Fool's Gold
Chapter 8 – Flesh Wound
"Best looking escorts in town." That was Rose's pronouncement as she, her father and Bart entered the dining room of 'Le Femme Du Cherie' in the heart of Carson City. Anderson had insisted they dine there, promising Bart that he could get a steak anywhere and this was Rose's favorite restaurant.
Of course they hadn't expected to walk in and find Herb Stander, his wife Lisle and son Elliott there dining. Herb was about to open his second store at the far end of the city and he'd decided to take his family out to celebrate. Elliott wasn't really interested in going to a fancy dining room but now he was glad he had, since Rose was there. Introductions were made between the two groups and Elliott appeared to be on his best behavior, hoping against hope that the Garrett's would not bring up the debacle that was last night. He was even pleasant and polite to Bart, considering he had no reason to be. Rose was just happy that there were no further histrionics and when the two families parted company, breathed a little easier.
"I had no idea that the store was so successful," Anderson volunteered once they were seated. "Good for Herb. He's a hard working soul. And Lisle is a fine lady." At that point he shook his head. "If Elliott had only turned out half as good, he'd be a darn site better than he is now."
"Father, you promised to let it go," Rose reminded him. "Last night was just a mistake. I'm sure now that it's over it will be forgotten about."
'Maybe by her father,' Bart thought. 'Not by me. Somethin's under that boy's skin and it's tryin' to get out.' He simply looked at the menu and tried to focus on other things. "Anderson, you promised me a steak, you better not be foolin' me."
Anderson laughed and signaled the waiter. "A bottle of my port, Maurice." He turned to Bart and smiled. "I'd tell them to bring you the cow but if I remember correctly you're the Maverick that likes his meat burned."
Bart shook his head no. "Well done, Anderson, not burned. I've herded enough of those things through the country to never want to consume one that might be looking at me. You eat it your way and I'll eat it mine."
"Stubborn Texan," was Garrett's only remark.
"Yes, thank you. I am. And proud of it."
Dinner was excellent and the company charming. Anderson ordered for he and Rose and Bart got his steak, cooked until it was done, thank you. They all had a glass of port with dinner and Anderson had two more after dinner. Rose had seen her father drink men under the table for years and was pleasantly surprised that Bart drank a minuscule amount in comparison. The dinner wine was as far as he would go tonight; if you played poker tipsy it was gambling, and gambling was something the Maverick's didn't do. Halfway through the meal the Stander's finished their dinner and left; all but Elliott, that is. He came over to their table when Rose was done with her food and asked if he could speak to her. She nodded yes and he pulled out her chair and escorted her out of the dining room.
"Now what do you suppose that's all about?" asked her father of no one in particular.
"Last night, I'd hazard a wild guess," came Bart's reply.
"What happened that I didn't get there in time to see?"
A shake of the head from Bart. "Not much. You know how kids are."
"She's not a kid, Bart, in case you hadn't noticed. And neither is he. You saw what kind of an answer she gave me when I asked. Did he hurt her?"
"No, Anderson," Bart didn't add the rest of it, 'because I stopped him before he could.'
They sat at the table for a few minutes and finished their dinners. Rose still hadn't returned and her father was getting edgy. "I'm going to see what's taking so long." He was right, she'd been gone too long for there to be anything good happening. Anderson started to get up from the table and Bart put a hand on his arm and stopped him.
"Let me go," Maverick volunteered. "I might aggravate them less."
"Alright, son, but remind Rose that we're leaving shortly. We need to take her to the Ford house first."
Bart got up and walked to the lobby of the restaurant. No Rose and no Elliott. He looked around and moved towards the front door. They were outside on the landing arguing and Bart could only hear part of it.
"But I love you," that much was loud and clear, from Elliott.
". . . . . . you can't or you wouldn't act this . . . . . " came from Rose.
"Don't go to Wickham's house. Come with me and we'll . . . . ."
'Alright, time to break this up,' Bart took two steps towards the door and stopped. A third, unknown voice had joined the conversation.
"The buggy is all set, Elliott. You can be at the justice of the peace's house in Virginia City in two hours. Then her father can't bother you anymore." The voice was obviously one of Elliott and Rose's friends.
Rose's voice, then. "I'm not going, Elliott. I'm not running out on my father like this."
Elliott pleading, almost whining, "But Rose, we planned this."
"No. I've changed my mind. I won't run away like I've done something wrong."
Stander's voice again, angry now. "It's him, isn't it? It's that Maverick fella. He's got your head all turned around and you don't remember what we wanted. He's come along and just blinded you to our love. Remember how you feel, Rose. Remember we were going to be married. What's he got that I haven't?"
She very quietly answered him. "This has nothing to do with Bart Maverick. Stop being foolish. I just won't run away like a child. We are adults and I want to be treated like one. I'm going back inside. I don't care what you do."
Bart saw Rose turn away from Elliott and take a step towards the door. Better if Rose didn't know she'd been overheard. He backed away from the front door and hurried back to their table. He put a finger to his lips and sat down. Anderson saw the gesture and played along.
" . . . . . so that's why I told him no."
Both men saw Rose approaching the table and stood. Bart pulled her chair out and held it for her.
"I think we're about done here, Rose. Are you still going to spend the evening with Belinda Jo?"
"Yes, Poppa, I am." Rose had resumed using the term of endearment for her father. "Can you walk me there?"
"I need to take care of something, my dear. Can you take her, Bart?"
Not what he would have planned, but it would give him a chance to question her. "Certainly. I'll meet you back here?"
"Yes, that'll work. Mitzi's is back up the street from here. The Ford house is the other way. You take Rose down there and meet me back here and we'll go on to Mitzi's. Good-night, honey, have a good time with your friend. We'll pick you up in the morning." Garrett kissed his daughter on the cheek and gave her a hug. Bart gave Rose his arm and they headed for the door. When they got outside Elliott and his friend were gone.
They turned left, down the street. The two walked, arm in arm, for a while before anything was said. The sky was so beautiful and the night so peaceful that neither wished to disturb it. Then a horse whinnied and someone rode down the street and the peace was broken. 'You heard us arguing." It wasn't a question, but a statement. So Rose had seen him after all.
"Yes."
"And you didn't say anything."
"It wasn't my argument."
She laughed, that happy sound he'd heard in the rain. "You are a gentleman, aren't you?" she asked.
"Please don't spread that around. There might be a lady or two I'd rather didn't know." He smiled at the remark. Yeah, if he ever got back on that horse.
They walked another minute and turned down a narrow street. Three houses down on the left they stopped.
"Are there any ladies, Bart? In your life, I mean." Rose looked at him expectantly.
"No time," he answered, brushing off the question. "Too busy right now."
"This is the Ford house," she said. Silence for a moment. "Are you? Too busy for this?"
Without another word she reached up and kissed him. It was tender, and sweet, and hard to resist, so he didn't. He put his arms around her and kissed her back, really kissed her, the way he knew he shouldn't. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled closer to him. This time he didn't fight her, he drew her as near to him as he could and held her there, while his hand moved up her back and tangled itself in her hair. Her mouth was sweet and soft and her body warm and pliant and they stood, arms around each other, and kissed for long minutes. Finally he could stand it no longer and pulled away from her, moving back from her embrace quickly, lest he give in to her and never stop. His heart pounding, as was hers, they were moments away from crossing a line they shouldn't cross. Then he looked at the front door and saw movement, a face watching them from inside, and he moved away from her completely. They couldn't keep doing this.
She watched him walk back down the street, moving as fast as his body would let him, and turn up the block. Then she went inside the house where her friend Belinda Jo Ford was waiting for her.
She didn't see the tall figure concealing itself in the shadows directly across the street. Nor did she hear the clicking of the knife blade as it scraped back and forth against the fence. It had to be nice and sharp, so that when it pierced flesh it would sink in easily.
