Читать книгу Renegade Most Wanted - Carol Arens - Страница 10

From a block away Matt heard the crack of a hammer slamming against wood. The echo seemed to wrap around his neck and knot the breath in his throat.

He’d purposely taken the long way to the dry goods store so that Emma and Lucy wouldn’t see the gallows that had been erected overnight. He’d seen this kind of thing happen often enough to know that the distant hammering was a coffin being built. Some poor soul was gazing through the jail bars, looking at his last afternoon.

If it hadn’t been for Emma’s quick thinking yesterday, there might have been a double hanging. Matt’s employer would have purchased his own justice as quick as a lick.

Pendragon figured that in Dodge, money powered the gavel, and he knew how to spend his cash.

Just when he was about to usher Emma and Lucy into the general store, the marshal stepped out of the Long Branch one door up. He gave Matt a sizing up that made him wonder if he’d shouted those thoughts about getting hanged.

“‘Rath and Wright, Dealers in Everything.’“ Emma read the sign over the door, then snapped her parasol closed. “Do you suppose they have something cheerful to cover the dugout walls?”

“They have candy.” Lucy tugged on Emma’s skirt and looked up at her with hopeful eyes. “Can I have some? Please, Mama?”

The marshal seemed too interested in what went on between the three of them. If Emma declared that she wasn’t Lucy’s mother, he might get more suspicious than he already was.

Emma glanced at Lucy and opened her mouth to say something, but she must have caught sight of the lawman, because she pinched her mouth closed.

She patted Lucy’s head and smiled lovingly at her.

“You go on along inside and pick out what you want. Papa and I will be along shortly.”

“Sugar lump,” Emma said with a sigh as soon as Lucy was out of sight. She swaggered up to Matt, so close that her calico-clad bosom brushed his buckskin vest. She stood up on her toes. Her fingertips traced curly hearts on his shirtsleeve. She whispered in his ear, but the secret was loud enough for the marshal to overhear.

“You know how long I’ve dreamed of being mama to that little girl, but I’ll purely die if we can’t sneak away by ourselves for the rest of the afternoon.”

Emma’s teeth nipped his earlobe. Heat flashed up and down his body. He turned his face. The long kiss that he sipped from her lips felt too hot to have been for the marshal’s benefit alone.

She knocked back his hat and feathered his hair through her fingers from scalp to collar, all the while keeping up with his kiss. She didn’t take a breath until he heard the marshal’s boots stomp down the boardwalk.

At last she let loose of him, sliding down until her boot heels clicked on the sidewalk. Her lashes lay like sable against her pink cheeks. Her chest heaved as if she had just danced the length of Front Street.

All at once she shook herself and opened her eyes. She spun about and followed the path that Lucy had taken.

“Surely there’s something inside to cover up that dirt on the dugout floor.”

The hell with the dugout floor! How could she be thinking of coverings after the moment they’d just shared?

It might have begun for the benefit of the marshal, but that’s not how it had ended. He could hardly walk a straight line into Rath and Wright’s with all the goings-on beneath his jeans.

By the time Matt’s eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the store, his insides had settled enough to focus on the reason they had come to town. Shopping was no more than a chore to him, but Emma and Lucy looked happy as butterflies in a meadow.

For a woman who spurned mothering, Emma appeared to take right to it. She kept hold of Lucy’s plump hand while she pointed out this and that object of purchase.

Lucy wanted ribbon for her hair. Emma pulled three colors from the shelf. She knelt on the floor, eye to eye with the child.

“I think pink is your color.” Emma dangled a length of pink beside Lucy’s face. “Which one do you like on me Lucy, yellow or blue?”

His little girl sparkled. She had been asking for a mother since she’d learned to talk. There were some things that a pa couldn’t do as well as a ma. He was of no use at all picking out frilly notions.

His heart took a warm turn but came up short when he thought about California. Lucy would become attached to Emma over the summer. The inevitable separation might break her heart.

“It’s only been a day, but already the three of you look like a family. More the glory to God.”

Matt hadn’t noticed Mrs. Sizeloff come into the store. He’d been so involved in watching the ribbon picking that the world had gone on without his notice.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Matt took off his hat and twisted it in his hand. Mrs. Sizeloff cradled a newborn in the crook of her arm while her son, Charlie, tugged on her skirt urging her toward the counter displaying hard candies.

“I was telling my Josie just last night that you and Mrs. Suede looked near as happy as we did on our wedding day. Oh, my, weren’t those happy times?” The preacher looked dreamy for a moment, then seemed to notice the tugging on her skirt. “You’ll call on me when it’s time for a christening, won’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” How big of a sin was it to lie to a preacher? He needed to remember that Emma’s display of affection for him was no more than a show. Even if it weren’t, that christening would never happen. He and his wife were traveling the same trail only until fall.

Mrs. Sizeloff followed Charlie to the candy counter and listened to him recite the many sweets that he wanted to take home.

Emma and Lucy had finished with ribbons and moved on to the bolts of fabric stacked near the window. After some discussion, Emma picked out a bolt. She carried it to the counter with Lucy trailing behind, toting a pair of ribbons and a smile.

Mr. Wright took the bolt from Emma’s arms and set it on the counter. She greeted Mrs. Sizeloff, then handed her list to the store owner. He looked it over two or three times.

“I’ve got most of the things you need. Let me just tally up the price for your husband.” He put on a pair of spectacles and reached for a pencil.

Matt approached the counter. He wasn’t concerned about the cost. He owed Emma more than a house, and he’d been able to put a fair amount away working the roundups. He could take care of Emma without touching what he had put away for Lucy.

“Before you add that up,” Emma said, “I wonder if we might do a little bartering, Mr. Wright?”

What was she up to now? Matt took a step back, curious to see what this sweet as a flower, clever as a whip woman was up to.

“What did you have in mind?” Mr. Wright slid his glasses down his nose and set the pencil on the counter.

“Dr. Coonley’s Patent Medicine. I have a full case of it. I’ll give you a bottle for every two dollars you take off that bill.”

She wanted to trade snake oil for durable goods? Who was this woman he had married? She looked like nothing less than an angel, standing there holding Lucy’s hand, smiling like sunshine and all the while selling sin in a bottle.

“No offense intended, but folks can get all the spirits they want next door at the Long Branch,” Mr. Wright said.

Emma gasped and pressed her fluttering hand against her breast.

“Mr. Wright! I’m offering you pure Orange Lilly. Why, there’s not a single harmful ingredient in it. Lands, I take it myself on a monthly basis.” Emma leaned across the counter and did that whisper of hers that carried far and wide. “Orange Lilly is for female complaints.”

“I’ll give you two dollars for it,” Mrs. Sizeloff said. “I’ve been feeling out of sorts since little Maudie was born.”

“I’ve seen that happen to some of the ladies I’ve worked for over the years. Why, they’d cry and take on for no reason at all after a birthing.” Emma touched Mrs. Sizeloff’s elbow where it cradled little Maudie. “We’re staying at Mrs. Conner’s boardinghouse tonight and we’ll be here a good part of the day tomorrow. I’ll bring a bottle by the church if you’ll be there.”

“Bless you, Mrs. Suede, that would be kind.”

“It’s not kind, really. It’s business. Orange Lilly will have you feeling better in no time and then you’ll tell your friends.”

If Emma won over Mrs. Sizeloff, the ladies in town would wear a trail to the homestead looking for healing in a bottle.

He paid Mr. Wright for the goods, then escorted Emma and Lucy out into the afternoon sunshine. It beat down on the sidewalk like a son of a gun.

“You just sold snake oil to the preacher, darlin’.” He touched a golden curl that looped alongside her cheek and drew it around his finger. She had the look of a petal blowing in the wind, but apparently she was as wily as any cowboy in Dodge. “You’re some kind of a woman.”

Emma stared after Matt while he strode toward E. C. Zimmerman’s to order the lumber and other supplies they would need to begin building her house. Had she been insulted or praised?

It was hard to tell by the question in his gaze while he stood in front of the mercantile touching her hair as if it was something special. A grin—or a smirk—had flashed across his mouth, but his eyes had sparked with admiration. If she wasn’t mistaken, silent laughter cramped his lungs.

Imagine calling pure Orange Lilly snake oil! Why, in a week or so ladies all over town would be free of the female humors plaguing them. At two dollars per humor, well, she’d just see what Matt Suede would call it then.

“Come along, Lucy. There’s nothing sweeter for ladies young and old than an afternoon respite.”

Hopefully the child would take a nap. That would give Emma an hour or so before dinner to review the list of supplies she’d need to provide for the extra people she would be caring for.

Lucy slipped her hand into Emma’s. Having just turned four years old, she still had plump baby fingers. That was one of the things Emma liked about four-year-olds. While they’d grown out of needing constant attention, the blush of babyhood still lingered about them.

The boardinghouse was still three blocks away when Lucy’s steps began to drag.

“I’m tired.” She rubbed one curled fist over her eye and yawned. A sticky smear of peppermint stick glittered on her lips and fingertips. “Would you carry me, Mama?”

Emma stooped and picked her up. She settled her on her hip. She’d done this so many times with other children that she was sure the curve of her hip had become a chair.

Lucy snuggled her head on Emma’s shoulder. The scent of sugar and peppermint made her anxious for the nice dinner at Del Monico’s that Matt had promised.