Putting ideas in her head that it would be a good thing for her to do. Reba was a hopeless matchmaker. But she hadn’t stopped there. No, she’d insisted that it was Hallie’s duty in the community to do just such.
Well, just because she was the former school teacher, didn’t mean she had to participate in the basket supper. She could just as easily have donated a small sum to the School Bell Fund down at the bank. Something she would remember for whatever fund the basket money would be going to at the next Independence Day event. She had more things to do with her time than waste it on having lunch with some poor bachelor that just wanted a good home cooked meal. This was all Reba Barkley’s fault. Whatever had possessed her to take the woman’s advice?
“One seventy-five,” M. Trevor’s voice rose, shrill in his effort to achieve more volume.
Hallie shuddered. Just hurry up and get this over with, please. A quiet supper at home had its benefits. Tucked safely in her house, she could eat a small meal, then curl up in one of the parlor chairs with Tinker and stare out at the sunset. Later, she could gaze up at the stars as they began to appear. All the while, Tinker would be purring away in her lap. And she would be content.
She could see Ruby shaking her head no, toward Robert. That would mean that he was out of the bidding supper. At the moment, dinner with Robert was more appealing than Trevor or Ethan. She would have to spend the meal being repulsed by Trevor and his insistence that she sell her ranch, or be overly-grateful to Ethan for saving her from such an unsavory meal companion. How did she end up in this situation?
“Two dollars!” a new voice shouted.
Hallie strained to see the new bidder, finally spying a rather tall, handsome-faced man. His hat covered his head, but his blue eyes shone bright in the late afternoon sun. He must be the new doctor. At least she hoped that was who he was. Supper with an unknown stranger was almost worse than contemplating the evening with Mr. Trevor. At least she had an inkling of what to expect with him. For a brief moment, she let herself hope that Ethan would win the auction. That no matter what it took, no matter the sacrifice on his part, he would outbid the others. He would smile proudly and take her arm, and escort her from the building.
And his win would be not out of pity, but because he had wanted to win. Wanted to sit with her, eat with her, stare into her eyes.
And who was she kidding? Marry her. Yes, he could propose over their romantic picnic together. Tell her how he had finally realized his love for her. How he couldn’t live without her. He would apologize for wanting to send away for a bride. He would–
She watched as Ethan’s head swiveled to take in the newcomer to the auction. She couldn’t see his expression, but his shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension. Maybe he recognized the man and thought he was suitable as a supper companion for her.
“Two dollars and a nickel,” Ethan parried.
She smiled a small sigh of relief. Maybe he was staying in the bidding.
“I’ll make that two-fifty,” the stranger countered, his voice louder and more insistent with this bid.
Hallie felt her toes begin to tingle. It was all too much. Soon her entire body would be numb from the anxiety that was coursing through her. This was the last year that she was going to do up a basket for the supper picnic. From now on, she would do her best to keep a separate small account for donations, maybe use her egg money. It was the only way to keep her sanity. Not to mention that another year or two and she would be too old to be a single lady offering a basket. So it was best to get out while she was still eligible.
“Two-fifty! Do I hear any other bids?”
Hallie let her eyes slide to the side, searching for Ethan in the corner. Her heart sank. He seemed to be gone from the back of the crowd. He had abandoned her. Left her to whatever lot she might have with this stranger.
Wally’s gavel hit the wooden table top in front of him. “Two-fifty! Miss Bolton’s basket goes for $2.50 to the new doctor!”
Applause sounded as Hallie walked to the table and retrieved the basket. The grinning winner had made his way closer to the front and stood waiting for her.
She pasted a smile on her face and headed in her supper companion’s direction. He held his arm for her and she looped her own around his, and walked with him through the crowd of curious onlookers. She refused to search the group for Ethan. He had let her down and there was no way for him to make up for it.
Chapter 26
“Dr. Harvey Meadows,” he introduced himself, removing his hat and revealing a head of wavy brown hair to go with the thick, dark mustache above his upper lip. “Please don’t think I’m presumptuous for bidding so high on your basket, but once the auctioneer mentioned buttermilk pie, I just couldn’t resist, Miss–? I’m sorry, couldn’t hear your name over the applause.”
“Hallie Bolton,” she smiled, relief washing through her. She had heard much about him and had been looking forward to meeting him. “And it was very kind of you to bid so much. The bell fund is woefully low and your generous donation will be very appreciated. I just hope the pie lives up to your expectations,” she laughed as they made their way across the green grassy area to a shaded spot beneath a large oak tree.
“This looks like a good spot,“ Dr. Meadows smiled, taking the quilt from her arm and spreading it across the thick green grass.
Hallie smiled and stepped onto the cover, sinking down and straightening her skirts. The sun glistened and shimmered on the water of Tucker’s lake. The sound of children laughing echoed across from the opposite shore.
“Looks like a good spot for fishing,” he said, glancing toward the water.
Hallie opened the basket and removed the dish of fried chicken, along with two red-checked napkins. She arranged the potatoes and corn muffins on a plate beside the meat. She dumped the jar of sweet pickles into a small bowl. “A lot of people like it, but some say that Chance Creek is the best fishing around.”
Dr. Meadows smiled and reached for a piece of chicken. “I grew up on a creek a lot like Chance Creek,” he said, both of them turning to look at the lake, where a cheering crowd had gathered to watch a group of makeshift boats race to the other side. “Not as cold or swift, but my brothers and I spent a lot of time swimming and fishing all summer, giving our mother fright after fright,” he laughed. “Especially when we built that raft.”
“Oh my, I guess you did worry her,” Hallie shook her head. How some mother’s survived their boy’s childhood was a mystery to her.
“This is very good chicken, Miss Bolton,” he complimented her, taking another bite.
“Thank you.” He really was a nice man. Well-mannered, educated, handsome. Some young woman was going to snap him up quicker than he could take a deep breath.
He cleared his throat again. “Uh, Miss Bolton, just to set everything straight. . .I want you to know that I have a fiancée’ that is coming out to marry me in a few months. I didn’t want you to think. . .”
Hallie felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “Why that’s wonderful, Dr. Meadows. I’m sure we’ll all be glad to have another woman in our church quilting circle.” Had he thought that she thought that he thought. . .?”
He breathed out a large sigh. “I’m sure she’ll be looking forward to that.”
She smiled and took another bite of potato. It was cold and flavorless on her tongue. Why oh why had she participated in this silly basket picnic? “And when will she be coming?” She hoped her voice sounded bright and inquisitive.
“In another month or so. I just want to get settled before Carla comes out. She is looking forward to leaving the city and getting a taste of western life.”
“Well, this is the place to do it,” Hallie said reaching for a pickle. A wasp buzzed her hand and she jerked back. Their sting always made her swell for a couple of days.
“Did it sting you?”
“No. No, it just. . .” It appeared to have no intention of leaving, now buzzing in her face. And on her collar, its wings fluttering in th
e lace. She bit her lip in an attempt not to panic. But a scream was going to shoot from her mouth if she couldn’t get it out.
“Here, let me,” he leaned forward and began swatting at the very mad, red insect. Her eye caught a quick movement and a sharp poke on her cheek let her know the wasp was loose and had already stung her face.
It was a persistent thing and seemed to be coming back for another bite of her. “No, no, get away!” She tried to stand, but Dr. Meadows still had his hand on her collar, his fingers entwined in the delicate tatted piece.
“Wait, Miss Bolton, just let me get–”
Hallie gasped as Ethan plunged between herself and the doctor, his large hands around the smaller man’s neck. The doctor’s fingers ripped from her collar and both men fell to the ground, Dr. Meadows hand circled Ethan’s and he struggled to pull Ethan‘s fingers from his neck.
Hallie’s heart seemed to stop as the physician’s face reddened and his eyes began to bulge in his head. What was Ethan doing? She screamed and doubled her fists, beating her would be rescuer’s shoulders. “Ethan, stop!, Stop it! Get off of him!” She took a deep breath and continued to beat his shoulders, but he seemed intent on his mission.
“It was a wasp. A wasp was stinging me and he was trying to get it away from me! Let him go!”
Ethan released the man and pushed himself to his knees. His face was scarlet and blood-red streaks covered his sun-darkened throat. “A wasp?”
“Right here,” she pointed.
He stood and stared at her face. A river of red flooded his cheeks as he turned to the doctor, now standing and brushing the dirt and grass from his clothing. “I’m sorry, sir . I thought. . .I thought. . .I mean, she was screaming and. . .”
Dr. Meadows held his hand out, palm forward. “It’s fine, sir. Understandable.” He was backing away, one step at a time, as if to distance himself from them as much as possible.
Hallie ignored the pain on her cheek and rushed to help the man straighten his collar and string tie. His hair was sticking up where Ethan had pushed him the ground, but she didn’t feel comfortable trying to arrange it back in place.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Dr. Meadows?” She turned and looked at Ethan, lowering her voice. “What is the matter with you?”
“I just thought. . .you were screaming, Hallie. What was I supposed to think?”
He was right. The situation, from afar, had probably looked different than it actually was. And now it was just an embarrassing incident. For all of them. Thankfully, everyone else at the lake had been engrossed in the boat races on the water, and had failed to notice the conflict on their blanket. But Dr. Meadows–what did he think of them?
She turned and looked at her dinner partner. There must be some way to salvage the afternoon. She offered her best smile. “It looks like the meal is a mess. But there’s still the pie. Why don’t we sit down and all have a piece?” She might as well include Ethan, as he was still standing beside her. Harvey Meadows must think he was an uncivilized barbarian. How would she ever live this down?
The doctor tugged on his coat sleeve and cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Miss Bolton, I think I’ll just be heading back to my office, if you‘re alright. I’m sure Mr..”
“Kane, Ethan Kane, “ he spoke, holding out his hand. “And I’m sorry about-”
“No sir,” the doctor interrupted, ignoring the offer of a handshake. “All very understandable. If you’ll both excuse me, though, I think I’d better be going.” He leaned down and took his hat from the quilt.
Hallie refused to look at Ethan as she watched Harvey Meadows retreat.
“Hallie?”
Ignoring him, she sniffed and pulled the handkerchief from her sleeve, pressing it on her throbbing cheek. How could he have embarrassed her like that? Was he spying on her while she and Dr. Meadows were talking and eating their dinner? Had anyone seen the incident? It would be all over town by tomorrow, if they had.
Ethan snatched the cloth from her hand and dipped it in the pickle juice, then pressed it back to her face. She stared up at him. “What are you doing?”
“The vinegar. I thought it might help. My ma always used it.”
“Oh. Well, I guess so,” she agreed. He was just trying to make up for his terrible mistake And if nothing else, she would smell like sweet cinnamon and dill.
Chapter 27
Hallie stepped up to the window and smiled. “Just checking to see if I had any mail today.”
Doug shook his head. “None for you right now, Miss Bolton. You must be expecting something mighty special,” he grinned.
She straightened her smile a bit. The man was as nosy as a kitten looking inside of a box. “Nothing too pressing,” she said as she turned and exited the building. All she needed was for someone to find out about the letter she had mailed to Mr. Westbury. Tongues would be wagging, for sure.
She walked out into the warm September sun and headed for her mount.
Purchases at the mercantile were done and she had already stopped in for a quick hello to Reba Barkley. It was time to get back to the ranch. She untied the reins from the hitching post and wiped the perspiration from her forehead. Adjusting her straw hat lower on her face, she turned to see the stage coming in behind her. She waited and watched as the coach stopped up the street. Numerous people stepped out of their shops for their daily distraction of seeing if anyone new had come to town.
And on this hot afternoon, they were not disappointed. Toby, giving a wave to some of the storekeepers, jumped down from the top seat and opened the door. A stout man, wearing a light brown suit emerged from the dark coach. Stepping down, he removed the felt hat from his head to reveal a mop of dark hair. He spoke to the driver and she watched as Toby climbed back up and retrieved a leather bag, tossing it down to the sidewalk. The man gave a wave of thanks and picked up the bag, turning to observe the town.
Toby, back in his seat, slapped the reins and the stage continued on its journey. Next stop was probably Candlelight, she guessed, swinging up to Satin’s back. Giving no more thought to the new stranger in town, she urged the horse forward, glad to be done with her morning away from home.
And a wasted morning it had been. She could have waited on purchasing the spool of white thread, and the pound of coffee, as well. It was that silly letter she was expecting. It was on her mind all hours of the day. She’d even dreamed about it last night. Unfortunately, the dream had come to an end before she had actually opened the letter. Maybe if it had been a bad ending to the dream, it would have dampened her enthusiasm for checking on the possible arrival of the letter.
So she had spent unnecessary time riding to town just to find that there had been no letter delivered. And maybe there would never be one. She had written and mailed the note before the Independence Day picnic. There had been plenty of time for the man to write back. It would be best to accept the fact that he wasn’t interested.
Well, no more time to waste on foolish thoughts. Ethan was coming by after supper tonight. She had seen him briefly at the mercantile and he’d said he wanted her to look at something. She suspected that he had received a letter of his own. At least she hadn’t mentioned that she had written to Mr. Westbury, else she’d never live down the embarrassment.
***
Hallie took the checkered cloth from the apple pie and tested the pan. It was barely warm. By the time Ethan arrived, it would be just right for slicing.
The beat of horse hooves sounded in her back yard. He knocked at the back door, and she called for him to come inside. Stepping into the room, he clutched an ivory envelope in his hands and his blue eyes were open wide, a desperate expression held his face. “I’ve read it through twice more this afternoon. I’m not sure what to do.”
Good. Maybe his letter wasn’t all he had hoped for. That might make her feel less foolish for attempting to order a husband. “Come on and sit down at the table. Let me get you a slice of pie,” she smiled. Pie would calm him, get him to thinking m
ore clearly.
“I don’t want pie!” he exclaimed, pulling up a chair, anyway. “I want you to tell me how to get rid of her!”
Hallie put down the coffee pot and stared. “You’ve just heard from her and you already don’t want to marry her?”
“It says she wants to come on to Chance. Right away. Without us exchanging more letters. What am I supposed to do?”
Hallie finished pouring their coffee and brought it to the table. She sat across from him and thought about what he said. “May I see the letter?”
He handed it to her, as if glad to be rid of the dangerous document. She hid a smile as she unfolded the paper. A photograph dropped from the letter. She retrieved it and stared at the picture of a beautiful young woman.
His voice took on a desperate tone. “Look at the way she’s dressed. How can a maid afford clothes like that? I can’t support a woman that wants to wear those kind of clothes.”
She did look different than Hallie had imagined. And there was no doubt that the dress was probably expensive. “Maybe it’s a dress the photographer had. Sometimes they let people wear some from a wardrobe they keep in their studio,” she explained.
Ethan kept talking, giving her no time to read the letter herself. “She wants to come and stay at the boarding house in town. How can she afford to pay her way out here and then stay in town? No one could do that on a maid’s salary,” Ethan concluded, pulling his hat from his head and dropping it on the chair next to him. “And I can’t afford to pay for it.”
The boarding house was an extra expense. And he was right. It wasn’t something a maid would be able to afford, yet this young woman must be quite determined, based on his level of distress.
Ethan's Wild Rose Bride (Texas Frontier Brides Book 2) Page 15
