Bertha Snootley surveyed her puffy face in the mirror. She adjusted the pink veil and sighed. “I’m just withering away from lack of social opportunities in this jerkwater little Texas town.”
Lark smiled encouragingly. “Well, maybe as the town grows, you can be the social leader who starts some women’s clubs.”
“Hmm.” That idea seemed to have some appeal at first, then the woman shook her head. “I don’t know who I would invite. There’s just no one of any consequence here.”
Again Lark bit her tongue to hold back her retort. “Well, if we get a banker and some new business owners, there’s bound to be someone who’s worthy of your friendship.”
The lady looked at her a long moment as if trying to decide if Lark was being sarcastic, seeming to decide the girl wasn’t smart enough for that. “Perhaps you’re right.”
The lady paraded up and down in front of the mirror. “Yes, I like it. I’ll take it.”
“Are you going to pay for it?” Lark asked, although she knew better. If Mrs. Snootley paid for an article, it would be easier to refuse to let her return it.
“Of course not. Put it on my husband’s bill.”
Lark bit her lip, trying to be diplomatic. “Uh, you’ve already charged quite a bit, Mrs. Snootley. Your husband said—”
“I don’t care what he said!” she snapped. “He’s a nobody anyway who ought to feel lucky to have such a scion of Cleveland society for a wife. He misrepresented himself, you know. I thought he was rich when I married him. Turned out he was all hat and no cattle.”
No one could insult a Texan more than to say he was a man of all mouth and no substance.
“And I’ll wager he thought you were an angel,” Lark said without thinking.
The former butcher’s daughter didn’t seem to realize she was being insulted. “I’m sure he did.”
About that time, Magnolia stuck her head through the open front door and brayed loudly, causing Mrs. Snootley to jump. “Oh, my heart! That filthy little beast! We’ll never become a thriving metropolis with donkeys wandering the streets.”
“She’s a very nice donkey.” Lark went to the door and shooed Magnolia out. “We’ve tried, but we can’t seem to keep her penned up. She’s learned to open the latch on the stall gate.”
“I think the sheriff ought to shoot her,” the lady said coldly. “She’s just a dirty little good-for-nothing beast.”
Lark managed to control her temper, but it was difficult. “Everyone else in town seems to like her.”
“That’s because people in this town have no class.” She stuck her nose in the air and sailed out the front door wearing the big pink hat.
“What a day!” Lark watched her sail down the sidewalk like a big oceangoing boat with the pink veils flowing out behind her. Out the big front window she could see Magnolia eating the flowers out of the flowerbed in front of the local newspaper office.
The sheriff came in the back door just then. “What was that about?”
“Oh, Mrs. Snootley,” Lark sighed. “I almost wished she wouldn’t come in here. She wears what she buys once or twice, then returns it.”
He leaned against the counter. “Why don’t you say no?”
“I’m considering that, but I’m not sure it would work. I’m thinking of something more subtle. Oh, by the way, she wants you to shoot Magnolia.”
“Why?”
“Because she leaves little calling cards on the sidewalk and eats everybody’s flowers.”
He grinned. “Miss Lacey, everyone but her likes the little donkey. I’m not gonna shoot her. Oh, by the way”—he fumbled with the brim of his hat—“there’s a big hayrack ride next Sunday night. I was wonderin’…no, of course you’ve already been asked.” He turned to leave.
Oh, how to deal with a bashful man. “I haven’t been asked anywhere.”
“No?” He turned around, his dark eyes hopeful. “Well, you see, there’s a hayrack ride.”
“You said that,” she prompted.
“I—I was wonderin’, if maybe you don’t get a better offer…”
“Yes?”
“Well…”
“Would you like to take me?” Lark finally lost her patience.
His handsome face broke into a grin. “You must be a mind reader, Miss Lacey. I’d be right proud to carry you to the hayrack ride.”
“What about patrolling the town?”
“Sundays is pretty quiet with the railroad workers and cowhands havin’ to go to work on Monday.”
“This sounds like fun,” Lark said, and she began to make her plan. She cared more about Lawrence than she was willing to admit. As Texans would say, it was time to pee on the fire and call in the dogs—bring this matter to a close. If the bashful sheriff didn’t kiss her on this hayrack ride, she was going to kiss him. What would happen after that was anyone’s guess.
Chapter Eight
It was a dark, hot June night later in the week, and Lark was leaving the store. She’d been there checking inventory. She started down the sidewalk, her mind on the upcoming hayrack ride. More and more, she was feeling something for the shy sheriff. All week she’d seen little of him because he’d been helping the town council with security and the plans for a big ceremony and party when the first train finally pulled into Rusty Spur. Already, there was increased hustle and bustle on Main Street, and the sound of big hammers and men laying track could be heard when the wind blew just right.
As she passed the alley near the saloon, a big drunk stepped out of the darkness, blocking her path. He was unsteady on his feet, and she could smell the cheap whiskey on his dirty clothes. “Hey, there, girlie, how about goin’ into the saloon and havin’ a drink with me?”
Oh my, it was Otto. She could see the big iron railroad nail in his belt. She took a deep breath and squared her small shoulders. “Otto, ladies don’t drink—now step out of my way.”
He laughed. “Oh, it’s you. Then it’s time you learned, honey.”
Before she realized his intention, he reached out and grabbed her, dragging her toward him.
“You pig!” Lark struggled and screamed, clawing at his bearded face.
“Why, you little—!” He slapped one dirty paw over her mouth and dragged her toward the darkness of the alley. “I’ll teach you to insult me!”
Oh God, what’s going to happen now? Lark fought and scratched. She tried to bite his hand so she could scream again, but he was too strong for her. The street was deserted with the night dark. She felt the sweat on her back beneath her yellow dress as she struggled. The drunk kept his dirty hand over her mouth as he dragged her into the darkness. She could not let him carry or drag her away from the main street where someone might hear the noise of the struggle and rescue her.
“Honey,” his voice slurred, “when I get you out back, we’re gonna have a little fun!”
The image he brought to mind terrified her, and she renewed her struggle.
Just then a big shadow loomed across both of them in the moonlight.
Oh my God. Lark froze, motionless. He’s got a partner. But the drunk stopped in confusion, too.
“Let go of the lady and step away,” a deep voice commanded.
Lawrence. Oh, thank you, God, it was the sheriff come to save her. Otto froze in position, his hand still clamped over her mouth.
Lark bit down hard on the dirty fingers. He let go of her and howled in protest, fumbling for that big iron spike. She screamed, “Look out, Sheriff!”
At that moment Lawrence Witherspoon took three long strides, coming straight at the big drunk as Lark rolled out of the way.
The moonlight gleamed on the iron spike as Otto swung it. “I’m gonna nail you to a wall!” he snarled.
The lawman dodged the deadly spike. Then he stepped close and caught the drunk across the temple with the barrel of his Colt. Otto collapsed like a mountain falling down.
“Oh, Lawrence!” she cried. “He was going to kill you!”
“Everything’s all
right now,” he said confidently, pulling her to her feet. She ran sobbing into his big arms. “Everything’s all right now.”
She wept against his wide chest. “That was the bravest thing I ever saw!”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” he said, “leastways if he’s a Texan.” He held her close against him, stroking her hair.
People were running from all directions now, shouting and peering down the alley.
“What’s going on?”
“Did I hear a scream?”
“Sheriff, what happened?”
“Nothin’ much,” Lawrence said modestly, his strong arm around her shoulders as they turned to face the curious crowd.
What a man. Her heart did flip-flops. “It was a big thing,” she shouted to the growing crowd. “This drunk attacked me. Otto tried to stab the sheriff with that spike he carries, and the sheriff didn’t even try to kill him—he coolly hit him in the head with his pistol.”
“Well,” Lawrence grinned, “I was afraid I’d hit the lady.”
“So you risked your own life,” she sobbed some more. “Bravest thing I ever saw!”
He took out his bandana and handed it to her. She blew her nose in a most unladylike manner.
Paco walked over and picked up the spike. “Uh-oh, Sheriff. It’s got blood on it.”
Lawrence frowned. “Well, it ain’t mine. Somebody better go out to the railroad camp and see if he’s killed someone. Paco, get some of the fellas to carry him over to the jail and lock him up. I reckon he’s headed for the state prison at Huntsville.”
The deputy grinned with admiration. “Sí, boss.”
Four men grabbed the half-conscious thug and half carried, half dragged him down the street, following Paco to the jail.
Lark liked the feel of Lawrence’s protective arm around her shoulders.
In the background she heard someone whisper, “I told you the sheriff was coolheaded. Not many lawmen would try to take that hombre alive instead of just shooting him.”
Another answered, “What a man!”
Amen, Lark thought with a sigh.
“Now, folks”—the sheriff waved his hand in modest dismissal—“don’t make more of this than it was. I’ve faced down death before.”
“Of course,” someone murmured. “What else can you expect from a Texan except bravery?”
“Remember the Alamo!” someone shouted, and they all cheered. Lark couldn’t see that the Alamo had anything to do with this situation, but of course it would be sacrilegious to say so. The crowd began to disperse.
“I—I reckon I’ll walk you home if you don’t mind.” He took his arm away and looked down at Lark.
Mind? How naive can he be? She managed not to cheer and jump up and down. “I’d feel so much more safe.” Lark kept her tone demure and took his arm. They walked along toward the hotel in the moonlight. The tiny hamlet was once again quiet. “I’m so lucky you came along,” she said.
“Yep. If I hadn’t heard you scream as I was makin’ my rounds…” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged.
“That was very brave, to hit him in the head rather just shoot him.”
“Couldn’t endanger a lady, that’s a Texan’s code. Besides, as well as I shoot, he wouldn’t have had a chance against me.”
“Land’s sake, everyone in town knows that. Have you ever had to kill anyone?”
They paused in front of the hotel and he squinted down at her, his face shadowed. “If you don’t mind, Miss Lacey, I—I’d just as soon not talk about that.”
“Oh. Of course.” This sensitive man had probably killed a bunch of outlaws, and it haunted him even though the villains had deserved it. “I’m sorry I mentioned it. The memories must be terrible for you.”
He sighed. “I try not to think about it.” He kept looking down at her. “Miss Lacey,” he said finally, “can—can I ask you something?”
Her prissy sister would have corrected his grammar. May I ask you something?
“Surely.”
“Would I be too bold…I mean, would you be offended if I wanted, well…” He took a deep breath.
Would he never finish?
“Would you mind if I kissed you? I mean, if you’re offended—”
“Say no more. Yes.” She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to his. His big hands holding hers were sweaty and his fingers trembled. She waited, eyes shut with breathless anticipation.
At this point, he leaned over and planted a slight peck on her cheek. She heard his deep intake of breath at his own daring as she slowly opened her eyes.
That’s all? she thought. That’s what he calls a kiss? She wanted to grab him and kiss him until he was breathless, but he’d probably think she was a fast woman—a tart—if she did. “That was lovely,” she said.
“Oh, Miss Lacey,” he sighed and gulped, stepping back awkwardly. “Well, I reckon I’d better mosey along now. We still goin’ to the hayrack ride?”
“Of course.” Lark had come to a decision. If he didn’t kiss her, really kiss her at the hayrack ride, she was going to kiss him—and it wouldn’t be some mild little peck on the cheek, either. She watched him amble away, and then she went inside for supper.
Everyone in town seemed to be making plans for the hayrack ride. All week, ladies coming in and out of her shop talked about what they would wear and who was going. One said she’d been to Abilene over the past week and had seen Mrs. Snootley there. “Bertha was wearing that lovely pink hat you used to have in your store window,” one of them said.
Lark breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, at least, she decided she really liked it,” Lark answered.
However, the next day Mrs. Snootley was back in the shop with the fluffy pink straw hat in her hand. “I’m returning this. I’ve decided I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like it?” This time, Lark was really caught by surprise. “But you’ve worn it any number of times. It’s now used merchandise.”
The big woman drew herself up and sniffed disdainfully as she pointed to the sign on the wall. “It says satisfaction guaranteed. I’ve decided I’m not satisfied.”
“Are you ever?” Lark said.
“What?”
She must not lose her temper. Everyone in town would hear about it. “Nothing. Mrs. Snootley, you’ve worn this hat a lot. I can’t take it back.”
“Whoever said that lied,” the woman snapped. “You will take it back, or I won’t shop here anymore.”
That would probably be a relief, but there was nothing Lark could do. “All right, I’ll let you return it, but please stop doing this. I can’t resell this hat now that it’s used.”
“I told you I never wore it,” the lady lied. Tossing it on the counter, she sailed out of the shop.
Lark sighed. What she had really wanted to do was throw the pink flowered hat in the snooty matron’s face, but of course she couldn’t do that. What could she do to stop this woman from continually returning merchandise, and what could she do with the hat, now that it was used? Lark tried it on in front of the cheval mirror and shook her head. It was much too prissy for her. It was the kind of hat her sister would have favored, but it looked ridiculous on a tomboy.
Magnolia was out of her pen again. The little burro stuck her head in the open front door. “You rascal,” Lark laughed. “It’s hot outside—you’ll get sunstroke if you don’t stay in the shade.”
The burro let loose with an earsplitting bray that startled a paint horse tied at the feed store across the street. The horse reared, broke loose, and galloped off down the road. The owner ran out of the feed store, shouting curses at the stupid horse and shaking his fist.
“Oh, my! Magnolia, you’re going to get me in trouble yet.”
Lark took off the pink straw hat and looked at it again, wondering what to do with it. Now that everyone in town had seen Mrs. Snootley wearing it, no one else would buy it.
She stared at the hot little donkey wiggling its long ears in the summer heat. Now she had an i
dea. Taking a pair of scissors, she carefully cut two holes in the hat and carried it over to Magnolia. She pulled the burro’s long ears through the holes and tied the pink veil under the donkey’s chin. “My,” she laughed, “have I told you how much you look like Bertha Snootley? Come to think of it, it looks a lot better on you than it did on that old cow.”
Magnolia seemed proud of herself and very pleased to be wearing the big pink hat. Maybe she realized that she was the only donkey in the state with a pretty chapeau.
“At least it will keep you cool,” Lark said.
The little donkey snorted and then ambled off down the street, stopping to nibble on a sack of vegetables that had been left out in front of the general store.
Lark heard some passing cowboys laugh. “Don’t that beat all? That hat looks a lot better on the little burro than it did on Mrs. Snootley.”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
Down the street, she heard someone yell, “Hey, Joe, you got to see this. That little donkey is wearing Mrs. Snootley’s fancy hat!”
“She’ll be furious!”
“Let’s hope so!”
All up and down the street, people were coming outside to see the proud little donkey in her big pink hat.
That night, everyone at the dining room of the hotel was laughing when Lark entered. Mrs. Bottoms met her with a big smile. “Heavens, child, that was a stroke of genius. Everyone’s saying the hat looks better on the donkey than it ever did on Bertha. They say she’s so humiliated, she may never return anything again.”
Lark shrugged. “She’s probably so mad, she’ll never come back in my shop. I don’t know how that long-suffering husband of hers puts up with her. It’s a wonder to me that he doesn’t run off and leave her.”
Later in the parlor, while the Mexican girls cleaned up the kitchen, Lark sat with Mrs. Bottoms as she sewed.
“Why so thoughtful?” Mrs. Bottoms paused with her needle in midair.
Lark sighed. “I know this is a loco question, but do you think it’s possible to be in love with two men at the same time?”
She thought the old lady might laugh, but instead she seemed to be rolling the question over in her mind. “Well, I reckon it is, my dear. I’ve never told a soul this, but I was also in love with my Sam’s best friend.”
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