Not that Dinah had personally partaken of any of Sundance’s entertainments.
While Sundance had a daily stage line that ran from Spearfish, the mail only made it to LaBelle twice a week. But the “cow township” did have one advantage that Sundance did not: a main railroad extension to the thriving town of Gillette, via direct route from Cheyenne.
Although she’d spent the majority of her days the previous five years nursing her mother, in her free time she and her friends had an active social life in Cheyenne. She’d attended the fair, shopped at the variety of stores along Main Street, enjoyed community events such as plays and dances—even when she’d been too shy to actually dance.
After her mother had passed on, leaving her practically penniless, Dinah had no choice but to find a teaching job as soon as possible. “Frontier” schools paid a higher salary. When she saw the advertisement in the Wyoming Eagle Tribune, for a teacher for grades one through three, in a township outside of Sundance, that included room and board, she immediately sent off a letter.
Within two weeks she’d received a response from Doctor Alexander Moorcroft. If she accepted the teacher’s position for two years, she would board with him and his wife. Any help she provided as his medical assistant—after her teaching hours—would be paid separately. Transportation of herself and her belongings from Cheyenne to Labelle would also be provided. Not only would she have her own room in his house, she’d also have use of a horse and buggy.
It’d seemed too good to be true—and in some respects, it was. Still, she accepted the position, sold off the last of her parents’ household furnishings, keeping only the steamer trunks, a credenza, desk and chair, a mirror, and the sewing machine. She’d also saved all of the books her family had collected, fabric, quilts and bedding, and a few decorative knickknacks she hoped to display in her own home one day.
She’d arrived at the train station with all her earthly possessions a year ago.
Nothing had turned out as she’d hoped.
Yet, Doc had always treated her kindly and paid her promptly. Mrs. Agnes could be a real pill, but she treated Dinah like the help for the most part, and she’d gotten used to that with her own mother.
That’s where her struggle was. Dinah was lonely. She looked forward to attending church, not to absorb the preacher’s words, but to have social contact with people other than the infirmed.
Doc harrumphed next to her, tearing her out of her thoughts.
“Is that Silas McKay waiting at the bottom of the steps with his hat in his hand?”
Dinah squinted at the figure dressed in the black coat, politely inclining his head at the people passing by him. Her belly swooped and she placed her hand there to quell her sudden bout of nerves. He’d really come.
“Dinah?” Doc prompted.
“Yes, Doc. Silas asked if he could escort me to the picnic and I agreed—but only if he accompanied me to church beforehand.”
He smirked. “Good to know.”
Then Silas was there, helping her down from the buggy. “Dinah. You are a vision of loveliness on this fine mornin’.”
“Thank you.” Lord have mercy, this man looked every bit as if the devil himself had decided to come to church. A satin brocade vest with red piping peeped out from beneath his black suit coat. His shirt was also black but the jaunty tie at his throat was red. That far-too-handsome face had been cleanly shaven. His dark hair beneath his hat wasn’t severely tamed with a heavy pomade, allowing the ends to curl in a charmingly roguish manner.
“Do I pass your inspection, Miss Thompson?” he murmured in her ear.
“Yes, Mr. McKay, you do. The bruises and scrapes on your face notwithstanding.”
He chuckled. “Nothin’ I can do about that now.”
“Except keep it from happening again by avoiding fighting in the future.”
“No promises on that, sugar pie.”
That’s what she was most worried about.
The three of them entered church together and Dinah couldn’t help but notice the curious looks other girls—and even their mothers—sent his way. But he paid no attention to anything except making sure she was comfortably situated between him and Doc in Doc’s preferred pew.
Silas glanced down at the floor, then turned to squint behind him and leaned over to study the pews across the aisle.
She whispered, “Is something wrong?”
“Where are the kneelers?”
“Excuse me?”
“The slide out benches with pads where you kneel?”
“Umm. This church doesn’t have them.”
“Bein’s it’s a poor country church? ’Cause it’s the first one I’ve been in that ain’t had ’em.”
“This is a Methodist church. We don’t use kneelers.”
He blinked as if that didn’t explain anything.
Doc shushed them and they stayed silent throughout the service.
Afterward, as they waited in line to shake the pastor’s hand, Silas bent down to whisper, “So I’m guessin’ no bowls of holy water on the way out neither.”
“No.”
The pastor seemed eager to talk to Silas. He clasped Silas’s outstretched hand in both of his. “Deputy. It is a privilege to have you in our midst today.”
“’Cept I’m not Deputy McKay. That’s my brother Jonas. I’m Silas. I’m just a rancher.”
Dinah frowned at his just a rancher comment on his occupation.
“I apologize, Silas,” the pastor gushed. “It is still a delight to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“Are you considering joining my flock?”
“Father O’Flaherty would have my hide. He didn’t send me all the way out here from Boston so I could turn against everything him and the nuns taught me.”
The pastor blinked. “Pardon?”
“Nothin’. This place will hafta do until there’s a Catholic church built.”
Silas ushered Dinah out before she could apologize for him—as if she’d do that.
But she stopped him in the vestibule. “How often does that happen?”
“What? Folks bein’ surprised that I’m Catholic?”
“No. People mistaking you for Jonas.”
His jaw tightened. “All the time. But Deputy McKay don’t ever look like this.” He pointed to his bruised face. “So truly, I don’t get the confusion ’cause it seems I always look a little rougher around the edges than him and I’m certainly no gentleman.”
Dinah stood on the tips of her boots to whisper, “You are a gentleman for escorting me to church, Silas. And I have no problem telling you and your brother apart.”
“That right?” He angled his head until his lips were almost touching her ear. “You a bettin’ woman, sugar pie?”
And…there was the appearance of his rascally side.
Clasping his hand in hers, she hotfooted it out of the church and didn’t stop moving until Silas dug his boot heels in and pulled her up short.
“What are you so all-fired up about?” he demanded.
She whirled around. “You! Talking about betting! In a church!”
He shrugged. “So?”
“So…remember the Bible lessons about moneylenders? And Jesus warning against games of chance taking place in God’s temple because they were a sin?”
“I musta missed those scriptures.” He came boot to boot with her, so close his hat cast her face in shadow. “Did you hustle me outta there in case God opted to send a lightnin’ bolt to strike me dead for breakin’ some kinda Methodist no gamblin’ rule?”
“Silas. That is not funny.”
“Then you ain’t gonna find this funny either. But I like seein’ a little sass in you so I’ll suggest it anyway.” His cheek brushed hers. “What I’d been about to say, is you’n me ought to have us a wager.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Scared to lose?” he taunted.
She slapped her hand on his chest. “I can see why people wanna punch you in the face
, McKay.”
The man had the audacity to flash her that dimpled smile. “Now darlin’, that ain’t fair that you’re tryin’ to distract me with such sweet-talk.”
Her mouth dropped open.
He laughed. “Anyway, here’s the wager: let’s each take a guess on how many times I get called Deputy McKay today.”
“What’s the winner get?”
Silas’s gaze fell to her mouth. “That many kisses.”
“But…then the loser gets kisses too.”
“Mmm-hmm. That’s why it’s called a sure bet, sugar pie, try and keep up.”
Oh, Dinah could continue to act prim, as if she expected Silas to work harder for a kiss. But she was desperate to know the softness of his lips as his strong, hard body held her close. So she boldly said, “Deal. My guess is three.”
“Mine is nine.”
“Nine? That’s a lot.”
“I expect a lot of confusion. A lot of your kisses will more than make up for it. I’m countin’ down until we can leave the picnic and square up on our bet.” He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear…just one time.
That small kiss vibrated throughout her entire body.
Silas stepped back and gallantly offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
The town council held the picnic and pig roast feed at the racetrack north of town.
Right after they arrived, Doc found his cronies, leaving Silas to carry the basket of food to the community tables.
Someone had already spread newspapers down on three long tables. Women were setting out their food stuffs on pieces of cloth that drew attention to their picnic contribution.
Dinah should’ve thought to add a curl of ribbon around the mason jar of pickled eggs or the sour cherry preserves. However, she had pre-sliced the loaf of molasses bread and arranged the mound of whipped honey butter on a floral painted saucer. She lifted out the spice cake with the brown butter frosting and set it at the forefront of her display, angling the rhubarb cream pie next to it.
Silas peered over her shoulder. “Dinah, did you make all of that?”
“Well, Doc sure didn’t,” she half-groused.
“I thought maybe Mrs. Doc helped you.”
“She’s mostly confined.” As soon as that slipped out, she glanced around to see if anyone had overheard, since it wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge. Before she could plead with Silas not to repeat that as gossip, Esther McRae plunked her basket down across from Dinah’s.
Esther made a big show of displaying her food. Jam tarts. Cheese biscuits. A fluffy meringue pie with brandied fruit compote. Sardines in a cream dill sauce. Then she startled coquettishly. “Oh! Hello, Dinah. I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Hello, Esther.”
Then Esther’s gaze shifted to Silas. “Why, Deputy McKay. I’m positively thrilled you decided to attend one of these Founder’s Day picnics.”
“I’m sure you’re right that my brother would much rather be here shootin’ the breeze than alone in his office, playin’ with his star and his gun.”
Esther blinked with confusion. “Pardon?”
“I’m not the deputy. I’m Silas McKay, the deputy’s brother.”
Dinah saw Esther’s speculative look flit between them.
Then she all but dismissed Dinah and focused on Silas. “Shame on me. I’m Esther McRae.”
He started to respond but Esther spoke first.
“I wasn’t aware that the deputy had a brother, say nothing of a twin brother. How did your mother ever tell you two apart?”
“Lately it’s easy to see tell the difference as I’m wearin’ bad decisions on my face.”
Esther tittered. “And you have a sense of humor as well! Did you just move here?”
“Nope. I’ve been a landowner for years. I just don’t make it to town too often. When I do, it’s usually to Labelle.”
“Labelle,” she sniffed. “No wonder you don’t like coming to town. There’s nothing to do there.”
“You’re from Labelle,” Dinah pointed out.
“My daddy’s lumberyard business is there,” she retorted. “We live in town. Anyway, Mr. McKay, you have no idea what you’re missing. There are so many entertainments found in Sundance. The horseracing held here at the track. The bowling lanes in the basement of Farnum’s. The fine dining at Pettyjohn’s. Now that baseball has started there are games during the week. On the weekends there’s usually a dance. The municipal band puts on lively concerts. We have a bicycle riding club and—”
“Sounds like people in town have more free time than we ranchers do,” Silas said dryly.
“What’s the point of working hard if you can’t have fun too?”
Dinah bet Esther had never worked a day in her life, let alone knowing anything about what hard work entailed.
“Well, one man’s leisure is another man’s vice.” He smiled. Then he pointed to Esther’s bounty of food. “It appears you went to a lot of hard work whippin’ up them fancy vittles.”
Fancy vittles? Wasn’t he laying the hick rancher act on a bit thick?
“Oh, listen to you. Nothing fancy about this. Just a few things we had in the larder.”
Dinah emitted a disbelieving noise that brought Esther’s attention back to her.
For a moment.
But she smiled at Silas and cooed, “You’re certainly welcome to sample anything I have displayed, Mr. McKay. Anything at all.”
Heavens. Could she be any more forward?
“That is downright kind of you, Miss McRae. I’ve a mind to take you up on that if I don’t overfill my belly on Dinah’s spice cake, which she baked specially for me since it’s my favorite.”
“How sweet,” Esther hissed with her forked tongue.
“Mmm-hmm, my lady is as sweet as the day is long.” He offered Dinah his arm. “Been a pleasure visitin’ with you. If you’ll excuse us.”
As soon as they were shot clear of her, Silas bent down to whisper, “That’s one.”
They strolled through the attendees, garnering questioning looks and whispers. Silas corrected no less than three more people who’d mistaken him for his deputy brother.
The most unsettling confrontation happened when Sheriff Eccleston demanded to know why Deputy McKay had left his post in Labelle to galivant around at a picnic. Silas assured the man Jonas was happily keeping the peace, while he, Jonas’s brother, took a day off from ranching.
After the sheriff walked away—laughing that he’d forgotten Jonas had a twin—Silas mused, “Musta been the suit that threw him off.”
Dinah sent him a look for that peculiar response. “Why would you say that?”
“You think I have a suit this nice? No ma’am. This here suit belonged to Jonas. He’s a bit of a dandy when it comes to his duds. Lucky we’re the same size, huh?”
“Jonas knows you’re wearing his clothes?”
“As a matter of fact, he gave this to me, bein’s my best shirt got ruined after the card game.”
Ignoring the “best shirt” portion of his comment because he had to be joking, she gave him a once over. “Your brother just passed his entire suit on to you?”
“His words were something along the lines that I wasn’t allowed to court you lookin’ like a cow-punchin’ saddle bum.”
“I’ll tell him thank you for that.”
“’Tween you’n me? Him givin’ me one of his slicked-up suits is an excuse for him to go get a new one made. I swear that’s what he spent his extra ‘outlaw’ money on.”
Dinah reached up and straightened his tie. “And you spend your extra money on…?”
“Darlin’, I don’t have any extra money. That’s the problem.”
He seemed embarrassed to admit that as soon as he’d said it.
“Perhaps it makes me petty, but I’m glad you aren’t familiar with the entertainments that Sundance has to offer.” She continued to fuss without meeting his eyes. “Although, maybe I should be worried about you seeking entertainments in
Labelle at Sackett’s and Ruby Red’s when you do have extra jingle in your pocket.”
Silas placed his rough fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “No extra money means I usually drink my whiskey at home, not at a saloon. I prefer to play cards with Jonas, so gamblin’ has a specific purpose for me. Payin’ for a few hours of female companionship is an even rarer occurrence. That said, I don’t fault men who do them things. But you don’t gotta worry, sugar pie, that any of them vices are gonna be an issue between us or that I can’t come up with a bit of extra money to court you.”
In a moment of panic, she blurted out, “Why court me, Silas? With the way these ladies are eyeing you, you could’ve courted any woman at this picnic.”
Anger crossed his face like a sudden storm.
When he saw her panic and that she tried to jerk back from him, he banked the fire in his eyes and snaked his arm around her waist to hold her closer. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Pull away from me. I’d never hurt you.”
“Then don’t glare at me! It’s scary.”
“I get in a mood when I hear you sayin’ silly things like questioning why I wanna be with you. I don’t know how you can’t see that you are light and goodness and sweetness and fire, woman. There ain’t no one like you.”
“Silas—”
“No, you listen. I was drawn to you from the first time I saw you last fall at Robinette’s, your shiny blond curls so pretty tied up with a green ribbon that matched your dress. You had a shopping basket hooked on your arm, patiently waitin’ as Jimmy picked out a sweet. A sweet that I saw you pay for along with a book, some fabric and thread, and a tin of lemon drops. You looked like an angel to me and you were kind as one to everyone you spoke with.”
“You saw me? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Darlin’, Robinette only lets me in the back door since I usually have cow dung from my hat to my boots. You’da took one look at me and run. Next time I was in Labelle was the night of the blizzard.”
As that sank in, she murmured, “You truly don’t come to town very often, do you?”
“Not if I can help it. Besides, Jonas is in one town or the other at least five days a week. If I need something, he’ll get it and bring it home.” He stroked her jawbone with his thumb. “But I’d come to town twice a day if it meant I could see you. Believe that.”
Silver-Tongued Devil Page 7