Page 7 of Taming Lady Temperance

Noreen placed a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “I have no doubt you’ll be the finest nurse in Texas one day.” If she ever escaped her father’s confining hold. Noreen would need to talk to Martha about putting together some kind of scholarship fund to help Luella continue her studies beyond the secondary classroom.

Luella smiled, but shadows lingered in her eyes, the curse of a child who understood that reality rarely lived up to one’s dreams. “Did you know that Clara Barton actually came to our town once? After those three years of drought in the ’80s. Mama said Miss Barton set up her headquarters in Albany as she toured the surrounding counties and brought clothing, household goods, and tools to the farmers’ families who’d been devastated by lost crops. Mama said only a woman would think to bring things for the families. All the men thought about was the seed they needed to replant. I was only eight and don’t remember much about it, but I still have the shoes I got from the Red Cross that year. They’re plumb wore out, but Mama told me to keep them so I could remember the woman who brought hope to a land that had none.”

A woman who brought hope. That’s who Noreen wanted to be as well. A woman who made the world a better place. But even Frances Willard had failed to get her prohibition referendum passed in Texas because men alone held the right to vote. Yes, rallying the spinsters would make it more difficult for the town council to ignore the plight of those negatively impacted by drunkenness. But that might not be enough. She might need another ally. One well-liked and respected around town. One who appreciated the value of sobriety. One capable of growing facial hair.

Jane’s father occasionally assisted the cause by preaching a sermon on the dangers of overindulgence, but his concern centered on the spiritual needs of his flock, not on promoting a political agenda many considered divisive. And Noreen didn’t want to risk a rift developing between herself and Jane by pestering the parson too often.

That left only one trouser-wearing candidate on Noreen’s list of possible advocates—Deputy James Paxton.

Chapter

4

James milled around the churchyard after services Sunday morning, shaking hands and jawing with the farmers and ranchers who came to town infrequently. As the son of a rancher, he felt more at home among the men with cracked leather work boots than those sporting polished Oxfords. Spotting his mentor, Henry Herron, chatting with the preacher near the church steps, James meandered that direction.

“How is your wife fairing?” Brother Cowan was asking. “I didn’t see Alice next to you this morning.”

“Bertie was feelin’ poorly. Alice stayed home to tend to her.”

“Sorry to hear that. I’m sure Jane missed having her in Sunday school. Jane always speaks highly of your young’uns.”

“And they, her.” Henry grinned. “They love Miss Jane’s class.” He glanced over at James, no doubt catching the movement of his approach from the corner of his eye. Once a lawman, always a lawman—at least regarding instincts and vigilance. His smile widened. “James! Good to see you, Deputy.”

He extended his hand, and James clasped it gladly. “Henry. How are those Herefords treating you?”

“Better than the outlaws I used to spend my days roundin’ up. I much prefer dodging kickin’ hooves than flyin’ bullets.”

James chuckled. “Can’t argue with that. Calving going well?”

Herron nodded. “Had two drop this past week. Got a couple other heifers showing signs of bein’ near their time as well.”

“Sounds—”

“Deputy Paxton.” An unwelcome voice broke into the conversation. “Might I have a word?”

James did his best to hide his frown as he glanced toward Arthur Clevenger, owner of Clevenger’s Emporium and self-proclaimed mayoral candidate for the next election. James could understand a man having political aspirations—he did, himself, after all—but Clevenger’s ingratiating manner got under James’s skin. He was one of those fellas who hobnobbed with those in power to elevate himself instead of standing on his own two feet. Night and day different from his headstrong stepdaughter, who didn’t care who she vexed or what personal consequences she might suffer in her quest for reform.

“Come out to the ranch on your off day,” Henry offered in parting, his gaze glowing with sympathy and just a touch of glee that he was no longer the one whose time was not his own. “I’ll show you the herd, and Alice will fill your belly with some decent grub for a change. I remember how sorry your cooking skills are.” He thumped him on the back, and James grinned.

“How do you know they haven’t improved since you hung up the star?”

Henry’s eyes glittered with suppressed laughter. “Boy, you couldn’t fry a potato without nearly burnin’ down the jail. If your skills had doubled, they still wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel.”

James chuckled, well aware of Clevenger’s growing impatience beside him. “True. I’ll stop by on Wednesday.”

“See ya then.”

“Deputy.” The title burst from Clevenger the moment the last word fell from Henry’s tongue. “I really must speak with you.”

Biting back a sigh, James pasted a pleasant expression on his face and turned to the man who cared more about his own agenda than another’s conversation. “Clevenger. What can I do for you?”

The man’s mouth pinched beneath his thin mustache. “It has come to my attention that my wife’s daughter might have been involved in some . . . unsavory activities a few nights ago. I wanted to apologize on her behalf and to assure you that her mother and I do not condone such bold behavior. I will be making my feelings on the subject known to her today when she comes to Sunday dinner.”

Nothing like a warmhearted family meal filled with lectures and accusations. No wonder Noreen chose to live at the boardinghouse instead of with her parents. Or parent, singular. Good old Arthur made it quite clear that he wanted no association linking him to his opinionated stepdaughter.

Cautious of others who might be near enough to overhear, James kept his voice boringly pleasant so as not to draw undue attention. “I found nothing unsavory in Miss Noreen’s activities last Thursday. She might have been sharing opinions that weren’t particularly popular in the vicinity where she’d chosen to linger, but there was nothing illegal nor unseemly in her conduct.”

“It’s good of you to take that stance, Paxton. I appreciate your discretion. Heaven knows Noreen has none.” He laughed as if he thought himself quite funny.