Grading Garnet: The Red Petticoat Saloon

by Carolyn Faulkner

  Gloria was different, though. He had brought her out here by offering her the position, and now he felt personally responsible for her—to say nothing of being almost uncontrollably and inexplicably attracted to her. She was hardly his type. He tended to go for the brasher, flashier kind of woman. She was so buttoned down it was nearly painful to look at her.

  Although he had just dashed that impression all to hell, hadn’t he?

  He did like her spunk, though. She had a mind of her own, and she wasn’t shy about sharing it, in some instances. She could be endearingly naïve, and she was smart. He liked that in a woman. There was nothing worse than spending time with someone who was dumb and, therefore, boring.

  He couldn’t imagine that she would ever be that. She got herself into too much trouble without even trying to ever be boring.

  Somewhere along the ride, the shivering stopped, but he knew she still wasn’t right. She was leaning her entire weight against him, as if she just couldn’t manage to hold herself upright, and she was quiet… way too quiet.

  That was the biggest clue that things were desperately wrong, and he began to worry about her. Unfortunately, he was shorthanded on the ranch and, as much as he wanted to stay with her—to make sure that she was all right, yes, but also so that they could talk—and, although he brought her inside and even escorted her to her room, he couldn’t stay with her.

  On his way out, though, he did ask Lola to check on her.

  “Is she sick?”

  “No, I don’t think so, anyway. She’s… she’s out of sorts and I’d just like it if you’d knock on her door this afternoon to see that she’s all right.”

  “I will, mijo.”

  He knew that Lola had mixed feelings about Gloria staying with them, but he also knew she would never be unkind to her.

  When he finally got back to the house, much later than usual, Lola was in the kitchen, where she fed him the plate of carne asada with rice and beans and hot, fresh tortillas she’d kept warm in the oven.

  “Did Miss Owens seem all right when you checked on her?” he asked.

  Lola shrugged. “She seemed fine, if tired.”

  “And how was she at dinner?”

  “She didn’t come to dinner. She said she wasn’t hungry. I offered her a tray in her room, but she didn’t want that, either.”

  At that, Seth pushed his plate away. “Thank you for taking such good care of me, but this is too late for you to be up. Go to bed. Don’t worry about keeping this warm for me. Your cooking is amazing at any temperature.” He winked at her and kissed the top of her head before pulling her chair out and offering her his arm to lean on on the way to her room.

  Then he headed back to the kitchen to knock on Gloria’s door himself.

  Nothing.

  He knocked again and barely heard her response.

  “Who is it?”

  Without identifying himself, Seth tried the doorknob, and, finding it unlocked, he walked into the room, closing the door after him

  The sky was clear and the moon full and bright, and he almost didn’t need a candle to see her as she stood there, caught in the act of reaching for her robe. “You shouldn’t be in here,” she said flatly, without a trace of anger or indignation.

  “No, I shouldn’t,” he agreed, running his hand through his hair as his eyes raked over her from the top of her head, from which her hair hung in long, loose waves, to the bare feet that her nightgown mostly covered.

  And then he realized it was the same gown she’d been wearing that night he’d looked up to see her staring at him. He’d been right… the gown didn’t allow her toes to be seen.

  “But I also shouldn’t have left you alone this afternoon after… after what we did. We need to discuss not only what happened, but what we’re going to do from here.”

  “No, we don’t.” There was still no emotion detectable in her voice. Her statement was calm and implacable.

  “Yes, we do,” he pushed back, trying to remain as neutral as she sounded, but failing miserably.

  “No, we don’t.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about this, Gloria.”

  “And I’m not going to argue with you about this either, Seth,” she said, sitting down on the bed.

  “Good, because we must talk.”

  “You can talk all you like. I don’t have anything to say.”

  Drawing on his limited reserve of patience, Seth took a deep breath, pulling the chair out from the tiny desk he’d found for her and sitting down on it, ignoring the fact that it was a tiny chair designed for a woman, and his bulk made it creak in warning.

  Although he knew what he wanted to say, it took him a moment to find what he thought was the right way to say it.

  “I almost had a heart attack when I walked into the schoolroom and you were at the top of that ladder. I was terrified to do something, and I was terrified not to. What if I startled you and you fell?”

  Gloria had to admit to herself that she was surprised at the wealth of concern in his tone.

  Voice tight, he continued, “I had already wondered what might have happened if you had had a misstep, or leaned too hard in the wrong direction or, or, or and you fell off—onto the students’ desks, or your desk or the floor. You could have been seriously injured, and lay there, bruised, bleeding, possibly even dying, with no help available. No one would have heard you above the din in the street even if you’d been able to scream.”

  She supposed it made her stupid, but she’d never even thought about those possibilities. She had simply seen something that she had known needed doing, and gone about doing it.

  “I know you want the classroom to be just right, but there are things you shouldn’t do, and that is very definitely one of them, especially since I or any number of other men at my disposal, or anyone on the Board, even would have been more than glad to do it for you.”

  She snorted before she could stop it.

  “What?” he snapped.

  He was already making her a hypocrite by making her feel the need to speak when she’d said she wasn’t going to. “Why should I have a man do it for me? I was doing it! I didn’t fall. I’m not suicidal. I was being careful, as evinced by the fact that I hadn’t fallen—”

  Her sarcasm was rudely interrupted by his full fledged, bare toothed growl. It sent a bolt of pure fear up her spine, as she thought he’d probably meant it to.

  “This is not a negotiation.” Deathly calm didn’t begin to describe how he was speaking. And it was more hissing than speaking. “This is not a cause for argument. This is the way it’s going to be: if I ever catch you on any ladder that’s higher than a step ladder, I will tan your hide every night for a month, on top of any of the punishments that you are inevitably going to earn because you are the stubbornness and most annoying creature that I’ve ever had the misfortune to come in contact with.”

  He waited a minute, then prompted ominously, “The correct response here—to avoid your second spanking of the day—is ‘Yes, sir.’”

  “Yes, sir.” She said it. She might not actually subscribe to it, but she said it, because he was scaring her—more than a little.

  Her easy acquiescence piqued his suspicion a bit, but he decided he’d take it, and let out the breath he’d been holding while talking to her about this.

  And this was the easy subject, as far as he was concerned.

  For the next excruciating part, he pulled his chair closer to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, as if poised to flee at any moment and leaned his forearms on his thighs.

  “You deserved the spanking you got for doing something so foolish.” She opened her mouth to protest, but one look at his expression had her closing it again rather quickly. “But I should never have done what I did after that. It was unforgiveable and inexcusable, and I hope you will accept my apology for my ungentlemanly behavior towards you.”

  She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d thought he was going to say about that part of their encoun
ter, but that wasn’t it. Somehow, his obviously heartfelt, eloquent little speech only made her feel worse about what had happened, as if he, too, thought it was just something to be ashamed of and hopefully quickly forgotten.

  “I didn’t ask you to stop,” she pointed out, sounding much less confident than she usually did, and thus much younger than she was. “Even when I got a little scared—”

  He dragged his palm over his face slowly, from forehead to chin. “Oh, honey, there is no part of it that was in any way your fault. I want you to hear that and believe it. It was all me, entirely my responsibility, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it.”

  At that depressing statement of his feelings about them having made love, Gloria rose and, ignoring his presence in her room, got under the covers, and curled herself into a ball facing away from him.

  Seth was at a complete loss about what to do. For one of the first times in his life, he didn’t know what was the right thing to do. He wasn’t sure if he should try to comfort her, or if that would only upset her more. Should he try to draw her out more and make her talk to him about what she was feeling? Would it be better to just sweep it all under the rug as much as possible and pretend it didn’t happen?

  He was pretty sure that she was having no problems doing the latter with great success. Perhaps that was the best way to proceed, at least for the moment, he thought as he rose. Unable to resist the urge, he bent over the side of the bed and gave her a very soft kiss on her cheek, whispering, “Good night, Gloria,” before turning to slip out of the room.

  Seth never made it to his room that night. Instead, he ended up in his study, with a large bottle of tequila and a mind full of serious regrets. And somehow, it ended up that he didn’t own enough tequila… or whiskey… or rum to drive those regrets from his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time Gloria rang the school bell to start the new year, everything was exactly the way she wanted it.

  Well, everything in her work life, anyway.

  At home, well, Seth’s home, it was a different story.

  They rarely saw each other. She wasn’t necessarily avoiding him actively. He wasn’t there to avoid. He didn’t attend dinner which made for some uncomfortable meals with Señora Garcia. His excuse was that he had too much to do around the ranch. He used the same reason for not taking her into town anymore either.

  But he had made sure that the person who took her made himself available to her to do anything that they knew the boss wouldn’t want her doing, which was almost everything. It was a rotating group of men, depending on who was free, but they happily finished washing the walls and the windows, inside and out, cleaning the outhouse and also hanging the maps and pictures she wanted displayed around the room to her specifications.

  When her first class, which consisted of twelve children of varying ages and stages of education, trooped into the room, the place gleamed.

  And, although they weren’t too happy with the idea of taking a test right off the bat, she thought that their first day had gone well. She was even able to meet some of the parents of her students when they picked them up—as well as someone she could have gone without meeting as she saw Seth McIntyre striding down the side of the street. She girded her loins in preparation for an unpleasant encounter, but it turned out to be for naught.

  Instead, he spotted Emmy Bellrose, the youngest, and shyest, of her pupils, and hunkered down before her, making himself as small as possible.

  “And how did your first day of school go, Miss Emmy?” he asked softly, tipping his hat back on his head so that she could see his face.

  In the absence of her mother, the little girl reached for her teacher’s hand, answering while staring at her feet, “Good, I fink.”

  “Well, Emmy. I think it went very well. We learned some new letters and heard a story and sang a song.”

  His smile was the biggest she’d ever seen him sport as he gazed down at the girl in amazement. “That sounds like a lot of fun!” Then he leaned a bit closer to Emmy, whispering loudly to her, “Do you think maybe I could come to school sometime, too?”

  Emmy laughed at that idea, as he had intended her to. “You’re too big to come to school!”

  He looked truly heartbroken at that, pulling a long face. “Well, that ain’t right, is it? I’m sure I can squeeze into a school desk, can’t I, Miss Owens?”

  That set Emmy to giggling outright, and even Gloria had a hard time controlling her mirth at that mental image. “I don’t think the school board would much like having to pay for a new desk, so I think not, Mr. McIntyre.”

  “Well, I suppose,” he conceded. Then he brightened, saying, with a confused expression, “Hey, what’s that behind your ear?” And then he reached out and produced a butterscotch, which he gave to the amazed little girl.

  “Thank you, Mr. Mack!” she squealed, popping it immediately into her mouth.

  “You’d probably better run along home now, darlin’, before your momma comes looking for you. Be careful, now, and don’t dawdle along the way.”

  “Yes, Mr. Mack!” she yelled, already running down the street.

  Gloria looked after her worriedly. “How far does she have to go?”

  “Not far,” he reassured her as he rose, also turning to watch the little girl make her way home. “She just lives at the end of the street. Her father was a foreman of mine who moved into the city to set up a printing business.”

  “Ah. You’re very good with children, Mr. McIntyre.” Surprisingly so, but she didn’t say that.

  “Thank you. So are you, if you can get Emmy to talk. She’s always been a bashful little thing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked, more gruffly than he intended to.

  And she knew exactly what he meant, coloring brightly as she tucked a stray strand of hair around her ear. “Yes, thank you. And you?”

  He grinned, thinking that he wasn’t the one who had gotten her bottom blistered, nor was he the one who had lost his virginity. But he didn’t say that. “I’m fine, thank you. Are you ready to go? I’m your lift home.”

  Startled, she turned and headed up the stairs. “I just want to get a few things straightened out in here, shall I—” She turned, not realizing he had followed her. Damn, he was quiet for such a big man she thought as she bumped right into him. It was like hitting the side of a mountain, and it literally knocked her several steps back.

  His arms shot out to steady her. It was the first time he’d touched her since that afternoon and it sent a bolt of lightning through the both of them. Seth took a step closer to her, maintaining his hold on her upper arms. He was just about to bend down and steal a kiss from her, one that he was delighted to see that she might actually want from him as she had raised her lips to meet the descent of his, but then they heard someone’s voice at the bottom of the stairs and the accompanying sound of feet tromping up them, so he stepped a respectful distance away.

  It turned out to be the mother of one of her pupils, who wanted to introduce herself.

  Seth knew her. “Hello, Rose,” he said, tipping his hat to her, “how’s Thomas doing?”

  “Hello, Seth. We are all fine. I just came to talk to Miss Owens,” Rose greeted, giving him a smile and then moving to speak with Gloria when he stepped away.

  “I’m Rose Rockwell. It’s such a pleasure to meet you Miss Owens. I just want to say that Polly, she’s my daughter, was very excited to be able to attend a real school. My friend, Lapis… oh, I mean Louise, began teaching her last year but it will be very nice for Polly to have a chance to make friends as well.”

  “It’s a pleasure to have her in my class,” Gloria said, easily remembering the little girl and her friendly manner. “Are you related to the mayor?”

  “His sister-in-law,” Rose said. “Louise and I married brothers so don’t be surprised if you see Polly escorted by any of the four of us.”

  The two women chatt
ed about some of Gloria’s upcoming lesson plans as Seth prowled impatiently around the room until Rose left, and then Gloria began to putter at the things she needed to complete before she could go home.

  He seemed to be everywhere she turned, though, until she finally put her hands on his stomach and physically pushed him into her chair, saying in no uncertain terms, “Stay! You’re driving me crazy following me around. Give me an uninterrupted minute and I’ll be ready to go home.”

  As much as he wanted to cause her to run into him again—each accidental contact had resulted in such lovely possibilities—he stayed put, although he did roll her chair over to a corner of the room by the blackboard to pick up a piece of schoolroom equipment he was surprised to see she had.

  “Do you intend to use this on your students, Miss Owens?”

  The question was accompanied by the unnerving sound of him slapping the item against his palm in an almost threatening manner.

  She didn’t have to look up from her straightening to know what he’d found. Leave it to him to discover that implement within five seconds of having entered the room.

  It was a wooden paddle that hung from a nail at an average pupil’s height, so that, when called upon to do so by their teacher, they could bring it to them for disciplinary use on their own hind end.

  “No, I do not,” she stated unequivocally.

  “Good. I don’t believe in spanking children. Now, a supposedly adult woman—like, say their teacher—who has evinced a definite tendency to misbehave, is another matter entirely,” he commented thoughtfully.