The next trip Cord and Danny made to town with a load of fresh-picked apples resulted in an unexpected growing-up experience for Eleanor’s son. The wagon rolled down Main Street, headed for Ness’s mercantile, and just as they reached the Golden Partridge, Danny grabbed Cord’s arm. “What’s the Golden Partridge, anyway?”
“It’s a saloon, Danny.”
“Where they drink liquor?” He twisted to study it as they drove past.
“And do other things,” Cord said.
“What kinda ‘other things’? Do they have naked ladies?”
Cord laughed. “Nope. No naked ladies. They play poker and faro and gamble with dice.”
“Where do they have naked ladies?”
Cord coughed. “You sure you want to know?”
“Yeah, I’m sure!”
“And you won’t breathe a word to your ma that I told you?”
Danny nodded and sketched a big X over his chest with his forefinger. “Cross my heart.”
“Okay. We’ll drive by the naked lady place on our way out of town.”
“Gosh,” Danny breathed. “Maybe I’m gettin’ too old for lemon drops, huh?”
“Lemon drops are for Molly. I thought you liked caramels.”
“I like ’em both. But I’m sure not gonna steal any, not after I saw that jail cell in back of the sheriff’s office.”
Ness’s mercantile now sported a painted mural of winding vines and flowers against the same pale green background Cord had seen last week. Maybe young Edith Ness was expanding her artistic streak. Or maybe she was getting more serious about it.
Carl Ness, however, still exhibited his usual surliness, despite the fact that the store was jam-packed with people buying hoes and rubber boots and ribbons and chicken feed.
“Unload yer apples around the back, why don’tcha, Cord?”
Cord wondered why Carl never volunteered to help him and Danny wrestle the heavy bushel baskets out of the wagon and into the back of his store. Maybe he had a bad back. Or maybe he didn’t feel comfortable leaving his cash register untended. Or maybe the man was just plain lazy.
“Cord, look!” Danny jostled his arm. “Over there, behind the shovels.”
He turned, half expecting to see Tom Malloy. Instead, Darla Bledsoe and Fanny Moreland stood in the aisle, debating the merits of a bolt of calico. The two women spied him at the same instant.
“Cordell!” Fanny reached him first. “Why, you sweet thing, ah wager you’re bringing Miz Malloy’s apples to market.”
Darla managed to cut in front of her. “I haven’t seen you in town lately, Cordell. And just when I—”
“How is Mrs. Malloy, Cordell?” Fanny interrupted. “Is she still—?”
“Despaired of seeing y’all again,” Darla finished.
Fanny elbowed her to one side. “Is she still managing that farm all by herself?”
Cord opened his mouth to reply, then snapped his jaw shut. He sure didn’t want to get in the middle of the catfight these two ladies looked like they were working up to. He dropped one hand to Danny’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Go get some caramels for the trip home, Dan. And some lemon drops for Molly.”
“Sure, Cord.”
Darla attacked again. “I was just remarking to Mr. Ness that...”
Fanny jerked to attention. “What were y’all saying about...?”
“The flowers painted on the front of the mercantile look so beautiful. I am partial to roses, myself,” Darla purred. “What about you, Cordell?”
“Miz Malloy’s apples? There surely seem to be a lot of them this season, don’t there?”
“Yeah, lots of apples. And sure, roses are real nice.” He couldn’t remember which answer went with which lady, so he smiled at both of them and turned toward the candy counter, where Danny was choosing caramels and lemon drops.
Fanny followed them all the way out to the boardwalk, and Darla was close behind.
Cord put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Come on, Dan.” He steered the boy toward the Golden Partridge. Thank the Lord women aren’t welcome in saloons!
Inside it was dim and smoky and blessedly quiet. In one corner a poker game absorbed the attention of four men gathered around a grimy-looking table. “Okay, Dan, this is what a saloon looks like.” He stepped up to the bar. “One whiskey and one sarsaparilla.”
One shot glass and one dark bottle slid along the smooth mahogany bar. “Lemme taste your whiskey, Cord.”
He looked down into the eager face of a kid real anxious to do his growing up in a hurry. Well, what the heck? He passed the whiskey over.
“Sip it,” he ordered.
Danny swallowed down a mouthful, grimaced and shut his eyes tight.
“I said to sip it,” Cord said with a grin.
The boy opened his mouth, but no words came out. Cord slapped his back two or three times and after a moment Danny sucked in a guttural breath. “I think I like sarsaparilla better,” he said, his voice hoarse.
Cord tried hard not to laugh. He bit his lip and downed the rest of his whiskey while Danny gulped the fizzy liquid in the bottle of sarsaparilla.
“Okay,” the boy wheezed. “Now do I get to see some naked ladies?”
The bartender’s russet eyebrows went up. Cord spilled some coins onto the bar top, snagged the pop bottle and ushered the boy out onto the street. Once they were settled on the wagon bench, Cord leaned over. “You’re not actually gonna see any naked ladies, Dan. Just where they live, all right?”
“All right, I guess.” He took a big swig from his bottle of pop. “Do you have to be all growed up before you can see them naked?”
“That’s right,” Cord lied. “You have to be at least thirty years old.”
“How old are you, Cord?”
“Thirty-two. Old enough to know better.”
“Know better about what?”
“Everything, son. Young men do foolish things.”
Danny peered up at him with interest. “What’d you do that was foolish, Cord? You know, when you were young. What’d you do after the War?”
Cord looked out at the distant hills for a long moment, then ruffled the boy’s hair. “Well, I got tired of yellin’ at herds of cattle so I worked as a gunsmith for some years. Settled in town. Got married.”
“Didja ever have any kids?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“One reason is that my wife was...interested in other things. Another reason was...” He broke off. He figured Danny didn’t need to know the rest. His wife... Oh, hell, he didn’t need to rake up that old pain.
He turned the wagon down a short side street and the gray gelding clopped slowly past a rambling brown house with blue cornflowers growing in the front yard.
“You sure this is the right place, Cord? Looks just like all the other houses. They even got flowers, just like Ma does.”
“Yep,” Cord said. “Naked ladies are just like other ladies in lots of ways.”
“’Cept they’re naked, huh? Sure wish I could see one.”
“Chances are you’ve seen one already. They dress just like other ladies.”
“You think that pretty Fanny lady is a naked lady?”
Cord grabbed the sarsaparilla bottle out of Danny’s hand and downed a swallow. “That pretty Fanny lady is a lot of things, but a naked lady isn’t one of them.”
“I bet she is underneath all them ruffles.”
Cord coughed and grabbed the bottle again.
“Do you think Ma is a naked lady, too, underneath?”
“No.” Well, yes. Eleanor was most definitely naked underneath her work dress and her petticoat and her camisole and her... He closed his eyes. He couldn’t let himself think about it.
“Time to head for home, Danny. Remember, not a word to your ma about this afternoon.”
“’Course not, Cord. Us men got to stick together, huh?”
Cord bit the inside of his cheek and again closed his eyes.
* * *
“You saw Darla and Fanny in town?” Eleanor queried. “Danny said they were both at the mercantile when you delivered the apples.”
“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice noncommittal. “Forgot to tell you.”
Eleanor studied the tanned face of her hired man across the supper table. Surely any red-blooded male would remember meeting a pretty woman in town. Especially two pretty women.
But, she reflected, it was Tom and not Cord who usually went into town after supper. For some reason she didn’t really care what Tom was up to at night. Cord was another matter.
Oh, dear God, that was all backward. Backward and upside-down. And confusing. And maddening!
“What’s the matter, Ma? Don’t you like that pretty Fanny lady? Or that other one with the red hair?”
Eleanor bit down hard on her bottom lip. “Hush up and eat your potatoes, Danny.”