Sophie didn’t feel like she accomplished anything. Chad was the one that did the asking. Still, praise didn’t come lightly from her mother so she would take what was given. “Thank you, Mother.”
Dusty didn’t want to spend money at McIntyre’s, but after church he found himself being dragged along by Wes, Taylor, and Matt Briggs from the livery stable. They sat him down at a table and thrust a plate of roast beef and a mug of sarsaparilla before him.
“Eat,” Wes Browman commanded. “I hate seein’ a man pine after a woman.”
Taylor Hastings snickered and mimicked a lady’s high-pitched voice. “Even a woman like Sophie Charlton?”
“Especially Miss Charlton.” Wes swigged his drink and set it back down on the table with a thud. He let out a belch.
“I saw Sterling make eyes at her all during church. Sorriest sight I ever did see.”
“Come on,” said Dusty. “I wasn’t looking at her all the time.”
“No, only when the congregation wasn’t reading from the Bible. We had one verse to read today. One.”
Dusty let the men rib him while he tasted the sarsaparilla. He wasn’t going to share with them his courting troubles, or lack thereof. He just wished he hadn’t been so obvious about it in public.
Wes stuffed a chunk of steak in his mouth and chewed loudly. “I’ll tell you what you need to do.” He talked with his mouth full, letting pieces of meat fly on the table. “You need to get off that farm. Three years is too long to stay in one place, especially if you don’t plan on making it a trade.”
“Get off the farm, you forget about her,” Matt supplied.
Dusty sidestepped the reference to Sophie. “I get good pay. Why would I wanna go and do that?”
Wes wiped his mouth on a napkin, leaving a greasy imprint. “We’re not talking money. We’re talking about you chasing after Goldilocks. How long you been trying to get her to pay you some mind?”
“Too long.” Taylor took the words out of Dusty’s mouth.
“I don’t think he’s looked at another girl since he came to town.”
“Not good. That Sophie’s nothing but trouble. She snubbed five men last spring alone. That’s before the Reverend came. Then she threw herself on him, but he wasn’t about to stand for any of that.”
Dusty put his fork down. “Mind yourself, Wes. You can say all you want about me, even get a good laugh or two out of it. But don’t talk about Sophie in that manner. I mean it. That goes for all of you.”
The table fell silent as he stared the men down. Wes recovered and drank the rest of his sarsaparilla. “I won’t mention her name again, but you need a change. You’re a rancher, a cattle driver. I know you don’t plan on working on that farm for the rest of your life.”
“No. I plan on having my own ranch someday.”
Matt flagged down the waiter for more food. “You won’t get any closer to making that happen by raking up pig slop. You hear about the Zephyr Ranch outside town?”
Dusty began to wonder if Eli Mabrey hadn’t hired people to go around and remind him of that place. “I met the owner at the general store last week. He said I could go there and have myself a tour of the ranch.”
“So why don’t you? Sounds like he’s fixing to offer you a job.”
Wes had his food gobbled down. “You know why he hasn’t been there to visit.” A warning look from Dusty and he changed his course.
“As a matter of fact, I thought about going there to have a look-see.” Dusty defended himself.
“When are you goin’?” Matt held up his glass for the waiter to refill. “I might come with you. I could use some extra pay.”
Dusty hesitated to tell them. He didn’t want the whole town following him out to Zephyr Ranch next Saturday. “I’ll let you know when I decide.”
He heard Taylor snicker in his glass. “You’re not going, are you?”
“We’ll see.”
“You mean we’ll see you at that farm for the next ten years.”
Dusty took out money from his billfold and put it on the table next to his half-eaten plate. He pushed his chair back and stood. “Thanks for the company. Be seein’ you.”
He passed the waiter on the way out. The man gave him a perplexed glance before seeing to the other diners. Wes followed him outside.
“Hey, Sterling, we didn’t mean to make you all thorns and horns. The boys and me think you’re a good enough fellow.
You should go where your work’s appreciated.” He clapped Dusty on the shoulder. “Besides, what’s gonna happen when Miss Charlton does get herself married? You’ll be there to watch the wedding, and she won’t care.”
The tanner had a point. Dusty couldn’t fault him for his observations on the stagnant work on a farm, but he didn’t want to believe what was said about Sophie. “You don’t know her like I do, Wes. She’s not an uncaring woman.”
“But it don’t look like she sees you the way you see her. I could be wrong, but women like her aren’t wanting hardworking men. They marry gents who are already made.”
Men like Chad Hooper. Dusty fathomed that man could sit at home all day if he wanted to and never go to his job at the bank. His wages were long since deposited by some wealthy ancestor. Was that the reason why Sophie preferred to be courted by him? The only reason?
A bitter tang of jealousy formed in his mouth. It didn’t seem right how some men accumulated all and did little to earn it while others had to scrape and claw in the dirt to barely get by. The loss of the ranch in San Antonio cost his family their savings and their assets. Apparently he was still paying for an event beyond his control.
A gust of wind stirred up dirt to the sidewalk. Sophie is shallow. Let her be.
No. Sophie may like her pretty clothes and her daddy may have spoiled her for a time, but in this last year, she’d shown she could work hard. And she had a good heart. She used to bring him soup in the winter when he came down with a cold.
Any lady of the manor would make sure her help was healthy enough to keep working.
And that time the plow was broken, she sat and kept him company while he repaired it. She didn’t have to, but she did. Way down there on the inside, Sophie wasn’t a fair-weather person. Dusty believed that with his entire mind. “I’ve got to get back to the farm, Wes. Nothing to do in town anyway ’cept spend money in the restaurant.”
Wes didn’t bother to hide his opinion. “You’re hopeless, Sterling.”
CHAPTER 12
M ONDAY MORNING, SOPHIE chose her clothing carefully for the meeting with Mayor Hooper. She had to look respectful and capable. That meant no excess of ruffles or light-colored garments.
Perusing her wardrobe, she withdrew a dark blue gown that was en vogue three seasons ago, but still fashionable enough to be seen in town. She chose one of her best corsets to wear underneath, a whalebone apparatus that reduced her waist to little more than a wisp. Rosemarie or her mother would have to help her get it on.
She chose to enlist her little sister. She needed to borrow Rosemarie’s school primer anyway to show the mayor the sorry state of the school supplies. “Rosemarie, are you awake?”
Across the bedroom, her sister rolled over with a sleepy yawn. Part of her hair had come out of its braid where she slept on it. “What is it, Sophie?”
“I need two things from you. One, your school primer, so I can show it to Mayor Hooper. The second, your help in lacing me into my corset.”
“Where’s Mother?”
“Downstairs cooking, I’d imagine. Please, I only need you for a few minutes, and then you can go back to sleep.”
“It’s already almost time to get up.”
“Then this should not be too much of a bother to you.”
Groaning, Rosemarie complied. They tackled the corset first.
Sophie felt Rosemarie tugging on the laces. She looked over her shoulder. “What’s taking so long?”
“I can’t get it to lace. You’ve gotten bigger.”
“Nonsense. You’re just not strong enough. Try pulling harder.” Sophie grabbed the bedpost again while her sister made a second attempt.
“No good, Sophie. You’ve gained weight.”
“I have not. I wore this corset only two months ago to Linda’s birthday party. If it fit then I know it fits now.”
“Are you holding your stomach in?”
“Of course I am.” Sophie held her breath and imagined flattening her belly button to her spine for good measure. Rosemarie pulled the stays again. Any more and Sophie knew she wouldn’t be able to breathe. “That’s good. Tie them.” She held her breath again until the laces were securely fastened. On the exhale, her ribs stopped short of expanding against the iron-tight boning of the corset.
She stepped into her dress and let Rosemarie button it for her in the back. The youngest member of the Charlton family was only eight, and yet she was shooting up as high as a cornstalk. Sophie had no desire to anticipate how tall her little sister would be by the end of summer. Already the girl’s nose was on the same level as hers.
“Daddy says that I’m going to be taller than Mother when I finish growing,” Rosemarie chattered as her small fingers buttoned up Sophie’s dress in rapid succession. “How come you’re so short?”
“I am not short. I am what the French call petite.” Sophie held her head high as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror atop the dressing table. If she wore her hair in a high bun, then the illusion of height could be achieved. When Rosemarie finished getting her into the dress, she combed her hair back and swept it atop her crown. “Hand me pins as I go, Rosemarie.”
Her sister dutifully stood by with hairpins in hand while Sophie sat at the dressing table, arranging curls. “Why do you need my primer? You already finished schooling.”
“I told you, the primer is outdated. Your school needs new ones. I have to show it to the mayor so that he will put it on the ballot this year.”
“Why can’t the school just buy primers from the general store, or have them shipped on the train?”
Sophie took a hairpin from her. “It’s more complicated than that. The town has to vote on new primers, but we don’t have school elections in Assurance yet. Other towns in Kansas do, and the women can cast ballots. If I can make the mayor see how important this is for the town’s progress, then we will have school elections and ladies can vote like men do.”
She had said a mouthful. Over Rosemarie’s head, from the quizzical frown her little sister gave. “Why do you have to do that just to get new primers? Can’t you ask people to give money to buy them?”
“You’re not understanding me. Or maybe I’m not articulating very well.” Sophie opened a pin with her teeth. She had better get her words in order before she set foot inside the mayor’s house, else he’d see things the way Rosemarie did.
But Chad might be there to help her. The thought gave her a measure of calm. Then again, it was her cause. She needed to see it through on her own, even if her new beau helped open the door to Mayor Hooper’s office.
Sophie used a total of twenty pins to get her hair to stay in place. She topped her coiffure with a small hat and pinned it at her crown, giving the hat a jaunty tilt. Very Parisian. “Do I look presentable?”
Rosemarie ignored the question. “If I give you my primer, I want one of your books.”
“I don’t have any primers. The ones I used to read were passed down to you and Bernard.”
“No. One of those books.” Her sister pointed to a small stack of dime novels on Sophie’s bedside table. “I want to read The Adventures of Lady Whitecastle.”
“Those novels are too old for you. I have a volume of fairy tales you can read instead.”
Rosemarie shook her head back and forth in apt protest. “I want to read Lady Whitecastle. My teacher says that my marks in reading and grammar are high. The words won’t be too hard for me at all.”
Sophie curled her stocking-clad toes in frustration. Her sister was making her late with pointless arguing. “It’s not the words. It’s the subject of the books. I’m afraid they’re a little too advanced for a girl your age.”
“I already know what’s in those books. Sarah from Sunday school told me they have pirates in them, and knights and gunfighters who rescue the princess from the dragon. Those pirates kiss the princesses, too, but I’m old enough to know that.”
“Pirates don’t kiss princesses, and gunfighters don’t slay dragons.” Sophie caught herself. Why in the world was she schooling her sister on the plot devices of dime novels? “Fine. Choose any novel over there that you want, but leave the one that I’m still reading. Don’t let Mother catch you with it, either. You know she’d rather you practice your French over the summer.”
A triumphant Rosemarie skipped over to the bedside table to choose her reward. “The primer’s on my bookshelf next to Little Women.”
Sophie let her amuse herself while she retrieved the primer. The cover of the thin book was falling apart at the seams, the yellowing pages held by unraveling thread. The crumbling sight of it surely would help her case for getting school elections on the ballot.
She took the primer downstairs, where her mother was setting breakfast on the table. The smell of fresh-baked biscuits and warm honey made her stomach rumble. The whalebone corset pressed against her belly in reminder to abstain. “I’m off to meet with Mayor Hooper. I should be home before noon.”
Her mother nodded stiffly, evidence that she still was uncomfortable with her decision to pursue the cause. “Don’t stay in town too long. We have shirts to mend today. David and your father are already out milking the cow and gathering the eggs.”
Sophie’s tense nerves stretched taut with more anxiety. “Did they forget? Who’s going to ride with me into town?”
“Dusty will. He’s waiting outside for you.”
Her nerves snapped. On no account whatsoever did she want Dusty taking her into town. What if Chad saw them? Or worse, what if Dusty said something that would embarrass her? The whole thing spelled disaster. “Can’t Daddy take me?”
“No, Sophie. Your father has work to do that cannot be interrupted by this pursuit of yours. I’d rather Dusty go along with you than your brother, as you and David tend to dawdle.”
In the sitting room the mantel clock struck half past seven. If she waited any longer
to leave the house she was going to arrive late. Sophie committed the image of the buttery, golden biscuits to memory before meeting Dusty in front of the house.
He was already waiting with his horse and her mare Bess, both animals saddled and ready to go. If she had known she was going to sit on a horse, she would have donned her riding habit. Sophie cast a doubtful eye upon Bess’s sidesaddle. She was hoping to take the wagon. Riding in the elements was going to do her hair something awful.
Dusty tipped his Stetson to her. Beneath the brim, she saw his eyes take in her blue ensemble. “You look right pretty today.”
She murmured her thanks, feeling warm under his smile. “Why aren’t we taking the wagon into Assurance?”
“It’s faster on horseback. Mr. Charlton told me you needed to see the mayor by nine. We’d better get a move on, or these horses are gonna have to gallop all the way.”
“Not with me dressed like this, they won’t.” Sophie handed her sister’s primer to him to place in his horse’s saddlebag. She reinforced her hat pin before approaching the mare. The left stirrup rested three feet off the ground. She didn’t see how she was going to get her foot in there without baring a leg or doing a most unladylike hop. “Would you mind looking the other way for a moment, Dusty?”
“How about I help you, instead?” He came around to her side, knelt, and cupped his hands. “Ready when you are.”
Where was that mounting block? Sophie scoured the yard for it, but the little wooden structure was nowhere to be seen. Dusty must have hidden it on purpose.
She put one foot in Dusty’s hands and stepped off the ground. He boosted her up to the saddle, where she made haste to position herself and get her skirt properly tucked into place to keep it from blowing about. He put her foot in the stirrup, his touch gentle and steady at once.
A Windswept Promise Page 10
