Wanted: Hired Gun

by Ginny Sterling

  “Thank you again for rescuing me and bringing me here,” he admitted softly in the stillness. He hoped to draw her into a conversation and was putting himself out there. They had not discussed it yet and he’d been relieved when she’d failed to bring it up the other day.

  “You never mentioned what happened.”

  “No, I didn’t want you to be scared or think badly of me.”

  “Did you do something wrong?”

  “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time – with the wrong people apparently. People I thought were friends,” he admitted and saw her swift glance upwards. Her blue eyes were curious and he could see the need for explanation but afraid to open the doorway between them. “Sometimes people want so badly to make a friend or fit in that they take the first available hand outstretched in their direction. I see that now since it nearly cost me my life – and why I am so grateful that I was put in your path. You seem very kind and I am relieved at this.”

  “I know what you mean,” she admitted. “People can be very mean sometimes.”

  “Yes, they can,” he quickly agreed, putting his hands in his lap to mimic her. He wanted her to feel like she could talk to him. A butterfly didn’t land on a flower that was being flung about in a storm. It landed on the still one that blossomed – and he would take that to heart with his little wife.

  “I realized in my jail cell that I had been used. I was a distraction by people I thought were my friends but instead were stealing from others around me. They left me to get caught when my lungs failed me and a dirty judge decided to make an example out of me. My mama pulled a few strings and saved me from a hanging just as the noose was around my neck. I was too close for comfort,” he admitted harshly and then softened. “Do you have paper and pencil so I can let her know that I’ve arrived safely? I owe my mother my very life – a second time around.”

  “Of course,” Posey encouraged. “My goodness, I had no idea the timing of my letter nor what had happened!” Garrison fought back the smile as one of her hands fluttered to touch her collar. He saw her throat work as she swallowed and praised God that his wife was a tender soul. What an unexpected blessing to meet her. “We’ll mail a letter immediately in the morning.”

  “Thank you,” he said thickly, feeling grateful for the chances he’d been given and the timing of it all. “If it had been ten minutes later, you’d have been sitting here with another man.” Posey’s hand crept up from her collar to cover her mouth as it dropped open in shock.

  “It was that close?” she breathed, her eyes wide.

  “Posey, they were getting ready to kick the block and I was praying desperately for someone to save me,” he confirmed, looking down at his plate. It was a simple meal of sliced bread, cheese, an apple and some cold ham slices. Simple, filling and lifegiving.

  “You gave me the opportunity to start over from a mistake I made by befriending someone I thought I could trust. I hope by me sharing that with you- you can learn to trust me. I’m a good, God-fearing man, Posey,” he said plainly and lay his hand on the table, extending it to her. “I want you to know I will do everything I can to take care of you as my wife and put my all into your theater.”

  Looking at her, he thought perhaps he might have judged her incorrectly as Posey sat there for several minutes watching him. Her shrewd, intelligent, soft eyes raked over his face and glanced at his outstretched hand as if trying to decide if he was friend or foe. He’d already crossed the line in kissing her, something she’d not been prepared for and knew he would push that line over and over again in the future.

  Just when he was fixing to withdraw and think of another way to reach her heart- he was shocked to see her bring her other hand up from under the table where it had been hidden. Her left hand still rested on her neckline protectively, but her right hand trembled as she brought it up slowly and lay it in his palm.

  “I believe you and I’m glad you will be there for me,” Posey admitted softly. “Having a husband is different, but I think that perhaps it will be a good match for us someday.”

  “I agree,” Garrison said warmly, rubbing his thumb over the smooth skin of her hand. “I know that your theater is everything to you, but I would like to be included too. It’s to be our future together and affect us financially. Everything we’ll do from here on out is as a team. I am grateful to be on your team, Posey.” She nodded silently, and he felt her begin to withdraw her hand from his. He resisted the urge to hang onto her and instead kept talking.

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I mess up though,” he teased. “I’ve never been someone’s husband before and will have to learn how to be a part of the theater.”

  “I’ve never been someone’s wife.”

  “No, I know – I think we can both learn together to do what is best for us and your theater. I could learn how to be a bit of a show person, if you can teach me – and perhaps we could go about town together, meet people and invite them to the opening together? I’d be proud to have you on my arm as my wife and to show you off at church.”

  “You want me to dress up in costume? I have Cleopatra and a few other’s outfits we could choose from?”

  “No, I would like you to take on the biggest production of your life. I’d like you to show the world your business savvy… and be yourself. Be my wife when we are walking about town together. Not Cleopatra or anyone else – just be my beautiful bride,” he asked softly, lacing his fingers with hers and watching her carefully. “I want to know the woman behind the façade. I’ve met Posey Jones and she is incredible…but I want to fall in love with Posey Garrison.”

  You could have heard a pin drop in the abject silence between them. He’d laid his heart out and threw his trump card with a flourish. He was fascinated by her, and that kiss had him spouting words of love before he knew it. He’d never intended to say anything mushy like that but it seemed to come spilling out from his very soul. He did want to know the real girl behind the costume…he wanted to love her and have her heart in return. She fascinated him like a riddle to be solved.

  Ever so slowly, Posey pulled her hand from his and Garrison felt a keen sense of disappointment and loss. He wanted to kick back his seat, lean across the table and beg her not to pull back from him. The immediate rush of feelings and incredible sense of urgency was nearly overwhelming, yet he fought it. He was frozen as if he’d been slapped or sucker-punched in the gut. His wife got to her feet and stepped out of the room slowly, backing away deliberately as if she was trying to see if he could be trusted or if he was dangerous. He’d told her about the hanging, perhaps she was scared and didn’t believe him? Instead, he could not help but gape as Posey returned carrying a small cake and shy smile.

  “I made this last night after you left thinking that weddings should be celebrated – even if they aren’t quite normal or like a storybook,” she admitted sheepishly as she set down a lopsided chocolate cake. She had the prettiest flush on her cheeks, and he realized that there was a faint dusting of freckles across her sweet nose. She was beautiful inside and out. Garrison felt his eyes water at the touching thought she’d shown and thanked God again for his new wife.

  “You are incredible,” he breathed gratefully. “And I’m a lucky man. Just because we didn’t have a fancy courtship and ours was a quick wedding… that doesn’t mean we can’t have a storybook relationship. Maybe this is a new start and we could rewrite those fairy tales together.”

  8

  August 1900

  Posey Jones, you must need your head examined, she thought wildly as a dollop of whitewash dropped directly on the top of her head. Why on earth was she even here painting while Garrison had taken off for the day. He’d gone to mail the letter to his mother and hadn’t returned. She wanted the theater to open in the early fall and it was getting late in the summer already. People in town were healing from the fire, recovering from a blizzard during the winter and getting back on their feet. Cooler temperatures, hearty laughs, and the promise of fun were sure to
bring in droves of customers.

  But they had to be ready to open first!

  The stage was finally finished and while it wasn’t exactly glamourous it would function just fine. Garrison had the brilliant idea of using tin pails to hold candles or lamps in order to light the stage. At first she had thought that it was a silly idea and would look awfully thrown together but he’d hammered out several of the tin pails and formed them into what looked like balloons or shells. They were curved and were quite pretty. He’d even painted the outside with a thick black paint to make them look a bit hidden from the audience.

  There was still so much to be done and no time to waste. He’d built benches and fastened them to the flooring so that way it stayed neat and orderly. There were several touches that he put into the building that had been unexpected, including a small booth by the entry door in order to pay. At first she had thought it silly, but he claimed that theaters back home had a person greeting at the door while another person collected money safely at a ticket box. Posey had never really paid attention to the front of the Chicago theaters, as she had been in the back getting ready for her performance.

  The material for the curtains had been taken to the seamstress, who looked more than grateful for the massive commission she’d been hired for. It would cost a pretty penny but would be well worth it in the long run. People always remembered extravagance and their feelings – it wasn’t the overall show but the results they remembered. She wanted everyone to simply be in awe and love the theater she’d poured her heart into.

  She wanted their approval.

  She wanted Garrison’s approval…and his friendship. There were things he did that made her wonder if he was holding back from her. Sometimes he would look at her and she could see the desire in his eyes, yet he would change subject or walk away. For instance, she felt like they’d really made headway in the beginnings of a relationship when he’d kissed her.

  She had made him a chocolate cake in an attempt to show her happiness in him being her groom. Posey had at first felt like maybe he was a pushover but there were sides to him that were ironclad. He wouldn’t budge on sharing his name. He’d given her space, but then abruptly without warning had cornered her into a kiss that took her breath away. He attacked, then retreated – advanced, then retracted. It reminded her of waves from Lake Michigan that lapped her feet back home.

  Surge upwards, then back…to and fro.

  Tonight, he said he wanted to stroll about town and learn about some of his new home. She’d agreed but that was before he disappeared and left her to whitewash the interior of the theater by herself. It had already one coat but she wanted it to gleam, insisting on a second coat and now he was missing. Another droplet fell on her, this time on the end of her nose causing her to glance at it cross-eyed. Hearing laughter behind her, Posey whirled around to see Garrison standing there leaning on the door frame she’d painted not five minutes ago.

  “That’s wet. Did you finally decide to show up today?” she snapped angrily. “I refuse to repaint that. You’ll have to do it.” Garrison leaned up from the door and slapped his forehead in mock indignation at having to repaint the door frame. Posey saw the white mark on his face and burst out laughing, slapping her hand on her thigh and then laughing even harder when she realized it was the same hand that held the brush.

  “You’ve got… paint… on your face,” she exclaimed in between giggles and then exclaimed, holding out her stained work dress. “Look at me!”

  “If it takes a little paint to have you smiling and laughing at me,” Garrison said, pulling her into his arms for a hug. “Then it’s all worth it,” he admitted, grinning down at her happy face. His blue eyes were crinkled with laughter as she looked up at him. He hadn’t let her go from the hug just yet and was keenly aware of how close the two of them were right now. She could feel just how firm his chest was against her corset she wore under her clothing and marveled at how perfect it was they seemed to fit together just right.

  She mischievously touched the paintbrush to the tip of his nose, pulling back in an effort to get away from him and put space between them. She wanted to be angry he’d been gone all morning long but was quickly being diffused by his nearness. Garrison didn’t move as she tapped him, instead his eyes got a wicked glint to them. His hand reached up to tickle her as he tucked his now painted face into the crook of her neck, wiping it on her throat and ear.

  “Garrison! No, stop that,” she yelped and began laughing as she squirmed to free herself from his arms. He would have none of it, nuzzling her deliberately all over her neck, jawline and finally he looked up as she laughed. Posey had tears running from her eyes from laughing so hard and her stomach muscles ached. She’d not felt such a keen happiness in a long time and it was all thanks to the simple joy she found in being with him.

  “You’ve made quite the mess,” she informed him breathlessly, smiling. He plucked the brush from her hand and she prepared herself for round two of the playfulness only to have him drop it in the bucket near her feet.

  “Are you giving up so easily and admitting defeat?” she taunted.

  “Hardly that,” he murmured happily looking down at her where she still stood in his arms. He leaned down and hesitated for the briefest moment before he kissed her. This was not like her first kiss in the hallway of her house, a few days ago. That had been bittersweet and tender. This was a knowing, guttural and heady kiss they shared. Garrison pulled her tight against him and Posey found her arms wrapped around his neck, holding her to him. There was no fear, no reservation between them. It was an open merging of two hearts. He held her lovingly until she felt the movement of his lips change. Instead of the all-consuming desire he was flooding her with, it was more of a nudging movement…like a cat licking its paw?

  What the…? she thought wildly and yanked her head back. He had been kissing her but changed to move his lips in an effort to wipe the paint from his nose onto her cheeks without missing a beat.

  “Garrison!” she roared in frustration as he finally released her, laughing mercilessly. She was certain she had enough white paint smeared on her face and neck to look like a trollop. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” she scolded angrily.

  He began guffawing in a second round of laughter when she yelled her thoughts at him. Her husband sat down hard on one of the benches while she stomped off in search of water, soap and a rag. She could not walk home like this and she disliked Garrison laughing at her. It was one thing to dish it out but she could soundly admit, she did not like being the butt of a joke with the man she cared for. His laughter echoed in the empty room but changed pitch.

  Good, maybe he is finally calming down. It wasn’t that funny anyhow, she thought. Posey grabbed the washrag and scrubbed it hard against a bar of soap, vigorously wiping at her face before she realized Garrison had stopped laughing.

  “Are you done laughing finally in there?” she hollered out and heard no response except a few gasps. “Garrison?” Posey dropped the rag onto the floor and raced around the corner only in time to see his pale face and blue lips before he collapsed onto the wood floor.

  “GARRISON!” she screamed, racing over to him. His hands were desperately searching for his pockets as he gasped for air. “What can I do?” she cried, dropping to the floor beside him. He gave up searching and simply grabbed her hand, clutching it to his chest as he struggled to breath. She could see the desperation in his eyes and the sad resolve as he himself wondered if he was going to die. This couldn’t be happening right now- not after such a beautiful moment of happiness they’d shared. Posey began crying desperately as his hand clenched hers hard in desperation.

  “I need a doctor! Hattie! HATTIE! SOMEBODY! HELP ME, PLEASE!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Garrison, it will be okay, I promise, honey. I’m here and…” Posey looked up as someone opened the theater door.

  “Get the doctor – please and hurry!” she barked uncaringly at the man in the doorway. Posey turned back to Garrison
as his hand went limp. The strangling grip he’d hand on her hand as he struggled to hold on was gone. His face was a horrible grey color as he passed out. Posey flew into action, ransacking his pockets and finding his asthma cigarettes.

  Lighting one she took a deep breath and blew it directly into his mouth only to see the smoke escape his lips. No! It had to go in his lungs! She took another deep breath and locked her mouth against his, pushing it forcefully into his body as much as possible. She didn’t know what was in the lifesaving cigarettes he carried but it certainly made her feel absolutely awful. Taking another heavy draw, she blew it into his mouth again, and relieved when not as much smoke escaped.

  “What are you doing?” Hattie soft voice asked from the doorway, rushing inside to help.

  “He’s got asthma and I found him gasping for breath. He needs these when he can’t breathe, and I’m trying to get it in his lungs so he can.”

  “Those things are terrible. He needs to relax his lungs so he can breathe, not irritate them with debris. Get back and get that out of here,” Hattie ordered calmly, opening her bag. “We want to relax his muscles and bring ease as much as possible. Lavendar oil, chamomile oil and keep him away from irritants,” she explained. “You need to be close so he doesn’t panic when he comes to.”

  Posey grabbed his hand and immediately lay her head down on his chest regardless of what people thought or who saw her. She wanted to be close by and hear his heartbeat. She could hear it thumping and hear the wheezing in his chest. It broke her heart to hear him struggling internally. Hot tears poured down her face and into her hair as she looked up at him, silently begging for him to open his eyes or respond. She could smell the strong oils and prayed that they would ease his suffering. What must that be like to be stricken with something so strong that he could be brought down like this.