About that time, the conversation was interrupted by the maid carrying a hot berry cobbler topped with homemade ice cream. Lillian protested she couldn’t eat another bite, but the cobbler tasted so good, she managed to eat a big bowlful anyway, just as the others were doing. My, these Texans certainly knew how to eat!
After dinner, she said good-bye to the lieutenant at the door. He seemed suddenly taller, although not nearly as tall as Brad O’Neal. Of course, not many men were.
“Honestly, Miss Primm, I really would accompany you this afternoon and protect you from that randy brute, if I didn’t need to practice my tuba so badly.”
“Yes, I understand. He seems to loathe me, so I’m not afraid of him, Lieutenant.”
He took both her hands in his soft ones. His palms were moist. “I—I know we barely know each other, Miss Primm, but I do wish you’d call me Buford.”
“Buford?”
He nodded. “Buford Arthur Reginal Fortenbury. I’m named for important ancestors. You know, I told you I was a member of the Sons of British Society.”
She smiled at him. “How could I forget? Good afternoon…Buford.”
“Now remember what I told you about not letting yourself be done out of any hidden treasure in that house.”
She didn’t like being admonished like a small child. “I’ve been looking out for myself for several years now, Lieutenant, ever since my mother died, five years ago.”
He hesitated in the doorway, his prominent adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, evidently getting up his courage to speak. “If—if I’m not being too forward, Miss Primm, I hope you may soon grant me the divine privilege of calling on you?”
What man used the word ‘divine’?
“Let me give that some thought, Buford. This is so sudden.”
“Of course. Well, I’ll be off. Ta ta.”
She watched him walk away. What kind of real man said ‘ta ta’? Then she realized why he seemed taller. He was wearing new boots and they had such high heels, he seemed unsteady on his feet. She imagined marrying him. Yes, he was highborn and certainly rich. Mrs. Buford Arthur Reginal Fortenbury, Her linens and silver would be monogrammed B.A.R.F. Somehow, that didn’t seem very appealing.
Lillian went to her room and tidied up for her appointment at the lawyer’s office. She recombed her tight, severe bun and put a dab of delicate lavender scent behind her ears. Not that she thought she had any feminine wiles to weaken Bradley O’Neal’s stubborn resolve, but maybe the lawyer might be swayed and if so, maybe he could sway that Texas scoundrel. Lillian needed every edge she could get. She wasn’t a beauty and she knew it, but her mind was as sharp as any man’s. Unfortunately, men were swayed by big bosoms and rounded bustles, not brains. She looked in the mirror again and sighed. Then she took a deep breath of resolve and marched out to the waiting buggy.
At precisely four o’clock, Lillian reined in her borrowed buggy before the lawyer’s office. Nothing moved along Main Street. The whole town must be napping or playing pinochle on a warm Sunday afternoon. A spotted hound lay out in the middle of the road, asleep. There was a black stallion tied to the hitching rail. Of course it would be black, Lillian thought in annoyance, just like his hair. Silver trim shone on the fine leather saddle and bridle. No doubt it was the mount of that gambling rascal. Lillian took a deep breath and went through the door with the lettering, DEWEY CHEATUM, ATTORNEY AT LAW.
A rumpled gray-haired man sat behind a cluttered desk and Brad O’Neal sat to one side. Both had drinks in their hands and stood up when she entered.
“I thought this was a business meeting. Alcohol on a Sunday afternoon?” she frowned.
“Would you like a mint julep?” The Irishman grinned at her.
“Certainly not. I want my wits about me when I am conducting business.” She nodded to the older man. “Hello, sir, I am Miss Lillian Primm, Mrs. Lil McGinty’s niece.”
“How do you do?” Lawyer Cheatum gestured toward a chair. “I never realized your aunt had been married.”
“Well, obviously somewhere along the way to some Irishman.” She frowned at the gambler. “The maiden name on my mother’s side is Winters.”
Brad O’Neal sipped his drink and sighed. “I told you what she was like, Dewey.”
She glared at him and then turned her attention to the lawyer. “I think you are guilty of subterfuge, sir.”
“Subterfuge?” Brad said, “Tsk, tsk. Why, Dewey, I knew you had sinned a lot, but I didn’t reckon you had committed subterfuge.”
Oh, he was maddening. “I meant,” she almost gritted her teeth to hold her temper, “that Mr. Cheatum misled me about what I was inheriting.”
The lawyer fumbled with his glass. “I’m really sorry about that, Miss Primm, but I just couldn’t imagine writing a lady like yourself and telling her she had inherited a—well, you know.”
O’Neal snorted. “If instead of being so hard-headed, lady, you had accepted my offer, you would not have had to know about this.”
“I am not hardheaded,” she answered, her voice cold enough to cause a blizzard, “but I give everything a lot of thought. I am not a silly female who lets herself be ruled by whimsy and passion.”
Brad snorted. “Do you even know the meanin’ of the word?”
“Certainly. My dictionary says—”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“You are a cad, sir. Now, do you know the meaning of that word?”
Lawyer Cheatum pulled out his pocket watch and sighed. “This is getting us nowhere, folks, and they’re holding up a game of pinochle over in the back of Pug’s store waiting for me. We need to resolve this.”
“Ha!” said Brad, “Dewey, if you can convince this stubborn old maid—”
“I beg your pardon!” Lillian snapped.
Dewey Cheatum sighed and poured himself another drink out of the bottle on his desk. “I reckon I can forget about a fast settlement. I wish I’d told Pug and Dimples and the others to start without me.”
Lillian had brought a list. Now she got it from her handbag and sat poised with a pencil. “Just what do you own of the Lily, Mr O’Neal?”
“We own the house jointly. It was once the mansion of a Yankee carpetbagger who came to Texas hoping to make a livin’ in cotton and went broke. I understand Lil bought it at a good price from him more than ten years ago.”
“Hmm. And what did you pay her for your share?”
“What business is that of yours?” He sighed and reached for the bottle.
“I’m trying to decide the house’s value. I suspect she gave you a real good deal.”
“She did at that.” He grinned. “Didn’t anyone tell you? I’m charmin’.”
She frowned. “Somehow, that eludes me. How did the business operate?”
“I handle the saloon and the gamblin’ downstairs. Lil kept the upstairs runnin’. So you’ve inherited the upstairs and the girls.”
She felt the blood rush to her face. “I do not intend to make my living off girls selling themselves to men.”
“Miss Primm, you are givin’ me a headache.”
“Are you sure it’s not a hangover from last night’s riotous living?”
“You are givin’