If Wishes Were Kisses: Six Beloved Americana Romances, a Collection (Small Town Swains)

by Pamela Morsi

  "I'm sure," Hannah agreed. They stood together at the edge of the dance floor, Hannah still holding her quart jar and Harjo trying to keep his humor in check. What a great joke it was going to be when Henry Lee discovered his wife, whom he was afraid to tell that he was in the whiskey business, had purchased whiskey from him.

  Wisdom, however, being the greater part of valor, Harjo decided that it was best that he was not present when Henry Lee discovered the joke.

  "I do apologize for deserting you," he said. "But I've just seen a friend across the room that I must speak with. Will you be all right waiting for Henry Lee?"

  "Certainly," she said. "I'll be fine."

  Left to her own devices, Hannah watched the dancers on the floor, some graceful and poetic, others merely exuberant. She felt slightly uncomfortable, and, at a loss as to what to do while waiting on her husband, she found herself taking casual little sips from the quart jar. It gave her something to occupy her hands and a reason to be standing alone to the side. She decided that Harjo was absolutely right. It was an acquired taste. It still burned a great deal, but she thought the whiskey was actually quite pleasant.

  In fact, she thought, the whole evening was quite pleasant. She began to sway to the music. She wanted to sing and dance, float around the room. At that she caught herself.

  "Now Hannah," she admonished herself. "You can't just go floating around the room." The idea was so funny she began to laugh and couldn't seem to stop. Covering her mouth with her hand, as if to lock in the hilarity that was struggling to escape, she hiccupped. With a little polite cough to cover she took a couple more sips from the jar. She looked across the room and smiled at Henry Lee, who was headed her way.

  For the first time that he could remember, Henry Lee regretted the time he had been forced to spend on business. Mrs. Byron was a very astute negotiator, and had refused to purchase one drop of corn liquor. She would not be associated with the whiskey trade. She was willing, however, to allow it to be sold out of her back room for a small fee. Twenty-five percent was what she had considered a small fee. Henry Lee had been furious at that offer. Already the liquor was being sold, so he was caught, but he was unwilling to take all of the risk of bringing the whiskey to the middle of the territory and receive the same amount as if he had stayed home. The bargaining had gone on forever and Henry Lee's eagerness to get it over with so that he could be with his wife did not work in his behalf. He finally agreed on fifteen percent, paid in advance, but vowed that he would never take the risk involved to ship into Muskogee again. It just wasn't worth it.

  He was surprised to see Hannah standing by herself, with Harjo nowhere in sight. He hurried over to her. When he was only a few feet away, he saw the mason jar in her hand. It stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked her directly in the eyes. She was smiling so warmly, so sweetly and swaying so unaffectedly to the rhythm of the music. It was obvious that Hannah Bunch Watson was tipsy.

  Henry Lee had years of experience with inebriated females and knew that any false moves could create an embarrassing scene. Smiling sweetly he moved to his wife's side and took the whiskey jar out of her hand.

  "Did Harjo buy this for you?" His voice was so sweet that Hannah missed the undercurrent of anger in it.

  "No, you did!" she answered, laughing at what seemed, for some reason, terribly funny. "I told the man that you were my husband and that you would pay him for it."

  "Indeed, I will."

  He placed the half-empty whiskey jar on the window sill behind him. "Did Harjo share any of this with you?"

  "Oh no, he had something else he had to do. I've just been watching the dancers."

  Henry Lee nodded fatalistically. A half quart of corn liquor was a good deal for someone who was not familiar with it.

  "Have you ever drunk before?"

  "Oh no, my father would never have approved." Hannah found that rather funny also. "But it doesn't matter about my father anymore, I only have to please my husband now." She smiled at him so radiantly that Henry Lee's anger seemed to wilt in the face of it.

  "Harjo told me that dancing and drinking are diversions that you like. I want to learn to do those things that you enjoy." She grabbed his hand eagerly. "Come and let me show you what I've learned already. Harjo has been showing me how to dance and it is just wonderful."

  Henry Lee could no longer remember why he was supposed to be angry. Hannah's dancing was far from perfect, but her natural ability coupled with the lack of inhibition derived from the drink made it easy for Henry Lee to lead her through several difficult steps. He enjoyed teaching her and he loved holding her close.

  She did not seem frightened of him at all now. He decided that perhaps Harjo had unexpectedly done him a great service. They would dance. He would hold her close. She would grow accustomed to his touch. And later, when she was still warm and relaxed from the liquor, he would teach her another dance. One that was done, prone, on the bed sheets. He smiled and whirled her around pressing her as close as was decently possible in public.

  Neemie Pathkiller had slowly made his way around the room watching every possible entrance and exit. It was clear that both Hattie Byron and Watson thought themselves so safe that neither was overly concerned with getting caught. The liquor was being sold, more or less openly, through the back stairway. He leisurely made his way to the doorway and spoke to the man making the sales.

  "Give me a quart," he told him offering the bill with the date written across it. Pathkiller took his jar and moved over to a window near the far side of the room He'd already alerted Tom Quick. The marshal and his men were waiting for a sign from Pathkiller. As soon as they knew that Watson had picked up the money they were going to storm the place and arrest him.

  Pathkiller watched the couple swirling together on the dance floor, neither even slightly aware that their pleasant evening was about to have a very unpleasant ending. It was almost too easy.

  For over an hour Hannah had felt like the princess at the ball. And she danced with the most handsome, most dashing, most charming prince who ever lived. She felt absolutely wonderful. Henry Lee held her so close she could feel the heat from his body and more than once she felt his lips in her hair. She wished all the other people could just disappear and she would simply stand in the middle of this candlelit ballroom and hold the man that she loved.

  Into her beautiful dream, the man who sold her the whiskey appeared at Henry Lee's side. “Just want you to know that we can square up whenever you're ready," he told Henry Lee.

  Henry Lee nodded and said he would be with him shortly.

  "He certainly is concerned about getting paid," Hannah commented. Henry Lee smiled, now amused at what had happened.

  "Are you about ready to leave?" he asked, and then pulled her close. Leaning down to whisper into her ear, he added, "We can stay longer and dance if you like, or we can head back to the hotel."

  Hannah blushed prettily, but the whiskey had given her enough courage to overcome her natural modesty and she nodded.

  Henry Lee led her to the side of the dance floor, and asked her to wait while he went to transact his business alone. Hannah stood for a moment watching the dancing round her, then she noticed her half-empty jar of whisky sitting on the window ledge. Having been reared with the adage "waste not, want not," Hannah retrieved it and finished the contents in one fiery swoop. She batted her eyes to combat the tears. She felt dizzy for the first time and decided that she had better stay close to Henry Lee. She turned and started in his direction.

  They counted out Henry Lee's money. "Thirty-eight gallons made 152 quarts, minus the one that your woman took equals 151 quarts sold."

  "Thanks," Henry Lee said, giving the grinning salesman a cut for his trouble. Taking his money, Henry Lee folded it, carefully attached it to his money clip and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. Watching from across the room, Neemie Pathkiller immediately went to the window and slammed it shut. Henry Lee had just turned to find Hannah at his side. She was giggling
and weaving a bit and he started to make a comment about not leaving a moment too soon when a commotion broke out near the entrance of the ballroom.

  "Federal marshals! Nobody leaves!" came the command from Tom Quick, hidden from view by the press of the crowd. With muttered expletives and cries of feminine alarm erupting throughout the ballroom, the crowd began hurrying in every direction, trying to find an exit. Both the front and rear doors were blocked by lawmen and the crowd surged around them, trying to push a way out. People tried to scramble through the open windows, but their ways were blocked by deputies.

  Henry Lee quickly assessed the situation. He wasn't certain they were after him, but it was highly likely. He wasn't about to stick around and find out for sure. He had not only himself to think about, but Hannah too. He could not allow her to be arrested. He scanned the room desperately, then his eyes fell on the stairway where the whiskey had been sold. Grabbing Hannah by the arm he rushed her through the doorway; stopping to close the door, he jerked a spindle from the stair railing and wedged it against the door. It wouldn't stop anyone, but hopefully it would slow them up a bit.

  Rushing up the stairs with Hannah in tow proved to be a bit more difficult. With all the excitement going on around her, Hannah had developed a fit of laughter Henry Lee was desperately fighting to maintain their freedom while Hannah was shrieking so hard with hilarity that she couldn't seem to walk up the stairs and had to be half-carried, half-dragged.

  When they reached the top of the landing, he saw only one door and it was locked. Without hesitation Henry Lee lowered Hannah to the floor and, grasping the door frame with both hands, slammed his foot into the middle, breaking the lock.

  Hannah literally screeched with laughter at that.

  The living quarters of Mrs. Byron were neat as a pin and lavishly furnished with fancy veneered furnishings from back East. Henry Lee hardly gave it a glance as he quickly hurried through the apartment looking for a back exit. Hannah, however, was impressed. The room was the most opulent that she had ever seen and in her current state of mind, she saw no reason not to enjoy the adventure. Plopping herself down on a backless red satin settee, she put her feet up and struck a pose that she imagined to be nonchalant elegance. She threw her head back, trying for a new, more distinguished affectation but it was too quick a move, and she decided that lying down night be the best idea after all.

  Henry Lee discovered to his dismay that there was no back stairway and that if they jumped out any of the windows, they would land in the arms of the lawmen surrounding the building. There was a small balcony-porch off the kitchen in the back. It was roofless except or a series of slatted boards that served to make some shade without blocking the sun. Henry Lee eyed the boards and then grabbing a chair in the tiny kitchen he stood on the chair, testing each one until he found the piece he wanted. Slightly loose, he was able to easily pry it off its frame. He pushed it up, onto the main roof, pulling himself up through the space he had created, he looked over the roof. He saw exactly what he was hoping for. The roof of the next building could be easily jumped to from this one and on down the street, it looked to be possible to go forever over the heads of the officers.

  Dropping back down on the porch he hurried to retrieve his wife. Hannah was lying face down on the settee.

  "Honey," he shook her gently, "don't go to sleep on me now. We've got to get out of here."

  He pulled her up into a sitting position, but she kept her eyes tightly shut.

  “I can't look," she told him.

  "Why not?"

  “The room keeps spinning around, I've never seen anything like it. I just sit here, and the room goes round and round like a carousel."

  Henry Lee shook his head in disbelief. What a time for Hannah to take up drinking!

  "Come on, sweetheart," he said, lifting her up into his arms. "Didn't I tell you we were going back to the hotel? Well, we are going to take a different route than how we came. One that nobody has ever taken before."

  "We're going to be explorers!" Hannah giggled. "We're going to have our own little adventure, how exciting!"

  Henry Lee couldn't help laughing with her. "It is going to be an adventure," he agreed. He just hoped it wouldn't get any more exciting than it already was.

  Henry Lee stood her up on her feet next to the kitchen chair on the porch.

  "Now watch me," he said, reaching up to grasp the roof boards with his hands. "You just get a good hold here, take one step on the ladder back of the chair, then you get your toe in good between one of these bricks and just climb right up through this opening and I'll lift you up."

  He proceeded to pull himself onto the roof and then leaned down to help her.

  Hannah tried to steady the spinning room and her shaky legs, but the more effort she put into it, the more difficult it became, and the more difficult it became, the funnier it was. She couldn't even seem to stand on the chair. She tried once, twice, three times to stand herself on the seat. She began giggling again and quickly doubled over with laughter. Dropping to her knees she laid her head down on the chair.

  "Give me your hand," Henry Lee ordered, leaning as far down as he could reach. But, even as she obeyed he knew he didn't have enough leverage to lift her up through the roof as a dead weight.

  They had wasted so much time, there wasn't even a second to spare if they had any hope of getting away. He jumped back down on the porch. Picking her up in his arms he stood again on the kitchen chair and pushed her upward in front of him.

  "Hannah," he barked in a voice that brooked no argument, "you must crawl up onto the roof. I know that you can do it, so do it!"

  Hannah immediately responded to the stem tone of voice and actually grasped the boards and began trying to pull herself up. When it was clear that she was making progress, Henry Lee placed his hands firmly on her bottom and heaved her through the roof until only her legs dangled. Grabbing her right foot, he pushed it up until she had her knee on the roof and she could make the rest of the way by herself.

  Henry Lee heard a crash and knew that the marshals had made their way through the door at the bottom of the stairway. Pleading to the Fates for more time, he quickly followed her to the roof.

  Hannah had taken the opportunity to lie down again. Henry Lee gave her a quick look and allowed his mind an instant to recall having her luscious behind right in his face and the sight of her long, stocking-clad legs. Then, forcing himself to the situation at hand, he carefully replaced the board that he had removed from the top of the porch. If he was lucky, no one would recognize the significance of the placement of the kitchen chair and would not come searching the roof for them.

  Taking Hannah's hand he helped her to her feet.

  "Don't give out on me now, Hannah," he urged. "We've still got a long way to go to get to the hotel."

  Hannah took a determined breath and the two hurried across the roof of the building to the south side. The next roof was slightly lower than the one on the Ambrosia Ballroom, and was separated by about a yard. It would be an easy jump, Henry Lee thought, even if he had to carry Hannah. He had just turned to ask if she wanted him to carry her when she went flying, jumping the distance with ease and landing on her feet, only to drop to her knees, laughing again.

  Henry Lee quickly jumped after her and grabbed her up in his arms. She began spinning around as if she were dancing again, humming the music and laughing and laughing.

  “Hannah Watson, you are the laughingest woman I ever saw! You are going to laugh us right into jail in a minute."

  Chapter Fifteen

  For Hannah, the experience of running from roof to roof was an adventure the likes of which she had never seen. Sometimes she ran as easily as Henry Lee, feeling the slight breeze of the hot summer evening, and at other times she would get the giggles and Henry Lee would have to pull her behind him. She wasn't sure how much trouble she and Henry Lee were actually fleeing.

  Obviously, she had broken the law when she'd purchased the whiskey, but she wasn't
certain if Henry Lee's comment about jail was a joke or a possibility. The idea that someone would arrest the daughter of Reverend Farnam Bunch was ludicrous. Then she remembered that she was no longer thinking of herself as the preacher's daughter, now she was Henry Lee's wife.

  Would someone arrest Henry Lee's wife?

  She honestly didn't know. After all, his wife did spend her evening dancing as carefree as a Methodist. And who knew what to expect of a woman who drank hard liquor? This new Hannah was someone entirely unfamiliar. But she certainly did seem to have a good deal more fun than the old Hannah!

  As they came closer to the end of the block, Henry Lee began to search for a way down. Checking back alleys and side entrances, he finally found the perfect escape route at the back of a building near the end of the block. There was a stairway on the alley that served an apartment on the second floor. It was ideal. He lowered Hannah to the landing and then jumped. As he rushed down the stairs, Henry Lee was already plotting a divergent course back to the hotel. They had come this far, he certainly didn't want to be caught now.

  As they reached the bottom of the stairway, he heard the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk at the end of the alley. Grabbing Hannah he pulled her with him into the shaded area under the staircase. As the steps seemed to pause, he cautioned Hannah with a finger to his lips to remain silent. In a sliver of moonlight he saw her face, and realized that it was not going to be possible. Just trying to be quiet was slowly but surely forcing up a riot of giggles and even her own hand upon her mouth was not going to be able to hold them in. The footsteps had stopped as if waiting. Waiting and listening. In the quiet night the slightest sound would easily carry to the street. Henry Lee could not let that happen. Without another thought Henry Lee removed her ineffectual hand from her mouth and replaced it with his lips.