“Strong is good,” one of the younger women murmured. “I like a strong man.”
“Mmm. John Wayne,” someone else said.
“But a man can be too opinionated,” Valentine said, and Liberty felt better.
“Depends on where and how he decides to express his opinions,” someone commented, drawing a few giggles, though not from Liberty, Pansy, Helen or Valentine.
The heavy doors of the Tulips Saloon crashed open. All the ladies gasped, not the least because of the fabulous stained-glass design of hot pink and red tulips that adorned the door, but mainly from the shock of being startled from their conversation—again.
“Liberty!” Duke’s voice could have drowned out a cannon’s boom. She whirled to look at him, holding her hands to the sweetheart neckline of the dress so it wouldn’t fall from her shoulders.
She raised her chin, not about to answer him meekly. “You snarled?”
“We need to talk,” he said, his arms crossed.
“Need has never been one of my favorite words,” she said. “I prefer would like to, or even should.”
“Phrased nicely,” Pansy said, bobbing her head so that her spectacles danced. “‘We should talk’ would sound ever so much more chivalrous.”
“I’ll wait for you outside.” He tipped his hat to the room and left.
Liberty looked at her friends. “That is the definition of strong.”
“Well,” Valentine said, “he is upset.”
“He does need some sugar on that temper of his,” someone suggested.
“Of course, he was devastated when she left,” another matron sympathized.
“Well,” Helen said with a sigh, “go change, honey. Let him cool his heels a minute. I’ll tell him you’ll be right out, and maybe that will settle him.” She picked up a delicate teacup, poured some fresh tea in it and bravely headed outside to offer it to the sheriff.
Liberty went into a back room and slipped out of the beautiful gown with Valentine’s help. Valentine hung the dress for her, covering it in plastic. Even beneath the cover, the dress shimmered with hope and dreams of happiness. Liberty had sewn every single one of those sequins and crystal beads herself, and had cut the satiny fabric with trembling fingers while Pansy and Helen helped her keep it from snagging or getting dirty. That dress had been a labor of love on all their parts.
“The ladies say he really is a teddy bear,” Valentine said.
“He is,” Liberty agreed, “when he’s not being a horse’s ass. You don’t get one without the other with Duke.”
Valentine giggled. “I heard his brother, Zach, is the same way.”
“Zach may be worse. Although Pepper takes the cake,” Liberty said. “Little sister knows exactly how to tame those brothers of hers.”
“Where is Pepper, anyway?” Valentine asked, carefully smoothing the plastic covering the dream dress.
“I don’t know. Off somewhere, being a wild woman.” She smiled as she pulled on jeans and a loose white sweater. “I think the fact that Pepper and I were best friends growing up gives me insight into the family. Zach and I were close, almost as much as Pepper and I were. But not Duke. I think I fell in love with him when I was five years old. I was watching him catch tadpoles, and I remember thinking he could do anything.” He had been her hero.
A part of her still thought he was.
She shook her head as she stepped back into her high-heeled wedding shoes. There wasn’t going to be a wedding but she might as well wear them, even if they might be the color of sin in Duke’s eyes. The heels would make her a little taller when talking to him—and a little sexier, despite her pregnancy.
“Your shoes and sweater match,” Valentine said. “You look so pretty, Liberty. No one would ever guess you’re seven months pregnant. I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”
Liberty smiled. “Thanks.”
“I’m going to head back to Union Junction. I’ll give your dress to Helen and Pansy.” She hugged Liberty. “In the meantime, good luck with Duke.”
Pansy poked her head around the door. “Duke says he’s gotten a call and he’s got to leave, so you’d best hurry, dear.”
Liberty hugged Valentine again and followed Pansy out, waving to her friends who watched her depart with some concern. Outside the saloon, Duke stood on the sidewalk, sexy as all get out and clearly disgruntled.
“I have to go,” he said. “I have a call. But we should talk.”
Noting he’d used the ladies’ more courteous phrasing, she gave him points for trying and nodded. “All right.”
“You can ride with me if you like.” He eyed her wedding shoes. “Although we’ll be going into the country on a family crisis call.”
“Who is it?” She followed Duke with quick steps as he strode away.
“The Carmines. Mrs. Carmine says her husband left last night and she wants someone to talk to. She thinks he may have gotten lost.”
“Again,” Liberty murmured. Bug Carmine frequently departed to his fields with a bottle of whiskey and a shotgun. The shotgun was in case he saw a deer or duck he wanted, though in his ten years of disappearing, he’d never brought home food nor trophy. People suspected he couldn’t see more than five feet in front of him. His disappearance upset Mrs. Carmine after a few days. She would call someone to fetch him from the five hundred acres he could hide himself in, and he’d come home sheepishly, bottle empty but shotgun still loaded.
They got in Duke’s truck. He glanced over at her, and Liberty’s nerves tightened.
“So,” he said, “who’s the lucky guy?”
Chapter Two
“There is no lucky guy,” Liberty said. “You should know that better than anyone.”
He scowled. Why had he asked? No matter the answer, it was bound to hurt. But she wouldn’t have been wearing the wedding gown if she wasn’t intending to marry another man.
It was killing him.
“No second chances from me,” he said. “I’m not asking twice.”
He felt her astonishment. “I’m not asking you to ask me, if you’re referring to marriage.” Her posture stiffened. “Duke, my leaving had more to do with me than you. I got scared. I wasn’t ready. Even I didn’t know I was a predestined runaway bride. It just happened, silly as that seems.”
“If it was any woman other than you who’d done that, I’d think they were a little loose in the skull,” he said. “But being loosey-goosey is sort of your way. I think it’s what attracts me to you.”
Of course, there were a lot of other things that attracted him to her. Right now he could smell her perfume. It smelled wonderful, reminding him of the scent of her skin. The memory worked him over. “I think you weren’t convinced.”
“Of what?”
“You weren’t convinced that you couldn’t live without me. Since we never really dated but made love twice—in one afternoon—you probably were unconvinced that I was husband material.”
“I don’t think that was it. But let’s not examine it too much. If we try to overanalyze it, we might figure something out, and I don’t want to. It’s in the past.”
He didn’t like that. “Completely?”
“Not