“No! What did you do?”
Mrs. Bottoms shrugged and returned to her sewing. “Well, I knew his friend was sort of a charming rascal, while Sam was steady and dependable. Women always love the rascal, but of course, sometimes better sense prevails and they marry the dependable one.”
Lark pictured Larado in her mind. Yes, he was a worthless rascal, while his brother was so responsible. “Too bad you can’t have both in one man. Aren’t you going to ask more?”
The old lady looked at her a long moment and shook her head. “I don’t know who the other one was, my dear, but the sheriff is a real catch. If we had any young women in town, someone would already have her brand on him.”
“You’re probably right,” Lark said. Of course there were all these complications about the bank robbery and her being wanted by the law, but maybe she could put all that behind her. It seemed impossible, but maybe she could spend the rest of her life in this tiny town, happily married to the sheriff and living under her sister’s name. Why, the dangerous way that drifting saddle tramp lived, he might be dead by now.
“You got it all settled in your mind?” asked Mrs. Bottoms as she sewed.
Lark nodded. “I—I think so. Maybe the dependable can be changed some.”
Mrs. Bottoms laughed. “I wouldn’t count on that, my dear. Women marry men hoping to change them, and that becomes a disaster.”
Lark tried to imagine teaching the staid sheriff to be more like his charming brother. It did seem impossible. “I believe I’ll go to bed now.”
She went up the stairs to bed, but she couldn’t sleep. The two brothers looked so much alike, she could marry Lawrence and pretend he was Larado. She felt guilty at the thought, but at least the upright Lawrence need never know of her fantasies.
The rest of the week passed quietly. Otto was found to have stabbed a fellow worker, but not fatally. He was sent to the county seat for trial, and he was probably headed for the state prison at Huntsville. The railroad construction came even closer. One could stand out at the end of Main Street and see the gangs working, hear the big hammers hitting the spikes that anchored the tracks. It would only be a few more days before the track and the new depot were finished.
Magnolia still wore her big pink hat and kept the town laughing. Even sour old Abner Snootley told Mrs. Bottoms privately that his wife deserved it.
Finally, Sunday night came. The hayrack wagon stopped along Main Street to pick up all its passengers.
Lawrence Witherspoon came to escort Lark to the wagon. “My goodness’ sakes alive,” he breathed. “You do look pretty as a songbird in an apple tree.”
“You think so?” She blushed at his awkward compliment. She wore a pink checked gingham dress and little high-button shoes. Lark took his arm, attempting to match his long strides as they walked over to the big wagon. Paco and little Jimmy got to sit up on the seat with the driver. People were laughing and scrambling aboard.
Lawrence put his big hands on her small waist, lifting her up into the straw. “Miss Lacey, you don’t weigh as much as my Stetson.”
“Well, I weigh a little more than that.” She found herself giggling like a schoolgirl as the wagon pulled away.
People began to laugh and point back down the road behind them.
“Oh dear, not again,” Lark sighed.
Magnolia was out of her pen and ambling along behind the wagon as if she too, were going on the hay ride.
“Oh, let her be,” said the sheriff. “She looks cute as a bug in that pink hat, and she ain’t botherin’ nobody.”
So Magnolia trotted along behind the wagon as it wound its way through the countryside under the big summer moon. The crowd on the wagon sang an old song: “…He floats through the air with the greatest of ease, a daring young man on the flying trapeze, his movements were graceful, all the girls he did please….”
The night turned cooler. Lark used this as an excuse to snuggle closer against Lawrence’s big chest.
“You cold, Miss Lacey?”
“A little.”
“I might could borrow a horse blanket off the driver.”
Lark sighed. “Never mind.” If he was too naive to cuddle her, she reckoned she could forget about getting a real kiss. There were some things the sheriff needed to learn from his rascal of a brother.
The wagon finally reached a spot under some cottonwood trees, near the big barn where the dance had been held. Someone built a roaring fire and put on a pot of real Texas chili to cook, while tin cups of strong coffee and hot cider were passed around. The crowd laughed, and joked, and sang more songs. Of course Magnolia had a lovely time, because she went around the circle begging bits of bread.
The sheriff laughed. “I think she’s becomin’ the town mascot.”
“Humph!” snapped Mrs. Snootley. “How can we turn this town into a sophisticated metropolis with a stupid donkey roaming the streets, scaring the daylights out of folks when she opens her mouth?”
“She’s just mad the burro looks better in that pink hat than she does,” someone called.
“Who said that?” Mrs. Snootley said, looking around.
“Oh, Bertha,” Abner sighed. “Get over it.”
“But I was insulted—didn’t you hear that?”
“You brought it on yourself,” he chided.
“How could I have married such a country bumpkin?” she snorted as she went to sit on the wagon by herself.
That ended the awkwardness, and the crowd began to sing again. It must have been almost midnight when the driver sent Paco to gather up the crowd for the ride back. Little Jimmy had gone to sleep in the hay. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and the night seemed as black as the inside of a cow, Lark thought.
Lawrence lifted her up on the wagon. “I reckon I never had such a good time before, Miss Lacey.”
She was determined he was going to kiss her—really kiss her—tonight. She snuggled up to him and lifted her face. She could smell the sweet bay rum hair tonic and the mannish scent of sun and tobacco. She looked up at him in the darkness, oblivious to the others around them who were now singing: “…In the evening by the moonlight, I could hear those banjos ringing….”
“Miss Lacey,” he whispered. “I—I wish, I mean, if you wouldn’t think me too forward—”
“You aren’t too forward, Lawrence,” she said. She reached up, put her arms around his neck, pulled his rugged face to hers, and kissed him—really kissed him.
He stiffened, almost in shock, then hesitantly, his big arms went around her and he kissed her like she’d never been kissed in her whole life. Wow. Lawrence had some hidden talents after all. When they finally pulled away from the embrace, both were gasping.
Lark managed to stifle the urge to grab him and kiss him deeper still. She thought she might shock him.
“Miss Lacey,” he gasped. “You—you didn’t think me too forward?”
Hell, no! Of course she didn’t say that. Instead she blinked innocently. “Why, of course not, Lawrence. After all, you have been calling on me, and I presume your intentions are honorable?”
“I’m not sure if this is the time or place,” he stammered, “but I reckon it’s good as any.”
“For what, Lawrence?”
“Uh, Miss Lacey, I think you’re a fine figure of a woman.”
She waited and listened to the horses clopping along. “Yes?”
“Uh, I think you’re nice and sweet.”
“That’s kind of you to think that.” If he only knew.
“I reckon you probably got lots of homemakin’ skills that would make a man real happy.”
“Uh, maybe.” Aunt Cimarron said her cooking would choke a billy goat, but of course Lawrence needn’t know that. She wondered how fast she could learn to cook. Was she out of her mind? Had she let that blissful kiss make her forget she was on the run and in a mess that she wasn’t certain how to get out of?
“Maybe this ain’t the time and place,” he said, retreating.
“
Whatever you think, Lawrence.” How could this ex–Texas Ranger be so timid in dealing with a woman?
“No, I ain’t gonna back down now.” She could see sweat on his face, and he was chewing his lip. She reckoned he’d faced down killers with less fear than he was showing at this moment. Her heart went out to this earnest, sincere, inept man.
He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Miss Lacey, would you consider—I mean, would you do me the honor of marryin’ up with me?”
Her brain told her to be cautious, but her heart could only remember that kiss and how it had felt to be in his arms. Was she doing the right thing? A woman’s heart will always overrule her brain, she thought. “I’d be honored, Sheriff.”
“Yippee!” he shouted. Then he looked around, embarrassed. People stopped singing and craned their necks to look. “Excuse me, folks, but I have something to holler about. Miss Lacey just said she’d marry me!”
The crowd broke into a storm of congratulations—even Paco grinned and nodded. Men were reaching to pat Lawrence on the back, and the ladies were cooing and smiling at Lark.
Lark went suddenly numb. Oh my God, what have I done?
Chapter Nine
They were planning a June wedding. It would be a simple outdoor affair with the whole town invited to see the popular sheriff wed the new girl.
The first train was finally scheduled to arrive in Rusty Spur. The new depot with its telegraph office would be at the end of the street where the tracks ran through town. The local weekly newspaper, the Rusty Spur Beacon, proudly announced: RAILROAD TO ARRIVE IN TOWN. GROWTH AND EXCITEMENT EXPECTED.
Well, this was about as excited as the tiny town could get, Lark thought with a smile as she looked out on the main street. A dog slept out in the middle, and two horses flicked flies as they stood tied in front of the hotel. However, several new buildings were under construction, the first in many years. The biggest was to be a bank, down near the depot, several blocks down the street from Lark’s shop. It was two story, too, with living quarters above. Until now, the only two-story building in town was Mrs. Bottom’s hotel, across the street and down from the French Chapeau.
Like everyone else, Lark walked over to watch people hanging red, white, and blue bunting at the depot. One man shouted to the crowd, “First train arrives tomorrow at high noon, folks.”
“We’re ready,” Mrs. Bottoms shouted back. “The Odd Fellows band will play, and the mayor will make a speech.”
Little Jimmy jumped up and down with excitement. “I ain’t never ridden on a train before.”
“The sheriff and I will see that you get a ride,” Lark promised. “Maybe after we’re married, we’ll take you on a little trip.”
“I love trains!” he said.
New people were already streaming into town. The town council had been getting letters from interested settlers and businessmen. The hotel was filling up as the big day approached, but then, there were more lawbreakers for the sheriff to corral. The town council had finally been contacted by a rich banker. He and his wife were coming all the way from St. Louis soon. Yes sirree bob, Rusty Spur was about to be put on the map.
The following morning dawned bright and warm. The streets were full of good-natured people jostling each other and going into the stores. The hitching rails in front of every building were full. Toward noon, people began to close their businesses and gather at the depot for the festivities. The Odd Fellows’s little band played loudly, if not too well. The mayor made a speech about progress that only used “Remember the Alamo” three times. Not that anyone listened much; they were too excited.
A pompous railroad official with a big mustache had arrived early on the stagecoach and was waiting on the platform for the train to arrive. He, too, made a speech, mentioning the Alamo four times—which, of course, the Texans considered a superior speech.
Lark had closed her shop early to help Mrs. Bottoms and some of the other ladies set up a bunting-covered tablecloth on the platform, complete with lemonade and delicious oatmeal cookies. Jimmy and several other boys set off a string of firecrackers, which caused all the horses to rear and whinny. One buggy ran away with a man, dumping him in the middle of the dusty street. Magnolia merely looked around calmly. She wandered up to the refreshment table, ate a cookie or two, and made her own deposit on the station platform before Mrs. Bottoms shooed her away by waving her apron.
Lawrence grinned at Lark as he ambled up. “Ain’t it great? We’re part of history today. No telling what kind of future awaits the city of Rusty Spur.”
She tried to smile back, but all she could think of was how many more people would be passing through the town now. The more people, the bigger the chances of her secret getting out.
As noon approached on the hot summer day, the crowd grew, as did their excitement. In the distance, the distinct whistle of a train echoed across the prairie. Everyone cheered. After a moment, they could hear the chugging of the engine and see the smoke rising from the big black engine as it approached the town. It whistled again, and the scent of burning wood from the engine floated on the warm air. The little band struck up “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” as the engine chugged into the depot, blowing its whistle and causing more horses to rear and run away. Dogs barked, and men shouted and cheered as the engine slowed with a great grinding of brakes, pulling into the depot. The engine flew both an American and a Texas flag. Red, white, and blue banners hung on the cars, and dignitaries waved from inside.
Finally it stopped in the depot, blowing steam like an angry dragon while the people of the town pressed closer for a good look. The band played on, festively.
The conductor swung down from a car, shouting, “Rusty Spur! All off for Rusty Spur!”
The first passengers began to alight from the train.
“Welcome to Rusty Spur,” the mayor shouted. “Hope you folks is comin’ to stay. This town is gonna grow.”
Mrs. Snootley carried her valise and was already stepping aboard. “Bertha, where you going?” her husband demanded.
“I’m going shopping in Abilene,” she shouted back. “I’ll be going a lot more often now that the train comes through.”
“I can’t afford for you to do any more shopping!”
“Oh, hush,” she dismissed him with a disdainful sniff. “You don’t think I can dress fashionably in a town whose only shop caters to donkeys, do you?”
Maybe the word “donkey” set Magnolia off. She set up a discordant braying in protest. Of course that made a bunch of stray dogs start barking. The noise so startled the visiting railroad executive that he dropped the metal key to the city on his foot and hopped about, whimpering in pain.
Lark hurried to grab Magnolia. The railroad man pulled at his big mustache and stared at the little beast. “Is that a lady’s hat that animal is wearing?”
“That’s a long story,” Lark said, leading Magnolia away as the town roared with laughter.
The next few days made Lark aware of how much the arrival of a train was going to change the town. It arrived every Saturday at high noon, and there were always children waiting at the depot just to gawk at it. More people began to arrive in town. Some of them were settlers, looking for good farm or ranch land, and some were businesspeople looking for opportunities. A new school was now under construction, and there were new houses being built. Tiny Rusty Spur, which had been isolated except for an occasional freight wagon or stage, was growing faster than anyone had thought possible. Of course among the arrivals were a few saddle bums and ne’er-do-wells, but for the most part, the town stayed quiet and orderly.
As one ribbon drummer told Lark, the legend of the tough, silent sheriff who wasn’t a man to be trifled with had spread throughout Texas. Outlaws and troublemakers wanted to avoid Rusty Spur rather than tangle with the deadeye lawman.
Lark had gotten over her original doubts and was busy planning her wedding with Mrs. Bottoms. The hotel owner would be Lark’s matron of honor, and Paco would be Lawrence’s best m
an. Jimmy was pressed into service as the ring bearer, although he complained about having to wear a suit. The whole town was invited, as the ceremony would be held in the small church with an outdoor reception to follow.
Mrs. Bottoms helped Lark make her dress, since Lark had admitted she didn’t sew well enough to do it herself. She also acknowledged that she couldn’t cook, either.
“Well, I reckon that won’t matter at first,” the older lady said with a grin. “At first, the groom is interested in only one thing, and it ain’t cookin’, honey.”
Lark felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. “Mrs. Bottoms, I’m surprised at you.”
“Well, it’s true. I’ve seen the way that sheriff looks at you, and I don’t think he’s dreamin’ about biscuits.”
Biscuits. Her uncle Trace said Lark’s biscuits could be substituted for cannonballs. Actually, what he had said was, “If the defenders of the Alamo had had a supply of Lark’s biscuits, they might have wiped out Santa Anna.”
Okay, so for her dear Lawrence, she would learn to cook.
Mrs. Bottoms adjusted the veil as Lark tried it on. Lark took a look at herself and took a deep breath. “Oh my, I really do look like a bride, don’t I?”
“Sure do.” She had a mouthful of pins. “You don’t have any kin to come to this, child?”
Lark hesitated and tears came to her eyes. She blinked them away. Oh, how she missed her family. With her parents dead, her aunt and uncle and their clan were all the relatives Lark had. Still, considering the circumstances, she could hardly contact the Durango ranch and let them know she was getting married. The law was looking for her. Maybe someday, all this would fade away so she could go home and introduce her new husband. She had to hope Larado never showed up and spilled the beans about her past, working in the saloon and being part of the bank robbery. Lawrence—that pillar of virtue—would never understand.
Georgina Gentry - To Tease a Texan Page 13
