Authors: Cherie Shaw
Maria walked over to where Olivia was examining a pair
of woolen gloves on display with a matching scarf. Olivia spoke quietly to
Maria, “I’m not sure, but I think I caught a glimpse of Henry Adams visiting
with Lulu in a room in back of the store, then Lulu walked over and closed the
door quickly. I may have been mistaken, but it looked like his profile.”
Maria whispered, “It would be like her to strike up a
friendship with such a person. Let us believe you were mistaken though, Señorita
Olivia. However, we will keep the fact in mind.” Olivia nodded, then
continued with her perusal of the merchandise.
Ricardo loitered near the doorway, watching the rain
outside, which was creating puddles in the muddy road, also giving the lawns
and flowers, along with the spreading shade trees a good soaking.
Maria purchased a colorful lacy shawl for her trip to Mexico, and Olivia settled for the heavy gloves and scarf, telling Maria that her uncle had advised
her to dress warmly for the trip to Wyoming, which he had decided they would
surely take soon, and that the climate there was considerably cooler, as the
fall season was near.
As Ricardo approached the counter to pay for Maria’s
purchases, Clara whispered to Maria, “My, that must be your husband. I have
heard of him, quite a handsome caballero, that one.”
Maria snickered, and whispered back, “Do not let him
hear you, Señora, his head, it is too big for his fat sombrero as it is.”
Both women were laughing as Ricardo paid for Maria’s
purchases. He dared not ask why. He knew that she would never divulge the
secret of their whispering and laughter.
Olivia graciously met Clara, then paid for her own
purchases, “Thank you so much, Clara.” She said, then she followed Maria and
Ricardo to the door and after exiting the establishment, her umbrella went
hurriedly up, causing several loiterers to politely step out of the way for the
two ladies.
Ricardo escorted them through the steady drizzle, across
the muddy road, back to the hotel, water dripping from his hat onto his wide
muscular shoulders. He was already soaked to the skin anyway, so what was a
bit more moisture on his clothing. He had wrapped up all of the purchases in
his new slicker to at least keep those items dry, and was sure Maria and Olivia
would appreciate that fact at least, no matter of his own discomfort.
Olivia’s uncle, Claude Beckford, was standing on the
porch of the hotel, under the overhang, watching down the road, when they
approached, and Olivia asked, “Uncle, are you still watching for the stage? I
don’t know what it is that you are waiting for, as you have asked everyone in
sight when the stage is due, and always they say that the weather has probably
held it up. Just what is it that you are expecting, or is it that the arrival
of the stage is now an exciting event to you?”
“You’ll see, my dear.” He answered. “I’ve told you
that I have ordered something to be delivered here on the stage, and it is
overdue. That’s all.”
“Well, it won’t be here any sooner just because you
insist on watching for it, why don’t you come in and rest for a while? I’m
sure you will be notified of its arrival.” Olivia smiled, and took her uncle’s
arm, attempting to lead him back inside where it was dry.
He patted Olivia’s arm, and said, “My dear niece, I’ll
see you later for lunch. I shall just wait out here a bit longer.”
Olivia dropped her hand from his arm, and looking
puzzled followed Maria and Ricardo into the hotel lobby, and out of the blowing
wet weather. She said to no one in particular, “When my uncle sets his mind to
something, wild horses couldn’t drag him away. Let him catch a chill then, and
it won’t be any of my doing.” And she marched into the hotel lobby, nodded
farewell to Maria and Ricardo, then walking ahead of them, and lifting her
heavy skirts, quickly ascended the stairway to the upper hallway of the hotel,
then to her room. As she reached for the door handle, she paused, staring at
the bright red rose, tied with a bit of rawhide to that object.
Maria had caught up with her just then, and said, “Señorita
Olivia, you have an admirer. How romantic. I wonder who it could be.” And
she smiled to herself, just as Ricardo had reached the two women.
“I……….I……..don’t know.” Olivia stuttered, “Maybe,
someone has mistaken my room for someone else’s.” She slowly untied the strip
of rawhide, and carefully took the flower in her hand, sniffing the delicate
aroma, her face slightly flushed.
“No mistake.” Ricardo acknowledged. “A lovely flower
for a lovely señorita, and we can almost guess from whom the gesture was
made.” He laughed, as he and Maria walked away, leaving Olivia to then quickly
enter her room, as she puzzled over the fragrant ‘gift’. Once inside her room,
she took a deep breath, and leaned back against the door, holding the flower
petals in the palm of her hand, studying their softness.
In spite of the heavy downpour which transformed the
small picturesque town into a muddy haven, its inhabitants into a bedraggled
lot, the parlor to the rear of the mercantile was a cozy nest, complete with
blazing logs in the large stone fireplace.
The parlor, though sparsely furnished, was tastefully
decorated, and the picture of comfort. While Henry Adams, known as Henry
Birch, sat fidgeting nervously on the lavender flowered wingback chair, Lulu
Haskell sat comfortably upon a heavily upholstered, green velvet divan, her
eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, and she was using a white lace handkerchief to
pat her tear-filled eyes.
Lulu’s sister, Clara, was tending customers in her
store, unaware of the emotional confrontation going on in her parlor, between
Lulu and her visitor. Clara had thought the visitor could possibly be a
potential suitor of Lulu’s, though she herself had not much use for the man, as
he had been a customer of hers for several days now, and tended to be a rude,
obnoxious sort. She did not trust him in the least, but then, she thought, ‘to
each his own’. She couldn’t choose her sister’s friends for her.
In the parlor, Lulu was near to shouting, as she tried
to hold on to her rising temper towards her guest. “I can’t believe what you
have just told me about Mr. Claude Beckford, Mr. Birch. It’s not as if I’ve
known the gent awhile, having just met him, and all. He seemed to be a
rancher, dresses like one, even rides a horse. He bein’ a titled gentleman, I
feel like such a fool, then to make matters worse, you come here flatterin’ me,
with all kinds of interest and compliments, and come to find out, all you’re
after is that Englishmen’s young niece! Well, let me tell you something, Mr.
Henry Birch,” she sniffed indignantly, daintily patting her tearful eyes again,
then smoothing her red curls.
Henry broke in, “My dear,” he reached over and caressed
and patted her hand, his heavy jowls bouncing as he spoke, “I have told you
the truth, and now that you and I understand each other,” his voice wavered
here, and he lowered his tone, “perhaps if this ‘Lord’s’ niece, my dear
betrothed Olivia, were not so protected by her uncle,” he hesitated there
before continuing, then with a deep sigh, “such a lovely lady as yourself could
assist me…..”
Lulu broke in, “Cut the flattery, Mr. Birch, and just
get to the point, what is it you’re getting at? What devious plan are you
attempting to involve me in?” She sputtered, with tear-filled eyes, gazing
thoughtfully at this new acquaintance of hers, beginning to view him in a new
light. Her distrust of this man was building.
Henry tried again, as if talking to a small child who
didn’t understand a lesson, “Now that you and I understand each other, we can
work together in our pursuits, yourself wreaking vengeance, and at the same
time, I will be able to reclaim my Olivia.”
“I’m not sure we do understand each other.” Lulu
spoke slowly as her tears were fast drying up, though her anger was steadily
rising. “Who said I wanted to wreak vengeance?”
“Dear Lulu, of course you do, and I can well
understand your feelings. This titled uncle of Olivia’s has broken us up for
the last time. It’s time I did some form of retaliation myself. If you will
be sensible and assist me in ridding the world of his bothersome presence, I’m
sure even Olivia would thank you. Don’t you see she is under his protection at
all times?” He smirked, satisfied that his scheme was finally working, surely
Lulu understood the situation now, and would help him. He sat back resting
comfortably in the soft chair now, sure of his success.
His meaning finally hit Lulu Haskell like a ton of
bricks. “Are you insane?” She jumped up off the divan, shouting loud enough
to be heard in the next town. “Why I’ve never heard of such a devious
scheme.”
“But my dear…,” Henry began.
“Don’t you ‘My dear’ me, you half-baked, saggy-faced
old Casanova. I wouldn’t be a party to any scheme of yours for all the tea in China, now get outta’ here, before I call the town Marshal, and tell him what you’re up
to.”
Henry arose from the chair backing towards the doorway
in disbelief. He had planned so carefully, once he’d met this woman, sure she
would cooperate. Was he slipping in his judge of characters? Was his charm
losing its appeal?
Across the wet and muddy road, in front of the hotel,
stood the object of their heated discussion. Lord Claude Beckford stood tall,
his silver hair gleaming of the damp weather. He anxiously awaited the overdue
stagecoach, standing under the low-hanging roof of the hotel, on the boardwalk,
along with several other townsfolk, though he was deep in thought, wishing the
stage would appear.
The quiet of the afternoon was disrupted by the hasty,
yet noisy departure of Henry Adams from the Mercantile. Lulu, his hostess of
the last two hours, was in the process of shoving him bodily out the doorway,
her lusty voice screeching loudly at him during the procedure. Lulu had had a
chance meeting with Henry just that morning, at the local Doctor’s small clinic
down the road, when she had stopped by to pick up a headache powder she had
requested, and had met Mr. Birch there.
They seemed to hit it off at first, and after a few
soft spoken words from the middle-aged opportunist, Lulu had invited him for
early afternoon tea in her sister’s parlor. They could discuss his injury, and
compare their own problems. Lulu, always open for flattery, could see nothing
wrong in having a gentleman caller, again sympathizing with Henry for his
injury received from some ill-bred cowhand, who had shot at him while out
target shooting.
The visit had not gone at all smoothly, and now the
pair were in the midst of a heated discussion on the walkway in front of the mercantile.
While Henry was attempting to raise a borrowed umbrella, so he could head down
to his room at the boarding house, Lulu screeched, “Mr. Birch, I can well
understand why that young cowhand chose you for target shooting. Furthermore,
if I had a gun right now, I’d shoot you myself.” Henry tried one more time,
“My dear, it pains me greatly that you misunderstood my intentions, and what I
told you was in strictest confidence, and here you are crudely airing my
private affairs to this entire ill-bred community.
“Maybe the whole town would like to know just what
kind of a scoundrel you really are. Need I say more?” She shouted, as Henry
then turned to go. A few snickers were heard from bystanders, as Lulu used
both hands to raise her heavy skirts, then lifted one button-down shoe,
planting it carefully onto Mr. Birch’s flabby backside, and giving a hearty
shove, to almost send him sprawling, as he stepped quickly down into the muddy
road. Not even bothering to raise the umbrella over his head, he took off
running through the mud.
Lulu screamed after his departing figure, “And as for
your plans, Mr. Birch, I would never have a part in anything so devious, and
you, sir,” with this she screeched all the louder for the whole town to hear,
“you are aimin’ a bit high in your pursuit of that gent’s niece. You need to
look into a mirror. I ain’t much, but even I wouldn’t give you the time of
day, and mister, I ain’t never, ever goin’ to be that desperate. Now you run,
and you keep on arunnin’.”
Lulu turned to look at a bewhiskered man who appeared
to be a miner, standing under the roof, and shook her forefinger under his
nose, saying, “I sure have a tendency to misjudge men’s characters.” Then she
looked at some of the other men who were snickering, and said, “As for the rest
of you idiots, mind your own damned business.” Then she stomped back into the
store, not realizing that the town had not had this much entertainment since
the last circus had come through two years before. Now she would be the topic
of discussion for many years to come. Henry better leave town now, if he knew
what was good for him, the town hadn’t had a good hanging in awhile either.