“The jail is already running enough specials,” Sheriff Davis called out.
Discordant voices vied for attention once more. Will withheld any words of support. If the men thought he was favoring Tomasina because she was a woman, they’d eat her alive in the meeting. She had to hold her own among the business leaders. Thus far, she’d been magnificent.
Tomasina let their good-natured ribbing continue for another moment before quieting them once more. “Put signs in your windows that welcome the drovers. The saddle shop can run an advertisement on leather repairs and cleaning. We don’t want to run the cowboys out of town—we want them to stay. The longer those fellows stick around, the more money they spend. Every dollar in Cowboy Creek is a dollar in your pocket.”
“What about the rodeo?” Mr. O’Neill called out, his mouth set in a hard line. “We all know what happened last time.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice faltered. “That wasn’t one of my suggestions this time around.”
Will’s heart went out to Tomasina. Mr. O’Neill’s son had been injured that awful day, and clearly she still harbored guilt over the incident. Seeing his opportunity, Will stood.
“We all know the truth about what happened.” He held his hands in a placating gesture. “The Murdoch Gang was responsible for setting that bull loose. If we cancel the show, we let the Murdochs win.”
Shouted denials drowned out his words. Will exchanged a glance with Quincy Davis over the heads of the protesting men. When Tomasina started to speak, he touched her arm, quieting her.
“Let them argue it out,” he said quietly. “The tide is turning.”
His instincts were correct. The business owners had latched on to the plan. They recognized the value of having the drovers spend their pay from the cattle drives in town. The few dissenters were gradually outnumbered by the supporters.
When their voices quieted once more, Will resumed his place at the front of the room. “We can schedule the rodeo and the sharpshooting events in the spring and summer when the drovers are passing through town. I propose that we hold an event every Friday and Saturday during that time. If those cowboys are roping and riding and practicing their shooting, they won’t be drinking.”
“And they won’t be fighting and breaking out the windows at Drover’s Place,” Quincy Davis added.
“Exactly.” Tomasina grinned. “Instead of driving the cowboys away, let’s figure out how to make them belong.”
Remmy patted Tomasina on the back. “You got any ideas about how we can get more settlers in this town?”
“I do, as a matter of fact,” she shot back immediately. “Hire someone who speaks Slovak.”
Remmy’s eyes widened. “That’s not a half-bad idea.”
“People want a taste of the old country. There’s a bakery in Morgan’s Creek that sells kolaches. Settlers come from miles around for those pastries.”
D.B. Burrows, the editor of the Herald, rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest. “Why should we cater to a bunch of foreigners? If they want the old country, they can go back to where they came from. It’s not our job to change, it’s theirs.”
Mr. Irving scowled. “We were all foreigners at one time. Or did you forget that, Mr. Burrows?”
“I like kolaches,” Remmy added. “A few of those foreign customs are tasty.”
Some of D.B.’s bluster waned. “You can sell your peaches at a discount and bake your foreign pastries. You’re wasting your time. Those cowboys will still drink and carouse and cause trouble.”
His words were drowned out by the men’s excited chatter. When D.B.’s protests were ignored, he replaced his hat and stomped out of the meeting.
Ignoring his exit, the other business owners circled their chairs. Planning committees were formed and ideas exchanged. Tomasina circulated around the room, answering questions and offering additional suggestions.
Will followed her progress, and his chest expanded. He was proud of the business owners of Cowboy Creek. He was proud of Tomasina. Not only had she thought up ideas for keeping the drovers in town, she’d convinced the town council.
Gideon shook Will’s hand. “The Union Pacific made a good choice in placing the railroad depot in Cowboy Creek. Miss Stone is a singular asset to your community. Her ideas are inspired, and she even managed to get a bunch of rowdy men to agree with her.”
“I know.” Will admired the way the light played off her lustrous hair. “She’s one of a kind.”
Gideon followed his gaze. “If I had ten men like her, I’d run the Santa Fe line out of business and rule the railroads.”
Will listened to the praise with a touch of melancholy. How many more days did he have with her? He felt time slipping away. He felt Tomasina slipping away.
“What did you think of Pippa?” Will asked abruptly.
“I think the next few weeks in Cowboy Creek are going to be very entertaining.”
At least someone was looking forward to the future. Will recalled sitting in his study all those weeks ago, facing the coming cattle drive with dread and anticipation. He’d had no idea a certain redheaded firebrand would touch his heart.
If his time with Tomasina was limited, then he’d best savor the time he had left.
* * *
The following morning Tomasina donned her drover’s gear and set out for the livery. She needed something to ground her before she met up with James. After saddling and bridling her horse, she made her way to the stockyards. The corral fence had been repaired, and she went through her paces. Soon her muscles ached at the exertion. The pain was welcomed, reminding her of her past. As though her muscles had a memory all their own, she’d soon mastered her skills once more.
Though a dry spring, the day was clear and bright, the temperature ideal. A few of the men recognized her and called greetings. Another drive had brought more cattle, and she trotted through the pastures.
A couple of the cowboys were searching for strays, and she spent the rest of the morning tracking. Impressed with her skills, the drovers thanked her before riding away. It wasn’t much, but their respect buoyed her. She’d always been an excellent tracker.
The sights were familiar, the smells comforting. Even the pungent scent of the cattle was welcome. She rode past the town toward a slight rise in the distance. When she’d reached the top of the small slope, she turned and studied the town.
A train whistle blew in the distance, a plume of smoke heralding another arrival. All her plans were falling into place once more.
She caught sight of James riding toward her.
He reined in beside her. “There’s a ranch in Colorado looking for an experienced crew. They need ten men, and the pay is good.”
“Do they know about me?”
Few ranches welcomed a female hand.
“Nah,” James said. “We’ll work that out later. I’ve got Dutch and Butch signed on already. We’ll have a full crew before the week is out.”
“You never really answered my question before. Why the change of heart?”
“I know I’ve been a jerk lately, Tom. I’m sorry about your pa. Truly, I am. He was a good man. He taught me everything I know, and I owe him.”
“Is that why you want me as part of your crew?” She studied his face. Always blessed with boyish good looks, the lines around his mouth had deepened, lending him an air of maturity he’d lacked before. “Because you owe Pa?”
“Nah. It ain’t that. I’ve been watching you. We’re the same, you and me. We can’t settle down. It ain’t fair, folks trying to change us. You and I accept each other for who we are—a couple of drovers. You don’t expect me to build a fancy house like Will Canfield and settle down, and I don’t expect you to go dressing up and acting like girl.” He glanced out at the horizon, his hands resting on his pommel, then turned ba
ck toward her. “We don’t belong in Cowboy Creek, Tom. Let’s go back to what we know. We already found what we’re good at, why fight it?”
The solution was ideal. He’d solved all her problems. She’d start over. She’d build respect. Surely she hadn’t changed so much in a few weeks? She was still the same person she was before her pa died. A couple of dresses didn’t change that, and a few lessons in deportment didn’t change who she was on the inside.
She’d wanted to earn respect. In the meeting yesterday afternoon she’d had the attention of the business owners of Cowboy Creek. Will hadn’t interfered; he hadn’t influenced the men. She’d earned their respect on her own merit.
“When are you and the rest of the fellows leaving?” she asked.
James wheeled his horse around. “Soon.”
Normally the idea of a fresh crew left her chomping at the bit. The familiar jolt of excitement never materialized. “How soon?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened. “That fast? Can you assemble the crew that quickly?”
“I can. The boys are ready to light out of here. The sheriff is cracking down. There’re rumors of closing up tent city.” He fixed her with a hard stare. Something in her expression must have given away her uncertainty. “Don’t go soft on me now, Tom. Are you staying or going? I can’t wait for an answer.”
“I’m going.”
The tension in his shoulders eased. “Good. We leave at dawn the day after tomorrow.”
This was exactly what she’d been hoping for all these weeks. Another job driving cattle. A crew she could trust. “Are you attending the opening of the opera house tomorrow night? Pippa Neely is putting on quite the show.”
He shook his head. “No time. I’ve got some things to take care of before I leave.”
She watched him gallop around the bend, her heart heavy.
She should have been happy. For the first time since her pa’s death, she had a clear sense of her future.
As for Hannah’s dress shop, there was no reason Tomasina couldn’t gift her the money instead. It wasn’t as though Tomasina’s sewing skills were going to make the difference in the success of the shop. Her role had never extended beyond her investment.
All Hannah needed was enough money to set her on her feet. Cowboy Creek’s newest seamstress would do just fine without Tomasina. Maybe even better.
Her vision blurred. Driving cattle wasn’t so bad, but she wanted a job where she made a real difference in someone’s life. A job she hadn’t found yet.
The thought left her lonelier and more confused than she’d been before.
Chapter Nineteen
Friday evening the red-velvet curtain of the newly completed opera house rose to enthusiastic applause. Will glanced around the theater, pleased with the attendance.
Most of the town had turned out for the grand opening and inaugural performance. The red-velvet seats with carved mahogany backs were filled, and the balcony was standing room only. Pippa had insisted that Will, Daniel, Leah and Noah occupy the center seats of the front row.
Above them an elaborate chandelier cast flickering light over the proceedings. The raised velvet curtain revealed an empty stage save for a backdrop of a lush countryside. Two actors rambled into view from the wings. Judging only by their height and build, Will recognized Pippa and Tomasina. The two were all but unrecognizable. He’d heard rumors of Pippa’s expertise with makeup and disguises, and he admired her skill firsthand. If he hadn’t known the players already, he’d have had a tough time recognizing them.
The two women had dressed in voluminous dungarees and sported fake gray beards and shaggy gray hair. As round as they were tall, they must have stuffed a considerable number of pillows from the hotel into their costumes.
Pippa tugged down her beard. “Hey, Horace. What shall we do today?”
“I don’t know, Gus,” Tomasina answered in character. “The same as we did yesterday.”
A bench slid out from the wings, and the fake Horace and Gus took their seats.
“Yep,” the fake Gus spoke, patting his stomach.
“Yep,” Horace replied, tugging on his beard.
“Did you see what I saw last night?”
“I don’t know, Gus. What did you see last night?”
“I saw D.B. Burrows leaving work last evening. Late. Real late. Why do you suppose he was staying so late at the newspaper?”
“Now, Gus, you know I don’t like to gossip.”
The audience roared. The two men were famous for being busybodies.
Horace looked left and right. “Well, if you’re not gossiping these days, what will we do instead?”
“We could play some horseshoes.”
“That we could.”
“Course we’d have to get up.”
“That we would.”
“What do you think Aunt Mae is serving up for lunch?”
“I guess we could find out.”
When neither man moved, the delighted audience burst into applause.
The two women had captured the essence of Gus and Horace perfectly. Their impersonations were direct without being cruel.
“Say, Gus,” Pippa said in character. “Did I ever tell you about the time a mountain lion chased my pa up a tree and got his teeth in Pa’s boot?”
“You did not.”
“He was pulling my leg. Just like I’m pulling yours.”
The audience laughed on cue.
The two actors stood, took a bow and then exited the stage. The real Gus and Old Horace clapped the loudest. Gus even stuck two fingers in his mouth and blew out a whistle.
Between scenes, the band in the pit struck up a lively gig.
Aunt Mae came out next. Pippa followed close behind. She’d removed her makeup and donned a dress.
“Miss Mae is going to sing you a song,” Pippa said. “There’s nothing funny about this next act, so you all better behave yourselves.”
“What happens if we don’t?” someone shouted from the balcony.
Pippa waved her finger in the general direction of the heckler. “There’ll be no fried chicken at the next county fair and no more pies at the Cowboy Café.”
The audience booed.
“You’ve been warned.” Pippa glared at the rowdy audience. “Settle down and listen.”
After a slightly warbled start, Aunt Mae sang “True Lover’s Farewell.” A couple of the notes were a touch off pitch, but by the end she’d found her rhythm. The crowd grew hushed. When she finished, more than one person surreptitiously wiped a tear from their eye.
Aunt Mae bowed and left the stage, her exit followed by cheerful applause.
Pippa skipped onto the stage next. She wore a blond wig and carried a parasol. Her gown sat high on her waist, and her skirts were full to the point of exaggeration. A tall man Will recognized as Gideon, his blond hair covered by a dark wig, followed her out. The two reached the center of the stage and then faced one another.
“I love you, Leah,” the man cooed.
“I love you, Daniel.”
“I love you more, Leah.”
“I love you more, Daniel.”
Much to the delight of the audience, the two embraced. They separated and Daniel chased Leah around the stage, pinching his fingers while Leah giggled and evaded his seeking hands.
Will cast a sidelong glance at the real couple, who appeared to be taking the impersonation in stride. Daniel’s face flushed, and Leah gently squeezed his arm. He grinned and rested his hand over her fingers. When Gideon and Pippa indicated them from the stage, the real Leah and Daniel stood and took a bow.
Fearing the worst, Will held his breath when the stage was set for the next skit. He recognized a fair replica of his rooms at the Cattleman H
otel.
Remmy Hagermann marched onto the stage carrying a cane similar to Will’s. Amos Godwin, sporting a shaggy blond wig, clearly playing Noah, appeared from the opposite wing.
Remmy waved his walking stick, knocking over a lamp and a side table. “Rules. What this town needs is more rules.”
“What this town needs is fewer people.” Noah harrumphed. “A fellow can hardly swing a stick without hitting another person these days.”
Will swung his cane and whacked the fake Noah in the leg. “I know what you mean.”
Yelping, Noah hopped on one foot and held his ankle.
“You know what we need?” The fake Will spoke loudly. “A rule about swinging sticks. No swinging sticks in the town proper. We’ll need a sign. I’ll make one.”
“You do that!” Noah announced. “I’ll be putting some ice on this leg.”
He limped off the stage. Will followed him off, muttering and swinging his walking stick.
The audience applauded, and Noah and Will dutifully stood and took their bow. More skits followed. Pippa Neely had outdone herself. The show was a mixture of singing and parodies, with most of the prominent residents lampooned in one way or another. The humor was always lighthearted and not mean-spirited. She paced the show well, never letting the audience’s attention wander for too long.
During intermission, the patrons sat at tables arranged in the empty lot beside the opera house. Nels Patterson sold his famous chicken-salad sandwiches along with tart lemonade.
He handed Will a sandwich and a pickle wrapped in waxed paper. “This meal is on the house. I’m making a fortune on these sandwiches. That Miss Stone is smart as a whip.”
“She sure is.”
Instead of eating and mingling, Noah had used the intermission to check on his horse. Will caught sight of Dora seated with her parents. The banker, Mr. Wilson, who’d been her escort the night of the dance, was conspicuously seated at another table.
Leah and Daniel were seated side by side, their heads bent in conversation. The two might have been alone for all the attention they paid to the activity flurrying around them. Everyone was happy and occupied. He was welcome to join any of the conversations, but he held back.
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