Silver Belles and Stetsons

by Caroline Clemmons

  Van thought on that. “I agree you shouldn’t be sleeping in the back room. You should sleep upstairs. I’ll move my things down tonight.”

  “No! This is your building, I’m the squatter. I’ll remain downstairs. It’s only for a few months.” Tessa crossed her arms.

  In an older woman it would have been more imposing. He wondered how she’d do as a teacher. She wasn’t much older than some of her students would be. Arguing about this wasn’t getting them anywhere and his stomach wanted food.

  “Beth doesn’t know and neither does anyone else. Let’s worry about it tomorrow. I’m hungry. Take this upstairs, and I’ll lock up and turn down the lanterns.” He picked up the basket and handed it to her. Their hands touched. He glanced at her face. She felt the same jolt he did when their hands collided. He read it in the spark in her eyes.

  The weight of the basket left his hand, and she headed for the backroom. Actually, she flew across the room as though something chased her.

  What was it about this woman that attracted him? He’d only thought of her occasionally while in prison, and then only as the child he’d known. The minute he set his gaze on her in the saloon, he’d felt the air suck out of him, leaving him light-headed and happy.

  He snapped the lock on the front door, turned off the kerosene lamp, walked through the back room breathing in her scent of lilac, and locked the back door before turning the lamp in the storage room down low. He listened to her scurrying feet above him.

  This could be his life. A good living, a warm, loving wife. Even children eventually. He started up the stairs. He’d found the woman who could give him all that, but would she? Her life was planned out, could she see the benefits of changing her course? Of marrying an ex-outlaw?

  ***

  Tessa set out the plates and food and waited. Her gaze wandered to the bed sitting in the corner where the blankets had been. It would be heaven to sleep in a bed again. Her feet took her across the room and she sat. Then bounced. It was soft and gave under her weight, so unlike the unyielding floor. She flopped back and enjoyed the way the feather tick embraced her. Before her father’s death she’d slept in just such a bed. But as times became harder and harder, they sold off the good furniture or used it for the boarders.

  Footsteps sounded. She shot to a sitting position as Van walked through the door. He smiled.

  “You like the bed?” He crossed the room and sat beside her.

  Heat scorched her body and her belly quivered. His scent wafted around her. “Y-yes. It’s quite soft.”

  He grasped her hand. “I’m going to get you one as soon as I figure out how without causing gossip.”

  His sincere eyes gazed into hers. Heat curled through Tessa. She sighed and enjoyed the sensation.

  Van leaned closer. Of a will of its own, her body canted his direction.

  His dark brown eyes held her hostage, scorching her insides with their intimacy.

  Tessa’s heart pounded in her chest and her breathing stopped. Before she could suck in air, his lips touched hers. A soft whisper of a touch.

  Her lips tingled and her head buzzed.

  Van pulled back and stared.

  Tessa licked her lips, tasting him, lingering on the sensation of his lips against hers.

  Van groaned, wrapped an arm around her and crushed her against his chest. Fighting him didn’t even enter her mind. She circled her arms around his neck and offered her lips. His descended with slow agonizing purpose. His supple flesh touched hers and a thousand stars blinked behind her eyes.

  She’d kissed few boys and even less men. The sensation of his pliant lips on hers made her gasp. Mercy! His tongue slipped between her lips and sent her reeling once more. She couldn’t get close enough, taste enough.

  Van drew back and she whimpered. The pathetic sound ricocheted in her head and slapped her back to the present. What was she doing? She pushed out of his arms and stood.

  “I’m sorry.” He held his hands up like a victim in a robbery.

  She almost laughed. It was she who had been robbed. Robbed of her senses once his lips touched hers.

  “No, I should never have sat on the bed. I know better.” She moved to the table and fiddled with the utensils, avoiding his gaze.

  His scent told her he stood only inches away. He placed his hands on her shoulders and made her face him. She refused to gaze into his eyes. When she did her body did things without thinking.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong by sitting on the bed. I couldn’t stand sleeping on the floor one night, but I’ll do it again and allow you to sleep in the bed.”

  She tipped her head back and stared at him. “No. I couldn’t take your bed. It’s not right.”

  “It’s not right allowing you to sleep on the floor when there is a perfectly good bed right here. After we eat, I want you to go get your things. You’ll sleep in here, and I’ll sleep in the back room until I figure out a way to sneak another bed in here.” He moved away, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I should have thought of this sooner. The floor is no place for a woman to sleep.”

  “But it’s your building, your bed. I can’t—”

  He placed a finger on her lips stopping her argument. “It is my building, my bed, and my say. You will sleep here.”

  She ignored the flutters in her belly from his finger pressed to her lips and started to argue.

  He grasped her chin and kissed her. It was a shorter, less intimate kiss, yet, her mind went blank and she swayed. Van lowered her onto the closest chair.

  When she’d collected her thoughts, she glared at him, sitting across from her and smiling as he dished food onto her plate.

  “That’s sneaky. Kissing me to keep me from arguing.” She picked up a fork and swirled it in her mashed potatoes.

  “It worked and I enjoyed it.” He raised a brow and stopped her heart with a crooked smile.

  “You’re my boss. We can’t…”

  “Can’t what?” He took a bite of the roast. “Enjoy working together.”

  She shoved her food around on the plate. “No. I mean, you can’t keep kissing me. It’s not proper.” Her cheeks heated as her blood surged remembering the feel of his lips on hers.

  “What if I refrain during business hours?” He put the fork down. “I don’t want to chase you away. I’ll try to keep my distance but I can’t guarantee I can.” He waved a finger between them. “I think we’re good for one another. Don’t shut out the possibility.”

  She swallowed the lump creeping up her throat. The sincerity glistening in his eyes and warming his voice squeezed her chest and heated her blood. “W-what possibilities,” she whispered.

  “Us. A future. I know we’ve only known each other a couple of days, not counting as children, and I don’t want you to think I’d hold you back from your plans.” He leaned over the table, his hand slid just within touching distance. “When you get your teaching certificate and head out to teach, I’ll be here when you get back.” His gaze settled on her face. “If that’s what you want.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. He was proposing. She shook her head. A couple of kisses, really good kisses, and he thought she’d just jump into his arms and marry him? She’d witnessed what her mother went through mourning her father. She wouldn’t go through that torture, wouldn’t put children through that torture.

  Tessa pushed to her feet, knocking the chair over. “I-I. I have to leave.” She blindly rushed to the door.

  “No!” His hand shot out holding the door shut. “Where are you going? What scares you about marrying me?” He grasped her shoulders and peered into her face. “Do you still blame me for your father’s death?” The agony in his voice riveted her gaze to his.

  “No.” She shook her head to make sure he believed her. “No. I’ve never blamed you for his death. I can’t—You’d never understand. You had to have lived through what I did to understand.” She pried at his fingers holding her tight but not hurting.

  “Help me u
nderstand.”

  “No, just let me go.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know… somewhere to think. To get away from you and think.”

  He let her go, grabbed a coat from a peg by the door and his hat. “You get your things and sleep up here. I’ll be back later and will sleep downstairs. If you’re in your pallet, I’ll sleep with you.”

  The threat and gleam in his eyes told her he would too.

  He left without glancing back. She sat on the bed and hugged her ribs. What was she to do? She needed the job, wanted to remain with him, but could she and not become so dependent she’d wither away to nothing should something happen to him? She refused to let another snatch away her life.

  Chapter Eight

  Van hunched inside his coat on the wagon seat, trying to hide from the bitter cold wind as he drove to the ranch. He’d wanted to bring Tessa with him, to take his mind off his reception, but she’d kept her distance since he told her he’d wait for her. And wait he would until she came around to his way of thinking. They belonged together. He felt it in the way her body fit his and her passionate kisses.

  He’d left her in charge of the shop. She’d proven a quick learner the day before, determining feet size and making transactions. She was good for him emotionally, physically, and financially. He just had to make her see he was good for her.

  The leafless cottonwood trees appeared stark and ominous hovering around the farm house. The two-story structure held pleasant memories. His mother’s cooking and laughter. Would she welcome him back or follow her husband’s lead? His stomach knotted, and he once again wished Tessa were by his side.

  A multi-colored mutt ran out of the barn barking. Halfway to the wagon, the dog stopped and looked back toward the barn. A girl of about eight strolled out of the building wrapped in a heavy coat, scarf, and mittens.

  “Button. Stop barking,” she said when Van stopped the wagon in front of the house.

  His mother’s eyes stared at him from the child’s face. This was his sister Grace.

  “Is your ma or pa home?” he asked uncertain what to do. He wanted to pick her up and hug her, but reasoned she wouldn’t care for a stranger grabbing her.

  “Ma’s in the kitchen. Christmas is coming.” She put a hand on the dog’s head.

  “It sure is. How about you take me to the house then rustle your ma out of the kitchen so I can talk with her?” He started walking to the familiar front door.

  Grace grabbed his hand. “We can’t go in that door. Ma doesn’t like snow on her wool rug.” She tugged him to the back of the house.

  Van smiled and allowed his sister to haul him around to the back porch. The garden patch looked larger. And the cellar which he’d help dig was grown over sprouting pale weeds through the six inches of snow.

  Grace pulled the screen door open, then shoved the door into the kitchen. Familiar aromas wafted around Van’s head. He sniffed and savored each spicy nuance.

  His ma turned. “Grace, shut the door, I have bread ris—”

  Ma was the same other than gray wisps in her dark brown hair. She blinked, and her hands clasped in front of her chest.

  “Hello, Ma.”

  “Van?” She took a step toward him. He smiled and nodded, and she lunged into his arms, crying.

  He hugged her tight as tears burned his eye sockets. His heart—that had been torn in two when he never heard from her—slowly melded back together. “I’ve missed you,” he said, holding on, wishing he had all those years back.

  She drew out of his arms and studied him. “My, you turned into one handsome man.” She wiped at the tears on her face with her apron. Then motioned to Grace. “Come say hello to your big brother.” His mother’s smile warmed him like a toasty fire on a cold day.

  “My brother? I thought Pa said—” Grace stared up at him quizzically.

  “Your pa doesn’t know everything.” Ma motioned to the table. “Sit and tell me why you didn’t write and what you’re up to.”

  Anger raced through him. He’d been right about his pa not giving his letters to her. He took the seat and watched her move to the stove. “Actually, I wrote to you every year on your birthday.”

  She spun around and faced him. “You did?”

  “Yes. At first I wondered why you didn’t write back. Then I figured Pa wasn’t giving you the letters, but I wrote them anyway. I didn’t want him to think I’d given up.”

  She placed the coffee in front of him and ran her hand through his hair like she’d done when he was small. Leaning down she kissed his forehead. “I’m so glad you got your pa’s stubborn streak.” She hurried across to the stove and pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven. “And you’re here for Christmas.”

  “Where’s Pa?” He wanted to have it out with the man.

  “He’s out with Sylvester checking ice on the cattle’s water. I don’t expect him back until middle of the afternoon.” She glanced at him. “Will you stay that long?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I have to get back to my shop.”

  “Shop? Where? What kind?”

  “I purchased a building in town and set up a boot making shop. I learned the trade in prison. I’ve been making a good living on special orders and thought it was about time I came back and showed Pa I didn’t need him to make my way.” The last words came out more bitter than he’d intended.

  “I knew you would be successful in whatever you did. You had the grit of your father and the brains of your mother.” She winked at him, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

  “How have you lived with him all these years and stayed so bright?” He took a cookie off the plate she set on the table. Grace had shed her coat and sat across from him, watching him intently while nibbling on a cookie.

  “Because I love him and understand where his foul disposition comes from.” Ma sat in the chair beside him and placed a hand on his arm. “Your father had a hard life growing up. He scraped and scrounged to get by. He was hard on you because he wanted you to learn it took hard work to get ahead. He didn’t want you having things handed to you because you were his son.”

  “But why didn’t you come see me in the Baker City jail before they hauled me to prison?” He could forgive his father being hard on him because he’d been fiddle-headed a good deal of the time, but not the fact they didn’t visit him when they had a chance. “Or show up for the trial?”

  Tears glistened in Ma’s eyes. She squeezed his arm. “There’s a part of our lives we don’t like to think about.” She drew in a deep breath. “Grace, go in the other room and work on that scarf you’re making your pa.”

  His sister reluctantly stood and shuffled into the other room.

  “You know your pa and I moved here shortly after we married.”

  Van nodded. His pa was looking for a fresh start away from the actions of his brothers.

  “You don’t know the real reason.” She walked over to the stove, brought the coffee pot back, and placed it on a towel in the middle of the table.

  His gut gurgled and squeezed. Finally, maybe some insight into Pa.

  “I was betrothed to another when I met your father while visiting relatives in his town. We-we were inseparable from the minute we laid eyes on one another.” The wistful smile reminded him of Tessa when she didn’t know he was looking. She had the same dreamy gaze and smile.

  His mother turned troubled eyes on him. “I didn’t want to return, but knew I had to face my betrothed and tell him I couldn’t marry him. I loved your father.” She shook her head and sadness seeped in her eyes. “I cared for Thomas, but I didn’t love him. He said he didn’t care if I’d been seen at a dance with another, he’d help me forget your pa.” She looked away. “But I couldn’t.”

  His heart lodged in his throat when she looked at him with tears spilling out of eyes filled with love. “You were already growing inside of me.”

  He didn’t know what to say. Found it hard to believe Ma would… But he also knew if Tessa
let him he’d make love to her without marriage. He wanted her that much.

  “Ma…”

  She clasped his hand between her two small, work-worn hands. “I told him, and he shoved me away and called me… you don’t need to know, but I saddled a horse and rode all night and all day to get to your father. He married me and we moved here.” She wiped at the tears sliding down her sun-kissed skin etched with faint wrinkles. “I’ve never regretted marrying your father or your birth.” Her mouth formed a firm straight line. “But I will regret making an enemy of Judge Thomas Spencer.”

  Van stared at his ma. Judge Spencer was the spurned suitor? Was that why they hadn’t come to the trial? Neither wanted to see the man? Or cause him to add even more years to a ridiculous punishment?

  “That’s why we didn’t come to the trial. We were afraid if he saw us and knew you were our son, the one that caused me to break my promise to him, he’d be unyielding in his sentencing. When we heard he gave you ten years, your pa wanted to have it out with him. But I wouldn’t let him.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know why your father didn’t let me read the letters. He was as torn up about it as I was. Blamed himself for everything. It wasn’t until I was pregnant with your sister that he stopped being so hard on himself.”

  Van felt the boulder of resentment that had settled between his shoulders years ago slowly rise. Pa had reasons for his actions. Reasons, as an adult, Van understood. Not completely. The letters. But enough. The hurt and rage he’d festered, lanced and oozed out allowing forgiveness to enter.

  “Tessa and I’ll be at church tomorrow, we were to go to Beth and Brett’s afterwards, but we could all meet at the hotel restaurant, my treat.” Van wanted his family to meet Tessa and her to meet them, properly.

  “Tessa? Are you talking about Tessa Harrison? She works in a saloon.” Ma’s sudden snobbery stung.

  “She works in my boot shop.”

  “B-but is that such a good idea? Her working there and you being seen with her?”

  Van looked hard and long at his ma. “I would think you’d be happy I provided her a means to get out of the saloon.”