The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich (14 page)

Calliope exhaled a sigh of calm. She felt a bit better.
Knowing her father had spoken to Rowdy Gates, who seemed to be recovering quickly, she was glad that she truly hadn’t been the cause of any worse damage to him. Furthermore, she was sure he would enjoy a pie. Calliope made excellent pies. She’d even won the first-place ribbon at the county fair the autumn before. Surely a delicious pie would help Rowdy to feel better. Surely it would help lessen any animosity he owned toward her for having nearly cracked his skull open like an egg. Anyway, she hoped it would.

*

“How’re you this mornin’, Rowdy?” Lou Smith asked Rowdy as he entered the livery. “I heard you had quite an afternoon yesterday,” the friendly man said, smiling.

“Yep,” Rowdy admitted. “I took me a tumble into the millpond from up on the high bank.”

Lou nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, I heard you got a pretty bad bump on the head.” He chuckled a little then, adding, “And a pretty good hold of Miss Calliope Ipswich.”

Lou was a kind man, with an above average sense of good humor. Therefore, Rowdy wasn’t at all irked by his teasing.

“Why yes, indeed I did,” he said, smiling himself. “On both accounts.”

Lou laughed again, studied Rowdy for a moment, and said, “Why
, I ain’t never seen you without a beard, Rowdy. You’re a mighty good-lookin’ feller!”

Rowdy’s smile broadened as Lou winked at him. “
Thank you, Lou. That means a lot comin’ from a good-lookin’ feller like you.”

In truth, Lou was pushing
sixty at least, with a belly that hung over his belt quite a bit. But his blue eyes sparkled with the same bright light Rowdy figured they had had when he was a boy. His hair was white now, but Rowdy imagined it was once as dark as his own.

Lou nodded, continued to smile, and asked, “What can I do for you today, boy? It ain’t often you come into the livery.”

Rowdy nodded. “Yeah…well, I just had a question for you.”

“Ask away,” Lou urged.

“Last evenin’, on my way home from Doc Gregory’s, I seen a mighty fine-lookin’ appaloosa tied up outside the diner,” Rowdy began. “At least I think I did. My head was still spinnin’ a bit from the fall into the millpond. But I was wonderin’—you don’t happen to know who it belonged to, do you? I mean, if the owner even stayed the night in Meadowlark and all.”

Lou nodded. “Yep. I know just the horse you mean,” he confirmed. “A couple of fellers did stay the night la
st night, stayed over at the inn. They boarded their mounts here, and one of them was that appaloosa. They left before sunup this mornin’ though. Why do you ask?”

Rowdy shrugged, feigning indifference. “I just thought it was nice horse. Thought maybe the owner might be willin’ to sell it to me. I always wanted a chestnut and white appaloosa. Did you…uh…did you catch the feller’s name by chance
?”

But Lou shook his head. “Nope. But him and his compadre looked a bit on the rough side. Can’t really say I was sad to see them ride outta town, you know what I mean?”

A sick feeling began to smolder in the pit of Rowdy’s stomach. Still, he nodded and said, “Yeah, I do. I sure wish I coulda got a better look at that appaloosa before it left town though.”

“I hear you,” Lou agreed. “A feller don’t see many appaloosa anymore
, especially around these parts.”

“Well, I thank you, Lou,” Rowdy said, bending the brim of his hat in thanks to Lou. “You have yourself a good day, all right?”

“I will, Rowdy,” Lou said. “You too. And you keep outta that millpond, boy,” he teased.

“Oh, I plan to,” Rowdy said, forcing an amused grin.

Once outside again, Rowdy paused, exhaled a heavy sigh, and gazed up into the bright blue sky of morning. His head still ached, and his cheek, not to mention his back. The evening before, he’d fallen asleep next to Dodger under the willow tree and hadn’t woken up for several hours, and it had left a crick in his neck and a twinge in his back. Still, he figured he’d loosen up after a couple of hours at the mill.

He mounted Tucker and headed down the road leading toward the mill. He tried not to frown as he rode
, tried not to think of the appaloosa he’d seen the evening before—the one a stranger had put up at the livery for the night. Maybe the horse did look like Arness’s Pronto, but it was gone now, and Rowdy figured worrying over it wouldn’t get anything done.

He was surprised when he arrived at the mill to find Fox, Dex
, and Tate had beaten him there. In fact, it looked to Rowdy like they’d already been there a while.

Securing Tucker’s reins to the hitching post, Rowdy entered the mill and asked, “What’re you boys doin’ here so early?”

The three men smiled, and Dex held up two dead pigeons he was holding by the feet in one hand.

“We figured we’d get here a might early, Rowdy
, and take care of these dang pigeons the way you asked,” Dex explained.

Rowdy smiled—chuckled even. “Well, thank you, boys,” he said. “Thank you indeed.”

“You feelin’ all right, boss?” Tate asked. “Fact was, we weren’t sure you’d be comin’ in to the mill to work today, bein’ that you lost so much blood and all yesterday.”

Rowdy shook his head. “Naw
, I’m fine.” He reached up, rubbing his freshly shaved chin. “I gotta few less whiskers than I did yesterday, but that’s all.”

Fox walked to Rowdy then. He offered a hand to Rowdy and said, “I want to thank you, Rowdy.”

Rowdy accepted Fox’s handshake, asking, “For what, Fox?”

“For savin’ Calliope for me,” Fox explained.

Somehow Fox’s thanks—his obvious feelings of possession over Calliope Ipswich—ruffled Rowdy’s feathers much more than he would’ve expected.

He was so annoyed
, in fact, that he answered, “I saved Calliope for Calliope’s sake…not yours, Fox. Any man woulda done the same, I’m sure.”

Fox’s smile faded. “Well, thank you, anyhow. I expect after this evenin’, I’ll have even more reason to be grateful to you.”

Rowdy’s eyes narrowed. Even though he full well understood Fox’s implication, he asked, “Why’s that?”

“Fox is gonna ask the judge if he can court Calliope official
—with serious intentions, that is,” Dex answered.

“Is that so?” Rowdy asked.

“Yep,” Fox confirmed. He smiled, adding, “By this time tomorrow, I’ll have staked my claim on the prettiest girl in town, and all you boys can envy me even more than you already do,” he laughed.

“Maybe the judge ain’t ready to let go of his baby girl,” Tate suggested.

Rowdy looked to Tate, recognizing the obvious jealousy in his countenance.

“Any father would be happy to give his daughter over to me, Tate Chesterfield,” Fox gloated. “But I’ll tell you what
. If Judge Ipswich turns me away—and mind you, he won’t—but if he does, you’re welcome to try yourself for Calliope. Hmm?”

“Deal,” Tate said.

“Same goes for you, Dex,” Fox added. “But you boys are only dreamin’. Judge Ipswich ain’t got no reason to say no to me. Ain’t that right, Rowdy?”

Rowdy shrugged. “He’s a judge. I expect he’s said no to many a man in his day.”

Fox scowled a bit but undaunted said, “He won’t say no. Calliope’s sweeter on me than a kid to candy. She wants me to start courtin’ her.”

“She’s said that to you?” Tate asked. “She’s told you she wants you to ask her father if you can court her?”

Fox smiled, arched a conceited eyebrow, and said, “She didn’t have to tell me. I know she does.”

“Get them pigeons outta here, Dex,” Rowdy rather tersely ordered then. “We got work to do here
, boys. We ain’t got time to stand around chattin’ about women.”

The truth was, however, that Rowdy felt overheated with irritation and anger. Fox Montrose thought he was put on earth by God himself just for women to look at—and it peeved Rowdy that he was so sure Judge Ipswich would allow Fox to begin officially courting Calliope. Calliope Ipswich was far to
o good, kind, beautiful, and humble a young woman to end up with the likes of the self-admiring Fox Montrose. She was too good for Tate Chesterfield or Dex Longfellow for that matter.

But even though Rowdy felt like stopping in at the courthouse during midday meal and letting Judge Ipswich in on what a self-loving idiot Fox Montrose really was, he knew it wasn’t his place. And besides, Judge Ipswich was the wisest man Rowdy had ever encountered. Chances were he already knew what a fool Fox was. Maybe he would deny Fox’s request to court Calliope. Still, whatever the outcome, Rowdy knew it was none of his nevermind.

Yet all day long the memory of the pretty perfume that was Calliope Ipswich’s fragrance seemed to linger in Rowdy’s memory. Warm bread and sweet cream butter—lavender and mint. It was near all he could think about—that and the fact that the blue of Calliope Ipswich’s eyes was exactly the color of the bright spring sky.

*

“Just knock on the door, Calliope,” Shay urged in a whisper.

Calliope still paused, however. “But what if he’s having his supper…or he’s resting…or working. I don’t want to interrupt him
or to be a bother. I’m not sure we should—”

Exhaling a sigh of impatience, Shay reached out and rapped on the front door of Rowdy Gates’
s house as loudly as her tiny fist could.

“Shay!” Calliope exclaimed. “I’m not sure I’m ready to face him! He was almost killed because of me and
—”

But it was too late. The front door opened, swinging in to reveal Rowdy Gates standing just inside the house.

“Good evenin’, Mr. Gates,” Shay greeted.

Calliope, however, paused in greeting the man—for his appearance had rendered her breathless. Not only was he so very, very, very handsome now that his face was free from the thick beard and mustache he’d always worn before, but he stood before her wearing only his trousers and boots.

“Good evenin’, Miss Shay,” Rowdy said, smiling at Shay. “And to you, Miss Calliope,” he added, nodding to Calliope.

“Good evening, Mr. Gates,” Calliope managed. “I…I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

“Nope,” Rowdy assured. “Not at all.”

Calliope gulped
and pulled her gaze away from the broad shoulders and smooth, muscular torso standing in the doorway. Concentrating on looking Rowdy directly in the face, she began, “I wanted to thank you, Mr. Gates…to properly thank you for your service to me yesterday.”

Rowdy chuckled a bit. “No mistakin’ it
, you certainly are your father’s daughter.” He continued to smile, adding, “It wasn’t a service, Miss Calliope. Just a matter of being in the right place at the right moment. I’m just glad I could help.”

“Well, I see it as a great service…a life-saving service, Mr. Gates,” Calliope explained.

“That’s why we baked you a pie, Mr. Gates,” Shay chimed in. She held the still-warm pie, protectively covered in a square of cheesecloth, toward him. “It’s a peach pie from the peaches Mama and me bottled last summer.”

Rowdy’s smile broadened as he reached out, accepting the pie as Shay handed it to him. “My goodness!” he exclaimed. “If I
’da known there was a warm peach pie at the end of it, I woulda jumped into the millpond with your big sister long ago, little Miss Shay.”

Shay giggled with the delight born of pleasing another human being.

“I hope you really do understand how truly grateful I am to you, Mr. Gates,” Calliope reiterated.

“I do,” he said
, looking directly into her eyes—directly into her eyes with the mesmerizing green eyes of his own. “But I think you’ve done plenty of thanking. So no more worryin’ about it. Agreed?”

“Agreed!” Shay answered for Calliope.

“Mmmmm!” Rowdy moaned as he held the pie closer to his face and inhaled. “Peach pie for supper. I can’t tell you the last time I had peach pie for supper.”

“And the good thing is, you don’t have to share it with anybody!” Shay exclaimed. “You can just get a fork and sit down to the table and eat the whole thing all by yourself, Mr. Gates.”

“Yes, I certainly can,” Rowdy agreed.

Calliope blushed
, embarrassed that, in her innocence, Shay had pointed out that Rowdy Gates was always alone for supper.

“Well, we just wanted to bring the pie by…and to thank you once more,” Calliope stammered. “We should be on our way now.”

“Let me put the pie on the table, and then I’ll walk you ladies a ways down the road,” Rowdy said.

“Oh, you don’t need to
—” Calliope began. But Rowdy had already turned and walked back into his house, leaving the door open.

“Let him walk with us a ways, Calliope,” Shay whispered. “I think he could use some company.”

Rowdy returned and stepped out of the house and onto the front porch.

“Even though I’m seein’ you just now, Mr. Gates,” Shay began, “I’m still gonna watch for you and wave when you come lightin’ lamps tonight.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, Miss Shay,” Rowdy said, grinning as he looked at Calliope.

She knew Rowdy was as charmed by Shay as everyone else who owned the blessing of knowing her
, and it said a lot about the man’s good character—the way he treated children, especially little girls.