“I’m sure that can be arranged. Stop by when you can, and we’ll talk.”
“Will do.”
Leary stepped up next to let her know her whiskey had yet to arrive, then moved on. While wondering who else needed a word with her, Lacy Miller approached. “Spring, my cat just had another litter. Can you take a couple of the kittens off my hands?”
Spring placed some slices of beef, potatoes and carrots on her plate. “Sure, always in need of mousers.”
“Thanks. I’ll drop them by in a day or two.”
Across the room, Matt Ketchum’s drunk voice rose above the quiet conversations. “Hey, Spring. Tell my friend Jarvis here how you used to spread those legs you’re hiding beneath that fine dress.”
Spring froze.
“Better yet,” he continued loudly, “how about the time you—”
There was a loud crash and she turned to see a furious-looking McCray holding the much shorter Ketchum against a wall at eye level with a hand around his neck. Her jaw dropped.
McCray barked, “Apologize!”
Apparently too drunk to perceive the danger he was in, Ketchum laughed, “Boy, if you don’t get your hands off me, they’ll find you hanging—”
McCray slammed him bodily against thewall and growled, “Don’t ever mention her that way within my hearing again. Do you understand?”
“She’s a fucking whore. Get your hands off me, nigger!” And spat in McCray’s face.
He retaliated with a fist that drew a sharp-pitched cry from Ketchum, who grabbed his bleeding, busted nose, and a smug smile of satisfaction from Spring.
Face filled with thunder, McCray tossed him away. Ketchum tried to rise, but his drunken legs refused to cooperate. Dragging a handkerchief from his pocket, Garrett cleaned his cheek.
Nelson gave his plate to the stunned Heath Leary, and called out tightly, “Chauncey, how about we take Matt home?”
As Nelson moved past Spring he said to her in a low voice, “You got a fine man there.”
Spring agreed and wondered if any of the other men in the room would’ve come to her defense had he not been there. She knew the answer. While Nelson and Miller dragged Ketchum to his feet and out of the parlor, Jarvis studied her for a long moment before he and his business partner, accompanied by Arnold Cale, hastened to follow. She didn’t know nor care what he might’ve been thinking.
Still radiating outrage, McCray said to Glenda, “My apologies for the ruckus. I’ll understand if I’m never invited to your home again, especially after breaking whatever fell. Let me know the replacement costs, and I’ll wire the money when I reach home.”
Spring saw broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor.
Glenda waved him off. “That cretin Ketchum will be the one never invited back, and as for the broken figurines, they belonged to Arnold’s mother. I never cared for them anyway, so no payment is required.”
“That’s very gracious of you,” McCray replied humbly. “And thank you for your hospitality, but I’ll be leaving. I’ve had enough excitement for the evening, and I’m sure your guests have, as well. My apologies to everyone.” On his way out, he gave Spring a brief glance but didn’t stop.
Ignoring the whispers and the condemning glares sent her way by some of the wives, Spring asked the maid for her shawl and went after him.
Outside, the moon was high and the April night was both warm and chilly. Seeing McCray walking towards Dovie’s, she pulled the shawl closer and quickened her pace. “McCray. Wait.”
He stopped and turned. When she reached him, she said, “You throw a pretty good punch for a newspaper man.”
Remnants of anger remained in his voice. “Thank the Union Navy. When you’re on the bottom rung, learning to defend yourself against the older sailors is one of the first things you learn. That and if sailing makes you sick.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Spring viewed his strong features in the moonlight. “I just wanted to say thank you. Never had anyone stand up for me that way.”
“I figured if I didn’t shut his mouth, you would, and I didn’t want you messing up your pretty dress.”