Deena's Deception

by G. S. Carr

  He, as well as many of the other farmers, had been having issues with someone destroying patches of their fields. The culprit had yet to be caught, although many of them had their suspicions. Asa slowed his steps, coming upon a situation he'd been hoping wouldn't exist again. A decent-sized section of his wheat was ruined. Trampled, uprooted, and broken stalks lay scattered along the ground. This was the work of a human. Animals ate what they needed and moved on.

  This was purposeful sabotage.

  Asa crouched down, his leg making it difficult to do so. He examined the mess for clues. There weren't any boot prints. Whoever did this had worn light footwear meant to conceal their tracks. Hmm. What he couldn't figure out was why?

  Ruby Creek was a nice area to live in. The town was fairly built up, but not overly busy. Most of the farmers, like he and his brother Rob had been there since the beginning. They'd proved up their land last year, and now Asa wanted to focus on improving the way they operated. Maybe even expanding into horse breeding.

  Disturbances like these could derail all those dreams. This was the second time in the last month someone had ruined one of his crops. It was too close to harvest time for trouble like this to be popping up. He'd just hired Johnny on as a full-time farmhand and sent word to Mrs. Millie Crenshaw that he was ready to propose marriage to Miss Pearl Wilson. Every cent from this year’s harvest would be needed to keep everything going according to plan.

  Asa removed his wide-brimmed straw hat and bowed his head. "Lord. I don't know what you have planned for this situation but help me be ready to walk through it all with you."

  He kept his head bent a few seconds longer, then settled his hat back on his head. With renewed peace and determination, Asa struggled to rise, dusting off his pants. The sound of footsteps approaching in the distance caught his attention.

  Johnny hiked over, his expression all business per usual. The young man's head for solving problems, knowledge of all things farming related, and unwavering loyalty were the main reasons Asa had hired him despite his age. But for someone who'd only recently celebrated his twentieth birthday, the boy didn't know how to have fun. All he did was work, eat, and sleep.

  "Rob is on his way over," Johnny said when he was close enough to be heard.

  "Thank you."

  Johnny drew to a halt next to Asa. "So, what do you think?"

  "You're right." Asa peered out over the field of golden wheat, swaying in the gentle breeze. "Someone's tampering with the crops, but there's not much we can do about it until we know who it is."

  Johnny tipped his hat back, revealing more of his curly midnight hair, and scratched his head. "I can do a few more patrols at night if you want."

  "No. You work hard enough as is. We'll figure something else out."

  "Well, I'll clean this up while you go talk to Rob."

  "Thank you." Asa gave Johnny's shoulder two firm pats. "If you don't get it all done before the sun goes down, don't worry about it."

  Johnny nodded. "Yes, boss."

  "You have a good night."

  "You too, boss."

  A sharp pain shot up Asa's leg when he took a step to leave. He did his best to hide his wince. One sign of weakness and Johnny would take it upon himself to complete all the chores so that Asa could rest. He couldn't have the poor boy working himself to death on his conscience. Asa straightened, held his head high, and took careful steps to conceal his limp as he headed home.

  ***

  Asa opened the front door of his modest three-bedroom home and nearly sighed in relief. It was time to put his pride on the shelf. He was going to have to start taking the buggy out to the fields for a while. Else he might pass out from the pain in his leg along the way home and become buzzard food. SaraGrace would never forgive him for leaving her, even if it was to be with the Lord.

  "Papa!" the little girl in question hollered from the kitchen.

  SaraGrace released the spoon mid-stir in the pot of stew, hopped from her stool, and bounded over to him. She launched herself at him with the unwavering faith of a daughter who knew her father would catch her. Asa cradled her to his chest, humbled and awestruck by her unconditional love. He carried her to the sofa, keeping the hisses of pain from slipping past his lips.

  "Hello, my lovebug," he said, kissing her forehead. He ruffled her silky chestnut hair, earning a gleeful giggle.

  Mrs. Paty, his longtime neighbor and friend, exited the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "¡Qué linda! Don't you too make the cutest pair? Just alike, all the way down to your beautiful blue eyes and the freckles on your noses," she crooned in her elegant Spanish accent. The corners of her light brown eyes crinkled.

  Tucking SaraGrace into the crook of his arm, Asa removed his hat, then smiled and nodded at Mrs. Paty. "Good evening, Mrs. Paty. Thank you again for watching over SaraGrace for me. I hope she wasn't too much trouble."

  "Your little girl was an angel as always. It is my pleasure to take care of her."

  After his wife Billie ran off three years ago, not long after SaraGrace's first birthday, Asa had no clue what to do with a baby. Between trying to divide his time between planting and harvesting, building a new wooden home to replace their old sod house, and trying to figure out what to feed a red-face screaming youngster, he was drowning in anxiety and fear.

  Newly widowed, Mrs. Paty had taken mercy on him, volunteering to care for SaraGrace while he worked around the farm. Every time he tried to pay her, she refused, stating that her husband had left her with more than enough money to live out the rest of her days comfortably. And taking care of SaraGrace had saved her from the crippling sadness of losing the love of her life.

  "One of these days, Mrs. Paty, you're going to let me repay you for all you've done for us."

  "Nonsense. My reward is in heaven, and that's good enough for me."

  The door burst open before Asa could respond. His younger brother Rob sauntered into the house, full of unblemished youthful exuberance.

  "Something sure smells good," he said, sniffing the air like a bloodhound who'd caught the scent of nearby prey. "What fine dish have you prepared for supper tonight, Mrs. Paty?"

  "Estofado de pollo y papas. I used my great-grandmother's recipe. You are going to love it."

  Asa shook his head. "You have to stop spoiling us, Mrs. Paty."

  "Hold up, speak for yourself," Rob cut in. He walked over to Mrs. Paty, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles. "You can spoil me as much as you like, Mrs. Paty. I'm never going to turn away the affections of a pretty lady like yourself."

  Mrs. Paty was twice his age, and her love for her former husband had yet to waver, but all five feet two inches of her blushed a delicate shade of red. Asa covered his mouth with his fist to refrain from laughing. Rob could charm the venom out of a rattlesnake. A quality Asa admired, and slightly envied, about his brother.

  Mrs. Paty pinched Rob's cheeks. "I will always spoil you, mijo," she said, her eyes alight with affection.

  "That's what I like to hear."

  "I like when Mrs. Paty spoils me too," SaraGrace chimed in, her broad smile showing off her missing front tooth. "Sometimes, she lets me dip my finger in the honey jar and lick it off."

  Mrs. Paty placed her hands on her slender hips and raised an eyebrow at the little girl. "That's supposed to be our little secret, mija."

  "Oops. Sorry." SaraGrace dipped her chin, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink.

  Asa winked at his daughter. "I like to dip my finger in the honey jar sometimes too."

  Her eyes went wide with wonder, her little mouth forming a round “O.” "You do, Papa?"

  "Yes, indeed. Your old man loves a treat like anyone else."

  "I have a treat for you! Mrs. Paty and I made cobbler. I'll go set the table." SaraGrace climbed off the sofa and scampered back into the kitchen.

  Everyone chuckled, watching the spitfire go.

  "I'll go help her," Mrs. Paty said, trailing after the little girl.

  Rob moseyed over and
plopped down in the seat SaraGrace had vacated. "Let me know if I can be of assistance. I always be here whenever you need me," he said to Mrs. Paty

  "Oh, you." Mrs. Paty shook a finger at him, but her giddy grin stole the sting from her rebuke.

  Asa stretched out his leg and massaged his aching muscles. "One of these days, you'll have to stop carrying on like a shameless flirt. Else you won't be able to find a respectable bride who'll put up with you."

  "If you haven't noticed, pickings for eligible ladies are slim in these parts. I'm waiting to see how your mail-order bride turns out before I toss my hat in that ring. I've heard some frightening stories. Women saying they're buxom beauties, but when they turn up at a man's door, they're so unattractive they could bluff a buzzard off a meat wagon." Rob stared straight ahead, his eyes taking on a far-off look. He shuddered at the horrifying visual his imagination had conjured.

  "There is more to a good woman than just her appearance."

  Despite his censure, Asa couldn't argue too much with what Rob had said. He'd heard the tales. Seen the warnings in the paper. But when one's choices were severely limited, sacrifices had to be made. Asa would take a woman from trustworthy, hardworking stock over an attractive woman who could barely stitch a shirt any day.

  "That might be true, but I'm only a flesh and blood man. If I have to stay with one woman for the rest of my life, I want to have something decent to look at."

  Asa shook his head. Knowing Rob, he was only half kidding, if at all. "Sorry to tell you, brother, but Mrs. Crenshaw only helps men with upstanding moral character. She wouldn't find you a bride even if you were the last man left in the Dakota Territory."

  "I beg to differ." Rob laced his hands behind his head, a smug smile on his handsome face. "I'm a man made of exceptional moral fiber. Mrs. Crenshaw would love me as soon as she saw me."

  "Umm-hmm. A very elastic fiber."

  They both chuckled.

  Rob shrugged, accepting Asa's assessment of his character. "Well, we might get to test that theory. If these disturbances keep happening on everyone's farms, we might end up being the last men left in Ruby Creek."

  Asa sobered, remembering the state of his field. "It's definitely getting worse. First, it was missing eggs, dead chickens, sections of my barbed wire fences cut. Now they destroyed a good section of my wheat last night. Whoever they are. And I have a feeling this is just the beginning."

  "Some of the others are speculating that this is the Indians. They think they’re coming off the reservation and harassing us to scare us off our land."

  "I don't believe it." Asa sat forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He mulled over that bit of information, searching for the flaws and merit. It didn't matter how he felt. It mattered whether it was true or not. "We've never had problems with them before. Why would they pick a fight now?"

  Rob scratched his chin, his eyebrows drawn together, contemplating the possibilities. "Beats me. And I'm not saying I believe it. Just relaying what I've been hearing."

  "Either way, someone is trying to stir up fear. We have to figure out who. We can't afford to have a bad harvest this year."

  "Agreed. We'll get to the bottom of this." Rob gave Asa a curt nod, affirming his commitment to solving the detrimental mystery. He sat back and slung his arm over the back of the sofa, his expression becoming playful once again. "In the meantime, back to this business about your blushing bride. Have you received a response to your telegraph marriage proposal?"

  A warm flush crept up Asa's neck, all the way to the top of his ears. It had taken a whole lot of convincing and a revelation from the Almighty himself to make Asa comfortable with the idea of engaging a mail-order bride agency to help him find a wife. SaraGrace needed a mother, and he couldn't keep imposing on Mrs. Paty to be her caregiver. Not to mention all the other ways Mrs. Patty helped around the house. Cleaning, cooking, and so much more.

  Initially, Rob had been one of the main supporters of Asa's chosen path to matrimonial bliss. Now he took every opportunity he could to poke fun at the way things were progressing. Asa dropped his gaze to the ground and fidgeted in his seat. Rob laughed outright at his discomfort.

  "Laugh all you like. It is a very respectable undertaking. Sam worked with Mrs. Crenshaw, and she helped him find Rebecca."

  "Rebecca is a wonderful lady. Treats Sam like a king. Can't argue with that."

  "Exactly. And to your question, Mrs. Crenshaw said she would get back to me as soon as she speaks with Pearl."

  "Well, I can't wait to meet my new sister-in-law." The amusement faded from Rob's tone. He gripped Asa's shoulder, his expression sincere. "You deserve the happiness a good woman brings. I hope Pearl is everything you hope for and more."

  "I just need a good mother for SaraGrace and a helpmate around the farm. That's all I'm hoping for."

  "Like I'd ever believe that's all you're dreaming of. I know you better than that. Don't worry. Pearl is going to be a lovely woman with a good sense of humor, beauty, and the patience of an angel. She’ll have to be, to put up with all your grumpiness."

  "I'm not grumpy," he grumbled.

  "If you say so."

  Mrs. Paty walked back into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. "Who's ready to eat?"

  "That would be me," Rob said, rising and heading over to the table. "Smells delicious. You ladies did a wonderful job. Can't wait to tuck into this meal."

  Asa stood, grateful some of the pain in his leg had subsided. He hobbled over to the table, ready to enjoy a meal with his family. Rob was right. He did hope for more. In the secret part of his heart, he hoped for someone to love and cherish him. Someone with whom he could share his dreams for the future so that they could build them together. A partner to share his life with. But such women didn't exist for men like him. Men who weren't whole, or handsome, or charming. So, he'd settle for whoever would have him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Deena! Deena! Deena Lyon, I know you hear me."

  Deena cringed. The sound of her name spoken as a sensual purr by the smoky feminine voice made her quicken her steps. The last time Beatrice had corned her, she'd barely escaped being forcefully dragged into Mahogany House. Working in a brothel, especially that one, held no appeal to Deena. Unfortunately, the tenacious madam refused to believe her.

  "Got ya," Beatrice said in a sing-song tone like they were children playing a game of hide-and-seek. Her long, elegant fingers clamped around Deena's wrist. She quickly wove her arm through Deena's, locking them together and hindering any chance of escape. "Morning, Deena. How are you today? Such lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it."

  She spoke as if they were two old friends meeting for a morning stroll, instead of an unwilling hostage and captor. Her poignant floral scent assaulted Deena's nose, the smell so strong she could taste it. Left with no other choice, Deena slowed her steps to match Beatrice's unhurried pace.

  "Morning, Beatrice," Deena mumbled. "I'm surviving. Don't have much of time to talk. I've got a lot to do today."

  If Beatrice noticed the stiffness in Deena's posture, or the pull on their connected arms as she attempted to pry herself free, she didn't show it. The pleasant smile on her painted lips never wavered. "Where were you headed? Maybe I can join you."

  "Just here and there. I'm sure you have better things to do than follow me around."

  "How about I accompany you for a little while? We can part ways when the time is right."

  "Sure. That would be lovely."

  Beatrice's sweet tone didn't fool Deena. Her question wasn't actually a request. It was a command that they both knew Deena wouldn't dare refuse. A woman didn't become one of the most well know madams in New York City without acquiring some unsavory acquaintances. Ones she never hesitated to call upon when she wanted things to go her way.

  "I heard Mr. Smith has been standing outside the tenement building, trying to shake people down for rent. Were you able to pay this month?"

  "I paid him some. I'll be able to pay the
rest shortly. I had a good day yesterday, but I needed to take care of a few other obligations first."

  "You know I'll always have a place for you at the house if you're ever looking for work." Beatrice stroked Deena's forearm like a doting guardian concerned about the welfare of their beloved charge. "And it will be so much easier than deceptively relieving rich men of their valuables."

  Deena kept her focus trained straight ahead. It was never wise to look a master manipulator in the eyes. They'd spot a weakness and devise a plan to exploit it before your lashes closed in a single blink. "I've never been afraid of hard work."

  "Yet another thing I admire about you. But why struggle when you don't have to?" Beatrice stroked the side of Deena's face with the back of her soft hand. "With features like yours and that gorgeous, smooth dark brown complexion, you could be one of my top girls."

  "Thank you for the compliment, but my answer is still no."

  Beatrice's eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flickering across them. "Starvation and homelessness have a way of tearing down the pride of even the strongest willed person," she said, her tone sharp.

  "That's true, so it's a good thing I'm not there yet." Deena came to stop and finally yanked her arm from Beatrice's unrelenting grasp. She offered a too-sweet smile, strained with derision. "If I ever do find myself so impoverished, I'll let you know. In the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I need to get going."

  "Very well, then. You know where to find me when you're ready. Until next time." Beatrice swept her scrutinizing gaze over Deena one last time, then strolled off in the direction they'd come.

  "Have a good day."

  Deena almost wanted to spit at her. She hadn't missed the subtle surety in Beatrice's voice, that there would indeed come a day when she'd become one of her harlots. Death would be a better alternative to being one of the girls at Mahogany House. But what got under Deena’s skin the most was that underneath her bravado, a small part of her wasn't entirely sure Beatrice was wrong. If her life continued down its current path, Deena didn't know what kinds of depravities she would stoop to in order to survive. She'd never thought she'd end up being a petty street thief, but hunger had a way of making a person reason away their moral standards. The price of rent and food was increasing, the Metropolitan Police were gaining more authority, and her job wasn't getting any easier.