Texas Pride: Night Riders (15 page)

With a growl that sounded more like a snarl, Bricker reached out to grab Carla. Instead he found himself facing Ivan’s considerable presence.

“Miss Reece has said she does not want to dance with you.”

“I don’t give a damn what she says. She’s going to dance with me.” Bricker pulled a knife. “And no one’s going to stop me.”

Ivan had expected there would be trouble before the night was over, but he hadn’t expected it to embroil him or Carla, and he hadn’t expected it to involve weapons. Everyone had been told to leave their guns at home or in their wagons or saddlebags. Apparently no one had thought to mention knives. Hoping to attract no attention, Ivan spoke quietly to Bricker.

“Put away your knife.”

“I’ll put it up when you get out of my way,” Bricker snarled.

“You and Riley were sent here to protect the people of Overlin, not harm them.”

Apparently Bricker didn’t believe in talking through situations. Without warning, he threw himself at Ivan.

Ivan wasn’t expecting an unprovoked attack, and he didn’t move fast enough to keep Bricker’s knife from making an ugly gash in his forearm. The pain was searing, but its most profound effect was on Ivan’s outraged code of behavior. No man with even a modicum of self-respect would behave like this in public. When one did, it was up to others to show him the error of his ways.

With a roar that was almost primeval, Ivan attacked Bricker with such ferocity it managed to penetrate the drunken rage that filled the man’s brain. He attempted to back away, but Ivan’s iron grip had closed around Bricker’s wrist. With a sharp snap, he broke it. The startled man screamed and dropped the knife. That didn’t stop Ivan from lifting him off the ground by his belt and shirt collar and tossing him halfway across the dance floor.

The whole episode took only a few seconds, but everyone around them fell silent, some of the dancers freezing in position as though turned into wax effigies. One woman uttered a small shriek when Bricker’s body passed within inches of her head. He hit the ground hard and lay still. In the background, the band continued to play a lively rendition of “Sourwood Mountain.”

Into this void stepped Myrtle Jenkins. “That man belongs in jail.” She pointed to two husky young men. “Carry him there immediately.”

So dreaded was Myrtle’s disfavor that the young men would probably have picked Bicker up and obediently hauled him off to jail if Riley hadn’t emerged from the crowd. “What happened?” he wanted to know.

Without giving anyone else a chance to speak, Myrtle strode up to Riley. “Carla said she was too tired to dance, but the drunken fool tried to force her. When Ivan stepped between them, he attacked Ivan with a knife. Unfortunately Ivan broke his wrist rather than his neck.”

“I’m sorry,” Riley apologized to Carla. “Bricker is a good man, but he has trouble holding his temper.”

“He can’t hold his liquor, either,” Myrtle added. “Now take him away. You don’t want to ruin these good people’s celebration.”

Offering apologies all around, Riley and two of his men got Bricker to his feet.

“Take off your coat. I need to see your arm.”

It took Ivan a moment before he could calm the rage still boiling through his veins to understand that Carla was speaking to him.

“Don’t stand there bleeding all over yourself,” Myrtle ordered. “Do as Carla says.”

Ivan looked up at the circle of people surrounding him. Their expressions ranged from horror and shocked surprise to approval and admiration. Bricker’s knife had cut through the sleeve of Ivan’s coat. The pain in his forearm still burned, but only a little blood had soaked through his clothes. “It is not much,” he said.

Danny and Beth came running up. “What happened?” Danny asked.

Beth caught sight of the blood on Ivan’s sleeve and shrieked, “You’re bleeding!” One woman offered to tear strips off her petticoat to bind Ivan’s arm.

Kesney pushed his way through the crowd, closely followed by Maxwell Dodge. “What’s going on here?” Dodge asked in his officious manner.

There was no shortage of people ready to answer.

“Bring him to my house,” Myrtle said to Carla. “He can’t receive proper attention in the middle of this crowd.”

“I’m coming, too,” Beth declared.

“Only if you have enough sense to keep out of the way,” Myrtle said.

Beth’s startled look implied she wasn’t used to being spoken to so directly.

“It would be better if you stayed here with your father and Danny,” Carla said. “You don’t want to miss the dance. It’ll probably be a long time before we have another.”

“Carla will take good care of Ivan,” Danny assured Beth. “She’s patched me up many times.”

“I’ll take your horse and Carla’s buggy over to Myrtle’s,” Kesney offered. “I doubt you’ll be coming back to the dance.”

Ivan was relieved to be away from the gaping crowd. He didn’t like being the focus of attention. Everyone in his troop had suffered worse injuries during the war, but none of them expected sympathy. They patched themselves up and were back in the saddle the next night.

“How are you feeling?” Carla asked once they were away from the crowd and the lights.

“It hurts, but it hardly bleeds.”

“You can’t tell that in the dark,” Myrtle said. “Wait until we get inside.”

Ivan had never expected to be invited inside Myrtle’s home. He wasn’t surprised when Myrtle took off her shoes and handed Carla a pair of slippers. Certain Myrtle had no male visitors and therefore had no slippers large enough for his feet, Ivan took off his shoes and walked in his socks.

Myrtle’s house wasn’t at all like he’d supposed it would be.

Hand-knotted rugs were scattered over floors that virtually gleamed with wax polish. The walls were covered with wallpaper. Whether in the hall or in one of the rooms, the theme was flowers, large and small, bright or subdued, in bunches or strung together like a daisy chain. Chairs were covered with festive slipcovers and adorned with crocheted doilies stiff with starch. Her pictures were unremarkable, but nearly every tabletop and cabinet shelf was covered with a wide variety of colored glass vessels and painted porcelain figures. The busyness of the room was only partially relieved by plain, white curtains with a gathered ruffle.

“Take him to the kitchen,” Myrtle said to Carla. “I don’t want him bleeding all over the furniture.”

So much for his worry that Myrtle would fuss over him.

The kitchen was nearly as highly decorated as the rest of the house, spotlessly clean and everything in its place.

“Sit down at the table, and take off your coat,” Myrtle said to Ivan. “Your shirt, too. I’ll have none of this nonsense of being embarrassed to undress in front of a woman. Carla may turn pink about the ears, but you won’t bother me. I’ve seen more of men than I want.” Myrtle rummaged in her cabinets gathering things needed to care for Ivan’s wound, but she turned to face him. “None of them were as handsome as you. If they had been, I might have felt different.”

Ivan felt himself growing warm under his collar. It didn’t help that Carla nearly burst out laughing.

Myrtle turned her attention to Carla. “You can fold up that tablecloth before he bleeds on it. I’m too old to do a lot of washing.”

From the looks of the house, Myrtle must have spent most of each day cleaning, dusting, and washing. Rather than risk more of Myrtle’s caustic tongue, Ivan allowed Carla to help him out of his coat.

“It’s ruined,” Carla said.

“No, it’s not,” Myrtle said. “Leave it with me. I’ll sew it up.”

“It is not necessary,” Ivan said.

“I like to sew,” Myrtle declared. “Are you going to deny an old lady her harmless pleasures?”

“No,” Ivan said. “I will leave you my shirt, too.”

He was quick to learn that while Myrtle might volunteer her services, she would balk if anyone appeared to be taking them for granted. “I didn’t say a word about your shirt,” Myrtle informed him. “What do you think I am, your personal servant?”

Ivan assured Myrtle that thought had never crossed his mind.

“Now you see what I mean,” Carla whispered in his ear.

“I’ll have no whispering in my house,” Myrtle declared. “If you have anything to say, you say it where all can hear.”

“I said
now
you
see
what
I
mean
,” Carla said. “You’ve been so kind to Ivan he had trouble believing you could be brutal to the rest of us.”

“I’m not kind or brutal,” Myrtle declared. “I just tell the truth as I see it. And that red dress is still a scandal.”

Moving quickly to forestall a storm that threatened to break around him, Ivan said, “It is as I said.” He pointed to his wound. “It is not much.”

The cut was about three inches long but only a quarter of an inch deep. The blood that had dried on his shirt had stopped the bleeding. Now that his arm was bare, the wound started bleeding sluggishly.

“It’s not enough to put you in your grave,” Myrtle said, “but it will keep you out of the saddle for a few days.”

Ivan had ridden with more serious wounds, but he decided not to tell Myrtle. It amused him to watch Myrtle tell Carla exactly what to do then show her how to do it. He gained considerable respect for Carla’s ability to keep a tight rein on her temper despite Myrtle repeatedly telling her she was doing everything wrong.

She criticized Carla, a woman she’d known for years, often and severely, while she rarely had anything except praise for Ivan, a man she’d met for the first time only a few days ago. But Carla couldn’t see that Myrtle was deeply fond of her. It was unfortunate that her fondness for Carla found its expression in criticism, but that didn’t mean her affection wasn’t genuine. Ivan could only guess at the reason.

Maybe she sympathized with a young woman left alone to run the family ranch. Maybe she admired Carla for being determined to be taken seriously by the businessmen of Overlin. Maybe she didn’t want Carla to think her looks entitled her to more consideration than others. It was probable that she felt all those things, but Ivan sensed it was more personal than that. She believed Carla was capable of being the leader of society as well as a successful rancher, an example and an inspiration to all women. Because of this, Myrtle was determined to make sure Carla measured up to Myrtle’s standards.

Ivan felt sorry for both women. Despite Carla’s annoyance at Myrtle’s frequent criticism, she appeared to have a genuine liking for the old woman. What could have been a mutually supportive and friendly relationship never rose above mere tolerance. He’d never thought of himself as a diplomat, but maybe he could do something to help them around this impasse.

“I think that’s all we need to do,” Myrtle declared to Carla when the last strip of bandage had been pinned into place. “Now you take him home, and make sure he gets plenty of rest. Bring him back in two days, and I’ll change the bandage.”

“Shouldn’t he see the doctor?” Carla asked.

“I know as much about taking care of cuts as any doctor in Texas. And I don’t charge a sinfully large fee to do it.” Myrtle walked over to a cabinet, opened it, and took out a bottle filled with a dark liquid. “Give him a spoonful of this each morning,” she said to Carla. “It tastes terrible, but it’ll build him up after the loss of so much blood.”

Ivan didn’t think he’d lost much blood, but he didn’t want to argue with Myrtle. Nor did he want to take her tonic.

“Tie your horse behind Carla’s buggy and let her drive,” Myrtle instructed Ivan. “I don’t want you straining that arm.”

Ivan agreed. He was certain Carla would have made the same demand. “Thank you,” Ivan said to Myrtle as he got to his feet. “My own mother could not have taken better care of me.”

For a moment he thought his comments might have embarrassed Myrtle, but if so, she recovered quickly.

“If you had stayed in Poland, you wouldn’t have escorted Carla and her red dress to a dance where a drunk could start a knife fight.”

Much worse had happened in Poland many times over, but he decided to let Myrtle keep her rosy picture of his homeland. “Had I stayed in Poland, I would never have met you.”

“Young man, I am not swayed by empty flattery.”

“It is not flattery,” Ivan stated with as much of an innocent look as he could manage. “It is a mere statement of fact.”

What might have been a ghost of a smile raced across Myrtle’s face. “Take him home,” she instructed Carla, “before he utters any more foolishness. I have come to think highly of him. I’d hate to be proved wrong.”

Myrtle followed them outside and waited until they’d tied Ivan’s horse behind the buggy, and Carla had taken the reins in her hands. She waved as they drove away.

“How do you like getting the rough side of Myrtle’s tongue?” Carla asked when they’d cleared the edge of town.

“She said and did everything that was kind.”

“She ordered you about like an errant child.”

“Because she likes me.”

“I know that.” Carla sounded disgusted. “You must be the only man allowed inside since her second husband died. I wish she liked me half as much as she likes you.”

“She likes you more.”

Even in the darkness, Ivan could see Carla roll her eyes. “You’ve heard some of the things she’s said to me. Why just tonight she raked me over the coals about my dress.”

“I think Myrtle admires you.”

Carla gave Ivan a long look. “I know Bricker didn’t hit you on the head, so it can’t be that. The wound hasn’t had time to give you a fever, so it can’t be that, either. The only possible reason for thinking that is you’re insane. You’d have to be to think Myrtle sees herself in me.” She urged her horse into a faster canter. “I’d better get you home before you get worse.”

Ivan laughed. It had been a strange evening. Danny and Beth had fallen in love at first sight. Kesney was so concerned about his daughter’s behavior he forgot to treat Carla with his usual fawning attention. No straightforward operation would employ a man of Bricker’s character thereby proving in Ivan’s mind that there was something underhanded behind Riley’s presence in Overlin. Lastly, he’d discovered that Myrtle had a soft side no one else seemed to see.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Ivan Nikolai. You’re the one who pushed his way into my life. Nothing has been the same since.”

“Laveau did that. I’m just trying to make things better.”

“How is selling my land to anyone with the right price and running back to Poland going to make things better?”