Another Chance (12 page)

Eileen coughed, tugged on her blouse, and toyed with the strings on her bonnet.  "I was going to.  I'm sorry, Jillian.  I plumb forgot to tell you that you should bring a basket."

"You forgot?  You said you were going to ride over and-"

"Letty, you're making Jillian feel badly."

"What?  No, I'm-"

"Good afternoon Eileen, Letty.  And who might this lass be?"

Jillian had been so busy trying to understand the conversation that she hadn't noticed the man approach. 

He was very tall.  His dark black hair sprouted a tuft of white directly above his forehead.  Creases fanned from the corner of his eyes when he smiled and Jillian saw nothing in their sky-blue depths but gentleness.  The white band at his throat immediately set her at ease.  And the Irish lilt to his voice captivated her.

"Reverend Donnelly, this is Jillian Matthews."

"And so we meet at last.  How are you finding our fair town, Jillian?"

Since she wasn't about to tell the preacher that most of the folks she'd met so far were close-minded and rude, and since she couldn't lie to him either, she simply said, "It's a lovely town."

"A good way to meet people, Miss Matthews, is Sunday service which is at ten every Sunday," he added with a knowing wink.  "Ah, look.  Terribly sorry, ladies, but I'm being called over.  Enjoy your day."

He strolled off, and Jillian couldn't help smiling after him.

"He's not very subtle, but he's a great preacher.  You'd like him.  Well, I'm thirsty.  Let's get some lemonade and sit down."

Several conversations hushed as they walked past.  Despite that, Jillian made a point of looking at folks and nodding her head in greeting.  At a distance from where the children raced about, where they could converse without screaming at each other or being overheard by the busybodies, the three of them sat and enjoyed their drinks.

Jillian took a sip of the juice, which was liberally laced with sugar and watched the children run about.  Wagons pulled up steadily.  Children jumped over the edge before their fathers had set the brake.  With a wave of their hands, ignoring their mothers' warnings that they remain clean and out of trouble, they blended into the growing cluster of rambunctious bodies.

"Oh, to have that much energy again."  Letty sighed wistfully.

Eileen smiled at her, placed her half empty glass down on the grass.  "And what would you do if you had it?"

"Well, I suppose that would depend on if John had as much."  The grin Letty shot them equaled that of a child ready to create mayhem.

Eileen shook her head, obviously used to her friend's openness.  "Tell me, Jillian, have you been called on since the ranch?"

Jillian sighed.  "Not yet.  I did ride around to a few farms, tried to introduce myself.  For the most part I was practically run off."

Their disappointment was clear in their frowns, but it was only half of what Jillian felt.  She'd come across the country to be a vet.  It wasn't a matter of lack of work.  Doc Fletcher had said in his advertisement that there was a great need.  And having ridden around, she knew she was surrounded by farmers and ranchers.  No, need wasn't the problem.  Her being a woman was.

"It just burns my goat!"  Letty said, finishing her glass of lemonade in one swallow.  "If you were a man, they'd be lining up at your door."

"I know," Jillian agreed.  Her gaze drifted over the crowd.  As expected, several women were staring at her as they participated in closed-circle discussions.  Most looked away the moment Jillian saw them.

Past them, where the men were gathered, Jillian saw Steven with a handful of men, most she recognized as merchants in town.  The one, the trapper, had her shuddering as she remembered his bloody hands.

Unlike the women who looked away when Jillian caught them staring, Steven was far bolder.  His unblinking stare held Jillian's, until, feeling disconcerted, she broke contact.

"Grandma!"  Annabelle ran over, eyes bright as the sky.  She flopped onto the ground next to Eileen.

Eileen's smile was soft and full of love as she took her granddaughter's hand.  "What's got you so excited?"

"I was hiding behind that tree," Annabelle pointed to the tall willow Steven and his friends were gathered underneath, "and I overheard Mr. Garvey.  He's blaming Pa for us having a woman vet and wants to have a meeting right away.  Tomorrow morning." Blue eyes latched onto Jillian's.  "He really hates you," Annabelle added with a whisper, "and he wants you out of our town."

Letty muttered a curse.  Jillian felt an upsurge of indignation.  Just who did Steven think he was?

"You're sure?" Eileen asked.

"Positive," Annabelle's head bobbed with confirmation.  "And he said to make sure everyone kept it quiet so Pa wouldn't know about it until after."

"Can Steven do this?" Jillian asked.

"Sure can.  He's the mayor."

"Just 'cause he's the mayor don't mean nothing," Letty said.  "The rest of us have a say."

"Thanks, Button," Eileen said to her granddaughter.  "You can go play now.  But," she added and grabbed Annabelle's hand before she could run away, "don't tell Jacob you heard, all right?  He'll just tell his Pa."

"I won't.  Bye!"  And as though she hadn't just delivered news that had shaken Jillian's world, she scampered away to resume her game.

"That sneaky devil," Eileen said.  "Trying to have a meeting without telling us.  He'll be blaming Wade for-" She caught herself, bit her lip.

"It's all right, Eileen.  Wade didn't know he was hiring a woman.  It's not his fault."

"Well, be that as it may, you're here and you know what you're doing.  Seems to me that's all that should matter," Letty stated.

It took all Jillian's will power not to march right over to Steven and give him a piece of her mind.  Of all the self-righteous, pompous- She inhaled deeply, forced herself to calm down.  It wasn't only Steven she had no worry about; it was the town.  Her hands clenched and unclenched in her lap, her thoughts ran faster than a wildfire.  But one thing was certain.  She needed to stand her ground, needed to fight for what she'd come for.  If she didn't, then it would only be a matter of weeks before her money ran out.

And then what would she do?  Clint's smirking face came to mind, but Jillian shoved it aside.  She wasn't giving up; Clint wasn't going to win.

"What are you going to do?" Letty asked.

Jillian's back went straight.  Her eyes, she knew, burned with determination.

"I'm going to the town meeting.  Steven may want me out, and he might not be alone in that, but I'm prepared to fight."

"It's not that we don't love having you here, dear, and not that we aren't prepared to fight right alongside you, but it must be reassuring to know you can always go home."

Jillian thought of her bed-ridden mother, who'd been happy to stay in bed and bemoan her many ailments for the last several years.  She'd worked as hard at discouraging Jillian to be a doctor as her father had encouraging her.  Francis Matthews had wanted both her daughters close by her side, where she could fuss over them and they could tend to her every need.

If Jillian's father hadn't put in his will that he was giving Jillian money to pursue her goal of being a doctor, Jillian was sure her mother never would have given her a cent to follow what she'd always called a ridiculous notion for a woman to undertake.

As for her sister, Jillian shook her head.  Four years separated them but it may have been twenty.  Where Jillian was focused and serious, Katie was young, foolish, and as fluttery as a butterfly.  She had no idea what she wanted from life other than a grand adventure.  Katie had given their father more than one gray hair over the years.

According to his will, he'd left Katie the responsibility of caring for her mother in the hopes that the duty would settle her, give her a purpose and teach her the realities of life, that it wasn't all about having a grand time.  Katie had been livid.  She'd refused to speak to Jillian and had managed to steal away the morning Jillian's train left Philadelphia.  They'd never said goodbye.

"No, Eileen," Jillian answered honestly.  "There's nothing for me in Pennsylvania."

***

Why did she always do this to herself? Silver wondered as she walked into the churchyard.

The women were already clustered around tables or sitting in circles, heads together in conversation, their circles closed.  A group of men leaned on the hitching post, smoke from their cheroots plumed over their heads.  Low rumbling from their discussions stopped when she walked by.  She knew she didn't belong here.  She felt it to the depths of her soul.  She was Silver, the saloon owner.  Silver, the woman who would never be more than a whore in their eyes.  Even though she'd never bedded any of them.  Even though most had tried.

Her heart hammered in rhythm with her steps.  Her hands were damp where they clutched her basket.  Doubt trailed alongside her like a lost puppy that didn't know where else to go.  Despite it all, she kept her eyes forward, walked straight for the table that held the other baskets.  She felt like a fool.  But by God, she wouldn't let it show.

"Miss Adams."

"Reverend.  How lovely to see you."

And it was.  It always was.  Because he was one of few who never judged her.  She'd asked him why, once.  Why he didn't shun her the way the others did.  His sad smile had undone her nearly as much as his words.

"Silver," he'd said, "I'll not judge you or anyone else.  That's God's task, not mine.  There are enough folks out there to do that; I don't need to be among them."

"Is that chicken I smell?"

How he could smell it over the aroma of the pig being roasted was a miracle in itself.  But then, if Silver were to believe in miracles, she'd believe this man was capable of them.

"It is."  She offered him a grateful smile.  "You don't have to bid on it, Reverend."

"And let such fine food go to waste?"

He'd bought her basket every year she'd brought one, which was ironic, as the only reason she bothered coming in the first place was because of him.  Other than Letty, Shane and the folks at the Triple P, nobody else paid her the time of day, but Reverend Donnelly was always nice to her.  To have his support, for herself if not her saloon--he never stepped foot inside--was a godsend.  Coming here, putting up with the stares, the rebuffs, was a small price to pay to return that kindness.

"I met Miss Matthews today.  She seems very nice."

Silver felt a true smile curve her lips.  "She is.  I asked her to come into the saloon for some tea, and she did."

He arched a brow.  "Did she now?"

"The saloon wasn't open, Reverend.  It was only the two of us."

"I'm glad she didn't refuse the opportunity to get to know you.  That speaks well of her character, doesn't it?  Ah, and here comes another with great character.  Good day, Sheriff."

Silver's stomach leapt to her chest.  She'd known Shane since she'd come to town.  He came into the saloon often enough that she should be over this darn reaction to him.  And yet every time she laid eyes on that sculpted face, those secretive grey eyes, it was like the first all over again.

"Good day, Reverend."  He tipped his hat.  "Silver."

"Shane."

"I hope you have your money handy, lad.  This lady's basket will fetch a fine price."

A flush the likes of which she'd never felt enveloped Silver.  Shane had never bid on her baskets, ever.  It was a sore spot with Silver, because she always secretly made them with him in mind.  A truth she'd take to the grave.

"Well, then," he looked at Silver, his face unreadable, "I may just have to do something about that."

It took an iron will and her toes curled tightly in her shoes, but Silver kept her smile from blooming like an overrun patch of dandelions.

"Hello, Shane," said a sultry voice.

Silver's joy sank and her toes uncurled.  She knew Melissa Lake, had seen her about town with her parents.  Tall and willowy, she was Silver's physical opposite.  With hair as dark as Shane's, she looked striking standing side by his side.  She turned her almost black eyes toward Silver.

"Oh, hello, Silver.  Saloon closed today?"

"Every Sunday, Melinda," she said, deliberately mangling her name.  "Goodbye, Shane.  I'll see you next time you're in."

He opened his mouth, but in the end shut it without a word.

The doctor announced that the bidding would start in five minutes.  Silver had only enough time to race over to Jillian, Letty and Eileen for a quick hello.  When she heard about the town meeting, she vowed she'd be there as well.

She took her place next to the others who had brought baskets and gritted her teeth when Melissa took her place beside her.

"I just know Shane'll want mine," Melissa purred. 

Four baskets had already been sold, and Shane hadn't bid on one yet.  Silver dared hope, dared actually think that this year Shane would come through.  She could easily picture them under the lazily drooping branches, laughing and talking about everything, anything.  Then he'd look at her, a darkening in his eyes she'd always hoped to see, and he'd lower his mouth--a mouth she'd coveted for too long--to hers.