Return to Arkansas Post

By Mary Wiggins Cotton

To honor his wifes death-bed wish, William Brock had sent his impulsive,
gangly, rabbit-shooting, tomboyish fourteen-year-old daughter, Hannah, to
Boston to live with her aunt and to attend Boston Finishing School. In 1827, four
years later, Hannah returns to Arkansas Post as a beautiful, poised and gracious
young lady.
She meets a handsome, elusive stranger who sends her emotions reeling,
involves herself with the problems of a childhood friend and takes on a ruthless
banker who is out to destroy her. She quickly realizes she must combine the best of
both her worlds to survive in the currently evolving structure of Arkansas Post.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483644554

Mary Wiggins Cotton

Mary Wiggins Cotton, a retired educator and author of THE BIRTHMARK, SHADOWS FROM THE PAST and SOUTHERN LORE, a free e-mag, lives in West Monroe, Louisiana with her beloved husband, Bob, where she is lovingly known as “Mamaw Mary” to her combined family of nine children and an ever increasing number of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Shortly before eight o’clock on the first Friday of July, 1827, William Brock, owner of Arkansas Post General Merchandise, kissed his daughter Hannah’s cheek before boarding the stage for Little Rock. He’d planned to close down and have Hannah accompany him, but she declined, reminding him of her long, weary trip from Boston back to Arkansas Post, first by stage and steamer, then stage again. Uneasiness gripped him at the thought of leaving her alone, but she insisted that she’d be fine and would tend the store while he was away.

Much of Arkansas Post’s social structure had collapsed when the capitol of Arkansas Territory had been moved to Little Rock. Before leaving this morning, he had reminded her to keep his loaded pistol under the counter at all times. He had emphasized the importance of locking up no later than four o’clock and insisted she drive directly home and be safely inside the house before dark. He tried not to think of her as the carefree youngster he had raised, one whose impulsive nature had often been her undoing.

Barely two weeks before, when she had stepped off the incoming stage, William could hardly believe this beautiful, poised young lady was the same gawky fourteen-year-old he’d sent back East when her mother had died four years before. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but it had been his wife’s dying request that Hannah be sent to her sister, Ceree, to be properly educated at Boston Finishing School. It was a request he had honored, but often regretted.

Friday went fine, and the following day, the usual Saturday customers came and went, but not anyone that Hannah did not recognize. By two o’clock, the last customer had left, and Hannah looked about, noting dust on everything. It reminded her of how her mother had worked beside her father helping customers, but mostly keeping everything clean and organized. Looking upward, she noticed large clusters of spider webs crisscrossed along the ceiling. Thinking only of how this would have embarrassed her mother, she picked up her apron and held it in her hand as she wondered where to start.

Talmedge Johns, known by his friends in Little Rock as Tal, had arrived on a keel earlier in the day to look over the rapidly declining town for cheap sales of investment property. From inside tips, he knew the railroad would soon be connecting the East with the West nearby, and new markets for local commodities would be opening. Finding the street vacated by two o’clock, he felt comfortable peering into windows as he sauntered along taking note of potential properties.

Not really interested in general merchandizing, he barely glanced into the large display window of Arkansas Post General Merchandise. This brief glance caused him to do a double take, and he moved closer for a better look. Inside, behind the counter, stood an exquisite, young flaxen haired beauty, dressed tastefully in the latest Victorian style that he’d observed on his last trip back East. He noted the delicate lace embellished vertically across her high full bosom and down her sleeves meeting the fashionable wide barrel cuffs. Even her hair was twisted away from her face in a high fashion psyche knot and pinned neatly at the nape of her neck.

He couldn’t decide if she were removing or putting on the apron she held in her hand. Turning about and appearing to be in deep thought, she looked first one direction and then the other, finally stopping to gaze at the ceiling. Mesmerized with her upper profile, after having observed it from all angles, he deducted that her tiny wasp waist was not the result of proper corseting. When she bent down behind the counter, he realized his nose was actually pressed against the glass. He quickly stepped back hoping the street was still empty. Finding it so, he returned his gaze to the lady inside.

With uncanny grace, she placed the apron loop over her head and secured its ties firmly at her waist. He watched as she dusted the lower shelves, then, stepped up, perhaps on a stool, and dusted the upper shelves. Just watching her do a mundane thing like dusting had awakened in him a tremendous masculine awareness of her. Glancing about once more he confirmed that the street remained deserted, and, though feeling somewhat foolish, he again turned his attention to inside the shop.

Apparently satisfied with her dusting, he watched as she stepped down and removed her apron. Perhaps hot from her rapid movements, she retrieved a container from under the counter and drank heartily of what appeared to be water. When she finished, she ran her tongue over her full lips in satisfaction. Subconsciously, his own tongue traced a similar pattern. She replaced the jar, stood up, and returned her gaze to the ceiling. Quite suddenly she unbuttoned her cuffs, pushed them above her elbows, and reached up to remove the hair pins from her hair at the back of her neck. With almost the same movement, she ran her fingers through her hair, freeing it to tumble down her back in a cascade of fluffy curls that reached well below her shoulders.

This one simple movement elevated Tal’s already aroused interest. He knew he should walk away before some deserving husband shot him on the spot, but she held him hypnotized as a cobra does its prey.

Suddenly, she disappeared into the back of the store. He waited impatiently until she returned struggling with a large ladder. She quickly placed it against the wall and then reached for a broom. Realizing the ladder was placed at an unsafe angle, he bolted for the door. By the time he got it open and entered, she was half way up the ladder and it had started to move. When it teetered, she dropped her broom to hold on with both hands. The sudden impact of her weight shift caused the ladder to tilt backward. She thrust her weight forward, taking the ladder with her, but the increased impact against the wall again bounced it backward.

Amid the sounds of the banging ladder, she had heard neither the door open, nor the man enter. Everything was moving too fast! As she plummeted backward, she knew she should jump to the side to keep from landing on her back and being pinned underneath, but she felt paralyzed. She closed her eyes tightly and braced her body to hit the hard rough planks that served as a floor. She felt a sudden jolt and the ladder stopped. Instantly an arm closed around her waist, and a deep masculine voice commanded, Let go of the ladder. I’ve got you.

Too frightened to open her eyes, she let go and felt herself lifted and crushed against a tall body as the ladder crashed just to her right. His one arm, wound tightly around her waist, pulled her close while the other cradled her head against his chest. There now, he whispered. Calm down. You’re safe.

Startled, trembling, and too embarrassed to move, she leaned against him. Beneath her right ear she could feel the strong rapid beat of his heart as his hand against her back relaxed and moved slowly to caress her taunt muscles. Her nostrils filled with the pleasant scent of his freshly pressed suit, a clean masculine smell, distinct and sensuous. Something about the safe muscular, hardness of his body made reason vanish.

As sanity returned, she opened her eyes, pushed back and looked up into the perfectly chiseled face of a total stranger. For a moment, his piercing blue eyes seemed to delve into her psyche willing her to stay perfectly still. Then, beneath a well trimmed mustache, a slight smile touched the corners of his full firm mouth. He asked, "Do you often climb ladders?

Her face flushed a deep pink as she stepped away from him. No. Not recently.

Looking down, he retrieved a gold pocket watch, checked the time, looked back at her, tipped his fashionable, John Bull