Page 3 of Leather and Lace
“Watch your tongue, girl.”
“Yes, mother.”
Sarah James sucked in a deep calming breath and ran a hand over her skirts with a shake of her head. “On better thought, I think it may be best that I go, on my own.”
“Your own?” Mary asked in confusion. Her mother allowed for so little alone time that the suggestion surprised her.
“Yes, alone. I see an older gentleman in the bunch that I think would quite enjoy an introduction. You may use this time to do as you please.”
“Truly?” Mary’s heart soared with joy and for a moment she forgot about her painful headache. Who knew when her mother would next leave her with a moment’s peace? The moment must be seized and savored, enjoyed to the fullest in whatever small way she could find in this frontier town.
“Yes, truly. It’s not as if anything worse can happen to you,” her mother bit out, giving her daughter a cold look. The words should have stung, but Mary found they didn’t so much. Not when there was the promise of an afternoon hour spent away from Sarah James.
Her mother stepped closer to her and lowered her voice so that none but they could hear her words. “Now stay out of trouble for the next hour, hmm? I will return with lunch for you, courtesy of the rich gentleman I have in my sights, if all goes well.”
She balked at her mother’s assertion that the man in question had money, how could one even tell such a thing from a glance? She had known more men than she could count that dressed as a dandy, though they proved penniless and feckless in business matters. Her father had warned her against tolerating the attentions of such men,and yet here she was all the same.
She wrapped her arms around herself, shoving away the dark thought. She forced a smile as fake as any she sent her mother’s way and nodded quickly.
“Yes, mother.”
Sarah James came to touch her daughter’s cheek lightly, a hand cupping it briefly though the woman’s eyes were still not on Mary. She did not see her daughter, not now and not ever. She tapped Mary’s cheek lightly before she was gliding away again, her voice rising as she walked away.
“Have a good time, darling.”
Mary raised her hand in farewell, a genuine smile, the first to grace her lips in quite some time. “Enjoy your meal, Mama!”
Sarah James raised an eyebrow at her daughter’s sudden cheeriness, but the woman said nothing and in a moment she had swept into the crowd of bankers. Mary watched in fascination as her mother introduced herself to the man she had chosen, one hand extended to him while the other was pressed demurely to her chest. The man rushed forward to instantly take her mother’s hand and that was all Mary allowed herself to watch before she turned on her heel and set off down the avenue. She was certain her mother’s plan for the man would proceed as she willed it. There was no sense in wasting her precious free time to witness it.
Mary walked forward with a smile on her lips. She was free. Well and truly, if even only for an hour.
“What to do, what to do?” she mused, swinging her hands happily. She turned to look down the avenue and saw the public square bursting with activity. Townsfolk were hurrying to and fro with full arms and hands. An assortment of tables and benches stood in the normally neat and tidy square. A stage was being built at the center of it, the red maple tree planted there, though small, served as the perfect backdrop.
She took a step forward, eyes on the workers quickly putting together the stage, her mind on what sort of music she might hear that night if she was able to talk her mother into an outing. If her time with the new banker went well, Mary wagered she had as good a chance as any to convince Sarah James that a town event would be just the thing to celebrate her new introduction to ‘a gentleman of means.’ Surely the pair would need a place to celebrate their acquaintance, plus there was the added benefit that her mother could--
“Excuse me, miss.” A voice interrupted Mary’s scheming and she turned with a start.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Because you were laying plans to get your way, like your mother.
Her cheeks burned bright at the voice that was growing louder by the day. What if it was right? What if she was every bit her mother’s daughter and prone to schemes and well-crafted plans? What if the girl she had been under her father’s care had been nothing more than a figment of circumstance, and not who she truly was?
“No trouble. I have a habit of appearing unexpectedly.” The speaker, a woman, a whole head taller than she and solidly built. The woman had a neat bob, her chin length sleek blonde hair framing her face prettily. She had wide brown eyes, full lips and a dusting of freckles that lent an air of sweetness to a woman that otherwise seemed anything but. There was a look to her that spoke of strength. The simple outfit of work trousers and a white work shirt made of thick durable material rolled up her forearms, thick leather work gloves covered her hands and a red bandana hung from the woman’s neck perfectly setting off her blonde hair. If Mary was to wax poetic she might even liken the woman to the Montana frontier.
Raw. Beautiful. Wild.
“I just, ah, need to get past you to the stage there, miss.” The woman held up the bundle of lumber in her arms and Mary jumped to attention. Here she had been gawking like a love-struck girl, while the woman had been trying to go about her business and with a load of lumber no less!
“I apologize. I was dawdling. Awful habit of mine,” Mary explained, hurrying to get out of the woman’s way and she winced when the beautiful blonde fixed her with a curious look. “And now I’m blathering on as well. I--can I help?” Mary offered when she could think of nothing else to say. She should be silent and leave her to her work but wished with her entire being to stay close to the woman.
She watched with bated breath as the woman walked past, head high and arms strong. She turned her head to look at Mary, a wide smile on her full lips. They were blush pink like the roses in the family garden in Texas. How she used to love those fresh cut flowers before the summer wilted them.
“You are a lady. I could not ask you to dirty your hands, miss.”
“I am no lady,” Mary laughed, and against her better judgment, fell in to step behind the woman. She could be bothering her; Sarah James would be quick to point out that Mary certainly was, but until she was told so she could pretend that the woman enjoyed her company.
“I have a nose for ladies, and you are a lady. Frontier is an odd place to find one as fine as you.”
