If Wishes Were Kisses: Six Beloved Americana Romances, a Collection (Small Town Swains)

by Pamela Morsi

  "The man we sought in last night's raid is a moonshiner and whiskey peddler from out near the border, by the name of Henry Lee Watson. Ever heard of him?"

  Mrs. Byron was as good a poker player as she was a businesswoman.

  "No, Marshal, I can't say as I have ever heard that name before."

  Quick knew that she was lying, a secret shared with this woman would be a secret forever. He wondered if she had a man sharing her secrets. If not, he fully intended to be that man shortly.

  "Watson was the only person we were looking for last night," he said. "Seems he's trying to move some of his whiskey business down this way and we want to nip that in the bud."

  Mrs. Byron nodded and offered Marshal Quick another cookie. She was aware of the marshal's speculative interest in her, but business was business. A woman didn't get ahead in this world by thinking between her legs instead of between her ears.

  "Watson managed to get away from us last night by breaking into your apartment and getting onto the roof from your balcony."

  "That's impossible!"

  "Come let me show you."

  The two made their way to the porch where Marshal Quick located the loose board.

  "They climbed up on something, got on the roof and headed on down the street."

  "The chair." Mrs. Byron snapped her fingers. "There was a kitchen chair sitting right out here next to the wall and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why."

  "Well, that's why, Mrs. Byron. Your burglar is that whiskey peddler and we intend to get him."

  Hattie Byron considered that for a moment. The marshall seemed very determined and if he caught Watson, there was always the possibility that he might implicate her. It was best to cover yourself first and worry about the next guy when you have the luxury to do so.

  “What did you say this man's name was again?"

  "Henry Lee Watson."

  "I believe I have heard of him, Marshal. A handsome, dark-haired man in his mid-twenties?"

  "Yes, that's him."

  "I did see him here last night," Hattie admitted. "He was with his new wife. I understood this was their honeymoon trip."

  "Oh, really?"

  "Yes, just a few weeks ago he married a preacher's daughter from over in the Oklahoma Territory."

  "A preacher's daughter!"

  "Yes." Hattie moved closer as if she couldn't bear to speak such gossip above a whisper. "They say her father caught them fair and square and that there was nothing left for the man to do but marry up in a hurry."

  The marshal was really getting somewhere now. If he could keep this woman talking, maybe he could find out a way to get Watson.

  "Perhaps we might sit in the parlor and discuss it," he suggested.

  "Certainly," she said, turning to make her way back through the house. Hattie could feel the marshal's eyes on her, and she turned to catch him watching her behind with appreciation.

  Mrs. Byron had heard it said that Marshal Quick was randy as a goat, but very discreet. This could turn out to be more pleasure than business.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The early train from Muskogee to Sallisaw was not crowded, but it made frequent stops to deliver mail and pick up milk and eggs from local farmers.

  Henry Lee and Hannah sat together, not touching, both lost in the sober recollections of the night before. For all the laughing that was done the previous night, the situation wasn't nearly so funny this morning.

  Her head splitting and her eyes blurry, Hannah felt worse than she'd ever imagined possible. Her stomach had been squeamish the night before; after an abrupt emptying of its contents this morning, she felt hollow and achy.

  When Henry Lee had awakened her this morning, she'd felt as if her eyelids were nailed shut. She had vivid recollections of the previous evening and she was shocked at her own behavior. Who would have thought that such a small amount of that clear, innocuous-looking liquid could make one act so strange, or feel so bad the next day?

  Her behavior, both in public and later in that darkened alley, was personally embarrassing and morally inept. She was the churchgoer, she should be setting an example for her husband. Instead, she proved to be no match for the temptations of the flesh, dancing and drinking. She had wanted to prove herself as sophisticated as a woman he might have chosen on his own. How could she forget that her best features were her strong back and God-fearing heart? She had ignored every lesson her father had ever taught her, defiling her body with demon liquor and degrading herself by her wanton behavior.

  Humiliated and ashamed, she decided that a good lesson had been learned. Never again would she compromise with the ways of the flesh. She would remain stalwart and controlled. Now that she was personally versed in the evils of corn liquor, she would use that knowledge to work for temperance in the territory.

  Henry Lee was feeling as much regret as Hannah. After the ironic hilarity of the night had passed, he had been chillingly aware that he had placed his wife in danger.

  The thought that she might have been taken into custody brought on a cold sweat. A woman like Hannah should never see the inside of a jail. And what would she have said going up before the judge? She knew nothing of the whiskey business, she would be totally innocent. And because of her ignorance, totally humiliated. He shuddered at the thought.

  But he gave himself no pats on the back for getting her away, either. Dragging her across rooftops and through alleyways in the middle of the night was dangerous. What if she had tripped and fallen? She might have injured herself, or the baby! What kind of man would put his woman in such a situation? A worthless no-account, he answered himself, eaten up with remorse.

  He turned to look at her sitting so stiffly beside him. He had vowed to love and protect her, no matter that it wasn't his idea. No one could have made him marry her if he hadn't been willing. He had wanted to have a decent woman for a wife, but he had proved unworthy of the gift.

  Hannah looked pale, drawn, and weary. A wave of unexpected tenderness washed through him. He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her to him.

  "Just rest here against me," he said as she started to pull away. "You look so tired, you need a little nap to begin the day."

  "I am so ashamed of the way I acted," she confessed. "I wanted to impress you with how sophisticated and citified I could be."

  She hid her face in the front of his shirt, not able to face him squarely and riddled with guilt. Confession was good for the soul, it was said. She intended to be honest about her behavior.

  "Mr. Harjo told me that other ladies that you escorted in the past drank intoxicating beverages, and I wanted to prove to you that I was not a bit less worldly than they."

  Hannah couldn't see Henry Lee's smile. He was surprised that she chose to apologize. He had expected her first concern to be his part in the liquor raid. But it pleased him that she was willing to go against her own upbringing to try to get his attention.

  "Hannah," he whispered gently. "I haven't a thought for any of my former companions. None of them could hold a candle to you, of that I'm sure." He squeezed her shoulder lightly hoping to reassure as well as comfort her.

  "Henry Lee, when I think of how embarrassed you must have been, having the marshals chasing us."

  Henry Lee stiffened, waiting for her reaction to the marshals and his obvious involvement in the raid.

  Hannah gave a ladylike sniff, trying to hold back the flood of tears that threatened. "When I think that you might have been arrested and taken to jail because I, so foolishly, wanted to try to pretend that I am something that I'm not. When I think of that, Henry Lee, I just don't know how you can forgive me."

  Henry Lee held her in silence for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. Obviously, she thought the whole chase was over her quart of corn liquor. It was more evidence of how naive she was about the whiskey business, and made him feel even worse. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to make her understand. It was important to him that she did. There should be no lies between a man a
nd his wife. He would be honest with her at last. But today was not the day.

  He hushed her tears and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He held her close and reassured himself that there would be time enough to tell her later.

  Sallisaw was a pretty little community in the foothills of the Ozarks about thirty miles west of Fort Smith, whose citizens were mostly fruit growers. Strawberries and peaches were the main crops, but it was good land, this corner of the Cherokee Nation, and a man could farm just about anything.

  As the two stood on the train platform and surveyed the little town, Hannah sighed longingly.

  "Do you think we'll ever have real little towns like this out our way?"

  Henry Lee smiled at her. He understood her need for community. He felt it too.

  "Towns just take time, Hannah. There have been settlements here in Indian Territory for over fifty years. You can't expect Oklahoma Territory to accomplish as much in less than ten."

  They smiled at each other, feeling a sense of accord.

  "You really think that it will be this way out on the border?"

  He nodded, smiling. "Our children will grow up knowing all there is to know about towns."

  Hannah blushed at the reference to children. She felt a rush of pleasure at the prospect of having a child of Henry Lee's. In her mind she saw an impetuous toddler in knee pants, thick black hair and shining blue eyes. She wouldn't meet Henry Lee's gaze for fear he would see her longing there.

  Henry Lee misinterpreted her evasiveness and thought her to be embarrassed about the child she carried. Pulling her into a deserted alleyway that offered a modicum of privacy Henry Lee pressed her back against the clapboard building and placed his hand on her belly, openly claiming the child for his own.

  "I mean all our children, Hannah," he told her quietly, placing a tiny kiss on her forehead. "This one too."

  Hannah enjoyed the loving caress but didn't comprehend his words.

  "What are you saying?"

  His voice soft with sincerity he told her. "The child that you carry is mine in every way but blood. I'm going to accept him as my own and I want you to know that I won't ever allow him to believe anything else."

  Hannah was bewildered as she gazed into the depths of her husband's eyes. "Henry Lee, you are not talking sense. I can't be carrying a child. We haven't . . . well, you know ... we haven't." Hannah blushed as she attempted to explain her confusion.

  Looking at her quizzically, Henry Lee was more specific. "I'm talking about the child you already carry, the other man's child."

  "What other man?" Hannah's voice was a little too loud and clearly shocked.

  Henry Lee stood stock-still, looking at her. He would have told anyone that he was very good at getting a quick grasp on a situation. But at the present time he was struggling pitifully to figure out what wrong turn he had taken to get to the unfamiliar ground he was now treading.

  "You're not having a child." It was a statement more than a question.

  "Hannah, why did you marry me?"

  She looked at him quizzically for his strange turn of mind.

  "We've been through all that, Henry Lee. It embarrasses me to even think about it, I sure don't want to have to talk about it, again. I told you I was sorry. I really never meant to do it to you."

  He took her hand in his own and squeezed it gently.

  "I don't want to embarrass you, Hannah. But I need to know exactly what you were doing in the wellhouse that night. You knew your daddy was going to find us, why did you let that happen?"

  She tried to turn away from him. He understood that she didn't want to face him. Pulling her back to his chest, he held her close and comforted her, so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye.

  "Just start from the beginning and tell me everything."

  Hannah took a deep breath gathering her courage. She didn't understand why Henry Lee wanted her to confess it all at last, but she knew that she owed him this explanation for a good long while, and at least she would be glad to have it over and done.

  Henry Lee quietly listened to her story, tiny seeds of joy timidly blooming in his heart.

  "Myrtie was near grown and Papa had remarried. I didn't have any reason to be at home anymore. I wanted to marry, to have a family of my own. But I didn't have a suitor. To tell the truth, Henry Lee, I never had one, not even one," she confessed sorrowfully. "But Will Sample hung around the house all the time. I was sure that Will had feelings for me. He was so shy. Every time I would try to talk to him, try to draw him out, he'd get all clumsy and red-faced. I just convinced myself that he wanted to call on me, but that he was too shy to do it."

  She pushed an errant lock of hair from her face, securing it behind her ear. "The months were just passing by and nothing was changing, he never tried to talk to me or sit with me, or walk out with me, and I just couldn't wait any longer. I wasn't in love with him, but I knew I could make him a good wife. I can keep a good house, you know that, and I'm a hard worker. I always have been."

  Henry Lee listened to her ill-fated plan to trap Will Sample with a smile on his face and blossoming good humor. It was hard to imagine, his Hannah as a man-hunter. But it was a sure bet that it took a desperate situation and a lot of Bible reading to turn her into one.

  When she finished her shameful tale, she hung her head and spoke pleadingly.

  "I know you can't forgive me for mixing you up in this foolish mess."

  "Forgive you," Henry Lee laughed and turned her to face him. "I don't want to forgive you, I want to thank you. Believe me, Hannah. I am a much better husband for you than Will. He's a decent, hardworking man, but the two of you together would have made the most boring couple in the territory. You need a man to bring a little sparkle to your pretty cheeks. And I am definitely the man for the job!”

  He punctuated his appraisal with a series of feathery love bites to her throat. Chills of delightful fire flew down Hannah's neck as she glanced around to assure herself that no one was looking.

  “You're not angry?"

  “I'm elated. You won't believe what I thought your reasons were."

  Hannah looked at him questioningly and he briefly explained about overhearing her conversation with Myrtie and the conclusions he had drawn.

  “How could you think that of me?" Hannah protested.

  "I didn't know what to think, it made sense to me. A woman with a child on the way needs a husband and pretty near any husband will do."

  Hannah shook her head as if it were too much to grasp.

  "And you didn't mind. You thought I carried another man's baby, that I was using you to cover up my own wickedness, and you kept me anyway."

  "I was crazy mad at first, Hannah, but I couldn't blame the child, I knew it wasn't his fault. After a while, when I came to care for you, well, I couldn't blame you either."

  He lifted her chin and looked deeply into her eyes. He wanted her complete attention. He wanted her to understand what he was saying, so there would never be a question in her mind.

  "You are my wife, Hannah. Because of that, your child would be my child, no matter the circumstances."

  Hannah felt her eyes welling up with tears.

  "You know what I think?" she told him, wiping away the evidence of her emotions with the back of her hand. “I think God was hearing my prayers all along, and he sent you into that wellhouse, just for me."

  Henry Lee smiled at her tenderly, not willing to dispute, but wondering if God ever took a hand in the personal lives of whiskey peddlers.

  To chase his darker thoughts away, Henry Lee pulled her eagerly into his embrace, his lips tenderly bearing fire to her blood.

  Hannah wrapped her arms around him, tracing the strong, sinewy muscles of his shoulders and back. Kissing him with her tongue, the way he'd taught her, she heard a moan deep in his throat, and felt the reaction of his body pressing against her.

  "Hannah darlin'," he said pulling away. "I don't think I can live until this day is over. How many hours is it unt
il we can go back to the hotel?"

  Giggling at his tone of desperation, Hannah placed her hand in his, her heart was in her eyes, as they walked down the dusty main street of the sleepy town.

  "It's a long time, Henry Lee, but I've got a feeling that it will be worth the wait."

  They made one stop at the telegraph office. Henry Lee had promised to send the money for the south Tulsa land to Morelli and he was grateful to get rid of the whiskey profits that he carried. Hannah was somewhat surprised to see such a pile of currency. She couldn't imagine why he had brought it all the way to Sallisaw to send it to Tulsa. As the telegraph operator counted out the cash, neither paid any attention to yesterday's date scrawled in pen across the face of one of the bills.

  Feeling uncomfortable under Hannah's gaze, Henry Lee quickly asked, "Which way to the Sallisaw Table Company?"

  “Just keep going right down to the end of this street, when the road curves away, that's it," the operator told him, leaning out from the counter and pointing to the west.

  Henry Lee thanked him and retreated as quickly as possible, taking Hannah's arm and escorting her outside. He didn't want to make up any false explanations for Hannah, he wanted honesty between them and soon.

  "You forgot your receipt!" the man called after them, but they were already gone.

  The Sallisaw Table Company was a large brightly painted barn of a place at the edge of town.

  Henry Lee, matching his step with Hannah's, gazed down at her. His eyes dancing with mischief, he relayed the story of the company's proprietors.

  "It's owned by two brothers, Hiram and Willard Oscar. But as anyone in Sallisaw can tell you, the Oscars are more than brothers. Shortly after they came to the territory, Hiram married Nellie Winkle, a fine-looking widow a few years older than himself."

  Hannah nodded, encouraging him to go on.

  "Now Nellie had a pretty little teenage daughter from her first marriage. She and Hiram hadn't been married no more than a year or two before Willard, Hiram's younger brother, and the daughter, Maude, fell for each other and got themselves married."