Yesterday's Magic (10 page)

When her aunt was busy with a man who minutes
earlier had rushed through the door, apparently desperate for a
wagon wheel, Bella slipped toward the sewing section. She thought
it must be the sewing section because her aunt had dumped bolts of
fabric, rolls of lace, long strips of ribbons, and assorted buttons
and spools of thread on the flat surface. Although, there were also
a few boxes of nails, some cans of beef stew and tins labeled Tooth
Powder.

Yuck. She’d used some of that same tooth
powder this morning and it was not all that tasty. Infinitely
better, however, than going days without brushing her teeth.

She pushed everything that didn’t appear to
be textile related off to another shelf and started organizing.
Fabric was either rolled or folded, lace was placed in a row,
widest to narrowest, ribbons were sorted and strategically draped
over fabrics of corresponding colors. She found a couple small
boxes for the buttons and they got grouped first by color, then by
size, and she didn’t stop until she had them all lined up, like
little boxes of dominos. She did the same with the thread.

Customers came and went, and each time the
door opened, she looked up. It took her a good half an hour to
admit that she was looking for Sheriff McNeil and another to
convince herself that the only reason she cared was that she
intended to avoid the man.

But everyone who entered was a stranger. The
men who came in tipped their hats, the women nodded and generally
smiled. On the way out, after obviously having gotten information
in addition to whatever purchases they’d come for, they said things
like
nice that you could visit, Bella or hope you enjoy your
stay in Mantosa, Bella.

She should have been thrilled that her cover
was holding but instead, she felt sort of sad that she was duping
this whole town. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, for
at that moment, Deputy Schneider burst through the door.

“Morning, Freida,” he yelled. “You were right
about the snow. It started about a half hour ago.”

Then he looked Bella’s direction and his eyes
widened. He walked toward her. “Morning, Bella,” he said, his tone
lower, more subdued. “What the hell have you done?” he asked, his
voice very serious now.

And she wondered if it were possible that he
knew? Her stomach tightened. “Pardon me?” she asked, buying time to
think.

He smiled at her. It was a sea of freckles
parting and he suddenly looked about fourteen. Her stomach relaxed
and she let out the breath she’d sucked in.

“Good lord, woman,” he said, shaking his
head. He looked over his shoulder. “Freida, how the hell are we
supposed to find anything now? You’ve gone and let her straighten
up.”

Freida’s heels clicked on the wooden floor as
she crossed the room. She glanced at the table then grinned widely,
which proved that she had all her teeth with one notable exception
on the upper right side. She inspected the lace, running the back
of her hand across the pieces, like a musician might caress piano
keys. She patted the tidy bolts of fabric and nodded when she saw
the ribbons draped across them. She chuckled when she saw the boxes
of buttons and the neat spools of thread. “Girl,” she said, looking
up at Bella. “I know you didn’t come all this way to fix up my
store but I swear, I’ve never seen anything quite so pretty.”

Bella shrugged and felt a little embarrassed.
“I like organizing things.”

“That’s never been one of my better traits,”
Aunt Freida said.

Bart rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, Freida.
Your secret is safe with us,” he whispered dramatically.

Her aunt belted him on the shoulder. Hard
enough that the Deputy swayed. “Don’t get smart with me, young man.
Don’t ever forget, I’ve seen your bare bottom when you’re momma
changed your wet pants.”

Bart’s freckles turned pink and he rubbed his
shoulder. “Christ, Freida. You’ve got a good left hook. I’ll tell
Jed he can stop worrying about you and whether anybody is trying to
rob your store. Only a fool would cross you.”

Aunt Freida nodded and looked confident as
she folded her arms across her large breasts. “Where is Jedidiah?”
she asked. “I thought he was working days this week and you had the
night watch.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Bart said. “The
man worked all day yesterday and then decided for some crazy
reason, that he wanted to work last night too. Not that I minded,”
he added, winking at Aunt Freida. “I had supper with Patience and
her folks. I think they’ve taken a liking to me.”

“Of course they have,” Aunt Freida said,
sounding amused. “No matter. You can tell Jedidiah that the door
was secure this morning with no signs of anybody fussin’ with
it.”

“Hell, he already told me that. Man must have
checked it every hour last night. Even so, he asked me to keep an
eye on the place.” Bart rubbed his shoulder. “I didn’t necessarily
expect gratitude but I didn’t expect to be sporting bruises,
either. Hell, Freida, now I know how you convinced Jed to go to the
dance. You threatened him with your fist.”

Bella lifted her chin. “Did he say he didn’t
want to take me?” she asked.

Bart held up both his hands. “No need to be
narrowing those black eyes at me,” he said. “And no, he never said
he didn’t want to take you. But any fool would know that you’re
exactly what Jedidiah McNeil fears most.”

A witch
? She had to bite her tongue to
keep the words inside. There was no way he could know. Was there?
“What’s that?” she asked, careful not to sound too interested.

“Well, now, I sure as hell don’t want you to
be telling Patience that I said this but what’s true is true.
You’re a beautiful woman. It ain’t your fault or anything but I
imagine it makes Jed squirm.”

Aunt Freida wrapped an arm around Bella’s
shoulders. “Don’t pay no attention to him, Girl.” She frowned at
Bart. “Did you want to buy something or did you just come in to
bother me?”

Bart shrugged good-naturedly. “I need some
peppermint. I got me a stomachache and I swear, it’s probably from
the stew that Patience’s mother made. Couldn’t recognize a damn
thing in it. I don’t know if I’m going be able to stay standing. I
wish to hell that Jed hadn’t ridden out this morning.”

“Where did he go?” Aunt Freida asked.

“As far as he had to, I guess. Early this
morning, right before he was set to go home, he got a telegram from
Bat, over in Dodge City, about a rough character coming our
way.”

Bat. Dodge City.

Eighth grade history was suddenly coming
alive. “Bat Masterson?” she asked. “Sheriff Bat Masterson?”

Bart looked at her like she was a card short
of a full deck. “Last time I checked, Bat was still the sheriff.
Man dresses too fancy for me but he’s a hell of a lawman. Not as
good as Jed, mind you.”

“Not many as good as Jedidiah,” Freida
agreed.

“Jed’s the best shot in Kansas,” Bart
said.

“Sits a horse better than any man I’ve ever
seen,” Freida offered.

Oh good grief. It was a
We Love Jed
convention and she was going to be asked to take the pledge any
minute. “So, he rode out of town?” she asked.

“Yes, well, the telegram said that one of
Bat’s men was already on the way with more details. You know,
Jedidiah. He ain’t the type to sit around and wait to hear.
Especially not when trouble might be coming to his town. The next
thing I know, he’s on his way to meet up with Bat’s man.”

Bart turned toward Bella. “Now don’t you
worry about him getting back in time for the dance. If he said he’d
take you, then he’ll be there. Jed never goes back on his
word.”

“It’s not a problem,” Bella said.

Bart just smiled. He tipped his hat at
Freida. “I best be going. Jed asked me to meet the stage.”

Bella felt her own stomach turn and wondered
if she needed to chew on a couple peppermint sticks as well. Would
Toomay be on the stage? What would she do? Even if he wasn’t, it
didn’t mean that the arrival of the stage was without peril. What
if the real Merribelle Wainwright showed up? That could cause a bit
of a stir.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t given the
possibility some thought. She figured her best course of action was
to admit immediately to Freida that she’d lied. Having lived with
her for less than forty-eight hours, she was still fairly certain
that the women would take the news in stride. Not that she planned
on telling her the whole truth. No. That could get her locked up
somewhere with people whispering behind her back that it was so sad
that such a young woman had lost her mind.

No. In the early morning hours, she’d finally
come up with a Plan B. If she had to admit that she wasn’t
Merribelle Wainwright, then she’d have to give them a compelling
reason why she assumed the woman’s identify at the first chance.
The most compelling thing she could think of was that she was on
the run from an abusive ex-husband.

Freida would understand and she’d probably
let her slip away without making a scene. The man with the most to
gain if that happened was Sheriff McNeil. He’d be officially off
the hook. He wouldn’t have to worry about hurrying home to go to
the dance. Freida would be under no obligation to find a date for
the woman who was simply pretending to be her niece.

Bart pulled a coin out of his pocket. “If you
don’t mind, I’ll take that peppermint now.”

Freida nodded and walked behind the glass
case. She put ten pieces of peppermint candy into a small sack and
handed it to Bart. In return, she took his coin and threw it on the
pile of papers that she’d evidently been trying to sort while Bella
had been busy with her buttons.

“I hate bookwork,” Freida said. “I’d rather
run a stick through my eye than spend an afternoon doing this,” she
said. She held up a pile of what looked to be invoices and charge
slips and other assorted pieces of paper.

“I’d be happy to help,” Bella said. “I . . .
mean, in a few minutes. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a
little walk. It clears my head.”

“That’s probably because the cold air makes
your nose drip,” Bart said.

Bella smiled. “Perhaps.” She grabbed her
cloak as well as the gloves and scarf her aunt had given her the
day before. She hurriedly put them on. If the stage was due, then
she needed to be waiting for it. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,”
she said, as she opened the door.

The sky was a pale blue and the snowflakes
were lazily falling and effortlessly settling on the ground. She
looked up and down the wide, dirt road that was quickly getting
snow-covered. There were a few horses, a few more men in various
shapes and sizes and beard lengths, but no sign of the stage. She
heard laughter and music and realized it was coming from the
saloon.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure
that Bart wasn’t following her and then ducked into the noisy
building. It was one big room, with a shiny wooden bar that spread
across the whole back wall. A tall man with long gray hair that had
a middle-part that did nothing to help his thin face, stood behind
the counter. His apron might have been white at one time. He was
drying glasses—with a towel that matched the gray hue of the
apron.

In the corner, there was a man playing the
piano and sporadically singing, loudly, as if he didn’t know all
the words to the song but he didn’t intend to let that stop
him.

There were three tables with five or six men
gathered around each. Each table had a pile of coins in the middle
of it and each man had his own stack. She glanced at each face and
dismissed them one by one. None matched the description that her
father had given her of Rantaan Toomay.

Mindful of the approaching stage, she was
just about to leave when she glanced in the mirror that was propped
up behind the bar. It was big enough that she could see most of the
room. In the far corner was a woman, her narrow back to Bella. She
was small, barely five foot tall. It wasn’t that which caused
Bella’s breath to catch. No, it was the woman’s long, orange-red
hair, which hung down almost to her waist. There was no mistaking
it. This was Delilah—the woman her father had tried to protect.

She was clearing a table littered with empty
bottles and dirty glasses. When she turned, Bella saw that Delilah
wore a low-cut faded green dress that was gathered so tight
underneath her small breasts, that it almost looked like she was
trying to get them to pop out. She picked up her tray and crossed
the room, coming close enough that Bella could see the freckles on
her cheeks, on her little nose.

The nose that in just days, Rantaan Toomay
would smash. Unless Bella could stop him. Her knees felt suddenly
weak and she reached out a hand out toward the wall, looking for
something to help her balance. Delilah glanced at her and kept
walking.

“Hi,” Bella said.

Delilah stopped, a wary look in her pale
green eyes.

Bella rubbed her gloved hands together. “It
sure is good the sun is out. Otherwise, it would be really
cold.”

Delilah nodded once. She was holding onto her
tray so tight that her small knuckles were white.

It dawned on Bella that this was a woman who
wasn’t used to other women making polite conversation. She more
likely expected whispers and raised eyebrows. But Bella didn’t have
time for that. Her father hadn’t known whether Delilah and Toomay
had met prior to that fateful night—he thought it was possible they
had. If that was true, then Delilah could lead her to Toomay.

Bella extended her hand. “My name is Bella
and I’m helping my aunt at the Mercantile. I hope you don’t think
I’m crazy but I spent the morning sorting ribbons and I just had to
tell you that there are some blues and some greens there that would
look just lovely in your hair.”

Delilah’s smooth cheeks, which looked out of
place next to her very-old eyes, turned a rosy pink. “I haven’t
bought a ribbon in a long time,” she said, her tone hesitant.