Wanted: Hired Gun

by Ginny Sterling

  She’d seen the first impression on his face and tried to not take it to heart. He’d looked shocked and she understood. Her get up was one of her more elaborate costumes, but she had always thought she looked adorable in it. His first glance had looked scandalized for the briefest moment before he’d hidden his expression. She’d been hurt because deep in her heart, she wanted to make him see how pretty a woman she was- inside and out. She was Posey Jones, actor, performer, business woman… and insecure girl.

  That was part of the reason Posey had taken the theater to heart – she could become someone else and revel in the part. When she took the stage as Aphrodite, Marie Antoinette, or Cleopatra… she was a bold, beautiful woman that was the envy of every woman and worshiped by every man. When she was herself, she was just Posey.

  Mousy brown hair, blue eyes and freckled nose that she scrubbed with lemon every chance she got in order to fade the marks over time. Posey with the big nose and lips that the kids used to tease her about. The girl no one noticed and everyone glanced over… unless she was pretending to be someone else. The real Posey lacked confidence in herself until she had a costume to hide inside of – then she became someone else. It was empowering and addictive to be another person, to have them watching you with something akin to fascination. She wished she could see that look in Garrison’s eyes when he stared at her.

  The last two days they’d spent in strained conversations that usually ended up with her getting frustrated with him or them simply being quiet. She wanted to know more about him and he would counter her questions, asking about her. They were getting nowhere fast on a personal level – but her new husband was an incredibly hard worker and making progress on the theater.

  Today, she’d brought him a lunch pail that included a few oatmeal cookies that she’d baked last evening as a treat for him. As she entered the theater, she’d stopped and watched him, fascinated. He was leaning over the wood, measuring where he would make a cut at with the handsaw. She saw the sawdust on the floor and that he was framing up the stage. Garrison had a pencil tucked in his mouth and she found herself staring at his lips, imagining what it would be like to have them against hers. She remembered kissing him primly at the preacher’s, sighing at the memory of skin and the prickle of his growth of beard on his cheek.

  “Morning Posey, you are looking lovely,” Garrison said looking up at her for just the briefest glance then back down at the wood. He took the pencil and drew a line across it before finally straightening up. Sitting on the wood, he smiled politely and patted the bench next to him.

  “How would you know? You barely glanced up- but you are making some real headway,” she sassed and slowly made her way over to him, sitting down nervously and trying not to show it. Posey had dressed in a simple blue gown with a large hat to protect her nose from the sun. She was finally making progress on the freckles and didn’t want them darkening again.

  “You’re right- I was just being polite,” he retorted with a smart tone that made Posey’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Mercy, he was certainly surly today! She was miffed that he’d agreed so readily and taken back his kind words. He’d called her lovely and then recanted it. Ouch! She’d worn her blue gown because it made her bust line look larger. Her waist looked even more trim with the pleats. The blue complimented her eyes and she’d always thought she looked good in this dress, but apparently not. Maybe she was fighting a losing battle and perhaps she just wasn’t Garrison’s type of girl?

  “I brought you lunch and thought you might be hungry,” she explained getting to her feet and shaking out her skirts. “I’ll be back this evening and prepare dinner. I have a few errands to do in order to start getting ready. I appreciate everything you’ve done so far.”

  “Of course, that’s why you married me – right?”

  “I suppose you are right,” she said softly. “I’ll see you later, Garrison.”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Garrison.”

  “Can you just call me Posey? I feel like you are domineering when you keep calling me Mrs. Garrison.”

  “Maybe I like that you are my missus,” he admitted. “You better go on now. I’m going to get sawing again and I don’t want that dress getting dusty. I’ll wash up when I’m done and meet you at home.”

  Posey saw him look away and let out her breath. She couldn’t stand here and fawn over him all afternoon. She had things to do and the way he dismissed her when he turned his back to her was a sure sign that the conversation was over. If he liked calling her his missus, why didn’t he take the time to elaborate on it? He could have kissed her hand, hugged her, smiled or something – just to let her know he was actually content with the arrangement between them. She wasn’t a prize, but someday her theater would be! A prize they would share together as husband and wife.

  Stepping outside, Posey yanked her hat down on her face and made her way to the outskirts of town. It was a long walk and she kept to herself, garnering several odd looks as she made her way to the edge of a field of tents. Several people watched from town and began to whisper as she greeted a few young children that wandered up to meet her.

  “Hello, is your mama or papa nearby? I’d like to speak with them,” she began and was quickly approached by a man that looked to be in his fifties.

  “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “No, I know – but I am looking for a few people to help me create a performance and I could use some help.”

  “No, no. You go away.”

  “No, no – I don’t think so. You could at least hear me out and talk to me, couldn’t you?”

  Posey spent several hours there, talking and mingling among the throng of people that had joined her. She’d not wandered far into the field of tents that formed what the locals called Chinatown. She’d been amazed at the reception she’d received and the open welcome once they realized she wasn’t a threat to their livelihood. She’d come with an opportunity and the people realized it.

  Fascinated, she saw several children juggling while others carved intricate little figurines or made stunning fabrics of varying colors in large dye vats. Among the bleached canvas tents, she’d seen glimmers of brilliant reds, blue hues and bright yellows that had caught her eye and now she was privy to purchasing a large amount of the colorful fabric for the curtains that would be needed between set changes.

  Purchasing velvet in that shade and with the quantity of fabric she would need – the sheer dollar amount would break her financially if it arrived unharmed. There was always a chance that fabric could get moldy, stained or cut when packed up in trunks and shipped. Here, there was fabric a plenty and she could buy what she needed from them at a much lower price if she didn’t need to pay for shipping. The fact that she could resell trinkets, figurines and hire jugglers or acrobats was simply a bonus she’d not expected.

  Garrison found her still talking with the others as she saw the sun was getting low in the sky. As she got to her feet to head home, she stepped carefully out of the crowd only to see him standing not far away, leaning against the wall of the building closest to the fleet of tents. His face was hard as he scanned the area. He didn’t look happy at all to see her there combined with several disapproving looks from others as she walked from the grassy hillside and stepped up onto the wooden walkways.

  Deliberately and defiantly, Posey pulled a cigarette out of her clutch and lit it with a match, taking a deep inhale of the smoke. She didn’t know why she smoked other than she thought it made her look intimidating or debonair like some other actresses back home.

  “I suppose you are wanting your dinner?” she asked, taking another heavy draw of the cigarette. She resisted the urge to smack her lips as it left an odd taste in her mouth.

  “I was actually looking for my bride when someone was kind enough to tell me she was canoodling around with several men on the outskirts of town. I’m glad to see it was completely blown out of proportion but people do talk, Posey. Try not to give them something to talk about, please.”
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br />   “Garrison, we do want them talking about the theater.”

  “Posey – they are talking about you.”

  “So?”

  “You should behave appropriately.”

  “You should think better of me.”

  “I do – but you’ve got to realize…”

  “What? What do I have to realize, Garrison? Tell me just exactly what I was doing wrong and how it affects you,” she snapped defiantly, throwing down the cigarette angrily. Posey took off walking down the sidewalk and could hear his footfalls behind her. She half expected him to grab her arm or pick her up again like he did the last time she’d gotten upset with him. Remembering it and how embarrassing it was, she sped up her pace and noticed that he was following her at almost the same pace. Posey got to her house, unlocked the door and slipped inside only to have Garrison catch the door frame before she shut it, entering the house.

  “So, you’ve taken to following me now?”

  “If you mean following my wife to make sure she gets home safely, yes.”

  “Why does everything have to be an argument or discussion with you?”

  “Probably because I think you are stunningly beautiful and would like the chance to get to know you better.”

  7

  Posey stared at him in shock. Garrison thought she was pretty? She was wearing her favorite dress but she’d been out in the sun all day and was grimy beyond belief. She was certain her dress shields probably stunk to high heaven and couldn’t wait to take them off. Her hair had fallen in a few places, leaving messy tendrils on her face and down her neck.

  “Are you teasing me? That’s quite rude of you,” she snapped with dawning realization that there was no way he thought she was ‘stunningly beautiful’ – to use his terms.

  “Have you seen yourself?” Garrison whispered in silent surprise, watching her face. Posey turned away from the amazement in his eyes. It was too much for her. She felt the burn of tears start at the back of her eyes as she fought for control, turning her back on him and putting distance between them in the small entryway of her home. In her mind she heard the taunts of those children long ago, yet his voice echoed clear as day in the darkness of those memories. “Posey?”

  “Why don’t you wash up a bit and I will fix us a simple dinner,” she said firmly, keeping her back to him. “Go on now, it’s just down the hall.”

  Posey heard his footsteps move away from her and let out her breath, glancing up at the ceiling in silent thanks. There was something about her new husband that made her feel like the wall she kept around herself was horribly weak and faulty. It was easier to have the vibrant, outlandish persona that she’d grown be at the forefront, watched from a distance. Somehow Garrison was able to see through it all, reaching through it and it was terrifying….Revealing.

  Hurriedly, she put together a small plate of simple foods for them. Pouring two drinks, she put them on the table. Her house wasn’t extravagant but it was warm and lived in- something she was thankful for. It was actually her uncle’s and he’d left it to her, complete with the contents. Quilts, décor, and necessary items she hadn’t realized she would need to get by or survive out here alone. Posey had never owned a gun, but her uncle certainly had and she’d been grateful to have a means to protect herself when she was scared. Living in Chicago, the town was vibrant and always felt alive. Here in Silverpines, when evening fell the town went to sleep and Posey realized what it was like to be truly alone for the first time. Loneliness was something she’d never faced before and hated the feeling.

  Garrison emerged from the spare room where he’d washed up. That room had been set up for her arrival complete with a bed, a vanity dresser and washstand. Trying not to look at him, Posey failed miserably. He stood there with his hair wet and combed away from his face. The sawdust and sweat had been washed from his face and his eyes blazed as he looked upon her. She swallowed hard as she saw the stirrings of something in his gaze that made her stomach flip nervously. Straightening up from where she’d set the table, she wrenched her eyes from him.

  “Come sit down,” she ordered.

  “Then sit with me,” he countered in the same tone. She looked up sharply and saw the corner of his mouth was upturned in a wry smile. “You could ask me instead of ordering me about. I’d like to spend time with you since I haven’t seen you all day.”

  “I’m filthy and need to go clean up.”

  “Go ahead and I will wait for you.”

  “I know you must be hungry.”

  “Hungry for conversation and a few smiles from you, Mrs. Garrison.”

  Nodding tightly and ignoring the use of his name, Posey quickly strode past him and tried not to imagine what it would be like to actually be so very close to him. Glancing down, she avoided meeting his eyes or seeing the shadow on his jaw that fascinated her.

  In shock, Posey saw his arm snake out towards her neckline and grabbed the ribbon under her chin. She froze instantly and turned slightly as Garrison gently tugged the bow loose ever so slightly, his smile gone at the intimacy of the unexpected action. Looking up at him, her lips parted slightly in surprise and realization that he’d meant what he said. He thought she was lovely.

  There, in the small hallway, her mail-order husband stepped forward into her personal space around her. He gently cupped her neck pulling Posey into her very first kiss ever. No man had ever taken such liberties back home in Chicago and the moment Garrison’s lips touched hers, she realized that no man would ever do so again. The sensation of his kiss was like tasting cotton candy for the first time. It was incredibly sweet, decadent, as it brushed against her lips and then melted against her tongue. As he released her, she stood there leaning on the wall to keep from falling over.

  “You shouldn’t do such things,” she whispered, touching her lips and watching him.

  “I want to be able to kiss my wife and you seem to have liked it.”

  “Don’t say that…”

  “I’m glad you did,” he admitted with a soft smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear making her shiver with delight. “If that was just a simple kiss, can you imagine what it would be like to be in a true marriage together – how good it could be between us?”

  “Oh! You…you…you absolute heathen!” she stammered in horror and yanked the loose hat off her head, stomping off to her bedroom to clean up. She could hear his laughter echoing in the house as she shut the door firmly behind her. Leaning against it, she shut her eyes and tried to stop the hammering in her chest from her rampaging heartbeat. The reason she’d gotten so upset was the simple fact that he’d read her mind. If kissing her new husband could feel so good, what would it be like in the marriage bed?

  Garrison was amazed at the sensation kissing Posey brought about in him. He’d known he was attracted to her, but the innocent kiss between them lit a fire in his soul and was incredibly revealing. Posey had no idea how elegant and beautiful she truly was. He also understood now that she was putting on an act whenever she was in public or on stage. His little wife was a performer to hide what she felt were inadequacies in herself. The idea that she lacked confidence left him incredulous. His wife, who strutted about town dressed as Marie Antoinette, who ordered him about and pretended like she didn’t have a care in the world – actually was putting up a front.

  She was shy and hiding her true self.

  Now that he understood why she acted as brash as possible, he realized how he could reach through to her. He needed to explain that in order to create a successful launch of her theater, something near and dear to her heart, she would need to play another part.

  The part of his wife.

  She needed to let people see who she was, not the costumed queen she pretended to be. Posey had to shine for the people of Silverpines in a different fashion. She needed to attend church, be seen and develop a persona that showed strength. She needed to be the manager of the theater, not just a performer – and he had to somehow convince her of that.

  Gar
rison waited patiently seated at the table for her to exit from the bedroom where she was cleaning up for supper. He seated himself deliberately placing the table between them, because he was about to undergo negotiations with the smartest, most driven person he’d ever met: his new wife. He needed for her to feel like she was in control and show her that she could be safe revealing herself to him, thus his strategic placement. He wanted to give her a barrier so she could distance herself or hide until it was time to emerge.

  His little butterfly.

  The pet name made him smile and he immediately wiped it from his face when the bedroom door cracked open in the distance. And she emerges, he thought mentally watching her from the distance. Sure enough, Posey peered out of the door and slowly stepped out once she saw him sitting at the table.

  Watching her, Garrison marveled at how delicate she seemed right now. Fragile. She moved slowly, her eyes on him as if she was frightened. He smiled, remained where he was and indicated that she should sit down with him, join him at the table. Posey said nothing, she just gingerly sat down and kept her eyes averted once she was within reach.

  Was it that she was shy or was she truly wary of him? He truly believed in his heart that she didn’t fear him. His brave, bold girl put on a show for everyone – but him. It warmed his heart to know that he was privileged enough to get a glimpse of who she truly was on the inside underneath all that bravado. Garrison said nothing, just watched her unfurl a cloth napkin and place it on her lap, hiding her hands from him. He fought a smile as he remembered how animated she was when she was excited about something. Her delicate fingers fluttered, again reminding him of a butterfly moving from flower to flower.

  An uncomfortable silence grew between them as no one moved. It wasn’t like this yesterday when they ate dinner together. She’d talked about the theater and he’d been fascinated with the spark of happiness in her eyes. He couldn’t see her eyes, her window to the soul – she was hiding from him and he knew it.