Schulze, Dallas

by Gunfighter's Bride

  “Oh, well, I suppose if I told the strict truth, I’d have to say that I quarrel and Joseph allows it. If I want someone to speak back, I’d do just as well to be addressing myself to a piece of furniture.” Bridget shook her head in apparent disgust. “The fact is, the man has the disposition of a saint—a fine trait for a man of the cloth but a source of some frustration in a husband. Not that I’d change a thing about him,” she added, as if the love in her eyes hadn’t already made that clear.

  While Bridget poured boiling water over the tea leaves, Lila considered what she’d said. The idea that her parents might not always have agreed was novel but, thinking about it, she thought Bridget was probably right. Her mother had been a firm advocate of ladylike behavior, but she had certainly not been an opinionless cipher. There must have been times when she’d disagreed with her husband. They’d simply kept such disagreements private.

  It occurred to Lila that she’d retained a somewhat childlike view of her parents. She’d been relatively young when they were killed in a carriage accident. At nineteen, she’d not yet begun to view them through an adult’s eyes. When they died, her perceptions of them had been frozen in place and she was still thinking of them as that nineteen-year-old girl.

  “Now that we’ve agreed that men can be provoking creatures, tell me how you’re settling in,” Bridget said as she removed the porcelain strainer from the teapot and set it on a plate.

  Before Lila could respond, there was a brisk knock on the front door. Bridget clicked her tongue in annoyance. “That will be Sara. She said she’d be coming to get young William about this time. As if the boy couldn’t walk home on his own. As protective as she is, you’d think William was next in line for the throne of England, with kidnappers lurking behind every bush, ready to jump out and snatch him away.”

  “His father does own the Bank of Paris,” Lila pointed out in a dry tone. “Perhaps she’s concerned that, as heir to the Symthe fortune, William is at risk.” Bridget snorted with laughter as she circled the table. “That’s probably it. The Smythe fortune.” She paused beside Lila, lowering her voice as if afraid Sara might be able to hear her through the entryway and door that separated them. “If gambling weren’t a sin, I’d bet you two solid bits that her name is plain old Smith and not a single ‘y’ in sight.”

  Lila chuckled as Bridget left the kitchen. She was fortunate to have met Bridget. Her friendship had made everything much easier than it would have been otherwise. Sniffing the air, she thought that maybe the time had come to repay a bit of that friendship. When Bridget and Sara entered the room, Lila was just setting the first loaf of bread from the oven on a thick towel she’d placed on the table.

  “They were starting to smell a little brown,” she said as she pulled the second loaf from the big oven and set it down.

  “I’d forgotten all about them!” Bridget exclaimed. “Thank you. Of all the silly geese! How could I forget them when I’m standing not three feet from the stove? Here, let me do that. You don’t want to spoil that pretty dress.”

  She hurried forward and took the folded towel Lila had been using as a hot pad. “Since it seems I’ve already put you to work, perhaps you wouldn’t mind getting out a cup for Sara and pouring us all some tea.”

  “Perhaps we should repair to the parlor,” Sara suggested. Though her tone was polite, there was no mistaking the distaste in her eyes as she glanced around the kitchen.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather we stayed here. That way I can tend to my baking.” Bridget set the last loaf pan on the table. “And it’s easier to keep an ear out for the children,” she added, nodding toward the back of the house where their voices could be heard. “Of course, here I am assuming you’ve time for tea, Sara. Do you need to be taking William and rushing home?”

  Lila wondered if she was the only one who heard the faintly hopeful note in the question. But Sara’s sense of her own importance was too great to allow her to entertain the idea that her company was not devoutly desired.

  “I can stay for a short while,” she allowed graciously. Taking a lace-edged handkerchief from her reticule, she pulled a chair out from the table and dusted off its seat before sitting down. “William has his piano lesson this afternoon but we’ve a little time before that.”

  “Is there someone in town who teaches piano?” Lila asked, thinking Angel might enjoy lessons when she was a little older. While Bridget was sliding new loaves into the oven, she got out a cup for Sara.

  “I am teaching William,” Sara said. “Unfortunately, we do not have anyone in Paris capable of teaching the finer arts. Not that a piano teacher would, have much work here since I own the only piano in town. Franklin had it brought up from Denver when I expressed concern that William was not getting a well-rounded education.”

  “How nice for William,” Lila said politely.

  “I think it’s important for children to have contact with the finer things in life, don’t you? Just because we’re living on the frontier is no reason to forget that we are civilized people. And music is one of the hallmarks of civilization, don’t you agree?”

  “I’m quite fond of music.” Lila set Sara’s cup in front of her. For one wistful moment, she allowed herself to consider how undignified the other woman would look with a lap full of hot tea. “I’m sure William appreciates the effort you’ve gone to on his behalf.”

  “You know, it’s not strictly true, Sara, to say that you’ve the only piano in town.” Bridget shut the oven door and turned, wiping her hands on her apron. “There’s a piano in the Red Lady Saloon.”

  There was a moment of dead silence. Sara could not have looked more offended if she’d just discovered a dead mouse in her teacup. Lila glanced at Bridget and then looked quickly away, afraid that she’d laugh out loud at the look of innocence on her friend’s face.

  “I certainly wouldn’t know what might be in such a place,” Sara said tightly.

  “I should think you might have heard it when you walked by,” Bridget suggested as she sat down at the table.

  “I make it a point to cross the street to avoid places of that sort.”

  “Of course,” Bridget murmured. Her eyes met Lila’s across the table and Lila knew they were thinking the same thing, which was that, considering the number of saloons in Paris, Sara must spend a great deal of time zigzagging across the street to avoid walking in front of any of them. Her amusement was shortlived, however.

  “I understand congratulations are in order, Lila,” Sara said. She lifted her teacup, her little finger crooked at precisely the right angle.

  “Congratulations?” Lila raised her eyebrows in question.

  “William tells me that your stepdaughter told him that you’re expecting.”

  Good Lord, was Angel making announcements on a regular basis? Lila smiled at Sara. “That’s right.” “When is the blessed event, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  Since she’d already asked, it seemed a bit late to be asking if she minded, but Lila resisted the urge to point that out.

  “My baby is due in October.”

  “So soon?” Sara’s thin, dark brows climbed toward her hairline.

  “It can’t be soon enough for me. I’m quite anxious to hold my child.”

  Lila was a little surprised to realize how much she meant it.

  “Of course you are. I was just surprised to hear that you were expecting so soon. After all, you just arrived in our little town. But then I believe Sheriff McKenzie did say you’d been married quite some time, didn’t he? When was your wedding?”

  Lila kept her smile in place with an effort. It was obvious what the other woman was wondering. And the fact that her suspicions were accurate didn’t make her questions any more palatable.

  “We were married in February. We met at my brother’s wedding and were married just a few days later.”

  “So it was love at first sight? How romantic.” Sara’s tone of voice made it clear that she thought it tawdry and ill-bred. “Franklin a
nd I were engaged for nearly five years before we were married.”

  Probably took the poor man that long to get up the courage to tie the knot, Lila thought viciously. “More tea?” she asked.

  “Thank you.” Sara lifted her teacup. “I’ll admit that poor Franklin got a teensy bit impatient, but I wanted to be sure we were suited to one another. After all, choosing a life partner is such an important step for a woman. I think you were very courageous to know your mind so quickly.”

  “Some people recognize love right away,” Bridget said, her eyes bright with temper.

  “Yes, but love can be quite ephemeral. True compatibility is much more difficult to determine,” Sara said, with the air of one dispensing wisdom to the ignorant. She stirred a quantity of sugar into her cup, apparently oblivious to the silence that had greeted her last remark. “So you’ve been married just a few months and are already expecting your first child. Franklin and I had been married several years before we were blessed by William’s arrival. It seems certain he’ll be an only child. You’ll probably have a large family.”

  Her tone made the words something less than a compliment. The woman’s arrogance was amazing, Lila thought, torn between laughter and irritation.

  “I wouldn’t mind that. Of course, with Gavin and Angel, we’ve a good start on a family already.” “That’s true.” Sara took a sip of her tea. When she spoke again, she changed the direction of her catechism. “Since you were obviously so much in love, it must have been difficult for you to stay behind when your husband returned to Colorado.”

  “An illness in the family necessitated my remaining behind,” Lila said, her calm tone belying the knot in her stomach.

  “An aunt, was it?” Sara asked, her dark eyes sharp and questioning. “I do hope she made a full recovery.”

  “An uncle, actually. And he’s doing quite well, thank you.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” Sara looked anything but glad. She looked acutely disappointed at having failed to trip Lila up.

  Even from across the table, Lila could feel Bridget’s simmering anger and knew she was barely restraining the urge to tell Sara exactly what to do with her questions and her superior attitude. Though she would have given a great deal herself to be able to give Sara Smythe-with-a-y a piece of her mind, Lila knew it would do more harm than good. Nothing would delight the other woman more than to provoke an angry reaction. Bland indifference was not only the safest response, it was probably the most frustrating.

  She was relieved, however, when the back door banged open and the room was suddenly filled with children. They brought with them loud voices and the smell of dirt and sunshine, not to mention a shaggy black-and-white dog the size of a small pony. Instant chaos followed on their heels, and it was several minutes before Bridget managed to convince her son that Patch did not belong in the house, despite the fact that he was the best dog in the whole wide world. That this was not the first time this argument had raged around the dog was evident by his guilty expression and his willingness to leave without protest.

  Once the dog had departed, Bridget was able to sort the children out and get them settled around the table with an efficiency that Lila found somewhat awe-inspiring. Balancing Angel on her lap, she watched Bridget slice and butter a loaf of bread. Its quick disappearance offered support to her earlier comments about the pace at which her family consumed bread.

  Lila had met Sara’s son before but this was the first time she’d spent more than a moment with him. Though he was a year older than Gavin, he was at least two inches shorter and considerably lighter. Franklin Smythe was a slightly built man of medium height. William had obviously inherited his father’s build rather than his mother’s taller, sturdier bone structure. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, he was politely spoken, with a sweet smile that probably would melt female hearts when he was older.

  Glancing from him to his mother, she was struck by the way Sara’s face softened when she looked at her son. The change was startling. Whatever else could be said against her, there was no doubt that Sara loved her son a great deal.

  The presence of the children precluded any serious conversation. Angel and Mary were full of excitement because the three older boys had promised to build them a tree house that was, as Angel put it, “at least a hundred miles up a tree.” Both Lila and Bridget looked less than thrilled with the idea. Even making allowances for exaggeration as to the proposed location, a tree house didn’t sound like the safest place for two small girls.

  “A hundred miles?” Lila repeated dubiously. She glanced at Gavin, who gave his sister a disgusted look.

  “It’s not more than six or seven feet,” he said as he reached for his third slice of bread. Lila made note to increase her estimate of what a twelve-year-old boy could eat.

  “That’s almost a hundred miles,” Angel said, unperturbed by the correction.

  “You’ll have to talk to your father about it, Joseph,” Bridget told her son. “Make sure he thinks it’s safe enough. He’ll want to see the place you’ve got in mind.”

  “I’m sure Bishop will want to see it, also,” Lila said. She caught Gavin’s doubtful look and made up her mind that Bishop would inspect the site of the proposed tree house if she had to get him there at gunpoint.

  “I certainly don’t want William involved in anything that might be at all dangerous,” Sara said. “You’ll have to build this tree house without his assistance.”

  “It’s not dangerous, Mama,” he assured her. “And we’d be careful. It’ll be fun. Please let me help.”

  Sara hesitated, clearly torn between the urge to give her beloved child anything he wanted and the desire to keep him safe from all possible harm. For a moment, Lila found herself almost in sympathy with the other woman. But it was only for a moment.

  “No. I’m sorry, William, but you must defer to my judgment in this matter. It’s not just the danger. You must remember who you are. It’s not as if you’re going to be a common laborer when you grow up. When you inherit your father’s bank, you’ll need skills other than those learned by cobbling together a tree house.”

  Sara appeared oblivious to any possibility that her words might have offended anyone. William was not so unaware. A flush began at the base of his throat and worked its way upward, flooding his face with embarrassed color. Though the younger children were unaware of the insult, implied or otherwise, Lila saw Gavin’s eyes flash with anger, but he didn’t speak. Bridget appeared on the verge of an explosion. It was left to young Joseph to find the right words to smooth over the awkward moment.

  “We could sure use William’s help in figuring out how to build it, Mrs. Smythe. He’s better than anybody at figuring out how to do things.”

  Sara’s chest swelled at the compliment. Lila could see exactly what went through her mind. Joseph’s words had transformed William’s position from that of a common laborer to something in a more supervisory capacity. Permission was graciously granted.

  Sara and William made their departure soon afterward. Gavin and the other Sunday boys went back outside. It was midafternoon and time for the little girls to lie down for their naps. Angel offered only a token protest when Lila told her they were going home. Yawning, she trailed off with Mary to get her wrap.

  “I swear, it’s difficult to keep Christian charity in mind when it comes to that woman,” Bridget snapped as soon as the two little girls were out of earshot. After taking the towel off the bread she’d set to rise earlier, she punched down the mound of dough with considerably more force than necessary. “How she ended up with such a pleasant son is a mystery to me.

  “He does seem to be a nice boy and it’s plain to see that she loves him.”

  “Worships him is more like it.” Bridget thumped the dough onto the table and began dividing it into loaves, her small hands moving with quick efficiency despite her annoyance. “Don’t you let her snooty tone spoil your pleasure in this baby,” she said, looking up from her task to fix Lila with a stern look. “Thou
gh she’s never dared say as much, I know she thinks it isn’t decent that Joseph and I have five children—thinks it’s too lusty for a minister to have a large family.” She pounded a loaf into shape and plopped it in the pan. Setting her hands on her hips, she looked at Lila, her hazel eyes still bright with anger. “All I can say is that if I were as prune-faced and nasty as she is... Well, it’s no wonder she and that husband of hers only have the one child. Poor man probably had to close his eyes and think of God and country just to do his duty long enough for that!”

  “Bridget!” Lila was torn between laughter and shock.

  “There now. You see what she’s made me do.” Bridget flushed with embarrassment. “I’ll have to say an extra prayer for saying something so uncharitable. That woman never fails to bring out the worst in me.”

  ***

  Despite the unpleasantness with Sara, Lila’s mood was lighter when she left Bridget’s than it had been when she arrived. Bridget’s natural optimism never failed to make her feel better.The basket she carried held two loaves of bread, and Bridget had promised to teach her how to make it herself. She was very lucky to have found such a friend.

  “I like Mrs. Sunday,” Angel said, as if reading her thoughts.

  “So do I.” Lila glanced down at the child. “I like her whole family.”

  “Me, too. Mary’s my best friend.” She looked up at Lila, her china-blue eyes solemn. “I never had a best friend before. It’s nice.”

  The simple summation made Lila’s eyes sting with sudden tears. Forcing them back, she smiled at Angel. “I’m glad you and Mary are friends.”

  “Me, too.” Angel looked pensive for a moment. “Next to Mary, I’m most glad I met Joseph ’cause I’m going to marry him when I grow up.”

  “I’m starting to believe you,” Lila murmured. She laughed softly. “And heaven help poor Joseph.” “Ma’am?”

  Lila came to an abrupt halt to avoid running into the man who’d stepped in front of her. He was a large man with a head of wild black hair and a bushy beard that looked vigorous enough to have a life of its own. If it hadn’t been broad daylight, she might have been frightened. But despite his ferocious appearance, there was nothing threatening in his expression.