Hummingbird (42 page)

"So am I."

"No, it was my fault. I don't know what came over me to speak to you in such tones. I…" But she stumbled to a halt, for it was a lie. She was not sorry, and she did know what had come over her. The ways of Jesse DuFrayne had come over her, for it was as he'd said, fighting was like an emetic. It felt good. It purged.

David spoke softly beside her. "Maybe we wouldn't fight if we didn't…"He was going to say "care for each other," but stopped himself in time. It was too soon to say a thing like that, so he finished, "… didn't talk about… him."

The tension remained between them, each displeased with the other as they sat silently.

After a moment David said, "You know I would not do or say anything to jeopardize your reputation.

Why, it would be as good as ruining my own now, don't you see?"

She looked up at him, perched beside her on the settee.

"No, of course you don't see," he continued. "I haven't told you yet. I was going to tell you when I c…

came to the door, but you were there with that… that newspaper and didn't give me a chance."

"Tell me what?"

He smiled boyishly, the soft, brown eyes locked with hers. "That I am going to stay in Stuart's Junction and open a shoe store right here with the money I have coming from the railroad."

Her heart hit the roof of her mouth. Remorse and fear welled in her throat, then drifted through her veins.

His words sieved their way downward and dropped hollowly at last into the womb she had begged Jesse DuFrayne to unseal. She'd been so sure no other man would come along in her lifetime to do it. It was all too, too ironic to think that not only had Jesse done her bidding on the very eve of David's return, but had then given David the fistful of money that would enable him to establish himself right here under her nose and court her, when that was now out of the question. What was she supposed to do? Abet the situation when she knew that under no circumstances must she encourage David Melcher now?

Furthermore, it was becoming increasingly obvious that he intended to actively court her.

She had been hazed by Jesse DuFrayne for the final, most humiliating time of all: he had given David the means for marriage while robbing her of the same.

David Melcher watched myriad expressions drift across Miss Abigail's face. At first she looked surprised, then happy, then perplexed, quizzical, stunned, and lastly, he could have sworn that she looked guilty. At what he had no idea. But after watching that parade of emotions, he certainly did not expect her final reaction, which was the placing of her tiny fingers upon her lips as she whispered, "Oh no!"

He was stricken with disappointment at her words. "I thought you'd be happy, Miss Abigail."

"Oh, I am, I am," she said quickly, touching his sleeve. "Oh, how wonderful for you. I know that you're not a man who likes wandering ways." But she did not look at all happy.

"No, I don't. I've wanted to settle in one spot for the longest time. It's just that I never had the means and I never found the right spot." Timidly he took one of her hands. "Now I think I've found both. Will you come with me this afternoon? You could be such a big help. I must arrange to find a place to rent or find some land to put up a place on. There's a corner at the far end of Main Street that I like. You know who to see and where to find people I'd need to talk to, and of course you could introduce me to those I might need to look up. Oh, Miss Abigail," he implored, "come with me. We'll look them all in the eye and make them take back any gossip the paper might have started."

Sensibly, she withdrew her hand and dropped her eyes. "I'm afraid you don't know the people of this town too well. If we show up arranging business agreements together after what was printed in the paper, they'll take nothing back. I'm afraid we would start more gossip than we'll stop."

"I hadn't thought of that, and of course you're right."

She had quite decided to end any budding relationship with him here and now. It would be the best way.

But he looked so depressed at her refusal to help him that she felt mean denying him her help. It was true that she could expedite matters for him, for he was a stranger here.

"On the other hand," she procrastinated, "if we were to face the town and show them we are associating solely on a business basis, we might just put the gossip to rout, mightn't we?"

He looked up hopefully, his face suddenly youthfully attractive, like that first day he'd been carried into her house.

"Then you'll come? You'll help me today?"

She controlled the urge to sigh. Whatever was she doing?

"Yes, I'll come. But only as an ambassador, you must understand."

"Oh, of course, of course," he agreed.

David Melcher was a man who left good impressions in his wake. While he and Miss Abigail made business contacts that day, his soft-spoken, likable approach made people realize he was no "slick talker" from the East, as they considered most peddlers to be. Indeed, there were those who said that were it not for Miss Abigail's effrontery Melcher would have gotten nowhere, for he was unpushy and retiring. She, however, opened the way for him in the businesslike manner she always used on the townspeople. If any of them objected to her briskness, they didn't say so. As usual, they treated her—

and thus him—with deference. Perhaps it was because they'd grown used to granting her wide berth, perhaps because she had not had an easy life and they all knew it, or perhaps because they were just plain nosy about her relationship to the two men who'd had words over her. For whatever reason, while she and David traversed the town that day they seemed to gain the town's approval and along with it many invitations to attend the following day's Fourth of July celebrations. Indeed, some businessmen seemed more intent upon making sure the two appeared at the morrow's festivities than they were about selling land, leasing property, or discussing lumber prices.

But behind them speculation was rife. That settlement money raised questions they all wished they had answers for. It's no wonder they all said, "Now don't forget to join the fun over in Hake's Meadow tomorrow," or "You're coming, aren't you, Miss Abigail?" or "You're both coming, aren't you?"

Someone else put it more bluntly: "There's to be a basket social and a greased pig contest and log rolling and sack races and what not. Good way for you to get acquainted with all the folks you'll be calling customers afore long, Melcher."

Someone else bid them goodbye by saying, "Bring her over and help us all celebrate. Wagons'll be loading up in front of Avery's store at a quarter to ten or so."

They were also bribed. "It's the only time of the summer you'll find ice cream in Stuart's Junction. You wouldn't want to miss that now, would you?"

But what
they
all really didn't want to miss was a chance to observe Miss Abigail with that new beau she'd apparently taken up with the minute the old one left town. Of course they all knew Melcher was going to be filthy rich on the other guy's money yet. Now who'd've dreamed Miss Abigail would ever become a pants-chaser, and furthermore that she'd make sure those pants had full pockets? 'Course, they all said, it was a fact she was almost clean out of money since her pa died. You couldn't hardly blame the woman. There was that thousand the railroad had paid her, but how long would that last? She was probably just investing in her future, hooking up with Melcher this way. Not a soul in town but couldn't wait to see if the two of them'd show up tomorrow and if she'd seem sweet on him. Nobody could really tell from her businessy attitude today. But tomorrow would be another story!

When he saw her home it was with a mutual feeling of satisfaction. They'd accomplished much in one day. They'd checked out some rental property, found out Nels Nordquist owned the vacant lot next to his saddlery and leather shop, spoken to him about a selling price, checked on the deed at the land office, arranged for blueprints to be drawn up for a simple, single-story frame building with storage at the rear, sales area at the center, and display windows at the fore, and found out whom to see about lumber prices and delivery.

Back at her house now, she led the way to the wicker chairs on the porch.

"I can't thank you enough," he said.

"Nonsense, you were right. I do know everyone in this town and it would have been foolish for you to try to make the necessary contacts alone."

"But you were marvelous. People just seem to… to bend to your will."

Before the advent of Jesse DuFrayne in her life she would not have dreamed of replying as she did now.

"I tend to cow people and make them afraid of me." She knew it was a graceless, unfeminine admission, and she could see it made David uncomfortable. But she herself felt oddly free after admitting it.

"Nonsense," David said, "a lady like you? Why, you're not… pushy."

But she suddenly knew she was and that he did not want to admit it. Pushiness was unfeminine. Ladies should be shyly retiring. But Jesse had taught her much about self-delusion, and she was getting better and better at ridding herself of it.

"It's not nonsense. I'm afraid it's true. However, today it served our purpose, so I shan't complain." Yet it hurt her a little that people opened doors for her because she cowed them while they'd opened doors for David because they instantly liked him.

"There's still so much to be done besides making building decisions. I'll have to take inventory of my stock and put in an order for a much larger number of shoes than I've ever been able to carry with me on the road. And there's the furnishings to order and the awning and the window glass. I'll have to drive out to see about a winter wood supply somewhere—And, oh! I'll need to order a stove from the East and—

"

He stopped abruptly, breathlessly, realizing he'd been running on.

But she suddenly looked at him differently and found herself laughing, enjoying his enthusiasm.

"I guess I got carried away by my plans," he admitted sheepishly.

"Yes, you did," she said agreeably, "but you have every right. It's such a big step you're taking. It will take a lot of planning and enthusiasm."

His face suddenly looked worried. "Oh, I didn't mean that I expected you to be running along beside me each step of the way. I wouldn't expect that of you. You've done more than your share today."

But they went on making plans for the store, its furnishing, accoutrements and prospects. He was very animated, but forced himself to sit still and contain his excitement.

Time and again she compared him to Jesse. Jesse with his boundless ego and limited crassness. Never would he sit there like he'd gotten himself caned into that chair seat the way David did. He'd be pacing up and down, probably bellowing, "Goddamnit, Abbie, I know this business can go, and you're going to help it!" Abigail McKenzie! she scolded herself, stop making these unjustifiable comparisons and pay attention to what David is saying!

"It seems we've g… gotten ourselves almost… ah… expected at the fes… festivites tomorrow," he stammered. "Do you mind?"

She tried not to be annoyed by his lack of assertiveness, but guilty for having compared him to Jesse all afternoon, she made up for it by answering, "It's almost a matter of good business by now, isn't it? No, I don't mind. I attend the festivities annually anyway. Everybody in town does."

"I… ahem… we could… ah… go out together then," he stammered.

It was not at all the way Miss Abigail would like to have been invited. She was reminded that Jesse had once called David a milktoast, then kicked herself mentally for being unfair to him.

"Well… if… if you'd rather not."

"Oh, I didn't mean—Of course I'll go out with you."

He stood to leave, and she found herself actually quite glad he was going.

"Where is Hake's Meadow?" he asked.

"It's out northeast of town where Rum Creek broadens. As you heard earlier, several wagons leave from Avery Holmes's Dry Goods Store and anyone who wants may ride out from there."

"At qu… quarter to ten?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll come… Should I… well, come for you a little before then?"

"I'll be ready," she replied, growing irritated by his stammering.

"I'd better be leaving now…" His voice had a way of trailing off uncertainly at the end of phrases, which was beginning to make her nerves jangle. It seemed that only the subject of business could wring a positive, assured note from him. Personal subjects made him stutter and stammer At the steps he did it again.

"I… I… could I…"

But he seemed unable to finish, and only looked down at her with spaniel eyes. She was suddenly very sure that he wanted to kiss her but didn't dare. Even though she had no business thinking it, she wondered, Why doesn't he just grab me and do it? She need not add, like Jesse would. By now she was comparing every action, every inflection, every mannerism of the two men. And unbelievably, in each instance she'd found David lacking. It stunned her to realize, while she watched him walk away, that though David's manners were impeccable, she now preferred Jesse's boorishness.

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Miss Abigail did not approve of everything that went on out at Hake's Meadow on the Fourth of July, but she was always in attendance nevertheless. She had a feeling for patriotism, and this was a patriotic holiday, though somehow it always seemed to turn into one sprawling, noisy beer-soaked melee. Each year it started with the mayor's inept speech while children held flags, but before long the politicians lost ground to beer and the ribaldry that inevitably followed. For the beer flowed as freely as did the baked beans tended by the D.A.R. members, who cooked them in an open fifty-gallon drum. It was, too, a perennial joke that had those D.A.R.s stirred up a few drums of their infamous beans back in 1776 and fed them to the British, they might have cut the war short by seven years. And when those beans merged with beer… well, rumor had it that Royal Gorge was no natural wonder; it was ripped out one Fourth of July when the picnic was held down there instead of at Hake's Meadow.