by Patty Devlin
“If you won’t even tell me who it is, I’m sure it’s a very bad plan.”
Sunny knew if Dani knew that Mr. Armstrong was involved, she’d say an unequivocal “no.” Although Aunt Elizabeth would probably see nothing wrong with a courtship between Sunny and Mr. Armstrong, Dani was quite aware of Sunny’s mother’s attitude about wanting a banker or professional man for her daughter. Mother was, in fact, always scheming to arrange it. It hadn’t worked in Kansas City, but Carrollton was smaller, the girls fewer to choose from. Mother must be betting that one of the more prosperous men would be desperate enough to take her daughter.
Mr. Armstrong wasn’t desperate, though, and seemed interested enough. It gave Sunny the confidence to pursue her scheme.
“I can’t tell you. You’ll find out if you agree to go,” Sunny told her cousin. “I need your help. Why won’t you help me? I’d do it for you.”
“I wouldn’t ask.”
“Fine. I’ll go unchaperoned.”
“Sunny!”
“I will, and it’ll be all your fault if he assaults me and ruins me for life.”
Dani bit her lower lip, a look of worry on her face. “Is he dangerous? What do you have planned?”
Mr. Armstrong wasn’t likely to be dangerous or she’d have been warned about him upon first making his acquaintance. The only danger was that Sunny would lose herself in his gaze. She felt a bit guilty about implying that there was anything risky about the liaison. “No, he’s not dangerous,” she said before she sighed. “I’m sorry I said that. I’m sorry I asked, Dani. You’re probably right that it’s a bad idea.”
Dani’s face cleared, and she patted Sunny on the arm sympathetically. “Yes, it’s a bad idea.”
“I’ll go to church instead, and pray about it. Maybe then I’ll feel less compelled to meet with this man.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Sunny. I’ll go with you.”
Now, she’d go with her! “No, Dani. I need to do this alone. I’ll go tomorrow morning, first thing after breakfast.”
“Are you sure?”
Sunny nodded. “Yes. My suitor will just have to be disappointed.”
“I wish you’d tell me who it is.”
Shaking her head, Sunny kept her own counsel.
* * *
Although she hadn’t made a particular plan to do so, having decided not to risk being struck by lightning by heading straight to the mercantile, Sunny did go to church the next morning, catching a ride with her cousin Ray-Jon. He was on his way across town, and the church sat in that direction. He helped her down from the wagon, and Sunny made her way into the cool, white, wooden church. No one lurked about and the maple wood pews were empty. The altar was covered in a white cloth, but none of the candles were lit.
Sunny sat in a pew half way down the long aisle and stared at the wooden cross above the altar. The sermon the previous Sunday had been about bearing false witness: lying. Her heart felt heavy. She’d told so many lies lately, and all in her pursuit of the blacksmith. Was she crazy to want him to court her? Did it make her some kind of lewd woman to want to feel his arms around her and to wonder what it would be like to kiss him? It gave her shivers just thinking about it. Why him? There were so many young men she could have chosen from. She was new to town, yes, but there had been signs of interest from several eligible bachelors. Undoubtedly, part of their attention hinged upon that very newness. Settling for less than her heart’s true desire left her flat. Maybe her daddy had spoiled her—certainly, that’s what her mother was always saying—but her heart sang when she was around Mr. Armstrong. It beat a whole different rhythm.
Thinking about his ready smile, the bright intelligence in his eyes, the way he looked at her, made her all gushy inside. He must have felt the same way, because he had asked to court her. Her mother had been the one to say no, not Sunny. Would it have been too much to ask that she be consulted on her own future? She was nineteen years old—old enough to be married and even have children by now. Thinking about the possibility of having children with Mr. Armstrong was exhilarating. But she was putting the cart before the horse. First, she had to fall in love with him, and he with her.
Sunny consulted the little locket watch pinned to her white cotton shirtwaist. It wasn’t time to head for the mercantile yet. She wanted to be early, but she also didn’t want to draw attention to herself. If it got back to her mother that she’d gone off with Mr. Armstrong alone, there would be hell to pay.
The clergyman came into the nave and approached the altar. When he saw her there, he paused, giving her a nod. “Good mornin’. Are you well, miss?”
Sunny smiled politely. “I am, thank you, Pastor. I wanted to have a prayer to start the day.” Surely God would strike her dead at any moment.
“A fine idea.” He gave her an earnest look. “Are you sure there’s nothin’ you wish to speak to me about?”
Could he tell that she was up to her ears in deceit? Maybe it showed on her face. Sunny tried to arrange her cheeks and eyes into something calm and honest. But maybe she should tell him what was on her mind. Perhaps a good listener was what she needed. “I…”
He approached. “Yes?”
It might get back to her mother, and that would kill Sunny’s chances with Mr. Armstrong. “No, sir, there’s nothing much on my mind. Thank you, sincerely.” She stood. “I must be on my way now. I have an appointment.”
The pastor smiled. He was so kind-hearted. Sunny hated to lie to him, but lies were coming easier these days. Her daddy would have scolded her. How she wished she had his loving authority now to get her out of the mess in which she was quickly becoming trapped.
Once more, she considered coming clean, telling the truth, and hoping the pastor had a solution that didn’t destroy her dreams. But she was on her own, make or break it.
“Good day to you, miss.”
“And to you, sir.”
Outside, Sunny made her way toward the center of town, formulating her plan of action carefully.
* * *
Abel traded some carriage springs for the use of the livery’s drop-front Phaeton. It was a comfortable buggy, but open-topped. The summer sun would beat down upon them, which was less than ideal. It was the only conveyance available, so it would have to do. The extra-large wheels would make it someone awkward for a lady to get up into, but Abel was more than capable of helping Sunny up if need be. She’d look so pretty in the sleek, black buggy pulled by Abel’s prized matching bay fillies. It would be such a joy to have her riding beside him.
It wasn’t far from the livery stable to the mercantile, but he didn’t get much more than half way between the two when he heard something that didn’t quite belong.
“Psssst!”
He looked around.
“Psssst! Mr. Armstrong!” Her soft voice barely reached him.
There. Between the bank and the barber shop, Sunny loitered in the alleyway, her parasol masking her from the left side. He barely recognized her as the parasol wobbled over her face. “Miss Winslow?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
Enthusiasm beamed in her smile, but why was she hiding between the buildings? Abel got down from the buggy and approached her. “Good mornin’. I thought we’d be meetin’ at the mercantile.”
“I…um…decided to take a stroll and caught sight of you. You don’t mind picking me up here, do you?”
“No, of course not. But where is your mother?”
“She wasn’t feeling well today. She told me to come by myself.”
That was a surprising turn of events. Abel would definitely have thought Mrs. Winslow would be scrutinizing them through the whole picnic. “By yourself?”
“Chaperones are so old-fashioned anyway. We live in modern times. Shall we go?”
Something wasn’t right about this rendezvous, but Abel wanted to spend time with the young woman. The more he was around her, the more he wanted to be near her longer. Still, they shouldn’t be seen alone together anywhere but on the m
ain street of town. He’d have to confine their jaunt to the well-traveled parts of Carrollton.
“May I help you up?”
The parasol bobbed from one side to the other, and she accepted his assistance onto the high seat. It was a good thing she had provided her own shade from the sun. Abel flicked the reins, and the horses pulled them down the dusty street.
“Where are we off to, Mr. Armstrong?”
“Well, I had planned a picnic in a nice grove near Indian Creek, but as we are alone, I reckon it’s best to stick close to the main thoroughfare. I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation.”
She giggled nervously. “Oh, but a picnic by the creek would be so lovely. Surely we’ve nothing to be concerned about. Girls go on outings with gentlemen all the time.”
“They do?”
“Um…well, they do in Kansas City. Surely Carrollton isn’t such a backwater.”
Abel loved Carrollton. He’d lived there his entire life, and the community was like family to him. “No, it’s not a backwater. I haven’t seen it done, that’s all.”
“Let’s not argue over such a trifle,” she suggested with a smile. “I say on to the creek and the devil take the hindmost.”
She was young, and with the bravado of the young, she must have felt invincible. But Abel knew that it would be quite the scandal if they went all the way out to the creek alone together. “Say, my friend Martha Diggins lives between here and Indian Creek. Why don’t we go by her place and see if she’s available to accompany us on our picnic? Then we can go wherever we want.”
Sunny’s smile faltered, but soon perked up. “What a wonderful idea, Mr. Armstrong. Of course, yes, let’s do that. I only hope your friend doesn’t mind.”
“Oh, Martha won’t mind a’tall. We’ve been friends since school days. If she’s not doin’ somethin’ urgent, she’ll come if I ask her.”
“How nice that you have such a close friend. Is she married?”
“Martha?” He laughed. “Hell—I mean, gosh no. Martha isn’t the marryin’ type. You’ll see when you meet her.”
“She sounds quite unusual. I can’t imagine not wanting to be married and have a home of my own.”
“She has her own home, a small farm on the outskirts. She’s an independent cuss, not askin’ nor takin’ help from anyone. You’ll see.”
“Yes.”
They rode in silence for a time, Abel content to take in the mid-day heat, even though it pulled a light sweat from his back, especially under his black coat. He watched Sunny out of the corner of his eye. Once they reached the edge of town, she’d set the parasol on her shoulder and sat quietly spinning it, a small smile on her face.
“So, Mr. Armstrong, do tell me about yourself. You’ve been in Carrollton your whole life?”
“Yes, ma’am. Forty years.”
“You’re forty years old?”
“I am. Nearly to the day. And you are…?” The difference in their ages weighed upon him. It was probably wrong to have a letch for such a young woman. But older men, generally wealthy men, chose young wives all the time. Courting Sunny wouldn’t be so different. Of course, he’d need to convince her that his interest was sincere and not just a ruse to steal her virtue. There were young men in town who wouldn’t give much thought to taking what she had to give and giving nothing in return but heartache.
“I’m nineteen—nearly twenty. Although I’m a mature nineteen, I’m sure you’d agree.”
He grinned, unwilling to touch that remark.
“Have you ever been married?” she asked.
“I confess, I was once. Lorelei wasn’t happy with me and we ended up divorced.”
“Divorced! Oh, my. How terrible.”
“It was a trial, yes. But it was over almost ten years ago. Things have settled down since then. The right woman hasn’t found me yet.”
“You mean you haven’t found her.”
Chuckling, he replied, “Are you sure that’s what I mean?”
Her cheeks got pink. “You are toying with me, Mr. Armstrong.”
“Call me Abel.”
Sunny’s smile brightened and just about outdid the sun in the sky. “I would be delighted to, Abel. Please call me Sunny.”
“My pleasure.”
They rode quietly for a time, the horses’ clip-clopping on the parched track competing with the many birds in the trees nearby. Entering a cool, shaded patch, Sunny sighed.
“I declare, the weather here is hot as Hades.”
A little taken aback by her swearing, he hardly knew what to say. “Yes, it is warm. But not unseasonable, as I’m sure you’ll find out as you live here a while longer.”
“I shall have to invest in some cooler raiments, I think. Maybe in some softer colors.”
“That peach is mighty nice on you, darlin’. Maybe you should open your collar a button?”
She appeared to give that some thought, but after a moment, she reached up and undid two buttons, exposing her throat. Her creamy skin was so appealing, so youthful and firm, glistening with a soft sheen of perspiration. Abel wanted to lick her throat and taste her, but the inappropriate thought got punched back into its corner. They were out for a picnic, not a seduction, and he was a cad to even consider it.
They approached the small farmstead where Martha Diggins resided. The tall, dark-haired woman was fixing the wire fences of her chicken coop, a pair of wire cutters in her hand. “Martha!”
She looked up and pushed an errant lock of hair back off her face. Her trousers were stained with dirt, and her man’s shirt was half untucked. “Abel! Come over! I’ll be through with this in a minute.”
As he steered the team into Martha’s farmyard, he glanced over at Sunny. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates.
“That-that’s Miss Diggins?”
“Told you she was different.”
“I should say so!”
“You’ll like her.”
Sunny looked skeptical.
“Trust me on this. She’s a bit unconventional, but she’s got a heart of gold.”
They parked and Martha finished fixing her fence, wiping her raw-boned hands on her pants as she came to greet them. Abel got down and helped Sunny down as well. Martha met them at the back of the carriage, and folded Abel in a hearty hug.
“It’s been too long, Armstrong,” Martha told him.
“It’s been two weeks, not a day longer,” he said with a grin. “You’re exaggeratin’.”
Martha laughed and patted him on the upper arm. “Maybe I am. Who’s this?”
“Ah. Martha Diggins, may I introduce Miss Sunny Winslow, late of Kansas City, but now a resident of Carrollton.”
Martha wiped her hand on her trousers again and then offered it to Sunny. Sunny seemed hesitant, but she gave Martha a polite smile and a tentative handshake. “Welcome to Texas,” Martha told her.
“Thank you, Miss Diggins. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Just call me Martha. Everyone does, except this fellow, who sometimes has the audacity to call me sweetheart.”
Abel laughed. Martha was a sweetheart, though not in the usual sense. He mostly called her that to needle her. It always irritated her sensibilities.
“So, won’t you come in for a cuppa coffee? It might be a bit strong, but it’ll put some spring in your step.”
“Actually, sweetheart,” he said, watching her dramatic frown form. “I’m here to ask you a favor.”
“Well, well. That hardly ever happens. Usually, it’s me that asks you for somethin’. What’ll it be?”
“Miss Winslow and I need a chaperone.”
One of Martha’s black eyebrows arched. “Are you up to no good, you reprobate?”
“Not with you around, I won’t be.”
“I see. Where are you headin’?”
“Over to the meadow near Indian Creek.”
“Picnic?”
“That’s what I have in mind. I’ve enough food for three, even with what you eat.”
; Martha punched him in the arm and he rubbed the spot theatrically, though it didn’t hurt at all. “I don’t know what kind of chaperone I’d be, Abel. You know, folks around here don’t always trust my judgment.”
“They don’t understand you, is all. But they know you’re honest and upright.”
“Tell that to the three cattlemen that were here last night!”
Abel laughed at her joke, but Sunny’s cheeks went pink. Martha took some getting used to. “You’re embarrassin’ the young lady,” he told her, though there was still laughter in his voice.
Martha grinned. “You’re in a fix, huh?”
“Yes.”
Addressing Sunny, she asked, “Where’s your mother, girl? Shouldn’t she be towin’ Abel by the ear?”
“She…uh…” Sunny stuttered.
Abel took Sunny’s hand to comfort her. It was a small hand, dainty, unworn by hard work or time. “She’s under the weather, Martha. Will you come with us or no? If not, I’ll have to take Sunny back to town and our picnic will be ruined.”
Martha eyed the two of them but eventually nodded her head. “Lemme wash my hands and saddle my horse.”
“There’s room in the buggy,” he pointed out.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that sissified contraption, and you know it.”
Sunny drew in a quick breath next to him.
“Have it your way.”
She began to saunter off. “I always have it my way. Just ask the three cattlemen . . .”
“ . . .who were here last night!” he finished for her, and she cackled.
Chapter 3
Jealousy
As they traveled along the road, Abel and Martha made conversation, and although they pulled Sunny into it often, she felt left out. They had so much to talk about, so many life experiences. Sunny laughed politely at their jokes, and made small talk as much as she could, but she wished that Abel had seen fit to escort her alone. She could have flirted with him so much more successfully. Of course, that’s what a chaperone was for.
“So tell us more about you, Miss Winslow. What is Kansas City like?”
“Please call me Sunny, Martha.”
