The Drifter

by Lisa Plumley

  That was…perfect. Just perfect.

  It had been. Julia lowered her arm. With a final smile, she turned and walked away.

  No, not away, Graham reminded himself. Toward town. Julia walked toward town and not specifically away from him, but the time would come soon enough when she would leave…and then where would they be?

  Where would he be?

  He’d nearly revealed himself to her. Earlier, when she’d trembled in his arms and had moaned beneath his kiss, he’d been ready to declare himself to her and have the charade between them finished. Julia had thought he’d been teasing when he’d spoken of compromising her in the forest—

  Wouldn’t the pine needles poke?

  —but he hadn’t been. Not in truth. Being with her made him forget his bounty hunter’s past, made him yearn for something…more. Their kiss had felt real, and to Graham’s smitten heart, it had meant an end to the loneliness he felt. If only for a while.

  He’d nearly confessed, Graham remembered as he watched Julia’s distant form disappear around the corner toward Mulligan’s hotel. Had nearly told her he’d wanted her from the start, wanted her still, wanted her in spite of their pretend courtship, and not because of it.

  But then he’d come to his senses.

  Just as he was learning the appeal of a settled life in town, Julia wanted to be away. Just as he discovered the uncertainty of loving someone in secret, Julia strove to improve their charade. With her quick mind and her determination, it seemed likely to Graham that her kisses today had simply been a part of the plan…and at the last moment, he’d thrown away his chance to end the deception, with a question designed to make her believe she meant no more to him than he did to her.

  ’Tis a shame Asa wasn’t here to see it. He’d have believed our betrothal was real, for certain.

  Instantly, he’d thought he’d glimpsed disappointment in her face. But by then it had been too late. The words were said.

  Still, that disappointment gave him hope. It showed he meant something to Julia, something more than a man to practice kisses on.

  Graham smiled at the remembrance. Julia kissed like a woman held in darkness too long, and then allowed outside to turn her face to the sun. ’Course, with her the experience was measured and sampled and tested, tried in small, ever-eastward movements. If Miss Julia Bennett were in charge of the sunrise, it would happen maddeningly slowly, over the course of an entire morning instead of the space of a few minutes.

  And if she were left in charge of their “courtship,” Graham realized, it would take a similar course. He’d be an old man, pining for a woman in faraway New York state, by the time Julia understood that he cared for her.

  She saw him as an aid to her scheme. As a student to be tutored. As a temporary fiancé, to be molded as she saw fit. Whatever else he did, Graham vowed as he hefted the bundled-up saddle blanket and supplies and started into town, he would make Julia see him as he was.

  As a man.

  And he would do it, beginning now.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following morning, Julia suggested that she and Mr. Corley take their lessons outside, to the Avalanche Municipal Park where they’d met. The late-spring weather was balmy and the air was crisp with the scents of pine and newly grown grass, and although she presented the outing as an opportunity to practice reading in a more challenging setting, the truth was simpler.

  She did not trust herself to be alone with Graham. Not in the shed-turned-schoolroom behind the Emporium. Not since their kiss. And not since she’d discovered her feelings for him.

  Oblivious to all that, the bounty hunter had agreed. And so they found themselves seated on a bench beneath a spreading cottonwood tree, Julia with a stack of paper propped on her knees…Graham with a McGuffey reader spread in his hands. She sat properly, taking up as little space on the bench as possible. He sprawled comfortably, his brawny body sideways with his feet just a few inches from her green-flowered skirts.

  He read aloud, most words coming easily to him now. The sound of his voice soothed Julia into a state of dreamy contemplation, and she let her mind—and pencil—wander as Graham continued in his practice.

  When he faltered, she glanced up, and found Graham frowning fiercely at the printed pages before him.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look as though you’d tear the meanings from those words forcibly, and crush them if they didn’t cooperate.”

  “McGuffey is as goody-goody as a preacher, and twice as long-winded,” he grumbled, staring down at the pages in his hands. “This story about the little boy and the turtle—”

  “Illustrates some very important virtues,” Julia told him. “Honesty, industry, courtesy and obedience are—”

  “Boring. I’ve had enough.” With an air of finality, Graham closed the book. “What are you writing?”

  Obviously seeking a more interesting entertainment, he leaned nearer and peered at the pages on her lap. Julia looked down, too, and was appalled at what she saw.

  “Mrs. Julia Cor—” Graham read, squinting at the ornate loops of her handwriting. “Corley? Mrs. Corley?”

  She slapped her hands over the careless doodles she’d made.

  The bounty hunter grinned. “Indulging in flights of fancy today?”

  “Of course not.” Her face heated. Sitting up straighter, Julia endeavored to seem more composed than she felt. What had possessed her to script row upon row of variations on Mrs. Graham Corley, Julia Corley, Mrs. Julia Corley, Mr. and Mrs. Graham Corley…? “These are ah, um, a series of examples—for my latest etiquette book.”

  He looked skeptical. “Examples?”

  “Indeed. Examples of proper address. For calling cards, greeting cards and other personal correspondence.” My, that was close. “It’s a subject of enduring interest to my readers.”

  His smile dared her to elaborate on her lie.

  Julia saw no choice but to do so. The alternative—admitting that she’d been daydreaming, filled with hopes of making their upcoming engagement real—was unthinkable.

  “In fact,” she went on, “that’s one of the reasons I’m writing a fourth book at all. The editor at Beadle’s suggested it.”

  “What will it be called?” Graham folded his hands across his middle, looking as though he believed her not at all—and as though he was enjoying her tall-tale-spinning immensely. “More Manners To Make Life No Fun? One Thousand And One Ways To Wear A Necktie? Castile Soap: A Guide For Ladies With Passionate Suitors?”

  “Very amusing.” Casting him a sideways glance, Julia gathered up her papers. “As it happens, I’m currently deliberating between The Gentleman and Lady’s Book Of Politeness and Propriety In All Situations and The Lady’s Guide To Perfect Gentility, In Manners, Dress, Conversation, And In The Family, On The Street, At Table, In Company At The Piano Forte, And In Gentleman’s Society. Which do you prefer?”

  “I’m not sure. In my mind, the title should take up fewer pages than the actual book.”

  She made a face. “Well, there’s always Miss Julia’s Behavior Book, Volume Four. The format has worked nicely for me until now. The success of the first few books is the reason why I’ve been offered an interview for the etiquette columnist position at Beadle’s Magazine, you know.”

  Why she felt compelled to brag about that fact, Julia couldn’t imagine. She only knew that she wanted Mr. Corley to think well of her…and so far, he didn’t appear to.

  “In New York City?”

  “Yes.” Julia looked down at her gloved fingers, feeling the breeze stir the colored ostrich plumes on her hat. “Lucinda Druiry, from Avalanche, is hoping for the position as well. We were at Vassar together.”

  “Ahhh. Competition.” Graham ran a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. His sharp-eyed gaze pierced her. “So that’s why this is so important to you. You want to win.”

  “Of course not!” Julia said. “Winning has nothing to do with this. I feel as though I can make a difference for people, people who
are hungry for guidance. More and more members of the merchant class are entering the highest parts of society, and there’s a demand for—”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not!”

  Graham leaned closer, and grasped her chin gently in his hand. With a rueful shake of his head, he regarded her. “You are. I’ve tracked too many liars not to recognize one when she’s right in front of me. No matter how pretty she is.”

  He winked, and released her.

  She might have known the bounty hunter would see through her tale. He’d sensed so many other things about her.

  “Very well,” Julia said, surrendering to the inevitable. “Do you want to know the truth?”

  His nod set her insides atumble. Did she dare? She’d never confided in anyone before. It was strange that she felt compelled to, now. Perhaps it was because she had less at risk with a drifting man, a man who likely wouldn’t remain in Avalanche long enough to reveal her secret.

  “Fine,” Julia announced. “I’ll tell you.”

  Graham folded his arms again, and leaned back. The wrought-iron edge of the scrollwork bench jabbed into his shoulder blades, and he shifted to be more comfortable. It wasn’t easy. In an effort to impress Julia, he’d asked his landlady to add more starch to his laundry, and his shirt collar poked at his neck. His pants were so stiff, he feared for his manhood every time a strong breeze came along.

  “I’m waiting,” he prompted.

  “I know.” Visibly flustered, Julia fussed with her papers and pencil. Her skirts were lifted in the current from a passing freight wagon, and she wrinkled her nose at the dust the vehicle raised. “It’s just that…well, I’ve never confided in anyone before. I suppose I’m not very good at it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Graham said. “I’m trustworthy. Ask anyone who’s hired me.”

  “It’s not your ability to keep your employer a secret that I’m worried about. It’s your ability to…”

  “To?”

  “…to not make fun of me.”

  Her voice was very small. She kept her head ducked, and her monstrosity of a hat shielded all but the tip of her nose from view. Still, Graham spied the tense set to her shoulders, and the slight trembling of her hands, and knew that Julia had meant what she said.

  He didn’t move, lest he scare her away. “I’ll not make fun of you.”

  “Good.” She drew a shuddering breath, and looked at him. “Thank you. You’re a fine man, Mr. Corley. Have I told you that before?”

  Graham shook his head, and said nothing. Patient waiting was the way with this woman, he’d learned.

  “Well, I’m sure I have.” An uneasy smile quivered on her lips, then vanished. Julia ducked her head again. “I may as well simply come out with this, and stop being such a ninny.”

  She paused, as though waiting for him to agree. Because he wasn’t a fool, Graham did not.

  Another deep breath. “As you know, I’ve…not always been welcomed in town.” From beneath her hat brim, she gazed at the buildings surrounding them, and the people who milled past on the distant street. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve not been a part of things. I’ve never quite fit in. Not really. And oh, Mr. Corley…how I wanted to.”

  Her voice shook with emotion. As though working to suppress it, Julia shook her head. “I wanted to belong. To have dozens of friends, to share whispered secrets in the schoolyard and laugh over a jest, like everyone else did. But somehow, that never happened for me.”

  Graham swallowed hard, and looked away. Her tale of being apart from everyone else was much like his. It hurt him to hear it told, and hurt even more to know how she must have felt.

  A jay squawked past, coming to perch in the cottonwood tree over their heads. Another freight wagon rumbled by, followed by the morning stage. When they’d both passed, Julia spoke again.

  “I wanted to belong. I knew I could figure out how, if only I had the means.” A rueful expression touched her face, half-shadowed by her hat. “I was intelligent. I only lacked the proper insight. When I enrolled at Vassar and discovered my roommate’s cache of etiquette instruction guides, I reasoned that I had found exactly what I needed: a foolproof means to finally doing the right thing. To finally being accepted.”

  At the longing in her voice, Graham felt a lump rise in his throat. He swallowed past it, and regarded her seriously.

  “You read them?”

  “Of course!” Her disbelieving gaze met his, then moved swiftly away. “I knew that when I was done, when I’d learned all they had to teach me, I would know exactly what to do. At all times, with all people.”

  “And no one would turn you away?”

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and Julia impatiently brushed it away. She nodded. “That was the notion I had, yes. To solidify my knowledge, I began taking notes, and my books were born. But they were only a tangential result. My real goal was—is—to make sure I didn’t give anyone a reason to…to reject me again. I knew that if I was perfect, just as perfect as possible—”

  “Ahhh, Julia.” Leaning closer, Graham covered her hand with his. The delicate fabric of her skirts tickled his wrist, and served to heighten the differences between them. “Don’t you know? You don’t have to be perfect…to be loved.”

  “It’s worked!” she said fiercely, jerking her hand away. “Hasn’t it? You’ve seen how it’s been since I returned to town. Everyone wears hats like mine. The ladies in Avalanche hang on my every word, buy my guides at the book depot, copy my dress styles and mimic my calling cards! Even Papa’s hairstyle wasn’t ridiculed as it might have been. It’s worked, it has!”

  “Anyone who cares only for those things is not worth having for a friend.”

  The sound of disagreement she made bordered on rudeness.

  “You simply don’t want to admit that etiquette has its place,” Julia argued. “You’d rather believe—”

  “I’d rather believe the people in this town have come to their senses, and taken you to their hearts because of who you are.” As I have, Graham countered silently. “Not because you’ve studied which fork to use when.”

  “That’s daft. And oversimplified.” Her voice raised, and her grasp on her paper and pencil tightened. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Corley, that—”

  “You can’t admit you’re wrong,” he interrupted, and realized even as he said it that he believed it to be true beyond a doubt. “You won’t admit you’re wrong.”

  Julia pressed her lips together. A moment ticked past.

  “If I was wrong,” she said grudgingly, “then perhaps—”

  “Aha! I’m right. It’s true.”

  “It’s not!”

  “So long as you close your eyes to it, it will continue to be true,” Graham said. “You are not always right, Miss Bennett. No one is.”

  “I am right in this,” she insisted. “And you’re a fine one to talk, Mr. Corley, with your wandering ways and your disdain of a settled life! How could you know how I feel? You’ve never stayed in one place long enough to be turned away.”

  He gaped at her. A sudden anger simmered inside him, and Graham swung himself ’round to sit straight.

  The motion released some of his feelings, but the renewed tightness in his shoulders remained.

  “Perhaps that’s why you head for the trail,” Julia went on, gesturing wildly toward the road with her pencil. “After all, no one can turn from you if you’ve already gone.”

  “Enough.” Graham sent her a warning look. “I have your secret, and I’ll keep it. Do not try to guess mine.”

  “I already have!”

  Abruptly, he got to his feet. “This lesson is finished.”

  She said nothing, only glared at him furiously from her place on the bench. She tapped her pencil against her stack of papers, making the carefully scripted joining of their names skitter across her lap.

  “I’m not wrong,” she finally grumbled.

  “And I’m not staying.” Clenching his McGuffey reader ti
ghtly, Graham turned to leave. Julia’s voice followed him.

  “Running again, Mr. Corley? I should have known.”

  He stopped. “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know that you’re mistaken about my being wrong.” The playful edge to her voice was unexpected. So was the touch of her hand on his arm, waylaying his escape. “I know that you’ll probably never admit it.” Her tone softened, and she squeezed his forearm gently. “I know that I’m sorry for speaking so unkindly to you before. I want you to stay.”

  I want you to stay. How many times had he wished to hear those words? Too many to count, if he were honest with himself. And yet…

  “You know I won’t stay,” he told her gruffly. “’Tis the reason you chose me.”

  “Do you think so?” she mused. “I begin to believe it was the challenge of learning about you that drew me. You’re beyond mysterious, Mr. Corley. And you know it’s a rare woman who can resist a puzzling man.”

  Graham laughed, and looked over his shoulder to see her do the same. “Another jest? Miss Bennett, you amaze me.”

  “I’m not without humor,” she informed him.

  “I’m not without mystery. Or so you say.”

  “It’s true.” Julia tugged him toward her. “Please, don’t go. Here we are, very nearly misleadingly engaged, and I know next to nothing about you.”

  She had dimples when she smiled, Graham noticed. Dimples, and an enchanting openness in her expression. Whatever had made her call an end to their disagreement, it must have been powerful, indeed.

  Like love.

  Or maybe ’twas merely the growing feelings he had for her that made him wish it were so. Either way, Graham let her pull him back beside her on the bench.

  “What do you want to—” He paused, seeking the correct words—something he’d found himself doing more and more often these days, in an attempt to impress Julia. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Everything.”