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A soft gasp escaped her. Where had that offer come from? Before she could query he spoke, “You told me once it was the only thing you missed about your life in London. Dancing the waltz.”
She laughed. “And you actually
suffered through me teaching you the steps.”
He grunted but the corner of his lips twitched. Then with grace he pushed to his feet, faced her and delivered a perfect courtly bow. “Would you honor me with a dance?”
Her heart a beating mess in her excitement, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Sheridan stepped back a few paces, before dipping into an elegant curtesy. “It would be my pleasure.”
Then she was in his arms, he drew her in an extremely close embrace, and the whistle of the breeze across the lands, and the chirping of the cicadas, and the thrilling birds became the music they twirled with elegant grace across the wide-open plains.
A smile burst on her lips at the glorious sensations bursting inside her heart. She was happy…and as she had long suspected, there was hope for her and Elijah.
Chapter Eleven
Several cats and dogs lay sprawled in the dirt soaking up the noon day sun. Sheridan jumped out of the wagon and hitched it to the post near the blacksmith’s shop. Blue Lagoon was a thriving town with a two-story hotel, three saloons, two schools, and a church. It even had its own mayor, judge, and sheriff.
“I will not be long, Tom.”
Tom nodded and tipped his hat. “I will wait here, Mrs. Galloway.”
Jason Finchman the other cowhand who rode into town with her hitched his horse and walked to position himself on the boardwalk near the dry goods store. Sheridan had mentioned to Elijah that Beth was to travel into town for a few bolts of calico. He had named the ranch hands that should accompany her. However, Grayson had been fussy this morning. Possibly teething. So, instead of riding out to meet Elijah where he’d been rounding up cows that had strayed onto their neighbor’s homestead, Sheridan had ridden into town with the men in Beth’s stead.
Today was the first time she had come into town since Sullivan had visited the ranch. It had only been a little over a week, but it seemed like a lifetime. She was relieved Sullivan had not visited again, but she also felt on edge. He had hounded her for weeks, always sending one of his cowhands to the ranch with either a message or some gift. He had been persistent, so his silence now was effective. She was intimidated and she understood Elijah’s caution.
Sheridan adjusted her wide brimmed straw hat, seating it more firmly on her head. While it was not fashionable, without it her skin would blister in the summer heat. She walked down the street, her skirt swishing against her legs as she thought about the items she needed to purchase. She travelled down Baker Street, the most prosperous street in the town where there were a dozen bustling buildings, towards the general store. She strolled past Mrs. Henshaw’s bakery and her mouth watered at the scent of cake and coffee. She crossed the street and was about to ascend the boardwalk when two men stepped in her path, their faces blank.
“Excuse me,” she muttered politely and made to move around.
Sheridan frowned when they shifted with her, and then it occurred to her that they had deliberately blocked her path. “I do not understand why you are blocking my path gentlemen, please excuse me.”
“She seems hostile, doesn’t she?” the man closest to her demanded with a disgusting leer.
“She sure do,” the second man drawled with a leer chewing steadily on his jerky.
Hostile? Sheridan’s lips curled in disgust when he grabbed his crotch suggestively. She glanced around to see a few people watching covertly. She looked enquiringly at Mrs. Glibly, the mayor’s wife as she walked wide around them as if she did not see. At least a dozen people were standing around quietly observing. Surely these men would not act uncouth with the town’s people looking on?
The one that had the jerky in his mouth took malicious pleasure in informing her. “They don’t cotton too much to whores that pretend to be ladies.”
Sheridan’s stomach tightened in dread. “Please excuse me.” She would be polite even if it killed her.
They assessed her person in a way that made her twitch nervously. Disgusting reprobates.
“Mr. Sullivan demands your presence in the saloon.”
She inhaled sharply. The Saloon? No respectable woman would enter there. “You will move out of my way, gentlemen,” she snapped, not in the least intimidated by them. “I have no business with Mr. Sullivan.”
The boardwalk creaked and she glanced up to see Bartley exiting the saloon. He had the most salacious countenance, as he slowly roved her body with his slimy eyes. She fought not to show the nerves growing in her stomach. Sullivan’s goons had never bothered her so overtly in town before. Why would they do so now?
Bartley stepped toward her and she inclined her head to meet his steady regard. He lifted one of his hands and cupped her cheek, his thumb parting her lips and dipping inside her mouth. She stumbled away from him and stared at him revolted. “Don’t you touch me!”
She glanced to where she hitched the wagon and the colt she had nestled inside. Where was Tom?
She met Jason’s eyes and he walked over scanning the men. He seemed cool and controlled, and some of the tension eased from her. Jason paused beside her, his hands hitching in his belt buckle close to his gun strapped onto his thigh.
“Is there a reason you are blocking Mrs. Galloway’s path?” he demanded.
Quick as a snake and faster than she could track, the man directly in front of her punched Jason in the stomach, then stepped in close and slammed his knee into his face.
