The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,36
Cahill. He tried to buy me out last year.”
Apparently, Adrianna wasn’t the only one offended by Quin’s offer.
“I hear he’s planning to charm you out of your property since he couldn’t force you to sell outright.”
Adrianna inwardly grimaced but manufactured a smile as Ned walked off. Quin had predicted this would happen, and it was her fault. Now what was she supposed to do to quell the new rumor of being romanced out of her property?
Speaking of Quin… Adrianna glanced down the receiving line, wondering what had detained him. He was supposed to escort Elda to town. Where the blazes were they?
Before she could scan the area thoroughly, a baldheaded, dark-eyed man with thin black brows stepped up in front of her. “Sid Meeker is the name,” he introduced himself. “I’m the bartender at Hell’s Corner Saloon. Not that I expect you to visit the place, ma’am, but it’s nice to meet you all the same.” He waited a beat, then said, “You looking to get married anytime soon?”
Adrianna shook her head. Given the men in Ca-Cross outnumbered women, she wondered if every eligible bachelor planned to propose. Apparently, getting to know each other wasn’t a prerequisite. Wedlock seemed to be a convenient alliance. At least the Western approach was straightforward, unlike the devious manipulation she had faced in Boston.
Adrianna cast aside her wandering thoughts to greet a well-dressed gentleman who bowed over her hand. He was over six foot tall, lanky and there was a smattering of gray hair mixed with black strands that were slicked away from his gaunt face. He had brown eyes, a long nose and looked to be approaching fifty.
“Donald Fitzgerald, I’m your neighbor to the south,” he said as he drew himself up to full stature, then flashed a cordial smile. “I hope you are settling into our community.”
“Yes, and I’m delighted to be here,” she replied.
She felt someone tug at her sleeve, then she glanced over her shoulder to see the blonde waitress hired to cater food.
“Miz McKnight, I think one of those ornery miscreants from Wrong Side spiked our punch,” she muttered.
Adrianna tossed Fitzgerald an apologetic smile. “Please excuse me, sir. I have an errand to tend.”
She followed the tall, long-legged waitress to the tables, then sipped the punch. “Definitely spiked,” she wheezed. “Do you suppose it’s lethal?”
The waitress shook her frizzy head. “I tasted it, too. I’m still standing. Probably the work of those rowdy tracklayers that scoff at the idea of a highfalutin party like this. I suspect they’re trying to bring the rest of us down to their ill-mannered level.”
“Dilute the punch as best you can and test it periodically,” Adrianna advised.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell the other girls to be on guard.”
When Adrianna strolled away from the refreshment area to rejoin the receiving line, she noticed several women standing aside. They appeared young and unattached. Adrianna suspected they plied their wares on the north side of the tracks and had been shunned by the so-called decent folks. But Adrianna wasn’t here to judge as she had been judged. She refused to conform to accepted standards. In fact, this was the first time she’d worn a dress since she stepped down from the train.
“Have any of you met Rosa?” Adrianna asked as she halted in front of the five young women. “She’s my cousin and she is one of the nicest people you will ever meet.”
“We’ve seen her at a distance and all of us would dearly love to buy one of her marvelous dresses,” Margie, the brunette-turned-spokesperson said, then pointed at Adrianna’s gown. “You’re wearing one of her creations, aren’t you?”
Adrianna nodded, grinned, then added, “She also designed my breeches and shirts. I am convinced that somewhere back in history some spiteful little man decided women should be restrained and hampered by cumbersome dresses. That’s why it is taking us longer to assume control of the world.”
The women giggled, but Adrianna wasn’t kidding. In her opinion, women had been held back, held down and pigeonholed entirely too long. She wanted to be remembered as one of the new breed of females who did not need a man to resolve her problems or to cut a wide swath to protect her from whatever adversity she countered. Women needed a change in attitude, she decided, and she would promote independent thinking every chance she got.
“Come along, ladies. If you admire Rosa’s talents with fabrics and her independent spirit, then you should meet her.”
Despite several puzzled glances to her left and right,