Calico

by Raine Cantrell

  “I know. That’s what the Irish thief was counting on.”

  “Irish thief? Maggie? Now, McCready, that ain’t true. She hasn’t stolen from you.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Dutch decided he needed a drink, and for a few minutes left McCready to brood. “A man has a right to claim what’s his. You could, if you’re of a mind to, bid on her. If you won, why, you could get back what you’ve lost.”

  “Bid on Maggie?” McCready slowly lifted his head. “The hell I will,” he grated, grabbing the bottle and retreating to his room.

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I figured, boss,” Dutch whispered to himself.

  “Thief, damn Irish thief,” McCready muttered to himself three hours later when he realized that Maggie had stolen the blurred-edge peace his whiskey had once brought him. What had possessed her to hold an auction for herself? It made no sense. Her and her mines, a little voice reminded him. Mines? That sign said her ownership in four mines. But she didn’t own the mines by herself. They were partners, due to his generosity. And she called him a liar!

  He closed his eyes, but she refused to leave his mind. Maggie learning her letters, telling him about her dreams to be a lady, to learn to read, and to open those damn mines. Maggie didn’t need to change. He liked her just the way she was—honest, giving, prideful, mule-tempered Maggie. His Maggie.

  And her offering to let the merchandise be inspected before the auction! Did she believe he would stand by while some man put his hands on her? Didn’t the woman have an ounce of common sense? Men who loved—loved?

  McCready bolted up off his bed, turning the word over in his mind. He loved Maggie? That scrappy, independent, fight-at-the-wrong-word Maggie?

  Raking his hands through his hair, McCready knew there was no help to be had. He loved Maggie. Somehow, he had to get her to agree to call off this auction before he committed murder. And he had to do it quickly, or he would be calling in the army to keep peace in Cooney Camp.

  Across the street Pamela was repeating similar words to Maggie.

  “You can’t get cold feet about this. The signs are already out, and you’ll need the army here to keep peace if you try to call it off.”

  “But McCready had to see it. He should’ve been here by now, ready to fight with me.”

  “Duck your head again so I can rinse off the soap, Maggie. When we’re finished cleaning up, we’ll talk about McCready.”

  With a towel around her head Maggie rolled up the sleeves of Pamela’s borrowed nightgown and helped her fill and empty buckets, until there were only a few inches of water left in the wooden tub.

  “Hold open the door, Pamela. I can drag it now, and we’ll tilt it outside.”

  Pamela stood behind the door watching Maggie wiggle backward, dragging the tub.

  Maggie managed to get the tub halfway out of the door when her bottom hit something solid. She wiggled from side to side trying to understand what was blocking her way.

  “Pamela?” But even as she called the other woman, she was reaching back with one hand to discover cloth covering solid muscle and lower, a boot. Caught between the tub and whoever stood there, Maggie couldn’t move, and Pamela wasn’t answering her.

  “Let me help you, Maggie mine,” McCready whispered, bending over her body and placing his hands on either side of hers. “I like the smell of violets on your skin, O’Roarke; it brings to mind a fond memory and the freckles I never did get around to counting.”

  “You said…” Maggie was surrounded by his scent, his body warmth, and his lips against the back of her neck. “Help. That’s what you were doing.”

  “Was I?” he returned, rubbing his chin over her shoulder. “I wasn’t sure what kind of a reception I would find when I came here, Mary Margaret, but never, even in my mind, did I dare think you’d be ready for bed.”

  “Pamela!”

  She stepped out from behind the door and looked down at Maggie. “Well, you said you wanted him here to talk. So go to it.”

  “Like this?”

  “I like this just fine, Maggie mine.”

  “You would!” Maggie returned, glaring up at Pamela. The towel was slipping down over one eye. Maggie made a grab for it just as McCready leaned forward to kiss her cheek. He got her thumb in his eye, and Maggie reared back, throwing her weight against him. McCready lost his balance, and Maggie went sprawling with him into the mud the emptied buckets had created.

  Maggie was stunned for a moment, then twisted around as he sat up. “Damn you! Look what you’ve done, McCready.”

  “What I’ve done! I came here to talk to you about calling off that damn auction. You poked my eye and gave me a mud bath I didn’t need.”

  “Ain’t calling it off!” Maggie struggled against his arms wrapped around her waist, but he held her tight.

  “Listen to me, mule-head. I came with the best intentions. You can’t auction off mines I own half interest in.”

  Maggie froze. That was it? The mines? Not her? “Go to hell, McCready, the devil’s waitin’ on you.”

  “Be reasonable—”

  “Reason? I’ll give you reason!” Maggie threw her weight forward, clawing at his hands, caught him unaware, and broke free. She sprawled on all fours in the mud, but McCready was only able to grab her ankle. She kicked him and twisted onto her back, flinging handfuls of mud at him. “You want those damn mines so bad. Bid on them, McCready.”

  Satin bounded up, barking, and Maggie yelled, “Get him, girl!” at the same time McCready ordered, “Down, Satan!”

  McCready came to his feet in a controlled rush, slipped, then grabbed Maggie and hauled her to her feet. “Call off the dog and the auction. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. You think I’ll stand by while you parade in front of every man in the territory who feels free to paw what they’re bidding on? Think again, Maggie. I won’t let it happen. We’ve done our share of fighting, and now it stops.” He shook her and Maggie motioned Satin to stay away.

  “I didn’t forget that you could be carrying my child.” Maggie felt her belly bottom out. She glanced from his punishing grip on her arms to the glare of his eyes. “You’re talkin’ marriage ’cause there might be a child?”

  “I’m not talking about marriage at all, Maggie. But I won’t have you leave me out of my child’s life, and I swear I’ll take care of you.” His grip eased and became caressing. “Maggie, what we share is good, damn good.” He read the doubt in her eyes and knew he had to say more. “I love you, Maggie.”

  She fought the tremble that started inside her. She couldn’t believe him, no matter how much she had longed to hear him say those words. How could she trust him? “Why—” She had to swallow and, staring into his eyes, finished. “Why didn’t you tell me when Lars showed up? Why didn’t you say it when Mike came or the other one showed up? Why now, McCready?”

  “I didn’t know it then. Maggie,” he whispered softly, lowering his mouth to hers, but she turned aside. “I’ve never said those words to another woman.”

  “An’ now you can?” She didn’t try to pull away. She knew he wouldn’t let her go. “You’re askin’ for trust again. But I can’t. It’s just your way of gettin’ me to stop the auction, but it ain’t gonna work. You’ll have to prove it to me. Prove you want me more than anyone or anything.”

  He released her. “I’ll be damned if I’ll do that.”

  Maggie couldn’t watch him leave. Satin’s whine told her he was gone. “McCready, you’re wrong. It’s me who’s damned.”

  Chapter 26

  The morning of the auction dawned bright and clear, but Maggie’s cross mood was better suited to match a storm. She had not seen or heard from McCready again. When she thought about it, Maggie realized that neither of her three husbands had been around, either. She had done all that she could to make sure the auction was the success she wanted. Now it was only a matter of time until it began.

  Satin tugged her hand to get he
r out of bed. Pamela had agreed that the dog could come inside with them as added protection after one overly excited bidder came too early for the auction and broke into the store.

  When Maggie opened the back door to let Satin out, she found Lars coming around, hat in hand. Maggie scooted behind the door to hide the fact that she was only wearing a nightgown. Living with Pamela this past week had taught her so many things about being a lady.

  “I have come to see Pamela,” Lars said. “To say goodbye.”

  “You’re leavin’?”

  “Ja. I will not stay for the auction. The lawyer I have spoken to tells me that I cannot be married to you unless we agree and have the marriage again.”

  “The others, Lars, do they know about this?”

  “Ja. I told them. But they are staying. Please, you will let me see her.”

  “C’mon in an’ sit. I’ll get her up.” Maggie’s mood lightened with his news. One less to worry about. And if Ira and Slick did what she asked, McCready wasn’t going to have a chance.

  When she walked into the bedroom she and Pamela were sharing, the other woman was already up and dressed. “Lars is here to see you. He’s leaving, Pamela.”

  “Leaving?”

  “That’s what the man says. I’d hurry an’ find out what he came here for, ’cause it ain’t just to say goodbye.”

  “But my hair!” Pamela grabbed for the brush with one hand and hairpins with the other.

  Maggie took them from her. “Leave it. Don’t waste time.”

  “Come with me?” But even as she asked, Pamela saw Maggie shake her head. Taking a deep breath, Pamela marched out to the kitchen.

  Maggie closed the bedroom door to give them as much privacy as she could. Curled up on the bed, she tried to forget what would be happening tonight. Cooney Camp didn’t have a spare blanket left or the room to spread it down. From her frequent peeks out the mercantile’s window, she saw the constant flow of men going into the Rawhider. At least McCready couldn’t complain about all the business she had drawn in for him.

  Not knowing what he was going to do gnawed at her. If he had told anyone, they would have passed it along to her. But not even Dutch knew what McCready would do.

  Not that Dutch had time to find out. He was busy tending bar and selling whatever chairs he begged and borrowed to use for the front rows. Ira had told her that he was charging two hundred dollars a seat so the serious bidders were assured of a place. Maggie should have been feeling pleased with herself, for there wasn’t an empty chair.

  But all she felt was scared. What if McCready was right and men tried to paw her? She didn’t think she could stand to have another man touch her. Much as Pamela argued against it, Maggie knew she would have to take Satin with her. She couldn’t depend on McCready being there to protect her. The thought didn’t even startle her anymore. She felt less than whole without McCready, and there was no fighting against it. And it was too late to tell him that she was wrong to put the mines first. Gold and silver couldn’t wrap their arms around her and keep her safe and warm. They couldn’t make her feel the same excitement as one of McCready’s kisses, even if she once had thought so.

  I’ll chase you and you’ll chase me, Maggie, until one of us is caught.

  Maggie prayed that every word McCready said was true. If she didn’t catch hold of him this time, she never would.

  An excited cry from Pamela made her turn toward the door, but Maggie didn’t hear her cry out again. She hoped that Lars was offering her marriage. Pamela deserved it, and she would make him a good wife. At least Pamela wouldn’t have to worry that they’d be fighting and scrapping. Larson Vladimir was too much of a gentleman to do that to her.

  It was nearly an hour later that a rosy-cheeked Pamela opened the bedroom door. “Maggie! He asked and I said yes and he’s going to wait until after the auction.” She flung herself on the bed, bouncing up and down, accepting Maggie’s hug and crying.

  “I’m really happy for you, Pamela. You’ve got what you wanted.”

  “Yes,” she answered, sniffling. “We talked it all out. Lars agrees that I need to sell the supplies, but, Maggie, he doesn’t want me to take the bids on you.”

  “But we agreed—”

  “I know. I tried to tell him, but he has his own notions about how his wife should behave, and I couldn’t fight with him. But I’ll be there. He agreed to that. And he’s going to ask Dutch to do it.”

  “Dutch? He’ll never—”

  “He will. Lars,” she said through misty eyes and a smile, “can be very convincing when he sets his mind to it.”

  Maggie didn’t want to spoil her happiness, and so let it be. But she was sure that McCready wouldn’t allow Dutch to auction her off.

  By midafternoon Lars returned and proved Maggie wrong. “Ja. Ja, he said he would do this. To help Mary.”

  Seated at the kitchen table, Maggie looked across at him. “You’re sure? McCready doesn’t know, right?”

  “He was there when I asked Dutch. He made a toast to me and my bride and one to you.”

  “He wasn’t angry?” Maggie stared down at the cold cup of coffee that she couldn’t force herself to finish. Her belly was knotted, and the wee ones were dancing to a different tune. One that made her swallow a lot.

  “McCready?” Lars shook his head. “He has said that only two drinks be allowed for each man. They are running out of whiskey. But, Dutch, he tells me that McCready is worried how men behave when they are drunk.”

  “See, Maggie,” Pamela said, holding Lars’s hand. “I told you there was nothing to worry about. And now you know that McCready will be there.”

  “Yeah. But will he be biddin’?”

  No one answered her.

  Pamela tugged the bodice of Maggie’s gown up, but the blue, flower-sprigged calico wouldn’t cover the bared curves of Maggie’s breasts. Frowning, Pamela stood back. “We could tuck a bit of lace, but you’d have to be careful when you moved unless I stitch it in place.”

  “There’s no time, Pamela.” Maggie glanced at herself in the mirror. Pamela had labored over brushing her hair and securing it with combs so that it looked longer than it was. Around her neck was a blue velvet ribbon and a great deal of skin until her gaze lowered to the edge of the gown that didn’t cover what it should have.

  “You put on weight. That’s all it could be. I know I took the right measurements. Let them wait and I’ll sew on lace.” McCready would be furious, but her little lie was worth it.

  Maggie shook her head. With hands that were softened by Pamela’s creams, she fixed the edges of the gown on her shoulders. She was wearing a gown to please McCready, and she would use whatever she could to entice him into bidding for her. Pamela had explained how a lady made a man jealous, and while she had been uncomfortable about the gown at first, she wasn’t now.

  Lars called out from the kitchen that they were late. Pamela thrust a shawl at Maggie. “At least wear this until we get there.”

  That Maggie agreed to.

  But Pamela stopped her at the bedroom doorway. “Maggie, the day you were going to marry Quincy, I told you how pretty you looked. But tonight, Maggie, well, you’re beautiful enough to make that parish stallion rip and snort.”

  “Be right, Pamela. Just please be right.”

  Stallion aptly described what McCready felt like. His territory was being invaded by every single man sniffing after his filly. Ira left to escort another small group of married men and miners whose luck had panned out and were looking for a stable way to earn a living over to inspect the store.

  The Rose, Lee Warren, and Dutch were serving behind the bar, keeping close watch to make sure that no man had more than two drinks. The last thing McCready wanted was some drunk pawing Maggie or forgetting that she wasn’t being paid to keep him happy.

  “Boss,” Dutch warned, then nodded toward the door.

  McCready saw that Mike and Samuel were finally here, but it was the sight
of Miss Mae between them that sent him pushing through the crowd.

  “Miss Mae? What are you doing here?”

  “She asked us to escort—”

  “Shut up, sonny,” the frail-looking sixty-year-old woman said to Samuel with an added poke to his ribs. “I can speak for myself. McCready, this is the most excitement we’ve ever had. You didn’t think I’d miss it? Now. You take my arm and get me a chair up close. I don’t want to miss out hearing one word.”

  McCready’s offered arm was readily accepted, and Miss Mae held her parasol like a cane as they made their way up front.

  “Causing quite a stir what your little gal did.”

  “She’s not my little gal, Miss Mae. But you’re right about the stir she’s created.”

  “Came to see me this week. Had plenty to say about you, too.”

  “I’m sure she did.”

  “Called you names I had to think twice about to remember. Getting on, you know.”

  McCready led her around to the center chair of the row that Dutch had set up.

  “Not here. Give me that one on the end. If I feel faint, you can take me outside without disturbing anyone.”

  “I wasn’t planning on staying, Miss Mae.”

  “Horse feathers! You’ll stay, McCready. A lady is asking for your company. You gonna refuse me?”

  “I’m sure that Samuel or Mike would be happy to act as your escort. Let me—”

  “Don’t want either one of them, McCready. I’m old and I’m stubborn, but I’m a lady that knows fine breeding when I see it. You’ve got the lines of good stock and the manner when you want. A woman needs to be proud of the man standing by her side. And you’re the best man around here. Take my word for that.”

  She was old, and she was stubborn. But within her face edged by a lace-trimmed mob cap, McCready saw her bright eyes that held his as steady as any rock. She reminded him of a time when a gentleman never refused a lady’s reasonable request. But he hadn’t planned on staying, just as he told her, and for a moment felt she had neatly trapped him.