Mallory & Kell
After he sent a curt "NO" to Miz Allie's invitation to ride out, Mallory finds himself in desperate need of new long johns. The only place he can buy them is Allie's Dry Goods Store. How will she react to seeing him?
The Courting Of Mallory
Part 2: Miz Allie
By Michael Sutch
"I can't go in there," Mallory said, nervously stroking his freshly trimmed mustache. "Not after that letter you sent. She'll hate me."
"Hey!" Kell objected, "I didn't send no letter. I only wrote it. And I only wrote what you wanted to write, but was too yellow to. You sent that letter, not me."
"And I delivered it, just like you paid me to, Mal," Sandy McNeal added, his youthful face split in a wide grin. "She sure was nervous about it, too. Then, when she read it, her face kind'a all fell in, real disappointed-like. It was awful. I got out'a there as fast as I could."
Hearing that description for about the fifthteenth time in a week still made Mallory shudder. He caught the surreptitious wink Kell gave Sandy and watched as the kid's grin got even wider.
"A couple of real friends I've got," he said.
They stood on the boardwalk outside the The Rattlesnake saloon, across the street and catacorner from Allie's Dry Goods Store. The sun was high and hot this August Saturday. They had just tied their horses to the hitching rail outside the saloon, having arrived in town for an afternoon of shopping and an evening of debauchery.
"It ain't like she'll spurn your hard money, Mal," Kell offered. "I bet she's over it already. Most likely, the worst she'll be is kind'a frosty."
"And you sure need a new pair of long johns," Sandy said, helpfully, "after the dog got a'holt of the back end of yours. It kind'a left a permanent breezeway there in your backside."
"Shut up!" Mallory hissed. That wasn't a story he wanted bandied around town.
Without more hesitation, Kell grabbed Mallory's arm and pulled him toward the street in the direction of Allie's store. "C'mon, we ain't got all day."
The interior of the dry goods store was stifling and dim, although here and there dust mites danced in sunbeams slanting in through the windows. It made for odd areas of light and shadow over the humped bales of cloth and the tables piled high with articles of clothing. The main counter was shrouded in darkness and Mallory could not see Miz Allie there. He desperately wanted to gauge her mood. He found a pile of long johns and was fingering through them, anticipating in nervous dread her first words.
"Mallory!" came the high, thin voice of Allie Waterson in pleased satisfaction. "You finally came."
The three men exchanged confused looks at this unexpected evidence of good humor. She came upon them, her boney face alight with anticipation when she looked on Mallory. The glances she gave to Kell and Sandy, though, were many degrees cooler.
"Miz Allie," the three men mumbled together.
"Mallory, I sent you a letter last week, and this is what I got in return." She waved the letter with Kell's curt 'NO' scrawled on it, along with an impossible rendition of Mallory's signature.
"Uh..." said Mallory.
"This is not your writing, and certainly not your signature. I've seen that on enough IOUs to know the difference."
"Well..."
"My guess is, you never even saw my letter, did you?" Her hard, little brown eyes drilled both Kell and Sandy. "I think a couple of no-goods intercepted it and decided to have a little fun."
Given this way out of his acute embarrassment about the whole affair of the letter, Mallory gravely considered the evidence she had thrust in his face.
"You sent me a letter?" he asked.
At his side, Kell muttered, "I'll be a...."
"Yes," she said. "I sent you an invitation to go out riding in my new buggy. The invitation is still open. We could go tomorrow, if you want, after church."
"Uh..." Mallory said. Her horse-like face wore a simpering smile that filled him with horror.
"Oh, please, Mallory. It would give me great pleasure to ride out to Rose Hill for a look out over the valley."
Mallory flushed, suddenly very hot, and sweat popped out on his brow. He heard what sounded suspiciously like smothered snickering laughs from both Kell and Sandy. Rose Hill was a local favorite for lovers trysts.
"Well..." he said.
"I'll pack a picnic lunch," she went on. "You've always liked my fried chicken at church socials."
"Yes, I..."
"Oh, you'll go! I knew you were too much the gentleman to hurt a lady's feelings."
Backed into a corner, with nowhere left to turn, Mallory sighed. "Sure, I'll ride out with you, Miss Allie."
"I knew you would. I'm so excited!" she said. Then she eyed the pile of long johns his hand still rested on and her manner turned very practical. "What is it you need today, Mallory?"
"A pair of long johns," he said, in despair.
When he had made his purchase and they were back out on the street, Kell and Sandy erupted in long-suppressed laughter.
"Oh, you're such a gentleman!" Kell gibed in high falsetto.
"Rose Hill!" was all Sandy could say, bent over and slapping his leg with his gloves in great hilarity.
"Oh, shut up!" Mallory snapped and stomped away.
(c) 2014 by Michael Sutch
