by Marie Piper
“Are you headed somewhere? I’ll walk you.” Matthew reached to carry her bag for her. When she handed it to him, he offered his other arm.
Haven linked hers in his. “Suppose I should go tell Papa that Hank’s arm won’t fall off.”
***
Matthew
He was glad to usher her away from Porter’s Saloon. Seeing Haven talking to Callie Lee on the balcony had made him want to protect his fiancée, to shield her from the sin so openly on display in every move Callie made.
To Matthew there were two kinds of women in the world, and Haven and Callie were the best examples he could think of to describe the difference. Haven was the very best kind of woman, a shining example to be held up of what a good woman should be—kind, polite, hard working, smart, and her beauty didn’t hurt a bit either. Callie, with her bold bawdiness and crude profession, seemed the exact opposite. Like many people in town, Matthew wished her gone. Not that he minded looking at her from time to time, though he’d never have admitted it, but her kind of business seemed to only stir up trouble.
Matthew liked the feeling of Haven’s arm in his as he walked her to the jail. A small, quiet town like Cricket Bend didn’t need much in the way of a jail. The whole thing was one big room, with the back half divided into two barred cells, each with a cot. Rarely full, the place usually just held a drunk or two, sleeping off their liquor after causing a ruckus. Matthew frequently felt more like a nursemaid than a deputy, though he couldn’t complain about Cricket Bend being a safe place to live.
When Matthew and Haven arrived at the jail, Luke was reclining with his black boots on his desk by the front window. He wore his regular sheriff outfit of a gray shirt and dark pants. Folding the newspaper he’d been reading, he sat up. “Everything settled?”
“Hank is fine, Papa. The cut’s big and needed stitches, but it shouldn’t leave too bad of a scar when all is said and done.” Haven set her bag on her father’s desk and leaned against the wall by the door. The jail was the domain of men, and she knew enough to stay back when her father was working.
“That’s good.” The sheriff stood up to his full imposing height and walked toward the three men in the two cells. “You hear that, Misters McKenzie? The man you assaulted is going to live. Now we just get to charge you with destroyin’ property and assaulting a man, instead of murder. It’s a shame, though. We ain’t had a hanging in months.”
Two of the three men didn’t answer. One lay on the cot in one cell, and the other sat staring at the ceiling.
“They’re still too drunk to even know where they are,” Matthew muttered.
“I ain’t drunk,” spat one of the men, the smallest of the three. Grubby-faced and unshaven, he sat on the floor with his back against the wall.
“Good for you.” Matthew leaned on his desk.
“Which one are you?” Luke asked the young cowboy. “Hell if I can keep all you boys straight.”
“Theo.”
“Well, Theo, this here’s your lucky day. You get to play messenger. Ride on back to your pa and let him know we’ve got these two, and I aim to keep them until the judge gets here four days from now.” Luke reached for his keys and unlocked the cell, then opened the door and gestured for the sober cowboy to come out.
The young man looked at the sheriff in awe before jumping to his feet. As he walked out of the cell, he glared hard at Luke until he got to the door where Haven was. Matthew watched as Theo McKenzie took too long a look at Haven, letting his eyes wander over her body.
“Where they been hidin’ you, girly?” Theo leered at her.
Haven recoiled.
Matthew grabbed Theo by the back of the neck. “Mind your manners, McKenzie. Get the hell out of here.” With a push, he shoved Theo out the door. The young cowboy only looked back at Matthew for a second before he saw the promise of a beating growing, and he scampered away.
“You think it’s wise to let him go?” Matthew watched as Theo hustled down the street and out of sight. He made sure to note the young man’s face. If he ever saw him again, he’d give him at least a few good punches.
“Probably not,” Luke replied. “More of them might come back making trouble. But their pa should know where they are, and that we won’t be soft on them. Keep your eyes open. Both of you. That little weasel might be back.” He looked at his daughter. “You all right?”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
Matthew could tell she was rattled, but Haven would never admit it.
Luke locked the cells again and nonchalantly tossed the keys onto a nail in the wall behind his desk. “Also, the next time Porter or his boys find themselves in need of a doctor, let Cornelius take care of it. I’ve told you I don’t want you in the saloon alone.”
Haven looked at her father in surprise, though Matthew had heard Luke tell her that at least five times. “I was hardly alone. Hank was there. And Hill Hilton and Ed Dean and Rip Peters and—” She stopped herself quickly.
“I don’t want you in there unaccompanied.”
Haven didn’t back down. “Doc was out at the Wedgewoods. Was I supposed to let Hank bleed to death?”
“Mr. Porter aside, you don’t go there again without a chaperone. Am I clear?”
Matthew had seen Haven’s bullheaded nature a thousand times before, and she and her father were two peas in a pod when it came to being stubborn mules. But at the end of the day, she adored Luke. Under the weight of her father’s gaze, and likely knowing she couldn’t win the fight, Haven crumbled. “Perfectly.”
“Ride on home now,” Luke ordered in a tone that showed his displeasure. “I presume you’ve got things to do there.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“I’ll be home for dinner.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Eyes on the floor, Haven grabbed her bag and walked out of the jail without saying farewell to either of them. Matthew watched her go, and even took a few steps after her. He would have followed her all the way home, but at the same time he agreed with Luke. The saloon was no place for any young woman, regardless of how smart or capable she was.
When she was out the door, Luke’s hard expression softened and he glanced sideways at Matthew. “I hope you have a strong constitution, my boy. She’s the daughter of two stubborn mules.”
Luke slapped Matthew on the shoulder and returned to his desk. Matthew watched Haven leave. She stormed down the street with her eyes on the dirt, likely thinking of a million ways to murder her father.
He wasn’t the only one watching her. Hank Porter stood in the doorway of the saloon, lighting a cigar and trying to pretend he was watching anything but Haven. Matthew knew better. More than once, he’d seen Hank send a too-familiar look Haven’s way. Something about the fashionably dressed saloon owner prickled Matthew’s skin and brought to mind costumes, deception, and Long John Silver tricking young Jim in Treasure Island. He’d recently finished the book and loaned it to Haven the minute he was done. Pirates and buried treasure were the kinds of adventures she most loved to read about. Matthew knew these things about her, things Hank Porter probably didn’t even care to know.
Matthew stayed where he was until Hank went back inside, the threat averted for the time being.
***
Haven
A warm breeze blew Haven’s hair as she let it loose from its twist. She set her reins in her lap and rubbed her scalp with all ten fingers, trying to bring the feeling back. Tight twists looked refined and lovely. Every good woman in town wore them, and Haven’s mother had worn them best of all. Before her death, Lucy had spent countless hours showing Haven the prettiest and most flattering ways to wear her hair up. She wore them largely to remember her mother, but twists took so much time and were frequently uncomfortable. It was Haven’s preference to leave her long curls loose and wild, just like Callie Lee wore hers.
Thinking of the upstairs girl, she imagined herself on Callie’s balcony dressed only in a nightgown and robe. She dreamed of sunning her bare legs in the afterno
on heat, not at all scared of what people might think, or that men might be looking at her with lust in their eyes. Rather, she’d be expecting the sin, even welcoming it.
If Matthew were to see her that way, he’d probably lecture her about some ordinance or another, and throw a blanket on her to shield her impropriety from view. Although it was more likely he wouldn’t even notice her at all. Heck, she could probably dance naked in front of him and not be noticed.
On the other hand, if Hank Porter were to see her that way, and think sinful thoughts of her, he might take it on himself to do something else entirely. Everything Haven knew about lovemaking had been gleaned from the medical books she’d borrowed from Doc and a few of her mother’s romance novels, but she’d gotten the gist of things. If she were to sit on Callie’s balcony dressed in see-through silk, and if she looked down to see Hank’s devilish grin shining up at her, why he might just throw her onto his bed, and there might just be a point to life after all.
Callie Lee crashed into her daydream. Awful thoughts came to mind. Hank and Callie were close; it didn’t take a great brain to figure that out. They lived and worked in the same place together, but how close they were, Haven couldn’t say. The story of the two of them before Cricket Bend was a mystery, other than a few rumors started by people who’d never even met either inhabitant of Porter’s Saloon. Hank was handsome and Callie was beautiful, and it only made sense that they’d have been together. Maybe they were still. Maybe they were with one another right at that moment, laughing at Nurse Uppity and her high-button dresses.
Haven thought of the two of them entwined, but just for a second before she pushed the thought away. Though Hank wasn’t hers, and would never be hers, she felt her chest grow tight at the idea of him with another woman.
Hank’s romantic entanglements were none of her concern. She shouldn’t care. The only thoughts she should have been thinking were of Matthew. Like her father, Matthew was a plain-spoken and sturdy man who couldn’t help but do good in the world. They were both the kind of men who could be absolutely trusted, and they’d never disappoint. Haven had always marveled at her father. As a young girl, she’d sworn she would marry him or at least someone like him, down to the beard and the badge. No one could be closer to being Luke Anderson than Matthew.
And no one could be more different from them than Hank Porter.
Haven felt terrible for flirting with the scoundrel, and vowed she would not do it again. As exciting and fun as it had been, it was improper and could do more harm than good.
Haven kicked her horse into a run and tried to think about the chicken she’d roast for dinner that evening, and the potatoes she’d mash to go with it. She tried to think of anything but her carnal thoughts about the handsome saloon owner with the devil in his eyes.
Mashing potatoes, smashing them hard into a pulp, sounded real fine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Visions of sin, satin, and hellfire kept Haven from a good night’s sleep. In her dreams, she swore she felt a man’s hands running over every inch of her. In place of her plain nightgown and bedroom, she found herself wearing a slinky satin dress in a parlor in a big city hotel. Haven had never been to a big city, but she’d imagined what they’d be like.
The first thing she did when she woke was dunk her face into a basin of cool water. Daydreams were fine and all, but there was work to be done. Even as the sun came up, the hot air in the house foretold it would be another sweaty day. In lieu of her high-necked dresses, she chose a blue piece with small white flowers. It only went up to the nape of her neck. Just a hint of bare skin was a blessing in Texas heat, and she opened the windows to get more fresh air as she began to light the stove.
With the crackle of wood and the weight of a cast iron pan, Haven soon had the smells of coffee and bacon filling the house.
Luke emerged from his room partway through buttoning his gray cotton shirt. He sat at the table and rolled up his sleeves while she poured his coffee for him. Haven and her father had shared breakfast every morning of their lives, and she knew how he liked things. She recognized her father had only been looking out for her the day before, so she made the coffee especially strong and the bacon just a hair shy of burned in a small gesture of peace.
Luke stirred cream into his coffee and took a drink. Neither spoke.
The Andersons had mastered the art of stubborn silence. Haven recalled her parents having stand-offs like these frequently. They ate their oatmeal in near silence, and breakfast was practically concluded before Haven couldn’t handle another second.
“I think I’ll go for a ride this morning. There are bluebonnets out by the pond. They might make a nice bouquet for the clinic, and I figure I’ll take some over to Lizzie as well. She’s about to burst with those babies.”
“Cornelius doesn’t need you?”
Haven shook her head. “He told me to come by in the afternoon for a bit.”
“All right.”
Luke wanted to say more to her, she could tell. There were probably a hundred things she should have said to him in return, yet part of her still fumed and she didn’t know where to start. Telling her father about the feelings that raged inside her these days seemed horribly embarrassing. Though she knew he was only protecting her, Haven would still have rather eaten nails than admit some of the places her mind had wandered to in recent weeks.
“I’ll invite Matthew for dinner on Friday,” Luke said.
Haven knew her fiancé took many of his meals at the restaurant in town since it neighbored his room at the boardinghouse. She also knew that Matthew took great pleasure in dining at their table like he had growing up. “I’m making beef stew. There’ll be plenty. Invite Doc too, if you want.”
“Matthew admires your cooking.”
I wish he’d admire more of me, she stopped herself from replying.
“You remind me so much of your mother when you’re mad at me.” Luke smiled softly. “She used to go days without speaking to me until I admitted I was wrong about something.”
“Are you wrong about something?” Haven lifted her last bite of oatmeal to her mouth, waiting to see how he’d respond.
Luke set down his spoon and put his hands on the table. “All I want is to see you and Matthew happy and married.”
“We’re getting married, Papa.”
“You don’t understand the way people are. If folks see you at the saloon too often, they’ll think the worst and it’ll reflect badly on you, on Matthew—”
“And on you,” she added while she wiped her face with her napkin.
“I can’t deny that. But that’s not what worries me. You have grown to be a pretty woman, prettier than most in fact. Men like Hank Porter only want one thing from a pretty young woman, and let me assure you, it’s not your friendship. I’m not telling you to stay away from him because I don’t like him. I don’t know the man enough to say one way or another, but I’ve known men like him. Haven, sweetheart, hear me when I say that nothing good can come of you being friends with him.”
Haven took a long drink of her coffee. It burned her mouth a bit, but focusing on the little bit of pain kept her from replying with something she hadn’t thought through.
Luke watched with eyes full of all kinds of concern. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Papa.” She stood up from the table. “Leave the dishes. I’ll stop back before I head to town.” She swept past him to the door. Even if she’d run, she couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.
“Haven,” he called after her.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob.
“Papa?”
“I love you. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
A pang hit her heart. Quickly, she walked back and rested her hands on his broad shoulders and planted a kiss his cheek. “I know.”
He patted her arm. “Now get along. Those bluebonnets won’t last forever.”
Outside, she breathed deep. The smell of hay and horse surrounded her as she fou
nd Echo, her brown mare, and saddled up quickly. The day’s heat was already growing oppressive, and Haven wiped the sweat from her forehead before she was even on the horse. After she put Echo into a run, she started in the direction of the bluebonnet field.
How she loved the feeling of riding a horse running at full speed. Echo’s strides were rhythmic and quite majestic for such a small horse. Haven’s long ponytail flew behind her as they crossed the fields toward a small grove of trees, next to a large field of blue flowers, where there was also a scenic little pond.
Her father’s words about Hank stayed with her. While she’d never pretended to think that her favorite rascal had an angelic past and purely innocent intentions, hearing it insinuated that he could be dangerous made her head hurt.
What kind of woman longed for a man like that? What kind of woman laid awake at night dreaming of him doing pleasurable and forbidden things to her? Maybe she was more scarlet than she knew.
Haven dismounted and ground-tied the horse in a patch of especially palatable green grass, knowing the mare wouldn’t wander far as long as there was munching to do. The bluebonnets grew for a good quarter-mile. Haven wandered into the middle of the flowers and turned in a circle, the purple blanket of blossoms stretching around her in all directions. The heat of the morning sun beat down, and after she took a thorough look all around, Haven unbuttoned her dress to the waist and opened it. The warm breeze blew over her white cotton underthings and grazed softly over her neck.
Free of the noise of the town and people that filled her days, she felt a lovely freedom. Closing her eyes, she turned her face to the sun for a long moment. The sun’s warmth felt good, but she was still roasting in the heat under her layers. Haven wandered to the pond and took off her boots and stockings to dip her feet in the clear water.
