Ana Seymour - A Family For Carter Jones

He’d send Mr. Trenton a wire instead of a letter. That would show him how prosperous Carter was becoming, how important. No time for pen and paper. Just a wire, businesslike and expensive. He’d tell him what an important position he’d obtained—district attorney. It sounded impressive. In a wire there would be no space to provide the exact details of his jurisdiction. He wouldn’t be able to tell the old man that his days consisted mostly of farm disputes and dealing with small-town politics.

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he nearly collided head-on with a solid wall of them. Henrietta Billingsley, Margaret Potter and Lucinda Wentworth, coming directly toward him with all sheets to the wind.

“Good morning, ladies,” he acknowledged with a forced smile and a tip of his hat.

“We need to talk with you, Mr. Jones. We were just going to your office,” Mrs. Billingsley said. She planted her substantial form directly in front of him, causing him to abandon any hope of slipping easily around the group to continue on his course.

“Let me guess the topic.”

Like a helpful sergeant at arms, Miss Potter continued, “It’s been four days, Mr. Jones. What’s the delay in dealing with those girls?”

“They still have that house open as if there’s not a thing wrong,” Henrietta added.

Carter waited, looking at Lucinda Wentworth. He was curious to see if she would add her voice, or if her son had convinced her to stay out of the fray. She darted nervous glances at her two friends, her pinched face looking strained, but remained silent.

“There’s been an appeal of the ruling,” Carter said finally. He wasn’t about to add that he himself had engineered the appeal. Not in front of this crew.

Henrietta huffed loudly, her face beginning to color. “We’ve already gone through an appeal. What are they going to do, appeal from now until the day that bastard child pops out for the entire town to see?”

Mrs. Wentworth gasped, then blanched and swayed toward Margaret Potter, who in turn was pushed toward Henrietta. As Carter watched with growing horror, the matrons began to topple like a row of buxom dominoes. In quick succession he threw his upper body to block Mrs. Billingsley’s fall, then reached his long arms around her to ward off the further descent of Miss Potter, who by now was entirely supporting the weight of an apparently unconscious Lucinda.

When Carter was assured that Mrs. Billingsley’s significant bulk would maintain her upright, he stepped around her, lifted Mrs. Wentworth from Margaret Potter’s shoulder and leaned her up against the post that sustained the wooden awning over the Billingsleys’ dry goods store. Her head hit the column with a thud and her eyes fluttered open.

Henrietta had recovered her balance and her voice. “Not another of your swoons, Lucinda. Honestly, you’re such a goose.”

Mrs. Wentworth’s pale cheeks grew pink with indignation. “Any decent person would be liable to swoon at that kind of language. I’m shocked at you, Henrietta.”

“It’s not the language that’s shocking. It’s the situation. To think of that hussy shamelessly flaunting her condition as if she had all the right in the world…”

Mrs. Wentworth appeared to be recovering rapidly, so Carter stepped back. Mrs. Billingsley’s eyes widened and her voice trailed off as she focused over his shoulder. Whether it was Lucinda Wentworth’s suddenly shamefaced expression or the slight hint of fresh lemon scent, he knew without seeing her that the new arrival was Jennie Sheridan.

He whirled around but could find no words of greeting. Her lips were tight, nearly bloodless. Carter watched, fascinated, as her eyes drilled into each of the three older women, then settled on Mrs. Billingsley. Her small chin went up and she said stiffly, “Far from flaunting anything, the hussy you refer to has not left her house for three months, thanks to people like you. Though I don’t recall you thinking she was so shameless when she spent a whole summer taking care of your twins when your mother was dying from consumption.”

She took a step to the side and fixed her gaze on Margaret Potter. “And I can’t remember that you thought Kate was a hussy, Miss Potter, when she stayed after school every day to help you set up the school library.”

She moved over one more step to the edge of the sidewalk. “And, Mrs. Wentworth, Kate was evidently good enough for your precious Lyle to set his cap for her.”

“He never…” Mrs. Wentworth began, but faltered as her two friends sent her withering looks, as though this lapse of discretion in her only son was entirely her fault.

Carter’s neck had grown sticky with sweat, causing his starched collar to prickle. “Ladies, I don’t think we’re going to solve anything…”

The women found common ground in ignoring him. All four seemed to be talking at once and mysteriously understanding what each of the other three was saying.

“And now that the entire town has begun this crusade against us, you all have her so upset that Dr. Millard says her health is in danger,” Jennie continued.

This statement brought a moment of silence into which Carter ventured once again. “Dr. Millard informed me this morning that Miss Kate Sheridan is not well,” he said, supporting Jennie’s assertion.

“Will she lose the child?” Mrs. Billingsley asked with a touch of eagerness that even she immediately realized was unseemly. “I mean…she’s not terribly sick, is she?”

Carter could see the rise and fall of Jennie’s breasts as she fought to keep her emotions under control. He himself wouldn’t be averse to giving Henrietta Billingsley a shove right over the edge of the sidewalk.

“I’m on my way to fetch the doctor now,” she said. The quaver in her voice told Carter that she was a lot more scared than she had let on in her feisty confrontation with the town matrons.

“I’ll go with you,” he offered.

Mrs. Billingsley looked stricken. “We were having a discussion, Mr. Jones.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. If you’ll stop by my office tomorrow morning, I’ll be happy to consider any matter you’d like to bring up.”

He took Jennie’s arm and stepped off the sidewalk into the street so the two of them could outflank the three older women before they could make any further protest. She let him pull her along without speaking until they were safely out of earshot, then she slowed her pace. “Thank you for the rescue,” she said in a stilted voice. “I wasn’t in much of a mood to deal with those women today. But you don’t have to come with me.”

He looked down at her and said simply, “I want to.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

“Let’s say I feel involved. Dr. Millard came to see me this morning and warned me that this situation was becoming unhealthy for your sister.”

Jennie nodded. “She worries too much. And she cares too much about what everyone else thinks.”

“But you don’t.”

“I care what Kate thinks. Or worthwhile people like Dr. Millard. But I certainly don’t care about the views of a bunch of old biddies with time on their hands and nonsense in their heads.”

“Good for you, Miss Sheridan. I’ve been known to ignore the court of public opinion a time or two myself.”

Jennie had continued walking along at Carter’s side in the direction of the. doctor’s office, but now she stopped and looked up at him with a curious expression. “I thought you were a politician, Mr. Jones. Your kind lives and dies by public opinion.”

Carter grinned. “It’s a matter of picking your battles. That and knowing when it might be worth it to fight on the other side awhile.”

“Well, I don’t know why you’ve decided that this is one of those times, but I’m grateful, Mr. Jones.”