A Man for Annalee

by Davis, Vonnie

  His smarmy smile made her skin crawl. “How did you know I’d be here today? How did Levi know?” She turned to Boone.

  “Word spreads, Annalee. I mentioned it when I rented the buggy to bring you and Cora here today.”

  “I see.” She walked to the buckboard and peeked under the protective canvas at a green velvet settee and matching chair. “I don’t believe it!” She reached out to touch the plush upholstery. Two pretty kerosene lamps with green bases also caught her eye. A gasp escaped her lips. “A tall case clock. What fine-looking wood! I’ve never seen anything so beautiful!” This was better than Christmas morning. She ran to the rear of the buckboard, throwing back the canvas. “Look! A brass tub for bathing!”

  Clarence sauntered over next to her. “Yeah, I figure you oughta look real…” Before he could finish, Boone had him by the scruff of the neck.

  “Either you tame that tongue of yours, or I’ll take out your teeth.” He shook Clarence. “I warned you about talking to her like that.”

  Clarence broke free of Boone’s grasp. “What’s wrong with you? You’re as touchy as a thumb what’s been mashed by a hammer.” He narrowed his eyes at Boone. “You layin’ claim to her yourself?”

  The muscle twitched in Boone’s cheek again. His steely gaze stayed glued to Clarence, and his voice was low when he spoke. “Annalee, go inside.”

  If this man thought she was going to miss one word of this conversation, he really was a clabber-headed fool. “No.”

  He gave her a quick glance. “Do what I say, now.”

  She folded her arms at her chest. “I listen to no man. I’ve been my own boss for years.”

  When Clarence guffawed, Boone scowled at him. “I’m telling you for your own good, Annalee, go inside.”

  Levi stepped into the conversation. “The lady said she listens to no man. I figure that means you, too, Boonie. You and me is good friends and all, but a lady’s vishes come first.”

  Three Fingers hurried around Levi to stand in front of Boone. “Yeah, let my woman be.” His lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing two blackened teeth.

  Boone’s eyes nearly bugged out when he yelled, “Your woman?”

  “That’s right. You a-heard me and whatcha gonna do about it?” He raised his fists.

  To her surprise, Three Fingers threw a punch. Suddenly, all four men were fighting. They hit, kicked, elbowed, grunted, groaned, cussed, and rolled around in the dirt. A flurry of eight arms and legs stirred a dust storm. All the while, Nugget circled the fracas, barking and growling.

  A brawl! And it was over her. “Stop! Stop it, I say!” When her shouted pleas went unheeded, she stormed up the steps.

  Cora stood on the porch wringing her hands. “Oh dear, oh dear! Whatever shall we do?”

  Annalee stormed by Cora, madder than a hornet in a Mason jar. “I’ll show you what I’m gonna do.” She marched into the kitchen and Cora followed. Reaching for a large pot hanging from a peg, she went to the pump. “Get that other pot over there. We’ll fill them both.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I’m going to show them who’s boss on this piece of land.”

  Both women carried their heavy water-filled pots to the brawling gang of hooligans. “When I count to three, toss your water on ’em. And try to get as much on Three Fingers as you possibly can. He smells like he hasn’t bathed since Lincoln was President.”

  “Oh, dear, what will Franklin say when he hears about this?”

  “You’ll have to soothe him with that Southern charm, just like you always do. Ready? One…two…three.” Both ladies threw the cold water onto the men.

  Screams and curses punctured the air. The men stood, staggered and sputtered. Boone shook the water from his hair. “Wha…?”

  “Not one word, Boone. Do you hear me? You and the rest of these lack-wits need to get off my property. I won’t abide fighting.”

  She tossed her pot into the dirt. “Cora, I’m ready to go, if you are.”

  Annalee marched to the buggy, crawled into it, and leaned over to pull the older woman onto the seat next to her. She picked up the reins and slapped them against the horses’ backs. Before the team of horses had gone twenty feet, she pulled them to a halt, turned, and sticking two fingers in her mouth, whistled for Nugget. Boone’s dog immediately ran and jumped onto the back seat. With a toss of her head, she drove away, leaving four wet, hardheaded men in her dust.

  Chapter Eight

  “Hell’s bells, ain’t she somet’ing?” Levi pulled his wet shirt away from his back while he watched the wagon head toward the creek. “Beautiful and spirited.”

  Three Fingers, who’d gotten the worst of the dousing, shook water off like a dog. “That there hellcat might be more trouble ’an she’s worth. I’m a-thinkin’ of passin’ her off on one o’ you fellas.”

  “Not for me, she ain’t.” Clarence wiped water off his face with his forearm. “I loves me a spirited woman. Makes breakin’ ’em that much more fun.”

  Boone snatched his hat off the ground, slapped it against his leg, and socked it on his head. “You don’t break women, Clarence. Didn’t your mother teach you better? Mine taught me women respond to tenderness. Well, except for that one.” He pointed his thumb in the direction of the retreating buggy. “That one’s in a class by herself. Reminds me of a badger, chattering and fighting.” But, oh, how glorious she looked when she ordered them off her property. The urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her was stronger than any feeling he’d had in a long time.

  Clarence grinned. “Don’t you worry. Ol’ Clarence knows how to treat women. I’m thinking she needs a spankin’.”

  Boone grabbed the front of Clarence’s wet shirt. “Don’t even think about it. You lay one hand on her and I’ll tear the hide off your back.” He shoved him back when he let go of his shirt.

  “So, you are interested in her.” Clarence scooped his hat off the ground and put it on, bent rim and all.

  Levi laughed. “I t’ink it’s safe to say ve’re all interested in that fiery-haired beauty.”

  At the bottom of the hill, Annalee seemed to struggle with the team of horses crossing the creek. Nugget, the traitor, had wiggled his way onto the front seat between the two women. Boone shook his head. Darned dog. At least he’d keep Annalee safe.

  He couldn’t deny these growing feelings he had for her. What was it about the fiery redhead that attracted him, caused his heart to pound erratically, and made him think about kissing the snarl off her lips? Fact was, he’d barely thought of anything else since she’d gotten her hat shot off during the attempted stagecoach robbery.

  “Levi, I’m gonna need a ride back to town. And gentlemen, I’ve already declared my intentions where she’s concerned.”

  “Sure thing, Boonie.” Levi moved his jaw back and forth. “Vhich vone of you fellas hit me in the yaw?”

  Three Fingers grinned.

  Boone clasped Levi’s shoulder. “No more fighting, fellas. Let’s help Clarence carry in his delivery and get back to town. Looks like I’ve got to smooth some ruffled feathers. Tomorrow she plans on moving here. Most folks are coming to help and partake of a community meal. Some things around here need fixing, the back porch for one.”

  Clarence sauntered to his wagon. “You never said she accepted your advances, so she’s still up fer grabs in my opinion. I plan on catchin’ me a redhead.”

  ****

  “Men!” Annalee couldn’t recall when she’d been so annoyed. Watching them fight like a pack of wild wolves was downright mortifying. “Imagine those four lack-wits fighting. Over me! Like I was the last single woman in the whole Wyoming Territory.”

  Turning the horses onto Main Street, Annalee shook her head. “I just can’t get over their behavior. Why, I just met three of them less than an hour ago, and they acted like we had an understanding. And as for Marshal Simpleton, well…”

  Cora buttoned her coat. “Marshal Hartwell has many fine qualities, dear.”

  “Pure wool
has fine qualities, too, but I don’t want my knickers made out of it.”

  The older woman gasped. “Please restrain your language. A lady simply does not mention her undergarments.”

  Annalee chose to ignore that remark. She stopped the buggy in front of the jail. “I’m going to tie the team to this hitching post and put Nugget inside the marshal’s office. Then I’m going to shop for food and things for the cabin. You’re welcome to come along.”

  “Thank you, but I’d like to visit Franklin at the bank. He’ll see me home. Will you mind walking to our house unescorted?”

  “Not at all. Thank you for going along to look at my new home.”

  “Then you’ve decided to stay on in Cicero Creek?” Cora gave a hopeful smile.

  Annalee was petting Nugget. “Yes. I suppose I have. It’s what my mother wanted. I feel I owe her that.”

  “I just wish you’d reconsider living over there all by yourself. I’ll worry about you, wondering if you’re safe. You’ll always have a room at our house.”

  She hugged the older woman. “You’re a wonderful person, Cora Maguire. I’m honored to have you for a friend. Your generous heart is a treasure.”

  Cora’s features softened and she patted Annalee’s cheek. “And you are surely a delight, too, but we do need to work on your temper before it gets you into trouble.” She pressed a hand to her bosom. “Wait ’til I tell Franklin I actually threw a pan of cold water on that filthy Three Fingers Hollister. Why, he simply won’t believe it.” She clucked her tongue and then hurried off in the direction of the bank.

  Once Nugget was safely inside the office area of the jail, Annalee hurried up the street to buy the staples she needed. She stepped into Stoner and Son’s Mercantile and an unexpected pain squeezed her heart. There were many similarities between this store and her da’s.

  Warped wooden shelves from floor to ceiling were filled with an assortment of clothes, boots, and hardware. Canned oysters, Mason jars of honey, and tins of crackers beckoned. Hams and washboards hung from the ceiling beams. Stacked on the floor next to the counter were bags of flour, sugar, and beans. Barrels of pickles occupied a spot near a checkerboard positioned on an old table near a potbellied stove. Two older men, sitting on upended wooden crates, played checkers. They stopped and stared.

  An older gentleman wearing a soiled white apron approached her. “Afta’noon, miss. I reckon you must be Lee Tanner’s granddaughter. Welcome to Cicero Creek.”

  “Yes I am, and thank you.”

  “I’m sorry to hear of your loss. Name’s Bill Stoner, proprietor of this here store. Did my son get that delivery across the creek okay?”

  “Yes, Clarence made the delivery.” She hated to mention Clarence’s deplorable attitude or his flirty ways, so she glanced around the store in hopes of ending that trail of conversation. When she spied material and sewing notions, she stopped to examine the piece goods, buttons, and lace. She fingered red gingham fabric she thought would make nice kitchen curtains before moving on.

  A dust-covered pitcher and bowl set was on one of the higher shelves. She couldn’t recall seeing one at the cabin. Dishes. She’d also need dishes. More importantly, though, she’d need to be somewhat conservative in her spending. For now, the only funds she had was her withdrawal from her bank in Chicago the day after the fire. She’d purchase only the necessities. Her eyes spied a salmon-covered book. Well, reading was a necessity, wasn’t it? Nights alone at the cabin would require a book or two to keep her mind occupied so she wouldn’t dwell on all she’d lost.

  “If I buy some things today, household items, plus flour, sugar, beans, and the like, may I wait until tomorrow to pick them up, Mr. Stoner?”

  “Yes, you could.” He scratched the back of his head. “If’n ya want, I can have Clarence deliver your purchases. More work I got fer him to do, the less time he’s got to come up with another get-rich-quick scheme.”

  The possibility of Clarence leering and making snide comments was enough to turn her stomach. “That’s most kind of you, but Mr. Maguire will insist on picking up my purchases. I’m staying with him and his wife.”

  Once her shopping was completed, Annalee glanced in the windows of Beans for the Belly. A hand-written sign read, “Best coffee on Main Street.” She really could use a cup and a chance to sit down. A bell jangled overhead when she opened the door. She took a seat in front of the large window facing the street.

  Her shopping excursion at two stores had made a serious dent in her funds. She’d bought the gingham to make curtains for the kitchen windows and yellow chintz for the parlor. There were also several yards of flannel for bed linens. She planned to sew them tonight, if Cora had a treadle. If not, she would make them by hand.

  She’d have Franklin pick up the remainder of her purchases in the morning. Now that she’d made her decision to move into her grandpa’s house, the feeling of possessiveness surprised her. She’d need to see a lawyer to establish ownership. Boone said he’d help her see if she had any rights to the property. He claimed the wheels of law moved slowly out here, that she probably wouldn’t have to vacate until spring if the right of ownership didn’t progress as hoped.

  A woman, wiping work-chapped hands on her apron, hurried to the table. “Howdy, what can I getcha?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  “Got some pies. Apple and cherry.”

  Annalee smiled. “Apple pie sounds lovely. Shopping tends to work up an appetite.”

  The waitress gave a quick nod and hurried off, returning with a cup of coffee and a slice of pie. “You’re Lee Tanner’s granddaughter, ain’tcha? I heard the fellas talkin’ aboutcha jest this morning. Said you was single. And a looker too.” She winked. “I’m Minerva Baker, but folks jest call me Minnie. We don’t take a hankerin’ to ceremony ’round these parts.”

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Minnie. As for the men talking about me, I guess since I’m new in town, I would be the topic of conversation.” Men fighting over her in front of her cabin came to mind. “You could do me a favor. Please pass the word along that while I am single, I am not looking for a man.”

  Minnie pulled out a chair at the next table and sat. “Well, if you ain’t lookin’ fer a man, whatcha doin’ at the marshal’s table?”

  What in the world was Minnie getting at? “The marshal’s table?” Her head turned at the jingling bell over the door. Marshal Hartwell came in, slamming the door behind him.

  “Minnie,” he barked. “Get me coffee and whatever pie you got left.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Boss? Why would a waitress call the marshal boss? A sinking feeling hit her. She’d wondered who’d been daft enough to name a restaurant Beans for the Belly, and there was only one fool who’d do such a thing. That person was advancing, anger flashing from his dark eyes. He pulled out the chair across from her, spun it around, and straddled it, keeping his gaze locked on hers. Without speaking, he removed his hat and slapped it on top of her packages. Her nose wrinkled at the unpleasant smell that followed him in.

  “Miss Annalee, I want to thank you for tying the buggy in front of the jail. And for shutting my outdoor dog indoors so that when I stepped into my office I stepped into a pile of…”

  Minnie slapped a mug of coffee and a huge slab of pie in front of the marshal and sniffed. “Tarnation! What’s that awful stink?”

  Boone shot her an aggravated glance, and she grinned.

  “Boss, did ya step in it again?”

  “Couldn’t help it. The dog left it right inside the door. I thought I got the most of it scraped off. If you can smell it, guess I didn’t.” He added three spoonfuls of sugar and stirred.

  Annalee lifted her cup and sipped. “You own this restaurant.” It wasn’t a question.

  One could tell by his demeanor he owned it. But then, given he’d acted earlier as if he owned her, this might not be the case.

  Boone forked in a mouthful of pie and nodded as he chewed. “Your grandfather hired me
as marshal back before the jail was built. There wasn’t enough money in the town’s coffers yet to pay for a jail. Meanwhile, I knew I’d need a place to keep an eye on things.”

  He looked around the eating area with its six tables covered in yellow oilcloth. “So, my brother and I built this restaurant.”

  “Your brother? I thought you’d lost all of your family.”

  “Adopted brother.” He sipped his coffee. “Once the restaurant was built, I’d come in here and watch Main Street through the windows. Fresh coffee. Plenty to eat. Got so I liked it better in here than I did the new jail once it was finished. Not enough windows, I guess.” He looked into his coffee mug. “And I couldn’t make coffee as good as Minnie, so I continued spending most of my time here. Folks know to check this window if they’re looking for me.”

  “Aren’t you rather young for the position? I mean, do you have much experience?” He looked to be around thirty.

  He lifted a shoulder, a movement he was inclined to make when he talked about himself. “I studied law. Left school before I got my degree, so taking this position seemed natural. The town built the jail with a room in the back for me, so I’d always be available. Criminals don’t keep bankers’ hours.”

  With a sweeping movement of her hand, Annalee slid her uneaten pie aside. The stench from his boots had killed her appetite.

  Scraping his plate, he stuck the fork in his mouth to lick off the tines. His gaze swept to her pie, and he pointed with his fork. “You gonna finish that?” When she silently slid it over, he dove in.

  He looked so harmless now, not at all the hardened, pugnacious individual she’d seen earlier at the cabin. A bruise on his cheekbone was swollen about the size of a walnut. There was a cut on his lower lip and his knuckles were skinned raw.

  Her temper flared. The fool man could have been hurt. “I guess fighting gives you an appetite.”