Texas Lonesome

by Caroline Fyffe

  As if to prove his point, he took a small step and the table nudged into his back. Her back was to the door that led to the alley. The kitchen was so tight, they’d be in trouble if anyone else entered.

  “See what I mean?” he said. “It’s amazing we’ve lived here this long.”

  The discouragement in his voice tugged at Lily. She hadn’t meant to bring the smallness of their living arrangements to his attention again, or the fact she’d like to move in the first place. They’d only been married such a short time. She shouldn’t bother him with things that weren’t a necessity. He hadn’t mentioned her sister since they’d talked, and she didn’t really know where he stood on the matter.

  She pulled out a chair. “Now that you’re up, sleepyhead, have a seat while I put the coffee on to boil. After we’ve eaten, I have something exciting I want to share.”

  At least, I hope Sidney is as exciting to you as she is to me. A plus was that Sidney didn’t want a permanent position. Hopefully. Giselle would be here in a few months to take her place.

  He rubbed his bare arms. “Oh?”

  “Uh-huh, but have your coffee first. And something hot in your belly. Do you mind waiting?”

  John chuckled, leaned down, and kissed her lips. “Am I that much of a bear that I need my coffee before you’ll share your news? I’m becoming a little worried.”

  Heat prickled her cheeks as she shook her head.

  He started up the stairs. “I’ll grab a shirt in case someone stops by.”

  John couldn’t imagine what Lily was being so mysterious about. Whatever the announcement was, it wouldn’t top his news he’d have in a few days. He still needed to do final figuring and contact a handful of his acquaintances back east. They would take a few days to track down by telegram, and then get replies.

  The whole idea was all still up in the air, but at least John had hope. Hope of providing a better life for Lily. Hard work didn’t scare him, and actually, he welcomed the prospect. He’d grown up on the mountain, ranching from before the sun topped the mountains and until the orb sank low in the west. A great deal of the equation depended on Bixby, and whether or not he’d give his blessings to proceed. He’d have that answer later today.

  John slipped his shirt over his shoulders. Turning, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer to examine the line left by the knife attack. Hardly noticeable. This could earn a lot of money if he played his cards right.

  “John, your eggs are on the table,” Lily called.

  “On my way.” He exited the bedroom and practically skipped down the stairs, taking his spot at the table. “There, that didn’t take me long.”

  She poured his coffee. “When you’re finished eating, I wondered if you’d like to go with me to the cemetery to tend to Tante Harriett’s grave. I’ve been in the shop so much this last week, I find myself longing to be outside. Take a walk.”

  “Sounds like a perfect Saturday morning.” He glanced down at his breakfast, thankful he’d married a woman who was not only beautiful, but knew how to cook. “I’ll make short order of this so we can get going.”

  Cutting his eggs with the side of his fork, John lifted a section into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. As promised, he was finished in less than three minutes.

  “Now, what’s the big surprise?” He patted his stomach. “Catch me now when I’m fed and feeling fine.”

  Lily eased into the chair across from him. The way she nervously chewed on her bottom lip and avoided his gaze made him think this was a bigger deal than he’d previously thought.

  “Lily?”

  “You know I’ve been pretty busy in the shop.”

  “You’re being a bit modest about your success, aren’t you? You’ve been working steadily since the day you opened, and now things are picking up even more.”

  Smiling, she nodded. “That’s true.”

  He wiped his mouth and set his napkin next to his plate. “Tell me, Lily. You’re making me edgy. What’s troubling you?”

  Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I’ve taken on an assistant to help in the shop.”

  Surprised, he sat back.

  “It’s only temporary,” she rushed on to say. “I would have talked this important decision over with you first, but the woman dropped into my lap when I needed the help. Mrs. Harbinger, almost giddy with joy, insisted that I hire her then and there so I could accept her next consignment.”

  Another gown. Lily is providing more than me. Much more. He pushed away a prickle of envy.

  “Of course you needed to hire her when you had the chance. That was a good decision.”

  She blinked twice. “You’re not angry?”

  He picked up his cup, not wanting her to see his uncharitable feelings. “Angry? How can I be angry with your success? Every woman wants a gown designed by Lily McCutcheon. You’re doing fantastic.”

  I wish I could say the same. I want to provide for you—so you won’t have to work so much if you so choose.

  Relief moved across Lily’s face. “Thank goodness, my love,” she said softly. “I was fearful somehow you’d think me aggressive or something, and that I’d planned the entire thing. My new assistant is very nice, and staying in the hotel for the time being. I think she really needs this job.”

  “I trust your judgment. She has experience then, making clothes?”

  “Not much, but she can do the things I instruct, if I keep a close watch on her progress. The same way my aunt taught me.”

  “And did she tell you why she’s in Rio Wells? What brought her here?”

  “No, we never had a chance with Mrs. Harbinger standing there and listening to every word we said. But I liked her instantly, and she looked honest, and . . . and, I trust that.”

  All his good feelings, the hope, the excitement had left John in a whoosh. Lily would take care of their money problem singlehandedly, and enjoy doing it. A few more dresses a month, and she was there already.

  “Fine then. I’m excited to meet her. She’ll be here Monday morning?”

  “Yes, bright and early.”

  John leaned in and kissed her cheek, marveling on its softness. “Then how can I argue with that?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sidney sat bolt upright in bed, the light blue counterpane slipping down to her hips and exposing her chemise. She blinked the sleep from her eyes as the brisk air that filled the room brought gooseflesh to her arms.

  What had awakened her so abruptly? She looked around, remembering she was in the Union Hotel in Rio Wells—an eternity from Santa Fe. With a sigh, she slowly lowered herself back to the sheets, the mattress dipping with her weight, and tried to remember her disturbing dream.

  Something had brought a surge of fear, and then a bolt of happiness. She struggled to remember. A fish? Yes. She’d fallen into a stream and come face-to-face with a fat spotted bass with shimmering scales.

  Carmen had an interpretation for everything, especially dreams. She’d said that if you dreamed of a lizard, then you had an enemy; a turkey, you’d soon see a fool. But a fish? Sidney couldn’t recall.

  “Remember, mi pequeña florecilla, when you dream of a pescado, someone you love is expecting a bebé.”

  A baby? Again, Sidney sat up, wondering who could be in the family way. She didn’t know that many young women. A wife of one of their cowhands? No. Only two lived at the ranch, and both were well past child-bearing years.

  She wasn’t expected at work until ten this morning. Her stomach rumbled, objecting to its emptiness. Lily had promised to pay her thirty-cent salary daily, and had done so at closing time on Friday. She’d stretched the meager amount over the weekend, buying a cup of soup for five cents, and stale biscuits for a penny each, from the Lillian Russell Room. After today, she’d have enough for something substantial from the Cheddar Box Café.

  The hotel clerk had offered her an envelope of cash left behind by Dustin, but she’d refused and told him to put it right back
in his safe until Dustin returned.

  Finished with her toilette, she stepped into the long mulberry skirt belonging to Madeline McCutcheon, pulled up the garment, and fastened the hooks. Slipping her arms into the borrowed white blouse, she did up the buttons, stopping at the top. Both of Dustin’s sisters had treated her kindly, as had his mother, Winnie McCutcheon. They’d fussed over her like three mama hens over one chick.

  A filmy memory of her own mother clouded her eyes. Sidney touched the first fastened button and went down the row saying, “Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief.” Her mother had taught her the rhyme when she was a tiny girl. The numbering would determine what kind of man she would marry. “Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief.”

  A girlish laugh slipped out from between her lips. Imagine. She was twenty-four years old. There was one button left. Dustin’s face popped into her mind, and she moved her finger down,

  “Rich man,” she whispered, lost in her thoughts.

  Realizing what she was doing, she jerked away her finger. Thoroughly disgusted with herself, she crossed the room and pushed the window down, closing out the chilly morning air. Had she no loyalty at all?

  Back at the mirror, she assessed her rumpled reflection. She’d worn these garments nonstop for the last three days. She had nothing else except the pile of dusty clothes she’d arrived in at the Rim Rock.

  Showing up to her first full day of work for a dressmaker clothed as a man in pants and a vest wouldn’t do. She’d feel uncomfortable, and Lily wouldn’t be pleased. Whether she liked accepting charity for a few more days until she could figure out how to get something else to wear made no difference. Again, she wished her saddlebags, money, and Carmen’s music box hadn’t been lost.

  Sidney pinched her cheeks and waited for them to color. Back in Santa Fe and the daughter of a well-to-do rancher, she was sought after by most of the single men. Now she resembled a waif, a penniless stray alone in Rio Wells.

  Well, that wasn’t quite true. She knew her boss, Lily, and Mrs. Harbinger, the brusque customer in Lily’s shop. Oh yes, and the telegraph clerk, Stanton Drake, with his tall, shiny forehead.

  How was Noah? Had he stayed out of trouble for the last two days? He’d had plenty of time to skedaddle, if he had the notion.

  She shook her head in irritation. If only he’d stayed in school and not run off in the first place.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  With a stomach full of butterflies, Sidney stepped inside the small one-room shop at ten o’clock sharp. A cluster of bells over the door announced her arrival. Glancing up, she noticed a four-leaf clover pinned above the door frame, and smiled. I’m not the only superstitious person in Rio Wells.

  The room, with the large picture window that framed Dry Street, was empty. The savory aroma of coffee lingered in the air.

  “Sidney, is that you?” Lily called from the second floor.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be right down. Please make yourself comfortable.”

  “Thank you.” Sidney took a moment to admire the finished sample on the dress form. Such fine craftsmanship! Lily truly was an artist.

  A moment later, Lily hurried down the steps, greeting her with a wide smile.

  “Happy Monday,” she said. Her lemon-colored skirt hugged her trim waist and looked so nice with her light blond hair. The cheery yellow goldfinch, abundant in the winter trees in Santa Fe, came to mind.

  Happiness Sidney hadn’t felt for a long time filled her. Things would work out—somehow. She and Noah would get through this ordeal and go home. Then she’d never have to look at Dustin McCutcheon or any of his family ever again.

  A small slice of her cheerfulness ebbed away, and the realization startled her. The warmth of Mrs. McCutcheon, as well as Dustin’s sisters—and Chaim too. She’d thought they hadn’t meant a thing to her. Now she wondered.

  “I like your lucky charm.” Sidney pointed to the dry green splotch above the door. “The elusive four-leaf clover. Every girl’s dream.”

  “Isn’t it cute? A gift from an old admirer—before I said yes to my husband’s proposal.” Her face softened when she glanced up at the inch-sized, alfalfa-colored leaf, one small corner turning black. “Now he’s a very dear friend.”

  Sidney’s brows popped up. “Oh?”

  “Yes, on the day the shop opened, he brought the keepsake over and wished me luck. His hands actually trembled. It’s carried many blessings, to be sure.”

  Lily pulled a bolt of deep cobalt fabric from the shelf and unrolled the expensive-looking cloth on the cutting table. Her hands moved quickly, nimbly.

  “I’ve been thinking about you all weekend, Sidney. I’ll have so much fun teaching you to be my assistant. After which, I’ll get so much more accomplished.” She paused and lifted a brow. “If you learn quickly,” she said with a warm, cheerful smile.

  Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I’ll do my best, Lily. I hope I won’t let you down.”

  “Of course you won’t. I felt the same when I started working with my aunt in Boston. She was a master of her craft. Had been creating gowns, frocks, evening wear, and wedding dresses for many years, and for a few of the most significant women in Boston. Three governors’ wives, the last being Mrs. George Robinson. I was honored to hem three of her ball gowns, as well as a few for her nineteen-year-old daughter, Annie.”

  Lily smiled brightly as she tenderly pressed out the wrinkles. “Also, the mayor’s wife, and even the wife of the first Negro judge in America. Josephine Ruffin, whose maiden name was St. Pierre. I say that because she liked to share all sorts of stories about her family. A lovely, soft-spoken woman with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  A small laugh slipped past Lily’s lips. She shook her head in wonderment.

  “She had an aversion to using the front door, and often tried to enter from the back. Tante Harriett put a stop to that. Those were wonderful times. Me newly arrived from Germany. Everything in America was like a dream.” She gave Sidney a confident smile. “We’ll take each task one day at a time. You’ll be amazed at how fast you learn.”

  “I don’t want you to go easy on me. I can take instruction, and criticism.”

  Lily’s hands that had gone back to smoothing, stilled. She turned and looked at Sidney, narrowing her gaze.

  “Are you hungry, Sidney? I made a pan of sweet rolls this morning. And there’s coffee too—at least enough for one cup.”

  Sidney blinked and looked away. She’d never felt so humbled, but darn, she wanted that pastry.

  “I’d love one,” she heard herself say.

  What would her pa think? And her brothers? A Calhoun taking charity hand over fist.

  “Wonderful! And coffee?”

  She nodded. “But I can wait until it’s time for a break.” Do we get breaks?

  “Oh no. You must have one now. They’re so much better when they’re warm.”

  Embarrassed, she stood rooted to her spot by the cutting counter and listened as Lily moved around the small alcove of her kitchen.

  “All right, it’s ready.”

  Scooting into a seat at the table, Sidney gazed at the delicious-smelling pastry and the coffee that was calling to her in a lovesick voice. Aware of Lily at her side, she took a sip and let the hot beverage slip down her throat and plunge into her empty stomach.

  “Take your time. I’ll start pinning the pattern.” Lily patted her arm.

  She smiled, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Lily.”

  “No need for thanks. I’m glad to have you here.”

  Sidney made short work of the scrumptious goodness, as well as the coffee. She didn’t think she’d ever tasted anything quite so flavorful. Her stomach felt warm, rich, and full. A moment of empathy for all the people in the world who didn’t have enough to eat overcame her. She’d only been hungry for a couple of days, but what if this condition was her entire life—much like the woman she’d helped in San Antonio. And her sweet little boys.

  F
inished, Sidney wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood, taking her plate and cup to the sink. She set them in the empty dishpan, wondering if she should quickly wash them or get back to the pinning. Antsy, she washed the stickiness from her fingers and then hurried to Lily’s side.

  “Thank you again, that was delicious.” She admired the fabric on the table. “What would you like me to do?”

  “See how I’m arranging the pattern pieces to get the best possible cut with the least amount of waste?”

  She nodded.

  “This particular fabric is quite expensive, so we don’t want any mistakes. At this stage, I go very slowly, methodically, I don’t get—”

  The bells chimed, and a young man stuck his head in the front door. “Morning, Lily!”

  “. . . distracted.” Lily gave a patient smile. “Good morning, Tucker,” she replied with great affection. “How’re you?”

  “Good. Thank you for the cinnamon rolls.” He patted his flat stomach. “They were mighty fine indeed.”

  “I’m glad you liked them.”

  “I best get goin’. Doc has me on an errand, but I couldn’t pass by without saying thanks.”

  “Wait, there’s someone here I want you to—”

  The door slammed closed.

  “Oh well. Plenty of time later for introductions. Now, what was I saying?”

  “That you’re careful at this stage and don’t let distractions hamper you.”

  “So much for good intentions. Anyway, you can begin pinning the paper to the fabric on the far end of the table. Keep in mind the pattern pieces will slip when you first stick the pins through. Be very careful that they don’t. I want them just where they’re placed. I will check everything before we begin to cut.”

  A moment of trepidation kept Sidney still.

  “Go on, now,” Lily said, encouraging her. “You can’t make any awful mistakes—yet.” She gave a little laugh. “Believe me; I’ve made my share of blunders, but you’ll never learn if you don’t begin.”