Hell, maybe they woudn’t even need the cowboys for that. With Adam, Eliza Jane, mourning chickens, and a gloating Lucy Barnes with her Bible Brigade all in one place, the brawling might see to itself.
He tipped his hat and continued walking, his mind still on Eliza Jane. Whether she showed up on his arm or not, he planned to make his intentions toward her very plain today. The people of Gardiner needed to start coming to terms with the fact their doctor was getting sweet on the damn women’s libber.
12
It was a good plan, but harder to set in motion than he’d anticipated. Will didn’t see Eliza Jane at all for hours, and then, when he did, it was always from a distance. It seemed she was always talking to somebody or helping somebody set up tables. Carrying food.
And just when it appeared he’d get a chance to talk to her, somebody would waylay him, wanting to talk about the weather, the horse racing or their various aches and pains.
It wasn’t until they were setting up for the pie judging contest he finally managed to pull her aside. “Are you avoiding me, darlin’?”
“Of course not. I’m very busy, and I really need to get my apple pie out to the table.”
He tried not to look or sound as shocked as he felt. “You entered a pie?”
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she snapped. “I thought it might help me become more welcome in certain circles if I engage in a more womanly activity and Margeurite let me borrow her oven.”
“No offense, darlin’, but you don’t strike me as the baking kind.”
“I’m not, but I felt compelled to make the effort.” She smiled ever-so-sweetly at him. “And you’re one of the judges.”
“Eliza Jane Carter, are you implying I’ll cheat just because my boots have spent the night under your bed?”
“Never. But while you’re taking a bite of my pie, you probably won’t be able to help recalling there are womanly activities I am good at.”
Will laughed, and wished he could kiss her right then and there. “You are a schemer, Eliza Jane Carter. But you’re probably right, since I can’t help recalling that fact every minute of the day as it is.”
But fifteen minutes later, lovemaking was the furthest thing from his mind. He’d survived treating deadly and contagious diseases, the war between the states and being branded a traitor by his friends and family, but he didn’t think he had it in him to survive his first bite of Eliza Jane’s apple pie.
He forced himself to keep chewing. Her crust was about as tender and flaky as a dried-up chicken bone and gritted between his teeth. Something crunched again his back molars even as his cheeks started sucking in at the tartness. The woman might be generous in her lovemaking, but she was stingy as hell with the sugar.
He noticed Adam getting to his feet next to him, and for a second wondered if the fearless sheriff was actually fleeing from Eliza Jane’s pie.
Then, despite agonized taste buds and watery eyes, Will noticed the commotion over by the display of quilts. He took a gulp of milk before he stood, hoping it would soften the mass in his mouth enough so he could swallow before he had to speak. Eliza Jane wouldn’t take kindly to his spitting her pie into the dirt.
A brawl was definitely brewing. Will listened to a half-dozen shouting people trying to explain the situation all at once. It seemed one of the chickens had hung a knitted blanket—at least it seemed to be a blanket—along with the other quilts.
Apparently the blanket was Sadie’s and the quilt was Beth Ann’s and the blanket was deemed unfit to be keeping company with the quilt. Whether that was due to Sadie’s being a whore or the fact Adam’s horse could likely knit a prettier stitch, Will couldn’t tell.
But the ladies of the Chicken Coop and the ladies of the First (and only) Gardiner Church had started exchanging words. Dan O’Brien had rushed to Sadie’s defense, causing Lucy Barnes to practically pick up her scrawny, henpecked husband and toss him into the mix.
Now the tall and gangly Dan O’Brien and the short, yet still fairly gangly, Brent Barnes were faced off, looking like a battle of bobbing Adam’s apples.
“Shut up!” Adam roared, and the whole town fell silent. Even the hogs penned up for the greased pig event later stopped their squealing.
“You all squawk more than a pen full of chickens,” he said, but then he turned to the four whores gathered together. “No offense, ladies.”
Fiona gave him a saucy wink, but Sadie looked close to tears. Will was unfortunately still chewing, and so was unable to offer any words of comfort.
“You people interrupted the pie judging,” Adam informed them, and since he didn’t sound too happy about it, Will assumed he hadn’t actually taken a bite of Eliza Jane’s pie yet. “Now, what we have here is a town social. Not the town brawl or the town brouhaha. So you all go on and be social now, dammit.”
“Sadie’s got a right to display her wares,” Dan O’Brien said, and Will admired the man’s gumption. He must have been more than a little sweet on Sadie to talk back to the sheriff like that.
“Her wares aint’ fit for decent society,” Brent Barnes responded with a sneer.
Will could see Adam’s right hand starting to twitch, so he swallowed the sour lump of pie, hoping he didn’t choke. He’d barely gotten it down when Dan worked up the nerve to take a swing.
“I aim to marry her,” the man said, plowing his fist into Brent’s face. Unfortunately he had the body weight of a sun-starved sapling and the other man only took one staggering step before striking back.
The next thing Will knew, O'Brien and Barnes were rolling around in the street like two twigs caught up in a dust devil. Women and children squealed while the men roared their approval.
The crowd gave a single, horrified gasp when Adam drew his pistol. Will was about to step in when Lucy Barnes hauled off and slapped the sheriff with the good Book so hard his hat flew off and landed in the dirt.
"Don't you shoot my husband," she boomed like a clap of righteous thunder.
The entire town—even the brawling men—froze like stunned statuary as Adam whirled, bareaheaded, to face Lucy. She lifted her Bible—whether she meant to ward the sheriff off or hit him again, Will couldn’t tell.
“Mama!” Beth Ann cried in a high-pitched squeal. Then she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and fainted.
Fiona, acting purely on instinct Will guessed, stepped forward and caught the girl as she fell. She held her for a moment, then she must have realized who she was holding because she made a face like she’d bitten into Eliza Jane’s pie and Beth Ann landed in the dirt with a thud.
“I knit that blanket for my baby,” Sadie said, her plaintive voice damn near breaking Will’s heart. Excitement rippled through the crowd—few had known one of the chickens was expecting.
“It’s a beautiful blanket, Sadie,” Eliza Jane said, and then she gave Lucy Barnes a stare that practically dared the woman to say something mean.
But Lucy was too busy wondering if she was about to get shot to pay much mind to Eliza Jane. Adam had picked his hat up out of the dirt and was slapping it slowly against his thigh. He glared at the woman and she swallowed hard each time a puff of dust escaped it.
“Don’t you even think about shooting me, Adam Caldwell,” she warned, though her voice wasn’t quite as forceful as usual.
“Oh, I’m thinking about it, all right, Mrs. Barnes.”
Will figured it was about time for him to step in. There were too many conversations going on at once, and not one of them friendly. “Okay, everybody. We’re supposed to be having a celebration here. Let’s get back to it.”
“You aim to marry a whore?” Brent Barnes demanded of Dan O’Brien, as if Will hadn’t even spoken.
“I do,” the hotel keeper declared for the whole town to hear. “If I can convince her to have me.”
That statement was enough to distract even Adam. All heads swiveled in Dan’s direction, and Lucy—no doubt eager to escape the sheriff’s cold stare—lit right
into him.
“You can’t marry a…a…fallen woman!”
“Will all due respect, Mrs. Barnes, I reckon who I marry ain’t your concern.”
Lucy clutched her Bible to her chest. “You, sir, are a business proprietor in this town and the financial welfare of Gardiner is everybody’s business.”
Dan looked anxious as all get out and he kept casting nervous glances at Brent Barnes, but he didn’t back down. “It ain’t like travelers will think it odd the hotel owner has a wife. And I don’t reckon any of them will be any the wiser about Sadie’s previous occupations iffen you don’t tell them. And being concerned about the town’s welfare as you are, you wouldn’t do that, now would you, Missus Barnes?”
Oh, he had her there, and Will thoroughly enjoyed the way she worked her mouth soundlessly like a gaping fish before stalking back to the pie table.
Damnation, he’d forgotten about the pies. Unless a tiny twister had come and sucked up Eliza Jane’s pie during the brawl, going back to that table was just about the last thing he wanted to do.
“Ain’t no reason I can’t marry Sadie, iffen she’ll have me,” Dan reiterated, seemingly to the town at large.
“But…but...” Tom Dunbarton seemed to have something he wanted to say, and Will had a good idea of what it was. Being down to three chickens could be an inconvenience to the men in Gardiner. Since pointing that out could lead to another ruckus, thus keeping them all away from the pies a little longer, Will hoped he’d say it.
Instead, Dunbarton came to his senses. “But…somebody oughta pick Beth Ann up off the street now.”
“I’m going to eat pie,” Adam declared, thunking his well-beaten hat back onto his head.
“Sheriff Caldwell,” Eliza Jane said, and Will groaned. She had no concept of minding her own affairs, and she was using that I aim to be stubborn as a mule voice. “Seeing as how you’re Beth Ann’s escort for the day, shouldn’t you offer her assistance if she’s feeling poorly?”
Even Will would have squirmed under the look Adam gave her. “Since I caused her to faint, Miss Carter, I’m hardly the right person to revive her.”
And he walked away. Beth Ann was already starting to stir on her own, and her father went to help her up, giving Dan O’Brien a thunderous look as he went past.
The crowd began to disperse, and Will had no choice but to return to the pie judging table.
He held his breath as Adam bit down into his first bite of Eliza Jane’s pie. The sheriff’s eyes widened and Will winced at the fact even he could hear the crunching of the crust between the man’s teeth.
Adam chewed slowly and cautiously. Will watched, hoping he wouldn’t have to choose between his best friend and the woman he…was sleeping with. The sheriff’s temper was already high, and breaking a tooth on a pastry wouldn’t sweeten it any. Especially considering Eliza Jane’s light hand with the sugar.
She was watching the sheriff with a hopeful expression, but Will knew—judging by his own experience trying to swallow his mouthful—that she’d be waiting a while. So he improvised and frowned at a distant spot over Eliza Jane’s shoulder.
She turned and Adam spat the wad of crunchy, sour pie into the dirt between his boots, then scuffed his foot over it. When Eliza Jane turned back to give Will a questioning look, he smiled.
“I thought I saw something going on over there. Guess I was mistaken.”
Adam made a big show out of swallowing nothing, drawing her attention back to him. She clasped her hands, that hopeful smile still lighting up her face.
“That sure is some pie, Mrs. Carter,” the sheriff said after taking a healthy swig of milk.
“Did you like it?”
“Ma’am, a pie like that makes a man wish he had a pick axe and spade so he could really dig into it.”
Will figured the happy look on Eliza Jane’s face made having to swallow a bite of her pie worthwhile.
In the end, Tom Dunbarton’s mother took first—as she had since the very first Gardiner social years ago—and they gave Eliza Jane third behind Lucy Barnes because Will did, in fact, like how his boots looked under her bed. Adam wanted to give her the second place ribbon on account of Lucy knocking his hat into the dirt, but they were afraid the woman would demand to taste the pie that beat hers.
As it was, during the flurry of activity following the contest, Eliza Jane’s pie managed to disappear. When she took notice, he and Adam made a big show of rubbing their bellies and grinning, but she didn’t look quite convinced.
Will hoped it was almost time for the dancing to start so he could distract her. He was going to bring up a subject that would chase all thoughts of ribbons and apple pies right out of her head.
Eliza Jane threw back her head and laughed as Fiona tried to lead her for a third time through the steps of a high-spirited dance.
It was scandalous, of course, to be dancing with one of the chickens, but she didn’t care. To ban the women from kicking up their heels in public with the same men who paid them for sex struck her as ridiculous, so she flouted their stuffy conventions.
And, if she were to be honest, she’d have to admit she was enjoying watching Will watch her. He’d been nearby all through the festivities, keeping a possessive, watchful eye on her. It thrilled her to know that, while most probably thought he was simply following the sheriff’s order to keep her out of trouble, she knew he was counting the hours until she was naked and under him again.
Fiona whirled her around and she laughed again. The town social had been one of the most enjoyable events she’d ever attended. She’d cheered on the men and boys trying to grab hold of mud-slickened pigs, and been amazed at how fast the sheriff’s horse could run. He didn’t look like much, but he had the soul of a thoroughbred. And the food…she hadn’t eaten so much in a long time.
Just as Eliza Jane was starting to get the hang of the dance steps, the so-called band changed to a much slower tempo that slightly—very slightly—resembled a waltz.
Will swooped right in, taking her hand from Fiona’s. “I do believe you owe me a dance, darlin’.”
She tried to hold him at a respectable distance, but Will was having none of that. He swept her into his arms and into a pattern that at least resembled a waltz far more than the music did.
She gave him a coy smile dredged up from her debutante days. “You’re very light on your feet considering how much of my pie you ate.”
He missed a step and they wobbled for a moment, then he fell back into the rhythm. “That was quite a pie, darlin’.”
Will’s hand kept drifting further down her back, and she squirmed, trying to draw his attention to it. With the entire Bible Brigade in attendance, he couldn’t afford to give any appearance of impropriety. As far as she knew, Lucy Barnes hadn’t rescinded her threat to have him castrating calves if he was caught misbehaving with the women’s libber.
“You’re drawing attention to us,” she hissed when his hand came to settle on the small of her back.
“Then let’s find a little more privacy.”
Privacy in the middle of the social seemed out of the question, so she laughed at him. “We’ll have privacy later. For now, behave yourself.”
But Will led her a little to the right with each turn, until they were on the far fringes of the dancing area. With the band playing loudly, if not well, they were out of earshot of the other dancers.
“Are you trying to get me alone, Doctor Martinson?”
“You know, darlin’, if you’d marry me, we wouldn’t have to sneak around trying to keep a secret half the town probably already knows.”
Eliza Jane scrambled out of his arms so fast she almost fell on the ground. “If I marry you? What are you talking about?”
Will put his hands on his hips and smiled at her. “It’s a ceremony. Preacher, ring, vows.””
“Oh, I know all about vows,” she snapped, looking around to see if anybody gave the appearance of eavesdropping. “That’s the part where I promise to obey you unti
l one of us is dead.”
“You are one romantic woman.”
“There’s nothing romantic about the chains of matrimony.” Good Lord, why did Will have to go and ruin everything by talking about marriage? There was nothing wrong with what they had—companionship, intimacy and independence.
No, it wasn’t perfect. She didn’t like the sneaking around any more than he did, but she couldn’t stand the idea of giving up her identity once again. If she became Mrs. William Martinson, eventually she would become nothing more than the dutiful doctor’s wife he wouldn’t admit he was really looking for.
Not that any of it mattered. She was leaving soon, and that would be that. And speaking of leaving, the thrill of the social was now irredeemably diminished, and she considered returning to her room. But first she needed some water.
“Eliza Jane, look at me.”
She ddn’t want to. One look into those blue eyes and she could be lost. Since she’d only recently begun to rediscover herself, she didn’t care to lose herself again so soon.
But when he repeated the words again more softly, she turned and looked at him.
“Would it be so bad being my wife?”
She thought of all the times he’d been exasperated with her. There had been several times she knew he wanted to lock her in her room just to buy himself a few moments of peace. How long would he tolerate her independent and forward-thinking ways if he actually had the authority to enforce his wishes?
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “And I’m too afraid to find out.”
His eyes looked as sad as she’d ever seen them. “There’s going to come a time when this won’t be enough for me anymore.”
She was saved from giving an answer she didn’t have by the clamor being raised by the gathered citizens. Will walked past her without another word, leaving her to follow after.
Taming Eliza Jane (Gardiner, Texas Book 1) Page 12
