Drew (The Cowboys) (14 page)

Drew forced herself to shift her gaze from Cole to Myrtle. Cole’s expression confused her. He looked as though he had an unpleasant duty to perform and was going to do it no matter how much he disliked it. She didn’t understand why he should direct such a look at her. Everything had gone unusually well recently. The audience response had been so good Earl was planning to make her name bigger on the next posters.

She still wouldn’t let Cole catch her, but she’d promised Earl she’d think about it. She even let Cole talk her into a new trick, though it was so easy she hardly considered it a trick. He would pretend to start to juggle six balls, and she’d shatter them as he threw them up. It was a good thing she never missed. He wasn’t a juggler.

Drew focused her attention on Myrtle. “Let me see what you bought. Did Cole help you pick it out?”

She peeped at him to see his response, but his scowl remained unchanged.

“I decided to wait for you,” Myrtle said. “Cole tried to help, poor man, but you know how men are when it comes to judging colors. Except for Earl, I’ve never known one who could tell violet from lavender, magenta, or lilac.”

“I didn’t know there were that many colors of purple,” Cole said. “And she tells me there are even more.”

“Shades,” Myrtle corrected. “See what I mean?” she said to Drew.

“I’m surprised you got him. inside the store,” Drew said, hoping to ease Cole’s heavy frown. “Most men would have headed straight for a saloon.”

“I don’t deny I felt the urge,” Cole said, his expression only slightly less forbidding, “but I had to buy some candles and clay balls. You shot up my entire supply.”

“I had no idea it was so hard to find clay balls,” Myrtle said. “Cole had to order some made.”

Drew couldn’t stop wondering why Cole would go to so much trouble for her act. He’d be off doing something else in a few weeks. Maybe some drifters were like that, entering wholeheartedly into one thing until they got bored and looked for something else. The more she thought about it, the more he puzzled her. He didn’t behave like the drifting kind of man. He’d attacked the problem of making her act more entertaining with a single-mindedness that reminded her of the Randolphs and their determination to become the richest family in Texas.

“Myrtle tells me you’re casing out the bank,” Cole said.

“I’m studying it, if that’s what you mean,” Drew said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m always looking for ways to get more interest on my money.”

“You can get that information from an interview with the bank manager.”

“I already have, but I like to see for myself what the customers look like. If I see a lot of sour-faced businessmen and frowning farmers, I know it’s not a good place.”

“Drew always decides where to put our money,” Myrtle said. “She hasn’t made a mistake yet.”

“Every bank has its own personality,” Drew explained. “You can see it in the people who work for the bank, and in the customers. I wouldn’t trust my money to any bank that didn’t have a friendly and open personality.”

Drew got the feeling Cole thought she was nuts, or lying. She could understand why he would be skeptical of her method of choosing a bank—men rarely understood why the feel of a thing was so important to a woman—but she didn’t understand why he’d think she was lying.

She told herself not to worry about it. She didn’t know Cole very well. She couldn’t be certain of the meaning of his expressions. There was no point in trying to figure out what he was determined to keep hidden. Nor could she figure out why she should want to. He would be gone in a few weeks. Then it wouldn’t matter.

She got to her feet. “I’m done here.”

“Is it a good bank?” Myrtle asked.

“I don’t think so. I’ll wait until we reach the next town. Let’s see what kind of bank they have there.”

“Why don’t you keep your money in one bank?” Cole asked.

“I don’t want it all in one place. If one bank fails, and quite a few failed last year, I won’t lose all my money.”

“None of our banks failed,” Myrtle said. “We did what Drew said, and all our money is safe.”

That didn’t appear to make Cole happy. He was definitely out of sorts, something she’d never seen before.

“I’m ready to go back if you are,” she said.

She and Myrtle left the bank. She thought Cole meant to stay, but he came out before they’d gone very far.

Drew didn’t like towns. She never went into one unless she felt it was necessary. The walkways were always crowded with people, the streets with wagons, the air with noise, smells of bread and meat, unwashed bodies, and horse manure. People brushed against her in passing without making an attempt to move out of her path. In Texas that would have been cause for taking offense. In a crowded town it was just the way things were.

“I wish I had a horse,” she said, speaking her thoughts aloud.

“What would you do with a horse?” Cole asked.

“Get out of this town in two minutes instead of fifteen or twenty.”

“I’m glad you don’t,” Myrtle said. “I wouldn’t want to be left behind.”

“I’d take you with me.”

“Not on a horse, you wouldn’t,” Myrtle said, laughing and shuddering at the same time. “I’m afraid of them. I don’t know how you let Cole talk you into riding one.”

“Popularity,” Drew said, jokingly. “I couldn’t resist the opportunity to draw bigger crowds and make more money. It’ll mean I can have my ranch sooner.”

Myrtle didn’t like that. “But that means you’ll leave us.”

“Not for long. You’ll be coming to live with me in a few years.”

Myrtle’s doubtful look told Drew she had more work to do in convincing the show people that living on a Texas ranch was a desirable way to spend their retirement.

“It’s her!”

The shrill voice from the crowd riveted Drew’s attention. She looked around to see who the unseen person could be talking about.

Barely a second later a woman burst from the crowd and strode straight up to Drew. “You’re Drew Townsend,” she announced. “I saw you in the Wild West Show last night.”

Drew had rarely been recognized on the street, and never in such an attention-getting manner. People all around stopped to stare.

“She’s a sharpshooter,” the woman announced. “She shot all kinds of things last night and never once missed. She’s better than any man.”

Drew wanted to turn and melt into the crowd, but when she started to back up, Cole put his hand in the small of her back.

“Let her rave about you,” he hissed. “It’ll earn you more good publicity than a dozen newspaper articles.”

“I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” the woman said. “My husband read that article about you in the newspaper. He said it couldn’t be true. That’s the only reason we went.” She laughed happily. “He was so furious he hardly said a word all the way home. How did you learn to shoot like that?”

“I don’t know,” Drew said, miserably uncomfortable at being the object of all this attention.

“You can’t teach that kind of talent,” Cole said. “It’s God-given.”

The woman beamed at Drew. “She’s sure a godsend to the women of this town. Now the men can’t say women can’t handle a gun as well as they can. I hope you’re going to perform again tonight. Both my sisters are taking their husbands. They didn’t believe me when I told them what you did. I hope you’re not going to miss tonight.”

“I’ll do my best.” Drew couldn’t understand why she felt so uncomfortable talking to this woman. She didn’t like talking to strangers, but she could do it. At least she
used
to be able to, before Cole came into her life. A lot of things were different now.

“Miss Townsend never misses,” Cole said.

The woman appeared to notice Cole for the first time. Her eyes got a little wider, and her smile grew more pronounced. “You’re the man who held up those bull’s-eyes, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re lucky to have a wife like her.”

Shock at the thought of being married to Cole fled when Drew saw the expression on his face. She supposed to a man like him marriage was worse than a prison sentence.

“We’re not married,” Drew said.

Now it was the woman’s turn to look embarrassed. “I’m terribly sorry. My husband says I always talk before I think.”

“Don’t give it another thought,” Cole said, flashing his considerable charm now that he’d recovered from his surprise. “Lots of people who work together in shows like this are married.”

“Like my husband and me,” Myrtle said. “We’ve been on the circuit for nearly fifty years.”

“I’m sure you’d make a very handsome couple if you were married,” the woman said to Drew. “Well, I’d best be going before I put my foot in it again. Remember, don’t miss a single shot tonight. After what I said to my Joe, he’ll never let me forget it.”

Much to Drew’s relief, she hurried away. But Drew’s reprieve was short. She was recognized twice more before they reached the outskirts of the town.

“I’ll never go near another reporter as long as I live,” she declared when the open field where the show was set up came into view. “I can’t even take a walk without people recognizing me.”

“I think that’s rather nice,” Myrtle said. “No one’s ever recognized me. Well, not in a very long time.”

“Of course she’ll talk to every reporter who wants a story,” Cole said to Myrtle. “And she’ll smile like she’s having the time of her life at the photo session this afternoon.”

Drew rounded on Cole. “I didn’t give you permission to arrange another one.”

“Earl did. He’s going to pose with you. He even offered to pay for having new costumes made.”

“Earl must intend to make you a really big star,” Myrtle said. “He’s never paid for costumes for anybody else.”

Angry rebellion boiled inside Drew. Once more Cole had railroaded her into something she didn’t want to do. But she didn’t mean to give in to him this time. She’d talk to Earl. She’d have him cancel the photographers.

“This will be wonderful for everybody in the show,” Myrtle said, beaming with happiness. “If we start drawing bigger audiences, Earl will have to raise our salaries. Wait until I tell everybody.”

“Myrtle, don’t—”

Myrtle waved and hurried on ahead.

“Now see what you’ve done,” Drew said, turning on Cole.

“What?”

“You’ve forced me to let those men take more photographs. I don’t want pictures of me plastered up and down the Mississippi. I don’t want any new dresses. I don’t want to be the star. But now I have to, because everybody is depending on me to increase their salaries. Why couldn’t you have stayed in the stands and kept on thinking you were better than I am?”

“I thought you wanted people to appreciate your skill.”

“I do, but—”

“They can’t if they don’t come see you, and they won’t if nobody mentions your name or tells them what a fantastic marksman you are. We usually stay in a town just one night. We’re gone before the people who came to the show can tell the people who
didn’t
come to the show about you. This way the news can go on ahead of you, start people anticipating you,
wanting
to see you.”

Drew started to tell him she didn’t want any of that, but she didn’t, because it wasn’t entirely true. She did want recognition for her skill; she did want people to know she was the very best; she did want them to flock to see her. She just didn’t want to have to deal with the results of fame.

What irritated her the most was that Cole Benton had orchestrated this whole publicity campaign without her approval. He’d made it impossible for her to refuse without seeming ungrateful for her good fortune and indifferent to what was best for the show and the other performers.

But maybe the most unsettling aspect of this was the way her feelings for Cole were changing. She was tired of being bossed around, of having him come up with things he thought were good for her act and practically forcing them on her. She was tired of having her comfortable pattern of life constantly overturned by his unbounded enthusiasm for turning her into a famous sharpshooter.

But if she was honest—and she made a practice of being honest no matter how much she disliked it—she was starting to like having him around. It infuriated her, but she couldn’t stop herself. She might be irritated by his interference, but she kept putting up with it. She might say she didn’t want to have to put up with his attention, remember his smile, or respond to his charm, but she did.

“I suppose my feelings about this are contradictory,” she said, “but let me try to explain my reaction.” She could tell from his expression he expected some sort of rebuff.

“I do want recognition.” She couldn’t help smiling. “My brothers say I like lording it over them, that I can’t resist showing off when I can do something better than they can. It’s true. I’m naturally bossy, and being able to do things better than they can made me feel I had the right to tell them what to do. They spoiled me. They let me get away with it so often I got used to being the boss. So you can see why I’m not happy to have you come in and take my own act out of my hands.”

“I’m only trying—”