Crazy Woman Creek (25 page)

Lenora began to tremble with anger. It was hopeless to continue to beg for a loan. This bank would lend her money when pigs
flew. She stood up to signal the end of this outrage, gripping the cords of her drawstring bag with such fury that the bag began to sway at her waist.

“I
have
a husband, Mr. Morehouse,” she said, reaching angrily for her shopping basket. “What I
need
is money.”

“Mrs. Rose, if you foolishly insist on holding onto your ranch, you must learn to make it profitable without plunging yourself into debt you can’t pay. That’s what other ranchers do in your position.”

Maybe, she thought bitterly, she should ask him to lend her a husband. The return would be better and the application process less grueling.

“Thank you, Mr. Morehouse, for all your time and for taking the trouble to explain the fine points of the Act,” she said, her eyes flashing with anger. “And thank you for sharing all your pearls of wisdom about ranching.”

With that she turned with a flounce, opened his office door without waiting for assistance, and walked out of his office and into the bank lobby. She was struck at once by how much cooler the spacious lobby was compared to the stuffy confines of Mr. Morehouse’s office. The coolness helped to clear her mind. If other bank customers and employees were still staring at the scandal-ridden Mrs. Rose as she entered the lobby, she didn’t notice. She walked straight to the exit door of the bank and reached for the handle.

Funny thing, she thought as she turned the knob. She hadn’t gotten what she had come for, but she was leaving with something perhaps more useful nonetheless.

A bright midday sun reflecting on the hard surfaces of treeless Main Street caused Lenora to blink rapidly after stepping out of the dim bank lobby. She hoped Deputy Davies would exercise discretion and not wait directly outside the bank door for her. It would be better if their meeting appeared more casual to onlookers.

Lenora stood on the boardwalk, clutching her shopping basket in one hand and reticule in the other, waiting for her eyes to adjust. When she could see clearly she looked up and down the street, expecting to see Deputy Davies hovering nearby. When she didn’t see him in either direction she felt self-conscious about searching for him. It didn’t seem fitting. So with little ado she started down the street for Aeschelman’s alone, thrown off balance by the deputy’s disappearance. Her disappointment surprised her. Was she disappointed because she didn’t want to brave critical stares alone? She hoped she wasn’t that cowardly. Or was she disappointed at not being able to visit with the handsome, attentive deputy a little longer? The latter was a disturbing thought. She quickly dismissed it.

Lenora had walked about fifty feet when she saw a woman she knew only by name emerge from the millinery two stores ahead of her and begin to walk in her direction. The woman, about thirty, clutched the hand of a little girl about five years old who was dressed in a crisply starched pinafore with matching bonnet. The child’s mother was dressed equally stylishly in a modest but perfectly tailored shirtwaist dress and complementary bonnet. Lenora smiled in greeting as their eyes met, preparing to pass them. The woman looked shocked and abruptly jerked the child’s hand, nearly causing the little girl to fall off the edge of the boardwalk. Lenora watched in horror as the mother dragged the child into the street, scurried to the boardwalk on the other side of Main, and continued in the same direction.

Lenora felt as if she had been slapped. Surely she was being too sensitive. She was imagining things. The woman hardly knew her. She would not intentionally cross the street to avoid passing her, would she?

Shaken to the core and feeling as desirable as last week’s haddock, Lenora continued down the nearly empty boardwalk on her way to
Aeschelman’s Mercantile. She was relieved to see few shoppers out and about, though the few she passed looked so uncomfortable in her presence that she felt like she was running a gauntlet. Then there was the problem of the people she couldn’t see, the ones she imagined watching her behind every storefront window, whispering and pointing and clucking judgmentally. She could see nothing in the wavy storefront glass except her reflection, but she knew that inside the shady interiors shoppers and shopkeepers had a clear view of her. Again she wished Deputy Davies had not abandoned her. So much damage had been done already, so many evil stories had been told about her—and them—that a gentlemanly escort down Main Street would make no difference now. She walked hurriedly to the mercantile to hide behind closed doors away from critical stares. Thankfully she arrived in front of Aeschelman’s with no more ugly scenes. Bracing for whomever and whatever she might face inside, she took a deep breath, turned the knob, and pushed open the door.

The loud jingle of the bell over the door caused Faustus Aeschelman to look up from the counter where he was chatting with Luke. A quick sweep of the store’s interior told Lenora that there were no other shoppers about. Relieved, she walked to the counter, trying her best to appear nonchalant. Luke stopped talking and watched her approach. Mr. Aeschelman spoke first.

“Mrs. Rose,” he said, smiling wide and nodding good morning.

Luke acknowledged her as well, removing his hat and smiling, looking at ease. It dawned on Lenora then that he had been waiting for her all along, just as he had said, only he had done so at the mercantile to avoid more gossip. It also occurred to her that Mr. Aeschelman’s natural, open smile meant he wasn’t privy to the stories about her and the deputy. Likely his weak English kept him from wading into the gossip stream. Lenora felt grateful for that lone smile. It felt like a large, leafy oak tree under which one takes shelter from a driving rain. It was just one tree, but one was enough.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Aeschelman,” said Lenora. She acknowledged Luke with a brief nod, circumspectly keeping her attention on the retailer. “I’ve brought a list.” She pulled a piece of paper from her reticule and handed it to the shopkeeper. As she did she noticed that Luke and Mr. Aeschelman had been sharing coffee. Two cups were sitting on the counter, half full. They’d been chatting a while. No steam emerged from the cups. Mr. Aeschelman looked over the list.

“You look. I shop list,” he said, glancing back at the neatly penned list of grocery and household items. “Ten minutes.” Mr. Aeschelman smiled again.

“Thank you,” said Lenora, pulling the drawstring tight on her reticule.

Mr. Aeschelman stepped away from the counter to begin collecting Lenora’s purchases.
Luke’s eyes followed Mr. Aeschelman, waiting for the shopkeeper to move out of hearing range to speak. When the man was far enough to afford them a little privacy, Luke spoke.

“I thought it best to wait for you here.”

“How’d you know I was coming to Aeschelman’s?”

“Your basket was empty,” said Luke, glancing toward the basket on her arm.

“Oh.”

Lenora was keenly aware of Luke’s nearness, his clean shaven face and intense brown eyes. Most of all she was aware that he was looking at her with more than passing interest, which secretly pleased her. He looked at her in the way a man looks at a woman when he appreciates her femaleness, not any particular part of her, just the look an attractive woman expects to receive when she walks into a room full of men—as if they’ve never seen a woman before. She felt self-conscious and at the same time very flattered. His eyes upon her made her aware of her hair, her clothes, and her shoes. She hoped nothing was out of place or less than spotless.

“How’s everything at the ranch?” he said.

“Fine. Everything’s been quiet since you arrested Mr. Wright. I can’t thank you enough, Deputy Davies, for getting to the bottom of it.” Even the oblique mention of her recent troubles brought an unbidden image of Ulysses, butchered and bleeding. She longed for the day when the
disturbing image would fade and she’d remember him only as the slobbering, lovable companion he had been.

“That’s what we’re here for,” he said.

“Deputy Davies, you said you wanted to speak with me about the investigation. Do you have news from the other law offices? Downstream?”

“No, haven’t heard anything in a while.”

“Did you ever speak with Ben Slocomb’s folks?”

“Yes. Ben didn’t harm your dog, Mrs. Rose. You needn’t worry yourself about that.”

“I didn’t think so.” The deputy didn’t seem forthcoming this morning. More like he was content to gaze into her eyes, enjoying the moment. Or at least that’s how it seemed to Lenora.

“Then your news is...?”

“It’s a question.”

Lenora waited.

“Mrs. Rose, what is your husband’s middle name?”

“Surely you are not thinking of contacting my husband’s family on my behalf, Deputy Davies,” said Lenora, taken aback. “That is my purview, and I see no need to alarm them.” After the scene in Mr. Morehouse’s office, Lenora was in no mood for paternalism. God help the man who thought otherwise.

“You needn’t worry, Mrs. Rose. Notifying kin is your business. I was just thinking that knowing all I can about Mr. Rose can only help our investigation.”

“I see,” said Lenora, softening a little. “I apologize for taking exception, Deputy Davies. I’m afraid I’ve had an upsetting morning. I’m still on edge.”

“May I be of service in some way?”

“No hope of that. In fact, no hope at all,” she said, her voice heavy with dejection. Lenora glanced to
both sides, worrying unreasonably that someone besides the two of them and the oblivious store owner had entered the mercantile without her knowledge and was observing Luke and her together. Seeing no one she returned her attention to Luke.

“Sounds pretty bad,” said Luke.

“It is bad.”

“Perhaps if you tell me what the problem is, we can work on a solution together.”

Why should he care? Lenora debated baring her soul to the deputy. It did seem that he meant well. He had stood up against the bullying she’d endured from Sheriff Morris. He’d ridden all the way out to her ranch, nine miles from Buffalo, to check on her welfare. Etta Nolan had said that the deputy enjoyed a good reputation in Fort Laramie. And James would have approved of a man who looked after the welfare of a woman whose husband was missing.

Now that incongruous thought gave her a moment of confusion. But not knowing what to make of it, she quickly filed it for later analysis—
probably much later, at night, when she had trouble sleeping.

And Ulysses had liked the deputy.

“The bank refused me a loan,” she blurted, amazed to hear herself revealing her personal problems to a man other than James. “Mr. Morehouse thinks I am incapable of running the ranch myself.”

“He’s right. You can’t.” Luke’s face was placid, giving away nothing, not even a hint of a smile.

Lenora’s mouth fell open. “I take it then, Deputy Davies,” she continued, recovering her wit, “with a judgment as to the capabilities of the female sex, you are of the persuasion that women should be denied suffrage as well?” Lenora could hardly disguise her annoyance.

“I didn’t think we were talking voting rights, ma’am. I thought we were talking ranching.” Luke spoke at his usual, unperturbed pitch, which annoyed her even more.

“The premise is the same.” Lenora blanched as the words came out. Her failure to sound composed irked her. Then from the side of her eye she saw Mr. Aeschelman stop working to listen from the top of a ladder where he was perched, arm outstretched above his head, reaching for a large box of castile soap. Likely he didn’t understand everything they were saying, but Lenora was determined to stay calm and avoid a scene nonetheless. She assumed it was the rising pitch of her voice, not the words themselves, that had caused him to look in their direction.

“It’s the same,” she repeated more quietly. “Ranching or voting. If a woman wants to do either one she shouldn’t be denied the opportunity merely because she’s a woman.”

“Some people think like you,” said Luke, noncommittally.

“And your opinion, sir?”

“I don’t know that my opinion matters. I’m not running for office.”

“You sidestep the issue, Deputy Davies.”

Luke rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. “I suppose when it comes to ranching a woman deserves equal rights like a man.”

Well that’s better.

“Man or woman,” he continued in his unique drawl, “if a person plans to knock on the pearly gates a little earlier than God intends by running a one hundred and sixty-acre ranch all alone, probably best no one get in the way. Can’t imagine why anyone would choose such a frustratingly slow and hungry death, though.”

Lenora’s foot began to tap automatically with nervous tension. “I believe you mock me,” she said, her mouth set in a straight line. Instantly another thought struck terror in her heart: Did he know about her family condition but chose the path of discretion by hiding behind the “female” argument to dissuade her from holding onto her ranch? For some unexplainable reason it mortified Lenora to
the tips of her toes to think that the eminently eligible and disarmingly handsome deputy knew she was expecting a baby. That meant he knew that she and James ... oh my. She glanced quickly at her midsection. Nothing showing.