Whirlwind Groom (17 page)

Offering to take her to Abilene wasn't what he should've done. He had gone with his instincts and offered because he wanted to. He didn't even try to tell himself it was for any other reason.

J
osie needed to go to Abilene. Why shouldn't she go with Davis Lee? Riding over there with him didn't mean anything. She refused to dwell on the fact that ever since he'd shared the Rock River incident with her she'd been hard-pressed to remember she was supposed to keep a distance from him.

Her heart had ached at the self-reproach she'd seen on his face. His sharing with her an occurrence that she knew had hurt him deeply touched something inside her, a place that hadn't been reached by any man except William.

Monday morning dawned bright and breezy, the air cool with the advance of fall. She pulled her hair back into a low chignon and since she decided to wear her hooded wool cape, she didn't add a hat. The wrap covered her cinnamon traveling dress and provided some protection from the wind and the dust as did the collapsible hood of the buggy when raised.

When Davis Lee walked into the hotel lobby to fetch her, her nerve endings sizzled. He brought in the chill with him, a sweeping gust of wind that he cut off when he pulled the door shut. His cheeks were reddened, his blue eyes glowing in his bronzed face. The supple deerhide coat he wore made
his shoulders look even broader. His light blue shirt tucked neatly into the waist of dark gray trousers that emphasized the powerful lean muscles in his long legs. The pants hem brushed the tops of his polished black boots.

The slow smile he gave her sent a tingle to her toes and made her as aware of him as if she were wrapped in his arms. Her own mouth curved. He wore his hat down low, thumbing it back as his gaze traveled from the top of her head to the tips of her black boots peeking out from under her skirts.

He helped her into the buggy then reached across her for the lap robe and arranged it over her legs. Going around to the other side, he climbed in beside her and snapped the reins against the horse's rump. Leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, Davis Lee kept the mare at a brisk pace.

Josie's gaze was caught by his strong, bronzed nape, the glimpse of dark brown hair peeking out from beneath his hat.

He asked what all she needed to buy in Abilene and acted interested when she told him. His questions turned to her sewing. How had she learned? Did she use patterns? His ma hadn't. But he was most taken with hearing about Galveston and what it had been like to grow up on an island just off the Gulf of Mexico.

Davis Lee's knowledge of the island city was minimal. He recalled his folks talking about the frequent threats of yellow fever and how nearly three-fourths of the population suffered one of its worst onslaughts in 1867. And he remembered hearing about hurricanes. Even so, he still wanted to visit there someday and see the gulf.

They were in the wagon at least three hours, but it felt like minutes to Josie. Before she knew it, they were there. They entered Abilene on First Street, which separated the north part of town from the south. The tracks for the Texas
and Pacific Railway ran straight through the middle of the street, all the way through town. Davis Lee told her the growing community already claimed a post office, a newspaper, several churches and a public school. Not to mention numerous saloons.

When lots were auctioned by the railroad back in '81, the town had sprung up, mostly in tents. But as fast as lumber could be transported in, more permanent structures were built. Some were constructed of pine, like the huge Texas Crown Hotel and Fulwiler's Livery Stable, and some of stone, such as the depot and Taylor County Bank.

Buffalo Gap, fourteen miles south, was the county seat but with the railroad passing through Abilene and the growth that had resulted, an election was scheduled for next month to vote on moving the seat here. Davis Lee stayed on the north side of the tracks. They passed Hickory Street and Josie could see the train depot up ahead.

He maneuvered the buggy around a group of people gathered in front of a half-finished building listening to a man proclaim the benefits of
Corey's Stomach Bitters,
a concoction guaranteed to settle the stomach better than
Hostetter's Celebrated Stomach Bitters.
Hostetter's could be bought in almost any general store, but Josie had never heard of Corey's.

Davis Lee reined the buggy up at the corner of First and Cedar, in front of a two-story frame building identified as the jail by black lettering on its windows.

People teemed in the streets; some crowded around the train depot while others congregated in the road.

Davis Lee leaned toward her. “Believe it or not, it's even more noisy than this on the weekends.”

“Because of those cowboys you told me about?”

“Yeah.” He set the brake. “Do you mind if we stop here first? My business with the marshal won't take long and he can tell me the best place for you to buy what you need.”

“All right.” Josie counted two grocery stores, a saddle shop, a jeweler, a watchmaker and an ice house farther up the road. Merchants on the north and south sides of First had opened their doors and a steady stream of people went in and out. She edged closer to Davis Lee. “Is it always this crowded?”

“It has been nearly every time I've come over. Seems like people are always moving in or moving on.”

He stepped out of the buggy, his gaze sweeping the throngs of people on the street. Three rough-looking men leaned against the wall of a frame building across the street, making general nuisances of themselves whenever a woman walked past. Davis Lee came around to her side. “I'd feel better if you went inside with me.”

“I think I would, too.”

He helped her down, seeming not to realize that he kept his hand at the small of her back until they stepped inside the jail.

She waited in a chair next to the marshal's desk as the man with an Irish accent and Davis Lee stepped through a back doorway where she saw a staircase leading to the cells on the second floor.

The office was bigger than Davis Lee's, but not fancy. A dark heavy desk commanded the center of the room. One chair sat behind it and two plain wooden chairs in front. Two gun racks mounted end to end on the opposite wall each held six rifles.

Josie had just removed her gloves when Davis Lee returned, saying he was finished. It had been so quick, she wondered if he had really needed to make the trip over.

He held the door open for her. “He gave me the names of a couple of places where you can find what you need.”

“Thank you.” His consideration had been evident all day, from making sure she was warm enough for the trip to
finding out about the stores. He made it all too easy for her to want more from him.

Back in the buggy, they continued up First Street. He pointed to a large, imposing hotel at the corner of Cypress called the Texas Crown. “Riley and Susannah were married there.”

He had her laughing with a story about Cora disguising herself as a man and winning every horse race here and in Whirlwind last spring. The older woman had needed extra money because a banker here had suddenly and unfairly raised her mortgage payments.

Davis Lee and Josie passed the train depot then Pine Street. Raucous piano music underlaid by loud voices caught Josie's attention. She glanced back, noting several tents and a couple of flimsy frame buildings lining the street.

“Saloons,” Davis Lee said. “Marshal Clinton said there are quite a few on Pine and Chestnut Streets.”

Halfway up the block, he reined to a stop in front of a large store bearing the name Trent's Dry Goods.

An advertisement affixed to the glass panel in one of the front double doors drew her attention.
Imported Dress Goods From New Orleans.

She turned to him in surprise. “How do they get here? Does the owner go to New Orleans?”

“Probably goes to Fort Worth or has the goods sent from there. That place has turned into a considerable supply source.”

Trent's Dry Goods store was easily twice the size of Haskell's. Through the large windows Josie's gaze swept tables of fabric, sewing notions, baskets and shelves of merchandise containing everything from stockings to sachet. “I'll probably be in here a little while. What time do you want to meet?”

“I'll go in with you.”

Her gaze swerved to his. “Are you sure? I tend to forget the time when I look at fabric.”

“I'll help you carry stuff. Besides, I don't fancy leaving you here by yourself any more than I did at the jail. Especially with those saloons only half a block away.”

Josie couldn't say she minded him staying, either. “All right.”

They stepped inside, teased by the subtle scent of apples and vanilla and leather goods. A long, glass-front counter sat directly in front of her. A dozen jars filled with different candy marched in a precise line across the top of the counter. Below and behind the glass were snuff boxes, plugs of tobacco and watches. To her right, Josie saw fancy soap, work boots and ready-made shirts, but her attention quickly moved to the left side of the store.

It was filled with table after table of fabric. The Wool Table, the one closest to her, held a copy of
Godey's Lady's Book
and
Peterson's Magazine,
from which ladies could order clothing patterns of the latest styles as well as some ready-made garments.

Davis Lee held the door open for an elderly woman who was leaving.

“Aren't you a dear?” She patted him on the arm then gave Josie a smile. “My husband will never come in here with me.”

“Oh, but he's not my—”

“Have a good day, ma'am.” Davis Lee spoke before Josie could correct the woman.

A stately, middle-aged brunette sailed out from behind the counter and introduced herself as Mrs. Trent. Josie explained what she needed and that she'd like to look around.

The woman gestured toward the stock of fabric. “Each table is marked with a price, but if you have any questions, all you have to do is holler.”

“Thank you.” Josie took off her gloves and slid them
into the pocket of her skirt's right side seam. She passed the Wool Table, the Gingham Table, the Silk Table and stopped at the Velveteen and Velvet Table. Davis Lee stayed behind her.

She soon found two shades of dark green that she liked and pulled out the bolts to lay them side by side.

Davis Lee leaned over, his breath tickling her ear. “These prices are pretty steep.”

“That's why Mrs. Eishen went ahead and paid me for half the job.”

He moved to the other end of the table and fingered a length of deep burgundy. “What about looking down here? The cost is more reasonable.”

Josie glanced at him. “Those are velveteens. Unless the material comes from France or Italy, the colors are prone to fade. The velvet's color is more steadfast and Mrs. Eishen did say she wanted velvet.”

He grinned. “I don't know why you won't take my suggestion. Since I know so much about sewing and all.”

She laughed.

After a few minutes, she made her choice and measured out the necessary yardage, using the scissors tied with a string to the table for customers who chose to cut their own material. She folded the fabric lengthwise and draped it over her arm, but Davis Lee took it from her.

“Here, I'm good for something. I'll carry and your hands will be free.”

“I didn't intend to work you in here.”

“I don't mind. Gives me something to do.” This way he could watch her. Which he'd probably done too much already. But he liked seeing the tiny frown form between her brows when she compared fabrics and colors. Liked the way she tapped her index finger against her lips as she considered the choices.

“All right.” She relinquished the fabric to him and he
folded it in half, making a bulky mound that he carried in both arms.

She walked to the next aisle, stopping at the Trim Table to look over fur and braid and feathers. Here she cut a length of dark gray fur, giving Davis Lee an impish smile when she tossed the long rope of trim onto the velvet he held.

The tail of the fur fell over his arm and she caught it before it touched the floor. Rather than returning it to the top of the velvet, she threw it playfully over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he growled. “I didn't say I would wear any of this stuff.”

“But you look so pretty.” She laughed and tugged the trim away from him, arranging it on top of the velvet as she'd originally intended.

Her eyes sparkled and Davis Lee was surprised to find himself enjoying the shop full of fabric and fripperies.

At another table, she chose a solid black lining for the coat, then he followed her to a table frothing with lace. Wide, thin, stiff, soft. The stuff was organized on spools in every imaginable pattern and colors from white and black to pastels and something he finally decided was green.

She searched for a while, finally finding a delicate-looking lace about a half-inch wide and holding it up. “This is for Catherine's dress.”

He shifted the bundle in his arms, managing to rescue the fur before it slithered off. “It looks like the lace on that pink dress you wore to the dance.”

“It is.” Her eyes warmed.

She looked surprised that he'd recognized the trim.
He
was certainly surprised. He'd never noticed much about women's clothes except how to get them off.

She added the delicate lace to her growing pile and he followed her down a long aisle to the back wall. At the White Table, she quickly found what she sought. She pulled
a bolt of fabric from the bottom of a stack and rolled out about a yard, passing it over her hand.

It was sheer white, and Davis Lee could see every line in her palm, the blue tracing of veins when she turned her hand over. “You can see right through that.”

She glanced up. “Yes?”

“What do you do with it? Put it over something else?”

“You can. I'm buying it to make something for Catherine.”

“Like what?”

She started to answer, then must've thought better of it. “Never you mind.”