Cloaked (Once Upon a Western Book 1)

by Rachel Kovaciny

  Mary Rose was relieved they wouldn’t be dancing some outlandish thing she had never heard of. Everyone danced the quadrille back home, though young people considered it old-fashioned.

  Jubilee called out, “We have two sets of newlyweds here tonight, don’t we? Mrs. Garner, Mrs. Middleton, drag your husbands up here while you’ve still got them wrapped around your little fingers.”

  People laughed, and two young couples joined Mary Rose, Deputy Small, Jubilee, and Judge Evans in the center of the floor. They formed a neat square, one couple to a side, with Jubilee and the judge opposite Mary Rose and the deputy. The musicians struck up a lively tune and, with Jubilee and the judge leading, the pairs began the slow passage through the various figures, exchanging hands with each other, each couple parting and meeting, parting and meeting.

  Those not dancing clapped along with the music and chatted, but Mary Rose was determined to converse with her partner nonetheless.

  The deputy asked, “Have you enjoyed your visit thus far, Miss O’Brien?”

  “I have, thank you,” she replied properly.

  “What have you been doing with yourself?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Aside from eating butterscotch, I mean.”

  She laughed. “Should I do anything else?”

  “I’d think so, or you won’t have a sound tooth left in your head.”

  Their conversation thus far was in small one-sentence snatches, for they separated repeatedly during the figures. But now it was the other two couples’ turn to dance for a bit, and they could stand still long enough for Mary Rose to say, “Fortunately, I’ve also been taking riding lessons, reading books, and helping with the preparations for this party.”

  “All excellent uses of your time, I’m sure.”

  Mary Rose laughed. “You sound like you don’t quite approve.”

  “That depends on the sort of books. Dime novels? Shakespeare?”

  “Jane Austen.” It was their turn to dance again, so they were back to the broken pattern of speaking. Mary Rose appreciated that, for it gave her time to think of a suitable answer.

  “I see.”

  “Have you read any of her books?”

  “I have. My family has borrowed all of them from Jubilee at one time or another.”

  “Why, then I’m reading the same copies!” The thought pleased Mary Rose a great deal.

  “I expect so.”

  The next bit of dancing required them to pay more attention to their steps, and it was some minutes before they could resume their discussion. When they did, Deputy Small asked, “Are you fond of dancing, Miss O’Brien?”

  “Oh, yes. Are you?”

  “I am tonight.”

  “Flattery, Deputy Small?”

  “Truth.”

  Mary Rose could think of no reply at all to this.

  He continued, “It’s a good sign, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “Being fond of dancing.”

  “Why?”

  “You know Miss Austen says it’s a certain step, that’s all.”

  “Step toward what?”

  “Haven’t you read Pride and Prejudice yet?”

  “Yes, I read it last week.”

  “You’ll just have to read it again, I suppose.” He grinned, blue eyes bold and sparkling.

  “Why, you—!” Mary Rose could think of no description that suited his playfulness. So she stuck her nose in the air and would not speak to him again for over a minute. But then the dance ended, and she clapped with the others, smiling up at him to let him know she wasn’t truly put out.

  Mary Rose danced a sprightly polka with Deputy Small next, then danced what she thought was some variation of a cotillion with a young man whose blond hair was so slicked back, she rather expected it to slide straight off his head. She spent much of the dance suppressing giggles over the idea.

  Next came another polka, and Mary Rose found herself partnered with Mr. Linden. She had been dreading dancing with him, knowing she would likely have to. What would he say? Would he speak again of heiresses and schemes? Runaway horses?

  To her shock, he said nothing at all to her aside from, “May I have this dance?” at the beginning, and at the end, “Thank you, Miss Mary.” In between, he looked lost in thought, though he was a fluid dancer and led her effortlessly through the polka, never missing a step.

  Mary Rose found this silence more unnerving than any unwelcome topic of conversation. When the dance ended, Mr. Linden kept his grip on her hand, though he dropped his other from around her waist. The fiddlers played the first few bars of a waltz, and he asked, “May I have this dance too?”

  Hauer stepped up beside them. “As it happens, I was about to ask Miss Mary Rose for this dance. Would you mind?” Without waiting for Linden’s answer, he led her onto the floor.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked while he whirled her around, steering her between all the other couples on the crowded dance floor.

  “I think so.” Mary Rose was grateful to him for rescuing her from having to dance again with Mr. Linden. “I knew my grandmother was inviting a lot of people, but I don’t think I quite grasped how many.”

  “When Jubilee does something, she does it right.”

  “So you’ve told me. I believe you.” Mary Rose was surprised to find Hauer a graceful dancer, better even than the smooth Mr. Linden. The sort of man anyone would want to dance with. Without thinking, she asked, “Why aren’t you married?”

  “I wasn’t expecting that.” Hauer laughed. “The truth is, I was married. Years ago, to a girl from my mother’s tribe. But she’s been gone almost fifteen years now.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mary Rose’s smile faded. “My goodness, your mother, your father, your wife... I’m sorry.”

  “I have a lot of people in my life yet. I’m not lonesome. Don’t spoil your party by feeling sad for me. Besides, I see a certain young man who looks as if he wants to dance with you again.” Hauer let go of her waist and spun Mary Rose away from himself until she came face to face with Deputy Small.

  “This is becoming a habit.” The deputy swept her back out onto the floor.

  “One you’re thinking of breaking?” Mary Rose tilted her head back so she could look straight into his eyes. She hoped hers sparkled as merrily as his.

  “Not a chance.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The ranch house rang with music, the stamp of feet, laughter, and the voices of people trying in vain to carry on conversations over all the other noises. Eventually, the constant motion and noise overwhelmed Mary Rose. Her weariness must have shown, for Deputy Small appeared at her side and suggested, “Miss Mary Rose, would you like a breath of fresh air?”

  “Oh, yes. Please.” To the dapper gentleman with whom she had danced the latest polka, she said, “Won’t you excuse me?”

  Deputy Small steered her to the door, evading two young men who tried to ask Mary Rose to dance.

  “Thank you,” Mary Rose said when they had escaped the dining-room-turned-dance-floor.

  Deputy Small nabbed two glasses of lemonade from a table set up outside the kitchen. “Have you got a coat?” he asked when they reached the main entrance. “There’s bound to be a chill outside.”

  Mary Rose surveyed the coats and cloaks hung one on top of another on all the pegs lining both sides of the entrance. She spotted a flash of brilliant red and lifted three coats off to reveal her new cloak, still right next to Jubilee’s. Flinging it about her own shoulders, Mary Rose knew its red clashed hideously with her pink dress. But what did it matter? It was dark outside, after all. “Let’s go this way—it might be quieter.” She led Deputy Small out the back door instead of the front.

  It was not much quieter. Guests filled the back porch and spilled out into the yard. Lanterns hanging from the house’s eaves glowed brightly, pushing the darkness away.

  “I wanted to find you some place to sit down.” Deputy Small looked about them. “I’m sorry.”


  “What about the fence?” Mary Rose gestured at the wooden fence enclosing the back pasture.

  “The fence it is.” He carried their lemonade gallantly over to it, Mary Rose following him. “Not afraid of splinters, are you?” he asked.

  “Through all three petticoats? Not a bit!” Too late, Mary Rose remembered a respectable young lady would not mention petticoats in the presence of a young man. It was difficult to tell if her escort was embarrassed by her faux pas, however, for he said nothing and she couldn’t see his face.

  Deputy Small put their lemonade glasses down next to a fence post, then offered her his hand. “After you.”

  Even though Mary Rose had held his hand repeatedly during their dances all evening long, taking it there in the semi-darkness thirty feet from the people on the back porch felt more momentous. She tried to concentrate on climbing up onto the first rail, then the second, so she could perch on the top rail.

  “Are you all right up there?” Deputy Small asked. He was so tall that even when she sat on top of the fence, she didn’t tower above him.

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Here.” Deputy Small passed her a glass of lemonade and then swung up beside her holding his own. “Here’s to peace and quiet and fresh air.” He clinked his glass against hers, then drained it with one long gulp.

  Mary Rose laughed and took a grateful drink herself. “Thank you.” She wondered how often she’d said that to him in the last few minutes.

  “I should be thanking you.” Deputy Small set his empty glass on top of the fence post on the other side of him.

  “What for?” Mary Rose looked at him in surprise.

  “For making every other man here envious of the way you prefer my company to theirs.” He grinned, and she knew he was teasing. Or was he?

  “I shouldn’t have made it so obvious.” Mary Rose tried to sound mortified. “What will my grandmother say?”

  “She’ll say you have good taste.”

  “My goodness, Deputy Small, your opinion of yourself is almost as high as your head.”

  “Near enough,” he agreed with a laugh.

  Mary Rose liked his laugh. It was an honest, hearty laugh, and she joined it with pleasure.

  As they laughed, Mary Rose noticed that the people on the porch had grown silent. “Oh dear,” she said, sobering. “They’ve noticed us.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Only if I’m not supposed to be here. I never quite know, somehow. Back home, I know what I’m supposed to do and not do. I don’t always like it, but I do know. Here, your customs—they’re so different sometimes. Things I expect to get in trouble for, I don’t. And other things carry more weight than I realize.”

  “We are in plain sight, perched high atop a fence. No one will think badly of you. You’re not hiding the fact that you’re here drinking lemonade with me. And for that, I am most properly grateful.”

  “Thank you.” She finished her lemonade quickly. “Perhaps we should go back inside.”

  “If you’re ready.”

  “I am.”

  Deputy Small jumped down, then turned and asked, “May I?”

  “Of course,” Mary Rose said, expecting him to help her climb down the rails. Instead, he surprised her by putting his hands on her waist and lightly swinging her down.

  “Nary a splinter,” she said, shaking out her skirts when she had both feet on the ground again.

  He leaned down and whispered, “Thank goodness for the petticoats.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed in mock horror, and swatted his arm.

  Deputy Small laughed again, and they returned to the house, her hand tucked safely in the crook of his arm.

  They danced on into the night, until those who lived near enough to drive or ride home knew they must depart. Jubilee had invited five families to stay the night, for they lived almost a day’s drive away. True to his word, Hauer had removed all traces of his presence from the room he had occupied, which left five guest rooms empty and ready for use. Several unmarried men also elected to stay in the bunkhouse, since the cowhands were still away at the roundup.

  Deputy Christopher Small was among the last to leave. Mary Rose accompanied him out to the front porch, where he took her hand and raised it to his lips for a brief moment that left her giddier than any waltz or polka. “Thank you again, Miss O’Brien.” He tipped his hat, untied his horse from a hitching rail, mounted up, and rode away, leaving her filled with so much joyous energy she wondered how she would ever get to sleep.

  When Mary Rose turned to go back in the house, she was startled to find Mr. Linden leaning against the wall near the door, the end of his cigar glowing in the darkness. He said nothing. When she passed him on her way inside, he inclined his head to her. She almost wished he had spoken. Mary Rose hated not knowing what people were thinking about her.

  Mary Rose said good night to a few overnight guests on the way to her own room. She had not looked at the tall clock in the sitting room, but she knew it was late. Or early. There was almost no point in going to bed a few hours before her usual waking time, but she knew her body needed rest, though her mind buzzed with a hundred thoughts at once.

  She was surprised to see the door to her grandmother’s room half open. Ordinarily, Jubilee kept it closed, and Mary Rose had never seen inside. Now she paused before entering her own room across the hall, wondering if she should shut the door for her grandmother.

  “Is that you, Mary Rose?” Jubilee called.

  “Yes. Did you need something?” Mary Rose tiptoed to the doorway.

  “Not particularly. That is, yes. Would you come in a moment?”

  Mary Rose pushed open the door and tried not to look too interested in seeing inside. She had fancied what it must be like, of course, but it was lovely to see the real interior. The light from one kerosene lamp on a bedside table did not illuminate much of the room, but she got the vague impression of a wardrobe, a stately bed, and her grandmother seated in a chair beside the lamp, right where she could see out the door. She must have been waiting up for Mary Rose on purpose.

  Jubilee set down the book she was reading. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight, my dear?”

  “I did! Everyone was so welcoming. I did, yes.” Mary Rose blushed, recalling Deputy Small’s lips on the back of her gloved hand. She was grateful for the darkness to hide her pink cheeks.

  “I’m so glad. I noticed—but no, that’s not why I wanted to speak to you. I was wondering something else.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you like it here, Mary Rose?”

  “Very much!” Mary Rose’s voice squeaked a little on that phrase, much to her annoyance. “I do. There’s so much to do and see and learn. And I’m enjoying getting to know you and Mr. Hauer and… some other people.”

  “I’m glad. I must admit, I didn’t believe I’d get on so well with you. I’d thought… well, I’d thought you would be like some of the other young ladies I know. More interested in gadding about in pretty dresses than in what life on a ranch has to offer.”

  Mary Rose couldn’t think of anything to say in response.

  Jubilee continued, “We’ve never discussed how long you’re to stay with me. I recall your mother writing something to the effect of the summer months?”

  “I… That’s what they said when they asked if I wanted to visit you, yes.”

  “Is there any reason you couldn’t stay longer, if you wanted?”

  “I don’t believe so.” Mary Rose couldn’t stop herself from remembering Mr. Linden’s words from the previous day. Throwing a party for you is only the beginning, he’d said. Next, she’ll be giving you gifts, asking you to stay here for more than just the summer. Her arms tingled with goosebumps. Was he right? Had she somehow worked to get her visit extended? No, she was sure she hadn’t done anything but enjoy herself and her grandmother’s company.

  “Would you like to stay longer?”

  “I—”

  Jubilee stopped her. “No need to
decide now. We needn’t make any definite plans—we could even wait to make a decision until closer to the end of summer.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now, I’m sure you’re tired. Good night, my dear, and sweet dreams. Not that you’ll need any help with those, unless I’m very much mistaken.”

  Mary Rose giggled. Despite the chill of Mr. Linden’s insinuations, she’d had a happy evening indeed. “Good night.” She closed the door behind her and crossed to her own room. When she opened her door, a flash of movement caught her eye somewhere down the darkened hallway. The usual lamp burned all night where the entryway intersected the long hall. Who would be out of their room still? Mrs. Mills had long since left for her own small house. Was it a guest looking for the privy? Most likely.

  Then Mary Rose remembered that Mr. Linden had remained on the front porch when she said good night to Deputy Small. She shivered and hastened to close her door behind her. Though she was not in the habit of doing so, she turned the key in the lock and placed it on her washstand. She had no logical reason for thinking that Mr. Linden was watching her leave Jubilee’s room; still, she took comfort in knowing her door was locked.

  Chapter Twelve

  The overnight guests left the next morning, some of them setting off for home before Mary Rose had finished dressing. She was still tired, her spirits low in reaction to the excitement of the previous evening. Even the simple task of choosing a dress felt insurmountable. Should she wear her navy blue dress with long sleeves or the short-sleeved, fawn-colored one covered with tiny pink sprigs of flowers? Although she dawdled over her toilette, she did no more with her hair than coil it into a knot at the back of her head.

  When she finally made her appearance at breakfast, having chosen the blue dress, the dining room was deserted. She found lukewarm tea and what she assumed was a clean mug, but little food remained. A slice of stale cake from the previous night and a woebegone sausage would have to do.