Sweetwater (Birdsong Series) (2 page)

“Yes, dear. It is rather provincial,” Patty agreed. “But
even in the most sophisticated cities, one must adhere to the rules of
society.”

Emily grabbed her packages and trudged up the stairs to her
room, grumbling to herself, with every step. Enough of the day had been wasted
on this shopping excursion, she thought, and she needed to get back to work.
The tomatoes would not wait for her to calm down.

Cassie was dumbfounded and impressed. “Wow, she was mad.
And why can’t a woman wear pants if she wants to?”

Dora answered her. “I knew this would end badly. This is a
small town, Cassie, governed by men. And men don’t cotton to seein’ their
womenfolk dressed like them. A woman has to be constantly vigilant about her
appearance. She must never allow her
bare
toes
to peek out from under her skirts, where a boy might see ‘em. You get
my meanin’?” Dora had a way of making a girl squirm with just one raised
eyebrow and the stern look from that eye.

Cassie scrunched her forehead. “No… not really.” She
gathered up her cleaning rags and raced toward the kitchen, thinking on all she
had seen and heard.

Dora slowly shook her head. “I just don’t know about that
girl. I swear she’s the youngest sixteen-year-old, I’ve ever known.”

“That, she is,” Patty said. “The problem, as I see it, is
she doesn’t know how beautiful and desirable she is. She draws young men to
her, like moths to a flame, and it is totally unintentional. She’s going to
require a lot of watching over, Dora.”

Stiffening her spine, the older woman said in a determined
tone, “I’m up to it. She couldn’t be in better hands. Now . . . any changes
to the menu?” Dora was back to her take-charge self.

“What in the . . .?” Emily was wriggling and holding her
breath, trying to button up the confounding pants. As she had feared, the new
clothes were a little snug. After quite a struggle and the last button
fastened, she slowly let out her breath. Unfortunately, she could barely
breathe.

“How on earth am I going to work in these?” she groaned.
She’d never admit she was wrong in choosing boy’s clothing, but it would soon
be obvious to everyone that she had, indeed, made a terrible mistake.
Actually, it was the mistake of the clerk at the mercantile for not allowing
her to try them on first, she complained. She was still angry with that.

Well, she couldn’t hide in her room forever, so with one
last look in the mirror, Emily squared her shoulders and stepped cautiously
into the hallway. “Please, let everyone be gone,” she whispered, as she descended
the stairs.

With every weed she pulled, and every flower she deadheaded,
Emily dreamed of her own little piece of paradise, just three miles outside of
town. She was in love with sixty-five acres of the most perfect farmland she’d
ever seen. The farm had been abandoned for some time, but she was still having
difficulty locating the people that held the papers on it. Emily had saved the
cash she thought would be needed, but the bank was having no luck in finding
the present owners. Fortunately, for her, the president of the bank had taken
a shine to her and had decided on his own, that he’d give the owners just one
more week to answer his inquiry, or the farm would be deemed abandoned and sold
to Miss Falkenwrath. He hoped she would be very grateful.

“
One more week. One
more week
,” became her mantra. She’d clip a stem and repeat, “
One more week
.” It made her smile.

She made Blake smile, too. There she was, his ideal woman,
bent over a rose bush with her tidy little bottom stuck up in the air for him
to admire. She sure could fill out a pair of pants. Blake noticed she had a
very tiny waist with round curvy hips, topping long, slender legs. His mouth
had gone bone dry. Parts of his body were voicing their approval of the
ravishing beauty, growing harder and pulsing with need. He could have stood
there for hours, admiring her, until she stood up and turned toward him.

“Can I help you with something, Doc?” Emily asked in a soft,
sultry voice.

At least, Blake thought it was sultry. She could probably
scream like a banshee and he would still think it was sexy.

Taken by surprise, Blake could barely find his voice. “Oh .
. . Emmie. I was just watching you . . . I mean . . . I was just watching you
work.”

“Do you like gardening, doctor?” she smiled, as she pointed
her shears in his direction. She wasn’t stupid and she was old enough to know
exactly what he was watching.

He nodded. “No.”

She laughed. “Which is it? Yes or no?”

Blake blushed like a schoolboy. “It’s no. I don’t like
gardening, but I do like to watch
you
garden.” He noticed that the buttons across Emily’s full round bosom were
straining to keep closed. If she weren’t very careful, those fragile little
buttons would fly across the yard and free her exquisite mounds, giving them room
to expand and jiggle on their own. Blake moaned aloud.

“Excuse me. Did you say something, Doc?”

“You’re nice to watch, Emily. And I’m glad you bought those
clothes.” His face turned bright red, once again. “I mean . . . you look more
at ease now.”

Emily giggled. “Now Doc, you and I both know that’s a lie.
These new clothes barely contain me. Look! I’m in real danger of busting out
of this shirt, and the pants are so tight I can hardly sit down. I know I must
look absolutely ridiculous. After today, I will wash them up and give them to
the church. It wasn’t money well spent, I’m afraid.”

Blake walked up to Emily and handed her one of her roses.
“Emmie, you look anything
but
ridiculous. In fact, I think you look amazing. You’re the finest woman I’ve
ever seen. Would you allow me to see you, socially? I’d like to take you for
a ride this evening, if you’re up to it.”

“I’m flattered, Doctor Donovan, but I don’t do that sort of
thing. I’m much too busy here, at the hotel.” Emily looked down at her plants
and away from the handsome doctor.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, then. I know you have to
eat.” Blake pleaded.

“We have the finest food in all of Hays, right here, at the
Birdsong. Why would I go anyplace else?” She stopped and looked directly at
him. “Please understand. I don’t see gentlemen . . . ever. I’m sorry.
You’re a nice man.”

Blake hung his head. He’d tried and she had refused his
offer. She really wasn‘t interested in him. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I won’t
bother you, again.” He turned around and quietly left, the same way he’d come.

Emily watched the good-looking doctor disappear into the
hotel. He didn’t see the tears forming in her eyes, or the rise and fall of
her aching chest. She had lied. He was
just
the sort of man she’d like to spend time with, and perhaps, one day, fall in
love with—if only she wasn’t so undeserving of his admiration.

She’d been born on a poor farm in Sedalia, Missouri,
twenty-three years earlier. It had been a hard and dangerous life for a little
girl, and after having been mistreated in the most grievous way, she ran
off—never to see Sedalia or her kin again. Now, she was determined to
find her own piece of heaven, and there was no time for romance. But she still
felt an emptiness within her, which she was certain, only Blake Donovan would
be able to fill.

Friday morning, a boy came to the Birdsong with a note for
Miss Emily. It was from the bank. Emily read, “
Could you meet with me at the lunch hour, Miss Falkenrath, to discuss
the purchase of the tract of land outside of town? Respectfully, George P.
Johnson, President
.”

“Yay! It’s finally going to happen. Dora! Cassie! Patty!
Where are you?”

The three women ran in to see what all the excitement was
about. They discovered Emily dancing around the large room, with flushed
cheeks and brilliant blue eyes sparkling like diamonds. They had never seen
her so happy.

“Land sakes!” Dora exclaimed. “I thought the place was on
fire,” she chortled.

Emily was twirling around the lobby like a top. “I got a
message from the bank. Mr. Johnson wants to talk to me about my farm. My
dream is coming true,” she shouted.

Cassie ran up to Emily and grabbed her hands as she started
bouncing up and down. Emily joined in. Such was the scene, when Dr. Donovan
arrived.

“This looks promising,” he muttered to Patty.

“This is wonderful news, Doc. Emily is going to buy her
farm, today. She’s been in love with it, for months.” She sighed. “I guess
it won’t be long before she moves out and leaves just the three of us gals at
the hotel. I’ll miss her. I don’t know how we’ll get along without her.”

Blake’s eyes grew enormous. “Move out? Emily’s moving
away?”

“Well, naturally. If she buys a farm, she intends to live
on it.” Patty paused for a moment, staring at the startled look on the man’s
face. “Did you have that talk, Doc?”

“Yeah, for all the good it did. She’s not interested in me,
and that’s that.”

“You certainly give up fast. If I were in love with
someone, I’d try again and again. What do you have to lose? I know her. She
seems to have a chip on her shoulder, but she’s really quite fragile. Just be
there for her, Doc.”

Emily stopped to catch her breath and noticed Blake had
walked into the hotel. It was obvious he had caught her and Cassie celebrating
like two young schoolgirls. Instinctively, she smoothed her hair, straightened
her skirts, and smiled up at him with genuine happiness. She had no way of
knowing what that smile did to him. How it stole his very breath away.

“Oh, Doc! Forgive me. I was just enjoying the moment.
Congratulations are in order, I believe. At the noon hour, I will become a
landowner . . . and not just any land, mind you, but the prettiest little farm
you’ve ever seen. It has a lake fed by a sweetwater spring, an orchard, and
hills covered in wildflowers. I intend to live my entire life there.”

“Well, ma’am. I will miss you.” That was all he could
manage to say, as his throat was encumbered with an enormous lump that
threatened his speech. Refusing to allow anyone to see the pain this caused
him, he turned away abruptly. “I’ll be going now.”

“That was odd,” Cassie lamented. She liked the cute doctor
and had forgiven him his previous rudeness. Today, he had rushed away before
she could coax her usual compliment from him. “Oh, well, I guess he’s got
things on his mind.”

“I’ll go upstairs and change out of this dress, and run
straight to the bank. I can’t wait to buy my farm.” She glanced at the
bewildered faces of her friends, and it dawned on her. They were all ready
missing her.

“Oh, my darlings, please don’t misunderstand,” she
beseeched. She captured one of Dora’s strong hands in her own and held it
close to her heart. “I love you all so very much, but I have dreamed of owning
my own farm, all my life. I can still work here, for a while, and you know
you’re welcome to visit me anytime. Heck. You could come and live with me, if
you wanted. We’d make a go of it. Please . . . be happy for me?”

The three women stepped up to the pretty brunette, throwing
their arms around her in a group hug. They laughed and cried and laughed some
more. This was a truly happy moment and a fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

Wiping her eyes on her ever-present apron, Dora said, “Now .
. . get on with you, Em. You don’t want to keep the president of the bank
waitin’,” she sniffed.

The woman, standing before him, was simply ravishing and
extremely seductive. The banker had always admired Miss Falkenrath, but today,
she was exquisitely beautiful. Her eyes were filled with a brilliant blue
light and her cheeks shown a delicate pink. He found it nearly impossible to
take his eyes from her luscious lips. They were plump and moist . . . and so
very tasty looking—made for a man to take his delight. It was an effort
not to drool on his tie.

Mr. Johnson cleared his throat. “Please, make yourself
comfortable, Miss Falkenrath,” he said rather nervously, as he offered a chair.

He watched as she glided gracefully over to the chair
provided for her. Her back was straight . . . her waist was incredibly small,
and her breasts . . . well, they were the kind of breasts that made a man’s
hands itch to explore them.
Concentrate!
He scolded himself.

“Uh, yes . . .” He was sweating profusely, and it had
absolutely nothing to do with the weather. “Where was I? Oh, yes, now I
remember. Miss Falkenrath, I have asked you to come by my office today, to
speak with you, privately. The matter concerning your farm requires our
immediate attention. I am afraid I must deliver some bad news to you, my
dear.”

Emily wasn’t prepared for bad news. She was here to buy her
farm. “Bad news? About my farm?”

Mr. Johnson reached out for her lovely white-gloved hand.
“Yes, my dear. I have located the present owner of this farm. It’s the
Lassiter Farm, actually. He has denied your request to purchase it from him.
He is, in fact, toying with the idea of moving there and taking up permanent
residence. I tried to persuade him, but he was adamant. I am truly sorry,
Miss Emily.” His fingers were massaging her wrists and trying to gain access
to the sweet white flesh under her cuff.

She didn’t notice the use of her Christian name, nor the
liberties he was trying to take with her hand. She was too stunned with this
setback. It was impossible. “Can you try again, sir?” she begged. Her huge
eyes were filling with tears and her chin began to tremble.

The banker looked sincerely disappointed. “I really tried,
my dear. You must know that I would do
anything
for you. I admire you, Miss Emily.”

She pulled her hand back suddenly, and stood up, gazing down
at the man behind the desk. “I am grateful, sir, for your considerate
attention to this matter. It is not your fault that the owner of my farm is a
skunk! A pig in a man’s hat! A lily-livered sidewinder! I hope he does come
to town. I hope I meet him.” The more she said, the madder she got and the
stronger her resolve. She would not fall apart, now. Her voice raised in
volume along with her temper. “He’ll never forget tangling with me! Goodbye,
Mr. Johnson. Oh . . . and by the way . . . my name is
Miss Falkenrath
, sir!” Emily marched out of the office and down
the street, holding her head high, and looking as if she was a general,
mustering his troops for battle.