Texas Lonesome (18 page)

D
ustin mounted his horse, mentally reviewing every word Sidney had said and each look she’d tossed his way. Was she warming to him? He remembered their first meeting in the San Antonio mercantile before she’d known he was a McCutcheon.

Across the street at the telegraph office, Fred Billingsworth stepped outside. He’d been demoted from his position as mayor of Rio Wells after the Shellston affair a few months back. The spherical man reminded Dustin of a circus bear, with large sweat rings under his arms and his dark cotton trousers pulled tightly around his middle. He withdrew a folded handkerchief from the front pocket of his rumpled shirt and wiped his forehead, all the while grimacing up at the sun.

“Our old mayor,” he said quietly to Noah. “Fred Billingsworth.”

“Old mayor? He looks pretty young to me.”

Dustin shot Noah a look of irritation. “Old as in demoted from his post. Now he’s just a clerk until we have a new election. He answers to the head of the town council, Deputy Miller, and just about anyone who feels the need to boss him around.” He chuckled. “Riles him good. Used to be he had his hand in just about everybody’s business—and not in a good way. Not so now. He claims he had no idea what Norman Shellston was up to, and we have no way to prove his claim one way or another.”

“Shellston?”

“The former banker. Was involved in extortion, murder, and attempted murder. He was hung shortly after being arrested and tried.”

“McCutcheon,” the overweight man said when they ambled over.

“Billingsworth,” Dustin replied.

One corner of the man’s mouth pulled down in a frown. “This the Calhoun I’ve been hearing about?”

Annoyance shot through Dustin. Didn’t take long for word to get around. “Yeah. Noah Calhoun, Fred Billingsworth.”

“I hope you’re keeping him on a tight rein, McCutcheon. Rio Wells doesn’t need any trouble.”

Dustin leaned his arm down on the saddle horn. “Not like the kind you and Shellston leveled last May?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that, and you know it!” the man replied, snapping back his shoulders.

“We just don’t have any proof.” Dustin tipped up his hat with a forefinger and shifted in the saddle. “Yet.” He let a slow grin grow across his face. “But I’m still looking.”

He’d never liked Billingsworth. The ex-mayor and Shellston were related, brothers-in-law, if he remembered correctly.

The pudgy man straightened and pierced them both with his best fussy look. “Good day.” He turned on his heel and marched around the corner much like a rabbit running for its hole.

From a standstill, Dustin squeezed his horse into a lope, and Noah followed. This day had gotten away from him. They had things to do.

A ball shot out the open door of the Cheddar Box Café and bounced across the road. Candy, her skirts flying, bounded out the door and ran right in front of the path of their horses without looking.

“Candy!”

Martha Brown bolted out after her, just in time to witness him and Noah rein to a sliding stop only inches from her daughter. The little girl toppled to the ground in fright, doing a somersault before coming to an abrupt halt.

Her eyes round with fear, the child darted a look from them to her mother, and then back at the horse’s front hooves prancing in in the dirt.

Dustin swung out of the saddle at the same time Candy scrambled to her feet. Louise Brown, Martha’s sister-in-law, followed Martha into the street, weaving their way through the traffic of horse and riders to where Candy waited.

Dustin went down on one knee, taking Candy by her small, shaking shoulders. Tears filled her eyes.

“Are you all right, Candy?” he asked, pulling her into his arms. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

Behind him, Dustin felt Noah’s presence. He’d dismounted and come forward, holding both horses’ reins.

Crouching by Dustin’s side, Martha scooped Candy from his arms and hugged her to her chest. Several moments passed before she set the child back on her dust-covered boots.

“Are you hurt?” Martha asked in a strangled voice, brushing dust from Candy’s dress. She picked a clump of something that suspiciously looked like horse manure from one long braid.

Seemed Martha had yet to gather her wits about her. Dustin was fearful she would cry too.

Candy shook her head. “I’m fine, Mama.” The ground rumbled as a large wagon passed. “Just my dress needs a good washing.”

Martha stood. “Explain yourself, young lady! How many times have we had this discussion?” She glanced up at Dustin who’d also stood, and then her gaze shifted to Noah before returning to Candy. “If Mr. McCutcheon and his friend had been in a wagon and unable to stop, instead of on horses, then you could have been killed.”

Candy’s gaze was anchored in the dirt at her mother’s shoes.

Martha took a finger and gently lifted the child’s face. “Do you understand?”

Candy nodded.

“I don’t think you do. We’ve discussed this before, many times.” More riders passed by in the opposite direction, giving the group plenty of room. “Yet the first time your ball gets away, you forget everything and dash after the toy like your head is filled with cotton. Consequences will occur, missy, for your open disobedience and thoughtlessness. You won’t get away with a simple smile and an
I’m sorry
.” She shook her head. “You’re too old. You know better.”

When Candy’s face crumpled, Dustin actually felt sorry for the girl. “Martha, maybe this talking-to is punishment enough. I’m sure if Candy had stopped to think—”

“Mr. McCutcheon!”

He blanched at her use of his surname. He’d hit a nerve.

“Are you butting into business that’s none of your concern?” She straightened dramatically at his meddling, and a square of white linen fluttered from her dress pocket and into the dirt at their feet.

Noah bent quickly and picked the cloth up.

“Ma’am,” he said, holding out the material. “Your kerchief dropped into the street.”

She looked up into his face as if noticing him now for the first time. Blinking rapidly, she took a small step back and glanced over her shoulder at Louise still standing behind her.

“T-thank you,” she finally sputtered, and rested a hand on Candy’s shoulder.

Dustin’s gaze cut between the two. Martha must be a good seven years older, but her face had colored up as if she’d been struck by lightning. Nothing good could come of Daniel’s widow and Noah Calhoun.

“As long as Candy’s not hurt, Mrs. Brown, we’ll be on our way.” He touched the brim of his Stetson and turned to mount, but not before he saw her eyes go wide.

“Won’t you introduce us, Mr. McCutcheon, er . . . Dustin?” Her voice had dropped a good three notches in volume and was now soft as a daisy.

He didn’t like the direction this morning was going. He should have stayed in his warm bed and let the day pass him by.

“No, I’m not. He’s a hand who’ll only be here for a short—”

“My name’s Noah Calhoun, ma’am. And you are?”

Lord above, Dustin almost cursed under his breath. These Calhouns didn’t know when to quit.

“I’m Martha Brown, and this is Candy, my daughter.”

For the first time in a long time, Dustin didn’t feel like a slice of cake when Martha looked his way.

“And this is my sister-in-law, Louise Brown.”

Noah tipped his hat. “I’m pleased to meet you both. But I’m more delighted this little girl wasn’t hurt.”

“We best get moving,” Dustin drawled, and turned to mount. “There’s only so much light in one day, and we’ve burned a heck of a lot already.”

Louise plopped her hands on her hips. “What’s gotten into you, Dustin? You’re about as sociable as a week-old bunion.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me. Just have a ranch to run.”

“Are you here to stay, Mr. Calhoun?” Martha asked, directing her attention back to Noah.

Dustin was sure the man was loving every moment of the women’s attention.

“That’s difficult to say, ma’am. I have a debt to work off, so just depends on how fast I can get that done.” He lifted one shoulder. “It’s not a small amount.”

She brightened. “Work? I have lots of things out at the ranch that I’ve let go. Why my back porch is almost ready to fall—”

Fall off? She was stretching the truth a mite. Dustin had been out there last month, and everything looked fine.

“He has plenty of work at the Rim Rock, Martha. More than enough to keep him busy until his responsibilities are taken care of. I can send out a hand to do your work, as we’ve done in the past. What needs doing—besides the porch, I mean?”

She gave him a dismissive wave. “Just things, Dustin. I don’t like to depend on the Rim Rock for everything. I’m grateful for all your help throughout the years since Daniel passed, though.”

Fine.
“I’ll send someone out tomorrow to see to your needs. Ladies.”

Dustin mounted up. With a cluck of his tongue, he sent his horse down the road, soon to hear Noah following.

T
he day had passed in a blur of activities. Sidney glanced at the watch-brooch pinned to her bodice. Fifteen minutes until five. Quitting time.

She straightened from the hem she stitched and stretched her shoulders. Flexing her fingers from the tedious work, she glanced outside from the cozy chair Lily had set in the front window where the light was best, facing the town that was becoming familiar.

She wondered about Noah, and how he fared today with Dustin. An image of Dustin inquiring about her preference to chocolate flavors eased through her mind.

Warmth crept into her face. She’d been attracted to him. She’d liked his build and face—but mostly the depth of his gaze. Even the timbre of his voice had sent chills racing down her back. The memory of his crooked smile brought one of her own.

However, that was before she’d known he was a McCutcheon. Why in heavens was the first man she’d been attracted to have to be from
that
family? Forbidden fruit.
Life is so unfair.

With a sigh, she picked up the hem of Mrs. Tuttle’s blue velvet gown and inspected her stitches. Her work had improved considerably. Her stitches were tighter, more perfectly spaced. Lily truly was an artist, she thought, noticing the delicately tapered sleeves, the minimal bustle dropped a bit lower than usual, and the two front pleats. Sidney hadn’t seen such craftsmanship, even in Santa Fe.

Lily hummed as she went about her duties in the kitchen. After settling Sidney with Mrs. Tuttle’s gown, showing her what she wanted done and how to do it, her boss had hurried away to put something on the stove for supper.

Sidney glanced around the interior of the shop filled with all sorts of interesting articles of textile and fabrics. Earlier, she’d asked Lily about the intriguing artwork fashioned from buttons, sequins, and sparkling doodads that hung on the wall that Lily herself had created.

Astonishment filled Sidney over all Lily had accomplished: she was an artist with a thriving business, as well as a loving wife who cared for her husband.

Savory smells drifted around the shop, making Sidney’s stomach rumble. For lunch, she’d told Lily she had food back in her room, which wasn’t the truth. In the hotel, she’d paid for a cup of tea and taken the brew upstairs, enjoying the moments of solitude before returning to the shop at one sharp.

Lily appeared, wiping her hands. “How’s that going?”

“I’m three quarters of the way finished.”

“Wonderful. Mrs. Tuttle will be in around noon tomorrow for her final fitting. You should be finished by then, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely. If you like, I can stay past five. I don’t mind working until it’s done. Would you rather I complete it tonight?”

Lily came close to inspect the hem. “No need for that. Tomorrow morning is soon enough. I don’t want to work you too hard. Then the job’s no fun.” She winked. “I’ve set you a place at the table. Eating will be tight with the three of us in my small kitchen. Do you like chicken and dumplings?”

Sidney jerked up her chin. “Lily, I couldn’t!”

“Why not?” Lily asked, her eyes wide. “Don’t you like my cooking?”

In honesty, she had enjoyed the cinnamon rolls she’d tasted and a few other treats Lily had brought out during the day. She’d love to stay for supper, especially for chicken and dumplings, but the thought of taking more charity than she already had left a heavy pit in her stomach.

“Of course I like your cooking.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Then what is it? Me? Because I’m a McCutcheon?” Lily smiled and batted her eyes. “I’ve only married into the fold. Think of me as an Anthony. That was my maiden name.”

Confused, Sidney looked away from the kind young woman who had befriended her. Given her a job, even though she had little sewing experience, and had offered her handouts right and left.

“You make my beliefs sound silly.”

The smile faded from Lily’s face. “Not silly, just unfounded. I can tell you’re struggling. For now, why don’t you let the past go? Just for supper tonight. I’ll enjoy having you as a dinner guest. John will as well. He’s only a Montana McCutcheon, so he doesn’t count. What do you say?”

As much as Sidney wanted to stick to her principles, she acknowledged her tummy wouldn’t let her. “I’d like that very much, Lily. Thank you. But only if you let me help. What can I do?”

“Everything is ready, and we’re just waiting on John.” She glanced at a small clock placed on the counter where she wrote up orders. “And he should be here any time.”

Lily lifted the heavy garment from Sidney’s lap and carried it to the dressing room where she hung projects that were near completion.

“If you’d like to wash up, you’ll find a clean hand towel by the pump in the kitchen. Soap as well. I’m running upstairs to freshen up.”

“Thank you. I will,” Sidney replied as Lily dashed up the staircase to the apartment on the second level.

The door opened when Sidney was at the pump.

“Lily?” A moment passed. “Something sure smells delicious in here. I have a surprise for you. Something that’ll make you happy.”

The sound of footsteps brought Sidney face-to-face with the doctor. He pulled up as if he’d forgotten Lily had an employee. His face actually took on a deeper hue.

“Lily’s upstairs,” she said, feeling awkward as she dried with the towel.

He held a letter in his hand as his gaze took in the three place settings at the table.

“I’ll be right there, John,” Lily called from her bedroom. “Hungry?”

“You bet. Even more so now that I smell what’s cooking.” Taking a potholder, he removed the lid from the heavy pot on the stove. Replacing it, he winked at Sidney and smiled. “My wife’s an excellent cook. Stems from her German heritage.”

When Lily appeared in the doorway, John gave her a quick kiss on the lips and held up the letter.

Lily’s eyes lit with pleasure. “From whom?”

“Charity. Or I should say, Mrs. Brandon Crawford.”

She clapped her hands together. “They went and tied the knot! How wonderful. Did you read it without me?”

“No.” He pointed at the envelope. “Just read the return address.”

Lily’s excitement fairly bubbled. “I’m glad they didn’t wait once they arrived home. Those two should have been married years ago. They’re meant for each other.”

As self-conscious as Sidney felt, she still enjoyed being around such heart-felt emotions.

Lily laid the letter on the table. “Let me dish up the supper first, then we’ll read the news while we eat. After that, I want to know what you were up to this morning. You intentionally sneaked out earlier today before I had a chance to ask.”

They were just sitting down when the door to the shop opened again. “I know you’re closed,” a voice called out. “Do you mind if we come in?”

Dustin?
Surely, Noah would be with him. Sidney watched as John hurried to the door, wishing she could go herself.

“Come in, cousin!” John said enthusiastically. “Have you eaten? We’re just sitting down now.”

Lily poked her head around the corner and waved them in. “Absolutely. I’ve made plenty. Do join us. That way, Sidney can catch up with her brother, and we can visit with you. I presume Noah is with you, since he was this morning.”

Dustin and Noah appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. The sight of Dustin standing there with his hat dangling from his fingers brought a rush of warmth to her face. He smiled, looking a bit windblown and dusty. Noah hung back, waiting for the others to make their decision.

“There’s no room for us,” Dustin said, his gaze grazing over her face before he took in the small table in the corner dressed with three place settings.

Lily turned and looked at her table. “You’re right about that.”

“Besides,” he went on, “you’ve got everything ready. We’re intruding.”

Lily beckoned with her hand. “Of course you’re not intruding. Family can’t intrude. The table out back has ample room for five. I like to take coffee outside sometimes. The afternoon breeze is all but gone, and the evening is perfect for eating outside. What do you all say?”

“In the alley with a view of the back door of the jail?” John said, his mouth pulling down.

Lily turned on him. “Where’s your sense of adventure, John? Not only is there a nice view of the jailhouse door and your medical building, but if you look across the open lots, you can see a small portion of the hot springs and the curve of the bridge.”

His frown deepened. “If you say so. I’d rather you have a real yard for entertaining. Not a dusty old alley with horse manure.”

“I sweep that away.”

An unknown look passed between them, and Sidney wondered what it meant.

“Fine then,” Lily said. “Give me one moment to run upstairs to grab my tablecloth, and we’ll have the table set in a jiffy. The food is ready to be served, and the bread just out of the oven. I won’t hear another word from you, Dustin McCutcheon, about why you can’t stay.”

“Thank you,” Dustin mumbled, still clutching his hat. He smiled at Sidney as she came forward.

“How was your day?” she asked, enjoying this more amiable Dustin McCutcheon very much. “Did you get everything accomplished?”

Since this morning, the start of a dark stubble had shaded his square jaw, and his tired eyes regarded her with interest—or humor. Whatever the expression was, she liked it.

Her face heated, and she couldn’t stop a small smile from pulling her lips.

Oh yes. If there wasn’t bad blood between the families, she could fall in love with Dustin McCutcheon in the blink of an eye. Maybe she already had.