Cactus Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) (20 page)

      
“Oh, I just inquired at the freight office about some lumber. I'm building a new corral. How is Charlee working out?” He fell in step with her easily, since her long stride was nearly as lengthy as his own.

      
Oh, so casual, aren't you?
she thought in secret amusement; but she said, “Come see for yourself. I left her and Adam baking bread this morning.”

      
By the time they arrived at the side porch, they could hear squeals of delight from Adam and soft chuckles from Charlee. They quietly climbed the steps, and Slade looked through the open door over Deborah's shoulder.

      
Hearing footfalls, Charlee looked up from the blob that was rapidly engulfing her, the boy, and the kitchen floor. The laughter died on her lips when she saw a dark blond head behind Deborah. “Oh, Deborah! I didn't expect...I mean, Adam and I were...” She held the boy protectively in her arms, at a loss to explain the debacle, when an irate Sadie came through the back door for the next wheelbarrow load.

      
Looking at her employer, Sadie pointed an accusing finger at the boy and said sternly, ”Dat chile gone 'n done it dis time,Miz Deborah, I declare—”

      
“No, really, Deborah, it wasn't a malicious trick. He was only trying to help us,” Charlee put in.

      
She could never imagine what an endearing sight she made, kneeling on the messy floor with the pretty rust dress all smeared with flour, her long braid curling softly over one shoulder and a dab of flour on the tip of her freckled nose as she comforted the disconsolate child. Slade took in the startling transformation. She looked, for all her disheveled state, like a lovely little madonna, all soft and feminine. He felt a strange tightening in his chest and swallowed hard.

      
Before he could gather his wits to say anything, Deborah broke the tension with a hearty laugh. “Well, it looks as if my son has struck again. I'll relieve you of him and head for the washroom, Charlee. Good luck to you and Sadie with the cleanup. I'll send Chester to the store for another sack of flour.”

      
As Deborah departed with Adam, Charlee stood up awkwardly, humiliated to have Jim see her in such a hideous mess. Forcing a smile, she said ruefully, “I think this is where you came in last time.”

      
Slade laughed and gestured over to the sill where Hellfire watched with an air of tolerant boredom. “Well, he's here, but I don't see a dog on the premises.”

      
She joined him in the laugh. “At least it's not mud this time.”

      
The awkward silence extended after that until Sadie began to shovel another load into the wheelbarrow, muttering under her breath all the while.

      
“I...I have to help with this and then start another batch of bread. We're out, and we need at least eight loaves a day around here. Friday's always baking day.” Charlee knew she was babbling.

      
Watching her flush pinkly and push a stray lock of hair off her smudged cheek, Slade smiled, stifling the impulse to reach over and caress her small, lovely face. How had he ever thought her boyish or homely? “I have to go now. I just wanted to see how you were doing in your new job. Deborah can't sing your praises enough. See, I told you you could make it, Charlee.”

      
Misinterpreting his praise as another excuse for his desertion of her, Charlee bristled and said stiffly, “Yes, I can and I am. I do appreciate your help finding me this position in town. I'm learning a great deal from Deborah, and I have a real social life for the first time.”

      
“Social life?” he queried darkly, his thick, dark gold brows furrowing over fierce amber cougar's eyes.

      
“Yes.” She preened as she plopped a big scoop of paste into the wheelbarrow. “Billy Wilcox and Ray Larkin took me for buggy rides last week, and next Saturday either Sam Knox or Paul Bainbridge is escorting me to a dance at the Parsons'. I haven't decided which one yet. It's really a lot of fun living here in town.”

      
“I'm ever so glad you've found so many ways to amuse yourself,” he said evenly just as Sadie bumped him with the wheelbarrow. Glancing from the old woman to Charlee, he nodded to her and stepped out of the way. “I have to be at the Sandovals' for luncheon with my aunt and uncle, and Sina, of course.”

      
“Of course,” she echoed acidly, distaste for his fiancée written all over her face. For a fleeting instant, she considered telling him about seeing Markham and Tomasina at the Rojas place but immediately changed her mind. He'd only think she was fabricating a wild tale out of jealousy.

      
“Perhaps I'll see you and Mrs. Carver around town from time to time,” she said as she helped Sadie put the last of the goo in the barrow and deposited the shovel on top of it. “If you'll excuse me, I have to change these clothes before they harden on me.”

      
Before Slade could reply, she swished past him and vanished through the hall door.

Chapter Eight

      
Charlee twirled around the floor of her small upstairs room and then looked over at Deborah for approval. Her transformation over the past month had been incredible indeed. Slowly, wonderingly, she ran her hands over her face and down the curves and contours of her body. Was this beautiful lady really Charlee McAllister?

      
Thoroughly enjoying her handiwork, Deborah sat on the bed after assisting Charlee with her toilette. Gleaming coils of her incredible multicolored hair were piled high on Charlee's delicate head, while the rest bounced over one shoulder in long, soft curls. Deborah had shown Charlee how to apply the lightest hint of kohl to her eyelids and darken the tips of her thick, brushy lashes so that her green eyes looked larger and brighter than ever. Her sprinkle of pale gold freckles was toned down with a light dusting of powder, which was enhanced by the tawny color of a sun-kissed complexion, flawless and glowing.

      
The revelation of all those soft, slim curves in her tiny figure was even more amazing. Deborah's ability to see beyond the raggedy ill-fitting clothes had not prepared her for Charlee’s truly elegant, if petite, proportions when properly dressed. She had helped Charlee select the fabric, color, and style for her gown. It was made of a soft silk chiffon, light and airy for the warm Texas night. The color was anything but cooling, a deep, fiery crimson that brought out the golden bronze highlights in her hair and contrasted with her deep green eyes.

      
They had sewn the dress themselves, Charlee becoming almost as adept with needle and thread as she was with a squirrel rifle. The neckline of the dress was low in front, coming to a deep cleft to reveal the curves of her high young breasts. It was caught with a satin ribbon just beneath the bust line. The skirt was very full, flaring out from a waist circled with the same satin ribbon. The sleeves were long and elegantly fitted at the cuffs, emphasizing her delicate wrist bones. The red satin ribbon was repeated at the hemline of the frothy skirt and on the cuffs. The simplicity of the dress enhanced the dazzling color and the delicate form of its wearer.

      
“Do you think I need anything else?” Charlee asked nervously, smoothing the silk skirts for the hundredth time as she peeked down at the dainty red satin slippers on her feet.

      
As Deborah pinned a tiny cluster of white rosebuds in Charlee's hair, she smiled and replied, “No. Only the cameo.” She referred to the white cameo necklace on a slim gold chain, suspended in Charlee's cleavage. “It adds a touch of innocence and delicacy to the fiery, sophisticated dress. You, Miss McAllister, will be the most beautiful woman at the ball.”

      
“Only because you refuse to accept any of your suitors' offers and aren't going. Why not, Deborah? It would be so much fun. I feel guilty going without you.”
      
Charlee's deep green eyes took on a pleading look. Why did Deborah persist in her grief? Surely five years was long enough to mourn any man!

      
That familiar, oddly hurt look flashed across Deborah's face once more, only to be carefully erased as it always was. “No, I can't, Charlee. I've had my fill of dances, parties, and beaus. I have a child to raise and a business to run. You go and have a wonderful time with Paul. And who knows, perhaps someone else might show up?’

      
Charlee snorted crossly. “If you mean someone tall and blond, forget it. He only goes to the
Tejano
fandangos. His fancy ladylove wouldn't dirty her skirts associating with a room full of Texians.”

      
“If she married Jim Slade, she'd have to, wouldn't she? But then maybe she won't marry him, if you play your cards right.” Deborah gave Charlee a shrewd, assessing look.

      
“You sound just like Lee. Honestly, Deborah, I'm not interested in getting married at all just now, least of all to that conceited, boorish snob.” With that she kissed her friend on the cheek and twirled out of the room, holding her full skirts as gracefully as any lady to the manor born.

* * * *

      
Jeb Pearson and his wife Mavis owned one of the largest freight lines in Texas. With thousands of settlers pouring into the Republic every year, the demand for supplies of all kinds, from dry goods to hardware and lumber, was phenomenal. The Pearsons had become wealthy in the space of five years, not an uncommon occurrence in the wide-open new nation.

      
Desirous of displaying their wealth, Jeb and Mavis had built a huge two-story house on the outskirts of the city, complete with a ballroom, which was now festooned for the gala dance that evening. The rugs were rolled up, and the polished plank floor gleamed, reflecting the light from hundreds of imported candles, winking from handsome brass chandeliers. The big double doors to the grounds were open on three sides of the house, admitting a pleasant breeze through the crowded room. An eight-piece “orchestra” was tuning up for some hearty reels and hoedowns. The Pearsons even boasted a piano, from which a man was plunking out lively tunes in time with the fiddles and guitars.

      
Charlee made inconsequential small talk with Paul Bainbridge as they entered the ballroom after greeting their host and hostess. Still nervous over Paul's effusive compliments on her appearance, Charlee scanned the room in search of a familiar face, taking in the long white linen-covered tables groaning under the weight of roasted pork loins, crispy fried chicken, golden corn dodgers, garden peas smothered in freshly churned butter, flaky apple pies, and even freshly turned ice cream. Immense bouquets of wildflowers were everywhere, filling the air with their fragrance. Women decked in their gala finery swirled in time to the music. Paul gallantly assured Charlee she was the most beautiful woman there.

      
Could it be true? she wondered. If so, only one man would convince her of the fact, and he was not present. Pushing that thought aside, Charlee decided to have a good time. And, quite magically, she did, garnering envious looks from many a Texas belle whose partner deserted her to vie for a dance with the lovely lady in red. Whirling across the floor in the arms of one admirer after another, Charlee was grateful for all Deborah's patient instruction, including lessons on how to avoid the stomping feet of one's partner without losing one's sense of rhythm or sense of humor. Despite clumsy dance partners, sweltering heat, and a slightly off-key piano, the evening was pure enchantment to Charlee. She found herself laughing and trading quips with cowboys, store clerks, blacksmiths, and teamsters.

      
Slade stood in the hall doorway after making his obligatory salutations to Mavis and Jeb. He knew Charlee must be here. Then, he caught sight of her gleaming bronze curls far across the room. God, she was the most vibrant, breathtaking sight he'd ever seen in her flame-colored silk. Just then she threw back her head and laughed at her partner's sally. He could see her smile; and it dazzled him, as did her superbly proportioned petite body, flying gracefully around the floor in a waltz.

      
He found himself drawn hypnotically across the crowded dance floor to cut in on Billy Wilcox, who rather ungraciously turned Charlee over to him. “Well, Deborah certainly is to be complimented on working miracles,” he breathed as he scooped her into his embrace and whirled her away into the waltz.

      
He felt her stiffen in his arms for a second. Then, she relaxed and snapped back brightly, “And I suppose I deserve none of the credit myself?”

      
“If you're fishing for more compliments than you've already received, milady, yes, you do look beautiful in that dress. But your waltz step is half a beat off.” His amber eyes were alight with a mixture of impatience and some other unnamed emotion.

      
Her smile was withering now as one tiny foot came down on his instep with its sharp little heel digging in. “Oh, dear me, how clumsy, Mr. Slade, but then I'm still new at this waltz thing, as you just pointed out yourself.”

      
“Touché.” His smile spread slowly, warming.

      
She could not help but feel the magnetic pull of him. Damn, why must he affect her this way? At her slight softening, he tightened his grip around her waist and she felt her breasts tingle as they brushed against his chest. Charlee stared raptly at his brown satin cravat, faultlessly tied inside a white silk shirt and tan linen jacket. “I’m not the only one decked out in my finery tonight, James August. Since your fiancée isn't here, whom are you trying to impress?” She waited a moment and smiled to herself.

      
Slade's reply came like a bucket of ice water dashed over her head. “I always dress to fit the occasion, Charlee. I’m only glad Deborah has taught you to distinguish the difference between trail clothes and evening wear. After hiding in boys' rags all these years, it's past time you learned. But that's beside the point,” he rushed on when he saw her gasp and begin to frame a retort. He lowered his voice and eased them over toward a deserted alcove in the east corner of the room. “What I have to know concerns your...ah...health. I've counted a full four weeks since the night you left Bluebonnet, or, should I say, the night before you left.” He waited to see if what he said had sunk in.