Speak My Love Read online

  "I know that too," Hattie conceded on a sigh. Her fingers tightened around Priscilla's wrist. "But enough about my problems, tell me about this man that you have met."

  Priscilla smiled as she recalled how handsome Ian has looked the night before as he stood in the doorway of Father's office offering to assist her in making drinks. "His name is Ian Alwin and…."

  Hattie interrupted, "I know Mr. Alwin. I met him at Mayor Stanton's swearing-in ceremony. He was so polite when we were introduced. He seemed to be a true gentleman; not at all rough and coarse or vulgar and uncouth like so many of the eligible male residents of Cactus Gulch."

  Priscilla nodded. "That is what first attracted me to him. He is polished and polite and cultured."

  "The fact that he was the teacher at the Cactus Gulch Public School speaks well for his intellectual prowess." Hattie leaned across the table. "Did he ask you out?"

  Priscilla studied the lace design of the tablecloth. "Yes, but I refused."

  In an impassioned voice, Hattie asked, "Why, for heaven's sake?"

  "I refused because I knew Father would object."

  Hattie nodded her curly head. "I know how you must feel. I faced the same problem when Percy first asked me out."

  Priscilla asked, "What did you do?"

  Hattie's pretty dimple showed as she smiled. "I invited Percy to call on me."

  "And your father didn't object?"

  "Only a little," Hattie answered, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Of course it helped that Percy's family is rich and socially prominent. Father wouldn't dare offend the president of the bank who is also the richest man in Sagebrush County."

  Priscilla had to smile too. "You are very clever, Hattie, but no more so than I."

  Hattie asked anxiously. "Priscilla, have you too been devious?"

  "I invited Ian to the church's box supper next Sunday."

  Hattie clapped her hands. "Do you think he will come?"

  Priscilla shrugged. "I don't know. He said he would."

  Hattie was ecstatic. "This is so exciting. Maybe you too will soon be announcing your engagement."

  Priscilla shook her head. "I am not sure that I would want to be engaged to Ian." After a moment's thought she added, "I am not sure that I want to be engaged to any man."

  Hattie sat up in her chair. "Priscilla, surely you don't contemplate living your life as a spinster."

  Priscilla admitted on a note of confusion, "I am not sure what I want at this point." Not even to her dearest friend could she confess that her brief and troubling encounter with Ian Alwin had called into question much that she had assumed to be settled and sure. She had, until that point in time, believed that truly virtuous women were mothers and wives who managed households, reared children and bore the burden of submitting to the sexual needs of their husbands even though they themselves cared little or nothing about sexual indulgences. Her intense reaction to Ian had aroused doubts and concerns not only about her beliefs and expectations but also about her character and her moral fiber. "I am so confused." The grandfather clock in the hall striking three brought her attention back to her present duty. "Oh, dear, I must go. It's almost time for my class to begin."

  Chapter Three

  Ian's Mission or A Fool's Errand

  Milo Stanton couldn't contain his excitement. His booming voice rang out in confident glee. "I knew my plan would work." He was, as usual, clenching a cigar between his teeth and taking long strides across his office floor. "Didn't I tell you that we could find a way for you to be alone for a few minutes with Miss Priscilla?"

  "Yes, I believe that you did just that." Ian was more concerned about Milo's progress in persuading Rawhide to withdraw his petitions to the city council than he was about Priscilla Murray's actions or reactions. "Did you convince Rawhide to withdraw his petitions?"

  "No, the son-of-a-bitch is still determined to have his say." Turning, Milo retraced his footsteps back across the floor. "Let me worry about Rawhide. You concentrate on speakin' on my behalf to Miss Priscilla." He shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. "Didn't I tell you that Miss Priscilla would be properly polite and sweetly demure?"

  Ian had found Priscilla Murray not so much proper and demure, as she was cold and remotely removed from the world around her. He suspected that she was also shallow and slightly feather-brained. He dared not voice those impressions to Milo. "I suppose." Ian picked up his pen and turned his attention back to the work in front of him.

  "You suppose, what the hell does that mean?" Milo stopped his pacing. "What ever the hell you are doing let it go for now and pay some attention to what I'm telling you. We must plan our next move." He came to sit across the table from Ian. "Tell me more of your conversation with Miss Priscilla." The bemused expression on Milo's face made Ian turn away in sympathetic disgust. Was there anything worse that an old fool infatuated with a young woman?

  The old fool was becoming impatient. "Speak up, man!"

  Over the past two days Ian had summarized his brief conversation with Priscilla Murray at least a dozen times. Placing his pen in its holder he leaned back in his chair. "We talked briefly and she invited me to a box supper at her church Sunday night." He couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting in over his head. "I'm sure she'd be delighted if you came along with me."

  "Not on your life," Milo responded. "How can you sing my praises to Miss Priscilla if I'm right there beside you?" Leaning across the table he lowered his voice. "You know what to say, don't you?"

  Ian nodded. "I'm to tell Miss Murray what a fine man you are and that you are anxious to settle down and be a good husband to the right woman."

  Milo held his cigar in his teeth and talked from the side of his mouth. "You might add for good measure that I'm not a poor man and that I am also able to provide well for a wife."

  Ian wanted this business of speaking for Milo Stanton to be over and soon. "I will be sure to inform Miss Priscilla that you are financially secure when I speak of your many fine qualities and countless sterling attributes."

  "And don't forget to tell her how much I admire her and how much...."

  Ian used his fingers to enumerate. "I will remember to extol your many virtues and to praise your innumerable excellent qualities. I will also tell Miss Murray of the deep affection you have for her and how you hold her in high regard."

  Admiration shone in Milo's eyes. "You do have a way with words. I'm mighty proud to have you speakin' for me."

  Ian felt somewhat the traitor as he said, "And I am proud to speak for a friend who is as noble and true as you, Your Honor." Because the truth was, he only wanted to shut Milo up so he could finish his work and go back to his empty room at the boarding house where he could be alone with his memories and regrets.

  Milo was pacing again. "Do you know what I would like?"

  Ian was too busy searching for some way to extricate himself from what was fast becoming an awkward situation, to pay heed to Milo's prating. "I have no idea, sir."

  Milo's words hit Ian like the blast from a shotgun fired at close range. "I would like for you to move into my house with me."

  Ian stammered, "But, Your Honor.…"

  Milo held up one hand. "Just listen for a minute. I've already talked it over with Mrs. Carter. She's agreeable."

  Obviously, Milo had given some consideration to this idea. Ian swallowed his surprise. "Who is Mrs. Carter?"

  "Nellie Carter is my housekeeper. For a little extra money each month she will be happy to do for two gentlemen instead of one."

  How did Ian speak delicately about a most indelicate subject? "I don't know that I could afford living with you." He did some swift mental calculating and was convinced that he couldn't. "Thank you very much but…."

  Milo's booming voice cut across Ian's polite refusal. "Hell, man, I ain't intendin' to charge you nothin'."

  Ian protested even as he thought how pleasant it would be to live in comfortable surroundings again. "I couldn't do that, sir."

  "Tell
me why the hell not?"

  "I..." Ian faltered. "Don't accept charity."

  Milo's brow bent into a frown. "Hell, this ain't charity, it's…" He snapped his fingers. "It's like a raise in pay, a way to compensate for this extra work you're doing with Miss Priscilla on my behalf."

  Ian's common sense argued that he should refuse Milo's generous offer. The lure of living in a home, having some privacy and decent food to eat overrode his good judgment. "I accept your generous raise in salary."

  Milo shifted his cigar to the other side of his mouth. "Good, then it's settled. Go to your boarding house right now, pack up your stuff and get over to my house. If you hurry you can make it by suppertime."

  Ian protested, "But sir, we have work that…."

  Milo was adamant. "We don't have anything that can't wait, so go on, get out of here."

  As Ian passed through the door, Milo called after him, "And make old lady Clayborne give you a refund if you've got one comin'."

  Ian's move to Milo's comfortable home was advantageous for both men. Ian was immediately comfortable in the cozy atmosphere of the rambling old house. Milo remarked almost daily of how pleased he was to have someone of Ian's caliber to share his home and keep him company.

  Nellie Carter also seemed happy to have Ian in residence. "You are so much company to Mr. Stanton and to me," she told Ian after he'd been there only a few days.

  Milo's housekeeper was the chubby, good-natured and very attractive widow of a man who had once been foolish enough to challenge Milo to a gunfight. After Milo had put a bullet through his challenger's heart, he learned that the man had left an ailing and destitute widow.

  Milo paid for a proper burial for his victim and then found a physician to treat the sick woman, paid her medical bills and helped nurse her back to health. When she had fully recovered, he offered her a job as his housekeeper.

  Nellie's devotion to Milo was absolute and unwavering. Ian couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lit up when Milo came into the room and how she catered to his every whim and need. Milo, however, seemed oblivious to his housekeeper's almost fanatical devotion.

  Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. Ian awoke with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The time had come for him to fulfill his promise and speak to Priscilla about Milo. It was not a task he looked forward to with any degree of anticipation. The supper wasn't until early evening so Ian spent the morning reading and helping Nellie with household chores.

  At first Nellie objected. When Ian offered to bring water from the well in the back yard, she protested, saying, "Lands, Mr. Alwin, you don't have to help me. Anyways, this is woman's work"

  Ian smiled as he lifted the bucket and walked toward the door. "It makes me feel more at home to help with everyday jobs around the house."

  Nellie's smile was benevolent. "Lands, you are a jewel, Mr. Alwin. I'm surprised that some woman hasn't snapped you up already."

  Her words of praise brought a smile to Ian's face and sorrow to his heart. Without bothering to respond, he stepped out the back door and hurried toward the well.

  Later in the day Ian enjoyed a few games of checkers with Milo. Despite Ian's experience and expertise, Milo won every game. The man had a steely determination to be triumphant in even the most trivial of his pursuits.

  Later that afternoon, with Milo's good wishes and terse admonitions ringing in his ears, Ian left Milo's home and turned his reluctant feet in the direction of the First Baptist Church.

  The church's sanctuary was crowded by the time Ian arrived. He was welcomed with smiles of recognition and pleasant greetings. Slipping into a back pew, he scanned the room trying to catch a glimpse of Priscilla. He finally spied her near a table at the front of the room. She was conversing with another young woman whom Ian recognized as Hattie Monroe. When Priscilla saw Ian she smiled and waved her hand.

  Ian waved back. He did not look forward to what lay ahead. However, as the evening wore on, he found himself relaxing more and more. By the time the bidding for the box suppers began he was actually enjoying himself.

  Milo had given Ian a ridiculous amount of money to use in his bidding for Priscilla's box supper. Ian won the bid with only a pittance of what he was set to offer. His next task was to find a quiet out-of-the way place to share with Priscilla the meal that she had prepared.

  As he accepted the box from the auctioneer and offered Priscilla his arm, she wrinkled her nose distastefully. "Good evening, Mr. Alwin." Obviously she was not pleased at the prospect of having supper with him.

  At this point the feeling was mutual. "Good evening, Miss Murray." Ian led Priscilla to a little alcove beneath a stairway just outside the main hall.

  As they settled into the secluded spot, Priscilla actually smiled. "I did not know if you would come or not." She seemed nervous and ill-at-ease.

  Ian used his handkerchief to dust the seat of one of the two chairs in the space and with a flourish and invited Priscilla to sit down.

  She perched on the chair and watched as Ian dusted the other chair and the only other piece of furniture in the alcove, a small round table. "I'm glad you could come tonight."

  "I'm glad you invited me." Ian sat in the other chair and put Priscilla's box supper on the table between them. It was decorated with ribbons and festooned with lace. "The box is very pretty." How stiff and formal he sounded.

  A heavy silence hung between them as Ian opened the box and peered inside to see fried chicken, potato salad and a small pie. "The food looks delicious."

  Priscilla replied with a frosty, "Thank you, I hope you enjoy it."

  "I'm sure I shall. I...."

  Priscilla's girlish giggle made him stop speaking and frown. "Do you think it humorous that I am…?"

  Priscilla shushed him by putting one finger across her lips and then she pointed toward the opposite corner of the alcove as she whispered, "Look, we have a visitor."

  Ian turned to see a tiny mouse peeking out from a pile of debris that had been swept into a far corner. He was pleasantly surprised that Priscilla had not screamed and bolted. "So we do, he must be the proverbial church mouse."

  Priscilla seemed to relax as she laughed. "I wonder if he has a name."

  "Of course he does," Ian replied. "His name is Church Mouse." He began to dispense food. "After we eat we can serve him a dinner."

  Priscilla's coldness thawed and melted away as her dark eyes danced with mischief. "Hattie and I had a pet mouse when we were at Miss Hockley's School. He came to visit us every night."

  This woman was really quite charming when she dropped her cold veneer of propriety and smiled. Ian asked, "Weren't you afraid of him?" After a moment's thought, he added, "I thought all young women were afraid of mice."

  Priscilla assured him, "We weren't afraid, in fact, we came to enjoy his company. It was our last year at Miss Hockley's. We were both very lonely and homesick and counting the days until we could go home."

  Maybe this woman was not as cold as Ian had first thought. "Did your mouse have a name?"

  With a perfectly straight face, Priscilla replied, "We named him Rutherford B. Hayes."

  Ian asked incredulously, "You named your mouse after the president of the United States?" He tagged his question with a curious, "Why?"

  "He wasn't our mouse." Priscilla smiled as she reminisced. "He remained until the end, a very independent and autonomous creature." The twinkle in her eye told of her droll sense of humor. "And he seemed to have gained his position as resident mouse not by popular vote but through the sanction of some prejudiced higher rodent committee."

  Ian was amazed that this woman that he had thought to be shallow and feather-brained had not only understood the political bias of the 1876 presidential election, she was also able to find humor in its grim outcome. "I take it you are a democrat."

  Priscilla shook her head. "I'm nothing. By a decree of your Supreme Court, the voting rights guaranteed to all males by the Fourteenth Amendment do not extend to females."

>   Whatever else she may be, this woman was no feather-brain. Ian took a bite of fried chicken. It was light and crispy and delicious. "It's your Supreme Court too, Miss Murray."

  "Is it, I don't think so. I have no representation there."

  "And you don't object to what you must perceive as an injustice?" Ian found himself intrigued by this lovely young woman who was not only perceptive and intuitive, but also extremely intelligent. She had a quick wit and an acerbic, almost perverse sense of humor. How could she be all these things and still so readily accept a political system that could only be thought of, at least from her point of view, as blatantly biased and dreadfully unfair?

  Priscilla shrugged. "Why should I object to the natural order of things?" She took a dainty bite of potato salad. "I have too many private problems to bother my head about those things I can neither alter nor change."

  Ian forgot completely why he had come here. His resolve to speak for Milo Stanton was lost somewhere between the magic of Priscilla's smile and the mystery of her paradoxical personality.

  Chapter Four

  Ian Alwin or the Best-Laid Plans

  Priscilla would forever be grateful to the little mouse that broke the ice and paved the way for a real conversation.

  Ian would have talked of public and political events but Priscilla adroitly steered the conversation in another direction by admitting that she had 'many private problems'.

  Ian's interest was immediately piqued. "You have private problems, Miss Murray?"

  "Do you know anyone who doesn't and you can call me Priscilla if you'd like." Oh my, she was becoming very bold and brazen and she found that she rather liked the feeling of freedom that it gave her.