Second Chance Brides (25 page)

“Mm-mm. If’n your ma heard you say
darn
, she’d wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Ricky! What’re you doin’ here?” Jack jumped to her feet and waved at her two friends. “Howdy, Jonesy.”

“Ma sent me to town to see if the Fosters had some thread left in their tent store.”

She shook her head. “Don’t think so, but we can go see. They been sellin’ off stuff, because they’re leaving town soon.”

“Don’tcha need to finish your chores before leaving?” Jonesy scratched his belly and yawned.

Jack shrugged, knowing her friend spoke the truth. But she hadn’t seen either boy in nearly three weeks, and she’d missed them. “Let’s go before Ma sees me.”

They took off at a run and didn’t stop until they reached the Fosters’ property.

“Wow, look at all that wood.” Jonesy eyed the stack of lumber nearly as tall as he.

“There’s to be a store raising come Saturday.” Jack walked inside the large tent that served as the store for now. “Howdy, Mrs. Foster. Ricky here needs some thread for his ma. You got any?”

“Just a couple of skeins of red and one white left, though they smell of dust.” The old woman got up from her chair, tottered across the room, and rummaged around some boxes.

“Thank ya kindly, ma’am, but Ma wanted black thread so’s she could mend my pa’s trousers. Don’t guess he’d care much for red or white stitching on his pants.”

“No, I guess not. Be a few more weeks before the new store is up and filled. Hope he can wait that long.”

Ricky shrugged and hurried back outside. Jack followed, waving her hand in front of her nose. “Whoowee! All that stuff smells like sawdust and dirt. Don’t know why anyone would want to buy it.”

Jonesy grinned and nudged her in the arm. “Never guess who we just saw.”

“Who?”

“Butch,” both boys said in unison.

“Where?” Jack leaned in close, half-excited, half-scared to see the bully again. She hadn’t seen him since that social when he’d asked her to dance.

“Over at that fat lady’s house, choppin’ wood.”

“You mean Bertha Boyd?”

“Yeah.” Ricky’s eyes gleamed. “Wanna help us play a prank on him?”

Jack bit on the inside of her lip, thinking again of how she’d lied about Butch. Still, he was her enemy, and if Luke and her ma knew what she’d done, she’d be in big trouble—and that would be Butch’s fault. “Sure, why not? What do you want me to do?”

She followed the boys, listening to their plan. Butch had done plenty to them over the years, so what harm could it do to play a little trick on him? “Why do I hav’ta be the one to talk to him? How come one of you can’t do that?”

“We gotta move the wood he’s chopped, and that’s too hard of work for a girl.”

Jack narrowed her eyes at the boys, not quite sure if she’d been insulted or not. Still, the thought of carrying wood sounded like a lot more work than just standing there and talking to Butch.

She sucked in a deep breath and strolled to the back of the faded white house where Bertha Boyd and her sister, Agatha Linus, lived, while the boys hunkered down and raced around the other side. Butch was in the back of the lot, chopping wood in the shade of a tall oak. It looked as if he’d chop a while and then stop and stack the wood up against the back of the house where the sisters had easy access to it.

She ambled toward him, trying to look casual, her hands crossed behind her back. “Hey there, Butch. Whatcha doin’?”

He narrowed his gaze and swung the ax down harder on this log than he had the previous one. The shirt he wore had no sleeves, just ragged threads where they once had been, and his arm muscles bulged as he brought the ax over his head and cut the half-log into quarters. Butch was taller than any other boy in their school, and she suddenly realized he was more man than boy. He’d thinned down since the last time she saw him at that Sunday social when he’d asked her to dance. He had also grown taller, if she wasn’t mistaken, and looked more like a man. Jack backed away. Maybe she was making a mistake picking on someone so much bigger than herself.

“What do you want?” He spewed the words as he grabbed another log and put it on the chopping block.

Jack glanced over her shoulder to the side of the house and saw a hand reach up and snitch a piece of wood from the pile. The wind blew in her face, slapping her with the odor of sweaty male and hog. She angled behind Butch and around to the other side so he’d be upwind and wouldn’t notice the boys. He watched her from the corner of his eye, as if he wasn’t sure what she’d do next.

“Where’s your friends?”

Jack shrugged. “Whatcha been doin’ all summer?”

“Working. Sloppin’ hogs. At least when I’m not in jail.”

She winced at his backhanded accusation, but it hit its mark. She shouldn’t have lied, but when it came down to Butch or her friends, it had been an easy choice. “Is that all you do?”

“Some folks don’t have the luxury of having parents who give a hoot about them. People like you don’t know what it’s like to wake up each morning, not knowing if you get to eat or not that day.”

She wondered what that would be like and felt bad he had to go without eating—even if he was her enemy. “Must be rough not having a ma.”

He eyed her for a moment and then relaxed his stance. “Yeah, I miss her. She was real nice.”

“Yeah, mothers are like that. I’d miss mine if something happened to her.”

Butch leaned on the ax handle. “How do you like havin’ the marshal for a pa?”

“He’s all right. He tries to spend time with me each night, playin’ checkers or doin’ chores together.” She leaned forward. “He even does dishes sometimes.”

Butch eyes narrowed. “You’re joshin’ me now. I don’t know no men that do dishes, besides me.”

Surprise flittered through Jack, as she realized Butch and Luke had something in common. “You wash dishes?”

Color tinged his tanned cheeks. “Who else would if I didn’t? I do all the cookin’ too, or we don’t eat. My pa don’t do nothing but play cards and drink.” He ducked his head as if the confession embarrassed him.

Jack had never considered how hard Butch’s life was. No wonder he smelled all the time. She already knew he fished and hunted to eat. When would he find time to wash clothes and bathe? She didn’t like feeling sorry for him.

She peeked at the woodpile and saw that it was lower than it had been a few minutes ago. She didn’t know what the boys were doing with the wood quarters, but she hoped they weren’t taking them far away. The old sisters who lived there would need the fuel come winter, and Butch would get in trouble. She kicked a rock. Why had she agreed to go along with Ricky and Jonesy?

Butch whacked another log in two. “I’m not like my pa. I’m going to make something of my life and be a man people can respect.”

Jack resisted laughing. Pretty lofty dreams for the son of a hog farmer. “How you figure on doin’ that?”

“Work hard and get an ed’jication. That’s the key.”

Remorse flooded through her. Had she been wrong about him? Maybe she’d made more of his being her enemy than she should have. She thought about him staying in jail because of her, and her stomach churned.

“Hey, boy!” Bertha Boyd—a woman as big as a stagecoach—stood on the back porch, shaking her cane at them. “I’m not paying you to converse with that girl.”

Butch stiffened and brushed his hand at her. “Go on, before I lose this job.”

Mrs. Boyd looked off the side of the porch at the woodpile. “Is that all you done? Why, anybody else could have chopped three times that much wood. She tossed some coins into the grass. “Here’s your pay, boy. Just get on along. I’ll hire someone who wants to do decent work for his pay.”

Butch stared toward the woodpile, a confused expression on his face. He scratched his head, and just then, Jonesy peered over what was left of the stack of wood. Butch glared at Jack. “Y’all been stealing the wood I chopped? You’re helping them by distractin’ me?”

He raised the ax high, and Jack back-stepped. The ax slammed into the chopping block, and Butch shoved his hands to his hips and stepped right up to her, leaning in her face. “I’m tired of tryin’ to be your friend. Folks say I’m bad, and I’m always gettin’ in trouble, but it’s because of
good
kids like you. I try hard to change my ways and walk the straight and narrow. I want to be a better man than my pa, and I’m sick of gettin’ blamed for things I ain’t done. I thought you were different than them boys, but I guess you’re cut from the same mold. Git away from me and stay away, you hear?”

Jack’s heart pounded like a rabbit’s in a snare. She never should have agreed to help her friends.

Butch stalked toward the back of the house and searched the grass for his money. Then he strode back toward her, his black eyes narrowed into slits. She backed up, then raced past him in a wide arc, as fast as she could pump her legs. When she reached the front of the house, she slowed and glanced over her shoulder. Relief made her legs weak. He wasn’t chasing her. He was stacking the wood he’d just cut.

Ricky and Jonesy raced toward her, both laughing. “Wasn’t that a hoot?”

“Yeah, did you see that old bat yell at him?” Jonesy bent over and slapped his leg.

Jack looked back and saw Butch staring at them. Suddenly, he dropped the wood and charged. Jonesy let out a squeal that sounded more like a girl, took a hop, and sprinted down the street. Ricky ran toward home, and Jack sped toward Luke’s office. Only the marshal could save her if Butch wanted revenge.

Shannon fingered the soft blue satin fabric. “What about this one? ’twould make a lovely wedding gown.”

Leah set aside the ivory muslin she’d been looking over and touched the satin. “Ooo, that is nice, but since I’ll have to wear the dress on Sundays, I need something more practical—and cooler.”

“Aye, that makes sense, but ’twould have looked lovely with your eyes.”

“Thank you. Maybe we can find the blue in a more suitable cloth in another store.”

They walked out of the Denison store and stood on the boardwalk, looking over the town. Denison was much larger than Lookout but was probably still considered a small town. At least it had a railroad. Shannon rubbed her back, still sore from the bumpy wagon ride. She’d taken off work for the day so she could serve as chaperone for Dan and Leah’s trip.

“Do you suppose Dan has finished his business and will be looking for us?”

Leah shook her head and glanced at the sun. “No, he said it would take a few hours to locate everything he needed and get it loaded on the buckboard. We still have time, so let’s get shopping. I simply must find some fabric for a dress.”

’twas nice of Dan to give Leah the funds to buy a dress and other things she would need as a newly married woman. Shannon shifted the large package that held Leah’s new undergarments to her other arm. Thinking of her own ragged underwear that had been mended over and over, she tried hard not to be jealous. She was happy for her friend, but she longed for the same joy for herself.

“Let’s try that dressmaker’s shop down there. Maybe she’ll have some fabric she’d be willing to sell us.”

As they walked along, Shannon pretended she was on a shopping trip for her own wedding clothes. What color of dress did she want? Not blue, but perhaps a cream-colored gown. Or if she was going to be practical as Leah was, perhaps she’d pick a pale green to match her eyes, or a soft lavender.

They entered the dress shop, and the proprietor looked up from her stitching and smiled. “Welcome, ladies. How can I help you?”

“I’m Leah Bennett, and I’m to be married soon and am in need of a wedding dress. I was wondering if you sell fabric.”

“Congratulations.” The woman set aside the pink silk dress she was hemming and stood. “My name is Miss Bradshaw, and while I mostly keep fabric for my customers to have a wide selection to choose from, I do occasionally sell my cloth. What are you looking for?”

“Nothing too fancy. Maybe a sateen, but more likely a high quality cotton would do just fine. My friend Shannon here has graciously committed to make some Irish lace for the dress, which will fancy it up quite a bit.”

Miss Bradshaw clapped her hands and looked at Shannon. “How very nice of you to offer to do such a thing. What type of lace do you make? Carrickmacross?”

“Nay, it’s Kenmare. My mum learned it from the nuns who came to her village. Would you, by chance, have some linen thread I could purchase?”

Miss Bradshaw nodded her head. “I do. Come this way.”

Shannon followed her to a crowded corner, and when the woman moved a navy calico dress, a thread cabinet was revealed. Miss Bradshaw opened a drawer filled with a rainbow of colors. “Oh, to have so many lovely choices. It must be a delight to come to work each day.”

Miss Bradshaw nodded. “Ah, a kindred spirit, I perceive. Ever since I was a young girl, I’ve been fascinated with the magnitude of colors that fabric and thread come in. I can’t imagine living without color in my life.”

“Aye, me, too.” Shannon ran her hand lovingly over the thread. If only she had the funds to buy several colors. She had some money saved from her work, but she dreaded spending it. What if she had to leave her job?

’twas an odd feeling, this unreciprocated love for Mark. What if working for him became unbearable? ’twould have been better if she hadn’t fallen for him, but it certainly wasn’t something she had planned to have happen.