Naomi's Choice

by Claire Sanders

Naomi’s feet moved of their own accord as she allowed Bret to escort her toward the entry. A virtuous woman would have stopped his improper advances. Did the fact she was curious about the ways of love mean she wasn’t as honorable as she should be?

  * * *

  From his perch near the back wall, Ethan watched Naomi as she circled the dance floor. Every man between the ages of twenty and death had either asked her to dance or cut in on another man’s turn. Not that he could blame them. She practically glowed from the exertion and the attention, transforming her from pretty to radiant.

  Ruth walked to his side and Ethan lowered his head so she could speak directly into his ear. “You’d better claim a dance with my granddaughter soon. The musicians say they’re going to stop at ten o’clock.”

  Ethan pulled his father’s gold watch from his vest pocket. “I don’t think I have much of a chance,” he said, trying to make his voice lighthearted, “unless I want to wrestle a man for the opportunity.”

  Ruth nudged him good-naturedly and laughed. “She’s the belle of the ball, all right.”

  Before he could respond, the town blacksmith pulled Ruth onto the dance floor. Vicente took her place at Ethan’s side. “Did you find where Anderson left his cart?”

  “It’s out back. Don’t worry. He won’t slip away from me again.”

  “What about a dance?”

  Ethan frowned at his friend. “Are you asking me to dance with you?”

  Vicente rolled his eyes. “I want to dance with you about as much as I want to dance with a burro. On second thought, the burro is probably a better dancer.”

  Ethan counted on his fingers. “I danced with Miss Ruth, your wife, your daughter, one of your sisters, and my old teacher, Mrs. O’Brien. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I’m not talking about who you danced with, I’m talking about who you didn’t dance with.”

  “Sounds like you really want to dance with me.”

  “Where’s that burro?” The two friends laughed at the ongoing joke. “What about Miss Naomi? Don’t tell me you’re going to let this opportunity pass you by.”

  First Ruth, now Vicente. Why did all of his friends want to push him toward Naomi? “My mother said if there was a girl no one was asking to dance, I should be sure to invite her to dance with me. That description doesn’t fit Naomi.”

  “True enough.” Vicente slapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “But if I was sweet on her the way you are, I’d be in the middle of the floor, vying for my chance.”

  “Who says I’m sweet on her?”

  Vicente lifted his eyebrows and grinned.

  “Like I said before, Naomi’s not the kind of woman who’d be happy as a cowboy’s wife. She’s got city ways.”

  Vicente shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe so.” Vicente’s daughter, Paloma, ran to his side.

  “Papi, vas a bailar conmigo?”

  “Claro que sí,” Vicente answered. He turned back to Ethan. “The prettiest girl in the room wants to dance with me.”

  Ethan smiled and nodded. “I’ll try not to be jealous.” He watched his friend lead Paloma to the edge of the dance floor.

  Where was Naomi now? A quick scan of the dancers confirmed she wasn’t among them. Neither was she at the refreshment table. His neck and shoulder muscles tightened as he made his way to the door. Perhaps she’d simply stepped outside for a breath of air, but, if so, why was Ruth still on the dance floor?

  As he stepped into the November night, Ethan’s heart froze in his chest. No one was outside, unless they stood beyond the ring of light surrounding the church hall. He walked back to the open doorway and swept his gaze over the people. Anderson was absent as well.

  Ethan strode along the boardwalk, his hands fisted at his side. The music was too loud to overhear voices and the darkness too deep to detect more than the vague outlines of the horses tied there. Dark or not, he’d find his carriage and the lieutenant’s cart next to it.

  He kept one hand on the chinked log wall and the other in front of him. The warm breath of a horse blew on his hand. He’d arrived at his own carriage. Anderson’s white horse should be easier to see, and Ethan advanced a few steps until a soft whinny helped him identify the animal.

  The music stopped, followed by applause, and in the few seconds of a silence, Ethan heard what he most feared—the piteous sobs of a woman. “Naomi?” he called into the darkness.

  The crying stopped, but it was a man’s voice that answered. “She’s right here. No need to worry.”

  Ethan stalked toward the voice. “Anderson? Is that you?” A friction match was struck and he tracked the light to the lieutenant’s face.

  “It is,” Anderson answered lazily. “Care for a cheroot?”

  “Where’s Naomi?”

  Before Anderson could answer, someone touched Ethan’s arm. “I’m here,” Naomi said in a near-whisper. “Will you take me home, please?”

  “Are you all right?”

  There was a sniff followed by a heavy sigh. “I’d like to go home.”

  “I’ll take you,” Anderson said.

  Naomi grasped Ethan’s arm and moved behind him. “No!”

  The fear in Naomi’s voice told Ethan all he needed to know. He drew back his fist, prepared to defend her if necessary. “Get out of here, Anderson.”

  Ruth’s voice called from nearby. “Naomi, are you out here?”

  Naomi’s skirts rustled as she scurried away. Ethan didn’t take his eyes off Anderson. “You smell of spirits.”

  The lieutenant patted his jacket pocket. “Never go anywhere without a flask or two. Would you like a sip?”

  Ethan’s muscles tightened as he prepared to punch the lieutenant’s face. The drunken idiot had done something to make Naomi cry, and that was reason enough for Ethan to bloody his nose.

  Ruth called again. “Ethan? Ethan Garrett?”

  Two desires battled for prominence in Ethan’s heart—to see Bret Anderson face down in the street and to protect his friends.

  “Come back, Naomi!” Anderson trumpeted like a drunken goose. “We’re not finished with our…business.”

  Naomi’s muffled sob squeezed Ethan’s heart. Ruth and Naomi needed him more than he needed to teach Anderson a lesson. He turned back toward the building and silently thanked Ruth for bringing a lantern with her. Naomi huddled next to her grandmother.

  “I’m here, Miss Ruth,” Ethan called.

  “Will you take us home?” Ruth asked, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “You know I will. Come this way.” He took the lantern from Ruth and guided the ladies to his carriage. As he turned to help them enter, he glimpsed Naomi’s tear-streaked face and disheveled clothing. What had Anderson done?

  Ethan’s need to seriously damage the officer reignited. Only the blackest heart would hurt a woman. His first duty was to see to the ladies’ safety, but later, when the dust had settled, he’d call on the lieutenant.

  “Now, now, Naomi.” Anderson lumbered toward the pair, his arm outstretched as if to grab the younger woman.

  “Back off,” Ethan warned and shoved the officer’s chest.

  Anderson drew back his arm and aimed a right cross at Ethan’s jaw. But the dim light or the officer’s drunkenness, or a combination of the two, made his assault little more than a glancing blow.

  It was provocation enough for Ethan. A quick left jab put Anderson flat on his back. “Good enough,” Ethan said.

  * * *

  Naomi snuggled beneath her grandmother’s cloak and fought to calm herself. It was over. She was safe. And she’d never be so foolish again.

  “Do you need to see a doctor?” her grandmother asked.

  Naomi shook her head. “Ethan came. Bret stopped when he heard Ethan. He didn’t…”

  “Shh…” Her grandmother stroked her head. “Lieutenant Anderson tried to hurt you, didn’t he?” She pulled Naomi against her shoulder. “It happens to more women than you know.”

  Gratitude filled Naomi’s heart. Some moth
ers would have blamed their daughters for the man’s misdeeds. Her father certainly would have. Grandmother had simply offered comfort. Perhaps she deserved a reprimand. Bret hadn’t forced her to leave the church hall. She’d willingly stepped outside with him. But she’d expected another kiss. Instead, she’d learned the danger of trusting the wrong man.

  Just a few hours earlier, she’d thought of herself as a prize to be won. Some prize. If word spread about tonight’s incident, her reputation would be in tatters. All because she’d been blinded by handsome features and flawless manners.

  The carriage stopped and Ethan climbed down from his seat. A second later, he offered his hand to help them alight. Naomi ducked her head. She couldn’t face him. He’d seen her at her worst. Heaven only knew what Ethan thought of her. Thinking her foolish would be the kindest judgment, but even that made her blush.

  Her grandmother led her up the porch steps and into the house. “Night, Ethan,” she said as she closed the door.

  Fresh tears streamed from Naomi’s eyes. She’d wanted to stay with her grandmother and make Loma Verde her home, but those plans lay in ruin because she’d wanted a kiss. Now she’d return to San Antonio, resume her role as governess and housekeeper, and submit to her stepmother’s demands. Better that fate than to live with the consequences of her shameful foolishness.

  * * *

  After church services the next morning, Ethan searched the crowd for Ruth. Naomi hadn’t been at her grandmother’s side, a fact that left his stomach as twisted as a tie-down rope.

  But it was Ruth who found him first. “Good morning, Ethan. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Of course. Would you like to sit down?”

  Ruth glanced in both directions. “No, let’s go for a walk. I don’t want any eavesdropping gossips to overhear.”

  Ethan followed Ruth outside and let her lead the way. A few minutes later, they were away from town, walking along the San Antonio road. “Is Naomi all right?”

  “Of course not. Thank goodness you had the foresight to look for her or it would have been much worse. As it is, she’s got a black eye and a bruised heart.”

  Every muscle in Ethan’s body tightened. “Anderson hit her?”

  Ruth placed her palm on his back. “Her black eye and bruised heart will mend, but Naomi’s reputation will be ruined if any gossip starts.”

  Ethan stopped and turned toward his friend. “You know I won’t say anything.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s Anderson. If that good-for-nothing brags about his conquest, it won’t take long for word to spread.”

  Leave it to Ruth to speak the truth in the most no-nonsense way possible. Marta’s sister had left Loma Verde. Would Naomi do the same? “I’ll pay a visit to the fort.”

  “No.” Ruth shook her head forcefully. “I wanted to lodge a complaint with his commanding officer, but when I talked it over with Naomi, she begged me not to go. Men who mistreat women are seldom punished because the women are ashamed. My granddaughter isn’t the first girl to mistake good manners for gentlemanly behavior. I might be a little guilty of that myself.”

  Ethan slipped one arm across Ruth’s shoulders. “Anderson is like a pretty flower that everyone admires until they discover the plant is poisonous. Lots of people like flowers.”

  Ruth crossed her arms over her chest and looked him squarely in the eye. “You tried to warn me. I was wrong not to listen.”

  Only a person of high integrity could admit they were wrong. Ethan pulled Ruth closer. “I suppose Anderson did the same thing to Marta Garcia’s sister?” she asked.

  “I promised Vicente I wouldn’t talk about it,” Ethan answered. “Marta’s sister went south to stay with an aunt.”

  “Poor girl. I’ll add her to my prayers.” Ruth turned around and headed back toward town. “Naomi has a powerful lot of thinking to do. I wish I could take away her burden, but some lessons have to be learned the hard way.”

  “You’ll let me know if I’m needed?”

  “Of course. But if Anderson pays us another call, I’m going to take a page from your book.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ruth raised her fists and assumed a boxing stance. “A swift uppercut and a kick to the shins ought to do it.”

  Ethan laughed and embraced his friend again. “You don’t fight fair, Miss Ruth.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Naomi examined her face in the small mirror above her washstand. Two weeks had passed since the Harvest Dance. Although the bruise had faded, she cringed at the possibility of someone asking how she’d been hurt.

  Her grandmother tapped lightly on Naomi’s open door. “Coming to church this morning?”

  “Not today. Next Sunday for sure.”

  Ruth pulled on her gloves. “I may be late coming home today. Margaret O’Brien invited me to join her for Sunday dinner.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  Hope sparkled in her grandmother’s eyes. “Sure you don’t want to join us?”

  Naomi hated to disappoint her. “Not this time, but I’ll go to the Ladies’ Circle meeting on Wednesday.”

  Ruth patted Naomi’s back. “That’s good. We can’t let our past troubles cloud our future.”

  It was time to move forward. Naomi’s inner wounds had healed and, although her foolishness still rankled, she’d learned how wrong she’d been to value good looks and courtly manners over real virtues.

  “There are two pies in the kitchen,” her grandmother continued. “One for us and one for Ethan. I’ll take it to his place later today. Think you’d like to go with me?”

  Ethan Garrett. The man who’d rescued her and the only other person who knew about the consequences of her poor judgment. She had to face him someday. She owed him her thanks, if nothing else. “Would you object if I took it to him by myself? I need to thank him.”

  “I think that’s a fine idea. But you’ll have to walk. I’ll have the horse and buggy with me.”

  “I don’t mind the walk.”

  “Then that settles it.” Her grandmother embraced her. “I’m proud of you, Naomi.”

  Forgiveness. Grace. Love. Her grandmother had erased all of Naomi’s shame by refusing to condemn her. “Oh, Grandmother…I behaved so foolishly.”

  Ruth stepped back and looked into her eyes. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s what you do afterwards that makes a woman of substance. Thanking Ethan is a good step in that direction.”

  * * *

  Naomi pulled back the ruffled white curtain to check the weather. Another sunny day. Although they paid for it in the summer, one of the advantages of living in central Texas was mild December days. Was she dressed appropriately for calling on a man?

  She laughed softly at the absurdity of the situation. A single woman never called on a single man, yet here she was, about to do so with her grandmother’s blessing. Of course, it was Ethan Garrett, a man whose honor and trustworthiness were beyond reproach.

  There was no need to don one of her nicer dresses. At the Wednesday meetings of the Ladies’ Circle, all the women wore simple house dresses. Ethan probably wouldn’t notice one type of dress from another. But didn’t her everyday dress and her everyday bonnet convey the message that she considered him to be nothing special?

  That was far from being true. Not only had she been blinded by Bret Anderson’s charm, she’d also failed to recognize Ethan Garrett’s true value. She’d dismissed him as just another cowboy. But Ethan wasn’t an itinerant ranch hand, he was a true gentleman. Ethan was what Bret Anderson should have been.

  The blue bonnet, she decided. It sported a pleated ribbon at the crown and small red feathers. Plus, her red shawl. Those accessories would brighten her plain blue muslin dress. Whether or not Ethan noticed she’d enlivened her appearance for him was beyond her control. But she rather hoped he would.

  After one quick check of her appearance in the hallway mirror, Naomi picked up the basket that held Ethan’s pie and stepped outside. Although she’d
been to the Garrett Ranch only once, it would be easy to find. All she had to do was head south on the only road connecting her grandmother’s property to his.

  For the first time in many days, her heart felt light, the comfort that came with being forgiven. Her Lord didn’t hold her indiscretion against her, she was forgiven, and now she need only look forward and get on with her life. The strains of a hymn floated into her mind and she joined the birds in singing praises.

  Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty

  Early in the morning, our song shall rise to Thee

  Naomi sang on, the words spilling from her heart in a prayer of thanksgiving. Her grandmother had never blamed her, and her most important Judge had guaranteed forgiveness through His Son. There was no more need for self-chastisement. Her burden had been lifted.

  Holy, holy, holy, Merciful and Mighty,

  God in three persons, blessed trinity.

  A cold blast of wind sent chills up Naomi’s spine. Where had that come from? Naomi turned. A wall of ominous clouds filled the sky. A blue norther, the unexpected arctic blast that brought rain and freezing temperatures without warning, was on her heels. And she, with nothing more to protect her from the elements except a woolen shawl. What should she do?

  She was more than halfway to Ethan’s house. Turning back would put her in the storm’s path. But if she hurried, perhaps she could make it to the Garrett Ranch before the bad weather caught up to her. She said a prayer for safety, pulled the basket against her midriff, and quickened her pace. The first frigid raindrop landed squarely on her back.

  * * *

  Ethan settled his dogs on horse blankets in the kitchen. The temperature had fallen at least twenty degrees in the last hour, and there was no telling what the night had in store. Old timers still talked about the Blue Norther of 1837 that left icicles on the cattle’s horns.

  He stoked the fire in the kitchen fireplace and lit several candles to dispel the peculiar early afternoon gloom. The horses were safe in their stalls and the cattle could fend for themselves. He was stuck inside for the duration with no one for company except two cattle dogs. Maybe he’d fill the time with one of Miss Ruth’s books.