Down in the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  “To go with him?” Doll clarified.

  It looked as though Em cringed. “Yes.”

  Tommy stared at his food. It felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

  “I didn’t understand that he was asking me to go with him at first,” Em continued, talking fast. “Not until after I’d accepted the invitation.”

  “You’ll need a fancy gown, won’t you?” Doll asked. “You have something or should we make you one?”

  Tommy took a bite, determined not to show how thrown he was. Unfortunately, the food had lost all its taste. How stupid he’d been to think that Em might actually go to the party with him. Stupid and wrong.

  “Pass the corn bread, will ya, Tommy?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Sure,” Tommy said quietly, reaching for the basket while studiously avoiding Em’s gaze.

  “That was one beautiful horse Howerton had,” Doll said. “Man’s got more money than God, doesn’t he?”

  Wood snorted. “Last I checked, God didn’t need any money.”

  “Then he’s the only one,” Doll returned as she picked up her glass of milk. “Funny how fancy-pants Howerton didn’t ask me to the party. Him and me jawjacking like we were.”

  “Go figure,” Wood said wryly, barely holding back his amusement.

  “Yeah,” Doll said, giving him a look that dared him to laugh. “Go figure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The weather was crisp as Tommy and Em drove into town four days later. The scent of snow was in the air, but, so far, there had only been an occasional flurry of snowflakes. Em stared straight ahead, not speaking because she resented Tommy’s remoteness. This trip should have been the perfect opportunity to end the distance that had crept between them since Howerton’s visit but, obviously, that was going to be up to her. Of course. He would remain silent the whole way there and back.

  His petulance, if that’s what it was, made no sense, since he’d had no reaction to the news that she was going to the gala with Howerton in the first place. She’d fretted and worried about it and then he’d had no reaction. But since then, he’d been aloof. She missed talking to him. She missed the ease between them. “Are you angry at me?” she suddenly blurted.

  “No.”

  She frowned in discontent, wondering if she should mention the gala directly, but she set her jaw, stubbornly. Why should she when he had never shown any real romantic interest in her outside of that one night? And, if she were being brutally honest, she had been primarily responsible for what had occurred between them then. Besides, afterwards, they’d pretended it hadn’t happened. She barely held back a sigh, because she was being foolish. He claimed nothing was wrong and he’d had no reaction to her going in the first place. Which meant, in very simple terms, he felt little or nothing for her in that way. She was just going to have to accept it.

  “What’s your dress going to be like?” Tommy asked.

  She considered not answering him, not speaking to him at all. A little silent treatment would serve him right. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ll see what there is.”

  “You have Doll’s list?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you give it to me and I’ll take care of it? You’ll probably be a while at the dressmaker’s.”

  At least it was conversation, which was what she’d wanted. So why didn’t it feel as if they were connecting as they had before? Or had she imagined it? “Hold on,” he warned as they approached some deep ruts in the road. She braced herself as the wagon began bouncing over them.

  “Someone needs to fix that,” he complained as he reached over and pulled up the blanket that had slipped off her lap. The gesture was so him, it made her want to cry.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. He really was so good and kind and considerate—and he’d done nothing but come to her rescue in every way possible. So, what did she want from him? All of it, she thought bitterly. I want his heart. I want him to love me.

  Riders came toward them. Em didn’t recognize any of them, but obviously Tommy did. They greeted him by name, and he tipped his hat to them. “How’s married life?” one of them said in a hushed tone as they passed.

  Em looked at Tommy, wondering if the man was talking about the two of them, but either he hadn’t heard the comment or he was patently ignoring it.

  The reason for the man’s question stared Em in the face as she happened to glance out the window of the dress shop and see Tommy engaged in conversation with a pretty waitress from Wiley’s. What was her name? Carly or Cally or something like that. Em stared, unable to tear her eyes away. How had she not known?

  “That looks wonderful on you,” Mrs. Simmons, the patroness of the shop, commented.

  Em managed to look away from Tommy and the waitress, although she felt slightly dizzy and more than slightly nauseous. She looked in the mirror at the gown. The bodice was ivory, the skirt a soft brown design with gold accents. It was fine. It was probably lovely, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care and she didn’t want to be going to this party. “Thank you,” she murmured. She looked back out the window again. Tommy and the waitress were still talking, so it wasn’t simply a passing-by, how-do-you-do meeting.

  “Will it do? Shall I make the alterations?” the dressmaker asked, stepping closer to pull the waist tighter.

  “Yes, please,” Em replied, distractedly. “It will do nicely.”

  When Em emerged from the shop, Tommy was leaning against the side of the wagon, waiting patiently. “I’m sorry it took so long,” she said.

  “It didn’t take that long. Did you find something you liked?”

  “Yes,” she replied less than enthusiastically. “It has to be altered, though.”

  “Today?”

  “No. I’ll come back for it. But I was thinking . . . why don’t we go see Emmett? Maybe have lunch together?” Was it her imagination or had he just winced at the suggestion? Did he not want her to know about Cally or whatever her name was? Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he didn’t want the waitress to know about her. Perhaps because she was the jealous sort who wouldn’t believe they were simply business partners.

  “I saw him,” Tommy replied. “He said he can’t get away today. Besides, I should get back.”

  He offered his hand to help her into the wagon and she had no choice but to accept it. She’d been hoping to see Fiona, but she wouldn’t insist since he had work to do. Not that there wasn’t always work to do. “Did you get everything?” she asked as they started off.

  “I think so.”

  She smoothed out the lap blanket. “See anyone you know?”

  “A few people.”

  She waited, but he wasn’t going to tell her about the waitress because he didn’t want her to know. Well, fine. If that’s how he wanted to be, she’d go along with it, and give him a taste of his own medicine. The next time he asked her anything, she’d give him a nod, or a shake of the head, or a one-word answer. In fact, from now on, she wouldn’t indulge in any personal conversation.

  Of course, he wasn’t asking. He could go hours or days without talking. Maybe weeks. He was a conversation camel. “So who was the girl I saw you talking to?” she blurted. Damn it! What was wrong with her? If she thought it, she had to say it? Why could she not keep her big, fat mouth shut?

  “Her name’s Colleen.”

  Colleen. So that was it. Em waited, but he didn’t say more. She sucked in her bottom lip to keep from saying one more word. If that’s the way he wanted it to be, that’s the way it would be.

  Tommy hated feeling cornered. He’d been cornered too many times in his life. His brothers had cornered him and pounded him for the sheer fun of it, and his ma had cornered him a few times when she thought he had information she wanted. Like the time she thought he knew where Celia had gone. She’d come at him, screaming and kicking and slapping.

  Mitchell had cornered him a hundred times for money, the whores in the saloon tried to corner him every time he came in and C
olleen had cornered him not a half hour ago. She’d spotted him in the street and come running. She told him she’d wrangled an invitation to Mr. Howerton’s Christmas party and wanted to go with him. He’d tried to make a polite excuse as to why he couldn’t make it, but she kept at it until he’d agreed to go just to shake her. He wished he hadn’t done that, especially now that Em had seen them. That was stupid though, since Em was going with Howerton. To think, he’d actually been foolish enough to imagine she might go with him.

  Wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sonny looked over the young woman with strawberry blonde hair. She was no beauty, but she was attractive enough. “Tell me about yourself, Abigail.”

  “Well, sir, I’m eighteen and healthy. I went to school through the seventh grade.”

  “And why are you here?”

  “I need the work.”

  “Go on,” he said.

  “I was living with my brother, even after he got married, but he took sick and died last summer.”

  “Sorry to hear it.”

  Abigail nodded. “It was real hard on everybody.”

  “You do understand the nature of working here?”

  “Sir?”

  “You understand what whores do?”

  She turned red. “Oh. Yes, sir. Of course I do. Yes.”

  “Have you been with a man before?”

  “Well, um, not exactly . . . in the way you mean.”

  Sonny smiled at the prospect of breaking in a virgin. “Take off your clothes and let me see you.”

  She did as he instructed, shaking with nerves. “My s-shoes, too?”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  When she was naked, other than her shoes and stockings, he looked her over carefully. He rose and walked around to stand behind her. “I’m going to give you three important pieces of advice.”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir?”

  “Pretend that you like what you’re doing or what’s being done to you, even if you don’t. Do whatever the customer wants you to do, and charge him accordingly. And, most importantly, never attempt to cheat me.”

  “No, sir. I mean, I wouldn’t.”

  “Good. Now, bend over and grab hold of the desk.” She did and he focused on her ample, white backside as he unfastened his trousers, released his swollen cock and stroked it lovingly. Just thinking about breaking her in had gotten him hard. “Spread your legs apart.” She obeyed and he positioned himself behind her and moved the head of his penis up and down her moist valley, enjoying her gasps. They were so virginal.

  “I’m sure you know it hurts at first,” he warned as he positioned himself to enter her. “But feel free to make all the noise you want to.” He pushed in slowly, savoring her resistance and the deep sounds uttered from her throat. Grabbing hold of her hips, he began thrusting vigorously.

  “No, no,” she cried out. “Stop, please!”

  His fingers dug in and he slammed harder, despite her rhythmic cries. After he came, he reached for his handkerchief and wiped himself off. “Remember what I said about pretending to enjoy it?”

  She turned to face him, her arms crossed in front of herself. “I’m s-sorry. I . . . didn’t know it would hurt so bad.”

  “The next time you tell me to stop, you’re going to feel the cane across your bare ass. Have you ever had a sound whipping, Abigail?”

  “I’ll do better,” she swore.

  He nodded. “I know you will. Go on,” he said with a tip of his head. “Go see Nancy or George. They’ll get you set up in a room.”

  An hour later, Sonny walked into the saloon to check on business and noticed George coming toward him with an intent look on his face and an envelope in his hands. “This came for you,” he said. Sonny took the letter and noticed the return address was Lynchburg. He ripped it open as he walked to the bar. The writing on the expensive ivory parchment was feminine and somewhat hard to read.

  Dear Sir,

  We spoke a few months ago in the teahouse. At that time, you were asking for information on a Miss Emeline Wright. Although I could not help you at the time, I told you the photograph in your possession looked familiar. Last evening, the answer occurred to me. The woman in the photograph strongly resembled Miss Rachel Thompson, who married Mr. Theodore Wright. The lady you seek was the offspring of that union. I have since learned that young Emeline was moved to Rockbridge County to be taken care of by relatives. I hope this helps and that you will be able to find her and award her the inheritance due her.

  Cordially,

  Mrs. Petunia Tippett

  Sonny smiled slowly and released a luxurious sigh. Finally, he was on the right track. He could feel it in his gut. Yes, indeed, Mrs. Tippett, I will give Em exactly what’s due her. “Give me a drink,” he ordered his barkeep. “That whiskey that just came in.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Peterson.”

  Sonny turned and surveyed his customers. It was a good crowd for this early in the evening.

  “Here you go, sir.”

  Sonny lifted the glass to his lips and sipped, savoring the taste and the thought of Emeline back in his grasp. Oh, yes. Life had just taken a sharp turn for the better.

  Em paced around her room, too restless to stay still. She walked to the window for the eighth time, drew back the curtain and looked out, hoping to see Tommy. He wasn’t in sight, but Doll was making her way toward the bunkhouse kitchen; she was doing most the cooking there now. Em dropped the curtain back in place. Things were not right between Tommy and her, and it was all she thought about. Maybe the question ought to have been why she was so bothered when it didn’t bother him.

  It was possible that he didn’t get bothered or all that emotionally attached to anything or anyone. She’d asked about his old home and he hadn’t reacted at all. Of course, she didn’t feel strongly about Lynchburg either. This was her home. She’d loved her father dearly, but his death had been part of her childhood and it didn’t exercise the same power over her as Ben’s. So what did that mean? Something? Nothing?

  She leaned against the wall and then pushed off, too anxious to stand still. Was it possible she was being a spoiled brat who just wanted what she wanted? She wanted Tommy’s full attention, and yet she was going to the biggest party of the year with Gregory Howerton. “Because I didn’t understand,” she muttered miserably.

  The thing to do was to just get beyond the Christmas party. There was nothing else to do, really. It was tomorrow and after that, hopefully, everything would return to normal. Or had too much distance crept between them? That thought hurt terribly. She walked back to the window, pushed aside the curtain and saw Tommy walking out of the barn carrying the small stray cat that had adopted them. She pressed a hand to her throat because it suddenly ached. As if he sensed her watching, he looked up. Embarrassed at being caught staring, she jerked away from the window with a red hot face.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gregory Howerton watched Emeline from across the table, thinking she was as lovely as any woman he’d ever seen, but far too restrained. Standoffish, even. Or was it that she sincerely had no interest in him? He’d thought at first she was being coy, playing hard to get in order to intrigue him, but he was beginning to suspect it went beyond that.

  The evening had been planned down to the last detail. Not only was the ranch aglow with hundreds of candles and Chinese lanterns, but also a light snow had begun falling. Dinner was superb, and he had been charming, so what was wrong with her? Or did she have a cool, distant sort of personality? If so, that would never do. He needed life and passion. He needed a certain amount of fire.

  “What does Triple H stand for?” Em inquired.

  “Howerton, heaven and hell. It’s all three. I also hope to have three sons one day. In fact, I feel quite certain I will.”

  She smiled and dropped her gaze back to her plate.

  “And you, Emeline? What’s your grand goal in life?”

  She looked back up at him. “Making the farm work.” />
  “Is that it? That’s all you want?”

  She blushed. “Well—”

  So, she did have feelings and designs, after all. She had been playing coy. “Forgive me. I was being too personal.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “How’s the wine? Is it to your liking?”

  “It’s excellent.”

  “I have an extensive cellar. I’ll give you a tour, if you’re interested.”

  As soft snowflakes whirled down, Colleen giggled and scooted closer to Tommy on the seat of the wagon. She’d borrowed a rig and come to the farm to get him and now they were headed to the Triple H for the Christmas gala. All Tommy felt was empty and vaguely surprised at how little reaction he was having to Colleen as she pressed her breasts against his arm.

  “I’m so glad it’s snowing,” she said, sighing happily.

  He already felt tired from having to make pointless conversation.

  “Everyone’s going to be there tonight,” she chattered on. “There’s two different parties going on. One for the la-te-da people in town and one for us regular folks.”

  He frowned, not having been told this. That meant Em would be at the la-te-da party. Would he even see her?

  “Do you dance, Tommy?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe I could teach you.”

  “I don’t dance.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said as she laid her head against his shoulder. “I’m just happy we’re together.”

  He barely stopped himself from cringing.

  It was more than an hour later before Colleen consented to dance with another man and Tommy was able to duck out of the showroom. She was a sweet girl, but it was a cloying kind of sweet that stuck in his throat. She was like creeping ivy that crawled around a tree and choked it to death. And he’d only been with her for a few hours. What he wished was that he was home with Em, sitting in the parlor, each of them working on something and talking. Or not. He missed that.