by Tinnean
He was about to warn her that some doctors could be quacks, but just then a group of men came bustling up, led by the sheriff.
“Gentlemen, this is Mrs. Fox, the answer to our prayers. Mrs. Fox, permit me to introduce our town council—Mr. Allen, the mayor of our fair town, Mr. Livingston, president of First Federal Bank of Woody Draw, Mr. Warren, owner and editor of the Woody Draw Harbinger, Mr. Gainforth, our undertaker, and Dr. Hale, who, of course, is our doctor.” Each man tipped his hat at his name, and Mrs. Fox dipped a small curtsey.
“Mrs. Fox, we’re all thrilled you plan to stay in Woody Draw,” the mayor said. “As Sheriff Cottyn has told you, we’re in desperate need of a school teacher. When can you start?”
Sharps was startled by their enthusiasm. Mrs. Fox seemed to be as well.
“I…I should inform you I’m in a delicate condition. I’ll only be able to teach for about six months.”
“That won’t prove to be a problem. That will bring us into the spring calving time, and the children will be needed to help out at home.”
“In that case—”
“What kind of salary can she expect?” Sharps jumped in before she could commit herself. “Where will she be housed? She’s got three other children. Who’ll look after the little ones while she’s teaching your children?”
The mayor scowled at him. “I understood Mrs. Fox is a widow. Who are you?”
She touched Sharps’s arm. “Thank you, but I’ll deal with this.” She turned to the mayor. “I am a widow, and Mr. Browne has been kind enough to help me during my bereavement. He happens to have a very valid point. Please answer his questions.”
For a second, the men stared at her as if they’d never seen a woman before. Then they exchanged glances, and the mayor spoke. He named a decent salary.
“Hmm. Does that include a stipend for a woman to keep house for me and mind my children?”
“Uh…” More exchanged glances. “That can be added.”
“Good. I’ll want that included, as well as enough to buy groceries.”
“Indeed. Indeed.”
“And where will we live?”
“We have a pretty cottage in mind for you, not too far from the school.”
“This sounds adequate. You’ll draw up a contract?”
“You…you want a contract?”
“I’m just a helpless woman, Mayor. After all, I have to look out for my children.”
Sharps turned his head to conceal his amusement. The sheriff was doing the same, he saw. Mrs. Fox was one of the least helpless women he’d met, excluding Mrs. Hall.
The men exchanged glances a third time, and then they grinned. “It will be our pleasure, ma’am. You’re going to make a very good addition to our little town.”
“Excellent. May I ask what happened to your previous schoolteacher?”
The mayor cleared his throat. “She got married.”
Sharps knew how strict requirements for schoolteachers were, and it didn’t surprise him to learn the town council had fired the woman.
“I see.” Mrs. Fox’s voice dripped ice, and Sharps bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the men’s obvious dismay at her tone.
“That was the previous mayor and town council. They…uh…didn’t realize how difficult it would be to replace her.”
“Now you’re hiring one who will have a baby in six months.”
To a man, they all smiled weakly. Then the mayor cleared his throat again. “As I informed you, the previous town council made that decision. I like to think we’re more progressive.”
“How nice.” Mrs. Fox’s smile was saccharine, and this time Sharps ducked his head and rubbed his upper lip so they wouldn’t see his grin. Apparently she was a feisty lady when she wasn’t newly widowed. Mrs. Fox gazed back the way they had come. “I see my traveling companions are about to leave. I’ll just inform them I’ll be staying behind. Until I study the contract.” She dipped a little curtsy.
Sharps offered his arm again, and they resumed their leisurely stroll back to the wagons. He waited until they were out of earshot before he asked, “Are you sure you want to stay here?”
“I am. I’m sorry, I’ve been difficult, but…” She sighed. “Albert meant the world to me, and I never anticipated becoming a widow at such a young age.”
“No, ma’am. I doubt anyone does. May I say it was a pleasure watching you deal with those men?”
“I was well trained by my family. Quite frankly, Mother would have made mincemeat of them.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d come across people like that while he’d worked for Colonel Sebring, and he saw no reason to doubt her. He studied her features. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Actually, I’m not.” She removed a pretty, lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve and raised it to her lips.
“Then we’d better get you into your wagon.”
Chapter 25
Steve stepped out of the general store in time to see Sharps and Mrs. Fox approach. If it had been only a week or so earlier, he’d have been eaten up with jealousy. Secure in his boy’s love, Steve wondered now how he could have been so blind as to think the widow might hold any attraction for him.
“How was your walk?”
“Informative,” Mrs. Fox said, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been offered a position as schoolteacher here in Woody Draw, and I’ve decided to remain here.”
“She’s just waiting on the town council to bring her the contract.” Sharps met his gaze and gave a small shrug.
Steve was about to bring up some objections: where would she live, who’d take care of her children, who would protect her from the rowdier elements of the town. She must have realized, because she raised a hand. “I’m quite capable of caring for myself, Captain. In addition, the town council have promised me a house and a woman to cook and clean and care for the children while I’m teaching.”
“I see.” It was obvious she wasn’t as helpless as she’d appeared when Albert Fox had been around, but Steve wasn’t happy about it. However, he wasn’t her husband, father, or brother, so he had no right to object in any manner. “Will you sell the farm?” He knew the cash money would come in handy.
“It’s not mine to sell.”
“But—”
“Somehow Albert’s brothers managed to get to the farm ahead of us. They’ve already taken possession of it—I have no say in the matter.” She twisted her gloved fingers. “I’d been counting on the money the sale of that farm would bring. That’s why I have to take this job.”
“Cap, when you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you?”
“Uh…sure. Mrs. Fox, there’s a nice little café just down the street. Mrs. Hall is already there with her brothers. Would you care to join them? I’d be more than happy to escort you.”
“Thank you, that’s kind of you to offer, but I’m afraid I’m not feeling up to it.”
Sharps touched her arm. “Ma’am, might a cup of tea help settle your stomach?”
“I don’t know…”
“I can see Mrs. Hall. She’s sitting at a table on the boardwalk.”
“How cosmopolitan.”
“Isn’t it?” Sharps agreed easily. “Seems Eastern ways are making their way west.”
Steve watched as Sharps maneuvered the fragile woman to the café, saw her seated, then leaned down to speak to Chris, who nodded and hurried into the café, most likely to fetch Mrs. Fox her tea. After Sharps said a few more words to Georgie, he tipped his hat and strode back to him. Steve watched appreciatively. It was a pleasure watching his boy walk, all smooth, contained movements.
“Mrs. Hall will see she’s all right?” he asked when Sharps rejoined him.
He nodded. “She’s a good woman.”
“She is. You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah. The sheriff said something I thought you might find interesting.” He didn’t wait for Steve to ask what it was, just continued. “Apparently Willow Crick has a bad reputation. Even this
far north they know of it, so it’s a surefire bet the towns closer to Willow Crick are aware.”
“Son of a bitch.” Steve rarely swore, but now he felt fury slice through him. “Nobody bothered to alert us to that.”
“I didn’t think so. And I have to wonder why not.”
“Yeah. So do I. Damn.” He’d dropped his hands to his hips, seeking the butts of his pistols, only to remember he’d taken off the holster earlier. Their presence would have been reassuring.
“I know you’d never have gone to that town otherwise.” Sharps touched his shoulder before running his fingertips over the banjo’s case.
“Thank you. That means a great deal to me.” The kid meant a great deal to him.
Sharps gave him a shy smile and bumped his shoulder against Steve’s, and Steve wondered how he could ever have been so dumb as to think Sharps might care for anyone other than him.
“What do we do about it—about no one warning you away from that town?” Sharps asked.
“We?”
“You know I’ll always go where you go.”
He would, wouldn’t he? Knowing that gave Steve a warm feeling in the middle of his chest. “Well, short of riding back to Willow Crick and shaking it out of Horace Weatherford, I don’t reckon there’s much we can do.”
Sharps cocked his head, and Steve suddenly had an uneasy feeling.
“Sharps? What are you planning to do?”
“Me? Why would you think I’m going to do anything?”
“Maybe I remember you scaring the bejesus out of those men from Willow Crick.”
His boy laughed wholeheartedly, drawing the attention of passing townsfolk, but he paid them no mind and just shook his head. “You must be confusing me with someone else, Cap.”
The scamp. Steve was sorry they wouldn’t be staying in town overnight so they could spend the night in the hotel. He was sure using the excuse of economizing would have allowed them to share a room, and it would be enjoyable to sleep naked in each other’s arms.
“I don’t—” Steve spotted the sheriff watching them. “Sharps, we’ll be heading out soon. Do me a favor and check your mules’ hooves for a thrown shoe?”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“You’re up to something, and I’m not gonna let you be up to it without me.”
“You used to obey me.”
“You used to be my superior officer.”
Steve braced his hands on his hips and chuckled. If they’d been somewhere more private, he’d have pulled Sharps against his side and ruffled his boy’s hair, but instead he just shook his head. “All right, but keep your lip buttoned.”
“Yes, sir!” Sharps snapped off a salute, and Steve chuckled again. He’d never had a partner like this—truth to tell, he’d never had a partner—and it was a good feeling.
“Come on.”
Sharps sauntered down the boardwalk ahead of Steve, and Steve took the opportunity to enjoy the sight of his lover’s canvas trousers pulling snug over his buttocks with each stride he took. They hadn’t had the opportunity to make love in its fullest form, and it might be quite some time until they had the privacy to do so, but he was looking forward to it. Meanwhile, they were able to find some time to kiss and stroke each other or make love in the French way.
Sharps stopped in front of a man who was a couple of inches shorter than Steve but a bit bulkier. The man had sandy brown hair, light brown eyes shielded by his hat, and a slightly darker handlebar mustache.
“Sheriff, this is our wagon master, Steve Marriott. Steve, Sheriff Cottyn.”
“Sheriff.”
“Marriott. I understand you’re just passing through our town.”
“I understand you’re offering a job to one of my people.”
“Woody Draw needs a schoolmarm. And I notice you’ve got young’uns in your train who’ll need schooling as well. Any objections?”
“I reckon I’d be a fool to say yes. I just want you to know that Mrs. Fox has suffered a recent, grievous loss—”
“She mentioned the matter.”
Steve continued as if the sheriff hadn’t interrupted him. “If I learn she’s been taken advantage of in any way—that you allowed that to happen—I’ll take great pleasure in tearing you apart.”
The sheriff studied him carefully. “Mind if I ask why you’re so concerned?”
Steve curled his lip. Did the man think he looked on the widow romantically?
Apparently he did, because he hurried to say, “What I mean is, are you waiting for her to be done grieving before you step in to replace her husband?”
Sharps gave a choke of laughter, and Steve glowered at him. “At ease, Corporal.”
“What are you talking about?” the sheriff demanded. “This kid is nothing more than a boy.”
“He’s older than he looks.”
“Are you fooling—” The sheriff shook his head. “Never mind. Answer my question, please.”
“No. I have no intention of becoming Mrs. Fox’s next husband.”
“In that case, let me assure you that we look after our womenfolk in this town. Mrs. Fox will be fine.”
“I’ll take your word for that for the time being.”
Cottyn nodded and tugged thoughtfully at his mustache. “What do you say the next time you’re in town, you come by and we can have a drink?”
“All right.” Steve could feel Sharps stiffen, and he pulled him over and rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll both be happy to join you for a drink.”
They shook hands, and Steve and Sharps returned to the wagons. Steve knew he could tell Georgie to go on ahead while he and Sharps helped Mrs. Fox get settled in, but he also knew that suggestion would be met with flat-out refusal.
And as it turned out, he was right.
* * * *
“They must want a schoolmarm really bad,” Steve murmured as he and Sharps unloaded the last of the boxes from the Foxes’ wagon.
“Yep. They’ve been without one for a while, and this is the time for the young’uns to be in school.”
The entire town council—all five of them—had brought over the contract and waited patiently while Frank, who introduced himself as Mrs. Fox’s lawyer, looked it over. He’d been satisfied with it, and once Mrs. Fox had signed the paper, the town council took possession of it and escorted her to the cottage they’d promised would be hers.
“You’re coming, aren’t you, Sharps?” Bertie had asked.
“Sure am. As a matter of fact…” Sharps had gazed at all the others, and Georgie had grinned.
“We’re all going to help your mama get settled in,” Georgie had said.
“They told us it was a pretty little cottage,” Sharps said as he studied the compact building.
“And it is.” It was white, its many windows framed by green shutters, something Steve had never expected to see in this part of the country. Two chestnut trees—one in the front and the other at the rear—would provide shade in the summer, and a flower bed, currently bare, would add color come the spring.
Sharps hefted one box onto his shoulder, balanced another on his hip, and set foot on the neat little porch.
Steve stared at him. The kid only stood a handful of inches above five foot, but he carried those boxes as easily as a man Steve’s height. It made Steve want to see the muscles beneath those clothes.
Sharps saw the way Steve watched him and raised a curious eyebrow. “What is it?”
Steve smiled, a private smile. “I’ll tell you about it another time.”
Sharps’s eyes crinkled as his smile matched Steve’s. “Okay.”
“Well, we’d better get moving if we plan to reach Hummingbird Valley before sundown,” Steve said, and they crossed the porch and entered the house.
The first floor consisted of two large rooms, the parlor and the kitchen, while three bedrooms of varying sizes were on the second floor. The largest was for Mrs. Fox, she’d given the girls one, and Bertie would have the last.
/> Dakota winters could be cold, Steve had heard, but the cottage boasted of a fireplace that should comfortably heat the rooms on the ground floor, while each bedroom had its own wood burning stove.
While everyone pitched in to make the beds, Mrs. Fox stayed in the kitchen helping Mrs. Shearing, who would be keeping house for her, prepare a meal.
“Will you stay for supper?” Mrs. Fox asked when they came down.
“That’s kind of you to offer, Judith, but I think we’d better be on our way,” Georgie said.
“Thank you for your many kindnesses. And again, I apologize for my behavior on the trail here.”
“I understand.” Georgie hugged her. “If I’d lost Bart, I’d be unbearable to be near.”
“Will you come to visit?”
“Yes. We should be back in a few days. Bart’s made arrangements for Mr. Phipps to come out to the valley to study the lay of the land.”
“Mr. Phipps?” Mrs. Fox appeared confused, which Steve could understand. It would take all of them a while to put face to name in their new town.
“He’s Woody Draw’s resident architect,” Georgie said. “The sawmill’s foreman mentioned some difficulties with winter approaching, so Mr. Phipps will clarify that.”
“I see. Well, you must come to supper then.”
“We’d like that.” Georgie glanced at Sharps. “If you’d be willing to do some hunting, we can bring Mrs. Fox a supply of fresh meat.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Hall.”
“That would be most welcome.” Mrs. Fox walked them out onto the porch.
“What will you do with the mules?” Sharps asked.
“I’m sure someone in town will want to purchase them.” She would have no need for them and could use the money.
“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll take the wagon to the livery stable and turn ‘em loose in the corral.”
“Thank you, Mr. Browne.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. And while I’m there, I’ll see if there’s someone who can make a hackamore for Twilight. Steve, would you mind giving me a hand?”
