Yours Again (River City Series)

by Dee Burks

  “No, it’s not.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her to face him. “Yes, it is.” He couldn’t think why she was being so stubborn.

  “Not for me it’s not,” The tremble in her voice was slight, but it still it caught his attention. She was upset and it was deeper than this. Much deeper.

  He reached out and touched a strand of golden hair that had sprung loose from the knot she’d fashioned it into, “Sammy, I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “I don’t want you to say anything, Taos.” Unshed tears glistened. “When are you going to understand I don’t want a ranch or anything you think you have to offer me.”

  “Then what do you want from me?” This was the most confused he’d been since she’d stepped into his life.

  “Everything else,” she whispered, and then stalked back to the wagon.

  He slapped his hat on his thigh. What in the hell did she mean by that?

  Taos jammed the hat back on and climbed up into the wagon after her. He released the brake and the wagon lurched forward again. As the horses clomped back onto the road, the silence stretched between them. Something about that conversation felt like the most honest chat they’d had since she got here, and if that were true then he’d been wrong. About a lot of things. If she’d wanted to get married, wanted the ranch, money, everything he had, he’d just offered it to her on a silver platter. She’d flat refused. He had no idea what “everything else” meant, but he came up clueless.

  “When did you send that letter?” She asked.

  The question startled him a little. “Uh, back before—”

  “No.” She cut him off. “What date?”

  “About three weeks ago, give or take.” He glanced over at her. He could see wheels in that mind of hers spinning. “Why?”

  “I don’t think we should go into town.”

  “Why not?”

  “If John got that letter he could be here now.” She looked over at him and then glanced back at Tommy.

  His first instinct was to push that idea aside. He’d thought she made the guy up anyway, but something in her eyes, her voice, stopped him cold. He instantly knew she hadn’t been lying. But even if the guy intercepted the letter, it would be pushing it to think he could already be here.

  “You will be fine.” He said, trying hard to convince her. “I want to alert Blake to be on the lookout for anyone fitting his description as soon as we get there. We’ll stock enough supplies to last for a bit, then go back to the ranch and barricade the place. Okay?”

  She did her best to smile, but he knew she was worried. He reached over and took her hand in his, giving her a little squeeze. They finished the rest of the ride in silence, but every sense Taos had was now on high alert.

  As the wagon pulled to a stop in front of the mercantile Tommy hopped out, chattering a steady steam. Taos helped Samantha down.

  Taos spoke quietly. “Get anything you think we might need.”

  She nodded, casting a wary glance up and down the street.

  “Stay inside, I’ll meet you here in a few minutes.”

  Samantha grabbed Tommy’s hand and disappeared into the mercantile.

  Chapter 18

  Samantha stopped short as the conversations in the mercantile came to a halt and all eyes turned toward her. She twisted and scanned the air behind her. No one. Clearing her throat, she walked up to the counter, Tommy at her heels.

  “Good morning Mrs. Hardin.” She flashed a warm smile and held out her shopping list. The whispers were barely audible, yet they were there. The sounds floated toward her, but she couldn’t determine what all the fuss was about.

  The older woman glanced around the store. Samantha could feel the stares of the patrons boring a hole in her back.

  “Good Morning, Samantha.” She read the scrap of paper then set about filling the order.

  A group of men stood at the end of the counter, deep in discussion. One smiled and nodded her way. She smiled and nodded back then turned her attention to a catalogue lying on the counter. The pages were full of things she had seen every day in Boston, but they seemed out of place and far removed from River City. Small snippets of the men’s conversation reached her ears.

  “Smitty said Fletcher held a gun on one ol’ boy, til he put his campfire out,” the man with the long handlebar mustache said.

  “Don’t blame him, myself,” a barrel chested older man added. “If that grass caught fire I’d be done for.” Several nodded in agreement.

  “It’s bad enough there ain’t enough water, but a fire would take all the forage too,” Handlebar added.

  “The stock that didn’t die in the fire would starve, then?” Mr. Hardin asked.

  “Yup.” Barrel Chest nodded. “A sane man would’ve done sold out and just be laying in the weeds ’til things turned ’round.”

  “Whoever said cattlemen was sane?” Handlebar laughed and they all joined in.

  Mr. Hardin walked down to Samantha.

  She looked up at him and smiled.

  “You feeling alright, Miss Sammy?” His voice was barely a whisper, but the conversation of the men stopped as if waiting on an answer.

  “Just fine. And you?”

  He didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

  Samantha frowned. She thought she looked all right when she left this morning. Maybe worry about John or the stress of dealing with Taos showed on her face. She leaned toward him and whispered, “Don’t I look all right?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am, you just look fine.” he smiled and some of the men chuckled, “We were just worried about you, you know.” He straightened the glass jars of licorice. “Wanted to know how you was gettin’ along, that’s all.”

  The whispering started again and Samantha twisted around. Two young women that had obviously been staring at her quickly turned away. The men were staring too.

  A sense of foreboding gripped Samantha. Could these people tell what she had been doing last night? She must look different somehow or be giving off some sign that she was no longer what they might call a “respectable young lady.” Her face burned red.

  Mrs. Hardin stepped out from the back room with a stern look on her face. “Henry, can I speak with you a moment?” Mr. Hardin followed his wife out of sight. Samantha could hear their voices, but couldn't distinguish any words until Mr. Hardin raised his voice.

  “She said she was fine, Sarah. You need to stay out of it.”

  “And I said that I will not have this talk going on any longer, and that’s that.”

  Mrs. Hardin appeared once again from the back room. She cleared her throat and said rather loudly, “I have two of these canisters in the back, but they’re different colors.” She stared pointedly at Samantha. “You’ll need to show me which one you prefer.”

  There was nothing on the list but the usual supply of staple goods for the kitchen. Samantha raised her brows. Mrs. Hardin jerked her head toward the back and Samantha came around the counter to follow her.

  “Henry, keep an eye on Tommy, will you? Maybe a lemon drop or two.”

  He nodded and bent to occupy the boy.

  The older woman motioned Samantha into the tiny office at the very back of the store and closed the door. The room was stuffy and oppressive; the only air came from a very small window that seemed more decorative than functional. Papers peeked out of the drawers and from under the cover of a small roll-top desk. There was one chair and a small stool. Samantha perched on the edge of the stool.

  The older woman was a little short of breath and took a moment to compose herself as Samantha sat in confused silence. “I’m sorry dear, but I had to talk to you. The town’s all abuzz.”

  “What about?”

  “You!”

  “What about me?”

  Mrs. Hardin took a deep breath and reached over to pat Samantha’s hand. “Now, dear, I know I’m not your mother or even family, but I knew your mother and the kind of woman she was.” She looked at Samant
ha like she should know what was going on.

  “What does my mother have to do with this?” The wary sensation that grew in the pit of Samantha’s stomach gnawed at her insides, intent on burning a hole through her body.

  Mrs. Hardin heaved her more than ample chest. “Well I guess I’ll have to explain.” She twisted her fingers together.

  “Please do.” Samantha rolled the fabric of her dress between her fingers absently as she watched the woman turn in one circle after another with no room to pace.

  “A young, unattached woman just can’t live under the same roof as an unattached man for an extended period of time unless they”—she fluttered her hands in the air—“you know, become attached.”

  Dread hit Samantha head on, like unexpectedly walking through a spider web that stubbornly clings to your face. Moisture coated the palms of her hands and shivers chased gooseflesh down her back. “Is that what everyone is whispering about?’

  “Some people, Mertie Mae in particular, have been assuming the worst.” She flung her hands up like the sky was falling. Maybe it was.

  Samantha sat in stunned silence.

  “Especially after that story went around that you had been to Miss Sadie’s.”

  Oh no. Not that.

  “It is just a rumor, isn’t it dear?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Mrs. Hardin’s eyes widened.

  “It’s a long story, but nothing happened there. You must believe me.”

  “Oh, I do child. But other people aren’t so open minded when it comes to these things.”

  “I have to go.” Samantha said, her voice a mere whisper. She wanted to run as fast and far as she could.

  Mrs. Hardin placed a hand on her arm. “There’s more.”

  More? She didn’t think she could take any more.

  “You know about Sharisse?”

  Samantha nodded.

  “Then you know that she talked a lot before she left. About how Taos had beaten her.”

  “That’s not true.” She tried to control her temper.

  “Now dear, I know that rumor isn’t true, I just thought you should know.” Mrs. Hardin stared at her hands. “That’s why people are looking at you like they are. They expected to see you covered with bruises.”

  “That is ridiculous!” She crossed her arms, furious at the speculation of strangers. “This whole thing is ridiculous! Do these people have nothing better to do than talk and gossip?”

  “No, they don’t. You need to realize that and so does Taos. He isn’t helping matters, what with threatening to shoot Sonny Harper and all.”

  “He what?”

  “Sonny went out to call on you and Taos told him if he stepped foot on the ranch again he would shoot him dead.”

  “I can’t believe Taos would say that.” Well, actually she could.

  “Well he scared the life out of Sonny, who was in here the next morning telling how he’d seen women’s clothes scattered all across the ground and no sign of you.”

  Samantha breathed deep. This was getting worse by the second.

  “We were worried sick.”

  Samantha jumped up. “I have to go.” She had to find Taos. He could set these gossipmongers straight.

  She stepped through the door, but the sound of Tommy’s voice stopped her in her tracks. The boy sat on the counter, enjoying a small pile of lemon drops with a group of women and men crowded in front of him.

  “Naw, she sleeps in her own room most of the time.”

  “And the other times?” Mertie Mae was leading the pack, her spectacles sliding far down her hawkish nose. The vultures pressed closer, not wanting to miss one juicy detail.

  “She sleeps with my dad, but he squishes her a lot.”

  The breath left Samantha’s lungs as the women in the crowd gasped and whispered. She didn’t miss a few of the men covering grins and exchanging winks. If a bridge could be burned any faster, she didn’t know how. There was no way to explain, nothing she could say that would appease them. Nothing that was true, anyway.

  Mertie Mae crossed her arms and smiled triumphantly at Mrs. Hardin.

  “Well, well, well. There’s the little strumpet now.” Mertie Mae strode across the floor toward them, her two mulish daughters in her shadow. The crowd collectively held its breath. She stopped with the toes of her boots almost touching Samantha’s. “So, will there be a wedding or will you continue to endanger the moral fabric of our community?”

  Samantha wanted to laugh and cry, but mostly she just wanted to breathe. The air burned her throat and her eyes ached with tears of shame. If only the earth would open up and swallow her in one gulp. As the possibility of rescue dimmed, Samantha’s mind lurched into motion.

  Run.

  The crowd waited in hushed silence as a plan materialized. She needed to distract them and get away. Taos would know what to do. A simple plan, but the implementation part might be a bit of a challenge as they stood between her and the door.

  Samantha looked into the faces of people who had befriended her in the short time she had been here. They conveyed every emotion from sympathy to disgust. Every one of them stood awaiting some kind of response from her.

  Mrs. Hardin scooted up behind her. “You go out there and hold your head up. Don’t let that old battle axe get to you. You just stand your ground and meet her head on. Like a modern day Joan of Arc.”

  The woman had a point. Attack was her best bet. Actually it was her only bet. Joan of Arc. If one woman could face a whole army, then she could certainly stand up to one horse-faced woman. Hopefully this wouldn’t end with her being burned at the stake, though her insides were certainly on fire. Samantha threw back her shoulders and squarely faced Mertie Mae.

  “Moral fabric? Is that what women like you use to force men to marry?”

  Snickers floated from the crowd and the ring leader turned and stared at them, ending any humor. She glared at Samantha. “It’s what keeps our communities from being polluted by women like you. Some cheap hussy out to steal our own good men from us.”

  Samantha's brow shot up. “And just who do you think I’m stealing him from?” She glanced at the woman’s incredibly plain daughters, daring her to name them as even remote possibilities.

  “From the local women. The local, God-fearing women.” She stared pointedly at Samantha.

  Definitely a tambourine banger. Mavis was right about this type of woman. They wore morality like a shield as long as it suited their purpose. The heat rose up Samantha’s cheeks and she clenched her fists at her sides. She resisted the urge to pop her hand across the large hairy mole that squatted on the enemy’s cheek.

  “I have no need to steal anything from anyone.” Her voice pitched higher.

  “Aheem!!!”

  The crowd turned with one motion toward the sound. Mavis stood by the door, a regal rose in a field of dandelions. She floated gracefully toward Mertie Mae with the barest rustle of silk to mark her movement. “Mertie Mae Morrison, are you giving this young woman a hard time?” The crowd watched in stunned silence as the two women sized one another up.

  “We don’t need your kind either, Mavis Simpson.” The woman’s bitterness leaked out like sour milk on a hot day.

  Mavis’s smile was that of a queen, welcome serenity among absolute madness. “I know that nearly half of the population of this town would disagree with you.” Whispers chased through the crowd. “Including your husband.”

  Guffaws and giggles followed as Mertie Mae’s face turned a splotchy red.

  “Well, I never” She pointed her nose in the air with righteous indignation.

  Mavis chuckled. “So I hear.” She winked at Samantha as the crowd roared. Mertie Mae stormed out of the store, followed by her daughters who ran into, then out of, the door.

  Samantha smiled her thanks to Mavis and tried to slip out quietly with Tommy in tow. The patrons of the store spilled out onto the sidewalk to follow. They knew she was going to share this incident with Taos, and heaven forbid
they miss any fireworks.

  Taos was partway across the street on his way from the Sheriff’s office when he saw the approaching mob. His eyes met Samantha’s. He stood stone still. She hated what she saw in his expression. Fear, suspicion, anger—what must he be thinking? She suddenly realized that Reverend Miller was running alongside them. Her gaze snapped back to Taos. She saw all the blood drain out of his face, and she could just imagine the comparison of this incident to his first marriage.

  Her mind screamed at him to run, to get them out of here and away from this crowd. They could talk in private, and she had no desire to give the townspeople any more fodder for the gossip mill. Instead, he stood silently and waited, as still and immovable as a mountain.

  Samantha stopped and tried to catch her breath. “We have to talk.” She silently pleaded with him.

  The spectators spread out, surrounding them like two prize fighters in a ring preventing a speedy escape.

  “About what?” He glanced nervously at the crowd as it pressed closer.

  Reverend Miller timidly approached and tried to offer his assistance. “I was told there was going to be a wedding.” He smiled, silently encouraging Taos.

  Samantha could see the disappointment in Taos’s eyes. He’d finally believed her this morning; she felt it. He’d believed her about John, about everything. The warm, compassionate man she’d grown to love had finally shown himself completely, but now he was gone again, replaced by the hard, cold, suspicious man she’d first met.

  The mountain never wavered. “You were told wrong. There will be no wedding.”

  There were gasps of disbelief, and conversation buzzed around them with a multitude of speculation.

  Samantha looked at Taos, willing him to put an end to this show and just get them home. “I didn’t say I would marry anyone, so you can relax.”

  Silence descended again.

  The thought crossed Samantha’s mind at how strange quiet could be. Not even the birds and insects seemed to move. The whole world had ceased to turn just for this moment and her gut feeling was that she would remember this as the worst day of her life.

  “There was a misunderstanding about something that Tommy said in the mercantile,” she whispered.