Reclaimed Love: Banished Saga, Book Two (38 page)

“Mrs. Bouchard,” Aidan said in an elegant French accent, causing her to flutter her eyelashes and giggle at him. He wiped at his mouth with the thin cotton napkin before pulling on the tailored cuffs of his white shirt. His impersonal smile did not reach his eyes as they shone with wary amusement as she neared.

Heavy footsteps heralded Mrs. Bouchard’s approach. Tonight she wore a crimson satin dress with silver buttons. Lace at her wrists, neck and hem highlighted the bright red. Aidan turned to smile absently at her, in no way welcoming her to join us.

“Do you have a good reason why this young lady has been absent from the library?” she demanded in her carrying voice, thrusting her hands on her well-endowed hips. She lifted a hand as though to chastise me but then raised it to her neck to itch around the lace. A bright red mark, matching her dress, bloomed there from her scratching.

I cringed as other diners became interested and listened to our conversation. “I sent word with my brother, Mr. Sullivan”—I waved in his direction—“to Mr. Pickens about what detained me.”

“Mr. Pickens? Mr. Pickens?” she gasped, placing one hand on her now heaving bosom though the only exertion she had done was breathe. “Why on earth would you entrust such vital information with that man?”

“If that is all, Mrs. Bouchard?” Aidan asked in his most solicitous tone. “I’m sure your young assistant will return to her post tomorrow, none the worse for wear,” he said, in a mild tone that brooked no argument.

I nodded in agreement.

She flushed with indignation before flouncing away in a huff. I momentarily pitied her companion until I realized it was Mrs. Vaughan and any sympathy vanished.

“The old bat,” Aidan whispered. “Though she isn’t a bat, because she’s so deaf she has to yell all the time.” He shook his head in wonder. “All she wanted was a better look at the two of you together,” he said, nodding at Gabriel and me. “She’s been most curious about you.”

“I wish we could have avoided her,” I said.

“There’s one like her in every town, Clarissa. At least she’s not malicious,” Gabriel murmured, playing with my fingers under the table. We finished our meal, but remained at the table, enjoying each other’s company over cups of coffee for the men and a cup of sassafras tea for me.

“Ah, it’s grand we are all together,” Gabriel said.

“I just wish Richard and Jeremy were here too,” Aidan replied.

Gabriel was on the verge of replying but was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, wiry man with shocking red hair and a deep booming voice. “Gabriel.” He was not quite as tall as Gabriel, but taller than Colin.

“Seb,” Gabriel replied with a grin and a quick handshake. Gabriel’s voice, nearly as deep, was much quieter and sounded only like a hum in comparison. “Mr. Carlin, may I introduce Miss Sullivan and my uncle, Mr. McLeod? You know Colin.”

More handshakes and nods, and then he pulled up a chair to join us. “How are things, Gabe?” Sebastian asked.

“Well enough.”

“Good, good. I was happy to see that all was fine now with the missus and little ones this afternoon,” he said.

I choked on my sip of tea at the word
missus
, and Colin helpfully pounded on my back. I glanced between the two men, unsure what was going on.

“It’s not seemly, Gabe,” Sebastian said in his deep voice. Even though seated, he appeared to be in constant motion. His hands gestured; his hips moved from side to side or rocked forward in his chair; his head bobbed when he made a point. But his eyes were the most expressive aspect of him because they were a rich honey brown that eloquently showed his feelings.

“She’s no one’s
missus
, Seb,” Gabe said, taking a small sip of coffee. “Not anymore.”

“But if she’s to be yours…” he started, with another long look.

Gabe just watched him with a curious expression. “What is it, Seb?” he asked. When he saw Sebastian hesitate, he said, “You’re among friends. The restaurant is virtually empty. What is it that you want to say?”

I saw Gabriel’s jaw twitch, betraying his tension.

Sebastian spoke in a fast, low voice. “I’m saying that it ain’t right to play that good woman false just ’cause your other lady love come to town.”

I gasped. Colin started pounding me on the back again, though for no reason because I’d not had a sip of tea, and Aidan started to laugh. I glared at Aidan as I tried to edge away from Colin and his overzealous desire to aid me.

“Young man, if you want her so badly, then go ask her if she’ll have you,” Aidan said to Sebastian.

I saw Gabriel smile, then Colin’s arrested expression and realized belatedly the reason for Sebastian’s concern.

Sebastian fidgeted worse than before. Tapping his foot, running his hand around the brim of his hat, moving around on his seat. “I didn’t mean that,” he protested.

“I think you did,” Aidan said, watching him, a grin playing around his mouth.

“She’d never want the likes of me when she could have someone like…”

“She can’t,” Gabriel said, watching his friend. “She can’t have me, Seb. She’s always known that. It’s only the gossips of this town that made it seem we were ever more than friends.” He glowered toward where Mrs. Bouchard and Mrs. Vaughan had sat. “So all that’s stopping you is you.”

“How’s Nicholas?” I asked, joining the discussion.

“He’s a pistol.” Sebastian glowed as he spoke of him. “Such a great kid. I’m teachin’ him songs from the mill.”

“Do you play marbles?” I asked.

“You bet,” Sebastian said with a smile. “Nicky and I are to have a tournament.”

“It’s nice you have a nickname for Mrs. Egan’s children.” I took a sip of the sassafras tea as I hid my smile with my teacup. “You seem quite taken with little Nicholas.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Sebastian asked. “Mrs. Egan’s doing a fine job raising those two youngsters on her own.”

“Hmm … yes, on her own,” Colin said with a wink in my direction.

“Think about it, Seb,” Gabriel said. “She’ll be needing support and protection again soon, from the likes of…” He broke off, and they shared a long stare. Sebastian nodded, seeming to be lost in thought.

I yawned. “I must beg your pardon.” I stifled another yawn. “Colin?” I looked toward him.

“Hmm … oh, yes,” he said, hopping up, offering me his arm.

I wished I could walk on Gabriel’s arm, but now that I had accepted Colin’s, I needed to walk home with him.

Colin leaned down and whispered to me, “Less talk this way, Rissa, if you walk with me,” followed by a small wink.

Gabriel joined us as we walked home talking companionably, with Gabriel and me only sharing a long look before I retired for the night.

CHAPTER 41

“MR. PICKENS!” I CALLED OUT as I entered the Book Depository the following day, opening the windows to attempt to refresh the stale air.

“Missy,” he replied in a wheeze, poking his head out of the back room. “’Bout time you came back. That youngun’s on the mend?”

“She’s getting stronger every day,” I reassured him.

“Good,” he said, each step resonating with a loud
thunk
from his cane. “But that ain’t all that’s put such a bloom in those cheeks of yours, missy,” he said, watching me with a twinkle in his eyes. He collapsed onto his chair, winded from his short walk.

I blushed, meeting his gaze. “Of course not. But I’m sure you’ve heard all about it by now.”

“You bet,” he said, laughing his bagpipelike laugh. “Heard all about the shameless young woman we’d hired having dinner with that feckless carpenter at a restaurant last night. Seems you were entirely too circumference for them, missy.”

“Circumference?” I asked.

“Yes, you know, missy. Too tight-lipped for their liking. You’ve gotta learn to give them a bit of gossip here and there if you want to have your share of peace,” he said, nodding.

“
Circumspect
!” I said, after puzzling out his word.

“That’s it, missy! You’re a walkin’ dictionary,” he said, thumping the floor once with his cane for good measure. “Now, missy, you ain’t ’bout to get me off of my topic of choice,” he watched me with knowing eyes. “What happened between you and that strapping young man who came here mooning over you a few days ago?”

“Who you sent me after,” I retorted.

“Naturally. One of us has to have some sense.”

“Well, in any case, it has all turned out well.” I was unable to hide my broad smile.

“When’s the weddin’?”

“Sir!”

“Well, that’s why you came all this way, ain’t it?” he asked, enjoying my reaction.

“Of course, but nothing has been discussed yet,” I said, turning away toward one of the tables in an attempt to conceal my anxiety at the thought of marriage. “If you must know, we are … courting again.”

“Courtin’,” Mr. Pickens said. “Hmm … well, I wouldn’t dither too long if I was interested in a young pretty girl like you. Doesn’t do no good to waste time when you already know what you want.” He laughed aloud. “I sure didn’t let my Bessie wait! Best not to let her come to her senses, that’s what I thought.” He wheezed out a few more laughs.

“Mr. Pickens, can you tell me stories about what life has been like here in Missoula?”

“It’s A.J., missy,” he chastised before continuing. “Ah, it was a great place to be young,” he wheezed. “My Bessie ’n’ me came out here from St. Louis in ’69. It was a small town, much smaller than now. Only a couple hundred or so people. My uncle Pete lived here, worked at one of the local stores, Wordens and Company, and said it was a good place to live,” he said. He closed his eyes, lost in thought, smiling. “Ah, those letters home, writin’ about the glories of this place. Well, it just set a fire in my blood, to come out here and see what he was seein’. An’ poor Bessie had to come along or be left behind. She was none keen on that, so she came. But it was some journey.”

“How did you travel here?” I asked.

“There was no train then, missy,” he said, looking at me over the rim of his reading glasses. He had moved his chair to the table where I was working, pretending to help me sort books, and so had put on a pair. “How d’ye think we got here?” He nodded as he watched me. “Wagons. Good ol’ godforsaken wagons.” He sighed again. “God, they hurt your, er, nether regions by the end of the day!

“You laugh, missy, but it was torture.” He frowned. “And the heat, comin’ across the prairies. Praying you’d have enough food, enough water. I hated it,” he said. “It seemed endless, as though we would never cross the prairie. Then there was the added fear of an Indian raid.” He shook his head ruefully. “Though there was less chance in ’69 than before, but still a chance.”

“Yet you still decided to come,” I remarked. “You couldn’t have been a young man in 1869.”

“I ain’t as old as I look, missy,” he retorted. “An’ Bessie, bless her, had a frontier spirit,” he said with pride. “Though I never would’ve known that living in St. Louis. Ah, she was a one. Organizin’ the women on the journey, rationin’ our food and water so we always had enough. Not plenty, mind, but enough.”

“Were you happy when you arrived?” I asked. “Did it seem worth it?”

Mr. Pickens let out a rattling laugh, slapping his knee in his enjoyment. “Lord, no, not at first. We arrived, an’ I couldn’t believe what a small, inconsequence town it was.”

“Inconsequential?” I asked.

“Exactly,” he wheezed out another laugh. “I couldn’t imagine all the fuss over a few small buildings and dirt roads.” He sighed. “But then we’d made the long journey, and there weren’t no goin’ back. Winter was coming, and we had little money. So we stayed.”

“But you like it here?” I asked, fighting down my unspoken doubts.

“Oh, missy, it’s grand now. Nothin’ like the town I came to over thirty years ago.”

“What are some of the exciting things that have happened?”

“Plenty of saloon fights. There was the unfortunate shooting of Mr. Higgins’s son, God rest ’im.”

“Mr. A.J., there must have been other more interesting things to have happened in the past twenty years than brawls and murder.”

He watched me and then smiled his near toothless grin. “Ah, missy, you wish to hear tales of the old days.”

“I do.”

“Well, there was the time we all acted like a herd of sheep, scared of our own shadows, hidin’ in Wordens or the Merc ’cause we heard rumor that the Nez Perce were comin’ to pay us a visit,” he said, watching me over his glasses, shaking his head in disgust. “Which they never did. They just wanted to go their way, find Canada, a bit of peace. ’Course, some here got a fire in their blood at the thought of killin’ some Indians.” Another shake of his head followed.

“You have different ideas about Indians than others I’ve met,” I said. “I’d have thought it rational to be scared after the stories I’ve read and heard.”

“Well, fear is a strange thing, missy, and makes some people act in ways you never thought they would. And I s’pose I don’t have the same mind as others ’bout the Indians ’cause my father was a trapper as a young man before he settled in St. Louis and married my mother. He met plenty of Indians, always had good things to say about ’em. Got him out of a fix a time or two. Fierce negotiators. And wanting to protect their home, but then don’t we all?” he asked me.

“A few years back, old Chief Charlo and his people were hauled off their land down the Bitter Root. They moved on up toward the Flathead Res, but I can’t imagine that could be takin’ the place of being on your own land, the land of your ancestors and seeing those mountains every day,” he said.

“The Bitter Roots?” I asked.

“Don’t you know nothin’ about geography, missy?” He waved his arms around as though drawing a mountain range with his hands. “South of Missoula. Beautiful valley, big mountain range. Quite pretty.” At the quick shake of my head in denial he again looked heavenward as though for help. “Ask that young man of yours to take you there someday.”

I nodded.

“Well,” Mr. Pickens continued, “one day some years ago, they had to leave their land. They marched as proud as could be through downtown. All done up in their Indian clothes, beads flashin’ in the sunlight, men with their face paint on, herdin’ whatever animals they had. About two hundred of ’em. All peaceful. Scared some silly ninnies senseless, but, for those of us who watched their march, it was beautiful. But it made me sad. All those people, dispossessed, an’ walking with such pride. Reminded me a bit of the War.”