Lauri Robinson Read Free Page B

all she was worth, Ester replied,
“Because I know Brett.”
    Another chortle sounded as the woman tipped her head back to
enhance her laugh. “Maybe five years ago you knew a boy, and perhaps now I know
the man.”
    Ester took a step forward, believing with all she had the woman
was wrong. In her heart of hearts, Brett was hers, would forever be. “I’ve
always known the man, even before he appeared.”
    “Tsk, tsk.” Lenore waggled a finger. “Poor little Ester. You’re
growing as mean and bitter as old Widow Wilson was. You need to remember, dear,
you gave up all your rights to Brett when you didn’t go to Montana with
him.”
    Her heart was beating like she’d just run a mile, and there was
enough fire in her belly to bake pies. A dozen of them. Ester folded her arms
across her chest and leaned close to seethe, “And you’re still jealous. Wishing
he’d have asked you to go.”
    Lenore’s nose was mere inches away as she responded, “I’m not
ashamed to admit I’d go to the moon and back if that man asked.”
    “Don’t pack your bags,” Ester growled.
    “And who’s gonna stop me?” Lenore sneered. “Some lonely
seamstress living in her lonely house on the edge of town?”

Chapter Three
    Brett was just walking out of the hotel when a
screeching noise split the air. It sounded to him like two cats had had their
tails tied together and been flung over a clothesline. Not that he knew exactly
what that sounded like. He hadn’t been with Frank Hespers and his brother Owen
behind the schoolhouse when they’d done just that to Widow Wilson’s cats.
    Spinning toward the sound, he took a double take at the skirts
and hair flying as two women rolled into the street. Clawing and screeching and
leaving strands of hair floating amongst the dust.
    Blond hair. And there was a rabbit-fur pouch on the
boardwalk.
    He ran.
    Grabbing a waist, not really sure whose it was until the
familiar shape filled his palms, he lifted Ester high into the air, swinging her
out of the way as the other woman kicked pointed-toed boots. One jab caught the
side of his leg with enough force there’d be a bruise. A big one. Luckily
someone else grabbed her off the ground.
    Focusing his attention on the woman in his arms, whose fists
were still flying, punching nothing but air, he asked, “Ester, what are you
doing?”
    “Put me down, Brett. I’m not finished with that trollop.”
    “I’d rather be a trollop than an old bitty,” the other woman
shouted.
    “Lenore?” Brett gawked at the woman who’d served him and the
kids pie the night before at the hotel.
    Ester squirmed harder in his arms. “Put me down, Brett. I’m
gonna show her—”
    “No, you’re not,” he said, hooking her tighter with one arm to
plant her firmly against his side, her feet still kicking. Her aloofness
yesterday—which had kept him up most of the night—had been an act, and that
tickled him, probably more than it should.
    “Don’t pack your bags,” she shouted at Lenore.
    Still thrashing, the other woman, hair askew and one dress
sleeve torn, was confined by a red-bearded man who looked vaguely familiar. Then
again, half the town appeared somewhat familiar to Brett.
    “I don’t have to worry about you packing your bags, do I?”
Lenore yelled. “You didn’t before and you won’t now.”
    “You spiteful cow!”
    “Ester, that’s enough,” Brett said, spinning around and heading
toward her house on the edge of town. There was only one thing that ever set her
off like this.
    “Brett!”
    He glanced over his shoulder.
    “Here.” The man held Lenore with one hand as he tossed the
rabbit-fur pouch. “It’s Ester’s.”
    The voice he recognized. As Brett caught the bag with his free
hand, he said, “Frank Hespers, I was just thinking about you.”
    “We’ll get together.” Frank paused to hoist Lenore, who looked
like she was trying to run but going nowhere, higher in his arms. “After things
calm down.”
    “I’ll look you