Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron (8 page)

Priscilla knew that
The Town Tattler
might ultimately be forced to take sides, and she didn't see how
she could side with Adam. Having traveled west with a wagon train
made up of homesteaders who'd risked everything they had to start
new lives on land they owned made her sympathetic to their cause.
All they wanted was the 160 acres granted them by the Homestead
Act, and the right to work the land and make it their homes. On the
other hand, cattlemen who'd built up vast empires by grazing
thousands of head of cattle on thousands of acres of land belonging
to the government, were intent on driving the farmers and
homesteaders away, depriving hard-working people of the right to
carve out a life on the new frontier and establish farms and raise
families.

Priscilla sat at her dressing table, brushing
out the tangles in her hair, while mulling over
The Town
Tattler
's presence within this contentions publishing
community. The women passed on gossip around town. Actually,
lighthearted jesting, not to be taken seriously. The cattlemen's
newspapers viewed
The Town Tattler
as nothing more than a
pesky little bug they could squash if they chose to do so. And the
homesteader's newspaper brushed it off as the frivolous pastime of
a spinster lady who had nothing better to do. But the time would
come when they would all be forced to take notice because
The
Town Tattler
would be the talk of Cheyenne. She was certain of
that. But that was in the future. She had other concerns right
now.

She was about to move into the house of a man
whose presence caused all manner of emotional and physical
upheaval. Not only had she been thoroughly kissed by him, but he'd
kissed her in a way that she'd never read about in her Dime Novels.
She'd never imagined a man would explore her mouth with his tongue,
or that she'd enjoy it. No, not enjoy it. Crave it. But the feel of
Adam's tongue rasping against hers while moving in and out of her
mouth awakened a different need, low and deep. The woman's need
Adam spoke of. She'd contemplated the marital act as any untouched
woman would, concluding that it was nothing more than a
physiological necessity that a woman endured in order for
procreation.

But reflecting on Adam's intimate kiss and
the reaction it stirred in her, for the first time in her life she
could imagine taking part in the marital act with him for pleasure.
Which, of course, she wouldn't. But she would like him to kiss her
again like he had. But he'd also kissed her in other places, and in
other ways. She had no idea that darting his tongue in her ear or
kissing her neck would send a flurry of chills racing through her,
blocking out thoughts of everything but the myriad of sensations
centering in places that only a husband should be allowed to touch.
She also realized Adam was the reason she kept getting winded. She
had no idea why it happened, but it did, and she'd have to get used
to needing extra air whenever he was around. Which might not be for
very long, she realized, sadly, as she looked at herself the
mirror.

She was an unattractive spinster woman who'd
come west with the homesteaders and understood a person's need to
start anew, and Adam was a breathtakingly handsome man who could
have any woman he wanted. She was also certain that even if Adam
did feel
something
for her now, those feelings would cease
when his campaign for mayor began and she'd be forced to take
sides. For the moment, however, she'd enjoy what Adam offered her
and set the rest aside.

***

Lady Edwina Whittington peered through the
parlor window at Priscilla, who was climbing aboard her buckboard
to go after another load of belongings. "It's no wonder the woman's
a spinster," she said to Adam. "She's as plain as an old shoe, poor
thing."

Adam eyed his mother with irritation. "Looks
are not everything, Mother. You've been telling me that for
years."

"Only to take your mind off the kind of women
you have pursued in the past, women who use their beauty, female
assets, and seductive charms to catch your notice."

"Then you should not find fault with Miss
Phipps," Adam said. "She hardly fits that description. But the fact
is, I find her rather charming."

Lady Whittington looked at Adam with a start.
"I hope you have not led the pitiful creature on in any way, Adam,"
she said, a furrow of concern touching her brow. "She is without
question naive in the ways of men, and you are clearly experienced
along those lines. It would be unkind and unconscionable for you to
give her any encouragement at all, or any hope of finding romance
with you. Spinster ladies like Miss Phipps look to those silly Dime
Novels to fulfill that role in their lives, and it's best to leave
them to it."

Adam allowed a smile to curve his lips. "What
if I told you I was infatuated with Miss Phipps?"

"I'd say that was so much twaddle," Lady
Whittington said. "Besides, if you were to find enjoyment in the
woman's company, though I cannot imagine it for a man like you,
she'd be an embarrassment for you to have hanging onto your arm
during your campaign."

Adam forced back a scathing retort. "So the
kind of man you think I am is one only interested in pursuing women
who flaunt their female assets for my pleasure."

"That is not what I meant!" Lady Whittington
clipped. "You are a man with the looks, command, and presence to
keep company with countless beautiful and gracious women who would
be an asset to your political career."

"But I am not seeking a political career,"
Adam said, "only the position of mayor so I can serve the cattlemen
of this region, whom, I might remind you, are supplying beef to
England. With homesteaders coming in droves and seizing vast acres
of land, it won't be long before cattlemen will have no land for
grazing, or passageways for driving herds to market because of all
the fences going up. When that happens, the cost of beef in England
will be out of reach for ordinary people. There needs to be
regulation to protect cattlemen against this incursion."

"Well, if you fancy yourself mayor, " Lady
Whittington said, "you had better keep your eyes off Miss Phipps,
or your electorate will think there is something wrong with you
that you are unable to attract a decent-looking woman."

Adam bit back a string of expletives. The
fact that he found Priscilla appealing might be his assessment
alone, but he liked the way she looked when she was scrubbed clean,
and her green-brown eyes held that glint of passion he'd seen after
he'd kissed her, and her hair was a tangle of carrot-red curls
around her pretty oval face. Perhaps God gave him the eyes to see
beyond her plain facade and into the soul of the exhilarating woman
she was. But he'd never convince his mother that he could care for
a woman who looked the way Priscilla did when she was the way God
created her. "When Miss Phipps is fashionably dressed and made up
she is a different woman," he said. "When I was at the church
social last Sunday I had to outbid two men for her picnic basket,
and her company."

Lady Whittington looked at Adam as if he were
deranged. "I cannot believe you would be drawn to the woman in any
way."

"That's because you don't know her," Adam
said.

Deciding it would do more harm than good to
plead a case for Priscilla and chance his mother wanting her to
move out, Adam said, "You can rest assured, Mother, I have no
designs on Miss Phipps. I merely wanted to do something charitable
for the woman, plain as she is, and for the church. It was, after
all, a fundraiser. But the main reason I asked her to live here is
so she can keep an eye on Trudy, who has her sights on a young
cowboy out at the ranch. Moving Trudy here, under Miss Phipps'
watchful eye, would keep Trudy away from that temptation. Miss
Phipps' virtue is above reproach, so she would be a good example
for both Trudy and Alice to follow. And she has a razor sharp
tongue when she has a mind to chastise someone. I can assure you,
Trudy would be no match for her."

Lady Whittington straightened her spine and
pursed her lips, and her head gave a little wiggle, a clear sign
that she was yielding the argument to him, which she confirmed,
when she said in a conciliatory tone, "I was not aware of that side
of Miss Phipps' nature. That being the case, I suppose it's good
that she will be here."

"I am glad you see it that way," Adam said,
relieved to be done with the session.

Lady Whittington offered him a self-righteous
smile. "Don’t get me wrong, Adam. I have nothing against the woman.
She seems pleasant in fact. It's just that she is so very
unattractive."

"Well, I hope you will not continue to hold
that against her," Adam said, feeling his temper mount, knowing
he'd better bring this whole unpleasant affair to a close before he
said something he would regret.

Lady Whittington bristled. "I am not so
shallow as you portray me to be, Adam," she said. "I feel sorry for
the woman because of the way she looks. But I would certainly not
hold that against her. In fact, I hope to get to know her
better."

Adam stood. "You will soon be given that
chance." He started for the door.

Lady Whittington raised her hand to stop him.
"Before you go, Adam, tell me... What is this business you say Miss
Phipps plans to start?"

Adam shrugged. "A singlesheet newspaper,
which she will call
The Town Tattler
. It will cover topics
appealing to women—recipes, society news, advice to the lovelorn, a
romantic story, a bulletin where women can air personal grievances.
Things like that."

Lady Whittington pursed her lips and sucked
in a long breath. "Well, I suppose that would be appropriate for
the woman. She would certainly not do well running a millenary shop
or other business catering to women's fashions, as she has clearly
not been schooled along those lines. I doubt if she has even been
to a proper finishing school."

Adam eyed his mother with vexation. "I advise
you not to underestimate Miss Phipps," he said. "I suspect she
could be a force to reckon with should you, or anyone else, rankle
her. I for one intend to stay on her good side." And
that
was the understatement of the day, Adam silently conceded. If truth
be known, he intended to cover all sides of Priscilla while she lay
naked in his arms. The idea had taken root and wouldn't let go. But
for the life of him, he didn't know when, or where, it would take
place. The ranch was miles from town, his house was soon to be a
hive of activity and watchful eyes, and
The Town Tattler
building was a far cry from being a love nest...

Then he remembered the mattress pads in the
upstairs rooms that Priscilla had mentioned. They were unoccupied,
now that the women had moved into a boarding house, and he was
becoming increasingly impatient to alleviate a problem he was
having, and to do it with the oddly appealing, totally
exasperating, easily roused spinster whose mere image in his mind's
eye brought a smile to his lips and action below his waist...

"I don't believe I like that smile, Adam,"
his mother's voice caught him up short. "It was never a good sign
when you were growing up."

Adam looked at his mother in amusement. "Then
I suggest you get used to it," he said, "because I'm afraid it's
here to stay." With that cryptic message, he left the house and
headed for
The Town Tattler
building, almost tasting the
lips he intended to capture the first chance he got. But now, his
hands were restless to capture other parts of Miss Priscilla
Phipps' anatomy. She was a fireball of passion waiting to be
released. And he was more than ready to do her that honor. And to
do it very soon, or he was apt to go mad.

CHAPTER FOUR

'To be a king and wear a crown is a
thing

more glorious to them that see it than
it

is pleasant to them that bear it.'

—
Queen Elizabeth
I

Lady Whittington leaned over Priscilla,
studying, with rapt attention the lock of copper-red hair pressed
between her fingers. "We could tone it down with a lightener such
as lemon juice and chamomile tea and have you sit in the sun," she
said to Priscilla, "but I am afraid you would acquire yet more
freckles, so that would not be advised. Besides, dark hair is
preferred over blond, so I believe it would be best for you to go
darker. I will have cook boil down some black walnut shells and mix
it with black tea."

Priscilla saw the look of pity on Lady
Whittington's face. All her life she'd seen that look while people
talked around her on what to do about the color of her hair. At
different times her mother tried rinsing it in coffee, then in
boiled sage leaves, then in an infusion of cherry bark and chicory
root. When that didn't work, she tried lightening it with a mixture
of mashed rhubarb and pineapple juice and having her sit in the
sun. The next day her face was red as a beet and covered in
blisters. When that passed, she had a new crop of freckles.

Seeming to pick up on that, Lady Whittington
said, "We could do something about those freckles, but there is no
magical formula. It would require time and patience and continuous
care. But there are bleaching agents that can fade them to a color
that closely approximates the color of your skin, although
sometimes it results in an undesirable lightening of the skin
surrounding the freckles, calling more attention to them."

Knowing that her voice would be wobbly if she
replied, Priscilla nodded and said nothing. Her freckles had been a
constant reminder of how plain and unattractive she was, though no
one said as much. But it had been implied by the teasing of her
classmates and the remedies her mother tried over the years. One
bleaching agent had her face breaking out in a rash. Another burned
her skin. Then there were the sour cream washes, and the vegetable
masks made with mashed cucumbers, and strawberries, and
apricots...