In Love's Territory: A Western Historical Romance Page 15

  Carter snorted and turned away; as they walked, Kate slipped her arm in his and they walked away without a glance back.

  ~

  “I guess we should all get going, come to think of it,” Kate’s father said. “It’s a long ride home.”

  Now that the results had been given, people weren’t finding much reason to stick around and the tent was emptying quickly.

  “Yeah, I’ll catch up with you on the road,” Sam said. “I think I’ll look around for a little while.”

  He watched the Taylor Farm group walk out of the tent and was about to return to the stage to retrieve his ribbon when he heard a soft voice purr behind him.

  “Why, if it isn’t Sam Hall.”

  He turned to see a blonde vision of womanly flesh nearly overflowing the low-cut neckline of a bright red dress.

  “Hello, Cora,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “What do you mean? Can’t a girl come to see the fair?”

  “Of course,” Sam said. “I’m just a little surprised to see you here.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I just never had you pegged for someone who was interested in stuff like this,” Sam said. “Seems a little boring for a girl like you.”

  “I guess you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she said, playfully poking him in the chest. She leaned a bit closer, coming precariously close to spilling out of her dress. “But the truth is, Mineral Point is so dull, I’d do anything to get out of there most times,” she said. “Especially since me and Eddie broke up.”

  “Yeah, I heard about that.”

  “Looks like we both got the short end of that stick, huh?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to tell me that you didn’t like that Taylor girl? Because it sure looked like it from what I saw.”

  Sam sighed. “Well, I might have liked her a little bit,” he said. “Guess it doesn’t matter now. Still, sorry about you and Carter.”

  She shrugged. “It was never going to last anyway,” she said. “We’re just from different worlds. You know what I mean? He’s high-society and I’m…I’m not. Some people just aren’t supposed to go with each other.” She tilted her head and looked Sam up and down. “And some people are.”

  Sam studied her for a moment. She was not the kind of girl he was interested in. Not at all, in fact. Everybody said that she was the kind of girl that ran around a little too easily, the kind of girl that was a little too friendly with the men to be taken seriously. But then, what did he truly know about her? He was tired of people judging others without taking the time to get to know them. Maybe it was time to get to know Cora a little better.

  “Let’s walk,” Sam said, and Cora slid over to him in a flash, slipping her arm into his.

  “So it looks like you’ve been busy out on the farm,” she said. “Blue ribbon winner, huh? I admire a man who has some skills.”

  Sam snorted. “Might be a bit much to call it skill,” he said. “I just got lucky, that’s all. And it’s just a piece of cheese.”

  “Maybe so, but still, you won first prize,” she said. “That’s something, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so,” he said. “I mean, yeah, it’s great. I was hoping I’d do well. I’m trying to get a business going.”

  “Your own business?” she said. “Well, that’s exciting! Tell me more.”

  As they walked, stopping now and again to look at the few remaining exhibits that weren’t being taken down, Sam explained his whole plan, from the first steps he’d taken to the goals he’d set for years in the future. He told her about how he’d badgered everybody in town for business tips, how he’d ordered special books from John Gray, how he’d even paid Johann Schultz to show him how to make his Edamer. Everything that Sam had put into his work so far, he told Cora instead of Kate, not stopping until he had literally said everything he could remember that he’d done.

  “I know it must seem kind of silly. I spent so much time coming up with all these big ideas for my business and the best I could come up with was cheese.”

  She stopped walking and turned to face him. “I don’t think it’s silly. At least you’re trying to do something, something more than your own dad did,” she said. “That’s a damn sight better than what some men do. Believe me, I know.”

  He smiled thinly at her. “Well, let’s just see if anything ever comes of it,” he said. “For all I know, this was the high point.”

  Cora slipped her arm back into his and they continued walking. “I don’t think that’s true at all,” she said. “Matter of fact, I bet you’re going to do just fine.”

  She slipped her hand into his. “What’s down this way?” she asked, pointing to a long tent that had not been taken down yet. They were nearing the edge of the fairgrounds and beyond the tent there were only empty fields and trees.

  “Nothing much,” he said, but Cora pulled him along until they were behind the tent, hidden from view and with nothing but prairie rolling away as far as Sam could see.

  “Guess we’ll have to make up our own attractions,” Cora said, and she stepped close, sliding one hand around Sam’s waist and the other around his neck. Almost before he knew it, she had met his lips with hers, and her tongue had slipped into his mouth. She tasted like whiskey and sugar, and Sam felt a stirring in his groin.

  “Why don’t you come along with me,” she said. “I know a place where we can have a drink and have a little fun. Nobody will bother us at all.” Her cheek was warm against his skin and he could feel her breath on his ear. Cora moved her mouth back to his and kissed him again, letting one hand slide up his neck to run her fingers through his hair. He could feel her body push against his, and almost unconsciously his hands grasped her hips and pulled her closer.

  I can have her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. I can have her right now. No competition, no mistakes, no making a fool of myself waiting around for nothing. It’ll be easy.

  Her body was tight against his, and he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest as her tongue brushed over his. His blood was racing now.

  Easy. But I don’t want easy.

  “Cora, I can’t do this,” he said.

  She leaned closer and gently bit his earlobe. “I’m pretty sure you can,” she whispered. “You come with me and it’ll be a night you never forget.” Her hand moved from behind his hip, sliding over the fabric of his trousers, headed for his groin.

  “Whoa, hold on now,” Sam said, backing away and holding her at arm’s length.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Cora, I told you, I can’t do this,” he said.

  She cocked her head to the side. “Sam, is this your first time? Don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do. You don’t need to be shy,” she said.

  “It’s not about being shy. I just don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

  A fire began to grow in her eyes. “You’re saying no?”

  “I’m saying no.”

  “You’re saying no to me?” she hissed. “I’m going to give you what every man wants, and you turn me down? I was doing you a favor! What’s the matter with you?”

  “Nothing’s the matter,” Sam said. “I thought this was something I wanted, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “No, I guess I was wrong to think you were man enough for me.”

  Sam looked down at the ground, fighting to control his tongue so that he wouldn’t say something he regretted. “Cora, you’re a beautiful girl,” he said. “But when I spend time with a woman I want to feel something besides a physical reaction. I want to feel…more, you know what I mean?”

  “More? More? What else could you want?”

  Sam shrugged. “I want a connection, I want to feel like there’s something real between us,” he said. “Call it whatever you want; I just want more.” He reached out and took her by the hand. “Cora, I’m not going to lie to you. I’m tempted—sorely tempted—to come along with you, believe me. But it wouldn’t be fair to
you and it wouldn’t be fair to me. You deserve something better than that. We both do.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Cora, don’t you think you deserve more than just being taken for a tumble in bed once in a while? Don’t you deserve a man who will treat you with respect? A man who’s going to work to make you happy, no matter what it takes? A man who’s going to, you know… who’s going to love you?”

  She looked away, and even in the fading light Sam could see her cheeks flush. “You’re just making fun of me now,” she said. “You know that’s not gonna happen to me. I’m not the kind of girl that gets guys like that.”

  Sam stepped close and reached out, laying his hand along her cheek and gently pulling her face toward his.

  “I’m not making fun,” he said. “It can happen, trust me. Hell, it could happen tomorrow.”

  Cora looked away again. “Well, if you believe that then you’re stupider than I thought. It won’t happen to me. At least not anymore. It’s too late for me.”

  “It’s never too late,” Sam said. “You think there aren’t things I want to change in my own life? I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost that hope,” he added quietly. “It’s not too late for me, and it’s not too late for you.”

  When she looked back at him, her eyes had reddened.

  “Do you really believe that? Honestly?”

  “Yes, I do,” Sam said. “Now let’s head back. No reason to hang around here anymore.”

  As they walked, Cora again slipped her arm in Sam’s, and they went that way quietly for quite some time.

  “You know, I don’t think a man has ever turned me down before,” she said as they neared the opposite end of the fairgrounds. “I’m sorry I said the things I did. You gave me a lot to think about.”

  He squeezed her arm. “Don’t sell yourself short, Cora. Do you need a ride back?”

  She pointed to a trio of women gathered near a carriage parked further down the field. “No, some of the girls and I hired a driver today,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” She stepped closer quickly and kissed Sam again, letting her lips only drift away slowly afterward. “Thank you, Sam,” she said quietly, and turned to join her friends.

  He watched her get into the carriage, gave her a final wave, and turned around. The fairgrounds were rapidly becoming a sorry thing to behold. The exhibits were being packed up, the crowds were draining away, and the fields were revealed to be strewn with trash, food scraps, and animal droppings.

  Sam walked back to the main tent, where several men had already started to disassemble the stage. His cheese had been decimated, either by the judges or the crowd; only the rind remained and not even that was enough to interest a field mouse that ran across the table as he approached.

  He picked up the blue ribbon from where it lay in front of the plate. Not bad. So why does it feel like I won the consolation prize? He slipped the ribbon into his pocket and headed back.

  During the long ride back to Mineral Point, Sam tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts. I must be halfway stupid, he thought. Passing up a sure thing for a chance I don’t even have with a woman engaged to somebody else. Real good plan, Sam.

  The horses slowed as he let up on the reins, lost in thought. They said virtue was its own reward, but it sure didn’t feel like it sometimes. It was times like this when he most sorely missed his dad. It would have been nice to head out in the woods and check the traps while they talked about his problem with Kate. Not that his father had ever been able to provide the best advice when it came to the ladies; as he had readily admitted to Sam on more than one occasion, his experience with women was probably most useful as a guide of what not to do.

  Still, something must have gone right eventually for his old man. Sam had taken a trip with him to go fishing for a few days on the Mississippi when he was perhaps nine or ten; although most everything else had faded in his memory already, he still recalled two things: one, the enormous channel catfish that he had caught, bigger than anything his dad landed; and two, sitting by the campfire the first evening as his father told stories.

  Some of them were tales about roaming around back in the early days, when Wisconsin was still a territory and life was truly rough, though Sam already at that age doubted that his father had really fought off as many bears as he claimed. Other stories were about Sam when he was a baby, and although he found many of them embarrassing, they so clearly delighted his dad that Sam put up with them. But the stories Sam liked best were about his parents.

  Sitting here now, bumping along on the ruts in the road, he could remember the light in his dad’s eyes when he’d described seeing Sam’s mother for the first time. Nothing else seemed to matter, he had said, and from that day he worked to make her his wife. He could have taken the easy route too; for a strong young man on the frontier, there were opportunities aplenty, though some were more attractive than others. But he had been patient and worked for what he wanted, not settling for whatever was easiest available. It was a lesson that Sam had heard time and time again growing up, but he couldn’t complain about the end result. It had worked for his father, in any case.

  The horses were barely moving now. Sam shook his head as if to clear it and let out a long sigh. He would have given anything to hear his dad tell those stories again, but there was no use tormenting himself over something he couldn’t change. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for his parents, then snapped the reins and brought the horses up to a trot. There was still quite a way to go, and he had a lot of work ahead of him.

  Chapter 10

  John Gray’s was fairly busy considering how late it was, and Kate saw several people that looked vaguely familiar as she slowly made her way around the store, examining the goods. She and Jake had decided to come into town on a whim, after a long, boring day of doing nothing around the house; when she had mentioned the idea of going into town to pick up a few things, Jake had leaped at the chance to drive her in the carriage.

  After promising to return in half an hour, Jake had driven off, leaving Kate to browse the store alone, nodding at the women she half-recognized and studiously avoiding Mr. Gray every time he emerged from the back office. She didn’t want to have to lie cheerfully about what a mess his wife had made of her dress. As it happened, she was already dreading having to explain why she was buying fabric without going to see his wife; now that Kate knew how talented Becky was, she was flirting with the idea of having her make an entire dress, so she was on the lookout for something appropriate.

  After inspecting almost everything the store had to offer, Kate looked out into the street. It must have been more—much more—than thirty minutes, but there was no sign of their carriage. That boy, she thought, and was about to step back and resume searching for her dress material when she saw a bolt of blue fabric sitting in the display window. As she examined it more closely, she realized that it would never do; the color was lovely, a deep royal blue, but it was a simple thin cotton fabric. Perfect for an apron. For a formal dress, not so much.

  She had nearly turned back to resume searching when she noticed a book displayed in the window. She turned her head to the side, trying to read the upside-down title.

  Oliver Twist. I haven’t read that in a long time. A fond smile appeared on her face as she reached for it. Kate began to flip through the book, stopping to read a passage here and there, and was soon entirely lost in the story. It was like she had run into an old friend whom she hadn’t seen in years, and she became barely aware of her surroundings, hardly moving when other customers needed to pass and not even noticing how late it had become. By the time she next looked up from the book, the blue sky had turned shades of violet and orange and the sun had slipped well below the roofline of the buildings across the street.

  “Oh my gosh,” Kate said, turning to the clerk, who was high on a ladder behind the counter, stocking the shelves. “Excuse me, do you know the time?”

  He pulled a watch out of his pocket and gl
anced at it. “Five minutes of eight,” he said. “I’m just about to close up, miss. You going to buy that book? I expect there are a few pages you haven’t read yet.”

  “No, thank you,” she muttered, and replaced the book before stepping out into the street.

  Where is Jake? He should have been here almost an hour ago. As she paced back and forth, her heels thumping hollowly on the sidewalk planks, she could see no sign of her brother.

  The busting activity that had filled the street only a couple of hours before had almost entirely died away; the only movement on the dusty road was from a mangy dog headed out of town at a trot, his head whipping from side to side as if expecting to find a boot headed his way at any moment. Farther down the road a few horses were tied up in front of the saloon, occasionally flicking their tails and softly pawing at the dirt.

  In a moment she heard the door open behind her, and she turned to watch the clerk lock up the store.

  “Did you need something else, miss?” he asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Do you have somebody to see you home?”

  “Yes, my brother will be along directly,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “I hope so. A young lady like yourself shouldn’t be hanging around here alone. It’s getting dark. Good evening,” he said, nodding at her as he turned and headed down the sidewalk. She watched him walk away, passing the saloon with only a quick glance inside. He walked a few more steps, then stopped, turned around, and went back to enter the bar.

  Men.

  She glanced up at the sky; it was getting dark quickly, and as if to make the point, the lamplighter appeared at the far end of the street, dragging his rickety ladder behind him as he moved from lamp to lamp, throwing back the shadows bit by bit.

  She turned and looked back at the goods displayed in the mercantile window. Perhaps I should have bought that book after all, she thought. At least I’d have something to do while I’m waiting.

  A burst of noise drew her attention away from the window. Down in front of the saloon, a trio of men had just been escorted out and appeared to be none too happy about it. It was a bit too far to make out everything that they were saying, but a few choice words were recognizable even at a distance; the last time she’d heard language like that her father had accidentally hammered his thumb instead of a nail. The saloonkeeper, a mountain of a man, pointed a finger in the face of each man and then shook his huge fist; there were no words needed to understand that message, at least.