Texas Lonesome

by Duncan, Alice

  It was too much for him to figure out right now. He picked up his Stetson, which he had cast aside long ago, and crammed it on his head. Stalking into the house, he hoped to escape without meeting up with either of Emily’s lunatic relatives, but luck was not on his side.

  “Well, well, Mr. Tate. And did you and our little Emily set a date for the happy event?” Ludwig asked when he spotted him.

  The man’s smile was sincere. Will knew it, but the knowledge didn’t help. He was so frustrated and angry, he didn’t want to talk to anybody right now.

  “No! She won’t have me.” Will felt guilty over his outburst as soon as he saw Ludwig’s face crumple up. Then he sighed and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. von Plotz. I’m a little shaken right now. I thought for sure she would agree to marry me.”

  “I thought so, too, Mr. Tate. I don’t understand it.” Ludwig scratched his head. “I could have sworn she was head over heels in love with you. I saw it, Mr. Tate. I swear to you, I saw it!”

  A rueful chuckle leaked out of Will’s throat. Good old Ludwig was earnest about everything, he supposed. “I thought I saw it too, Mr. von Plotz.”

  The pitiful expression on Ludwig’s face brought something else to Will’s mind, and he reached into his breast pocket to withdraw the draft he’d had the bank prepare earlier in the day.

  “Here, Mr. von Plotz. I think it would behoove you to get yourself some more dogs if you really want to breed them. You can use this.”

  Ludwig’s eyes widened when he took the draft from Will and saw the amount written on the paper.

  “Mr. Tate, I swear to you in the name of our beloved, departed Rudolf, I will use this money to create the best damned string of dachshunds in the world. No. In the universe!” Tears stood in Ludwig’s eyes when he uttered his impassioned phrases, and Will was touched in spite of himself.

  “I’d like to help you do just that, Mr. von Plotz. Would you care to talk about it now?”

  Ludwig had to dab at his eyes with a handkerchief quickly yanked from a pocket before he could answer. “Anything, Mr. Tate. For you, anything.” He blew his nose with a huge honk, and ushered Will into the parlor.

  Since it was very nearly impossible to get Ludwig to concentrate on business long enough to accomplish anything worthwhile, it was up to Will to compose the letter to Ludwig’s breeder in Germany. Ludwig happily translated the missive into German once it had been written.

  Then the two men collaborated on an advertisement Will proposed they publish in both San Francisco daily newspapers. He also suggested having promotional posters printed, an idea Ludwig endorsed with glee.

  Will was fascinated to discover that, although Emily’s uncle was a complete flop when it came to practicalities such as bill-paying and letter-writing, his obsession could be used to create very effective publicity for his dogs. Will stored the useful piece of information away for the future, glad to know Ludwig might prove to be good for something after all.

  “I’ll call again tomorrow, Mr. von Plotz, and tell you how things are going,” Will promised as he prepared to leave the Schindler home. “With any luck, I can visit the papers this afternoon, and your ad will appear in the morning.”

  Ludwig’s shook Will’s hand fervently. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Tate. Your support for my wonderful dogs will make all the difference. You’ll see. They’ll take off like sky rockets once people learn about them.”

  Although Will harbored many doubts on the issue, he would not for the world let Ludwig know it. He wasn’t about to do anything that might lessen his chances of turning Emily’s “no” into a “yes.” He figured the sooner her relatives were out of financial hot water, the sooner he could make her listen to reason. Once she saw how valiantly he was working to rescue her batty aunt and uncle, she was sure to marry him—out of gratitude, if nothing deeper.

  But she loved him. He knew she loved him.

  With that thought at the forefront of his mind, he left her home to go place the ad at the newspaper offices. That didn’t take any time at all, but he had slightly more trouble with the artist whom he sought out to prepare the artwork for their poster. After Will drew a rough sketch and then convinced the man he hadn’t made a mistake—the dogs really did look like that—things went more smoothly. By the time he left, Will was sure the artist thought he was out of his mind. He was satisfied the man would carry out the assignment to his specifications, however, and that’s all that mattered.

  From the artist’s studio, Will walked to Thomas Crandall’s house on Nob Hill. Only today, he was not walking on air. Instead, he slouched along the San Francisco streets, staring at the road in front of him, pondering the perversity of women, feeling like a very dejected young man.

  Chapter 10

  “Dear Aunt Emily: I know I have found the girl. She is perfect and I love her. Thank you for your help. I think it was etiquette that done it. Signed, Texas Lonesome.”

  For the life of her, Emily couldn’t formulate a response. Tears kept blinding her.

  # # #

  “I’ll never understand it as long as I live, Thomas. I swear to God, she loves me. I can see it in her eyes every damned time she looks at me.”

  Will shook his head as he paced back and forth in front of Thomas Crandall’s elaborate fireplace in the upstairs sitting room. Thomas hadn’t even had a chance to delve into his Sherlock Holmes mystery today before Will cornered him.

  He had never seen his friend so upset; indeed, he hadn’t known before right this minute Will could become this overwrought, just over a woman. Thomas held in his laughter out of respect for Will’s broken heart.

  “I mean, look at the whole situation, Thomas. Just take a good look at it,” Will said. “She met me in the park. She found out I was from Texas. She asked me if I was ‘Texas Lonesome.’ I swear, Thomas, she nearly fainted on the spot when I said I was. I know she planned right then to snag me. You even said that was probably her game.”

  Thomas felt obliged to agree. “That’s so, Will. I believe I did.”

  Will nodded miserably. “That’s what I mean. I remember, because I thought you were wrong. Then, when I knew you were right, I could only be amazed at how damned smart she was. So, why in God’s name did she refuse to marry me? I mean, Thomas, she won! I swear to God, I’m hers, body and soul. I can’t even imagine being with another woman now that I’ve fallen in love with Emily.”

  “I don’t blame you, Will. She’s really something, all right.”

  “And she loves me. I know she loves me. You may think I’m being foolish, but I can tell. For God’s sake, I spent my entire childhood reading people’s expressions and gestures. I was taught by an expert in the field! I can tell the real thing from a good acting job any day of the week. Emily doesn’t have it in her to dissimulate. She loves me, God damn it!” Will was yelling now, even though Thomas had not contradicted him.

  “I believe you, Will. You don’t have to holler. I believe you. Although,” he couldn’t help adding, since he found the whole situation so funny, “I guess she did dissimulate a little bit when she tried to trap you.”

  Will frowned. “Well, I guess she did. A little, tiny bit. But she wasn’t very good at it.”

  “No?”

  “No.” When Will recalled the first time Emily tried batting her eyelashes at him he almost cried. The thought of losing her now was so horrible, he wouldn’t allow himself to think about it. He had to concentrate on winning her.

  “But how can I win her if I’ve already won her, and she still won’t marry me?”

  Will was hollering again, and Fred, who had been snoring blissfully in front of the fireplace, looked at his master in concern. Will absently bent to pat his dog’s head.

  “Sorry, old friend.”

  “Will,” Thomas said at last, “has it ever occurred to you that she refused to marry you precisely because she is honorable?”

  Will straightened. “That’s crazy, Thomas.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Thomas soun
ded very sure of himself.

  “Yes, it is.” So did Will.

  “Will Tate, you’ve come a long way since you broke your connection with your Uncle Mel, but you still have a habit of thinking like him. Did you know that?”

  “The hell I do!” Will’s disclaimer bounced from wall to wall in Thomas’s sitting room like a ricocheting bullet. “I rejected every damned thing my uncle ever taught me, and you know it, Thomas! And then I rejected him! You just insulted me worse than I’ve ever been insulted in my life.”

  “I didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it, Will. What I mean is that, even though your better nature tells you different, you can’t, deep down in your soul, really believe people aren’t out for what they can get.”

  Will glared at Thomas and didn’t answer.

  Thomas went on. “Now we both know Aunt Emily started out by trying to get ‘Texas Lonesome’ to marry her. When you think about it, it was a reasoned, sensible action on her part. The man wrote to her saying he was rich and wanted a wife. It’s not her fault you’re not Texas Lonesome.”

  “Of course it isn’t.” Will had no what Thomas’s ultimate point might turn out to be.

  “The problem, my friend, is that she’s started to care about you.”

  “Well, of course she has. That’s what I just told you.”

  “There. You see? My point exactly.” Thomas settled back in his wing chair, a smug smile on his handsome face.

  “What point?” Will’s bellow made Thomas flinch. “Just what the hell point are you trying to make? She loves me? That’s why she won’t marry me? That doesn’t make a lick of sense, Thomas, and you know it!”

  Thomas sighed. “Of course it does.”

  It took all the patience Will could draw upon not to grab Thomas by his pleated shirt front and shake a proper explanation out of him. “Tell me,” he demanded through gritted teeth. “Why does it make sense?”

  “Don’t you see it yet, Will? It’s so simple. In spite of what your Uncle Mel taught you, not everybody in the world is comfortable fooling people. In fact, most of us try our very best to be honest with one another.”

  “Emily is obviously a woman of high moral principle.”

  “Yes.”

  Thomas smiled. “All right. So you see, once she realized she’d begun to care for you. She probably refused you because she’s afraid you’ll hate her forever when you find out her family is in financial trouble. She knows you’ll find out, since there’s no avoiding it, and I bet she can’t stand the thought of facing your contempt once her true scheme is revealed.

  “After all,” Thomas went on wryly, “She had no way in the world of knowing you only love her all the more for having succeeded in her confidence game. Most people would actually frown on such a scheme, you know. I don’t mean to disparage you or your family, Will, but your Uncle Mel’s standards are not necessarily those the rest of the world runs by. Barring politicians and lawyers, of course.”

  Comprehension burst across Will’s face. “Of course!”

  Then he grabbed Thomas’s hand and nearly shook it off of his arm.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Thomas. Of course that’s it. God almighty, I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner.”

  “It probably never even entered your brain.”

  “No. It didn’t.” The admission cost Will a clutching sensation in his chest, and he shook his head. “I wonder if I’ll ever completely recover from Uncle Mel.”

  “Probably not, but that’s not all bad, you know. After all, he taught you some things that have helped you in business much more than what most of us were taught in childhood. Hell, we’re both rich now, thanks in large part to your devious brain.”

  “I suppose so,” Will agreed glumly. “But how the hell am I going to get Emily to stop feeling guilty and marry me?”

  “Well, what about those stupid dogs of her uncle’s? You’re helping him a little bit now. What if you made his business so successful he begins to get rich on his own? If anybody in the world can make people want something completely useless, it’s you, Will. If you do a little work, I’ll bet you can even make weasel dogs attractive. If her uncle’s business begins to prosper and it looks as though it’s all his doing, then she can settle her own debts and won’t need your money. That way she won’t feel she’s deceived you. I bet she’ll agree to marry you then.” Thomas sat back and smiled.

  “Just think of it, Will. Leland Stanford walking his sausage hounds on the grounds of that college he built. Mrs. Crocker taking her dachshunds for a ride in her new horseless carriage. Collis Huntington, using a weasel-dog as the mascot for one of his midnight specials.” His grin broadened. “Why, the possibilities are endless.”

  Will’s smile was so full of affection, Thomas looked away, feeling self-conscious.

  “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life, Thomas. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Actually, Will, I think I’m the only friend you’ve ever had in your life.”

  “Well, I guess that’s true, too. But still, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I really don’t.”

  “Ah, hell, Will. Just cut me in on the sausage-dog profits, is all I ask.” Thomas reached into his breast pocket and plucked out a bank note. “After I met your little Emily, I decided to invest in those silly critters after all. Shoot, we’ve always done things together. I didn’t want only one of us to be a fool.”

  Will took the bank note and had to blink quickly. He’d never cried in his adult life and didn’t intend to start now.

  “Thanks, Thomas.” His voice was thick.

  “It’s all right, Will. But now, let’s start thinking about how to market those stupid dogs. I don’t want to lose my investment.”

  So the two men spent several hours in Thomas’s sitting room, plotting marketing techniques for a breed of small, mean-tempered, low-slung dogs, for which neither one of them could think of a legitimate use. When their brain-storming session concluded, Will was whistling and Thomas was grinning from ear to ear. Both men went to bed that night feeling very pleased with themselves.

  # # #

  “‘Sleep no more. von Plotz does murder sleep,’” Emily muttered mournfully, fracturing Mr. Shakespeare’s famous words. She stood in front of her big, blotchy mirror and stared with melancholy at the huge purple rings under her eyes.

  Her night had been spent tossing, turning, wishing, despairing, and constantly thinking about Will Tate. She felt as though she had been flung head-first into a bubbling cauldron of emotion. One moment she told herself she might just as well go ahead and marry him, only to revile herself the next moment as a vicious harpy without a shred of honor in her soul. Such inconsistencies had not made for a restful night.

  “At least I have my column.”

  Those words, which only yesterday she had uttered in an attempt to make herself believe she had some control over the morass of her aunt and uncle’s failing fortunes, today were being used for another purpose entirely. Faced with a bleak lifetime alone, unloved, and with no Will Tate, Emily’s column was the one, solid thing to which she could still cling. She could write, if nothing else, and pass away a listless lifetime giving advice to the lovelorn.

  The irony did not escape her. “I? Who am I to give advice to anybody?” Two enormous tears rolled down her cheeks and she chastised herself for being a miserable fraud.

  Well, it was her own fault. She was a fool and a cheat, and she had nobody but herself to blame for her misery. “So, Miss Emily von Plotz, what are you going to do now? Stand here and whine? Or face the day with fortitude?”

  Her pep talk didn’t have much of an effect on her sick heart, but she forced herself to lift her stubborn little chin, don a defiant glare, and nod firmly into her mirror.

  As a precaution against nosy relatives who might ask too-personal questions about her ragged appearance, she rubbed face powder over her purple eye ringlets in an attempt to hide them. Then she pinched her cheeks with unnece
ssary viciousness to give them some color, picked up the pages of her column, headed out of her bedroom, grabbed some bread and cheese in the kitchen, and left the house.

  Her spirits did not improve as Emily walked towards her editor’s office, but she did manage to contain her agony until it was a more manageable, steady ache. From some previously untapped inner resource, she was able to force a smile as before she knocked on Mr. Kaplan’s door.

  “Why, Miss Emily, my star columnist. It’s so good to see you, dear. You’re always so prompt. Always so conscientious.”

  Mr. Kaplan rose and gestured Emily into the chair in front of his desk. Then he sat back and smiled at her.

  Her editor’s honest appreciation usually made Emily feel good about herself. Today, however, his praise pierced her throbbing heart like a poisoned dart. If he only knew, she thought with terrible bitterness. Oh, if he only knew.

  She did, however, manage to keep her smile in place when she handed him her sheaf of work. “Thank you, Mr. Kaplan. Here are six letters. I’m not sure whether you can use all of them, but I seem to be getting more mail than usual lately.”

  “That’s because people love you, my dear. Aunt Emily is becoming quite famous in San Francisco. As a matter of fact,” her editor added with a twinkle, “what would you think if we were to expand your column space?”

  A mere day before, such news would have sent Emily’s heart soaring. Today the same heart felt cold and untouched by her editor’s words. “How wonderful,” she said listlessly.

  Even those two words sounded forced to her, but Mr. Kaplan drew his own conclusions. “Are you feeling well, Emily? You look a little pale.”

  Wonderful. Just wonderful. She’d even donned makeup, a practice she, as a respectable, moral young lady, deplored, and people still thought she was sick. Well, by grace, if she looked sick, then she’d play sick. Nobody needed to know her sickness was of the heart and not of the body.