Silver Belles and Stetsons

by Caroline Clemmons

“Times are tough. We hire as many as we can possibly afford. For poor Mexicans, there are few jobs available.”

  “That’s commendable, Eduardo. But have you never found a young woman you wished to wed?” She wished she could call back the mention of marrying as soon as the words slid from her tongue. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she hinted at a declaration from him when they barely knew one another.

  He gazed at her with far too much heat in his flashing eyes. “I have enjoyed saying outrageous things to women, what some call flirting. I like them, but could never choose one to settle down with.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “But who can say what the future holds?”

  She should redirect the conversation to less personal subjects. “Talk to me about what we’re seeing. Do you have plans for your ranch? Do you work with your father or is he still very much in control?”

  “To go from last to first, my father is releasing more and more control to me. He is a wise man and I still have much to learn. I do not think he will ever be a man to sit back and do nothing.”

  He gestured across the Brazos River. “There are many things I want to add. As I mentioned, recently Micah and I acquired the land across the river that at one time was part of our ranches. The Montoyas lost that portion during one of the many government changes we’ve weathered.”

  “Did you acquire a lot of land with this purchase?”

  “Not as much as on this side of the river, but enough to increase our herds by many thousand.”

  She couldn’t imagine the number of acres under his family’s authority or the number of cattle. “And now what can I see from where we’re standing?”

  They’d reached the adobe wall which must be five feet tall. Eduardo leaned his elbows on the ledge. His hand moved as he pointed from one thing to another.

  “In addition to the vegetable gardens and orchards, you can see the wheat fields that have been harvested and are ready to be replanted. That small building is our grist mill where wheat and corn are ground. You understand that when Cesare Montoya arrived here, there was no town anywhere within several hundred miles.”

  “Your great-grandfather had courage. He had to be self-sufficient.”

  Eduardo smiled as if pleased with her comment. “But now, we supplement what we grow with supplies and tools from town.”

  “Do you sell your surplus?”

  “So far, we have none, but that is by design. Perhaps that is something to consider for the future.”

  “I don’t remember seeing many Mexican children at the school.”

  “Several years ago, Hope and I had a school built where our land meets and she found someone to teach. Then our children do not have far to travel nor do they face prejudice.”

  “Do they learn English?”

  He shrugged. “Yes, but other lessons are in Spanish. We require the children of our employees to attend until they are twelve, but they may choose to go longer. The school is too new to know the outcome.”

  They turned and strolled toward the house.

  “I attended private schools where I didn’t learn nearly as much as I wanted. I craved more world knowledge and less embroidery and deportment. I suppose you had a tutor.”

  “Yes, for more years than I wished, more than Hope was allowed even though she is very intelligent.”

  “She’s helping with the Christmas party.” She paused to inhale a large rose cluster.

  “I am sorry you missed seeing Mama’s flowers in spring or summer. At least a few blooms remain.”

  “Eduardo, I’m enjoying myself, but soon we need to return to town. The trip there and back is long for you.”

  “As you wish, mi amor. Let us bid my parents goodbye.”

  Eduardo couldn’t keep optimism from his heart. She liked his home, the place he hoped soon to share with her. He helped her into the buggy. With a last wave at his parents, they were on their way.

  “You were kind to bring my mother the guest towels,”

  “I suppose she doesn’t need them, although she was gracious. In New Orleans, one is supposed to bring a small, impersonal gift. Usually flowers, chocolates, or a bottle of wine. I’m afraid I panicked before settling on towels.”

  “Mama was touched by your thoughtfulness. Do you worry like this all the time?”

  She sighed. “I spend a lot of time concerned I’ve said or done the wrong thing. M-My in-laws frequently reminded me I’d spoken or acted inappropriately.”

  With a slash of his hand he waved away her distress. “Do not think of them. They are in your past. Here you are surrounded by those who find you delightful. That is with the exception of Misses Cox, Martin, and Welborn. They take delight only in malicious gossip.”

  “I wondered if you’d overheard them after church last week.”

  He wished he could have told those busy bodies what he thought of them. “As they intended. Pay them no mind. No one else does. Now tell me how I can help you with your project.”

  She grinned at him, flirtation in her tawny eyes. “What if I asked for more cedar?”

  He made a grandiose gesture, placing his hand on his heart. “For you, I would gather a forest.”

  As he’d intended, she laughed, and the silvery sound stirred him to his core.

  “No need. Mama and Dad gathered more on Wednesday and she made wreaths. Seeing her happily involved in something again is wonderful.”

  “You are a good daughter to them.”

  “As annoyed as I become when they treat me as a child, I know they mean well and I’m glad to be here.”

  “You could not be as happy as I am. Your presence has brightened our community, and your plans will restore our joy.” If only he could tell her how much her being here meant to him, but he was afraid he might frighten her away.

  “Thank you. Gwen has brought her list of children. She and Melissa added all the area children they could recall.”

  “Hope and I and whoever helps us always plan for more in case of newcomers. I will come in this week and you can help me think of gifts. Then we must wrap each present and put a name on the package.”

  “Rosalyn has made a beautiful Saint Nicholas costume and asked Dad to wear it. He pretends to be indifferent, but I can tell he’s excited.”

  “A good idea and something we have not done in the past. He probably knows the names of most of the children. Joel found the perfect tree for the church. That’s where we pass out the toys.”

  “When will you set it up?”

  “Wednesday of next week, then students will decorate the tree with ornaments they’ve made. I think not much time is spent on learning this month.”

  “Oh, but Gwen is using the time to study customs around the world. Well, as many as she’s been able to find. First, Mrs. Gechter spoke on Germany since that’s where the custom of a Christmas tree originated.”

  “And who else spoke?”

  “Mrs. Pemberton spoke on England, Mrs. Snedal on Norway. I’ve forgotten the rest, except that Hope spoke on Spain, Mrs. Garcia on Mexico, and I spoke on Reveillon in France and New Orleans. I think the students have studied every nationality represented in town.”

  “This is good, for the children will learn many customs are shared. You started a very good thing, Celia.”

  ***

  On Monday morning, Mark Hardeman and one of his employees were standing cedar trees at the side of the mercantile when Celia and her dad arrived.

  “Hope these will help raise money for the business decorating prize.”

  Celia almost danced from excitement. “I volunteered to donate that prize, but thank you. I do hope we sell these.”

  Her father inspected a handsome tree. “Only two weeks until Christmas. These should stay healthy that long. Might be sagging by Twelfth Night. What do you think, daughter?”

  “That these trees will add a nice touch for families who either can’t or don’t want to bother cutting their own. Thank you, Mark. By the way, you’re going to love the p
ageant Gwen and Melissa put together.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Gwen made me read the script. James and I are set construction. Going to be a big production.”

  “I can hardly wait until we see that pageant. I’ll bet there’s a record attendance at church this Sunday.”

  Mark stepped toward the wagon where his helper waited. “Matched only by the party the next week. Lots of people are looking forward to the celebrations. You folks have a good day. I’d better get back to work.”

  Celia waved as her father unlocked the front door. “Thanks again.”

  Days passed quickly with more customers and sales than usual. Celia noticed a sense of excitement in the air. Although possessing a sunny disposition in normal times, the past five years—especially the last thirteen months—had been a dark period in her life. While Jean-Claud had been alive, he partially buffered her from his overbearing family. His death combined with the loss of their baby had her fighting despair until she could visit her parents.

  Apparently the Dubois family had expected her to live under their repressive thumbs indefinitely, but she had stood firm in her resolve to return to her parents. Her father-in-law tried to reclaim all the jewelry Jean-Claud had given her. Celia had returned family pieces and steadfastly held on to her other gifts. Now, she hoped never to see the Dubois family again.

  As morose as her mother’s attitude had been when Celia arrived in Radford Crossing, her life had improved markedly. And since helping with the wreaths, Mama was more herself, chatting happily about all the events in town and making plans. Although she still mourned, Celia was closer to happy than she’d been in years.

  ***

  The school teacher came in near closing on Wednesday. She appeared close to tears.

  Her dad took one look at Gwen Jones’ face, motioned to Celia, and ducked his head.

  Celia set down the box of sewing notions she carried. “Gwen, what’s wrong? Has something happened to one of the children?”

  The teacher exhaled. “You might say that. America Cox has been angry because Kirstine Snedal is Mary in the pageant. Today, she tripped Kirstine when we were practicing with the robes the students will wear for Sunday’s performance.”

  “What a bratty thing to do. Is Kirstine all right?”

  “Yes, but I’m pretty sure she’ll have a black eye for the pageant.” She lowered her voice. “Honestly, America and her sister Georgia are such bullies. I told America she can’t be in the pageant and I’ve just come from telling Mrs. Cox.”

  Celia gasped. “I don’t envy you. She’s a scary woman.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t gossip about customers.

  Gwen giggled. “You should see your face. Don’t worry, I won’t tell, and that’s the first good laugh I’ve had today. The children are so excited but some of the boys can be a trial.”

  “What else has happened?”

  “Their naughtiness prompted me to tell them that they could wind up with only coal or switches in their stockings. Then they got into an argument over who was the meanest boy, although I can divulge privately to you that title is tied between Kenny Martin and his brother Jimmy.”

  Celia couldn’t prevent a smile. “You’ve had your hands full.”

  “You have no idea. I squelched that argument only to have Kenny and Jimmy announce there was no Saint Nicholas. I had to calm tears from Angelina Gechter and Laura Hardeman but believe I side-stepped that nicely, if I do say so myself.”

  “Sounds like you can stand a few cheerful moments. I hope you’re not mad at me for bringing up Christmas events.”

  “No, the pageant has been good for the kids. For the most part, they’ll do a good job.” She shook her head. “But when you put kids and animals together, there are certain to be some surprises.”

  “You’re using live animals?” Celia had trouble visualizing a donkey and sheep inside the church sanctuary.”

  “Only the sheep—actually one ewe and her lamb. We have a butcher paper drawing of a donkey and one of a camel. We could have used the Ortega’s burro, but James and Melissa were afraid of droppings.”

  “Don’t blame them. I think you’re brave. I can’t imagine tackling the pageant.”

  “Well, I’d better get going so you can close. I just wanted someone to commiserate with me and to say hello.” She turned the knob and stepped outside.

  Celia followed her. “Goodbye and good luck.” She closed the door behind her new friend and turned the sign to Closed.

  Her father asked, “Everything all right with Miss Jones?”

  “Be glad neither of us is a teacher.”

  He chuckled. “Believe me, I am.”

  Chapter Six

  Eduardo stopped by Friday near six. Over his usual clothing, he wore a long black coat. “I hope you will let me take you to dinner at the hotel dining room.”

  Celia looked down at her clothes. “Like this?”

  Her father said, “You’d probably enjoy yourself more if you took off the apron.”

  Eduardo flashed one of his heart-stopping smiles. “Your father speaks the truth, but I don’t care either way.”

  “I’ll get my coat,” Celia removed the apron as she walked to grab her wrap and hat from the back. Brushing dust from her sleeves, she hoped a walk in the crisp air would put color in her pale cheeks. She checked her reflection in the stockroom’s small mirror and smoothed her hair before she donned her hat.

  Emerging while buttoning her coat, she paused in front of her father. “You don’t mind if I leave early, do you, Dad?”

  He waved aside her question. “Have a nice meal.”

  Eduardo opened the door for her and they strolled across the street. “Just for you, mi corazon, snowflakes.”

  She took off a glove and held out her hand to the large, wet flakes. “This is wonderful. Did you know we were going to have snow?”

  He shrugged. “Papa and I thought so, but who can ever say for certain?”

  They walked up the steps and into the hotel. After shaking moisture from their clothes, they hung their coats on the rack by the door.

  A waitress met them at the doorway into the dining room. “The table you requested is ready, Mr. Montoya.”

  “Thank you, Wanda.”

  Celia smiled at several people she recognized. Eduardo spoke to a few as they passed. They were ushered to a table in a quiet corner of the dining room.

  She flicked her napkin across her lap. “This is a treat. My parents have talked about coming here, but I haven’t been before now.”

  ‘”The food is good, but I do not come often.” He looked up when Wanda approached.

  The waitress said, “Tonight we’re serving two choices, ham or roast beef. We also have wine, beer, coffee, cider, lemonade, or water.”

  Eduardo smiled at Celia. “May I order wine for us?”

  “Yes, thank you, and I’ll have ham.”

  He nodded and gave their orders. “And now you must tell me about your week.”

  Celia paused while Wanda poured their wine and left the napkin-wrapped bottle on the table.

  They were both laughing over the teacher’s description of her week when their food arrived.

  He topped off her wine. “Sunday after church, Rosalyn and Joel are hosting lunch for the Stone and Montoya families. Rosalyn asked me to invite you.”

  “I’m neither Stone nor Montoya, so I must decline. But I’m pleased to have been invited, especially by you.’

  She didn’t want him to press her to change her mind because she would be intruding. “Tell me how Hope and Micah met.”

  “Ah, that is a sad subject. It was at the birthday fandango for her father. Her mother had died a couple of months previously of what the doctor thought was an unusual wasting disease. Uncle Alfredo should have been in mourning, but he wanted his party.” He forked up a bite of ham.

  She recalled her own enforced mourning. “You mentioned he was not a loving man.”

  “Hmph. Micah invited H
ope to dance. I remember being happy she appeared to be enjoying their dance and conversation. When they began a second dance, my uncle interrupted and told Micah he was unfit to dance with her and humiliated Micah in front of everyone there. Frankly, I believe Uncle Alfredo was afraid if Hope met a nice man, she would leave him. Then he would lose his unpaid worker.”

  “But how sad for each of them to be embarrassed needlessly in that way. Was Hope his housekeeper?”

  He took a sip of wine before continuing. “No, she maintained all the complicated accounts and bloodline records for his horses and bulls. She rides well, and could do all the home or ranch chores. She was his slave until she became ill. By then, he had died. Micah was almost framed for my uncle’s death.”

  Astonished, she leaned back in her chair. “Good heavens, just like what happened to Rosalyn. Did you suspect Micah?”

  He frowned and didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sad to admit I did. I must tell you that was a difficult time in my life. My father treated me as if I were not worthy of his trust. As a result, I was not a responsible man. We were on a sad road for both of us. Because of the Stone brothers, my father was convinced to accept that I had ability and was dependable.”

  “I don’t understand. You said you thought Micah was guilty.”

  “At first. Once I realized he was innocent, I joined in trying to find the guilty person.”

  “And did you?”

  He shrugged. “Not me, but the Stone brothers are formidable lawmen. And their aunts moved here to help them.” He elaborated on all they had done to capture the guilty person.

  She took a sip of wine. “That’s quite a story. And how did Alice meet Zach?”

  He leaned near. “You see the bank owner and his wife near the front?”

  She couldn’t help wrinkling her nose. “The Daltons, yes.”

  He chuckled. “I see you’ve met her. Mrs. Dalton was engaged to Zach when he received the injury to his face. She told him she could not bear to look at his scar and broke their engagement.”

  Astonished once again, she laid her fork on her plate. “I knew I didn’t like her, but I didn’t realize how shallow she really is.”

  “Anyway, Alice and Zach met up when she was sick and on the run from her criminal step-brothers. They struck a deal and she pretended to be his new fiancée.” He launched into the story and soon had her laughing at some of Alice’s escapades.