Lawfully Admired

by Ginny Sterling

  “I was curious as to if you were going to use a hot towel to make it easier on you.”

  “You’ve barely anything there,” she blurted out, and realized the faux pas. She had just insulted him, insinuating that he wasn’t mature enough to grow a beard yet. Oh, he appeared plenty mature, which caused her face to heat up again in embarrassment. “I don’t mean that like it sounds, Mr. Ashton.”

  “Stop,” he said lightly, chuckling. “I’m making you nervous. It’s only because you are making me nervous.”

  “How exactly am I making you nervous?”

  “Well, for one? I have the prettiest woman I have ever seen preparing to hold a sharp razor to my face. A razor might need to be run across a strop a few times or two for my comfort. I’d like to also talk to this lovely woman, but if she covers me with soap? I can’t move until the soap and the blade are gone,” he said warmly. “Tell you what? How about you cut my hair first and once we are a bit more acquainted? I might be more lenient to having a razor to my throat, or…”

  “Or?” she prompted, intrigued by his words.

  “Or I might just grow a beard,” Mr. Ashton said lightly with a wink, causing her to laugh. A broken, hoarse laugh escaped her throat and sounded like a cat had been stepped on, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she found herself marveling at the way his eyes danced with mirth.

  “I like that Miss Miller. Sounds like a song when you laugh,” he chuckled warmly. “You should laugh often.”

  “I think maybe I should shave you first,” she quipped with a raised eyebrow. “Just so you’ll be quiet; but your idea does have merit. You might want to be a bearded fellow after all.”

  “I will be on my best behavior.”

  “I doubt that, Mr. Ashton.” He was probably just like the other men that had come crawling into town recently. They arrived, caused a ruckus, and if they didn’t move on right away – several ended up causing trouble or items went missing about. There was a lawlessness around and it seemed to be contagious.

  “I promise it, Miss Miller.”

  “A haircut first then,” she nodded with a wan smile, swinging the heavy chair around carefully. Leaning it back, she encouraged him to slide down just a bit so his head was directly over the basin that awaited. Carefully, she poured some warm water from one of the several buckets she had waiting on the stove at the back of the shop. She put one of the metal pails on top of the stove to heat up.

  Her father had always offered a warm bath, warm shampoo and a warm shave. She had kept up the tradition and her delicate sensibilities by having it all in the far back room. She was incredibly modest and shy. The idea of a man taking a bath in room with a woman nearby did not sit well with her but brought in a steady income. First thing she did was tack up a large curtain that could be easily drawn to give privacy.

  Taking the bucket of warm water, she poured half of it slowly over his head, marveling at how his hair looked like a golden waterfall. She also was distinctly aware at how close her bosom was to him as she leaned over him. Funny the things you noticed when you were attracted to someone. She had never realized how precarious a position it was until just now.

  “Mmm,” he said softly, closing his eyes and smiling lightly.

  “My initials again?” she asked quietly, surprising herself. Her fingers hesitated for the briefest moment as she smoothed his hair back. “Or is the temperature acceptable? Any request on scents? I have sandalwood, lavender, lemo-”

  “You pick,” he sighed. “I’m pretty content right now. This is pure bliss.”

  “Sandalwood, it is then.”

  “Is that your favorite?”

  “I do like it,” she confirmed easily. The man was beautiful in a ruggedly handsome way. A strong aquiline nose made him seem almost noble or debonair like the southern gentleman she’d seen at parties years ago. He looked almost out of place in his vest and worn shirt. That was then and this was now. Those days of lavish extravagance were gone and simple things like a cotton shirt were taken for granted.

  Lathering up the shampoo bar, she stepped up on the crate again and leaned over to wash his hair. Rich, foamy, soapy bubbles coated her hands as she massaged his head gently. The soft sighs that escaped him every once in a while caused her to grin. “I thought you said you’d be on your best behavior?”

  “I promise you, I am” Mr. Ashton claimed quickly, crossing himself lightly. Melissa noticed that when he crossed himself, he got all sorts of bubbles on his fingers, leaving a trail of them on each shoulder and his chest, then on his mouth.

  “Ugh! Sandalwood smells good but tastes awful!”

  “Maybe it’s a fitting punishment?” she suggested with a muffled giggle.

  “Could be, Miss Melissa,” he said lightly, cracking open one eye and looking directly at her sideways. “I might be lying.”

  This open admission caused her to laugh even harder at his chagrinned expression as he lay there with his head awkwardly in the sink. She liked seeing his smile at her laughter. Picking up the bucket, she instructed him to close his eyes before she poured the warm water on his head.

  Covering his grinning face with a towel, Melissa roughly dried his hair. Wrapping his head, she instructed him to sit up while she maneuvered the seat back into an upright position. Putting the now-empty bucket under the basin, she pulled the stopper and let the water drain back inside of the bucket. She would toss the used water out later.

  “How do you want it cut?” she asked, grabbing a wooden comb. She carefully drew it through his hair, again surprised by how beautiful the shades of gold were.

  “Shorter,” he said simply. Melissa looked at him, surprised to see his eyes were closed still and he had a look of peace on his face as he sat there silently. “How much shorter?”

  “Anything. I’m just in heaven right now” he breathed. “It’s been a long time since I have been to a real barbershop and this feels divine. I can’t imagine how good a fresh hot shave will feel.” The simple truth in his words surprised her as he sat there immobile as she combed his hair.

  “How did you used to wear it?” she asked simply, noticing that it was well below his chin and brushing his shoulders. Thick locks that flipped upwards at the very bottom, it seemed almost a shame to cut it, but she could understand wanting to look neat.

  “Well before the war, my pa insisted that men look like men,” he smiled wistfully to himself as he sat there.

  “And during the war?”

  “We took turns shearing each other as closely as possible if someone had scissors, to keep the lice away.” His casual explanation caused Melissa to squeak in dismay. She stopped combing his hair abruptly. The heavy wooden comb clattered to the floor in the silence. She awkwardly retrieved it, unsure what to do now.

  “Lice?” she croaked, feeling her own skin itch at the mere thought.

  “Miss Miller, I’m clean” he promised, embarrassed. “I swear. When the war was over, first thing they did was boil everything we had on us and owned. I hate the smell of lye soap now since I’ve scrubbed so much of it on me. I swear, no bugs!”

  Nodding in understanding, she picked up her scissors. “So, cut it close?”

  “No, miss,” he said lightly, shutting his eyes again contentedly. “Cut it how you want. Your preference. I just want it a bit shorter than it is now.”

  Melissa trimmed about three inches off all the way around. It would be shorter, but she really liked the way his straight hair fell against his forehead when he came in. Melissa tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a small handheld mirror.

  “I can always cut it shorter, I just can’t put it back on,” she said lightly. “Do you want me to take more off?”

  “How does it look to you?”

  “I like it,” she answered honestly. It was long enough to brush his forehead, and she found herself wanting to smooth a few of the locks as they began to dry. His hair lay against his head with a beautiful feathering, like a golden peacock, making her wonder if he would preen
or strut about like one.

  “Then it’s perfect.”

  “It’s your head silly man,” she teased with a smile.

  “And it’s your pretty eyes,” he countered boldly.

  “Yes, that’s true. It’s my eyes, but you shouldn’t worry about how you look to my eyes…” she said softly, blushing.

  “I think I might like to look nice for you, Miss Miller. Now, how about that shave?” he said intimately. “Do you feel like cutting my throat about now? Or, do you think I’d look nice cleanly shaven?”

  “There is not really a good answer to that.”

  “Sure, there is. Am I in danger?” he teased.

  “Only because my hands are shaking,” she quipped, embarrassed by the open admission. His warm eyes watched her move around the chair as she dragged the blade against the strop several times.

  “Then I will die a happy man,” he confirmed, shrugging. “Or I might look like a rabid stray cat got me? Perhaps shrapnel tore at my chin? I will think of something creative around the campfire, but either way? I’d be happy.”

  “You’re no good, Mr. Ashton” she laughed, shaking her head at his outrageous behavior. He had a wonderful sense of humor and the outrageousness of his claims had her giggling like a young girl.

  “Maybe we can drop the formalities, Miss Melissa? May I call you that?”

  “Yes, please. I thought Gideon was a biblical name? Shouldn’t you be striving to live up to that name?”

  “Gideon was a leader in the bible and yes. I should try to live up to my name… but he wasn’t without flaws either,” he teased, winking at her as she rolled her eyes.

  “Lie back,” she ordered, reclining the chair. The man was incorrigible and outrageous in his behavior. She hadn’t enjoyed a conversation so much in such a long time.

  “Still no hot towel? Haven’t I been good?” he said with a pout.

  “Afterwards,” she smiled, rolling her eyes. “I promise.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” he began, and Melissa immediately shushed him by putting a large dollop of shaving cream directly on his mouth. This caused one of Gideon’s eyebrows to shoot up in response. He smiled as she slathered his entire jaw and neck in the thick cream. Grabbing her father’s pearl handled blade, she gave it several good swishes again across the strop as Gideon watched.

  “Satisfied?” she teased, and laughed aloud as he pretended to look frightened silently. “Stop! You, silly man. You’ll want a steady hand. We can’t have word that a rabid cat attacked you here!” He nodded and laid back, shutting his eyes and relaxing. Melissa’s anxiety shot through the roof as she stared openly at his prone form. He was just lying there with his hands crossed on his chest, waiting. As she held the blade, she thought of her father’s words:

  “Melissa, don’t rush things. A good shave is a luxury for a man. It’s an art, and you? The artist. Have confidence in what you are doing. Don’t be too light with the blade nor too heavy. Take your time. Breathe girl and slide it across the skin as if it was slippery.”

  His advice echoed in her head as she tried to focus on Gideon’s beard. She lay the blade carefully against it, and stroked it with a practiced flip. The faint scrape was the only sound in the room as she ran it over his face and jawline carefully. Tilting his jaw upwards with one finger, she laid the blade at the base of his throat and hesitated as he swallowed.

  Steady, she thought to herself and drug it upwards gently against the grain. She did this several more times, giving a small touch up here and there. Standing back, she pinched his nose and did his moustache.

  “Am I safe?” he whispered aloud, causing Melissa to throw a dry cloth at him.

  “Behave while I get your hot towel and aftershave.”

  Melissa grabbed a towel with a long pair of metal tongs. Putting it into the hot water, she carefully withdrew it as to not splash herself. It wasn’t boiling yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t scald her fair skin either. She carried it over towards where the handsome man sat, watching her every move. Gingerly, she reached out grabbing the corner with her fingers, checking the temperature. Giving it a twist, she wrung out some of the hot water. “Your towel you requested?” she said primly, “repeatedly, I might add?”

  Gideon shut his eyes and resumed his relaxed position, fingers intertwined on his chest. Melissa lay it across his face, making sure he could breathe. Hearing a faint sigh of pleasure from him, she smiled widely and put the back of her hand up to her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

  “You’ll spoil a man, Melissa” he said appreciatively.

  “Lucky it’s you, then?” she teased, chuckling aloud.

  “Amen to that!” he breathed happily and lay there for several minutes.

  “May I?” she finally asked, as it was time to pull the cooling towel off his face. She hated to disturb him but she had the aftershave oils nearby and wanted to apply it while the skin was soft. Any shave stung, or so her father told her, but a proper shave was invigorating. Yanking the towel with a practiced flip, she pulled it off his face in one felled swoop. Tucking the corner under her apron string, she rubbed her oiled hands together and smoothed the balm over his face. Hearing him sigh happily yet again, made her smile.

  “You like that?” she whispered, surprising herself. She stroked her hands over his strong jaw a few times, as if she was memorizing the line of it. Her fingers danced over his throat and then by his mouth. She was trying not to outline his lips but couldn’t help herself.

  “Very much so,” he admitted huskily. “That is one mighty nice shave you give. I think you have a new customer for life.”

  “Well then, I shall see you again soon?”

  “I should say so,” he agreed. Standing up from the seat, Melissa again realized how much he filled the small barbershop. He was extremely handsome and his easy smile made her happy. Making herself busy, she wiped her hands on the now cool wet towel that hung from her apron string where it had been tucked.

  “That will be fifty cents, Gideon,” she said. “Quarter for the shave and quarter for the cut.” Melissa knew she was cheap, but she also wanted to make sure that she had business. She had heard tails of Dodge City charging a dollar for a shave and cut, but here? People here were struggling to get by daily.

  “Well worth it too,” he agreed and gave her a crisp dollar. “Keep the change, Melissa. You earned it by putting up with me.”

  “Are you certain?” she asked, surprised at the gesture. Her mother and she had emptied their purses recently for the funeral for her father. This put back almost a third of what they had saved away for emergencies.

  “Absolutely. Would I be too forward if I asked to see you again? For company, not just a shave?”

  “Oh?” she asked, surprised and somewhat pleased to see him looking a bit unsure. The flirt actually looked somewhat shy. “What are you asking me?”

  “I’d like to court you. I thought maybe we could have dinner or go for a walk together? I will be in the area for some time.”

  “I’d like that, Mr. Gideon Ashton. Very much so,” she answered honestly. She found herself placing her hand lightly on his to stop his fidgeting. He was crumpling the brim of his hat in his hand nervously, and it was endearing.

  “I’m glad. I find you very pretty, Miss Melissa. If you don’t mind me saying so?”

  “Not at all,” she countered, smiling at his candid, open response. “You’ve been extremely kind and kept me laughing. It’s been a long time since I have laughed like that. I needed it more than I realized.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” Gideon leaned down and kissed her cheek, causing her to gasp in surprise and shock. Gone was the shy man and in his place was the outrageous cad that had her on her toes just moments ago. “I hope you think about that too!” he replied, and darted out the door as if dogs were nipping at his ankles.

  Melissa stood there surprised and stunned. Her hand drifted up absently to her cheek as she stared at his retreating figure through the glass pane.
His image was distorted through the beaded glass, but there was no mistaking his wide shoulders and excited wave as he kicked up his heels and continued on his way.

  That little devil, she thought. She should have been upset or offended at his forward behavior. But his exuberance made her smile again as she shook her head in disbelief. Gideon Ashton was something quite different from anyone else she had run into.

  3

  Early the next morning, Melissa awoke and started her morning out preparing a few things for herself, as well as her mother. She was still grieving, and Melissa had found that if she left her for the day, she would sit in the darkness of the house alone. It was crushing to see how lonely she was without her father.

  Melissa found herself taking a different route to the shop. She darted alongside of her house that sat near Miss Polly’s and her young boy’s home. Picking up her pace, she crossed through Delilah Starkey’s yard. She noticed that the street was near empty at this hour. A billowing smoke stack indicated that Preacher Smith and his wife were up and milling about.

  Stopping in her tracks, she hesitated. What was she doing? Was she really interested in asking about Gideon? Melissa was dealing with the death of her father and hadn’t even bothered to follow-up with anyone on the latest news in town. She had been so despondent with handling her mother and making sure they had food on the table that only now had she felt like there was now a time to inquire. What if someone had already snagged the handsome Mr. Ashton and she was being played for a fool? Was he here investigating someone? What if he was actually genuine in wanting to court her?

  Her heart leapt at the idea of possibly having the handsome Gideon Ashton as a beau. She had jumped at the chance for a change; what was stopping her now? Taking a deep breath, she walked towards the door of the Pastor’s house and bravely knocked. They seemed to know everyone and everything about town. As the door opened, she put on a false smile. “Good morning Mrs. Smith,” she announced in a singsong voice. “Do you and Pastor Smith have a moment?”

  “Certainly,” Trudy Smith said politely and held open the door for Melissa to enter.