Thank you kind people.
Standard disclaimer
"This is really beautiful, Buford. I can't tell you how…"
"Here, let me pin it on you," he said with a smile. And before she could move, his hands were fumbling with her dress.
"Let me do it!" she demanded and took it away from him.
She really didn't want him pawing her bosom. It made her think of Sam's deft, skillful touch and she gritted her teeth, hating the randy gambler.
Buford rattled on.
"Since it's an old family heirloom, I thought you should have it…you'll be part of the Fortenbury family soon, anyway."
Mercedes paused, uncertain about what she had let herself in for.
"Buford, I think you should wait to give this to me, when we're sure…"
"Sure? I'm absolutely sure. We'll be uniting two respectable families and produce wonderful children…one thing though, my dear Mercedes. You shouldn't wear it around town."
"Why not?" He chewed his lip and his wispy mustache wiggled.
"Well, you know how villainous these low-class Texans are…someone might rob you."
"First of all, I trust all the people at the Lily…" he took her hand in his damp one, making her pause.
"I think any of them, especially that gambler, Evans, would steal it in a heartbeat."
Somehow, his sanctimonious tone annoyed her.
As much as she disapproved of Sam, she didn't think he would stoop so low, as to steal from her. But, nevertheless, she conceded.
"Alright, whatever you say. It's wonderful just to own it. I've never had anything so fine."
She stared at the sparkling diamond pin in her hand. It was very beautiful indeed.
"I think this calls for a kiss." He leaned over and planted a wet, cold smack on her lips, before she could move away from him.
Once again, she pictured fifty years of kisses from this man…and even worse.
The thought made her shudder.
"My dear, are you cold? Perhaps I should put my arm around you and…"
"No, in fact, I'm too warm." She scooted to the far side of the seat and fanned herself with her hand.
"You know, now that we are engaged, it's perfectly respectable for us to spoon a little."
"Spoon?" she blinked. He smiled sheepishly.
"You know, a little kissing…"
"Uh…Buford, I'm from a very respectable family. My mother would roll over in her grave, if she thought I would do anything intimate, before marriage…and our family believes in long engagements."
"Oh? Very well." He sounded annoyed.
The swing creaked loudly in the silence.
Somewhere in the back, the faint bleating of Sherwin the goat, could be heard.
"I'd like to shoot that filthy beast," Buford muttered.
"If you do, Sam would mop up the floor with you."
"Sam? You're still using that familiar name for him?" She didn't answer. He drew himself up proudly and said,
"Besides, I'll have you know, I've had lessons in self-defense. I think I can defend myself, if need be."
Mercedes laughed internally.
She envisioned Sam Evans, turning the prissy officer upside down and slamming him into next week. But she decided it wasn't polite to say so.
Like a magnet, her head swiveled towards the house.
She could see Sam's scowling face, as he stood at the window peering out.
"He's watching us," she said.
"Who?" Buford asked, turning to look. He saw Sam. "He has his nerve spying on us. What do you think he wants?"
"I don't know. He probably wants me to come in."
"What business is it of his? I am your fiancé and you're not his child."
Sam came out on the porch and lit a cigar.
Mercedes could see the tip glowing and his annoyed face in the moonlight. She stood up.
"I think I'd better go in, before he comes out here." The lieutenant stood also.
"If he does, I intend to challenge him."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Buford. He's the rough and tough type and you're a…"
"Gentleman," Buford finished for her and nodded primly.
"Of course, and ladies hate to see bloodshed."
She didn't say whose blood.
Sam would kill Buford in a fight.
She opened her purse and slipped the diamond pin inside.
"Why don't we set a date for next year?" she said. He caught her hand.
"Next year? I was hoping for July or August."
"That's too soon, Buford," she said in a panic. "A big society wedding, takes at least a year of planning…just ask your mother," she said.
Sam had come down the steps and was now standing on the driveway, as if he was about to come over to the swing.
"Uh, we'll talk later. I'd better go," she said and fled through the lilies, towards the house.
Sam stood, feet wide apart, glaring at her, as she approached him.
"It's about time you came in," he snapped, looking at his gold watch in the moonlight.
"Are you insane? It can't be later than eight o'clock."
"Right," he nodded. "Way passed time for a respectable girl to be outside. I saw you out there fooling around with that joker."
"Fooling around?" She was seething, as she leaned closer, speaking between clenched teeth. "You are the low villain, who had me in the grass, pawing me, just hours ago."
"And as I recall, you were enjoying every minute of it." He grinned at her and she felt her face heat up.
"No gentleman would do that."
"I've never claimed to be a gentleman, Mercy."
"You know what? Just leave me alone, sir. I am an engaged woman and all you're worried about is Lieutenant Fortenbury getting his patrician hands on some of your filthy lucre."
"Can you speak English, please? Us low-class Texans, don't know big words like that."
"Then, can you understand these? I am going to marry the lieutenant. Stay out of my business."
She tried to brush passed him, but he grabbed her arm, looking down at her.
"Mercy, I'm sorry, it's just that…" She felt the magnetism of his gaze again, and it unnerved her.
"What?"
But before he could answer, she pulled out of his grasp, and marched across the lawn and up the steps. Then she ran up the stairs to her room, closing and locking the door.
She leaned against it, breathing hard.
Her good sense told her, she could not stay in this house with Sam Evans, or he'll have her clothes off, before she'd even realize it.
Sam Evans was as dangerous, as a mustang stallion.
She would marry the dull, reliable officer and lead a safe, respectable life.
She opened her purse and took out the small diamond pin and studied it.
It was a beautiful piece of jewelry and certainly quite valuable.
She went to her bureau and opened the bottom drawer, hiding the pin under a layer of lace underwear. Then she headed to the shower.
Sam looked down the long driveway, at the sight of the prissy officer and the car disappearing in the distance.
Damn that snooty loon.
His mind traveled back, to when he had stood looking down at Mercedes, as he grabbed her out on the lawn.
He'd love the way the moonlight had danced on her dark hair and lit her dark, brown eyes.
Why had he ever thought she was plain?
She was just plain beautiful, when she was angry or aroused.
He'd almost kissed her, as she looked up at him, defiant and angry. However, she'd pull away from his grasp and the moment was lost.
When he had seen Buford sitting close to her, on that swing and attempting to slip his hand around her, it took everything within him, not to stride out there, grab the officer by the collar, and sock him so hard, he would knock over the big birdbath and end up soaked.
He was furious, that Buford was being so familiar with Mercedes.
He turned and walked up on the porch, still angry. Without thinking, he turned and smashed his fist against one of the pillars.
'God! That hurt!' He hopped about, cursing and nursing his bruised hand.
"Damn it, Miss Jones! My life has been hell, since you showed up…and it's not getting any better."
He held the injured hand in the other and stumbled inside.
The house was dark and quiet. Everyone had gone to their rooms, it seems.
He stood looking up the stairway, rubbing his bruised knuckles.
He wanted to go up those stairs, kick Mercedes' doors down and…and what? Kiss her? Make love to her? Throw her over his knee and paddle that juicy, round bottom, until she saw the truth about that crooked officer?
None of that would work with Mercy.
She was as stubborn and independent, as a hog on ice.
With a sigh, he strode to his room. He flopped down in his chair and stared at the wall.
Just above his head, Mercedes was getting ready for bed.
He imagined her long dark hair falling down her bare, milk chocolate shoulders, as she put on a sheer, lacy nightgown and climbed into that big, white bed.
"You little vixen," he grumbled. "You've made my life so miserable."
He tried to block out the memories of this afternoon, under the tree, but he couldn't help himself.
No woman has ever aroused him like that.
It had to be her innocence, or maybe the fact that she was so unattainable.
There was no way, he could admit defeat to his friends…or to himself, he vowed.
Upstairs, Mercedes couldn't sleep.
She ought to be ecstatic, after all, she was engaged to be married into an aristocratic family.
So, why was she so miserable and uneasy?
She knew why.
When she'd confronted Sam in the driveway, a few minutes ago, there was a tension between them, that made her nerves as taut, as a bowstring.
She'd felt he was about to kiss her, with the same molten passion of this afternoon.
In fact, she'd caught herself rising up on her tiptoes, to meet him.
He could charm a bird out of a tree, alright, or a woman out of her virtue.
One of them was going to have to sell out to the other and move out of this house, that was now becoming a respectable hotel.
With Buford's family's wealth, she wouldn't need the Lily.
However, if she sold out to Sam, he'd certainly turn it back into a bordello and gambling den and Mercedes couldn't entertain that thought.
Downstairs, she thought she could hear the chair in Sam's room creak.
She imagined him sitting there, looking up at the ceiling.
She could almost feel his gaze.
Was she insane?
Maybe it was all in her imagination. She dropped off into a troubled sleep.
Mercedes got out of bed and ran down the stairs barefooted, wearing only a sheer lace nightgown.
She arrived at Sam's door. She didn't even had to knock. The door opened suddenly, and he stood there, looking down at her, his green eyes burning into hers.
She took a step closer and wordlessly went into his arms.
He held her tightly. She could hardly breathe.
"I've been waiting for you, baby," he whispered and kissed her, really kissed her.
He broke the kiss, to pick her up and carry her to his bed.
As if she was a priceless ornament, he carefully deposited her on his huge bed and started backing off his clothes.
"I've been waiting for you, all my life," he said, as he hovered over her, in all his naked glory. "And I've been waiting for you."
She sighed and brought his lips to hers, knowing he was about to make her a woman, his woman…
Mercedes sat up suddenly in bed, breathing hard, with a yearning in her nether regions and a thin layer of sweat on her brow.
'Just a dream. Damn you, Evans!' In her mind, Sam was dangerous and unpredictable, not safe and reliable like the lieutenant.
'Staying in this house, is like playing with matches in a hay field,' she said to herself.
But what could she do?
Next morning, Carmen served breakfast to the guests and left the girls, Elaine and Eva, cleaning off the tables, as she started up the stairs with a tray.
Neither Sam nor Mercedes had come to breakfast and she was concerned about the conflict between them. '
Hmm…the two of them is like fire and gasoline together. Before it's over, there's gonna be a blaze, that may burn down the Texas Lily.'
She arrived at Mercedes' door and rapped on it, as she called,
"Miss Jones? I got your coffee." Mercedes opened the door, she was still in her nightgown, tousled and sleepy.
"Thank you, Carmen. Come in. I'm attempting to get dressed."
Carmen entered and looked around observantly.
This wasn't like brisk, well-organized Miss Jones, at all. She placed the tray on the table and asked,
"Can I help you, Miss?"
"No, I think I can manage." But Carmen noted, Miss Jones didn't seem to be managing very well, as she stood there in her nightgown looking about.
"I can't seem to find my shoes." Carmen began to search and found them, and others, kicked under a chair.
"Here they are, Miss."
This was strange.
Usually, Miss Jones was so precise…her things, her life…they were all very orderly. Now, she watched, as the lady dug through her drawer, muttering,
"I know I have clean black underwear in here, somewhere…"
A sparkly piece of jewelry flipped out on the carpet and Carmen stared at it in disbelief.
She watched the lady picked up the diamond pin and put it back in the drawer. Carmen asked,
"Where did you get that?" Mercedes smiled sheepishly.
'She looks just like her mother, alright.'
"Well, it's supposed to be a secret, but a gentleman gave it to me."
So, Mr. Sam had indeed taken the pin he had given Miss Sue, only the day before her death and given it to the younger woman. Not that Miss Sue would have minded, Mercedes having it, in fact, considering who Mercedes is, Miss Sue would have heartily approved.
However, the whole thing seemed sneaky and underhanded somehow, and Sam had never been that.
"Are you alright, Carmen?" Mercedes paused in her search.
"Uh…yes, ma'am. I…I'm fine. I got work to do," Carmen lied and fled the room.
'Strange', Mercedes thought, staring after her. Maybe Carmen wasn't feeling well, after all, she was not as young as she used to be.
When the Lily could manage it, Mercedes wanted to hire more help and retire the old cook.
However, she shrugged off the cook's odd behavior, and got dressed, in a black knee-length pencil skirt with the hem ruffled and a red, snug fitting t shirt.
Sam was seated alone, at the big dining table, drinking coffee.
He looked disheveled and grumpy, but still managed to look sexy.
Of course, Mercedes couldn't entertain that last description, she had to retain her stern demeanor.
"Well, as you Texans would say, you look like the dogs have had you under the porch," she said. Sam glared at her with bloodshot eyes.
"I didn't need you to tell me that, Mercy." She sat down at the table and kept her face sober.
"You need to shave and clean up a little," she tossed his way.
"I won't, if I don't want to," he snapped.
"My, we are in a bad mood, aren't we?" She rang the little bell on the table and Carmen stuck her head out of the kitchen. "May I have some breakfast, please?"
Carmen nodded, frowned at Sam, and disappeared.
"Wow!" Mercedes started, "What did you do to make her mad?"
"Me?" He blinked his bloodshot eyes. "Carmen and I have always gotten along." The clock in the hall chimed ten times.
"You'd better hurry. The committee is coming in thirty minutes," she said.
Sam sipped his coffee and rubbed his forehead with a shaky hand. He could feel a headache coming on.
"What committee?"
"The new Nacogdoches Beautification Committee," she smugly said. And then, "They want to plan the Fourth of July celebration."
"What's to plan?" He asked shrugging. "We always put on a parade, then roast a steer, bring out a couple barrels of beer and launch some fireworks."
She frowned at him.
"That's not what Mrs. Bottoms, Reverend Lovejoy and the ladies have in mind." Sam sighed.
"You've been changing things, ever since you got here, Mercy."
"Change is not bad." She nodded her thanks to Carmen, as the old woman brought her a plate of ham and eggs and a stack of fresh biscuits.
Carmen frowned at Sam again and went back in the kitchen.
Mercedes dug into her breakfast with gusto. There was also freshly churned butter, homemade blackberry and wild plum jam, to go with the light, fluffy biscuits.
Who would think, she used to get by on a cup of weak tea and plain toast.
"I told them we could meet in the morning room," she added.
"Morning room? What the hell is a morning room?"
"Don't be profane," she scolded him. "Did I forget to tell you?" She smiled at him over her coffee cup.
"We now have a morning room. It's a place where ladies can sit and have tea." Sam stared unbelieving at her.
"The Texas Lily now has a morning room?"
"Yes. Since we're now a respectable hotel, the ladies need a pleasant place to gather and we can charge them for the tea and cookies."
"All the old biddies in Nacogdoches, are gonna be gathering here for tea?"
"Let's hope so." Sam groaned aloud and looked skyward.
"Miss Jones, if I could possibly raise one hundred thousand, would you sell out?" She considered his offer for a short moment and then shook her head.
"I had no idea, I had such a talent for the hotel business. We're starting to show a profit."
"Miss Jones," he started again, his voice taking on a slight edge. "Need I remind you, that the Texas Lily was making tons of money before you came along?"
She smiled.
"But now you're respectable."
"Respectable?" he grumbled. "There're so many cowboys and 'gentlemen' who are mighty disappointed, to hear how the place has been transformed."
"Now, you've only got fifteen minutes," she said, looking at the small gold watch on her hand. "But, you don't have to be on the committee, you know. I think we ladies and the reverend can handle it."
"Fine," he snapped and stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go shoot some pool."
"Uh, you haven't used the pool room in a long time. I thought you were tired of the game." He shrugged.
"I just haven't had the time. I love my pool room." He turned and walked towards the back of the house.
'Oh God!' Mercedes sat there sipping her coffee and tensing for the angry shout that was sure to come. It came a few seconds later.
"Miss Jones! What in the hell happened to my pool room? Get in here!"
She took a deep breath, stood up and hurried to the back of the house.
The big room, was on the east side of the house, so that the early morning sun streamed in.
Mercedes pasted a smile on her face, as she entered.
"It's nice, isn't it? We finished it two days ago, when you weren't around." Sam's face was red. It looked as if he was restraining himself, from strangling her.
"What in the hell happened here?" he gritted.
She looked around.
The pool tables were gone, replaced by a tea table and dainty chairs, upholstered in pink suede.
The room had been wallpapered in pink petunias and the windows dressed in pale pink chintz. Ribbons were everywhere. There were even needlepoint pillows on the Victorian chairs.
"Miss Jones?"
"It's a morning room," she explained and took a nervous breath. "Isn't it pretty?"
"Pretty? Pretty?" he roared like a lion ready to attack. "This is my hideaway…me and the boys. What did you do with my cigar humidor and my pool table?"
She cleared her throat.
"They're out in the barn."
"What? My pool table is out in the barn?" he thundered.
"Don't you hear well? I said it was." He marched right up to her and glared down at her. "Well," she started off nervously. "There isn't a need for a pool table in a morning room. Besides, there wasn't room, once we got the pink settee and tea table in."
Sam opened his mouth, but no words came out.
He took two deep breaths, as if trying to control his temper.
"Are you alright?" she asked, looking up anxiously at him. "Honestly, I think you live with too much stress. That's not good for your body, you know," she finished.
"Stress?" It came out, almost as a whisper. "Miss Jones, I never had any stress, until you moved in."
She didn't respond to his accusation.
Instead, she looked at her watch and said,
"The committee is due any minute." Sam couldn't believe this woman standing in front of him.
"What about my pool table?" She placed her hands on her hips and considered.
"Well, we could get a carpenter to close in the back porch. I think that's big enough." Before Sam could answer, the front doorbell rang.
"There's the committee. Is there anything else, or do you want to stay and help plan the…?"
"No, I don't want to sit with a bunch of old biddies and drink tea and eat cookies. I'm going to my room, where there's half a bottle of bourbon, to contemplate what I have done to deserve all this."
He turned and stalked out. And Mercedes hurried to meet her guests.
Carmen had already shown them into the front hall.
"Good morning everyone, so good of you to come," she greeted. Mrs. Bottoms looked around and stated,
"Goodness, you've done wonders with this place. This is indeed a fine hotel." Reverend Lovejoy looked about approvingly.
"The town will be forever grateful, Miss Jones."
"Some aren't," she said, imagining Sam sulking in his room. "Let's go back to the new morning room," she said, gesturing for the others to follow her.
The ladies oohed and aahed all the way to the back of the house. Mrs. Pugsley said,
"It's a real mansion. Too bad it can't be a private residence." Mercedes smiled and ushered the ladies to sit.
"That would be a dream. But it would take an enormous amount of money, to keep it up, so it'll have to stay a hotel, I'm afraid."
"Well, it's a plus for the community," Mrs. Bottoms said. And then, "We need more women in Nacogdoches like you, Miss Jones." Mercedes felt herself flush.
"I'm bringing a little etiquette and a little respectability to these Texas male rascals," she said.
"Speaking of rascals," Mrs. Bottoms said, looking around. "Isn't Mr. Evans joining us this morning?"
"I'm afraid he's…indisposed."
The ladies all looked disappointed and Mercedes rolled her eyes.
Carmen entered then, with a tray of tea and cookies.
"What did Mr. Sam say, when he saw his pool room?"
"What?" asked one of the ladies.
"Uh…we'll talk about that later," Mercedes said.
"Couldn't have been good. I heard him yelling from all the way in the kitchen," Carmen said, serving. Mercedes gave her a stern look and she left.
"Now, ladies, I'll pour."
Yes, it was a lovely morning room. After Sam had some time to think it over, she was sure, he'd see it her way.
The committee talked for almost two hours.
When they broke up, it was decided, that there would be a parade, and fireworks would be launched from the lawns of the Texas Lily. There will also be a parade, of little children riding ponies and of course, the fort band would march.
As Mercedes helped Carmen to clear the things away, she giggled to herself, recalling some of the conversation that took place at the committee meeting.
"Those cowboys and soldiers get silly after a few drinks. They start harassing the ladies and lay all about the streets," Mrs. Bottoms said.
"Then, we'll see they don't get much liquor to drink, but give them lemonade," Mercedes offered.
"That'll upset them," Mrs. Darlington said.
"Well, it's about time we brought a little order to this town," Mrs. Pugsley said. And then, "Some of them got drunk and rode horses into stores and places of business, last year."
"Not this year," Mercedes firmly said.
"Uh…Miss Jones," the reverend said, setting his cup down. "Mr. Evans was one of those, who rode a horse into the railroad depot, last year."
"Worse yet, that goat got into a barrel of beer and was so drunk, it crashed through the window at our newspaper," Mrs. O'Neal added.
"Well, it's time for the good ladies of Nacogdoches to take control, if this is ever going to be a peaceful, law-abiding town. The trouble with these men, is that they need strong-minded women to civilize them," Mercedes stated.
The ladies all said, "Amen!"
Nuff said. But yeah, Mercedes is driving Sam crazy and you just gotta love Carmen.