Ace's Wild (Hqn)

by Sarah McCarty

  Rubbing her forehead, she sighed. She’d been hating a lot of things lately. More than usual the past few years. The way Ace saw her was just one more item tacked on to a long list. Truth was, she was frustrated and tired. If she could just get out to California where the rules were so much more liberal, where money made the person, not the gender, it would all be well.

  More feminine laughter drifted out along with the faint murmur of Ace’s voice. Petunia would give anything to know what he was saying. She’d give anything to have the courage to march into that saloon and demand that he explain himself. Oh, hell, she rubbed her hands up and down her arm. Who was she kidding? She wanted an opportunity to prove him wrong about her, that she was more than enough woman for him and that being good didn’t make you useless, and being sweet didn’t mean you weren’t passionate. She was so tired of that silliness. She’d seen it so often, it’d smothered her for so long, it just made her teeth grind when somebody applied it to her. Anybody could be sweet when the moment called for it. Anybody could be kind. Anybody could be good. No one thing was the sum total of a person.

  Slowly and deliberately she turned her back on the saloon. Through the restaurant window she saw Terrance was almost done with his dinner. Flicking her skirt straight and smoothing her hair, Petunia headed across the street to Luisa’s. Putting off the inevitable wasn’t going to make it go away. There was only one other patron in the restaurant, and he didn’t even give her the time of day when she stepped through the door. He was just shoveling his food into his mouth as fast as he could, some of it catching on his beard. No doubt he was eager to get over to the saloon for some cards and women.

  She shuddered. She wouldn’t want to be the one receiving his attentions tonight. Honestly, she didn’t know how those women above stairs did it. Which just went to prove how much society needed to change. Women shouldn’t have to sell their bodies to survive. They ought to be able to make a living wage. They ought to be able to have some recourse to get out of a bad marriage and not be penniless and shunned. They ought to be able to keep their children. They ought to be able to vote, and they truly, truly ought to be able to have some standing under the law.

  The anger in her thoughts must have showed on her face because as soon as she stopped beside the table, Terrance looked up at her, and his eyes went wide and he swallowed hard, his fork frozen halfway between the plate and his mouth. Luisa, seated beside Terrance, looked at her curiously. Petunia took a breath and forced a smile.

  “Hello, Terrance.”

  He nodded. Luisa handed him his napkin. He took it and wiped his mouth and his hands. Someone at some time had taught him basic manners. And he was trotting them out for her, the only thanks he could offer. Wrapped in a red velvet ribbon of hope.

  “Hello, Miss Wayfield.”

  In many ways they were alike. Struggling to be who they were in a world that wanted to call them something else. She could help him with that. Her smile began to feel more natural. “That sure looks like a delicious supper.”

  “The best ever.”

  Luisa smiled and ruffled his hair at the compliment. “He has the honey tongue, this one.”

  His steak was half-eaten. Petunia would have been hard-pressed to eat a quarter of it. Looking at the thinness of his arms and the bones poking out his shoulders against his shirt, she figured he would probably eat that plate and more if his stomach would hold it. Terrance had the appearance of boy long starved for many things.

  A part of her wished she could stay in Simple and fix everything, but she couldn’t. She knew that. It wasn’t practical. Neither the laws nor the community would back her. No, she had to keep her focus. Her future was in California. In California she was going to own her own business, own her own life and she was going to make a difference. But she could get things started for Terrance. It might delay her departure a little bit... She glanced at his bruised eye. He was her student. She owed him that. Forcing a smile, she said brightly, “My goodness, Terrance. That’s a man’s appetite you have there!”

  “It’s good.” Luisa smiled at Terrance. “He has a good appetite. He will eat that steak all gone and then dessert.”

  “You’re going to have dessert, too?” Where was he going to put it all?

  Terrance nodded enthusiastically. “Apple pie,” he said as though they were talking about the best of nirvana which, to a boy without a mother to bake for him, she supposed apple pie might qualify.

  “I make a good apple pie,” Luisa said proudly.

  “That she does,” Petunia agreed. “I’ve had it a time or two myself.”

  She couldn’t help but run her hands over her hips. She had to stop going to Maddie’s bakery and coming here to Luisa’s restaurant, but the truth was if left to her own devices, eating was minimal because she didn’t like to cook, and her efforts were marginally edible at best, but she loved to eat, and part of her salary as a teacher was two free meals a day at any of the town’s three restaurants. So basically, she paid for coffee in the morning because she didn’t care for breakfast, and then ate well the rest of the day.

  Terrance took another bite of potato, chewed, swallowed and then frowned. “Mr. Parker says I’m going to be staying with you tonight.”

  “That’s right.”

  A little of the fear left his face. “And then I’ll go home tomorrow?”

  Her smile came more naturally. If Ace was going to put the pressure on her, she’d throw some back on him.

  “Mr. Parker said your father had to work on some... Had some things to deal with...some business to handle before...” Oh, gosh, she wasn’t good at lying.

  The expression on Terrance’s face said he knew what she was trying to say, but she forced herself through to the finish because, well, because he was a little boy, and the truth that his father was a wastrel wasn’t something a woman threw in a little boy’s face. Not if she could leave him some illusions.

  Clearing her throat, she started over. “Your father has some things to work on before you can go home, but tonight you’re going to stay with me at my house and then tomorrow we found this special place where you’ll stay. It’s sort of like a hotel for children.”

  His eyes lit up. “I’ve never stayed at a hotel. Pa says they’re real fancy.”

  “Well, this hotel might not be that fancy but...”

  “Does it have a bed?”

  She blinked. The question took her aback. “A very nice bed with clean sheets and a blanket and a soft pillow.”

  Luisa blinked rapidly and patted his back. “And a nice quilt.”

  Petunia looked at her. She didn’t know if they had quilts.

  “I’m going to give you one that belonged to my son. A welcome present.”

  Luisa’s son had died in his teens.

  “It is a good quilt. Many happy memories inside, many happy dreams.”

  “A quilt with happy dreams?” Terrance asked skeptically.

  Luisa tilted her head back and looked down her nose sternly. It was a very effective look. “You doubt my word?”

  “No.” He cut into his steak before asking, “Where’s your son now?”

  “He died.”

  With the innocence of youth, Terrance persisted, “How?”

  Luisa wiped her eyes. “He went swimming in the spring when the water was angry.”

  “He drowned?”

  She nodded.

  Terrance had the grace to look sad, to feel bad. He poked his potatoes with his fork. “I suppose you miss him.”

  Luisa looked at him. “I miss him very much, but I thank God for every day I had with him, and I know when my time comes, I will see him in heaven again.”

  “You think he went to heaven?”

  “I think all boys go to heaven. All children go to heaven.”

  “My pa says Ma’s in heaven
.” He clearly wanted confirmation.

  “I’m sure she is.”

  He poked his food again and looked up from under his lashes. He had very thick lashes for a boy, but his cheeks were too angular and too sharp and his chin too pointed to look angelic. He was all angles, all sadness and doubt, which only made Petunia want to give him hope. “I hope so.”

  “I didn’t know your mother but I can see her in you.”

  “If you never met her,” he scoffed, “how can you see her?”

  It was Luisa who answered. “Because I’ve seen your father but there are parts of you that look nothing like him, so it has to be your mother showing. I’m told she was a very smart, sweet woman, and I’m sure like my Marcos, she sits in heaven watching over you.”

  He poked the food harder and muttered, “She hasn’t done a very good job.”

  “What makes you say that?” Petunia asked, hoping for a clue, something to grab a hold of on this boy who was so withdrawn into himself. Whose only outlet was learning.

  Again it was Luisa who answered. “Because she sent you Mr. Parker and Miss Wayfield.”

  He didn’t glance up. “She could have sent them sooner.”

  Luisa grimaced. “Maybe time is different up there, or maybe she had to wait her turn, but she sent them. On this you should focus.”

  “I really don’t have to go back?”

  The question was directed at Petunia. If she hadn’t told Ace she’d take Terrance before, she would have in that moment. “No, you don’t have to go back.”

  He cut a piece of meat aggressively. And again. And again, and again until it lay in his plate in bites almost too small to chew.

  “My father won’t like that. He likes to have me around.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “He’ll come for me.”

  She figured as much. “If he does, then we’ll talk to him and see what happens.”

  “My pa isn’t big on talking.”

  She smiled and ruffled his hair. “Well, we’re safe, then, because I can talk enough for four people.”

  “That’s what Mr. Parker said. Said you got a mouth enough for three women.”

  “Did he now?” Within earshot of a child, no less. Petunia would be having a word with him about that.

  “He didn’t say it in a bad way. He likes you.”

  Out of the mouths of babes. Her fantasies garnered hope.

  Luisa’s husband, Antonio, came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. He was a big man, overweight in a way that spoke of contentment. Robust maybe was a better description. He had dark eyes, slight bags beneath; five o’clock shadow showed on his cheeks, but he had a smile that always lit up anyone’s day. He put his arm around Luisa’s shoulders.

  “The women, they are treating you right?” he asked Terrance.

  Terrance cringed into himself, pulling in his shoulders tight, clearly nervous around the big man. His nod was barely discernible.

  “Good. Good.” Antonio asked, “If you are done with this meal, I have for you a dessert I made special.”

  That got the boy to look up. “I was going to have apple pie.”

  “You can have apple pie,” Antonio chuckled, “but this, this dessert I made just for you.”

  Terrance blinked. “Never met a man who cooked before.”

  “You like to eat?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you must learn to cook. It’s not good for a man to be dependent on a woman for everything. It is also good for a man to be able to treat his wife now and then.”

  Terrance just stared at him, clearly not knowing what to think of that. Antonio smiled and took his plate. The look of loss on Terrance’s face spoke volumes. Antonio waved it away with another chuckle.

  “Do not worry. We will pack this up in a nice basket and send it home with you. You can finish it later but now, now it is time for dessert. After a good meal the tongue needs a joy.”

  He turned and went back into the kitchen. When he came back out, he was carrying two plates. One was the apple pie, whipped cream on top. The other was a clear bowl, and through it you could see layers of cake and jelly and berries.

  “This is a treat my mother used to make on special days when we were celebrating.” He set the plates down in front of Terrance. “It is very good.”

  Terrance hesitantly touched the whipped cream on top of the pie with his finger. “What are we celebrating?”

  Antonio rested his hands on his stomach. “New friendships, good food and new beginnings. All good things.

  “Go ahead,” Antonio said, handing him his fork, “Mangia. Eat. I would not serve you something bad.”

  Terrance touched his finger to his tongue. His eyes went wide, and he grabbed his fork. Clearly he’d never had whipped cream before. Antonio laughed at the boy’s enthusiasm, but Petunia just shook her head. How could a boy not know the taste of whipped cream? It had been a staple in her house.

  As if reading her thoughts, Luisa whispered, “Things come to us in their own time, but when they come, we celebrate.”

  It was simple philosophy. One that was hard for Petunia to wrap her mind around.

  “I believe in planning.”

  “And when the plans go wrong?”

  She shrugged.

  When Terrance slowed down, Luisa took the bowl from him and the pie.

  At his protest she said, “This, too, we will wrap. There is no need to eat it all at once. You will give yourself a stomachache.”

  Petunia was afraid that was already ahead.

  “Can I take the carrots, too?” he asked.

  “Of course.” Luisa handed the plates to Antonio, who took them back into the kitchen. “Lancelot must eat big and grow, too. Do not give him any of the dessert, though. Such things are not good for bunnies.”

  “Lancelot?” Petunia asked, too afraid she already knew the answer.

  Terrance tucked his chin and looked up at her, every muscle telegraphing stubborn. Wiping his hands and face with his napkin, he stood. When he stepped away from the table, Petunia saw the box on the seat beside him. Almost defiantly, he opened the lid. From the cozy hay lined inside, a little brown baby rabbit wiggled his nose at her. Just as carefully, Terrance closed the lid and met her gaze squarely. “He’s my friend. I take care of him.”

  “I’m sure a very good friend.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  His shoulders squared. “He goes where I go.”

  It was the first time Petunia had known Terrance to stand up for anything. “I’m not sure we’ll have room in the house for him.”

  “If he fits in the chair, he can fit in the house.”

  There was no refuting that logic, but everything in her rebelled at the thought of an animal in her house.

  “I’m sure he’d be happier outside. He’d be able to go to the bathroom when he wanted to and eat grass.”

  Terrance spread his legs and clenched his fists. The rabbit clearly mattered to him. “He goes on paper in the house.”

  Petunia had been prepared for the boy’s tears at leaving his home. She’d been prepared to give a long explanation of how Terrance’s life was going to change. She hadn’t prepared for the contingency of a rabbit boarder and its belligerent owner.

  Luisa’s words so recently spoken came back to haunt her.

  And when the plans go wrong?

  Apparently, she took on a bunny boarder.

  Terrance relaxed when she smiled and ruffled his hair. “Well, if he’s that nice a guest, there won’t be any problem having him in the house.”

  Luisa nodded. Light flashed off the threads of gray in her rich black hair “I always have scraps leftover. I will send them along for him to eat every day.”

  “Yes, he will n
eed good food to grow into his name,” Antonio added as he came back with the basket of leftovers, not even blinking at the conversation. Had everyone known about Lancelot but her? There was no sense fighting what couldn’t be helped. She took the basket from Antonio. “Good, but now I think it’s time we get him home. He’s going to be tired now that his belly’s full.”

  Luisa stopped them. “Wait. I must fetch the quilt.”

  Petunia had forgotten about the quilt. She passed the basket to Terrance. He hugged it tightly.

  A few minutes later, Luisa returned with a blue-and-white folded quilt in her arms. She rubbed it softly with her fingertips, before thrusting it at Petunia.

  “This is for the boy. For his dreams.”

  As soon as Petunia took the offering, Antonio put his arm around his wife and pulled her into his side. Luisa wiped at her eyes with her apron. Antonio brushed her hair with his lips and murmured, “It is good, carina. This is good.”

  “Say thank-you,” Petunia told Terrance quietly.

  He did, hugging Lancelot’s box and his basket of food. She clutched the quilt and suddenly wondered if she really knew what she was getting into. This simple rescue of a small boy was gaining momentum faster than she could contain. She wanted the town involved, but seeing the emotion in Luisa’s eyes, the torment in Antonio’s, the hope in Terrance’s, she just didn’t know... Taking a breath, she reminded herself she was just the bridge. Once she had someone hired to manage the school, and the proper people convinced the boarding school was their pet project, she could be on her way. She just had to get through tonight. That was all. Just tonight.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ACE SECURED TYSON HAYLEN’S house in two days. She didn’t know how he did it and didn’t ask. She was just grateful for the space. A rambunctious child and a happy bunny were a lot to fit in her small, two-room house. She’d been confident her search for someone to run the school would have been equally as successful, but it hadn’t happened the way Petunia had planned. She’d given herself three days to find a house mistress for the Providence, as she’d named the school. The first day she’d gotten one applicant. An elderly woman too frail to even climb the front stairs without help. Day two she got three more applicants. One woman with the smell of gin on her breath, another who could only watch the children between noon and dark but couldn’t stay the night, and the third was a man whose motives she completely did not trust.