AUTHOR'S NOTES:
"Maria Bennett" and all original material included in this story are the creations of Darcie Daniels.
Thanks to Deb for the Gunther brothers and for naming those twin biddies. ;)
Thanks to Pat for directing me to the "Huzza! Tis the Fourth of July" song. (See end of story for lyrics.) Pat, thanks for finding such a great site!
Library of Congress Music Division
Setting: Late June 1881
Maria steeled herself and raised her hand to knock on the solid oak door. The house that Mr. Mosby built for Miss Florie was indeed beautiful, and it was completed in a remarkable amount of time. It was nearing the end of June, and the town only found out about Miss Florie's pregnancy in February. Five months to construct the best house in Curtis Wells was a proud achievement, especially considering that is was completed even before the train depot. It was a feat, indeed.
Yet no one except Miss Twyla's girls called on Miss Florie since she moved into the beautiful house at the end of town. Mr. Mosby himself did not visit often. Maria supposed that he was busy with the railroad. Tracks from the east approached daily, and it was rumored that there was only 100 miles of track left before it reached town. Mr. Mosby was a busy man.
Yet, Maria found it odd that he did not visit the woman carrying his child. He built the house for her, and Maria expected that Mr. Mosby would marry Miss Florie any day now. It was very rude of him to keep her waiting. Town gossips were having a field day with such information.
In fact, Maria overhead the twin biddies, the Longbottoms, say that they should never visit Miss Florie even if she should get married. They claimed she was not a "proper" woman.
That was when Maria decided to call upon Miss Florie. These odd circumstances were not Miss Florie's fault. Sometimes a woman had to do what was necessary. But Maria frowned, still unable to knock upon the door. What could she say to the beautiful brunette woman?
Standing there for a few minutes, Maria still did not know. Shrugging, she knocked on the door. Improvisation was a skill she needed to improve upon anyway, and besides, the morning was already getting warm.
To her surprise, Miss Selena from Twyla's Sporting House answered the door. The woman was just as startled to see Maria.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I've come to see Miss Florie," Maria stammered.
The woman regarded her suspiciously. "Why?"
Maria herself was unsure of the answer. She supposed that it was because she felt sorry for Miss Florie.
She could not give that kind of answer to the proud woman. Maria looked down to the basket on her arm. "To give her some of Mrs. Brown's canned peaches. Mr. Creel recently received them in the store, and I thought perhaps Miss Florie might like them."
Miss Selena's eyes narrowed. "Doc Cleese is in with her now." Miss Selena remained still.
Maria frowned, growing concerned. "I hope Miss Florie is well?"
Miss Selena gave her an odd look and positioned herself protectively in front of the door. "Florie's fine. The baby's fine. You go tell that to the church ladies. Gossip until you're blue in the face for all we care. Ain't nothing gonna change the fact she's having this baby. Now go."
Maria stepped back in astonishment. Miss Selena had the wrong idea all together.
Miss Selena was about to shut the door when Maria stopped her. "You're mistaken, Miss Selena. I didn't come to gloat. Please forgive me if I've given you that impression."
The brunette frowned. "Why did you come then?"
Maria felt that honesty might be best. "I myself have been the object of the town gossip's 'good will,' if that's what you want to call it." Maria looked down to the ground, knowing the only reason she was not called "crazy" to her face was that she had money to ward off such attacks. "As it is, they call me 'eccentric,'" Maria gulped. "They have no mercy. It's not right what they say. I just wanted Miss Florie to know that."
Miss Selena's chin lifted proudly. "I'll let her know."
Once again, Miss Selena began to shut the door, and again, Maria stopped her. "Please give her the peaches?"
Miss Selena gave her a small smile and nodded. She took the peaches and quietly shut the door.
Maria sighed, turning away from the beautiful house. Mr. Mosby really ought to marry Miss Florie. It was not right.
"Better you than me, Newton," Maria told him as the bounty hunter settled down on his bench. "I hit my head last month. Now it's your turn."
Mr. Call glanced up at her in annoyance. He slouched in a more comfortable position.
"Are you sure that you're all right?" she asked him again, grabbing his hat so to examine his goose egg herself. Thankfully, it seemed no larger than his previous head traumas.
"Give me that," he snapped, snatching his hat back. He replaced it on his head as aloofly as he could. "Now leave me be."
Maria ignored him. "I must say that I am proud of you for bringing in such a desperate character. Is it true that this Barnes murdered three people in two territories?"
"Yes, now git."
The more Maria thought about it, the more frightened she became. Her poor blood brother could have been seriously hurt - even killed - by such a man. He was lucky only to have been hit on the head. She was glad that Mr. Call shot the man and broke his arm. Such a scoundrel deserved that fate for hurting her blood brother.
"Oh, Newton," she exclaimed. "I wish you would find something less dangerous to do. I'm so glad nothing else happened to you."
"Maria," he said with great patience. "Leave me alone."
Maria sighed. She supposed that she ought to do just that. She could tell when he was truly irritated as opposed to just plain ornery. It was too hot to tease him anyway.
"Yes, well," she cleared her throat. "I will go now. Let me know if I can do anything for you."
"Git," he commanded, placing his hat over his eyes.
Maria stared at him for a moment and then left the bench. Her blood brother worried her at times.
"Please, Miss Bennett, sit down and eat lunch with us," Mr. Mosby smiled widely at her, pulling out a chair.
Maria regarded him oddly for a moment. She had not dined with Mr. Mosby for a long time. Even at that, it was always breakfast. It was never lunch.
She looked down to Mr. Shelby, who kindly nodded at her to sit. He had arrived in town months ago, and he had always been pleasant to her. He was even so nice as to ask her to dinner a month ago, but Austin rudely interrupted the occasion. Ever since, Maria had been too embarrassed to talk to him.
"No, I couldn't, Mr. Mosby," she stammered.
"Nonsense," Mr. Mosby continued, giving her a charming smile. "I insist."
Mr. Shelby looked down at his plate. He was probably remembering that Austin had said that Maria was in love with Mr. Mosby. Surely, he felt how awkward it was, too.
"No, Mr. Mosby, I couldn't possibly interrupt -" Maria began.
Mr. Shelby stood, throwing his napkin on the plate. "I was just going anyway. Don't let me keep you."
He nodded at them both and quickly left. Mr. Mosby stared after him, momentarily puzzled.
"Please, Miss Bennett, sit," he repeated, this time his tone more serious. "I have something to ask of you."
Maria frowned, but finally let him seat her. She regarded him from across the table. She wondered how Mr. Mosby kept cool in his jacket and vest ensemble. Unbob said that it was nearing a hundred degrees. Mr. Mosby must have been roasting.
"I tried to call on Miss Florie this morning, but Miss Selena answered the door. It's a beautiful house, Mr. Mosby," Maria said. "You should be proud."
Mr. Mosby cleared his throat, his expression slightly embarrassed. "Yes, well -"
"When will the depot be completed?"
Mr. Mosby looked irritated. "Hopefully soon. Listen, Miss Bennett, this is not what I wish to discuss with you."
Maria wondered what he could possibly want from her. She had nothing that he could not already get. She had no influence over her cousin Austin or her uncle Josiah, and Maria doubted that she could persuade Mr. Call to do anything in his irritated state. Maria looked at the town proprietor, perplexed.
"You know I've had some important railroad executives here the last couple of months," he began. He continued when he saw her nod, "I've tried to show them the potential of Curtis Wells. This place could be the hub of the West with the right support."
"The tracks aren't even here yet."
"You don't understand. I have to prepare for what might go beyond that. I have to show these people what Curtis Wells could be."
Maria smiled at him. Mr. Mosby had dreams that could benefit the entire territory.
"I don't understand what that has to do with me," Maria argued, still smiling at him.
Mr. Mosby returned her smile. "Everything, Miss Bennett. The railroad executive's wives will be arriving shortly. It would be nice if Curtis Wells could welcome them with some sort of social function, like a dance perhaps. That's why I thought of you. You've done that sort of thing before. Your help with this would be most valuable, Miss Bennett."
Maria was stunned. "But surely you could -"
"I cannot oversee everything in town," Mr. Mosby argued, fatigue in his voice. "I can't rely on my men to do this, either. Some of them have a hard time matching socks, let alone decorate for a dance. That's why I need your help. You were able to organize everything for the last one without offending either the church ladies or the 'rougher elements' of town. You are the perfect one to do this."
Maria remembered the last dance. She helped organize it to match Mr. Mosby with some lucky woman. Miss Florie was there. Maria should have known at the time when both Mr. Mosby and Miss Florie looked into each other's eyes. Oh well, Maria thought. At least she matched someone successfully.
"Will you do this?" Mr. Mosby asked.
Maria regarded him. Perhaps it was time that she forgave him. Perhaps it was time that she forgave herself for her silly romantic notions about him. It was just a dance after all.
"All right, Mr. Mosby," Maria sighed. "When will the wives arrive here?"
"The wire I received today said July 4th." He added with an ironic tone, "Just in time for patriotic fervor."
"A week?" Maria asked incredulously. The town proprietor could not possibly understand all the arrangements that would need to be made in such a short time. "A week? First, we'll have to see if we can find a band, then we'll have to find a place to hold it, then we'll have to decorate, and then there will have to be refreshments, and then -"
Mr. Mosby held out his hand to stop her. "Why, that's why I chose you, Miss Bennett, for your attention to detail. All my men will be at your disposal, of course, and I will handle all expenses. You just let me know."
Maria was still trying to imagine everything that needed to be done. "Yes, but a week?" she repeated.
"The good Lord created the heavens and the earth in seven days, Miss Bennett. Surely you can arrange a little dance."
Maria regarded him as if he was crazy. It was easy for him to say.
"The fourth of July?" Maria asked, this time beginning to understand the ramifications of what it meant to the Southern gentleman before her. He did not celebrate Thanksgiving because he termed it a "Yankee" holiday. Indeed, Independence Day had to be even more galling. "Are you sure you want this on July 4th? It cannot be easy for you."
Mr. Mosby's mouth tightened. "It's a day I'm not particularly fond of, Miss Bennett," he admitted tersely. "However, my business partners are Northerners. I'm sure they'll expect it."
Maria's eyes scrutinized him. "Are you sure that you want me to decorate with red, white, and blue, then?"
Mr. Mosby considered it. "Yes," he finally spat out.
Maria smiled reassuringly at him. It must have taken a lot of strength to put aside his pride.
"You're a good man, Mr. Mosby," she told him.
Mr. Mosby shook his head, smiling. "No, I'm a hungry man. Let's have some lunch."
Two days later, Maria and Mr. Zeke stood outside Mr. Creel's general store carrying bolts of fabric in patriotic colors. They were to deliver them to the church auxiliary ladies. Miraculously, Maria had stopped them gossiping long enough so that they could make fabric rosettes, buntings, and swags. It seemed a feat to even get that accomplished. It was more difficult with Mr. Keating. She had to bribe him into letting them use the livery for the dance. Mr. Mosby's men were hard at work cleaning it out even now. The poor horses would have to be corralled for a few days until the dance was finished.
The band was a more difficult matter. Maria decided that a brass marching band would be best. However, the closest thing Curtis Wells could call a brass band was the Gunther brothers twenty miles out of Sweetwater. Maria heard them once. They were good, but they were greedy. Maria was glad that Mr. Mosby had deep pockets. The Gunthers were the most expensive item thus far. Just in case, Maria had a fiddle player in reserve. One could never be too prepared, she thought.
Maria and Mr. Zeke were about to step out into the street when a most unusual parade stopped them. Mounted men in military uniforms drove a group of Indian women and children through the street. The younger women carried the little ones and supported the older women as they dragged themselves through the town. Most of the children and babies were crying, and those that were quiet looked too tired to even cry. All the Indians wore rags, and their feet were bare and bloody. All wore a hopeless expression. Guarding this little band were about twenty men of the U. S. Cavalry. The mounted soldiers surrounded them. As if the poor creatures could escape, Maria thought.
As the cavalry led the poor band through the street, Maria glanced over to Mr. Call's bench. His calm expression did not hide his displeasure - his hand rested on his gun.
Maria frowned, placing her bolts of fabric on top of Mr. Zeke's pile. "Here, hold these," she commanded, walking over to Mr. Call's bench. Mr. Zeke held the bolts patiently.
"I don't understand," Maria told the bounty hunter about the Indians. "Where are all the men?"
"Most likely shot trying to escape," he spat out, his hand slightly moving over his gun. "That's their usual excuse."
Maria felt pity for the women and was about to say so when Mr. Mosby and his men met the mounted soldiers in the street. The cavalry leader, a man in his forties, did not even dismount when he addressed the town proprietor.
"We'll be needing your livery and corral for the next couple of days," the captain told him. "We ought to receive orders about these rebels by then."
Mr. Mosby sympathetically regarded the Indian women, and then his gaze fell back on the blue uniformed men with disgust. "Now, you just can't come in here and -"
"Men!" the captain shouted, ignoring him. "Head to the livery and drive these prisoners to the corral. We'll make camp there."
When the cruel parade cleared away, Maria thought better of approaching Mr. Mosby. She wanted to remind him of the plans for the livery. After all, a barn dance was perfect for a hot summer night. Yet, the deadly look on Mr. Mosby's face prevented her. Mr. Mosby motioned his men and stalked towards the telegraph office. Maria was sure his intent was to get those soldiers out of town.
The sooner the better, Maria thought. Those poor women and children. Maria would have to see if she could get them some shoes.
But first there was the matter of Mr. Zeke. "Let's get this fabric over to the church auxiliary," Maria ordered, walking out onto the street. She thought that perhaps she could organize the ladies into doing some more charitable work for those poor Indians. It was a shame to make war on women and children. The very least those cavalrymen could do was let them stay in livery.
"Now that don't seem right Christian to me," Mr. Call spat at the two soldiers guarding the Indian women and children at the corral. His hand rested upon his sawed-off shotgun. "You might go to hell if you don't let this wagon pass."
Maria almost smiled when the two young men shook with fear. She sat with Unbob and Dr. Cleese on the wagon seat.
Mr. Creel was mighty pleased when she and the church ladies bought out his entire supply of clothes and shoes. They also brought food. It took a wagon to carry it all. Although she was irritated when Mr. Call only watched as others loaded the wagon, Maria was glad when Mr. Call followed. The guards did not want the supplies to get to the poor Indian band. Mr. Call was always a persuasive sort of man in situations like these.
"We's just following orders," the younger of the two soldiers said. "No one's to get through."
The bounty hunter did not seem to hear the argument. His hand shifted on his big gun.
"Please, Mr. Call," Dr. Cleese implored. "We don't want any blood shed."
"Ain't gonna be blood shed, is there, boys?" Mr. Call said to the two soldiers. "You're moving, ain't you? This here's a mission from God."
Maria wanted desperately to hum "Onward Christian Soldiers," but she felt that Dr. Cleese would not appreciate it.
"Look, Mr. Call!" Unbob pointed anxiously. "Those young-uns look like they're starving! We best take the wagon to them right now."
"Well?" Mr. Call said to the guards, glaring at them, his hand poised over his gun. "How 'bout it?"
The two soldiers whispered to themselves, frightened at the sight of the bounty hunter. Maria heard one of them say, "But that there's Newt Call!" The mention of his name silenced his partner.
"Y-yes, sir," the younger man stammered. "We ain't gonna stop Christian charity. Go right ahead."
"That's more like it," Mr. Call spat when they let them pass.
It did not take long to distribute the food and clothing. Dr. Cleese was disgusted by the condition of the captives. Many women shied away from his examination. While Maria helped Unbob demonstrate some of the mechanical toys to the children, she overheard the doctor quietly tell Mr. Call that he believed that the women had been violated. Maria almost threw one of the toys at the guards, but she thought it would go to better use in a child's hands.
Maria regarded Mr. Call. She knew his expression, and it was a time that she dare not bother him. He was a man with a job to do, and no one could stop him. His blue eyes glinted like steel.
Maria put her fork down. Dr. Cleese's discussion on the new methods to clean decubitus ulcers was not exactly the best conversation to have over lunch.
Listening to the lecture on pus and infection was more appealing, however, than the obnoxious laughter of Captain Benton's men. They occupied nearly the whole dining room. Maria assumed that the men would stay at the livery, but they commandeered the hotel for their base. They were there at every turn, and sometimes their raucous laughter kept Maria up at night. Miss Carpenter was not happy about the whole situation, but the men were not overtly rude, so there was little Mr. Mosby could do about it. Captain Benton seemed amused by "his boys." Apparently, they were used to getting their own way.
"Then hopefully the wound granulates and begins to retract," Dr. Cleese continued. "When the wound takes on a blackish color -"
Laughter from the soldier's table interrupted him.
Dr. Cleese shook his head, putting down his own fork, and leaned in to tell her confidentially, "Those men are very ill-mannered, Miss Bennett. I don't think I've had a meal lately that hasn't been interrupted by them in some fashion."
Maria nodded in agreement. The men did seem a little rowdy.
"I hope their ill-manners have not prevented you from eating your lunch," Dr. Cleese voiced in concern.
Maria smiled at him, not wanting to tell him that the topic of ulcerated flesh wounds was not elegant dining conversation. "No, not at all. I'm not hungry, really. And I have so much yet to do. I have to oversee Mr. Zeke and Mr. Pratt hang all the decorations, and then I have to see if Mrs. Bates will bake us some more pies. Then I need to talk to Mr. Harry to see if the ground fireworks display is ready. We only have three more days."
She was about to excuse herself when the soldier's laughter interrupted them again.
Mr. Mosby and Mr. Shelby, seated at their normal table, did not look amused. Some railroad executives were with them.
Poor Mr. Mosby, Maria thought. He was not happy about the soldier's occupation of the town, yet he had little choice. It seemed the whole town had to wait until the cavalry's orders were received. Mr. Mosby had told her that would only be after July 5th. Maria remembered the look on his face when he gave her the news. The poor man was galled to the extreme.
Poor Mr. Mosby, Maria shook her head. At least he allowed her to make the dance a street dance. It was a lot of work to convert the entire town into a festival, but it would be worth it. Maria remembered that she would have to speak to Mr. Mosby later about some sort of law enforcement for the dance. It would not do to have a ruckus break out.
To her annoyance, the soldier's laughter once again interrupted her thoughts.
"We got to Little Round Top first," one the older soldiers was laughing. "We hit those Johnny Rebs hard that day. Don't know what got 'em."
The younger, blue-uniformed men laughed. Mr. Mosby and Mr. Shelby growled.
"That ain't nothing compared to Pickett's charge. We swatted them Johnny Rebs like flies."
Both Mr. Mosby and Mr. Shelby grimaced in horror and pain at the memory.
"We crushed 'em like dirt, we did. Especially after the War - Johnny Reb wasn't so proud after that."
Maria saw Mr. Mosby put a restraining hand on Mr. Shelby's arm. She could see that Mr. Mosby himself looked as if he was ready to strike. She was sure that he contained himself only for the railroad executives' benefit. It must have taken a great effort to control his anger.
Maria, however, could not. "You were on Little Round Top?" she stood to ask the older man. The man was stunned that someone would interrupt his laughter.
"You were on Little Round Top?" she repeated.
"Uh, no."
Maria figured as much. "Then you did not know Joshua and Daniel Reed. They were of the 20th Maine, sir. They died that day defending that hill."
The man still looked obtuse. He shrugged. Then the men laughed nervously.
"They were my cousins, sir, " Maria spat out. "My aunt Elinor cried every Christmas when she looked at her dead sons' pictures on the wall."
Even now the memory of her aunt's grief tore at her.
The older man sputtered. "Sorry."
"Sorry isn't enough, sir. Someone's son or someone's brother died there, and you sit here and laugh."
"Didn't mean nothing by it, ma'am," the man said apologetically.
Maria shook her head. It was obvious that these men knew nothing about honor and dignity.
"I don't have time for this," Maria muttered. "Excuse me, Dr. Cleese. I have swags to hang."
She stalked out the door, wishing she could hang something else instead.
"Invite them."
Maria, momentarily stunned by Mr. Call's order, could only stare at him. Mr. Zeke and Mr. Pratt stared questioningly at her in turn.
"No, no, no," she told them as they were hanging a white swag on the dry good store. "Over to the left."
"Invite them?" she questioned back to her blood brother, thinking that he was crazy. Captain Benton and his men were rude and uncouth. She did not want them at the dance.
"That's what I said."
"Now, Newton. You must have hit your head harder than we thought. If you think - no," she told Mr. Zeke. "Hold it up a few more inches. Mr. Pratt, a little more to the right. Yes, that's better."
She turned her attention back to Mr. Call. "If you think -"
"Invite them."
His steely blue eyes left little room for argument.
"But I thought that you didn't like them."
He stared through her.
Maria frowned. "Why?"
His look told her that he did not want to be questioned.
Maria stomped her foot. He was like arguing with a stone wall.
"Fine, Newton, but you'll have to tell me why. No," she called to Mr. Mosby's men. "Move it up a little more. That's perfect, gentlemen."
Maria looked back to her blood brother, but he already stalked off.
"Just perfect," she muttered.
"Clay's not here," Mr. Shelby told her bitterly, grabbing a rag and walking behind the bar. He looked out of place there. "He's out surveying something with his Northern friends. I don't know when he'll be back."
Maria had never seen him this irritated before. He angrily wiped off the counter and served a man a beer.
Maria had hoped to see Mr. Mosby at the Ambrosia Club that morning so she could talk to him about enforcing some kind of peace at the dance. The dance was tomorrow, and preparations were almost complete.
Maria was uncomfortable inside the bar. It was a good thing they were almost alone.
"I was hoping if I could ask him to limit the drinks he serves tomorrow," she said. "We don't need drunken men to disrupt the festivities."
Mr. Shelby merely laughed at that and continued wiping down the bar.
Maria bit her lip. "I also need his men to keep the peace at the dance. We want this to be friendly and respectable. I especially don't want Miss Twyla's ladies to be accosted. I want everyone to have a good time."
Mr. Shelby stopped what he was doing and regarded her. "Nice and friendly-like?"
Maria was unsure why he scrutinized her. "Yes. Miss Twyla's ladies deserve one night when they can be treated with respect and honor."
Mr. Shelby sighed. "I'll let Clay know."
Maria nodded her thanks and turned to leave. Mr. Shelby stopped her. "If you wanted honorable men, then you shouldn't have invited Benton and his Yankee swine."
Maria faced him uncertainly. Perhaps that was why he was so angry. "I... I had to."
"Why? And here I liked your speech about Gettysburg the other day, and you invite that scum to your dance. Why?"
Maria did not know the answer to that question herself. Mr. Call did not elaborate on why he wanted the soldiers at the dance, but he was emphatic about wanting them there. He was up to something, but Maria had no time to find out what that was. "A friend asked me to do it."
"A friend? Would you do anything for a friend?"
Maria frowned. Mr. Call was her blood brother, and it goaded her to ask those men to the dance, but she did it for him. "Yes, I'd put aside my pride for a friend. Wouldn't you?"
Mr. Shelby laughed at the irony of it and rubbed his eyes. "You have no idea."
Maria thought that all these Independence Day preparations probably galled Mr. Shelby as much as it did Mr. Mosby. "I'm sorry for all the red, white, and blue decorations, Mr. Shelby. You must not like them."
"They're all lovely, and they're everywhere, Miss Bennett," he said somewhat sarcastically. Then his tone became warmer. "I noticed you left Yankee blue off this place, though. Did you do that on purpose?"
Maria nodded. It was the least she could do for the Southern men living inside the establishment.
"Thank you," he said.
Maria smiled at him.
He smiled at her in return. "Well, I shall see you in a few days, Miss Bennett."
Maria frowned at him in alarm. "You're not leaving, Mr. Shelby?" For some reason, Maria really wanted him at the dance.
Mr. Shelby looked at her with regret. "I don't care what Clay does. I can't stay here for ... this."
He turned to pour the man another drink.
"But I was hoping -" Maria stammered.
Mr. Shelby faced her, grinning. "Hoping for what?"
He gave the man a drink and returned to her, still smiling.
His smile was infectious. Maria smiled shyly at him. "I was hoping to see you at the dance, Mr. Shelby."
"Really? And would you dance with me, Miss Bennett, if I was there?"
Maria could not help grinning at him. "Of course."
Mr. Shelby's mood then turned dark. "I'm sure Clay will be there entertaining his Northern friends. He's a dancing fool. I'm sure he'll dance with you."
He turned and attacked a glass with his bar rag.
Maria, to her own amazement, found herself saying, "But I don't want to dance with Mr. Mosby."
Maria still could not believe her own words as Mr. Shelby faced her. "I don't want to dance with Mr. Mosby," she repeated, this time absolutely sure that she meant it. She grinned, feeling a freedom she had not felt in a long time. "I don't want to dance with him, Mr. Shelby. I want to dance with you."
Mr. Shelby nodded, smiling victoriously. "Well, all right then."
Maria felt like jumping up and down, but she restrained herself. "You're coming, then?"
"I can hardly resist that kind of offer."
Maria blushed at his smile. He really was handsome.
"I need you to help me anyway," Maria told him.
Mr. Shelby held up his hands. "Oh no, I won't be roped into helping you decorate like Clay's other men. I've been commanded to take battlefields, not move fabric from the left to the right."
Maria laughed. "No. Someone has to teach me the words to 'Dixie,' and Mr. Mosby is too busy."
"You're singing 'Dixie'?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes," Maria sighed, not knowing how she got roped into singing at the festivities. "I'll sing it right after, 'Huzzah! Tis the Fourth of July.' I thought I'd give those soldiers my rendition of 'Dixie' to really irritate them."
Mr. Shelby laughed. "I'll look forward to hearing it."
"You'll help me then?"
"Of course."
"Of course," Maria said to herself, grinning like a fool. "Well, thank you, Mr. Shelby." She really wanted to shake his hand vigorously, but she restrained herself. "I have to go now."
She had to go talk to Mr. Hopkins about something, but she could not remember what it was now. Surely it was something about the dance.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Mr. Shelby grinned.
"Yes," Maria nodded, still staring at him. "Tomorrow then."
The man sitting at the bar had little patience for the two of them. "Tomorrow it is. Now can I have a drink?"
Maria blushed, quickly leaving the establishment.
That worked out better than she could have hoped.
"Newton, now promise me that you will dance two dances with me," Maria ordered him as she straightened some of the refreshments on the table. Maria had to give the townswomen credit. There was enough food here to feed an entire army.
She looked back to her blood brother. He was not even listening. His steely blue eyes were focused on Captain Benton's men.
"I hope you're happy, Newton," Maria told him. "I don't know why you wanted those men here, but I did as you asked. I just hope you know that all the disturbances thus far tonight have been on account of them."
Mr. Call did not answer.
Maria turned to watch the soldiers. They were too raucous in their dancing, but they did not seem to be disturbing the railroad executives and their wives. In fact, the railroad men and their wives appeared to be enjoying themselves rather well. Maria sighed in relief. Thus far, the dance had been a success.
She hoped that Mr. Mosby was pleased. She saw him once that evening, playing gracious host to the executives and their wives. She knew it had to be trying for him. He could not like all these patriotic displays. All this had to be grating on his nerves.
Maria thought that perhaps his seeing Miss Florie might comfort him. Miss Selena and Miss Florie had left their house to sample some pies earlier that evening. Indeed, the two brunettes were quite beautiful, and Miss Florie was particularly radiant. Maria hoped that Mr. Mosby had seen her. She was sure that if Mr. Mosby saw Miss Florie that he would be quite proud of her beauty and elegance.
"Did you know, Newton, that one of Captain Benton's men tried to force Miss Selena to dance with him? One of them even pinched Ruby Longbottom twice -- once for her and once for her twin sister. Well, thank goodness for Mr. Mosby's men. They've stopped most of the shenanigans. I'm quite proud of them."
She heard no answer. She shrugged. He probably did not like her saying anything positive about Mr. Mosby's men, but Maria felt that they deserved a lot of credit for the dance's success.
In fact, everyone seemed to be enjoying the dance immensely. Many of Miss Twyla's ladies and their partners were dancing in amongst the church ladies and their husbands. A stranger in town would never be able to tell the difference between the women.
Maria smiled at the sight. "Newton, ask me to dance. Now I know you don't like it --" she turned to back to face him, but he was no longer there. Maria could not find Mr. Call anywhere in sight.
Maria stomped her foot. Where could he possibly have gone?
She had not liked his behavior for the past couple of days, but she had no time to figure out what her blood brother was up to. She hoped that he was not going to place himself in danger somehow. Mr. Call had already been hit on the head once this month.
She poured herself some punch. Perhaps Mr. Shelby would arrive soon. Maybe he had some advice on the best way to handle a stubborn loved one whose head was harder than stone. Perhaps he knew how to talk some sense into someone too proud to know what was good for him. Indeed, Maria felt that she ought to ask him. Yes, when Mr. Shelby took her in his arms to dance, Maria would have to ask him right then.
Maria sighed romantically, setting down her punch glass. She wished that he would arrive soon.
With her thoughts in a dreamy daze, Maria did not notice the overanxious dancer leading his partner towards the refreshment table. On instinct, she grabbed the punch bowl as the soldier and his partner jarred the table. As luck would have it, none of the food fell on the ground. As luck would have it, Maria was wearing white.
Maria stared down the front of her specially made dress in disbelief. Red punch was sloshed all over her from collar to hem. Oh, that would stain.
This had to be the greatest of all tragedies. Fifteen minutes from now she was scheduled to sing in front of the honored guests. And Mr. Shelby would surely arrive at any second. He could not see her looking like this.
She had no time for delicacy. She sprinted towards the Dove, dodging dancers and wallflowers alike. There was not a minute to lose. She had to change with the utmost expediency.
She cursed Mr. Call. Somehow all this was his fault.
She stopped short of the hotel when she saw Mr. Mosby and Mr. Shelby outside the Dove's front doors. They looked like they were arguing.
Maria had no time for that now, but there was no way she could discreetly walk past them without being seen. She had to sneak. That was her only option.
Successfully, she snuck around the back of the hotel without notice, hoping to run up the back stairs. She stopped short when she saw several of Captain Benton's men. She had neither the time nor the stomach to be leered at by them. Also, the ruckus of the soldiers in back would attract the two Southern gentlemen standing in front. That would never do.
Cursing at Mr. Call, Maria felt she had no choice. She had to climb.
Taking a deep breath, she shimmied up a supporting column of the hotel, careful not to disturb the patriotic swags hanging there. Indeed, that was the major problem. There were decorations at every turn. She began to wonder if it made sense to decorate the back of the hotel. She knew now that it did not make a lick of sense, but she would have to thank Mr. Zeke and Mr. Pratt again for their superb job. With great effort, Maria launched herself to the ledge, hanging on for dear life as she swayed in time with the buntings. Maria firmed her grip, grunting as she pulled herself up. Finally, she was able to catch her leg on the ledge. She was home free.
She ran to her room and rifled through her closest to find her next best dress. Luck would have it -- it was pink and not too wrinkled. Maria wriggled inside of it, cursing all the back buttons. She hoped that someday they would invent some easier method of closure.
Finally, she straightened her dress and looked in her mirror. She was flushed, but that was to be expected. She took a deep breath. Poise and dignity, she told herself. She would walk gracefully down the stairs, and no one would be the wiser.
Maria did just that, calmly walking down the staircase into the dining room. No one was there, of course, and no one saw her leave the hotel and head straight to the dance.
She nodded to several townsfolk as she gracefully made her way to the Opera House and Theatre of the West. She would be singing on the boardwalk.
"Miss Bennett," she heard Mr. Shelby call out in front of her.
She saw him. Indeed, he was handsome.
He held out his arm to her, which she humbly accepted.
"They've been calling for you, Miss Bennett," he said, rushing her towards the stage. "Where have you been?"
Maria had thought she pulled off the dressing feat with minutes to spare. To discover that she was late was distressing. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked him. Maybe she was not all that late.
"I always know what time it is," Mr. Shelby commented wryly. "It's time for you to go on."
No sooner had he escorted her to the boardwalk than the Gunther brothers lifted up their brass and began to play. It was a good thing Maria had power in her voice when she wanted to use it. They were certainly loud.
They were on key, too, Maria noted with particular delight. This was going to sound even better than it had in rehearsal.
Her clear soprano voice rose above the brass instruments. Maria was really enjoying the song and was almost to the "Huzza" part when she heard shouts of distress come from the corral. She also heard horses neighing and men cursing.
The town murmured in alarm and confusion.
"They're missing!" a soldier shouted. "The Indians - they're gone!"
Just then Captain Benton and many of his men galloped through the center of town without regard to the dancers or the pedestrians or the crowd. Various townspeople shouted and screamed as they dodged from being trampled by the horses.
"Men!" Captain Benton wheeled around on his horse. "I want you mounted on your horses immediately! We'll search every building in town if we have to! Now move!"
The soldiers remaining in the crowd immediately made their way towards the livery, but it was not before Mr. Mosby and his men stalked towards the cavalry. Mr. Mosby looked like a tiger ready to swipe at his prey.
"Now see here," Mr. Mosby seethed. "I won't allow you to come into my town and invade my people's privacy. I suggest you get your horses and men and leave now before I have to take matters into my own hands."
Captain Benton ignored him and signaled to his men.
That was the wrong decision. Mr. Mosby's nod was enough to make the click of every gun resonate through the entire town.
Mr. Mosby's men were everywhere. They were on top of every building and in every alley. They were certainly enough to take on all of Captain Benton's men.
"Now," Mr. Mosby smiled coldly. "Will you take it under advisement?"
Captain Benton sputtered, "But two of my men are unconscious. And I have to find those Indians." He regained enough of his composure to order to his men, "Find that Indian lover -- Newt Call. We'll take him in for questioning."
Just then, Mr. Call came striding towards the captain, his arms outstretched in confidence. "I'm right here," he said. Then his arms lazily moved towards his gun rig. His hand deliberately rested on his sawed-off. "Planning on taking me in, Captain?"
Mr. Mosby's eyes narrowed at the bounty hunter, and then he shook his head. His tiger-like eyes rested back upon the cavalry leader. "I won't allow you to harass my citizens, Captain."
Mr. Mosby's men took better aim at the soldiers.
The cavalry leader protested. "But he needs to be questioned."
Mr. Mosby sighed in acquiescence. "Fine. Call, do you know where those Indian women and children are?"
"Nope."
"Well, there you have it. This man clearly knows nothing about the transpiring of tonight's events." Mr. Mosby's smile turned dangerous. "Now I suggest you and your men to leave town so we can enjoy these fine festivities. Nothing I hate worse than to have a party interrupted."
Captain Benton tried to regain his composure. "You haven't seen the last of me. Wait until my superiors find out about this ..."
"Your superiors," Mr. Mosby puffed on his cigar, shaking out the match, "will find out how you lost a bunch of frightened women and little children. It won't look good, Captain Benton. I'm afraid it will have to go on your record." Then Mr. Mosby smiled graciously and turned to some of the railroad executives. "Now, gentleman. I hear we are to have some fireworks tonight. If you'll step this way..."
Mr. Call smirked, and Captain Benton and his men headed out of town in defeat.
The Gunthers immediately struck up the tune of "Dixie." Everyone in town except Mr. Call sang the song, and Maria noted that Mr. Mosby and Mr. Shelby sang it together with particular relish. Although Mr. Call was not a song and dance sort of man, he still looked mighty pleased.
Maria knew that he had been up to something that night, but she felt exceptionally proud of him anyway.
"Newton, you look like a man that could use a drink," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder.
Remarkably enough, he did not shrug her away. "Yep."
He allowed her to lead him towards the punch bowl. He also ate some pie.
END
June 2002
Huzza! Tis the Fourth of July! (by T. Waldron Shear)
Awake! Tis the loud signal gun,
Phoebus illumines the sky,
And hark to the soul-stirring drum,
Huzza! Tis the Fourth of July!
Then rally o'er mountain and plain,
Our bright starry flag waves on high,
While millions awaken the strain,
Huzza! Tis the Fourth of July!