“Sir, it’s not my underthings. I just finished performing a small skit in town to draw up some interest in my new, upcoming theater. This is part of a costume- and I put my wig on the pew. I was raised better than that, thank you.” Her pert voice was firm as she smiled innocently. Garrison looked at his soon to be wife and understood the man’s comment. He himself kept ogling the corset and imagining all sorts of things. He could only imagine the discomfort the preacher felt.
“My name?” Garrison squawked like an untried boy as Posey tugged up her corset again, drawing his eye just before he glanced at the ceiling. “Just use Garrison.”
“You don’t have a first name? Are you kin to the mayor, Luthor Garrison?””
“Not that I know of, sir. I don’t care to share my first name with anyone at all,” he blurted out staunchly.
“Sir, this is for your marriage license and the town registry. Shall I put Mr. Garrison Garrison as your name – or perhaps the initials of your first and middle names?”
Looking between the two, he could see the expectation on Posey’s face and the sheer curiosity from his reluctance. The preacher looked like he was getting very annoyed by the whole situation. If the roles were reversed, he might think that they were playing a joke on him.
“Mister B. Garrison, if you please,” he admitted, looking away from Posey’s triumphant knowing grin. She assumed he would tell her, but there was no way he was confiding that stigma. His mother had gifted him with an outlandish name and he’d fought tooth and nail to live it down.
“So be it – do you Mr. Garrison take Miss Jones to be your wife?”
“I do.”
“Miss Jones- do you…”
“Yes, yes. Let’s get this done, please? I’ve got to get back to work,” she interrupted bluntly, fidgeting as she stood in place. Garrison raised an eyebrow and watched the woman comically. What girl didn’t want to fawn all over their wedding day? Miss Jones was an odd duck – one he would soon be saddled with. No wonder she had to send off for a husband, probably no one in town would have the eccentric young woman.
“Are you certain about this?” The preacher looked at Garrison with a telling stare that made him swallow hard. Was he making a huge mistake? The red flags were all there, yet he was moving forward regardless. He’d asked for a new path and it was being provided, he would just deal with any hurdle that came along…even if the hurdle was a fickle young woman.
“Yes sir.” With a heavy shrug, the Preacher finished up and said those magic words that made Garrison catch his breath.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Garrison glanced over at Posey and began to lean forward -only to stop in his tracks as Posey rushed at him, grabbing both shoulders and gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. The sound of the loud, noisy peck that her lips made on his skin echoed in the church. He heard a choked laugh and glanced at the preacher, stunned, in time to see him hurriedly cover his mouth and look away. Posey took his hand and began to lead him down the aisle, away from the blasphemy of a wedding that had just occurred.
What in Heaven’s name just happened? Garrison wondered.
“I think we’ll get along famously,” Posey began as she began smoothing the flyaway hairs on her powdered wig and ignoring the stares she was receiving as they walked through town. She gingerly put the wig back on her head loosely, tucking several tendrils up underneath the cap and smiling at Garrison openly. “I love life and the excitement it brings – surely with you being a gunsli…” she hesitated, giving him a soft sideways glance that made his tummy flip like a star-struck young boy.
“Well, you aren’t a gunslinger are you… a marksman must have had an exciting life as well up to this point. Tell me about yourself while we head back to the theater. Care for a smoke?” she asked casually and proceeded to pull a fancy, rolled cigarette from a tin case that she’d had hidden upon her person. Where it was hidden, he didn’t know.
“No, thank you. I have my own thank you and use them for emergencies,” he explained matter-of-factly only to hear Posey’s snort of laughter. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him as if she was unable to decide if he was serious or not. “What?”
“Are you funning me?”
“No.”
“In that case, pretend I am having an emergency right now,” she teased and began to walk again.
“I’ve not got the strongest of lungs and several irritants will set me off into a coughing fit. The docs back home called it asthma, I call it annoying,” he said plainly. “I use Potter’s Asthma cigarettes to help slow down an attack.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Posey said congenially, watching him as she took a long drag off her cigarette. “Do they happen often? Should I be worried?”
“It’s just become a part of life for me, but enough about me. Let’s talk about you and this need for a hired gun you have.”
“Ah yes, the job,” she said, snapping her fingers eagerly. She took another long inhale of her cigarette and tossed it on the ground, grinding it beneath her boot. Garrison couldn’t help but watch the brash woman. She was stunningly beautiful, but bold like a man. She did what she wanted and seemed not to care a whit what others thought of her. Posey seemed to ooze confidence and put on a display for anyone watching her. She was a performer to the core of her soul.
“Not only shall we be married, but I will need your help in getting the theater up and running. There is the matter of the stage and I am currently scouting out…”
“Wait- the theater is not open?”
“No, silly. Of course, it’s not opened yet. There is a lot of work to be done on the building that involves manual labor. Do you see this body?” she scoffed aloud, drawing several looks from other men nearby causing Garrison’s ire to rise as they began to look at his brand-new bride.
“I and several others can see your body in that get up,” he muttered flatly.
“Well, I lack quite a bit of upper body strength to move wood around, operate a hand saw- much less being able to construct a stage. That is where you come in,” she announced brightly, blinking her eyelashes at him prettily. “I need your help and you needed a job – so the two go hand-in-hand, making a nice pair – don’t you agree?”
“So why the hired gun?”
“Well that is when we get to the nitty-gritty of it: I’ve an idea for a crowd pleaser to draw people in and make them talk. We’ll be a true sensation in these parts rivaling any other town in the West. I want you to be able to shoot an apple off my head in front of the crowd.”
“No.”
“Whaddya mean no?”
“You heard me. I will not shoot a gun at my wife.”
“Well not at me, just like two inches above my head and I thought we’d do like some of the old shows and put an apple there for you to…”
“No.”
At this, Posey grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. Her blue eyes glaring at him. There was a hint of fear, disappointment, and betrayal hidden in the murky blue depths that analyzed him.
“Are you afraid?” she asked simply, looking for a reason for his firm rejection.
“No, Posey, we’ve just met and you are asking me to endanger you. Don’t take this the wrong way but I didn’t leave my home and travel all this way to put myself back in the same position I was in before.”
“Someone was already doing this show back in your hometown?” she asked, aghast. Garrison didn’t have the heart to lie to her nor would they start any friendship or relationship in that fashion. There was something about the woman that called to him, making him yearn for another sultry sideways glance from her and that lilting smile.
“Posey, I just barely escaped an accusation of murder – I won’t be putting myself in that position again…especially with my wife.”
5
“I’d be happy to be your friend, your coworker, and your one-man construction crew, but please don’t ask me to take a chance with your life – and mine.”
“Wha
t did you mean murder? How am I taking a chance with our lives” Posey asked, paling under the remnants of face makeup that hadn’t washed off earlier in the day.
“I’ll be happy to share with you, but I think perhaps our discussion should be held somewhere a bit more private than out in the street. People can see your underthings and I think that personal stuff should be kept between us – just like your outfit. Call me old-fashioned but a husband should be the only person seeing his wife’s corset.”
“It’s a costume.”
“It’s revealing,” he countered with a frown.
“Tell me you aren’t a controlling man who thinks he is going to take over and tell me what I can and cannot do?”
“No, I am now your husband and advising my wife on what she should or should not be doing.”
“Fantastic,” Posey said, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I think we are going to need a long discussion about what is needed, wanted and expected in order for us to get along. I bought your train ticket here, and I am not afraid to buy another one-way ticket, if you understand my meaning.”
“I understand your meaning quite well, Mrs. Garrison.”
Posey got a strange look on her face and stopped, dropping her hand that had been clenching at his forearm like he was suddenly toxic. Her beautiful full lips worked a few times silently and Garrison almost smiled as he watched the myriad of expressions run across her face…just seconds before her eyes got hard and cold as ice.
“It’s Posey Jones. I won’t be taking Garrison as a surname.”
“Which building is yours?” he said tightly, trying to rein in his supreme frustration and rash of temper that washed over him instantly. He was insulted and immediately taken aback at the abrupt way she coldly refused his name.
“The large building across the street.”
“That one?”
“Yes, I plan on…” Posey let out a massive screech as Garrison picked up his new bride bodily and tossed her over his shoulder. Her large powdered wig fell onto the road, causing him to kneel down awkwardly and carefully pick it up onehanded.
“Stop wiggling, Mrs. Garrison,” he said annoyed and couldn’t help the wide smile that split his face as she began to scream at him and pounded on his back. He had several men tip their hats towards him, all smirking and pointing at him. Several women gawked at him in complete and utter horror at the display they were creating.
If Posey liked a show and enjoyed the attention, he’d give the entire town a show because his wife would bear his name and that was the end of it. He opened the front door to the building only to see the bare interior. It looked nothing like a theater in the slightest. Supplies were piled in the corner, waiting for him to arrive. The woman needed help and the faint drum of her fists on his lower back and buttocks proved her statement. She had no real strength to her arms, else he’d be a bruised man from her flagrant attempts.
“Posey Jones Garrison,” he stressed, in a tone that was firm yet soft. “I will do anything you ask, be any help that you need, and build your stage as you want it but I will not concede on my bride not taking my name. If you’re to be my wife -and I your husband, we need to set some ground rules. My first rule is you’ll use my name… period.”
Garrison set her down and narrowly avoided the heel of her boot as she stomped down aggressively towards the toe of his boot. She snatched the filthy wig from his hand and threw it against the wall, glaring at him. “Fine! We’ll set up your silly rules.”
“Good. I don’t mind if you hyphenate our names, but our children will have my name.”
Posey stared at him and stopped her tirade as she looked at him quizzically. Her face suddenly flushed hot and Garrison noticed that her blush wasn’t just her pretty cheeks. Her neck and bosom turned a pretty shade of pink, accentuating the fact that she had a mole just above the line of lace on the corset. If he was a sailor, that beauty mark was his north star.
Without a word, he stepped forward and Posey stepped backwards in unison. He took another and another until Posey had her back to the wall. Garrison placed his hand on one side of her face and leaned down to sample the sweet lips he’d missed out on when they said their ‘I do’s’. Posey swallowed nervously and her blue eyes were locked onto his brown ones.
“In name only,” Posey whispered just moments before his lips touched hers.
“Do what…?” Garrison breathed distractedly, taking in the sweet scent of her skin and felt like he was drowning in a sea of rose petals. He’d not noticed it before but the odor of her perfume was almost suffocating and he felt a cough bubbling up causing him to quickly back away.
“Sorry,” he apologized as he began to cough and wheeze. “What’d you say a moment ago?” He quickly pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, taking several deep breaths and holding it in his lungs as he tried to keep from coughing out the smoke. It took a few minutes for him to stop wheezing and for the decadent dark scent of the belladonna in his asthma cigarettes to help him relax. He hated the way they made him feel but certainly appreciated how fast it worked on his lungs.
“If I am to take your name, it will be your name only.”
“I won’t have an unwilling wife in my bed. I agree to your terms but someday we’ll have to renegotiate because I do want children one day. That will involve a bit more than a kiss on the cheek like you did in front of the preacher-man.”
“We’ll talk at that time then. Agreed?”
“Agreed. I won’t take you to bed, but I will kiss my wife when the situation calls for it.”
“I can’t think of one that will,” she snapped pertly.
“We’ll see about that,” he hedged with a grin. “Another rule- and this one is more of a favor to me? My asthma flares up when I breathe in perfumes, sleep with feather pillows, and a few other minor things. Can we avoid the heavy floral perfumes and other irritants so I can breathe easily? I am sorry to ask this, but construction would go faster if I am not coughing all the time.”
“I can understand that – I agree. I just want to get my theater up and running. I will have to get you a pillow made of something else since all I have are feather pillows.”
“I can roll a blanket for my head. It’s alright. Since our marriage is to be in name only for the time being,” he saw her eyebrow arch up delicately as he spoke. “I’d like for us to get to know each other and be together as much as possible, but I will sleep here at the theater…unless you prefer me in your bed. I do have quite a bit of restraint and won’t touch you.”
“I think you sleeping right here is a superb idea.”
“I thought you might. Show me what you have in mind for the theater so I know what you’d like me to do and I can get started tomorrow. I think today we should just focus on getting to know more about each other and get me settled in here.”
Garrison listened as Posey showed him her sketches and ideas. She had quite the imagination and wanted the theater to be quite the production. He didn’t know how the small town of Silverpines would support such a lavish undertaking but he wouldn’t shoot down her idea yet.
The first thing would be the stage. Posey informed him that several stages in the Chicago area had trap doors on weighted pulley systems, as well as heavy curtains that could be drawn across the stage quickly with an elegant swish. She’d imagined great carved column on either side of the stage opening and he wasn’t sure he would be able to take on that task himself. If he carved something, it would take him forever or be unrecognizable. Garrison agreed with the whitewashing of the walls. It would make the theater clean and bright, plus have the added benefit of hiding any soot from oil lamps later on if it had to be whitewashed again.
It was interesting to see how animated Posey became when she talked about her theater. Her hands would point, flutter, clench and splay as she discussed what she saw for the future of the building in her mind. It was simply adorable to see such enthusiasm and unfettered joy in her eyes. I wish she could feel like that about me and our future,
he found himself thinking silently. So far, she’d kept a distance between them or a tight control on any movement between them. If he advanced, she parried. It was like a dance between them and somehow he needed to learn her dance steps. He’d felt he’d been spared already, was it too much to hope for more in his life?
Garrison wouldn’t be a part of her sharpshooter show, but he would willingly take on the part of her husband and protecting her. She was the boldest little creature he’d ever seen yet at other times she appeared to be shy. Was it just with him or was it another charade, another act, that she put on for entertainment? Real ladies simply didn’t act as flagrant as she did back home, perhaps out here things were a bit less restrictive? It sure didn’t seem that way.
Doesn’t Posey know how she is looked upon and how she might be referred to? That was part of the reason he wanted her to have his name – that and he was possessive of the young lady he was taking as his wife. She was…different and he hadn’t decided if that was a good thing or bad yet.
6
Posey was avoiding her new husband.
There was something about Garrison that got under her skin. He had an aura to him that drew her like a moth to a flame, making her want to reach out and touch his arm or hand simply to have contact with him. His eyes were a brilliant blue that reminded her of a clear sky on a sunny day. Several times she noticed he would run his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face as he worked silently. In those moments, Posey would have to physically yank her hand back and hide it behind her back, she yearned to touch his wavy hair to see if it was as soft as it appeared to be.
Why were guys so lucky? She had quite the beauty routine to make her hair shine and her skin immaculate. He was simply gorgeous and she had thought so immediately when she saw him on the platform at the train station. He’d been standing there with a checked shirt and buckskin coat looking lost until he locked eyes with her.
Wanted: Hired Gun Page 3
