Mary Quite Contrary by Amelia Smarts
Chapter Six
Ben busied himself hanging up wanted posters on the outside window of the marshal’s office. Try as he might, he couldn’t get his mind off Mary. Even the hardened criminal faces on the posters, so different from Mary’s soft countenance, could not sway his thoughts. If anything, they brought her to his mind in an even sharper focus. He felt a protectiveness toward her, and the thought of a criminal getting too close to her was enough to set his teeth on edge.
“Howdy, Deputy,” a plummy female voice called out. He looked up from the window to see Victoria Davis strolling toward him. She carried a red and white parasol, which she twirled in her hand into a whirl of pink. “Are those the latest outlaws from Austin?”
“Aye,” Ben said. “Doubt they’ll visit Thorndale, but if one of them does, hopefully someone in town will recognize him.”
“Or her,” Victoria added, tracing a gloved finger over the profile of the only woman outlaw, a bank robber related to one of the other four robbers.
Ben nodded once and returned to his task of tacking up the posters, expecting Miss Davis to continue on her way. When she didn’t, he gave her a quizzical look.
In answer to his unasked question, Victoria said, “Mary Appleton mentioned that you were interested in courting her.”
Surprised, Ben stopped what he was doing. Placing his hands on his hips, he said, “Small towns, huh?”
She laughed lightly. “Indeed, news travels fast. I’ve been Mary’s friend since we were very small. Don’t take offense if she doesn’t want to court you. She’s very smart, but sometimes she doesn’t have much sense, and I don’t just mean the sense of smell or taste, if you get my meaning.”
“I don’t.”
“She lost the ability to taste or smell anything when she got the malaria fever. Surely you noticed the food in her restaurant…” Her voice trailed off.
Ben made no change in expression, though he realized then the reason for Mary’s inability to cook well.
“She doesn’t have much experience with men,” Victoria continued. “She might not have the sense to see a good thing in front of her.” She moved a little closer, bringing her scent of cinnamon and vanilla with her.
Ben’s nostrils flared, but not from the pleasant scent. Annoyance struck him. She was flirting with him, and she wasn’t even being discreet. “So you’re Mary’s friend?” he asked, more to remind her than for verification.
Victoria’s coquettish expression drained from her face, and she took a step back. “I meant no offense, and you needn’t have any worries about me. I would never allow a man of your type to court me.”
“A man of my type?”
She gave a small, mirthless smile. “I like men who have more than a shiny badge to show off. But you might be well-suited for Mary. I was only trying to say she might need some coaxing.”
Ben drew a deep breath. He didn’t at all like this Victoria woman, and he didn’t think he was wrong to believe she had just come to him with flirtatious intentions, despite claiming to be Mary’s friend, but he didn’t want to make any unnecessary enemies. It would be best to extricate himself as politely as possible. “Thanks for the advice, Miss Davis.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, flashing him a smile. “Good luck catching robbers.”
“Thanks for that too,” he said, and tipped his hat to her before she walked away. A shiver ran through him. He felt like he’d just had a conversation with the devil.
***
Ben spent the next few days convincing himself not to run over to Mary’s Restaurant to ask Mary why she had stood him up. A million times he thought about the conversation where he’d asked her to court him, kicking himself that he’d set up the meeting so quickly after asking. He should have given her more time. He believed he still had a chance. He would give her a few days to stew on it, then he would go and ask again.
He sat alone at the marshal’s desk in the office. Clyde hadn’t arrived, so he busied himself with paperwork, filing away old reports and opening mail from the county sheriff’s office.
His work was interrupted by a commotion outside. “Hey! You there!” He heard a few more shouts and what sounded like a scuffle. The sound of footsteps running away followed. Ben was just about to walk outside to find out what the disturbance was all about, when the door to the office burst open.
The marshal pushed a handcuffed Willow McAllister in first, and he followed, slamming the door behind him. “You’ve done it this time,” he said.
Ben had never seen the marshal angry, and he had to admit it was an intimidating sight. Even Willow, who hadn’t seemed to possess much fear, was cowering, and a tear trailed down her face. She sniffled and looked down at the floor.
“What happened?” Ben asked.
“What happened is that this hooligan finally took it too far.” He took Willow by the arm and pulled her toward the cells in the back. Ben heard the sound of handcuffs being removed and the metal door to one of the cells clanging shut.
Clyde returned, holding the ring of keys. He closed the door to the back room behind him before he addressed Ben. “Willow vandalized Mary Appleton’s property last night. She broke three of her windows.”
“What?” Ben asked, standing. “Why would she do a thing like that?”
“According to Willow, Mary insulted her in an unforgivable way.”
“I find that hard to believe. Mary has been nothing but kind to her.”
Clyde shook his head. “I don’t know what goes on in Willow’s head. One thing’s for sure. She’s more troubled than I thought, and I must find a place for her to live and work if she has any hope of leading a life outside of crime.”
Ben was annoyed. “Willow vandalized Mary Appleton’s property, and you’re still more worried about her than the victim.”
Clyde frowned at him. “That’s not true, Deputy. I’m concerned for both. But I’ve decided it would be best for me to deal with Willow and for you to help Mary. Unless you’d prefer it the other way around.” When Ben gave no response, Clyde nodded knowingly. “That’s what I thought.”
“I’ll go see Mary now,” Ben said, feeling a bit chastened by the wise marshal’s words. He plucked his hat from the rack by the wall and strode into the bright morning light. He headed straight for the restaurant. Truth be told, he was glad for the excuse to see Mary again, though he certainly didn’t like that her property had been vandalized.
A small crowd had gathered outside the restaurant. The large front window had been completely shattered. Sunlight reflected off the shards of glass both inside and outside of the dining room, causing an eerie glare. People murmured and tried to look inside without getting too close.
“Go back to your business, folks,” Ben said, his voice loud and authoritative. “Rest assured that this won’t happen again, at least not by the same person.”
There was some grumbling about having to leave what was currently the most exciting spot in Thorndale, but soon the crowd broke up. Ben walked through the unlocked front door and past the double doors to the kitchen.
Mary was sitting on a stool, her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. She looked up and, upon seeing Ben, tried to wipe the tears from her eyes away with her apron.
Ben couldn’t bear it. “Aww, honey, it’ll be alright. Don’t you cry,” he said. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her.
She melted into his embrace and leaned her head against his chest. To Ben it was immediately clear that Mary trusted him and perhaps was even glad to see him. He didn’t understand why she hadn’t met him by the live oak tree, but he knew that now was not the time to question her about that. All he wanted to do was to make her feel safe, and for her to know he wouldn’t allow anything like this to happen to her again.
“You’re going to be just fine,” he said, running his hand down her hair. “And don’t worry. After this, I’m going to visit the carpenter to see about getting that window fixed. You’ll be back in business by the weekend, I reckon.”
Mary sniffled and gently pulled away, seeming to get control of herself. “Thank you, Ben. I’m sorry to be so teary. It’s just, I never would have expected Willow to do this.”
Ben scowled. Even hearing Willow’s name brought renewed anger. Mary had defended the girl and had been kind to her, and this was how Willow repaid her?
“It seems I insulted her terribly,” Mary said. “I was only trying to do the right thing.”
“What happened?”
Mary sighed. “You know how you insisted I keep the money in the register locked up?”
“Yes.”
“I took your advice. Willow noticed I started doing that and figured it was because she was here. She thought I was afraid she would steal my money.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Ben said. “Imagine that, being afraid that a thief might steal.”
Mary shook her head. “That’s just it. I didn’t think she would. Not at all. It’s like an unwritten code she has. She only steals food out of necessity.”
“That may be, but the way I see it, having her pride knocked down a peg or two isn’t the worst thing in the world. I have no sympathy for her,” he said. “I care only about making sure you recover fully from this.”
“You have to understand,” Mary said, sniffling, “we used to be friends as children. Me, Victoria, and Willow—we were together more often than apart. But while Victoria and I had a chance to become businesswomen because of our upbringing, Willow fell to the wayside. Especially after her ma died.”
“That’s unfortunate, but how is that your problem? Anyway, don’t worry about Willow. The marshal will make sure she’s taken care of and that this doesn’t happen again.”
“I hope so, but there’s only so much he can do.”
Ben felt moderately annoyed and a fair bit astonished that Mary, like the marshal, seemed more concerned about Willow than how she had been wronged. On the one hand, it made him care for her just a little more to witness her soft heart, but it also made him realize just how vulnerable she was. Safeguarding herself and her restaurant did not come at all naturally to her.
“Will you stop worrying about Willow and worry more for yourself?” Ben asked. He walked to the double doors and opened them, revealing the shattered front window. “She attacked you and your business. You’re the victim.” He could tell that his frustration was evident in his voice by the way Mary frowned at him and straightened her posture.
“Like you said, I’ll likely be back in business by the weekend.”
“And how much will it cost you to get that window repaired?” He held up his hand. “Don’t answer that. It’s rhetorical.”
Mary stood up and wiped the last of her tears away. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “I don’t understand you, Benjamin Gray. First you come in to comfort me, and now you seem to be wishing for me to feel worse about the situation than I do.”
Ben jerked his fingers through his hair. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. When he first got to the restaurant, Mary seemed distraught over what had happened, not over how Willow felt. “I don’t want you to feel worse,” he said. “It’s just… I don’t want you to feel bad about the wrong thing.”
“Honestly, Ben, who are you to decide what makes me feel bad? How controlling must you be to insist I feel a certain way about something?”
Her harsh words struck him dumb. He was surprised by the accusation. ‘Controlling’ was not a word he’d ever heard in reference to himself, and if he was honest, it stung. “That wasn’t my intent,” he said.
“If you wish to be my friend, don’t tell me how to feel about what’s happened to me.”
“Alright, Mary, alright. You’ve made your point,” he said. She seemed angrier than a wounded bear, and Ben had no wish to anger her further. He wasn’t sure how it had all gone wrong. He’d come to make sure she was coping after being victimized, but it appeared he had only made things worse. He placed his Stetson on his head. “I’m going to visit Arthur now to see about getting the glass cleaned up and the window fixed. If you need anything else, I’m here for you.”
“Goodbye,” was her only reply.
He left, shaking his head as he walked past the shattered glass in the dining room. For the rest of the day as he did his various errands, Mary’s harsh words reverberated in his ears. Surely he wasn’t deserving of such scorn. He didn’t believe so. But whether it was deserved or not mattered little. Mary was bothered by his presence, and that meant courting was off the table—for now. He didn’t give up completely because he remembered tender moments from their interactions—the kiss, the way her eyes lit upon seeing him, and how she leaned into his embrace. He was sure she felt something for him, but for now whatever good she felt seemed buried under a certain level of dislike.