Texas Twilight (39 page)

“I have one more surprise for Lily,” John
said, extracting a small wrapped box from under the table. He set
it in front of her.

“For me?” He looked so handsome she had to
drag her gazed from his face.

“Go on, open it.”

She unwrapped the paper, being mindful not to
rip it too much. “I have no idea what’s inside,” she murmured. With
shaky hands she opened the little wooden box to find a delicate
porcelain figurine that looked remarkably like her. “John, I don’t
know what to say. It is beautiful, it truly is.”

“See,” he said, pointing. “The flower is the
exact color of your eyes.”

A moment passed, during which she gazed at
the lovely thing and gathered her thoughts. “Thank—”

A burst of voices came from the cantina, then
a shout. Lily straightened and they all looked toward the other
room.

“John McCutcheon!”

John jumped up and pushed Lily back gently
when she tried to rise. Brandon followed close behind.

“McCutcheon!” the voice hollered again,
followed by the murmur of other voices inside the bar. “I have a
bone to pick—”

Before John could cross the floor Dustin
burst into the dining room dragging a handful of ranch hands who
were struggling their best to hold him back. His face was flushed
from anger or drink.

John held up a hand to Brandon. “I have to
take care of this myself or it’ll never be finished.” Brandon
nodded.

“You!” Dustin shouted, pointing at John,
“You’re about as low down as a man can get! A snake in the grass.
The wors’ kind of—” he slurred, yanking his arm free. He lunged at
John, who was just a few feet in front of him. The handful of
diners in the room fled in a panic.

Lily gasped in horror as the two big men,
locked in a bear hug, careened across the tile floor and crashed
into the wall, causing a shudder that rained shawls and hats down
everywhere. Tangled in a ball, they smacked into the maitre d’ as
he scrambled to get out of the way, sending the man spiraling into
a tray stand filled with water pitchers and wine bottles. The crash
was deafening, drowning out the man’s angry Spanish curses.

John and Dustin rolled. When they stopped,
Dustin straddled John and slammed a powerful fist into his face.
Charity grasped Lily as she started for the two. “You’ve got to let
them have it out, Lily. It’s just their way.”

John dodged the next punch and Dustin hit the
tile floor, bringing an enraged shout of pain. John punched Dustin
in the eye then jumped to his feet, pulling his cousin up by his
shirt. Not ready to give it up yet, the older McCutcheon yanked
himself free and picked up a chair and swung. John ducked and
lunged, and the chair sailed over his head, across the room,
shattering the mirror on the opposite wall into a thousand pieces.
John locked his arms around Dustin’s waist and the two men
propelled backwards, colliding into the very table he’d dined at,
almost knocking it off its legs. Glassware rattled and the leftover
cake rocked back and forth. Dustin grabbed a handful of the sweet
and ground it in his cousin’s face, letting out a howl of
satisfaction. Not to be outdone, John managed to get his fair share
of frosting and smeared it over Dustin’s smug look.

Having seen enough, Lily broke free of
Charity’s grasp and ran to the table with a pitcher of water and
drenched the two. They sputtered and blinked, looking up at her in
surprise.

“Lily!” they both cried in protest.

“Enough! That is enough!” she shouted. “You
are acting like little boys! Shame on you!”

The handsome waiter was back, towing the
reluctant sheriff by the arm. “Arrest them,” he shouted, pointing
at the men.

Brandon quickly withdrew a wad of cash from
his pocket. “Sheriff, I’m sure we can settle this another way.”

“You want to go with them?” the sheriff
answered, finding his voice. “There’s plenty of room in the jail
for you, too.”

“Wait a minute, sheriff,” John said,
struggling to his feet. Dustin followed. “It’s my wedding day—”

“Might’ve thought of that before bustin’ up
the place. You need some time to cool off.” The sheriff clamped
both McCutcheons into handcuffs.

Brandon’s brows arched up over his amused
eyes. “You boys sure know how to throw a party,” he drawled slowly.
“But, don’t worry about a thing tonight. I’ll make sure Lily and
Charity are safely tucked in.”

The sheriff shoved John and Dustin toward the
door.

“Nighty night,” Brandon quipped as they
trudged away.

John spotted Lily and Charity through the
hotel window, having breakfast. He stopped, and for a moment, just
took in the sight of her. Last night was the maddest he’d ever seen
his bride. He wondered if she’d forgiven him yet.

“Go in, I’m hungry,” Brandon said, giving him
a nudge. Brandon had bailed him and Dustin out, then helped settle
up the charges with the sheriff. Dustin had ridden off without a
word and John had headed for the bathhouse where he’d divested
himself of the sticky, sweet icing.

“I wonder if she’s still mad,” John said,
pulling the door open.

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

They approached the table. The moment Lily
glanced up John could see that all was forgiven and forgotten. She
jumped up and hurried to his side, checking to see how bad his
injuries were. Before she could say a word, he swept her into his
arms and kissed her, taking his time to make sure she knew just how
much he’d missed her last night. She sighed, leaning into him.
Diners whispered behind their hands.

“I could not sleep a wink last night,” she
whispered close to his lips. “I was overcome with worry. I wanted
to go to the jail, to check on you, but Brandon said you wouldn’t
want me to. Are you hurt badly?”

He held up his hand. “Just a few sore
knuckles, sweetheart.” He wanted to make a mad dash for the room
but knew propriety would frown on that. “And, a sore jaw.”

She reached up and stroked his face.

Brandon seated himself next to Charity,
turning over his coffee cup. “You two going to sit down and join
us, or not?” The look on his face said he knew exactly what John
was thinking.

“I don’t know. My head still hurts some and
was going to see if Lily would mind having breakfast sent to our
room, where I could lie down for a spell.”

“Of course,” she responded quickly. “I am
sure you did not get much sleep in that horrible jail cell.” She
fingered the ripped pocket of his new suit jacket. “I think it is a
fine idea.”

After leaving Charity and Brandon in the
restaurant, John and a conspicuously quiet Lily climbed the three
flights of stairs to the bridal suite. John withdrew the key he’d
fingered all night in his pocket and opened the door, letting it
swing wide, revealing candles and flowers—all things he’d had sent
up yesterday. He swept her into his arms. Her face flushed, more
gorgeous than anything he could remember. She tried to hold his
gaze, but failed miserably. Chuckling when the corners of her mouth
pulled up shyly, he couldn’t resist kissing her again in the
hallway, taking all the time in the world. Finally, he pulled back
just far enough to see into her eyes. “Hello, Mrs. McCutcheon,” he
whispered. Stepping over the threshold he softly closed the
door.

T
he days after
returning from San Antonio were a blur of happiness for Lily. She
worked in her shop, counting the seconds until John would be back
for lunch, and again for dinner, then the long, blissfully happy
evenings and nights were spent getting to know him fully. Someone
had moved his things over from the doctor’s office when they’d been
away, and for now, they were scrunched together in her little room
across the hall from Tante Harriett.

Now, only a day before the big Fourth of July
celebration, she rushed around helping Charity with her dress and
cooking up a storm for the box-dinner auction. Thank goodness she
was married and didn’t have to participate. She knew who she’d be
eating her dinner with—and the thought brought a new round of
butterflies as several recent memories sent naughty tingles racing
up her back.

“Lily, do you think it’s done?” Charity
asked, pushing the chicken parts around the big fry pan with a
metal fork. “I don’t want it to be dry. Brandon always says my
mother makes the best chicken ever, and I want mine to be just as
good.”

Lily looked into the bubbling hot oil. “I
think it is. I would take it out and pat it dry.” She wrapped a pot
holder around the hot handle and was in the process of dragging the
heavy skillet off the heat when John came in the back door.

“Careful now,” he said as he hung his hat on
a peg by the door and wrapped his arms around Lily’s waist, kissing
the back of her neck.

“John, let her be. Can’t you see she’s
busy?”

“I like it when she can’t defend
herself.”

“Go sit with Harriett at the table; your
lunch is already there,” Charity ordered. “We have work to do.”

Lily wasn’t complaining. She would’ve liked
nothing better than to run up the stairs with John and take a
little nap. She leaned back into his embrace, drinking in the feel
of him, sorry when he finally let her go and went to the table.

“Harriett,” he said, as he sat. “Glad to see
you’re up.”

Harriett set her cup into its saucer slowly
and with great difficulty. “I had to come down and visit with—” she
paused for several seconds, thinking, “—Lily. You keep her all to
yourself when you’re here.”

“You complaining?”

Harriett laughed and patted his hand with her
wrinkled one. “No, no. I’m happy the two of you are getting on so
well. Won’t be long before there’s a baby to welcome.”

He dug into his plate of cold meats and
bread, taking note of her feebleness. She was growing weaker by the
day, and he thought the end wasn’t far off. He glanced at Lily.
“Wouldn’t surprise me any,” he said around a mouthful of food. When
Lily turned to look at him he winked. “Would it you?”

“Not really. And, I hope it happens soon,”
she replied, removing her apron and folding it. “But, talk of
babies can wait for now. We are all done here. Finally.” She went
to the drain board and lifted the cloth napkin off the bowl of
potato salad so John could see, repeating the process with the
chocolate cake and loaf of fresh baked bread.”

He whistled. “That’s a lot of food.”

She wiped her arm across her moist brow and
wilted into the chair next to him. “I just hope you men can hold up
your end of the bargain tomorrow.”

“Don’t you be worrying your lovely little
head,” he replied, tapping the tip of her nose lightly with his
finger. “It’ll be a grand celebration. You should see the dance
floor we’ve built. It’s huge. And everything is decorated with
lamps and streamers. I think a good time will be had by all. By
noontime tomorrow Rio Wells will be filled with citizens, all
looking to have a fine time when the competitions begin. Chaim is
even strong enough to come, as long as he stays sitting down.”

“That’s wonderful,” Charity gushed. “I hadn’t
heard.”

“Yep, I was out there this morning and gave
him the go ahead. As long as he doesn’t overdo things, he should be
fine.”

Charity looked between John and Lily. “What
about Dustin?”

John glanced at his plate for several moments
before finding Lily’s gaze. “No. He’s gone to Sweetwater to deliver
some livestock. He’ll be gone for about a week.”

Charity came over and rubbed John’s shoulders
and said, “Mayor Billingsworth came by a little while ago. He’s
added fifty dollars to the jackpot in the shooting competition,
bringing it up to two hundred dollars. Said he’s trying to take the
attention off of Mr. Shellston, and the scandal of the bank.”

John gave another whistle, longer this time.
“That’s a fair amount. You shooting?” He looked over his shoulder,
into her face. “I know before you said you were, just wondering
since Brandon was back if you’d changed your mind.”

“Are you kidding? He was just here a little
while ago, too. I’m shooting against him.”

With Lily on his arm, John surveyed the
throngs of people milling about the streets of Rio Wells, laughing
and talking in the highest of sprits. The weather had cooperated
and it was actually one of the cooler days that they’d had since
they’d come to town. If a person stayed in the shade it wasn’t bad
at all. Still, the water stand was doing a great business, as was
the saloon.

The
bronco riding contest had just concluded, and John was returning to
his office to drop off his black bag. Thank goodness Chaim was
unable and Dustin was out of town. He was tired of his loved ones
being in danger, or getting busted up. Chaim, Charity
and
Lily. He’d all but threatened
Charity within an inch of her life to drag a promise out of her
that she’d stay out of it. He didn’t want to be setting any broken
bones today. He wanted to have a nice quiet time at the
celebration, eat a fine dinner with his beautiful new bride, then
go home and get a full night’s sleep, that is, after showing Lily
just how much he loved her. Was that too much to ask?

“John,” Uncle Winston called, waving him over
to a group of people. “I want you to meet our good friends, Martin
and Malitta, from over in Sweetwater. They make the trip each
year.”

John stepped forward and gripped the man’s
hand in a firm shake.

“This is Lily McCutcheon, John’s new wife,”
Winston added, introducing Lily. They chatted for a few minutes
when John noticed Bixby watching their group from a few feet away.
More to the point, the old man watched Aunt Winnie with great
interest. The years seemed to melt away from his expression and
adoration was the only word John could think of to describe what he
saw. Abruptly he knew why Chaim’s brush with death had been so hard
on the doctor. If his assumption was correct, Bixby had been in
love with his aunt, and maybe still was a little bit. Anything
precious to her would naturally be precious to him, too. He sucked
in a breath.