“Oh, Cecilia!” Dolly’s hand flew to her mouth. “Not at the table, please!”
Jake bit back a smile. Cecilia had gotten his attention, and he could tell by the way her eyes danced mischievously that she was pleased with herself. He almost enjoyed putting on an anxious Pendergast frown for the company’s benefit. It wouldn’t do to have a Philadelphia man hear about Indians without quivering in his too-tight boots. “Indian massacre?” he asked nervously.
Mr. Walters put down his fork, as did the other boarders, as if one couldn’t eat and hear about Indians at the same time. Bowing to local custom, Jake also put his fork down. Lucinda and Mrs. Baker shook their heads sadly in unison.
“This was Comanche country,” Cecilia began.
“Oh, Cecilia!” Dolly moaned. “Must you?”
“Comanches are Indians,” Cecilia explained to Pendergast, ignoring her friend. Painful as the tale was, it would be worth the telling if only she could scare the man back to Philadelphia.
“Comanches? I believe I’ve heard of them,” Jake said, straining to sustain a fretful expression.
“Right after the first ranchers came here the Comanches tried to run them off. They attacked in the morning, while the people were about their chores. Three people died, slaughtered, and several of the women had been set upon by the savages.”
Jake translated the delicate phrase to mean that the women were raped. Lucinda nearly swooned.
“One girl, twelve years old at the time, was taken captive and has never been seen again.”
“Oh, my,” Jake breathed. The scenario was all too familiar, but still chilling.
“Cecilia, enough,” Dolly entreated.
Cecilia was flushed from reliving the tale, which had always fascinated and horrified her in equal measure. “The settlers decided to name the town after the little girl, so that if she ever managed to escape, she might find her way home.”
For a long moment, the diners simply sat, staring at their plates without expression. Clearly, the girl named Ann hadn’t yet returned. Jake knew that the Indians hadn’t been banished from this land long enough for the pain and fear of raids to have subsided completely, and especially not with such a wound as Annsboro had left open. Comanche raids were brutal. Those lucky enough to live through them rarely forgot. Or forgave.
“Such a sweet girl,” Fanny Baker announced, clucking her tongue before lapsing back into silence.
“What a terrible story!” Dolly exclaimed. “Cecilia, you should be ashamed for bringing that up. Mr. Pendergast will get the wrong impression of our town!”
Suddenly, Jake remembered who he was supposed to be. Across the table, Cecilia sent him a flat, humorless smile. “I hope I didn’t frighten you, Mr. Pendergast.”
“Oh, my,” he said, rewarding her storytelling with a fretful cough. “There aren’t any more of these Comanches around, are there?”
Before Cecilia could speak, Dolly exclaimed, “Not in years! It’s been seven years since we’ve had real Indian trouble around here.”
“Thank heavens for that.”
“I still lock my doors at night.” Cecilia looked him square in the eye with a deadly earnest gaze, and strangely, although he knew she was only trying to scare him, Jake believed her. If Eugene Pendergast hadn’t been gunned down in a bar the week before, he would certainly have died right here at this dinner table, of fright. Cecilia’s strategy couldn’t have been better, but unfortunately, she had the wrong target.
After a pause, Jake gave his plate a little shove forward. “I’m afraid my appetite for this lovely food has disappeared.”
Dolly let out an exasperated sigh. “See what you’ve done, Cecilia?”
Her big blue eyes widened innocently. “But Mr. Pendergast said he wanted to know a little bit of our history.”
Their gazes met and held for just an instant. In that moment, Jake understood that Cecilia meant what she said about being resourceful. There was defiance in those innocent eyes, too, aimed just at him. No matter how long it took, no matter how many people she offended, she was determined to have his job.
Damn. Why, of all the schoolteaching jobs in all the world, did Cecilia Summertree have to covet the one measly position he needed? He had to stay put for at least a few weeks, until Gunter and Darby were assured he was good and dead. Unfortunately, during those weeks he was apparently going to be harassed by this tenacious blond vixen.
Jake never denied having as many frailties as the next man, but he’d never considered women to be high on his list of weaknesses. Now he wasn’t so sure. Mesmerized as he was by those alluring blue eyes, he could well imagine Cecilia Summertree being his downfall, his own Delilah. He would have to be very, very careful.
“Goodness, I’m full,” Dolly said with a giggle, trying to shrug off the disturbing tension at the table. “Let’s try the blackberry wine, shall we?” She walked over to get a bottle that was on the small side table in the corner. “I put this up year before last.”
The people around the table perked up a bit as she poured the dark liquid into their small crystal glasses, which even Fanny Baker, who’d been with Dolly the longest, had only seen once before.
“You sure can get high tone when you want to, Dolly,” the older woman said.
Dolly raised her glass. “To our town’s newest citizen, all the way from Philadelphia.”
Even in a room full of immigrants from other parts of the country, Philadelphia sounded impressively far. Jake bowed, and the rest of the table smiled before swigging down their unfortunately modest portions of wine. The beverage was fruity, not at all unpleasant, and had a definite kick to it.
Jake licked his lips in appreciation. “Very flavorful, Mrs. Hudspeth,” he said.
Dolly acknowledged his compliment with a blush and a smile. “Do have another glass,” she said, offering him the crystal decanter.
Cecilia looked at the schoolteacher sharply as he poured himself a hefty drink. “Are you a wine connoisseur, Mr. Pendergast?”
Jake managed not to smile too openly. What she really wanted to know was whether he was a lush. “Everyone enjoys a fine glass of wine every now and then, don’t you agree?” he answered evasively. When Cecilia’s lips turned down in the frustrated pout he’d expected, he downed the liquid, bade everyone a good night and made his exit.
He just stopped himself from looking over his shoulder as he left the room. This morning it had seemed his troubles were coming to a close, but it looked as though he’d simply traded one enemy for another. Now Cecilia Summertree was gunning for him.
* * *
Upstairs, Jake cozied down into the bed. The pressed linens felt incredibly rich, making him realize how long it had been since he’d stayed in a real house, with a woman tending it. Dolly’s cooking had provided him with the best meal he’d had in months, which was certain to be a benefit to his hopefully short stay in Annsboro. Mostly he didn’t mind the independent life, but there were times when a woman’s touch was refreshing.
The homey feeling reminded him of the small house his family had owned, before Otis Darby had gotten into his head that their tiny spread had a coal deposit. Always a speculator, and with the railroads expanding all the time, Darby had decided to get the Reed land by hook or by crook. Preferably by crook. Rather than making an offer, Darby attempted to trump up a charge that Jake’s father had filed claim to the land illegally. The ensuing battle had killed Jake’s father, and though Darby’s accusations were proven false, Jake and his sick mother weren’t able to manage the land on their own.
Jake frowned,