by Beverly Long
***
She was beautiful.
And her dress fit her body like a new pair of gloves fit his hands after they had been dropped in the stream and left to dry on a flat rock.
Tight. Just right.
It felt as if the collar of his freshly-washed shirt was too tight. Intent on relief, he yanked open his heavy coat. The top button flew five feet, hitting the wood floor with a ping.
Bella narrowed her black eyes but it was the look on Freida’s face that made him nervous. Freida had always been practical, level-headed. When emotions ran high, Freida could be counted on to keep a clear head.
Bemused. She looked bemused. It was the only word that came to mind. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever heard anyone use the word. He’d read it somewhere, he thought. But it seemed to fit. It was like she was looking at the two of them and knew some damn secret.
“Ready?” he asked.
Now Bella’s dark eyes widened and he knew that his tone had been harsh and much too abrupt. But he couldn’t help it. Between Bella’s dress and Freida’s smugness, he felt more than a little off balance.
Bella bent forward to pick up his button and the movement caused her breasts to push at the rose-colored silk, making the material strain. Damn. He wanted to curse the dress but knew Bella was the kind of woman who would manage to make a man’s throat go dry even if she was wearing flour sacks sewn together.
He looked away and stared at the assortment of painted dolls in the corner of Freida’s sofa. None of them were about to burst out of their clothing.
“You might need this,” she said.
He looked back. She was within three feet, her arm outstretched, the button between her thumb and first finger.
He couldn’t make his damn arm move. He just stood there, like some idiot. There was a growing buzz in his ears, as if he’d swallowed a swarm of bees and they were getting more angry by the minute.
He felt lightheaded, like the time he’d taken a bullet in his arm when the Grogan brothers had decided to rob the bank, and a little unsure, like he had when he’d come back to Mantosa and stood at his father’s grave.
It was the thought of his father that caused him to snap back—to take control over the bees and his weak legs. His father had lost the respect of a whole town because he’d been a fool. In the end, he’d been angry and bitter and had directed all of that poison at Jed.
He took the button, being very careful not to touch her fingers. “We need to be on our way,” he said.
She reached for her cloak. Once she had it on, she walked over to the table and picked up a stack of blankets off the end closest to her.
He looked at Freida. “We’ll see you there?”
“Yes. Thomas should be here shortly. He didn’t seem all that concerned about being on time for dinner but he doesn’t want to miss any of the dancing.”
He didn’t intend to dance tonight. No. He might have gotten coerced into taking Bella Wainwright to the dance but that didn’t mean he had to lose all his sense. They’d have dinner—after all, he had to eat anyway—and then she could go on about her business and he’d go his way. He’d make sure she got home safely and that would be the end of it.
He slipped the button into his pocket and put his hat on, settling the familiar material firmly on his ears. The last thing he needed was to have his hat blow off and have to chase it around Freida’s yard.
He opened the door and stood back. She walked past him with her pretty little nose in the air and in the background, somehow audible above the drone of the bees that had settled in his core, he heard Freida’s sigh.
When they reached his rig, he extended his hand to help her up. She might think he was an oaf but he had, after all, been raised with some manners. When she lowered her chin and raised an eyebrow, all the while staring at his hand, he thought she might refuse. But then, with a brief nod, she tossed her blankets into the seat, accepted his hand, stepped up onto the carriage, and settled herself in for the ride. She draped two blankets over her legs, one around her shoulders, and then held one out to him.
“I’ve got an extra one. Would you like it?”
Her tone said it all. She didn’t care one way or the other if he took it. She’d have made the same offer to a stranger.
Damn her. How could she so easily dismiss him when he could think of nothing besides touching her, seeing for himself if her dress was really as silky as it looked, seeing for himself if her skin felt as good as it smelled.
She made him want.
And a man who wanted could lose his grip on reason, could lose his senses altogether. “I’ve been colder before. And I suspect I’ll be colder again. You go ahead and keep your blanket.”
She shrugged and let the folded wool rest on her lap. He clicked his tongue and the horses responded. They didn’t speak again until they reached town ten minutes later.
There were at least seven other rigs already parked in front of Stonemark Hall. As he pulled in alongside the last one, Bella carefully refolded the blankets. He got off, turned, and extended his hand to her.
She took it without a word. Well, fine. He wasn’t much for making conversation anyway.
They were halfway into the building when a sharp whistle cut through the night air. “Jedidiah. Wait up.”
He turned, just in time to see Bart jump down from his rig. Patience Devine, wrapped up in a big gray scarf, so that only her nose peeked out, remained seated.
Bart started walking towards him. Jed waited until his friend got close enough that the whole world wouldn’t hear him. “Help her,” he whispered. “You damn idiot,” he added.
Bart looked over his shoulder and when he turned back toward Jed, his nose was bright red. “Aw, hell. I thought she was right behind me.”
In no mood to endure Patience’s long stares of distain for his failure to see her sister to the dance, Jed motioned for Bella to venture forth. They might as well be inside where the cold wind wasn’t blowing up his back and his feet didn’t feel like they’d been resting on blocks of ice. All thoughts of warmth and comfort subsided, though, when he saw Yancy. The man was sitting on the ground, his back resting against the building.
Yancy tilted his head back. “Evening, Jedidiah.”
“Yancy,” he responded. Hoping to forestall any other conversation, he pulled open the door and motioned for Bella to step inside.
Yancy, however, had other ideas. He got up, swayed slightly, and then lurched in Bella’s direction.
Jed reached for Bella’s arm. But her shoes, her damn silly woman-shoes, caused her to slip on the snow. He grabbed with both arms and instead of pulling her safely to the side as he’d planned, he now had her pulled tightly up against his body, her round bottom pressing firmly against parts that hadn’t had much pressing lately.
She fit very well.
And smelled every bit as good as he remembered. That wasn’t so much a thought as a direct blow to his senses.
Yancy, with more grace than the alcohol should have allowed, managed to keep himself upright. He gave Bella the same smile that had melted Jed’s mother’s heart on more than one occasion. The smile that had kept Jed and Yancy from having their backsides beat after they’d run through the house and broken the tea set that had come from back east.
“Meant no harm, Ma’am,” he said. “Balance ain’t all that good these days.”
“Oh. No problem,” Bella said.
She sounded a bit breathless and Jed realized that he was squeezing the air right out of her. After making sure she was steady, he let go and backed up a step. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to ease the tightness.
“Might be a good idea for you to go home, Yancy,” he said.
Yancy ignored him. He tipped an imaginary hat in Bella’s direction. “Yancy Tate,” he said. “It’s a pleasure.”
Bella stuck out her arm like it was absolutely ordinary for a woman to offer to shake a man’s hand. Christ, she had some sense of spirit.
“I’m B
ella,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yancy.”
“I suppose you know that my friend Jedidiah is the best dancer in all of Kansas,” Yancy said, his words only slightly slurred.
Jed could feel his face grow hot. It didn’t help when Bella turned to look at him as if he were a bull at auction. “Really?” she said.
She’d just have to wonder. There was no way he was going to dance with this woman. “I’m hungry,” Jed said.
Bella turned back towards Yancy. “Would you like to join us for dinner?” she asked.
Yancy’s eyes took on a wariness that made Jedidiah realize it had been way too long since he’d invited his friend to join him for a meal.
“That’s a mighty kind offer, Ma’am,” Yancy said. “But there will be people inside who are afraid to sit too close to me. People who are afraid that whatever I got might just jump from my chair to theirs and burrow under their skin, so that when they wake up in the morning, they’ll be shaking and moaning until they can get their first drink of the new day.”
Bella looked Yancy in the eye. “I don’t think what you have, Mr. Tate, is catching.”
She said it solemnly but without judgment, without scorn.
Yancy shrugged and moved away from the door. “Maybe you’re right. And you’re probably right, too, Jedidiah. It’s time for me to move along. You two have a good night,” he said. He turned and walked away from them.
Jed heard a noise from behind them and both he and Bella turned. Patience and Bart stood twenty feet back.
“That man is disgusting,” Patience said. “He smells like he hasn’t had a bath in weeks.”
Bella ignored her and turned to him. “How long have the two of you been friends?”
“For a long time.” Jed swallowed hard. He missed Yancy. “He’s not a bad person.”
“I’m sure he isn’t.”
Jed heard Patience snort and he suddenly felt compelled to defend his old friend. “The war changed him,” he said.
“War?” Bella asked.
Patience took a step forward, frowning. “The War Between the States,” she said, as if Bella were dense. “Come along Bart.” She waved her hand impatiently in his direction. “Standing out in this cold is not doing my complexion any good.”
Bella and Jed stepped aside so that Bart and Patience could proceed. They followed at a slower pace. Bella didn’t speak again until he’d hung up her cloak on a nail.
“Did you fight?” she asked, her voice so quiet that he had to lean forward to hear her.
He’d been laying track through Indian Country, fighting a very different war. “No.” He didn’t owe her any explanations. They weren’t going to be friends.
“Looks like Bart’s got a table for us,” he said, pointing across the hall. She shifted her gaze and Jed couldn’t help feeling a bit of pride. Stonemark Hall was the biggest building in Mantosa. It had been Richard Stonemark’s legacy. He’d earned his money in New York. When he and his second wife had come west to Mantosa, he’d been anxious to spend it, especially when Mrs. Stonemark had started missing New York society. She’d loved to waltz and her husband had been determined to build her a place fit for dancing.
He’d paid for all the materials—even had brick shipped in from somewhere. And the wood floor was as smooth and shiny as his mother’s china.
Most everybody in Mantosa had helped build it. Jed, himself, had nailed a good bit of the shingles on the roof. The main room was a square, with all four walls stretching at least sixty feet in length. There were windows on every side and a big kitchen attached to the rear of the building.
Everything that mattered in Mantosa generally happened at Stonemark Hall.
There was no alter or cross but that hadn’t stopped the good people of Mantosa from abandoning their small church at the other end of town in favor of Stonemark Hall. Now Sunday worshippers gathered here to consider the Gospel. The building was warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It somehow made for better praying then the real church where there were cracks between the logs that seemed to allow every cold wind in the winter and every pesky bug in the summer to feel welcome to come and join services.
Richard Stonemark had died nine months ago and his widow just four months later. As Sheriff, Jed had made it his responsibility to make sure the building was taken care of.
He’d hired Yancy Tate to keep it clean and so far, the man had stayed sober long enough that Jed was neither disappointed or embarrassed about his choice. Jed suspected that Yancy spent most nights sleeping at Stonemark Hall. A wooden floor was softer than a mother’s disapproval.
“Who is that with Patience and Bart?” Bella asked.
Jed looked and sighed. “Her sister, Madeline Devine. I don’t know the gentleman.”
Bart waved them over and Bella gave Jed a questioning glance. He could see that there were two empty seats between where Bart sat and where Madeline’s escort sat. Bart would make a scene if they didn’t sit with them.
“Patience doesn’t seem to care for me,” Bella said.
“It’s not you,” he said. There was no need her feeling badly. “She had hopes that I might be the fellow standing next to her sister Madeline.”
“Oh.” Her pretty pink lips made a small circle and there was a sudden pull in his gut when he wondered what it might be like to kiss that mouth. Or, holy shit, have that mouth wrapped around his cock.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “You look a little warm.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “We might as well join them.” He motioned for her to go first.
She hesitated. She looked very serious. “I’m sorry if I got in the way tonight,” she said.
He started to dismiss the notion but then noticed that several people at the nearby tables were taking an interest in their conversation. You’ve got ‘em talking now. Yancy’s words rang in his head. People were probably taking one look at her in that dress and then looking at him, just knowing that the son was closely following in the father’s footsteps.
“You’re probably not any happier to be here than I am,” he said. He didn’t shout but he spoke just loud enough for those close by to hear.
“Yes. Well. I suppose that’s true.” She turned but not before he caught the hint of hurt in her dark eyes. She started walking toward the table, moving so fast that he practically had to hurry to catch up.
Hell. If the night didn’t get better soon, he’d get a bottle and join Yancy somewhere. Getting drunk sounded like a damn good option right now.
When they got to the table, the men stood up. Patience and Madeline, who had chosen to sit next to each other, remained sitting. They looked at Bella and disapproval shone in their eyes. Bart and Madeline’s escort had a very different look in their eyes—that of pure male appreciation—and that made the hair on the back of Jed’s neck stand up.
Bart waved his hand in the stranger’s direction. “Jedidiah, this here is Ben Stroud, from up near Shinoah.”
Jed stuck out his hand. “Jedidiah McNeil.”
“Sheriff McNeil.” Stroud smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “As you were walking over, Madeline happened to mention that you’re the law in this town.” He turned his eyes toward Bella. “And who is your lovely companion?”
Jed had the sudden urge to shove Bella behind him and then shove a fist into Stroud’s face. “Allow me to present Mrs. Merribelle Wainwright. She’s from Ohio.” There was no need for Stroud to get any false hopes that Bella was a local woman.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Wainwright,” Stroud said. He bowed in Bella’s direction. It was not done in a manner than any person should find objectionable yet Jed found himself grinding his back teeth together.
Bart stood behind Patience. “Bella, this is Miss Patience Devine and her sister, Miss Madeline Devine.”
Bella smiled at the women. They didn’t smile back.
Jed grabbed the back of the chair next to Bart, intending to pull it out for Be
lla. However, she slipped into the empty chair next to Stroud. Jed sat down and hoped that supper would be served soon.
It was. And while he and the others ate their roast beef and potatoes and green beans, he tried to tell himself that his attitude toward Stroud was influenced by his natural distaste for strangers in Mantosa. But, as he sipped his coffee once the dishes had been cleared away, he had to admit that it had far less to do with the fact that Stroud was a stranger, but rather that he seemed infatuated with Bella.
The man had spent most of the meal talking to Bella and ignoring his own girl. That, of course, had set a scowl on Madeline’s face that did little to increase her attractiveness.
When it came time to move the tables to the side and start the dancing, he was relieved when Stroud remembered his manners and asked Madeline for the first dance. Jed stood next to Bella, at the far side of the room, directly opposite the musicians. There were three men. One played a violin, one a guitar, and the other tapped a tambourine against his leg. He was the only one of the three singing and Jed had to admit that the man’s voice was pleasant enough.
The trio had arrived in town the night before and they’d leave by early morning, on to the next town that would pay them money to add a little music to an event. What a life. No roots, no responsibilities. No family.
His sister had surprised him yesterday. Elizabeth had shown some of her old spunk when she’d insisted he take Bella to the dance. He’d never been able to say no to her. That wasn’t usually a problem.
Now, he was obligated to spend an evening with Bella Wainwright. She had hardly looked at him during dinner. Now, she was standing stiffly at his side, acting as if she didn’t care if he ever asked her to dance.
And that would have been just fine if he hadn’t seen her tapping her toes to the music.
When the first song ended, Jed was relieved when Bart and Patience remained on the dance floor. He didn’t feel like making conversation. However, when Ben Stroud led Madeline off the floor and came and stood entirely too close to Bella, his stomach started to churn with an emotion that did not in any fashion resemble relief. And when Stroud leaned close to her and whispered something in her ear, Jed thought his supper might not stay in its rightful place.
