by Diane Darcy
“That would be fine.”
He helped her down from the wagon, and was man enough to admit he enjoyed grasping her by the waist and holding her.
Maybe, when he got to know her better, he’d take her into his arms on the way down.
Smiling at the thought, he settled her on the ground, then watched her go, enjoying the way her blue skirt curved to her figure, and even liking the frilly blue reticule that swung at her side.
His mother had told him that it would happen this way, he just hadn’t listened. She’d informed him that he’d meet a girl and, in an instant, he’d know they were meant to be together.
He hated it when his mother was right, but chuckled at the thought of informing her.
She’d be over the moon about Lucy.
He was quickly getting there himself.
He checked the brake on the wagon, made sure Lucy’s gear was stowed under the seat, and gave the horse a quick pat. “I’ll be right back. You sit tight.”
He’d liked to have gone with Lucy to the post office, but again, didn’t want his deception known until he was ready.
Of course, driving around town with her the way he was, he suspected his deception couldn’t last much longer, anyway.
He wandered to the feed store and went inside. The first person he saw was Peter Newby, and he felt a spurt of panic and hurried forward. “What are you doing here?”
The other man froze, looking suddenly guilty. “What? I…I…picking up some food for my chickens?”
Boone could smell liquor on the other man’s breath, though he looked reasonably sober. “You’re supposed to be working over at my hotel.”
Peter shot him a confused look, and Boone suddenly felt bad. The other man wasn’t doing anything wrong, Boone just didn’t want Peter running into Lucy and letting the cat out of the bag, so to speak.
He waved a hand in the air. “Forget I said anything. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.”
Peter nodded and exhaled loudly. “You still goin’ into the school again tomorrow?”
“I’m planning to. I’ll let you know if anything changes. In the meantime, how are the pipes shaping up in the swimming pool?”
Peter went into a long explanation as Boone kept a sharp eye out the window. Soon, Lucy was back outside and looking around.
“All right, Peter, that sounds great. Gotta go. You stay in here ’til I’m long gone. Got that?”
Again, Peter looked confused, but nodded.
“And no drinking on the job.”
The next moment, Boone was out the door and crossing the road to intercept Lucy. “Did you get all your business done?”
She turned and smiled at him, and it was like a punch to his chest. The girl was just too pretty for his own good, with her bright eyes, rosy cheeks, and pink lips.
He offered his arm and when she took it, it felt like a victory scored.
“The letters are in the post.”
Boone found himself wanting to turn her around and walk up to the Mercantile, spread his arms wide, and offer her whatever she wanted.
He wanted to take her to his home on Granite Street, give her a tour, and promise her the world and more.
He did none of those things. He simply determined to take the long way home, and spend as much time in her company as he could.
So why go straight there? He might not be able to buy her anything, yet, but window shopping would give him time in her company, and the chance to talk. “Shall we take a stroll down the street?”
“That would be nice. I actually walked down here on Saturday, and had a look around. In fact, if it’s too much trouble to take me home, I think I know my way there from this location.”
He grinned at her. “Nothing doing. I’m trying to extend my time with you, not cut it short.”
She smiled and clung to his arm as they chatted and walked past the market, and then the cemetery. They were just coming up on the McDermott Hotel on Broadway, and he was actually considering tea, when a woman called his name.
“Boone! I need to have a word with you!”
What with the way they were passing people and all, he thought today might be the day he was called out on his identity, but when he turned to see who it was, he was more surprised than anything else.
Dorothy Washburn was headed his way. A local prostitute who worked in a crib just off the Chinese district, she was a woman he’d had dealings with when her husband, Teddy, died the year before. Boone had helped her out and tried to give her a ticket home to Connecticut, but she refused and ended up staying.
He wanted to hustle Lucy away, but couldn’t see any way out of the conversation so he straightened his shoulders and resolved to make the best of it.
“Mrs. Washburn?” Another quick glance around, showed him two well-dressed couples headed their way, no doubt going to the hotel.
Another glance at Dorothy assured him there was no mistaking her for what she was. Her striped skirt and tight jacket had seen better days, but to the men working in the mine, it was her feminine attributes spilling out the top of her dress that generally held their interest.
He wanted to hustle Lucy into the hotel, but it was too late, and Dorothy was upon them. “I’m pregnant with a babe, and it’s yours.”
Shock held Boone glued to the spot.
As he’d known since he was twelve-years-old how conception occurred, he very much doubted that was the case. “What?”
The woman’s eyes looked desperate, but her chin rose in the air and, hands on hips, she repeated the accusation. “I’ve a bun in the oven and it’s yours.”
Boone realized his mouth was gaping and shut it with a clench of his teeth. He took a calming breath. “That would be an impossibility, Mrs. Washburn.”
The young brunette crossed her arms over her well-endowed chest and glanced at their newly gathered audience. She seemed to lose her confidence and started to back away. “Impossible or not, that’s my story. If’n you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”
Lucy released his arm.
As Dorothy fled, Boone glanced at the other couples. “Can I help you?”
The four adults moved on, the women throwing him cold looks, the men mostly amused.
Lucy’s face was a frozen mask of embarrassment.
“Lucy —”
“Boone.” She shook her head. “I’m just… I’m just going to make my own way home. I’ll see you another time.”
Without another word, she turned and walked away.
“Lucy, it isn’t what you think. I’ve never had anything to do with that woman.”
She didn’t stop, or turn, she simply continued walking at a fast pace away from him.
Humiliation and anger burned through him as he watched her go.
He looked in Dorothy’s direction, but she’d disappeared. He considered tracking her down, but as angry as he was, decided he’d do it later when he’d cooled down.
He headed up the hill, taking a different route than the one Lucy had.
Let her walk home alone. She hadn’t even given him a chance to explain! He knew they hadn’t known each other for long, knew she thought he had a past with alcoholism, and suddenly that burned too.
So, she thought he was a womanizing drunk.
He had a strong urge to follow her again, to go and explain who he was, and that the thought of him visiting a whore in the red-light district was beyond ridiculous for a man of his stature.
Why had Dorothy done that, anyway?
No doubt the woman needed money, and as he’d given it to her once, maybe she thought he’d be an easy touch for some more.
But to go about it in such a way? To humiliate him in front of his girl?
His girl. That was a joke. He didn’t want a girl who couldn’t believe in him.
He stormed all the way to his house, only to have a bad day take a turn for the worse, when he realized his mother was there waiting for him.
She came out of the parlor. “Boone —”
He stomped up the stairs, taking them two at a time and slammed his bedroom door. Then he realized he’d left his horse and wagon down by the feed store and anger flared hotter.
A tentative knock sounded at the door, and he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
This was not working out to be his day.
Chapter 8
Negative emotions rumbled through her as Lucy headed back to the boarding house. Tears burned her eyes.
She walked up another street, the steep hill making the muscles in her legs burn. She suddenly stopped and changed her mind. She turned left, and headed down the road to the library.
She needed a distraction.
Yesterday she’d written a quick article about fashion for the newspaper, and there were a few things she wanted to look up. Research seemed a much better option than sitting in her room and thinking about what had just happened.
What had just happened, again!
She wished she knew what to think.
Or at least what she was feeling, other than upset. When the other woman had claimed Boone as the father of her child it had been shocking. Embarrassing for all concerned. But there was another emotion added to the mix that she hadn’t expected.
She’d been jealous. Burning with it!
Which was ridiculous. She barely knew the man!
Even as she had the thought she realized it wasn’t true. She might not have known Boone for very long, but they’d had some wonderful conversations and had opened up to each other.
She sighed. Perhaps the chance meeting was simply too close to the one she’d had with Mr. Hargraves’ mistress.
By now the woman was his wife, no doubt.
Startled, she realized she really didn’t care about those two anymore. Yes, she’d been upset, humiliated, but that was it and the feelings had faded.
With Boone, she felt…more.
Now she was being ridiculous.
Heavens, she hadn’t felt this burning jealousy when she lost her fiancé to another woman.
This Dorothy would have conceived long before Lucy had ever set foot in Butte. Long before she’d ever met Boone.
So why was she so upset?
Maybe she was just upset that she was upset. What she should be feeling was relief at having escaped yet another close call.
What was it about her that was attracting this scenario into her life? Or were all men just scoundrels?
She brushed at the tears on her face and attempted to compose herself. She just wished she wasn’t so confused.
There was one thing she was completely sure about at this point.
She needed to stay away from Boone.
Lucy went inside the library, determined to research what kind of article she should write. It was as good a way as any to distract herself so she could forget about the whole thing.
She needed to immerse herself in a new project.
The thought irritated her. That’s what she’d been doing in this town in the first place. Now she had to do it all over again?
There was a woman sitting at a nearby desk who stood and crossed the room. “Hello, I am Mrs. Willet, the librarian.”
“I’m Lucy Rickman. I’m pleased to meet you. I teach at one of the local schools and was looking to do a bit of research.”
“Of course. How can I help you?”
Just then a pretty blonde woman walked in the front door and met Lucy’s gaze. The lady smiled widely and crossed the room with a big smile on her face and Lucy recognized her from church.
“Hello, I’m Mrs. Jackson. We met at church yesterday.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’d like to welcome you to town. I was hoping to get the chance to chat with you. What do you think of Butte so far?”
“I like the town very much. It’s a lot bigger than I thought it would be, with a lot more people.”
“But you’re from New York City.”
“Yes, of course. But you expect there to be a lot of people in New York City. I suppose we all have the impression that every western town is small, and so I was just surprised.”
“Are you all right, dear? Your eyes look a little red.”
“Dust.”
“Of course. Are you settling in all right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“If you’ll excuse me.” The librarian wandered off to chat with another patron, and Mrs. Jackson drew Lucy off to the side. “Now, about my unmarried son…”
Lucy’s heart sank. This was the last thing she needed at the moment. “Oh?”
“Yes. He’s a very hard worker. He’s very good to me, his mother, which I think says a lot about a man. He gives a lot to charities. And did I happen to mention that he’s single? And in need of a wife?”
The woman finally stopped talking to look at her expectantly.
Oh. Dear. Lucy took a breath and looked away as she tried to formulate a reply. She noticed a rough-looking man staring in their direction, possibly overhearing their conversation, and that made it all the worse. A thought struck her. Could that disreputable-looking man be this woman’s son?
Mrs. Jackson turned to see who she was looking at, and Lucy had a moment of horror, wondering if she’d beckon him over.
But she didn’t. With a sniff, she turned and pulled Lucy away as well. “I’m so sorry about that. I thought we were alone. Well? My son?”
Could this day get any worse? She took a deep breath, and decided that honesty was always the best policy. “I’m sorry, I’m just not interested.”
The woman looked so downcast that Lucy felt compelled to explain. “I recently had a breakup.” Two if she counted Boone and felt a sharp pang to her heart.
The woman looked so disappointed, that Lucy actually felt bad. “I’m sorry, it’s just not a good time for me.”
“But —”
“Perhaps another time. In the future.”
The woman looked set to argue.
“If you’ll excuse me?” Lucy didn’t wait for an answer, and practically fled the library.
The article could wait. Or perhaps she was in the middle of research right now?
She could write an article on how to avoid the married state in a town full of men. Forever!
A few days later Boone heard someone come in the door downstairs and he stopped the hard work he was doing with the hand planer to listen. Alford usually came in the back way.
He was sweating from the pushing, lifting, and pushing the wood motions. His arms were aching, but he still didn’t appreciate the interruption. He wanted the exertion. Needed it!
He heard the tapping of feminine shoes, and his irritation rose. If this was anyone from the casserole brigade, they were finally going to get a piece of his mind.
Just as Dorothy would when he finally found her.
Though, in all honesty, the one he really wanted to give a piece of his mind to was Lucy. If she…
As the footsteps stopped downstairs he listened, considering. Could it be Lucy? Could she have—
He moved faster than he ever had in recent memory, rushing down the two flights of stairs only to come face-to-face with… his mother.
She looked startled. “Boone Jackson, what are you thinking rushing down the stairs like that. You could break your neck.”
He didn’t respond, still trying to catch up with his disappointment, and his anger over the fact that he was disappointed.
“Where have you been these last few days? I can never seem to find you. Why couldn’t you have been at the library with me the other day? There is a new girl in town, and she’s perfectly lovely. I wanted you to meet her.”
“I’m not interested.”
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “How could you know you’re not interested if you haven’t even met her. She’s the new schoolteacher —” something in his expression must have alerted her. “Have you met?”
“We’ve met. We just didn’t suit.”
> “Really? She didn’t say a word about having met you.”
“Why would she?” He growled the words at his mother, and then felt bad when she placed her hands on her hips and gave him an incredulous stare.
“Can I make you some tea, dear?”
He laughed at that. “You don’t know how.”
“I could make an attempt.”
He just laughed again. His mother had worked in a café serving miners while he was growing up and her personality and charm had made the owner a lot of money. But she’d certainly never set foot in the kitchen or cooked anything.
She sniffed. “Fine, coffee then. You can make it.”
They headed into the kitchen and he leaned against a wall as his mother snooped through cupboards lifting canisters and jars, and amusing him more than she’d ever know.
“Well? How did you meet?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
She turned, and there was surprise evident in her expression. He understood. He was usually very even-tempered.
He sighed. “Fine. I might as well tell you everything, or you’ll talk it out of me anyway. Apparently, Dorothy is knocked up. And she’s claiming I’m the father.”
“Dorothy? The fallen woman that you helped out? That Dorothy?”
“Yes.”
His mother snorted inelegantly. “As if.”
“Exactly.”
They both knew how picky he was when it came to women. And he certainly didn’t visit whore houses the way his father had done. “She announced it in front of Miss Rickman as I was attempting to court her. Miss Rickman left, apparently not wanting anything further to do with me.”
Understanding dawned upon his mother’s face and she abandoned her attempts to find coffee or tea. “Oh. Oh, I see. And your feelings were hurt because she should have known that you’re not the kind of man who would visit such establishments.”
He crossed his arms.
His mother tapped the table. “Did you know that she recently lost a fiancé in similar circumstances?”
“She told me.”
“Maybe it simply spooked her? Perhaps you should give her another chance? She’s new in town, and doesn’t really know you yet.”
He didn’t respond.
She sighed. “Come now. Don’t pout. It’s unattractive on a man. She seems like a sweet girl and I think perhaps you could be a little more understanding? She doesn’t really know you. She couldn’t on such short acquaintance.”
