Bartered Bride Romance Collection (50 page)

The eyebrow above Gideon’s patchless eye rose slightly as he watched Bess. She lifted her chin higher, silently challenging him to deny her statement. A drop of water fell from her hat brim and splashed onto her nose. She blinked in surprise.

Gideon’s lips twitched into a smirk. He stepped back, opening the door wider. “I will not only allow it, Parson. I insist.” He invited the crowd inside with a wave of one hand.

The matter decided to her satisfaction, Bess turned to survey the temporary chapel.

A boy of about ten, his long red hair falling over his forehead, stood beside the bar. He stared at her with wide eyes. Was that Gideon Riker’s boy? She hadn’t heard Gideon had a son, but then, there was no reason anyone should have mentioned the child to her. She flashed him a brief smile and continued to scan the building. She’d been inside for Ellis’s trial, but she’d been too worried about the outcome to pay much attention to her surroundings. Besides, the room had been cleaned and rearranged before the trial.

The yeasty odor of beer filled her nostrils. The room was dark, even with the light through the windows and door. The walls were unpainted and the floor bare. Round tables surrounded by chairs stood about the room. A couple of chairs lay on their backs. Empty bottles and glasses stood on the tables and on the bar, which stretched across the opposite wall. A man appeared to be sleeping at one of the tables, but she couldn’t be certain since he wasn’t facing her direction.

“Amos, get Doc out of here,” Gideon ordered the blacksmith. Bess caught her breath in surprise. The man sleeping off a drinking spree was Dr. Mitchel. Thank the Lord, Luke hadn’t allowed that man near Corrie when she delivered her babies.

“Harry, where are you?” Gideon called, searching the crowd. The barkeep who’d played piano at the Craig sisters’ weddings—a young man who looked about eighteen—stepped out. “Clean off these tables,” Gideon ordered. The boy jumped to business.

The crowd trailed in. Some of the men seated themselves at the dirty tables. Some stood along the wall. A number of them chuckled and snickered at the situation.

Gideon, his hands full of bottles, waved toward the room. “Could use a little help here. You don’t expect people to worship before the place is cleaned up, do you?”

Looking shamefaced, men stepped forward to help.

Bess noticed her sisters and brothers-in-law stood near the door. Jim gripped one of Bertie’s arms, as though to make sure none of the town’s rowdy men walked away with her. Probably wise.

Ever-helpful Matty reached for an empty glass on the table in front of her. Jim grabbed her elbow. “I don’t want my wife’s hands smelling like liquor.”

Matty flushed and stepped back beside him.

Corrie, with daughter Madeline in her arms, slipped up to Bess’s side to whisper, “Bess, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Bess started to respond, but something in the corner of her vision stopped her. She turned for a better look. “Oh, my.”

“Oh, my,” Corrie repeated.

Bess hurried across the room to where Gideon was noisily piling used bottles and glasses behind the bar. She leaned across the bar, not wanting the entire room to hear her. “Mr. Riker, shouldn’t you do something about that … that … painting?”

His face grew dusky as he darted a look at the painting of a scantily clad woman. He muttered something she felt it just as well she couldn’t make out. A moment later, chuckles from the crowd resounded as he removed the gild-framed painting and set it on the floor behind the bar.

Chairs scraped along the wooden floor as people found seats. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, so many of the men remained standing along the walls. Bess started toward her sisters.

Mr. Llewellyn stood, blocking her path, and indicated a chair he’d managed to keep anyone else from claiming. “Would you honor me with your company, Miss Craig?”

“Thank you, but I’ll sit with my sisters.” She hurried on, glad that thoughtful Corrie had kept a chair free beside her. Bess couldn’t grow accustomed to attention from some of the area’s most upstanding citizens. The banker back in Rhode Island wouldn’t have given the daughter of a dairy farmer the time of day.

A piano stood along the wall at right angles to the bar. Parson Harris stood beside the piano and led the congregation in prayer. Then Harry sat down on the piano stool.

“Do you know ‘Come, We That Love the Lord’?” the parson asked.

“No, sir.”

“ ‘My God, How Wonderful Thou Art’?” Harry’s face brightened. “Yes, sir.”

With a relieved smile, Parson Harris started the song. The congregation joined in. Bess and her sisters and the Collingswood brothers sang out strong against the background of male voices that stumbled over the words.

After the hymn, Parson Harris announced, “Mrs. Luke Collingswood has graciously agreed to sing for us.”

Corrie stood and handed Madeline to Bess, who looked at her shy sister in surprise. Corrie had a lovely singing voice, but she’d never had the courage to sing alone in front of anyone but family. It seemed she was blossoming in all sorts of ways since marrying Luke in February in a quiet ceremony at the ranch. His face was bright with pride as he watched her move to the piano.

Corrie’s voice rang out sweet and true. The men were so still, they seemed to have stopped breathing. As Corrie began the third verse, Bess realized the wisdom of her choice of song. Certainly, these men would relate to the words.

“All beauty speaks of Thee:
the mountains and the rivers,
the line of lifted sea,
where spreading moonlight quivers—”

“What’s going on here?” A woman’s harsh voice called out, halting Corrie’s song.

Shocked and angry at the interruption, Bess turned. A pretty, black-haired woman of about thirty stood in the open doorway, fists planted on the hips of a garish red dress. Bess gulped. She’d never seen the woman before, but she knew instantly the woman was Margaret Manning, who flaunted her dancing girls before Lickwind’s men—and the dancing girls flanked Margaret Manning now.

Chapter 2

A
nger and disbelief fought for supremacy in Bess’s emotions. Had these … women … no sense of propriety? Back in Rhode Island, such women knew their place, and that place was not in a church service or in the presence of decent women like the Craig sisters.

She pushed aside the thought that in Rhode Island church services weren’t held in saloons, which were the usual territory of dancing girls.

“Well, well, well.” Margaret Manning walked between the tables, grinning at the self-conscious men as she made her way toward the piano. “What would your wife think if she knew you were in a saloon, Parson?” The color drained from Parson Harris’s face.

Bess glanced about the room. Bess was sure the circuit rider was glad his wife hadn’t accompanied him on the circuit this time. Why didn’t one of the men do something?

Margaret stopped beside Corrie. Up close, Bess saw that Margaret looked older than her years beneath her powder and rouge. Margaret ran her glance over Corrie, who appeared too shocked to move. Corrie—with her blond coronet and gray and mauve gown—looked like an angel beside the dance hall woman.

Luke and Jim bolted to their feet. They were beside Corrie in an instant, glaring at Margaret. “Maybe you should leave, Miss Manning,” Luke suggested in a threatening tone.

The woman laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not the big, bad wolf. I’m not going to hurt the little lady.”

Gideon Riker clasped Margaret’s elbow. “Why don’t you let me see you home?”

Margaret tugged her arm, but Gideon kept his hold. “When did you turn your saloon into a church, Gideon? You didn’t act so religious when me and the girls were in here last night.”

His mouth tightened into a thin line. He started walking, and Margaret had no choice but to join him. “Let’s go,” he said to the other girls at the door.

The red-haired boy whom Bess noticed earlier stood beside one of the dance hall girls, a redhead who appeared to be about Bertie’s age. Her green dress wasn’t as flamboyant as Margaret’s. “I’d like to stay, Gideon,” the girl said in a low voice. “I haven’t been to a church service in ever so long.”

Gideon appeared to hesitate. He glanced back at Parson Harris, who shrugged as if to say he didn’t know what to answer.

“I won’t be no trouble, Gideon,” she urged. She rested her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Walter and I will stand back here by the door, quietlike.”

Margaret reached for the girl. “Come on, Regina. These people don’t want sinners like us here.” Her harsh laugh showed her contempt for the “good” townspeople.

The truth of her words shamed Bess. How could they turn aside a young woman who wanted to listen to the service? How could they know her heart? Bess shot to her feet, Madeline still in her arms. “Anyone is welcome to stay if they truly wish to hear God’s Word.”

A murmur ran through the room, but no one protested Bess’s declaration.

Gideon shrugged.

Margaret pointed her finger at Regina. “Don’t you go turning religious on me.” Laughing, Margaret walked through the batwing doors, followed by the two other dance hall girls.

Regina stayed, standing beside the door with Walter and looking young and frightened. Corrie, still trembling slightly from her experience, sat down beside Luke. Parson Harris cleared his throat and began his sermon. The crowd of men—most of whom Bess suspected would have enjoyed the dancing girls’ presence under any other circumstances—breathed a collective sigh of relief.

When the final prayer was over, Bess looked for Regina. The young woman was slipping out between the batwing doors. “I’ll be right back,” Bess told Corrie, then started after the woman with the red hair and gentle expression.

Bess excused herself repeatedly as men tried to stop her to talk. If she didn’t hurry, she’d lose sight of Regina.

The girl was in front of Amos Freeling’s blacksmith shop when Bess reached the saloon’s boardwalk. “Miss Regina, wait, please!”

The woman turned, a surprised expression on her pretty face. Men stared at Bess in shock. Bess’s face heated, but she refused to allow her embarrassment to deter her. The rain had slowed to barely a drizzle and the wind had stopped, but Bess barely noticed as she left the protected saloon boardwalk and stepped onto the dirt road.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know your last name,” Bess said when she reached Regina.

“Bently. Regina Bently. Thank you for speaking up for me back there, Miss Craig.”

“You know who I am?”

Regina smiled. “Everyone around here knows who the Craig sisters are.” Her smile died. “Same as everyone knows who I and the rest of Margaret’s girls are. You shouldn’t be talkin’ with me, miss.”

“I hope you’ll attend our services again, Miss Bently.”

Regina dropped her green-eyed gaze to the ground. “Most people won’t take kindly to my presence at the meetings.”

“I doubt there’s one of them so perfect before God that they can refuse you the right to hear God’s Word and worship Him. Besides, my sister and I noticed your voice during the last hymn. The congregation can use another beautiful singing voice.”

A shy smile lit Regina’s eyes. “Thank you. I’ll think on your invitation.” She glanced over Bess’s shoulder. “Good day.” She started toward the back of the blacksmith shop to the building where Bess knew the dance hall girls stayed.

As Bess turned around, a frowning quartet comprised of Jim, Matty, Luke, and Corrie joined her.

“I don’t think you should be talking with her, Bess,” Jim warned, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe you don’t realize, but—”

“I know how she earns her living, Jim, but something or Someone made her want to stay at the service this morning.” Bess looked from Matty to Corrie. “Perhaps the Lord brought us here for reasons other than we believed.”

Her sisters exchanged startled looks. Then they smiled. Corrie nodded. “Perhaps He did at that.”

“Now, Corrie,” Luke started.

Bess glanced at the street, which was filled with men from the service. “Where’s Bertie?”

Chapter 3

G
ideon stood outside the batwing doors, wondering whether he was dreaming the unusual morning occurrences. Men still milled in the street, casting longing gazes at Bess Craig. The unpredictable woman was, of all things, talking with Regina in plain sight of the entire town. He couldn’t recall ever seeing a lady speak to a dance hall girl. The men who’d been hankering after Miss Craig’s hand in marriage were probably reconsidering about now.