The Courting of Widow Shaw

by Charlene Sands

  “I’ll wait. We’ll go down together.”

  Emmie stood patiently waiting. Relieved, Gloria nodded, somewhat dismayed at finding the girl who always wore blue to have a generous and kind nature. The images of these ladies painted inside Gloria’s head had been dark and filled with gloom, but as she peered at Emmie as they made their way down the stairs, Gloria only saw bright, unfettered light.

  Mattie smiled a quick greeting and continued cooking when they entered the kitchen. Ruby ignored her. Carmen turned her back. All the others put their heads down and stopped their gay chattering, all but one.

  “Hello.” A young freckle-faced woman grinned, her red hair a burst of color against the pale yellow gown she wore. “Oh, I don’t rightly care,” she said to all the others. “Today, I’m just too blessed happy. It’s Thursday. And my sweet Bud McKenzie is coming to call.”

  “You make it sound like he’s courting you, Merry,” Ruby admonished. “You know there’s trouble in that thinking.”

  The one called Merry didn’t flinch. “My Bud is different. He only comes to see me and you all know it.”

  Carmen, the black-eyed Mexican woman grunted, but then spoke softly, almost motherly. “We all have regulars, amiga.”

  “He’s bringing me another gift tonight. He said so. The others don’t do that.”

  Gloria noted how the girl caressed a lovely brooch on her gown designed in silver and gold. Two perfect pearl fasteners stayed her thick red hair and on her right hand she wore a gemstone ring made of sapphire.

  “Some of them do and some of them don’t. It don’t mean a whole lot,” another woman stated.

  Gloria felt ill-at-ease, listening in on this conversation. She made a move to exit the room. Emmie took her arm and guided her farther into the kitchen. “This is Gloria, everyone,” Emmie said. “She’s staying here as Lorene’s guest.”

  The women shifted their focus from Merry to her, their gaze resting on her gown. She must look like one of them, she thought, mortified.

  “We know who she is,” declared a woman wearing soft lavender taffeta.

  “Glory, this is Julia,” Emmie said. “And Merry is the one all fancied up who’s been doing all the talking. Eva is sitting at the far end of the table. I believe you’ve met the rest.”

  “Yes, um, we’ve met.”

  Carmen made a noise.

  The others became quiet.

  “Mattie, we’re both starved. Set us up some plates, please,” Emmie said, taking a seat.

  Mattie busied herself, filling dishes up with curried rice, long string beans, and some sort of fancy chicken dish. The food smelled mouthwatering. Gloria was nearly faint from hunger now.

  Gloria took a seat next to Emmie and ignored the looks she received from the women. She bowed her head, clasped her hands together and began, “Heavenly Father, we thank you for this abundant meal. We thank you for today, the health you have bestowed upon all of us and for your ever-present kindness. As we sit before this meal, we praise you, Dear Lord, and hope that your wisdom will help the many who have turned to an unrighteous path. Amen.”

  When Glory lifted her head, Carmen had hers still bent in prayer, Julia and Eva stared at each other with curious regard, and the others, as if not knowing how else to respond, finally complied with a hushed “Amen.”

  They ate in silence for a time. Gloria hadn’t realized how her daily prayer, something she’d done since she was a tot, had affected the women.

  “That was nice, Glory. It’s been too long since we’ve said our prayers.” Emmie cut her piece of chicken into small bites.

  “It’s something I’ve done since I was able to form a complete sentence.”

  Carmen glared at her. “Yes, the woman reminds us all that we are not good Christians.”

  “You’re not Christian, Carmen,” Ruby piped in. “You’re Catholic. And you used to go to mass at Saint Mary’s in the Mountains.”

  “Si, yes. I did go before the winds tore it down.”

  “It’s been rebuilt, Carmen. About a year now,” Mattie interjected. “You should come with me on Sunday.”

  “They do not want me in their ‘bonanza’ church.”

  “God wants you in His church,” Gloria stated, glancing at Carmen to gauge her reaction. “That’s all that matters.”

  Carmen stared deeply into her eyes, probing, searching, until finally, she nodded. “Maybe.”

  “And maybe tomorrow, you’d like to lead our supper prayers,” Gloria suggested.

  Carmen stiffened, her shoulders rigid, but her heart was in her eyes. She softened her tone and with a bob of her head, she replied, “Maybe.”

  The rest of the meal was eaten in unusual silence, perhaps the others as deep in thought as Gloria. She ate up heartily, filling her stomach until she didn’t think it could possibly hold another bite.

  Mattie placed hot dishes of peach cobbler on the table. “Dessert, ladies.”

  Gloria now understood why young Mattie had won over all the ladies at Rainbow House so quickly. They commended her meals, but nothing compared to the silly noises they made when she showered them with such rich and delicious desserts.

  Gloria took her plate and stood. “Thank you, Mattie. I’ll save mine for later. Good afternoon, ladies.”

  And to her amazement, some of the women looked up, meeting with her gaze and smiled. Others offered the same farewell. Gloria climbed the stairs with a plate of peach cobbler in one hand and a heavy dose of conscience in the other.

  She’d have to pray long and hard tonight to find her balance. Because right now, disturbing thoughts rushed in, upsetting her rigid code of principles.

  It was just before midnight when Steven knocked on Glory’s door. He half hoped she wouldn’t answer. If she’d had a full day, maybe she’d been tired and gone to bed. Then he wouldn’t have to spend half the night with her, keeping her company and looking into those sky-blue eyes. Of course, he could have stayed at the ranch, leaving Glory to her own devices tonight. But Steven had a compelling need to see her, and if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t completely because he needed to check on her safety.

  He’d worked on his corrals all day, then after fixing himself a plate of bacon and beans at sundown, he’d slept for a few hours, needing the rest to keep his wits about him. With his obligation to Glory firmly in his mind, Steven couldn’t afford any slip-ups.

  Glory appeared in the doorway and Steven sucked in a breath. How the woman managed to look more beautiful each day, he couldn’t figure, but there she stood, blond hair pinned up in a fashionable do, eyes sparkling and her mouth just as tempting as ever. “Steven.”

  “Evening, Glory.”

  She stared at him with uncertainty in her eyes.

  “You gonna let me in?”

  Piano music drifted up, a song he’d been accustomed to hearing about “Calico Women.” The lively tune mixed with laughter and voices, some coming from just one floor below. “Make up your mind quick, Glory.” He glanced down the hallway toward the stairs.

  Her pretty mouth twisted and she stepped aside.

  He entered, wondering what kind of bug she had in her bonnet this time. “Something got you perplexed?”

  He closed the door and waited, none too patiently.

  She fairly ignored him, walking to the far side of the room, peeking out the window, striding about the room and finding interest in the most inconsequential objects on the dresser.

  “Glory.” The warning came out more harshly than he intended.

  She turned to him, those blue eyes blazing with fire. “Am I covered up to your satisfaction, Steven?”

  He blinked. Then noticed her gown. She’d sewn lace around the edges of her dress, helping to hide her female assets. “It was the best I could do. What’s got your feathers ruffled, anyway?”

  “You told Emmie you wanted me to cover up. You insisted on it.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. You’re forever saying how indecent you look in that dress.”

&n
bsp; “And you finally agreed?”

  Steven scratched his neck. He’d been around women most of his life, but he’d be damned if he could figure a single one of them out. “Hell, no, you don’t look indecent. You don’t really want to know what I think now, honey. So just drop it. I’m too tired to figure out your puzzles tonight.”

  Glory sank down on the bed apparently dejected. “But I do want to know what you think.”

  “Why?” He stood a distance away, with boots rooted to the floor and hands planted on hips, unnerved by the softness in her tone.

  “I’m…not really certain.” She lifted soft eyes his way, the blue not ablaze anymore, but a bright beckoning gleam.

  The woman made his gut twist with emotion. At times, just looking at her stirred his heart and made his head throb. The effect she had on him was potent.

  She had power over him.

  He hated the thought. If he hadn’t saved her from that fire, she’d never once look in his direction, but he had, and now they were stuck with each other. Wanting her had nothing to do with it. He wouldn’t compromise her or take advantage of her situation. She would never be his.

  For all he knew, she was beholden to him for saving her life, but secretly detested him. She blamed him and his mother for the loss of her father. Clearly, he’d gotten her point. She had no use for the son of a brothel owner. He wasn’t held high in her regard. That notion didn’t set well.

  “Ah, hell, Glory. You want the truth? You’re a temptation I can’t afford. You asked if I was satisfied that you covered up. Well, dammit, no, I’m not nearly satisfied. I’d like nothing better than to uncover all of you and take you to my bed. Then I’d be satisfied.”

  “Steven!”

  Red color crawled up her throat, scorching her face. Now he’d done it. He’d angered and humiliated her. He was ready for her wrath. He needed it. He had to drive a wedge between them to stop the tender feelings he had for her. He had to stop wanting her. And what better way than to ensure her hatred of him and confirm his suspicions?

  But Glory didn’t lash out. Her spirit hadn’t taken hold as he’d planned. Instead of blasting him with her fury, she laid her head down on her pillow and shed deep, soulful tears.

  Steven cursed. Glory cried louder.

  Causing her even a single moment of pain hadn’t been his intent. Against his better judgment, he went to her. Kneeling down beside her bed, he took her hands in his.

  “Don’t,” she said, pulling back. “I hate you, Steven Harding.”

  Well, he’d gotten what he’d wanted. But the means surely didn’t justify the end in this case. “I know.”

  He took her hands again and because she’d gone limp, he was able to lift her up. They stood close, Steven caught by the look of hurt in her eyes, the stream of tears flowing down her face.

  “Y-you’re no different than Boone.”

  The words cut straight through his heart. She compared him to her abusive husband.

  Her sobbing ebbed a bit and she stuttered her confession. “H-he never c-cared about my f-feelings. He was hurtful and cruel and when he wanted me,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “he was b-brutal.”

  Steven swallowed hard, fully realizing what Glory had gone through at the hands of a merciless man. He was glad the man was dead. And if she had killed him with that knife, he knew he would never hold that against her.

  Steven took her into his arms. Surprised that she allowed it, he hugged her close. She rested her head on his shoulders, her body ragged, falling into him for support. Her tears soaked through his shirt, the moisture searing his skin like a hot torch of pain. He held her with all the tenderness he had inside. Gently, he stroked her hair and spoke soft soothing words of comfort. She settled in a pattern of regular breathing, her tears all shed.

  “You don’t really think I’m like Boone, do you?” he asked quietly.

  She hesitated then slowly shook her head. “I don’t want to think so.”

  “I’m not, Glory. Trust me.”

  She gazed up, her eyes filled with confusion. “I don’t know if I can. Ever.”

  “I’d never hurt you.”

  “But you have,” she said. And he knew she hadn’t meant tonight.

  “I know. And I know you hate me.”

  Glory sighed and lay her head back on his shoulders. “Yes, I hate you very much,” she whispered in the dark.

  Steven held her close, relishing the feel of her supple body, the crush of her breasts against him. His body grew tight and desire assailed him like a traitorous enemy.

  He pulled away from her roughly, disengaging her from his clutches. “Look, I came up here to see if you wanted to get out again. For a ride. But you probably don’t want—”

  Hope filled her lovely eyes, vanquishing all remnants of her tears. “A ride? Oh, I’d love a ride tonight.”

  “Well, get your cape,” he said hastily and before thinking better of it, he added, “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Seven

  He hadn’t planned on a windstorm. He hadn’t planned on dust biting at his eyes, making it hard to see the ground, much less the trail. He hadn’t planned on shrieking sounds and the sheer terror of nature spooking Fancy so much that he’d had to hightail it toward the mountainside just to make certain his mare wouldn’t throw them.

  Hell, he hadn’t planned on being shoved into close quarters in an abandoned mine with Glory all doggone night. He’d been lucky to find shelter amid the swirling gusts and dim moonlight, but that’s where his luck had ended. Because he was alone again with Glory, probably for the entire night. He hoped the winds would let up before dawn. He had to get her back to Rainbow House before daybreak.

  He’d offered Glory a midnight ride, something to calm her, to soothe her feelings and get her some fresh air. Instead, she stood by the east wall of the mine next to Fancy, shivering, with fear in her eyes as the wind howled like a pack of wild animals outside. They couldn’t go any farther into the mine for fear of a collapse. No telling the stability of these walls. “I’ll light a fire.”

  There was enough dry wood around from broken-down shafts to build a blazing fire. Soon, warmth spread out, lighting up the small alcove and he beckoned Glory to come close. “Sit down on the blanket where it’s warm.”

  She took a seat and he reached for her hands, rubbing warmth into them. “Sorry about the windstorm. I’d never have brought you out if I’d known.”

  “You can’t predict the weather, Steven. Only God knows when to unleash His fury.” She stared at their entwined hands.

  “Is that what it is, fury?” Satisfied once he’d brought her warmth, he released her. She placed her hands under the cape and cast him a timid smile.

  Her hood had fallen to her shoulders, exposing her hair, the golden mass catching the glow of the fire. Steven had to glance away briefly, the impact of firelight and Glory too much to take.

  “That’s what Father would say. He’d say the Lord knew when to unleash his fury. He knew what he was doing, even if we couldn’t quite figure it out. Father had so much faith. He never questioned it.” Glory put her head down. “Sometimes I wish I had his faith.”

  Steven touched her cheek, and she lifted her head. “I think you do. But you’ve been through a lot lately. And just because your father didn’t voice his questions, doesn’t mean he didn’t have them. We all have doubts, Glory.”

  “But Father was so…settled, in his mind. He taught me so much.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Glory closed her eyes. Her light-blond lashes rested on her cheek like a butterfly settling on a flower. “How can you be? My father’s death meant your mother’s life.”

  “Glory, look at me.”

  He waited patiently, watching her struggle to open her eyes, look at his face and hear what he had to say.

  Finally, when she did, he began. “Yes, your father’s death meant my mother’s life, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not sorry for the events of that day. I w
ish your father hadn’t died. And my mother is sorry over it as well. She’s dealt with the guilt every day since.”

  “But don’t you see, if she wasn’t who she was, if the brothel hadn’t existed, then that drifter wouldn’t have call to seek your mother out. He had quarrel with her, for heaven only knows what reason.”

  “Mother refused him entry into Rainbow House. Marcus had tossed him out. He’d been falling-down drunk and abusive at the door. My mother protects her girls and didn’t want him causing trouble inside. The drifter probably wouldn’t have done anything about it, except he spotted my mother coming out of church the next day.”

  “Church?” Glory’s eyes rounded with disbelief.

  “Mother went whenever she could. She’d go in late, sit in the back pew and leave early. She never wanted to cause a ruckus.”

  “I never saw her.”

  “And I bet you never saw me, either?”

  “No, no.” She studied his face, her eyes searching for something, perhaps the truth. “The church was always packed to overflowing. I never noticed you.”

  But Steven had noticed her. He’d admired her from a distance and soon, attending church with Lorene held new meaning. He’d catch a glimpse of the beautiful young daughter of Reverend Caldwell, smiling to the members of the congregation, sitting up front, sometimes right next to her father, wearing a sweet smile, with pride in her eyes. Steven often hadn’t heard the words of the sermon being offered, being too smitten with the young girl with the blue eyes and honey-gold hair.

  During those times, Steven had wished he’d been someone different—someone worthy of Miss Gloria Mae Caldwell.

  Steven poked at the fire, causing a big blast of heat to swell up. “Maybe we should try to rest up a bit. Why don’t you lie down?”

  Glory stared at the fire. “You think it’s sinful for us…to sleep together like this?”

  Steven lowered down onto his back, bringing his arms up to pillow his head. “There’s nothing sinful in what we’re doing, Glory. We haven’t done one…sinful…thing.”

  “Some might say because we’re alone, unchaperoned, well, it’s compromising.”