After another tense silence, during which Evie couldn’t see a thing, thanks to Elijah shoving her back behind him again, there was the unmistakable sound of an angry stomp down the walk.
“Show’s over, folks,” Millie called. “Get back to eating. If you let my food get cold, I’ll take it personally.”
Elijah stepped aside in time for Evie to see Millie turn around. The older woman’s gaze fell on the rolling pin in her hand. “Now what in the world were you going to do with that?”
The way Millie said it made Evie feel ridiculous. “Knock some sense into whomever needed it.”
Millie’s bright red eyebrows shot up in her garishly painted, yet strangely attractive face. “Didn’t you just hear me get done telling everyone that we want the Reverend happy?”
“So?”
She plucked the rolling pin from her hand. “He’s not going to be happy if his wife is hurt in a brawl.”
“Elijah would not let that happen,” Nidia murmured.
Millie glanced at the man as if just noticing his presence. Her glance cut to Nidia and then back to him. “Still playing the fool, I see.”
Elijah didn’t respond, just held her gaze for as long as Millie chose to extend the confrontation. Nidia was the one to break up the stare down. To Evie’s surprise, a hint of color touched the madam’s face as she snapped, “You will not speak to him this way.”
“Little lady, you’ll have to grow some inches and some muscle before you can tell me what to do.”
“Nonetheless—”
Millicent cut her off. “I don’t have time for this nonsense. Bellies are going empty. Elijah, sit yourself at that table yonder and I’ll get you some pie, too.”
“Dang it, Millie,” Jackson protested. “He didn’t do anything, and you’re giving him my pie!”
“No. I’m giving him his own pie. Now hush and find a seat.”
Elijah looked at Nidia. Though the woman made no visible response by word or expression, he said, “I’ll take my pie to go.”
“There are more appreciative women you could tie your loyalty to, wrangler.”
“More decent ones, too,” one of the women muttered.
Nidia did not even acknowledge she heard the insults. Neither did Elijah, but Evie thought he moved a little closer to the small woman. Then again, it might have been the press of the crowd.
“I came to ask if you had more of that rice pudding you sent over the other night,” Nidia said.
“Liked that, did you?”
“It was very good.”
“I told the Reverend it’d do the trick.”
Nidia jumped and cast Evie a startled glance. “Thank you.”
That look put Evie’s nerves on edge.
“I don’t have any right now”—Millie grabbed a plate—“but come back in an hour and I’ll have it ready.”
Nidia glanced around at the ogling men and the disapproving frowns of the ladies. Once again Evie thought she saw something vulnerable in her gaze, and then it was gone. Her chin came up. “I will be back.”
“I can—”
She glared at Elijah. “I have said I will pick it up.”
Elijah’s lips tightened. “I told the Reverend—”
This time it was Evie’s turn to grab Nidia. “You were with Brad two nights ago?”
“I had need of him.”
Brad had left her bed on their wedding night to go to this woman? “He won’t be coming to you again.”
Of that she was sure. Even if she had to castrate him to assure it.
It was a toothless statement. She had no control over Brad’s comings and goings. The pitying smile Nidia gave her said she knew it.
“If I call him, he will come.”
With sick acceptance, Evie didn’t doubt her.
Elijah gabbed Nidia’s arm. “Enough.”
“I merely responded.”
“Lashing out is not a response.” He pushed her through the crowd. “And you’re a better person than that.”
“I’m a whore.”
Elijah propelled Nidia through the door. Evie never got to hear his response. She didn’t care to. Her mind was still stuck on the confidence with which Nidia had said Brad would come when she called. Only one thing gave a woman that much confidence—the certainty of her claim.
“It’s probably not safe for you to have that any longer,” Millie muttered.
Pain in her fingers alerted Evie to the fact that she clutched the rolling pin so tightly her knuckles were white. “What did she mean?”
Evie wished the words back as soon as she uttered them. The last thing she needed was a public discussion of where her husband had spent their wedding night.
The rolling pin was pried from her fingers. “She was likely just trying to get your goat. Occasionally, Nidia gets a need to lash out.” Millie slapped the rolling pin down on the counter. “She hasn’t had an easy life, you know.”
Evie didn’t suppose she had, but that didn’t give her the right to make comments about her husband.
Millie shoved a pie plate into her hand. “Take this on over to Jackson. He’s waiting.”
“I thought he wagered for a piece of pie.”
“The boy bought himself a peck of trouble, taking on Red like that. He gets the whole thing.”
Evie was beginning to understand that Millie coddled those she loved through food. She weaved her way through the tables, avoiding the groping hands of a tipsy cowboy and arriving at Jackson’s small table unscathed. He was frowning back over her shoulder at the wrangler who’d now broken into song. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, your working here.”
“I’m not working. I’m learning.”
He reached for the pie. “I’ll have a talk with the Reverend.”
Being here was the most excitement she’d had in months. “Don’t you dare!”
“You giving me orders?”
She snatched the pie back. “Yes, I am. If you want the whole pie, then you can’t talk to Brad.”
“The whole pie is already mine.”
She shook her head. “You only wagered for a piece.”
“I could take it from you.”
She held it way back, off her shoulder. “I’ll throw it to the floor.”
He blinked. “You’re that serious?”
“I’m that serious.”
His chair came down on four legs, and in a move so fast she didn’t have time to react, he snatched the pie from her hands.
“Then I guess I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Because I threatened you?”
“Well, that was amusing.” He cut into the pie with the side of his fork. “But also because I think it’s going to be darn entertaining seeing the Reverend’s face when he finds out what you’ve gotten into.”
She rolled her eyes. Men, they were all alike.
IT WAS PAST supper time before her learning was done. Beyond cutting out biscuits she hadn’t learned much about cooking, but next to painting, today was the most fun Evie’d had all year outside of Brad’s arms. She found she experienced a whole new side to the town from the inside of the restaurant. People weren’t so circumspect with those who served food, often forgetting that the person was even there. If she were a gossip, she’d already have a lot to tell. Number one being the new blacksmith was sweet on Millie, who didn’t seem inclined to give him the time of day, except when it came time to give him pie. Millie had refused to give him that dessert. Taking a personal interest in his meal, she’d finished off her efforts with a beautiful strawberry shortcake just for him. When Evie had cast the older woman a questioning glance, Millie had blushed and grumbled she’d give pie to whomever she wanted and shortcake to those she preferred.
Evie thought it had more to do with the fact that the blacksmith was a fine-looking man for any age. She could picture him standing like the god Thor in the midst of a lightning storm, his long auburn hair blowing in the wind, the distinct white streaks at the temple just adding to the impressi
on of power and competence. The laugh lines by his mouth and eyes added the draw of humor to the whole impressive image. Maybe she could get him to sit for her. Especially if she persuaded Millie to put him in a good mood with some good food before she asked.
Wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve, Evie untied her apron and sighed wearily. Fun or not, working at the restaurant was harder than anything she’d ever done before. She was ready to go home, to her husband and the trouble waiting there.
“Here.”
She turned, finding Millie standing behind the counter, a large basket almost obscuring her from view.
“What’s that?”
“Dinner.”
She barely kept from wrinkling her nose. After smelling the food all day, she had no desire to eat it. Still, she wouldn’t upset Millie by rejecting it. Suppressing a sigh, she took the basket. “Thank you.”
“Be careful how you hold it. If you spill the gravy, you won’t have any for your dumplings.”
“Dumplings?”
“You always order chicken paprika when you come in.”
So Millie had made it for her. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
“It’s dinner, not a declaration of love.”
“Oh.”
Millie snapped a towel over her shoulder and dried her fingers on the ends. “When you serve it up tonight, you tell that husband of yours I was thinking about him special-like, when I made it.”
Evie hefted the basket off the counter, staggering a bit under its weight, a blush rising. Of course Millie had made it for Brad. “I’ll pass the message along.”
“You do that.” Her head cocked to the side. “You coming back tomorrow?”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
“Good. I’ll teach you to make pancakes.”
Lovely. “I’ll see you then.”
With a grunt, Millie turned and headed back into her precious kitchen. Evie hauled the basket around the nearest table and headed for the door. All she wanted to do was go to bed.
She was even too tired to work on that wildflower in her latest painting. Too tired to eat. Too tired to fight with her husband about his nocturnal visits to Nidia.
She opened the door, catching it with her hip so she could slip through. Hopefully, Brad would have had a full day, too, and not be inclined toward conversation. She wasn’t in the mood to chat, make nice, or be kind. Especially after finding out he’d spent their wedding night with Nidia.
If I call him, he will come.
She let the door slam. Like hell, he would. If they were married for better or worse, that held for him, too. There wouldn’t be any other woman who could crook her finger and summon him to her side.
She stepped down into the street, waiting for a wagon to pass before heading over to the other side. It was only three blocks to the house, but with the awkward weight of the basket dragging at her, she had to rest. She stopped at the first alley and set the basket on the edge of the walk.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Well, that was an intriguing start to an eavesdropping. She peaked around the corner. Gray stood talking to someone she couldn’t see.
“I was looking for you.”
A girl, young if the voice could be judged. Evie racked her brain, trying to recall any young woman in whom Gray had shown an interest.
“Why?”
He certainly wasn’t going to make a good impression with that.
There was the scuff of a foot on dirt.
“You said I could . . . if I needed to.”
A very young woman, Evie decided.
“What’s wrong?” Gray sounded much older than his years.
“Nothing. I just wanted company.”
“It’s late.”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“Is anyone home at your place, little one?”
“I’m not little.”
That statement, delivered in such a petulant voice, pulled Evie into the alley. The girl was very young and maybe in trouble.
“Gray?”
He turned, blocking her view of the child. Whether by accident or design, she didn’t know. “Do you need help?”
His chin set in that stubborn way he had. “No.”
She shifted to the right. He shifted right along with her. So it was deliberate. Gray was protective of the girl. There was a scurry of feet behind the boxes. She had a view of one small foot, a pale, skinny calf, and then the girl was gone.
This could turn out so badly if anyone found out an Indian boy was close to a young white girl. Clint and Cougar had earned the town’s respect and were at least half white. Gray was all Indian, with no history to soften his violations of the rules. “Oh, Gray, you’ll have to be careful.”
His lip curled. “Worried I’m going to sully some pretty white girl with my touch?”
She was in no mood for this. “I’m worried you’ll get hurt because someone else will take offense at your friendship.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, I’m the one you’re worried about.”
God, he looked so like the McKinnelys then. “Whether you believe it or not, I am.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“What about your friend?”
“She doesn’t need your help either.”
“It sounded like she needed someone’s help.”
“She’s just afraid to be alone.”
“Nighttime can be scary.”
His lip curled. “What would you know about being afraid?”
The kid was beginning to annoy her. “Apparently not as much as you feel I should.”
Gray looked over her shoulder as someone approached. His expression became carefully blank.
“Whatever you know is more than enough for me.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Her heart skipped a happy beat. Brad. It was silly to feel so safe as his hand came around her waist, but she did. “What are you doing here?”
His eyebrow cocked up. “I was coming over to walk you home.”
“Afraid I’d run away?”
He looked between her and Gray, his gaze assessing. Despite the quickness of the glance, she was sure he’d memorized every nuance of the encounter. “Nah. I just missed you.”
That was the one thing she hadn’t expected him to say. She didn’t know how to respond. Thankfully, Gray was just belligerent enough to keep her from having to do so.
“I will leave you now.”
He made it two steps before Brad called out, “Gray?”
The boy turned. “What?”
Brad pulled her into his side. It was a very a possessive gesture for such an easygoing man. “You know where I live if you need me.”
For a moment, man and boy stared at each other. Gray nodded sharply, and then sprinted in the direction his companion had gone.
Looking down, Brad asked, “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Not really.” Staring after Gray, she couldn’t shake the feeling that that moment between them had been private. A secret not to be shared, not even with her husband. Brad turned her within his embrace until they were facing. His thighs pressed her skirts against her hips as his fingertips brushed down her cheek.
“Is whatever the boy’s involved in dangerous?”
“Not from what I’ve seen.” Gray was smart enough to make sure his friendship didn’t turn into a danger.
Brad’s grip tightened. “You wouldn’t lie to me?”
“Not about something like that.”
“But about other things, you would?”
“Well, if you wanted me to clean and I wanted to paint, I might hedge the truth about how much time I spent on both.”
“That’s fair enough.”
His head shifted just the barest bit to the right. The setting sun cut across his face in an aggressive slash, catching on the shadow of his beard, highlighting the blue of his eyes, the faint lines at the edges, turning his eyes from dark to brilliant
. Beautiful. He was so beautiful, and so . . . wild-looking. The severe black of his suit only emphasized the strength it struggled to cloak. Her fingers curled around his wrist as she memorized every shadow, every aspect, committing it to memory before the moment passed. “I’d love to paint you just like this.”
He stilled, and then the right corner of his lip quirked. “Standing in the middle of the street?”
The scene flashed in her mind, Brad standing at the end of the street, the spreading oak to the left of his shoulder, sunlight filtering through the leaves, slanting across his silhouette, his hat sheltering all of his face except the chiseled shape of his mouth as he drew his gun . . . She blinked. A minister with a gun? She was definitely getting fanciful. And he was still waiting for an answer.
“Yes, in the street.”
“You’re a strange woman, Evie.”
“So I’m told.”
Twelve
SHE WAS A strange woman. Brad rubbed his thumb over Evie’s mouth, luxuriating in the damp cling of the soft flesh. Bold as brass at times, innocent and sweet at others. A strange mix of fancy and courage. And when she looked at him as she did right now, he got the feeling she saw more than the facade he presented. And that was not good.
“Well, if you ever get the urge, do me a favor and keep my pants on.”
She blinked and then frowned. “I can’t believe you’re still harping on that.”
“That” being the painting she’d done of him. “Trust me, sweetheart, no man wants to have his privates so . . . minimized.”
She rolled her eyes and jerked her chin off the shelf of his hand. With a brisk swat at imaginary dust, she took a step back. “Well, maybe I prefer the world to see you that way.”
Interesting argument. “Now, why would you want to be setting yourself up for pitying glances?”
Her mouth worked and he could actually see her sense of caution battle with her sense of outrage. It was a sucker’s bet as to which would win. Evie was not a cautious woman. Her hands planted on her hips and her chin came up. Her gaze locked firmly on his, aggression and challenge blazing out at him. Desire leapt to life. Nope. Not a lick of caution.
“So maybe you would be tempted to stay home at night.”
Promises Reveal Page 18
