His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Sorry, Angel, but I don't. It's true enough that you know just about everything there is to know about politics, on the local and national levels. Still, I don't think other women can boast such knowledge. And even if they could, who's to say it would make a difference?"
Every little short hair on the back of Angel's neck stood on end.
As if sensing her ire, Lupe dropped her rag and disappeared into the storage room directly behind the bar's mirrored liquor shelf.
Before she could stop herself, Angel hopped down from the bar stool and slid it aside, so she could stand very close to Greg. Of its own accord, her index finger stretched out, bisecting the thin swath of air between her face and his shoulder. "So, the article I read in this morning's paper was right about you, huh? Still dead set against women being treated as equal citizens."
He rolled his eyes. "McCormack baited me. I didn't read his damn article, but you knew how I felt before."
"You men just think you're some pumpkins, don't you? I'm not going to go for anymore of this foolishness. Women are equal to men. We're just as smart, just as capable, and just as worthy of rights as you and your testosterone driven contingent."
His jaw took on a tight set as he swallowed the last of his drink. He set the glass down, and he swiveled on the bar stool to pierce her with his gaze. "Is that so, Miss Lane?"
"It sure as hell is! And I know plenty of folks who'd even say women are better than men. Some of y'all are so short on sense you couldn't beat a horse in a spelling contest."
His gaze hardened with anger, he wrapped his hand around her pointing finger and tugged it down. "First off, get that little finger outta my face. I'm still the law around here. And second off, women and men ain't equal. You're seven by nine to us, and you'd best work on accepting your natural place."
She snatched her finger from his grasp, her hands crumpling into fists at her sides. Her next words erupted in an outraged shout. "MY NATURAL PLACE!"
If he was put off by her yelling, he didn't let on. "That's right, your natural place. My dear mother has gotten great joy out of caring for her menfolk, me, my two brothers, Pa, my uncle, and my Grandpa. It's hard work, sure, but there's respect to be had from hard work."
She narrowed her eyes. "Ha! You may love your mama but there ain't no way you respect her. If you did you wouldn't be holding on to these fool notions that women are worthless if they ain't doing your bidding!"
He groaned. "Cool down your pucker, I didn't say that!"
"It doesn't matter that you didn't say it. Your attitude is plain to see. I don't reckon you ever told your mama that despite all her 'hard work', you don't think she's fit to be your equal under the law."
His dark eyes flashed with something akin to guilt, but it was quickly replaced with indignation. "Alright now, enough of this."
She leaned in close to him. "No. It won't be enough until you change your fool mind."
"I'm right, and there ain't no need for me to change!"
"Balderdash! If you weren't the law 'round here I'd knock you right off that stool!"
He leaned closer, so close their noses almost touched. "Well I am the law, so quit having a conniption fit, and get out of my face!"
"Ugh!"
A moment after the sound of disgust left her lips, she felt a twinge. For a second she fought like hell to contain the urge.
Then she crushed her mouth against his.
He reacted with surprise, but didn't push her away. Soon their lips were melting together as the kiss became earnest, real. His tongue brushed her bottom lip, and her whole body trembled.
He ended the kiss, abruptly pulling away as if he'd suddenly come to his senses. "What in Sam Hill are you about? One minute you're cursing me, and next you kiss me?"
She drew a deep breath, embarrassment heating her cheeks. "Well, it was either kiss you or cuff you, so I did what I had to do to stay outta jail."
He shook his head, dark eyes wide with confusion. "You're plumb crazy, woman."
She propped her fists on her hips, her body still tingling from their brief kiss. "That might be so, but this is my place. So just pay up for the drink and skedaddle, why don't you."
"Gladly." He tossed a half eagle on the counter, grabbed up his hat, and got down from the stool.
She watched his walk away. At the door, he stuck his Stetson atop his head. With one last, cutting look, he stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine, and disappeared.
It was then that Angel noticed the three men seated at the table nearest the piano. She didn't recognize any of them, but that wasn't uncommon in her establishment.
Three sets of curious male eyes were trained on her, and she could feel her cheeks redden as they silently assessed her.
Steeling herself, she nodded to them. "Evenin', gentlemen. Welcome to the Crazy Eights."
She turned and started to yell for Lupe, but the barmaid stuck her head out from the storage closet door. "Is he gone? Are you done scolding him?"
She closed her eyes, touched her aching temple. "Lupe, just serve our customers, will ya?"
Once she knew her patrons would be taken care of, she left the main room to escape to her apartment.
***
Around the supper hour, Gregory sat behind the desk in the sheriff's office. Before him on the polished wood surface sat the empty bowl that had held his evening meal. He'd polished off a serving of Ruby's famous beef stew, as well as the two biscuits that had come with it. Now, as he took a draw from the tumbler of lemonade, he realized that eating had banished the growling of his stomach, but hadn't really cooled his anger.
The encounter with Angel at the saloon still pestered him, like a worrisome fly buzzing in his ear. She was beautiful, that much was true. But she was far too bossy, and opinionated for his tastes. At every turn, she seemed to enjoy contradicting him, fussing at him, or otherwise bedeviling him. He preferred elegant, docile women; women like his mother, whom he'd never heard say a cross word to any of the men in his family. Even when he and his brother were young boys, making mischief at every opportunity, she'd always spoken to them with patience and love in her voice. Why couldn't Angel be more like that? Why did she insist on being a thorn in his side?
As he mulled over the questions, the door swung open. Noah strode in, removing his hat as he crossed the threshold. "Hey, Greg. What's the matter with you? You look like you've been chewing rocks."
Gregory tried to release the tension he knew was displayed on his face, but the best he could muster was a weak, half smile. "Evenin', Noah. Chewing rocks might've been more pleasant than tangling with some ornery, hardheaded woman."
Noah gave a chuckle, taking a moment to prop the door open with the small wedge of wood they kept for that purpose. "Well, well. I'm guessing you and Angel May have crossed paths again." He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest.
Gregory looked at his friend's amused expression and shook his head. "Yes, and don't look so pleased about it. I can't even enjoy a sarsaparilla at the bar without her shouting and carrying on about that women's right to vote foolishness."
The sheriff scoffed. "Foolishness, eh? Better not let my Val hear you say that. She'd box your ears for sure, and I wouldn't stop her, neither."
"You saying you think women ought to have the vote?"
"Sure, I don't see no good reason they shouldn't."
He leaned forward in his chair, his voice taking on a conciliatory tone. "Come on now, Noah. Ain't nobody here but you and me. This ain't no campaign speech, you can tell me the truth."
Noah's brow furrowed. "I am telling you the truth. If women want to vote, I say we let them. And that's the God's honest truth as I see it."
"Why in Sam Hill would you want women to vote?"
"Why are you so set against it? Times are changing, Greg. Women are doctors, lawyers, some are even mayors. There are plenty of towns where the women outnumber the men."
"Well, that ain't the case in Ridgeway. The wome
n here are too busy making trouble when they ought to be tending to their own affairs."
Noah said nothing, just gave him a look.
"Letting them vote is just asking for more trouble."
Noah shook his head. "Looks like we just don't agree on this, so you're welcome to vote for the other guy if you want." He gave a wink.
Gregory scratched his chin, and decided to let the matter drop. "What are you doing here, anyhow? You haven't worked a late shift since you married Miss Valerie."
"Not working this evening, either. Didn't Thaddeus tell you about the interview at change of shift?"
His eyebrow cocked. "Thaddeus didn't say anything to me, just rushed out of here. What interview?"
Noah eased over to the chair in front of the desk and sat down, rolling his eyes. "That boy ain't got much in the way of short term memory. Anyway, Kyle is coming by this evening to interview us for the Tribune."
Gregory knew the newspaperman would want to hear from Noah, since he was running in the mayor's race. But he couldn't guess what Kyle expected him to contribute. "Why am I being interviewed? I'm not in this race."
"Kyle knows we have opposing views on the whole women's voting issue. Maybe he's wanting to write about that, but I don't really know."
He groaned. "Good grief. I wish you'd told me about this."
Noah chuckled. "I knew you'd run for the hills. But I did ask Thad to pass the word."
Gregory ran a hand over his hair. If the newspaperman was already coming, there was no way to get out of it now. So, he steeled himself as best he could. In a town like Ridgeway, there wasn't an abundance of excitement, at least not since the Bitters gang had terrorized the area a few years ago. As annoyed as he was, he much preferred being interviewed to having actual crime filling the pages of the Tribune, and he'd bet good coin that the citizens of town would agree.
He and Noah spoke for a few moments, and he listened with a smile as Noah rambled on about his son, Abraham. Little Abe was approaching five years old, and Noah never lacked for stories of the boy's latest discovery or accomplishment. Noah was going on about how good Abe was at writing his name on a slate when the newspaperman strode in.
Dressed in dark slacks, a crisp white shirt, and a dark blue vest, Kyle McCormack eased into the office with the same confident air he displayed everywhere. He wore the black bowler hat he rarely removed, and this time was no exception. Beneath the hat, a few strands of dark red hair peeked out. His green eyes held curiosity and a bit of humor. "Good evening, gentleman. I'm so glad you could take time out to speak with me." The sharp accent of his Boston upbringing punctuated his words.
Gregory and Noah each shook his extended hand, then Gregory rose from the seat behind the desk. "I'll fetch an extra chair for you, McCormack."
Kyle raised his hand. "That won't be necessary. I prefer to stand, and besides, I don't want to monopolize too much of you gentleman's time."
Gregory retook his seat, a bit tickled by Kyle's tendency toward fancy words like 'monopolize.' Keeping that to himself, he settled in to see what the interview would bring.
At first, most of Kyle's questions were directed at Noah. As he queried him about his stance on this issue or that, Kyle recorded every response on the small pad of paper he'd extracted from his vest pocket. Then, looking up from the pad, Kyle fixed his eyes directly on Gregory. "So, Deputy Simmons. I understand you're opposed to the female citizens of Ridgeway casting their votes. May I ask why?"
He cringed. The reporter shot from the hip. "McCormack, are you baiting me into some kind of argument here? What are you about?"
Kyle wrinkled his nose. "No, sir. I'm a journalist, and I remain objective on every subject. I have no opinion one way or the other-but I'm still interested in hearing your side of things. I believe the people of town are interested as well, since you'll be sheriff if Noah wins the mayor's seat."
Gregory ran a hand over his damp brow. McCormack's words pointed to an inconvenient truth-even though he wasn't running in the mayor's race, he was in a campaign of sorts. The people of town had to be comfortable with him, if he were to have any success as a full-fledged sheriff. "I don't have much to say on the matter. I simply believe a woman's time and attention is better spent on other affairs."
McCormack jotted on the pad. "By 'other affairs,' I assume you mean domestic tasks; cooking, cleaning, rearing children?"
While the newspaper man claimed objectivity, there was something in his tone that got Gregory's dander up. "Now wait just a minute. I didn't say..."
Noah stuck up his hand, as if sensing his deputy's ire. "Now, now McCormack. That'll be enough hounding my deputy, he's not in this race. What matters is if I'm elected, I will extend voting rights to all citizens of Ridgeway. That, you can print, in bold type if you like."
McCormack cleared his throat and ceased his scribbling. Closing the small pad, he inserted it and his pencil back in the pocket of his vest. "That'll be all for now, gentleman. Have a pleasant evening."
The reporter smiled, touched the brim of his bowler, and exited through the open door.
Noah stood then, running a hand through his blonde locks before replacing his Stetson. "Sorry, Gregory. I didn't know he'd be so irritating."
Gregory nodded. "It's alright. Just don't be volunteering me for any more interviews."
"Understood. Well, I'm headed home to see Val and Abe. Send around a note if you need anything." Noah strode out.
Gregory sat back in the chair, feeling his brow furrowed. He couldn't quite identify what had just happened, but he just knew that when the morning edition came out tomorrow, there was bound to be trouble.
His hunch was correct. When he strolled by the newspaper office the next day and picked up a copy, the headline on the front page read, "Mayoral Candidate Supports Suffrage, Potential Sheriff Says No."
With a groan, he tossed the paper into the nearest rubbish bin, and kept walking.
* * *
Chapter 4
Angel moved along the back side of the bar, collecting the eagles and assorted coins that had been left as tips, and placed them in the jar on the shelf below. Moving the used glasses to the basin to be washed, she grabbed the cloth hooked to the waist of her denims and began wiping the bar down. It was just past the six o'clock hour, and as more of the men in Ridgeway and the surrounding areas got off work for the day, the saloon was bound to get a bumper crop of customers.
Glancing at her reflection in the mirrored shelves holding her bottles of liquor, she tucked a few loose hairs back into her low bun. She'd put on a new blouse today, this one light blue with a ruffled collar that bared her shoulders and collarbone. Seeing that she'd managed to keep it clean and free from rips thus far pleased her. Serving drinks and keeping the place clean all day often led to her damaging her garments. That was why she preferred denims and blouses over the gowns and skirts most women wore. Those cumbersome, flimsy things just didn't jibe with her lifestyle.
She turned away from her reflection and set about cleaning the glasses. Since Lupe had gone to Oakland to see about an ill friend, she'd be working the bar alone tonight. Efficiency would be a top priority.
She was drying glasses when a man she didn't recognize entered through the swinging doors. She smiled, offering a customary greeting. "Welcome to the Crazy Eights."
He gave her a nod, removing his flat brimmed hat. He was an average size fellow in a black vest, blue work shirt, denims and boots. He had ruddy face, framed by dark blonde hair.
His eyes were on her, but had obviously settled much lower than her face.
She ignored him, being accustomed to such scrutiny from the men who patronized her establishment.
He moved inside the saloon, and sat a table near the door.
Since he didn't appear to be in any sort of hurry, she kept drying and shining the glasses. "I'll be over shortly to take your order."
He said nothing, but continued leering at her.
The doors swung open again, and this time, Greg
ory strode in.
She rolled her eyes as he beat his path straight to the bar.
"Evenin', Angel." He took a seat on the stool nearest to where she stood.
She barely looked up. "Deputy. What can I get you?"
"Sarsaparilla. Oh, and you could look like you appreciate my business, if it's not too much trouble."
She sighed, but looked up anyway. His dark, piercing eyes were waiting.
Those damn eyes of his. They made her want to let her guard down, and reveal the soft places inside her soul. As their gazes locked, she felt her lips lift into a smile. "How's that?"
He chuckled. "It's a mighty poor looking smile but it'll do."
That made her chuckle as well. Shaking her head, she reached for a glass. "I'll get you your damned sarsaparilla."
She filled the glass from the tapped barrel on one of the shelves and slid it his way.
The stranger at the table in the back spoke up. "Hey, barmaid. How 'bout some service?"
Angel nodded to Gregory, then eased around the bar and strolled over to the table where the man sat. "Evenin. What can I get you?"
The man smiled, showing of a row of yellow, tobacco stained teeth. His eyes raked over her body like talons. "First thing you can get me is a big helping of you, sweet cheeks."
Frowning, Angel shook her head. "Hold on now, Mister. I don't run that kind of place."
He sat back in his chair, balancing it on the two rear legs, and winked. "Come on now. This is a saloon, ain't it? How you expect to make any money without a few working girls?"
Her anger rose with each passing second, but she strove for professionalism. "Like I said, Mister, we don't do that here. You want a drink, or not?"
"A tall drink of you, sweet cheeks." He lifted his hand and slapped her bottom, hard. The sound reverberated through the nearly empty saloon.
That tore it.
Angel's eyes narrowed, and her vision glowed red.
At the bar, Gregory jumped up from his stool. "Hold on, now."
Before the deputy could make it across the room, Angel balled her fist and drew back. She let loose a punch that hit the man square in his eye. He yowled in pain as the blow sent him and his chair crashing to the floor.
Electing to Love Page 4
