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  “Uh, ma’am,” he said, “I think there’s a lizard in the kitchen.” Then he could have kicked himself, hunched over, and braced himself for her shriek of terror.

  “Oh, bother,” Miss Adelaide Blewitt uttered prosaically. She removed her gaze from where it seemed to be drilling a hole into Charley’s chest and followed his finger’s point to the corner. There, sure enough, a horned toad lingered. What had possessed him to point out the harmless reptile?

  But Miss Adelaide Blewitt surprised him. Instead of screeching, she waltzed over to the corner, stooped, and picked the thing up. In her bare hands.

  “These critters are fine for the garden,” she declared, marching to the back door. “They do wonders to keep the bugs down, but we just can’t seem to keep ‘em out of the house.

  “It’s ‘cause the door is so near to the ground, you see,” sailed to him over her shoulder. “Papa should have raised the house some in back like he did in front.”

  She disappeared into the pitchy night for a second and was dusting off her hands when she reentered the room, smiling up a storm. Charley, who had stopped removing his shirt in shock over seeing a lady actually handle a horned toad in such a manner, stared at her.

  “If you don’t take that shirt off, Mr. Wilde, I won’t be able to tend to your arm, you know,” Addie told him severely.

  “Oh. Oh, sure.” Charley whipped off his shirt and watched her peer at him in fascination.

  “Mercy sakes, you are a strong one, aren’t you? Whatever do you do to build up your muscles so? Are you a cowboy?”

  Although he was beginning to wonder if this were New Mexico Territory’s answer to one of the fancy cat houses back home, Charley guessed he’d better play it safe. “Actually, ma’am, I’m just a musician. Our band was on its way to Albuquerque when we ran into trouble.”

  In the light of the kitchen, Charley could tell that Addie looked ordinary enough. She had a generous mouth, a little too wide for beauty. Her nose tipped up at the end and freckles splashed across it. Her chin looked pert and stubborn. Her only truly fine feature were her eyes. At his explanation, they opened up as round as dinner plates.

  They were gray, Charley realized. He hadn’t been able to tell in the dark. But they were gray as slate and framed by thick black lashes; the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. The dark lashes and brows went charmingly with her pale skin and pink cheeks. He wished he hadn’t noticed.

  “You’re a musician? Oh, my!”

  She said it as though she considered being a musician the most wonderful thing a person could possibly be. She’d been in the process of soaping a cloth, but stopped and stared at him. Charley wanted to holler at her again.

  “It’s not such a wonderful thing to play a horn, ma’am.” He decided that was entirely too surly a thing to have said to a woman who was trying to help him so he cleared his throat and began again. “I mean, we’re just a brass band. Originally we’re from America City, Georgia.”

  “Mercy sakes,” Addie breathed, “you really are from Georgia. We’re from Georgia, too. Originally.” She gave him another glorious smile.

  Charley didn’t guess he had an answer for that one, so he sat still and tried not to yank his arm away when she began to soap it.

  “You have a nasty scratch here, Mr. Wilde, It’s kind of deep, but it looks fairly clean. With proper care, I don’t think it’ll fester.”

  “No, I don’t reckon it will.” Charley clenched his teeth and endeavored not to holler in pain.

  “And what instrument do you play, Mr. Wilde?”

  “E-flat cornet, ma’am. I’m sort of the head of the band.” Sort of, he mused glumly. Shoot, if it weren’t for me, the boys would have starved to death by now.

  “The cornet! How grand. I just simply love the cornet, Mr. Wilde. How special!”

  “Well, I don’t expect it’s any more special than any other horn, really, ma’am.”

  She shook her head hard as if, instead of voicing his opinion on the cornet, he’d asked if she’d like to bed him. Which didn’t sound like a bad idea, come to think on it. Charley resolutely turned the unworthy thought aside.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Wilde,” Addie said, her voice throbbing with sincerity, “I truly do believe the cornet is the most special instrument of all. Why, I recollect hearing a fellow play ‘Dixie’s Land’ on his cornet once, and it was so touchin’, I cried.”

  That information didn’t surprise Charley a whole lot. Miss Adelaide Blewitt seemed like a dramatic little thing, even if she could apparently outwork any three men he’d ever met. And doctor wounds, too. A knock came at the door. Relieved, he said, “Reckon that’s Lester, ma’am. Lester Frogg.”

  She screeched, “Come in,” in a voice to rival that of a champion hog-caller Charley’d known once in his youth. He winced, and Miss Adelaide Blewitt peeked at him in chagrin.

  As though striving to regain her dulcet Georgia southern, she purred, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wilde. I’m used to living here alone with my aunt. Aunt Ivy is quite deaf, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s all right, ma’am.” Charley wished his ears would quit ringing. “But I wouldn’t leave Lester alone to find his way. He can get lost walking down the stairs.”

  Giggling, Addie popped up from her seat. “I’ll just go fetch him, then.”

  Charley watched her swish out of the room and rolled his eyes. God save him.

  In spite of her ways, though, there was something about Miss Adelaide Blewitt that charmed him. He didn’t understand it. She seemed a silly girl at first glance; but she also seemed sweet. Besides, anybody would could fare as well as she seemed to be faring in New Mexico Territory couldn’t be entirely witless. Charley shook his head and wondered if a grazed shoulder could account for scrambled brains.

  # # #

  Addie guessed Mr. Wilde was right about his friend. She discovered Lester Frogg in the parlor, looking about as befuddled as a body could look.

  “Just come on in the kitchen with me, Mr. Frogg. I’m doctoring your friend. He was tellin’ me you’re with a band. I think that’s so exciting.”

  “Well, um—”

  Lester was spared further comment when Addie grabbed him by the point of his leather vest and tugged him along behind her.

  “Now,” she said, settling herself in her chair once more, “please go on, Mr. Wilde. You’re with a band? My aunt Ivy said they used to have the dearest brass band in her home town in Georgia. Peachtree? Do you know the place?”

  Before either man could do more than open his mouth, Addie was off and running again. “And, oh, she says they were so good. Played every Sunday in the park. I wish we’d get us up a brass band in Rothwell, but I don’t suppose there are enough musical folks here for that. And, anyway, half the folks hereabouts are Mexicans and they play a different kind of music. It’s real pretty, but it’s not like ‘Aura Lee’ or ‘Lorena’ or anything. Besides, they all play guitars, if they play anything at all.”

  She’d finished washing up Charley’s arm by this time and gently patted it dry with a towel. Frowning critically, she said, “I don’t guess I’ll have to stitch that, Mr. Wilde.”

  Charley’s eyes opened wide. “Good.”

  He looked a little pale and Addie gave him an understanding smile and decided to distract him by talking about music some more. Her aunt Ivy always told her a gentleman in pain needed distraction.

  “I mean, no matter how pretty somebody else’s music is, a body misses his own music, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t think I’d like it if I never got to hear ‘Listen to the Mockingbird’ or ‘The Old Oaken Bucket’ ever again, do you? I guess a body just grows up with a certain type of music and it never gets out of his blood. Don’t you think so, Mr. Wilde?”

  Her thick lashes fluttered over her pretty gray eyes and Charley, who had just about been numbed into a slack-jawed stupor by her chatter, discovered his mouth clanking shut. “Er, ah, yes, ma’am. I surely do.”

  Her smile sparkled like the sky outside. “Wel
l, I do, too. That’s just exactly what I think. Don’t you think it’s curious we share the same opinion on the subject? I wonder if we think alike on very many issues. Now, what were you saying about your band? You were on your way to Albuquerque? Why would a body want to go to Albuquerque in the middle of the night?”

  Charley decided it was a good thing it had been Lester he’d paired up with when the posse started chasing them instead of somebody else. Any one of the other four members of his brass band thought quicker than Lester. As for Lester, he sat on his chair, gaped at the chatter-box Miss Blewitt, mouth open, obviously stunned, and uttered not a word.

  “We were hired to play for some sort of civic celebration they’re having up there, ma’am,” Charley fibbed glibly. He found he was getting right good at making up spur-of-the-moment lies, and knew the skill was not a good one to have acquired. “We’d just finished a job in El Paso.”

  That, at least was the truth. They’d tried to rob a saloon in El Paso and almost gotten themselves killed in the process. They were going to have to improve their technique if they planned to stay in this business. Not for the first time, Charley cursed the carpetbaggers who’d snatched up all the jobs in his native America City after the War. If it weren’t for them, he and the boys would still be there, playing in the park on Sundays, working at their old jobs, reviving swooning maidens, and living blameless and happy lives.

  Miss Blewitt now seemed absorbed in wrapping a clean linen bandage around his biceps. She’d spent an inordinate amount of time rubbing salve into the wound, but he didn’t think he’d better object. Besides, the salve felt good. He wondered if she’d made it herself, then told himself not to be stupid. Of course she had. Miss Addie Blewitt, for all her chatty ways, was enormously accomplished. Charley admired that quality in a person. He hadn’t encountered it very often in females.

  Now she shook her head, her hair sparking gold in the lamplight. It was the first time he’d noticed that her brown mane contained golden highlights. He felt an unfamiliar itch to sink his fingers into the soft curtain of her hair and fisted his hand up to fight it off.

  “My, my, Mr. Wilde, whatever made you decide to come out to the territory? Isn’t it much nicer back home in Georgia? Aunt Ivy says Georgia is the most beautiful place in the whole world.”

  She made “Georgia” sound so luscious Charley could almost taste honey dripping off the word.

  “Not anymore,” he said shortly. It annoyed him when she flinched.

  “I mean,” he said more gently, “not since the war.”

  “Why is that, Mr. Wilde?”

  She was in the process of tying the prettiest bow Charley’d ever seen in his life. And it was on the bandage wrapped around his arm. Good grief. If he ever saw the boys again, they’d laugh at him for sure.

  “Because all the jobs left after the war have been taken up by newcomers.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  When she reared back and slapped a hand against her chest, Charley feared for a minute she’d suffered a spasm. Then she cried, “Oh, mercy sakes! How terrible!” and he guessed this was just another indication of her singular nature.

  “It’s not so bad,” he said tightly.

  “Why, you poor fellows. Is that how you earned your livin’ in Georgia? By playin’ in the band?”

  She picked his shirt up from the table and bustled over to the sink. There she began pumping water with enthusiasm.

  “Well, no. Not entirely.” He watched curiously as she began dunking his shirt in the sink. He could see her perky breasts bounce up and down under her robe and guessed he should stop looking. He didn’t, and had to lick his dry lips before he could continue. “We played on Sundays and on special occasions. We had different jobs in town. Lester here worked as a jeweler’s assistant. Our bass player’s a blacksmith. I’m a carpenter myself.”

  She shot him a flirty look over her shoulder. “That accounts for those bulgin’ muscles, I reckon.”

  “I reckon.” Charley scowled and turned his attention to the oilskin table top.

  “Baritone,” Lester announced suddenly. It was the first word he’d spoken since coming indoors.

  Addie blinked at him, wondering what he meant. She cast a look of inquiry at Charley.

  “Yes.” Charley said, sounding resigned. “Lester here plays the baritone.”

  Lester turned in his chair and gave Addie a look she supposed must be a smile. Whatever kind of look it was, it displayed a set of teeth that reminded her of a broken picket fence.

  “Why, how nice, Mr. Frogg.”

  “Lester’s generally a step or two behind folks in a conversation, Miss Blewitt.” Charley smiled at Lester, who grinned back. “But he plays a mean baritone.”

  “Oh, please. You don’t have to be formal here. You may call me Adelaide.” She turned toward the sink again and added sourly, “Although most folks hereabouts call me Addie.”

  “Thank you kindly, ma’am. Then please call me Charley.”

  “Thank you. I certainly shall. You know, Charley, I’m going to have to mend this shirt. There’s quite a hole in it.” Addie held up the item under discussion, stuck her finger through the tear and wiggled it.

  “Why, thank you, ma’am—I mean, Miss Adelaide.”

  With another confidential smile, Addie said, “You know, my pa and my aunt Ivy and I came out here from Georgia before the Conflict because Papa didn’t want me to suffer the horrors of war. He knew it was coming, and he couldn’t bear to endure any more sadness you see, ‘cause my mama had just passed away the year before.”

  “Smart man,” murmured Charley.

  “Oh, yes, Papa was smart all right. I do declare, I miss him something terrible sometimes.” Addie heaved an eloquent sigh.

  “Uh, well, it must be difficult living out here in the territory, ma’am,” Charley said.

  “Yes, it is sort of hard. There aren’t many amenities, although I think I miss having close neighbors most of all. I have to confess though, that I don’t recollect Georgia much. My aunt Ivy is the one who tells me about Georgia, you see, and all you gallant southern gentlemen.”

  She cast him another brilliant smile and worried when he seemed to wince. “Does your arm pain you much, Charley?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “I’m glad. You just tell me if you need a dose of laudanum, you hear? I can brew you up a cup of willow-bark tea if you feel a fever comin’ on, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  Addie went back to scrubbing Charley’s shirt. She did it with vigor and plenty of hard lye soap. Deciding she’d reported enough about the rigors of the territory, she said, “Anyhow, as I was sayin’, I don’t recall Georgia much.”

  “I see.”

  Lester said, “Name’s Lester.”

  Both Addie and Charley turned to look at him. Then Addie, remembering Charley’s admonition, said, “Why, thank you, Lester. I’ll be sure to call you Lester.”

  Lester turned red, attempted a brief smile, and resumed staring at the table.

  Getting back to her conversation with Charley, Addie said, “But it hasn’t been too hard here. We’re pretty close to Rothwell. I don’t expect Rothwell’s a very big town, by your standards—” She gave Charley another look to let him know she knew he must consider her a sad hick. “—but because of the jewels, we weren’t too hard up.”

  Charley’s head jerked up. “Jewels, ma’am?”

  “Oh, my land, yes. The Blewitt family rubies. They’re ever so pretty.” She eyed him curiously. “Do you have something stuck in your throat, Charley? Do you need me to pat you on the back?”

  Charley left off swallowing convulsively and forced himself to say, “Oh, no, ma’am. But thank you.”

  Addie eyed him critically. “I do believe there are some shirts of my papa’s still folded up in the attic. Would you like me to look for you? This shirt won’t be dry before mid-morning tomorrow, I expect, and anyway, I’ll still have to sew it up.”

&
nbsp; “Well, ma’am, I would appreciate it, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to get it back to you. Reckon we’d best get on to Rothwell soon.”

  “Oh, no!” cried Addie, horrified. He was her knight, for heaven’s sake. Not only that, but he was a carpenter. Why, she needed him! He couldn’t leave here before he was made to understand his role in her life. She wouldn’t let him.

  “Why, I declare, you just can’t go anywhere until your arm is healed, Charley. You’ll just have to stay here and—and—and work for my aunt and me until you’re all better. Lester, too. You need to keep that medicine on your wound or it’s likely to get infected.”

  “But, ma’am, what about my boys?”

  “Your boys, Charley?”

  Addie blinked at him, and Charlie got lost in her big gray eyes for a second. He shook off the moment and said, “Yes, ma’am. They depend on me. It wouldn’t be fair for me to stay here if they don’t have any place to put up.”

  “I’ll fix that, Charley. Don’t give it another moment’s thought.”

  The way she said it left absolutely no doubt in Charley’s mind that she meant it. It was his turn to blink. He hadn’t credited Miss Adelaide with such strength of character until now. Still and all . . .

  Interrupting his thoughts, Addie added, “I’ll see to housing your men tomorrow, Charley. Don’t think about it for another little minute. I’ll talk to some people in town and they’ll be happy to put up those other fellows.”

  “Well, ma’am—”

  Charley didn’t get to finish his protest because Lester took that opportunity to say, “Peachtree.”

  Charley and Addie looked at him. Lester blushed again and ducked his head. “I recollect seein’ the Peachtree Blewitt rubies oncet.”

  After a moment’s pause while she sifted through the last several minutes of conversation, Addie said uncertainly, “You do?”

  Lester bobbed his head. “Jewelry store. Cleaned ‘em. Worked there.”

  “My, my,” murmured Addie. “It’s a small world.”