The woman shook her head, agitated. “I’m a kind woman, Deputy. I’ve never turned away a needy soul—I’m at the heart of every good deed.”
He nodded, smiling. She certainly was sincere about whatever she was leading up to.
“But I’ve received a request that I simply can’t fill. It goes against my very moral fiber.”
“Just what are we discussing, Mrs. Morgan? What have you been asked to do?”
She glanced around and lowered her voice, although there was no earthly reason to do so. If there were any other customers in the store, they’d still be able to hear her, no matter how much she might pretend to try discretion. “Titus Ross asked me if I’d help arrange things between him and Alice Givens.”
“Arrange things? You mean, as a matchmaker?”
“Yes, as a matchmaker! What did you think I meant—that he wants me to butcher him a cow?” She shook her head. “He’d like to take Alice to my next ball, or at least, meet up with her there.”
A knot was forming in Ranse’s gut. He knew Titus Ross to be a good man, but that didn’t mean he should be courting Alice. “And what did you tell him?”
“I didn’t give him a straight-out answer. I thought I should speak to you first, Deputy.”
Ranse swallowed. “You wanted to talk to me? About what?”
Mrs. Morgan put a hand on her hip. “Oh, come now. That innocent face isn’t going to get you far with me. You and I both know that your interest in Alice Givens goes beyond her general safety. You have feelings for the girl.”
Ranse looked down and then back up, hunting for an escape and not finding one. “It’s that obvious?”
“To everyone except the blind and the dead. Although, if the blind have ears, they’ve figured it out too. Now, what do you want me to tell Titus Ross?”
Ranse exhaled. He simply couldn’t stand by and let Mrs. Morgan arrange a match between Alice and someone else—and it sounded like Mrs. Morgan couldn’t do it either. How to handle it was another matter. Ranse didn’t know Alice’s feelings about Titus, and he couldn’t ruin something she might be hoping for.
“When is this ball?” he asked.
“In a week. I’m surprised you haven’t heard people discussing it around town. I flatter myself that it’s becoming quite an event.”
“I don’t care much for dancing, so I don’t tend to pay attention to talk about it.”
“Yes, I remember you telling me as much. I wonder what you object to, Deputy. Surely it’s not the idea of holding a pretty girl in your arms.”
Mrs. Morgan certainly wasn’t shy about saying potentially embarrassing things in public. “No, it’s the need to be formal the whole time. It’s easier to get to know someone in a more relaxed setting.”
“That’s true, but the balls create the proper atmosphere to ask the young lady to meet with you again. I’ve yet to meet a girl who wasn’t enchanted by the thought of twirling on her hero’s arm while an orchestra played and lights twinkled all around the room.”
Ranse smiled at the dreamy look on Mrs. Morgan’s face. “Does that include you?”
She blinked. “I might be enchanted by the atmosphere, but no, I’m not looking for romance. That’s for the younger generation.”
“Surely you don’t think it’s too late—”
She waved her hand. “Enough silliness. What do you want me to tell Titus Ross?”
Ranse picked up a tin of peaches and turned it over in his hands while he thought. He’d only become acquainted with Alice that week—he couldn’t possibly expect her to have feelings for him so soon, even though he knew she would forever hold a place in his heart. They’d had some very enjoyable moments together, but that wasn’t enough to stake any sort of claim on her. “I say we let Alice decide what she’d like to do,” he said at last. “A woman should have the right to decide her own heart, shouldn’t she?”
Mrs. Morgan beamed. “Oh, Deputy, you’re just wonderful,” she said. “I’ll tell Mr. Ross to come to the ball, but that he should be prepared to approach Alice himself because I’m not sure if her feelings are otherwise engaged. And of course you should be there too.”
Ranse held up a hand. “Now wait—I thought we just discussed my dislike of balls.”
“We did, but how is Alice to make up her mind if she can’t compare you side by side? A girl must know what her options are. If it makes you feel better, you can tell yourself that you’re only there to keep an eye on things and make sure nothing goes awry, although the chances of that are quite slim. All my guests are polite, well-mannered people.”
Ranse wasn’t going to win, and he knew it. “All right, Mrs. Morgan. I’ll attend the ball, and I’ll even wear a suit. But please don’t expect me to dance or do anything else fancy.”
“I wouldn’t even dream of it. Thank you—now I know what to tell Titus Ross, and my conscience is clear.”
Ranse waited until Mrs. Morgan was gone before he carried his peaches up to the counter. He’d best buy enough tinned food to last him a while—if Mrs. Morgan was going to hunt him down every time he left home, he might want to stay in hiding.
Chapter Six
Dr. Thomas leaned back, his examination of Alice’s eyes complete, and regarded her seriously. “How old was your grandmother when she lost her eyesight?”
“I believe she was fifty.”
“And you’re how old?”
“I’m twenty.”
Dr. Thomas walked around his desk and sat down, then interlaced his fingers. “Miss Givens, I’m going to present you with two scenarios, and they’re equally possible. The first is that you’re working too hard and straining your eyes, and that your fatigue will improve if you use better lighting and limit your work hours. The other scenario is that perhaps you have an eye weakness that runs in your family. The only way we’ll know for sure is to contact your grandmother’s doctor and see what was done to treat her, and also to speak with your mother and find out if she’s noticed anything changing with her vision. It’s not uncommon at all for seamstresses and others who do fine work to suffer from eye strain, so that’s the direction my thoughts are going right now. We should make further inquiries, though.”
“So, you said that if it’s just eye strain, I can do a little less and I’ll feel better?”
“That’s right.”
Alice exhaled. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to hear that. To be honest, I didn’t even notice a change in my eyesight until about two weeks ago, but as soon as I remembered my grandmother yesterday, it’s been all I can think about.”
“Conditions like this do have a way of creeping up on us. If they aren’t painful or in some other way disruptive to our lives, they can go on for some time before we pay attention to them.” Dr. Thomas picked up his pen. “If you could tell me where your grandmother lived and the name of her doctor, I’ll send a telegram right away so we can begin this investigation.”
“I’m not sure of her doctor’s name, but I can tell you everything else.” Alice gave him the information she did have, as well as her parents’ names so he could contact them as well. Her mother hadn’t said anything about having trouble with her eyes, but her mother wasn’t the sort to bring things up about herself. Her letters were mostly inquiries about Alice’s health or filling Alice in on the latest news from home . . . except she hadn’t written yet about Alice’s old crush. That was interesting, now that Alice thought about it.
“In the meantime, Miss Givens, use better lighting, and try to reduce the amount of time you spend working. That will be good for you regardless of the cause.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Alice rose and smoothed out her skirt. “I appreciate your time.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of it. Don’t worry.”
She thanked him again as she left his office. He’d been very reassuring and he didn’t seem to think she’d lose her eyesight, but she was glad they were investigating it further. She’d rather know what she might be facing than be caught unaware
s like her grandmother had been.
She could bring a few extra lanterns from around the theater into her workroom—it seemed they had plenty on hand there. Her room at the boarding house was another story, however, and she thought it would be wise to stop in at the mercantile and pick up another lamp on her way home.
She had just crossed the street and was about to climb the porch steps of the store when Juke Bonham stepped out from the shadows of the awning, a grin on his face. She swallowed hard. She was not going to let this man rattle her.
“Hello there, Miss Givens,” he said. “It’s been a couple of days since we last encountered each other.”
“Yes, it has. And you’ve taken the time to learn my name.”
“It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.”
“So would apologizing to me.”
“Apologizing? Whatever for? I can’t help how I feel, Miss Givens, and if you’re the prettiest girl I’ve seen in this town, I shouldn’t feel bad about saying it, should I?”
“I accept polite compliments. I don’t accept crude innuendo.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “My, my. Such long words out of such a little girl. There’s no need to be putting on airs—we’re the same, you and me, and we can talk to each other the same as other folks, don’t you think?”
The door to the mercantile was just beyond reach, and Alice glanced around. There were people milling about, but she supposed that to a casual observer, it would appear that she and Mr. Bonham were simply talking. There was no reason for anyone to be alarmed.
“Mr. Bonham, I’ve explained to you that I’m not interested in chatting. If you’ll excuse me, I have errands to run, and I’m sure you’re quite busy as well.”
“I’m not busy at all. Not until I start my new job on Monday. I’ve got all the time in the world.”
“I haven’t.” Alice took a step toward the door, but Mr. Bonham took a step as well, effectively blocking her way. “Please move to the side.”
“I don’t think I will. In fact, I think I’ll stay right here where I can catch a whiff of you. Summertime and strawberries. That’s what you smell like, Miss Givens, and I happen to be fond of strawberries.”
Alice felt herself growing lightheaded. She needed to stay calm—it would do no one any good if she lost her resolve now. “I just want to be sure I understand this correctly, Mr. Bonham. You’re refusing to allow me to pass?”
“That’s right.” He reached out and touched her arm, trailing his fingers down to her elbow. It was the most revolting thing she’d ever experienced, but she forced herself not to flinch. “I plan to stay right here.”
“I almost could have forgiven you that, but you keep making the same mistake, Mr. Bonham.”
“Oh? And what’s that, missy?”
“I don’t like being touched.” Alice pulled her pistol from its concealed pocket and leveled it at the man’s chest. “You have no right to place your hands on me, Mr. Bonham. Not one finger. And if you attempt any such thing again, I will shoot you.”
Mr. Bonham’s eyes fastened on the pistol. “That bitty thing? That couldn’t pick a bird out of a tree.”
“No, because it’s not a long-range rifle. If I were going to shoot a bird, I’d likely want a hunting rifle—a bolt-action service rifle like my father’s might be a little overpowered, but it would do the trick in a pinch. My favorite pistol is actually a Remington, but those are a little heavy to carry on a regular basis. This one?” She glanced down at the one she held. “It’s a single shot, nothing fancy, but at this range, with you standing so very close to me, it could do its job quite nicely.”
He looked back up at her, now obviously convinced that she knew what she was talking about. “All right, Miss Givens. On your way, then.” He stepped to the side and motioned for her to enter the store.
“Thank you, Mr. Bonham. I trust that you and I will stop having these little discussions now that you know I’m not interested.”
“Yes, Miss Givens. You’ve made that clear.”
She gave him a nod, then passed into the store.
Toria Jackson looked up from the counter, where she’d been writing in the ledger. “Hello, Alice. How are you today?”
Alice rested her hand on the edge of the counter to catch her balance. “Do . . . could I get a drink of water?”
Toria looked startled, then flew into action. “Of course. And here—sit down.” She grabbed a chair from behind the counter and set it where Alice could reach it easily.
Alice sat, then took the glass Toria fetched from the back room. She still felt calm, and yet, not quite connected to reality, as though she’d just watched someone else pull a gun on Mr. Bonham and threaten him rather than doing it herself.
After Alice drained her glass, Toria asked her what had happened.
“Oh, my goodness,” Toria said, blinking as Alice concluded her tale. “All that right on my front porch? I wish I’d realized . . .”
“It was rather quiet. I’m not surprised you didn’t know, and it’s all right now. I think Mr. Bonham finally understands that I’m serious.”
“I’m so glad you were armed, and that you’re familiar with how to use guns. I wonder if the deputies would be willing to teach some kind of class to the women of the community. Many of the ladies I’ve spoken with grew up in a rougher, less settled area and know a thing or two about taking care of themselves, but a good number of them came here from back east and haven’t had the chance to learn.”
“That’s a good idea.” Alice set her glass on the counter, feeling somewhat better. “Now, let me see . . . I did have a reason for coming here.” Everything that just happened made it hard to think. “A lantern. That’s right—I came to buy an extra lantern for my room.”
Toria helped her choose one that would be bright, but not too bulky, and wrapped it up for her. “Is there anything else I can get you? Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Thank you for your help—I really appreciate it.”
Holding her package in her left arm so her right hand would be free to grab her pistol, Alice walked back to the boarding house, a little shaky and yet not scared. She’d have to be sure to thank Ranse Hawkins yet again for his gift of the pistol. It was the most practical present she’d ever received.
She set her lantern on the desk in the corner of her room, then picked up the first dress she had discussed with Mrs. Morgan. This one looked as though it had been designed perhaps twenty years previously, but the fabric was still in good condition, and it should be a simple task to take the dress apart and use the pieces in a more up-to-date way. She raised the blinds over the window to let in as much light as possible, then slid the lantern to the other side of the desk. Perfect—she now had the illumination she needed for that time of day.
Once the dress had been taken apart and all the pieces were laid out on Alice’s bed, she studied Mrs. Morgan’s current measurements and compared them to the patterns in her box. Pinning and snipping, she soon had each piece adjusted to its new style, and now she could sew everything together and see if her grand idea had worked.
First, though, she needed to adjust the lighting again.
Evening had fallen, casting its shadows across her floor. She closed her drapes, then looked around, noting which of the existing lights could be adjusted and which could not. She could tilt the shade on that one . . . and move her new lantern over there . . . She sighed. This wasn’t going to be very convenient, but then again, she probably shouldn’t expect it to be. The things that mattered most seemed to be the things she fought the hardest for, and if she wanted to give her eyes what they needed, she’d have to put a little work into it. Very well. She moved the lantern, tilted the shade, then got back to work. She’d made a promise she intended to keep.
As she sewed, she wondered what this would mean for her future plans. She’d wanted to own a dress shop. She’d wanted to be another Mrs. Deveraux, a woman who made her living by creating beautiful works
of art. If she was losing her eyesight, she’d have to say goodbye to those dreams and find some other way to express herself. She’d enjoy doing any number of other things, she was sure—but the thought wasn’t comforting. She’d lived with this dream her whole life, and shifting her goals and desires to something else would take time, not just a matter of minutes.
She worked on the dress until she noticed her eyes begin to tire, and then she tucked everything away in her basket. She was quitting a full hour before she usually did, and that was a good indication to her that she had indeed developed the habit of pushing farther than she really should. She’d head downstairs, eat some dinner, and prepare for bed. If she went to sleep earlier, she could get up earlier and use the sun to its full advantage.
***
"Good morning, Deputy.”
Ranse grinned as Alice stepped out of the door of her boarding house. “Good morning, Miss Givens. You look cheerful this morning.”
“I feel cheerful.” She joined him on the sidewalk, and they began walking toward the theater.
“Does that have anything to do with your conquest yesterday?”
“What conquest?”
He looked at her curiously. “Your situation with Mr. Bonham. Word is spreading that you handled it quite well.”
Alice’s cheeks turned pink. “I didn’t realize I’d be the subject of gossip.”
“Not gossip so much as admiration. In fact, Mrs. Jackson asked me if I’d consider teaching a class for the ladies in town. She says you inspired the idea.”
“And will you teach it?”
Ranse rubbed the back of his neck. “I imagine I could, but I haven’t run it past KC yet. I’ve got to go through the proper channels and all that.”
“Well, I think it would be a great thing for Creede. Plenty of the men here wear a holster as a matter of course—why shouldn’t the women be armed as well?”
“You’re right, Miss Givens, and I’ll bring that up with KC. I’m sure it will be a selling point.” Ranse glanced down and saw that Alice’s sewing bag seemed fuller than usual. “Are you working on a special costume today?”
Moonlight With Alice (The Matchmaker's Ball Book 3) Page 5
