Authors: Deborah Camp
She gave a little jump when Callum touched her hand. He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Climb on down, why don’t you.”
Giving him her hand, she let him steady her as she stepped onto the sideboard and then hopped to the ground. When he still held her hand, she looked up at him, questioningly.
He shrugged one shoulder and his green gaze didn’t waver from hers. “You’re pretty.”
Her heart kicked.
He shrugged the other shoulder as his gaze moved slowly, and appreciatively down her body and back up. “You’re always pretty.”
“I . . . what?” She couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Even when I’m covered in cow dung and afterbirth?”
His lips didn’t smile, but his eyes did. “Even then.”
“Latimer, you dirty dog!”
Callum swung around in time to clap hands with a burly man with a black, bushy beard. “Hey, there, Samuel Furness. How have you been?”
“Busy as a three-legged cat. How about you? You gonna ride a bull?”
“Nope. I don’t need any broken bones today.”
“Come on.” The black-bearded man waved to them. “The food tables are set up over here!”
Callum looked back at Banner and motioned for her to walk ahead of him as they followed the man to where people were gathered and the smell of barbecued meat permeated the air.
###
She was probably imagining it, but it seemed to Banner that Callum was trying to steer clear of her. As soon as they’d filled their plates with food, he had drifted off to sit with some men, leaving her with women who included, much to her consternation, Lilah Hawkins and Sadie Winkler. Lilah and Sadie chatted companionably about dresses they’d spied in the dry goods store in town, comfortable and fashionable footwear, and fretted about their chapped hands.
“Cottonwood buds will soften your skin,” Banner piped up when she could get a word in. “Soak the buds in oil for a few hours, strain them, and add a little bee’s wax and you have a great balm for any kind of chapped skin.”
The two women stared across the table at her as if they’d just noticed her sitting there and that she’d spoken in a foreign language. Lilah’s gaze drifted down to Banner’s hands and a cross between a smile and smirk hovered on her lips.
“It must be nigh on impossible to keep your hands soft like a lady’s should be,” Lilah said “Are those calluses I see?”
Banner shrugged, refusing to rise to the bait. She grabbed her plate and moved to stand, but Lilah reached out and placed a detaining hand on her arm.
“How do you like working for the Latimers?”
“I don’t mind it a bit. I don’t think of it as working for them. We’re partners.”
“Partners?” Lilah looked at Sadie and they shared a laugh. “That certainly isn’t how Cal sees it. He hired you to look after his pa and cook his meals. That’s what he told Eller.”
“Or that’s what Eller told you, anyway,” Banner rejoined.
“Are you implying that my husband is a liar?” Lilah’s blue eyes glittered with malice. “I don’t believe he’d take too kindly to that – and neither would I.”
Banner shook off Lilah’s hand and stood up. “Callum will tell anyone who asks that we’re partners. That’s all I’m saying.”
“He’s already asked me to dance with him first when the music starts up,” Sadie said with a lift of her chin at Banner.
“Did he?” Lilah enthused. “See? I told you that he has eyes for you. I know him better than almost anyone.”
Sadie’s announcement felt like someone had jabbed a butter knife between her breasts, but Banner managed to smile politely and walk to where people had stacked dishes. Two women stood in front of big tubs, one full of sudsy water and the other tub filled with clear water. A girl took the washed and rinsed dishes from them and placed them on blankets to dry in the sun.
“Y’all need any help?” Banner asked. “I’d be glad to take over for one of you and give you a break.”
The woman washing the dishes turned around. Her round face was red and sweat beaded on her brow. Her big, brown eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled at Banner. “Why, ain’t that nice. Hey now. I know you. You’re the Payne girl, right?”
“Yes. I’m Banner Payne. I don’t recognize—”
“I’m Della. You bought a pig from my folks, the Dyersburgs, back when you were a gap-toothed tyke.”
“That’s right! How are your folks? Do they still have their farm?”
“Oh, no, no. Papa died six years back and Mama moved in with her sister. My Aunt Bea. She lives over by Gainesville. Mama sold the farm right after we lost Papa. I was sorry to hear about your pa passing on. And your brothers, of course. I lost a brother during the war, too, and five cousins who were like brothers to me. Not a one died from a wound. They all passed from dysentery.”
The woman beside Della was stoop-shouldered and her snowy hair was damp around her face and at her neck. Banner recognized her from church, although she’d never been formally introduced. “Mrs. Bailey, isn’t it? Ma’am, why don’t you sit yourself down and let me rinse the rest of those dishes?”
The soft wrinkles in the woman’s face deepened with her smile and she grabbed up a towel to dry her wet hands. “I do believe I will sit these old bones down. Here now, take my apron. It would be a shame to get your pretty frock wet.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Banner accepted the damp apron and tied it around her waist as she took her place beside Della. Banner rinsed plates and handed them to the girl on her other side.
“That’s Sondra, my eldest daughter,” Della said. “Mrs. Bailey . . . she’s my mother-in-law.”
“Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sondra.”
The girl nodded, not meeting Banner’s eyes, and took the newly rinsed plate from her.
“She’s shy,” Della said. “Doesn’t have much to say unless she’s around her girlfriends from school and then you can’t stop her from jabbering. Mostly about boys.” She laughed when her daughter’s blush deepened to apple red.
“Here you are!” Lilah and Sadie joined them, handing over their soiled dishes. Lilah’s cornflower blue eyes sparkled as she eyed Banner’s apron. “We’re off to round up some men for dancing. See y’all.”
Banner focused on rinsing the plates, cups, and silverware. She told herself not to feel inferior to those two, but old habits were hard to break. Even now, when she knew she was as good as the next person, she was keenly aware of how friendly everyone seemed to be with each other and how so few of them had spoken to her or even called out a greeting. She’d lived in this county her whole life, but she was treated like an outsider.
“I’m sure they will make a beeline to Callum Latimer,” Della said and chuckled under her breath. “To my mind, he’s the most handsomest man in these parts. He’s so tall and strong. I do believe he could even swing me up over his broad shoulder and carry me from here to there with hardly any effort.”
Banner grinned, warming to the woman. After rinsing a few more dishes, she confided, “Sadie says he promised her the first dance.”
“See? Told ya. Lilah probably wishes she had tried harder to rope and brand him. I mean, Eller’s a good looking man and all, but . . . there’s something shifty about him. Oh! Pardon my run-away mouth. Weren’t you two sweet on each other a few years back?”
“No,” Banner said, emphatically, wishing she could quash that rumor, once and for all. “He said he liked me, but I never . . . anyway, no. We weren’t sweethearts.”
“Well, that Sadie Winkler is chomping at the bit for a land-holding or business-owning husband. It’s no secret that she’s put Cal at the top of her list.” She slanted a glance at Banner. “I’d think you’d be trying to make inroads there. Why’d you let Sadie claim his first dance?”
“I thought this was a barbecue with bull riding. I didn’t know there would be dancing.”
“There’s always dancing at these things. Men bring along their fiddles and banjos and guitars and, before you know it, music breaks out and people are tapping their feet and finding partners. It never fails. You know that.”
“Fact is, I don’t. This is the first one I’ve been to.” This earned her startled looks from both Della and her daughter. Banner shrugged. “I’m not much of a dancer, anyway.”
“Folks can be so dagblamed mean,” Della said with a long sigh.
“Watch your language there,” Mrs. Bailey squawked, shaking a bony finger at Della.
“I’ve always been on the hefty side,” Della said, her voice pitched to a near whisper. “Other children called me ‘fatty’ and ‘tub o’ lard.’ Didn’t help that my folks raised pigs.” Her smile was tinged with sadness. “Bob is thin as a rail. My husband. We met in church and just sparked off each other like flint. When he marched off to join the Confederacy, it was like I’d had my heart ripped outta me.” She shook her head and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “He was the only male who had ever made me feel special. I knew that if I lost him, I’d lose that feeling forever. It was like heaven showered stars down on me when he came back to us.” She glanced up, watching her daughter stack dried plates and place them on the tables. “I’m glad my girls aren’t big boned like me.” Heaving a sigh, she stepped back from the wash tub and dried her hands on her apron. “All done.”
Banner rinsed the last two cups and untied the apron.
“Hon.” Della placed a hand on her shoulder and her brown eyes were warm. “It’s a new day and the old ways and old trespasses are gone and should be forgotten, if you ask me.”
“I agree.” She patted Della’s hand. Past Della’s shoulder, she spotted a dozen or more men lined up in front of a table where Eller and another man sat and gathered signatures. Frowning, she nodded at them. “But for many of us old ways aren’t forgotten.”
Della turned to take in the scene. “They’re feeling threatened and are ruffling their feathers. Nothing will come of it.”
Banner hoped she was right, but her gut told her different. Strolling closer to where Eller was holding court, she heard snatches of conversations among the men. They seemed to be discussing the “Indian problem,” and Eller was nodding, agreeing with everything being said. Banner turned toward the corral to watch a cowboy try to keep his butt stuck to the back of a bucking bull. He lasted a few seconds before he went flying through the air. Banner winced and looked away, not wanting to see him hit the ground, and spotted Callum. He seemed to be looking for someone. When his gaze locked on her, he strode toward her, his long legs eating up the ground.
He was a man on a mission . . . but what mission? she wondered. He stopped right in front of her, a scowl fixed on his handsome face.
“You ready to go?”
The lowering sun limning his broad shoulders and lean waist. “Go? Now?” She looked to where a few men were tuning up their guitars and banjos. “They’re getting ready to play some music. There will be dancing and–”
“I didn’t come here to dance.” A muscle jerked in his jawline. “If you want to stay, I can borrow a horse and head back.”
“No.” She rested a hand on his sleeve, curious as to what had displeased him. “We can leave, if you want.”
He nodded and started for the barn where they’d left Pansy and the wagon. Banner had to almost trot to keep up with him.
“What’s got you in such a snit?” She peered into his face, which was shadowed by the wide brim of his hat.
“I’m ready to get back to my place, that’s all.”
“No, it isn’t.” She snagged his shirt sleeve to slow him down. “Something happened. Tell me.”
“I’ve heard what I need to hear is all.”
Banner let go of him and lifted her skirts a little so that she could lengthen her strides to keep up. “You’re talking about Eller and the other men?”
“They’re a bunch of gossiping magpies,” he grumbled. “Spreading tales that will get innocent people killed. I’m not joining up with them, so there’s no reason to stick around. I’ll only end up getting drunk and slamming my fists into their faces.” He stopped beside Pansy and rested a hand on her neck when she nickered. His long fingers settled among the flowers Banner had braided into the mare’s mane. “If you want to stay, go back and have yourself a good time. You don’t have to leave just because I’ve had my fill of it.”
The anger roiling in him was evident, but she could also tell that he was making a concerted effort to quell it. Although she’d secretly hoped to join in the dancing, she also had hoped he would partner her. If he was determined to leave, there was no point in her staying either.
“I’m not signing up for any fighting and shooting either and I’m not in the mood to ride a bull, so we might as well head home,” she said, flippantly.
His gaze slid sideways to her and one corner of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly when he saw that she was teasing him.
“Watch out there, Callum. You almost smiled. God knows, we can’t have that.”
Humor twinkled in his green eyes. “You making fun of me, Banner Payne?”
“Me? I’d never! I figure you must have sworn off smiling and laughing. I’d hate to have you break your word.”
“Haven’t sworn off of anything. There isn’t a hell of a lot to smile about.”
“What about this fine day?” She pirouetted, holding her arms out, and tipping her head back to let the sun caress her face. “I think it’s worth a smile.”
He faced her, but the good humor bled from his eyes as he focused on something or someone behind her. She started to glance over her shoulder, but he grabbed her hand and hauled her into the barn.