Territory (41 page)

She’d made an enemy. But a man who could say such things about the woman under his protection to a near-stranger was no one she wanted for a friend. She found she’d clenched her hands into fists. She snapped her fan open and used it vigorously, and tried to reassemble her ballroom composure.

“Whom would you like killed?” Jesse Fox asked at her elbow.

Apparently she hadn’t entirely succeeded. “No one. Don’t encourage me. Gracious, is it our dance already?”

His face fell like a pantomime clown’s. “And here I’ve been counting the minutes.”

She had to laugh, which made her feel better immediately. “You’re certain that wasn’t steps you were counting?”

“
One
-two-three,
one
-two-three,” he muttered. “I’m fine for the waltz, but if I have to count to four, there’ll be trouble. You know, if you’re worn to a shadow and would rather sit out, I’ll keep you company.”

“Gracious, no, I love the Lancers. There’ll be sitting enough during the intermission.”

“I’ll make sure you restore your strength with cake then.” He led her into a set.

Mildred realized when they got there that they were top couple in the square. “You’re sure—”

“Rest content. We’ll be fine.”

She didn’t know the lady of the couple across the set, but the gentleman was Frank McLaury, Tom’s brother. It made sense that they would come into town for the Fourth of July festivities. She took a deep breath and sent out an unaimed prayer that neither Frank McLaury nor Jesse Fox were overestimating their abilities. The top and bottom couples would lead off the figure, and the Lancers was an unforgiving quadrille.

Then the fiddles leaped onto the melody in fine, wild harmony, and the snare drum and string bass seemed to lift her feet from the floor when they joined in. Disaster might lurk ahead. But she was suddenly, uncontainably happy.

Jesse Fox swept them into the figure without hesitation or misstep. When the top and bottom couples crossed over and back, with Jesse and Mildred passing between Frank and his partner on the way down and outside them on the way back, none of them collided, and she relaxed.

Jesse leaned his head a fraction toward her. “Told you,” he murmured. He had a grin unsuited to a ballroom and a light in his eye as wild as the fiddles. He looked like she felt.

When the figure called for the gentlemen to turn the opposite lady, she said, “Good evening, Mr. McLaury. Is your brother here, too?”

He flushed. “No, ma’am.”

She knew Frank McLaury was proud and inclined to take offense, but this, she thought, was simple embarrassment. At the next cross, she added, “I don’t mean to pry. But is he well?”

McLaury seemed to be thinking about that—and about her as well, perhaps.
When the dance brought them back together, he answered, “Tom’s well. He’s got the bit between his teeth on something, that’s all.”

Mildred felt a stab of alarm. “Not—?” She swallowed the name as the dance moved them on. One did not bandy another woman’s name about on a dance floor, especially one so young. At the next opportunity, she ventured, “A certain very young lady?”

Frank shrugged. “Tom’s a grown man. He knows his own mind.” But Mildred knew from McLaury’s face that he was worried.

And Tom wasn’t here. Had he taken advantage of the distraction the celebrations provided to visit Hattie Earp? If so, they were having a wet time of it. She didn’t think Tom would risk Hattie’s reputation by sitting with her indoors unchaperoned. Perhaps the rain would discourage them. Perhaps they’d give up their rendezvous, and Tom would go back to his hotel room, and nothing would come of it.

Jesse bowed to her as the musicians finished and the sets broke up.

“Thank you,” she said, “that was splendid.”

“Now, why is it that you doubted my dancing skills?”

She felt a blush creep over her face. “It’s just that—Not everyone has a chance to learn the dances well, you know.”

“You did.”

“Of course I did. Along with all the less entertaining things young ladies are taught before they go into society.”

He smiled warmly at her, and she had the impression he was relenting. “Columbia University has high standards for gentlemanly accomplishments.”

“You went to Columbia?”

“For two years.” He shrugged. “Until a family crisis.”

Mildred longed to ask, but she settled for, “What did you study?”

“Ironically, geology and engineering. I was planning a career in mining. And here I am, at one of the biggest silver strikes in history, training horses.”

“And aren’t you lucky you learned to dance before you came?”

He laughed. “Uncommon lucky.”

She went into the tea room on Jesse’s arm, and he pulled out a chair for her at one of the tables. “What can I fetch you?”

“I believe you promised me cake. Champagne never goes amiss. And anything else that looks good, because I’m sorry to say I’m starving.”

He laughed. “If anyone gives me the eye for filling a plate, I’ll tell ’em it’s for me.” And he slipped into the crowd at the buffet tables.

Frederick and Lucy Austerberg came in from the ballroom. “Mrs. Benjamin,
may I seat my lovely partner beside you?” Frederick asked, and Lucy giggled.

“Of course.”

He was sliding Lucy’s chair under her when Sheriff Behan approached. He had Sadie Marcus on his arm, but Sadie seemed determined not to notice Be-han beyond what was absolutely necessary. Mildred was surprised; good manners generally prevented a quarrel of that size in a ballroom, and she’d always thought John Behan’s manners especially good.

“Have you got two seats for a weary pair of terpsichoreans?” Behan asked, a little too hearty.

Mildred took pity on him. “Certainly. Welcome to the Footsore Club.”

Behan seated Sadie next to what would be Frederick’s chair, bowed to the ladies, and joined Frederick on the way to the buffet. Sadie seemed absorbed in disapproving of one of the wall sconces. Lucy, at the other extreme, was staring at Sadie as if Behan had just seated a wild animal at the table. She was probably taking in the amount of bosom visible above the quantities of bullion fringe and spangles on Sadie’s bodice.

If she was going to feel pity, Mildred reflected, it ought to be dispensed generally. She smiled at Sadie and said, “Lovely ball, don’t you think?”

Sadie’s gaze dropped from the wall sconce to Mildred, her eyes wide with surprise. “Yes—yes, it
is
nice.”

“I expect it to get even nicer. My favorite dance is in the second half. Do you know Portland Fancy?”

“Oh, yes, we danced that at home.” To Mildred’s amazement, an entirely new Sadie Marcus appeared before her. This one was much younger, and seemed to have forgotten anger, coquetry, and calculation all in a lump. “I don’t know why it is, but it’s so exciting to pass through the line like that and dance with another set each time.”

“Where is home?” Mildred almost preferred the calculating Sadie. With her guard down, the girl made Mildred feel like someone’s elderly auntie.

“San Francisco. We had lots of fun, even though we weren’t allowed to go to public balls like this. Of course”—and the veneer went back up—“that was many years ago.”

Jesse returned, carrying two plates and two glasses of champagne with no apparent difficulty. He looked around the table, put on an affronted face, and said to Mildred, “But you told me you were a pariah!”

“I’m restored to grace, having acquitted myself decently in the Lancers. Jesse Fox, this is Mrs. Frederick Austerberg, the original owner of my gown. And you know Miss Marcus.”

They all declared themselves pleased. Mildred was relieved when Lucy struck up a conversation with Sadie about routes to Arizona Territory from San Francisco.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse murmured as he set her plate down. “Was I outrageous?”

“Yes, but anyone
I
introduce you to is probably accustomed.”

“I’ve noticed that about you. You have a bizarre and singular sense of humor.”

“I’m taking that for a compliment,” Mildred sighed, and studied her plate. “Oh, macaroons! Jesse, you’re a trump.”

“The smoked oysters and salad are there to make it seem as if you don’t live on sweets.”

She compared the contents of his plate. He had just as many macaroons as she did. He must have seen her look; he added, “I only got them in case you needed extra. To your health.” He lifted his glass.

She’d called him by name again, as easily as she did with Harry. No, not quite as easily, since with Harry she didn’t think about it after she’d done it. Nor would she ever feel this nervous flutter at the thought if she did.

By the time Behan returned, Sadie seemed to have decided to forgive him for whatever he had or hadn’t done. Frederick Austerberg was always good fun, being fond of any kind of socializing. Jesse set himself to charm Lucy, and wasn’t outrageous at all. It was a thoroughly pleasant meal.

It was interrupted now and then by thunder, and once a flash of lightning through the windows that made the gas lamps seem dim. There was considerable hubbub in the room, but Mildred thought she could hear the rush of rain outside.

When she finished, Jesse asked, “Would you like to take a turn around the foyer? I think that’s as close to the fresh air as we’re likely to want to get.”

“Yes, please. We can look out the windows.”

“Do you like storms?” he asked as he escorted her out.

“To watch. Riding through one is nothing I want to do again.”

“Where were you when you did that?”

“Kansas. It left me with a low opinion of the whole state.”

Jesse shook his head. “I nearly froze to death in Colorado, but you don’t see me holding a grudge.”

“Obviously, you’re a better person than I am.”

The view from the foyer windows was excellent. They could see the street running with water, the roofs shining, and beyond the roofs, the lightning knifing down to strike behind the Tombstone Hills. The dark sky seemed to tear like paper, and each bolt looked like harsh white light revealed through
the rip. Thunder rattled the window they stood at. They ooohed and ahhhed at the display, and Mildred laughed.

“We have fireworks after all,” she said.

Three forks of lightning lit the street for an instant like daylight. In the flash Mildred saw two men on the porch of Schieffelin Hall. They were hatless, but in the frozen moment of light, she couldn’t tell who they were or what they were doing.

She heard hurrying footsteps behind her and turned. Kate Holliday had just come through the ballroom doors; she was crossing the foyer at a near-run, the skirt of her gown caught up in both hands. “Where is he?” she demanded.

Jesse stepped forward. “Can I help you?”

Kate stopped. “I’m sorry. Have you seen Dr. Holliday?” Her breath came quick and hard, and her gaze flew around the room, as if her husband might appear there at any moment. What would frighten a woman as tough as Kate Holliday?

Doc shivered in the cold, damp air on the porch. Only a few feet from him, the rain fell off the roof edge in a sheet, and frothed away tumbling and brown toward the nearest wash. Lightning blazed like a great match striking, and thunder cracked hard on its heels.

“This is a damned fine place for a chat,” he said to Wyatt. “I hope there’s a reason why we couldn’t have it indoors.”

“Privacy,” Wyatt replied. “Morgan says you’re leaving town.”

The chill he felt was not from the wind. “I am. Kate and I are going to Colorado.”

“For how long?”

Doc shrugged. “I expect we’ll be back eventually. And the telegraph works, you know.”

Wyatt was silent. Doc knew he should let the silence stand, or bid Wyatt good evening and go back inside to Kate. But something about Wyatt’s posture, or the charged air of the storm, or his own cold skin, made him say, “I am not one of your brothers. I don’t have to account to you for my movements.”

He heard Wyatt take a long breath. “Of course not,” Wyatt said softly, so softly that Doc had to strain to hear him over the sound of the water. “But I can’t spare you just now, Doc.”

“The devil you can’t. You’ve got your whole family, the mayor, and three dozen or so upright citizens ready to come when you whistle. What do you need me for?”

Wyatt turned his head, and Doc saw blue fire in his eyes from the lightning flash. “You’re essential. I thought you knew that.”

“You’ve been drinking,” Doc snapped, and started for the door.

“Don’t do that,” Wyatt said.

Doc stopped. He had every intention of going through that door, going back to the ballroom, finding Kate and waltzing with her. Instead he stopped.

He heard the doorknob in front of him rattle as someone inside took hold of it. At the same time he heard Wyatt step toward him, felt Wyatt’s hand on his shoulder. He heard Wyatt’s breath hiss in through his teeth.

Sweat soaked Doc’s clothes. His lungs were a burning, compacted mass in his chest, good for nothing. The world tilted and began to spin.

He fell forward and caught at the door frame, but there was no strength in his hands or arms. He slid to the walkway, and felt the rainwater and tracked mud on the boards beneath his cheek.