by Rachel Bird
She turned to leave, but among the papers Polk was looking through, the name “Tagget’s” caught her eye. “What’s that?” She knew exactly what it was—the paperwork for Mae’s taxes.
“Official business.” Polk stuck the sheet under the others and set them aside. “Did you just come to gossip with your sister, or do you have need of the law?”
Time was of the essence. Campaign Pig In A Polk—Charity’s idea to thwart Faith’s nemesis—couldn’t get underway too soon! She was still grumbling when she returned to the modiste, but the scene inside drove out all thoughts of Harman Polk.
Hannah had returned with Naomi, and everyone was oohing and aahing over the dresses and gowns. Jane was with Naomi behind the dressing screen, assembling the complicated wedding gown.
“Isn’t this beadwork simply splendiferous?” With a grand flourish, Hannah spread the bride’s veil over the counter. The white-on-white beading and embroidery depicted flowers, birds, and butterflies so thick the veil was practically opaque.
“Splendiferous.” Charity smiled at Hannah’s exuberance. “But will Naomi be able to see through it on her journey up the aisle?” Her journey up the aisle to marry Mr. Morgan.
The thought didn’t inspire jealousy. Rather, it inflicted pain. Which was ridiculous. Charity didn’t love Mr. Morgan.
How could she? She barely knew him. But she wanted him. She wanted him in the same way she’d wanted Naomi’s shawl and Ma’s brooch. Intensely. Irrationally. In a way that could come to no good.
“I understand now why society ladies admire this designer so much.” She forced herself not to think of Naomi and Mr. Morgan’s happiness but instead to enjoy Hannah and Jane’s fun.
And it was true about the fashions.
Each item was a work of art, from the elegant ballgown (Jane was right; it would be stunning on Faith) to the complicated afternoon dresses, to the undergarments never meant to be seen in public, but too beautiful to be kept hidden.
Charity couldn’t fathom purchasing one parasol, let alone what the entire wardrobe must have cost. And to think, Evangeline St. James had blithely given it all away, practically to strangers. She couldn’t wait to know the story behind such an extravagant gesture.
“Ladies,” Jane said, “may I present the bride?”
Naomi stepped out from behind the screen. Jane was holding the dress at the back, but everyone could see how it would look when fitted.
“Oh my goodness,” Abigail said. “Charlotte Gensch was right. Naomi, you’re simply beautiful. You quite take my breath away.”
“I couldn’t say it any better.” This made it real. It hit Charity that at this time two days from now Naomi would be Mrs. Preston Morgan. “But will the dress be ready?”
“If I have to work straight through,” Jane said. “But don’t count on Naomi being home tonight until late.”
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Charity said. “I need to get back to the store. Mae is probably chomping at the bit to come see everything. And Naomi, I’ll make supper tonight. Stay as late as you need to.”
She was thrilled for her sister. She just wished it didn’t hurt so much. And then, returning to Tagget’s, she nearly ran into Mr. Morgan on the sidewalk.
“Pardon me,” he said gallantly. Why had the angels made his smile so bright and friendly and full of goodness?
“I call that manners, when I’m the one who almost plowed into you.” Then Charity remembered what Polk had said. “I heard you helped search the river this morning. Did you… did you find anything?”
“I’m sorry, but no. We’ve finished for today, but no one is quitting.”
“It was good of you to help.”
“Not at all. It’s the right thing to do.” Straightforward, a simple statement, no expectation of praise. He looked past her to the modiste. “I heard Naomi was at Mrs. Vanderhouten’s.”
“Ah, yes. But you can’t see her.” Charity moved, blocking the way to the door. “Probably not for the rest of the day.”
“All day?” Frustration played over his face. He must be in love!
“She’s having her wedding gown fitted. You know it’s bad luck to see your bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony.”
“But that’s tomorrow.”
“Of course, you wouldn’t have heard. Doc says Parson Hood won’t be fit for it until day after tomorrow.”
“Then I guess it can’t be helped.” He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. “I’m at loose ends. Is there something I can do for you? Or your sisters. An errand or task.”
She grinned. “Now you mention it, there is.”
Chapter 27
Campaign Pig In A Polk.
That’s what Charity had named the scheme she and the other ladies of Main Street had come up with. What does it mean? he’d asked. The answer, Nothing, really. I just like the way it sounds. Adorable!
Rafe’s part in said campaign, she’d informed him, was to be Knight in Shining Armor. What man worth his salt could resist? It would be a pleasant use of his time since he’d been banished from Naomi’s presence for rest of today. Clearly Faith’s invitation to supper at Calico Manor would have to be revoked.
Luckily, though, the preacher being laid up gave Rafe a reprieve, another day to get things straight. If all went well, his suit would arrive from the Morning Star by the end of today, tomorrow he’d speak with Naomi, and the next day he’d be a married man.
None of the Steeles struck Rafe as pretentious. He didn’t think Naomi would object on principle to marrying a rancher’s brother instead of the rancher she was expecting, so long as she liked the rancher’s brother. The deputy job in Rosamund would pay enough to support a wife, especially with Pres’s gift of a house, and when the sheriff’s job opened up, Rafe felt he had a good chance of winning election to it.
Picturing such a life, Rafe felt more optimistic than he had in quite a while. Maybe ever. As soon as they started building their lives together, this fancy for Charity Steele would pass.
He found Faith at the sheriff’s office, returned from the morning’s search. Rather than relaxing for two minutes, he found her in the cells in the back, cleaning up after last night’s prisoners.
“Where’s Polk?”
“Across the street at the hotel café, having dinner.” She put away the mop and led him out front.
“You have the patience of Job, working for that man.”
“If I thought it was forever, I’d turn in my badge today. But Fontana, now—he’s a good man to work for.”
“And this is a town worth protecting.”
“It is that.” She poured two cups of strong coffee and handed him one before sitting down at her desk. “Thank you for your help yesterday and this morning. You have the instincts of a lawman, and you wear authority well. Unlike some.”
“I’ve been deputized before.” At her puzzled look, he remembered who he was supposed to be and added, “Temporarily.”
Not wanting to sit in Polk’s chair, he leaned back against the man’s desk. Fontana’s desk.
“I can tell.”
He’d like to tell Faith about his ambition to become a man of the law, but that was another thing for Naomi to hear first. “As for authority, I find most people interesting and enjoyable. Makes it easier to gain their trust.”
“Easier than cattle?”
He laughed. “For me, yes, truth be told.” It was the truth, but they were getting dangerously close to too much truth. “I’m here for a purpose, by the way. Charity sent me.”
“Charity did?” Faith leaned back and raised an eyebrow, as if… as if she saw inside him and understood everything. But he couldn’t talk about Charity. It would only make feelings he must suppress more real, and what good would that do anybody?
“Naomi is having a fitting for her wedding dress, and apparently it’s going to take all day and late into the evening. So we won’t be having supper tonight, I imagine. I asked your sister for an occu
pation, and she’s enlisted me in a scheme to undermine the acting sheriff.”
“Campaign Pig In A Polk?”
“So you know. I’m to be your bodyguard while you to collect the taxes for the Lilac Hotel, Tagget’s, the modiste, Sweet Dee’s, and the shoemaker’s shop, and we’re to store the loot in the hotel safe.”
“Five establishments,” Faith said. “Four of them run by women.”
“It’s a start,” Rafe said. “And Charity said to tell you they didn’t have a chance yet to ask Doc.”
“That was smart. Handy tip, Mr. Morgan. Never interrupt Dr. Declan when he’s in his cups or tending to a patient.” Faith glanced out the window at the hotel. “Let’s skedaddle before Polk comes back and sets me to some thankless busywork.”
She unlocked a drawer in her desk and withdrew a file of paperwork.
“I found this on his desk—again—when I got back from the river. If you’d come tomorrow, I’m sure it would have been too late.” Again she looked at him as if she knew everything. “But you wouldn’t have come tomorrow. You have a date at the church.”
He told her about the postponement.
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Good then. We’ll have one more day before losing Naomi.”
“Losing her?”
“You’ll be heading back to your ranch. I’d imagine you can’t stay away too long.”
“It’s only been two days.”
Two days? It felt an age. The whole world had changed.
“Old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” Faith closed the desk drawer and looked at him. “Even one day—even an hour—can change an entire life, I’ve learned.”
Even a moment. Rafe pictured a red-haired young woman at a store counter, her eyes full of sunlight and curiosity and fun. On seeing her, the unnamed emptiness which had been his constant companion had simply vanished, and in that moment his heart had found its home.
But what did it matter? Rafe was a man. He’d been attracted to more than one woman in his life. That was the nature of things. Heck, there was once a time he thought himself hopelessly in love with someone else. His heart had been broken when he came West, like so many, to start a new life.
He’d like to tell himself this was different. His feelings for Charity were more profound that any he’d ever felt. But he couldn’t swear that was true. What he did know was this: it wasn’t a man’s reaction to the wrong woman that mattered, but how he conducted himself in spite of it.
Rafe was no John Deckom, flailing about, crying for what he wanted without a care for the lady’s opinion on the matter. If Charity Steele had no desire for matrimony, he had to respect that. If she made his soul dance, well, best keep it to himself.
He liked and admired Naomi, and there was no better foundation for a marriage than that.
Oh, Lord, what was he to do? Until two days ago, he was a practical man. A rational man, master of his own destiny. Now he’d lost all control and everything was hurtling toward its inevitable end. Was marrying Naomi Steele God’s plan for him—or was he a blooming idiot?
Maybe he should talk to Faith about it.
The lady deputy had grabbed a large leather satchel from the shelves, and now she slung it over her shoulder with a grin. “For the loot. Where to first, Mr. Morgan?”
The moment had passed.
“Well, I’ve heard Sweet Dee’s is mighty elegant…”
“I’m sure you have.” She laughed and shook her head, as if to pronounce him a typical man. “Let’s go see Lily Rose then.”
At the bawdy house, Rafe found out what Cyril did for the place—intimidate the clientele. The man was on the short side and dressed like a dandy, but there was no hiding his muscular build or his desire to put that brawn to good use. He was explaining the facts of life to a customer who’d stayed on after yesterdays’ fun.
“See that?” He pointed to a sign on the wall:
Anyone Who Hits a Dove
Will Be Banished Permanently
A smartly dressed woman dealt poker at a card table, and covering the back wall was a polished oak bar that would suit the finest hotel in Albany—or New York City, for that matter.
“Deputy Steele, Mr. Morgan. It’s good to see you.” Lily Rose came down a wide set of stairs sporting a Turkish-style carpet runner and an elaborately carved bannister. She turned to her doorman. “Cyril, Red John is still upstairs, giving the maids grief. Would you let him know his courtesy stay is at an end?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cyril and Rafe exchanged respectful nods. They’d spent hours digging a grave together, after all, and were no longer strangers.
“Is there a problem with Deckom?” Faith asked.
“Nothing that can be fixed.” Lily Rose shook her head. “The man’s an idiot. Last night he could have been made very happy, on the house, but he drank too much and had to be carried off to his room, crying all the way. Said the only tart he wanted was his strawberry tart.”
Instinctively, Rafe clenched his fists. He felt Faith’s gaze on him, but if he looked at her he’d explode. Right now he’d like nothing more than to head upstairs with Cyril and help make sure Red John got to moving along.
“Won’t you come back to my office?” Lily Rose was already walking away.
She led them past a stage set in a corner of the room, situated so every table on the floor had a decent view. Rafe had to agree, gentleman’s club fit the place better than bawdy house. And while he disagreed with cathouses in principle, until there were enough wives in the West, there would be cathouses. Whatever they called themselves, far better they catered to the civilized side of a man’s nature than only his basest drives.
“What kind of entertainment do you have here?”
“It’s usually singers and magicians. We had some acrobats once. Never again. I’m hoping to book a traveling dramatic troupe for late August or early September and invite all the town—including the ladies.”
“Oh, the ladies will come, whatever the show,” Faith said. “My other sisters are still green with envy that Belle and I have had reason to see inside Sweet Dee’s.”
In the office, she showed Lily Rose the tax papers and signed a receipt for the cash, which they secured in the postal bag.
“Thanks for doing this,” Faith said. “Polk’s not going to like it.”
“That Polk is a varmint,” Lily Rose said. “Besides, you know I’m all for women having their share of the pie, and Mrs. Montgomery agrees. What do you say to that, Mr. Morgan?”
“I agree too.” Rafe had actually never thought about it before. Shouldn’t a woman derive her share of the pie, as Lily Rose put it, through and with her husband? But he was never one to argue with success. Break Heart had a good share of woman-owned businesses and was obviously better off for it.
They came back through the main room as Cyril brought Red John down to the door. It appeared Deckom still had his nose painted.
“You!” He slipped out of Cyril’s grasp and listed awkwardly toward Rafe. “The big man! Think you can buy your way into people’s good opinions. Shoe Argentino my eye! Well, you can’t have her, Morgan. She’s mine!”
Without ceremony, Rafe and Cyril grabbed Red John by the shoulders and tossed the lout out into the street.
Lily Rose shrugged as if Deckom was making no sense. Leaning against the doorway, she told him, “You could have had sweet dreams in clean, cool sheets of linen, Red John, but you had to go and act like a spooney. Now go find a bush somewhere to sleep it off under.”
The first flank of Campaign Pig In A Polk was a success. After Sweet Dee’s, Faith collected taxes from the shoemaker. While they were there, Mr. Weissenegger took Rafe’s measurements for a new pair of boots. Next stop was Tagget’s, then the Lilac Hotel, where they deposited the cash into the hotel safe.
“Now that plans for a schoolhouse are underway, the next thing we need is a bank,” the mayor said. “I don’t like having to transport large amounts of cash all the way to Greeley.”
Rafe and the deputy headed out again for their final collection of the day. He’d suggested they save Mrs. Vanderhouten’s place until the end, figuring he’d ask to walk Naomi home later and have that talk.
No such luck. The curtains were drawn and a new sign had been placed in the window:
Today Ladies Only
It was enforced.
“Faith can come in, but not the bridegroom!”
Mrs. Vanderhouten rushed to the doorway when she saw Rafe standing there. With a grin, she placed her palm firmly on his chest and pushed him out, but not before he saw the showroom covered in ladies’ garments draped over every available space. He caught a glimpse of Naomi peeking over a modesty screen as Mrs. V ushered him out onto the street.
“Wait here. I’ll send Faith out shortly. You should know better, young man, than to try to see your bride in her wedding gown!”
Charity had been laughing. In fact, all the ladies had great fun at his expense, gaily taunting him as Mrs. V closed the door.
Chapter 28
Friday morning Rafe came down from his room at the Lilac Hotel, bound and determined to see Naomi alone today no matter what. As predicted, she’d been kept busy with her wedding dress all day yesterday, and he’d been informed that she’d be required for another fitting today.
But Rafe had a plan.
After breakfast, he’d go straight down to Calico Manor. By then her sisters and Luke would be gone to their various occupations. It wasn’t proper to call on her when she was alone, but he was desperate.
He stopped at the front desk to see if his suit had arrived. Rafe didn’t even pretend to understand the ladies’ excitement over the shipment of dresses that had arrived from the sister that got away, but if Naomi cared that much about fashion, he hoped his suit showed up before tomorrow.
“Good morning, Mr. Morgan. I hope you slept well.” Teddy Gensch was manning the desk. He pushed up his spectacles. “No suit yet, but you have a visitor in the café.”