Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (43 page)

“Ya’d better watch out, Trav,” his twin warned. “Mara Shannon’ll get ya!”

Mara shook her head hopelessly.

“You’re about to scare those boys out of ten years’ growth, honey,” Pack scolded gently, then laughed as she wrinkled her nose at him.

“You’re not helping matters by laughing at them,” she said sassily, trying to hold back her own smiles.

Pack had forced himself to laugh. He had never felt less like laughing in his life. He felt as if he were sliding down a slippery chute, powerless to stop himself, and at the end was a yawning black pit. He loved this woman sitting beside him more than life. The fact that she loved him in return was a miracle almost beyond belief. She touched off something inside him that was like music. During the last few weeks he’d had more contentment, the kind that didn’t require anything but being near her, than he’d had in his entire life. Dozens of questions filled his mind and demanded answers. One stood out above them all. Was it all to end with this trip to town?

Mara knew that Laramie was a new town, but she was not prepared for the rawness of it. Wooden buildings, most of them unpainted, lined the dusty main street that led to the railroad tracks. Compared to Denver, Laramie was a primitive outpost, and yet Mara could see nicely dressed women going in and out of the stores with baskets on their arms. The street was clogged with vehicles of every kind. A freight wagon with a six-mule hitch came toward them. Pack pulled the team to the far side of the road to give it room to pass.

In front of the Diamond Saloon a man in a black serge suit and derby hat was helping a woman into a handsome buggy. The woman was lovely and her clothes the latest style even by Denver standards. She was dressed all in gray from the soles of her soft, high-button shoes to the wide-brimmed hat set atop piled blond curls. As they passed the buggy, she lifted gloved hands and deftly folded back a gauze of gray veil up and over her hat brim. She looked directly at Pack. He tipped his hat and the woman nodded.

Mara didn’t need to ask the woman’s name. Somehow she knew that she was Miss Candace Camp, the woman who had slept with her husband, the woman whom he had said was so understanding when he told her he was married and wouldn’t be calling on her again. Mara glanced at her husband. He was handsome, very handsome, despite his rough, uneven features. How could she hold him when a woman as beautiful as Miss Camp wanted him?

“We’re going to be right on time,” Pack said as he turned the corner and slapped the reins against the rumps of the horses. “Sam said eleven o’clock and it’s that now.”

Mara closed her parasol. Her eyes sought Pack’s face. His straight heavy brows were slightly wrinkled and his lids were lowered to shade his eyes. Was it nerves that caused the small muscle beside his mouth to jump? A little chill raced down her spine and up again. She placed her hand in loving possession on his thigh. He dropped his over it. The hand over hers was huge, hard as a rock and incredibly gentle. She turned her palm up so that her fingers could entwine with his.

A slight breeze kicked up little eddies of dust along the road but did little to dissipate the late morning heat. Ahead, beside a single giant cedar tree, was the church. Charlie’s wagon was there, and a small knot of people stood in the shade beside the church door.

Emily’s dress was eggshell white, high-necked, with a tight, tucked bodice and sleeves that were puffed over her upper arms. The skirt was trimmed with heavy ivory colored lace. A blue ribbon wound its way through the rolls of shining hair she had fastened to the top of her head. Her small wire-rimmed glasses did nothing to dim the beauty of the bride.

The bridegroom, with a fresh haircut revealing the places in front of and behind his ears that had been shaded from the summer sun, wore a new black suit, white shirt and black tie. He stood beside Emily, his hand resting possessively at her waist.

Charlie stepped to the head of the team as soon as Pack pulled them to a stop and tied them to the hitching rail. Pack jumped down, reached to encircle Mara’s narrow waist with both hands, and lifted her gently to the ground. He handled her as if she were a piece of priceless china. His face and his smile were the same, but Mara could feel his anxiety. It prevented her from wholeheartedly enjoying the occasion.

Greetings were exchanged. Mara kissed Emily’s cheek and exclaimed over her dress. Emily proudly showed her the bouquet of flowers that had come in on the train that morning. Mara and the twins were introduced to Zachary Quill and the young minister. Mara liked both men immediately. The twins were awed by Zachary Quill’s distinguished appearance and courtly manner and the fact that he treated them as if they were adults.

After Charlie gave his sister in marriage, he stepped back and placed her hand in Sam’s. Tears came to his eyes. He held his head high and blinked rapidly. Sam was uncharacteristically nervous while speaking his vows; Emily was relaxed and smiling. Sam’s fingers shook as he slipped the wide gold band on Emily’s finger. Hers were steady as she gripped his hand. When they were pronounced man and wife, Sam’s shoulders drooped with relief while Emily smiled joyously into his face.

“You may kiss your bride, Mr. Sparks.”

Sam bent and reverently kissed Emily’s lips. “Hello, Mrs. Sparks,” he whispered in her ear.

Charlie cleared his throat to get their attention. He kissed his sister’s cheek and shook Sam’s hand. Everyone seemed to laugh and talk at the same time. The twins kissed the bride after Pack told them that no brother of his would miss the opportunity to kiss a pretty woman. Zachary Quill was as much at home with the group as if he were a member of the family. He had made arrangements at the hotel for a wedding dinner and invited the young minister to join them.

Zack led the way through the main dining room and into a reception room where a long table had been set up for the wedding party. A three-tiered, white-frosted cake sat in the center of the table and at one end, a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice. No expense had been spared to make Emily and Sam’s wedding day a day to be remembered.

*  *  *

Mara and Pack waited on the boardwalk in front of the hotel with Emily, Charlie and Zack while Sam went to get the wagon. Charlie would be staying in town with Zack and meeting with the superintendent of construction to work over the plans for the new penitentiary. Years had slipped from Charlie’s face along with the relief that he was not a hunted man. He laughed at Emily when she cautioned him to eat three good meals a day and get a good night’s sleep. He told her to go home with her husband and that he expected to be an uncle before this time next year.

After the bride and groom departed, Zack and Charlie said good-bye to Mara and Pack and turned back into the hotel. The minister had left earlier for another appointment.

Mara stood beside Pack, holding onto his arm. This was the first time they had been in public together, and she was proud of him. He stood head and shoulders above the majority of the men that passed them. A few men spoke to him, eyed Mara and walked on.

“Where did the twins go?” Pack asked.

“They didn’t say.” Her eyes met his and she smiled, slowly, questioningly. “Let’s not go home yet. I’d like to walk up and down the street, see the town, and go into the mercantile.”

“All right.” Pack felt a quick sliver of panic. Mara seemed pale, unsure of herself. He had never noticed that in her before.

Mara sensed his reluctance. His hand as it covered hers in the crook of his arm was cold. She wondered about it as they started down the boardwalk. Mara looked into the window as they passed the millinery. She saw herself and Pack reflected in the glass. It seemed unreal to her that she was there and that the big, handsome man beside her was a permanent part of her life.

They moved on. A woman came down the walk toward them dragging a small child in her wake. Her eyes were on Pack and the look on her face could only be pure hatred. She paused for only an instant as her bright, almost feverish eyes shifted to Mara. With a toss of her head she squeezed her nose with her thumb and forefinger as if she were offended by a terrible odor, and went on down the street.

“Well, for the love of Pete!” Mara exclaimed. “What was that about? I’ve never seen her before. Do you know her, Pack?”

“No. I’ve never seen her before either,” he muttered.

“Well, she probably thought that we were someone else, but that’s no excuse for rude behavior.” Another part of the joy was gone from Mara’s day.

They crossed the dusty side street and continued on down the walk that fronted the stores. A woman in a stiff, black bonnet came hurrying through the door of the apothecary store and ran into Mara.

“I’m sorry, dear.”

“It’s all right.”

The woman looked past her to Pack. Instantly the smile was wiped from her face and replaced with a tight-lipped look of disapproval. Pack tipped his hat and urged Mara on down the street. His stride not only lengthened but quickened until Mara was almost running alongside him.

“Slow down, Pack. These shoes were not made for running,” she said breathlessly.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

Mara had no time to wonder about the second hostile encounter or to catch her breath before a screech came through the doorway of the barbershop.

“Pack! Pack, darlin’!”

Pack murmured a string of obscenities under his breath. With a firm grasp on Mara’s elbow, he steered her inside, knowing that if he didn’t, Nan would come barreling out of the building.

“Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’!”

Mara blinked her eyes to adjust them to the shade after being in the bright sunlight. A small woman with a mop of dark curls came hurling up out of the barber chair and threw herself into Pack’s arms. She completely disregarded Mara, and the impact sent her staggering. To Mara’s utter amazement the woman wrapped her arms around Pack’s neck and her legs around his waist. She clung there, kissing him on the mouth.

“Nan! Behave yourself!” Pack said sternly. He grasped her beneath her arms and pealed her from him. She was thin, but her breasts were rounded and bounced with unrestricted buoyancy beneath the thin material of a dress that came to just below her knees. Black curls tumbled around a small, childlike face.

“ ‘Behave yourself, Nan,’ ” she mimicked. “You always say that.” She giggled and tried to wrap her arms about him again. He held her away from him. Then and only then did she acknowledge Mara’s presence. She backed off and looked her up and down. “Is this
her?
”

Pack saw Mara’s face, white with shock, turn red as shock receded and anger took its place.

“This is my wife. Mara Shannon, Nan Neal is a friend of mine.”

“Friend?” Nan turned big, brown, accusing eyes up at Pack. Her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. “Hell’s bells, Pack! We ain’t just friends. Ya know I love ya more ’n anythin’ in the world, darlin’.” Her wide, red mouth was turned down at the corners.

“I know you do, honey. But—”

“Ya love me a little. I know ya do.”

“Of course, I do.”

“Then why’d ya marry a prissy, namby-pamby like her? Hell, ya need a woman with guts! She don’t look like she’s got no more guts than a pile a cow shit.” Nan moved close to Pack and snuggled her head against his shoulder.

Mara barely recovered from the nightmare of hearing her husband call another woman “honey” and confessing that he loved her “a little” before the soaring heat of her temper loosened her tongue and defrosted her muscles. She clamped her hand around the handle of the parasol that hung from her wrist, drew it back, and whacked Nan sharply on her rear. The girl jumped as if she had been shot.

“Sheeit!” she yelled, grabbing her buttocks with both hands.

“I’m not so namby-pamby that I’ll take sass from a two-bit whore,” Mara yelled equally as loud. “Keep your hands off my husband or I’ll show you enough guts to string from here to Denver.”

Nan’s fists knotted on her hips, her lips open with surprise. “Well, I do declare! The
lady’s
got some piss and vinegar after all.”

Pack stood in openmouthed amazement.

“And as for you, Pack Gallagher,” Mara continued shrilly, “your whoring days are over as of this minute! If this is whore number two that Ace was telling me about, tell her that you’ll not be calling on her again.”

“Mara Shannon, honey, Nan’s not—” Pack ran his hand over his face, striving to remain calm.

“I am too a whore!” Nan shouted belligerently. “I’m a damn good whore. Ask any man in town. If’n he’s not been here, he’s heard about me. I’m better than Miss Piss Queen at the Diamond Saloon.” She turned a spiteful gaze up at Pack.

“You must be very proud of your accomplishments,” Mara retorted sarcastically.

“I am. What have you got ta be proud of, honey?”

“I’m Mrs. Pack Gallagher, something you’ll never be.”

“Stop it!” Pack shouted. “I’ve looked out for Nan, and I care for her like she was my little sister. I’ve never slept with her.”

“Ha!” Mara snorted. “Do you take me for a complete fool?”

“Tell her, Nan.”

“I won’t!” Nan crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Mara.

“Tell her, Nan, or I’ll beat your butt,” Pack threatened.

Nan turned big, sorrowful eyes up at Pack, took a deep breath that lifted her shoulders and released it.

“Oh, all right. But she makes me so mad—”

“Nan!” Pack roared.

“He’s not been in my bed, but it wasn’t because I didn’t want him there. I’d a give him a hell of a time, wrung ever’ drop outta him ’n not charged him a dime.” Nan tossed her dark curls back over her thin shoulders and looked lovingly up at Pack before she turned eyes filled with dislike on Mara. “I bet your
wife
sleeps in a sack with a drawstring on the bottom.”

“I want to go home, Pack,” Mara said in a voice that would brook no argument.

She turned away because it hurt too much to look at him and started for the door. She had taken only a few steps when she saw the poster on the barbershop wall. The big, dark block letters jumped out at her.

PACK GALLAGHER vs. MOOSE KILKENNY.