Authors: Primrose
“When does the dance start?” he asked.
“Soon as the rest of the music players get here,” Stubby said, glancing at the arrangement of wood boxes that was to act as a stage. “The fiddle player is coming in from Dallas and he’s a mite late.”
“I got a couple of bottles stuck in my wagon,” Elmer said, swaying into Grandy to deliver his secret.
“Who would stop us from having a little beer while we’re here?” Grandy asked, looking toward the kegs.
“The sheriff, that’s who. He or one of his deputies will stand by that tub of beer all night. You mark my words.” Elmer gave a wink and looked to Stubby for confirmation.
“That’s right,” Stubby said. “It’s always like that. The hanging husbands are cut no slack.”
“Maybe I’ll wet my whistle later with you boys.”
“Anytime, Grandy.” Elmer slapped him on the back. “I hear you told off the sheriff.”
“I did?” Grandy had to think back before he remembered his heated words with the man. “That’s right. The sheriff recovered some of my property and I went to his office to fetch it.”
“I hear he almost blew his stack.”
Grandy chuckled, thinking that the gossip had exaggerated an ill-tempered tiff into an all-out battle. “It was nothing, boys. Really. Just a few cross words were exchanged.”
“All the same,” Elmer said, pausing to spit tobacco juice, “I’m glad you told him what’s what. He’s got no right treating us like we was criminals.”
“But we are, Elmer,” Grandy reminded him.
“Well, yeah, but …”
“We shouldn’t be treated like ’em in front of our women and the other townsfolk,” Stubby spoke up.
“That’s right,” Elmer said, grinning a little. “ ’Specially in front of our wives. By the way, Grandy, how’s your little woman doing?”
Grandy looked across at her and emotion squeezed his heart like a vise. He’d thought of her as a “little woman” when he’d first stepped into her house, but never since then. She was a woman, period. A woman a man could admire and respect. The kind of woman a man could fall in love with before he even knew what was happening to him.
“… did you know?”
Grandy shook his head, catching only a snippet of Stubby’s whispered news. “Know what?”
“About Miss Agatha. Agatha Daryrimple. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Yes. She was husband-hunting at the jail while I was there.”
“Us, too. She turned us down,” Stubby said, screwing up his face in a fit of sourness. “Her loss, our gain.”
Elmer released a bark of laughter and whacked his own knee. “That’s telling ’em, Stubby.”
“What about her?” Grandy asked.
“She finally got herself a husband,” Stubby said. “Just last week she collared one in jail and he agreed to marry her instead of settling for a case of the stiff neck and short drop.” Stubby chuckled, running a finger under his shirt collar as if it had suddenly become too confining.
“And ain’t they a pair,” Elmer said, laughing and spitting tobacco juice. “He’s tall and thin as a rail and she’s got so much behind her that she has to make two trips when he tells her to haul ass.”
Grandy turned aside to snicker into his hand.
“It’s true,” Elmer insisted. “What was that old boy in for, Stubby?”
“He was caught trying to steal a case of whiskey from the saloon. Right here in Scyene. Said he was guilty and the circuit judge agreed with him.”
“And they were going to hang him for
that?
” Grandy asked, no longer snickering.
“That and another charge in Dallas and one in St. Louis. Don’t know what he was wanted for in them places, but I told Stubby that Miss Agatha had better hide the silver.” Elmer chuckled, spit, then reached into his pocket for another chaw. “Speak of the devil …” He gave a nod and the other two men looked in that direction.
Agatha, her dress so frothy pink and white that she looked like a three-tiered wedding cake, stood beside a rangy man in a fashionable brown suit. The man was stoop-shouldered, long of limb, and no spring chicken. White hairs were sprinkled through his brown mutton chops and closely clipped mustache.
Her blond curls bobbing with each word she spoke, Agatha was giggling and whispering and releasing peals of laughter that sent every gaze her way.
“How’d you like to listen to that day in and day out?” Stubby asked with a shudder.
“I’d just as soon gargle on a rope,” Elmer replied.
“What’s his name, Elmer?” Stubby asked. “Do you recall it?”
“I believe it’s Nathan Beau—something.”
“Beaumont,” Grandy said, recognizing the man and lifting a hand in a tentative greeting. “Nathan Beaumont.” He smiled when Agatha’s new husband’s eyes lit up and he grinned from ear to ear.
“You know him?” Elmer asked.
“Sure do. He taught me everything I know about poker.” Grandy was drawn to the man by a deep-seated respect that bordered on devotion. He held out his arms to his mentor, who had gently disengaged himself from his new bride to meet Grandy in the center of the dance floor.
The two men embraced, oblivious to the dumbstruck onlookers. Grandy patted his friend’s bony shoulders, thankful to have met up with him again. The world was so big, but never so large that Grandy was far away from Nathan Beaumont.
“Nathan,” Grandy said, finally managing to speak past the emotion that had closed his throat. “How have you been?” He grinned at the narrow, lined face. “God, it’s good to see you again. Looking at you, I’m swamped with memories of good times.”
“Same here, Grandy.” Nathan drew a deep breath, then laughed. “I can’t believe it. What in hell are you doing here? I didn’t notice any big games in town.”
Grandy winced. “I’m not here for the sport of it, Nathan. Like you, I chose marriage over a noose.”
“No!” Nathan shook his head in disbelief. “Not the notorious Grandville Adams. I wonder if Lynna has gotten wind of this. If so, she’s heartbroken. I know she always thought you’d hitch up with her and retire her from the barmaid business.”
“Lynna,” Grandy repeated. Lord, he hadn’t thought of Lynna in months! Not since his last visit to St. Louis’s
Golden Nugget Saloon where Lynna served up drinks. “Seems like another lifetime ago.”
“I know what you mean.” Nathan hugged Grandy again, a brief, hard squeeze. “Who would have thought that two big-time gamblers like us would end up with wives in a dump like this?”
“Isn’t that the damn truth,” Grandy agreed, enjoying Nathan’s Southern drawl that was so like his own. Grandy shifted his gaze to look past Nathan. “Here comes the bride, Nathan. I hate to tell you this, but she wanted me first and I turned her down.” Grandy swept off his hat as Agatha approached, her lips puckered into a girlish pout. “Miss Agatha, pleased to see you again.”
“How do,” she said, linking her arm in Nathan’s. “And it’s Mrs. Beaumont now, sir.”
“Don’t that have a nice ring to it,” Grandy said, getting into Agatha’s good graces and making his old friend beam. “And might I be so bold as to say that you and your husband make a fine-looking couple, ma’am?”
“Yes, you may.” Agatha’s blue eyes rolled up to her husband’s dark brown ones. “Nathan, do you know Mr. Adams?”
“Yes, dear. Grandy and I are old friends.” He patted her hand. “I was just telling him how blessed I am to have you as my wife.”
“Oh, Nathan!” Agatha blushed and giggled.
Grandy started to smile, but something in Nathan’s expression canceled his impulse. Nathan was halfway serious, Grandy thought. Maybe more than half. He wasn’t just feeding Agatha a line to keep her happy.
“I’d like to chew the fat with you some more, Nathan,” Grandy said.
“We’ll do that, but first I must meet Agatha’s other friends.”
“Yes, yes.” Agatha looped her other arm through Nathan’s and held on tightly. She looked over her shoulder and released a squeak of excitement. “Zanna Hathaway
… uh, I mean, Adams! Come look at
my
husband. I’ve got me a
gentleman
.” Agatha sent a churlish glance in Grandy’s direction, clearly stating her opinion that Grandy was anything but genteel.
Grandy held out one hand to Zanna, and when she took it, he pulled her closer to him. He kept his attention on Nathan, anxious to catch his friend’s expression when he saw Zanna for the first time. Grandy wasn’t disappointed. Nathan’s nut-brown eyes widened, then narrowed for a minute appraisal. He inclined his head and smiled as he extended one hand in greeting.
“Charmed,” he said, taking Zanna’s hand and kissing the back of her glove. “From the looks of it, your luck is still holding, Grandy.”
Grandy laughed. “So far, so good. Nathan Beaumont, allow me to introduce you to Zanna. Zanna, Nathan is an old friend of mine from the riverboat days.”
“Oh?” Zanna perked up, always ready to hear stories of those forbidden vessels. “Nice to make your acquaintance, sir. You are to be congratulated on your marriage to Agatha. She is well thought of in this town.”
“We’re moving, Zanna,” Agatha spoke up.
“Moving? Where to?”
“To San Francisco. My elderly uncle is a jeweler there and he’s willing to teach me and Nathan the business so we can take over for him when he goes to the other side.” She leaned closer and whispered, “He’s got one foot in the grave right now.”
“Oh, my! Such a long way from here,” Zanna said. “We’ll miss you, but it sounds like a wonderful opportunity.”
“When are you leaving?” Grandy asked, pained to hear that his friend would be moving on.
“Next week,” Nathan said with a sigh.
“I see.” Grandy looked down at his boots as regret dampened his spirits.
“Agatha, Mrs. Jackson has been asking after you. Let’s
go inside a moment to see her. She’s as busy as a bee in her kitchen, baking pies and cakes and heavens knows what else.” Zanna sent Grandy a speaking glance. “You gentlemen will excuse us for a few minutes, won’t you?”
“By all means,” Grandy said. “Y’all go right ahead.”
Zanna herded Agatha toward Mrs. Jackson’s back door. Grandy draped an arm around Nathan’s shoulders and pulled him toward a stand of trees that offered solitude. Under the drooping limbs of a weeping willow, the two men faced each other.
“So you’re leaving,” Grandy said, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets and letting his disappointment show. “I was hoping you’d be around to brighten my days. I was already thinking of how we could light out of here one night and head for the river.”
“I would think that your wife would brighten your days. She’s a pretty thing, Grandy. That chestnut hair and those green eyes.” He winked and made a clicking sound at the side of his mouth. “You always were a lucky bastard.”
Grandy shrugged. “Zanna’s a good woman, but she needs a farmer, not a gambler.” He fixed Nathan with a steady stare. “And you’re a gambler, not a jeweler.”
Nathan removed a pouch from his pocket and began rolling two cigarettes. “Agatha is a sweet lady and she deserves a better life than she’s got here.”
“How did you wind up in jail? The gossip in town is that you were caught stealing a case of whiskey.”
“That’s right,” Nathan said, sticking a cigarette between his lips and handing the other to Grandy.
Grandy drew deeply, then exhaled. “You’re telling me that you were actually stealing whiskey? What for?”
“So I’d get caught and put in jail. It worked.” Nathan smiled around his cigarette. “I’m tired, Grandy. I didn’t want to spend my last days in prison or dangling at the end of a rope. I heard about the women here waiting for men to land in jail so they could marry them and I decided
that life would be better than my alternatives. Agatha showed up and claimed me and I think I’m damned lucky to get her.”
“Nathan, you could have had your pick of women who would put Agatha to shame. What about Delores in New Orleans or Janette in Chicago? Those ladies would have married you in a minute.”
“Would you marry Lynna?”
“Lynna?” Grandy thought about it and shook his head. “But I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Neither are they. Those women are fine for a few days, but I don’t think they’d stay true and they wouldn’t like a quiet life. Agatha has a lot to offer and she offered it to me. All she asked in return was my attentions. The poor thing is so hungry for affection.” He blew smoke up through the branches of the willow, making the delicate leaves flutter like feathers. “I’ve never had an honest trade, but Agatha is offering me one. Her uncle is willing to pass on his knowledge to me and I’m more than willing to use it to provide me and Agatha with a comfortable life.” He flexed his long fingers. “I’m told that jewelers have to have a light touch and I’ve always had that.”
Grandy ran a hand down his face, unable to comprehend Nathan’s complete change of heart. “You’re telling me that you
want
to go off with Agatha and be a jeweler?”
“Yes.”
“Nathan, what happened to you? I can’t believe you’ve changed so completely since I last saw you.”
“I’ll be forty-five next month and I’ve got nothing to show for my time on this earth. Oh, I’ve taught a couple of young men how to cheat at cards—”
“And how to win by their wits,” Grandy interrupted. “I was cheating before I met you, but you taught me how to use my head and win by outsmarting my opponents.”
“Whatever,” Nathan said, waving aside Grandy’s interruption. “The point is, I want to belong somewhere and to someone. A few months ago I ran into an old
friend of mine, a fella I met up with when I was no more than nineteen or twenty. Back then he was the top, a man of fine stock. He taught me a few card tricks and showed me a couple of questionable shuffles. Folks talked about him in whispers. He was a legend, Grandy. Well, I saw him again and it broke my heart, but it sure woke me up to the kind of life that awaited me. He lives in a livery stable in Topeka. Mucks out stalls for a few dollars a month so he can buy himself some whiskey. Younger, better men edged him out of the saloons and took his chair at the gaming tables. He had nowhere to go except down. I didn’t want to end up like him and I didn’t want to die in prison.”
The fiddler had arrived and the musicians began to warm to their task. Grandy looked toward the rectangle of light provided by fifty or more lanterns strung from tree to tree. Laughter rang out. Men broke rank and headed toward the clusters of women. The dance was beginning to take on steam. In the deep blue distance the spires and flat tops of Scyene rose from the level land. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the world to the stars and cradle moon. Zanna and Agatha came out of the boardinghouse with Mrs. Jackson, all three carrying pie plates. A few stragglers rode up in buggies and on horses, the music having drawn them to the rectangle of light and laughter.