DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years" are the creations of Rysher Television, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not to be published on any ftp site, newsgroup, mailing list, fanzine or elsewhere without the express permission of the author.
"Maria" and all original material included in this story are the creations of Darcie Daniels.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Well, I got stuck on my Austin/Mosby/revenge story (don't you hate writer's block?), so I decided to write a lighter story to go right before it.
Here's a brief synopsis of my other stories:
Ep. 1: THE ARRIVAL -- Maria Bennett, cousin of Hannah and Austin, arrives in CW shortly after Mattie's departure. She finds that her uncle, cousin, and cousin-in-law (Call) have a bunch of problems (to say the least).
Ep. 2: THE RAIN NEVER COMES -- Two preachers come to town, pitting the townspeople against each other.
Ep. 3: NIGHT AND DAWN -- Maria and Mosby's stagecoach is attacked on their way back from Miles City. She is nearly raped, and Mosby's shares that he was in prison camp. Maria also finds out that Austin was removed from the sheriff's position due to Mosby's "quest for justice."
Now on to my next episode .... which was a lot more fun to write than my last one. :-)
Setting: Early October, Curtis Wells. Montana Territory, 1880.
"Don't be such a baby. Let me see it," Maria told him.
Mr. Call slapped her hands away. "I'm fine, damn it."
"Mr. Call," Maria reprimanded him, slapping his hands in return. "How will I know you are all right unless I take a look at it?" Again, Maria tried to touch his forehead, but Mr. Call shrugged away.
"Leave me alone," Mr. Call growled, trying to walk away from her.
"Nonsense," Maria ignored his protests, blocking his way. "You're already getting a goose-egg on your forehead. I want to see how bad it is." She grabbed his hat and held it above his head. Not only was Maria tall, but Mr. Call had the misfortune of being very short. There could be no way he could reach for his hat, unless he jumped up to get it. Maria knew that Mr. Call was never of the inclination to do anything that extravagant.
"Give me my hat," Mr. Call snapped at her. He looked very cross. "You're starting to irritate me."
"You'll think irritation when your bump starts to swell the size of a baseball," she told him, looking at his head. His wound could have been worse. At least Mr. Call was not bleeding. "You'd better put something on it. Maybe Dr. Cleese could recommend something. Let's go see." Maria put the hat lopsidedly back on his head, and then grabbed his hand, trying to drag Mr. Call towards the doctor's office. Again, he slapped her hands. His pale blue eyes stared across the street.
"Leave me be. I'm fine, damn it. This has happened before." Mr. Call straightened his hat, walked over to his bench, and fell down on it. He moved to get more comfortable.
Maria sat down beside him. "You say this has happened before, Mr. Call?" she questioned him. "Just how many times a day do you get hit on the head?"
His blue eyes looked at her only if she was a nuisance, then stared again straight ahead.
Maria smiled at him. He probably got hit on the head more times he was willing to admit. She suddenly felt mischievous. "Your first name is `Newt,' is it not?"
Mr. Call, looking at her with suspicion, only grunted in assent.
"Why did your mother name you `Newt' ?"
"How in the hell should I know?" Mr. Call looked down on the ground. He did not talk about his mother much, Maria noticed.
"Well," Maria grinned. "I think I know."
"Good for you." Mr. Call was not willing to take the bait, Maria laughed to herself.
"I think she named you after Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Call. He discovered the concept of gravity, you know."
Mr. Call looked terribly bored.
Maria chuckled, standing up. "Things kept hitting him on the head, too."
Mr. Call rolled his eyes in annoyance, then shifted his hat over his eyes.
" 'Newton' is a such lovely name," Maria sighed whimsically, ignoring his actions. "I think I shall call you 'Newton.' It's much more distinguished than just plain 'Newt,' don't you think?"
Maria heard Mr. Call swear underneath his hat. She laughed outright.
Just then, Maria saw Mr. Mosby walking out of the Ambrosia Club. He looked like he was in a fine mood in his town attire. Maria thought it would be an excellent opportunity to talk to him about her cousin Austin. Maybe today she could get Mr. Mosby to apologize to her cousin for unfairly removing him from the sheriff's position. She had been hounding Mr. Mosby ever since she discovered it.
"Well, Newton, I think I shall leave you alone now."
"Thank God."
Maria thought Mr. Call was a hoot, and she told him so. "You amuse me so, Newton. Do you think you'll be all right alone? I could get Mr. Unbob to sit with you."
"Yes, for God's sake, leave me alone. Go irritate someone else for a change."
Maria burst out laughing. He was excessively entertaining when he was in this kind of mood. "Oh, Newton, you are so silly."
When she walked away, still chuckling, she heard Mr. Call tell her, "Quit calling me 'Newton.' My name is 'Newt.' "
Maria pretended as if she did not hear him. She would keep calling him "Newton." It seemed to irritate him. Mr. Call was hilarious when he was irritated, Maria thought. She would have to keep on doing it. He was to her an endless sort of amusement.
Maria had to quicken her pace in order to catch up to Mr. Mosby. When he saw her, his eyes rolled up to the heavens out of annoyance. Too bad, Maria thought, smiling inwardly. He knew what she was going to say, and she would continue to say it until she got her own way.
"Oh, Mr. Mosby," she called out to him.
He slowed due to gentlemanly courtesy. "Miss Bennett," he smiled through his teeth, his head slightly bowing to her.
"I need to speak with you," Maria said brightly in return, falling in step with him.
"Pray tell, about what?" Mr. Mosby never made this conversation easy for her. She was beginning to think he did that deliberately.
"My cousin Austin." Every day since she found out that Mr. Mosby removed Austin unfairly from his sheriff's position, Maria made it her business to try to get Mr. Mosby to apologize to Austin. She did not understand the specifics of their dispute, but Maria did not think it mattered. All Maria knew was that Austin had never forgiven Mr. Mosby for placing him in the middle of some quest for justice. It seemed Austin's resentment turned into hate. Until recently, her cousin had behaved licentiously and looked slovenly. Only seeing his father Josiah spiral deeper in his madness changed her cousin's behavior. Austin was clean and sober at present.
"What did Austin do this time? Keep you from seeing Josiah?"
That was true. Austin did try to keep Maria from seeing her uncle. At first, Maria thought it was best that she stay away from her uncle after her trip to Miles City. She was attacked, Mr. Mosby saved her life, and she returned to Curtis Wells, bruised and battered. Her uncle Josiah, in one of his mad states over his deceased daughter Hannah at the time, did not need to see Maria in that condition. As a result, she stayed at the Lonesome Dove Hotel until she recovered. Now that she was well, Maria felt that she had the right to see her uncle, but Austin would not allow it. He moved back in the newspaper office with Josiah, and Austin had been overprotective of him ever since. Maria tried to tell him that they could work together to help Josiah, but her cousin refused. He claimed that she was trying to take advantage of his father, and he would not let her near him again. Austin needed his father so much that he was willing to cut off any source of help other than his own, Maria thought sadly. Both of them needed her help, but now she was in a position where she could be of little help at all.
Maria frowned. At least she could help her cousin by making Mr. Mosby apologize to him. "No, Mr. Mosby," she replied, "it's nothing like that." She decided the direct approach always worked best with Mr. Mosby. "You know that you really ought to apologize to Austin."
Mr. Mosby moaned in aggravation, knowing that was what she was going to say. "Miss Bennett," he reprimanded her. "Why is it that we always have this same conversation? You know, you never greet me anymore without some mention of your cousin. It ruins a perfectly pleasant day. Can't you just once comment on the weather or something or other?"
Maria had to laugh at his incredibly annoyed expression. "All right, Mr. Mosby. If you insist."
Mr. Mosby seemed surprised that she capitulated so easily. "Very well, then," he nodded, giving her an odd look. He offered his arm to her, which she graciously accepted.
She cleared her throat, keeping herself from laughing. "Why, Mr. Mosby," she began sweetly. "What a fine morning this is to go apologize to my cousin."
Mr. Mosby shook his head, amazed at her audacity. His voice lowered sardonically, "What I really ought to do instead is make you my tax collector." He grinned crookedly. "The minute they'd see you coming, Miss Bennett, they'd surrender all their money in fear, I'm sure."
Maria laughed, pleased that he would say that. "I'm wearing you down, Mr. Mosby, that I can see. Success is finally within my grasp." She made a dramatic gesture with her fist.
Mr. Mosby chuckled. "I don't think so," he argued, his golden eyes flashing. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you 'no,' but I will continue to do so until you understand my meaning. I'm not going to apologize to Austin. It's about time you know that."
He told Maria that every day, and every day she refused to listen. Her dark blue eyes actually brightened at the challenge. "Well, then, I can see we are going to have this same conversation day after day until I get my own way." Maria laughed at her next thought. "Imagine this. Fifty years from now, I'll be an old spinster hobbling up to you, demanding that you apologize to my cousin Austin. You wouldn't want that to happen, now would you?"
His eyes narrowed in thought. "No, I suppose I wouldn't. But I really don't see that happening."
"Why is that?"
"I just can't imagine you as some 'old spinster,' as you call it, Miss Bennett," Mr. Mosby smiled warmly. "You'll fall helplessly in love with some man, and he'll take you right out of Curtis Wells." He nodded, as if it were ironic. "Then maybe I'll sleep better at night."
Maria did not know why, but she felt insulted. "I don't think I'm that scary," she pouted. She did not know how to interpret his odd look. "Besides, I don't think I'll ever marry." Maria accepted that fact a long time ago. She did not need that kind of headache.
"Oh?" Mr. Mosby cocked an eyebrow, amused at her own expense. "This ought to be interesting. Tell me. I'd like to hear the reasons."
Maria could not believe she was discussing this with him. "Well, for one thing, I'm twenty-three," she sighed resignedly. "I'm far too old to marry. If someone was going to ask me, he would have asked it by now."
Mr. Mosby chuckled. "I don't believe that. Age is not hindering you, believe me. There has to be some other reason why you don't marry." He smiled playfully at her. "Go on. I want to hear this."
Maria gave him a pained look. Now he was just teasing her. "Very well, Mr. Mosby. I'll give you three other perfect reasons."
"Such as?" Mr. Mosby grinned charmingly at her.
Maria still could not believe the turn of the conversation. "Such as," she sighed, "I'm far too stubborn for some man to want to marry me. Secondly, I'm hardly the type of woman that a man would want for a wife." She ignored the disbelieving look in Mr. Mosby's eyes. "And lastly, I'm not rich enough for the mercenary types who would want me solely for my money. Besides," Maria chuckled. "What would I want with a man anyway? Aunt Elinor always told me that a husband was like your first child. I've got enough trouble with my uncle, cousin, and my cousin-in-law as it is without some other man making demands on me." Everyone in Curtis Wells knew that Josiah, Austin, and Mr. Call were Maria's first priority.
Mr. Mosby rubbed his mouth in thought, smiling despite himself. "I'm intrigued by your concept of a man making 'demands' on you." His voice lowered in a husky drawl, "Whatever could you mean?"
Mr. Mosby could only mean one thing, because usually in their conversations, he was up to no good. Maria was aware of what men and women did in private, and she blushed at his allusion to it. For some reason, Mr. Mosby liked to see her blush, and he could do that very well. "Oh, Mr. Mosby!" Maria reprimanded him.
He laughed at her. "Forgive me, Miss Bennett. I didn't mean to embarrass you."
Oh yes you did, her eyes told him.
He grinned widely at her, amused by the conversation. Mr. Mosby continued in his charming drawl, "Frankly, I'd like to know what kinds of 'demands' you'd make on your husband."
"Oh, stop being insolent." Maria thought the turn of the conversation was ridiculous. She was fast losing her patience. Mr. Mosby liked to be deliberately insolent around her, as well, Maria concluded. It did not help that Maria once told him that she liked him despite his insolence. That encouraged Mr. Mosby even more.
"No, seriously. What, or rather - who - would make the 'perfect husband' for you?" His voice lowered in dark humor. "I need to keep watch for this 'Sir Galahad,' should I ever meet him."
"I don't need anyone that noble," Maria argued, annoyance setting in her features. Seeing him lift his eyebrow in question, she continued, "If you must know, any man who would lift heavy objects without complaint will do." Maria thought there would be no one in the world that could fit that requirement. Maria had no choice but to be a spinster, she decided.
Mr. Mosby chuckled at her. "Those are high demands, indeed, Miss Bennett, if you are looking for a common laborer. But as for a husband, I think you are selling yourself too short."
Maria nodded impatiently, growing slightly uncomfortable. This conversation was bordering on silly. She sighed in frustration. "All right then. I'll add another requisite. The man of my dreams has to read _Jane Eyre_ at least once before he takes my hand."
Mr. Mosby grinned charmingly at her. "Now, there's a man of many talents - a lifter of heavy objects and a reader of gothic romance. That's quite a combination. I think you'll be hard-pressed to find any man who could do that."
Maria laughed. Mr. Mosby obviously had no clue of what she was talking about. "I think you miss my point. Have you ever read _Jane Eyre_, Mr. Mosby?"
Mr. Mosby cleared his throat. "I don't believe Charlotte Bronte is in my personal library, Miss Bennett."
"Well, she ought to be. It's a tale of justice between man and woman. Romance has nothing to do with it."
Mr. Mosby's golden eyes narrowed in thought. "I'm getting suckered here, I feel it. Very well. You're in the mood to tell me, and I'm in the mood to ask. Now why exactly is it you feel that?"
Maria chuckled. Now this discussion was turning into great fun. "Think of it. Mr. Rochester, the so-called 'hero' of the book - " Maria's nose was crinkling even thinking about it, " - lies to Jane, manipulates Jane, literally takes her down the garden path, and has the all out gall to try to lead her into bigamy. So what happens to Mr. Rochester? His house burns down, he goes blind, his hand gets amputated, and to his dying days, he is dominated by a plain, little woman. Justice was served, correct? No woman ever deserves to be treated like that."
Mr. Mosby laughed outright. "Undoubtedly, Miss Bennett. Your point is well taken." Then he grinned at her, his voice lowering warmly, "No man of honor would treat a woman so haphazardly."
Maria blushed at his smile. Mr. Mosby really was a handsome devil. "Of course he wouldn't," she finally agreed, trying to focus on something else other than the beautiful mark on his cheek. "You please me by saying so, Mr. Mosby."
"I'm very glad, Miss Bennett," he said quietly. After a moment of walking in silence, he seriously added, "I wish you luck on your quest for the perfect husband."
Maria nodded, suddenly feeling very annoyed. Then she laughed. What was good for the goose was good for the gander, Maria reasoned. She felt she had every right to question him as he questioned her. "What about you, Mr. Mosby?" Maria smiled. "Who would make the perfect 'Mrs. Mosby'?"
Suddenly he looked very troubled, his light brown eyes lost on some distant thought. His face lost all its color. Whatever world Mr. Mosby was in, he was in some hellish torture.
Maria frowned, deeply concerned for him. He looked almost ill. "Are you all right, Mr. Mosby?" Maria asked softly, gently squeezing his arm. She looked around in the street for Dr. Cleese. Where could he be?
Mr. Mosby shook his melancholy immediately. "Pardon me, Miss Bennett. I've made this conversation very uncomfortable for you, I'm afraid. Please excuse my rude behavior." He bowed to her, then left her standing in the middle of the street.
Maria was dumbfounded. Mr. Mosby's behavior troubled her very much. Some torturous thought was causing him deep pain. Maria tried to fathom what it might be. When the marriage discussion turned towards him, he looked most remorseful. Perhaps Mr. Mosby lamented over the fact that he himself had not yet married. That must be it. The town proprietor, as rich, gallant, and handsome as he was, must have been terribly lonely. Maria considered him her friend, and she could not stand by and watch him hurting. Maria sighed. What could she do? Then Maria's dark blue eyes lit with brilliance. Aunt Elinor was always good at this sort of thing. Perhaps some her talents rubbed off on her niece. Mr. Mosby needed a wife, and Maria was going to find him one. After all, Maria smiled to herself, matchmaking could not be that hard to do.
Maria pouted. Something had gone terribly wrong. She intended to observe Mr. Mosby, to find out what his interests were and to seek out what he found romantic. Only then could Maria find the perfect woman for him, and that would be that. Somehow she was derailed. And it was all her bicycle's fault.
Maria finally received her Macmillan bicycle from Maine. She had been waiting for it ever since she came to Montana Territory, and when it arrived, she was almost giddy. She could at last remember the cool air upon her cheek as she rode. Little did she know her bicycle would have to be one of her means of escape.
Unbob and Maria discovered it soon after they opened the parcel containing the shiny metal pieces. Maria watched Unbob's eyes dance as he put the bicycle pieces together. The tall, lanky man loved to assemble things, Maria noticed. He was even more excited when she told him she would teach him how to ride. Bicycles were hard to come by in Curtis Wells.
Only when the bicycle was assembled did they see the letter accompanying the parcel. Maria read it as Unbob put a bell on the two-wheeler. When she read her letter, at first Maria was thrilled, and she could hardly believe it could happen to her. Then it became a bother. What a run of bad luck, Maria thought.
She was rich. Somehow Maria had inherited $15,000. According to the details of the letter, some benefactor unknown to Maria bequeathed a large sum of money to her aunt Elinor. Since Aunt Elinor died three years ago and Maria was her only living relative, then Maria was automatically rewarded the inheritance.
Maria excitedly bought her uncle Josiah a new printing press, replacing the old, repeatedly-repaired press that was in his office. She hoped that he would return to writing the Montana Statesman, but to her disappointment, he seemed uninterested. Thoughts of his dead daughter Hannah seemed to plague him more and more, Maria reflected sadly.
She did not know what to get her cousin Austin. She doubted he would accept anything from her after the way he behaved when Josiah's new press arrived from Miles City. Maria had never seen Austin so angry. He claimed that she was only trying to buy his father, and then he stormed out of the office. He almost seemed relieved when he saw that Josiah rejected the press. The rejection did not seem to surprise Austin, though. Perhaps Josiah behaved this way towards his son, too, Maria frowned.
Mr. Call, though, was a different story. Maria knew she could not give him anything. She was hard-pressed to get him to accept anything, let alone money. She would have to find some excuse, some reason to pay him. But what job could she find for him to do? She had to find the perfect job, something that would not require him to get shot at, or, God forbid, to get hit in the head. His life was perilous as it was without Maria adding to it.
Oh, what a blasted bother, Maria thought as she pouted, sitting on the wooden walkway to the old Opera and Theater House of the Old West. No one seemed to leave her alone, either. All the men of Curtis Wells suddenly came a courting. The men flocked around her like sheep, following the irresistible smell of money. Their brains had to be the consistency of mutton stew, too, Maria knew. She wished she had a staff to beat them all off. They were a nuisance.
She rode on her bicycle to escape them, and even though they were dim-wits, the men could still follow her tracks. Maria shook her head as she sat down at the opera house. Finally, she let Mr. Mosby's man Zeke hold her bicycle. He had nothing else to do, apparently.
When she saw Mr. Mosby leave the Ambrosia Club, she took her bicycle from Mr. Zeke, hopped on it, and proceeded to weave her way through the crowd of men huddled around her. She wanted to observe Mr. Mosby quietly, so she could proceed in finding him the best match, but no one in town was going to allow her to do that. She would just have to ask him herself about his romantic interests, she supposed.
"Mr. Mosby!" she called out to him, "accidentally" running over a man's foot with her bicycle. She begrudging pardoned herself to the man.
Mr. Mosby seemed amused by her predicament and laughed at her.
Maria did not appreciate that, and she gave him a pained look as she finally rode up to him. She hopped off her bike and walked it beside him.
"As long as you're rich, you'll never be lonely, Miss Bennett," Mr. Mosby dryly commented, lighting up his cigar.
"Yes, and what a pain it is, believe me," Maria agreed, her nose crinkling. "Listen, I need to talk with you."
"Of course you do. But I have business to attend to this morning. Our discussion about Austin is just going to have to wait."
"That's not what I was going to say, though you know very well that you ought to apologize to my cousin. Now, what I wanted to say was of a more personal nature."
Mr. Mosby's drawl dropped to an even more huskier pitch than normal. "Mmm, I'll look forward to hearing all about it later then." His golden eyes drifted lazily down her form. "In person," he added. Then Mr. Mosby smiled wickedly, making Maria blush a bright red.
He looked like he needed to be reprimanded, even though Maria knew he really did not say anything that insolent. "Mr. Mosby!" she finally exclaimed, her dark blue eyes looking as pained as possible.
Mr. Mosby chuckled. "Miss Bennett, you really do amuse me, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this conversation short. I'll speak to you later."
Maria sighed. Mr. Mosby's love life would just have to wait, she supposed. "Very well, then, Mr. Mosby." She would have to question him later.
"Miss Bennett." Mr. Mosby tipped his hat and left her alone. Almost. By now, the men of Curtis Wells caught up to her. They were a blasted nuisance, Maria thought. She would have to find a way to get rid of them.
This was perfect, Maria laughed to herself as she watched Mr. Call hold the dirty ruffian by the neck.
"Give the lady back her bike," he told the no-account.
"Now, Call," the man said. "She don't need to be riding that thing."
"I ain't going to say it twice," Mr. Call said, roughly squeezing the man's jaw. Maria was delighted. This was great fun. "You're gonna give her back her bike, aren't you?"
The man seemed to be thinking about it when Mr. Call then twisted his arm. "Aren't you?" Mr. Call repeated, his mouth twisting in a small smile.
"All right, all right," the man admitted begrudgingly. Mr. Call let him go. The man unlocked Maria's bicycle from the shed, then ran away when Mr. Call's eyes narrowed at him.
"That was glorious, Newton," Maria commented, retrieving her bicycle. "Well done. Well done, indeed."
He only grunted, then began to walk away.
"You know, you really ought to do this sort of thing for a living," Maria told him, following him.
"I do," Mr. Call told her wryly as she walked the bicycle beside him.
Maria knew he was a bounty hunter. She did not particularly care for his line of work, but at least he was using the talents he possessed to bring some justice into this world.
"No, I don't mean that, silly," Maria reprimanded him. "What I mean is that you really ought to be the protector of the innocent."
"What you mean is that I ought to get you out of your scrapes," Mr. Call returned. He dryly added, "That'd be a full time job."
Maria laughed. "Oh, you are a riot, Newton. No, seriously, you ought to take up the business. There would be a lot of money to be made. Think of it," she said brightly, holding up her free hand as if picturing it on a marquee. " 'Newton Call, Esquire: Chaperone and the Protector of Women.' A couple hours of work a day, and you'd be a rich man."
He looked at her and nodded at his own assessment. "You're out of your mind."
Maria bit back her smile. "No, I'm serious. I need a chaperone with all these mercenaries around me. They think if they'll marry me they'd be rich men. A chaperone would set them straight. A chaperone would lay forth the boundaries. A man of your talents would come in handy in a situation like this."
He still did not look like her believed her. "You think I have nothing better to do than beat off all your callers?"
Maria's eyebrow raised at him. "It's better than sitting on your bench all day, Newton."
Mr. Call did not look like he agreed with that. Perhaps Maria ought to try another line of reasoning. "Well, it's better than getting hit on the head, isn't it?"
Mr. Call's blue eyes rolled up in annoyance. He told her what he thought of chaperoning. "No."
"But Newton - "
"I said 'no,' and I mean it. And quit calling me 'Newton.' "
Maria ignored his last comment as she stomped her foot in frustration. It did not matter what Mr. Call said, she stubbornly thought. She would get him to chaperone for her. Eventually.
The man's hands were rough on her as she could smell his drunken breath. He had her pinned against the bar.
"Come on," he slurred. "Give me just a little kiss."
Maria had eluded her suitors all day. While she was away, this one apparently had time to get drunk. It frightened her when the dirty man grabbed her and dragged her into the Ambrosia Club. He had her pinned against the bar, and she could not move.
She did not say a word. Horrible thoughts returned to her as she struggled to get free. It was as if it was happening all over again. She did not say a word then, and she did not say a word now. She was reliving it. It terrified her.
[The leader began to grope her, and Maria shut her eyes in agony. He touched places no one had ever touched her before. His hands were painful on her - they were squeezing, rough, and horrible. Tears stung at her eyes. This could not be happening to her. He was violating her. He was hurting her. . . .
He had a knife in his fist. It glinted as cruelly as his eyes. He was something cold, something brutal. The leader taunted Maria with the knife. The knife slowly and raggedly ripped down her bodice. Maria could feel the steel cut into her skin in places. He laughed as he moved to slash at her dress and petticoat. He jumped up, pleased with himself. . . .
"Mmm, you're really gonna like this," the leader snickered at Maria, his knee trying to pry her legs apart. "Damn," he yelled, realizing her legs were still tied. He got off from her, and cut through the bindings. He undid the fastenings to his pants, exposing himself to her. "Say hello to papa," he laughed. ]
"You son of a bitch!" She heard Mr. Call exclaim as she saw Mr. Mosby draw his revolver. They both reacted to the man accosting her.
Maria, startled out of her living nightmare, hardly knew where she was. She could only watch as Mr. Call dragged the dirty man who grabbed her out of the Ambrosia Club. She could hear her cousin-in-law kick him viciously and hit him repeatedly. She could hardly react.
"Pratt, Ike, Zeke," Mr. Mosby sighed, pointing to his men, "go stop Call." He holstered his revolver. Then he looked down at Maria in concern. "Maria, are you all right?"
It took a moment for her to calm down. Silently, she nodded. Mr. Mosby was there a couple of weeks ago when she was nearly raped, she remembered. He alone knew her terror, and he probably saw it in her eyes just now.
"It was like it was happening all over again. I thought it was all over," Maria whispered to him. Mr. Mosby nodded. She did not have to elaborate. He knew exactly what she was referring to.
He touched her back, soothing her in one, long tender stroke. It felt wonderful. Aunt Elinor used to do that, Maria remembered. It made her feel safe and protected. Tears of gratefulness welled in her eyes. They stared at each other for a moment.
"Mosby, leave her be," she heard Mr. Call order him.
She saw Mr. Mosby's golden eyes narrow as she turned around to face her cousin-in-law. Mr. Call looked positively wild as his blue eyes were lit from within. Maria had never seen him look so intense.
"Mr. Mosby was just comforting me," Maria explained. She knew that Mr. Call hated Mr. Mosby, but for what reason she could not possibly fathom. She hoped her cousin-in-law had not misinterpreted Mr. Mosby's action just now as ill-intent.
"Mosby's always there to help pick up the pieces, aren't you Mosby?" Mr. Call's mouth twisted snidely, his voice barely raised. "He's real good at that."
Maria saw a silent exchange between the two men. Apparently, they both knew what Mr. Call was referring to, and it was something that happened a long time ago. Mr. Mosby looked as if he wished Mr. Call would just let it go, but Mr. Call was intent on reminding him of a past misdeed. Maria was confused. She would find out what this was all about later, but now she wanted to prevent both of her friends from hurting each other.
"So, Newton, I suppose this means we are in business," Maria said quickly to distract Mr. Call from goading Mr. Mosby.
Mr. Call said nothing and continued to glare at Mr. Mosby. Mr. Mosby's golden eyes snarled at him in return.
"Mr. Mosby, did you know that Mr. Call has agreed to help me?"
Mr. Mosby was silent for a moment, and then said in a low voice, "Really? What could Mr. Call possibly do for you?" His eyes looked over Mr. Call contemptuously.
Mr. Call's blue eyes narrowed in coldness.
This was getting out of hand, Maria thought. She tried to ignore the animosity between the two men as she addressed Mr. Call very brightly, "Newton, I'm so glad you've decided to become my chaperone. You've done the right thing. You won't regret it, believe me."
"You? A chaperone?" Mr. Mosby laughed derisively. He stared at Mr. Call in disbelief.
That seemed to provoke Mr. Call. "That's right, Mosby," his lip curled in a small smile. "I can shoot anyone who I think's suspicious. Hell, it might even be fun to put a bullet through you."
Mr. Mosby's golden eyes narrowed. A small, almost daring smile tugged at his lips.
Maria shook her head in frustration. Both of them were insane, she concluded. They also apparently forgotten all about her as a person. They only saw her as some rope in a tug-of-war. "Well, Mr. Call," Maria said as coldly as possible, clearly enunciating his formal name. "I think we can start our little arrangement right now. I'm leaving, and you are escorting me to the hotel." She stared at him, anger hardening her face. "Aren't you, Mr. Call?"
He still glared at Mr. Mosby, but he did seem to relent just a little.
"After all," Maria thought aloud, the irony of the situation steeling her voice, "I must be protected." Mr. Call only wanted to help her when Mr. Mosby seemed to intervene. That was fine with her, though it did bruise her ego some. Mr. Call should have wanted to help her for her own sake.
"We will discuss what I will pay you on the way to the hotel, Mr. Call."
"You don't need to pay me any."
"I only want to see that you get what you deserve, Mr. Call," Maria told him coldly. Then she looked at Mr. Mosby. "That goes for you, too." She started to leave, and then thought better of it. "Oh, and whatever this is between the two of you, I know I'm not a part of it. Next time you two decide to make me an old bone to fight over, I suggest you remember your manners. You have treated me with disrespect, and in return, you only showed yourselves as juvenile. Both of you ought to know better."
Both men could only stare at her. Apparently no one had given either one of them a set-down in a long time.
That was good, Maria smiled to herself. Her aunt Elinor was always good with guilt trips. Maria hoped she acquired half her talent for it.
"Well, Newton," she smiled. "Shall we go?"
Mr. Call only shrugged. His controlled demeanor had returned.
"Well, don't just stand there. Escort me to the hotel. You gave me your sacred word of honor to protect me to my dying days. I'm going to hold you to it."
Mr. Call nodded his head in conclusion. He knew she was insane.
Maria laughed at his response. Then she turned towards Mr. Mosby. He looked like he did not know what to make of Maria and Mr. Call's little exchange. "Goodnight, Mr. Mosby."
"Goodnight, Maria," Mr. Mosby returned, somewhat perplexed.
It did not go as she planned, Maria thought as she joined Mr. Call outside the Ambrosia Club, but Mr. Call finally agreed to chaperone for her. Now maybe she could start on her plans for Mr. Mosby. She could observe him in quiet and find out what his romantic interests were. That is, if Mr. Call would let her, Maria thought. He might be an obstacle. She would have to do this one very quietly. Very quietly, indeed.
"This just might work," Maria mumbled to herself, standing in the middle of the dirty Opera and Theater House of the Old West. Maybe she could get Mr. Mosby to attend after all.
"What?" Mr. Call asked, leaning against the doorway.
"I guess we are moving the dance here," Maria covered. The men of Curtis Wells, still infinitely greedy, decided to arrange a dance in order to have a chance to get near Maria. It was the only way to get around Mr. Call, they thought, and they were right. Mr. Call was adamantly opposed to the dance. He refused to attend.
The women of Curtis Wells agreed to the dance, too. There had not been romance in the town for a long time. They helped the men arrange a church dance, but when Miss Twyla's ladies wanted to attend, they refused to allow them. They claimed they did not want their church defamed.
Maria thought that was nonsense. Women from both sides of the argument appealed to her, for after all, this dance was originally in her honor. At first, she tried to convince the church ladies to let the other women in. The dance was supposed to be pleasant and friendly - not sinister or sinful - but Maria could not persuade them. All hope seemed lost. Maria really wanted this dance - not for herself, for she really did not give a hoot about the men of Curtis Wells - but because she could finally witness Mr. Mosby in a romantic setting. Even Mr. Mosby seemed against her. He laughed, as if it were ironic, when she told him the dance would be held at the church. Then he declined her invitation.
What a blasted bother, Maria pouted. Then when she was walking with Mr. Call, she saw the old opera house and an idea formed. Why not move the dance there? It was perfect. It even had a dance hall, and it might even be larger than the church. If it was cleaned up, Maria thought that the church ladies and Miss Twyla's ladies could possibly have not objection to that neutral setting. Mr. Mosby might even come. That was the important thing.
The opera house did not look like it had been used for awhile, Maria thought as she stood in the middle of the room. Mr. Mosby, who owned the building, had it locked up for quite some time, it seemed. Mr. Mosby once told her that he would refurbish it one day, soon after he accomplished getting the railroad to Curtis Wells. He had his priorities, Maria thought. The flourishing of Curtis Wells was top on his list.
Maria got Mr. Mosby's man Ike to give her the keys to the opera house. It only cost her one dollar. Before Mr. Call became her chaperone, Mr. Ike tried to court her, too. Mr. Ike, not one to give up, tried to get her to invest in all his schemes after she blatantly turned him down. He stopped bothering her when Mr. Call assumed his duty - as did most of the men of Curtis Wells, to Maria's infinite delight. Mr. Call was not a man to fool with.
"I think we can have a dance here," Maria told Mr. Call.
"I'm not going to a dance," Mr. Call told her again.
"You don't have to dance, you know. I'll sit with you," she repeated. Maria did not intend to dance that much, either. Besides, she did not really like the idea of men pulling her close anyway. She was afraid that she might have the same reaction as she did in the Ambrosia. She had danced before, because her aunt Elinor made sure that Maria knew that social nicety, so Maria hoped she would not have a problem. It did not matter. This dance was for Mr. Mosby. She wanted to observe him interacting with the ladies.
"I'm not going to dance. I'm not even going to be there."
Again, it surprised Maria that he said that. Mr. Call had accompanied her faithfully, shooing off all her callers. She did not know why he would abandon her now. Unless it had something to do with his pride.
Maybe that was it, Maria thought. Perhaps Mr. Call did not know how to dance.
"Come here," Maria ordered, gesturing for Mr. Call to come near her.
"Why?" Mr. Call looked at her suspiciously.
"I'm not going to bite you. Come here."
He shuffled towards her. She held out her arms in the correct dancing position. He looked horrified.
"What is it?" Maria demanded. Mr. Call lost all color in his face. He said nothing.
"I only wanted to teach you to dance," she explained, dropping her arms. She felt horrible for him. He looked like he was in terrible pain.
"No need," Mr. Call finally gasped. "Hannah already taught me."
Maria's heart sank. She had wished she had known her cousin Hannah before she had died. Her death left such a terrible hole. Tears welled in her eyes as her heart felt for Mr. Call.
"I'm sure she did a lovely job," Maria commented quietly, smiling reassuringly at him. "I bet you are a lovely dancer."
Mr. Call regained his composure. He had withdrawn back into his shell again. "Nope. Never was." And then he left her standing in the middle of the room.
A solitary tear fell down Maria's face as she stood alone. The loneliness of it all overwhelmed her. She wiped away her tear. It did not have to be that way, she concluded. Comfort could be found around you, Maria fully believed, if you just reached for it. Aunt Elinor had taught her that. She missed her aunt Elinor.
It hurt to be alone.
"Miss Florie, you look beautiful," Maria commented. Florie, one of Miss Twyla's ladies, really did look beautiful. She wore a lovely dark maroon dress, and her long, dark hair was curled in ringlets. She looked elegant. Maria wished she could look like that.
"Thanks," Florie said gruffly, looking surprised that Maria even spoke to her. Most of women of Curtis Wells snubbed the ladies from Miss Twyla's who attended the dance. "You look - " she searched for a word, " - fine - too."
Maria chuckled. "No, Miss Florie," she argued. Maria knew she looked horrible. "Isn't this the ugliest dress you've ever seen?" It was, and Maria chose it deliberately. It was a putrid orange, and the hem was too short for her tall form. The sleeves were cut ugly, too. The only thing that was pretty in Maria's opinion was her hat. Maria wore the hat that she intended to give Mr. Call from Miles City. The man's hat was too big for her, but at least it hid her raggedly shorn hair. Maria thought it suited her when she added dried flowers and a bow to it.
Florie only looked at her oddly and then dismissed herself. Miss Twyla's ladies were not entirely comfortable around her for some reason.
Maria sat down, trying to watch the entrance. Mr. Mosby might come, despite his objections. She hoped he would come. Then having to dance with all these men might be worth it. She did not like them touching her, but as long as she was not backed into a corner, she was all right. She was only nervous when she was not in an open space. Luckily, most of the men did not know how to lead her into a tight area. They only danced in one spot. It bored Maria entirely. It might have been better if the men knew how to carry on an intelligent conversation while they danced, but they did not. They were too busy counting.
She wished Mr. Call was here. He did not come. He told her he would not, and he was true to his word. Then she would not have to dance with anyone if he was here, Maria knew. The men would be too afraid to ask her. Mr. Call would just sit there with her while she watched the dance.
She shook her head when another man asked for her hand. She said she was tired. Maria was, but it was more from boredom than anything. The dance was not going well.
Her pulse raced when she saw Mr. Mosby step into the building. Now she could see some real excitement, Maria knew.
Mr. Mosby gallantly bowed his head and smiled at all the ladies who turned to watch him. He was beautiful, Maria had to admit, even if he did not dress formerly for the dance. He wore his town attire. Maria frowned when he weaved his way through the dancing couples, only to order a couple of his men to follow him and then begin to leave. Oh, bother, Maria pouted. It was not fair.
She had to stop him. This was not right. She had to observe him, to see what his romantic interests were. Mr. Mosby was spoiling her plans entirely.
"Mr. Mosby!" she called out to him, rushing through the couples.
He turned and saw her. His mouth twisted in amusement when he saw what she was wearing. "Miss Bennett, don't you look, " his eyes gazed over her form, " - lovely - this evening."
"I look terrible, and you know it," she said quickly, trying to catch her breath. "Listen, you have to stay here. I won't take 'no' for an answer."
"Miss Bennett, as much as I would like to please you - "
"No, Mr. Mosby, please," Maria implored. She had to think quickly. He was going to leave at any minute. "Thank God you're here. You're the only one who can save me from this dreadful monotony."
He chuckled at her. "I'm glad you think so, but I can't stay. And forgive me if I'm wrong, but you were the one to agree to this dance, not I."
"Yes, I did. Far be it from me to keep destined lovers apart. Someone is going to fall in love during this dance, I know it." Maria did not add that she hoped it would be Mr. Mosby with some lucky woman. "To refuse this dance to the townspeople would be horribly cruel of me."
Mr. Mosby smiled at her. "I empathize with your plight, Miss Bennett, but I do have other matters I need to attend to."
"Bother," Maria mumbled. "Listen," she tried to persuade him. "Just dance one dance. Five minutes, that's all. I beg you. I bet you are the only man in town who can waltz properly. I would love to see you twirl someone around. I'm sure you are a marvelous dancer." An appeal to his vanity could not hurt, Maria thought.
Mr. Mosby laughed at her. He knew her last remark was meant to sucker him, but he chose to ignore that. "I take it from your comments that no one has 'twirled' you around yet, Miss Bennett?"
Maria could see him wave to his men not to wait for him. Maria sighed in relief. He was going to stay at least for a couple of minutes.
Maria rolled up her eyes. "Heavens, no," she answered him. "What I'd give to dance with someone who knows how to polka properly. I have to at least turn green with dizziness in order to feel satisfied at a dance. There's no twirling, there's no whirling about. All these men just dance in one place. It is infinitely boring. Just once, I wish they would let the women lead. We would take them on a merry ride, believe me."
He grinned most wickedly at her, his eyes drifting appreciatively down her form. "I'm sure you would, Miss Bennett. I can only fathom what kind of ride that must be."
He looked like he was up to no good, and when she finally understood what he was referring to, Maria turned a blazing red. Mr. Mosby had the gift that he could make her turn different shades of red at different times. "Oh!" she cried out in shock. "You are entirely insolent, Mr. Mosby!"
His Southern voice dropped in a husky drawl. "But you like me when I'm insolent. You even said so yourself."
What Maria really said was that she liked him despite his insolence, but she could not deny what he said was true. Maria did like Mr. Mosby. She liked him very much.
"Oh, Mr. Mosby, you are such a rogue," Maria told him, suddenly feeling very awkward.
He saw her discomfort and returned back to their original subject, much to Maria's infinite relief. "I'm afraid dancing doesn't work that way, Miss Bennett. Even you must admit that it would look strange should the woman lead. Not all women are as tall as you, Miss Bennett. A man would not be able to twirl under their arms with ease."
Maria giggled at the thought. "I suppose so, Mr. Mosby." Maria still felt she had a right to complain, though. "It's not like I don't know how to follow. What I need is a strong lead, and then following comes naturally for me. Dancing is give and take. You must anticipate your partner's moves, and adjust accordingly. But it should work the other way, too. The man should know what you want, and then lead you into it. You are equals. It's none of this monotonous stuff. I think it is great fun when it is done right. Don't you think so, Mr. Mosby?"
Mr. Mosby smiled at her, almost if he knew something she did not know. "Yes, Miss Bennett." He looked like he checked himself from elaborating further.
"Very good," Maria grinned. "Listen, if you don't dance with me, at least dance with someone else. I'd love to see you dance, Mr. Mosby. Look - there's Miss Florie. She easily has to be the prettiest woman in here tonight."
Mr. Mosby looked in her direction. He did look appreciatively at her, and Florie caught his eye. A small, almost knowing smile was exchanged between them.
Maria felt odd. Did Mr. Mosby see Florie at Miss Twyla's? No, Maria thought. He could not have. But then again, almost every man she knew in Curtis Wells visited Miss Twyla's on occasion - even Mr. Call. Then Maria felt suddenly angry at Mr. Mosby. Then she felt ridiculous. There was no reason why she should feel that way. It was not her place to judge. What Mr. Mosby did with his own time was his own business. Locked doors were locked doors, Maria thought.
"Go ahead," Maria ordered him, frowning. "Go dance with her." Florie was beautiful, Maria thought. She supposed Florie suited the handsome Mr. Mosby. Maria just did not know why she felt so suddenly lonely. There was a whole crowd of people, and she still felt lonely.
"I'm not going to dance with her," Mr. Mosby denied Maria, a somewhat guilty expression on his face.
"It's all right, Mr. Mosby," she reassured him. Men were doing that sort of thing for centuries. "I'm going to go sit down now. Just dance where I can see you."
Mr. Mosby looked at her, unsure what to do with her. "The role of observer doesn't suit you, Miss Bennett. You ought to be an active participant."
"I suppose dancing doesn't suit me, Mr. Mosby. It wasn't meant to be, I guess." Maria sighed, hugging herself. All of a sudden she was depressed. At least she could observe Mr. Mosby in a romantic interlude, though the thought did not have the appeal that she once thought it would. "Go on now," she repeated, her bottom lip quivering. "Go dance with Miss Florie. I want to see you cut a dashing figure across the dance floor. You'll brighten my night."
Something on her face must have made him very concerned for her. "Maria - "
"Look - there's Dr. Cleese. Maybe I'll go argue with him about the center of distribution between a penny-farthing versus a bicycle. He would like that."
"Maria, stop this nonsense. Come with me," he ordered, grabbing her hand. He took her from out of the dance into the cold night.
"Do you mind telling me what is going on here?" Mr. Mosby demanded when they were alone.
Maria did not know why, but she suddenly felt better. It must have been the cold air.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Maria lied, biting her lip. She hoped Mr. Mosby did not suspect her true intentions - whatever they were. She did not even know herself. She was here to match-make, Maria told herself. Somehow Maria just lost control of the situation. Somehow it became more muddled. She did not know what to think.
"Please, Maria. You don't lie very well. Tell me what this is all about. This dance, your comments just now - what is this?" Mr. Mosby's face then became very gentled. "Maria, I'm very flattered that you consider me worthy, but I'm not your type. You'll find the happiness you seek one day, but not with me."
When it dawned on Maria what Mr. Mosby was saying, anger hit her. It then became very clear to her. "Mr. Mosby, I don't know what you think my intentions were tonight, but they certainly were not those!"
She stomped her foot in fury, pacing the ground like a tiger. "Of all the egotistical, boastful, vain things to say! And here I was to match-make for you, and then you have to say this to me!" When she was done with her little tirade, Maria felt suddenly insulted. He apparently did not think her worthy of him. "Wait a minute - what's wrong with me?" Then she thought better of it, and then added, "No, no. I don't want to know."
Mr. Mosby's eyes narrowed in confusion. He centered on one thought. "Let me see if I understand this. You arranged all this so you could find me a match?"
Maria's anger left her instantly. It was replaced by guilt. He was not supposed to find out. She looked at the ground, in the air, anywhere, but not at him. Maria knew she had been caught. She bit her lip and waited for the storm.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he demanded of her. Maria could not help but look into his eyes. A spark of fury was there. If she did not answer carefully, Maria knew that his temper would explode upon her.
"I only wanted to help you," Maria explained, now feeling very ill. "You looked so lost the other day on the street. You were in so much pain. I thought finding you a wife would put an end to your loneliness. I just didn't want to see you hurting any longer, that's all."
"What?" Mr. Mosby raised his voice. "So you thought you could just meddle in my life as you saw fit, then? Well, let me tell you something, Miss Bennett," he said very coldly. "I don't want another wife. From now on, you keep your nose out of my affairs."
He walked away from her, and that was that. Maria felt like she had been slapped.
She was not meddling, Maria thought. She was only trying to help. She only had his best interests at heart. How could he think that? Wait a minute, Maria told herself. Another wife? What other wife? What was he talking about? Maria tried to remember exactly what he said. He clearly said he did not want another wife. Another.
"Oh my God," Maria prayed allowed. She had committed a terrible error. Of course. Mr. Mosby had been married before. It explained everything. Mr. Mosby's lost look - his horrible pain when marriage was mentioned - it meant his wife was no longer with him. Then she remembered Mr. Call's face when she tried to teach him to dance. Mr. Mosby had the same look in his eyes. Good God, Maria thought. Mr. Mosby lost his wife - she was dead, too. Maria shook her head in shame. Instead of helping Mr. Mosby, she probably hurt him terribly.
The more she thought about it, the worse Maria felt. Maria remembered the time Mr. Mosby and she had spent alone together after she was nearly raped. She remembered how she told him about Aunt Elinor.
[ ".... I loved her dearly. She was like a light in the darkness, Mr. Mosby." Maria became very quiet, her voice almost inaudible, confessing something very awkward for her. She did not know why she even felt compelled to say it. "Have you ever been in a place so awful that the only way to stay sane was to focus on something more beautiful than the hell around you?"....
She watched Mr. Mosby. He was in pain, Maria realized. He did know that kind of hell....
Maria felt compelled to ask Mr. Mosby, hoping it would help him, not hurt him, "Did you have a light, too, Mr. Mosby?"....
"Yes, Maria," Mr. Mosby sighed, his face contorting in a deep frown. "I had memories to focus on. But they're dead. My light is gone, and it won't come back.".... ]
"Oh, God," Maria mumbled aloud, praying for forgiveness. He was talking about his deceased wife. Maria should have known that Mr. Mosby had a wife. Mr. Mosby was right. Maria was nothing but a meddling busy-body. She should have stayed out of it. She had done something terrible.
Now Maria had to rectify the situation before it was too late. Somehow Mr. Mosby had to forgive her. She did not know how she was going to get him to do that.
This kind of thing never happened to Aunt Elinor, she frowned. Maria felt terribly lonely.
She knocked on the door of the Ambrosia Club. Maria knew it was late, but she hoped Mr. Mosby would let her in to talk with him.
"We're closed." She heard Mr. Mosby say from within. He did not sound like he was in a good mood.
Maria bit her lip, took a deep breath, and then knocked again.
She heard him move from within. "I told you we're - " He saw her face through the window. His face hardened, but he did open the door.
"Miss Bennett, what do you want at this ungodly hour?" he demanded as she stepped quickly inside. He closed the door behind her.
Mr. Mosby was wearing his ruffled shirt and his dark maroon vest. His cravat no longer confined him. He walked over to his bar and poured himself a drink. "A drink, perhaps? Is that what you want, Miss Bennett? A drink?"
"No," Maria gulped. He was being sarcastic. "I wanted to apologize. What I did tonight was inexcusable, I know, but I was hoping that you would forgive me."
"Fine," Mr. Mosby said. "You're forgiven. Is that all?"
The matter of his tone left much to be desired. "I am sorry," Maria reiterated, because she did not believe he had forgiven her. "I wouldn't have done that if I thought - " how could she mentioned his deceased wife? " - if I even dreamed that -" There was no possible way she could put it delicately. "I am sorry, Mr. Mosby. It won't happen again."
He took a swig of his whiskey. "No, it won't. And another thing - our discussions about Austin are closed. I no longer want to hear another word from you about it. Do you understand me? Not another word."
Maria frowned. It was not fair that he was punishing her like this. And he also dragged her cousin into it. She had to see to Austin's interests, and now Mr. Mosby would not allow her to do that, either. Maria must have really committed a terrible error. Mr. Mosby must have loved his wife very much to strike out at her so.
"She must have been incredible," Maria wondered quietly aloud about Mr. Mosby's wife. "She must have been the most beautiful thing to ever walk on earth." Maria knew she had to be. Mr. Mosby was so handsome. Nothing but an angel could suit him.
"What?" Mr. Mosby demanded, putting down his whiskey glass. "What did you say?"
Maria did not realize she had spoken aloud. She looked down on the ground. She had done it again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I don't mean to keep dredging up your past pain. I'd better go before I say something more stupid."
She was at the door when she heard him whisper, "She was."
She stopped and turned. He looked lost, staring at his whiskey bottle. Then his controlled demeanor returned. "I trust we will have no further unpleasantness. Good night, Miss Bennett."
Maria turned hesitantly, but then turned back to him again. She could not just leave him like this. She could not abandon him now. "Your wife - what was her name?"
His eyes narrowed at her. He was not in the mood to talk about it.
She sighed. Maria started this. She had better finish it. "What was her name, Mr. Mosby?"
Mr. Mosby shook his head, fatigued. "Go home, Miss Bennett."
"What was her name?"
Mr. Mosby was not going to talk to her. He only poured himself another shot.
"I bet she had a lovely name - the kind of name that just rolls off your lips. I'm sure she was really beautiful, too. She must have loved you very much. And how you must have loved her. She must have been an angel. She had to be. She must have lit up the entire room." Tears welled in her eyes. Mr. Mosby must have been very lonesome for her.
"Stop." He turned away from her. She could not read his expression.
"Love like that can never die, Mr. Mosby," Maria tried to reassure him. "You may think she's gone, but she hasn't left you. She'll always be with you. It must be such a comfort." It always made Maria feel better to think that Aunt Elinor was looking after her from heaven.
He turned angrily upon her. "A comfort?" He shook his head, the torture his wife's loss weighing upon him. "I don't know who in the hell you think you are, Maria, but you'd better leave."
Maria bit her lip. She had done it again. She still kept saying and doing the wrong things. "Oh, what it must be like - to be loved in such a way," Maria tried to explain what she could only imagine, to somehow try to explain why she said the things she did. "That must have made you feel so wonderful. She must have been an angel."
Maria did not know how to interpret his expression. She feared she had said too much. She turned, this time to leave him alone entirely.
"She was."
This time Maria did not turn to him.
"Her name, Mr. Mosby?"
After a moment of eternal silence, she heard finally gasp, "Mary."
Maria smiled, whispering it, "Mary." Mr. Mosby had known an angel, and her name was "Mary."
Maria wanted to know what kind of woman she was. "What did you love best about her, Mr. Mosby?" She had to be wonderful. Maria could imagine nothing less for him.
"It would take your entire lifetime, mine, and then some to even begin to imagine the words, Maria."
Tears fell down her face freely. That was the most romantic thing she had ever heard. She turned towards him. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Mosby." Her heart felt for him.
"I didn't ask for your pity, Miss Bennett." Mr. Mosby's butternut eyes snarled at her.
Maria's dark blue eyes shone defensively. "Well, you are not going to get it, Mr. Mosby. I feel sorry for your loss, but that is all - your loss. I would never pity a man that had the opportunity to feel something that most of us in our lifetime will never begin to imagine. I envy you more that anything. My, God," she whispered, trying to fathom the impossible. "What would it be like? To love like that? To be loved like that? It must be a little like heaven." Maria sighed. It was something entirely out of Maria's reach. She would never be able to feel what he had. No one would ever love her like that. "No, Mr. Mosby. I'm glad you had the opportunity to feel that way. It's something the most of us can only experience in our most fanciful dreams. It's a miracle."
Her eyes focused on the ground. Maria could not even dare to look at him. He did not fully understand what he had. He had so much more than she ever was going to have. Mr. Mosby really was a rich man.
"I know how it must hurt you to be alone, Mr. Mosby. It hurts very much. I am sorry for that. I really am sorry for that."
Maria really missed her aunt Elinor. Maria felt so lonesome for her that she thought she was going to cry.
"Maria - "
"I didn't mean to make you so lonesome for your wife, Mr. Mosby. Really, I had the best of intentions. I didn't want to see you alone anymore. Don't you understand? It hurts so much to be alone. Please forgive me. I committed a terrible error. Everyone's right - I'm nothing but a meddling busy-body. It won't happen again, I promise. Just forgive me."
"Maria, look at me."
She could not. It was an effort not to burst into tears right now.
She felt him take off her hat and gently stroke her badly shorn hair.
Maria felt so glad for his comfort that she wanted to give it to him, too. Her arms went around Mr. Mosby as she wept for both of them.
"I know," he whispered. "I know."
His hands stroked down her back, soothing her the same as the night she was attacked. Maria never knew of anything that felt so miraculous. It felt like heaven.
She herself knew of no better comfort, and she wanted to do the same for him. Her hands tenderly caressed him, moving slowly from his shoulder blades and gently down his back. When her hands lightly traced up his back to give him more, he pulled from her.
"Don't do that," he whispered, laughing despite himself at the sensation of it.
Maria stared at him, confused.
"Just don't," he repeated when he saw her question him.
"I just wanted to comfort you," Maria said in a small, guilty voice. She hoped she had not done something else wrong.
"I know that. I've known that all along. Thank you."
He was sincere, Maria thought as she looked him. Mr. Mosby had forgiven her. Maria sighed in relief.
"Maria, I have no doubt in my mind that one day you will find what you seek. You'll know love. Just be a little more patient."
Maria knew he was trying to comfort her now. Maria sighed. It was crazy to dwell on something that could never be. "Well," she said brightly, her spirits returning. "I don't think I need to wait any longer. I want someone to love me despite my many faults. And I want it now," she said, determination setting in her face. "As I see it, there are only two things I can do."
Mr. Mosby's eyebrow lifted. "This ought to be enlightening. Tell me," he smiled warmly.
"First, I can get me a dog. He'll growl at evil personages and wag his tail when I pay the least bit attention to him. That ought to be fun."
"Or the second option?" Mr. Mosby grinned.
"I can become a nun, and everyone will have to love me. Either way, I can't lose."
Mr. Mosby chuckled at her. "I'd personally recommend you go with the dog." His eyes roamed lazily down her body. "It'd be such a waste to see your pretty form hidden by a nun's habit. But then again, it might be entertaining to imagine what you have on underneath."
Maria's mouth dropped in shock. She did not realize that Mr. Mosby had the power to make her entire body flush. "Oh!" she finally gasped. "Mr. Mosby!"
"Miss Bennett, how you do amuse me," he commented, smiling at her. "At least, most of the time, anyway."
Maria frowned at that. Mr. Mosby only chuckled. They stared at each other for a moment. It was easier not to say anything.
"Well, Miss Bennett, are you sure you don't want a drink?" Mr. Mosby finally offered, sincerity and warmth evident in his voice.
Maria thought she had best be going. As much as she liked Mr. Mosby, she knew it probably was not a good idea to be alone with him at night. She knew it was probably not a good idea to be totally alone with him period.
"No, I - " she began, and then thought better of it. Something made her need to stay. "Yes, maybe I will have a drink. I've read all about drinking in the dime novels." She smiled mischievously. She had never done this sort of thing before. She looked at Mr. Mosby questioningly. "There is a proper procedure in ordering a drink, is there not?"
"None that anyone around here practices. But, by all means, proceed with the proper barroom etiquette, Miss Bennett. I'm sure it will be most charming." He crossed behind the bar, leaned forward, and smiled at her.
Mr. Mosby was teasing her now. She gave him a pained look. He chuckled at her. "Go on, Miss Bennett. What will it be?"
She bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. "Mr. Mosby," she reprimanded. "I can't order all the way from over here. You must let me approach first."
"Forgive me. Please, go on." He lifted an eyebrow at her expectantly.
In all the dime store novels, the hero always sauntered over to the bar. No one sauntered better than Mr. Call, Maria figured, so she proceeded in giving Mr. Mosby her most manly, Mr. Call-like saunter. She even had her hat on, so it should have looked very authentic. It even looked better when she positioned the hat over her eyes like Mr. Call did.
"A sarsaparilla, and make it quick," she ordered as gruffly as she could, keeping her eyes focused distantly on the floorboard. "Oh!" she exclaimed. She had forgotten the most important part. She slapped the bar as hard as she could. It stung so badly she had to wring her hand out.
Mr. Mosby laughed outright.
"What?" Maria demanded in annoyance. Her hand hurt like mad.
"You are going to give a man hours of entertainment, that's for certain." Mr. Mosby chuckled. "Oh, and I wouldn't let Call catch you doing that, either."
Maria laughed despite herself. She thought her impression of Mr. Call was on target, though Mr. Call never seemed to think so. He wanted to kill her when she did him doing the dagger speech from _Macbeth_. Mr. Call was all out hilarious when he was irritated.
"I love Mr. Call. He's a lot of fun."
Mr. Mosby frowned. "Yes, and your 'Newton' seems pretty attached to you, as well." He looked rather disgruntled. "We don't serve those kinds of drinks in here, Miss Bennett. I would suggest some coffee, but it is entirely too late for that."
Maria frowned in return. She supposed it was late, and Mr. Mosby himself cued her that it was time to leave. She nodded to him, slightly disappointed, and turned to go.
"Miss Bennett," Mr. Mosby stopped her.
She turned. He looked like he had some plan in his eyes.
"Mr. Mosby?"
"But it is not too late in the morning, however. Would you mind letting me buy you a cup of coffee at the Dove tomorrow morning?"
Maria was delighted. It had been a long time since anyone talked with her over a cup of anything. She remembered having great fun over tea with Aunt Elinor. "I would love that, Mr. Mosby," she said excitedly. "In a cup and saucer and everything?" Maria could still hardly believe it. This was too much.
"Yes, and with cream and sugar, if that's your pleasure, Miss Bennett," he smiled at her indulgently. "Tomorrow morning, then?"
"Why, yes. Yes. That would be lovely."
Mr. Mosby opened the door to the Ambrosia and escorted her back to the Lonesome Dove Hotel. He tipped his hat to her goodnight, and Maria especially appreciated the little twinkle in his eyes. He was gorgeous, she had to admit.
When Maria went to bed that night, she felt like the night had been successful for some entirely strange reason, though none of her plans went accordingly. For the most part, she muddled things very badly.
It did not matter. Tomorrow morning she would talk with Mr. Mosby. He did know how to carry on a delightful conversation, and Maria was still sure he knew how to waltz.
Yes, the dance was an entire success.
END 9/97
Darcie Daniels
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