Another Chance

by Michelle Beattie

  Letty muttered a curse. Jillian felt an upsurge of indignation. Just who did Steven think he was?

  "You're sure?" Eileen asked.

  "Positive," Annabelle's head bobbed with confirmation. "And he said to make sure everyone kept it quiet so Pa wouldn't know about it until after."

  "Can Steven do this?" Jillian asked.

  "Sure can. He's the mayor."

  "Just 'cause he's the mayor don't mean nothing," Letty said. "The rest of us have a say."

  "Thanks, Button," Eileen said to her granddaughter. "You can go play now. But," she added and grabbed Annabelle's hand before she could run away, "don't tell Jacob you heard, all right? He'll just tell his Pa."

  "I won't. Bye!" And as though she hadn't just delivered news that had shaken Jillian's world, she scampered away to resume her game.

  "That sneaky devil," Eileen said. "Trying to have a meeting without telling us. He'll be blaming Wade for-" She caught herself, bit her lip.

  "It's all right, Eileen. Wade didn't know he was hiring a woman. It's not his fault."

  "Well, be that as it may, you're here and you know what you're doing. Seems to me that's all that should matter," Letty stated.

  It took all Jillian's will power not to march right over to Steven and give him a piece of her mind. Of all the self-righteous, pompous- She inhaled deeply, forced herself to calm down. It wasn't only Steven she had no worry about; it was the town. Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap, her thoughts ran faster than a wildfire. But one thing was certain. She needed to stand her ground, needed to fight for what she'd come for. If she didn't, then it would only be a matter of weeks before her money ran out.

  And then what would she do? Clint's smirking face came to mind, but Jillian shoved it aside. She wasn't giving up; Clint wasn't going to win.

  "What are you going to do?" Letty asked.

  Jillian's back went straight. Her eyes, she knew, burned with determination.

  "I'm going to the town meeting. Steven may want me out, and he might not be alone in that, but I'm prepared to fight."

  "It's not that we don't love having you here, dear, and not that we aren't prepared to fight right alongside you, but it must be reassuring to know you can always go home."

  Jillian thought of her bed-ridden mother, who'd been happy to stay in bed and bemoan her many ailments for the last several years. She'd worked as hard at discouraging Jillian to be a doctor as her father had encouraging her. Francis Matthews had wanted both her daughters close by her side, where she could fuss over them and they could tend to her every need.

  If Jillian's father hadn't put in his will that he was giving Jillian money to pursue her goal of being a doctor, Jillian was sure her mother never would have given her a cent to follow what she'd always called a ridiculous notion for a woman to undertake.

  As for her sister, Jillian shook her head. Four years separated them but it may have been twenty. Where Jillian was focused and serious, Katie was young, foolish, and as fluttery as a butterfly. She had no idea what she wanted from life other than a grand adventure. Katie had given their father more than one gray hair over the years.

  According to his will, he'd left Katie the responsibility of caring for her mother in the hopes that the duty would settle her, give her a purpose and teach her the realities of life, that it wasn't all about having a grand time. Katie had been livid. She'd refused to speak to Jillian and had managed to steal away the morning Jillian's train left Philadelphia. They'd never said goodbye.

  "No, Eileen," Jillian answered honestly. "There's nothing for me in Pennsylvania."

  ***

  Why did she always do this to herself? Silver wondered as she walked into the churchyard.

  The women were already clustered around tables or sitting in circles, heads together in conversation, their circles closed. A group of men leaned on the hitching post, smoke from their cheroots plumed over their heads. Low rumbling from their discussions stopped when she walked by. She knew she didn't belong here. She felt it to the depths of her soul. She was Silver, the saloon owner. Silver, the woman who would never be more than a whore in their eyes. Even though she'd never bedded any of them. Even though most had tried.

  Her heart hammered in rhythm with her steps. Her hands were damp where they clutched her basket. Doubt trailed alongside her like a lost puppy that didn't know where else to go. Despite it all, she kept her eyes forward, walked straight for the table that held the other baskets. She felt like a fool. But by God, she wouldn't let it show.

  "Miss Adams."

  "Reverend. How lovely to see you."

  And it was. It always was. Because he was one of few who never judged her. She'd asked him why, once. Why he didn't shun her the way the others did. His sad smile had undone her nearly as much as his words.

  "Silver," he'd said, "I'll not judge you or anyone else. That's God's task, not mine. There are enough folks out there to do that; I don't need to be among them."

  "Is that chicken I smell?"

  How he could smell it over the aroma of the pig being roasted was a miracle in itself. But then, if Silver were to believe in miracles, she'd believe this man was capable of them.

  "It is." She offered him a grateful smile. "You don't have to bid on it, Reverend."

  "And let such fine food go to waste?"

  He'd bought her basket every year she'd brought one, which was ironic, as the only reason she bothered coming in the first place was because of him. Other than Letty, Shane and the folks at the Triple P, nobody else paid her the time of day, but Reverend Donnelly was always nice to her. To have his support, for herself if not her saloon--he never stepped foot inside--was a godsend. Coming here, putting up with the stares, the rebuffs, was a small price to pay to return that kindness.

  "I met Miss Matthews today. She seems very nice."

  Silver felt a true smile curve her lips. "She is. I asked her to come into the saloon for some tea, and she did."

  He arched a brow. "Did she now?"

  "The saloon wasn't open, Reverend. It was only the two of us."

  "I'm glad she didn't refuse the opportunity to get to know you. That speaks well of her character, doesn't it? Ah, and here comes another with great character. Good day, Sheriff."

  Silver's stomach leapt to her chest. She'd known Shane since she'd come to town. He came into the saloon often enough that she should be over this darn reaction to him. And yet every time she laid eyes on that sculpted face, those secretive grey eyes, it was like the first all over again.

  "Good day, Reverend." He tipped his hat. "Silver."

  "Shane."

  "I hope you have your money handy, lad. This lady's basket will fetch a fine price."

  A flush the likes of which she'd never felt enveloped Silver. Shane had never bid on her baskets, ever. It was a sore spot with Silver, because she always secretly made them with him in mind. A truth she'd take to the grave.

  "Well, then," he looked at Silver, his face unreadable, "I may just have to do something about that."

  It took an iron will and her toes curled tightly in her shoes, but Silver kept her smile from blooming like an overrun patch of dandelions.

  "Hello, Shane," said a sultry voice.

  Silver's joy sank and her toes uncurled. She knew Melissa Lake, had seen her about town with her parents. Tall and willowy, she was Silver's physical opposite. With hair as dark as Shane's, she looked striking standing side by his side. She turned her almost black eyes toward Silver.

  "Oh, hello, Silver. Saloon closed today?"

  "Every Sunday, Melinda," she said, deliberately mangling her name. "Goodbye, Shane. I'll see you next time you're in."

  He opened his mouth, but in the end shut it without a word.

  The doctor announced that the bidding would start in five minutes. Silver had only enough time to race over to Jillian, Letty and Eileen for a quick hello. When she heard about the town meeting, she vowed she'd be there as well.

  She took her place next to the o
thers who had brought baskets and gritted her teeth when Melissa took her place beside her.

  "I just know Shane'll want mine," Melissa purred.

  Four baskets had already been sold, and Shane hadn't bid on one yet. Silver dared hope, dared actually think that this year Shane would come through. She could easily picture them under the lazily drooping branches, laughing and talking about everything, anything. Then he'd look at her, a darkening in his eyes she'd always hoped to see, and he'd lower his mouth--a mouth she'd coveted for too long--to hers.

  "And now," the doctor said, "We have a basket donated by Miss Silver Adams."

  It was mortifying to stand there. Mortifying to know everyone was staring at her. She heard the whispers, those hushed words that weren't meant for her ears. There was nowhere to look that would make standing under their scrutiny and gossip any easier. But she wouldn't look down, wouldn't look at her feet as though she was ashamed. And she wouldn't look at Shane, even though she knew exactly where he was standing.

  Picking a branch on the tree, she imagined sitting underneath it with Shane as silence stretched over the gathering. Why couldn't she have simply donated some money to the church rather than subject herself to this scrutiny and misery? Why did she do this to herself year after year? Because she was foolish enough to hope that, one day, Shane would bid on it.

  "Two dollars."

  Silver's stomach sank. The prick of tears hit her eyes.

  "Reverend Donnelly has bid two dollars. Do we have any other bids?"

  As a bid, it was generous since some of the other baskets had sold as low as two bits, but Silver wasn't concerned about how much her basket sold for. It was whom it sold to that mattered.

  The silence was interminable. The wind slipped its warm fingers over her face, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Instead it only reminded her of how alone she was. An unhappy baby began to wail. From the hitching post a horse whinnied. Nobody else countered the reverend's bid.

  "Sold. To Reverend Donnelly."

  Silver drew deep within her heart for the smile. The Reverend had been kind, and he deserved to see her smile. Turning, she grabbed her basket from the doctor and waited for the man who'd bought it.

  As she followed the reverend to a shady spot next to the church, she heard Melissa's basket being auctioned.

  And her heart ripped open at the voice of the man bidding.

  ***

  "He did what?" Wade asked around a mouthful of buttered potatoes.

  "He called a town meeting for tomorrow morning."

  Since his ma had already given him "the eye" for talking with his mouth full, Wade waited until he swallowed before asking, "How come we didn't hear about it before now?"

  "He said he didn't want you to know," Annabelle answered.

  Wade's supper slid greasily in his stomach. It wasn't a complete surprise that Steven would call a meeting. The man had been livid when the town had let Doc and Wade search for a vet. Steven had wanted to do it. As mayor, he thought it was his responsibility and had taken the town's decision to let Wade and Doc do it as a slap in the face. So, no, the fact that Steven called a town meeting wasn't a shock. Neither was the fact that Steven was deliberately trying to keep it from Wade. That didn't mean it sat well with him, however.

  "I'm sure he's just itching to rant about how I messed up."

  Annabelle was all but bouncing in her seat, happy to be the one who knew things nobody else did. "He said it was you who got the town into this mess, but he'd be the one to fix it."

  "By running her out?" Scott asked. "That'd be a darn shame. I think she's a he-"

  Eileen cleared her throat, causing Scott to blush. "She's a fine doctor," he continued. "I don't see how any man could be better."

  "I agree," James added. Then with a wink added, "Of course it don't hurt any that's she pretty to look at."

  Wade cut into his beef with more force than necessary. James chuckled.

  "I think we should all go tomorrow," his ma suggested.

  "Me, too!"

  "You have school," Wade countered.

  "Awww. I never get to go to the fun stuff," she whined.

  "You won't miss any fun, Button, just boring adult stuff."

  "That's what you always say," she pouted. "May I be excused?"

  They waited until Annabelle had thumped up to her room before continuing.

  "I mean it, Wade," his ma said again. "I think we should all go. It'll be stronger than if only you went."

  Wade set his fork onto his half-full plate. "I can't spare everybody. I'll go. And since Annabelle's at school, you can come with me."

  "No, I think it has to be all of us."

  James laughed around a forkful of asparagus spears.

  "What's so funny?" Wade demanded.

  "It's inevitable, son. You know she always manages to get us to do her bidding."

  "She does not," Wade grumbled, though he couldn't think of an instance when she hadn't.

  Across the table, Scott choked on his supper. He dropped his fork and thumped on his chest, coughing as though he was going to bring up a steer. When he'd regained his breath, he scooped up a biscuit and lathered it with butter.

  "You agree with him?" Wade asked.

  Scott dished up more food. "I didn't say anything."

  Wade muttered a curse, softly so his mother wouldn't hear, though the look she gave him said he hadn't fooled her. Ignoring everyone, he filled his mouth. The beef was tougher than boot leather but the taste of the onions his mother had fried it in came through. With money as sparse as it was, the only beef they ate was what was too old to be of any value.

  Swallowing it down with a tall glass of water, Wade considered his mother's request. And dammit, had to acknowledge she was right. There was strength in numbers and if they all went, as well as Letty and John Daniels and Silver, they'd present a stronger defense. But it would mean losing a half-day's work. He pushed the food that was left out of his way.

  "You gonna eat that?" Scott asked, his eyes as hungry as Wade had been an hour ago.

  Wade shoved the plate to him then both he and his mother watched Scott devour the leftovers. While his mother looked pleased, happy to cook for an appreciative man, seeing that much food eaten in one sitting turned Wade's stomach.

  His ma, not about to let her argument go, speared some asparagus then pointed the loaded utensil at her son.

  "She needs work and we all know she's capable. Besides that, Steven needs to know he represents the whole town, not just his friends."

  "I can work later tomorrow night to make up for the morning," Scott volunteered.

  "Me, too," James added, spurs jingling as he got up to pour more coffee. Wade ran his fingers through his hair, then dropped his hands to the table.

  "Fine," he sighed. "We'll all go."

  TEN

  Darn it!

  There were a dozen horses already tied to the hitching posts alongside the building that acted as both church and schoolhouse. She'd hoped to be one of the first to arrive. The twitching in her stomach turned to hard shudders. She hadn't been as nervous going to the individual farms, but knowing she'd be facing everyone at once…

  Blowing out a breath, Jillian tied Hope among the other horses and marched straight up the steps before the anxiety that had kept her up and pacing most of the night took over.

  The door creaked open. Apparently nothing about this was going to be easy. Sure enough every head turned toward the sound. Seeing who it was, a few of those heads bent toward each other and within seconds hurried whispers skipped over the pews to taunt Jillian.

  Well, they could talk and gossip all they wanted. She wasn't going anywhere. Hoping to display a bravado she didn't feel, she met the remaining gazes dead on. She didn't recognize everyone. That was a blessing. Maybe those folks weren't already set against her. But when they didn't return her smile, only turned back to the front without any sign of encouragement, Jillian knew she'd figured wrong.

  Steven was already in th
e front pew and the gaze he shot her over his shoulder hit her with the force of a cold winter wind blowing in off the Ohio River. Not about to back down, the smile she returned held the same lack of warmth. She held it long enough to prove her point--he didn't intimidate her--and then took one of the many pews that weren't yet occupied.

  It didn't take long after that for the small church to fill. And as more people filed in, the temperature climbed several degrees. The small rectangular windows on either side of the wooden structure offered pitiful, if any, relief.

  She'd deliberately slipped to the far edge of the pew, leaving plenty of smooth wood beside her for her friends, but so far only Mrs. Hollingsworth dared sit there. Of course she remained at the opposite end and didn't deign to look Jillian's way.

  Had Letty, Eileen and Silver changed their minds about coming? Eileen had promised she'd get Wade to come, and Jillian knew his presence would make such a difference. She could, and would, face everyone alone, but it would be so much easier with someone, anyone, on her side when she did.

  It didn't help her discomfort any that she felt the stickiness of everyone's stares. From the women who looked at her over the top of their fans, which worked hard to stir up the stuffy air, to the men who glowered at her as though she'd single-handedly ruined their lives. A few of those men she recognized. The blacksmith, the thick-necked man who owned the livery. Feeling the pull of an especially potent glare, Jillian shifted her gaze to the right.

  It was the trapper. Did she know his name? She didn't think so. But his ice-blue eyes raked over her from underneath his thick ruddy brows. He wasn't covered in blood today, but it was hard not to remember him that way. Something he must have sensed by the way his mustache twitched.

  Jillian took deep breaths, and decided it was time she stopped looking around. All that accomplished was to stretch her already taught nerves. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap to try to control their trembling.

  The door creaked open; a slight breeze snuck inside. The air brushed her shoulders, a light caress that was gone as quickly as it came.