Hummingbird (40 page)

Having David Melcher arrive, with his cheerful expression, was exactly what she needed to chase away lingering thoughts of Jesse DuFrayne. Standing now on her porch step, David wore an almost cherubic look, his pink cheeks blossoming into a little boy smile, almost as if he wanted to flatten his nose against the screen in delight. She knew immediately that the decision at the depot must have gone in his favor.

"And what has brought such a look of jubilation to your face?" Miss Abigail asked.

For once he forgot himself and asked, "Can I come in?" He had the door open before she could give him permission or open it for him. "Yes, I'm early, and yes, I'm jubilant, and can you guess why, Miss Abigail?"

She could not help but smile with him. "Well, I guess the meeting's results met with your approval, but—

my goodness, Mr Melcher—you're almost dancing. Do sit down."

He perched on the edge of the settee, then popped back up like a jack-in-the-box.

"Miss Abigail, I hope you're still wearing those red shoes, because I want to take you out for supper to celebrate."

"To celebrate?… Out to supper?… Why… why, Me Melcher!" She'd never been taken out to supper in her life.

He forgot himself even further and clasped both of her hands in his and, looking down into her amazed face, said, "Why, our victory of course. The railroad has agreed to settle ten thousand dollars on me for damages."

For a moment she couldn't speak, she was so stunned. Her jaw dropped down so far that her high collar bit into her neck. "Ten… thousand… dollars?" she repeated incredulously, then dropped off her feet into a side chair.

"Exactly!" He beamed at her a moment longer, then seemed to remember himself and dropped her hands to take his seat over on the settee again.

"My, how admirably generous," she said lamely, picturing James Hudson again, and the check for the thousand dollars he'd left on the seat of the umbrella stand.

David Melcher knew he should tell her now about DuFrayne being part-owner of the railroad, but he did not want anything putting a damper on their evening together.

"Do say you'll allow me to take you out this evening to celebrate with me. I consider it our victory, yours and mine together It seems only right that we should commemorate it with an evening on the town."

"But it's your compensation, not mine."

"Miss Abigail, I don't care to cast shadows over the bright joy of the moment, but considering the circumstances under which we met, I feel—shall we say—rather liable to you for the indignities you suffered at the hands of that vile man DuFrayne. I have felt helpless to make up in any way for all that.

Now, coming out the winner in this dispute seems like we've somehow brought him to bay at last. Not only for what he did to me, but what he did to you, too."

She studied the man perched on the edge of her settee. He spoke with such earnestness, wanting to be her champion, that she was suddenly swept by guilt that he should still consider her a flawless lady, worthy of his chivalry. She felt, too, an utter hopelessness, because she could not undo what she and Jesse DuFrayne had done together. How she wished that it had never happened, that she could honestly deserve David Melcher's advocation and admiration. She touched a hand to her high collar and looked away.

"Oh, Mr. Melcher, I'm truly touched, but I think it would be best for me not to celebrate your victory.

Let me just congratulate you and keep the shoes as your thank you."

Disappointment covered his face. "You won't even let me buy you dinner?"

But their relationship had no future now. She got up from the side chair and walked over to the secretary and pretended that a cluster of papers there needed straightening. With her back to him, she answered, "I simply think it's best if you don't."

David Melcher swallowed, flushed, then stammered, "Is… is it that you c… cannot forgive me for what I ac… accused you of, that awf… f… ful morning when I left here?"

"Oh, no!" She swung to face him, an imploring look upon her face. "That's all forgotten, please believe me, Dav—Mr. Melcher."

But he'd heard her slip. He stood up, gathered his courage, and approached her. Flustered, she turned toward the desk again.

"Then pr… pr… prove it," he got out finally.

She turned to look over her shoulder at him, one hand still trailing on the desktop.

"Prove it?" she repeated.

"C… come to dinner with in… me and pr… prove that everything up't… till now is f… f… forgotten."

Again she touched the lace at her throat, a winsome expression softening her features. Oh, how she wanted to go to dinner with a fine gentleman like him, for the first time in her life. She wanted the gaiety and carelessness that her youth had never tasted, the charm and companionship of a man at her elbow.

She wanted to share the mutual interests which she knew the two of them were capable of sharing.

He still waited for her answer, the invitation alight in his brown eyes.

Recriminations jangled through her mind. If only it were yesterday. If only I had not done what I did with Jesse. If only… if only. Anger touched her, too. Damn you, Jesse, why didn't you tell me he was coming back?

She knew she must refuse, but in the end David's invitation was too tempting. What will it hurt if I spend one evening with him—just one? He, too, is here today and gone tomorrow, so what harm can come of a single evening in his company?

"Dinner sounds nice," she understated, already feeling guilty for accepting.

"Then you'll come?" He again looked jubilant.

"I'll come."

"And you'll wear the red shoes?"

Oh, dear! she thought, feeling herself flush. But there was no graceful way to get out of it now, for he was totally unaware of the shoes' flamboyance. But then, as if in answer to her discomfort, came Jesse's belittling voice, as she remembered him warning, "Just don't make a fool of yourself by parading down Main Street in those goddamn red shoes!" And so, diffidently, she left them on, praying all the way that none of the townspeople noticed them on her feet. But she'd have given that thousand-dollar bank deposit if Jesse DuFrayne himself could have seen her wearing them uptown to have dinner with David Melcher, her gloved hand in the crook of his arm as they walked along the boardwalk. Not a soul in town could find fault with their demeanor By the next morning everyone in Stuart's Junction knew exactly how polite David Melcher had been and just how proper and prim Miss Abigail had been. They also knew what he couple had ordered and exactly how long they'd stayed and how many times they'd smiled at each other But they had it straight from Louis Culpepper's mouth how Miss Abigail showed up wearing
red
shoes, of all things. Red! They must've been a gift from Melcher, 'cause it seemed he was a shoe peddler out of the East somewhere.

Imagine that! they all said, Miss Abigail taking up with a shoe peddler, and an easterner no less. And doing it decked out like December twenty-fifth in red shoes the man had given her after sleeping in her house!

"What a memorable evening," Miss Abigail said as they walked idly back to her house after supper It was the slowest she had ever walked home from town. "How can I thank you?"

He limped along beside her With each step he took, she could feel the hitch of his stride pull lightly at the hand with which she held his elbow.

"By not refusing me the next time I ask you."

She controlled the urge to turn her startled eyes up at him. "The next time? Why, aren't you leaving Stuart's Junction soon?"

"No, I'm not. As I said earlier, I have a large stock of shoes to sell and I intend to approach some local merchants in hopes that they'll act as outlets for us. Also, the railroad will be sending my settlement money to Stuart's Junction, so I'll have to wait here till it arrives."

Again she controlled the urge to ask how many days it would take.

He refrained from telling her that he was being forced to invest the major portion of the settlement money right here, for made him look like DuFrayne's puppet, and the fact that David was galled him. David wanted her to believe that the decision to stay and settle here had been his own, which it probably would have been if it had been left up to him.

"How… how many days do you think it will take?" she finally asked.

"Three days maybe."

Three days, she thought. Oh, glorious three days! What harm can come of enjoying his company for three days? They're all I'll have, and then he'll be gone for good.

"In that case, I shall not refuse you anything while you're here," she said, and felt him tighten his elbow around her gloved hand and pull it against his ribs.

"Miss Abigail, you won't be sorry," he promised.

But deep inside Miss Abigail already was, for tonight had been so wonderful. And because her heart had jumped when he pulled her hand against his ribs.

"Tell me what grand things you intend to do with that money once it comes," she said, to distract her thoughts.

"I hadn't thought about it much. It's enough for now just to feel the sense of freedom it brings. I've never been wanting, but I've never had security such as this either."

They were nearly at her house, their steps slower than ever.

"It's strange, isn't it," she asked, "that much the same sort of thing has happened to me because of all this?

Did I tell you that the railroad paid me a thousand dollars for my care of you and… and Mr DuFrayne?"

It was dreadfully hard to say his name now, and when she did, she felt David's arm tense, but she went on. "It brings me a sense of security too. Temporary, of course, but security nevertheless."

David Melcher certainly did not begrudge her the thousand dollars, only the fact that DuFrayne was the one who'd paid her off and was rich enough to do it so easily.

But he submerged his irritation and asked, "How did that come about?"

"Me Hudson came here and left a bank draft for me. He seems to be in a position of authority on the railroad. Is he the owner?"

David swallowed, still reluctant to tell her that DuFrayne was the other owner "Yes," he answered tightly.

"You deserved every penny he paid you, I'm sure."

They reached her porch then, and she asked, "Would you care to sit for a while? Your foot is probably tired."

"No… I mean yes… I mean, my f… foot is f… fine, but I'd like to sit awhile anyway."

She glanced at the pair of wicker chairs but led the way to the swing instead, justifying her choice by reiterating silently how little time they had together.

When she had seated herself, David asked politely before sitting, "May I?"

She pulled her skirt aside and made room while he settled quite stiffly and formally beside her, making sure that his coat sleeve did not touch her. There were restless night sounds all around them—insects, the saloon piano, leaves astir in the faint breeze.

He cleared his throat.

She sighed.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Wrong? No… no, everything is… is wonderful." And indeed it should have been. He had his money, she had hers, he'd taken her to dinner, she was at last rid of Jesse DuFrayne.

He cleared his throat. "You seem… dif… different some… sometimes."

She hadn't realized it showed. She would have to be more careful.

"It's just that I'm not used to everything turning out so well. It all happened so fast. And I'm sure you've guessed that I don't get dinner invitations just every night. I was still thinking about how enjoyable it was."

"It—" He cleared his throat once more. "It was for me, too. I thought of it all the't… time after I left St…

Stuart's Junction, about how I w… wanted to come back and take you to dinner " Here he cleared his throat yet again. "And now here we are."

Yes, like two pokers, she thought, surprising herself, wishing that he would put his arm along the back of the swing like Jesse had done. But he was no Jesse, and she had no business wishing David would act even remotely like him! Still she grew more disappointed as the minutes passed and David sat sticklike beside her. His attitude seemed suddenly puerile. She wondered if she could soften him up somewhat.

"This was where I was when I opened the package with the shoes."

"Right here? On the swing?"

"Yes. Mr. Binley brought them up from the station. Remember Mr Binley—the one who helped carry you to my house that first morning?"

"Would he be the tall, skinny one they called Bones?"

"The same. He seemed fascinated by the fact that I'd received a package. I'm sure he was hoping I'd open it before him."

"But you didn't?"

"Gracious no. I sat down and took the package here on the swing after he was gone and opened it all alone."

"And what did you… ahem!"—that was his throat again—"think?"

"Why, I was amazed, Mr Melcher, simply amazed. I don't think another woman in this town owns a pair of red shoes." That was the truth!

"Well they will before long, because I have others in my stock. Red is the coming thing, you know."

She simply hadn't the heart to tell him her true feelings about the shoes. He would just have to find out for himself when his stock of reds didn't sell. Out here in the West, the staid, hardworking woman wanted sturdy browns and blacks, but he, like so many people in sales, was convinced that what he sold was the best, and could not see any fault with it.

"Would you have preferred another color?" he asked now.

She lied. "Oh, no! Of course not! I love these!" When had she become so glib at lying?

He once more cleared his throat. He placed his hands over his kneecaps and stared straight ahead. "Miss Abigail, when I approached your door today, I distinctly heard you and DuFrayne arguing about the shoes."

"We were," she admitted candidly.

"Why?" he asked, surprising himself at his own temerity. But where his products were concerned, he had backbone.

"He disliked them."

"Good!" he exclaimed, suddenly feeling very self-satisfied. It was perhaps the most romantic thing he had said that night, but she was too busy worrying about what else he'd overheard this morning to note David's pleased expression.