Much Ado About Mavericks (19 page)

He nodded but didn’t look up from his whittling.  “Laid it in yesterday.”

“Barn looks good.  Might need some more tables along the side.”

“I used all the planks we had.  I think we have enough.”

Crazy Jim strode into the barn carrying a salt lick.  “What you want done with these, Jake?  We got a whole load of ‘em out there.”

“Might as well put some in each pasture now.  They ain’t going anywhere.”

“But we always unloaded here, then put ‘em out after the tournament.”

“This ain’t
always
.”

Whip chiseled a hole in the stick he was carving.  “Ain’t that for sure.”

Jake ignored him and spoke to Crazy Jim.  “Tell Fred to spread ‘em out, then you go to Crip and help him train them greenbroke horses.  We ain’t got no time to spare.  The dance is in a few hours and I want all you cowhands cleaned up.  I’ll have no stinking men at the dance.”

“Yes, sir,” he said as he left.

Jake turned back to Whip.  “I know something
’
s bothering you, but you can’t let it get in the way.  I want this barn cleared out, the floor nice and even, and more benches made before dusk.  I’ll go get you some help.”

He nodded.  “Where’s the strays?”

“Playing marbles.  Teddy’s trying to win back the marbles that Henry took from him a few days ago.”  She paused, then asked, “You seen
Boston
?”

“Yup.” He chuckled and put down his whittling stick.  “He’s in the house.  Mabel, Old Lady Hiatt, and Suzanne are cooking up a storm.  Ben’s fetching and carrying for the lot of ‘em.  Probably be dog-assed tired by the time the musicians get here.”  He stood and grabbed a broom.  “That’s why I’m staying right here in the barn, where it’s safe.”

He pulled out a box and opened the lid.  “I got the straws and the garters here.”  He handed Jake a garter for her sleeve.  “I’ll have it ready for the men to draw straws at seven, sharp.  Tell your men that if they ain’t here on time, they’re gonna be ladies.”

She tucked the loathsome thing in her pocket.  She loved to dance, but oh, how she hated dances!

*   *   *   *   *

The longer Patience Morris waited, the angrier she became.  Neither the indolent stagecoach driver nor the male passengers seemed in any hurry whatsoever to change the broken wheel.

When an afternoon breeze kicked up and blew the insidious white dirt down her dress and into her eyes, she lost all forbearance.  She picked up her skirts and rounded the stage to confront the driver.  “Sir, I shall report you to your superiors.  According to the schedule, we should have arrived at three this afternoon.  Why, my watch reads half past five now, and here we are, stranded in the middle of nowhere with a broken wheel.  What do you have to say for yourself, mister?”

“Don’t need to say nothing what with you flapping your lips all day,” he said as he yanked on the shattered wheel.

Reginald twirled his sword-cane and smiled.  “Quite an adventure, huh, sister?”

“Hrmph.  The farther from
Boston
we traveled, the drearier the countryside.  Now look at us--we’re in a dreadful territory on a dreadful stagecoach with smelly passengers and a crotchety driver, and we’re headed to a little town that promises to be the most dreadful of all.  And now it could be dark before we even get there.  I told you that you should have wired ahead and reserved us a room.”

A crusty gentleman whose spurs had jangled incessantly all the way from
Salt Lake City
chuckled.  “You headed to Henderson Flats, you say?”

“I didn’t say.”

Reginald, who’d been much more friendly to these common people than was fitting, said, “Yes, do you know the town?”

“Yup.  No hotels.”

She closed her eyes and prayed for endurance.  What on earth was Benjamin thinking--staying in such a barbaric place?  He could very well have settled his father’s estate from his office at Morris & Graves if he’d wanted to, but no, he had to go traipsing out here with these hicks. 

Well, she fully intended to bring him home so they could be married--Mother had already arranged the engagement announcement and Daddy had Benjamin’s senior partner papers ready to sign.  All she needed was Ben, and she fully intended to see that he returned to
Boston
with her posthaste.

“How long until the wheel is changed?” she asked the driver.

He crawled out from under the coach.  “Lady, for the thousandth time, it’ll be done when it’s done.”  He retreated back under.

She sighed.  They’d traveled so far and so long, surely they must be close to Henderson Flats.  “How far away is it?”

Not getting an answer, she asked the man with the obnoxious spurs. 

“Oh, it’s a piece.  Maybe five miles or so,” he pointed west, “over that hill and across the river.”

“Five miles?”

He nodded.  “I reckon.  Ain’t been this way for a while.”

She could walk five miles--she walked two miles around the park near her home every day, except Sunday, of course.  Five miles certainly wouldn’t be a problem.  “Reginald, get my reticule.  We’re walking.”

“Walking?  You must be mad!”  He flailed his arms toward the hill.  “Why, there could be Indians waiting for us--you don’t know!”

She sniffed.  “I’m walking to Henderson Flats.  Would you like me to wire Daddy and tell him you forced me to walk five miles alone in the wilderness?”

He tipped his derby up with his cane and smirked.  “You make decisions so difficult, Sister.”

*   *   *   *   *

Her bunkhouse on the Circle J was the only place she could find peace, but even there she paced, then carved a bit, then paced some more.  She tossed the filigree she’d been whittling on the table and sighed.  Time to get dressed for the dance. 

The strays were ready to go
—
they’d even bathed the dog, much to his dismay.  But Jake had been putting off her decision until the last possible minute.  Not a decision, really.  She wouldn’t wear that stupid frock if she had to go naked.  But she figured Ben wanted her to wear it and she felt bad about disappointing him.  Sort of.

“Bah!” she said, kicking the dress under her cot.  He should’ve known better than to buy the stupid thing in the first damned place.  A pink piece of cloth still stuck out, so she swept it under with her foot.  At least she didn’t have to look at it.  ‘Course, she might could make some curtains from it.  No use wasting good cloth.

She put on her best duds and called the strays. 

“Ain’t you wearing your new dress?” Henry asked.

The boys giggled--Jake ignored them all.  “Saddle up.  We’re heading over to the Bar EL.”

“They got sweets at the dance!” Teddy hollered as he ran to his pony.  “Lots of ‘em!”

Homer and Henry didn’t need to be told twice.  In only a few minutes, the four of them were on their way with Pokie trotting along behind.  Jake had all she could do to keep the strays from kicking their cold horses into a gallop.  “We’re early yet.  Ain’t no call to rush.”

At the Bar EL, they put away their mounts.  Suzanne called Henry into the house, while Homer touched Teddy and yelled, “You’re It!” and ran off with Pokie.  Teddy ran as fast as his little five-year-old legs would carry him, but Jake doubted he’d catch the older boy any time soon.  One day, though, Homer wouldn’t have the advantage.

Just as she entered the dancing area, Whip handed Crazy Jim a garter.  She couldn’t help but grin.  He, of all the cowhands, wanted to dance with Suzanne in the worse way.

“I ain’t wearing that!”

Jake grabbed Crazy Jim’s arm and slipped the garter around his sleeve.  “You’re wearing it.  You drew a short straw, and that’s that.”  Besides, if she had to wear one, she sure as hell wouldn’t let him get out of it.

“Ah, dammit all, Jake.  Fred ain’t here yet.  Let him wear the confounded garter.”

She shook her head.  “You ain’t gonna dance with Suzanne anyhow, what with Petey Blacker in the country.”  He might as well get used to it sooner rather than later.

He glowered at the garter like it was a cowpie, then sighed.  “Well, dancing is dancing.  I guess.”  He picked up a cookie from the refreshment table.  “But I do like sweet things.”

She laughed and punched his shoulder, knowing what ‘sweet things’ he referred to.  “Just you be careful what sweet things you sample.”

He scuffed his spurs across the floor and avoided looking eye to eye. 
“Seen Ben?”

“Nope.”  Ben hadn’t showed yet, although she certainly wasn’t looking for him.  Everybody in the whole damned territory probably knew that he’d kissed her.  She’d be plumb tickled to turn that high-handed, fancy smelling greenhorn down flat when he asked her to dance.  If he did.

“Hey, Jake!” Matt Paxton yelled as he pulled his guitar out of its case.  Jake waved at him and the others, but didn’t go visit on account of needing to talk to Whip, who she couldn’t find.

Soon, sour notes of instruments being tuned got the crowd excited.  Mabel had hired an Oreana group to keep everyone’s feet moving.  Arlene Nafsinger played the accordion while Matt and Al Curtis strummed the guitar, and Jim Paxton tooted the harmonica.  Neil Walker played a mean, foot stomping fiddle. His son, Happy Jack, couldn’t carry a tune in a freight wagon, but he was enthusiastic and everyone liked him.  Jake hoped their songs required more dancing than singing.

Whip came in with an armload of desserts.  “Outta my way, everyone!” he bellowed.

Mabel
hurried
ahead, chiding, “Careful, now!”  She cleared a spot on the table for the treats and took the dishes, one by one, from Whip’s arms.  Jake’s mouth watered
—
she did love sweets, and she knew for a fact that Mrs. Hiatt had ordered chocolate clean from
Pennsylvania
.  She’d only tasted it a few times, and there couldn’t be any finer food on the face of the earth.

“Looks plumb tasty, Mabel,” Whip said, but anyone could tell that he was looking at her instead of the food. 

Jake wondered what the hell was going on there
.  S
he’d seen Mabel with Whip more often than was fitting over the years.  But they’d better be careful
because a
ccording to the will, she couldn’t cavort with men for five years.

The very thought of being married to Ezra Lawrence would be a fate worse than death.  Maybe Ben could do something about that stupid will, after all.  But she was mainly worried about keeping the Circle J.  It was the only home she’d ever had.

“Jake!” Suzanne called as she hurried into the barn, eyes sparking with fury.  “I need help.  Henrietta’s being quite difficult.”

The moment Jake walked into the house, she knew exactly what the problem was.  Henry sat on Suzanne’s bed, lower lip stuck out and a scowl that could rot the socks off a hermit.  A yellow dress with lace stuck all over it lay in a heap on the floor.

“What’s the matter, Henry?”

“Cowhands don’t wear dresses.”

Jake sat on the bed next to the angry child.  She did have a point there--no denying it--Jake couldn’t bear to think of wearing one herself, but Henry had grown up as a girl, so maybe she ought to wear it.  “Suzanne bought you a right pretty frock--it’s what girls your age wear to dances,” she explained gently, hoping to calm the girl.  “It would humor her if you put it on, just for tonight.  She’s trying real hard to do good by you.”

“You ain’t wearing no stinking dress, and you’re a girl, and you’re going to the dance.”  She pursed her lips and glowered at the heap on the floor.  “Teddy and Homer would laugh theirselves plumb sick if I showed up in this thing.”  She crossed her skinny little arms over her chest and stuck out her chin.  “I ain’t doing it, and you can’t make me.”

Sighing, Jake conceded.  “It does look like a frothy thing, don’t it.”  She stood and held out her hand to the girl.  “You come with me, Henry, and I’ll fix you up.  You can wear a garter on your sleeve just like me.  ‘Cause I have to tell you, we have to be ladies at the dance just like the other cowhands who draw short straws.”

The scowl on Henry’s face was replaced by suspicion.  “Are you funning me?”

“Nope.  There ain’t enough womenfolk for all the fellers to dance with, so they all draw straws to see who has to be women.  All excepting Whip.  He don’t have to.”

“Why not?”

“On account of because he’s the oldest.”

“That ain’t fair.”

Jake chuckled.  “You tell that to Whip.”  She took the garter out of her pocket and put it on her arm.  “See here?  You’ll get one just like this.”

Henry picked up the dress, shook the wrinkles out, and hung it on a hook on the wall.  “She
was
trying to be nice, I s’pose.” 

“That’s right, and you need to thank Suzanne proper.  Now come with me.  Whip has a box of garters in the barn--I’ll fetch you one.”

“If I gotta wear one, then Pokie’s got to, too.”

*   *   *   *   *

Ben dressed in his best work clothes, avoiding anything that looked “
Boston
” altogether.  While the men seemed to respect him
now
, he didn’t want to push the point.  They wouldn’t be a bit impressed with his fancy lawyer suit.