Chapter 18
Chapter
Temperance Rally Set for End of Month
Questions may be addressed to Miss Noreen O’Sullivan.
“What do you think?” Noreen chewed on the edge of her tongue as she waited impatiently for James to finish reading through the draft of her newspaper article.
Last week, the society voted 11–3 in favor of her service project.
Miss Lockwood had abstained from the vote to avoid unduly influencing the group, but she’d pledged her support after the meeting.
A fact that still set Noreen to reeling six days later, if she stopped to consider it for more than a moment at a time.
Yet despite the show of acceptance from her spinster sisters, a part of her craved acceptance from another quarter.
Hence why she’d brought her newspaper announcement to James tonight after Martha and Jane had proofread it for her during their Tuesday Tea.
His mouth turned up at one corner, and her heart did a ridiculous series of flips at his small show of approval.
“Clever,” he murmured before looking up and sharing those beautiful blue eyes with her. Eyes twinkling with good humor.
Heavens, but those twinkles set her insides to dancing.
One would think she’d be used to them by now, as often as they appeared, but they tickled her belly every time.
She’d even started seeking them out, developing a craving for them probably not too dissimilar from the lure of liquor to a drunkard.
The dancing in her midsection halted abruptly.
Goodness. Was she experiencing an addiction?
To a man’s smile? What a horrendous thought.
It couldn’t possibly be the same. James’s smiles might invoke certain cravings, but they weren’t unhealthy.
They induced no stupidity or hangovers. Well, unless one counted that dinner debacle last week and the mental moping that occurred on days when she didn’t see him.
But never mind that. There was nothing wrong with enjoying something that lifted her spirits and lightened her mood.
Except that was exactly the type of argument her father used to make.
She gave her head a little shake. It was not the same. James was all that was kind and gentle and peace loving. Being addicted to his smile and his company encouraged her. It didn’t eat away at her insides like poison, turning her into a cruel, unfeeling monster.
His smile flattened as his brows arched. “Why are you shaking your head? This is great.”
And she was overthinking everything. Again.
“Do you think so?” She nudged aside the empty plate left over from the beef dinner she’d brought to the jailhouse. “I did my best to refrain from proselytizing. I wanted it to sound like any other community event. Like the Founder’s Day parade or the community picnic on the Fourth of July.”
That wonderful, tummy-tickling smile returned. “You succeeded. That is exactly the impression I received as I read it. I liked the addition of the instruments, too. Makes it feel fun and festive.”
“The temperance movement in England has been using brass bands in their cause for decades.” She shrugged. “I thought it might help draw attention to the parade.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea. Hard to resist a band.”
Hard to resist you when you look at me as if you respect and appreciate my ideas.
Stars and garters. If she didn’t get control of her mind—and fast—something embarrassing was going to slip out of her mouth and make a fool of her.
James set the paper on the table and tapped a section near the middle.
“Smart to mention the street intersection instead naming the saloon outright. Taggert will know you’re targeting him, but it’s subtle enough that most people won’t make the connection from the article alone.
” He leaned back in his chair, his warm gaze finding hers again.
“You did a great job, Noreen. I have no doubt that you’ll recruit a sizable crowd to join your march. ”
She dipped her chin, his pride in her almost painful to behold.
How many times had she longed to hear such praise from her father, or even her stepfather?
Constant disappointment had taught her to stop seeking approval from men.
But having it freely given? Her shriveled heart blossomed like a drought-strained rosebud finally receiving rain.
A touch on her hand brought her chin up. He’d leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “I mean it, Noreen. This is really good.”
How on earth was she to say anything intelligent when his touch scattered all her wits?
“Thank you.” There. That wasn’t too vacuous. Wasn’t very clever, either, but she didn’t have the luxury of being picky.
James turned his head sharply, and his hand slid away from hers as he rose from his seat. Only then did she notice the sound of running feet heading their way.
“Deputy!” An out of breath man with one hand holding his hat in place as he ran came into view through the doorway. “Deputy, come quick! Fightin’ at the saloon. Ten, maybe fifteen, men bustin’ up the place.”
James strode across the room, his confidence and authority a sight to behold. He didn’t let the panic of the other man fluster him. He just collected his hat, checked that his revolver was in place, and patted the fellow on the shoulder.
“I’ll be right there.”
He looked to Noreen, held her gaze for a precious second, and gave his head a little shake. She heard his message as clearly as if he’d said it aloud. “Don’t follow me this time.”
She gave a slight nod, knowing her presence at the saloon would only worsen the situation. The last thing she wanted to do was make things more dangerous for him.
“Be careful.”
It was an impulsive thing to say. Unnecessary even. The man had been breaking up saloon fights for years. Yet her heart wouldn’t allow her to keep the words inside. He’d become too important to her.
His slow smile made her heart pump a frantic rhythm that no longer had anything to do with fear for his safety.
He fingered the brim of his hat and dipped his chin in her direction. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he turned and walked out the door.
The man who’d reported the fight hung back a moment, his face etched with confusion as he looked from Noreen to the deputy and back again.
Noreen blushed, certain she could guess what was going through the man’s head.
Why on earth would the deputy be having dinner with a sour-tempered spinster like Noreen O’Sullivan?
Not completely sure of the answer herself, she ignored the fellow and focused on clearing away the dishes and packing up the leftover food.
Thankfully, witnessing a saloon fight must have held more appeal than pondering a misplaced spinster, for the next time she glanced in his direction, he was gone.
Watch over James, Lord. Keep him safe.
She picked up the article she’d written, the smile he’d worn after reading it filtering through her mind and warming her heart.
This town needed a man like James Paxton.
A man of integrity who served his community with a cheerful spirit and a dedication to righteousness.
Yes, this town needed James, but she was very much afraid that she was coming to need him, too.
James covered the ground with a long, quick stride.
He glanced over his shoulder, looking for Emmett Hansen, the young cowpoke who’d reported the incident.
Fellow must’ve been winded, ’cause he was lagging.
James sighed. He wasn’t about to slow his pace to wait on the cowboy, but he sure could do with a few details as to who was involved, where they were located inside, and if any guns had been drawn.
Finally, footfalls registered beside him. James twisted his neck to confirm it was Emmett before starting his questioning, but the fellow beat him to the verbal draw.
“I can’t believe you’re courtin’ Nosy Noreen!”
James hit Emmett with a glare so fierce, the cowboy stumbled from the impact.
Emmett’s hands came up. “Easy, Paxton. I didn’t mean no disrespect. That’s just what the guys call her. You know, ’cause she’s always stickin’ her nose where it don’t belong.”
“I’d advise you to cease talking about Miss O’Sullivan before the urge to rearrange your teeth grows too strong for me to resist.”
The cowboy’s eyes widened to comical proportions. “Got it.”
James ground his molars, angry at himself for overreacting. He wasn’t one to threaten violence. Even violence he’d never carry out. But something primal and protective had surged within him at the unexpected attack on Noreen’s character.
Forcing his throat to unclench, James steadied his voice before starting his questioning. “Who’s fighting?”
“Claude Templeton started it. Accused Jude Barlow of cheatin’ at cards.
Threw a few punches. Jude tackled him and flattened Old Coop in the process, spillin’ his drink.
That’s when things really exploded. Last I saw, Coop was wipin’ the bar with Jude’s pants while Jude was still in ’em.
Folks sittin’ at the bar didn’t take too kindly to that and startin’ protesting with their fists.
I think one fella conked Old Coop with a bottle to the noggin, but Coop’s like a grizzly.
What doesn’t take him down just makes him mad. ”
Sounded like a free-for-all. Not his favorite. Hard to reason with a mob. Especially a drunk one.
As they neared the saloon, angry shouts filled the air along with various crashes and thuds. James turned to the wide-eyed cowboy, who looked far too young to be in a bar at all, let alone one filled with brawlers.
“Go home, Emmett. I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you kidding? I got me a front-row seat.”
Just then, a man flew backward through the batwing doors to crash on the boardwalk, blood streaming down his face from a cut above his eye.
Emmett retreated a step. “Maybe I’ll, uh, watch from the fourth or fifth row.”
James clapped him on the arm. “Good choice.”