Читать книгу Badlands Bride - Cheryl St.John - Страница 9
ОглавлениеChapter Two
Three bandanna-masked men in sweat-stained shirts and ill-fitting trousers pointed guns at the women exiting the coach. With their hats pulled low, the invisibility of faces and expressions was as threatening as the weapons. Two others in the same disguising attire sat atop horses. Another, this one barrel chested and short legged, held Mr. Tubbs at gunpoint on the ground.
The grizzled old driver squinted from the bandits to the women, one side of his unshaven cheek jerking in a nervous twitch.
“White women,” one of the three standing men said in awe. He wore a battered and wide-brimmed black hat.
The tallest, standing near Hallie, jerked his gun barrel toward the back of the stage. “The bags.”
The riders dismounted and lithely leapt onto the coach, unfastening the leather straps and tossing trunks and cases to the ground. Jumping back down, they opened the bags and trunks, pausing only seconds to shoot off resisting or locked latches.
The bullets frightened Zinnia to hysteria. She threw her hands toward the sun and wailed.
“Quiet!” The black-haired man moved forward and struck her with the back of his hand. Olivia couldn’t support her, and she wilted into an unconscious heap in the dirt.
“Take what you want and go,” Olivia objected. “There’s no call to hurt women.”
He yanked Olivia’s hair. She yelped, and her red mane tumbled across one shoulder. Grasping a strand in his leather-gloved fingers, he tugged her closer.
She slapped his hand away and stepped back.
“Open that pouch.” The man in front of Hallie, who appeared to be the leader, indicated her reticule.
He stood too close; his eyes were black and unyielding. The men’s aggressiveness frightened her. She’d never seen women treated disrespectfully. This was what the papers called the untamed West. There was no law. No one would even hear the shots. They could die out here and not be found for days or weeks.
Wisely, Hallie chose to open her bag and withdraw the contents. Three men darted forward, taking the other women’s possessions. At the same time, one climbed inside the coach.
The leader stuffed Hallie’s money into his pocket. She swallowed her objections. It was only money, after all, and her life was more important.
“You don’t cry.”
Hallie stared into his black eyes, her heart jumping into her throat.
“Do you talk?”
She raised her chin without reply. He circled her slowly, keeping the gun pointed at her. Halfway around, she had to turn her head and wait for him to approach from the other side. The way he looked at her body sickened her and made her feel naked.
“Lift your dress.”
She took a step back. “I beg your pardon.”
“You do talk.” He lowered the gun barrel to the front of her open jacket and nudged the material where her blouse buttoned. “Lift your dress, or I will.”
Nervously, Hallie glanced at the others. The bandits searched Olivia and Evelyn’s bodies roughly through their clothing, and the women screamed. Stoically, rather than have this man touch her the same way, Hallie raised her skirt and petticoats to her waist.
He squatted and patted her cotton-clad hips and legs with gloved hands. She clenched her teeth, nausea suffusing her insides.
Beside her, Olivia cried out and sprawled on the ground. The man wearing the black hat straddled her. Her red hair spilled across the dirt, and her skirts bunched beneath her.
“Wait just a gol-durned minute!” Mr. Tubbs cursed from his prone position.
The leader, still in front of Hallie, paused with a hand on her calf. She could see plainly that the bandit on top of Olivia had no intention of stopping. The others stood watching.
Hallie had a good idea of what that ruffian intended to do to Olivia, and it probably wouldn’t take long until the rest of them figured it was a fine idea and stopped being spectators. The leader, crouching before Hallie, bracketed one of her thighs with his gloved hands. With a strength born of terror, she kneed him in the face, knocking his hat off and releasing her skirts.
He yelped and dropped the gun, reaching for his nose and scrambling for balance.
Before he could stand, Hallie grabbed the gun and aimed it at him, securing both trembling index fingers on the trigger.
Since the bandanna was still tied across his face, only the top of his head, his black brows and obsidian eyes were visible. Hastily he grabbed his hat, jammed it over his black hair and stood, bright red blood soaking through the bandanna. He backed away.
“She won’t shoot,” said one of the others, now standing quietly.
If she didn’t, one of them would take the gun away from her and she’d be in an even bigger fix. Before she could think about it, Hallie turned the gun toward the man on Olivia and squeezed. The weapon jumped in her hands, jerked her shoulders and set her off balance. Acrid smoke curled from the barrel and Hallie steadied herself. The black hatted man clutched his arm and backed away. “Kill her!” he shouted to the others.
Hallie’s insides quaked and she waited for a bullet to impact with her skull. That shot had been a miracle. She could never shoot the rest before they killed her. A brief regret for the grief and shame she would cause her father and mother streaked through her head.
“No.” The man with the bleeding nose raised an arm, his gloved palm halting the action. Across the distance separating them, their eyes met, and his penetrating black stare sharpened her already soul-piercing fear.
He grunted a command. Hallie couldn’t tear her gaze away. If he’d told one of them to shoot her, she’d never see the bullet coming. Surprisingly however, the men gathered their stolen goods and mounted the horses.
With a final lingering perusal of Hallie, the leader leapt atop his horse and signaled. The gun trembled and her arms ached, but determinedly she kept it pointed at him. The bandits turned their horses and rode off, leaving a trail of dust on the horizon.
They were all still alive. Hallie shook so badly she finally dropped her arms, and the heavy gun barrel hit her knee.
A cackle rose on the air. “Whoo—ee!” Mr. Tubbs chortled, and spat a brown stream on the ground. “The fella what sent for you’s got a job cut out for him!”
She swung her attention back to Olivia. “You all right?”
The slender woman stood and brushed her clothing off without taking her eyes from Hallie. “Th-thanks t-to you,” she stammered, and promptly burst into tears.
Hallie groped behind her for the coach and sat on the step. “I figured we’d all be next.”
“I would rather have had them kill me,” Evelyn said softly.
A moan rose from the ground. Zinnia unfurled from her faint and sat. She blinked about like an owl, rolled to her hands and knees and stood, wobbling. “What happened? Where are they?”
“Miss Wainwright scared them away,” Olivia said, a look of amazement adding to her already bizarre appearance. Tears streaked her dust-caked cheeks and her bright hair stood out around her head like frazzled yarn.
“That she did!” Mr. Tubbs cackled and dusted himself off. “Whoo—ee! That she did!”
Zinnia’s ragged hiccuping breath jostled her ample breasts.
What had she done? Hallie regarded the baggage strewn across the ground and their clothing flapping in the wind. What could possibly happen to top this?
Her mouth curved into a relieved but jubilant grin. Boston Girl Foils Attack On Women. What a story!
Cooper glanced up at the sun. He’d just decided to unhitch the black and ride out to meet the stage when he spotted a cloud of dust on the horizon.
Anticipation rolled head over heels in his chest. He didn’t have to like her. It didn’t matter what she looked like. He didn’t care how old she was or if she was a widow ten times over. All that mattered was that she could read and write, and she’d promised him that in her letter.
It would probably be easier if he didn’t like her, since she was, after all, a white woman, and she would not like him. She didn’t have to like him. City women were vain and shallow. Her reasons for coming out here probably bore as much desperation as his for needing her.
The small dot appeared on the horizon, and his gaze followed it. What would prompt a city woman to come to the Dakotas? Love for a man? Not in this case. Lack of funds? Probably. No other prospects for marriage? Miserable thought.
“They’re comin’!” Stu shouted.
Slowly, Cooper strode to where the others stood watching the approaching Concord. He could make out the driver, Ferlie Tubbs, now, and sighed with relief.
Hooves pounded the earth, the jingle of harnesses and rings loud in the expanse of clear air. The stage drew near, distressed wood and leather creaking to a stop.
Ferlie squinted down at Cooper.
“Trouble?” Cooper asked.
The toothless ribbon sawer spit a thick stream of tobacco on the dusty ground and nodded. “Sonsa-bitches ran us down back at Big Stone Lake.”
“Everyone all right?”
“Alive,” Ferlie said.
“Hurt?” Cooper asked in alarm.
“Nah. Skeered the bejesus out o’ the fat one, and the orange-haired crybaby bawled the whole damned way.”
Cooper wondered whether he was marrying the fat one or the orange-haired crybaby.
“The hellcat’s just madder’n a bear with a sore ass,” Ferlie continued.
The door was flung open and, without waiting for assistance, a young woman in a dusty green dress with a matching hat askew on her head raised her skirts nearly to her knees and jumped to the ground. She wasn’t fat and her hair, beneath the ridiculous hat and dust, was nearly as black as a Sioux’s. The hellcat.
Her eyes, dark from this distance, surveyed the windswept vista and weathered log building and finally regarded the four men. Cooper met her stare. She was young, strikingly beautiful, with winged brows and a full mouth—definitely not a woman without better prospects in the city.
A sniffling sound came from inside the coach. She cast a significant glance over her shoulder and quickly stepped away saying, “One more mile in there and I’d have forgotten I was a lady.”
The whining came from a short young woman whose drab dress resembled a sausage casing. She appeared in the doorway, another girl with wild hair the color of a stewed carrot holding her elbow. Tearstains streaked the dust on both their faces.
Ferlie jumped down.
“What happened?” Vernon asked, Stu and Angus at his side.
“Six of ‘em,” Ferlie said. “Rode us down at Big Stone. Robbed the womenfolk. Skeered ’em good. Woulda done worse.”
Vernon clenched his fists.
“This brave young woman took a gun away from one of those border ruffians and saved us,” the redhead explained, pointing to the hellcat. Beside her the fat lady sputtered into a fresh bout of tears.
The men cast one another skeptical looks.
Finally Vernon took the initiative and spoke. “Which of you is Miss Blake?”
The fat one sniffed. “I am.”
Vernon reached for her gloved hand. “Pleased to meet you. Would it be all right if I called you Zinnia?”
A smile bloomed on her round face. She ogled Vernon as though he were rain for her parched soul. “Mr. Forbes?”
The hellcat stepped closer to Cooper—or maybe just farther away from the woman with the red and swollen eyes.
Vernon tucked his package beneath his arm and awkwardly assisted Zinnia from the coach. “You’re safe now,” he said. “You need a good hot meal and a night’s rest.”
“Miss Mason?” Stu asked, approaching the redhead.
She nodded. “Olivia.”
The hellcat stepped back to the doorway of the coach and peered in. “Coming, Evelyn?”
Cooper stepped beside her and took the blushing young woman’s gloved hand while she held her skirts and managed the step to the ground. She was painfully plain-faced and shy.
“Evelyn? Evelyn Reed?” Angus took her hand from Cooper’s. He wore a nervous grin on his awestruck face. “I’m Angus Hallstrom. You musta been scared sh—” He stopped a second. “Real scared.” The two stepped aside and the woman kept her head down as he spoke.
Amused at the station manager’s enamored reaction to the plain-faced Evelyn, Cooper remembered the woman beside him—the only bride left. He turned and contemplated her.
“Someone must be notified,” she said, looking up. “We were robbed.”
Up close her sparkling eyes were three distinct colors. Gray ringed the outside, blending into green with rich golden brown at the centers. Her lashes were thick and black, and her brows arched delicately, heightening her refined beauty. “You’re safe,” he said, not knowing how to reply.
“She bloodied the big ‘un’s nose, grabbed his gun and shot the one jumpin’ Miss Mason,” Ferlie said. “You shoulda seen it, Coop. Hot damn!” He laughed again.
Cooper stared at her. This dainty creature had done all that?
“I may be safe,” she went on, as if Ferlie hadn’t interrupted, “but I’m poorer than Job’s turkey! Those rowdies stole every bit of my money. They even took my jewelry. Someone will have to get it back!”
“I’m sorry.” Again his words were woefully inadequate.
She positioned her full lips in an exasperated line.
Tess Cordell. And she was already unhappy.
“Mr. DeWitt?”
He nodded. “Miss Cordell?”
Her ivory complexion pinkened more deeply than the original flush of irritation. “Mr. DeWitt.” She straightened her posture and lifted her chin. “I’m afraid Tess didn’t come.”
“What do you mean, Tess didn’t come?”
“Apparently her fiance had broken off with her sometime before she answered your ad. He returned just as she was preparing to come.” She glanced over his shoulder and back. “She went to Philadelphia with him.”
He regarded her. Four women had been expected, and four women had arrived. Confusion gave way to a sensation of rejection he didn’t care for. “If you’re not Tess Cordell, who are you?”
“I’m Hallie Wainwright.”
He couldn’t control the brow that rose in doubt. “And?”
“And...” Her glance skitted from his face to the driver who now made his way into the station. Angus left Evelyn Reed standing in the shade near the others, unhitched two of the six lathered horses and led them to the corral. “I’m a reporter.”
He waited, taking stock of what he might read in her expression and movements.
“I’d been working on a story about the brides for The Daily. I wanted to follow up after the women got out here, and I’d hoped that Tess would be my contact. When she changed her mind, I didn’t know what I was going to do. So, I took the ticket and the money and came in her place.”
The Oglala didn’t have a word for lie. Whites were the only ones Cooper had known to practice deception, and his lack of experience evoked an unfamiliar vulnerability. What purpose would a lie serve here?
Cooper didn’t know which would be more disappointing : if she really wasn’t his intended wife, or if she was and had come up with this plausible story to get out of an impulsive agreement she now regretted. In either case, he had no bride.
“You came in her place?” he asked.
“Well, I—” Her face grew a deeper shade of rose and she stammered. “I, uh, did use the ticket, yes. And I intended to pay you back for that as well as return the money that you sent Tess.” Her gold-flecked eyes widened. “No! I did not come in her stead!”
Her horror at the thought of being his substitute bride didn’t lend him any confidence. He took note that the other couples were already speaking with the justice. Stu glanced toward them expectantly. Cooper turned back to her. “All right. Where is it?”
“What?”
“My money.”
Her mouth fell open. “They stole it! Those men who robbed us took everything of value they could carry on their horses.”
“So you can’t pay me back?”
She blinked. “No.”
“Fair try, Miss Cordell.”
Speechless for once, Hallie stared at the man. Beneath a fawn-colored hat, his blue eyes matched the endless sky overhead. He had a straight, stern nose and a shapely mouth with a tiny line at each corner. The deep dimple in his chin and the matching indentation beneath his nose lent authority to his serious expression.
“What are you saying, DeWitt?”
He scrutinized her face, and finally his expression changed. Drawing a breath, he said, “I understand why you don’t want to stay.”
“All right, why don’t I want to stay?”
“You’re a city woman. You’ve had a good hard look at this country...at the men...at me. And you’re ready to go back to your comfortable home.”
“It’s not that at all. You can’t presume to read my mind. I never intended to stay here. I never intended to marry you.”
His gaze didn’t flicker.
“Nothing personal, mind you. I am not Tess Cordell. I have a position at the paper back in Boston, and I’m not inclined to marry someone I don’t know—or anyone, for that matter.”
He shrugged a broad shoulder indifferently, the soft fringe around his shoulders and his sleeve swaying with his movement, then turned and walked away.
His action surprised her, as did the thick, dark blond tail that hung down his back to his waist. She’d never seen a man with hair longer than her own.
The closer he got to the crude building, the more realization sank in. If she didn’t intend to marry him, he didn’t plan to waste time listening to her explanations. He hadn’t exactly seemed the chatty, sympathetic sort.
Hallie sized up the situation. Here she stood in the middle of nowhere. The station and this handful of people were the only sign of civilization for who knew how far. She had a trunk full of dirty wrinkled clothes, a heavy satchel full of books and writing supplies, and exactly no money. He had every reason to think what he did.
“Wait!”
He paused and turned. “Yes?”
Hallie caught up with him. “I—uh, I have nowhere to stay and no way to get back.”
“Looks that way.”
“Perhaps you could loan me money for a room and a ticket home.” His unyielding expression didn’t give her much hope.
“There aren’t any rooms, Miss...”
“Wainwright.”
“Wainwright. And I have better things to do with my money than give it to strangers without being sure of getting paid back.”
“My word is good,” she replied indignantly.
“That’s not the case with most whites.”
Hallie gave him a curious frown.
Once again he scrutinized her face and hair, ran his blue eyes over her clothing. “How do I know you’re not really Tess Cordell?”
Impetuously, she placed a hand on his arm. She thought he’d pull away, but her gentle touch held him even though the hard muscle beneath her fingers assured her no physical attempt on her part could stop this man if his mind was made up. He stared down at her fingers, and Hallie snatched her hand back.
She’d never met such a callous man. Her brothers may have been unsympathetic to her career plans, but they’d always been concerned with her safety and well-being. “So you’re just going to leave me out here in God-knows-where, without a penny, to fend for myself?”
“I’m sure a capable reporter like you will come up with something. You got this far, didn’t you?”
Yes, she had. Mustering her pride, Hallie stared at the dismal little station building and caught at her hat as another gale threatened to send it back to Boston without her. “Is there a storm coming?”
He glanced at the clear sky overhead and frowned. “There’s not a cloud in sight.”
“I just thought...” she mumbled. “The wind.”
His attention wavered to her clothing flattened against her body, outlining her breasts and legs. She turned aside.
“The wind is always like this,” he said.
“Oh.” Hallie had never seen so much horizon. Land stretched in every direction. She’d never seen so much sky or dust or known so many insects existed. She’d never met an unyielding man like this one. Who knew? Maybe Tess Cordell would have made it this far only to change her mind.
She glanced at the others, still waiting near the building. “I’m sorry Tess didn’t come.”
He made no reply.
“Why don’t you just take me to town? I’m sure I can make arrangements there.” Perhaps she could sell something she had left, or make a trade for a ticket.
“There is no town.”
“What?”
“Stone Creek isn’t a town—yet. Besides my freight company, there’s a livery, a trading post and a saloon.”
She brought her attention back to his sun-burnished face. “And a post office?”
“Mail leaves from here.” He nodded toward the station.
Hallie avoided his piercing eyes for several seconds. She ran through her dilemma in her head. No telegraph. No rooms. A fine fix. “How long until the stage goes out?”
“This one goes north tomorrow. It’ll be two weeks before another heads back east.”
“Is that mail, too?”
He nodded.
She stared at the tips of her dirty shoes. She could get a story in two weeks. But where would she stay? How would she eat? She was already starving. “Could you hire me? I’ll help you with your business until I earn enough to get home, or until I hear from my father.”
“You won’t work off two hundred dollars plus the ticket in two weeks.”
“I know that.” She shook her head in frustration. “I’m not holding you responsible, even though my things were in the care of DeWitt Stage Company, am I? Why don’t you give me the same courtesy?”
Hallie didn’t know what other choice she had left. Unless she begged one of the newlyweds to take her home, and besides the embarrassing imposition, she wouldn’t feel safe being too far from the stage station. It was her only link to home.
He studied her. “I don’t claim to know much about city ways or what’s proper and what’s not, but you can’t stay with me, even sleeping separately, without getting married.”
He was right. No one would probably ever know, but even with the remote possibility that they would, Hallie couldn’t risk the shame that would be placed upon her family, on her society-entrenched mother. “That is a problem. I don’t suppose you have two residences?” she asked.
He shook his head and glanced away.
She couldn’t help noticing his broad-shouldered frame in the soft leather clothing. Over six feet tall, the man was solid muscle. She couldn’t allow his size or his gender to intimidate her. She was used to dealing with stubborn men.
He returned his attention and caught her observation.
“Marriage is out of the question. I don’t want a husband.”
Something flickered behind his blue eyes.
“You’re insulted that I won’t marry you,” she guessed. She’d had enough experience with the male ego to know what she was dealing with.
“I need help. I don’t expect a woman to fall at my feet.” He took in her appearance again, from her hat flapping like a lid in the wind, to her clothing, and down to her feet.
Why should she feel inadequate beneath his stare? Hallie had never given in to the detriment of being a woman before, and she wasn’t about to start. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to help you, Mr. DeWitt. Just like I will find a way to get my story and go home.”
She hurried back to the coach for her satchel, pulled out a tablet and pencil, and marched toward the small gathering in front of the building.
DeWitt followed.
“George Gaston, miss.” The justice introduced himself nodded politely. “The ladies said Coop’s bride changed her mind.”
“I’m afraid that’s so,” she said.
“Well, let’s go in, and the couples gettin’ hitched should line up,” he ordered.
Hallie joined the gathering inside the station. The rough log walls looked like the inside of every other stopover she’d been in since crossing the Missouri, but at least she was out of the wind and sun for a few blissful moments. The three couples took their places and the justice quickly performed the ceremony. Hallie’s pencil scratched across the paper as she tried to take note of every last detail.
“You’re the witnesses,” the justice said, indicating Hallie and DeWitt. She signed three papers and handed the quill to DeWitt. He accepted it, carefully avoiding contact with her fingers, and turned his broad back to her.
Hallie stared at it only briefly before turning to George Gaston. “Would you be so kind as to give me a ride into town?”
He gave her a puzzled glance. “There ain’t no town.”
“To the trading post, then,” she clarified.
“I only have the one horse, miss. Don’t seem it would be proper.” He glanced behind her. “Coop’s the one with the rig.”
Her body ached from the ride, and she was so tired she could have curled up right here and gone to sleep. She sighed in frustration.
“I’ll give you a ride,” DeWitt offered from beside her.
She slanted a glance up in surprise.
“Come.”
“I need to post a letter to my father first.” She scribbled on a piece of paper. “Do you have an envelope?” she asked the station manager.
“Nope.”
Hallie looked at her letter in consternation.
“Just fold it and write the name and address on the back,” he told her.
She followed his direction and handed the letter over.
“That’s three bits, miss,” Mr. Hallstrom informed her.
Distressed, she glanced over her shoulder.
DeWitt drew the change from a leather pouch and laid it on the wooden counter.
“I’ll pay you back,” she promised.
Hallie congratulated the women, promising to see them soon, and followed DeWitt outdoors.
“I’ll pull the team over,” he suggested. “You show me which bag is yours.”
Though newly married, Angus jumped to the boot and performed his job, unbuckling the trunks and cases. DeWitt raised a brow at the sight of her trunk, but lifted it to the back of the wagon effortlessly, situating her valise beside it. She accepted his assistance and climbed up onto the seat.
Back aching, eyelids drooping, she rode beside him, desperately wanting to be able to eat and fall asleep. The man next to her made her feel even more helpless than her brothers did. If he believed her to be Tess, then he thought her a liar. If he took her word for who she was, he thought her a fool. Both assumptions got under her skin. “I’m a good reporter,” she said at last.
From beneath the brim of his hat he cast her a sideways glance. She read neither skepticism nor belief.
“There have been plenty of women writers, you know,” she said. “Mary Wollstonecraft wrote before the turn of the century. And there was Fanny Wright.”
His expression didn’t change.
“Anne Royall, too, but then she’s not a very good example, with all that Washington gossip. And of course there’s Lydia Maria Child’s antislavery book. So you see it’s not all that unheard of.”
Hallie reached into her satchel and pulled out her clippings about the brides. “Here’s one of my articles.”
She unfolded a column and held it up for him to look at.
His attention flicked over the scrap of newspaper dismissively.
The wind caught it and tugged it from her fingers. Her only copy disappeared into the vast countryside. Quickly, Hallie tucked the others safely back into her bag. “Those articles prove who I am, don’t they?”
“Anyone could have cut them from a paper.”
“You should have asked one of the other women who came. They could have backed up my story.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I could have shown you my silver bracelet with my initials engraved on it, but by now some thief has probably given it to his... Do thieves have wives?”
He only glanced at her in silence.
“Well, he’s melted it down for bullets, then,” she said.
He turned his face away and watched the horses’ rumps and the rutted dirt road.
Finally a few buildings came into sight, and the animals picked up their pace, heading for a long log structure with grass blowing atop the slanted roof. Hallie had never seen anything so strange.
“Is that your house?” she asked.
“The freight building. You can’t see the house yet.”
“You’ve planted grass on top!”
He cast her a cunous look. “It’s a sod roof.”
An enormous barn sat beside it. Sectioned corrals holding horses and mules bordered the east side and the back.
He led the team through an opening wide enough to accommodate the horses and wagon, and stopped. Inside were rows of wagons, a wall of tools and the permeating smell of dung and hay. DeWitt unhitched his horses and whacked each on the rump. Placidly, they made their way through a doorway, where a short man wearing suspenders over his shirt met them.
“Hey, Coop! That the bride?”
Cooper hung tack on the wall. “No, Jack. She didn’t come. This is Miss Wainwright. A reporter from Boston.”
“Oh? Looks like this ’un would do.” He tottered off behind the horses.
Hallie lowered her eyes and stretched her legs. Cooper had called her by her name and identified her as a reporter. Did he believe her now? Her stomach growled, loud in the open room. “Why didn’t you introduce me properly?”
His brows lowered. “Don’t expect parlor manners out here, lady.” He beckoned with an arm that sent fringe swaying.
Hallie followed. He led her across an open space near the big log building to a smaller one a short distance away. The logs were freshly stripped of bark. Behind it, two windowless sod houses stood, smoke curling from the chimney of one.
He opened a new door and ushered her inside, hanging his hat on a mounted set of antlers. The scents of wood and wax met her nostrils. The room they stood in had a glass window at each end. One side was for cooking, with a stove and table and chairs, the other a sitting area, which included a wide fireplace and a stone hearth. Overhead, a loft could be reached by a sturdy ladder made of saplings.
The stripped logs couldn’t be seen from the inside. The walls had been plastered and whitewashed. Everywhere was evidence of recent construction and meticulous care. With new eyes Hallie took stock of the simple room and regarded the man who poked sticks into the stove and started a fire.
He’d built a home for Tess Cordell.
Did he feel cheated that she hadn’t come? Resentful? An ache like that he must know sapped even more of her energy. Sight unseen, he’d provided the best his stark country had to offer. His preparations revealed there was more to the man than met the eye. He wanted a wife to share this home with. Hallie couldn’t identify the lonely and disturbing feeling the thought wove into her empty stomach.
He’d only needed help, he’d said. He hadn’t expected a woman to fall at his feet.
But he’d done all this in anticipation.
Somehow, perhaps unfairly, Hallie thought it was only right that Tess hadn’t come. She hadn’t cared if Cooper DeWitt was old or young, hadn’t thought of anything but herself and the fact that he obviously had a little money. She wouldn’t have been happy here.
Would she?
He clanged a heavy black skillet on the stove and cut chunks of ham into it, his movements deft and sure. He looked different without the hat, less intimidating, more... approachable. His blond hair hung down the center of his back in a thick tail. He had a narrow waist and muscular buttocks and thighs.
Perhaps Tess had made a big mistake.
He glanced up and caught her looking.
Hallie met his eyes and willed herself not to think him handsome.
He dropped a heavy lid on the skillet. “I’ll get you some water and you can wash before we eat. There’s a privy out back.”
“A what?”
He stood motionless, staring at the table. “A place to relieve yourself.”
Embarrassment buzzed up Hallie’s neck to her ears. “Oh—uh, a necessary,” she said.
He brought water from outdoors and heated it on the stove. Carrying the metal pan through the doorway, he showed her into one of the two separate rooms. After placing the pan on a low stand, he left her alone.
Hallie surveyed the room. It held a wide rope bed covered with a rough blanket, a chest of drawers and an armoire, all new. There was no covering at the window, but wood pegs had been placed in an even row along the wall. All were empty. Waiting for a woman’s clothing.
She loosened her hair, ran her fingers through it and repinned it as best she could, leaving her hat on the end of the mattress.
The water was a blessing. Even though it was warm, she scooped a palmful and drank it before she removed her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse, washing her face, neck, arms and hands. The rough toweling he’d provided exhilarated her skin, and, once finished, she felt refreshed, although she would’ve given anything for a bath.
Hallie replaced her clothing and carried the pan out, tossing the water on the ground.
“Next time water the vegetables with it,” he said. Her nose nearly bumped his chest.
Next time? He took the pan and pointed to the table. Hallie sat obediently. Beside the plate lay a smooth white spoon and two-pronged fork. “These are lovely What are they made of?”
“Bone.”
She stared at the object in her fingers. “What kind of bone?”
“Buffalo.”
“Oh.”
He sat across from her and ate. She followed his example. The ham was a trifle salty, but the bread and eggs were filling. Hallie cleaned her plate, and didn’t object when he gave her more from the skillet on the stove.
“I didn’t see a chicken coop,” she commented.
“Turkeys.”
“Turkeys?”
“Wild turkeys. They lay eggs in the brush. I have some chickens coming this afternoon.”
She swallowed her last bite. “Well, thank you for your hospitality. I’d best be on my way.”
She stood.
He picked up the plates.
A thought occurred to her. “About my trunk...”
He looked up.
“May I leave it with you until I know where I’ll be staying?”
He nodded and moved away from the table.
“Very well, then. Thank you again.”
He turned back. “You know where to find me.”
She nodded, picked up her valise and let herself out his door. Immediately the wind snatched at her skirts and blew dust in her face. Hallie drew her gloves from her reticule and pulled them on. The bag’s weight brought an ache to her shoulder, but she made her way through the foot-deep dried ruts that formed a street of sorts, praying for success in finding somewhere to stay. Even an adventuress needed a rest now and then.
