He grinned at her and shook his head. “Not with you runnin’ it. I got faith in you.”
She put her hand on his arm, so touched she could hardly speak. “Thank you, Mr. Witherspoon.”
“I wish you’d call me Lawrence—that is, if you don’t think it’s too soon.”
“And you may call me L-Lacey.” She’d almost forgotten her masquerade.
“Oh no, ma’am, I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to appear too forward.”
Lark sighed. At this rate, the woman he married would have to live with him a dozen years before he’d ever get up the nerve…maybe not even then. What a waste of a handsome hunk that would be. She shocked herself. “Well, then, good night, Lawrence.”
“Sleep tight,” he said, “and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
He was just so naive and childlike. She nodded and ran inside the hotel and upstairs. Once in bed, she couldn’t sleep. She liked this little town, and she really liked the sheriff. Maybe her luck might turn after all.
The next day, Mildred Bottoms took Lark around to meet some of the other businesspeople. First she took her to meet the blacksmith who owned the empty store. “Mike, you met this young lady last night.”
He was muscular and smeared with soot from his fire. “I sure did.” He nodded with a grin. “She has grit—she’s spunky. I like that in a woman.”
Mrs. Bottoms said, “Lacey, Mr. Dillard is also our mayor.” To the blacksmith, she said, “Lacey plans to open a millinery shop.”
He scratched his gray beard. “What is that?”
“You know,” Lark put in, “I’ll make and sell ladies’ hats. With the railroad coming in, there’ll be a market.”
He groaned aloud. “Don’t tell my wife. She spends too much money now.”
“Mike,” Mrs. Bottoms said, “I want you to let her have that empty store free for two months. If she makes it, you can start charging her rent.”
He leaned against his forge and crossed his arms. “Now why would I want to do that?”
Lark said, “Well, it’s not bringing in anything right now, is it? With me, you’ve at least got a chance at a return on your investment.”
He grinned. “The little lady is not just a pretty face. She’s got savvy. Okay, I’m in.” He held out a big, dirty hand and Lark shook it.
“Thanks, Mr. Dillard.”
“When you opening?”
Mrs. Bottoms said, “I got to find her some customers first.”
“Try the lumberyard, the feed store, and the post office. I don’t know if you’ll get much interest from old Abner Snootley at the general store.”
They nodded and walked out of the blacksmith shop.
They hit the places he mentioned and some others. The men weren’t that interested, but their wives were. Lark left most places with no money but promises of customers.
“Let’s try the general store anyway,” Mrs. Bottoms said.
Abner Snootley was a dour, sour man with one long lock of hair carefully combed over his bald dome. He reeked of peppermint. “I already heard the gossip up and down the street,” he grumbled, popping a striped candy into his mouth. “And you can forget it, Mildred. My wife spends too much money on clothes and hats now.”
Lark stepped in. “Look at it this way, Mr. Snootley, your wife wouldn’t be gone all the time on the weekly stage to Abilene if she could buy her pretties here in town.”
He frowned even more. “Is that supposed to be a selling point? The only peace I get from Bertha’s nagging is when she’s gone. Otherwise, she spends every dime the store makes.”
Mrs. Bottoms smiled. “All right, Abner, but you’re missing a real business opportunity to invest. When they get the railroad here in a few weeks, there’ll be settlers pouring in, and all those ladies will want hats.”
“Humph. If I had money to invest, I’d pay off some of the bills my wife has run up. Now good day to you.” He dismissed them with a curt nod.
“Don’t say you didn’t get the chance,” Lark said, and they left. Just outside the door, they bumped into the portly and very fashionably dressed wife. Mrs. Bottoms introduced Lark and told Mrs. Snootley about the shop.
The lady stuck her nose in the air and looked down at them disdainfully. “I’m sure anything this—this girl came up with wouldn’t equal the fine things I buy in Abilene.”
“On the contrary,” Lark said, “I’ve worked with a superb designer named Pierre, and he taught me the business. I’ll turn out some very fashionable hats. All the ladies in town will be wearing them.”
Mrs. Snootley sniffed as if she smelled something bad. “If all these bumpkins buy your hats, I probably wouldn’t care for them.”
Lark took a deep breath to control her temper. “When I get the French Chapeau open, please come in and look over my merchandise. I’d like the opinion of a person with such discerning taste.”
The uppity lady seemed slightly mollified. “Well, perhaps I might. Good day to you.”
The three parted company and Lark and Mrs. Bottoms walked back to the hotel.
“Dearie, you wouldn’t want Bertha as a customer anyway.”
“Why not?” Lark asked.
“Well”—the pleasant woman lowered her voice—“they do say she wears something a couple of times and then returns it. That way, she always has nice clothes.”
Lark was aghast. “That seems tacky.”
“Tacky? Yes. Cheap? Yes. Just don’t say you weren’t warned about Bertha Snootley. You’d think she came from high society, but I happen to know her father was a butcher back in Cleveland.”
Lark sighed. “I really hate borrowing money. If we had a bank in this town, maybe I could get a loan.”
Mrs. Bottoms smiled. “The town council is looking for someone to open a bank by running ads in big-city newspapers. Maybe one will turn up.”
“Lawrence offered to lend me some, but I hesitated.”
Mrs. Bottoms smiled. “Heavens, that means he’s serious about you, young lady. You need it, you borrow it. He’ll get his money back when you’re a big success. Now, what’s the next thing we need to do?”
Lark chewed her lip, thinking. “I need to make a list of supplies and get them ordered. Then I need to clean up that shop and get it ready for customers.”
“We’ll get Jimmy and some of my hotel maids to help. I’m real excited about this.”
“Why? You’re a businesswoman yourself.”
“Honestly, I inherited this hotel from my dad, and at first—after my husband died—I wasn’t sure I could run it alone. But I’ve done all right.”
Lark smiled. “I’ll bet you’ve done more than just all right. Why, I bet you could open a second hotel in some other town if you could find someone to run it for you.”
The older lady shook her head. “Heavens, I’d have to think about that. Anyway, that’s not today’s problem. Let’s get started on opening your shop.” She led Lark into the kitchen and got down the cookie jar, bringing out almost fifty dollars in soiled old bills.
Lark gasped. “Oh, I couldn’t take your hard-earned money. You’ve done so much for me all ready.”
The lady shook her head as she pressed the bills into Lark’s hand. “I’m a good judge of people, young lady, and I think you’ll be a big success. I was right about hiring the new sheriff, and I know I’m right about you. Both of you are loaded with character—you’re both true Texans.”
Lark’s conscience hurt her. She looked away. “Land’s sake, I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ll try not to lose your money for you.”
“Now, you get your order ready and take it down to old Bill at the telegraph office down at the end of the street where they’re building the new depot. Then we’ll start on cleaning up that old building.”
In an hour, Lark had her list ready, and the two ladies went down to the telegraph office. On the way back, they crossed the street purposefully and walked past the sheriff’s office.
The door was open on this warm day, and the she
riff sat at a cluttered desk with his chair tilted back and his boots up on the desk. He was leafing through wanted posters, squinting and frowning in the bright sun.
For a moment, Lark held her breath. Suppose she was among those posters? That would ruin her chance to straighten out her life—and besides, she didn’t want this gallant knight of the Lone Star State to be shocked and disappointed in her. “Why, hello, Sheriff Witherspoon, what a surprise to run across you.”
“Howdy, Miss Van Schuyler, Mrs. Bottoms.” He clambered to his feet and touched his fingers to the brim of his hat in greeting. “Nice day, ain’t it?”
“It certainly is,” Lark gushed. “Everyone’s being so nice about helping me.”
“Now I told you I’d like to put what little I got into your enterprise,” Lawrence Witherspoon said.
“Oh, I couldn’t—” Lark began.
“Miss, I wouldn’t want you to think I was tryin’ to put you in a compromisin’ position, you know, acceptin’ money from a man you ain’t married to.”
Be still my heart. He was so proper—such a gentleman—a true Texan. “It isn’t that.” She hesitated. There was just no way to tell him she already cared enough about him that she didn’t want to endanger his dream.
“Miss Van Schuyler, I insist. When your hat shop is a big hit, I’d like to get in on it.” He gave her that wonderful, crooked grin.
She looked up at him, feeling giddy. “I—I don’t know what to think—”
“I insist,” he said.
“All right.”
Mrs. Bottoms beamed at him. “If I had a son, I’d wish he was just like you.”
The sheriff blushed and kicked at the worn wood floor. “You’re too good to me, ma’am. I’m just doin’ my job.”
Modest, too, Lark thought and felt even better about the man. How could this fine paragon of virtue, this towering pillar of strength be related to that swaggering, rowdy rascal, Larado?
“We’re headed down to the old building to see how much cleaning it needs,” Lark said.
He grinned at her and her heart fluttered. My, he was handsome.
“Well, now, I might just mosey along with you and carry any heavy stuff you got, miss. I need to make my rounds now anyway and see if there’s any lawbreakers about.”
Lark looked out. That didn’t seem too likely. The only thing on the street besides them was the hound dog asleep over in the doorway of the feed store and two horses tied up in front of the saloon, switching flies and stamping their hooves. He was looking for an excuse to walk with them, Lark thought, and she was glad.
They started to walk along the sidewalk, and abruptly, they heard the most gosh-awful noise—a cross between a cat fight and a dying coyote.
“What on earth?” Lark started.
The sheriff grinned. “Sounds like there’s a burro around somewhere.”
Mrs. Bottoms frowned. “I don’t think anyone in town owns a donkey. Once you got one, you end up with more.”
The sheriff nodded. “They’re kind of a pest. Don’t know why anyone would want one—nobody would pay much for one—so I reckon if a prospector left the area, he’d just abandon it.”
“That’s sad,” Lark said. “Could it be the one we heard last night?”
“Could be,” said the sheriff. “It might have followed some wagon into town, knowin’ where there was people and horses, there’d be hay and oats.”
The braying sounded again, and this time it was closer. “It’s coming from down the street,” Lark said.
Sure enough, ambling up the street was a small gray donkey. It was thin and frail, with the biggest softest eyes and the longest ears Lark had ever seen. Its tail was straggly, its legs spindly, and its back swayed.
Mrs. Bottoms shook her head. “That is the ugliest, most useless critter I’ve ever seen.”
“Poor thing,” Lark cried, and she went out to meet it. It stopped, looked her over, and then walked right up to her. “Why, look how thin it is. I reckon it’s hungry.”
“Oh, a burro can eat anything,” Mrs. Bottoms said. “Cactus, any dry old grass, your vegetable garden, the flowers out of your flowerpots. They’re nuisances.”
“Here, girl,” Lark crooned, stroking its matted hide.
For a moment it looked like it might run, but maybe it didn’t have the strength to leave. Lark kept talking to it as she stroked it. The runty burro raised its long ears, studying her.
“Oh, look at her big sad eyes,” Lark said as she began to scratch its ears. The little burro sighed and stood there, then began to nuzzle through Lark’s pockets. She turned to the others. “Can we find her something to eat?”
Mrs. Bottoms said, “You feed her, you got her, and a burro isn’t good for much except as a kid’s pet or carryin’ prospectors’ gear. They’re too little to ride and too stubborn to deal with anyway.”
Lark stroked the velvety nose. “I don’t reckon she would eat much—she’s so little.” She turned an appealing gaze to the sheriff.
He smiled. “I reckon I could scare up a bucket of oats and a bale of hay.”
“Oh, could you? You’re so kind.” The donkey nuzzled Lark’s hand and began to nibble on her dress.
“First thing you know,” Mrs. Bottoms said by way of warning, “she’ll have a foal, and then another, and then the babies will have colts. What are you gonna do with a whole herd of donkeys?”
“I’ll worry about that later,” Lark said, looking into the big, brown eyes. “She looks like the heroine in a novel about the Civil War I once read. Magnolia, that’s what her name is, Magnolia.”
Magnolia promptly brayed that earsplitting noise. A horse trotting down the street reared and whinnied, running away with its rider.
“See?” said Mrs. Bottoms. “Nothing but trouble.”
“I don’t care. I love her.” Lark played with the donkey’s ragged mane. “Where can I keep her?”
The sheriff laughed. “I think there’s a little stable behind that old store. It’d be about right for Magnolia.”
“She’s so tame,” Lark said. “She’ll make a great pet.”
“A pest, you mean,” Mrs. Bottoms snorted. “You just can’t keep a donkey up—they’re too smart. They learn to open latches, and then she’ll be into everything.”
“Maybe not,” Lark protested, still stroking the beast.
The sheriff laughed again. “Miss, you don’t know much about burros. You just walk her on down to the old store and I’ll go get you some feed.” He turned and sauntered away.
“What a man!” Lark said, looking after him.
The other lady nodded. “Isn’t he, though? Why, every day I pinch myself about how lucky our town is to have him upholding the law. Why, he’s almost too good to be true.”
The burro seemed eager to follow the ladies as they walked down the street. Magnolia was as tame as a puppy. They led her around to the stable out back. “Here you are, Magnolia,” Lark said. “This is your new home.”
Magnolia brayed as if she agreed.
The sheriff came around the corner with a bale of hay on one big shoulder, a bale of straw on the other. He tossed them into the stall. “Here you go, Magnolia. I’ll go get a bucket of water.”
“You’re being awfully nice,” Lark gushed as the burro spotted the hay, rushed over, and began to eat.
He flushed red. “For a lady, nothin’ is too good. You’re as kind as you are pretty, ma’am.” Then he left to get the water.
“Heavens,” Mildred Bottoms said, “you’ve sure made an impression. I believe that young man is courting you.”
“By getting a bucket of water?”
The lady pursed her lips. “You know what I mean. He’s too bashful to ask to call on you, I think. He’s just doing it his way.”
Lark stared down the street after the man. “Well, I like him a lot too.” All her life she had waited for a man like this one—and why, oh why did he have to be a sheriff when she was on the run from the law? She wouldn’t think ahead. Maybe
the wanted posters would never make it this far south.
He brought back a bucket of water, and the little donkey drank and drank.
“Poor thing,” Lark said, “she was near done in when she wandered into town.”
The sheriff leaned over and stroked the donkey. “She’ll be all right now, miss. However, I don’t know if this pen will hold her. Donkeys is hard to keep up because they’re smart. They can get under fences and learn to open gates.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that.”
He smiled, the most charming crooked smile she’d seen since…but of course, they were brothers. When she knew him better, maybe he would talk about the scoundrel in the family.
“You just watch what a nuisance this little rascal will become.”
“Land’s sake, how can you say that? Magnolia’s adorable, aren’t you, girl?”
She knelt and put her arms around the burro’s neck. It nuzzled her hair.
“Looks like you got a donkey whether you want one or not,” the sheriff laughed. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
The little animal settled down on the new straw with a tired sigh as if she knew she’d found a home.
Lark looked up at the rugged sheriff and sighed herself. Maybe she had found a home too.
“Heavens,” said Mrs. Bottoms briskly. “Now we’ve got to get this building cleaned up.”
“I’ll do it,” Lark said. “I just need a broom, a mop, and a bucket.”
The sheriff pushed his hat back. “A little slip of a thing like you doin’ heavy work like that? Not while there’s a man around, Miss Lacey. It’s a slow afternoon—I’ll help.”
She was impressed. “You’re not afraid to have some of the men seeing you doing women’s work?”
His rugged face turned stern. Yes, she could imagine that this big man used to be a Texas Ranger. “Miss, there ain’t an hombre in the county would dare make fun of me, and I ain’t afraid of nothin’.”
Lark sighed. She had never felt so small, fragile, and feminine. What a man!
“He ain’t afraid of nothin’,” Mrs. Bottoms agreed with a nod. “Why, only last week, there was a fight out in front of the saloon and someone drew on him. Lawrence here didn’t kill him. He just whopped the drunk up the side of the head with his pistol, picked him up, and threw him in jail.”
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 9
