Paul rubbed his cheek—the one Molly had kissed so prettily when they had met for dinner at the Sittin’ Eat. He had never looked so neat as now, in the presence of his bride-to-be. Or so clean-shaven. “Appears like.”
With a disgusted look, the doctor picked up his cup. “You don’t seem much worried about it. This is your f
uture wife’s sister we’re talkin’ about here, and her own betrothed, and tryin’ to keep her from makin’ the same mistake Molly did.” Suddenly he came to himself. “Paul, I swear, that is the godawfulest coffee I’ve ever in my life tasted. Can’t you brew a decent pot for this place?”
His initial response was a lopsided grin. “Got you to sit up and take notice, didn’t it?” The secondary response was a more serious one. “Of course I’m worried, you lop-eared jackass. I’ve been deliberatin’ on the subject. Should I hit this fellah with my knowledge head-on, or should I lead up to it gradually and let him somehow work through it?”
“Either way, you ain’t gonna be talkin’ with him right soon,” Gabe, sinking down on his spine, said gloomily. “He’s gone.”
Had Paul been maintaining his earlier position, his feet would have hit the floor with a crash. As it was, he stiffened and straightened as if to better confront some adversary. “Gone. Gone where?”
“Dunno. Letty came over to my office this mornin’, as usual, and gave me the news. Didn’t seem too upset by his takin’ off, though. She said somethin’ about some job he wanted to look into.”
The sheriff’s steady dark gaze met that of his friend’s. “Think he’ll be back?”
“Reckon so. Left his carpet bag and belongin’s in his room at the Drinkwater.” Gabe bared his teeth in a semi-smile. “B’sides, the man is smitten.”
“Huh.” A moment filled by reminiscence passed by before Paul spoke again, with a quiet semi-smile of his own. “Ain’t we all.”
“Speak for yourself, son. These Burton ladies have all the destructive qualities of a tornado tearin’ through this town. There may be three of you fellers already roped up and hog-tied, but I ain’t about to join your crowd. So. What’s the verdict on Mr. Barclay?”
“About the only thing from here on is to wait till he gets back, and then have a little chat.” Thoughtful, he scratched his chin and considered the matter. “You think Letty is at all bothered?”
Gabe shrugged. “Knowin’ what we know now—or don’t know? Maybe. She’s dependin’ on us to get the background her hole-and-corner paramour has evidently forgotten to pass on.”
“I know we’re both lookin’ at what happened with Hennessey. But let’s not jump to conclusions and tar this individual with the same brush. He’s seemed decent so far.”
“Huh. So did the other’n.” Sighing, the doctor heaved himself upright. “Well, Alcalde, reckon I’ll leave you to whatever important tasks you got in front of you. Me, I’m gonna go drum up some business. There’s gotta be somebody in this place with some hurt needin’ attention. Oh, and, Paul?”
He paused at the door, “Do your stomach a favor and get rid of that filthy coffeepot. It ain’t fit to boil your socks in.”
Chapter Nine
HE RETURNED TWO DAYS later, riding in on the chestnut filly named Stargirl upon whom he lavished such care and affection. A bit wrinkled and rumpled as to clothing, to be sure, a bit disorderly and untidy as to hair and beard, he trotted directly to Norton’s Livery for the watering, feeding, and pasture that his mount deserved.
It wasn’t until he had had time to bathe, shave, and change into fresh attire that he sought out his wandering bride-to-be.
She wasn’t settled anywhere in or near the boarding house. However, he did attract all manner of unwanted attention from other residents. A couple of the male porch-sitters (in Ben’s absence, they had been chased away from the Mercantile’s front porch by Jimmy Dunlap, to take up temporary quarters on Mrs. McKnight’s painted verandah) heartily slapped him on the back; a couple of the ladies gushed and simpered without giving a clear reason as to why.
Once he had escaped from the clutches of these well-meaning but persistent individuals, he headed on over to the doctor’s office. She wasn’t there, either. Nor was anyone, in fact. The place was as empty as some of the business buildings a few days into the past. In the vacancy of its rooms, his footsteps echoed almost eerily.
Outside the door, he paused. Where to, now? The time was mid-morning, not an hour when she might customarily be taking a meal at one of the restaurants. Her landlady had suggested stopping at the Forrester house in search of his elusive bride, and given directions. That seemed the logical next try.
Approaching, he was quite favorably impressed with the appearance. Well-established, sheltered by plenty of mature trees and greenery; neat and obviously nicely tended (much like his own sweet-tempered filly; he supposed each man does his best to care for that which he loves), from fresh paint to whitewashed picket fence to second-story shutters. A prosperous place. The owner must be doing well for himself.
As he lifted a fist to knock at the front door, the soft sounds of feminine laughter reached him. Not from inside the house, however, but outside, around back. Smiling, he retraced his steps and circled the house through plush sod still violently green.
They were sitting, all three sisters, in the dappled shade of a giant sycamore, upon artistically arranged twig chairs drawn up to a small twig table. Broad-brimmed autumn hats, rich black hair loose to the shoulders, glowing complexions, gowns such as one might see at a tea party. Difficult to imagine a more endearing sight than beautiful women enjoying a few free moments in each other’s company.
Just then, while he stood savoring the air of peace and harmony, Letitia, caught, perhaps, by some sixth sense where his presence was concerned, glanced up. Instantly her expression seemed to trap all the radiance of the sun, radiating out like ripples in the sea to draw him in.
“Reese!” she half-whispered, half-called, and rose to her feet as if involuntarily tugged upright by the mere fact of his being there.
“Hello, Letty.” Responding with his own heartwarming smile, he yanked off his Stetson, strode forward, and, heedless of spectators, swept her roughly and demandingly into his arms. “Hello, sweetheart,” he breathed, seeking out her luscious mouth to snatch a series of hungry kisses.
“Ahem.” Hannah, having had enough of this display when she herself had none, finally cleared her throat and rattled the china teapot. “I suppose this is a welcome back.”
Molly, who was blessed with her own enthusiastic and ardent suitor, was not about to play dog in the manger toward another’s good fortune. Beaming like a proud mama, she proclaimed, “Of course it is. Hello, Reese. I hope your trip was successful?”