Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
A fter church, Elsie walked a few steps behind Miss Taylor as the dressmaker strolled through the crowd chatting outside. With amusement, she watched the admiring glances cast her pretty employer’s way—from both men and women—although the women looked at her hat and clothes and the men stared at her face, or occasionally lowered their eyes to her bosom.
Some then gazed beyond the dressmaker to Elsie, giving her the same appraising stares. Uncomfortable, she looked away and edged closer to Miss Taylor, almost wanting to grab her skirts for comfort and protection like she did with Ma’s when she was little.
Elsie slid sideways to search the crowd for her family, even as she knew they wouldn’t have attended church two Sundays in a row. Still, she couldn’t help hoping they’d missed her so much that they’d driven into town today.
She imagined their reunion, where she could excitedly tell them about her week, and they’d be just as eager to hear her stories. There’d be hugs and expressions of pride from her parents, and more hugs and ‘happy to see ya” from her siblings.
A man in front of her facing outward stepped back, swinging his arm to summon someone on the street.
She turned sharply and slightly ducked to avoid being bumped. The corresponding pinch from her corset brought her soaring flights of fancy down to reality. Even if her parents and siblings did miss her, beyond just having to take over Elsie’s chores, there’d be no exuberant greetings from her staid family. To expect such would only disappoint her when she did see them.
She spotted the cowboy again, standing at the outskirts of the crowd, seeming to survey everyone. He caught her gaze, and she gave a little wave.
He smiled and wound through the people to her and stopped with a slight bow and finger to the brim of his Stetson. “My gallant hat rescuer.”
Elsie couldn’t help but giggle. “Did your daughter like her hat?” She glanced around, searching for a little girl in the boater, before looking back at him.
“Ah, you mean for my neighbor’s daughter. I’m not married.” He winked. “But I hope to be. Just have to find a bride first.”
Elsie felt a blush rising in her cheeks. Is he flirting? She had no idea what to say. She’d never before spoken to a man she didn’t know, at least, not as a young lady .
“We probably should wait for one of the Mrs. Nortons to properly introduce us, but that might take forever, so I’ll risk stepping over the etiquette breach.” He took an exaggerated sidestep, his brown eyes twinkling. “I’m Hank Canfield.”
She liked him right away. “Elsie Bailey.”
He gave her another slight bow, his gaze going beyond her to Miss Taylor. “I saw you arrive with a companion...?”
“My employer,” Elsie said proudly. She pointed in the direction of the Gordon Building. “She owns the new dress shop.”
Miss Taylor moved beside her and touched Elsie’s hand with just enough pressure to signal for her to lower her arm. She leaned close. “Pointing is impolite,” she said in a quiet voice.
Hastily, Elsie pulled in her arm.
“Let me guess.” Mr. Canfield sent Miss Taylor a charming smile. “The new dressmaker.”
Relieved that he didn’t seem to notice her faux pas —another French expression she’d learned this week—Elsie flashed him a brilliant smile. “Miss Taylor is ever so clever at fashioning gowns.”
Mr. Canfield briefly doffed his hat, showing a head of thick brown hair. “I’m sure your services are sorely needed in this town. When I told my sister, who lives in Chicago, that we had none, she started referring to Sweetwater Springs as that ‘pokey frontier town you’ve banished yourself to.’”
“Well, now you’ll be able to assure her that we’re practically a metropolis, which would then make you a city man,” Miss Taylor said lightly.
His eyes twinkled. “I’ll be sure to do that. Although, she’ll probably start saying, ‘pokey metropolis.’”
As she watched the two banter— were they flirting? —Elsie couldn’t help feeling envious, wishing she was as beautiful and sophisticated as Miss Taylor, able to attract the attentions of men like Dr. Angus and Mr. Canfield. Even if she had no desire to marry for years, it would be fun to know how to flirt—in a ladylike way, of course.
Hank engaged the two women in conversation, his expression admiring as he looked from one to the other, but mostly focusing on the older lady. Miss Bailey asked him where he lived, and he waxed eloquent about the beauty of the lake, the reflection of the mountains and the sky, and how the swans glided gracefully across the surface, although their feet pedaled furiously below the water.
As they conversed, Miss Taylor smiled and nodded, giving him plenty of encouragement to continue. His spirits rose. Maybe this courting business won’t be so hard, after all. Might as well get to the point.
Hank glanced from Miss Taylor to Miss Bailey. “Could I invite you two to my home for a
picnic next Sunday after church?” The invitation was made to both women, but he focused on the more suitable Miss Taylor, who was obviously in charge.
Miss Bailey clasped her hands. “Your place sounds so beautiful!” She gazed at Hank with wide eyes. “I’d love to see it. Please, Miss Taylor, may we go?”
The dressmaker pursed her lips. “Well, there are a few challenges. The first is we wouldn’t be able to leave right after the service because we do have to open the shop for an hour or so.” She glanced down the street. “In fact, we should be going there in another minute. The second concern is how would we get to your home, Mr. Canfield? Surely, you don’t expect us to walk there and back?”
Hank wanted to kick himself for not planning better beforehand. He gave them a sheepish grin. “I guess, in my spontaneity I hadn’t thought everything through.”
Dr. Angus stepped closer and inserted himself into the conversation. “If I may….” He gave a slight bow. “I heard the word picnic , always a favorite activity of mine.” His Scottish brogue gave the words an interesting accent. “Good food and nature. What could be better? I do believe my new horse and surrey—a four-seater—will be here by next Sunday, Mr…?”
Not sure whether to feel relieved by the man’s solution or stymied by a potential rival, Hank thrust out his hand. “Canfield, Hank Canfield. But call me Hank.”
“Well, Hank.” The doctor returned a strong handshake. “If I could include myself in yer invitation…” he hinted. “I could drive everyone there and bring the ladies back to town.”
Judging from the expression that flickered across Miss Taylor’s pretty face, she didn’t seem pleased by the idea of the doctor joining them, which, in Hank’s opinion, made the plan all the more advantageous.
“Why, that sounds just dandy.” Hank made his grin wide and guileless. “Aren’t you the new doc?”
“Aye.” The man nodded. “Angus Cameron, at yer service.”
“If you don’t mind, Doc, I’ll hope not to have your service. Good thing I’m healthy.” He winked at the ladies. “Clean living does that to a man.”
“And what do ye do for that clean living?” the doctor asked.
“A bit of this and that. Some gardening, hunting, and breeding horses.”
Miss Bailey brushed her fingertips over Hank’s arm, curiosity in her big brown eyes.
He liked how she evidently felt comfortable enough to touch him, and then reminded himself that she was too young. Still, he didn’t sidle away.
“How many horses do you have?”
“Just my gelding and two mares. So far, both with foals.”
The doctor eased Miss Taylor out of the conversation. “May I walk with ye to the shop?”
“Please.” Miss Taylor took the doctor’s arm. To Miss Bailey, she said, “We’re going ahead. See you in a few minutes.”
Left alone with Miss Bailey, Hank found himself unexpectedly tongue-tied.
The girl flashed him a bright smile and, with the slightest of bounces, announced, “Today is the first time I’ve attended church service on my own, as a young lady, I mean. Well, with Miss Taylor, of course. Without my family, that is.”
Surely, she wouldn’t be so pleased if something had happened to her family to force her to live with the dressmaker. Still, for politeness’s sake, he had to inquire. “Your family is well?”
“Just dandy,” she parroted Hank’s earlier expression. Then her eyes widened in obvious guilt. She clapped a hand over her mouth before lowering her arm. “According to Miss Taylor, that’s slang, and I’m not supposed to say such words. Even if you did earlier,” she said in an aggrieved tone.
Hank chuckled. “I suppose it’s not fair.” Slang was another thing his grandfather forbade as unsuitable for gentlemen. All the more reason to indulge now and again. “You have time before you have to act like a grown lady.”
Miss Bailey drew herself up. “I’ll have you know I’ve turned seventeen.”
Not quite too young, but close. Hank held up his hands in appeasement. Just be yourself , he wanted to advise the young woman. Don’t grow up and lose your refreshing zest for life. But he couldn’t speak so familiarly to a young —for all she was seventeen—lady he’d just met.
He searched for a safe topic of conversation and blurted out the first question he could think of. “Do you like swans?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Why, I don’t know. I’ve never seen them up close. Only a few times flying across the sky.”
Even though he’d touched on Three Bend Lake and the swans earlier, he wanted to tell her more. “There’s a pair that live on the lake by my house. Your employer might sport a peacock feather in her hat, and I’ve seen one in full fan—quite spectacular. But in my opinion, the swan is a more graceful bird.” I’ve gone from tongue-tied to babbling.
She gazed at him, wide-eyed. “I’ve never seen a lake.”
“Ours isn’t much of one compared to some of the others in Montana. Rather small and narrow and twisty. That’s why we call it Three Bend Lake. Sure is pretty, though.”
“Ohhh.” She clasped her hands together in front of her chest. “I can’t wait to see it.”
The more they talked, the more Hank felt himself relaxing. Miss Bailey doesn’t seem to mind my conversation. He hoped he could entertain Miss Taylor just as easily.