Taming Eliza Jane

by Shannon Stacey

  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, bareheaded, 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. 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 knitted 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 assured her, and 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, Mrs. 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 lighting up her face again.

  “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 Eliza Jane laughed again. The town so
cial 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.

  “So 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 until 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 didn’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.

  Lucy Barnes was the center of attention—as usual—waving a piece of paper around while her husband sat on a bench fanning himself. What was unusual were the tears running down her cheeks.

  “She’s gone!” the woman was shouting at the sheriff, and Eliza Jane was shocked to see she didn’t have her Bible in hand. Something terrible indeed must have happened.

  “Calm down,” Adam told her. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

  “She was upset earlier about fainting, so she went home to lie down. When I went to check on her a few minutes ago, I found this note. She’s run off to marry some cowboy named Joey Keezer!”

  Eliza Jane’s gasp of surprise was lost amidst all the others. Beth Ann was gone?

  “You’d better go after them right now, Sheriff,” Lucy ordered, waving the paper under his nose. “You go get my daughter and bring her back.”

  Her earlier disagreement with Will slid to the back of her mind as Eliza Jane pondered Adam Caldwell’s situation. Having Beth Ann married to somebody else would make his life immeasurably easier. But as the sheriff, did he have a duty to go after the runaways? She wasn’t a child, after all, but a woman old enough to marry.

  “Well, I reckon Guapo’s pretty tuckered after winning the race earlier,” Adam said slowly. “It might be best to head out at first light.”

  “Guapo?” Eliza Jane repeated, unable to help herself. “You named your horse handsome?”

  His black eyes swung to focus on her. “I did. You see some reason why he shouldn’t be called that?”

  “I…um…he just didn’t look Spanish to me.”

  “You!” Lucy Barnes shouted at Eliza Jane now that she’d gone and drawn attention to herself. “You’re behind this, aren’t you?”

  Every head turned in her direction, and Eliza Jane was struck speechless by the accusation. While she supported independence and free thinking in women, she would never counsel a young girl to run off and elope with a cowboy. Especially the daughter of Lucy Barnes. Good Lord, that was just asking for a heaping plate of misery.

  “I had nothing to do with this,” she finally managed to say, wondering if her hesitation made her look guilty in the eyes of others. Perhaps a little more… “I was under the impression Beth Ann and the sheriff here were practically betrothed and I certainly wouldn’t stand in the way of his blessed matrimony.”

  Adam and Will both snorted, so she assumed that was a little too much. “Beth Ann didn’t confide her plan to me, Mrs. Barnes. That’s all I can say.”

  With the wind taken out of her sails on that regard, Lucy turned her attention back to the sheriff. “You go and fetch her back here right now.”

  He took the paper from her and gave it a quick read. “Beth Ann ain’t a little girl, you know. She’s old enough to go off and get married.”

  She stepped right up to him, though, being short, that meant she had to crane her head way back. “I don’t think she run off with him. I think he took her and you’d best go get her back.”

  “Oh, for the love of God, shut up, woman!” Brent Barnes yelled, and the whole town fell silent.

  She turned on him like a snarling wolverine. “How dare you speak to me like that, with our own daughter taken away from us and in danger?”

  “She wasn’t taken, and you know it. That boy and her have been courtin’ since she was sixteen and you’re just too stubborn to admit it. The only reason our daughter is gone right now is because it’s the only way she could get a lick of happiness.”

  Eliza Jane wanted to cheer, but everybody was still silent, no doubt waiting to see what the sheriff would do if Lucy Barnes started beating her husband t
o death in the middle of the town social.

  “I did not raise that girl to marry a good-for-nothing cowboy!”

  “I was a good-for-nothing file clerk when we got married, Lucy. Do you even remember back then—back when we were young and in love and you didn’t feel a need to be somebody?”

  “This isn’t about my happiness, Brent Barnes,” she shouted back.

  “Well, it certainly isn’t about Beth Ann’s.” He turned to Adam. “You go on and enjoy the festivities, Sheriff. I reckon I’m still the man of this family and my daughter has my blessing.”

  He turned and walked away, but the crowd could hear Lucy henpecking at him all the way up the street.

  As people went back to what they’d been doing, Eliza Jane turned to find Will looking at her. “I had nothing to do with any of this!”

  “I know you didn’t. Now come and dance with me and I’ll try to behave myself.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two days later, Eliza Jane was pondering whether or not to squander some of her hard-earned wages on a sour pickle when a short, leather-skinned woman with a straggly knot of hair and work-hardened hands marched over to her. It was hard to tell, but Eliza Jane thought the woman might have a wad of tobacco tucked into her cheek.

  “You that women’s libber what told my daughters how not to have so many young’uns?”

  Eliza Jane sighed. She was exhausted and not in the mood to be accosted while pondering the wooden pickle barrel. “I am.”

  The other woman smiled, confirming her chewing tobacco suspicions. “Good. I had ten young’uns, one right after the other. Two died in birthin’ and I lost three to sickness along the way.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Eliza Jane’s own woes faded into insignificance in the face of another’s hardship.

  “I played the hand God dealt me,” the woman said without a trace of self-pity. “If my girls get to play a better hand on account of having an ace or two up their sleeves, then I’m all for that.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard her cause described as cheating the Lord at poker before, but Eliza Jane understood the sentiment. “Making women’s lives a little easier is all I try to do.”