Courting Trouble (19 page)

Essie touched Uncle Melvin’s sleeve. ‘‘I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to ascertain what show is playing next time. But no harm done. Adam has said he wouldn’t mind seeing me home.’’

The sheriff scrutinized her. After a moment, he moved his attention to Adam. ‘‘I’ll take her home, Currington. You can return to the show.’’

‘‘It’s no trouble for me, sir,’’ Adam said.

‘‘Nor me.’’

Adam looked at her. ‘‘Well, then. Good evening to you, Miss Spreckelmeyer.’’ He touched the rim of his hat and pushed through the main entrance of the theater, the door clicking shut behind him.

————

Essie guided Cocoa out of the livery to where Uncle Melvin waited. So far, she’d managed to keep her irritation in check. But she was not at all pleased at having her evening cut short.

They rode together in silence. When they turned onto her street, the anticipated lecture began.

‘‘That was a fool thing you were doing back there, girl.’’

She said nothing.

‘‘What possessed you?’’

‘‘I’ve never been to a ten-cent show. How was I to know what it was like?’’

He tipped his hat back and scanned the sky. ‘‘You’re not talking to your pa. You’re talking to me. So quit stretching the blanket. You know good and well there’s a reason you ain’t never been to a ten-cent show. Now, what were you doing there?’’

‘‘I went there for a clandestine meeting with an unsavory man,’’ she snapped. ‘‘What do you think I went there for?’’

He yanked his horse to a stop. She kept going.

‘‘You better stop that thing right this minute or I’ll hobble your ears.’’

She stopped.

He pulled up next to her. ‘‘Your mother’s been tellin’ my Verdie that you’ve been acting something awful lately. I’d never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. What’s gotten into you?’’

‘‘Oh, I’m sorry,’’ she sighed. ‘‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off.’’

He touched his ankles to his horse’s side. She did the same.

‘‘Wanna talk about it?’’ he asked.

‘‘Not particularly.’’

‘‘Well, I don’t know if I’m gonna give you a choice this time.’’

She looked down at the reins in her hands. ‘‘I’m just tired, is all.’’

‘‘Tired? Of what?’’

‘‘Of being pestered for riding a bike. Of being scolded for acting like a man when I’m helping Papa with the business. Of having my every move criticized. Mother called me an old maid, you know.’’

He sucked in his breath. ‘‘That ain’t true.’’

‘‘Oh, but it is.’’ A rush of renewed anger swept through her. ‘‘And that’s when I decided that if I was going to live the rest of my life in that house, then I was going to make a few changes. And it was going to start with Mother.’’

They rode into her yard and he watched her dismount. ‘‘Just what is it you plan on doin’?’’

‘‘I’m not a child, Melvin. I’m thirty years old. It’s time to cut the apron strings. Live my own life. And if that means playing the piano at the ten-cent show, then I will do so. And I don’t care what Mother or anybody else says.’’

She walked Cocoa to the barn, suppressing the urge to say even more. Melvin dismounted and followed, holding Cocoa while Essie shoved the bar up and pulled the massive barn door open.

‘‘Thank you,’’ she said, reaching for Cocoa’s reins.

He didn’t release them. ‘‘Go on inside, girl. I’ll put her up for you.’’

‘‘No. I know you have things to do. I can do it.’’

He touched her elbow. ‘‘You’ll ruin your gown. Now, go on.’’

She hesitated. ‘‘You sure?’’

He nodded. When she reached the back door, she looked at her uncle. He stood by the barn, watching her.

‘‘Are you gonna tell Mother where I was?’’

‘‘I thought you didn’t care about her opinion anymore.’’

She fingered the buttons on her coat. ‘‘I don’t. But that’s no reason to borrow trouble.’’

He took his time answering. ‘‘Those ten-cent shows can get purty rough, Essie. Tonight’s was not so bad. But most of the gals up on that stage—or worse, the ones in the audience—aren’t even fit for a drinkin’ man to hole up with. If you start playin’ piano for them, the fellas are gonna think you’re something that you’re not.’’

She dropped her gaze.

‘‘Is that what you want? You want your name to come up right alongside the names of those saloon gals who bare more hide than an Indian?’’

‘‘Of course not,’’ she whispered.

‘‘Then you better tell Creiz you ain’t playing for any more of them ten-cent shows.’’

‘‘Yes, sir,’’ she replied, then slipped inside and gently closed the door behind her.

————

Melvin put Cocoa to bed, then returned to the Opera House. As town sheriff, he tried not to stray too far from the ten-cent show, in case of trouble. But he’d never expected to find his niece in attendance.

Moving into the lobby, he headed to the west wall, trying to reconcile in his mind what all she’d said to him, none of which bode well.

He wished he’d not revealed his presence to her. That way, he could have followed and seen for himself what was going on, if anything. With Currington involved, though, their actions were immediately suspect.

Essie might be thirty years old. She might think she was all grown up. But she always saw the good in people. Never the bad. And if Currington had designs on her, she’d be a sitting duck.

Melvin positioned himself against a column in the theater’s lobby and waited. When the show ended, the men poured out. Adam was easy to find, being taller than most.

Melvin pushed his way through the crush and grabbed Adam’s arm. ‘‘You got a minute?’’

They stepped to the side, letting the others swarm past.

‘‘Sheriff,’’ Adam said.

According to the judge, this boy was hardworking, responsible, and good with Jeremy. So what was it that just didn’t sit right?

‘‘I wasn’t happy to see my girl here tonight,’’ Melvin said.

‘‘No, sir. I felt the same way when I saw her.’’ Adam shook his head. ‘‘She’s awful smart about some things, but I’m thinkin’ she wouldn’t be able to tell the skunks from the house cats.’’

Melvin pulled a toothpick out of his inside pocket and worked it in between his teeth. ‘‘And which are you, Currington? A skunk or a house cat?’’

Adam took a hard look at the sheriff. ‘‘I’m not gonna take offense at that ’cause I know yer just concerned about Miss Spreckelmeyer. But if anybody else had asked, I’d o’ kicked ’im so far it would take a bloodhound six weeks just to find his smell.’’

‘‘You threatenin’ me, son?’’

‘‘Just statin’ a fact, sir.’’

‘‘Well, then, let me state a fact for you,’’ he said, pointing the toothpick at Adam. ‘‘I put a lot of stock in my girl. I find out somebody’s been playin’ her, and he’ll end up shaking hands with St. Peter. I can promise you that.’’

‘‘I’ll be sure to pass that along, sir.’’ Adam touched his hat and headed down the stairs to the street.

chapter FIFTEEN

ESSIE THOUGHT OF ADAM constantly, yet she still forced herself to stay away from the fields until Friday. She knew Jeremy wouldn’t have given her presence a second’s notice, but she didn’t want to risk being discovered, nor risk losing Adam by being too forward.

Hamilton had said men liked to do the chasing. So she’d decided if Adam wanted to see her, he’d figure out a way. Only, he hadn’t.

Maybe he had decided to lay low for a while after their close call at the Opera House. Whatever the reason, she’d not seen hide nor hair of him.

But no matter, for today was Friday and today she’d take the boys some lunch. She wanted to wear a skirt instead of her bicycle costume, so she left in plenty of time to walk out to the Twelfth Street fields.

The sun warmed her skin, counteracting the briskness of October’s air. The few trees sprinkling town offered bouquets of red, yellow, and orange foliage.

She hoped she hadn’t overdone it with her toilet. The grayish green gown she wore had a short Louis Seize coat with a cutaway that opened widely onto a double-breasted white vest with two rows of buttons. A large cravat of white chiffon draped her bust, and a green straw hat trimmed with ribbon and black plumes perched smartly atop her head.

Adam didn’t even try to conceal his pleasure at seeing her. He stepped back from the rig, wiped his neck and forehead with his large red handkerchief and tracked her progress as she approached.

He took in her attire and her hat. She felt a spurt of pride. Hats were her one weakness. The wider, the taller, the more ornate, the more she liked them.

And wearing a fabulous hat would be rather pointless if the rest of her ensemble was lacking. So, she found herself indulging in the very latest of fashions.

‘‘Miss Essie,’’ he said, ‘‘you are the purtiest thing I ever did see.’’

‘‘Hello, Adam. And thank you.’’

‘‘What’d ya bring us?’’ Jeremy asked.

She handed him the basket. ‘‘Why don’t you go pick us out a spot of shade. We’ll be right there.’’

Jeremy grabbed the basket and hustled toward the big bois d’arc tree.

‘‘Where ya been?’’ Adam asked. ‘‘How come you haven’t been out here all week?’’

‘‘I didn’t want to be in the way.’’

He flicked a quick glance at Jeremy. ‘‘I’m thinkin’ it’s the boy that’s in the way right now.’’

Me too,
she thought.

He looked her over again. ‘‘You have any idea how bad I wanna kiss you?’’

Yes
.

‘‘We’re gonna have to do somethin’ about that. I can’t keep going days and days without seein’ ya, and then havin’ to mind my manners when I do.’’

‘‘Hey!’’ Jeremy yelled. ‘‘Y’all comin’?’’

Adam removed his hat and made a low, courtly bow. ‘‘Miss Spreckelmeyer? Will ya do me the honors?’’

He held out his arm, and she hooked her hand inside his elbow. Tucking his arm in, he covered her hand with his and walked her toward the tree. Instead of keeping the requisite distance between them, she leaned into him. With each step her body brushed his upper arm. He ran his thumb over her knuckles.

Jeremy had found the cloth she’d brought and had spread it out for them to sit on. ‘‘She brought us some sandwiches.’’

‘‘What kind?’’ Adam asked, helping her settle.

‘‘Fish, looks like.’’

She smoothed her skirts. ‘‘One moment, Jeremy. I’m sure Adam will want to say grace first.’’

Jeremy retracted his hand.

Adam looked a bit startled, then bowed his head. ‘‘God bless the grub. Amen.’’

‘‘Amen.’’

Essie frowned at his abbreviated, awkward prayer. Even hungry, he should have taken time to properly thank the Lord.

The boys didn’t seem concerned, though, and dove into the food, drinking deeply of the tea and wasting no time in finishing off all that she had brought. For the most part, they restricted their conversation to expressions of appreciation. But that was just fine with her.

A married woman might receive such compliments often enough to take them for granted, but for Essie it was a rare occasion. Even when she did receive a kind word on her cooking, she usually had to share the credit with her mother. But these Friday lunches were all her own making, and watching Adam devour them was a special pleasure.

‘‘You goin’ to the Harvest Festival, Miss Essie?’’ Jeremy asked, slowing down. Once dessert was the only thing left, he usually tried to delay the return to work as long as he could.

‘‘Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.’’

‘‘I heard they’re gonna have a tightrope walker this year. Is that what you heard?’’

‘‘Papa told me he was a peg-legged man and that he’s going to walk the rope with a cookstove strapped to his back.’’

‘‘No foolin’? Did ya hear that, Adam?’’

‘‘Shore did.’’ He had finished and lay on his side, propped up on his elbow. He made no secret of studying her.

‘‘The Commercial Club’s done asked Adam if he’ll do some ropin’. He’s gonna be part o’ the show, too.’’

‘‘Is that so?’’ She shot Adam a questioning look. ‘‘Well, I hadn’t heard that.’’

‘‘Yep. He’s been practicin’ ever’ day now.’’ Jeremy sank his teeth into a molasses cookie. ‘‘Why don’t ya show Miss Essie some o’ yer tricks?’’

A slow smile crept onto Adam’s face. ‘‘Would you like that, Essie? Would you like to see some o’ my tricks?’’

‘‘Say yes, Miss Essie,’’ Jeremy said. ‘‘You’ll take a shine to it. I know ya will.’’

A warmth spread inside her. ‘‘I believe you’re right, Jeremy. I believe I’d like it very, very much. Please, Adam. Will you show me?’’

‘‘It’d be my pleasure, ma’am.’’ But he didn’t move. ‘‘Why don’t ya go get my rope, Jeremy.’’

The boy jumped up and headed over to the rig.

‘‘How much longer ’til Election Day?’’ Adam asked her, lowering his voice.

‘‘Not until after the festival.’’

‘‘I can’t keep this up for another month. I wanna see ya tonight. And tomorrow night. And the night after that.’’

Her pulse began to race. What was he saying? That he wanted to speak to Papa before the election or that he wanted to meet secretly with her on a more frequent basis?

Jeremy returned with what looked to be a twenty-foot rope. Adam coiled it loosely and stepped out from beneath the tree. The moment he cast the rope, it began to whirl, never once touching the ground.

He didn’t look at what he was doing but kept his attention on her. The rope responded to the merest flick of his wrist. He kept his loop low and parallel to the ground, spinning it around the outer perimeter of his body—round the front, the side, the back. Then he switched hands and spun the rope to the other side and back to the front, where his right hand once again took over.

Keeping the spinning loop low and in front of him, he jumped in and out with both feet. At one point he stayed inside the loop and brought it up over his body until he had it twirling high above him. He did figure eights to the side. He made the loop larger and larger and even larger before bringing it back to a more normal circumference. He rolled it over his left leg just above the knee and then under.

He spun it high above his head and held it there for so long that she lowered her gaze from the rope to him. With a start, she realized he was still looking at her.

‘‘Come here,’’ he said.

She could no more resist than if he were the Pied Piper himself. She rose and stood before him.