Deborah Camp (11 page)

Entering the restaurant, she saw that Mrs. McDonald’s visitor was indeed Little Nugget. Sally swished past and filled the girl’s order, placing it before her without so much as a smile. Reno strode into the kitchen, then came back.

“Mrs. McDonald says she’ll be with you in a few minutes,” he told Little Nugget. “She’s got her hands full of bread dough right now.”

Little Nugget nodded and flapped a hand. “Tell her I’m in no hurry.”

Reno winked at her. “We’ll do,” he said, before returning to the kitchen.

Adele hung back, observing the young woman and thinking how lovely she looked bathed in sunlight, her hair shining like pale gold, her pert features seeming angelic. Adele’s heart went out to her, and she found herself approaching the table slowly but with purpose. Little Nugget looked up, startled to find her there.

“Something wrong? I got money to pay for this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Adele said, smiling. “I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” She held out her hand. “I’m Adele Bishop.”

The girl hesitated a moment before placing her gloved hand in Adele’s and giving it a squeeze. “I’m Little Nugget. Pleased to meetcha.”

“Must I call you by that made-up name?” Adele asked. “You have a last name, don’t you, Miss—?”

She frowned slightly, then shrugged. “Little.”

“Miss Little?” Adele smiled. “Very well.” She eyed the chair opposite Little Nugget. “May I join you?” When the girl looked as if she might object, Adele added, “Just until Mrs. McDonald comes out.”

The girl shrugged again. “I guess.”

“Thank you.” Adele sat down and saw Reno come halfway out of the kitchen. Seeing her sitting with Little Nugget, he retreated out of sight again. Evidently he wanted her to talk to the saloon girl. “This is your first time in here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Your boss was in here for the first time today, too.”

“He was?” Little Nugget’s brown eyes widened.

“Yes, he dropped by to talk about Mrs. McDonald. He wasn’t pleased that I’d hired her without consulting him first.”

Little Nugget fashioned a quick smile. “Yeah, he’s like that. He was blowing smoke out his ears when he heard about her leaving and coming here to work.”

“I’m happy to provide honest work for women in this town.” Adele traced a circle on the wood grain of the table. “I might be able to find work for you here, should you ever be interested.”

Little Nugget sat back in the chair, wariness in her posture. “What makes you think I’d be looking for other work? I got a job. A good job.”

“Is it good? Is it good for you, Miss Little? A young lady as lovely as you could be bettering herself instead of lowering herself to pander to the base needs of menfolk.”

Little Nugget wrung her gloved hands. “I don’t like lectures, especially from someone I just met. You want to preach a sermon, go find a congregation, but don’t be wasting my time. Besides, I’m not the one who ordered herself up a husband. Not that I blame you. I mean, I’ve sampled the men in this town and I wouldn’t want to be hitched to any of them either.”

“I was trying to make a point,” Adele defended herself, but she could tell by the sparkle of laughter in the girl’s eyes that she would never be taken seriously by her. “Never mind. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I’m glad you’ve stopped by to visit your friend.”

“Your husband told me to.”

“He did?” Adele glanced toward the kitchen door, wondering if this was further evidence that Reno was sporting with Little Nugget.

“Yeah. He said you’d let me come in here, but I wasn’t so sure. I wanted to see Doris, but I figured you’d hustle me right out the door if I showed up.”

“Don’t be silly. Mrs. McDonald will be so pleased you’ve dropped by to see how she’s doing.”

“Your waitress isn’t pleased,” Little Nugget noted, jutting her chin at Sally. “She wasn’t going to serve me.”

“She was confused.”

The girl’s smile became brittle. “I don’t think so. But it’s mighty Christian of you to serve up your vittles to the likes of me. Why, I’m so touched I might puddle up and cry.” Her eyes were anything but liquid with tears.

Adele refused to rise to the bait. She found it disconcerting to have such a grown-up conversation with such a young person. Most girls of Little Nugget’s age talked of parties and socials and the latest dance step. They giggled and blushed and spent a good amount of time in front of mirrors. Little Nugget didn’t giggle or blush. She stared at Adele with eyes that were beautiful but cold, like marble. “I’m trying to place your accent, Miss Little. Where are you from?”

“Lots of places. My pa moved around a lot.”

“And your mother?”

“She died when I was a kid. We used to live in Montana and Wyoming, but we headed for California ’cause my pa thought he could strike gold and get rich.”

“But he didn’t.”

“Shoot, no. He struck rock bottom is what he struck. My ma died on the way to the coast. She lost a baby and just never could recover from it. We kids had to look out for ourselves ’cause Pa was busy drinking and whoring and talking about how he was going to find a pot of gold.”

“When did you strike out on your own?”

She considered the question for a few moments before she answered. “The day before my fifteenth birthday.”

Adele gasped. She’d expected the girl had left home at a young age, but not that young. “Oh, my dear. What were you thinking? How did you expect to make a living at that tender age?”

Little Nugget rounded her shoulders, as if the memories suddenly weighed on her. “I was tired of changing diapers, doing the washing, cooking up the food and taking care of my brothers and sisters. I was sick of it and I didn’t want to spend another birthday growing old. So I left with a young drifter.”

“Terrapin?”

Little Nugget laughed. “No, he didn’t come along for years. The drifter and I parted pretty quick. He tried to get under my skirts, and I got hold of his gun and shot him in the foot. He didn’t like me much after that, so he lit out in the middle of the night, leaving me with a horse, a saddle, and a bedroll. That’s it. No water or food and no earthly idea where I was or where I was going.”

“Whatever did you do?”

She sipped the coffee, her lashes sweeping down over the windows of her tattered soul. “I thought
about running for president or maybe opening a bank, but I finally decided on whoring. Seemed like a thriving business just about everywhere I went.” Dimples sprang into her cheeks, accompanying her small, snide smile.

“Miss Little, my questions are not meant to demean you. Like every unattached woman, I am keenly aware of the limited opportunities available to us. I must humbly point out, though, that there
are
choices, however few, and it’s never too late to change one’s mind, to choose something else to do with one’s life.”

The kitchen door eased open to admit Mrs. McDonald into the dining area. Impulsively Adele slid her hand across the table and captured one of Little Nugget’s. Her gloves were made of silk and finely stitched.

“You are welcome here, Miss Little, and if you ever want to make a change, I will be here for you. I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

Little Nugget tugged her hand from Adele’s, and her expression was stony, even belligerent. “Why? You don’t even know me. You don’t even like me.”

Adele smiled. “That’s not true. I like your courage and your honesty. They are traits I admire.” She glanced at Mrs. McDonald and gestured her forward. “I’ve kept your guest entertained, Mrs. McDonald. Here, take my seat.” Adele stood and pulled out the chair for the cook.

“I’ll only be a minute, ma’am.”

“Nonsense,” Adele admonished her. “You’ve been working hard today. Take a break and enjoy your company. I insist.” Adele held out her hand. “Good day, Miss Little. It was so nice to finally meet you.”

The girl took Adele’s hand awkwardly. A faint blush stained her rouged cheeks. “Same here.”

Adele moved away, giving the women their privacy, and joined Sally behind the counter.

“Next thing you know we’ll be serving whiskey in here,” Sally grumbled.

Adele sighed and tapped Sally on the shoulder, making her look up from the pie she was slicing into equal pieces. “If you keep up this griping and grousing, I’ll
need
a good, stiff drink.” She smiled, taking the edge off her declaration, and was relieved when Sally laughed softly under her breath.

“I can’t help it, Dellie. I worry about you. These crusades are getting completely out of hand.”

“But they make life interesting, don’t they?” Adele quipped.

“Maybe for you.” Sally covered the pie with a clean dishcloth. “Are you ready for the next interesting slice of life?”

The cold finger of anxiety slipped down Adele’s spine. “I guess so.”

“Then you’d better hustle on out back. Mrs. McDonald told your husband that we needed more kindling, and he picked up an ax and announced he was going to reduce the shed to firewood.”

“He
what?
” Adele was already making for the kitchen. “He was joshing, surely.” But as she neared the back door she heard the crack of an ax and the moan of old lumber splitting.

Throwing open the door, she watched the old slave quarters crumble to the ground.

“W
hat have you done?” Adele said with a moan as she strode toward the axwielding Reno. “Who gave you permission to tear down this shed?”

“Nobody. I don’t need permission to turn this eyesore into kindling. This shack wasn’t fit for humans or even rats, but you expected me to stay in it. It was a reminder of an enslaved South, a scar left by human suffering.” He turned toward her, his eyes blazing with a strange intensity. “I’ll build you another one. A proper, upright, shiny new one.”

“Oh, really? Just as you sweep the floor and carry in the supplies and fix the broken wagon wheel? You don’t mind if I don’t hold my breath while waiting for this new shed to be built, do you?”

He made a disdainful gesture and hoisted the ax, swinging it savagely to splinter a beam in two.

Watching him, Adele suddenly realized the error of her ways. The old saying about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar took on a new significance for her. Reno was a man, after all, and men
valued their pride above nearly everything. Carping at him had not produced any change in his lazy habits, therefore it was time to try a different tack. What could she offer him as a reward for any work he performed? The most obvious answer sent a wave of red-tinged embarrassment through her, but any other answer seemed frivolous. She had only herself to offer and she knew Reno wouldn’t refuse her.

He continued to swing the ax, his muscles working under his shirt, his face set in lines of concentration.

“Reno, I have a proposition,” Adele said, then cleared her throat nervously when he stopped and looked at her.

“That sounds interesting. What have you got in mind?”

“I was thinking that … Well, my browbeating you hasn’t been successful.”

“You just noticed that, did you?”

She chose to ignore his sarcasm. “Therefore I’m prepared to give you some—well—sweet rewards for any work you accomplish around here.”

He leaned on the ax, bestowing upon her his full attention. “Sweet rewards? Exactly what are those?”

This was the hard part, she thought. Explaining to him and waiting for his reaction was torture. But she was beginning to think she was onto something important.

“Kisses,” she blurted out, and fire shot into her cheeks, but she trudged on. “I will give you a kiss for each chore you complete. You sweep the kitchen, you get a kiss. Haul in supplies from the smokehouse and cellar. Kiss. Fix the broken wheel and put it back on the wagon. Kiss. Build a new shed to replace the one
you are currently destroying. Kiss.” She blew out a breath, glad to be done with her explanation. Sliding her eyes sideways, she regarded his bemused grin and wondered what he must be thinking.

“Kisses,” he repeated finally. “Those will be my sweet rewards.”

“Yes. You want to kiss me, don’t you?”

His chuckle was downright lusty. “Oh yes, I sure do, honeybee. I surely do.”

“Then this is a good plan, isn’t it?”

“Almost perfect.”

“Almost?” She studied him from the corners of her eyes. He seemed to be trying hard not to laugh.

“The way I see it, there is a big difference between sweeping the floor and building a shed, but you’re offering the same reward for each task. That’s not fair, is it? I’ll accept a kiss for sweeping the floor, but I’m going to have to ask for more than that if I build a shed.”

“More kisses?”

“More
than
kisses,” he explained.

“Oh, I see.” She looked away from him, while her mind scurried about for a solution. “I’ll tell you what, I will openly and publicly take your name, Mrs. Reno Gold, if you fix the wagon wheel. That’s a fine reward, isn’t it?”

“You took my name when you married me,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but people still call me Miss Adele, and I haven’t corrected them. I shall correct them once that wagon wheel is fixed and the wagon is operational again.”

He grinned, that lop-sided, devil-may-care grin that
made her heart do double time. “Done. What about the shed? What will you give me for building you a shed? I figure that little chore should be worth a whole”—he took one step closer to her—“night of”—another step closer to her—“lovin’.” He stood next to her, his breath playing over her face, his body heat searing her. “What do you say there, Dellie? That would be a mighty sweet reward—for both of us.”

Adele could hardly breathe. Suddenly perspiration slicked her body and every breath she took burned her lungs. Knowing the source of that incredible heat, she inched away from Reno and forced words from her parched throat.

“I might not like the shed you build. I have certain specifications that must be met.”

“You draw up a list of specifications and I guarantee they’ll be met. Is it a deal, Dellie? A shed for a long, hot night of lovin’?”

Adele hitched in a breath and expelled the word that she knew would seal her fate. “Deal.” She glanced at him and saw that he had extended his hand and expected her to shake on it. She’d have to touch him, and if she touched him, she would surely melt.