Free A Girl Like That by Frances Devine Page B

a reaction from Michael O’Shannon. . .any reaction.
    The man merely stood there, a grim expression on his face, peering at Sam. “So you’re wanting to court my daughter, are ye?”
    “Yes, sir. With your permission, of course.” Sam waited again as Katie’s father bit his bottom lip and looked up at the ceiling.
    “Well,” O’Shannon said, “it’s like this, Nelson. I’m inclined to like you, and it’s true I’m beholden to you for escorting my little girl away from the Patch. But before I’ll be letting you court her, I’ll be getting to know you better.”
    “I understand, sir.” Inwardly, Sam groaned. How long would it take O’Shannon to think he knew him well enough?
    “So, with that in mind, I’ll be expecting you for dinner on Sunday.” He motioned with his hand, and Sam followed him into the men’s dressing room where he wrote on a small card. “Here’s the address. We sit down to table at three on Sundays, and Ma Casey frowns on anyone being late.”
    Sam stuck the card in his inside jacket pocket and held out his hand to O’Shannon. “Thank you, sir. I won’t be late.”
    He checked his pocket watch. Almost time for the evening performance, and he didn’t want to miss Katie’s solo. He dashed to his seat, unable to help the bounce in his step as he walked down the aisle. He’d half expected O’Shannon to give him a kick in the pants and throw him out of the theater.
    Programs rustled all around as Katie walked, smiling, onto the stage. He fought the urge to stand to his feet and shush them all.
    Sam caught his breath as she looked straight at him. He smiled, and she blushed and lowered her eyes. Pride arose in Sam as Katie began to sing. Her sweet ballad moved the audience to tears. His girl. His girl, Katie. Well, she would be, if he had a say in it. He’d move the ocean if he had to, because he was in love with the girl. There was no denying it, even to himself.
    After the performance, he rushed backstage and tapped on the door. This time, Katie herself opened it. He complimented her on her performance, gave her a wink and a lingering glance, then tipped his hat and left. He didn’t want to take a chance on angering her father. He hoped to have a long talk with her after dinner Sunday.
    As his horse trudged toward home, Sam leaned back in the buggy and wiped his linen handkerchief across his brow. For so late at night, the temperature didn’t seem to have cooled off much, if any at all.
    The heat hit him as he walked into the house, although it seemed every window was open. He went into the parlor where his mother sat on the flowered cushions of a Chippendale settee, fanning herself.
    “Hello, Mother.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek.
    “Oh, Sam. I can’t believe this weather.”
    “I know. I’m sure you’re uncomfortable.” He sat in a wingbacked chair near her.
    “Yes, I am.” She held up the newspaper she’d been reading. “Did you know we’ve only had an inch and a half of rain since the Fourth of July?”
    Sam nodded. “It’s terribly dry.”
    “Yes. The autumn leaves won’t be pretty at all this year.”
    “I know you’ll be disappointed.” She looked forward each year to the changing of summer into autumn.
    “Yes, but at least we have our home.” She breathed a soft sigh. “Thank the Lord for that.”
    “Harrumph.” Sam looked up to see his father standing in the doorway.
    “Hello, Father.”
    “Well, son, how was your evening?”
    “Enjoyable. Thank you for asking.”
    “Hmm, out to dinner with friends, I suppose?”
    “Actually, I went to the theater,” Sam said briefly. He grinned as his mother perked up.
    “Oh, how nice, dear. Did you take a young lady with you?”
    “No, as a matter of fact, I went alone.”
    “Oh. Which theater?”
    “Harrigan’s.” Sam held his breath, afraid of what was coming. He should have been more careful.
    His father was the one who responded. “Hmm. Haven’t you been going to Harrigan’s a lot