“You were trying to be kind,” Mead snorted, letting the curtain fall back into place before turning to her. “You were gloating and you loved every minute of it. Now Morgan’s back and he doesn’t seem to think much about you. Is that what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t want Morgan,” Lilly said with a shrill laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I want a man like that, chasing after a floozy to the amusement of the town, hanging around the saloon, and being stupid enough to put his life on the line for a few dollars a month?” she asked incredulously. “I’d have to be a fool.”
“I see,” he replied, taking her chin in his hand. “You don’t want my brother; you just don’t want anyone else to have him either,” he drawled, his dark eyes boring into hers.
“That’s just silly,” Lilly said. She knew her face was flushed and could feel little beads of perspiration on her brow. “You know it’s you I want. Morgan can go back to wherever he came from and take Callie Mae with him for all I care. The important thing is we’re getting married. Let’s change the subject,” Lilly suggested, pulling away from him. “Would you like some tea? I have some cookies I made last weekend,” she offered hopefully.
“Fine,” Mead replied thoughtfully. “We’ll change the subject for now, but at some point they’ll be a few things we’ll have to straighten out between us before marriage. I hope you understand that,” he continued as he took a seat at the small table.
Lilly busied herself setting out cups and saucers and arranging cookies on a pretty plate as she tried desperately to come up with a way to put the benevolent smile back on Mead’s face. The cookies were ones she bought from Mrs. Dixon. In truth, she could hardly produce a decent meal on her own, but Mead didn’t need to know that. Hopefully once they were married, they would be dining out most evenings. It had always been her plan for Mead to work his way up in the banking business and transfer somewhere more suitable, possibly Wichita or Topeka. Talking him into going east would be difficult at best, but once she produced a child or two, surely he would want what was best for them. A proper education could not be obtained, nor could they achieve a level of social prominence in this disreputable little town. No, once she and Mead were married, she’d figure out a way to make him see reason.
CHAPTER 12
“Good evening, Morgan, I mean Deputy Whittaker,” Fancy said, smiling from behind the bar. “What can I get for you?”
“Good evening, Miss O’Shea,” Morgan replied, tipping his hat. “Have you got any coffee?”
Standing at the bar, Morgan used the mirror to scan the room behind him. Seeing a generally congenial crowd, he let his shoulders relax. There were several card games going on accompanied by good-natured ribbing between the drovers. Marilee glided between tables carrying a tray of drinks. Her blue satin dress, despite being somewhat low-cut, could not hide the fact that she was a lady and the men seemed to respond accordingly. Every now and then her tinkling laughter could be heard over the din of multiple conversations.
He watched Fancy come from the kitchen, carrying a cup of coffee. Her emerald dress swayed with each step, and he noted the wistful expressions that followed her. So far so good, he thought, but it was early yet and he knew just how quickly a crowd of lonely men far from home could get out of hand.
“Here you are,” Fancy said, placing the coffee on the bar. “Things seem to be going well, don’t you agree?” Her green eyes were full of excitement and a touch of challenge as she waited for his reply.
“I believe I’ll reserve judgment on that, Miss O’Shea. Where are the others?”
“Jane is upstairs helping Callie Mae. They should be down shortly,” Fancy snapped before walking away to serve a customer. She’d like to stick a pin in that windbag. Everything was wonderful and she didn’t want to listen to his deep voice hinting at dire things to come. Earlier she’d sung a couple of songs to thunderous applause. It was thrilling and heady, and she loved every aspect of this place. The admiring glances of the young and old alike made her feel special and important.
She was proud of her beauty, the way her breasts filled out the bodice of her stunning green gown. Her red hair took on a look of flames in the glow of the lamps. Piled high on her head with a few fat ringlets dangling over her shoulder, she felt much more mature than her eighteen years. Freedom was precious, she decided. Free from the depressing orphanage, free from the constraints placed on her behavior, and most of all, free from the disapproving frown of the matron.
Fancy knew she’d always been different and somewhat of a disappointment. Her exuberant personality frustrated their efforts to teach her what they called ‘proper deportment.’ Every time she’d spoken to a stranger or a young man on the street, she’d been scolded unmercifully. Proper young ladies do not discourse with others until they’ve been formally introduced. Oh, how she wished she had a dollar for every time she’d heard those words.
Well, the new deputy needn’t think he was going to come in here and lecture her, nor ruin her evening. He’d see that they didn’t need his protection soon enough.
Spotting a flash of gold, Fancy looked up and saw Callie Mae at the top of the stairs. Suddenly struck by inspiration, she pulled a stool over and stood on it, clapping her hands.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” she called sweetly, instantly drawing the attention of the room.
“Allow me to introduce your hostess, Miss Walker,” she called, sweeping her hand toward the stairway where Callie Mae stood on the landing.
Morgan looked up and despite the multitude of barely there dresses he’d seen in his lifetime, he still managed to be shocked. Callie Mae paused on the landing, smiling; the room exploded in catcalls and piercing whistles as the men showed their appreciation. Dressed in a tightly fitted gold dress that bared her shoulders, Callie Mae took his breath away. It was much too short in his opinion, even though by the modern standards he was used to, it would be considered knee length and quite modest. Her legs were encased in black stockings and he wondered just how far under that dress he’d have to reach to find bare skin. The skirt flared out, exposing the ruffle of a black petticoat and the cinched waist gave her the perfect hour glass figure. The pale crests of her breasts swelled above the bodice, drawing attention to a Topaz pendent nestled there. Her hair was swept up into an elegant chignon and adorned with a black tipped gold feather. She was nervous, trembling, he could see it each time the fabric of her dress moved and caught the light.
Good, he thought, feeling a touch of satisfaction. She should be nervous. At least that showed she had some sense. He watched as Jane, wearing a red satin gown, descended the stairs behind Callie Mae and put a supporting hand on her shoulder. The volume of the hoots and hollers increased as soon as the crowd saw the pretty young blonde. Callie Mae held up her hands, signaling for quiet, but it was quite a while before the voices in the room hushed enough to hear her.
“Gentlemen, quiet please, I have something to say.” When the room fell silent, Callie Mae began. “Welcome to The Duchess. My name is Callie Mae Walker. I am the sole owner and proprietor of this establishment and as such, I think it’s important to make the rules known.”
“What rules?” demanded a scruffy looking man, sitting alone. “It’s a damn saloon.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. The Duchess is much more than a saloon.”
“Hallelujah!” crowed a young man, making a grab for Marilee who scooted beyond his reach and quickly moved behind the bar with Fancy.
Morgan’s hand inched toward his gun.
“Stop!” Callie Mae shouted. “That’s not what I meant. I meant that we serve more than beer and whisky.”
“Now see, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” the man grinned from ear to ear and moved to go around the bar. “I want more than a drink.”
“Sit down, sir,” Jane ordered in her most imperious voice, stopping him in his tracks. “Kindly let Miss Walker finish.”
