Be My Texas Valentine (22 page)

Melba Ruth took up where Ruby left off on a grocery list of reasons a library would be better than paved streets.

A picture of young Melba Ruth and Hunter, at the age of about thirteen or fourteen, hanging on the wall caught Laurel’s eye. Memories flooded her mind, reminding her of the first time she met Melba Ruth Campbell. A day still vivid in her mind.

At the tender age of thirteen, Laurel had stepped off the stage originating in San Antonio, feeling as though the whole world were spinning inside her. She felt strange and so out of place, but stood outside the stage line office as she’d been told to do by her uncle, waiting for him to return with his carriage.

The month prior to her arrival had been horrendously heartbreaking for her; first with the untimely death of her parents, then being snatched up by her mother’s brother from the only life she had ever known in the Hill Country and shipped off to the Panhandle.

She was too immature to understand her parents’ deaths, much less what was happening around her. It was as if she’d been awakened from a beautiful dream and dropped into a nightmare.

Laurel recalled standing there surrounded by total strangers, scared out of her wits.

That was the moment she had made the decision to always stand alone and never allow anyone into her heart again. She didn’t want anyone to need her and she didn’t want to need anyone but herself. It hurt too much when they had to leave.

Laurel watched a tall, motherly-looking woman waiting on the porch in front of the stage line fussing at her son, who Laurel later learned was Hunter Campbell. She wore a faded, threadbare calico day dress with a nondescript bonnet that had seen better days.

The woman introduced herself as Melba Ruth Campbell and obviously felt sorry for the frightened teenager because she struck up a conversation with her. Later, the lady gave Laurel a big hug and told her that she was welcome to their little homestead outside of town any time.

Even today, Laurel’s heart filled with affection when she thought about how the stranger had turned to walk away, but returned to give Laurel another hug. The woman used the excuse that if Laurel had any problem with her son, Hunter, just to let her know.

In no more than a flash in Laurel’s life, Melba Ruth Campbell had given her a gift that could never be taken away ... a gift of time. Every day since then, Laurel had thanked the good Lord that he’d given her a living, breathing angel on this earth.

That saintly voice disturbed Laurel’s daydreaming. “Laurel Dean, since you’ve been living back East and have been involved with all kinds of social organizations, what is your opinion?”

“I was so young when I lived here before and don’t feel right expressing my beliefs in regards to something I know little about, so I’d much prefer to stay neutral.”

“Just give me some idea how you’d handle a quandary when two groups don’t see eye to eye.”

Laurel took a deep breath but decided she felt comfortable enough to give them a fairly basic observation that could apply to most any situation. “The local women’s organization should take a stance and stick together. I’ll give you an example. Think about a play with only one actor. The story wouldn’t be very interesting or even make much sense, but when you add a cast of characters, it comes to life. It’s a cohesive play, not one lone actor attempting to fill an entire stage by himself.”

“We’ve never thought about having a women’s group.” Melba Ruth tapped her index finger on her lip several times, as if a plan was coming together. “What’d Hunter call his men’s assembly?”

“Farley Springs Men’s Club,” Ruby answered.

“Then we’ll be the Farley Springs Women’s Society. That sounds more like something, uh, more political, not an ol’ boys’ social club. What do you think, Laurel?”

Laurel had already lent some of her opinion, so what difference did more make? Against her better judgment, she asked, “Then why don’t the folks who are as passionate about the library as Hunter is about the railroad stick together? Your women’s organization could do a lot to accomplish that.”

“That’s exactly how I see it. We think so much alike. You’ll be our new president ... problem solved!” Melba Ruth blurted out.

“No. I can’t. I haven’t been back in town long enough to even know which way the wind blows, and I’m not sure how my aunt and uncle might feel about it.”

“You’re a grown woman and there’s no reason you can’t have your own views whether they are along the same lines as others’ or not.” Melba Ruth looked her straight in the eye. “Look at Hunter and me. We have totally opposite opinions but respect the other’s right to believe the way we do. I still think you’re the perfect person for the job. You’d be impartial, are well educated, and have been living in a big city, so you’d know more than anyone how to run a women’s group.”

“I can
not
do it,” Laurel said softly but sternly.

“Well, we’ll see about that.” Melba Ruth smiled confidentially.

Chapter 5

Laurel twisted uncomfortably in her chair, absolutely flabbergasted at Melba Ruth’s statement, which appeared more of a promise than a passing remark. Setting her chin in a stubborn line, Laurel took a deep breath and adjusted her smile, hoping that her friend would realize that she was as determined not to be a part of the women’s social club as Melba Ruth seemed to think she would.

For a two-cent piece, if it wouldn’t be rude, Laurel would say her farewells and head back to town.

Laurel would not—absolutely would not—get involved regardless of how much respect and love she had for the older woman.

Melba Ruth settled back in her chair, picked up her teacup, and took a sip. As if reading Laurel’s mind, she looked over the lip of her cup and raised a questioning eyebrow. She shifted her gaze to the Wilson sisters. “Then what did the men decide to do to raise money?”

The Wilson sisters looked at one another as though if they stared long enough one would give in and answer the question.

“A Valentine’s Day box supper and dance,” said Pearl.

Melba Ruth almost choked on her drink. “A what?”

“A Valentine’s Day—” Pearl repeated, but was interrupted by her sister.

“She heard you the first time, Pearl.”

“There’s no way for the love of Jesus my son would ever go for such an idiotic idea. He’d pay for it out of his own pocket before he’d get involved with a girlie thing like that.” The lines of concentration deepened along her brows. “There’s just no way.”

“There was a lot of talk about how much money the women could make if they held one, so I think he was sincere,” said Pearl, although her sister gave her a look that questioned her sanity.

The women batted the notion around. Suddenly, Laurel had an overwhelming desire to contribute her own observations. Surely it wouldn’t be a sign of her willingness to become permanently involved in their mission ... surely!

“I don’t think he was serious at all,” she said as the others stared at her. “I agree with you, Melba Ruth, there’s no way he’d go along with something like that. I couldn’t hear very much, but by the time he got around to making that part of the announcement, he’d stepped near me at the front door and made it very loud and clear that since he was president of the men’s organization and there was no clear consensus as to what should be done, he’d make the decision. It came straight from the mayor’s mouth. I believe he wants us to
think
he’s going through with the plans he announced.”

“That makes sense.” Melba Ruth pursed her lips, seemingly in deep thought. “He’s trying to sell us a pile of cow patties and make us think they’re flapjacks. He might be my boy, but he’s as sly as a fox when he wants to be.”

“You mean he knew that we’d come report back to you, and then we’d all jump onto their idea. Then it’d look like we were being underhanded and stole their project. That’d make it seem that we forced them to change projects, making us look bad.” Pearl smiled and looked at the other women as if she was really proud of herself.

“That’s right, Pearl.” Melba Ruth rubbed the palms of her hands together. “But we’ll turn the tables on them. We need everyone’s ideas on what their real plans might be.”

“First off, they are going to challenge us to see who can raise the most money. No doubt they won’t do bake sales or bazaars. Might be a rodeo of some sorts.”

“I don’t think that’s it. Maybe horse races like on the Fourth of July. If it were cutting season, it’d definitely be a calf fry, but it’s too early,” Melba Ruth said confidentially.

The women tossed around a number of ideas. Laurel added a few, but remained determined that once the meeting was over, she’d go back home, settle in for the night, and wouldn’t be involved in whatever was decided. One thing was for certain—she wanted to see the town have a library, but she had to admit that not getting mud on her shoes when it rained sounded good, too.

“I know what it is.” Melba Ruth jumped to her feet. “It has to be something that would only appeal to a man.”

“Taking a donation from the soiled doves’ earnings one night,” said Pearl.

Everyone shook their heads in amusement.

“No. They’d get the men into the saloon, get ’um drunk, and get donations of some sort. Maybe put a beef on the spit, something that would draw in the men, and a boxed supper and dance wouldn’t do it.”

Ruby said, “I’d say it isn’t a secret, since Hunter announced it in a public meeting—”

“Except he told the men to keep it quiet,” said Pearl.

“Which only proves it’s a ruse,” said Melba Ruth. “How long do you think it’d take your ink jockey friend to print us up some posters to place all around town?” She looked squarely at Ruby. “I know he’s a little sweet on you, so maybe ...”

“He’s probably puttin’ the weekly newspaper to bed, and if so, he might have time once he’s finished.” A wicked smile crossed Ruby’s face. “I’ll drop by and see if I can entice him to get some printed as soon as possible.”

“Have him send me his bill, regardless of the cost. Here’s the deal. We’ll beat Hunter and the men at their own game, something he isn’t accustomed to.” Melba Ruth continued to rub her palms together, as if it helped her think. “We’ll lend a hand to the men. We’ll prepare flyers announcing both events on Valentine’s Day and plaster them all over town. If you’re successful ...” She raised a knowing eyebrow at Ruby, then continued, “We can have the posters out before anybody even realizes what is going on. The men, as a matter of pride, will have to go through with a boxed supper and dance, while we’ll roast a beef and give away beer.”

“Give away beer!” Ruby sounded astonished. “I figured you’d do something like donating a percentage of the proceeds or something on that line, but never free beer.”

“Well, it’s my saloon and I can do anything I damn well please. For every glass of beer sold, I’ll give them a free one and donate the money to the library fund.”

Laurel could see by the expression on Melba Ruth’s face that her mind was made up. “We’ll need a lot of help, so I’ll expect you girls to be my extra eyes and ears.”

Everyone nodded, except for Laurel. Mentally she had to stay strong and true to her convictions, while her heart screamed that she could do something that would make a difference in people’s lives by helping the town raise money for a library.

“Okay, ladies. Just like Hunter told the men, keep this under your bonnets.” Melba Ruth looked at each woman as if appraising their surprised looks. “We’re gonna give the men one hell of a run for their money, ladies!”

Melba Ruth pointed a bony finger at Laurel Dean. “And you, my dear, will be our president.”

“I’ve already said, I can’t. I don’t even have a job yet.”

“That makes it easy then. I have a need for a bookkeeper and someone to help me with my businesses, and you’re the perfect person.” Melba Ruth stood up, smiled at each lady, and focused on Laurel’s eyes. “My dear, you said you didn’t have a job yet, so I’ll see you at nine o’clock in the morning.”

“I haven’t said I’m taking the job, Melba Ruth.”

“But you will, my dear.”

Hunter wandered around outside the ranch house, feeling like he was standing guard at his own fort. With the big windows on two sides of the parlor, he couldn’t help getting a good view of what was going on inside.

Although his mother and her friends drank a lot of tea, they sure talked a lot, too. Not much of a surprise, but he was pretty dern sure what they were talking about without hearing a single word. Their body language spoke volumes.

His mother rubbed her palms together from time to time, so he knew she was in her “organizing the whole state of Texas” mode.

Ruby was about to wear out the parlor table picking up and putting down her cup and saucer, while her sister sat quietly, wringing her hands in her lap.

He took out a cigar and lit it. Smiling to himself, Hunter couldn’t help thinking about what was really going on inside. No doubt they were figuring out how to finagle things in order to hold a Valentine’s box supper and dance and spoil the men’s plans for their fundraiser. Part of him felt ashamed at being deceitful, yet he wanted to laugh aloud about what he’d pulled off. All in the name of betterment for Farley Springs.

He really wanted to go inside to change into fresh clothes, but couldn’t take a chance on getting caught. He’d hedged enough questions for one day.

Although he had stopped and washed up as best he could, with the humidity it hadn’t done a lot of good. He was muddy and his shirt probably smelled like the south end of a northbound bull.

Hunter felt pretty satisfied with himself for what he’d accomplished since returning to the ranch.

With Slim’s help, they had saved both the mama cow and her calf, although it had been a long, hard, laborious effort. By the time they finished, the cowboys had repaired the downed fence and were already at the bunkhouse enjoying an evening meal. He’d grabbed a bite with them before the cards came out.

Hunter had one hard, fast rule: he never played games of chance with his employees. Made for bad relations.

He finished his cheroot and ground it out in the dirt. His original plan had been to go back to town and enjoy a little poker and a bit of pleasure with Greta Garrett. As the evening wore on, he saw no signs that any of the three visitors chatting in his parlor seemed to have any intentions of leaving to return to town anytime soon, so he got less interested in making the ride back to Farley Springs.