Читать книгу To Love A Texan - Georgina Gentry - Страница 7

He managed to close his mouth and made a sweeping bow. “Oh, Miss Primm, we weren’t expectin’ you.”

“Evidently.” She glared at him although she had to look up to do so. He was tall and wide-shouldered, dressed in a stylish frock coat and a red satin vest. His black hair fell down over one eye as he bowed low and his dark eyes issued both a challenge and an invitation. There was something very primitive and male about him that made her take a step back. Oh, he was one of those Irish rogues her mother had warned her about; no doubt about it. “There will have to be some changes made. This is no way to run a fine hotel.”

Around them, men had gathered out of curiosity and now a chuckle ran through the crowd. Lillian saw nothing funny at all. A blond girl in a red satin dress that was both too short and too tight swaggered up, swinging her hips. She held a slender cigarillo in her hand and smoke encircled her head. Lillian could only stare. She had never seen a woman smoke before.

“Hey, Brad, honey,” the blonde sneered, “what’s the problem?” She put her hand on his broad shoulder a bit too familiarly, which annoyed Lillian although she wasn’t certain why.

Lillian glared at her. “This does not concern you.”

“Why, you—”

The Irishman caught the girl’s arm. “Now Sadie, there’s been a big misunderstandin’ here. “Miss Primm, I think we need to retire to my office and—”

“You’ve been drinking,” Lillian snapped as she took a sniff. She was acutely aware that she was surrounded by the type of people she’d never met before in her very sheltered life. They looked like rowdies. “Worse yet, you reek of cheap perfume.”

“That ain’t cheap perfume!” The blonde put her hand on her hip. A customer brung that to me all the way from St. Louie.”

“Brought,” Lillian corrected.

“What?” Sadie looked bewildered.

She had had enough of this nonsense. “Mr. O’Neal, I will see you in the lawyer’s office in the morning.”

“What?” He scratched his head.

“You heard me.” She turned to go.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday.” He gave her the most devilish grin.

The crowd laughed and Lillian felt foolish. “Then I shall return Monday with the lawyer.” Lillian said and then she wheeled, her head high as she marched out of the Texas Lily. She was close to tears, but of course a person of good background did not give way to emotion. Hadn’t her dour, cold mother taught her that? Yet she was shocked, horrified, and downright exhausted after her long trip. All her dreams about Texas and a fine hotel and then to discover what she’d inherited was evidently a—a—she couldn’t even say the word. And from her own aunt. She blinked and swallowed hard as she went out the door and down the steps into the darkness.

Lieutenant Fortenbury hurried to meet her. “I am so sorry, Miss Primm. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I’ll be fine.” She managed to keep her voice steady, but inside, she was a wreck. She imagined that pretty Sadie creature was snickering at her even now. For this, she had given up a safe, secure job in faraway Boston. “Take me to the hotel. I’ll decide what to do later.”

He helped her up into the buggy, his delicate hands moist. “I’m sorry, Miss, but there is no hotel. It burned down last month.”

“What? Where do visitors stay then?”

“Well, if they don’t have relatives in town, they’ve been sleeping under a tree or staying at the fort until someone builds a new hotel. I’ll take you there.”

As they drove away, she looked back over her shoulder at the lights and music streaming from the fine mansion. “I had no idea. I was told it was a hotel.”

“I didn’t know how to warn you, Miss Primm. I never go in there myself—it’s full of rough louts, typical Texans.”

She warmed to the gentleman as they drove past the big white birdbath and the goat raised its head, bleating at them. “I should have accepted the offer, I suppose. No wonder my mother disapproved of Aunt Lillian. And her partner, why, he looks like a rascal of the worst sort.”

“Low-class Texas trash,” Lieutenant Fortenbury agreed. “No one knew you were coming, I presume?”

She shook her head. “Lawyer Cheatum wrote that it was a hotel, and that Aunt Lil had left me her half, but that rascal, O’Neal, wanted to buy me out.”

“So do you intend to sell?”

“I—I don’t know. Certainly I’m not one to run from a fight.”

“Perhaps you could buy that gambler out,” the young officer suggested as they drove along the quiet street.

“And own a—a bordello? I think not. Besides, I only have a small sum. I couldn’t afford to buy him out.”

“Well, said the officer, “there’s always been a legend that Miss Lil hid a lot of money inside the house somewhere. If you owned the place and found that, you could certainly afford to buy the place and do whatever you wanted with it.”

“I am not one to chase after pie in the sky,” she answered sternly. “I am a realist.”

“Still it was a shame to make such a startling discovery for one of such fine lineage. If there’s anything I can do to help you, Miss Primm, I am at your service.”

She smiled at him and felt better already. “Thank you, Lieutenant. But I could expect no less from a member of Sons of British Nobility.”

“Of course not.” He smiled back at her. “Here’s the fort straight ahead. There’s a social and dance tonight. I’ll take you to the major’s wife. She’ll be very sympathetic, I’m sure.”

They drove past the parade grounds and the barracks. The scent of roses drifted on the hot Texas air.

“Roses at a fort?” She asked.

He nodded. “Major Bottoms’ passion—along with parades. Why, he wanted to bring out the marching band for Lil McGinty’s funeral, but the respectable ladies of the fort would have….” He let his voice trail off and cleared his throat in the awkward silence. “Well, here we are.”

He drew up before a large building. Lights and sedate music drifted from inside. He stepped down and handed his reins to an orderly. “See to the lady’s luggage and the horse.”

“Yes, sir.” The young private snapped a salute and took the reins.

The lieutenant came around to help Lillian from the buggy.

She hesitated as she stepped down. “I’m not really dressed for a ball.”

“Nonsense.” He let her take his arm and they strode toward the building. “You are lovely, although it’s presumptuous of me to say so.”

She felt a rare blush. “My, you are very kind.” Lillian was confused and a little uncertain. Men had never noticed her before and yet tonight, here the lieutenant actually seemed to be flirting with her.

Inside, a sparse crowd danced to the sedate music or stood around the room with cups of punch. The ladies seemed to be visiting while most of the men looked bored.

Lieutenant Fortenbury led her up to an older, plump couple. “Major and Mrs. Bottoms, I have the honor to present Miss Primm, lately of Boston.”

Lillian curtsied, although she was awkward at it.

“Delighted, my dear,” said the major. “Did you see my roses as you drove in?”

“Now, Gilbert,” his gray-haired wife scolded. Then to Lillian she said, “Don’t pay any attention to my husband, my dear, he has only two interests in life, his roses and his parades. Are you visiting someone in town?”

Lillian took a deep breath, wondering how to explain.

Lieutenant Fortenbury said, “Miss Primm is a teacher from Boston and is joining the Sisters Noble of British Society, the elite S.N.O.B.S.”

“Snobs?” Mrs Bottoms looked puzzled.

Lillian took a deep breath. “This is a bit humiliating but I’m in town to inherit a hotel.”

“Hotel?” The major said, “we have no hotel.”

Lillian bit her lip and the Lieutenant rushed in. “Miss Primm is the late Lil McGinty’s niece.”

“Oh, dear me.” The lady’s mouth dropped open.

The major cleared his throat in the awkward silence. “Of course, family resemblance, and all that, I mean, so I hear…” he sputtered into confused silence.

“Red hair runs in the family,” Lillian said, feeling like an idiot.

Couples on the dance floor seemed to be straining to hear the conversation.

The way everyone was staring at her, she knew what they all thought of her aunt and the Texas Lily. No wonder the relationship between her proud mother and her aunt had been torn asunder. “I thought I would come out and see the hotel,” she sputtered.

“Hotel? What hotel?” The major said again.

“Hush, Gilbert.” Mrs. Bottoms patted Lillian’s arm. “You poor dear.”

“I drove her out to the Texas Lily,” Lieutenant Fortenbury shrugged helplessly, “I didn’t know quite how to tell her.”

Tears came to Lillian’s green eyes but she blinked them away. “I—I haven’t quite decided what to do. It was such a shock.”

The motherly woman gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, you don’t have to deal with that tonight, my dear. You look tired and I have a spare room.”

A chubby civilian wearing thick glasses and leading a dumpy woman walked over just then. “Is this a stranger in our midst?”

Mrs. Bottoms made the introductions. “Miss Primm, this is Lester Osburn, owner of our weekly newspaper, the Fort Floppett Bugle, and his wife, Gladys.”

“Delighted to meet you,” the gentleman smiled. “We call our paper the Bugle because of the army and the fort—”

“I get it, I get it,” Lillian said, and nodded politely to his dumpy wife.

“Maybe I can add your name to our society column,” said Mr. Osburn, “who are you in town to visit?”

“Uh, Lester,” said the major, “Miss Primm is Lil McGinty’s niece.”

“Oh, dear,” said dull Mrs. Osburn, and her mouth dropped open.

Lillian wanted to go through the floor.

“I think,” said the major’s wife in the awkward silence, “I’d better take Miss Primm to her quarters.”

“But I was hoping to dance with the lady,” The chubby major protested.

“Oh, stop it, Gilbert, you old goat. Come, my dear. Do you have luggage?”

The lieutenant said, “I had one of the privates take charge of it.”

Lillian murmured an awkward good night and followed Mrs. Bottoms off the dance floor.

“Such a fine young man,” Mrs. Bottoms nodded approval as she led Lillian away. “I wish we had more like him. You see how few are at our dance? I imagine most of them are over at the Lily.”

“There were quite a few there,” Lillian admitted as they walked away. Behind them, she heard the buzz as word spread through the room about who she was. She kept her head high and ignored it. After all, she was from a fine and highborn family. She couldn’t be responsible if her aunt had done the unthinkable, marrying an Irishman and owning a bordello. Still, it was humiliating. In her genteel poverty, her family pride was all that had sustained her. There were a million questions she wanted to ask Mrs. Bottoms, but she feared to hear the answers.

In the hallway of the building hung a large oil painting of an elderly officer. His hair was parted down the middle and he was slightly cross-eyed, with a gray mustache and a straggly beard. Lillian paused and stared at it.

“The fort’s founder, Major Herman Floppett.” Mrs. Bottoms explained.

“He really does resemble the goat,” Lillian said without thinking.

“Oh, you’ve met Herman? He’s sort of the town mascot, but mostly he grazes the lawn and the orange day-lilies out in front of your aunt’s place. I presume you met the handsome devil at the Texas Lily, Brad O’Neal?”

“What a rascal!” Lillian said as she followed Mrs. Bottoms to the officers’ quarters.

“But a charming one,” Mrs. Bottoms murmured with a sigh. “He could convince a sparrow to fly right into a cat’s mouth.”

“I saw nothing charming about him,” Lillian snapped, “and I’ll have to talk to Mr. Cheatum about what my legal options are.”

“Dewey?” The lady laughed as she showed Lillian to a room. “If you’d asked around, you’d have probably seen him at one of the poker tables at the Lily tonight. He and Mr. O’Neal are friends.”

Lillian’s spirits sagged. Evidently if Mr. Dewey Cheatum was a good friend of the gambler, he would be no ally to her.

“My dear, the easiest thing to do would be to sell out to Brad and leave town.”

“My mother told me the Primm family has a proud heritage dating back to the Earl of Primley who was a hero at the Battle of Waterloo against the French, so I am not one to cut and run before a low-class Texas hooligan.”

“Bravely spoken.” The major’s wife smiled and nodded. “I imagine there aren’t many women who can stand up against Brad O’Neal’s lure.”

“This is one respectable lady who is immune to his oily charm.” Lillian sat down on the bed.

“Brad O’Neal is a formidable opponent, my dear. But that can all wait until tomorrow.” With that, she said her good nights and left Lillian to ponder her next move. She had liked the Texas landscape the train had taken her through, and she’d been excited about a new life and the new career of running a first-class hotel. And what she’d found was a slick rascal and a whorehouse. There, she’d said it. How could Aunt Lil have fallen so low? She bit her lip to keep from breaking into sobs and got ready for bed. Tomorrow she would decide what to do.

The next morning, she had breakfast with the major and his wife out on the veranda of their quarters, where she could admire the roses around the lawn. “Steak for breakfast?” She couldn’t hold back her surprise.

“After all, my dear,” the major said, “this is Texas. They have more cows than people and the local ranches keep us well supplied.”

Lillian was used to a cup of weak tea and a slice of toast. The coffee was strong enough to float a horseshoe. Along with the steak came scrambled eggs and hot biscuits. She tried not to gobble, but the food was so good. “Tell me, Major, just what function does the fort serve?”

The major looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “Uh,” he said, “originally, it was built to protect the stage lines from bandits and Indians.”

“Is there a stage line?” Lillian asked, “I thought the train—?”

“Not in forty years,” Mrs. Bottoms smiled, “and the Indians in this part of Texas were never much for war parties anyway.”

“But what about the War?”

Major Bottoms shook his head. “Occupied by the Union and played no part in the war—sort of the backwater of the fight.”

“Then why does it even exist?” Lillian asked.

“The truth is,” Mrs. Bottoms lowered her voice and leaned closer, “there’s really no reason for Fort Floppett’s existence except that it’s a comfortable post and the town relies on it for business. It’s a wonder Congress hasn’t closed it already and sent all these troops to where they’re really needed—Arizona, to fight Apaches.”

The major shuddered. “Don’t even think about it. Arizona. No water for roses, nothing but heat, dust, cactus, and bloodthirsty Apaches. No, the soldiers love Fort Floppett, and the town of Fort Floppett loves the army. Let us hope members of Congress never come here to look around.”

Lillian ate one more biscuit with homemade wild sand plum jelly and put down her napkin. “What time is it?”

The major pulled out his big gold watch. “10:30.”

“I imagine that scoundrel will be up by now at the Texas Lily.” Lillian said.

The major laughed. “Brad? I wouldn’t bet on it.”

His wife gave him a warning frown, then to Lillian, she said “My dear, do you really want to confront him? Perhaps you should arrange a meeting in lawyer Cheatum’s office tomorrow instead.”

“I’ve decided I would like to get this settled today,” Lillian said, gritting her teeth. She was nothing if not New England stubborn.

“Be careful around that gambler,” the major grinned. “They say he could talk a cow out of her calf or a dog off a meat wagon.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lillian said.

“Oh, honey,” Mrs Bottom said with a dismissing wave at her husband, “that’s Texan for beware of the rascal’s gift of gab. You wouldn’t be the first girl Brad’s talked into—never mind. Another cup of coffee, my dear?”

Lillian shook her head. So Mr. Brad O’Neal was a ladies’ man? Humph, she certainly didn’t see him as charming. The genteel and highborn Buford Fortenbury was more to her taste. “May I borrow your buggy, Major?”

“You’re really going over there this morning?”

“Yes, that is my plan.”

“But it’s Sunday and as late as they were all up, the girls working so late—”

“Gilbert!” His wife glared at him.

His beefy face turned bright red. “I meant, they are probably all still asleep and will be ’til noon.”

“Good.” Lillian said curtly, “then I shall wake them up.” She imagined that Texas rascal sleeping soundly and being disturbed by her ringing his bell over and over. It would serve him right.

However, she was a bit less certain as she left the driver with the buggy and marched up the steps to the elegant stained glass front doors. She rang the bell. And rang and rang. Then she resorted to pounding. She was not going to be treated shabbily by that rascal. “Brad O’Neal, I know you’re in there. Open this door immediately!” She pounded some more.

About that time, the door was opened by the wrinkled black maid. “Yes?”

She mustered as much dignity as she could, considering she was puffing from her exertion. “I am here to see Mr. Bradley O’Neal.”

“He don’t usually see visitors this early in the morning, Miss.”

“I am not surprised. I assume he is sleeping off a hangover?”

“No, ma’am, he’s in the kitchen.”

“What? Then I will go to the kitchen.” Lillian pushed past the old woman and looked about. The delicious scent of strong coffee and frying ham drifted to her nose. She marched toward the kitchen with the small maid trailing in her wake.

It was a spacious kitchen and the scene as she entered caused her to stop short. Seven beautiful but sleepy-looking young women in various stages of dress sat about a big round table. Brad O’Neal, needing a shave and in his shirt-sleeves, worse yet, wearing an apron, stood at the stove. He turned and grinned. “Oh, hello, Miss Primm. Would you like some breakfast? I cook on Sunday sometimes.”

“He’s great at flapjacks,” the blond girl volunteered and lit a cigarillo.

“No thank you, I’ve had breakfast. Mr. O’Neal, we need to talk—”

“Well, I haven’t, so you’ll have to wait. Delilah, get the lady some coffee.”

She wasn’t about to accept hospitality from this rascal. “Thank you, but I’m here on business—”

“You might as well have a cup, Miss,” the black maid said, “Mr. Brad is right stubborn.”

Stubborn? She’d show him stubborn. His oily charm might work on weaker women, but not on a Primm descendant. However, Lillian accepted the coffee and stood there awkwardly.

“Sit down,” O’Neal ordered, gesturing toward the table, but the whores didn’t look too friendly.

“Thank you, but I prefer to stand. I am here on business.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and returned to his cooking. He had pots boiling and ham frying along with his flapjacks.

She didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t expect you to be the cook.”

“It’s just one of my talents,” the rascal said, winking at her, and the girls around the table giggled. “I like to keep my hand in; learned a lot in New Orleans, but all but Sundays, the kitchen belongs to Delilah.”

She watched him dish up food. Something in the big bowl looked like mush. “What in the name of goodness is that?”

“Grits.” Brad grinned. “You know you’re in east Texas when they serve you grits with your eggs. In north Texas, its more likely to be fried potatoes and along the Mexican border and in west Texas, it’ll be beans and tortillas. Want some?”

“I said I had already eaten.” She answered frostily.

The girls were digging into their heaping plates.

“Oh Brad, honey,” a brunette smiled at him, “you got so many talents.”

“Evidently, Miss Primm doesn’t think so.” He grinned and dished himself a plate of food, then poured himself a cup of coffee. “Very well, Miss Primm, if you’ll precede me, we can talk in my office while I eat, if you don’t mind.”

The girls set up a moan. “Aw, Brad, honey, we thought you was gonna eat with us.”

He winked at them. “We’ll have dinner together. Remember, I’ve got a roast ready to go in the oven and Delilah, you’ll watch my coconut cake, while I visit with Miss Primm, won’t you?”

“Sho ’nuff, Mister Brad, you gonna want seven minute icing with that?”

He nodded as he pulled off his apron. “Get the eggs out of the root cellar now. You know the whites whip higher when they’re room temperature.”

“Well!” sniffed Lillian. “Is there no end to your talents?”

He winked at her. “Ask the girls.”

They all broke into giggles while Lillian’s face burned. Oh, she wanted to grab the syrup pitcher and pour it all over his head, but of course, a lady of quality would not lower herself to that. Besides, rascal that he was, he might return the gesture. “We have business to discuss,” she reminded him with a frosty tone.

“Come, Miss Primm,” he commanded, leading the way out of the kitchen, food in both hands.

She followed along behind with her coffee cup as he led her into a large office in one wing of the big mansion.

He set his plate and coffee on his desk and gestured her to a nearby chair. Instead, she chose to take the one directly across the desk from him. She set her cup on the desk with a bang as he dug into his food, eating heartily. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like some, Miss Primm? You look like a rack of bones.”

She felt herself flush. “It is not polite to make such personal comments and a gentleman should not greet ladies in his shirt-sleeves.”

He grinned at her and a lock of black hair fell down over one eye. “Let’s get one thing straight, lady, I never claimed to be a gentleman. I’m a Texan and a gambler and I was a very good friend of your late aunt’s.”

“How good?” She asked without thinking.

“Now who’s being rude? She was almost like a mother to me, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“I—I beg your pardon.” She realized that he was right. She might have to change her attitude to get anywhere with this rascal. Evidently, he was accustomed to dealing with women, if not ladies. Well, his oily charm wouldn’t work on her. “Mr. O’Neal, you must understand that I am rather startled to discover my aunt’s past.”

“You ain’t startled, lady, you’re shocked out of your drawers.” He put a bite of ham in his mouth. “Lil was a great old gal and you can only hope to be half the woman she was. You goin’ out to visit her grave?”

“Certainly not, and I will not sit here and be insulted.” She felt herself flush and half rose from her chair.

“My dear Miss Primm, I don’t know what you are doin’ in either Texas or the Lily. I offered to buy you out to spare you from ever knowin’ the hard facts of life that your aunt evidently hid from you.”

She didn’t know whether to cry or throw her coffee cup at him. “I will admit I’ve lived a very sheltered life. I had hoped to make a new start in the hotel business here.”

He laughed and sipped his coffee. “The Lily is not exactly a hotel.”

“So I’m now aware.” She set her jaw and glared at him.

“So just where is this conversation headed, Miss Primm? We seem to be caught in a Mexican standoff here.”

“A what?”

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “It’s Texas talk which is like no other in the world. It means we’re at loggerheads. What do you have in mind? It seems quite evident that we’d be unlikely partners.”

“Me? A partner in a—a—?”

“See? You can’t even say the word.” He grinned at her. “You should have accepted my generous offer and stayed in Boston.”

“I wish I had,” she snapped back, “but I had no idea—”

“But now you do, so my offer still stands—no, I’ll sweeten the pot.”

“What?”

“It’s a poker term. I’ll give you eleven thousand dollars if you let me buy you out and keep the Texas Lily and you go back to Boston.”

She was nothing if not shrewd. “So what was worth ten thousand is suddenly worth eleven? Could it be worth even more than that?”

He sighed and lit a cigar without even asking her permission. “Do not toy with me, Miss Primm. Take my money and go away. It’s a fair offer. Although I’ll have to borrow the money, it’s worth the extra thousand to get you out of my hair and out of town.”

She coughed politely and waved a little lace hanky in front of her nose, but he seemed to pointedly ignore her as he continued to smoke. “If it’s worth that much to you, sir, perhaps it’s worth that much to me, although in good conscience, I cannot imagine running a—a—a bordello for a living.”

“Oh, Lord,” he blew smoke in the air and looked skyward. “Lil McGinty, what were you thinkin’? I thought you liked me.” Then to Lillian, he said, “all right, Miss Primm, then you buy me out, and shut the place down.”

“Are you insane? I don’t have ten thousand dollars.”

“Ah, I thought we were talkin’ eleven? However, to break this partnership, I’d accept ten thousand and move on. No, I might even take nine thousand. I’ve been run out of better towns than Fort Floppett anyway.” He put his boots up on his desk and smiled at her.

“I do not have even nine thousand dollars and I do not want to own a—a—” She still could not even bring herself to say the word.

He smoked his cigar and grinned at her. “So you will accept the ten thousand and return to Boston.”

“You said eleven.” She glared at him.

“You are a tough one to deal with,” he smiled in grudging admiration. “All right, eleven. There’s an evenin’ train—”

“No.” She said and glared back at him.

“No? Did you say no?” Evidently, from his expression, the handsome rogue had never heard that word from a woman.

“I said no. The Primms have a long history of resoluteness,” she snapped. “We do not run from adversity. We did not run in the Revolutionary War and we did not run when our dear President Lincoln—”

“Oh Lord, I’d forgotten you are also a damned Yankee.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

She was horrified. “Don’t tell me you stood with the South in the Rebellion—”

“I served with Terry’s Texas Rangers and proud of it, right along with my cousin, Waco. Matter of fact, my Pa lost a leg at Shiloh.”

She took a deep breath and decided on a different tack. This scoundrel was as stubborn and determined as she was. “I do not know what the answer to this conundrum is, Mr. O’Neal, but—”

“This what?”

“Conundrum.”

He sighed. “A damned Yankee and a schoolteacher. I came up through the school of hard knocks, Miss Primm, as did your aunt.”

She winced. “I am embarrassed by my aunt. I cannot imagine she needed money so badly that she would stoop to this.”

He gave her a cold look. “You should live to be half as warm and generous as Lil McGinty. In Texas, we say don’t judge anyone until you’ve walked a mile in their boots.”

“This is getting us nowhere, Mr O’Neal. I think we should arrange a meeting with this despicable lawyer who wrote the letter—”

“Dewey?” He grinned. “He’s really a good old boy.”

“I have another opinion of him—hotel indeed.” She sniffed. “I understand he is an acquaintance of yours so you’ll know how to contact him. Let us say about four o’clock this afternoon?”

“On a Sunday?” He paused, cigar in mid-air. “I think Dewey is usually takin’ a nap or playin’ pinochle with Dimples and Pug on Sunday afternoons.”

“Who? Never mind. Send him a message to forego his afternoon pleasures and we’ll meet at his office at four o’clock sharp. We’ll let him mediate this mess.” She stood.

“What?”

“Try to straighten it out.” She walked briskly to the doorway. “I shall see you in Mr. Cheatum’s office, which I presume is on Main Street. This problem must be resolved.”

He sighed. “I was plannin’ on goin’ noodlin’ for catfish this afternoon afore supper.”

“What?”

“It’s a Southern thing,” he explained, “you dive down and feel along under the river bank until you stick your hand in and find a big catfish lyin’ under the bank in the mud where it’s cool. Then you grab him and toss him up on the bank. Last one I got weighed fifty pounds.”

“It sounds dangerous and primitive.”

“Just like me.” He grinned.

“Well said. I could not agree more. Now good day to you, sir.”

“Well, it was until you showed up,” he answered.

“Humph!” And she went sailing out of his office, out the door and down the steps, fuming. Brad O’Neal was primitive, but she wasn’t certain how dangerous he was. The way the girls at his establishment had sighed and smiled at him, he certainly thought he was God’s gift to women. Well, this was one woman who was immune to his oily charm, even if he was a big, handsome man. Or at least some women might think so, Lillian sniffed as she got in the buggy and ordered the driver to return her to the fort. She was not going to let that rascal win this!