by Gold, Ciara
“I reckon that’s how it’s supposed to feel when folks first start callin’ on one another. I know this is sudden, but...”
“You’ve caught me by surprise.” Her voice sounded as cold as the light coating of snow on the railings of her house. This first meeting was definitely not going as he’d planned.
“That wasn’t my intention, ma’am. I thought you wouldn’t be opposed to seeing me. Your letters gave me hope that such was the case.”
She sighed. “I suppose I must apologize then. Though I am glad you’ve come. It’s been a long time, and I’ve enjoyed corresponding with you.” Her voice thawed with what sounded like regret.
Bryce stared at his scuffed boots, the only real part to his outfit. He felt like a turkey dressed for Thanksgiving dinner with everyone gnawing on the ham instead. Embarrassment made his necktie seem tighter. He wasn’t used to women giving him the cold shoulder, and especially one he’d entertained a special rapport with. She sent mixed signals he didn’t fully understand.
“What impression did you mean to give me, Miss Emma?”
“Don’t be upset, Bryce.” She held her hands primly in her lap.
“I’m not upset. I’m just a little confused. I thought you’d be happier to see me.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m not sure I understand. That’s all.”
“Of course, I’m happy you came by. I would have been disappointed to discover you were in town, and you didn’t stop to see me before heading back to Texas. Friends should stay in touch.”
Friends? He fingered the Stetson again. Maybe she’d misunderstood him the first time, or she was playing hard-to-get. He hadn’t come all this way not to at least make his real purpose known. “The fact is...well, it’s like this...Oh, heck, Emma. I was hoping...”
“Emma? Who’s your caller?”
Bryce swiveled toward the new voice, bristling at the man who walked up the steps with an arrogant stride. It didn’t take an educated man to see Emma had herself another beau.
As the man reached the porch, Emma slid over, making room on the swing for this newcomer. The gesture wasn’t lost on Bryce. Whoever the man was, he had staked a prior claim. Bryce had lost the opportunity to court Emma long before entering the game. The radiant smile Emma bestowed upon the man clearly identified his opponent as the winner. Bryce’s ego deflated a bit at the thought.
“Farley, may I present Bryce Stanton from Texas. His family owns the Double S in Brownwood. Bryce, this is my fiancé, Farley Kaufmann.” Emma made the introduction, ignoring Bryce’s momentary look of surprise.
Bryce shook the man’s hand, pretending to find joy in her announcement. Humbled, he realized how presumptuous he’d been to think Emma would still be free after a two-year absence. She was a beautiful woman, and it was only natural she’d find herself a husband among the eligible bachelors who resided close by.
“You’re a long way from home, Mr. Stanton.” Farley took the offered seat next to Emma.
“I had business that needed tending to.” He gazed at Emma who shifted restlessly on the seat.
“Have you known my fiancée long?”
Bryce smiled, forcing himself to remain cordial, though he felt quite foolish now. “I’ve known Miss Hood for the past two years. I couldn’t pass up the chance to say howdy.”
Farley pulled Emma closer to him, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Cold?”
“A little. I didn’t know I’d be receiving guests for any length of time, or I’d have grabbed a wrap.” She seemed a little stiff within Farley’s embrace. Curious.
Bryce pulled his own tweed jacket closer together. He could take the hint. She wanted him to take his leave, or she would have invited him inside where conditions were a bit more cordial. He leaned his weight against the railing, entertaining a devilish need to make the woman as uncomfortable as she’d made him. It didn’t speak very highly of him, but then again, a smidgeon of retaliation gave him some satisfaction. He’d spent a lot of time daydreaming about Emma and marriage.
“I didn’t mean to impose. Just payin’ my respects while passing through.” Bryce grinned.
“I’m glad.” Emma gave him a gentle smile.
“So what business brought you to Denver?” Farley asked.
“A little of this and a little of that. I became the guardian for a young girl, and I wanted to bring her to meet her aunt. Other than that, I’ve just bided my time lookin’ up old friends and the like.”
“And how did you meet my fiancée?”
The man’s voice carried an obvious note of jealousy. There was something about Farley that rubbed Bryce wrong, though he couldn’t put a finger to it. “We stumbled into each other at the bank.”
Emma chuckled. “I dropped my reticule, and Bryce kindly picked it up for me. We struck up a conversation afterwards, and one thing led to another.”
“She offered to show me the town and I accepted. A goodly amount of time was spent in each other’s company until I had to return to the family ranch. We’ve been correspondin’ since.”
“Have you?” Farley’s eyes narrowed. “Then I suppose she told you all about me?”
“Not much.” Bryce hedged. “So, how did you meet Emma?”
“Through a mutual acquaintance.” He squeezed her hand. Was it Bryce’s imagination, or did she just flinch? “It didn’t take long for me to see how special my Em was.”
“I do believe you are one lucky man.” Farley’s smugness bothered him more than he’d like to admit, but dadnapit, he’d had his heart set on courting Emma. “If I had a gal as lovely as yours, I’d be settling my rope about her, too.”
Emma blushed. “I’m sure the right girl will come along soon.”
Bryce expelled a pent-up breath. He couldn’t fault her for finding her own happiness, but he wasn’t so sure she was fully amenable to marrying Farley. While her words said one thing, her body told him a whole other tale.
“I hope you’re right.” He settled the Stetson on his head, thinking he’d have to ask Emma a few questions when her fiancé wasn’t around. “I won’t keep you folks any longer. I know it’s cold out here, but it was good to see you.”
“Maybe we’ll see you again before you leave. Where are you staying?”
Bryce took a step down and looked up at the two of them. “I’m currently staying with Maggie McGuire and Kaitlin Kanatzer. Do you know of them?”
He watched Emma’s eyes widen while Farley’s eyes narrowed to beady slits. What an odd reaction, one he didn’t fully understand.
Farley recovered first. “Our local suffrage movement. They’ve done their best to put me out of business.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t do so on purpose. They seem like nice ladies.”
“Bryce, you mustn’t associate with those two. They’ll bring trouble to your door.” Emma’s brow wrinkled in a worried frown.
“That would be a little hard since my door is miles away.” Bryce laughed. “Honestly, Emma, they’re both wonderful women. America was built on strong views. You can’t blame them for voicin’ their opinions.”
“You sympathize with them?”
Bryce shrugged. “I don’t necessarily agree with some of their ideas, but I’m not holdin’ these differences against them. I admire their courage.”
“Courage is one thing, Mr. Stanton.” Farley stood, untangling himself from his fiancée’s hold. “Stupidity is quite another.”
“Are you calling Maggie and Kaitlin stupid?” Bryce bristled. Farley made him think of a snake oil salesman.
“You may call it anything you like, but a passel of women pecking at a man’s right to drink is not the smartest thing for those women to do. They want the right to vote, but there’s not a man alive who’s going to vote for suffrage if he thinks giving women this right will ultimately set the stage for a no-liquor law to be passed. They’d be cutting off their own noses.”
“What better arena is there than a saloon where a large number of men gather?” Bryce suddenly felt defensive.
“Maybe they’re smarter than a raccoon with a locked door. They’ve just found another way in.”
Farley narrowed his eyes, and growled. “Well, that may be, but if they know what’s good for them, they’ll find another lock to pick. I don’t want any trouble, but as a saloon owner, I’ll do what I must to preserve business.”
“I’m sure you will. Likewise, I reckon they’ll do what they have to.” Bryce walked down the rest of the porch steps but turned when he reached the last step. “Good day to you both. I reckon we’ll be seein’ each other again, and congratulations on the comin’ nuptials.”
“Thank you for coming to visit.” Emma smiled.
He tipped his hat. “The pleasure was all mine, ma’am.”
His smile faded the minute he turned from her engaging presence. He headed straight for the nearest saloon and liquid fortification against his depressing thoughts. Kaitlin might throw a fit when she smelled the liquor on his breath, but she wasn’t his keeper. With Emma spoken for, he’d have to look in other directions for a potential wife.
He groaned. This courtin’ business was harder than ropin’ a wild bronc.
Seven
James watched his employer, Farley Kaufmann, pace the confines of his office like a caged bear. Anger vibrated off the man’s shoulders and permeated the room. Farley stalked from one end of the room to the other, floorboards groaning beneath Farley’s weight.
He stopped abruptly and glared at James. “I want those women stopped. I don’t care how you do it, but I won’t be made a laughingstock. Confound it, James, what would the men do with their free time if they didn’t have saloons and gaming houses?”
James relaxed in a winged chair and observed his employer’s tirade. The man displayed a temper the size of Texas and the common sense of a mouse. He figured Farley liked to rave and rant just to hear himself talk. If Farley weren’t blackmailing him into cooperating, he’d have long since gone. On the other hand, Farley Kaufmann paid his minions well, and they did have a mutual goal.
“I don’t think your business partner will side with you on this. Jack says the ladies will eventually tire of this game, and their antics will fade into a distant memory.” His own source told him the same thing. He smiled, thinking of his Little Em. She’d braved many escapades to please him, including spying on Kaitlin’s ladies.
Beady eyes flattened to slits of anger, and Farley pointed a beefy finger. “I pay you good money to see things go my way. I don’t pay you to comment on Jack’s opinion. He’s just an investor. He’s not my partner, and he has no say in how I run my businesses.”
“I think you’re making a gully-washer out of a little rain shower. Ignore Miss Kanatzer and her band of temperance followers. The German community is too large and influential to allow these women a stronghold.” James just couldn’t see a handful of women making a difference. Besides, he enjoyed seeing Kaitlin flounder about. “Let them blither about our saloons and our breweries. Their influence is about as detrimental as an army of gnats.”
“You underestimate these women, James. They’re gaining followers. They won’t win anytime soon. It may even take years, but they will eventually gain enough support to put a serious dent in our business.”
James laughed. “So now you’re a fortune teller?”
“Make light of it if you want.” Farley paced the small confines. “Those women are determined. They’ll have their vote, and then they’ll close down our drinking establishments.”
“Let’s say for the sake of argument you’re right, what you did the other afternoon to those women played right into their hands.” James shook his head. Farley had no idea how to handle the situation without making things worse.
“Me?” Farley raised a brow. “You were the one that overturned that barrel of molasses.”
“At your insistence. And the men all heard you give the order.” James shrugged. “Several of our regular patrons objected strongly to the abusive handling of Miss Kanatzer and her followers. On the other hand, it was rather fun seeing her waddle about in all that muck.”
Farley sighed and rubbed his chin. “I admit my burst of temper got the better of me, but those women had it coming. Perhaps you’re right. I should have been a bit more discreet so the blame would have been solely on your head and not mine.” He paused, grinning. “But just as many were quite amused by the debacle.”
“Next time, we’ll both show more restraint.” While he’d enjoyed seeing Kaitlin get her comeuppance, he had a better understanding of the long-term effects of Farley’s childish retaliation. “You pay me to handle problems, but you also pay me for advice. Your actions the other day may have cost you votes. There are quite a few men sympathetic to women’s rights, and they won’t stand by and watch while you degrade and humiliate the force behind this movement.”
“Then we’ll try other tactics. Since you seem to have all the answers, you take care of it. I want these marches against my saloons stopped. It’s one thing for them to target a well established bar, but we open the Thirsty Sailor tonight, and I don’t want a scene to mar its grand opening.”
“And the other matter? Do you still want me to pursue it?”
Farley narrowed his eyes so thin, they were almost lost in the folds of his pudgy face. “More than ever. She has something I want, need. Running for office will deplete my funds.”
“Taking care of this matter will likely take care of the suffragists as well,” James replied, his thin lips grinning in a conniving way. The thumb of his left hand played absently with the gold band encircling his pinky finger. The subconscious habit helped solidify his thoughts.
“The election for governor is coming up, and I want that spot. You said it yourself. A lot of men are sympathetic to these women. We need to turn their attentions from suffrage by discrediting the women behind the movement.”
James listened with half an ear as Farley explained what he wanted done. For an educated pillar of society, Farley Kaufmann’s stupidity had a way of slipping through the cracks of his intellect. From James’s viewpoint, Farley’s plan was doomed to failure before it even started. Shaking his head, he retrieved paper and pen. Ink flowed freely as he penned the note he would see delivered the next day. He would allow Farley’s plan to go through, but he had plans of his own, plans that would get the desired results much faster. For Farley it was all about money. For James, it was personal.
Eight
Wet, warm, silky. The sensation slid down his throat, stroking his bruised ego with tantalizing fingers. The bucking finale hit the center of his belly, obliterating the disappointment of finding Emma engaged. He slammed the glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“A good shot of whiskey is like a woman’s sweet body. It wraps you in heat and explodes in your insides like a thousand bucking broncs.” Bryce raised his glass high and toasted the painting of a full-figured nude hanging behind the bar. He smiled, pleased with his metaphorical comparison.
“Here’s to whiskey. She’ll always be true and less likely to kick you where it really hurts.” A man beside him tossed down another shot.
Bryce chuckled. He wasn’t drunk. Yet. He had another half bottle to go before that lethargic state would render him unconscious. A buxom barmaid sidled up to him, picked up his bottle, and poured him another drink. Her seductive expression should have soothed his heart, but he only felt disgust. He turned away from the invitation. “Ain’t in the mood, sweetheart. This here bottle is the only thing I want seducing me tonight. It’s less complicated that way.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself, cowboy. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
The man next to him elbowed him with good-natured intent. “Woe. Wish a looker like that would rub up to my ugly carcass. That’s the third offer you’ve had this evening. What’s your secret?”
Bryce raised one brow. “Forlorn hurt.”
“Excuse me?”
“Women can’t stand to see a man they think is hurtin’, espe
cially if they think he’s hurtin’ from a broken heart.”
“And are you?”
“I reckon.” Bryce stared into his glass. Was he? Did his heart ache or was it his ego? He’d suffered acute embarrassment for getting all gussied up like a king of hearts and didn’t much like making a fool of himself. It was one thing to be spurned by Emma, but to have the rejection witnessed by her current beau chafed at his insides. It fair put him in his place and deflated his confidence just a mite.
He nudged the man. “Name’s Bryce, and you’re...?”
“Harvey.”
“Well Harvey, let’s drink a toast to...”
“To spending a few hours away from nagging women and—and thankless jobs.”
They both raised their glasses high but were interrupted by the advancing noise of protesters.
“Raise your voice high, my friends, and oppose the evilness that lurks within. Strong liquor by the bottle or glasses will drain your purses, leaving you poor and flat out on your asses!”
The loud chant grew closer, breaking into Bryce’s troubled thoughts. Slightly tipsy, but far from drunk, he wove his way to the swinging door. Others crowded forward to see what ruckus disturbed their entertainment. He peered over their shoulders and grunted. Was that Maggie and Kaitlin in the front of a parade of women?
“Hey look, boys. It’s them suffragists. Let’s offer ’em a drink and invite ’em inside.”
Laughter rang out amidst the patrons at the Thirsty Sailor Saloon. Bryce chuckled and shook his head. Those two sure knew how to stir up trouble. “Damn fool women. What do they think they’re doin’?”
“I dunno, but that’s my wife in the back, and she’s gonna skin me alive when she finds me here.” Harvey’s gaze searched frantically for an exit. “Think there’s a back way out?”
“Harvey! Ain’t that your wife?” bellowed another patron to the man who’d just spoken. Harvey made shushing motions with his hands, but no one heeded him.
“Harvey! Harvey is that you? I know you’re in there, you drunk skunk. You get your skinny rump out here ’fore I drag it out!” A very petite woman marched to the front of the picketing women and peered over the assembled men standing just inside the door. Harvey ducked low, trying to hide from his wife. She yanked open the swinging doors. Men scattered. Harvey stood quaking before this tiny version of womanhood, the situation made more amusing by his rotund size.
