Just North of Bliss (38 page)

As soon as she saw Win duck out from under
the black curtain, Belle dared to move. She was grateful for the
interruption, since her neck had started aching from having to hold
the strangely angled pose. A jaunty young man in a gray plaid suit
and a soft cap stood in the open door of the booth, his fists on
his hips, and a huge grin on his face.

“Win!” The man’s voice boomed so loudly,
Belle flinched. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the
noisiness these Yankee persons seemed so fond of.

A smile wreathed Win’s face when he
recognized the visitor. Belle realized it was the first time in
several days she’d seen him smile that way, freely and without
strain.

“H.L.! You’re back!”

“Perspicacious as ever, Win.” The vociferous
intruder grinned like an oversized imp.

Aha. So this was the famous H.L. May,
newshound and husband to Wind Dancer, Bareback Rider
Extraordinaire—which she was. Extraordinary, that is to say. Wind
Dancer, A.K.A. Rose Ellen May, also appeared to be a rather nice
woman. It was difficult for Belle to imagine the Rose Ellen May
she’d met having married a vicious or loathsome man. Therefore,
Belle decided not to hate H.L. May on sight, but to wait until he
did something rotten before she took to loathing him. She had no
doubt that he would, Wind Dancer or no Wind Dancer. He was, after
all, a friend of Win Asher, wretched deceiver of innocent young
women.

“And this,” Mr. May continued, charging at
Belle with a hand extended and frightening her into taking a step
backward, “must be Miss Belle Monroe. How-do, Miss Monroe? I’ve
just this minute, more or less, returned from your beautiful home
town of Blissborough, Georgia.”

“Oh!” Too shocked to think about it, Belle
allowed her hand to be pumped by Mr. May. “Whatever were you doing
there?” A sneaking, burning thought began to nag at the back of
Belle’s mind.

H.L. winked at her. Belle jerked as if he’d
hit her. Good heavens, but these northerners were free with their
manners. “Win sent me there to interview your family. You’re quite
a star, Miss Monroe. Quite the local celebrity, in fact.”

“Good Lord have mercy.” Belle’s knees gave
out on her and she sat with a hard thump on the platform she’d
lately graced in a variety of absurdly dramatic poses. She’d
forgotten that Win had threatened to send this man to torment her
family. She hadn’t truly believed he’d do so dastardly a thing,
although she should have. Nothing was beneath Win Asher.

“Belle! Belle! What’s the matter?” Win
rushed over, sat next to her, and grabbed her hands. She tried to
yank them away from him, but he was stronger than she. Plus, he now
had reinforcements, the rat. Belle had no doubt that Mr. H.L. May
would be on Win’s side, should he be compelled to take sides.

Since Win wouldn’t release her hands, Belle
frowned at him. “You sent Mr. May to spy on my family? I remember
now that you threatened to do just that very thing, but I didn’t
think even
you
would sink that low, Win
Asher.”

“Spy?
Low
? Damn it, Belle, your
family was blackmailing you! I wanted to find out exactly how much
they were suffering, and H.L. was just the man to do it, since he
was itching to write about you. Damn it, before you accuse
me
of lowness listen to
him
, will you?”

“Uh-oh,” H.L. murmured, his grin not
altering an iota. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”

“Ha,” said Belle, unable to find words
powerful enough to annihilate the two men.

“Don’t pay any attention to it, H.L., she’s
just in a fuss.”

“A fuss!” Belle lunged up from the platform.
Since Win didn’t release her hands, she sat down again with an even
harder
thunk
than before. “Ow.” She wished she could rub her
bottom, but naturally she couldn’t. Not in front of two men.
Especially these two men.

“Belle, listen to me.” Win clasped her hands
more tightly.

Belle said, “Ow,” again, staring pointedly
at her hands, and he let up a smidgeon.

“The only reason I wanted H.L. to visit
Blissborough was because I didn’t think your family was being fair
to you. Dash it, you know it’s true! They sent you all those
mean-spirited telegrams, didn’t they?”

She turned her head away and didn’t answer,
mainly because she’d have had to say yes, and she didn’t want
to.

“So I asked H.L. to visit Blissborough and
find out exactly how much emotional pain and physical agony they’re
really going through from all the money you’re sending them.”

“Agony? Pain?”

Both Belle and Win frowned at H.L. for
interrupting their spat. H.L. backed away, his hands up in a
gesture of conciliation. “Sorry, folks. Didn’t mean to
intrude.”

“No,” said Win. “I want Belle to hear this.
I don’t know what you discovered down there in Georgia, either. We
can hear it together, from the horse’s mouth.”

H.L. grinned again. “I’ve been called lots
of things in my day, Win, but this is the first time I’ve been
called an entire horse. Folks usually refer to me as merely the
hindquarters thereof.”

Win didn’t respond to H.L.’s jolly remark.
Rather, he eyed Belle skeptically. “Do you promise not to run away
if I let go of your hands, Belle?”

She didn’t want to say yes, but she also
wanted to hear what H.L. had to say. Irked at having to make the
decision, she heated up her frown for Win and snapped, “I’ll stay,
blast you.”

She resented Win’s sigh of relief. She also
resented his air of doubt as he slowly released the pressure on her
hands. “For heaven’s sake, Win, a body would think you didn’t trust
me!”

“I don’t.”

Belle was so offended, she couldn’t speak.
That being the case, she turned her furious frown on H.L. May, who
took another step back. Since she really didn’t have any reason to
hate him yet, she tried to stop frowning. She wasn’t awfully
successful. “Very well. Speak.” She couldn’t recall ever hearing
that tone of command in her voice before, and was proud of
herself.

“Yes, ma’am.” H.L. saluted, then smiled, and
Belle decided she didn’t hate him quite yet, and might not hate him
at all. In spite of his roguish air, which she chalked up to his
being born and bred a damned Yankee, he was rather charming.

Win muttered, “Thank God,” wiped his brow
with the back of his hand, and slumped next to Belle on the
platform.

Because Win was slumping, Belle sat up
straight and folded her hands neatly in her lap. She gave H.L. a
regal nod.

Although he looked slightly startled by her
magisterial mein, H.L. cleared his throat, yanked a chair around,
straddled it, and started talking. “All right, then. I took the
train from Chicago to Atlanta, and rented a swaybacked hack that
took me to Blissborough. They tried to rent me a sound horse, but I
didn’t go for it. My wife’s the only one in the family who can ride
a horse, so I took the swayback.” He chortled. Neither of his
auditors gave him back so much as a tiny smile, so he cleared his
throat and continued, tossing a wink at Win. “You’d like
Blissborough, Win. It’s very picturesque.”

Belle bridled instantly. She demanded, “What
do you mean by that?” If he thought her home town was “picturesque”
because of its relative poverty and lack of sophistication compared
to the heathen North, Belle might just have to hate him after
all.

H.L. shrugged. “It’s beautiful. And there
are wild flowers growing everywhere. I’ve lived in Chicago for so
long, I’ve forgotten how nice rural areas can be. I have to admit
that I’ve never seen anything as gorgeous and green as it is around
Blissborough. It’s a lot nicer than Atlanta.”

“Yes,” Belle said, “it is.” She thought
about reminding this man—not to mention the other man present—that
Atlanta used to be a lovely city until the Yankees got through with
it, but she didn’t have the heart to fight the Recent
Unpleasantness over again right now. Win would only make fun of her
if she did, anyhow.

“And the trees. My goodness, but I’ve never
seen such gigantic, beautiful old trees. And they’re just dripping
with moss. Absolutely beautiful surroundings. I don’t blame you for
missing it, Miss Monroe.”

Belle decided that H.L. May wasn’t quite as
bad as Win Asher, although he, too, was a Yankee and couldn’t be
trusted entirely. “Thank you.”

Win grunted, but didn’t say anything. It was
a good thing. Belle was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to
restrain herself from screeching at him if he disparaged her
home.

“And your folks are awfully nice, too. Very
hospitable. They welcomed me into their home and fed me and forced
mint juleps upon me and everything.” He laughed.

Belle blinked at him. “They did?” She’d
never actually thought about it, but she was rather startled that
her folks had actually welcomed a Yankee into their home.

“Sure thing. The construction crew got in
the way a little bit, but your mother didn’t so much as blink an
eye. She’s very much the gracious southern lady, isn’t she? She
managed to ignore the mess with magnificent aplomb.”

“Con—” Belle gulped. “Construction?” All the
majesty had vanished from her voice. It reflected her state of
confusion admirably, however.

H.L. eyed her strangely. “Sure thing.
Haven’t they written you about how they’re redoing everything?”

Belle opened her mouth, shut it, and opened
it again. “Um, I suppose the letter is on its way now.”

Win said, “Hunh,” and Belle gave him a
withering look.

H.L. nodded. “That must be it. They really
appreciate the money you’ve been sending home. They’re installing
indoor plumbing and adding a couple of rooms onto the house and
doing all sorts of repair and maintenance work. You’re helping them
a lot, Miss Monroe. You ought to be proud of yourself. Your folks
are sure proud of you.” He gave her such a smile of approval that
Belle had to gulp again.

“I figured as much.” Win’s hunched posture
didn’t alter appreciably, but he did sneer a little until he caught
sight of Belle’s face and stopped.

He’d better not sneer, the fiend. Ignoring
Win, she said, “How interesting, Mr. May. And did they say anything
about me? About my posing as a photographer’s model?”

“
Did
they? I should
say they did! They’ve got pictures of you in albums, and a framed
shot of that first photograph of you that appeared in the
Globe
in a prominent place on the piano. I guess the Atlanta
paper picked it up, and Blissborough ran it because you’re a local
girl.”

“My goodness.” Belle’s anger, which had been
directed at Win and his northern neighbors, began to swerve
slightly southward.

“Your folks have been besieged with friends
and family members calling on them ever since that picture appeared
several weeks ago. They’re enjoying your celebrity a lot. I guess
your mother likes to entertain.”

“Yes,” said Belle. “She does.” And that same
mother had had the
gall
to send Belle
telegrams bemoaning her new profession and claiming Belle was
shaming the family. Belle had never entertained such intense ire
towards her family. Even when she’d disapproved of their profound
and continued indolence, she’d not been this angry.

“The whole town—how big is it, anyway, Miss
Monroe? Do you know how many souls live there?”

“Souls?” What was the man talking about? Oh,
the population. Belle shook her head hard to clear it of the fuzz
her rage had produced. “Um, I think about three thousand people,
give or take a few dozen.”

“I thought so. Blissborough certainly was
abuzz when I visited. The mayor was happy to talk to me about you
and how much everyone loves you. According to him, the community
always believed you’d go on to fame and glory.”

“Really.” The mayor, Harvey Clopp, had never
mentioned this to Belle.

“Did your folks write to tell you that the
leading citizens want to erect a statue in your honor? You’re
bringing business to the community, because people have seen your
photograph and want to see where you came from.”

Belle’s eyes grew large and her mouth fell
open.

It was Win who answered H.L.’s question. “A
statue?” He shot a quick glance at Belle. “Uh, no, H.L. Nobody’s
mentioned a statue. Or an increase in business.”

“No,” said Belle. “I mean, no, I hadn’t
heard that.” She wanted to tilt her head and thump on it to get the
fuzziness to escape out her ears.

“Well, they do. They love you there. If you
ever go home again, and I’m sure you will, I’ll bet you’ll be feted
to within an inch of your life.” H.L. laughed heartily. “I suspect
you’ll get a parade and everything, with shy little girls handing
you bouquets of flowers and every one of them hoping they’ll grow
up and be just like you. I can picture it here.” He tapped his
head. “Let me know when you do go home for a visit, because I’d
like to cover the story.”

Belle managed to emit a sick-sounding
trickle of laughter. She didn’t feel like laughing. She felt like
throwing rocks at her family. Every blasted one of them. How dare
they send her whimpering, whining telegrams at the very same time
that they—indeed, the entire town of Blissborough—were garnering
such grand returns from her new career. She didn’t dare speak for
fear she’d shout.

“I had a feeling they weren’t being open
with you, Belle,” Win said, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to
risk her wrath.

“Yes, I know you did, you foul fiend.” She
clipped her words.

“You mean they haven’t written you with the
good news?” H.L. appeared understandably surprised. In fact, he
appeared almost thunderstruck.

She cleared her throat. “Um, no. Not
exactly.”

H.L. stared. “Shoot, they all but worship
you down there. All of them.”

Win, ignoring H.L.’s stare as well as his
comment, cried indignantly, “What do you mean,
not exactly
?”
Turning to H.L., he went on like a train whose engineer had
abandoned the controls. “They sent her telegrams. A thousand
telegrams, all telling her how miserable they were, and that she
was humiliating the family. They sent her a huge load of guff about
how they were ashamed of her and embarrassed by seeing pictures of
her in newspapers.”