Sundown, p.10
Sundown, page 10
Wyatt never claimed to be a good dancer. He’d been to a lot of dances since his courtship of Sadie. The only reason he was here was to learn the identity of the woman who might have been with Travis the night Silas Thornton was shot.
Clint Hackett, in a dapper blue suit, greeted them like he owned the place. He let out a whistle as his eyes swept over Emma. He spoke over the din of the music, “You’re looking lovely. I hope you’ll save a dance for me.” He shook Wyatt’s hand, then took another glance at Emma and flashed a smile of approval.
When the square dance ended, the piano player joined the fiddle player in a slow waltz. When Emma held out her hand, Wyatt took it, and like the couple they pretended to be, she led him to the center of the room. He took her in his arms, and they began to dance with the others around the room.
Wyatt couldn’t ignore the closeness of Emma as they danced. “So, when the waltz is over, I write Emma on the paper and place a checkmark next to your name.”
“Pay attention.” Emma nodded toward a blonde woman in a bright yellow dress. “That’s Edie. Behind her in green is Esther.”
Both women were Travis’s type: attractive and mid-thirties, but neither were wearing wedding bands, the only reason Wyatt could think of why E hadn’t come forward was she was married. Still, he wouldn’t rule them out.
While Emma continued to point out women whose first names started with e, he found it difficult to focus on her words. He enjoyed her graceful movement as she danced and the smell of lavender on her neck.
He slipped his arm further along the small of her back, bringing Emma even closer. They danced slowly around the room without talking about solving the identity of Travis’s mystery woman.
The song ended, and Emma took a breath and patted her hair.
Wyatt pointed toward a table at the far end of the room. “Would you like some punch?”
“Why sure.” She slipped her arm in his. As they crossed the room, it seemed the ladies were casting envious glances while the gents stood with jaws slack, mesmerized by the newswoman in her dazzling blue satin dress.
Wyatt filled a clear glass half full of red punch. Before he could pour one for himself, a plump bosomy woman with considerable cleavage approached and squeezed Emma’s hand. “Emma, you look so lovely. When are you,” she studied Wyatt, “going to find a nice young man and settle down.”
“Oh, Edwina, we’ve had this conversation before.” She took a step toward the woman. “What a lovely perfume. Is it French?’
“Oui, mademoiselle.” Edwina laughed.
Emma gave Wyatt a nudge. “I don’t know if you’ve ever met Wyatt McCrea. Wyatt, Edwina,” she emphasized the name. “Edwina and her husband run the dress shop in town.”
Wyatt shook her hand. “I’m Travis’s brother.”
“Of course you are.”
Emma shot Wyatt a silent nod toward his vest as the musicians began to play a polka.
She definitely wasn’t Travis’s type, but she was married, wore French perfume and her first name started with E. “Would you care to dance?” Wyatt asked the woman as Emma covered a smile with one hand.
“Me?” Edwina put a hand over her neck. “Why, I’d be delighted.”
It had to be a polka. Wyatt struggled to keep up with the woman’s energy. They had little time to talk, but when the song ended, Wyatt caught his breath and slipped the hanky from his pocket. “Did you drop this?”
“No, but it’s lovely, isn’t it?”
Wyatt thanked her for the dance, then walked back to Emma, who was chatting with an elderly gray-haired man leaning on a cane. As Wyatt approached, the old man hobbled away.
Emma glared at the old man. “That dirty old codger asks me every dance.”
“To dance?”
“No, not to dance.” She stared at Wyatt until he got her meaning. “I would have slapped his face, but I was afraid I’d knock him over. Any luck with Edwina?”
“I was lucky to keep up.”
Emma waved to Clint Hackett, who stood in the corner with Judge Rawlings, Mayor Hook and several other well-dressed men. “Get to work, Wyatt.” She headed for Hackett, and a moment later, they began to dance.
Wyatt reminded himself why he’d come. He introduced himself to Edie, the blonde in the yellow dress. As they began to dance, she immediately asked about Travis and the upcoming trial. Her questions aroused his suspicion, but he quickly learned she’d been in Denver with her sister the week someone murdered Silas Thornton.
He ruled her out, but the more they danced, her blonde hair and blue eyes reminded him of Sadie.
When the song ended, he thanked her for the dance, then stood in a corner and wrote her name on the paper below Edwina’s.
In the front of the room, Judge Rawlings stepped on the stage. With the flickering wall lights shimmering off his long white hair, he took the banjo from the banjo player and replaced him on the chair. The judge and the fiddle player joined in Turkey in the Straw. Wyatt was amazed at the judge, who appeared so stern in the courthouse and now seemed as friendly and outgoing as anyone at the dance.
When they finished, the crowd applauded, and Rawlings took a bow. His eyes met Wyatt’s for a moment. He waved goodbye to everyone and left the dance.
For the next two hours, Emma danced with a long line of men while Wyatt worked his way through the women, he thought would interest Travis and added their names to the list. None of them smelled of French perfume. He’d danced with four‐ teen women and was no closer to finding the identity of E.
An idea came to mind. Wyatt approached the stage and showed the hanky to the fiddle player. He turned and spoke, holding up the hanky. “I found this lovely hanky in the corner. Does it belong to anyone?”
The women look at each other, but no one stepped forward.
“Anyone?”
Disappointed, Wyatt shrugged. He took a seat along the wall, stuffed the hanky in his vest and studied the list of women he’d danced with.
When the musicians began a lively waltz, Deputy Stone sat beside him. She glanced at the list of names he’d written. “Is that your dance card?”
“Something like that.” Wyatt chuckled and stuffed the list in his pocket. He nodded toward the knife clipped to her belt. “You expecting trouble?
“Just from you.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get so good at shooting, knife throwing and running?”
“My Pa. He was a trapper. Used to go away for months at a time, so I had to learn on my own. Ma died when I was a kid. Don’t even remember her. Didn’t have anyone to teach me about… about being a lady, so I learned to take care of myself.” Stone slapped her leg and laughed.
“I haven’t seen you dance.”
Stone furrowed her brow. “I’m on duty.”
“That’s a loss for the men tonight.”
Stone was definitely watching Tommy Garcia, the hotel clerk, dancing with a young lady with pink ribbons in her shimmering blonde hair that matched her dress. They both moved around the dance floor with effortless grace.
Stone’s gaze followed Tommy like a sunflower turning toward the sun.
“You sweet on him?” “Tommy?” Stone snorted. “No!”
Wyatt didn’t believe her one bit. “Why don’t you ask him to dance?”
“Why don’t you mind your own damn business.” Stone got up, poured herself a drink of punch and downed it in one gulp like it was a shot of whiskey.
Wyatt felt bad that he’d intruded on her personal life. “Would you like to dance?”
“With you?” Stone snorted.
Emma was dancing with Hackett again. She twirled around the dance floor with a grace he never would have thought possible the first day they met, and she was driving the buckboard.
Hackett was as graceful as Emma, and Wyatt hated him for it. They seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, and Wyatt hated that too.
His feelings didn’t make any sense, but feelings never did.
Deputy Stone let out a laugh. “You sweet on her?” The deputy smacked Wyatt on the back and walked away.
When the band took a break, Emma approached and sat beside him. “Any luck?”
“Not as lucky as you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind. I danced with more than a dozen women; most told me how wonderful Travis is and how awful it would be if he was hanged.”
From a corner of his eye, Wyatt caught a glimpse of Hackett taking a seat at the piano. Did everyone involved in the case play music? Travis’s prosecutor flexed his hands, drawing chuckles from a group of admiring young ladies. He and the other two musicians began to play White Star Waltz.
Wyatt stood and held out his hand.
Emma took his hand and led him to the dance floor. He took her in his arms. “You must have danced with every man here except the mayor.” And one man twice.
“The mayor didn’t like my father and doesn’t like me.”
“You think he’s corrupt?”
“Of course I do. I just can’t prove it… yet. I asked everyone I danced with who Travis might be… courting, but no one offered anything useful.”
“Courting?” Wyatt grinned. “Is that how you put it?”
“That’s how I put it, but a few men used a more vulgar term.”
Emma stared into his eyes. Her perfume might be from the general store, but it was delightful. She wore the fragrance like a lace shawl. It reminded him of how gentle she could be in spite of the rough and tumble image she liked to convey.
Her hand, often covered in printer’s ink, was soft in his. He again slipped his arm further around the small of her back and pulled her close.
Her dress brushed against him as they twirled to the music, and he felt the soft rise and fall of her breath on his neck.
In that moment, the quest to find the owner of the hanky and the author of the love note faded away. It was, for only a moment, just Emma and Wyatt lost in the rhythm of the waltz.
Her face lit up with a warm smile, and she broke the silence. “I also received plenty of compliments on my hair, my dress…”
“Why don’t you wear dresses when you work?” Emma chuckled. “I wear trousers and shirts because in my line of work, most of the people I interview are men.”
“What does that have to do with you not wearing dresses?”
“Because I find when I wear dresses, men get that goofy let-me-charm-you-out-of-that-dress look on their faces.”
Wyatt couldn’t believe Emma could be so blunt. Emma laughed. “That’s the look.”
“You appear to know everyone in town.”
“I have to. Everyone’s a potential customer.”
Her words echoed Clint Hackett’s. Were they more than business neighbors?
“Clint’s a talented musician.”
“He’s a charmer.”
She stopped dancing, smoothed her dress and slipped her arm in his. “Let’s step outside. My feet are throbbing.”
She led him out the back door. They sat on a bench next to a garden of wild roses and lavender.
Wyatt pulled the list of women he’d danced with and shook his head. “I reckon this was a waste of time.”
The fragrance of the flowers hung heavy in the air.
“Don’t give up, we’ll solve this case.” She set her hand on his. She snatched her hand back as if she’d shown a softer side of her, she deemed best kept under lock and key.
Her eyes were fixed on the moon; her lips curved into a gentle smile. She seemed to be enjoying the evening, the envy of the ladies, the admiration of the men, unaware of the feelings he’d scarcely dared to acknowledge, let alone share.
Emma’s soft gaze hardened. “I might not have solved Silas Thornton’s murder, but I learned a few things about you.”
“Such as.”
“Such as you’re engaged to the girl in Sacramento.”
He hadn’t intended to keep his engagement to Sadie a secret. From the moment he arrived in Sundown, he’d focused on defending Travis, not his personal life. Emma made it sound like he’d kept his engagement to himself. “Didn’t I mention that?”
“I’m a newswoman. I would have remembered that little detail.” She turned her head, avoiding his gaze. “Sadie Hampton is my boss’s daughter.”
“That must be convenient.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Of course it is.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
When Emma spoke, her voice was almost a whisper. “I was married once.”
Did he hear her right? The news came as a complete shock to Wyatt.
“We were both too young. Chase was a handsome rogue, a fraud and a thief. Pop tried to warn me, but I was at that difficult age when girls won’t listen to their parents.”
Why was she telling him something he suspected few people in town knew about?
“Three months after we married, my husband left me with no money, no job, nothing except for a tab at the general store. Pop came to my rescue. I came home and threw myself into learning the newspaper business. I haven’t trusted men since.”
She stared into his eyes, then stood and hurried back inside.
And she didn’t trust him. “Damn.”
A voice sounded from behind. “That was touching.”
A match lit, and Mayor Hook emerged from the shadows. “Did I hear right, Emma was married?” He lit a cigar. He stood beside Wyatt and set one foot on the bench. “I already knew about your engagement.”
Wyatt stood. He wanted to break the mayor’s nose like he broke Jeb’s, but he forced himself to remain calm. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“I think we might have begun things on a sour note. I think we should get to know each other better.”
“I think I know you just fine.”
The mayor blew out a puff of smoke. “Let’s talk business then. You make any plans for after the trial- I mean, about Travis’s ranch?”
“He’s going back to run things like always.”
Hook stared at his cigar. “I mean, if things don’t go the way you planned. I’d give you top dollar.”
“By top dollar, I’m guessing that means twenty cents on the dollar. Tell me, you don’t look like the rancher type. Why are you interested?”
“I bought the livery stable when Pete Hanson passed away. I snatched up the general store when the owner got in debt. I look for opportunities to advance my holdings. That’s why I’m interested in the ranch.”
The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t get to be where I am in Sundown by playing by the rules. I understand that a town dance isn’t the best place to do business, so just think on it, and we can talk whenever you get to feeling the time is right.”
The time was never going to be right. “I’m going to win this trial, and you’re going to lose an opportunity to get your hands on Travis’s ranch.”
“I don’t like to lose, Mr. McCrea. You’d better find that out sooner rather than later.”
Wyatt turned and went after Emma.
When he saw her, Emma’s eyes were a steely glint.
Then her face softened, and she approached him and slipped her arm in his. Their act had resumed. They said their goodbyes as if nothing had happened.
She climbed into the buggy without his help. They rode to her house in silence.
When they pulled up to the house, Wyatt engaged the break, climbed down then held out his hand to Emma, who took it, and he helped her down.
To his surprise, Emma held onto his hand as they strolled to her door. She looked splendid in her blue dress, but he realized she also looked delightful in trousers and long-sleeved shirts with the sleeves rolled to her elbow and that dusty faded old hat perched on her head like a crow contemplating a new roost.
Emma let go of his hand, then drew him close and kissed him- a kiss that lingered as if time itself had decided to stroll at a delightful leisurely pace. In that moment Wyatt felt as if they were the sole inhabitants of Sundown, where nothing else mattered but the warmth of their shared affection.
The kiss ended, and she held both of his hands for a moment and opened her door.
She lit the oil lamp, then leaned against the frame of the door. She bit her lip like she was wondering whether to invite him in.
For a moment, he was afraid she would. For a moment, he was afraid she wouldn’t.
Emma’s jaw tightened, and the moment evaporated like a wisp of smoke. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Back there, at the dance, in the garden, I forgot why we’d come. I run a newspaper devoted to uncovering the truth in this town. You have a trial to prepare for, probably the most important one you’ll ever have in your life. We can’t… I won’t… let anything get in the way of what we agreed to, finding out who killed Silas Thornton.”
CHAPTER 15
Wyatt spent another sleepless night. His thoughts shifted between Travis’s stubbornness and Emma’s kiss. Another day had come and gone, and the trial was now only eight days away. When the purple glow of dawn peaked through the bedroom window, Wyatt gave up the battle. He washed up, staring at his face in the bathroom mirror, wondering if he was doing enough to save Travis. If he could convince his brother he was taking care of the ranch, maybe Travis would be more trusting and reveal the secret about where he’d been the night Silas Thornton was murdered.
After shaving, Wyatt put on a clean white shirt appropriate for church. He went outside and was greeted by four aggressive chickens, clucking, flapping their wings, and scratching in the dirt.
He went to the barn, took a scoop of feed, carried it in front of the barn and scattered it in low slow arcs. As the chickens pecked, scratched and scattered the seed, Wyatt lined a basket with straw and collected eighteen eggs from the nesting boxes.
He put the scoop back in the chicken feed bin and put the lid on tight. He hooked Ginger to the buggy and, with the eggs beside him, headed into town.
He drove past the school and stopped in front of a small house with a front porch and a stack of wood on the side of the house. Wyatt carried the eggs to the front door. When no one answered, he took a pencil from his pocket and wrote a note to Miss Baker saying he and Travis wanted her to have them.
