Читать книгу Lone Wolf's Lady - Judy Duarte - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“I’m Daisy. What can I do for you?”

After Tom had talked to Sheriff Droeger and had his suspicions confirmed, he’d learned that a child named Sarah Jane and a woman now going by the name of Daisy Potts had moved into the Gardener’s House a few months ago. Because the sheriff said Daisy did most of the cooking and cleaning at the brothel, Tom had decided to bypass the front door and use the rear entrance.

He hadn’t been surprised when Daisy answered his knock, but the red-haired schoolmarm standing in the kitchen like she owned the place knocked him completely off stride.

Of course, Miss O’Malley appeared to be more than a little surprised by his arrival, too.

“I’m afraid I need to leave now,” she told Daisy. “But I’ll be back on Saturday morning. We can talk about our trip to Wyoming then.”

Tom had no idea what the two women planned to do in the Wyoming territory, but they wouldn’t be taking Sarah Jane with them until he was convinced that she wasn’t Caroline’s daughter.

If he had reason to believe the girl was Caroline’s child, she was going with him to Stillwater, where she belonged.

Of course, that was assuming that Harrison Graves had really softened and would actually claim an illegitimate child as his heir. And, to be honest, Tom had his doubts.

Miss O’Malley glanced his way one more time, her eyes as blue as the Texas sky.

She was a pretty one; that was a fact. And judging by the starched cotton blouse she wore buttoned to her chin, she didn’t belong in the same room with one of the women who worked at the Gardener’s House and, according to the sheriff, went by flower names.

She watched him doe-eyed, like a fawn sighting a man from across a thicket, curious yet ready to bolt at the slightest movement. Then she seemed to rally her courage.

“Good day,” she said, as stiff and proper as the schoolmarm she’d once been.

He gave her a slight nod as she pushed past him, then watched as she let herself out.

When the door snapped shut behind her, he returned his gaze to Daisy.

The fallen woman, who was attractive in her own right, appeared to be in her early twenties and about the same age as the schoolmarm. “How can I help you?” she asked again.

“I was sent by Harrison Graves to find his granddaughter, Caroline. And my search led me here.”

Daisy stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ve been to Casa de Los Angelitos,” Tom said, “where you and Caroline met. And I followed her trail to several different towns in Texas, ending up in Taylorsville, where you both lived for the past year. You went by the name of Erin Kelly back then and worked as a cook at the restaurant until the owner went out of business. Caroline was a clerk at the hotel.”

Daisy drew back but didn’t deny it. Finally, she said, “If you’re looking for Caroline, she’s not here. She died a few months back.”

“I know. And she’s survived by a daughter, a girl who’d be about six years old now.”

Before he decided how much to divulge of what he already knew, the child who’d been bullied on the town street entered the kitchen, carrying a handmade rag doll, and approached Daisy.

Tom hadn’t noticed a resemblance to Caroline before, although he hadn’t thought to even look for one. But he studied her carefully now.

Her blond hair was a bit darker than her mother’s, more the color of sunflowers than fresh-churned butter. Yet there were other similarities—green eyes, a turned-up nose.

The fairness of her skin, too, which had made young Caroline appear to be angelic to a boy with mixed blood.

Had she also inherited her mother’s kind heart, the inner beauty that had allowed Caroline to befriend the boy known as Tom Lone Wolf when so many others in Stillwater had turned their backs on him?

Daisy reached for Sarah Jane and drew her close. “I’m afraid I’m not able to talk to you now, so you’ll have to leave.”

Tom wasn’t about to get into specifics in front of the child. Nor did he want to tip his hand about a possible inheritance at this point, especially with a woman who clearly could be purchased.

“I brought the child a gift,” he said. “May I give it to her?”

Sarah Jane looked up at Daisy, her eyes wide, seeking approval. Finally, it came with a nod.

Tom reached inside his vest pocket and pulled a pair of beaded moccasins, as well as a small medicine bag he’d made for her when he’d learned Caroline had not only borne a daughter but kept her.

“When I was a boy,” he said, “I knew a little girl who looked a lot like you. Her name was Caroline Graves. And one day, she did something very brave. As a reward for her bravery, my mother made her a pair of moccasins just like these.”

“Thank you,” Sarah Jane said, as she reached for the soft deerskin gifts. “That was my mama’s name.”

“I thought that it might be.”

The girl studied the handmade shoes and the medicine bag, then gazed at Tom. “What did she do that was brave?”

“She saw a grown man being mean to an Indian boy, and she told him to get off her ranch and to never come back.”

Sarah Jane’s eyes grew wide. “What did the man do to her?”

“He was afraid that she’d tell her grandfather, Harrison Graves, who was a very powerful man. So he left the boy alone.”

Daisy glanced down at the child, then at a bowl of green beans that sat on the kitchen table and back to Tom. “Thank you for your gifts, Mr. McCain. And for sharing the story. But I meant what I said. Now isn’t a good time to talk.”

“It won’t take long. I just want to ask you a few questions and get some honest answers.” Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out the twenty-dollar gold piece Harrison had given him. “Would this be enough to tempt you to find the time?”

Daisy’s eyes, while wary, studied the coin for only a moment. “Come back Thursday morning. Most of the girls sleep in. If you come around eight, I’ll be in the kitchen. And I’ll have a pot of coffee on the stove.”

“Fair enough.”

Again his gaze settled on little Sarah Jane. Would Harrison see a resemblance to her mother? If so, would he take that into consideration?

Would he be pleased to learn that Tom had found Caroline’s daughter? Or would he cast out the illegitimate child, just as he’d done to Caroline when he’d learned she was pregnant without a husband in sight?

Time would tell, he supposed, but first things first. In two days, he’d have to convince Daisy to let Sarah Jane go with him back to the Lazy G.

And if Daisy didn’t agree?

He’d take her anyway. Caroline’s daughter didn’t belong in a place like this. And Tom wasn’t about to leave her here.

* * *

On Friday morning, Katie hurried down the boardwalk to the newspaper office, her skirts swishing with each brisk step she took. She intended to pick up her copy of the Pleasant Valley Journal fresh off the press, just as she always did.

As she opened the front door, a bell tinkled to let the clerk know she’d arrived.

The bespectacled young man glanced up from his desk. When he spotted Katie, he smiled. “Here to read the latest rebuttal to your last article, Miss O’Malley?”

“Yes, Harold.” Katie slipped off her gloves and tucked them into her reticule. “What does Reverend Codwell have to say this time?”

“He doesn’t mention any new arguments, if that’s what you mean.” Harold adjusted his eyeglasses, pushed his swivel chair away from the desk and got to his feet.

While he went for her copy, Katie scanned the small office, breathing in the scent of ink and admiring the intricate machinery that worked the printing press. She’d actually considered the idea of becoming a reporter or even an editor herself. Edward Townsend, Harold’s boss, had once offered her a job, but he’d told her she’d have to temper some of her outspoken comments if she wanted to work for him.

Katie, of course, had refused to do that.

Noticing the publisher wasn’t around, she asked about him. “Where’s Edward?”

“He went to visit...” Harold flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet, then adjusted his shirt collar. “Um...I’m not sure where he is.”

Katie placed her hands on the countertop and leaned forward. “Harold Decker, you’re holding something back. Why is that? What don’t you want to tell me?”

“I’m sorry, Miss O’Malley. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It just isn’t proper.”

Katie arched a brow. “Where is this improper visit taking place?”

Harold ran a hand over his slicked-down hair, then looked at Katie as though he wanted her either to ask someone else or to forget the question completely, but she wasn’t about to do that.

She crossed her arms like a parent scolding an errant child. “Harold?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Edward went to see...one of the women from...um...the Gardener’s House. She was assaulted and nearly killed yesterday.”

Katie’s hands unfolded and slipped to her sides. “What happened?”

Harold’s ruddy cheeks grew a deeper shade of red with each tick of the clock. “Why don’t you ask Edward when he gets back? I don’t feel right talking to you about it.”

“You might as well tell me. There will be an article in the paper, and we both know that Reverend Codwell will be proclaiming it from the pulpit. You heard him bring up Miss Potts and Sarah Jane last week, which caused a rash of public outrage against the woman and the child.”

“You’re right, I suppose.” He ambled toward the counter and sighed. “And I certainly hope that didn’t have anything to do with the assault.”

“Why would it?”

“Because Daisy was the one who was attacked.”

The unexpected news slammed into Katie like a hammer on a blacksmith’s anvil. “Oh, no. At the brothel?”

“No, while she was coming to town to do some shopping at the mercantile.”

“Who attacked her?”

“No one knows. The little girl was the only witness, but she’s not talking. Doc Hennessy says the child is in shock.”

“Dear Lord,” Katie whispered out loud, as she launched into a silent prayer. Please look after Sarah Jane until I can get to her.

“Don’t worry,” Harold added. “There’s a group of concerned citizens who plan to take the child away from there and put her in an orphanage. Anything would be better than being where she is right now.”

A thousand thoughts swirled in Katie’s head, the foremost being the need to protect little Sarah Jane. She eyed Harold carefully. “What time do you expect Edward to return?”

“I’m not sure. After checking on Daisy, he was going over to the saloon to take up a collection for her. She’s a nice woman.” Harold stiffened. “I mean, she’s nice for a...” He cleared his throat, then chuffed. “Oh, never mind.”

Katie ignored the man’s discomfort. Her only concern was for Sarah Jane. Daisy had already agreed to go to Wyoming. After all, she couldn’t very well change her mind about leaving now.

Either way, Sarah Jane needed a champion, someone who would take her far away from this unforgiving town, someone who wouldn’t allow her to be placed in an orphanage.

And Katie was just the one to do it.

As she turned on her heel and strode for the door, Harold called out, “Miss O’Malley, you forgot your newspaper.”

“I’ll get it later.” Katie slammed the door behind her, nearly jarring the little bell off its perch.

She wasn’t sure what the townspeople would say when she announced that she would be the one adopting Sarah Jane, particularly if the Reverend Codwell stepped in to raise a fuss, but she was taking Sarah Jane and Daisy to Wyoming.

And she was prepared to fight anyone who stood in her way.

* * *

Tom nursed a cup of coffee while he sat in the red-and-gold parlor of the Gardener’s House, waiting for a chance to see Daisy again. The doctor was with her now, and as soon as he was finished with his exam, Tom planned to take her and Sarah Jane to a place they’d be safe.

The attack had been brutal. And there’d been no reason for it. Daisy had been on her way to the mercantile. Sarah Jane had been with her. At some point, she’d screamed. Blossom, one of the other women at the brothel, had heard her and come running. She’d fired a shot at the man, and he’d fled before anyone could get a good look at him.

Daisy, who’d been battered senseless, had no recollection of the assault. When Sarah Jane was asked if she could describe the man who’d attacked them, she’d shaken her head no. One day later, and she still hadn’t uttered a single word.

The doctor said the little girl, who bore bruises along one of her arms, had been traumatized. Poor little thing. Tom had no idea what her life had been like so far, but losing her mother so young...and now this.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his gold watch. What was taking the doctor so long? He was hoping to get out of town as soon as Daisy was able to travel. Unfortunately, Daisy couldn’t mount a horse in her condition, even if she’d wanted to. And since Tom couldn’t rid himself of the suspicion that the attacker had intended to kill Daisy for some reason and might want to follow them so he could finish what he’d started, it would be difficult to hide their wagon tracks.

Something else niggled at him, too. Something that could be a coincidence. But why had the two women moved so many times since meeting in Mexico? Had they been running from someone?

Too bad Trapper Jack had already gone home. Tom could have used the man’s help today, even if he would have had to listen to his infernal jabbering and advice.

To make matters worse, Tom also had to look after Sarah Jane. And as much as he wanted to do right by Caroline’s daughter, he didn’t know squat about kids—especially little girls. And Daisy wasn’t going to be much help since she couldn’t even see to her own needs right now.

The doctor didn’t think her skull had been fractured by the blows to her head, but she’d suffered a serious concussion.

If that weren’t enough, that safe place he had in mind was a three-day ride from here.

Needless to say, Tom was growing too antsy to sit any longer. So he stuffed his father’s gold watch back into his pocket and got to his feet. He might as well do something useful, like head to the livery and get that wagon. But before he could cross the room, a sharp rap sounded at the door.

Sweet Heather, a plump blonde wearing a black, low-cut gown, sashayed toward the entry. “I’m comin’, sugar.”

As she swung open the door and a familiar redhead strode into the parlor with a determined step, her smile drooped to a frown and her hand fisted against her hip.

This ought to be interesting, Tom thought, as he studied the lady who was clearly out of place.

Afternoon sunlight peered through the front window and glistened upon her red hair, highlighting shades of fire and autumn. Expressive blue eyes blazed in a passionate array of emotions—worry, concern, nervous indignation, he guessed.

In spite of the modest apparel, he had to admit that she intrigued him far more than any of the women who lived and worked at the Gardener’s House.

As she scanned the parlor, the room grew still and intense with silent fury, like the air before a Texas twister.

“You again?” Sweet Heather asked. “What do you want this time?”

The redhead swept past her. “I just heard what happened. I came to see Sarah Jane and to talk to Daisy.”

Sweet Heather crossed her arms under her ample bust. “I told you before. You aren’t welcome here, so you’d better skedaddle.”

“I’m not leaving until I see them.”

Sweet Heather laughed heartily, her bosom bouncing like a bowl of calf’s-foot jelly. “Then I guess you’ll be here for a long, long time.”

“I can wait.” The redhead surveyed the room. When her gaze moved to Tom and recognition sparked, her breath caught.

Tom had to admit she had guts. Most decent women would rather drop dead than walk into a place like this.

“I told you to go,” Sweet Heather bellowed, her face reddening, her mouth set in grim determination. “We lost two customers the last time you came here.”

Sweet Heather looked like a ruckus ready to happen, and if the lady knew what was best for her she’d leave now.

Miss O’Malley didn’t flinch. Instead, she strode deeper into the parlor, her head still held high. “Then I’ll wait for someone to tell me where to find Sarah Jane.”

Sweet Heather closed the gap between them. “You’ll get out even if I have to pick you up and throw you out myself.”

About that time, the women who’d gathered at the top of the stairs began to file down the steps.

Realizing things could get out of hand, Tom made his way to the lady. “Miss O’Malley, I think you’d better leave. Sweet Heather would actually favor a fight.”

Miss O’Malley stood a bit taller, if that was possible. “I appreciate your concern, Mr. McCain, but I’m not going to leave until I’m ready to do so. And that’s not going to happen unless someone tells me where I can find Sarah Jane.”

Tom scanned the length of her. He could throw her over his shoulder and force her to leave, but it really wasn’t any of his business.

How involved did he want to get?

He figured he might as well head to the livery stable.

As he made his way to the door, Sweet Heather called out to him. “Where are you going, handsome?”

Tom stopped long enough to turn and say, “I’ll be back.”

But that didn’t seem to appease Sweet Heather, because she grabbed a vase and threw it at Miss O’Malley, who ducked just in the nick of time.

As the glass shattered on the floor, Sweet Heather looked as smug as a fat cat with its paw pressed down on a mouse’s tail. “The next thing I break will be your teeth.”

Tom sighed heavily. He sensed a real fight coming, and, in spite of his better judgment, he sauntered toward the redhead, lifted her feet off the floor and threw her across his shoulder like a sack of grain.

He’d been prepared for the weight of her—but not the delicate scent of lilac on her clothes and hair.

“Put me down this instant,” she cried, her words coming out in raspy shrieks. She kicked her feet and pounded her fists on his back like an ornery cougar kit that had been caught and placed in an empty feed sack.

As feisty as the former schoolmarm was, she might actually hold her own in a tussle with Sweet Heather.

He wrapped one arm around her knees and tried to still her flailing legs as he carried her outside and down the porch steps to the lawn in front of the brothel.

“I said, put me down!” she shrieked.

“Stop fighting me and I will.”

She took a deep breath, then groaned in exasperation before ceasing her struggle. He took in one last whiff of lilac, then lowered her to the ground. As he did so, she slid down the front of him, leaving them both standing in awkward silence.

Their eyes locked, and for one brief moment, something passed between them, something that stirred the senses. But Tom didn’t have time to lose his focus.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your presence was creating more trouble than either of us need. Now get out of here before the sheriff is called and your reputation is in shreds.”

“I don’t give a fig about my reputation right now. I’m going back in there, even if I have to climb in a window or slip down the chimney.”

If that were the case, Tom would either have to let her go—or wrestle her himself. And right now, tangling with her any more than he already had didn’t seem to be a wise option. Still, maybe he could ease her mind and send her on her way.

“Don’t worry about Sarah Jane,” he said. “I’m taking her someplace safe.”

“That’s not necessary. I already have plans to take her and Daisy to Wyoming just as soon as Daisy has recovered enough to travel. They’ll both be able to make a fresh start there. Daisy will find respectable work, and Sarah Jane will have...well, rest assured that I’ll provide her with opportunities she’d never have otherwise.”

Tom lifted his hat, then readjusted it on his head. “First off, I don’t think it’s in either of their best interests to remain in town long enough for Daisy to recover fully. And, secondly, while I appreciate your concern for the child, I have reason to believe that she has family in Stillwater.”

That gave Miss O’Malley pause. “You have reason to believe? You’re not sure?”

Actually, he knew that she had a great-grandfather. But he wasn’t convinced the dying old man would welcome her with open arms. “Let’s just say that I’m sure enough.”

The schoolmarm seemed to think on that, and as she did, she worried her lip. All the while, the sun continued to shine on her hair, dancing upon the glossy strands.

The autumn color was remarkable. Tom wondered what it looked like when she removed the pins, brushed out the tresses and let them hang long.

When she finally glanced up, her expressive eyes, the shade of bluebonnets, caught his. “But if she has a family, where have they been all her life? Why is she living in a place like this?”

“I’m still trying to figure out how that might have come about.” He’d tried to talk to Daisy earlier, but her throat had been badly bruised by the near strangling. The doctor had given her something for pain and to help her rest, and she’d dozed off before he could get anything out of her.

“What if that family Sarah Jane supposedly has doesn’t want her?” Miss O’Malley asked.

He’d thought of that possibility more than he dared to admit. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Apparently, that wasn’t enough to appease her, because she crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. “I won’t let you take Sarah Jane anywhere.”

Tom snorted at her hollow challenge. “I wouldn’t recommend fighting with me, Miss O’Malley.”

She studied him a moment, as if calculating the odds, then softened her stance. “Daisy is Sarah Jane’s guardian. And the two of us have reached an agreement. We’re taking Sarah Jane to Wyoming.”

“Daisy also goes by the name of Erin Kelly,” he said. “Did you know that?”

A twitch at the corner of a single blue eye suggested that she didn’t, yet she brushed off his comment. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t think her name was actually Daisy Potts.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

She stiffened. “I’m sure that’s true. Nevertheless, Daisy—or whatever name she’d prefer to go by—has agreed to go with me to Wyoming. And I plan to leave town just as soon as Dr. Hennessy says she can travel.”

“I’m afraid her plans changed when she was attacked and nearly killed.”

“It seems to me that would be all the more reason for her to want a new life. And I can help her attain that dream—in Wyoming.”

“And just whose dream is that, Miss O’Malley? Yours or Daisy’s?”

She seemed to ponder that a moment, as if he’d finally tossed something her way that she hadn’t expected. Then she seemed to shrug it off. “Does it matter? Some people become so downtrodden that they forget how to dream.”

The fool woman had an answer for everything.

“At this point,” he said, “the only thing that matters is getting Erin and Sarah Jane out of town before that man comes back and tries to finish what he started.”

Her lips parted, and the color in her cheeks drained. “Do you think the man will come back and try to kill her?”

“Come now. You’re a bright woman. Think about it. The man attacked a woman and child in broad daylight. He certainly wasn’t a drunken, unhappy customer. And when another woman interrupted the attack, he ran off before she could get a good look at him. But as far as the attacker knows, there are still two witnesses.”

She bit down on her bottom lip again as she considered what he was suggesting, so he continued to make himself clear. “From what I’ve been told, Erin has no memory of the attack—at least, not now. And Sarah Jane hasn’t uttered a word since that morning. The doctor thinks she’s traumatized by what she saw, and who knows if or when she’ll speak again. But the attacker doesn’t know that.”

Tom didn’t see any point in telling Miss O’Malley that he’d been following Caroline’s trail for the past three weeks, from Casa de Los Angelitos in Mexico, where Sarah Jane was born, to the town of Taylorsville, where Caroline had died after a fall down a flight of stairs.

And that was another thing that just didn’t sit right with him. Caroline had been a healthy and vivacious twenty-four-year-old. How had she managed to take a fatal tumble like that? And why had Erin left right after the funeral?

Something about that just didn’t make sense. The women had put down roots several different times in the past six years. And then all of a sudden, they would up and move again.

Had one or the other been running from something?

Or from someone?

If so, Tom didn’t like the idea of Sarah Jane being caught up in the backlash of whatever the adults in her life had been involved in—or running from.

He hoped he was wrong, but the only one who could answer his questions was Erin, and she was in no condition to talk yet.

“How do you plan to travel with a child and an injured woman?” Miss O’Malley asked.

That wasn’t going to be easy. And Tom didn’t expect to do much sleeping on the three-day ride to Hannah’s house, where he intended to leave Daisy to heal.

“I can see that you haven’t thought that through,” Miss O’Malley said, her tone and stance a little too smug for her bustle.

“Actually,” Tom said, “I’ve done a lot of thinking.” More than she would ever know—and not just while he’d been on the trail looking for Caroline.

“Perhaps we should compromise,” she said.

“About what? The way I see it, Miss O’Malley, you don’t have a dog in this fight.”

As though his words had fallen on deaf ears, she continued to speak her mind. “Erin and Sarah Jane need to get out of town fast, correct?”

“That’s the way I see it.” What was her point?

“And Sarah Jane might or might not have a family who might—or might not—want her. Is that a safe assumption?”

“I suppose so.” Where was she going with this?

“If she has no family—or if they don’t want her—she’ll need another home.”

He didn’t dispute that.

“And if they want her, we’ll need to determine whether they deserve her. And if they don’t, then we’ll still need to find her another home.”

We? Who included Miss O’Malley in any of this?

“So you see, it’s all very simple.” Miss O’Malley crossed her arms and smiled. “I’ll go with you. And if Sarah Jane needs a home for any reason, I’ll be prepared to take her and Erin with me to Wyoming as planned.”

She couldn’t be suggesting that he travel for three days with her, an outspoken, headstrong schoolmarm. He’d be a fool to even consider such a notion. A woman like Miss O’Malley, no matter how pretty she was, would make the trip as unbearable as a throbbing ingrown toenail.

“Miss O’Malley, thank you for the kind offer, but I’m afraid that won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“To be honest, I’d run naked through a briar patch before I’d travel with you any longer than necessary.”

Up went that pretty little chin again. “Traveling with you wouldn’t be a picnic, Mr. McCain.”

“It certainly won’t. I’m not packing silver tea service or linen napkins.”

“How dare you accuse me of being prissy. I’ve made it a point to not be cast in that mold.”

“The mold of a lady?” He asked, awaiting a slap—or a sharp retort.

Instead, she uncrossed her arms and tossed him a pretty smile. “I don’t really care what others think of me, Mr. McCain—you included. But that’s beside the point right now. You’re going to need help traveling with an injured woman and a traumatized child. And it looks as though I’m the only one willing to go with you. So the way I see it, you don’t have much choice.”

Trouble was, as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.