Mary Quite Contrary by Amelia Smarts
Chapter Two
Benjamin Gray opened the door to the marshal’s office at eight o’clock on Monday. Marshal Clyde still hadn’t arrived, so he busied himself cleaning out the cells. As he emptied a pitcher of dirty water, he mused to himself about how different his life was now. When he’d joined the Texas Rangers in Austin eight years back, his days had been filled from sunup to sundown chasing horse thieves, arresting outlaws, and investigating murder. Since leaving his position in Austin to work in Thorndale, his most thrilling encounter had been between two neighboring farmers who had each insisted on being the rightful owner of a one-acre lot next to the two properties. Before guns were drawn, Ben had managed to talk them down by saying he would write to the county to request the official papers indicating the properties’ borders. He doubted such papers existed, but his suggestion was enough to pause the feud.
After the incident, Marshal Clyde had thanked him. Though Ben had a reputation for being the fastest gun west of the Mississippi, it was his Austin superiors’ account of his ability to quell people’s anger that had caused Clyde to hire him, and the marshal seemedglad for the evidence that he’d made the right choice.
But Ben wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing in moving to Thorndale. He’d pictured something different. Something a little more exciting. And while Thorndale had been reputed as rapidly growing, to him it seemed like a sleepy little town, especially compared to Austin.
Clyde had given him the undercover job of keeping an eye on Mary Appleton. Several months before Ben arrived in Thorndale, Mary’s parents had moved to Haverton to establish another restaurant, leaving Mary in charge of the bustling Thorndale eatery. They requested that the marshal make sure she wasn’t taken advantage of by any passersby or residents. Most of the townsfolk were trustworthy, but according to Clyde sometimes the town had transient troublemakers.
Ben had guessed the assignment would be as boring as everything else he’d been doing, but setting eyes on Mary Appleton yesterday had given him his first genuine bolt of excitement since moving to the small town, and he hoped he hadn’t made too terrible of a first impression.
“Idiot scalawag,” he muttered under his breath, recalling the way he’d startled her by appearing in her kitchen while she was busy working. She’d been justifiably annoyed, and he hadn’t been able to save the encounter despite his attempts at friendliness. He should have waited until she was done with her work at least, but he’d been eager to make her acquaintance after spotting her at the doorway to the kitchen, looking so fresh, youthful, and remarkably competent.
He’d lied to her about the food. The chicken was burnt and the carrots were the consistency of mashed potatoes. But he was no food critic and couldn’t have cared less. For him, eating was little more than a chore, something that was required for the human body to function, but not anything special.
Marshal Clyde arrived at the jail around nine o’clock. In his typical sauntering gait that matched his towering height, the marshal made his way to his desk.
“Mornin’, Marshal,” Ben said.
Clyde nodded at him. “Got a job for you, Ben. Come sit down, will you?”
Ben sat on the other side of the marshal’s long desk and patiently waited for Clyde to unlock his top drawer, pull out some paperwork, and take a few bites of an apple he’d brought. All of the marshal’s movements were unhurried. Ben wondered if he’d always been so slow, or if perhaps the death of his wife several years back had caused sadness to dull his will to rush for anything.
Ben thought to himself that it was probably good for the people of Thorndale that Ben had taken the job as Clyde’s deputy. If any truly serious crime, such as murder or bank robbery, were to happen, he couldn’t imagine the marshal being able to take it on alone. It wasn’t that Clyde was dumb or lazy—not at all. Ben could tell he was wise and hardworking, but it seemed that he lacked the ability to act swiftly, when such an approach would be necessary if anything dangerously criminal happened in the small town.
After swallowing a bite of his apple, Clyde finally spoke. “There’s a girl in town who lives on the street. Well, not really a girl. She’d be about eighteen now, I reckon. Always causing trouble. She steals because she’s hungry, and she wrecks property because she’s angry. I’ve locked her up a number of times, mostly as an excuse to give her a meal and keep her out of trouble for one night.”
Ben nodded. “You’re talking about Willow McAllister.”
“Ah, so you’ve already heard of her. Not surprised. She has a reputation. She’s a pain in the ass. I’ve tried to put the fear of God into her, but at this point I suspect she knows I’m full of bluster. She knows I won’t ever charge her with anything serious. I’ve known her since before she could walk. You, on the other hand—”
“I might be able to scare her straight, since I could be meaner than a disturbed hornet’s nest for all she knows.”
Clyde nodded. “Precisely. Her latest stunt—she stole two pies right from the window of Mary’s place. That gets me steamed up because I know Miss Appleton wouldn’t hesitate to give her a free slice if Willow only asked.”
“I see. That’s what Mary’s parents were worried about. She probably didn’t think to secure the pies.”
“You’re right, though I dislike that this town has become a place where one must safeguard food. Willow knows she can come here too if she’s hungry, but she’s too proud to ask.”
“Leave it to me,” Ben said. “I assure you that in the future Willow would rather ask for food than steal it and face the consequences.”
***
He found Willow behind the livery, sitting cross-legged on the dirt and licking her fingers over an empty pie pan. She looked much younger than eighteen, due in large part to the two braids hanging down over each shoulder. She wore men’s trousers with suspenders and work boots that appeared a couple of sizes too large. Though clearly poor, she appeared healthy and well-nourished, leading Ben to believe she must be quite adept at stealing food. It struck him that she had to be an especially brazen sort, since she had no qualms about eating the stolen food in the open, almost as though she was daring someone to take her to task on it.
Willow looked up from the pan as he approached, stared hard into his eyes, and licked the remaining pie filling from her forefinger without breaking eye contact.
Ben had already thought about what he would say to her, but he was temporarily struck dumb by the sheer nerve of her action. Ever since first pinning a Texas Ranger star to his chest at the age of twenty-one, most people exhibited at least a guise of respect, but this girl didn’t seem to have a respectful bone in her body—or a yellow one for that matter.
He shook his head. “You’ll pay for that pie, Willow McAllister, and for the other one you stole.”
She let out a scoff. “Can’t. Ain’t got no money.”
“Then I reckon it’s time someone took it out of your hide. Is that what you want? Stand up.”
She remained seated. “I think I’ll stay where I am.”
Ben had anticipated that answer. He reached down, took hold of her arm, and hauled her to her feet, causing the pie pan to slide off her lap to the ground, making a ping sound as it bounced once on the hard dirt. “When an officer of the law orders you to stand up, young lady, you stand up.”
She tried to wrench her arm free, but Ben held on firmly, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to be uncomfortable. A slew of very unladylike words fell from her lips as she struggled against his grasp.
“Hush,” he said. “Now look here. This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to assist Miss Appleton with chores around the restaurant every day for as long as it takes to pay off those pies.”
“Fine,” Willow growled. “Let me go, you big brute.”
“You have yet to see me being brutish, but let me assure you, that’s exactly what you’ll get if you ever steal again. I’ll take off my belt, pull down your britches, and give you a whipping that’ll be heard all around town.”
Ben had no intention of whipping her, no matter what she did, but Willow didn’t know that. She stopped struggling and snarled, “Fine, I’ll work to pay off the pies. Just let me go.”
Ben released his grip on her arm. Adding some steel to his voice, he said, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m like the marshal. Unlike him, I have no soft spot for thieves. Now get out of here before I tan your hide right here and now.”
As Willow took off running, Ben turned to find Mary Appleton staring at him, standing as stiff as a board. Her face was red and her lips parted as though to speak, but she closed her mouth and swallowed hard instead.
Ben groaned inwardly. On their first meeting, Mary saw him as rude and intrusive, and now on the second meeting, she’d witnessed him threatening a young woman in a tone he reserved for criminals. He wished he had chosen a different time to tell Willow off. He didn’t regret doing it, only that he’d unknowingly had Mary as an audience.
“She’s agreed to help you around the restaurant to work off the pies,” he told Mary.
Mary fidgeted with the lace at her wrists and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking almost guilty, like she’d been the one on the receiving end of a scolding and not Willow. When she spoke, her soft voice had an accusatory edge. “Willow is harmless and homeless. It’s no grave sin that she stole the pies. I would have given them to her.”
“I’m sure you would have, but the point is that she didn’t ask. She stole them. Do you believe stealing should go unpunished?”
“Of course not,” she exclaimed. “I’m not saying what she did was right, but…”
“But you think I was too harsh?” he guessed.
She shrugged and looked down at her feet. Ben felt renewed regret that she’d witnessed the exchange between him and Willow. He’d been given the task of looking after Mary while her parents were gone, and if she didn’t care for his presence that would be a hard job to accomplish. Plus, as much as he wanted to think his interests in Mary’s well-being were strictly professional, he couldn’t kid himself. She sparked desire in him and stoked his protective instincts.
He couldn’t name what it was about Mary that so interested him. While attractive, she wasn’t glamorous like many of the women in Austin. The style of her dress was practical. She wore a loose-fitted frock with the only embellishment being lace around her wrists. She had a delicate long neck, slender fingers that would play a piano well, and a shy look in her brown eyes. Those were the only features that indicated feminine softness. The rest of her appeared strong and sturdy, with a straight back and the firm, tanned arms of a pioneer.
He wanted to show her there was more to him than rough edges. A tickle of thirst in his throat gave him an excuse. “Might I escort you back to your restaurant, Mary? I’m awfully thirsty, and a glass of cold water with some of that ice you’ve got would go a long way in fixing that.”
Her face softened, and her tight shoulders relaxed. “Of course. I have just the thing to quench your thirst. Better than water.”
Ben could see that he’d finally made a good move with Mary. Once they were inside her restaurant, she was in her element. She poured some ice and lemonade into a glass etched with a grapevine design. This was the kind of thing he liked about the restaurant. Though located in a tiny town, certain touches like ice and etched glasses made a person feel like he was dining fine in a big city.
“Won’t you sit down,” Mary said, indicating a table near the window with a red-checkered tablecloth. She placed the glass of lemonade on the table.
After she’d sat in the chair across from him, he said, “I wouldn’t do what I threatened to do with Willow, you know. I’m not in the habit of whipping young women.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I feel I must, lest you think I’m a brute.”
Her head tilted to one side. “You seemed to want to appear that way.”
“Only to Willow. Not to you.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips. He smiled fully back at her and watched as a blush crept up to her ears. He thought it was adorable that she blushed so easily, but he also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable again, so he didn’t take the subject further. Instead, he took a sip of lemonade, and then another. “This is delicious,” he exclaimed.
“You sound surprised.”
He was. “It’s even better than everything I tasted yesterday, including the pie.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to sit up straighter in her chair. She didn’t say anything in reply, but it looked to him like he’d offended her. He couldn’t understand why. He had only complimented one of her concoctions over another. “Of course, the meal yesterday was delicious as well,” he lied tentatively, hoping to undo whatever damage he’d inadvertently caused. He didn’t make a habit of lying unless it spared someone’s feelings. There was no need to maintain a high moral ground when it resulted in an insult.
Her mouth softened and she smiled. “I cooked everything yesterday, but my helper Carolyn made the lemonade. I’ll let her know you enjoyed it.”
He understood then why she had been offended over his compliment of the lemonade. He wondered why someone who couldn’t cook was in charge of the only restaurant in town. He felt a little bad about it because she didn’t seem to know that her food didn’t taste good. Was the whole town in on making sure her feelings weren’t hurt? That seemed in line with what he knew about Thorndale, a place where thieves were let off with warnings. It didn’t seem like such a stretch that the kind folks of Thorndale would also remain mum about a cook who couldn’t cook.
“I’m afraid I haven’t made a very good impression on you so far,” he said. “First I interrupt your work, then I threaten a girl with punishment, and finally today I say the wrong things.”
She was quick to shake her head. “Oh, no. It’s I who has made a bad impression. I was quite contrary when you walked in the back door yesterday, but that was only because I was busy and surprised. I didn’t know what to say.”
“You strike me as the opposite of contrary,” Ben assured her. He finished the lemonade and stood up to leave. He insisted on paying for the drink, though she argued that she was only being neighborly.
“Don’t be so neighborly that you don’t earn your keep,” he said, sounding sterner than he meant to be.
It was then that she accepted the money. “Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes downcast.
Ben wondered if he had once again offended her. He hoped not, but he had a job to do, and it included protecting Mary, even from repercussions of her own kindness.