“I am, and what’s more, I believe you’re a coward.”
“What?”
He jumped to his feet and clasped her forearms. Staring down into her face, he bent his head so their noses almost touched. “I thought we were becoming friends despite the strange circumstances that have you imprisoned in my home.”
“I thought so, too,” she said in a quiet whisper.
“I hear a grain of truth in your tale, but still you’re not telling me everything.”
“But I am.” Surprise and uncertainty wrapped around her. She sought his gaze. What she saw there frightened her; he stared at her like she was something he’d scrape off the bottom of his heel and toss away. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“What I mean is, what were you doing in Dena Valley then, if not robbing the bank?”
“But I was never in Dena Valley.”
“How do you explain the wanted poster?”
“I can’t,” she admitted.
“You’re no better than a damn common crook if you won’t tell me what you were doing there, and what’s worse, you’ve got no honor.”
Without thinking, she wrenched her hand free, reached out and slapped his face…hard. The sound reverberated in the small room. Silence stood between them. As she watched, shocked by her action, his cheek turned bright crimson from the blow.
She opened her mouth to apologize but he raised his hand. She backed away, scared that he might return the favor. He shook his head and said in a quiet voice, “Why don’t you go to bed. I think enough has been said here tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that but you shouldn’t have said that about my honor and I—”
“Just go,” he interrupted. His voice sounded tired with a slight edge to it.
She turned, tears swimming in her eyes and trudged down the hall.
At the sound of the bedroom door closing, Chance slumped onto the sofa. He lay down, his feet hanging over the end. He rested one arm over his eyes. His face stung, as though he’d been lashed with a buggy whip. For a small woman, she certainly packed a wallop in that tiny hand of hers.
He’d shamed her, insulted her, even laughed in her face. As part of his plan to get to the truth, he’d goaded her all right. Guilt bit at his conscience. Still she found the gumption to haul off and give him what for.
He didn’t want to believe her…but he found himself doing just that. He was more confused than ever. But one thing was fairly certain.
He swallowed the lump in his throat.
She must be telling the truth or a close version of it. It made him feel like three kinds of a fool.
Sweets to the sweet.
– William Shakespeare
CHAPTER SEVEN
“PLEASE, TRIXIANNA.” Annie V. pressed her fist to her breast and sketched a fanciful bow. The hem of her satin gown brushed along the floor, making a swishing sound. “When you leave town—and don’t think I mean at the end of a rope either, ‘cause you’re no bank robber. You have an honest face and believe me, gal, I’ve seen all kinds. We’ll just have to find some way to convince that mule-headed male of your innocence.”
Trixianna shot Annie V. a hopeful smile. “Oh, I do hope so.”
“I know so, but soon you’ll be gone.” She wiped a tear off one cheek. Her eyes twinkled like twin theatre footlights. “You’ll up and get hitched or just hightail it out of this boring ol’ town, and then I’ll have nothing sweet to feed my girls. They’ll mutiny if I don’t keep ‘em happy, and the way to those gals’ hearts is through their bellies. They are three greedy little pigs when it comes to sweets. I figure it’s high time they learned a few of the womanly arts. And pardon me for saying so, not the ones they already know about, like pleasuring a man.”
Trixianna’s cheeks bloomed with heat at Annie V.’s forthright speech. She shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to have them here in the sheriff’s home.”
“Don't you worry none about what the townsfolk will say. Somehow or other, I’ll just hustle them in the house the back way. No one will be the wiser. Trust me, I know what to do. I’ve had plenty of practice getting married men down the back stairs before jealous wives came up the front.”
Still, Trixianna wavered. What would the sheriff think of her using his house that way? Before she had the chance to ponder it further, Annie V., right there in Chance’s kitchen, fell to her knees. She clutched Trixianna’s skirt. “Please, please, please.”
Despite herself, Trixianna laughed. “All right, all right, but do get up. You’ll muss that lovely gown.”
Indeed it was lovely. Trixianna envied Annie V.’s highly improper but oh, so pretty dress. It had a velvetlike shade the color of a dove’s breast, silver and satin, with rows and rows of ruching around the hem and cuffs. Lace and fine embroidery edged a square cut neckline that revealed alabaster skin and an inordinate amount of high, rounded breast. Trixianna envied that also. While she guessed there was nothing wrong with her bosom, it quite simply wasn’t as large. Or for want of a better word, as protuberant, as Annie V.’s.
“Oh, goody, goody,” Annie chortled. She got up from the floor, dusted off her knees and took Trixianna in her arms. She danced her around the kitchen table humming a jaunty tune, until they were both giggling like schoolgirls.
When Annie V. finally stopped, she took Trixianna by the elbows and held her out in front of her. Her kohl-rimmed eyes glowed with honest happiness. “Think of it, Trixianna. What better way to begin than teaching my girls to make their own apple pandowdy?”
“I’m certain they’ll be apt pupils.”
“Pshaw. They’ll be rotten. They haven’t got a working brain between them.”
Trixianna covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle that promised to burst forth.
“Go ahead and laugh. It’s the God’s honest truth. Lolly, Gretel and Sasha. I swear you’ve never met a bigger bunch of ninnies in all your born days.”
“Why do you employ them then?”
Annie V.’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? Honey, if you have to ask, you don’t want to know the answer.”
“But I do.”
She shook her head. “Trixianna, you’re a darling innocent. You do know what goes on down there at the Annie V., don’t you?”
Trepidation nipping at her, Trixianna nodded. “Besides the drinking?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of?” Annie V. gave an unladylike snort. “Which parts do you ‘sort of’ know about?”
“Well, I know that men go there for female company.” Trixianna knew she was in way over her head with this frank conversation, but what the heck. In for a penny, in for a pound. How else was a girl supposed to find things out? As usual, curiosity won out over embarrassment and better judgment. “That is, well, I guess it’s a bit more than companionship. I don’t know precisely what takes place but I do know about the birds and the bees…sort of.”
“Whoa right there, honey. That’s enough. Don’t embarrass yourself anymore. Let’s just say that although my girls aren’t too bright, they know what to do with their mouths besides talk and they know what to do with their bodies besides dress themselves.”
“Oh, my.” If her face was as hot as it felt, her head must look like an overripe tomato.
“I’ve gone way beyond what’s polite here, haven’t I? I never know what to say to a real lady. Beggin’ your pardon, Trixianna, honey, I truly am sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Gracious. I find your company very, um, enlightening.”
Annie V. hooted with laughter. “Enlightening, eh? That’s a new one.” She pulled on a hideous hat covered with purple feathers, lavender posies and silver stars. She tied the ribbon beneath her chin at a rakish angle, then sailed out the door with a wave and a promise to be back after the noon meal with her girls.
Trixianna looked forward to the meeting. Other than Annie V., who didn’t look or act like what she was, she’d
never spoken to a “bad woman.” She thought of all the expressions she’d heard used. Sporting woman. Chippie. Tart. Jezebel. Her own personal favorite—painted women. That always conjured up a humorous picture of Indian women whooping it up on the warpath with a papoose tied to their backs. Men thought women didn’t know about such shadowy things, and many women didn’t really, she supposed, but they discussed it at length. At least she and Georgette had. Back when she and Georgette were speaking.
* * *
“Why, ah declare, this is a delightful way to while away a lazy afternoon,” Lolly drawled. With an apron tied around her bed-slat thin body, she was proving to be the only one of Annie V.’s gals who could talk and stir a spoon at the same time.
Sasha batted her thick, black lashes, and tossed her ebony curls over one shoulder. “I’ve had worse.” She’d only stopped yawning an hour ago.
“Me, too,” agreed Gretel, as plump as Lolly was thin, with mousy brown hair, missing teeth and a wide grin that unfortunately displayed that lack to perfection.
Annie V. was right about one thing, though. They didn’t have a working brain between them.
Molasses clung to every available surface. Flour clung to the molasses making a sticky, gooey mess. Apple slices were scattered from here to Hell and back. Sugar liberally sprinkled the floor and dotted the table.
Trixianna’s kitchen—or should she say Chance’s kitchen—would never be the same, and she doubted she could get it clean even if she scrubbed every day for a week. She knew the sheriff wouldn’t be happy about this filthy mess, and she had no idea whatsoever how she’d explain it.
But four pans of apple pandowdy were finally cooking in the oven.
Trixianna glanced at the tired faces. She wondered what she could say to these working women for the next hour now that the desserts were baking. They had nothing in common.
But she tried. “Lovely weather we’ve been having.”
“Oh, yeah, just peachy,” Lolly said.
“How would I know? I sleep all day and fu—”
“Sasha!” said Annie V.
“Well, I don’t get out much during the day.”
Trixianna cleared her throat and tried again. “Have you seen the lovely new yard goods down at the general store?”
“Lovely?” Sasha said. “They don’t have one fabric that’s red and they don’t have any satin or silk. Can you imagine? We have to order ours clear from San Francisco. Now there’s a city that knows how to treat a gal.”
“Sasha,” admonished Annie V. “You’ve never set foot in that city.”
“Well, that’s what I hear.”
Annie V. sniffed and gave Trixianna a long-suffering glance. “When you’ve got the money saved for that trip, honey, I’ll gladly put you on the stage.”
“We’ll see about that.” Sasha’s sapphire blue dress swished about her as she jumped to her feet. Amid a jumble of ruffled starched petticoats, she stormed out the front door. It slammed resoundingly behind her.
Annie V. rolled her eyes, then turned her flour-smudged face toward Trixianna. “How long ‘til they’re done?”
“Oh, about an hour.”
“Well, let’s teach you something then.”
“What?” Just the thought of anything that Annie V. and her girls could teach her sent her senses, and her imagination, reeling.
Lolly and Gretel wore identical blank expressions. Annie V. smiled and spread her hands flat on the table. “I”ve got just the thing. Poker.”
She reached into her reticule and pulled out a pack of playing cards. She brushed off the table top and fanned the cards out in front of her.
Trixianna, never having seen any before, leaned forward, fascinated with the tiny figures embossed on them. “Oh, my stars. I couldn’t,” she whispered. “Could I?”
The pungent odor of smoke drifted in the open doorway of the jailhouse. Chance lifted his head and glanced outside. While the smell was nothing unusual, for some peculiar reason the hair on the back of his neck bristled. His sixth sense warned him that trouble drifted in on that scent.
He strode to the door, grabbing his shotgun on the way. He stood still long to enough to refasten the leather strap holding his holster to his thigh.
Chance settled his Stetson on his head and glanced both ways down the dusty main street. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Yet the burnt smell tickled his nose. Although he wasn’t certain, the odor seemed to be coming from the same end of town as his house. Goose flesh rose on his arms. That danged West woman.
He tore off down the street. Raised eyebrows and surprised gasps followed his loud footsteps, but he didn’t slow down, even when several people questioned him.
Frank Fairfax stood beneath the awning in front of the Kansas Hotel passing the time of day with the hotel proprietor. “Where’s the fire, Sheriff?” he hollered. He gave Chance a good-natured grin as Chance flew by.
Chance just waved his arm and continued on without slowing, his boots pounding the boardwalk.
The scent got stronger the closer he came to the end of the street. As he neared his house, he saw gray smoke billowing out the front window. The sound of a woman’s frantic screams came from inside. A tight knot settled in his stomach.
He burst in, throwing the door wide. The scene that greeted him stunned him into momentary speechlessness. Trixianna, Annie V. and two saloon gals scurried around the kitchen like ants at a picnic. Covered in soot and some sort of goo from head to toe, they tossed buckets of water at the smoking stove, missing more often than not. A misty haze hung just below the ceiling and billowed out the open windows. The floor, covered in at least a half inch of water, mixed with whatever was all over the women, looked like a muddy pigsty. He was even more startled to see playing cards spread out over his kitchen table.
Chance took one step inside, attempted to take another and found both feet nearly glued to the floor. He lifted one boot high. Sticky brown matter clung to the sole like a wad of taffy.
He glanced at Trixianna, the obvious ringleader. Who else could cause such a mess? She stood at the sink, pumping water with all her might. Frightened emerald eyes stared out from a soot-covered face. Her hair, the approximate shade of dried mud, lay in ringlets about her head and down her back. Water dripped off the ends and fell to the floor. Her dress and splattered apron clung to her like a second skin.
Oddly enough, Annie V. had removed her dress and stood in her blackened corset, bloomers and high-topped buttoned boots, dousing the poor stove with buckets of water handed to her by Lolly and Gretel. Lolly kept up a continual screech while handing over the water and Gretel’s mouth hung open, revealing large gaps where teeth should have been.
Chance finally found his voice. “What the hell is going on in here?”
The screeching stopped and four identical sooty faces turned as one to stare at him.
The silence was deafening.
Then they all began explaining at once. He couldn’t understand a single word among the multitude of female voices. He slapped his Stetson against his leg. “Shut up, all of you!”
The caterwauling stopped.
“You.” He pointed to Trixianna.
Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn. Chance was going to expect a perfectly reasonable explanation and Trixianna didn’t have one. He probably thought she’d meant to burn his house down on purpose, particularly in light of their argument last night, when all she wanted to do was a neighborly thing like teach a few women how to cook.
He continued to stare at her. “Stop throwing water on that damnable contraption. If it hasn’t drowned yet, it’s not going to. I reckon that whatever fire was in it, or on it, is out by now.”
Trixianna glanced at the dripping stove and nodded. She drew in a deep breath.
“Just what the hell happened?”
The fright caused by the fire in the oven hadn’t quite dissipated. Her heart thudded in her chest and her hands shook. She opened her mouth to reply, but she had no idea what to say. She
hesitated a moment trying to find the right words.
“I can explain, Chance,” Annie V. said, coming to Trixianna’s rescue. Her hands on her hips, she inclined her head.
“No.” He swiveled back to Trixianna and pointed a finger at her. “I want to hear this from you.”
Trixianna swallowed the rather large lump in her throat. “I was simply showing Annie V.’s girls how to make apple pandowdy.”
He gave her a look that could curdle milk. “Why would you want to show a bunch of damn—”
“Chance,” Annie V. interrupted in a warning voice.
His cheeks bloomed with color; then he gave her an apologetic look, before swinging back to Trixianna. “A bunch of good-time gals how to cook. They have no need for such as that.”
“What makes you think so, Sheriff?” Lolly asked.
Chance must have been surprised to hear her gentle, yet accusing, Southern tone, because the tips of his ears pinkened along with his cheeks.
“We might up and marry someday,” Lolly continued. “It’s not so uncommon. Some of us even have children, and God knows, we all got to eat.”
“I never meant…what I mean was, well, I never intended—”
“We know what you meant, Sheriff, and what you intended,” Annie V. interrupted again. Her hands were fisted at her side. “You think we have no life other than the one you and all those high-and-mighty Grand Fork men see…flat on our backs right where you like us.”
“Now, Annie. That’s not what I meant. Hang it all, you’re not the one I’m mad at, it’s Mad Maggie.” He frowned, then bestowed Annie V. with a disgruntled look. “Where the hell’s your dress?”
Annie V. looked down at herself as if she’d forgotten her unclothed state. She shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a nonchalant smile. “It was one of my favorites, too. I’m afraid it caught fire.”
Chance’s right brow rose, and his mouth dropped open. He looked her up and down, then once again more slowly. “Are you all right?”
A wry expression crossed Annie V.’s face as she answered. “I’m fine, but that dress will never be the same again. I tore it off faster than a cowboy on Saturday night.”
Chance shook his head, raw humor crossing his face. He ducked his head as he ran a hand through his hair. It stood up in ebony waves. He glanced at Trixianna, then pointed a finger at her. “It looks like she tried to burn my house down.”