she still saw red as indignation got the better of her. She’d come here to be safe. And now, no one was safe. “Why did you have to have this whole gambling tournament anyway? I’ve a man trying to kidnap me. Minnie’s been shot. The bank has been robbed. I’ve also heard there has been some theft about town. Is this what you wanted?”

  “Of course, it isn’t.”

  “A fool could have seen that bringing bad elements to town would have this effect.”

  “Oh, so now you’re calling me a fool?”

  She glared at him. “If the shoe fits.”

  Luke put his hat on his head, and turned to leave.

  “I’m with the widow Braxton on this.”

  He started down the stairs. “Don’t fight me, Grace. You won’t win.”

  “We’ll just see about that, won’t we?”

  He was almost to the street. “I guess we will, won’t we?”

  Grace stomped her foot. Did the man have to have the last word? “Yes, we will!” She yelled back. Drat that man. Now, her head hurt worse than ever.

  As far as she was concerned, this meant war.

  Grace posted a note on the pie shop. Closed until further notice. Although Grace had assured Mrs. Braxton she could bake pies and run the shop herself, Mrs. Braxton refused to let her work alone.

  She thought it was time Grace had a break anyway. Her parents had not sent her there to work.

  Grace assured her that she was doing exactly what she wanted, but Mrs. Braxton’s still wouldn’t budge. If she had the nerve, she’d sit the woman down and tell her about her real parents.

  Toward the end of breakfast, Mrs. Braxton had also assured Grace she might have more influence over Luke than she realized. Women often did. Grace wasn’t so sure, but she was willing to try—willing to go into the enemy camp and face the dragon in his lair.

  She smiled at her whimsy and headed toward the mayor’s office. “Miss Grace, wait up!”

  She turned to see a cowboy from the Anderson Ranch headed toward her. “Hello, Mr. Taylor. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m just checking in on Miss Minnie. Any word?”

  “She’s doing much better this morning. Of course, her arm hurts like the dickens. And she is still so shocked that something like this could have happened to her.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You tell her not to worry none. We are going to find the ba … that is to say, the man that done this to her and we are going to make him sorry,” he said earnestly.

  Grace nodded. “Thank you. I’ll tell her. I’m sure she’ll feel much better knowing her friends are watching out for her.”

  “That we are. We watch out for our own.” Tipping his hat, he stepped off the boardwalk. “Ma’am. You have a nice day.”

  “You, too.”

  Grace was stopped twice more by men she recognized as regulars of the pie shop and they all made similar vows. She was glad they detained her. It would warm Minnie’s heart to know she had so many friends concerned for her welfare.

  She finally made it to the mayor’s office, only to find Luke wasn’t there.

  Next, she went to the sheriff’s office. And that was empty too except … she took a step further into the room so she could more clearly see the man behind bars. “Angel. I haven’t seen you for quite a while. What are you doing in here?”

  The big man stood and gripped the bars. “Miss Carmichael. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “You, as well.”

  For a moment, a wild idea occurred to her. He could not possibly be one of the bank robbers, could he? She took a breath and immediately dismissed the notion. “Did the sheriff arrest you again?”

  “He’s a desperate man.” Angel reached into his pocket. “I have another letter from my girl. I was hoping to find you after the sheriff let me out of jail. I was hoping you could read it to me, and maybe even help me write another.”

  She smiled, genuinely warmed by the memory of his last letter. “Of course, I will. I’d be happy to.”

  She took off her gloves, pulled up a stool, and seated herself. Angel handed the letter through the bars and she started to read.

  Dearest Angel.

  How I miss you, and how the days seem to drag without you. I am counting down the weeks, days, hours, and minutes until I see you again.

  We’ve had very good weather, with the sun shining down, and have gone on two picnics. Ma seems determined that we should have fun, and that my sister and I should have good memories to look back on after we’re gone.

  I remind her my sister is marrying a neighbor, and if possible, we shall settle close by as well. But she doesn’t seem to believe. Perhaps because Pa took her so far from her own home and she has so rarely seen her sisters and parents.

  I am ever hopeful when we
go into town and I can check for mail. What a sweet and blessed event it is when I find a letter from you.

  You are my reason for living. My reason for joy, happiness, and hope all rolled into one and I fervently await your return. Rest contented in my love.

  Yours forever. Hattie.

  By the by, your horse ran away, but we found him two farms down. I suspect the neighbors will have a new foal next spring. Fortunately, they did not seem to mind in the least. Father has strengthened the fence.

  Grace glanced up to see that Angel had tears in his eyes. He self-consciously wiped them away, and she lowered her gaze to give him privacy.

  The fact that this big, dangerous-looking man wore his emotions on his sleeve, as it were, touched her heart. “Can you tell me a little bit about Hattie? How did you meet?”

  He cleared his throat. “I was running a herd through Kansas and her father approached me in town one night. He wanted to add in a few of his cattle, and didn’t have the means to take them back east himself. He was worried because he didn’t know me, but he decided to trust me anyway.” Angel chuckled. “He said I had honest eyes.” He glanced at Grace. “No one had ever said that to me before. I thought about it a lot, you know?”

  Grace nodded. “I believe that every small praise I’ve ever been given is tucked close in my heart.”

  Angel nodded. “Several months later, I showed up with his money. He didn’t even look surprised, you know? He said he knew I was comin’. He just didn’t know when.”

  Angel shook his head. “He’s a trusting man. Maybe too trusting. Leastways, he saw no reason not to invite me to supper at his home. That is where I met my Hattie.”

  My Hattie. Grace melted a bit inside at the possessive term. If only she had a man as romantic as Angel. Luke immediately popped into her thoughts. She thought about the picnic in the meadow. The canoe ride when they’d told each other ghost stories. The book of poetry that she’d been reading most nights before bed. He didn’t do too badly. But he wasn’t exactly hers, was he?

  “Her pa owns a small farm, with an orchard, some land, and a stream. It’s a pretty place.”

  “It sounds nice. May I ask why you’re in jail this time?”

  “Walking too fast on the boardwalk. The sheriff is still after me to teach him how to gamble.”

  Grace didn’t even try to hold back a grin. “And you’re not going to teach him anything, are you?”

  Angel grinned back at her. “Nope. Not ever.”

  She chuckled, then stood and walked over to the sheriff’s desk. In the third drawer, she found a set of keys and held them up. “Well? If you’re gone when he gets back, maybe he’ll forget he had you locked up in here.” She jingled the keys. “Would you like to take the chance?”

  His grin widened, stretching his scar and giving him an ominous air. “Ma’am. I’m a gambler at heart. Chance might as well be my middle name.”

  There must have been something of a risk taker in her as well, because when she thought about what would happen if Luke found out about this, she grinned.

  With a laugh, she freed Angel.

  They used the church for their planning meeting, and the pews were completely filled with women.

  It was loud in the room with so many ladies talking at once.

  Minnie sat comfortably in a chair that had been brought in especially for her. Front and center, she gave everyone a reason for what they were about to do.

  The widow stood and raised her hands, indicating a need for silence, and everyone settled. “Thank you all for coming. I know that so many of you have done so much for our cause. But ladies, it’s time to take the next step. It’s time to let these men know we mean business! They cannot do whatever they want with our town! They cannot turn it into a cesspool of sin and debauchery while we turn our backs and do nothing!”

  A cheer rang out in the church.

  “We have four days left until the tournament! Let’s run these no good gamblers right out of our town before then!”

  More cheering.

  Mrs. Braxton looked pleased. “All right, I am open to any and all suggestions. We need fresh ideas!”

  “We could have a protest picnic!” A matronly woman stood. “We could post flyers about town saying that it’s the best food ever made! We could say that all the pretty girls will be there!”

  Some of the younger girls giggled.

  Mrs. Braxton shook her head. “We have had so many picnics lately that none of the men will care. But please, keep throwing out ideas.”

  “We could hold a protest at the hotel!”

  Mrs. Braxton nodded. “Mrs. Simpson, write that one down.”

  “My husband hates to be ignored. We could refuse to talk to any of the men.”

  “That’s a new one. I like that.”

  One of the ladies laughed. “My husband might consider that a blessing.”

  “I agree,” said another. “I’ve been giving my husband the cold shoulder, but he hasn’t seemed to care in the least.”

  Grace tried to think of a good idea. “The pie shop is already closed. Is there a way we could shut down the restaurant in town?”

  “Mr. Lovato would never agree to that,” Mrs. Braxton stated firmly. “He’s making too much money. Anyway, if we did that, most men would just eat at the new hotel.”

  The church was silent for a moment. The ladies started to look at each other.

  “One good thing is that it will be over soon,” offered one woman. “Then maybe everyone will go home.”

  Several ladies nodded and murmured their agreement.

  “Maybe we should just stay in our houses until the entire thing is over,” said another lady.

  Again, more nods and murmurs of agreement.

  Mrs. Braxton searched their faces, and her shoulders slumped. “Come, ladies. We’re intelligent, God-fearing women. Surely we can come up with something!”

  The widow was right. Grace’s jaw firmed. “All right, I’d like to suggest an idea. What if we choose a time and a location and we all showed up with signs of protest? What if we walked around and picketed? We could take turns and when one group gets tired, another can take over. We can use the pie shop to take breaks and perhaps picket the mayor’s office, the sheriff’s office, or even the hotel itself.”

  “That is a grand idea!”

  Ladies began to clap.

  “What else? Let’s keep going ladies!”

  Grace had another idea. “Who is the Justice of the Peace? Could we register a protest with him?”

  The widow was exuberant. She cupped her hands. “He is out traveling at the moment, but we could try to send him a letter. What else? What else!”

  Grace had an idea that stunned her with its simplicity. The only problem was, it would be like throwing down the gauntlet personally between her and Luke.

  Uncertainty flashed through her.

  Was she sure she wanted to do that? Sure she wanted to take things that far? In the past, she’d been half on board with the widow but sympathetic toward Luke. This was like telling him what he wanted didn’t matter to her. She knew how men reacted when their egos were bruised. If she suggested this, Luke would find out it was her. It might ruin her chances for a relationship with him. He wouldn’t want anything to do with either Miss Carmichael or Miss Grace West. Ever. But … she glanced at Minnie. It was the right thing to do. Maybe it was for the best, anyway.

  She took a breath, and reminded herself that this was war.

  Men liked cold hard facts. And they were scared of them, too. She’d been around enough high-powered businessmen in her life to know that they always wanted specifics. And then they made decisions based on those details.

  “What if we hit them where it really hurts. What if we figured out what the men’s chances of winning actually are? Isn’t there only going to be one winner? And then we’ll write up a bunch of posters, and display them all over town. Once the men understand how low their chances are, perhaps they’ll start dropping out of th
e tournament?”

  Mrs. Braxton appeared transfixed.

  Pearl Thomas raised her hand. “We could … we could include some artwork, of some sad, down-on-their-luck, men.”

  Grace smiled. “Pearl! That is a fabulous idea! And to really entice the men away, we will hold that picnic. I really liked the idea of touting it as the best food ever.”

  The lady who’d made the suggestion puffed up with pride.

  “Perhaps change the best recipes to secret family recipes, to appear more enticing.” Grace was starting to get excited. “If the men are not going to be playing poker, if they are going to give it up, then we are going to have to feed them. Think of it as a consolation prize. But we will hold the picnic at exactly the same time as the tournament. So men who were not in the tournament can enjoy it.”

  She considered another idea, hesitated, then decided, why not? “We could even raffle a kiss.”

  Mrs. Braxton appeared to be speechless as her mouth hung partway open. She slowly smiled, looking more calculating by the moment.

  “Ladies?”

  “This could actually work,” Grace assured them. “If we hit them where it hurts, right in their pocketbooks, and subject them to doubt, we might actually have a chance to disrupt this tournament.”

  The room broke out in applause.

  Chapter 27

  Luke tried the widow Braxton’s house, but Grace wasn’t there. Next he headed to the pie shop, where he should have gone in the first place, but why would he? It was supposed to be closed.

  He trembled with anger and it didn’t help that he couldn’t find the source of his ire.

  Grace Carmichael.

  How could she have done this to him? Why would she have done this to him? He’d thought they were getting on so well, and the tournament was going to be over soon, so why did it have to be her that came up with an idea to sabotage it?

  As he jumped up on the boardwalk, he saw another of those blasted posters. In this one, it listed facts and figures for gambling, basically telling every man jack of them they didn’t have the slightest chance at winning. The picture showed a down-on-his-luck cowboy pulling his pockets inside-out, a sad look upon his face.