Deborah Camp (31 page)

“What you say?” Jebidiah asked, eyes rounded with shock.

“Nothing, I … I just realized I left my bonnet back there.”

“You want to go back for it?”

She glared at him from the corner of her eyes. “About as much as I want to dance a jig barefoot on a bed of hot coals.”

“G
ood God, what happened to you?” Emerald O’Brady said as Theo entered her boudoir upstairs at the Full Bucket.

“A drunk didn’t like my looks last night and decided to rearrange my features.” He smirked and placed his hat on a piecrust table. Pulling a long box from under his arm, he handed it to her. “Chocolates, my sweet.”

She dimpled. “You know the way to my heart, don’t you?”

She opened the box and selected a bonbon. The sunlight pouring through the window increased the intensity of his headache. Theo crossed the room and pulled down the shade.

“Headache, big man?”

“A two-hammer one.” He recalled Regina’s harsh lecture about saloon girls and wondered if he knew Emerald as well as he thought. Searching his memory, he realized he knew little about her personal life. “Em, have you ever been married?”

She almost choked on the chocolate. “Me?” She spread a hand above her bosom. “Glory be, no.”

“Then you have no children?”

Something changed in her face as if a deep, deep nerve had been poked. She opened the chocolate box and studied the contents. “Well, now, I
didn’t say that, did I?” She glanced at him through her thick red lashes. “I had me a daughter, but she died of the fever some years back. Her papa never hung around much, and him and me never married. He never asked, and I’m not one to beg.”

“Would you have married him, if he’d asked?”

“Sure.”

“And left this business?”

She laughed hollowly, looking at the frilly bed with its red spread and lacy canopy. “And leave all this behind, you mean?” She snapped her fingers. “In the blink of an eye, if he could have provided for me and the child. I wouldn’t let my baby go hungry or be mistreated.”

Theo sat in the other chair, feeling battered, inside and out. “I guess she was right.”

“Who?” Emerald placed the chocolates on the table between them. “Did getting socked in the face make you so serious, or is something else bubbling inside you?”

“I had another encounter with the opinionated Miss Rose last night.” He touched the cut under his eye.

Emerald chuckled. “Which hurt worse, that fella’s fist or her opinions?”

“It’s a toss-up,” he admitted dryly. “She said I didn’t know anything about saloon girls, even though I spend a goodly amount of time with them. I thought she was off the main track, but maybe I’m the one on the spur. I sure never figured you for somebody’s mama. How long did your daughter live?”

“She died when she was six.” The skin around Emerald’s rouged mouth tightened. “I named her after my mama—Gayla.”

“Gayla. That’s pretty.”

“So was she. Pretty as a picture. It like to have killed me when the fever took her. For years after
that I did everything I could to put myself in the grave, so I could maybe go where she went. I wanted so bad to see my Gayla again.” She sniffed and seemed to shake off the cobweb of memories. “That was twelve years ago, but sometimes it seems like yesterday. When I see a little girl with red hair, my heart just breaks open and all them feelings come spilling out.”

He reached across and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You were the first friend I made here, Em, and I know so little about you. Em, last night Regina said that saloon girls are secretly hoping for marriage proposals. What do you think? I see those girls downstairs laughing and flirting, and I assume they enjoy their work here.”

“For a gal who won’t come near a saloon, that Regina Rose knows a lot about the women who work in them,” Em observed.

Theo shrugged, choosing his words carefully. “She studies saloons as some women study dress patterns.”

“Guess she does, at that. Theo, the women here don’t hate their work, but they don’t see themselves doing it to the grave neither. Sure, we’re all hoping for homes and husbands. When we hear about some saloon girl breaking out and getting herself a husband, we pass that story around like it was a rare jewel.” She flapped a hand at him. “Why, we’re the same as other females. We got our dreams and our wishing hearts, same as the next woman.”

“She found out about the gowns, by the way. Dorrie shot off her mouth.”

“Was she mad or glad about it?”

“Glad, actually.” He shrugged. “Who can figure women out? She waited for me last night to thank me personally.”

“Uh-oh,” Emerald said, wagging a finger, eyes
all sparkles. “She found out you were nice. I bet that rankles you, huh? But don’t you go doing something you’ll regret.”

“Such as?”

“Such as being a beast to make her forget you’re a pussycat. It was mighty nice of you to send those gowns over to them women. I hope you let her thank you.”

He grinned. “I let her.”

“Did you get lucky?” Em angled closer, eager for details. “Did you sweep that gal right off her feet?”

He shook his head, opting for prudency. “You don’t sweep Regina Rose off her feet, Emerald. I do believe that her shoes are made of cast iron.”

Emerald laughed. “Probably hand-me-downs from Carry Nation. Why didn’t you ever say anything about your mama being one of them W.C.T.U. ladies?”

“I don’t think of her in those terms,” he said, feeling the lie in his heart.

“She and Mrs. Nation are hand in glove. How long is your mama going to visit?”

“She’s leaving tomorrow on the noon train.” He picked up his hat. “Which reminds me, headache or no, I promised to meet her at Guffy’s Café.” He dropped a kiss on Emerald’s forehead. “It’s always a pleasure, Emerald.”

“Most men come in here and find their pleasure in something besides talking. I bet Regina Rose wouldn’t believe me if I told her you and me had never ended up in that bed, even if I swore it on a stack of Bibles.”

“Hon, most women in this town would find that hard to believe.” He winked and strode to the door.

“Hey there, big gun.”

He paused on the threshold, turning back to her.

“You know how me and you joke and say things we don’t always mean to each other?” She studied his puzzled expression. “You know, like when you say I’m your girl, and I say you’re my one and only?”

“Oh, yes.” He smiled. “What of it?”

“You understand that some ladies might believe you—those that might
want
to believe?”

He propped a hand high on the door frame in a cocky pose. “Are you afraid I might hurt someone’s feelings, Emerald?”

“You could, you know.”

“Someone … here?”

“Here?” She looked confused for a moment, then she tipped back her head and laughed. “Hell, no. Not here! I’m talking about out there—out there where there are some soft hearts left. Out there on East Mountain.”

He glanced toward the shaded window, then his gaze shot back to Emerald. Was he
that
easy to read? He brought his arm down to his side, no longer feeling so cocksure of himself.

“Don’t look so stricken, hon,” Emerald chided. “You ain’t wearing your heart on your sleeve. I just see more than most. I don’t know much, but I know men, and I know when one’s got himself collared. Maybe you don’t like the fit? Well, take it from me, that collar won’t pinch so if you quit tugging on the leash.”

Theo knew he was blushing, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, except laugh at himself, so he did.

“Just don’t say things you ain’t sure you mean,” Emerald advised. “Some hearts don’t heal up fast. Takes them a long, long time.”

“I hear you, and don’t you fret. I know when to keep my mouth shut. Good day to you, Miss Emerald.” He tipped his hat before leaving, but he
couldn’t deny the slight tremble in his knees, nor the uncomfortable knot in his chest. Damn, that Mistress Rosy had gotten to him, but good!

He ran a finger under his collar. He hadn’t slept well after she’d gone because he knew he could have been sharing the bed with her. And now Emerald had noticed a change in him. Who’s next? he wondered, then groaned. Mother, of course. He sure couldn’t hide his heart from her eagle eyes.

On the walk to the café, he wondered where Jack Beck was staying. That morning he’d checked at several hotels, but he hadn’t found him registered in any of them. After last night, Theo had changed his mind about Beck. He used to think the man was a coward, easily frightened away. But no more. Jack Beck was dangerous and needed to be dealt with before something tragic happened.

As he entered the café he girded himself for another episode with an intuitive female. Bea Dane was already seated at a table near the back of the eating establishment. He saw her gasp when she saw his bruised face, but she recovered quickly. She signaled him and he joined her, pausing to kiss her offered cheek before he sat across from her at the gingham-spread table.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Only by five minutes. You’re forgiven.”

“I was with another woman.”

“I should have known.”

“Emerald O’Brady at the Full Bucket.”

“Ah! One of your barmaids.”

“Yes.” He smiled good-naturedly and turned sideways to study the chalkboard menu. “The special looks good.”

“If you like kidney beans,” Bea allowed. “I believe I’ll have the stew and cornbread.”

“Miss Cora,” he called to the woman behind the
counter. “We’ll have two bowls of your stew and some cornbread here.”

“Want anything to drink?”

“A pitcher of water will do us.” He faced his mother again. “Is Carry Nation going home with you tomorrow?”

“No, not tomorrow.”

He heard what she didn’t say. “She’s joining you later?”

“We’ve agreed that she’ll speak at the Medicine Lodge W.C.T.U. meeting and then we’ll travel to Wichita for another speaking engagement. I know you don’t approve, but I’m pleased with our plans. I believe she’s a vital force in the Prohibition movement.”

“She’s a firecracker, that’s for sure.”

“Now, what happened to your face? Did one of your saloon girls do that to you?”

“I ran into a mean drunk at the Full Bucket.”

She frowned as she placed her napkin across her lap. Theo noticed lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there a year ago; however, she remained an attractive woman with an inbred nobility. She’d always been his tower of sensibility, the heart of his family.

“I was in hopes you’d come to Mrs. Nation’s for our celebration.”

“I was heading there, Mother, but I didn’t make it. Sorry.”

“Did Miss Rose ever get to talk to you?”

“Miss Rose?” He glanced at her, saw her cunning smile, and felt that collar pinch. “Yes, I spoke with her last night.”

“She is quite impressed with you, Theodore.”

“Mother, aren’t you worried about my injuries here?” He touched the swollen cut on his forehead. “Is this all the sympathy I’m going to get?”

Her eyes twinkled with humor. “If I tell you that
I wish you’d find a better place to sow your wild oats than at the Full Bucket Saloon, would it do any good? If I tell you that I pray every day that you’ll find a decent young woman who will claim your heart, would you sit still and listen?” Her gaze touched on his wounds. “Do they hurt?”

“No.” He grinned. “But I figure they ought to be good for some tender, loving care from a female or two.”

“Why not
one
, Theodore? One special someone.”

“The world and I are still young, Mother.” He gave his attention to the meal the waitress set before him.

“She was upset last night.”

“Who?” He knew who.

“Miss Rose.”

“I would think she’d be deliriously happy that her beloved Mrs. Nation wasn’t thrown back into jail.”

“She was happy about that, but when she returned from seeing you, she was quite upset. I believe she might have been angry. What’s going on between the two of you?”

Theo put down his spoon, giving up the pretense of enjoying the meal. “Mother, this is private, if you please.”

“You can’t discuss it with your own mother?” she challenged. “You can’t answer such a simple question for your mother?”

He sighed, sensing defeat. “We’re friends.”

“It’s more than that.” She narrowed her eyes, honing in on something. “Or is that the problem?”

He shook his head. “You’ve lost me.”

“She is more than a friend, and you aren’t ready or willing to accept that. Do you find it incongruous to be attracted to one of Carry Nation’s lieutenants, Theodore?”

He couldn’t keep from grinning. “Yes, I suppose
I do, Mother. Well, it is a kettle of fish, isn’t it?” Suddenly, he wanted to talk, wanted to have her listen and offer some of her advice that had always been right on target. “The problem is we don’t know each other all that well. We’ve spent so much time fussing and feuding, and so little time understanding and compromising, that when I’m with her I don’t know whether to be glad or sad. Sometimes I think there’s a glimmer of hope that she might let herself get close to me, and other times I think that’s the last thing I should let happen.”

“My, my, you
are
in a quandary.” Bea arched her brows. “I really had no idea.”

“When I first met her I thought she was a stern, no-nonsense finger-shaker. But then I saw the fire in her eyes, and every once in a while, mischief broke loose in her. Having a man love her would do that girl a world of good, but I’m not at all sure I’m cut out for the job.”

“And why not?”

“She has me pegged all wrong, Mother. She’s gone from thinking I’m an unfeeling oaf to believing I’m a saint.”

“You’re somewhere in between.” She laughed to herself. “Love certainly is complicated.”

“Mother, it’s not love. Not by a mile.” He ate some stew and chewed on his thoughts. “I’m not sure I’d be good for her.”

“Would she be good for you?”

He pondered that a moment. “Maybe. When I’m with her, I usually want to win her favor. I try harder with her than I do for any other woman and that in itself rankles. Why do I feel that I have to be something more for her?”