Calico Brides (27 page)

“What if Owen comes looking for us? He’s already breathing fire after losing Birdie and his songbird.” Naomi spoke as if Owen’s violence was a fact of life. For her, it was.

“He’ll have to get past a whole host of angels—human and heavenly—to get to you. And the church is a sanctuary even Owen won’t violate.” As she pressed each of their hands, Birdie saw courage rising in each woman’s heart. “But we’d best leave for now, before someone has reason to question what all of us are doing at the church at this hour. Gladys, Michal, why don’t you head out first?”

Birdie gathered her hair into a knot at the back of her neck and tied her sunbonnet on before draping her shawl across her shoulders. “I have one more dress that is almost finished. I’ll bring it over as soon as I get the buttons.” How she wished she could finish the other dresses more quickly.

She opened the door and slipped out after Gladys and Michal. A familiar figure waited at the front door. Ahead of her, Michal drew back, and Birdie touched her arm. “Don’t worry. That’s Mr. Finnegan.”

At the sound of female voices, Ned squinted into the early-morning sun pouring in the east-facing windows.
Birdie
. He hustled down the center aisle and met her halfway. “I thought I’d better come in case Owen figured out what was happening and tried to bother you.”

Dependable. Kind. Brave. Any number of words could describe Ned Finnegan, even if the gun in his arm looked as out of place as a storekeeper’s apron on a soldier. “Thank you, Ned.”

The door opened, and Haydn scurried in. “Is everything all right?”

At Haydn’s appearance, Michal drew back. Birdie said, “This is Mr. Keller, Gladys’s intended. He’s a good man.”

Ned nodded at Birdie. “I’ll walk you and Miss Clanahan home while Haydn escorts Miss Polson and Miss Bliss.”

“Let’s get moving, then, before it gets any later.” But before Birdie could continue down the aisle, the front door opened and the preacher stood on the threshold. “He’s on his way with his men.”

P
astor Fairfield didn’t have to explain who he meant.

“I’ll go get the sheriff.” Haydn raced to the side door.

“Get back.” Ned urged the women to safety.

Not quite steady on his feet, Owen pushed past the pastor, his men close behind. The gun he held was all the more dangerous in the hands of a drunken man.

“They’re here. You can’t tell me they’re not. There’s three of them right there, although what they’re doing in church is a pretty story. Maybe your man of the cloth here isn’t all you expect him to be.”

“Why, you.” Birdie spoke from behind Ned. She hadn’t retreated to the room after all.

“Get down.” Ned fought to keep fear out of his tone.

“I’ll get ’er back sooner or later, but she ain’t my concern this morning. Imagine my surprise when I headed downstairs for a pick-me-up, to find my faithful Susanna missing. Checked the cribs upstairs, and there’s four gone, new this morning gone.” Owen hurtled himself forward, almost falling down, righting himself when he grasped the back pew. “Bring ’em out nice and peaceable, and we won’t have any argument between us.”

“Over my dead body.” Ned’s voice rang out loud and clear. He might be a shopkeeper, but he had learned how to shoot on the farm as a boy.

“Nigel Owen!” Pastor Fairfield used a deep voice that could have scared the devil himself out of hell. “I have told you before. You have no business here. This is God’s house.”

Ned darted a glance at the pastor. Dressed in a pair of pants held up by suspenders, and with nothing more than a Bible in his hands, he still radiated unmistakable authority, the general of this spiritual fortress.

“Well, Pastor, so you keep saying. But you’re interfering with a legitimate business. Those women signed contracts to work at the Betwixt ’n’ Between. They have to come back.”

Behind him, Ned heard Birdie grunt. She had told him about the marks the girls made on those contracts when they were too drunk to know what they were doing.

The side door opened and Sheriff Carter strode in. “Not unless I say so.” He also trained his rifle on Owen. “In fact, I hear tell the town council is ready to put the vote to make Calico dry on the next ballot. If you know what’s best for you, you’ll skedaddle out of town before you lose your shirt altogether.”

Owen stumbled forward a step, discharging his weapon as he flopped about. It hit a rafter high above him.

Ned’s finger pressed on the trigger, and the bullet hit Owen right where he aimed it—at his right shoulder, to wing him, not to kill. Owen slumped on the floor and howled. “I wasn’t shooting at you!” He screamed curses.

Sheriff Carter ran down the side aisle, keeping his rifle ready to shoot if necessary. He kicked Owen’s gun away and handcuffed his hands together. “Tell it to the judge—after we all tell him how you started a gunfight in this house of worship. That’ll be right after we get a doctor to fix you up.” Dragging Owen to his feet, he paused by the door. “The rest of you better leave before I find a reason to drag you along with your boss.”

“They all follow his lead.” Birdie came up beside Ned as the men filed out the front door. “None of them has enough courage to come after us here without him. We’re free.” She pulled the sunbonnet from her head. “We’re finally free. How perfect, to celebrate our personal freedom on the Fourth of July.”

As the sheriff escorted Owen out of the church, Haydn headed for the back room and Ned crossed the front to the pastor. “I’m sorry for the gunfire, pastor.”

“Don’t worry. You were protecting what is most important to you except for the Lord Himself.” He smiled at Birdie. “I’ll join the ladies in the room.”

Ned pulled Birdie close to him, closer than he ever had before, and she settled comfortably against his chest. He breathed in the floral scent of her brilliant hair. He could face a hundred lions for this woman.

Michal coughed, reminding him that although Ned had so much to tell Birdie, now was neither the time nor the place. He relaxed his hold on Birdie, and she took one hesitant step backward. “I need to get back to Miss Kate’s. To let her know about her company coming.” Even as she spoke, her eyes studied his features one by one, as if memorizing them.

“You’ll see me later today. I promise.” A tenderness Birdie couldn’t believe possible shone from Ned’s eyes as he smiled down at her.

“Of course. When I bring you the eggs.” Dropping her eyes, she stepped past Ned on her way to the door.

“And when I announce the winner of the button jar contest.”

Birdie’s laughter rang as she and Michal headed for the door. “I plan on being there.”

“If you don’t come, I’ll come down and get you myself.” She laughed again. “But now I’ll walk you home.”

Later that morning, Michal had no interest in the button drawing. “It’s too soon for me, Birdie. But you go, with your Mr. Finnegan. Enjoy yourself.”

Birdie walked down Main Street, striding confidently past the Betwixt ’n’ Between. A good-sized crowd had gathered in front of Ned’s store. He should be pleased.

Ned noticed her approach and motioned her forward. For some reason, he began to clap. Soon everyone joined in.

Birdie stopped in midstep. They couldn’t be clapping for her—could they? Ned motioned again for her to join him in front of the store. “Now we can get started.”

Light laughter rippled across the crowd.

“First I’ll announce the winner of the counting contest. The person who will be leaving here with all the lemon drops she can eat, as well as a length of my prettiest calico, is the sheriff ’s wife, Enid Carter.”

A young boy ran ahead and reached Ned first. “I’ll take the lemon drops, please.”

“That is up to your mother.” Ned tossed a single lemon drop to the child, who caught it in midair.

“Thank you, Mr. Finnegan. For everything.” Mrs. Carter walked back to her husband amid generous applause.

“And now…for the most important part of the day.” Ned reached behind him and lifted the nearly full jar of buttons over his head. “Who gets to keep all these buttons that I’ve collected?”

Voices called from all over the crowd. “Miss Landry.” “Miss Birdie.” A few small children began chanting “Miss Landry” until everyone joined in.

Birdie looked at Ned, not understanding what was happening.

He handed her the jar of buttons. “Here is a gift from the people of Calico, to you. All of the buttons you’ll need for a lot of dresses, as well as a sizable credit to your account for any other supplies you need, from concerned citizens.”

The din of applause and hurrahs gave Ned and Birdie a cocoon of privacy. She found a tag attached to a red-and-white gingham bow around the top of the jar. She unfolded it and read the single sentence twice before looking at Ned.

“You don’t think I’d let a few buttons come between me and the woman I love, do you?” Ned’s grin was as spectacular as fireworks on the Fourth of July. “So. Will you marry me?”

All the defenses Birdie had built against a man’s love crumbled. “Yes.” Her answer was both a capitulation and an exultation.

Ned claimed Birdie’s lips.

The crowd cheered even louder, their approval touching Birdie’s heart like the ping of a button hitting the bottom of the jar.

Pride goeth before destruction
,
and an haughty spirit before a fall
.
P
ROVERBS
16:18

R
uth Fairfield rubbed her aching back. Cutting squares of sod used muscles she didn’t need in the schoolroom. The people of Calico, Kansas, had gathered to build a home for the orphaned Pratt children. Now that their mother’s brother had come to town, the three children and their uncle could spend the winter snug in their new soddy.

“What is such a pretty lady doing over in this corner, trying to break up the hard ground all by herself?”

Ruth held back a chuckle as she straightened. No one had ever mistaken her for a beauty. Pleasant, yes, and kind. But pretty? Even her mother reminded her that internal beauty mattered more than what could be seen on the outside.

She straightened up, up, up, taking in boot-clad feet and denim-covered legs, until she met brown eyes the same color as the dirt beneath her feet, sparkling like a fresh spring rain. A ten-gallon hat sat atop hair streaked with summer’s gold, a little long. Everything about him screamed cowboy. Ruth herself was tall, taller than some men, but not this giant. Charlotte Pratt had spoken of her brother to Ruth, but she hadn’t mentioned his jaw-dropping good looks. “Mr. Blanton?”

“As I live and breathe, but you can call me Beau.” He swept his hat from his head. “And you are Ruth Fairfield.”

“Please, call me Ruth. I feel like I already know you from what Charlotte told me.”

“Uncle Beau!” Dru Pratt, a happy, gangly twelve-year-old who had taken the loss of her parents hard, threw herself at the cowboy. “This is my teacher, Miss Fairfield.”

“We’ve already met.” Beau’s smile revealed even white teeth. “So how is my niece doing in class?”

Ruth relaxed a bit. Her students were her favorite topic of conversation. “She’s doing very well, as are her brothers. I might even go so far as to say that Allan is my star pupil. I believe he would do well at the university.”