Keegan's Lady (12 page)

"Maybe we could glue her shoes to the boardwalk," Esa suggested.

"Hell, no. Just toss a lasso over her head and hitch her to a rail until she's heard you out," David called.

Esa laughed. "You ever seen Ace toss a rope? He needs a target big as a barn, and even then he has to stand right on top of it."

Joseph let go of the post and raised his hands. "Okay, you guys, that's enough. It's really not a laughing matter."

"So stop laughing and come up with a suggestion," David challenged.

After checking the post's position with his plumb line, Ace filled the hole full of dirt, packed it, and then kicked the stout length of wood. "She's in tight," he pronounced as he returned the weighted string to his pocket.

Joseph sidled along behind him to the next post that lay waiting. "The way I see it, what you have to do is show the poor girl you aren't a barbarian," he told Ace. "Like maybe present her with flowers or something."

"Ace, packin' flowers on
Main Street
?" David hooted. "God, let me have my box camera handy when that moment comes."

"He could take her candy," Esa suggested.

"That might work." Joseph turned to look at his oldest brother. "We could spruce you up some. Get rid of the gun, put you in a suit. You'd clean up nice."

"And a bowler hat," Esa added. "One of them checkered ones."

Letting the sledge settle at his feet, Ace folded his hands over the carved end of the handle. "I hope you boys are about finished. I don't mind you laughing at my expense, but what about Caitlin? As it stands, she believes her new neighbors are rapists and killers. Maybe that doesn't bother you, but it does me."

Joseph picked up the post. "So what's your idea? Do you even have one?"

Hefting the sledge for his next swing, Ace stood back while Joseph upended the post into the hole. "Well, no two ways around it, I need to make things right with the girl. I like the idea of a public place. She'd feel safer with people around. But how and when? Near as I can tell, she seldom goes to town."

"She attends the community church. They got one of them there preachers who don't cotton to any one religion," Esa explained. "What's that called?"

"Nondenominational," Ace said, shaking his head. "I swear, boy, you sound like a cracker. Your pa would turn over in his grave if he heard you."

Joseph pressed a hand over his heart. "Well, ain't you some pumpkins. Not all of us got our shine by rubbing elbows with the folks at gambling tables, you know."

Ace gave a loud snort. "I got my shine, as you call it, by listening to our mother and trying to emulate her. You would do well to do the same." He glanced back at Esa. "You're sure Caitlin O'Shannessy attends the community church?"

"Leastways, she used to."

"How do you know that, Esa?" Joseph asked.

"By readin' the paper these last five years."

"The No Name Gazette?” Ace asked.

Esa nodded. "While you were following all the important headlines about folks here wantin' a railroad spur, Eden and Ma was keepin' tabs on the society page. I reckon because they knew they'd move here someday. Anyhow, sometimes Ma would read the articles out loud. About all the dances and socials and such. Who went with who, and what lady wore what. She and Eden have a keen interest in that kind of thing. Anyhow, one of the things I learned by listenin' was that Caitlin O'Shannessy attends community church real regular."

"Will wonders never cease," Joseph inserted. "Our Esa, keepin' tabs on No Name's high society."

Ace sent Joseph a warning glance. To Esa, he said, "Go on."

"Go on with what?" Esa asked.

Striving to keep his patience, Ace said, "Tell me more."

"No more to tell. She goes to church regular like, that's all, and helps with all the ladies' club functions that raise money for the poor."

"There's a social and dance comin' up on Saturday night," David said. "I saw the church poster when I was in town the other day."

"A dance would be perfect," Joseph said. "All joking aside, Ace. She'd have lots of people around to make her feel secure, and you could approach her without raising any notice. Men approach ladies at dances all the time."

"Yeah," Esa agreed. "Even if she doesn't want to dance, it'd give you a chance to tell her you're sorry. At a function like that, it ain't likely her brother would cause any trouble, either."

Ace tried to envision himself attending a small-town social. Not that he was a stranger to dancing. He just hadn't danced with any ladies in a good long while. "I don't know. A church social? I haven't attended something like that in years."

"Better that than to make a fool of yourself tryin' to talk to her out on the street," Joseph observed.

Ace guessed that was true.

"Besides," Joseph went on, "socials aren't really all that churchy."

"Heck, no. To raise money, they gotta charge admission," David explained. "The public is invited. All kinds of people go. You see men steppin' out to sneak a swig or have a smoke. That kind of thing.”

Ace glanced down. "I'm a long way from small-town respectable."

Joseph chuckled. "The roof of the community hall won't cave in on you, Ace. Trust me."

"I’ll go with you," David offered. "I was plannin' on it, anyway."

"We'll all go," Joseph declared. He flashed Ace a teasing grin. "This is one social I don't want to miss."

***

On Saturday night, Caitlin felt uneasy about attending the social. First of all, Ace Keegan might be there, and she couldn't think of anything worse than running into him. Secondly, it had been only three weeks since Patrick had quit drinking, and there would be temptations galore at a social.

"Patrick," she said as he parked their wagon along the boardwalk in front of the general store, "I know we've been over this, but are you sure you're going to be able to handle this tonight? I really wouldn't mind a quiet evening at home."

He tied off the reins and set the wagon brake. "You've been planning to attend this social for over a month, and you worked all day yesterday helping to get the hall ready. How do you think I'd feel if I spoiled it for you?"

"There'll be lots of other socials, Paddy. I don't—"

"Exactly," he said with a gentle smile. "Lots of other socials, and at every single one, there'll be liquor. I can't spend the rest of my life hiding from it."

"Staying away from liquor for a month or so isn't exactly what I would term hiding from it for the rest of your life."

He looked deeply into her eyes. "Caitlin, I know I haven't given you much cause to have faith in me, but can't you at least try?"

The plea in his gaze made Caitlin feel ashamed of herself. "Oh, Patrick, of course I have faith in you. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"Well, stop worrying. I'm going to be fine. With someone like you to help me over the rough spots, how can I fail?" He vaulted down from the wagon, then stepped around to the side. "Lord. What all did you bring? Looks like we'll need a small horse to carry it."

"Gertie Howard got sick yesterday. She was supposed to bring a custard. I volunteered to bake one for her." Hoping no one up the street was watching, Caitlin gathered her rose-colored skirts and jumped down beside her brother. It wasn't ladylike, she knew, but it seemed silly to pester Patrick when she was capable of getting down by herself. "It's only three things to carry."

With a wink to let her know he'd only been teasing, he handed her the custard dish, keeping the pan-dowdy and loaf of bread to carry himself. Catching her worried look, he made an exasperated sound under his breath. "Caitlin, would you stop? I'll be fine, I promise. Let's go. I can hear the fiddlers warming up."

As she joined him on the boardwalk, she tucked the custard dish under her arm, moistened her fingertips, and tried to smooth his cowlick. He chuckled and pushed at her hand. "Don't do that. Someone'll see. Next thing I know, you'll be spitting on your fingers and washing my face like you used to when I was little."

"I never!"

He laughed. "You did so. Almost every Sunday on the church steps. I hated it. You got any idea how spit feels on your face after it dries? Kinda like egg whites."

Caitlin flashed him a sidelong glance. "How would you know how egg whites feel on your face after they dry?" Sudden understanding dawned. "Patrick O'Shannessy, don't tell me you tried one of my facial masks?"

"Only once." A flush crept up his neck. "I thought it might help fade my freckles. It seemed to work good on yours." He narrowed an eye. "You tell a single soul, and you're dead."

She giggled, trying to picture her brother with white foam all over his face. "Did you use lemon?"

"Lemon? For what?"

"That's what bleaches the freckles, silly." Unable to stop herself, she went up on her toes to take another swipe at his hair. "Honestly, Paddy, it's standing straight on end."

"I don't care," he said, batting her hand away. "I like looking rumpled." A twinkle crept into his eyes. "If I listened to you, I'd be so handsome the women wouldn't leave me alone, and then where would I be? Married most likely, and wouldn't that be a heck of a note? Then I'd have two women trying to straighten my hair all the time."

Caitlin sighed and rolled her eyes. As she fell into step beside him, he ran his fingers through his hair, making deep furrows in the wiry red curls. She itched to fix it, but resisted the urge, concentrating instead on the lovely evening.

It was just turning dark, and on the horizon, a splendorous sunset wreathed the
Rockies
. The glow washed the weathered clapboard storefronts with pink and reflected off the windows. Above the rooftops, scattered pines rose like royal sentinels, their wind-twisted tops cast in silhouette against a granite sky.

"Looks to be quite a turnout," Patrick commented as they passed several other wagons. "Hope it's not so crowded inside that people can't dance."

"It's so nice tonight, folks may drift outside." She hurried to keep up as they crossed an alley that ran between the buildings. As they stepped up onto the next boardwalk, she said, "Mmm. The smell of that bread is making me hungry."

"It does smell good. So do the apples in this pandowdy." He flashed her a grin. "Would you just listen to that fiddle music?" Tucking both the bread and dessert under one arm, he grasped her by the elbow. "Let's pick up our pace."

She gave a breathless laugh. "Who's been looking forward to this social?"

"Guilty as charged. Since I gave up the bottle, I've gone from bein' a gadabout to stayin' at home. I admit, I'm lookin' forward to some socializing."

The community hall, a sprawling log structure, was located at the end of the street, the last block of which was home to a variety of businesses, including the Silver Spur, the town's only saloon. Caitlin didn't miss the slightly wistful glance Patrick sent toward the drinking establishment as they walked past, and she knew he was wondering how many of his friends were inside. No doubt he missed the comradery.

Catching her worried look, he flashed a strained smile. "I'm fine, Caitlin. Really, I am." His gaze snagged on the dress shop window. "Well, now, would you look at that? If that's not your color blue, I don't know what is."

Caitlin slowed her pace to study the dress on display. "It is pretty, isn't it? A few too many ruffles, though. Don't you think?"

"You could use a few more ruffles. Practically all I see you in nowadays is britches."

"I can't very well do ranch work in a skirt and petticoats."

He steered her around an uneven board in the walkway. "Yeah, well. Now that I'm tending to business like I should, you aren't going to have to do as much of the ranch work, and when our profit margins start to go up, one of the first things I'm gonna do is buy you some dresses just like that one. What do you think of that?"

Caitlin thought of the payment she'd had Hank Simmons deliver to Ace Keegan's ranch a couple of weeks ago. It had been little more than a drop in the bucket. "I think it will be a while before we can afford frivolities, that's what I think," she said.

"Not that long. My investment in the railroad spur land should be paying off soon."

Caitlin preferred not to think about that. Although she'd come to accept it, the fact that Patrick had done such a thing still rankled. She supposed, if she were practical, she would thank her lucky stars. If the investment paid off, as Patrick hoped, the extra money might save their bacon.

"New dresses would be lovely, Patrick, but I can do very well with what I have for a while."

"Very well? You got that gown you're wearing on your seventeenth birthday. I remember "cause I worked at the livery stable mucking out stalls for almost a month to buy it for you."

Remembering how hard Patrick had worked to buy her the dress was the final nudge Caitlin needed to set her bitter feelings aside. Over all, Patrick had been a wonderful brother. His recent mistakes shouldn't be allowed to overshadow that.

"And a fine job you did of picking it out," she said, smoothing the skirt. "After all this time, it's still my favorite, and it's in amazingly good shape, don't you think?"