Liz Ireland (6 page)

“Oh!”

“Shh.” This time, a smile touched his lips. “We don’t want to wake the ladies, now, do we?”

If it wouldn’t have meant dropping Buck on his head, she would have slapped the man. “Why Lysander Beasley had to look all the way across the country just to find a schoolteacher, I’ll never know.”

Jake had been wondering that himself. Yet, at this precise moment, he was enjoying teasing Cecilia too much to worry about it. Her honey blond hair appeared almost white in the faint light, and her blue eyes were two dark, flashing pools. For a moment, as his eyes fastened on her full lips, he regretted that they were adversaries.

Nevertheless, that’s what they were.

“I should have thought that was obvious,” he said at last. “Yankees are smarter.”

Her mouth dropped open at his audacity, making Jake unable to hold back a chuckle. The lady wanted to belt him. Fortunately for him, they were approaching his door. Getting Buck in the room was going to take some fancy maneuvering.

Gingerly, he shifted his weight so that Buck was propped on his shoulder, which freed Jake’s hand for the doorknob. The entrance was too narrow for three people abreast, so they shuffled through one at a time, swaying in a jerky little dance.

Finally, the trio arrived at the bed.

“Pull down the covers,” Cecilia said.

“What for?”

She gaped at him as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “We just can’t throw him on the bed. Pull down the covers.”

Only a woman, Jake thought, shaking his head. “That’s crazy. But if keeping your sweetheart warm means so much to you,
you
pull them back.”

“He’s not my sweetheart!” she snapped. “Besides, you’re closer.”

A quick glance toward the bed confirmed she was right. But this was silly. “You can’t hold him up by yourself.”

It was the wrong argument to make. “Who says?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Let’s not bicker. If you insist, I’ll turn down your damned covers.”

“There’s no need to resort to profanity, Mr. Pendergast,” she said haughtily, “just because you’re faced with ceding your meager but typical male show of strength to a woman.”

Jake relinquished his hold on Buck and stepped away, watching Cecilia stagger under the sudden burden. “Is that what I’m doing?” he asked innocently.

She weaved and leaned precariously for a moment before getting Buck’s bulk under control. “For heaven’s sakes!” she cried. “I almost dropped him, thanks to you.”

“Thanks to the loss of my meager strength, you mean?”

Cecilia rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Yes.”

From Dolly’s room across the hall, Jake heard stirring. He looked anxiously at Cecilia, who was glaring at him. Suddenly, an idea struck him.

Why not? he thought.

“Well,” he said, in his primmest Pendergast tone, “I am glad to know that you’ll thank me for something. And now I suggest you put this man to bed.”

Cecilia frowned, but followed his very logical suggestion. Her bent frame was about to snap in two from Buck’s weight. With Pendergast lifting not a finger to help, she shuffled closer to the bed.

“You need to turn the other way,” he said, calculating.

Cecilia puffed out an exasperated breath. She should have just pulled back the damned covers and left Pendergast to do the lifting. “But that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “That would put me between him and the bed.”

“Trust me,” Pendergast said.

Foolishly, but just wanting to get this all over with, she did. Gathering her last vestiges of strength, she pivoted herself and Buck around so that the backs of her thighs were pinned against the mattress.

“I told you this was all wrong,” she said.

Pendergast smiled, and behind him, Cecilia heard the opening of a door, then approaching footsteps. Dolly! “Oh, no!” she whispered, looking at him entreatingly. “Do something!”

He nodded obligingly, and then, with an evil little grin, put two fingers to Buck’s back and gave him a gentle but firm shove. The slight pressure was enough to throw Cecilia completely off-balance, and she yelped helplessly as she felt herself falling, falling—and saw Buck poised to land right on top of her!

They hit the cotton batting and down mattress with a dull thud just as Dolly scurried into the room.

“What is happening!” she cried, trying to make sense of the mass of arms and legs entangled on the bed. Cecilia let out a winded moan, and Dolly’s eyes widened.

“Don’t, Mrs. Hudspeth,” Jake urged, enjoying himself immensely as he took her arm to steer her toward the door. “Don’t look on it.”

Dolly dug in her heels. “But that’s—that’s Cecilia under that man!”

Cecilia let out a muffled cry and began to struggle to free herself.

“I’ve never witnessed such a scandal,” Jake said in a low voice. “I never dreamed such things went on in respectable houses!”

Dolly’s hand flew to her mouth, her friend forgotten momentarily at the mention of the word
scandal
. “They don’t!” She looked at Cecilia, puzzled. “But who is that on top of her?”

“Dolly, for heaven’s sake!” Cecilia yelled, poking her head free. “It’s just Buck. Get me out of here!”

Jake’s hopes faltered. If only he’d had time to think this through better...

Dolly paled. “Buck?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper. “Buck McDeere?”

“Yes!” Cecilia said. “What other Buck is there?”

Jake began to worry when Dolly swayed, high color returning to her cheeks in a sudden rush. The woman looked drunk herself! Tears appeared in her eyes, and her mouth twisted in an attempt to hold back a cry.

“Mrs. Hudspeth?” he said, concerned, grasping her arm more firmly.

She shook her head mutely, lifting her hand to her mouth. The tears she’d been attempting so valiantly to hold back gushed forth. Without a word, she pivoted on her slippers and ran from the room.

Jake looked after the woman in silence, wondering what on earth had happened.

Sputtering, Cecilia finally extricated herself and flew off the bed in a rage. “You planned that!” she accused sharply.

Jake crossed his arms and faced her squarely. “And you sent that man to try to get me drunk.”

Her jaw dropped open, then popped closed. “You can’t prove anything.”

For his money, she might as well have admitted her guilt outright. Jake smiled. “All right,” he said. “We neither of us have behaved very well tonight. I think we should call a truce.”

She pressed her lips together and glared at him stubbornly. “Truce, my foot! My best friend is terribly upset, my reputation is on shaky ground, and I’ll probably be sent home because of this.”

To Jake, her words were like a balm.

“And as for you,” she continued, “what do you have to complain about? You aren’t even tipsy!”

Jake nodded toward Buck’s sleeping form and shrugged. “Your friend was rather transparent in his designs.”

Cecilia crossed her arms. “I should have known I needed to handle this problem myself.”

“I don’t think getting loaded up on hooch at Grady’s would have done your reputation any good, either.”

“Very funny,” she said with a scowl.

Now that he had the upper hand, Jake was much more relaxed. Cecilia Summertree had learned her lesson; the woman would probably stop deviling him. Which led to another happy thought—they would no longer be adversaries, after all.

He took in her pretty, pouting mouth, the lips a luscious pink from where she had worried them with her teeth. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Although her nightgown came up to her neck and was perfectly proper, its snowy white folds, and the womanly curves they covered, were as inviting as a warm bed on a cold night.

Jake swallowed hard as he looked into her blue eyes. She appeared likewise mesmerized, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but no longer from anger. He reached out, and she stepped back.

“You’re wrong, you know,” he said, taking another step forward.

“About what?” Her voice came out in a wary, squeaky whisper.

“I do have something to complain about.” He continued toward her, and she continued backing up until she backed right into a table.

“Wh-what?”

“No bed.” He nodded lazily in the direction of Buck, never taking his eyes off her. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

A little shiver tremored through Cecilia. She’d gone too far this time. Why hadn’t she left as soon as she’d untangled herself from Buck? Innocuous words like
bed
and
sleep
sounded woefully intimate when you were alone with a man in his room. His dark room. Especially when your only champion was out cold.

Looking into his eyes had been the big mistake. She glanced at him, and then remembered that troublesome dream. Nightmare, she corrected. She’d remembered those smoldering eyes, and then that kiss, and...and then he’d started prowling toward her like a prairie wolf stalking a rabbit.

She was trapped, she thought, reaching back to steady herself. Her hands bumped against something hard and smooth. The washbasin! Heart beating rapidly, she felt around and found what she was looking for.

Jake smiled. Cecilia looked up at him, her eyes shy and a shade coy. She was beautiful. He understood why Buck was so smitten.

“Do you have any suggestions?” he asked, bending closer.

Her eyes widened when he touched her arm. “Oh, you mean to solve your little problem?”

“Uh-huh.” He nibbled at the soft lobe of her right ear.

“Yes, yes, I think I do,” she answered, gritting her teeth. She would never have taken the schoolteacher of yesterday, with his tight vest and floodwater pants, to be such a slimy lecher. But then, neither would she have guessed that she would find herself tempted by him in the least. Yet looking into those dark eyes, she could almost imagine allowing herself to find out if the man kissed as well in real life as he did in her dreams....

Almost.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, and she broke out in a wide grin. “What is it?” he asked.

“Just this.” Reaching from behind, she produced a white pitcher and flung half its contents in his face.

Jake let out a muttered curse as the water hit him, then dripped down his shirtfront. Reflexively, he stepped backward, shaking the water from his hands.

“I suggest you sleep on the floor,” Cecilia said. Then, with a last disdainful glance, she turned and ran from the room.

C
ecilia swept the kitchen with long, energetic strokes. She had known Pendergast was going to be trouble, she’d just underestimated how much.

At breakfast this morning he’d been the soul of courtesy. The man hadn’t cracked a smile or even looked at her funny, nothing to indicate he was the wolf who had cornered her in his bedroom the night before. The closest he’d come to communicating anything at all to her was to compliment her ironing!

After Pendergast left for school, she’d run up to his room to check on Buck, who was nowhere to be seen. Which was good, since he needed to get back to the ranch. Unfortunately she was dying to know what had happened last night—
before
she’d heard him singing.

She prayed Buck would make up something to tell her father, any excuse for her not coming home. Sooner or later she would have to tend to placating him herself; she couldn’t rely on Buck forever. But for now, it was necessary to watch Pendergast like a hawk. If her suspicions were true and he wasn’t a schoolteacher after all, he was bound to slip up.

And even if he didn’t slip up on his own, he was bound to catch hell when those readers were discovered missing. She practically rubbed her hands in glee at the thought. Where finances were involved, Beasley wouldn’t care who had actually been responsible for the theft, he would just want to have someone to blame. Pendergast was doomed.

But she would have to keep her wits about her. Last night she’d almost let the man kiss her—for no reason other than some silly little dream she’d had! Never in her life had Cecilia considered herself fickle, and now, with the enemy at her gate, was not the time to start behaving like a complete ninny.

The front door opened and closed, and Cecilia braced herself.
What if this was Pendergast?
She was alone in the house, except for Mrs. Baker, who couldn’t hear anything anyway. What if he tried to corner her like he had last night?

Footsteps sounded in the kitchen doorway and Cecilia jumped with a startled intake of breath. Dolly stared at her oddly, then sniffed, raised her head proudly and continued on in.

Cecilia sighed. Of course it wasn’t Pendergast! Why would a schoolteacher be home before midmorning?

Besides, as she watched Dolly pointedly ignoring her, she realized she had other problems to tackle. It seemed just about everyone in town had a beef against her. She walked to the small table and picked up the wrapped package from Beasley’s that Dolly had put there.

“What’s this?” she asked, attempting to break the silence between them. Dolly hadn’t spoken a word to her since fleeing from Pendergast’s bedroom the night before.

“Yeast.”

And that, Cecilia gathered, was all Dolly intended to say about that. “Are you going to bake something?” she persisted.

Dolly continued to ignore her, but made an abundance of noise as she gathered things she would need. “Bread.”

A wave of dread went through Cecilia. Given the positioning of her little room, baking bread in the oven meant she baked, too. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, trying to keep her voice chipper.

The lighthearted tone appeared to be her friend’s undoing. Suddenly, Dolly’s shoulders sagged, then trembled, and she clasped a hand over her mouth. She shook her head as she leaned over the sink, and Cecilia could tell by the way the muscles in her jaw clenched and twitched that she was in the final throes of fighting back tears.

“Dolly, what is it?” she asked, scurrying over. She put an arm around Dolly’s shoulders, but the woman shrugged it away. “Is it me? What have I done?”

Red faced, chest heaving, Dolly turned on her. “
Done?
” she asked, her voice steely. She dashed an errant tear from her cheek. “I think you know, Cecilia.”

Cecilia stared at her, stupefied. “If it’s about last night—”

A sharp accusatory laugh erupted from Dolly’s chest.

“I know it looked strange,” Cecilia said, but Dolly stopped her by holding a hand toward her, palm out. “I can explain,” Cecilia insisted. “Well, most of it.”

“Don’t,” Dolly said. “I’m going to have to tell your father the next time I see him, Cecilia. I don’t think you ought to stay here.”

A flush suffused Cecilia’s cheeks. She was being thrown out. Thrown out. Just like yesterday, when Pendergast tossed her out of the schoolhouse. How the mighty had fallen.

“You can’t, Dolly,” she pleaded. “It wasn’t how it looked. And you know how my poor father would react. It would kill him, or else he would kill me.”

Dolly’s mouth remained set in a firm, taut line. And then Cecilia detected a quiver. And then another. And then a cry erupted, a sad little moan. Dolly barely made it to one of the woven-backed chairs around the table before she collapsed.

“Oh, Cecilia,” she wailed, “you wouldn’t understand!”

At this rate, Cecilia feared she never would. She hurried over and put a comforting hand on Dolly’s shoulder. “You must explain to me what is wrong. Maybe there’s something I can do to set things right again.”

Dolly’s head shook to and fro. “You’re so pretty and young, you’ll think I’m foolish.”

“For what?” asked Cecilia, astonished.

“For hoping that...” She let the sentence trail off, leaving Cecilia still mystified. “And then, seeing you together...”

Slowly, understanding dawned. Somehow, Dolly must have sensed that there was something going on between her and Pendergast. Of course, there
wasn’t,
nothing besides animosity, nothing at all. What a horrible misconception!

“Oh, no, Dolly, you’re wrong.” As Dolly’s eyes peered at her in hope, Cecilia shook her head decisively. “I have no interest in him whatsoever, nor he in me. Not the kind you mean, anyway.”

She didn’t know what to say next, but she felt in her heart of hearts it was her duty to dissuade Dolly from pinning her hopes on Pendergast. True, he was a bachelor, of a marriageable age and arguably attractive after a fashion, but Cecilia had serious misgivings about his character. Overall, they knew very little about this man. Also, if she had her way, he would soon be a man with no means of employment.

But before she could speak further, Dolly said, “That’s not true, Cecilia. Perhaps you don’t like him, but he’s been flirting with you for five years.”

“Five years!” Cecilia said, astonished again. “But Mr. Pendergast just got here a few days ago!”

Dolly gaped at her. “Mr. Pendergast? What has he to do with any of this?”

“But that’s who you mean, isn’t it?” Cecilia asked, perplexed. “Who else—”

An unbelievable possibility occurred to Cecilia, cutting her sentence short. She felt herself go pale as the blood drained from her cheeks. “Dolly, you can’t mean...”

Fresh tears spilled freely down Dolly’s face, and she nodded miserably. “Yes!” she cried.

“But you can’t possibly...” She hardly knew how to put it into words.

Dolly did it for her. “It’s Buck! I love him terribly!”

How else? Cecilia stared at her friend in horror. And disbelief. “Buck?” she asked, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice. “Buck McDeere?”

“When I saw you two together, Cecilia, I felt something die inside me,” Dolly said, wiping her eyes with a wrinkled soggy handkerchief.

“But, Dolly,” Cecilia said, still trying to cope with her friend’s initial pronouncement, “Buck?”

“You’re just a snob, Cecilia,” Dolly said harshly. “You think he’s unsuitable because he works for your father!” Cecilia took offense at those words. True, she had her faults, but this wasn’t one of them. “You’re wrong, Dolly. I wouldn’t condemn a man for doing honest work. But, think. When you saw him last night, he was passed-out drunk!”

Dolly shot her an accusing glare. “That obviously didn’t deter you from playing fast and loose with him while he was vulnerable.”

Cecilia’s mouth popped open in astonishment. “He fell on top of me!” she defended. “Truly, Dolly, that’s absolutely all there was to it.”

Suddenly, Dolly’s eyes cleared. For a moment she gazed doubtfully at Cecilia, as if the news was too good to be true. “Honestly?” she asked, blinking.

“I swear it,” Cecilia said. “But nevertheless...Buck? Dolly, he drinks, and goodness knows what else. He spends half his life at Grady’s.”

Dolly smiled radiantly, as if Cecilia’s words had conjured the image of a saint for her. “You’re wrong, Cecilia. No one is a lost cause. I’m sure, deep inside, Buck McDeere has it in him to be a great man, if someone would just set him straight.”

Cecilia released a frustrated breath. “I’m not certain about that....”

“I know what you’re really thinking.” Dolly looked at her sharply and sniffed. “You think I’m too old.”

“The thought never entered my mind.” Which was the truth. Cecilia had been too stunned to think things through even that far. “But now that you mention it, wouldn’t you prefer someone more...mature?”

Dolly lifted her chin proudly. “I’m not yet thirty, after all, and Buck is nearly twenty-four. If our sexes were reversed, no one would blink an eye at the difference.”

Everything she said was true. Still, Cecilia had serious misgivings. She was so used to thinking of Buck as a clown, or a pest, like a fly persistently buzzing around that needed to be swatted away. Considering him as a serious marriage partner—for anyone—was a stretch. But especially one for Dolly, who always seemed overly concerned with appearances and having things done properly.

What couldn’t be denied was that Dolly was still young, and pretty, and had endured four lonely years of widowhood. She deserved love in her life, but men, good ones, were scarce—at least in Annsboro, which hadn’t become the boomtown people like Lysander Beasley had hoped. And so Buck had become a serious prospect by default, especially since lately he was coming by more often to see Cecilia.

“I suppose I can see where he might be molded into marriage material,” Cecilia allowed grudgingly, feeling half-responsible for the catastrophe.

Dolly shook her head emphatically. “I wouldn’t want to change him.”

“You’d take him as he is?” If so, Dolly had gone bug crazy.

“Well...”

Cecilia breathed a sigh of relief. At least her friend hadn’t gone completely over the edge. Oh, but what a mess. She had no idea what Buck thought of Dolly—if he thought of her at all. But what difference did any of this make to her? She was about to be packed off to the ranch, never to gossip again, except on the occasional revival day. It was too pathetic.

And then, miraculously, an idea occurred to her through the murk of her despair. If she played her cards carefully, she just might hold disaster at bay for a precious while.

“Oh, how terrible,” she gasped, sounding an alarming note.

Dolly’s eyes snapped open wide. “What is it?”

Cecilia worried her lip to calculated effect. “Oh, nothing.”

“Yes, it is so something,” Dolly said. “Is it about Buck?”

Cecilia spoke her next words carefully. “I feel so sympathetic to your plight, Dolly. But unfortunately, once I go home, Buck probably won’t come to town so much. Really, I’ll be helpless to give you a hand.”

Dolly straightened alertly.

“I might hint to him about you,” Cecilia reasoned, “but I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to know the extent of your feelings. Not before you know his.”

“Oh, no.” Dolly looked horrified at the thought. “He can’t find out what I just told you!”

“Hmm.” She wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. “With me back at home, this might be hard to maneuver.”

“Oh, Cecilia!” Dolly’s eyes were pleading, the set of her shoulders contrite. “If you’ll just do this one thing, I swear I’ll never tell your father about last night. I was only going to because...I was jealous.”

Cecilia felt a pang of guilt for manipulating her friend this way. If her livelihood and her liberty weren’t at stake, she wouldn’t have stooped to such conniving. “If you had just asked me, you would have known there was nothing to be jealous of.”

Dolly’s face reddened with shame. “It was foolish of me, but I was afraid you would laugh if I told you how I felt about Buck.”

Cecilia swallowed. “Not at all.”

“Then you’ll do your best to bring Buck around?” Dolly asked.

“Of course.”

Dolly clapped her hands together. “I want to make a new dress, and I saw the sweetest little pattern at Beasley’s! I’ve got the perfect material for it upstairs—I’ll get it and show you.”

She flew out of her chair and bounded up the stairs, leaving Cecilia still sitting in a stupor. How on earth was she going to manage to get Buck to fall in love with Dolly? She chewed her lip in deep thought. If she didn’t manage to succeed, she wondered, would Dolly exact some kind of revenge?

She would have to get busy—both on Buck and on Pendergast. Because if she didn’t bring Buck around, she might well end up on the ranch anyway. And then she’d never be able to oust the suspicious schoolteacher from his job!

* * *

Ten-year-old Beatrice Beasley sat on the topmost schoolhouse stair, waiting for her teacher. Two nut brown braids fell over her yellow checked pinafore, neat as you please. Generous freckles dotted her face and hands, made darker by a summer exposed to the sun. Nevertheless, she held her hands primly in her lap atop her schoolbook. Her big brown eyes, magnified by round spectacles, were focused adoringly on Mr. Pendergast, who was just shutting the building for the day.

At her feet was her dog, Mr. Wiggles, an old yellow hound that was treated by the entire town as if he was a queen’s precious lapdog. The faithful animal roamed Annsboro all day until it was time to fetch his mistress home from school. Though the dog was sometimes known to be troublesome, Lysander Beasley, who because of his social status was always fearful his daughter was at risk of abduction, wouldn’t allow a word to be spoken against the animal.

Catching sight of Bea and her hound, Jake let out an exasperated sigh. The child tormented him. Just seeing her bespectacled little face made him go clammy with fear. Of all the children in school, Lysander Beasley’s daughter was the smartest. Smarter than her teacher, which gave Jake nightmares. Sometimes he imagined that even Mr. Wiggles could see right through his ruse.