The Defiant Hearts Series Box Set

by Sydney Jane Baily

  From what Charlotte had seen, some of them were quite adept at dressmaking.

  For her part, she could barely sew on a button, let alone create a dress appropriate for an evening dance even if there was time. Regina Sanborn knew only the art of needlepoint and found that too tedious to teach her daughter. Her mother's dresses had always been made by seamstresses when she'd lived in Boston, and Charlotte remembered overnight outings to Denver when her mother needed something new.

  Charlotte's own dresses had been bought at Miss Finney's until she was fourteen, and then... Charlotte frowned.

  She had probably bought two plain dresses in the past ten years—everything else was recycled from her mother's wardrobe. She did not mind in the least wearing her mother's clothing, though she had worn out most of her dresses, not to mention finishing her growth at about three inches taller than Regina.

  Her eyes refocused on the work at hand. The article in front of her was supposed to be on the problems between the farmers who were cordoning off more and more land with barbed wire and the cattlemen who were running out of places to drive their cattle. She had barely begun it as she couldn't keep her mind on the task at hand.

  "Blazes!" She looked around guiltily, which only made her madder. This was her home, and she could curse or daydream if she wanted, but by God, she would not be daydreaming if it weren't for that infernal lawyer who had somehow got the upper hand.

  They should have been gone by now, Charlotte fumed, only she wasn't driving them out. Instead, she'd been polite and caring and almost... motherly. And worst of all, she was enjoying their company too much by half!

  She still didn't know how to answer Reed's question from the night before—how could she help him work out the problem of what to do with young Thomas and Lily? She only knew that today she wasn't getting any work done. She might as well make a good showing at the one and only town dance she was ever likely to attend.

  She gathered up her blue beaded purse, making sure she had enough money inside before she hung it on her wrist, and placed a favorite bonnet on top of her head. Reed was outside with the children, who were good about being quiet when she was writing—or supposedly writing. The three of them turned to her, and she felt a brief moment of panic.

  How would she explain abandoning her work for a silly whim? Reed was already looking at her with that quizzical gaze. She didn't want him to know that she didn't have anything proper to wear or that it mattered to her that she did. Then she had a stroke of brilliance.

  "Come along, Lily. We need to get you a dress for the dance." She watched as three mouths seemed to drop open at once. "No?"

  "But I already have a dress, Aunt Charlotte."

  "Oh. You brought it with you from Boston?"

  The little girl nodded, and Charlotte saw a smile spread on Reed's face. But she wouldn't give up.

  "Well," she faltered, "what about you, Thomas?" She would prefer to have the little girl with her but any port in a storm, at this point. "Do you need anything?"

  He just shook his head. Then Lily's face brightened. "I need a new pair of stockings. White ones," she added for emphasis.

  "There you are, then," Charlotte said gratefully. "How could you get slicked up for a dance without white stockings? Come along, get in the wagon. Mr. Malloy, I trust you'll look after Thomas."

  "As a matter of fact, I need a new tie, myself. We'll all go into Spring City together."

  It was Charlotte's turn to be caught open-mouthed.

  "Really, Mr. Malloy, you went to town only yesterday. Why don't you just let us choose one for you?"

  She was determined not to have Reed Malloy looking over her shoulder while she picked over the clothes at Webster's. She couldn't ask Lily to keep silent about it, but she could at least stop Reed from seeing it for himself.

  He looked as though he might argue, but then, to Charlotte's surprise, he acquiesced.

  "All right. I'd like that." He stooped down to the little girl. "You mind your aunt, and pick me out a handsome tie." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his billfold. He handed the little girl some money and gave her a pat on the top of her silky blond head.

  "A V-spot," Lily exclaimed, her eyes as big as saucers at being given the responsibility of minding five dollars.

  Charlotte, feeling victorious, drove old Alfred harder than usual to town. Lily held on tightly beside her with one hand, the other still clutching the money. The only conversation between them was when Charlotte turned to ask if the little girl's finger was bothering her today.

  Lily turned her face to Charlotte, who saw immediately that the girl was delighting in the fast ride. They smiled at each other.

  "I'd almost forgotten my cut," was all she said. Then after a pause, she asked, "Can I drive the wagon today, Aunt Charlotte?"

  Charlotte considered at what age she had first held the reins. "Perhaps on the way home, you can try it for a bit, sitting here on my lap."

  She wasn't sure if that was the motherly thing to do; perhaps she should have just told her that she was far too young. But looking at Lily's widening smile, she didn't care a hang if it was the motherly thing or not. They said nothing more until they pulled up into town.

  "It's so much smaller than home," Lily observed.

  "Yes, I'm certain it is."

  Charlotte had, of course, seen artist's renderings in newspapers and even the occasional daguerreotype of eastern cities such as Boston and New York. She knew they had to be ten times more impressive in reality. What did it feel like to walk along the broad paved avenues and witness the sights and sounds?

  She took the little girl's hand in her own, and they headed straight for Mr. Webster's store. Charlotte nodded to some passersby and greeted others. Her visits to town were frequent, to the restaurant and to the general store to send off her articles and to get information wired to her from far and wide as she researched her stories, but this excursion was out of the ordinary.

  When she approached the ready-made clothing section, Webster's teenaged granddaughter, Anna, appeared out of nowhere to help her; she eyed her unlikely customer and her unknown companion.

  "This is my cousin, Lillian, from Boston," Charlotte explained. "She needs some white stockings for the dance on Saturday."

  "We can suit her up, over here." Anna led the way to a shelf of stockings and proceeded to pull out an assortment for Lily—some plain, some with a little flower pattern.

  Charlotte had only a vague idea of what was appropriate for a little girl and had one eye on the rack of dresses in the corner. She started toward these, saying, "Whatever Lily wants is fine. I'm sure the two of you know more about this than I do."

  They weren't even listening to her at this point, and she lifted her skirts and fairly scurried over to the dresses, hoping she could pick something out quickly and with minimal attention. But she had barely begun to look through them when Mr. Webster appeared.

  "Ah, our famous writer," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Charlotte smiled at him. "That's kind of you, Mr. Webster." Charlotte remembered how she'd always adored coming to see him with her mother. He used to have sweets in his pockets for her and Thaddeus, and always a pleasant word. Lord, he must be as old as the hills, but he still looked the same.

  "Is our biggest frog in the puddle looking for something special?" His voice was kind, but Charlotte wondered a moment if he, too, thought her strange.

  "Oh, not particularly, just a dancing frock, nothing too flashy." She tried to sound casual as she continued to paw through the meager assortment, but she could tell already that there was nothing here exactly as she'd hoped.

  "There's nothing there," he echoed her thoughts, "that will suit, I reckon." He said this without artfulness, studying her detachedly and looking over the dresses himself. "But let me think a minute; I may've got something upstairs." He yelled over to his granddaughter, "Anna, go get that dress in my office."

  "What dress, Pappy?"

  "The one from Denve
r." He turned to Charlotte. "It was routed here by mistake, and I was fixin' to return it." He looked back at Anna who hadn't yet moved. "Bring it here, girl, quick-like."

  Just what she'd hoped to avoid, thought Charlotte, as Anna hustled up the stairs—Mr. Webster was making a big fuss over her. How embarrassing! Just then, Lily came running up, smiling broadly.

  "I've found the perfect pair, Aunt Charlotte. Look." In her hands were a pair of the sheerest, palest white stockings that Charlotte had ever seen and up each side was a row of faux pearls.

  "Oh, my. I hardly think... Do you... I mean, is that what you normally wear?"

  Lily dissolved in laughter, and Charlotte thought how good it was to see the little girl looking genuinely happy. She imagined it had been a sour time the past few months. She hated to have to tell her no, but those stockings!

  "Not for me, Aunt Charlotte. For you, for the dance."

  "Oh." What more could she say? How did Lily know that she longed to have all the feminine finery necessary to make it one memorable evening. "Oh," she said again. "That's different. Let me take a look then."

  Secretly, she was thrilled at the thought of the gossamer fine material with the rows of tiny pearls stretched up her legs. She felt tingly just thinking about it. And the fact that Reed Malloy's face kept entering her mind had nothing to do with it, she told herself firmly.

  "I'll take them. But what about you, Lily?"

  The little girl didn't answer. Her gaze had gone past Charlotte, and her mouth and eyes had opened wide. "Ooh," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

  Charlotte turned to see what had captured Lily's attention, and her own breath caught in her throat. Who would have thought—right here in Spring City in Webster's store? There stood Anna, holding the most beautiful dress Charlotte had ever seen, in the most captivating shade of vivid emerald green, trimmed with darker green lace.

  She knew in an instant why Mr. Webster had thought of that dress for her; Charlotte remembered when she was little, her mother had bought her a dress in nearly the same color to set off the red tones in her hair. Her father had called her "his angel girl," and everyone in town had raved over how pretty she looked. That was about the last time Charlotte could remember that happening.

  Wordlessly, she took it from Anna and held it up against her body, turning to take in her reflection in the full-length mirror that Mr. Webster kept by the dress rack.

  The dress made the reds and golds in her hair come out in warm dazzling highlights, and her skin took on a clear, delicate glow. Even more surprising to her was that her eyes matched the sparkling green shade of the dress, and she'd always thought of them as ordinary grass green.

  It was Mr. Webster who finally spoke. "Do you want to try it on?"

  Charlotte nodded.

  "Anna," he continued, "absquatulate yourself out of here, and tell Beatrice we'll need her sewing services. She can make any adjustments before Miss Sanborn leaves town today."

  Charlotte was aware that Beatrice had the first and only sewing machine in Spring City; as it turned out, however, little in the way of alterations were needed. They picked out a pair of white stockings for Lily with one flower sewn on either ankle—slightly daring for a little girl, but Charlotte thought it wouldn't hurt. Then they thanked Mr. Webster and headed out to purchase shoes for Charlotte.

  They were just pausing over a cup of tea and a glass of milk at the Fuller Hotel's dining room when Lily exclaimed, "Uncle Reed's tie!"

  "Oh dear, it wouldn't do to go home without that, now would it?" Charlotte said.

  They headed over to the only men's clothing store in town.

  After bypassing the overalls, flannel shirts, and denims, they came to the smaller section of the store that contained the fine cotton shirts and worsted wool pants, doctor's clothes, bang-ups, and Hessians. There, to Lily's delight, was a very small selection of silk ties.

  "I'll leave this entirely to your judgment, Lily. I haven't a clue," Charlotte admitted, and she didn't want to be blamed for whatever they chose. Coward, she told herself, but Reed Malloy seemed to be an exacting man who would rather stand naked than let a female choose his clothing. She still wondered why he'd given in so quickly.

  As it turned out, Lily had as excellent taste in men's cravats as in women's stockings, and Charlotte wondered just what the little girl's life had been like in Boston. Could she have already been in high society at the tender age of eight? Was all this boring and provincial to her young cousin?

  And what about Reed Malloy? Would he find the barn dance as tame as she feared? Charlotte almost reconsidered the purchase of the dress, except that Lily was so enthusiastic when they went to pick it up.

  Her only black cloud was running into Eliza Prentice, who was purchasing a bolt of lace to add to the dress her housekeeper was finishing for her. Mrs. Longwood was known far and wide as an excellent seamstress.

  In school, though two years younger, Eliza had been a torment to Charlotte, who had always been painfully shy except when reading aloud, and their relationship hadn't improved as they'd grown up. Even now, Eliza had to raise her eyebrows at the idea of Charlotte attending a dance and practically demanded to see what she'd bought.

  Charlotte hugged closely the large box wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, noting Eliza's smirk. Evidently, she'd already looked through the rack at Webster's and thought she knew exactly what it contained.

  Charlotte was almost goaded into showing her, but it was Lily who brought her to her senses, saying it would be better as a surprise.

  Of course, the little girl was right—a devastating, hopefully nasty surprise to Eliza. And not the only one, Charlotte thought, as they said their farewells, thinking how proud she'd be to show up with Reed and the two children.

  For the sake of all that lived, wasn't Eliza happy with having already caught and become engaged to the most handsome young man in Spring City? Everyone knew as soon as her fiancé obtained his medical license, Eliza would be a doctor's wife. What more could she want?

  Charlotte didn't have long to wonder why Reed had let them go so easily. He had been busy at her home, she saw, planting rose bushes in the front. It took Charlotte's breath away as they rounded the corner, Lily perched on her knee holding the reins.

  Reed and Thomas were nowhere in sight, so the two females scrambled down from the wagon. It had been a splendid day and Charlotte was already in a good mood, savoring the feeling of contentment at going home to a full house—and then to see what Reed had accomplished in such a short time!

  "It's magic," Lily exclaimed.

  They paused only long enough to unhook Alfred from the wagon and lead him around to the stable where Reed's horse stood. Here, too, there were changes. Reed had tilled the ground where her mother used to grow vegetables, and he'd turned over the topsoil, ready for planting. A pile of weeds lay a few feet away.

  Charlotte shook her head in wonder as she turned Alfred free in the small paddock. It was second nature for her to check his water and fill his food trough, and then she and Lily hurried toward the door.

  They burst into the kitchen and stopped short—a veritable feast was obviously being prepared. Thomas sat on the stool, snapping the ends off of runner beans, while Reed attended to something in the oven that smelled heavenly. As he stood up and turned around, Charlotte's eyes raced over him.

  She had grown slightly accustomed to his presence but not to the downright raw handsomeness of the man. Now, dressed in dungarees, a light blue cotton shirt, a handkerchief tied at his neck to catch the sweat, and comfortable looking cowboy boots, he looked the epitome of a westerner.

  "Yes, Miss Sanborn?" There was downright pleasure dancing in his eyes.

  She pretended to be serious as she frowned and shook her head at him in mock amazement.

  "I didn't know eastern lawyers could dirty up so well."

  He laughed aloud at that.

  With a grin, he said, "You can take over with dinner now that you're here."


  He laughed again at her genuine look of terror. "Or at least Lily can take over and you can help her. I've got to go take a bath. I'm not fit to sit down to dinner with two such beautiful ladies."

  Lily giggled at this while her little brother snorted his disgust. Charlotte kept silent, a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

  "Have you got packages in the wagon?" he asked as an afterthought.

  "Uh, yes," Charlotte replied, nervously remembering her dress.

  But Lily gave the warning as she followed Reed to the door. "No peeking, Uncle Reed," she called after him.

  Charlotte set to helping cook the meal but had difficulty keeping her mind off the man in the room above them. After he'd heated the water, Reed disappeared upstairs.

  She thought of him removing his work clothes and then sinking his body into the steaming water, first his feet, then his firmly shaped calves and hard thighs, and then...

  "Sugar!" she exclaimed, shocking herself with her own thoughts.

  "What is it?" Lily asked.

  Her cheeks pink, she merely shrugged. "Nothing at all."

  Over dinner, she thought more about the dance than she did of the succulent roast chicken.

  "Excuse me?" she asked, realizing that Reed had just asked her a question.

  "I asked what you're currently writing about."

  She answered though all the time her mind was imagining them dancing in the candlelight of Drake's barn in town. She smiled at him directly through her reverie, and he smiled back broadly before she caught hold of herself, feeling a sudden hot flush at the stupid expression she must have worn.

  It was much later that night, after the unexpected treat of hearing Reed play the old, untuned piano in the parlor, when Charlotte finally sat down to her work. She still felt dreamy as she searched for the right words to end her article on barbed wire. Who cares about barbed wire?