Chasing the Sunset(19)

“Yes sir,” Maggie said, her eyes twinkling. “I would hate to do anything that offends your sensibilities, like wearing the wrong color. I know what a sensitive individual you are.”

A snort escaped him, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Maggie turned her head and stared unabashedly at his profile. He could be stamped on the side of a Roman coin, she thought dreamily. Her eyes swept down the rest of him, down the white lawn shirt that molded itself to his strong back whenever he moved, and the tight black trousers tucked into the legs of his high riding boots.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said. Startled, Maggie lifted her eyes, and found him staring right at her. His pupils were dilated and made his eyes appear almost black.

“Like what?” she asked breathlessly.

“Like I am a stick of peppermint and you are deciding where to lick me first.”

“I never!” she began indignantly, and Nick dodged as she hit at him with a small fist.

“You were, too.”

“I would like to,” Maggie said softly, consideringly, after a long moment. “Lick you.”

He shot her a look that had so many, many things in it. Desire, anger, frustration. His hands tightened on the reins and he shook them, startling the horses into going even faster.

“Do not, Maggie.” He gritted out the words between clenched teeth. “Do not do that.”

“Do what?” she asked. “Admit that I want you? Tell you that it is all right if you feel the same way? I have been trying for weeks to tell you, and you run away every chance you get.” She slapped her hand down on the wooden seat with enough force to sting. “I never figured you for a coward, Nick.”

His mouth hardened and compressed. “I am a coward because I refuse to ruin a young girl staying in my household? Because I am honorable enough not to take what you are offering? You do not know what you want, Maggie, and I am not going to be there when you wake up one day and decide you do not want to be my mistress anymore, only it’ll be too late, I have already made you one and everyone will already know. What about Ned? And what about Kathleen, and Tommy? ”

Maggie wilted in her seat. “I am not a young girl, I am a respectable widow. Widows have more freedom than young girls, and they do not have to know if we are discreet. I would not flaunt it,” she muttered. “And I would not change my mind.”

He shot her a sharp look. “They would know, after a while. We could not keep it secret forever.” His voice dropped an octave. “And you would get tired of me, after a while. It has happened before.” He cleared his throat. “Do you have the list of supplies that we need?”

“I have it,” she said.

Evidently the discussion was over, she thought. He thinks I am just going to change my mind, just like that, because he says so.

Geddes was not very much of a town to a woman who had grown up in St. Louis. It boasted one main street with one bank, one hotel, a general store, a combination milliner-dressmaker, the jail, and a doctor’s office and surgery. A stable was one street over, and the rest of the buildings were residences.

Nick dropped her off at the clapboard building that was the general store and stayed outside to tie up the horses while Maggie went inside. She smiled and breathed deeply of the scent inside: horehound candy and leather. She smiled at the pinch-faced woman behind the counter.

And Nick thinks I look like a crow, she thought. He obviously has not got a good look at her lately. She handed the woman her supply list and went to look at the dry goods while the order was filled. She fingered a cotton in a deep blue, and lifted it to her face to rub it on her cheek. It was as soft as Tommy’s kitten. Two women, both dressed finely, wandered in. Maggie eyed them appreciatively. They were like two birds of paradise in the store, twittering and beautiful. She smiled faintly. One even had an osprey plume on her hat, and it bounced and fluttered as she tossed her head.

“Can you believe it?” Miss Osprey plume hissed to the other. “Right outside, bigger than life. I do not know how he has got the nerve.”

The smaller one nodded. “You are right, Beth Ann. He ought to stay home and send someone else into town, so decent women do not have to be subjected to his vile presence.” She put a hand dramatically on her large bosom. “Why, I declare my heart about jumped out of my chest when I saw him.”

A pouter pigeon, Maggie thought idly. That one’s a pouter pigeon.

“And he even had the nerve to speak.” Miss Osprey plume said, her pretty face drawn up as if she had just had mud flung all over her bright dress. “I am going to tell Mama about this, and make sure she knows that he spoke to us.”

Pouter Pigeon nodded and nodded. “Kills his wife, and then comes to town just like nothing happened. The nerve! I do not know how he got away with it. That poor Kenneth . . . do you remember how handsome he was?”

Osprey plume giggled. “I surely do. I would have liked him for a beau myself, even if he was old. Oh, and he was so anguished when he told everyone about his love’s death. And that man only got away with it because that common old stable hand of his lied. I got the news directly from Mimi, and she heard it when she was eavesdropping on her Papa and the sheriff. My Papa said what can you expect? Breeding will always tell. His parents had such odd ideas. Nick Revelle killed his wife, threw her down the stairs and broke her neck, and got that Ted or Ned or whatever he is called to lie for him. Otherwise they would have hung him. Mimi’s Papa said so.”

Maggie’s mind stopped working for a moment. She stood there with a roll of blue cotton in her hands and heard the two women twitter and giggle behind her. Their words washed over her. Killed his wife. Killed his wife. Nick Revelle killed his wife. Her hands began to tremble. She took the roll of cotton to the front of the store.

“Could you add six yards of this to the bill?” she said numbly. “Also I want some of that white cotton, the lavender muslin, the blue serge, some of that emerald green, and that light blue percale. I need buttons to match. Oh, and throw in one of those Godey’s Ladies Book, would you please.”

“Are you all right, Miss?” asked the woman. “You are as white as a ghost.” She did not remind Maggie of a crow any longer. Her thin face was kindly, and Maggie felt tears gather in her eyes. She forced them back.

“I . . . I just feel a little dizzy.” She put a hand up to her head. “I think I will go outside and get some fresh air.”

“You sure you do not want to sit down and have a cup of tea?”

“Maybe I will,” Maggie said gratefully. “That sounds like a good idea.” She sat down at

the table behind the counter that the woman indicated and sipped her hot sweet tea. Gradually, she began to feel a little better. The sick feeling in her stomach went away, but her head kept repeating those words over and over. Threw her down the stairs, killed his wife.

Nick came in and hovered over her in concern. Maggie twitched her shoulder away from his hand, and he frowned.

“Mrs. Jenkins said that you felt faint. Are you all right?”

Maggie avoided his gaze. “I am fine. It must be just the heat.”

He put his hands on his hips and regarded her. “I was going to take you to the hotel to eat lunch, but we can do that another day, I guess,” he said slowly, his dark eyes never leaving her. She could feel his gaze on her, and she let her eyes regard the ground.

“Some other time,” she agreed.

All the way home, traveling much slower this time because of the weight of the supplies in back, the wheels of the wagon sang a song to Maggie: Killed his wife, killed his wife, threw her down the stairs, killed his wife. Her pleasure in the material for new dresses was gone. She sat still as a stone on the seat of the wagon, and she could see Nick look at her in perplexity a couple of times. She ignored him, and the wagon wheels sang to her: Killed his wife, killed his wife, killed his wife . . .





FIVE



Maggie squinted down at the piece of cotton in her hands, muttering under her breath. She hated sewing. The finished results always pleased her, but the tedious up-close work tired her out worse than if she were working as a field hand. After she had ripped the stitches out of the very same spot five times, she threw the light lavender material onto a chair in disgust. She was just going to ruin the cloth. It was getting too dark for this. Kathleen had put the last stitch into Tommy’s clothes this morning, and she had promised to help her finish hers up tomorrow, anyway.

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and flopped backwards down onto her bed, rubbing her bare feet back and forth against the coverlet, enjoying the way the soft, well-used material felt against her bare flesh. This whole week she had brooded over what she had overheard from those two malicious young women in the store.

Kathleen knew that something was wrong with Maggie, but she could not bring herself to pry. Maggie had seen her start to ask at least a half-dozen times, then bite the words back. She’d had an excuse all ready to give the other woman, but she was glad that she had not had to use it. Maggie did not want to lie to her, and she could not ask her about Nick’s wife. She wanted to know ... and she did not want to know, all at the same time.