Yesterday's Magic (13 page)

Evidently the heroine of Averil’s romance
novel had been an A-cup.

She was just about to take off the dress when
she heard a knock on the front door. Damn. Jedidiah McNeil hadn’t
been kidding when he’d said he wanted to get there in time for
dinner. She’d have understood his impatience if he’d said there was
happy hour first.

She grabbed her hairbrush, yanked it through
her hair a few times, and called it a night. At least with her hair
down, it offered some additional coverage to her barely-covered
breasts.

***

She was beautiful.

And her dress fit her body like a new pair of
gloves fit his hands after they had been dropped in the stream and
left to dry on a flat rock.

Tight. Just right.

It felt as if the collar of his
freshly-washed shirt was too tight. Intent on relief, he yanked
open his heavy coat. The top button flew five feet, hitting the
wood floor with a
ping.

Bella narrowed her black eyes but it was the
look on Freida’s face that made him nervous. Freida had always been
practical, level-headed. When emotions ran high, Freida could be
counted on to keep a clear head.

Bemused.
She looked bemused. It was
the only word that came to mind. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever
heard anyone use the word. He’d read it somewhere, he thought. But
it seemed to fit. It was like she was looking at the two of them
and knew some damn secret.

“Ready?” he asked.

Now Bella’s dark eyes widened and he knew
that his tone had been harsh and much too abrupt. But he couldn’t
help it. Between Bella’s dress and Freida’s smugness, he felt more
than a little off balance.

Bella bent forward to pick up his button and
the movement caused her breasts to push at the rose-colored silk,
making the material strain. Damn. He wanted to curse the dress but
knew Bella was the kind of woman who would manage to make a man’s
throat go dry even if she was wearing flour sacks sewn
together.

He looked away and stared at the assortment
of painted dolls in the corner of Freida’s sofa. None of them were
about to burst out of their clothing.

“You might need this,” she said.

He looked back. She was within three feet,
her arm outstretched, the button between her thumb and first
finger.

He couldn’t make his damn arm move. He just
stood there, like some idiot. There was a growing buzz in his ears,
as if he’d swallowed a swarm of bees and they were getting more
angry by the minute.

He felt lightheaded, like the time he’d taken
a bullet in his arm when the Grogan brothers had decided to rob the
bank, and a little unsure, like he had when he’d come back to
Mantosa and stood at his father’s grave.

It was the thought of his father that caused
him to snap back—to take control over the bees and his weak legs.
His father had lost the respect of a whole town because he’d been a
fool. In the end, he’d been angry and bitter and had directed all
of that poison at Jed.

He took the button, being very careful not to
touch her fingers. “We need to be on our way,” he said.

She reached for her cloak. Once she had it
on, she walked over to the table and picked up a stack of blankets
off the end closest to her.

He looked at Freida. “We’ll see you
there?”

“Yes. Thomas should be here shortly. He
didn’t seem all that concerned about being on time for dinner but
he doesn’t want to miss any of the dancing.”

He didn’t intend to dance tonight. No. He
might have gotten coerced into taking Bella Wainwright to the dance
but that didn’t mean he had to lose all his sense. They’d have
dinner—after all, he had to eat anyway—and then she could go on
about her business and he’d go his way. He’d make sure she got home
safely and that would be the end of it.

He slipped the button into his pocket and put
his hat on, settling the familiar material firmly on his ears. The
last thing he needed was to have his hat blow off and have to chase
it around Freida’s yard.

He opened the door and stood back. She walked
past him with her pretty little nose in the air and in the
background, somehow audible above the drone of the bees that had
settled in his core, he heard Freida’s sigh.

When they reached his rig, he extended his
hand to help her up. She might think he was an oaf but he had,
after all, been raised with some manners. When she lowered her chin
and raised an eyebrow, all the while staring at his hand, he
thought she might refuse. But then, with a brief nod, she tossed
her blankets into the seat, accepted his hand, stepped up onto the
carriage, and settled herself in for the ride. She draped two
blankets over her legs, one around her shoulders, and then held one
out to him.

“I’ve got an extra one. Would you like
it?”

Her tone said it all. She didn’t care one way
or the other if he took it. She’d have made the same offer to a
stranger.

Damn her. How could she so easily dismiss him
when he could think of nothing besides touching her, seeing for
himself if her dress was really as silky as it looked, seeing for
himself if her skin felt as good as it smelled.

She made him want.

And a man who wanted could lose his grip on
reason, could lose his senses altogether. “I’ve been colder before.
And I suspect I’ll be colder again. You go ahead and keep your
blanket.”

She shrugged and let the folded wool rest on
her lap. He clicked his tongue and the horses responded. They
didn’t speak again until they reached town ten minutes later.

There were at least seven other rigs already
parked in front of Stonemark Hall. As he pulled in alongside the
last one, Bella carefully refolded the blankets. He got off,
turned, and extended his hand to her.

She took it without a word. Well, fine. He
wasn’t much for making conversation anyway.

They were halfway into the building when a
sharp whistle cut through the night air. “Jedidiah. Wait up.”

He turned, just in time to see Bart jump down
from his rig. Patience Devine, wrapped up in a big gray scarf, so
that only her nose peeked out, remained seated.

Bart started walking towards him. Jed waited
until his friend got close enough that the whole world wouldn’t
hear him. “Help her,” he whispered. “You damn idiot,” he added.

Bart looked over his shoulder and when he
turned back toward Jed, his nose was bright red. “Aw, hell. I
thought she was right behind me.”

In no mood to endure Patience’s long stares
of distain for his failure to see her sister to the dance, Jed
motioned for Bella to venture forth. They might as well be inside
where the cold wind wasn’t blowing up his back and his feet didn’t
feel like they’d been resting on blocks of ice. All thoughts of
warmth and comfort subsided, though, when he saw Yancy. The man was
sitting on the ground, his back resting against the building.

Yancy tilted his head back. “Evening,
Jedidiah.”

“Yancy,” he responded. Hoping to forestall
any other conversation, he pulled open the door and motioned for
Bella to step inside.

Yancy, however, had other ideas. He got up,
swayed slightly, and then lurched in Bella’s direction.

Jed reached for Bella’s arm. But her shoes,
her damn silly woman-shoes, caused her to slip on the snow. He
grabbed with both arms and instead of pulling her safely to the
side as he’d planned, he now had her pulled tightly up against his
body, her round bottom pressing firmly against parts that hadn’t
had much pressing lately.

She fit very well.

And smelled every bit as good as he
remembered. That wasn’t so much a thought as a direct blow to his
senses.

Yancy, with more grace than the alcohol
should have allowed, managed to keep himself upright. He gave Bella
the same smile that had melted Jed’s mother’s heart on more than
one occasion. The smile that had kept Jed and Yancy from having
their backsides beat after they’d run through the house and broken
the tea set that had come from back east.

“Meant no harm, Ma’am,” he said. “Balance
ain’t all that good these days.”

“Oh. No problem,” Bella said.

She sounded a bit breathless and Jed realized
that he was squeezing the air right out of her. After making sure
she was steady, he let go and backed up a step. He rolled his
shoulders back, trying to ease the tightness.

“Might be a good idea for you to go home,
Yancy,” he said.

Yancy ignored him. He tipped an imaginary hat
in Bella’s direction. “Yancy Tate,” he said. “It’s a pleasure.”

Bella stuck out her arm like it was
absolutely ordinary for a woman to offer to shake a man’s hand.
Christ, she had some sense of spirit.

“I’m Bella,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to
meet you, Yancy.”

“I suppose you know that my friend Jedidiah
is the best dancer in all of Kansas,” Yancy said, his words only
slightly slurred.

Jed could feel his face grow hot. It didn’t
help when Bella turned to look at him as if he were a bull at
auction. “Really?” she said.

She’d just have to wonder. There was no way
he was going to dance with this woman. “I’m hungry,” Jed said.

Bella turned back towards Yancy. “Would you
like to join us for dinner?” she asked.

Yancy’s eyes took on a wariness that made
Jedidiah realize it had been way too long since he’d invited his
friend to join him for a meal.

“That’s a mighty kind offer, Ma’am,” Yancy
said. “But there will be people inside who are afraid to sit too
close to me. People who are afraid that whatever I got might just
jump from my chair to theirs and burrow under their skin, so that
when they wake up in the morning, they’ll be shaking and moaning
until they can get their first drink of the new day.”

Bella looked Yancy in the eye. “I don’t think
what you have, Mr. Tate, is catching.”

She said it solemnly but without judgment,
without scorn.

Yancy shrugged and moved away from the door.
“Maybe you’re right. And you’re probably right, too, Jedidiah. It’s
time for me to move along. You two have a good night,” he said. He
turned and walked away from them.

Jed heard a noise from behind them and both
he and Bella turned. Patience and Bart stood twenty feet back.

“That man is disgusting,” Patience said. “He
smells like he hasn’t had a bath in weeks.”

Bella ignored her and turned to him. “How
long have the two of you been friends?”

“For a long time.” Jed swallowed hard. He
missed Yancy. “He’s not a bad person.”

“I’m sure he isn’t.”

Jed heard Patience snort and he suddenly felt
compelled to defend his old friend. “The war changed him,” he
said.

“War?” Bella asked.

Patience took a step forward, frowning. “The
War Between the States,” she said, as if Bella were dense. “Come
along Bart.” She waved her hand impatiently in his direction.
“Standing out in this cold is not doing my complexion any
good.”

Bella and Jed stepped aside so that Bart and
Patience could proceed. They followed at a slower pace. Bella
didn’t speak again until he’d hung up her cloak on a nail.

“Did you fight?” she asked, her voice so
quiet that he had to lean forward to hear her.

He’d been laying track through Indian
Country, fighting a very different war. “No.” He didn’t owe her any
explanations. They weren’t going to be friends.

“Looks like Bart’s got a table for us,” he
said, pointing across the hall. She shifted her gaze and Jed
couldn’t help feeling a bit of pride. Stonemark Hall was the
biggest building in Mantosa. It had been Richard Stonemark’s
legacy. He’d earned his money in New York. When he and his second
wife had come west to Mantosa, he’d been anxious to spend it,
especially when Mrs. Stonemark had started missing New York
society. She’d loved to waltz and her husband had been determined
to build her a place fit for dancing.

He’d paid for all the materials—even had
brick shipped in from somewhere. And the wood floor was as smooth
and shiny as his mother’s china.

Most everybody in Mantosa had helped build
it. Jed, himself, had nailed a good bit of the shingles on the
roof. The main room was a square, with all four walls stretching at
least sixty feet in length. There were windows on every side and a
big kitchen attached to the rear of the building.

Everything that mattered in Mantosa generally
happened at Stonemark Hall.

There was no alter or cross but that hadn’t
stopped the good people of Mantosa from abandoning their small
church at the other end of town in favor of Stonemark Hall. Now
Sunday worshippers gathered here to consider the Gospel. The
building was warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It somehow
made for better praying then the real church where there were
cracks between the logs that seemed to allow every cold wind in the
winter and every pesky bug in the summer to feel welcome to come
and join services.

Richard Stonemark had died nine months ago
and his widow just four months later. As Sheriff, Jed had made it
his responsibility to make sure the building was taken care of.

He’d hired Yancy Tate to keep it clean and so
far, the man had stayed sober long enough that Jed was neither
disappointed or embarrassed about his choice. Jed suspected that
Yancy spent most nights sleeping at Stonemark Hall. A wooden floor
was softer than a mother’s disapproval.

“Who is that with Patience and Bart?” Bella
asked.

Jed looked and sighed. “Her sister, Madeline
Devine. I don’t know the gentleman.”

Bart waved them over and Bella gave Jed a
questioning glance. He could see that there were two empty seats
between where Bart sat and where Madeline’s escort sat. Bart would
make a scene if they didn’t sit with them.

“Patience doesn’t seem to care for me,” Bella
said.

“It’s not you,” he said. There was no need
her feeling badly. “She had hopes that I might be the fellow
standing next to her sister Madeline.”