Wanton Angel (19 page)

Aha, Bonnie thought. “What about you, Tuttle? What do you want to learn?”

Tuttle thought for a moment, then went purposefully back to polishing the window. “I don’t know, ma’am, but I will say that I’d admire to be like Mr. Hutcheson or Mr. McKutchen or Forbes Durrant, even. I’d like to earn my way by thinkin’ instead of tendin’ pots or shovelin’ ore at the smelter.”

Bonnie considered. Eli had been born to the life he led, and Forbes was hardly an exemplary model for a young man just starting out, but there might be something in Tuttle’s admiration for Webb. “You might speak with Mr. Hutcheson, Tuttle, and ask him if he needs an apprentice. He may be willing to teach you his trade.”

Tuttle looked delighted for a moment, but then the glow faded. “I don’t read too good, and my spellin’ is worse yet. How could I ever write articles and such as that?”

Bonnie climbed carefully down the ladder. “There are a lot of other factors involved in publishing a newspaper, Tuttle. Typesetting, for instance. You could learn to do that. And maybe Katie and I could help you with your reading and spelling.”

Tuttle climbed down out of the window, nearly squashing a straw gardening bonnet in the process, and his face fairly
shone with new hope. “I reckon Miss Katie might fancy a newspaper man, don’t you?”

With great effort Bonnie managed not to smile. Indeed, she even looked stern. “Tuttle, if you become a journalist, you must do it because it’s work you enjoy doing, not just to catch a lady’s fancy.”

“Could I go and see Mr. Hutcheson now? Please, ma’am? I’ve done a right fair job on the windows and—”

“Yes, Tuttle, you may go. And when you see Webb—Mr. Hutcheson—please tell him that I’d like him to come for supper tonight. Around six o’clock, if that’s convenient for him.”

Tuttle smoothed his hair and bolted toward the door. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell him. And thank you!”

Bonnie sighed, wondering if she had set Tuttle up for a serious disappointment by arousing his hopes. While Webb was known to be well-fixed, he did put out the newspaper by himself and it was possible that he’d never hired help for reasons of economy.

The little bell over the front door rang, startling her, and Bonnie looked up to see Earline Kalb standing just inside the store. Earline took in only male boarders at her rooming house and, for that reason, she was only slightly higher on the social scale than the hurdy-gurdy girls dancing in the Brass Eagle Ballroom.

Earline had a womanly figure and mounds of rich, chestnut brown hair, and her green eyes were round and thickly lashed. She was attractive and still young, and Bonnie found it surprising that she had never been married.

“May I help you?” Bonnie asked. Earline, being above her, if only by half a rung, had never bought so much as a paper of pins in the mercantile.

“It’s all over town that you and Webb Hutcheson are secretly married!” Earline thundered, bearing down on Bonnie at such speed that Bonnie felt called upon to put the width of the counter between herself and her visitor.

“If it’s all over town, then it isn’t much of a secret,” Bonnie dared to say. She was annoyed at being accosted in such a manner, and in her own store, too.

“So it’s true?” demanded Earline, wrenching off her gloves as though to prepare for fisticuffs.

Bonnie didn’t know how to answer that. “Well—”

“Of course, the gossips are having a heyday, between that and the night you and Webb spent together over across the river!” Earline paused to draw a deep and shaky breath. “You’re messin’ around with my man, Bonnie McKutchen, and I don’t like it!”

“How can Webb be your man if he’s married to me?” Bonnie was careful to speak in a roundabout way to avoid saying right out that Webb was
indeed
her husband.

“I’ll tell you how he can be my man,” Earline hissed, bending forward so that her enormous breasts touched the counter and keeping her voice low. “He’s been sleeping in my bed for three years, that’s how he can be my man!”

Bonnie was shocked, although she supposed she shouldn’t have been. After all, Webb was a healthy, vital man and, as such, he had certain needs. Needs Bonnie had certainly never supplied. “Oh,” she said lamely.

“Thought you were all Webb needed, did you? Well, Angel, you were wrong. Now, maybe Northridge believes that you and my Webb are married, but I’ve got reason to think it’s Eli McKutchen that’s liftin’ your skirts, and I want to know the truth. Right now!”

Bonnie’s cheeks pounded with the hot color of outrage. “Get out of my store, you crude woman, before I throw you out!”

“That’s liable to be a tall order, Mrs. McKutchen, you being such a scrawny little thing!”

Bonnie was rounding the end of the counter, bent on showing Earline the error of her ways, when she caught sight of Eli standing just inside the door. He was grinning, and Bonnie knew then that he’d heard the worst of what Earline had said. She was so mortified that she stopped cold.

Earline, on the other hand, was decorum personified. She took her time putting her gloves back on and assessing Eli’s impressive frame. He was wearing the rough clothes of a working man, his shirt open almost to his midriff, and he still managed, damn him, to look like the refined New Yorker he was. “When you get tired of living at the hotel, Mr. McKutchen,” Earline said sweetly, “you come on down to my rooming house.” She cast one look back at Bonnie
before adding, “All the comforts of home. I look after a man right and proper.”

Eli had stopped grinning, but a corner of his mouth twitched slightly and his eyes danced. “I’ll keep the offer in mind, ma’am,” he said, with a polite inclination of his head.

Satisfied, Earline swept past him and out the door, her nose high in the air.

“You do have a gift for making enemies, Mrs. Hutcheson,” Eli observed, when they were alone again.

Bonnie put both hands to her cheeks in a desperate attempt to cool them. “That hussy! She had her cap set for Webb, that’s all!”

Eli approached the counter, set his dinner box down with a thump and did his best to look pained at the state of modern morals. “Sounds like your secret husband is about as faithful to his vows as you are.”

Bonnie could hardly say that she had been “faithful” to Webb; Eli knew she hadn’t. Neither could she swear indignantly that Earline had been lying about her relationship with Mr. Hutcheson. It was all a terrible mess, one that could never be untangled. “If you have business here, Mr. McKutchen,” Bonnie said stiffly, “I would like to know what it is. If, on the other hand, you simply want to harass me—”

“I came about the materials Seth plans to order for the cabins.”

Though Bonnie kept her chin high, she also clenched the counter’s edge for support. Now it would happen, now another dream would be dashed. “I see.”

“Judging by the total dearth of color in your face and the whiteness of your knuckles, I’d say that you
don’t
see. You’re expecting me to rescind the order, aren’t you?”

Bonnie swallowed. If he did that, she would be ruined, and she had no real hope of mercy. Eli could be a very ruthless man, and it was entirely possible that he was out to destroy her. “I guess I am,” she admitted.

“Well, then, you’re wrong, Mrs. Hutcheson. The order stands—on one condition.”

Bonnie held her breath. Of course there would be a condition. She only hoped it wouldn’t be too terrible.

“You are not to involve my daughter in this lie you and Hutcheson have concocted.”

“L-lie?”

Eli laughed—it was a bitter sound, completely void of humor—and shook his head. “By God, you never quit, I’ll say that for you. You’re not married to Hutcheson any more than I am, Bonnie, and we both know it. You can tell the town whatever you like, but don’t you dare tell that little girl that she’s anyone but who she is, or you’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it. Do you understand me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You little liar, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You delight in driving me crazy, that’s all—I have half a mind to take you across my knee right here and now!”

“That’s your problem, Eli McKutchen—you have half a mind! And if you so much as touch me, I’ll—I’ll—”

Eli was, incredibly, unbuttoning his cuffs. Rolling up his sleeves. “You’ll what?” he prompted, in a deceptively soft voice.

“I’ll report you to the marshal!”

“And he’ll charge me with spanking the mayor—a dire offense, and there’s probably no precedent. Be serious, Bonnie.”

Eli was edging along the counter as he spoke and it looked as though he meant to carry out his threat. Bonnie was enraged at the prospect of such humiliation, but she was scared, too. This was no time to throw oil on the fire.

“You don’t believe in striking women!” she blurted out, as a desperate reminder.

“I don’t believe in blacking their eyes and breaking their bones,” Eli conceded evenly, still advancing, “but I’m not the least bit opposed to blistering their—”

“Eli! Bonnie!” Genoa swept into the store, in a rustle of skirts and sunny goodwill. “How nice to see you talking together! It’s almost like old times!”

Bonnie closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer of thanks, and when she dared to look again, she saw the golden sparkle in Eli’s eyes that told her, better than words ever could have, that he’d only been teasing her. With a nod to Genoa, he took his dinner box from the counter and left.

Genoa beamed. “You’re such a handsome couple,” she said, with a delighted sigh. “It’s a pity Eli had to rush off—”

“Yes, isn’t it?” Bonnie replied, forcing a smile. “He’s working at the smelter now, you know.”

Genoa’s joy faded. “Yes, I know.”

Bonnie wanted very much to make her friend feel welcome and at ease. She put aside her irritation over Eli’s trick and asked, “Do you have time for tea? I was just about to close the store for the day.”

“I’m sorry, I’m in a dreadful rush—just went for the mail, don’t you know—are you planning to attend my party?”

Bonnie’s smile was a genuine one. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Genoa.”

“Excellent. Well, I must be off—oh, yes, I forgot—Katie and Rose Marie are at my house. They are having quite the best time with the roller organ and I wondered if they mightn’t spend the evening with me?”

Bonnie nodded. “Will you see them home in your carriage? I wouldn’t want them walking in the dark, with so many strangers in town.”

Genoa looked offended, though only moderately so. “Why, Bonnie, of course I wouldn’t allow them to take such a chance! How can you even suggest that I would?”

“I’m sorry,” Bonnie said. “It’s been a very long, exciting day and I’m not thinking very clearly.”

“Poor dear,” crooned Genoa. “You work much too hard.” Having made this pronouncement, Miss McKutchen took her leave.

Bonnie pulled the shades down over the windows and carefully locked the door. Between Eli’s bluff and that messy confrontation with Earline Kalb, she’d had enough of this day.

Upstairs Bonnie searched her tiny icebox for something to make for supper. Perhaps she’d been impulsive in inviting Webb over tonight, but it was important that they talk, especially after Eli’s demand that Rose Marie must not be presented as anyone’s child but his own. Eli had joked about the spanking, but Bonnie knew that he was dead serious when he warned her not to lie about Rose.

He had not said that he would try to take Rose away, and for now, that was enough.

Bonnie pumped water into the tea kettle and set it on the stove, then built a fire. If Eli wasn’t planning to raise Rose Marie himself, then there was no reason to marry Webb …

There was a tap at the rear door as the clock struck six and Bonnie smiled at Webb’s promptness. “Come in!” she called.

The door opened and Webb entered, looking wan and just a bit harried. He forced a smile, however, and said, “Let’s have supper at the hotel. You’ve been working all day and you shouldn’t have to cook.”

For the millionth time Bonnie wished that she’d had the plain good sense to fall in love with this man. How many others would be so considerate and kind? She thought of Eli, threatening to spank her like a child, and simmered.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Webb,” she said. On the way down the side stairs, she remembered Tuttle and his hoped-for apprenticeship. “Did young Mr. O’Banyon pay you a call this afternoon?”

Webb smiled, still looking very pale and tired, and took Bonnie’s elbow in a gentlemanly manner, helping her to navigate the stairs. “Yes, and I hired him. I’ve been needing someone to help out for a long time.”

Bonnie felt pleased. All in all, it had been a grand day, what with Seth’s plan to order enough goods to build an entire town and Tuttle finding a trade that would provide him with a comfortable livelihood.

Webb and Bonnie were seated in the dining room of the Union Hotel, their dinners ordered, before Bonnie mentioned her own good news. Instead of looking pleased that Seth was going to buy thousands of dollars’ worth of goods through her store, however, Webb scowled.

“When we’re married, you won’t be running the store anymore, Bonnie. I hope you understand that.”

Bonnie understood but was annoyed that Webb was taking such an arbitrary attitude. He might at least have been happy for her! She unfolded her napkin and placed it neatly in her lap, letting Webb’s comment go unchallenged.

Momentarily he sighed and took her hand in his. “Bonnie, I’m sorry. It’s wonderful that you’ll be making such a sale, of course, and I’m happy for you.”

“What’s troubling you, then?” Bonnie asked softly, all her ire displaced by concern.

“You and Hem were right about that anti-union article I wrote—I’ve had some threats, Bonnie.”

Bonnie’s eyes rounded. “Threats?”

“Letters,” Webb confessed. “Unsigned, of course. I’m not afraid for myself, Bonnie, but some of those people threatened you. They’re demanding that I print a retraction.”

“You aren’t going to do that, are you?”

Webb assessed Bonnie with worried eyes. It was going to be very hard to tell him that she couldn’t become his wife. Very hard indeed. “I couldn’t back down that way, Bonnie. McKutchen is doing everything he can to make things right, and I mean to point that out in the next issue of the paper. Still, if anything happened to you—”