Chapter Eight

Outdoor Sunday Services

Still Hotter than Blazes

Adela took her seat to the left of the Bailey sisters. "I'm surprised they found so many chairs," she admitted.

"Some brought extras from home," Melinda explained. "Sunday School will be held in the trees and on blankets."

"I believe they're doing a nature hunt," Belinda added. "Anything, I suppose, to keep their little minds off this oppressive heat."

"Good Sunday morning, Ladies."

Adela lifted her head and met Key's smile and warm gaze. "Good morning, Marshal."

"Keynan Bristol, it's been ages since we visited," Belinda scolded. "You take a seat right here with us."

"Yes, ma'am," he conceded before lowering himself into the only empty seat on Adela's left.

"How was your week?" Adela asked. "After that ruckus at the bank, of course."

"Blessedly quiet," he confirmed. "How about the dressmaking business? There seems to be a steady stream of ladies going in and out."

"We've branched out a bit," Adela began before being interrupted by Melinda.

"She's also organized a knitting group, and a recipe swap," Melinda pointed out.

Belinda spoke next. "Adela is leading a group on organizing dinner parties. She's the driving force behind the community dance next weekend. We haven't had one of those in ages. Not since Mae Whitman's daughter got married."

"It sounds as if you've made yourself a permanent spot in our town," Key commented.

"She sure has," Melinda agreed. "So much so, we hear Mister Wentworth was lamenting to the fellows at the saloon how he made a mistake in not marrying her."

"Serves him right," Belinda said firmly. "He's not deserving of someone as generous and kind as Adela."

"Thank you all," Adela responded. "Your kind words are making me blush."

When the sisters turned to speak to the reverend's wife in the row before theirs, Key leaned in close. "Any idea what you'll say if Wentworth does ask for a second chance?"

"Oh, I have an idea of exactly what I'd say. Unfortunately, it's not repeatable in mixed company."

Key buried a snicker behind the press of his long fingers. "Just so you know, we are looking into Mister Wentworth, both the bank and the marshal's office. So, please tread carefully around him."

"I wonder if the letter I sent to Miles Dutton had anything to do with the bank's interest. I do admit, I was less than kind about his character."

"Were you honest in what you wrote?" Key asked.

"Of course. When I hadn't heard back from them, I assumed they'd dismissed me as an emotional woman angry over being jilted."

"Well, whether it was your letter or some other suspicious activity on his part, it's being handled now." Key raised his head when the choir took seats near the makeshift lectern, but not before saying, "I may call on you for some additional background, if necessary. Would that be possible?"

Rather than respond since the crowd had gone quiet, Adela nodded.

Following the services, the men were charged with returning the chairs to the church hall. Those who brought their own, moved them over to their waiting buggies. Members of the women's auxiliary set out sandwiches, cookies, and large vats of chilled sweet tea.

"I truly don't know how we'd survive this horrible weather if it weren't for iceboxes," Sally McGibbon commented to those around her.

"Back in Boston," Adela explained, "most of the homes have electricity and are using fans. Missus Dutton even had one on the ceiling of her parlor and in her bedroom."

"What do these fans do?" Belinda asked.

"They circulate the air around like a breeze," Adela told them. "I know not everyone has electricity, but those who do might want to have the mercantile look into ordering some."

Key arrived a moment later with a plate of sandwiches and glass of tea, handing them to Adela.

"You didn't get some for yourself?" she asked.

"Deputy Baker sent word. His wife is about to deliver, so I'm going back to work to cover the remainder of his shift."

"How exciting for them, but disappointing for you. I imagine you don't get a lot of days off," Adela guessed.

"We can fix that," Belinda announced. "You go cover Jack's shift and then afterward come to our place for supper. We usually eat around five."

"We can delay a bit, if necessary," Melinda clarified.

"Thank you, and five should be fine," Key confirmed.

"Adela's making her sweet pea salad," Melinda confided. "It's delicious."

Key's mouth lifted in the most mischievous smile. "I look forward to trying it. If you'll excuse me, ladies, I've got to go."

"Send Millie and Jack our best," Belinda called out as Key rushed away.

Waving over his shoulder, Key mounted his horse and trotted away.

Adela had just finished setting the table when a knock sounded at the front door.

"I'll get it," Melinda shouted.

It was a moment or two before Melinda and Key arrived in the dining room and Adela took those moments to assure herself the table was perfect. Not that she supposed it matter when this was a friendly get-together and not a formal affair. Yet, even in a small western town, she couldn't forget the etiquette drummed into her over the past dozen years.

"Good evening, Miss Adela," Key said.

"Evening, Marshal," she responded as he took the seat she offered.

"You're welcome to call me Key, or Keynan, if you'd like."

She met his smile and returned it with one of her own. Yes, of course, she'd like to call him by his name. After spending time in casual discussion with the man she found herself very attracted to his rugged good looks, and very intense brown gaze.

"I'll call you Key, if you drop the ‘Miss' and just call me Adela."

"I'd like that," he admitted softly. "Very much."

"Like what?" Belinda asked as she arrived with a tray full of serving bowls.

"I was asking Adela to call me by my first name," Key explained. "And she reciprocated by saying I could call her Adela."

"Sounds like a fine idea to me," Belinda told them.

Melinda arrived with the last platter of cold ham. "I hope you don't mind a cold plate for supper, Key. It's much too hot today to light a fire."

"A cold plate sounds fine to me," he agreed. "I'm especially looking forward to the promised sweet pea salad mentioned earlier."

After Key gave the blessing, they settled into a comfortable routine of making small talk, passing serving bowls, and pausing to eat. They were nearly through the main meal when Melinda asked, "So, tell us, Key. Is Comstock your final posting?"

"Yes, thankfully," he confirmed. "Once you get past thirty, they take you out of the rotation and give you the chance to finally settle down."

"Just how far past thirty are you?" Melinda questioned.

"Melinda Jane!" Belinda scolded. "Apologize for your rude question."

Key's deep chuckle sent a shiver up Adela's spine nearly as quickly as Melinda's question ratcheted up her curiosity.

"It's okay, I don't mind," he said, remnants of his laugh fading with his words. "I'm thirty-two. Not quite over the hill just yet."

"I'd say not," Melinda agreed. "A handsome man like yourself, with a steady job, will be a fine catch. You've still got a lot of years left to enjoy a family."

Key's gaze shot from Adela, to Belinda, finally settling on Melinda before he asked, "Miss Melinda Bailey, are you flirting with me."

"Regrettably not. However, if I were thirty years younger, I'd be chasing you like flies on a mule."

Belinda rolled her eyes and shook her head. "If mama was here, she'd paddle your bottom for being so forward."

"If mama was still her," Melinda corrected, "she'd have pushed us both down the aisle decades ago."

Adela pushed her chair back and stood. "I'm going to get dessert and the teapot."

Key stood as well. "May I be of assistance?"

"No, thank you. I wouldn't want to pull you away from your new lady friend."

She returned within minutes, a peach pie balanced on one hand and the teapot held tightly in the other.

"Key was just telling us about Jack and Millie's new baby. A girl this time," Belinda revealed.

"About time," Melinda snapped. "With those two little hooligans at home, she's going to need some female company."

"Have they named her yet?" Adela asked.

"Seraphina Marie, I think Jack said," Key told them. "A mouthful for sure."

"She'll likely end up being called Sera," Belinda speculated.

"Seraphina is such a lovely name," Adela commented. "I hope they don't shorten it too much."

"Have you ever thought about what you'd name a daughter if you had one, Adela?" Melinda coaxed.

Heat rushed her cheeks, and Adela admitted, "I'd not really given it any thought, even when I was so shortly promised."

"You dodged a bullet with that one," Belinda announced. "That man gives me the willies."

Adela and Key exchanged glances before Adela confirmed, "I surely did."

"You pay no mind to the rumor going around that he's admitted he made a mistake and is thinking of asking you to take him back," Melinda warned.

"Over his dead body," Adela said emphatically. "I wouldn't go near that man with a six-foot cattle prod."

"Atta girl," Belinda teased. "His loss is our gain. I can't remember when I've enjoyed a boarder as much as you, my dear."

"Thank you, Belinda," Adela responded, truly moved by the compliment. "I've enjoyed being here."

It was half-past eight when Key finally rose from the parlor chair and announced, "I've got to be going. With Deputy Baker off for a few days to help his wife, Terrance and I must decide what to do about continuous coverage. Not that we really need to keep the jail open overnight, I suppose."

Adela stood as well. "I'll walk you to the door."

Key turned to the sisters. "Thank you for inviting me. The meal was great."

"Excuse us for not getting up," Belinda said. "I think I had one too many slices of pie."

Melinda held up her sewing project. "I don't want to drop a stitch. I'm sure Adela can handle the goodbyes for us all."

When they reached the door Adela felt compelled to say, "I'm sorry about those two. They're being quite obvious in their intentions."

"I don't mind. As a matter of fact, I was hoping we would get a moment or two alone before I left."

Adela swallowed back an unaccustomed dryness in her throat. "You were?" When Key stepped out onto the porch she followed.

"Yes, I was. I like you, Adela McIntyre. I do have to admit, I had my concerns over how a posh woman from Boston would fit into our tight little community, but you've made yourself right at home. The entire town adores you." Shrugging, he added, "With one possible exception."

"I like you too, Key. I was just as concerned about my being here as you were. It's easy to make oneself at home though, when those around you are so welcoming."

"I was hoping… perhaps… after all this mess is straightened out with Wentworth, to whatever end, that you'd consider allowing me to court you. Properly."

She raised her head and met his gaze. "That sounds nice. I'd like that very much."

Tentatively, it seemed, Key lifted her chin on the tips of his fingers, causing Adela to hold her breath. Was he going to kiss her? If so, should she let him ?

Instead of lowering his mouth to hers, he stroked her lower lip with his thumb and then dropped his hand, stepping back to put distance between them. "Goodnight, Adela. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Key," she whispered back.

Watching Key ride away, her thoughts swirled like dust beneath the rocking chair. Was this really happening ? And why was she so happy she felt as if she could scream ?