Margaret Brownley - [Rocky Creek 02] (6 page)

Jenny hesitated. “I told you I have work to do.”

“You don’t have to come,” Mary Lou said.

Even Brenda seemed to brighten at the prospect. “Please,” she begged. “We won’t be long.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jenny said.

“You let us go to Haswell unchaperoned,” Mary Lou said.

“That was different. We don’t know anyone here,” Jenny argued.

“We know the marshal,” Mary Lou said. “He said he was going to watch everything we do. So how can we possibly get into trouble?”

Jenny hesitated, her face oddly flushed. Maybe she was coming down with something.

“Please,” Brenda begged, hands clasped beneath her chin.

“All right,” Jenny said, her voice thick with reluctance. “But I expect you back at the hotel in one hour.”

Mary Lou wasn’t sure she heard right. Jenny gave in? Just like that? That proved it. Jenny was not herself.

Jenny gathered up her notebook. “I’ll head back to the hotel. Stay together, and if a man tries to talk to you, refer him to me. And don’t forget, one hour.” She gave Mary Lou a stern look. “And not one minute more.”

Mary Lou couldn’t get out of the café fast enough. Leaving Jenny to pay for their meal, she and Brenda rushed out the door like horses escaping a burning barn.

“Act like ladies,” Jenny called after them.

Knowing that Jenny watched from the window, Mary Lou forced herself to walk with proper little steps, looking for all the world like a perfect lady. Fortunately, not even Jenny could read her wayward thoughts.
Where is he? And how can I get rid of Brenda
?

It was still relatively cool, and the town buzzed with activity. People rushed to do errands before the heat of the day, cluttering up Main Street with wagons, buckboards, and shays. Despite the early hour, horses were tethered in front of all seven saloons. Laughter and music drifted out of bat-wing doors. From a distance came the sound of a train whistle.

The moment they were out of Jenny’s line of vision, Mary Lou ducked into an alley that led to the back of the buildings and Brenda followed her. Wash hung from clotheslines behind the café and laundry, affording ample cover, providing the train stayed in the station until she was finished.

“What are we doing here?” Brenda asked, looking bewildered.

Mary Lou stepped between two rows of drying bedsheets. She dug into her reticule for two knotted lace handkerchiefs and stuffed them one by one into her bodice.

Brenda gasped. “If Jenny knew—”

“Knew what?” Mary Lou asked. “That you have a pocket full of sweets?”

“That’s not the same as walking around looking like one of those . . .” She lowered her voice. “Ladies of the night.”

Mary Lou shrugged. “There you go again, acting all dramatic.”

She adjusted the padding beneath her shirtwaist until she was satisfied no unnatural lumps existed. Knotted handkerchiefs were a poor substitute for Zephyr Bosom Pads, but they would have to do until she could figure out how to get another pair.

She then led the way back out of the alley and glanced up and down the street. Jeff Trevor was nowhere in sight. Not that it mattered, of course.

“Let’s check out the general store,” Brenda said, sounding amazingly cheerful given the lack of prospects the town offered for entertainment.

Mary Lou frowned. Judging by the display of shovels and other tools propped on either side of the door, she doubted that the store carried anything of interest. Certainly no fashions. “You go. I’ll . . . stay here.”

Brenda’s eyes gleamed with suspicion. “You aren’t going to get into trouble, are you?”

“I should be so lucky,” Mary Lou muttered. Maybe there was another street to this town.

“Jenny told us to stay together,” Brenda said, her brow creased with worry.

“I’m only going to look around.” Mary Lou glared at two homely looking men who stopped to stare at them. Brenda was such a worrywart. At times she made Mary Lou want to scream.

She threw her shoulders back and pinched her cheeks for color. “We’ll meet here in a half hour. If we’re late getting back to the hotel, Jenny will come looking for us.”

Brenda started to argue then changed her mind. Tugging at her shawl, she crossed the dirt-packed street to the other side, dodging a wagon. With a quick backward glance, she vanished into the general store, the bells on the door jingling in her wake.

Alone at last, Mary Lou looked up and down the street. No town could possibly be this boring. There had to be something . . .

She walked the length of Main Street, passing various saloons all the way to the Wells Fargo bank.

Any hope that the town might have something of interest to offer faded the moment she reached the end of the boardwalk, which dropped off without warning.

She turned with a sigh and stared in the other direction. What was Jenny thinking to bring them here?

This had to be the sorriest-looking town she ever did see. Even Haswell wasn’t this drab. Rocky Creek was every bit as dull and boring as it appeared from their hotel-room window.

As if to read her thoughts, a bay gelding tethered to the hitching post in front of the bank neighed and nodded his head.

She stomped past the bank again.

“Miss Higgins.”

Recognizing the smooth resonant voice, her pulse quickened. Willing herself to stay calm, she turned and tried to act surprised. “Mr. Trevor.”

Jeff Trevor stepped away from the bank entrance, a smile on his face. “Should I be encouraged that you remember my name?”

“Only if you plan to run for office,” she said. Not that women could vote, of course.

He chuckled and looked her up and down, his eyes warm with approval.

“You’re looking mighty pretty, ma’am,” he said.

Acknowledging the compliment with a gracious smile and nod of the head that even Jenny would approve, she bid him good day and continued on her way.

He fell in step beside her as she knew he would. “The boys and me are planning a little get-together next week. Nothing fancy. A little music, a little dancing, some refreshments. I thought perhaps you and your sisters might like to join us. There aren’t many single women around here, and I’m sure the boys would welcome your company.”

She stopped and faced him. He was taller than he appeared on the stairs of the hotel. A thrill of excitement coursed through her. Dancing? Music? Maybe the town wasn’t as boring as she thought.

She studied him. In spite of his odd clothes, he really was pleasing to look at. If it were physically possible to drown in a man’s eyes, she was in terrible danger of doing so.

“So what do you say, ma’am?” he asked.

She didn’t know, really, what to say. If this invitation was his way of apologizing for his brazen behavior yesterday, it would be rude of her to turn him down. On the other hand, she didn’t want to do anything to encourage him.

“Next week?” she asked, biding for time.

“That’s right, ma’am. I’ll be happy to provide transportation for you and your sisters.”

She bit down on her lower lip. “I’ll have to ask Jenny.”

“Of course. Leave a message with the hotel desk clerk. He knows how to contact me.” His eyes dark and powerful, he continued to study her.

Since he was more or less blocking the boardwalk, she didn’t have much choice but to stare back at him, hoping he’d take the hint and move.

“I better head back to the hotel,” she said at last, indicating the direction she wished to go.

“Of course,” he said, stepping to the side.

“Thank you for the invitation.” Not knowing what else to say, she brushed past him. Her shoulder rubbed against his arm, and a tingling sensation settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Just one more thing,” he called after her.

Her heart jolted. She turned to face him. “Mr. Trevor?”

His steady gaze bored into her. “Do you happen to know your ring size?”

Her breath caught in her lungs. Did she hear him right? “R–ring size?”

“Since we’re all gonna be together, I figure it’s as good a time as any to make our engagement official.”

Her mouth dropped open. Obviously, the man wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “Mr. Trevor!”

“Feel free to call me Jeffrey.”

His attempt at geniality only annoyed her more. “I do not now nor ever intend to marry you. Nor do I intend to call you by your Christian name.” Even she knew that calling a man by his first name was the height of familiarity. Fueled by anger, her voice was steady and firm. “Furthermore, I shall not be attending your dance.”

He didn’t look the least bit daunted. If anything, he appeared even more confident than before. “Don’t you worry none, ma’am,” he said. “There’ll be plenty of time to announce our engagement. About next week . . . if you change your mind, you know how to reach me.” With that, he turned and walked back toward the bank, whistling as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

Staring after him, she muttered, “Of all the nerve.” She looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the odd exchange. Much to her annoyance, a previously unnoticed old man sat in a rocking chair in front of the general store looking straight at her.

Just then Brenda walked out of the store carrying a small package. Mary Lou motioned for her to hurry. “It’s about time,” she snapped the moment Brenda joined her.

“What’s the hurry?” Brenda tucked the package into her pocket. “It’s only been a short while.”

Mary Lou said nothing. Instead, she hurried toward the hotel so fast that it was all Brenda could do to keep up.

Six

To a potential suitor, your reputation is all. It’s not how a woman
has comported herself; it’s how she is perceived.

— M
ISS
A
BIGAIL
J
ENKINS
, 1875

M
arshal, come quick. There’s trouble at the
Gazette
.” Redd was flushed and out of breath from running.

Rhett rose from his desk in one swift movement and grabbed his hat. Brawls and fistfights were daily occurrences at the saloons, but the newspaper office? That was a new one on him.

By the time he reached the office of the
Rocky Creek Gazette
, a crowd had gathered outside. He pushed his way through the spectators. No robbers or gunmen greeted him. No drunken troublemakers.

Instead, he found Miss Jenny Higgins threatening the newspaper editor with her parasol. Slumped in his chair, Jacoby Barnes held his arms over his head to ward off any imminent blows.

Though the two of them were screaming at each other, Rhett couldn’t make hide nor hair out of what they were yelling about.

“Break it up,” he bellowed. Because neither one of them seemed to hear, he rushed around the editor’s desk and grabbed the parasol out of Jenny’s hand.

The immediate danger to his person no longer an issue, Barnes lowered his arms. Jenny placed her hands on her hips. They both started talking at once.

“This man—”

“This woman—”

The rest of their sentences were so garbled together, they sounded nonsensical.

“Quiet, both of you,” Rhett said, growing impatient. “Now, one at a time. Miss Higgins, you go first.”

Jenny tossed her head back and shot daggers at the editor. “My sisters and I take great pride in our reputation. But this . . . this despicable man doesn’t care a whit about anything but selling”—her eyes flashed—“
newspapers
.”

“It was a mistake,” Barnes whined.

“It was a mistake, all right,” Jenny stormed. Since she looked about to attack the editor physically again, Rhett grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away.

“You stand there, and you”—he pointed to Barnes—“stay right where you are.”

Barnes pushed his spectacles up his imposing nose with an ink-stained index finger. Elbows on the desk, he pressed his hands together and regarded Jenny with narrowed eyes, his carefully trimmed mustache twitching up and down like a seesaw. The angry red scar that stretched from brow to chin made his face look lopsided but no less obstinate.

“It was an
honest
mistake,” Barnes said.

Jenny scoffed. “Honest? Don’t make me laugh.”

Accusations flew back and forth, each one growing louder in pitch.

Rhett cut the argument off with gesturing arms. “Calm down, both of you. Now would you kindly explain what’s going on here before I haul you both off to jail for disturbing the peace?”

“See for yourself,” Jenny said. She snatched a newspaper off the desk and held it up for him to read.

The headline stretched across the width of the page in big bold letters:
The Hussy Sisters Begin Manhunt
.

Rhett blinked. “Hussy sisters?”

“I thought their last name was Hussy. That’s what I heard.” Barnes shrugged. “Everywhere I went, I heard about ‘those hussy sisters.’ Naturally, I assumed that was their name. Like I said, it was an honest mistake.”

Jenny glowered. “You wouldn’t know honest from a horse’s—”

“Quiet!” Rhett ordered. “I can’t think with all this racket.” He turned to Barnes. “All right, what do you propose to do to rectify your . . . eh . . . mistake?”

“I offered to run a correction in the next edition.”

“Not good enough,” Jenny snapped. “He doesn’t even know when the next edition will be published.”

Rhett scratched his head. Neither one looked like they would give an inch. He didn’t approve of Jenny’s method of finding husbands for her sisters, but he had even less respect for Barnes’s journalistic integrity. Any factual statement that made its way into the
Rocky Creek Gazette
was purely by chance.

He could think of only one possible solution. Aware that Jenny was staring at him, he reached into his pocket, counted out several gold coins, and tossed them on the desk.

“I want every newspaper you printed delivered to my office, pronto.”

Barnes stared at the stack of coins and drooled. Jenny’s mouth dropped open.

“Some of them may have already sold,” Barnes said without taking his eyes off the money.

“Buy them back,” Rhett ordered. “I want every last one of them.” He glanced at Jenny, and when she offered no objection, he stepped outside.