Read Deep in the Heart of Trouble Online

Authors: Deeanne Gist

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #Romance, #General, #ebook, #book

Deep in the Heart of Trouble (13 page)

BOOK: Deep in the Heart of Trouble
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She continued turning out lanterns all the way around the room.

He didn’t move or say a thing. One more sconce left. The one at the entrance.

“Are you coming, Mr. Bryant?” Her voice sounded shrill, even to her own ears.

He settled his hat on his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

He took his time, then instead of heading to the door, he removed her shawl from its hook and held it open for her.

Swallowing, she turned her back. He draped it across her shoulders, turned out the final lamp, opened the door and waited.

“You are not walking me home.”

He said nothing. Just held the door.

She hurried outside, but no matter how fast she walked, he stayed by her side. She suppressed a groan, chagrined that she’d allowed things to come to this.

She was still shocked by the objections he’d heard from Mrs. Lockhart. No doubt he had expected her to disown them, coming from his lips, but they had the opposite effect. Whatever attraction she might have felt for him, whatever scruples she’d been thinking to set aside before, the objections made perfect sense. After all, she was the boss and he was the worker. She had wealth and standing in the community, he had nothing.

What would people say if they saw him courting her? They would laugh at the difference in age and station. They would whisper behind her back about how desperate she’d become. They’d say he was after her wealth or, worse, her virtue.

And for all she knew, they’d be right. She could hardly trust her own judgment when it came to matters of the heart.

No. She had long since reconciled herself to being unmarried. Once she had finally embraced singleness, she found it suited her quite nicely. She must keep that at the forefront of her mind.

Tony never would have made his offer if Mrs. Lockhart hadn’t put him up to it, and now that Essie had refused, he ought to be grateful. It went against all his principles to complicate his personal mission by pursuing a woman. Instead, however, her refusal roused a deep-seated instinct to hunt, capture and conquer.

Essie was churning up dust just ahead of him, dragging him along like a fish on a hook. He lengthened his stride to keep up with her. The faster she bolted, the more he wanted to stop her, but they were almost halfway to her house and he still didn’t know what he’d say if he did.

Still, he reached out, gently grabbing her elbow. “Slow down.

You’re moving faster than a deacon taking up a collection.”

She yanked herself free and spun to face him. “I wouldn’t be going so fast if you would leave me be.”

Her chest was heaving. A few bits of hair had slipped loose of the fancy twist decorating the back of her head, and he wondered what she’d do if he reached over and took the pins out to let it fall.

“I like your hat,” he said.

A bit of the starch immediately left her. “Th-thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She touched the back of her head and discovered her disheveled hair. With jerky movements, she stuffed bits and pieces into place.

“Why won’t you go with me?” he asked.

She closed her eyes for a moment before answering. “Because I’m your boss. It is simply out of the question.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Surprise followed by a look of wariness crossed over her face.

He clasped her hand. “Why won’t you go with me?”

Her eyes welled up. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do this again. Please don’t ask it of me.”

He stroked her inner wrist with his thumb, catching part glove and part skin. “Can’t do what again?”

She tugged on her hand.

He interlocked their fingers. “Tell me.”

“We’ve an entire town of young, pretty girls much more suited to your age. I’m sure any one of them would be thrilled to accompany you.”

“I don’t want to go with them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to go with you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He hesitated, stumbling over his thoughts. “Why do I want to go with you? You’re asking me why?”

“Yes.” She looked straight at him, a touch of confusion in her expression and not a little vulnerability.

In a whoosh, his pulse calmed, his vision cleared, the tension left him. “Because, Essie, you have real pretty eyes. You’re nicely put together. You’re not flighty and giggly like all those young girls you seem so anxious to thrust upon me. You showed an incredible amount of strength and character when Brianna was bitten by that snake. And when you smile, you have two dimples that I noticed the very first time I saw you. Remember? You’d just fallen off the banister.”

She’d gone stone still. “I didn’t fall off. My heel broke.”

“Go with me, Essie.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’s … complicated.”

“It’s not. It’s the simplest of things and it’s done every day by men and women all over God’s creation.”

“Not by me. And I won’t change my mind. So will you please let me go?”

He studied her. She meant every word. He dropped his hold.

She tucked her arm against her waist, well out of his reach.

“Good night, Mr. Bryant.”

“I’m walking you home, Essie.”

“Please don’t.”

He swept his hand in an “after you” gesture.

The pace she set was not exactly breakneck, but it wasn’t leisurely, either. He wanted to take her elbow but reconciled himself to simply walking beside her. They approached her house and he opened the gate.

“Thank you for seeing me home, Mr. Bryant. I believe I can make it to the door by myself.”

He tugged the rim of his hat. “As you wish, ma’am.”

She backed through the gate, then spun and raced up her sidewalk and into the safety of her home.

chapter TWELVE

THE FOURTH of July dawned full of promise. After breakfast, Tony went out on the streets, which were already packed with people. The whole of Corsicana was outdoors, basking under sunny skies punctuated by the occasional cloud.

He set a jaunty pace, falling into step with the people around him. Children darted through the crowds, and a morning breeze blew down the lane, rustling ladies’ skirts. At Beaton Street, he paused while a marching band passed through the intersection, serenading the town with patriotic tunes.

He eyed a taffy vendor urging him to buy, but he shook his head. He couldn’t afford such frivolities. Every penny counted.

A pang of homesickness washed over him and he wondered if his mother and Anna would be attending Beaumont’s celebration. In years past, he’d always been their escort. Now they’d be adrift in the crowds—or worse, they would be under Darius’s thumb.

He’d only received one letter from them, a quick note conveying Mother’s relief that he’d found some work and her chagrin over Darius’s disregard for showing proper respect for the dead. At the time, though, both she and Anna were still in black.

A stray tabby wove between Tony’s legs. He stroked its matted fur, then followed the band as they made their way to the Velocipede Club. Essie was hosting a public ride and he aimed to witness the spectacle firsthand.

On the way, he saw familiar faces from the rigs. Most of his working buddies had started their celebration in the saloons and would not find their way out for at least another hour. A few of the oilmen, however, had already imbibed and were ready to commence with the day’s activities.

Females of every age, size, and shape came bedecked in all their finery. He watched them kick up the back of their skirts as they strolled on the arms of their husbands, fathers, and beaus.

He wondered what Essie was wearing and how much it would cost to win her box supper. Slipping his hand in his pocket, he ran his fingers over the coins jingling there. He’d have to set himself a limit—not so low as to be insulting, but not so high he couldn’t part with the money.

If someone else outbid him, he’d just have to live with it. He would bid, though, for as long as he could, on whatever basket matched her clothing.

The care and planning that went into a woman’s Fourth of July outfit was second only to her Easter attire. For Essie, the burden was greater, because she had a reputation to maintain, and she no longer had her mother to conspire with. As she approached the bandstand of the Velocipede Club, she glanced down at her white dotted-swiss gown one last time hoping she had achieved her desired effect. The front of her skirt was pleated in, its folds caught with a series of blue bows, each held by a fancy button.

She smoothed her bodice of blue accordion-pleated mousseline de soie and straightened her fancy straw hat. It held a cluster of red roses on the left side, surrounded by loops of blue ribbon and white lace.

The club was filled to capacity. Looking out at the crowd, she saw new members, established members, and plenty of adventurers, too, willing to give the bicycle a try just this once. The bleachers burst with spectators in an array of colorful attire, calling down cheerfully to the riders as they prepared.

The Collin Street Bakery provided refreshments at a table in the back. Bicyclers stood about the rink visiting with each other as they waited for the music to start. Attendance this year was even higher than the last. She decided she would most likely have to hold two public rides in ’99.

“The band’s about settled there on the platform,” Uncle Melvin said, his sheriff’s badge winking. “You ready to get this thing goin’?”

“I’m ready,” she said, tucking her hand into his elbow and noting he’d curled and waxed the ends of his bushy gray moustache.

He assisted her onto the stage, then let out a piercing whistle that cut through the crowd, silencing them.

“Here’s the rules,” Uncle Melvin shouted. “No chewin’. No spittin’. No walkin’ across the rink. Food and drinks are free. If you’re of a mind to give one of these machines a twirl, then don’t cut anybody off. Don’t run anybody over. And don’t park in the middle o’ the track. Any questions?”

None were forthcoming.

“Essie-girl?” he said. “You got anything you wanna say?”

She stepped to the front. “Welcome to the Fourth Annual Corsicana Velocipede Club’s Group Ride. We’re so very glad you’re here.”

She turned to the band director. “Mr. Creiz?”

The conductor held up his baton, bringing the band to attention, then commenced on the downstroke, starting the event off with their traditional “Bicycle Built for Two.”

The wheelers mounted their bikes and began whizzing around the track, singing to the music while friends and family joined in from the bleachers. Mr. Peeples, an employee of the Anheuser-Busch Brewing Company, wobbled back and forth on his machine, had a near miss but, to his credit, kept his balance and avoided taking a spill.

“You go on ahead, honey,” Melvin hollered in her ear. “I see Deputy Howard signaling me.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek, then headed to the other side of the stage. Lifting her skirts, she started down the stairs, accepting a hand that shot out to assist her before realizing it belonged to Tony.

His appearance made her pause. Gone were the blue denim trousers, rawhide boots, and cowboy hat. In their place stood a gentleman in the very latest of summer fashions.

He wore a blue pincheck four-button coat that fit his broad shoulders so well it could not possibly have been borrowed. She’d developed an eye for such details after working in Hamilton Crook’s mercantile.

She noted at once that the fine dress shirt, celluloid collar, and cuffs Tony wore were of the very best quality. The silk tie around his neck had been knotted by an experienced hand. Even the brown Derby on his head seemed particularly fine. How could a roustabout afford such fine clothing? What’s more, how could he wear them with such ease?

He said something to her, but the music swallowed his words.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Peeples accidentally cut off Mr. Davis. Essie couldn’t catch Mr. Davis’s words as he swerved to the side, but she had an inkling as the man’s face turned red and he shook his fist.

Mr. Peeples smiled and waved, fully confident in his newfound ability.

She continued down the steps, then stood before Tony. His gaze traveled over her hat, her new gown, her face.

“You look beautiful,” he said, bending close so she could hear him.

“Thank you.” She kept her voice neutral.

“Will you ride with me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve hostess duties to attend to.”

As if verifying the truth of her words, a loud shriek, followed by a sharp, “Look out!” caused her to whirl around.

Mr. Peeples jerked his handlebars sharply to the left to avoid running into one matron, only to, instead, broadside another.

Lifting her skirts just above the toes, Essie hurried to the collision.

Tony stood on the periphery of the bicycle club watching Essie welcome guests, soothe ruffled feathers, manage crises, calm drunks, enroll new members and sell bicycle accessories. He was content to watch her work until Deputy Billy John Howard approached her.

The crowd drifted away as the deputy moved in. People in Corsicana tended to give the small man a wide berth. All the rumors Tony had heard about Howard came back to him.

He was surprised at how familiar the man was with Essie. As a protégé of her Uncle Melvin, it was natural that they’d be acquainted, but the way she stiffened as he hovered near her—and the way she bobbed and weaved to avoid his covertly straying hands—put Tony on his guard.

What was the deputy playing at? If he’d been courting Essie, Mrs. Lockhart would have said, and it was obvious from Essie’s reactions that Howard’s attentions were unwelcome.

Several times, Tony started forward to intervene, then stopped himself. It was none of his business, after all. And if Essie was a distraction from his purpose, then trouble with a deputy was even worse.

Howard settled his hand on Essie’s waist, and all Tony’s reasoning evaporated. He headed toward them. She twisted from Howard’s touch, but he immediately returned it to the curve of her back and leaned over to whisper something in her ear.

He couldn’t tell what the man was saying, but whatever it was caused Essie to flush.

The band finished up the last chorus of “A Hot Time in the Old Town.” Spectators clapped. Wheelers continued to ride.

“ … so what do you say?” Howard asked.

“If you would excuse me, I have things to attend to,” Essie said in undertones, once again shoving aside his hand.

He grabbed her wrist, careful to keep it hidden in the folds of her skirt. “You listen here, missy. I’ve had just about enough—”

“Miss Spreckelmeyer?” Tony said, joining them. “Mrs. Gillespie needs your assistance.”

The deputy puffed out his chest, making sure Tony saw the star pinned to his vest. “She’ll be along in a minute.”

“She’s needed now.” Tony kept his posture relaxed but allowed a bit of steel to enter his voice.

Howard narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve—”

“Billy John,” said Preacher Wortham, stepping to their circle and extending his hand.

The deputy had no choice but to let go of Essie or leave Wortham’s hand hanging in the air.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the appalling amount of liquor consumed within our town,” the preacher said, placing a hand on Howard’s shoulder and turning him toward the door. “You don’t mind if I steal the deputy for a moment, do you, Essie?”

Tony saw a look pass between the preacher and Essie, leaving him no doubt as to Wortham’s motivations. The preacher had done what Tony could not.

“Mr. Bryant here said Shirley was in need of me.” She turned to Tony. “Lead the way.”

Cupping Essie’s elbow, Tony escorted her toward a table in the far corner where a German man and his partner were giving out slices of fruitcake.

“What was all that about?” Tony asked.

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me. How long has he been bothering you?”

“Just a bit longer than you have.”

He let go of her. “You view me the same way you do him?”

She paused, looking startled at the suggestion. “No, of course not. I meant no offense.” She looked around. “I don’t see Shirley over here.”

Taking a deep breath, he decided to ignore the sting of her careless remark. “Mrs. Gillespie doesn’t need you. I made that up.”


Did
you?” She took a moment to study him, her guard slipping a bit as she considered his gesture. “Well, thank you, then—for coming to my assistance. I appreciate it.”

He picked up a slice of fruitcake, broke a piece off and handed it to her.

She popped it into her mouth. “Ummm. That’s good. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

He started to ask her about Howard again but realized this wasn’t the place.

“Well.” She brushed the crumbs from her fingers. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. I see Mrs. Tyner is waving me over.”

He nodded his head in acknowledgment, but she had already walked away, slipping him as quickly as she had the deputy.

BOOK: Deep in the Heart of Trouble
2.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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