can I talk with you alone a minute?”
Puzzled, Miles made the familiar gesture of smoothing his black hair over the little bald spot. Then he gestured to his assistant to take over and led the way to the storeroom in the back of the store. They sat face to face on wooden crates while Anne told James Miles the story she had told Sheriff Reynolds quickly and concisely.
She finished with, “So, you see, Mr. Miles, I’m here with my husband for supplies. I know I can’t ever be friends with your family the way it’s been in the past, but I’m hoping we can still at least be friends.”
Miles tried to argue with her. “You can’t be serious about this. No matter what’s happened you know you have friends who will help you. You don’t have to live out there with that, that….”
Anne felt a small curl of anger begin but squelched it. She didn’t want to lose this friend. “That man is my husband, and he’s a much better husband than I ever thought I’d have. I like him.”
He looked at her in dismay, but Anne could tell her story had moved him.
“You know Randal will never even let Rachel say hello to you in the street and a lot of others will feel the same?”
“Yes, I know. I’ll be grateful if you aren’t one of those others.” Everything has a price thought Anne.
“All right, then. You have a list?”
She felt relief surge through her, and as they walked out of the storeroom, stopped and hugged him. “Thank you.”
He patted her shoulder. “Now, now, that’s enough of that. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
The store was beginning to fill with women who didn’t seem to need to buy anything. Anne realized word was spreading that she was in town with Cord, and every busybody was eager to find out what was going on for herself.
Miles began to pull the items on the list from his shelves, and Anne shopped around, picking up other items on the list and, guiltily, a few that weren’t. Finally, she had everything, and she headed for the counter while Miles began to total the bill.
Beside her she heard the shrewish voice of Emma Wilkinson, the most vicious of the town harpies. “Surely, James, you’re not going to wait on an Injun’s woman while decent folk wait.” It was not put as a question.
Miles looked up and said, “Now, Emma, there are circumstances….”
Mrs. Wilkinson didn’t wait for him to finish but interrupted. “There are no such thing as ‘circumstances,’ and you know it. A decent woman would choose death.”
No one had heard Cord pad in on moccasined feet. His voice was extra polite but very clear and carried over the whole store. “Mrs. Wilkinson, you’d never have to make a choice. My grandfather was an ignorant, illiterate savage, but if he’d captured you, he’d have just slit your throat. Even an ignorant savage knows better than to fuck a bitch.”
Mrs. Wilkinson’s face turned deep puce and she seemed to be gasping for air. Anne was afraid for a moment that the woman would faint at her feet, but with a strangled sound Emma ran from the store as if pursued by furies.
Trying very hard to keep a giggle inside, Anne peeked up to see Miles frowning at her.
Cord’s voice came again, drawling, but still clear, “I didn’t think a decent woman would even know what I was talking about.”
Still meeting James Miles’ disapproving gaze, Anne lost control, and the giggle escaped.
Still frowning slightly, Miles said, “Anne, girl, I sure hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
She grinned at him mischievously. “It’s really not a problem, Mr. Miles. I’m so decent I can’t understand half of what he says.”
She laughed to herself the whole time Cord paid the bill and he and Miles carried the supplies to the wagon.
In the street, Cord muttered without looking at her, “Thought you’d be mad.”
“Why should I be mad? You just fixed it so there isn’t a woman in town who’d have the nerve to say an unkind word to
Puzzled, Miles made the familiar gesture of smoothing his black hair over the little bald spot. Then he gestured to his assistant to take over and led the way to the storeroom in the back of the store. They sat face to face on wooden crates while Anne told James Miles the story she had told Sheriff Reynolds quickly and concisely.
She finished with, “So, you see, Mr. Miles, I’m here with my husband for supplies. I know I can’t ever be friends with your family the way it’s been in the past, but I’m hoping we can still at least be friends.”
Miles tried to argue with her. “You can’t be serious about this. No matter what’s happened you know you have friends who will help you. You don’t have to live out there with that, that….”
Anne felt a small curl of anger begin but squelched it. She didn’t want to lose this friend. “That man is my husband, and he’s a much better husband than I ever thought I’d have. I like him.”
He looked at her in dismay, but Anne could tell her story had moved him.
“You know Randal will never even let Rachel say hello to you in the street and a lot of others will feel the same?”
“Yes, I know. I’ll be grateful if you aren’t one of those others.” Everything has a price thought Anne.
“All right, then. You have a list?”
She felt relief surge through her, and as they walked out of the storeroom, stopped and hugged him. “Thank you.”
He patted her shoulder. “Now, now, that’s enough of that. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
The store was beginning to fill with women who didn’t seem to need to buy anything. Anne realized word was spreading that she was in town with Cord, and every busybody was eager to find out what was going on for herself.
Miles began to pull the items on the list from his shelves, and Anne shopped around, picking up other items on the list and, guiltily, a few that weren’t. Finally, she had everything, and she headed for the counter while Miles began to total the bill.
Beside her she heard the shrewish voice of Emma Wilkinson, the most vicious of the town harpies. “Surely, James, you’re not going to wait on an Injun’s woman while decent folk wait.” It was not put as a question.
Miles looked up and said, “Now, Emma, there are circumstances….”
Mrs. Wilkinson didn’t wait for him to finish but interrupted. “There are no such thing as ‘circumstances,’ and you know it. A decent woman would choose death.”
No one had heard Cord pad in on moccasined feet. His voice was extra polite but very clear and carried over the whole store. “Mrs. Wilkinson, you’d never have to make a choice. My grandfather was an ignorant, illiterate savage, but if he’d captured you, he’d have just slit your throat. Even an ignorant savage knows better than to fuck a bitch.”
Mrs. Wilkinson’s face turned deep puce and she seemed to be gasping for air. Anne was afraid for a moment that the woman would faint at her feet, but with a strangled sound Emma ran from the store as if pursued by furies.
Trying very hard to keep a giggle inside, Anne peeked up to see Miles frowning at her.
Cord’s voice came again, drawling, but still clear, “I didn’t think a decent woman would even know what I was talking about.”
Still meeting James Miles’ disapproving gaze, Anne lost control, and the giggle escaped.
Still frowning slightly, Miles said, “Anne, girl, I sure hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
She grinned at him mischievously. “It’s really not a problem, Mr. Miles. I’m so decent I can’t understand half of what he says.”
She laughed to herself the whole time Cord paid the bill and he and Miles carried the supplies to the wagon.
In the street, Cord muttered without looking at her, “Thought you’d be mad.”
“Why should I be mad? You just fixed it so there isn’t a woman in town who’d have the nerve to say an unkind word to
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