He opened his mouth, a scalding retort for the elder Miss Bishop on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say the words. What did he know of raising children? He pictured Anna as a child, her wide blue eyes alight with curiosity. What other activities had been deemed frivolous? Why was something as innocuous as true love vilified?
Clamping shut his lips, he sucked in a breath through his nose. He wasn’t here for debate. He was here to take Anna’s mind off the pain. “Nobody lives happily ever after, near as I can tell. My ma and pa love each other, but I’ve seen them go at each other like a couple of raccoons fighting over the same bone.” He grinned at her shocked expression. “They’re married, Becky and Gus. Most days are good, some days are bad. Same as everyone else.”
“What happened to old farmer Bainum? Did he die a lonely death after his daughter left?”
“You can’t jump the ending.” He brushed the stray lock of hair from her forehead once more. “Mr. Bainum got used to the idea of having a Yank for a son-in-law, especially after he saw his first grandbaby. Gus and Becky have four boys, and he’s got his hands full teaching them all to fish and farm.”
Anna tucked both hands beneath her cheek. “Does he still host the husking bee?”
“Every year. And since he only has one daughter, he doesn’t care how many red husks the other fellows smuggle in.”
“I knew it!” She scowled. “You’re just as bad as Gus.”
“I didn’t say I snuck a red ear into the batch.”
“But you did.”
“I did. I just didn’t say it.”
“It’s the same thing and you know it. Shame on you.” She rubbed her cheek against the back of her fingers. “Who did you kiss?”
The years rushed away, and he was a green youth again, all of his tender hopes pinned on a girl who didn’t love him. “I didn’t kiss anyone. My brother David got the girl before I did.”
She touched his hand, and he started. “I shouldn’t have teased you.”
“Nah. It’s all right. That’s the thing about being young. You think if you love someone enough, you can love them enough for both of you. But that’s a selfish love.”
He’d never thought about Mary Louise’s feelings, only his own. He’d been young and self-centered, too wrapped up in his own feelings to think about her, to notice she was only using him to make David jealous. He’d forgiven her by and by. They’d all been little more than children.
The doctor removed the last stitch. The area around the wound was pink, and the edges holding together nicely. Caleb might have waited a few more days, considering the placement of the stitching, but the skin had already healed over some of the sutures, causing her discomfort as they were removed. There were no signs of infection on this side either, and for that he was grateful.
Anna tugged on his hand for his attention. “I bet there were plenty of other young ladies who wanted your attention.”
“Too many to count. There’s not a stalk of red corn in the county before a husking bee. By the end of the night, I have a whole pile at my feet.”
“That’s the only part of the story I believe.” Her eyes shimmered with laughter.
There was no use telling the truth. He’d never kissed a girl. The desire had been long dormant.
Until now. He feared she was his undoing.
* * *
Anna kept her attention on Caleb’s bent knee, finding his eyes far too distracting.
The doctor pulled up the blanket and sat back. “All finished. No strenuous activity for the next few weeks. Don’t lift anything heavy. No horseback riding or bronco busting.”
“I’ll pull my name from the rodeo lineup.”
Mr. McCoy stood and took a few steps away, his attention focused on the olive-green flocked wallpaper she’d grown heartily sick of staring at from morning till night.
She’d embarrassed him with her request, though she’d enjoyed his story. Whether or not the tale was entirely true was suspect. In any event, the distraction had worked, she’d hardly noticed the doctor’s painful poking and prodding. Her glum mood had also lifted.
The interlude was over, and she’d best place their relationship back on normal footing. Show him that he needn’t fear another lapse. She wasn’t a clingy helpless female hoping for a boy to kiss her.
Well, she wasn’t a clingy, helpless female, at any rate. The thought of Caleb kissing someone else hit her in the chest like a cannon ball. She did not like the idea one bit.
“I’d recommend staying put for the next several days,” Dr. Smith said.
The delicate start of her lighthearted mood fled. The walls closed in on her, and the air in the room thickened. She’d been resting because of the stitches. She hadn’t thought much past the future. She’d harbored the naive belief that once the stitches were removed, she’d skip out of her room, down the corridor and out the front door to freedom once more.
She’d never been confined to bed. Not even when she’d had the chicken pox as a child. The rest of the household, including her mother, had been too busy with their own chores and affairs to pay her any mind. After the few first days she’d been up and about. Until the spots went away, she’d had the run of the house. She was used to being independent and spontaneous, not lolling about in her room.
Being ordered to stay put sparked a burst of restless energy and an immediate urge to escape. The guard outside her door had her feeling more like a prisoner than protected.
Mr. McCoy continued his study of the raised pattern on the wall covering, tracing his fingers along the edges. “How soon can she travel by train?”
“Yes. I’d like to travel as soon as possible.”
There’d be no more talk of Cimarron Springs. She wouldn’t be foisted on Jo’s family like an impoverished relative. The detective was obviously mistaken, and after a day or two of quiet, they’d all realize his error. There was absolutely no reason for someone to want her dead. She had few friends in her solitary life, let alone enemies. The bullet had been meant as a warning to the suffragists. Or an accident. No one had considered that likelihood. They still hadn’t ruled out the possibility that this was all some horrible mistake.
“Hmm, travel by train.” The doctor smoothed his thumb and forefinger along the edges of his mouth. “Anytime, really, if she’s up to it. As long as the trip isn’t too lengthy.” The doctor snapped shut his bag and stood. “Try and sleep. Rest will do you the best good. If you have any problems, send for me.”
As the doctor exited with a tip of his hat, Mr. McCoy cleared his throat, then stared at the floor. “I’m sorry about what Jo said earlier. I don’t know what she was thinking. I’m sure they’ll find the shooter and this will all be over soon. Jo and I are in the two rooms across the way. If you need anything, just holler.”
The tips of his ears had reddened. Obviously he’d regretted his sister’s impulsive suggestion.
He kept edging toward the door. Most likely he was frightened she’d insist he tell her another story.
Anna plucked at the stitching of her coverlet. “We have the word of one man. There’s no need for everyone to descend into a dither. We should have taken Jo’s suggestion for what it was—a light moment during a tense situation. The thought of people believing we are engaged is actually quite amusing.”
“Yes,” he replied, his voice gruff, though his expression remained hidden from her.
He took another step toward the door.
She fixed her gaze on the coverlet. “They’ll be no need for me to burden your sister with a houseguest.”
Another step.
“Likely not.”
Yet another step.
This conversation was embarrassing enough without looking him in the face. He’d echoed her sentiments. Which was perfect. Excellent. Although none of her resolute thinking ex
plained why she became tongue-tied the instant he entered a room.
That was a problem best solved at another time. In another place. Perhaps safely ensconced at home in St. Louis.
Her mother’s home, more accurately. Perhaps it was time she sought living arrangements of her own. A spinster’s residence. Anna nearly gagged on the word. Unmarried men were “confirmed bachelors,” treated with mild admiration by other men, as though they’d achieved some sort of higher standing by remaining unattached. Women were spinsters.
Yet another distinction she abhorred. No matter how they referred to her, she was looking into moving out of her mother’s home once she recovered. She had a modest trust from her grandfather—a man who’d died before she was born. Anna was never quite certain why he’d provided for her since he didn’t seem the sort of man who would have approved of his daughter bearing an out-of-wedlock child. Whatever his thoughts, the money was there and she was a fool not to make use of it.
Having a goal strengthened her flagging reserves of energy. “Thank you, Mr. McCoy, for everything. Truly. I hope I haven’t seemed ungrateful.”
It’s just that you tie me in knots, and I’ve never been the tied-in-knots-over-a-man sort of person.
He stuck his hands in his pockets and avoided looking directly at her. “Caleb.” He cleared his throat. “I saved your life. I think that puts us on a first-name basis.”
“I amend my apology. Thank you, Caleb. And you must call me Anna.”
She tripped a bit over the last syllable.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Anna.”
Her stomach fluttered. The use of her name lent an air of intimacy to the exchange. She’d never been particularly fond of her name. She liked hearing Caleb say it. She liked hearing him say her name very much.
He straightened and smoothed his jacket. “Rest. We don’t need to decide anything right now.”
She opened her mouth with a protest, then quickly changed her mind.
Later she’d tell him that all of her decisions had been made. She’d go home as soon as the train schedule allowed. Most likely they’d never see one another again. She’d only hear of him through Jo’s letters.
The vague headache she’d been fighting all morning throbbed into life. “I’m certain we’ll discover this is all some mad mistake. I’m hardly important enough to have attracted an enemy.”
“I think you’re quite attractive.” Caleb’s face flamed. “That is, you gave a very impassioned speech. I was quite moved. The crowd was quite moved. In any case,” he rushed on, “I’m certain this will all be resolved soon.”
He spun out of the room so quickly she half expected a plume of smoke in his wake.
He’d called her attractive.
The frantic beating of her heart didn’t signify anything. Reacting positively to a compliment, whether deliberate or accidental, was human nature. Though the admission had been a slip of the tongue, his mortification had lent the unintentional admission truth. Not that a woman’s looks defined her worth. Quite the opposite.
She studied the bright sunlight streaming into her room. Soon he’d be part of her past, a diverting memory mixed in with the pain and fear of this past week.
The sense of relief she expected never came.
Feeling beneath her pillow, she located her embroidery and finished stitching the edges of a red poppy. Truth be told, she’d been intrigued by the idea of concealing her true identity. Assuming a new identity meant she’d be invisible. There would be no expectations. No comparisons to the Great Victoria Bishop.
How liberating, to be anonymous. There would be no living up to her mother’s reputation.
An envelope on the table caught Anna’s attention, and she reached for the forgotten telegram. Her mother’s familiar clipped speech greeted her in bold capital letters. Her worry was evident, the concern apparent. It was the last line that gave Anna pause. She read and reread the words.
BEST YOU RECUPERATE IN KANSAS CITY STOP YOU MUSTNT RISK THE JOURNEY STOP
For some inexplicable reason, tears sprang in her eyes. Despite all the solitude she’d endured during her life, she couldn’t recall a time when she felt more utterly or completely alone.
Chapter Six
Upon returning to the hotel after a brief walk the following day, Caleb took the steps two at a time. He didn’t know why, the closer he got to Anna, the greater his sense of urgency. He’d been fighting an inexplicable sense of anxiety all day.
A woman blocked his path on the landing, and he nearly toppled over her, stopping short just in time. The other hotel guest was in her midtwenties, dressed in an expensive burgundy brocade jacket with a fur muff, even though it was only early fall.
“Pardon me,” he said.
“No need for pardon.” She patted the side of her brassy blond hair, her eyes glittery blue chips against her powdered cheeks. “Are you staying at the hotel long?”
“Checking out soon,” he answered, his voice clipped.
He wasn’t in the mood for polite small talk. Occasionally people mistook his silence for interest, and the woman standing before him appeared the sort who’d have plenty to say.
She shrugged and continued on her way, glancing once over her shoulder.
After nearly a week cooped up at the Savoy Hotel, it was time he returned home. He’d left his younger brother, Maxwell, in charge of his animals while he was gone, but there was no one available to take over his practice. Truth be told, he wanted some space between him and Miss Bishop. She held an undeniable draw, and he was going to make a fool of himself if he didn’t leave soon.
His face flushed. He’d gone and called her attractive. He’d always been reticent around women, and Anna exacerbated his condition. His first instincts had been correct—the longer he was around her, the likelier he was to make a fool of himself. A bigger fool, he silently amended.
His purpose here had been served. Miss Bishop—Anna—had a guard outside her door. The suffragist women had kept up a steady stream of visitors. They’d brought enough flowers to blanket a meadow. Even now the scent of roses perfumed the corridor.
He didn’t consider himself an intuitive man; more often than not he missed the signs other people assured him came from women. With Anna he felt a definite sense of distance, as though she kept a protective space between them, like a wounded animal, skittish of contact. A part of him longed to challenge that distance.
Which was precisely why he needed to find Jo and arrange their departure. Certainly Garrett, Jo’s husband, was growing impatient by now. She must miss her children.
Upon arriving at Jo’s room, she waved him in. “Where have you been?”
Her obvious annoyance took him aback. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to leave a note?”
“You might have told me where you’d gone. I was worried.”
“I didn’t mean to worry you. I was looking at some plumbing fixtures.”
“Plumbing fixtures?” She paused, then planted her hands on her hips. “You were looking at plumbing fixtures with all that’s going on?”
“There have been some amazing improvements in indoor plumbing. Kansas City is the closest place to find the modern equipment.”
“If you weren’t my own brother, I’d think you were being deliberately obtuse.”
“Why are you so cranky? We’re sitting around the hotel waiting for Miss Bishop to be well enough to travel. I’m going crazy. Besides, yesterday you bought taffy for the kids, and I didn’t lecture you.”
She’d gone and left him alone with Anna. Every encounter had him craving more. If he was staying away from the hotel, avoiding more encounters with Anna, his decision was none of Jo’s concern.
“When I said I was going for taffy, you rolled your eyes.”
“That is not a lecture.” Best he chan
ged the subject. They were all on edge. Torn between oppressive fear and crushing tedium. “Have you heard anything from Anna’s mother?”
“No. And I’m tempted to give the woman a piece of my mind. Anna’s never said a cross word, but what kind of mother leaves her daughter all alone, in a strange town? Injured. I’ve been away from Jocelyn for a week, and I’m already crawling up the walls with worry. And she’s fit as a fiddle. If she were hurt...” Jo grimaced. “If she were hurt, I’d be by her side in an instant.”
His thoughts had run along a similar vein. “Anna’s an adult. I have a feeling her mother values independence. I have a feeling they both value independence.”
Yet another reason he needed space between them. He didn’t hold her background against her, though he recognized plenty of others did. He knew enough about himself to realize he was more traditional. Back when he’d been interested in courting, he’d always pictured a marriage similar to the one his parents shared. A wife and children, a quiet life in Cimarron Springs. Another reason he and Anna didn’t suit.
“The Bishops are a unique pair,” Jo said. “From what I’ve read, Victoria is one of those rare individuals who seems larger than life in any setting, no matter how mundane.”
“Like mother, like daughter on that account.”
Anna certainly had the ability to draw in a crowd. He’d been singularly transfixed the moment she stepped behind the podium. While he might have chalked up the experience to his own attraction, he’d seen Jo respond the same way.
“They are similar in that way, I suppose,” Jo said thoughtfully. “Anna possesses much the same appeal, but there’s a gentler, more compassionate aura surrounding her.”
Caleb’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t let Anna’s mother hear you say that. I have a feeling that soft is a word she abhors.”
Life with Victoria Bishop must surely have been anything but conventional. Their own upbringing had been completely ordinary. What must childhood have been like for Anna, living with such a forceful personality? What expectations had been laid at her feet? Did she ever feel the weight of responsibility crushing her?
The Engagement Bargain Page 7