“But Papa …” Isabel wiped her streaming eyes again with her muslin handkerchief.
“I know, my dear, but you’ve said last night’s behavior was an aberration.”
“True. Papa rarely drinks to the point of …” Isabel trailed off, but Libby had already heard how he’d come home after midnight and two of their trusted cowpunchers had carried him in and put him to bed, shushing each other as they tripped over chairs and banged into the bedstead, trying not to awaken her. “He often has a couple of drinks in the evening. I know this. Sometimes it makes him … less cordial than he would otherwise be. But last night …”
“He was still asleep when you left home, you said.”
“Yes. When he was an hour late, I tried to wake him, but he …”
Libby leaned forward and patted her hand. “I’m sorry, dear. You did right to go to Mr. Bane and tell him your father was indisposed today. I’m sure Griffin will do fine with meeting the stagecoach and taking care of any passengers’ needs.”
“Yes. He …” Isabel licked her chapped lips. “He assured me he would see to things, and he had me letter a sign to hang on the office door: ‘For tickets and other stage line business, see G. Bane at the livery today.’ And he’s a man of his word.”
“Indeed.” Libby rose. “Let me freshen your tea.”
“Oh no. I’m keeping you from your work.” Isabel rose, spilling her cotton bag and gloves to the floor.
Libby bent to help her retrieve them. “You mustn’t fret about that. Florence is doing a good job. I’m actually thinking of training another clerk to give me more time away from the store.”
“Business has been good lately?” Isabel asked.
“Yes, and I see it as a way to help one more woman in Fergus become independent.”
“Oh? Of whom are you thinking? If it’s not a private matter.”
“I haven’t settled my mind on one person yet, but I’m watching the Spur & Saddle. I thought that if Bitsy and Augie have a slack time when they can’t afford to keep both Vashti and Goldie on, I might take one of them under my wing.” Libby eyed her anxiously, but no censure met her in Isabel’s face. There was a time when the schoolmarm would have been horrified and boycotted the emporium if Libby hired a former saloon girl. Now the moral judgments were left to Rose Caplinger and a few of the town’s older women, Libby thought wryly. “There’s Myra Harper, too. She hasn’t expressed interest, but I think she might be a good candidate.”
“I guess there are plenty of women in this town who’d like a chance to earn some money at a respectable establishment.” Isabel drew on her gloves. “Thank you for your advice. You are a good friend.”
“You’re welcome,” Libby said. “Speak softly to your father, and I’m sure this time of turbulence will pass. And as to that hole he dug behind the barn …”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Probably.” They looked at each other for a moment. Libby hoped they were right, but she couldn’t see an advantage to stirring up more suspicion and anger between Isabel and her father. Cyrus was a proud, opinionated man. Best to ignore his occasional lapses. “Now don’t forget the box social next Saturday.”
Isabel ducked her head. “I don’t think I’ll put a box in the auction.”
“You must!” Libby squeezed her arm. “My dear, there will be dozens of bachelors bidding on the box lunches. It’s a civic duty of all the single women to enter.”
That drew a wan smile. “Do you think so, or are you in jest?”
Libby lifted her eyebrows. “I am entering.”
Isabel’s skeptical face made her burst out in laughter.
“I am, truly. So you must enter, too.”
“What if we end up with a couple of crude miners?”
“Then we’ll insist on eating together to keep one another safe, and rejoice in the amount of money we raised toward outfitting Dr. Kincaid’s new office. But I shall pray that two nice gentlemen buy our lunches. And you must enter the pie contest, too. I happen to know you make the best lemon meringue pie in the territory.”
Isabel smiled and drew Libby into an awkward hug. “Thank you so much. I’ve not had anyone to talk with this way since Mama died.”
Tears filled Libby’s eyes. “Come again soon. And if your father is cross with you tonight, ride into town and stay with me. I mean it.”
Isabel opened her mouth as though to protest, then closed her lips and nodded. “Thank you, then.”
She exited through the kitchen door. Libby watched over the rail until Isabel was safely down the stairs and on the back porch that served as her freight platform.
She carried their dishes to the dry sink and tidied the apartment. As she walked down the inside stairs into the emporium, she assured herself that hushing up the matter was best. What good would it do to report Cyrus’s drunken spree—of which Ethan might already be aware? But it bothered her that Cyrus had set up his brother-in-law as a rancher when he’d had no contact with him for more than twenty years and didn’t seem to like him much. Smith had been in prison before, and he’d hired a crew of unsavory characters. The whole matter puzzled Libby. Cyrus was a shrewd businessman, known for running a tight ship. He wouldn’t put up with laziness or drunkenness and had been known to fire stagecoach drivers for tardiness.
A vague uneasiness hovered in her chest. Kenton Smith’s reappearance had not eased Isabel’s fears; instead, it had substituted new ones for the old. How long could her friend continue living in dread?
The day of the social dawned bright and clear. Ethan and his two ranch hands hurried to complete morning chores so they all could attend the gathering at the schoolhouse. Spin and Johnny eagerly accepted their pay from Ethan.
“I sure hope Florence Nash tells me which basket is hers.” Spin riffled the bills Ethan had handed him.
“Don’t spend your whole week’s pay on a lunch.” Johnny shook his head at his brother’s enthusiasm. “That little redhead’s got you in a tizzy.”
“Ain’t no shame in likin’ a girl. Right, Sheriff?” Spin wiggled his eyebrows at Ethan.
“No Marcus. No shame a’tall.”
Spin scowled at Ethan’s use of his proper name. “Hey! You better not call me that in town.”
“Watch it,” Johnny said. “He’s the boss, remember?”
Ethan grinned. “I expect you’ll be eyeing the females soon, too. I suggest you take a hard look at the Harper sisters. They’re good girls.”
Spin pushed his hat back and frowned. “Myra’s too old for him.”
“Who says? Anyway, Alice isn’t. And she’s not homely either.” Ethan took off his work gloves. “All right, let’s get breakfast and clean up. Folks will start gathering by ten o’clock.”
“Are you cookin’ breakfast?” Spin’s eyes gleamed with hope.
“No, you are. Call me when it’s ready.” Ethan slapped his shoulder with his leather gloves and strode toward the house.
An hour and a half later, he and the McDade boys saddled up and rode to the schoolhouse. The school yard was already thronged. Rough tables covered with dishes stretched along one side of the meadow where the scholars played during recesses. Food for those who would not be dining on auctioned box lunches filled the plank surfaces.
Ethan tied Scout to the fence between the schoolhouse and the graveyard and ambled about the grounds speaking to the townspeople. Seemed every rancher and miner within the Owyhee Valley had gotten the word and come to join in the gala.
“Hello, Lyman,” he called to a gray-haired rancher who lived five miles outside town. He hadn’t seen Lyman and Ruth Robinson for at least eight months. “How’d you fare last winter?”
“We got by.”
Ethan lingered a moment with the couple and strolled on. Dr. Kincaid hailed him and excused himself from a knot of gaily gowned ladies.
“Well Doc, seems you’ve got some admirers.” Ethan extended his hand, and Kincaid shook it heartily.
“For some reason, all the single la
dies seem to be competing to get my attention. It’s rather distracting. Does that happen to you, Sheriff?”
Ethan chuckled. “Not since I started stepping out with Trudy.”
“Ah, so that’s the key. A steady girl.”
“Maybe so. Have any of them told you which is their box lunch yet, to be sure you’ll bid on it?”
Enlightenment brightened Kincaid’s face. “Oh, so that’s what Miss Edwards meant when she said she hoped I liked pink and green ribbons. Mumbo jumbo, I thought.”
“Far from it. She’s gunning for you, that’s sure.”
“Aha. And has the fair Miss Dooley told you which is hers?”
Ethan frowned. “No, she hasn’t.” Was Trudy really going to risk letting another man buy her lunch? He’d better find her soon and see if he could get a hint out of her.
“Oh, and the eldest Harper girl asked me if I like currant pie and said something about a red bow….” The doctor looked anxiously toward the table set aside for the mystery lunches.
“You’d best decide which one you want and put your money on it, Doc.” Ethan clapped him on the shoulder. He’d just spotted Hiram and Trudy walking into the school yard with Rose, Libby, and the Nash family.
The ladies carried large baskets with bright cloths covering the contents.
Ethan greeted them and fell into step beside Trudy. “May I carry that for you?”
She laughed. “Oh no. No man is going to get his hands on our baskets before we deliver our boxes for the auction. Right, Libby?”
“Absolutely.” Libby smiled at him. “I hope you intend to participate in the auction, Sheriff.”
“Of course. But it will be difficult to remain impartial. If I only had an inkling of what to bid on …”
“You may carry my basket, Sheriff,” Rose called.
Ethan broke stride. “Oh … of course. Where would you like it?”
“Just follow me, sir. You’ll need to exercise discretion, however. Mustn’t tell any of the other fellows which box is mine.” Rose giggled and wiggled a finger, beckoning him toward the auction table.
Ethan cast a helpless glance at Trudy. She shrugged as though to say, “You got yourself into it.”
Orissa Walker and Annie Harper accepted the single women’s offerings under cover of a strategically hung tablecloth.
“Go on and enjoy yourselves, gals,” Annie told Trudy and Libby. “We’ll get a batch of six or eight before we add them to the ones on the table. That way, if the gents are watching, they still won’t know whose is whose.”
“What have we here?” Orissa asked as Ethan and Rose stopped before her.
“Why, it’s my lunch for auction.” Rose smiled prettily and lifted the linen towel draped over her box. Ethan couldn’t help seeing the curled lavender ribbons and paper pansies that decorated the top of the box. “Now, Sheriff, remember, mum’s the word.” She winked at him, and Ethan felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Was she hinting that he should bid on her box? Or perhaps that he should tell the other men to bid on it? If he whispered about which was hers, would that in reality drive away bidders?
“I’ll see you later, I’m sure, Mrs. Caplinger.”
“All right, Sheriff. And thank you for your assistance.”
Hiram sidled up to him. “Can you help lug out benches from the schoolroom so people can sit while they watch the shooting contest?”
“Sure. When’s that going to be held?” Ethan glanced around as they walked, wondering where Trudy had gotten to. He spotted her and Libby talking with Starr and Jessie Tinen near a table covered with pies.
“After lunch,” Hiram said. “The judges sample the pies and announce the winners of the pie contest, and then the shooting match will start.”
“The horse race is the last event of the day?” Ethan asked.
Hiram nodded.
“You entering anything?”
Hiram shook his head.
“What’s the matter? Old Hoss getting slow?” Ethan chuckled at Hiram’s expression.
“You taking Scout in the race?”
“Naw, I’m just going to watch and make sure things stay peaceful.”
“Hey.” Hiram jerked his chin toward the road.
Ethan turned and saw several riders cantering into the schoolyard in a swirl of dust. He studied them closely and caught his breath. Eli Button, Wilfred Sterling, and the other man he’d let go after the Spur & Saddle incident had arrived, accompanied by three more men. So. Someone had extended the invitation to them, and they’d left the Martin ranch en masse for the social. He’d better speak to them immediately to be sure they hadn’t brought along any liquor.
Before he could approach them, Cyrus detached himself from a knot of men and walked over to the newcomers. The oldest of the riders dismounted and fell into conversation with him.
“That must be Mr. Fennel’s brother-in-law,” Ethan said.
“You go ahead,” Hiram said. “I’ll get Griff to help me.”
“All right. Oh, say, Hiram. Wait a sec.” He grabbed the gunsmith’s sleeve and drew him closer.
Hiram raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t bid on anything with lavender ribbons and pansies,” Ethan whispered.
Light dawned in Hiram’s eyes, and he nodded. He smiled and slapped Ethan’s shoulder before he walked away toward where Griff Bane towered over a cluster of men preparing to start a horseshoe game.
Ethan sauntered toward Cyrus and the stranger. The cowboys had dismounted and led their horses to the side of the schoolyard and tethered them near the townsfolks’ mounts.
“Good day, Mr. Fennel.” Ethan smiled and tried to sound friendly.
“Well Sheriff. How are you doing?” Cyrus’s smile looked a little strained. “I s’pose you’d like to meet my brother-in-law, Kenton Smith.”
Ethan held out his hand to the graying man. “You’re the tenant on the Martin ranch.”
“That’s right.” Smith clasped his hand briefly.
“Welcome to Fergus, Mr. Smith. Just make sure your boys behave themselves.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed. “Oh they will. They’re good boys. They just get a little rambunctious now and then. I’m sorry about what happened earlier, but saloons have to expect a bit of action now and then.”
“I don’t see it that way. Were you informed that there’s to be no alcohol at this picnic?”
“We got the word,” Smith said.
Ethan nodded. “I hope you and your boys enjoy the day.”
He walked away feeling Smith and Fennel watching him. He wondered if they had contacted the dead cowboy’s family, as Cyrus had promised, but he wasn’t going to ask. And he was going to do his best to find out what Trudy’s box looked like. He didn’t want her to wind up eating lunch with the likes of Eli Button.
CHAPTER 23
You’ve got to know what she put on it. Come on, Hi. I can’t let some other man buy my sweetheart’s box lunch.”
Hiram scowled and shook his head. His sister hadn’t let him see her creation. She had taken great pains to hide it from both him and Rose. If Ethan wanted to wheedle the information out of Trudy, he should do it himself.
“They’re about to start the bidding.” Ethan looked anxiously toward where Peter Nash was preparing to auction off the ladies’ lunches.
“Folks, and especially gentlemen, gather ‘round. The single ladies have put their best efforts into preparing lunches for your gustatory pleasure. We have fourteen box lunches for our auction. Mrs. Nash is going to bring me the first one, and it’s up to you fellows how much money we raise here today, but I’m telling you, if you don’t bid on these boxes, you’re missing out on a good thing.”
Ellie smiled and carried a box wrapped in plaid flannel to her husband. “Looks like the lady who made this lunch wrapped it up in a tablecloth.”
Peter took the bundle and held it up. “There you go, gentlemen. Isn’t that an inviting parcel? Why, Parnell, this would go nicely with your shirt.”
; Parnell Oxley, one of the cowboys from the Landry ranch, guffawed. “All right, Mayor, you talked me into it. I’ll bid two bits.”
The other men edged closer and the bids began to fly. When they lagged at two dollars, Peter let his gavel fall. “Sold to Mr. Runnels for two dollars.”
Josiah Runnels walked forward to accept the package amid applause and catcalls.
“Would the lady who made the lunch please come forward?” Peter asked.
Myra Harper came from the edge of the crowd, flushing as she peeled off her apron and tossed it to her mother. She strolled over to Josiah and looked up at him. “Disappointed it’s your next-door neighbor’s box, Josiah?”
“Nah. I hope you made fried chicken.”
Everyone laughed.
Hiram eyed Ethan. “Whyn’t you bid?”
“It didn’t look like what I thought Trudy would pack.”
“Huh.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder while Ellie took the next box to Peter. The plain white pasteboard box was tied with a wide green ribbon. Hiram wondered whose it was. What if it was Libby’s and someone like Ted Hire or one of those rough cowpokes bought it? That was scary.
Spin McDade leaped into the bidding early, and Ethan sighed. “Must be Florence’s box, and she told him.”
“Think so?” Hiram felt a little better. Sure enough, when the others dropped out and Spin plunked down a dollar and four bits, Florence minced toward him, her face a brilliant red that clashed with her carroty hair.
The box with pansies and lavender ribbons came up next. Hiram stood perfectly still, not moving a muscle. Ethan also stayed silent, but several men began bidding. The gavel fell at two dollars and a quarter.
Rose swept forward.
“Mrs. Caplinger, thank you for a lovely entry that raised a good amount for our cause,” Peter said.
Dr. Kincaid accepted his purchase with aplomb and offered his arm to Rose. She slid her hand through the crook of his elbow with a satisfied smile.
“He almost looks happy,” Ethan said.
“Think he knew?” Hiram asked.
“Oh yeah, he knew. I wouldn’t be surprised if every man here knew.”
The Bride's Prerogative Page 48
