Christine Dorsey (33 page)

Samantha fingered the short puffy sleeves and the ruffled silk adorning the off-the-shoulder décolletage and wished Jake were here for yet another reason. She’d like for him to see her in the gown, but...

Tapping at the door made Samantha turn from the mirror. Mrs. Tew stood in the hall clutching an ornate bottle. “Just thought you might like to splash on some of this,” she said as she entered the room. “Mr. Tew brought it all the way from St. Louis for me when he went to visit his sister last year.”

“Oh, Mrs. Tew, I couldn’t.”

“Poppycock. Of course you could. Here, smell,” She stuck the opened bottle under Samantha’s nose and watched as a slow smile spread across her face.

“Roses,” Samantha said, looking up. “My mother used to smell like this.”

“And you shall, too. Now bend closer.”

“But really, I can’t take your toilet water. Besides, it was enough that you fixed my hair.” Samantha patted the curls the older woman had pulled back on the sides and let trail down her back.

“Just a little.” Mrs. Tew dampened her finger and touched it to Samantha’s neck, then her temple, and finally the undersides of her wrists. Mrs. Tew leaned back, smiling her apple-faced grin. “Now you’re ready.”

Samantha gave Mrs. Tew a quick hug then went next door for Will. He was waiting for her, leaning on his crutch, and sporting a clean shirt. His chin dropped when he saw her. “Gee, Sam... I mean Samantha. I never saw you looking like that.”

“Do you like it?” Samantha spun around, listening as the silk rustled around her ankles.

“Well, yeah. I mean it’s real pretty. You’re real pretty.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s just...”

“What?”

“I wish Jake was here.”

The smile faded from Samantha’s face. “Well, he’s not.” She probably wouldn’t mind so much if she hadn’t been thinking the same thing. “Are you ready?”

The Ladies’ Guild and their hard-working husbands had transformed the area in front of the schoolhouse. As they maneuvered through the crowd, Samantha heard comments that this wasn’t the Guild’s best effort, but to her and Will it looked magical.

“Let me see if I can find us a seat. Samantha walked in front of Will, clearing a path. “Are you doing all right?”

“Sure am.” Will swung his broken leg up to meet the crutch he’d planted firmly on the ground. “Would you look at those paper lanterns? Ain’t they grand?”

A string of Oriental-looking lanterns hanging between one corner of the schoolhouse and the sycamore tree in the play yard swung gently in the chilly air. Samantha turned around, taking in the lights, the crowd all dressed in their Sunday best, and the excited gleam on Will’s face, and was very glad she came.

“Let’s go over there, Will.” Samantha pointed to a spot close to where the musicians warmed up—Tommy Morton, the undertaker and cabinet maker, who played the fiddle passably well; old Eli Greenwich, his chaw of tobacco puffing out his cheek, who lovingly strummed the strings of his banjo; and Amanda Phillips, the minister’s wife and piano player, who was trying to get the two men to follow her lead. “You can sit on the stump till I find you something more comfortable. And I think you can see everything pretty well from there.”

By the time Samantha and Will made it through the crowd lining the perimeter of the wood plank dance floor constructed for the event, the stump was occupied by Miss Hannah Criswell. The elderly lady gave Samantha and Will a howdy-do, and even questioned Will about his leg. But she didn’t give up her seat.

“Wait here.” Samantha leaned toward Will’s ear after Miss Hannah returned to watching the dancers square off for a reel. “I’ll find you something to sit on.”

The dancing started and Samantha cut a wide berth around the townsfolk as she headed for the open doors of the schoolhouse. Inside, under the hungry eyes of some of the town’s children, the women of the Guild were setting out rum cakes and cookies, and sandwiches piled high with beef and ham. The punch bowl sat on planks they’d placed with one end on the teacher’s desk and the other on a pile of wooden crates.

“Excuse me.” Samantha stopped in front of Mrs. Weston, who was arranging oatmeal cookies on a platter.

“The cookies are three for a penny, but I get to pick which ones you get,” the woman said without glancing up.

Samantha’s gaze dropped to the cookies, noticing when she did, the charred edges on some of them, then back up at the woman. “I don’t want any cookies. But do you think I could take one of these school benches outside?”

The woman looked up, her mouth pursed. “You’re that Lowery girl, ain’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Samantha had never had much contact with Mrs. Weston, whose husband owned one of the saloons, but she knew the Westons had sympathized with the Confederacy during the war.

“You look fit enough to stand,” Mrs. Weston said, continuing with her task.

“The bench is for my brother, Will. He has a broken leg.” Samantha tried to keep her tone pleasant but her jaw hurt from clenching it.

“Yes, I heard about that.” Mrs. Weston paused. “From the sheriff. Heard you had him running off after Landis Moore.”

“I’ll take
that
bench,” Samantha said, staying only long enough to watch Mrs. Weston’s flabby jaw drop. The older woman recovered quickly though, and before Samantha had lifted the unwieldy bench, she was admonishing her to bring it back when the dances were over, her tone frigid as the threat of sleet.

Biting her tongue to keep her caustic retort from slipping out, Samantha struggled through the door. She didn’t get three steps outside before again being confronted about the bench.

“Hey there, pretty lady. What you doing carrying such a heavy thing? Here, let me take it.”

Before Samantha could object, the bench was hauled out of her arms and up against a burly chest. A boyishly handsome face above that chest smiled down at her. “Where do you want this?”

“I can take it really.”

“Don’t be silly. You just lead the way, little lady, and Amos Smith will follow.”

Thus Samantha was introduced to Amos, a farmer new to the area, and her first partner for the evening. For once he’d deposited the bench, and helped Will settle into it, Amos refused to take any thanks except to lead Samantha around the dance floor in a lively waltz.

Once begun, Samantha seemed unable to stop the flood tide of men, young and old, who asked her to dance. She admitted to herself a liking for the attention, but after a few hours, her feet were aching and her conscience bothering her even more.

After nicely but firmly rejecting the next man who asked her, a tall skinny redhead who bobbed his head several times before weaving off through the crowd, Samantha made her way to Will.

“Oh, I’m sorry for leaving you all alone,” Samantha said, squeezing onto the bench beside her brother.

“That’s all right. I’ve plenty to see. Besides you look like you’re having a good time.”

“I do?” Samantha used her hand to fan her face. “Well, I suppose I am. But I have to tell you my feet feel like Pru’s been clogging on them.” This brought a laugh from Will, and Samantha stood. “Are you hungry? The Ladies’ Guild is selling some nice-looking cakes in there.” Samantha motioned toward the schoolhouse.

After being reminded by Will—a needless precaution—that he didn’t like raisins, Samantha reentered the building. She carefully counted out the few remaining coins she brought from home, refusing to use any of the money Jake had left her. She bought Will two iced cakes and a cup of punch. Balancing her purchases, she stepped through the door, almost running into Peggy Keane.

“Why Samantha Lowery, I didn’t know you were still in town.”

“I am.” Samantha bent down and licked a glob of icing off her hand. “But I’m going back to the farm tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m glad you stayed for the dance. You look so pretty. Wherever did you get that gown?”

“Thank you. It was my mother’s. And as for the dance, Will wanted to—”

“Is that handsome Jake Morgan with you?” Peggy’s eyes scanned the crowd. “I do declare, I don’t know why you hide him off at your farm.”

“Actually, I didn’t hide him anywhere. And no, he’s not here.” Samantha shifted to step around Peggy. “I have to take this to Will,” she began, but Peggy drowned out her words.

“Well, there he is. What’s the idea telling me he isn’t here?”

“Who?” Peggy had stepped in front of her again, the icing was dripping, and Samantha didn’t know what the other woman was talking about.

“Why Mr. Morgan, of course. Did you really think I wouldn’t see him?”

“Jake?” Samantha murmured, then turned to look in the direction of Peggy’s stare. Sure enough, taller than most of the crowd, Jake Morgan was moving toward her. Their eyes met and held, and Samantha felt her pulse begin to race. She honestly thought never to see him again; had tried to accept that he had left them to ride after his own dream. Now as excitement coursed through her, she knew she hadn’t accepted anything.

“Is one of these for me?” He took one of the cakes out of Samantha’s hand while she stood stock-still, staring. “I haven’t eaten since noon, and I’m real hungry.”

Samantha watched as he ate the sweet in three bites. When he reached for the second cake, she found her tongue. “Where have you been?” She pulled her hand back. “This is for Will.”

“Missouri and I’ll buy him another one.” This cake disappeared in two bites.

“But the sheriff said you—”

“May I have a drink of that?”

Samantha gave him the punch and stood hands on hips while he drank it. “I thought they usually perked this stuff up a bit with spirits.”

“I told you, I bought it for Will. Now will you tell me what you’ve been doing for the last four days?”

“Oh Samantha, don’t be an old fuddy duddy,” Peggy scolded her. “Can’t you see this is no place to be talking about riding all over the countryside.” Peggy smiled up at Jake and brushed a cake crumb off his chin. “Besides, they’ve just started a waltz, and Mr. Morgan, I find myself without a partner.”

“She didn’t find herself without a partner for long,” Samantha mumbled to herself as she approached Will. He was leaning forward on the bench, his elbows resting on his knee. He barely noticed the three pieces of cake she set beside him—cake she’d bought with Jake’s money.

“Jake’s back!” Will’s voice was full of excitement. “Did he find you?”

“Yes, he found me. Aren’t you going to eat your food?”

“Yeah, sure.” Will took a dutiful bite. “I told you he’d be back, didn’t I?”

Samantha nodded. “Did he tell you where he’s been and if he found Moore?”

“Nah. He just asked how my leg was feeling and said he wanted to talk to you. Where is he anyway?”

Samantha pointed to the couple she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off. “Over there.”

When the music stopped, Peggy—and Jake—disappeared into the schoolhouse, and Samantha flounced down beside Will. “Hey, what’s wrong? You almost sat on my cake.”

“I’m sorry.” Samantha examined her skirts for icing.

“I’da thought you’d be happy now that Jake’s back.”

“I am.”

“Well, you sure don’t act like it.”

Samantha made no comment to that, keeping her eyes on the doorway. Amos Smith asked her to dance again and she refused, earning herself another questioning look from Will. She was so busy ignoring his stare she didn’t notice Jake was headed her way until he stood beside her holding two cups of punch.

“I drank yours earlier,” he said, handing Will one of the cups. “And this one’s for you. I figured you might be thirsty after all that dancing.”

“Thank you.” Samantha accepted the punch and took a sip. “How do you know I’ve been dancing a lot?”

“Makes sense.” Jake’s eyes raked over her, taking in the ivory smooth shoulders, full breasts, and tiny waist. “The men in this town aren’t stupid, and you’re the prettiest woman here.”

Heat flowed into Samantha’s face and she stared down into her punch, mumbling a quick thank-you.

“I told you she’d been dancing her feet off,” Will interjected, as if Jake had forgotten where he really got the information.

“There was that, too,” Jake admitted, his grin lopsided. He laughed, Samantha joined in, and Will’s expression showed he didn’t know what was the least bit amusing. “I hope you’re not too tired to dance with me,” Jake said, holding out his hand.

“Why no... I...” Samantha felt herself stammering so she just gave up and took his hand. She’d danced with nearly a dozen men this evening and none of them had affected her a bit. Why was this so different?

From the moment Samantha stepped into Jake’s arms, her breath came in shallow gasps. The music was loud, but she was sure he could hear her heart pounding. She was so aware of him as a man she was certain her feet wouldn’t follow his lead.

She cleared her throat, anything to take her mind off being held in his strong arms. “Did you find Landis Moore?”

Jake held her out from him and looked down into her face. “No. I tried, but...”

“The sheriff said he went off into Tennessee.”

“That’s what his uncle said.”

“But you didn’t believe him.”

Jake shrugged. “Let’s not talk about this now.” He held up their joined hands when she started to protest. “I promise I’ll tell you everything later. But for now... it’s been a long time since I danced with a beautiful woman. I want to enjoy it.”

His words filled her with happiness but she couldn’t help giving him a small reminder. “But you just finished waltzing with Peggy Keane.”

The expression on his face before he laughed and pulled her closer made Samantha feel warm all over. And she discovered her nervousness had disappeared. She floated across the plank boards, feeling safe and protected, and positively marvelous... in Jake’s arms.

After the melody had faded into the night, she wanted to hear about Landis Moore, but Amos asked her to dance again. Jake said he’d go keep Will company as if he expected her to accept Amos, so she did.

Shortly after that, the dance ended and all three of them walked back to the hotel, Will in the middle, complaining about how tired he was. They parted at Samantha’s door, Will leaning heavily on his crutch, and Samantha sighed as she went in her room and turned the key.