could have been considered triumphant. "Why don't I push Willie around the grounds?" he said to Emma. "I know everyone will be wanting to see and talk to him."
}"That's a wonderful idea, Philemon." Willie turned to his daughter and gave her a warm smile and a small wave. "You don't need to be spending such a pretty day with me, Emma. Just go have some fun with the other young people, and don't give your worn-out old daddy another thought."
}Without another word, Reverend Bruder grasped the push handles on the chair and began to move away from Emma and the doctor.
}As Emma stared after them, her stance gradually changed from anxious to defiant.
}"That preacher's sure got it in for me," she said to Doc Odie. "I swear if he were any more disapproving I'd be wearing a scarlet A on my chest."
}The doctor, who'd been staring after the two of them, was nearly startled back into the conversation.
}"What? Oh, pay him no mind, Emma. He doesn't really know you. And after that awful engagement concert fiasco, he's not overly fond of me either."
}Smiling at the doctor, Emma was secretly grateful for the opportunity to find a partner in crime.
}"Who in the world could be Tulsa May's new gentleman caller?" Doc Odie asked, clearly caught up in his own concerns.
}Emma shrugged. "It could be anyone."
}Doc Odie looked doubtful. "Not anyone in this town."
}Shaking her finger at him, Emma scolded. "Now Doc Odie, Tulsa May is sort of pretty in her own way. And she's very sweet."
}The doctor nodded. "You are kind, Emma," he said. "Tulsa May is the type of woman a fellow can relax with, settle down with. But 'pretty' is a far cry from that woman's looks."
}"Well, maybe 'comely' is a better word for her. She draws people to her."
}"It's that all-fired optimism of hers," Doc Odie replied. "I tell her all the time that she talks sunnier than a socialist and just as foolish."
}Hearing Emma's deep throaty laugh, Dr. Foote smiled broadly and then offered his arm. "Your father wants you to relax and spend some time with the young people," he reminded her. "I'm not all that young, but I can be a passable escort."
}With a polite nod of acceptance, Emma laid her hand on his tweed-covered sleeve and walked beside him into the crowded booth area. If people were surprised to see Emma on the doc's arm, nobody commented.
}Emma held her head high and smiled. In her heart she imagined that she was young again, not so much in years as in experience. She imagined that she was once more the prettiest girl in Prattville. She imagined that she was still innocent and giggly. That she'd never met Fremont Batemen. Never fallen in love with him. Never run off to marry him. She imagined that she was once again young enough not to know how a married man could lure a foolish girl into a lifetime of sin.
}Maybelle Penny passed in front of the couple, flanked by two spiffed-up young men and leading half a dozen others. She did not deign to glance toward either. Still, Emma couldn't help but smile at the pretty young girl in the new spring dress. She had once been much like her.
}Maybelle stopped in front of a crowded, noisy corner booth. Her entire entourage gathered around her, obstructing all other movement in the booth area.
}"Well, if it isn't Sitting Bull himself." Maybelle's voice rang out. "What are you doing? Praying for the return of the buffalo?"
}Arthel Briggs looked up from the crank on the ice-cream bucket he was turning. His eyes were as brown as chestnuts, and his cheekbones were high and sharp. His thick, almost blue-black hair was parted directly down the middle and grew a little long on the sides, the style enhancing the remnants of his Indian heritage. He was quiet, calm, controlled. Leisurely, he allowed his eyes to wander from white kid toetips to blond topknot. "Oh hello, Maybelle," he said finally.
}"Put you to work, did they?" young Rossie Crenshaw asked.
}Arthel's expression broadened into a smile. "They were just looking for the
}"That's a wonderful idea, Philemon." Willie turned to his daughter and gave her a warm smile and a small wave. "You don't need to be spending such a pretty day with me, Emma. Just go have some fun with the other young people, and don't give your worn-out old daddy another thought."
}Without another word, Reverend Bruder grasped the push handles on the chair and began to move away from Emma and the doctor.
}As Emma stared after them, her stance gradually changed from anxious to defiant.
}"That preacher's sure got it in for me," she said to Doc Odie. "I swear if he were any more disapproving I'd be wearing a scarlet A on my chest."
}The doctor, who'd been staring after the two of them, was nearly startled back into the conversation.
}"What? Oh, pay him no mind, Emma. He doesn't really know you. And after that awful engagement concert fiasco, he's not overly fond of me either."
}Smiling at the doctor, Emma was secretly grateful for the opportunity to find a partner in crime.
}"Who in the world could be Tulsa May's new gentleman caller?" Doc Odie asked, clearly caught up in his own concerns.
}Emma shrugged. "It could be anyone."
}Doc Odie looked doubtful. "Not anyone in this town."
}Shaking her finger at him, Emma scolded. "Now Doc Odie, Tulsa May is sort of pretty in her own way. And she's very sweet."
}The doctor nodded. "You are kind, Emma," he said. "Tulsa May is the type of woman a fellow can relax with, settle down with. But 'pretty' is a far cry from that woman's looks."
}"Well, maybe 'comely' is a better word for her. She draws people to her."
}"It's that all-fired optimism of hers," Doc Odie replied. "I tell her all the time that she talks sunnier than a socialist and just as foolish."
}Hearing Emma's deep throaty laugh, Dr. Foote smiled broadly and then offered his arm. "Your father wants you to relax and spend some time with the young people," he reminded her. "I'm not all that young, but I can be a passable escort."
}With a polite nod of acceptance, Emma laid her hand on his tweed-covered sleeve and walked beside him into the crowded booth area. If people were surprised to see Emma on the doc's arm, nobody commented.
}Emma held her head high and smiled. In her heart she imagined that she was young again, not so much in years as in experience. She imagined that she was once more the prettiest girl in Prattville. She imagined that she was still innocent and giggly. That she'd never met Fremont Batemen. Never fallen in love with him. Never run off to marry him. She imagined that she was once again young enough not to know how a married man could lure a foolish girl into a lifetime of sin.
}Maybelle Penny passed in front of the couple, flanked by two spiffed-up young men and leading half a dozen others. She did not deign to glance toward either. Still, Emma couldn't help but smile at the pretty young girl in the new spring dress. She had once been much like her.
}Maybelle stopped in front of a crowded, noisy corner booth. Her entire entourage gathered around her, obstructing all other movement in the booth area.
}"Well, if it isn't Sitting Bull himself." Maybelle's voice rang out. "What are you doing? Praying for the return of the buffalo?"
}Arthel Briggs looked up from the crank on the ice-cream bucket he was turning. His eyes were as brown as chestnuts, and his cheekbones were high and sharp. His thick, almost blue-black hair was parted directly down the middle and grew a little long on the sides, the style enhancing the remnants of his Indian heritage. He was quiet, calm, controlled. Leisurely, he allowed his eyes to wander from white kid toetips to blond topknot. "Oh hello, Maybelle," he said finally.
}"Put you to work, did they?" young Rossie Crenshaw asked.
}Arthel's expression broadened into a smile. "They were just looking for the
Similar Books
