Bluebonnet Belle (18 page)

T
he wind was sharper than April had anticipated. Drawing her cape tighter, she slapped the reins against the horse's rump. Usually she didn't mind the five-mile trip to Burgess, a neighboring community, but at the moment she wished she'd picked another day to hand out pamphlets on Mrs. Pinkham's elixir.

Riley didn't know what she was doing. He thought she was visiting, which, of course, she planned to do before the day was over.

She spent the morning handing out pamphlets. The response was good, and she considered the long hours in the cold wind productive.

By noon she was chilled to the bone. Hurrying down the sidewalk, rubbing her hands together, she saw the sign she'd been searching for: Clara's Chocolate Shoppe. A cup of hot chocolate and a piece of shortbread were exactly what she needed.

A woman in bright taffeta crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of April.

The woman, though beautiful, was wearing a dress far too colorful for daytime. The girl, for she was hardly more than a girl, wore heavy makeup—eyes outlined with kohl, rouge too red for her milky skin.

“Excuse me,” April murmured, stepping around her.

“Oh, Miss Truitt!”

April turned at the sound of her name.

“Yes?”

She recognized the small boy who had loitered around the table she had handed out pamphlets from. Approaching her, he extended a stack of pamphlets. “You dropped these.”

“Thank you.” Patting the lad on the head, April stuffed the brochures in her bag and walked on. That young woman's hat was all wrong, too. Dark green with a large plume that dipped over her forehead.

As April stepped inside Clara's, a bell over the door announced her arrival. The warmth felt wonderful. Shivering, she smiled at all the delicious smells. A morsel to eat and a nice warm place to rest after the long, cold morning were just what she needed.

“Miss?”

“A table for one, please.”

“This way.”

She followed the server to a table in the center of the room, admiring the crisp white cloths and blue china.

“Thank you. A cup of hot chocolate, please.”

Slipping off her gloves, she studied the small room. Dignity had nothing so lavish. She must bring Beulah the next time she came; they could drink hot chocolate and shop to their hearts' content. Smiling, she recalled the young woman she'd seen on the sidewalk. Though her makeup had been too heavy, she was quite beautiful. Worldly, unlike any woman April knew. She wished Beulah were here to share the adventure.

The server returned with a pot of chocolate. Picking up the menu, April tried to decide whether she wanted a sandwich, as well, as she listened to the babble of talk around her.

“Here you are, miss. That will be ten cents.”

April handed the girl fifteen cents and received a light curtsy as a thank-you. She sipped the chocolate, letting its warmth flow through her.

The bell over the door tinkled again, and a woman sitting behind her gasped. Turning to look over her shoulder, April was surprised to see the heavily made-up young woman she'd encountered on the sidewalk earlier entering the place.

“Look at that. Can you believe it?” the woman behind her whispered to her friend.

“Isn't that one of
those
women?”

“It is, I'm sure of it. She works at Emogene's Pleasure Palace.”

“No! Why would
she
come in here?”

“Yes, why? How brazen to parade in as if she owned the place.”

“How do you know she's one of Emogene's girls?”

“I saw her coming out of that…that establishment yesterday. Do you know they dance nearly naked over there, as well as…well, I don't need to tell you what else they do in there.” The woman sniffed. “Disgraceful, it is.”

Curious, April glanced up as the young woman gazed directly at her.

Not knowing where to look, she smiled timidly back.

The girl headed in a beeline for her table. Stopping in front of her, she asked, “Are you April Truitt?”

Glancing around, April realized she was speaking to her. “Why…yes,” she admitted hesitantly, wondering how the young woman knew her name.

“I'm Grace Pruitt.”

Nodding, April smiled at the similarity of their names, but failed to see how that concerned her.

“Henry Long's intended.”

Her smile faded. “Henry's what?”

“Henry's intended.” The girl stared at her. “I gather he hasn't mentioned me to you?”

Shaking her head, April searched for her voice. When she found it, she hastened to correct the woman. “You're mistaken.
I'm
Henry's intended.”

“No, you're the one who's made a mistake.” Grace slid into the opposite chair, fixing her eyes on her. “
I'm
engaged to marry Henry Trampas Long. We're planning a fall wedding.”

“See here—”

The girl's face hardened. “
You
see here, sister.
You leave him alone
. Understand?”

April not only didn't understand, she was thunder-struck by the girl's assertion. Her Henry? Engaged to this woman? Why, that was ludicrous. Henry would never associate with a woman from Emogene's Pleasure Palace!

“I don't know who you are, but there must be a mista—”

“The only mistake is yours,” Grace whispered urgently. Leaning forward, she gripped the edge of the table. “Henry is
my
intended, and I want you to leave him alone!”

As the allegation started to sink in, April felt ill. The room was suddenly too hot, and she could feel the eyes of the other patrons on her.

“How do you know who I am?” she murmured, humiliated by the scene the girl was making.

“I heard the boy call your name. It dawned on me you must be April Truitt, and I remembered the tintype Henry showed me. The one you had made when the traveling photographer came through Dignity last summer?”

She
had
given Henry a picture made by a traveling photographer. April's heart sank.

“Have I made myself clear? Henry is mine. You leave him alone.”

April nodded, numb now.

Grace looked around the café, glaring at the two women sitting directly behind April, who were eavesdropping.

Suddenly unable to breathe, April reached blindly for the bag containing the pamphlets, got up and walked regally out of the café, her cheeks on fire.

As the door closed behind her, she broke into a run, covering a full three blocks before slowing to a fast walk. It had to be a mistake. That was it, a silly mistake. The young woman had confused her with somebody else.

No, she said she'd recognized her by her picture.

Then someone was using Henry's name.

Yes! That was it. Some cad was using Henry's name!

But how had the girl known
her
name? How had the impostor gotten her picture?

“It doesn't make sense,” she murmured.

Henry wouldn't dream of seeing another woman. He wasn't the sort of man to trifle with two women's hearts. He worked day and night to make the Pinkham compound a success; he didn't have time to court two women…even if he did have the inclination, which she knew, absolutely
knew
, he didn't.

She relaxed. He'd told her he loved her, and she believed him.

It was all some horrible mistake.

Glancing over her shoulder, she shuddered. Some big, horrible mistake.

 

“Beulah, what if it's true? What if Henry has been seeing that woman?”

Henry was still in San Antonio, but April wouldn't have discussed the matter with him anyway. The young woman's claims were just too preposterous! He would be embarrassed and angry with April for even listening to the girl, much less casting doubt on his gentlemanly conduct.

And she didn't believe this Grace Pruitt, whoever she was. It was a mistake, pure and simple, and she was going to put the incident out of her mind.

“How did she know who you were?” Beulah asked.

“She said Henry had shown her a picture of me. That one I had made last summer.” April paced the pharmacy, feeling upset. She hadn't slept all night for thinking about the bizarre turn of events. Henry, a philanderer? Impossible. In his youth, perhaps, but not now. He was too responsible. Too decent to involve himself with another woman.

“I don't know, perhaps she isn't quite right. Maybe she just picked me out of the crowd—”

“But she knows Henry.”

“I don't know what the explanation is, but I'm certain there is one. Henry would never do something like that. Never.”

“Well, it's simple enough to find out.”

Pausing, April looked at her warily. When she got that tone in her voice, her brilliance was about to surface.

“How?”

Scooping up another bit of ice cream, she grinned. “Make Henry set a wedding date. He's been dillydallying far too long. You claim he wants to marry you, so make him officially announce the engagement.”

April felt sick at the thought. She wanted his proposal to be romantic and straight from the heart, not forced upon him, to prove his loyalty.

No, she couldn't make Henry propose to her. Besides, she didn't necessarily want to get married yet.

“I can't do that.”

“Why not? If he intends to ask you anyway, what difference will it make if you hurry the process along?”

“We've talked about it,” she admitted, “but it doesn't seem right. Obviously this Grace Pruitt has me confused with someone else.”

 

But by the end of the week, April's nerves were taut from suspicion. True, Henry hadn't asked her to marry him, but Grace Pruitt concerned her. Was Grace mistaken, or was Henry seeing two women at one time? If he was playing games, she intended to find out.

She reread Henry's recent letter.

April let the letter fall to her lap. One letter in two months.

One measly letter.

They were working hard, and it hadn't snowed yet. Not much to hold her until he got back.

 

Gray looked up from his desk the following week and saw Henry Long standing in the doorway to his office.

“Henry, you're just the man I'm wanting to see.”

“Me?” Closing the door, he limped into the room.

“Toe bothering you again?”

“It's even worse than it was. I can't stand to touch it,” Henry replied, taking off his hat. “What did you want to see me about?”

Gray ushered him into the examining room and closed the door. “Can we speak in confidence?”

Frowning, Henry nodded. “Certainly. What is it?”

Gray cleared his throat. “I need some Pinkham compound. A good deal of it.”

Henry stared at him for a moment, then threw his head back, laughing.

“Did I say something amusing?”

When he finished laughing, Henry just looked at him. “I thought you were adamantly against the elixir.”

“I have been, but I've been conducting an experiment on my own regarding the tonic. I must say, it does seem to have limited success among my patients.”

Henry broke out laughing again. “I assume you don't want April to know about this.”

“I'd rather she didn't,” Gray conceded.

“Don't worry, I understand. We men have to stick together.” He punched him in the arm. “Know what I mean?”

“Can you provide me with the tonic on a regular basis?” Gray asked.

“I can get you a barnfull. But why me? Why not purchase it from your original source? Was it April? Oh, that's rich. She's been selling you the tonic!”

“Certainly not.”

Henry chuckled.

“It was Beulah Ludwig. She brought me some to try, and I said I wouldn't, but I ended up using it. Now I'm out, and my patients are demanding more.”

“Why not just tell your patients to buy it from us? It's readily available.”

“I can't do that.” Gray was at his mercy, much as he hated the thought. “As you might suspect, I would look like a fool in their eyes if they found out I am prescribing a tonic I've adamantly advised against. I plan to endorse the elixir—but gradually.”