Three days before the rodeo, Portia was working in her office when her uncle Rhine stopped by. “How are the letters coming along?” he asked. “Do you need my help?”
“No. I’m almost done.” She was sending out letters to all the guests scheduled for the rest of the spring and summer to let them know that due to circumstances beyond the hotel’s control, the dude ranch was closed and their deposits would be refunded. “I received a few cancellations even before I sent out the letters from people who’d read about Geronimo’s escape in the newspapers. Many of the wedding parties from back East have already cancelled as well.”
“Not something I like hearing but it’s understandable.”
“On a happier note, I’m also sending out letters on my own behalf.”
He looked confused. “Concerning what?”
“I’ve decided to open my bookkeeping business, so I’m alerting some of the other businesses to the services I plan to offer.”
A smile spread over his features. “That’s wonderful, Portia. You and I talked about this a few years back but I thought you’d given up on the idea.”
“No. I was just afraid I’d fail,” she admitted.
He stilled and studied her for a moment. “Takes a strong person to admit something like that.”
She nodded and thought about Kent’s support. “I plan to keep doing the books here though, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course, but you may become so successful I’ll have to increase your salary to keep you on.”
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere and what you pay me now is just fine.” He’d given her her start. She’d always be grateful for his faith in her abilities, no matter what the future held. “Any advice for me?”
He thought for a moment. “Yes. Don’t listen to naysayers about what you can’t do, and get up every day and do your absolute best.”
“Thank you, Uncle Rhine.”
“You’re welcome. Proud of you, Portia.”
She was proud of herself. That she might fail still loomed inside but it wasn’t consuming her anymore. “So what’s happening with the search for Parnell? Are you going to be discussing a posse at the Ranchers Association meeting this evening?”
He looked frustrated. “No. The meeting’s been cancelled because none of the White members wanted to leave their homes because of Geronimo.”
She was frustrated by that news as well. Were Farley and Buck ever going to get the justice they deserved?
Rhine did have a bit of comforting news. “The sheriff dropped off one of the Wanted flyers earlier today.” He removed the folded bulletin from the inner pocket of his suit coat and passed it to her.
“This is a very good likeness,” Portia said, looking at Parnell’s unshaven thin face.
“The sheriff’s daughter drew it. He said she’ll be going back East to one of the art schools in the fall. He had enough of them printed to put up in town and to pass out around the territory to other lawmen.”
“Let’s hope it helps,” she said.
“I agree.”
Portia passed the paper back to him.
“I’m going to let you get back to work, but again, I’m real proud of you, Portia. If I can be of any assistance let me know.”
“I will, Uncle Rhine. Promise.”
He nodded and left her alone.
Smiling, she went back to work only to have Regan stick her head in the door a few minutes later. “Are you coming to the meeting? Everyone’s here. We’re waiting on you.”
For a moment, Portia had no idea what her sister was talking about, but then she remembered the Tucson Good Works Society was meeting that afternoon. She jumped to feet. “Oh shoot. I’m sorry. Let me get my report. I’ll be right there.”
“You really need a keeper,” her sister said with a shake of her head as she left.
Portia stuck out her tongue at the empty space and searched out the papers she needed.
The tradition of women of the race forming groups to assist and uplift their communities could be traced back as far as 1793 when the lady parishioners of Philadelphia’s Episcopal Church of St. Thomas, the first Black Episcopal church in the nation, formed the Female Benevolent Society of St. Thomas. In the years since, women of color nationwide built on that tradition by coming together to support everything from abolition to literacy to the caring of the sick, elderly, and the destitute in their neighborhoods, and since the passage of the Fifteenth Amendment, female suffrage.
The Tucson Good Works Society was founded ten years ago. It was a small group but, like others, dedicated to caring for their community. Portia was the secretary. Her aunt Eddy served as the current president and opened the meeting. The first order of business was to formally approve the plan to attend the convention in San Francisco. In spite of the ill-mannered Ada Jakes, Portia continued to look forward to the event. Regan headed up the group’s volunteering efforts and reported on the campaign to help provide supplies for the small school run by Mamie Cordell out of her home. “There was enough money left over from our last fund-raiser to purchase more readers and enough paper and pencils to last the rest of the school year.” Although there were only five children enrolled, every educated child was an asset to the race.
The meeting continued with a discussion of ways they might help alleviate the suffering caused by the appalling conditions at the San Carlos reservation. Although a hundred women and their children escaped with Geronimo, many more stayed behind.
“We’ve contributed clothing in the past—maybe we can increase our donations,” restaurant owner Sadie Welch suggested.
Portia added another idea. “What if we send letters to some of the large churches back East like Mother Bethel and St. Thomas in Philadelphia to ask for their help? I know the Apache aren’t our race but if people knew about the deplorable conditions, maybe they’d be moved enough to lend them aid.”
The women thought that to be a wonderful idea and after a lengthy discussion decided to implement both suggestions.
When the meeting ended, Eddy thanked everyone for coming. She, Portia, and Regan walked outside to see the ladies off. After their departure, Eddy left for the kitchen to supervise the food that would be going to the upcoming Lane rodeo, and because she didn’t need their help, Portia and Regan sat outside at one of the tables beneath the oaks.
“I always feel good after one of our meetings,” Portia said.
“I do, too. Helping people should make you feel good, don’t you think?”
Portia agreed.
“Speaking of feeling good, I’m being nosey but have you had the chance to use your sponges yet?”
“You are being nosey. But the answer is no. We haven’t had any time alone. He’s been over at the ranch house digging up all the charred wood from the fire and hauling it away. By the time he gets back here, he’s so exhausted from working in the heat, he’s been going straight to bed after dinner.”
“You should sneak him into your room some night soon or sneak into his.”
“With Rhine and Eddy just up the hall, I think not.”
“I forgot about that.”
“Good thing one of us is still thinking clearly.” Portia shook her head with amusement. She loved her sister and hoped life never parted them. She wouldn’t know what to do if it did. “Now, my turn to be nosey. What was it like—that first time and why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Regan hesitated. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d approve.”
Portia looked into her sister’s serious eyes. “Sadly, you’re probably right.” Portia didn’t know if other sisters shared such secrets but thought maybe not due to how personal it was.
Regan added, “And the first time was terrible. Neither one of us had any experience so we didn’t know what we were doing. It was kind of painful, too, but—”
Portia went still. “But?”
“The next time. Oh my word. I wanted to shout, ‘Hallelujah.’”
Portia laughed. “You know society says women shouldn’t be having conversations like this.”
“Society also thinks we’re not smart enough to vote, you shouldn’t love numbers, and I shouldn’t deliver the mail. Society can kiss my mare’s behind.”
Portia agreed, but Regan’s description of her first time was troubling. “Was it really painful?”
“It was, but you’re at an advantage.”
“Why?”
“Kent was a cat house king. He’ll know what he’s doing, which means you’ll be just fine.”
The next day, Kent rode with Rhine and Eddy to Tucson to meet his father, who was coming in on the evening train from Chicago. Kent wasn’t sure how the visit would go or how long his father would be staying, but he promised himself he’d keep an open mind with the hope everything would go well.
When the train arrived, Oliver Randolph, leaning on a cane, stepped off the train with his wife, Sylvia, and her great-niece, Ruth. Eddy and Sylvia, upon seeing each other, let loose squeals of joy and immediately embraced like the long-time friends they were. Kent, followed by Rhine, embraced Oliver as well, and Kent had to admit it was great to see him.
“You look good, son,” Oliver said, assessing him.
“You do, too,” Kent replied. Truthfully his father looked frail and seemed to be moving much slower than the last time they’d seen each other a few years ago. The cane was new, too, but he chalked that up to Oliver getting up in years. “How was the trip?”
“Long,” Sylvia said, giving Kent a hug and a peck on his cheek. “You’re as handsome as ever.”
He smiled around his embarrassment.
She then said, “Everyone, this is my great-niece, Ruth Adams.”
The young woman accepted their greetings shyly. She appeared to be in her early twenties, had a pretty heart-shaped face and warm brown skin, and her frame was tall and thin. She shot hesitant glances Kent’s way, making him wonder just what his father had told her and what her expectations of him might be. He figured he’d find out soon enough. Once their trunks were gathered and placed in the boot of the Fontaines’ buggy, Oliver’s party piled in. Kent mounted Blue and they struck out for home.
Portia and Regan, along with a small army of female volunteers spent the day over at the Lane ranch helping Julia with the setup for the rodeo. There were tables to wash down, lanterns to hang from the trees, chickens to pluck, and decorations to put in the barn for the dance. By the time they rode for home that evening, they were exhausted and ready for dinner. Portia knew that Kent and her aunt and uncle had ridden to Tucson to meet the train, so when she and Regan returned, seeing Oliver, and his wife, Sylvia, wasn’t a surprise.
However, the visitors were surprised. Sylvia said, “Oh my goodness. Look at how you two have grown up!”
Portia and Regan had been in their teens the last time the Randolphs visited the Fontaines.
Oliver added, “Beauties, too. Just like your aunt.”
Portia was pleased to see the smile on Kent’s face. She hoped it meant he and his father were enjoying each other’s company so far.
They were then introduced to Sylvie’s great-niece, Ruth. Portia thought she seemed pleasant enough. She was a teacher, which Portia always considered an honorable and valued profession until meeting the pompous Edward Salt. She realized she hadn’t seen him or his parents in some time. She hoped that meant they’d given up their quest to squirm their way into Rhine’s good graces and had left Tucson.
At dinner the conversation flowed around the table about the upcoming rodeo, how old friends were faring back in Virginia City, Geronimo’s escape, and more. Portia noticed that Ruth kept looking at Kent. The observations were discreet and short but he was definitely her main focus. He was so engrossed in the lively conversation that if he noticed Ruth’s interest he didn’t let on, and Portia had to wonder what it all meant. Had the woman developed an instant attraction to him in the way Elvenna Green had? And why did Portia feel the urge to shake her and demand that she stop looking at him? Lord, I’m jealous! That admission might have surprised her if she hadn’t suffered similar feelings with Elvenna. Previous to her, Portia had never had a reason to be jealous because she’d never been taken with a man before, nor had she ever had to compete with another female for her place at a man’s side. This was all new territory, so rather than behaving in a manner that would embarrass herself and everyone else at the table, she turned away from Ruth and concentrated on the meal and the conversation.
Kent was indeed aware of Ruth’s interest. Every time he glanced up, their gazes met and hers would go racing away. He planned to get his father alone as soon as possible to find out what he’d told the young woman. He was also keenly aware of the muted fire in Portia’s eyes. He’d caught her shooting daggers at Ruth when she thought no one was looking. Had she noticed the young woman watching him and become jealous as a result? He’d chalked it up to his imagination, but as his father told Rhine about Virginia City’s annual baseball game between the Black and White members of the area’s Republican party, he saw a very distinct chill in her gaze. Portia jealous? Interesting.
His father’s question brought him back to the present, “So, where are you living, son?”
“Here, temporarily.” And he explained the circumstances that led to him living with the Fontaines.
Oliver turned to Ruth. “Now, had he gone ahead and finished his medical studies, he’d be in an established practice by now and not having to depend on the kindness of his friends.”
You could hear a pin drop. Kent picked up his wineglass and gave his father a salute. “I see nothing has changed with you.”
Sylvia said coolly, “Oliver, you promised me you wouldn’t badger him. He’s chosen his life, and you’ve chosen yours. Let him live his the way he wants, for God’s sake. He’s not a child.”
Kent saluted Sylvie, drained his glass, and got up and walked out.
Ruth made a move to go after him, but Portia, already on her feet, shot her a raised eyebrow. The young woman cleared her throat, settled back into her seat, and focused her gaze on her lap. Only then did Portia say “Excuse me” to the others and leave the table, much to Sylvia and Oliver’s surprise.
Outside, she found him seated at one of the tables. His features were tense and there was anger and muted pain in his eyes. “Thought you could use some company.” She didn’t like seeing him unhappy.
“Promised myself I’d not let him get to me, but I did.”
She sat. “He was rude, but now that’s he gotten that off his chest maybe the rest of the visit will be tolerable.”
“And Blue will learn to spell my name.”
She smiled.
He turned her way. “Apparently Ruth will make me a perfect wife.”
“What?”
He told her about the letter.
“Is that why she’s been watching you all evening?”
“Noticed that, did you?”
“She made it impossible not to.”
“Was that why you were looking at her the way you were?”
Portia played dumb. “What do you mean?”
“Like you wanted to throttle her.”
“No.”
“Fibbing again?”
She raised her chin and remained silent. Once again he’d been able to read her correctly.
“Just so you know, if a man spent all his time focused on you that way, I’d want to throttle him, too.”
Portia never dreamed she’d be moved by a man’s protective declaration. “Good to know.”
The silence that followed left them studying each other and feeling the attraction that neither could deny.
“Been a few days since we’ve had a chance to talk. How are you?” he whispered. The slow finger he ran down her cheek burned so sweetly her eyes slid closed. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Wanting more than just that faint caress, she told him about the letters, the meeting, and what she and Regan had done earlier that day at the Lanes but left out the conversation she and Regan had shared on the ride home.
“I want to kiss you, but if I do, I won’t be able to stop, so tell me about the rodeo. Is it a big deal?”
And she wanted to be kissed, endlessly. “The biggest.”
“Prize money?”
“Quite a bit.”
“Might like to help myself to some of it.”
Her attention was focused on his lips and the smile that curved them as he watched her. Who knew wanting a man could make a woman hunger? “You’ve participated in rodeos before?”
“A few. Bull and bronc riding are my favorites.”
She was impressed and looked up to see him viewing her so seriously she went still.
“I’ve asked Rhine to let me lease the Blanchard place with hopes of buying it outright at some point in the future.”
She was both surprised and pleased. “This is about putting down those roots you spoke of.”
“It is. If he says yes, I’ll be starting a horse wrangling business so I can pay my bills and put food on the table.”
Once again, she wondered what a life with him would be like.
“Do you think a wife would mind if I’m gone say, two months out of the year in order to provide for her?”
Drowning in his eyes and the tone of his voice, Portia felt her heart pounding so loud, she was sure people could hear it inside. “Not if that wife shared her husband’s dreams and could spend his time away chasing her own.”
Portia felt like she’d stepped out on a precipice and knew without a doubt that if he asked her to be that wife, she would say yes. As a husband, he’d walk beside her through life, not make her trail behind just because society deemed he should, and he’d be one of those rare men like her uncle Rhine who took pride in their wife’s ambitions.
“How’s your dream going?”
She forced herself back to the present. “Still waiting to hear back from the letters I told you I sent out.”
“Keep riding the bronc.”
She nodded. “I will.”
They were still studying each other silently when Regan came out. “Eddy sent me to tell you you’re about to miss dessert.”
They reluctantly severed the contact and Kent said, “Can’t have that. We’re coming.”
Regan went back inside.
He stood and held out his hand. “You ready?”
“Yes.” She placed her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
He kissed her fingers, causing a quiet warmth to ripple over her. “Thanks for helping me calm down.”
“You’re welcome.”
Inside, Portia still on his mind, Kent piled his plate high with Eddy’s signature peach cobbler, then mounded ice cream on top. He pointedly ignored his father who seemed to get the message and kept his distance. But when Kent finished his dessert, Oliver walked to his side. “Can I speak with you privately for a few moments?”
“Why, so you can upbraid me again?”
He dropped his eyes as if embarrassed. “No. Rhine said we could use his office. Do you know where that is?”
Kent didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Follow me.”
Upon entering the quiet space, Oliver sat but Kent remained standing.
“First of all, let me apologize for what I said. It served no purpose other than to anger you and make me look like an old fool.”
Kent agreed and wanted to ask if he was seeking forgiveness because Sylvia had demanded he do so, but he didn’t ask.
His father sighed. “I’m dying, Kenton.”
Kent froze.
“The doctors have given me six months to a year tops to get my affairs in order.”
Kent ran frantic eyes over him and for the first time really focused on him. And what he saw scared him: the sparse gray hair, the tired eyes, slumped shoulders, and sallow skin. He was also incredibly thin. Kent had chalked up his appearance to his being old. Oliver was in his late seventies, but now he realized that there was more at play. “Does Sylvia know?”
“Yes. She and I have spent the past six months going from doctor to doctor hoping to get a different diagnosis, but they all told us the same thing.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Constantly.”
Kent didn’t know what to say. Yes, he and his father butted heads like bighorn sheep but this was too awful to think about. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Other than taking me as I am and not fighting me over the money I plan to leave you, no.”
Kent replied in a voice softened by emotion. “Oliver, I don’t need your money.”
“I know how proud you are, Kenton, but you will need it for the family you and Portia may make together.”
Kent couldn’t help the wry smile that curved his lips. “You picked up on that, did you?”
“You should’ve seen the look she shot Ruth when Ruth tried to go after you. I think everyone in the room knew which way the wind was blowing after that. My apologies for thinking I could control who you’d choose to love, too.”
And because his father was dying and the knowledge was heartbreaking, he replied sincerely, “Apology accepted.”
Later as Kent lay in bed surrounded by the darkness, his heart still ached. For all their differences and years of conflict, the knowledge that Oliver would spend the last months of his life wracked by pain from disease was not something he’d ever envisioned. He wiped away the tears dampening his cheeks. Why couldn’t he simply die of old age while he slept? he wanted to shout, but he knew fate didn’t care. Having never known his mother, Kent hadn’t grieved her, even though he’d desperately wanted a mother like other children while he was growing up. But Oliver had always been there, even when he hadn’t wanted him to be, and Kent could already feel the hole his death would leave in his life. They’d discussed the money he would inherit and it was a surprisingly large sum. Oliver had come to Virginia City in the early sixties at the beginning of the silver boom, and like many of the city’s residents, his accumulated investments had left him a wealthy man. If Rhine approved Kent’s request to purchase the Blanchard property, he’d have no problem meeting the price, and there’d be more than enough left over to found the beginnings of a good life for himself and Portia. Oliver’s impending demise made Kent want to go knock on her door right then and there, and ask her to be his wife because each passing day brought them both closer to their own deaths, and he wanted to spend every second of his remaining time on earth by her side.
Because the members of the Fontaine household, including Matt and Kent had agreed to help out the Lanes, Portia had been left with the task of getting Ruth and the Randolphs to the rodeo. But when she went to their suite to see if they were ready, Sylvia said, “Honey, Oliver isn’t feeling well this morning. Would it be okay if we stayed behind?”
He looked listless and tired. “Certainly,” she replied. “Is there anything I can do for you to make you more comfortable, Mr. Randolph?”
He gave her a weary smile. “No. I just need to rest up. The train ride took more out of me than I expected.”
“I understand. Sarah and the maids will be here, so if you need anything just ask. They’ll bring you meals, too.”
Sylvia said, “Thank you. Ruth still wants to go though. Can she ride over with you?”
Portia took in the girl’s face and reminded herself to be kind. “Do you need a mount or would you prefer we take the buggy?”
“I don’t ride.”
Portia kept her disappointment hidden. She preferred to travel by horseback. “Then we’ll take the buggy.”
Leaving the Randolphs behind, Portia and Ruth set out on the hour ride to the Lanes’ ranch. It would have been a much shorter journey riding Arizona, but Portia swallowed her pique and kept the horses at an even pace. “Where are you from originally, Ruth?”
“Chicago so I’m not accustomed to all this heat.”
“Definitely different than what you’re used to.”
“It really is. Can I say something?”
Portia looked over. “Sure.”
“I want to apologize for last night. Mr. Randolph gave me the impression that his son would be receptive to me as a potential intended but obviously hadn’t talked to his son beforehand.”
“No apologies needed.”
“Thank you for being so kind. Can we start over—you and I?”
Portia decided she liked Ruth Adams after all. “Certainly.”
“Good,” she said, sounding relieved. “Kent wouldn’t happen to have a brother, would he?”
Portia saw the humor twinkling in Ruth’s eyes. They laughed, and Portia looked forward to the rest of the day.
The Lanes’ reputation of putting on a great event was so well earned, travelers came from as far away as California, Texas, and the northernmost provinces of Mexico to compete, eat, and have a good time. As a result, the closer Portia and Ruth drew to the ranch, the more congested the road became with buggies, wagons, and riders. Portia waved at the people she knew and when they called out greetings, she responded in kind.
“I wasn’t expecting all this,” Ruth exclaimed, taking in all the traffic and riders.
“We’ll probably have to park a good distance away. Hope you don’t mind walking.”
“I don’t. This is exciting. I’ll bet a girl could find a husband here.”
Portia grinned. “Are you truly looking for one?”
“I am. I have a good job and a wonderful life back in Chicago, but I’m ready to get married and have some babies before I’m too old.”
“Then how about I introduce you around?”
“I’d like that.”
And Portia knew exactly who she wanted Ruth to meet. They found a place to park the buggy and joined the crowd for the walk to the event. Entering the main area was like stepping into an outdoor fair. There were large rings set up for the various horse races, a corral for the bull and bronco riders, and everywhere you looked were legions of people of all races and ages. Making their way through the crowd, they heard conversations in both English and Spanish along with laughter and music. In the air were the mouthwatering smells of roasting pigs and beef. Women were frying tortillas and grilling chilies next to fragrant pots of beans.
“This is amazing,” Ruth said happily. “I’ve read about rodeos a few times in the Chicago papers but seeing it with my own eyes takes my breath away.”
Portia was glad she was enjoying herself. “It’s come down to us from Mexico, and celebrations like this one are held all over this part of the country.”
“What do we do first?”
Truthfully, Portia was hoping to spot Kent but knew finding him in the large crowd was going to be difficult. But the fates were with her. “I see Kent and Matt. Let’s find out if they’ve signed up for any of the contests.”
“Lead the way.”
It took a few minutes to make their way through the crowd to his side but when he saw her, his smile brought out her own.
“Good morning. Was hoping to find you,” he said.
“Same here. Morning, Matt.”
“Morning, Miss Portia. Morning, Miss Adams.”
Portia asked, “Have you two signed up for any of the competitions?”
Kent replied, “I’m on my way to the registration table now. Matt’s decided he’s not entering.”
“I’ve been at these things enough times to know that I’d only be laughed at. Think I’ll spend my time eating and looking at pretty girls.”
Portia saw him staring longingly at Bonnie Neal, a pretty young brunette holding a frilly green parasol to protect her from the sun. She was speaking with an older woman and when the woman moved on, she turned and looked over at Matt.
Kent seemed to have noticed his young ranch hand’s interest, too, because he asked, “Do you know her?”
Matt nodded. “Her daddy is one of the big ranchers. Her name’s Bonnie Neal, but she doesn’t even know I’m alive.”
Portia asked, “Then who’s she smiling at?”
Matt went still.
Even with the thick crowd passing in front of her like a river current, it was easy to see that Matt had her attention. “You should go over and say hello,” Kent said.
Looking terrified, Matt shook his head.
“Go say hello, Matt.”
“You think so?”
Kent pushed him gently. “Go. We’ll see you later.”
Portia watched him approach Bonnie and his shyness reminded her of James Cordell.
Kent said, “I probably shouldn’t yell at him to stop staring down at his boots and look her in the face, should I?”
Portia and Ruth grinned, and Portia said, “No. You’ll only embarrass him.”
“Then I need to stop watching.” Fitting actions to his words, he turned his back and Portia doubted she’d ever get over how silly he could be at times. “Did Oliver and Sylvia come with you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He isn’t feeling well. The train ride took a lot more out him than he thought. Sarah and the staff will take good care of him though.”
He nodded.
She thought she saw a shadow cross his face and it made her wonder if the father and son were still at odds.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Ruth?” he asked.
“I am but I want to apologize for last night.”
“Not necessary.”
Portia put in, “I told her not to worry about it.”
“Portia’s right. Oliver misled you.”
“Apparently he did, so thank you for not holding it against me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Portia was pleased with his refusal to lay the blame at Ruth’s door. The young woman looked uncomfortable enough.
Kent eyed them and asked, “So, are either of you going to sign up for any of the contests? Steer tying? Bull riding maybe?”
Portia laughed, “No. Although growing up, Regan and I used to enter the youth events.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Target shooting and the horse racing relays. Three years running, we won both. The boys hated us.”
“Good for you!” Ruth crowed.
Portia explained to Kent why they were there. “I’m waiting to introduce Ruth to James Cordell.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you playing matchmaker, Miss Carmichael?”
“You did with Matt. I’m trying to keep up.”
Portia saw the humor in his eyes and when the contact lengthened, the desire. For her.
Ruth cleared her throat. “The woman trying to be matched up is waiting. Shall we go? I’d like to keep up as well.”
Her comical plea dragged them back to the present. Wading into the moving sea of people, they set out.
James was among the three men seated at the registration table writing down the names of the contestants and placing their entrance fees in the strongboxes at their feet.
“Which one is he?” Ruth asked from where she and Portia were standing.
Kent had left them to study the roster of events posted on a sign nearby.
Portia pointed him out. “James is a bookkeeper,” she added in case Ruth was curious about what he did for a living.
Ruth’s face gave nothing away, but she didn’t turn on her heel and walk off either, which gave Portia hope.
A few minutes later after discreetly observing James and his interactions with the men in line, Ruth said, “I’ll look forward to the introduction.”
And the introduction did go well. Portia told James that Ruth was a family friend visiting from Chicago. “I know you’re probably very busy here, James, but I was hoping you could show her around when you have the chance. I can’t because I’m supposed to be helping your mother and the other ladies, but I don’t want Ruth to miss all the fun.”
Seemingly mesmerized by the tall willowy Ruth, James nodded horselike. “I—I’d . . . Sure. I’ll be ending my shift in just a few minutes.”
“Thank you, James. Will you see that she gets something to eat as well, and maybe escort her to some of the competitions? She’s never been to a rodeo before.”
“I’d be honored.”
True to his word, he quickly finished the registration of the next man in line, said something in parting to the ticket taker in the next chair and came around the table to where Ruth and Portia stood waiting. Ever the gentleman, he extended his arm to Ruth. “Shall we?”
The pleased Ruth accepted and shot Portia a smile before they melted into the crowd.
Kent walked over to her. “Do you think they’ll hit it off?”
Portia shrugged. “It’s worth a try.” She liked James. He didn’t have a chance with her but he might with Ruth. “Did you decide what you’re going to enter? I like the fancy lariat event.”
“I do, too, but I’m not good enough with a rope for that. Saw an old vaquero at a rodeo who could use his rope to spell out the letters of his name.”
“I don’t think anyone here is that good.”
“I know I’m not, so I’m going to stick to the steer tying and the bull riding. Blue and I do pretty good with the racing so I might try one of those, too.”
Portia removed the red bandana from around her neck and tied it around his upper arm. “For luck.”
“Why thank you. I’d kiss you if I didn’t think it would start tongues wagging.”
She saw smiles on the faces of some of the people standing nearby who’d watched her tie on the bandana. “I think the wagging has begun, but I’ll take my kisses privately for now if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t, but do you think we’ll find time to be alone before the snow falls? I’m almost at the point of throwing you over my shoulder and riding for the border.”
She laughed. “I’m going to go find Regan. She’s heading up some of the children’s races. I’ll be cheering for you at your events.”
He nodded and she left him in line.
The rodeo events were usually set up the same way every year, so Portia knew where Regan would be. She was happy that James and Ruth seemed to hit it off. As she’d told Kent, she was looking forward to cheering for him and couldn’t wait to see how he’d do.
Regan was in charge of the children’s target shooting contest and as she stood at the fence watching, Edward Salt appeared suddenly at Portia’s side as if by magic.
“Good afternoon, Miss Carmichael.”
“Mr. Salt.” Her disdain for him masked, she kept her eyes trained on the event and clapped along with the crowd when a little girl using a bow placed her arrow in the target’s bull’s-eye.
“I’ve been thinking about you.”
Not in the mood for whatever he had in mind, she asked, “What do you want?”
“You.”
She sighed. “I’m not available.”
“I hear you’re in line to inherit your uncle’s wealth. That makes you quite the heiress. Not many Colored women can claim that.”
She stared at him coldly.
“A man would have to be insane not to want all that you are.”
“Surely you don’t believe I’d have anything to do with you knowing what you’re really after.”
“Oh, I want what’s between your legs, too. Don’t get me wrong.”
Portia walked away, only to have him grab her by the arm. “Little bitch. Don’t you dare walk away when I’m talking to you.”
“Release me,” she snarled. She saw some of the men she’d known most of her life, including host Howard Lane, making their way to her side. Glad for their concern but certain she could handle Salt on her own, she gave the odious snake a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and said softly, “You know, I do like a forceful man.”
Under the praise his grip lessened. She cupped his face and while he grinned, she drove her knee so forcefully into his groin, he screamed. Eyes bulging, he grabbed his privates, fell to his knees, and writhed on the ground, mouth and eyes wide with shock and pain. Those who’d been watching cheered. She curtsied.
Mr. Lane arrived and glanced down at the curled-up moaning Salt. “Came to help, but doesn’t look like you need it.”
“Best I could do without a gun.” She thought back on the times her mother had emerged in the morning with her eyes blackened by a customer’s fist. Portia had vowed never to be similarly victimized. Had she been armed, Salt would be nursing more than bruised privates.
Howard said to the men who’d come with him, “Get him out of here.”
They dragged him to his feet and he croaked, “You’ll pay for this, bitch!”
Howard hit him with a right cross that knocked him out cold. More cheers went up. Lane snapped, “When he wakes up, remind him that we don’t take kindly to varmints threatening our women.”
His toes trailed on the ground as they hauled him off.
Howard asked, “Are you okay, Portia?”
She nodded. She was admittedly shaken when he initially grabbed her, but having defended herself and having enjoyed watching Howard put the final nail in Salt’s coffin, she felt much better.
“Then go get you some ice cream. As I remember that always used to cheer you up.”
Giving him a kiss on his cheek, she set off to do just that.
Later, Portia had plenty to cheer about. Kent made it through the qualifying rounds of the bull riding and would ride for the prize money on the rodeo’s final day. He won second place in the steer-roping contest, and he and Blue came in third in the can race. The event called for riders to pick up tin cans from the ground while their horses ran at full speed. Each ride was timed. Riders were sometimes injured when they lost their balance and tumbled out of their saddles from leaning over too far. From the way he and Blue worked together, it was obvious they’d been in similar contests before. Even though they didn’t place first, both Kent and his mount finished the competition unscathed, and that was a first-place win as far as she was concerned.
After the competitions, she and Kent got food and carried their plates to join her family, along with Matt, Ruth, and James Cordell, on blankets spread out on the grass to enjoy their meals. They caught up on each other’s days and listened to the lively music rolling across the crowded meadow on the wings of the evening breeze.
Kent was worried about his father. Although Oliver hadn’t indicated that his death was imminent, that he hadn’t been up to enjoying the day’s festivities had been on his mind all day. He planned to check on him as soon as they returned to the hotel. In spite of Oliver being in his thoughts he’d managed to enjoyed the Lane rodeo. He hadn’t won any first-place money but by taking second and third place he’d beat out a lot of the others and none of them had sported Portia’s bandana. Seeing it still in place made the day even more special.
They were listening to Regan’s hilarious telling of a goat tangling with a pony during one of the children’s races when a man Kent didn’t know walked up. He did recognize the little lady with him, Matt’s Bonnie Neal. Matt kept his head down as if he was afraid the man had come to shoot him for talking to his daughter.
“How are you, Rhine?” he asked.
“I’m well, David. How was the trip back East?”
“Fine. I just got home a few days ago. Sorry to have missed Blanchard’s funeral. The old man was one of a kind.”
Rhine nodded.
“I just found out that Farley and Buck were killed. Sorry, ladies, don’t mean to disturb you with talk of their deaths.”
No one seemed offended so he continued, “Sheriff O’Hara said you wanted to put together a posse?”
“I did, but he said my race would be a problem.”
“Told me about that.” He shook his head as if he found that asinine. “Farley and Buck were good men. They helped me out last summer when I broke my leg. I never would’ve got my cows to market had it not been for them. I know a lot of folks are scared because of Geronimo and all, but I had O’Hara deputize me anyway. If you’d like the help out, I’d be honored to have you and anyone else you know by my side. Parnell’s probably in Mexico by now but I still want to take a look around.”
“When do you want to start?”
“Let’s wait until the rodeo’s over tomorrow. As I said, Parnell’s probably gone so another day probably won’t matter. We’ll meet up at Blanchard’s place at sunrise. That fine with you?”
Rhine indicated that it was.
“See you then.” He touched his hat to the ladies. As he walked way, his daughter shot Matt a smile that turned him beet red before she hurried after her father.
Rhine looked over at Kent. “I guess we have a posse.”
“Looks like we do.”
“Neal’s a good man.”
Judging by what he’d just witnessed, Kent had to agree.
After dinner, there were poker games, music, and dancing. By the time dusk rolled in, many people were gathering their families and preparing to head home. Eddy and Rhine were among them.
“We’ll see you young people in the morning,” Eddy said. Hand in hand she and Rhine went to retrieve their buggy.
Regan planned to spend the night with the Lanes to help with the next day’s preparations. After saying her good-byes, she strolled off. James offered to see Ruth home, which made her smile. Matt had drifted off after dinner and was on the grounds somewhere enjoying himself, so that left Kent and Portia on their own.
“Did you drive or ride?” he asked.
“Drove the buggy.”
“Are you ready to head back?”
“I am.”
“Lead the way.”