Читать книгу Lone Wolf's Lady - Judy Duarte - Страница 12
ОглавлениеChapter Three
McCain glared at Katie as though she’d gone daft, then he shook his head. “Be ready in an hour—and not one minute more. We’ll leave from here.”
Before she could object to the unreasonable time limit, the man left her standing in front of the brothel and strode away as though it wouldn’t take much to change his mind or to alter his travel plans.
While she should feel somewhat victorious, she had to admit that she felt as unbalanced as a blindfolded child in a sack race.
How in creation was she ever going to pack for a trip like that in so little time?
Well, she couldn’t very well stew about it a moment longer, so she hurried home as quickly as her skirts would allow. She did, however, stop briefly to let Ian Connor know that she’d be leaving town.
Ian, who’d been a dear friend and a colleague of her late father, had suffered an attack of apoplexy last year that left the right side of his body so weak that he’d had to retire from his law practice. He now lived with his widowed sister in a white clapboard house just down the lane from Katie.
As she’d expected, Ian greeted her with a warm smile. “Katie, my dear, it’s always good to see you. Please come in.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to come inside. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be leaving and will be away for a week or so.”
Ian stroked his right arm and furrowed his brow. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking Daisy Potts and Sarah Jane out of town.”
Ian stiffened. “You’re what?”
“I take it you heard about the attack. Poor Miss Potts was assaulted and nearly killed. I’m going to escort her and the child out of town.”
“Yes, I heard about the attack—and her injuries. But why in the world are you getting involved in that?”
“You know me.”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.” Ian blew out a weary sigh. “May I remind you that you’re an unmarried woman, Katie? Traveling the country with a small child and a battered prostitute is dangerous and...well, it’s uncalled-for. Think of your reputation.”
“I’ll have an escort—Mr. Tom McCain. So I’ll be perfectly safe.”
Ian clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Why are they leaving? Wouldn’t it be best if Miss Potts stayed here in town until she recovered?”
Katie didn’t dare mention the danger Daisy and Sarah Jane might be in, so she chose another reason for their hasty departure. “The town hasn’t been kind to the child, and there’s been talk of sending her to live in an orphanage.”
The dear old man who, along with his sister, had become as close as family members to her, especially since her da’s passing, blew out a weary sigh. “Sending that poor child away isn’t necessarily a bad idea, Katie. People around here aren’t likely to ever forget what her mother did for a living.”
“I don’t know much about her real mother, God rest her soul. Sarah Jane once mentioned that she used to work at a hotel.”
“That’s probably what the child considers the Gardener’s House to be.”
“You may be right, but a little girl shouldn’t be punished for her mother’s mistakes.”
“I agree. However, that’s the way of it, Katie. When are you going to learn there are some things you can’t change or fix? I’d think that after getting arrested last November for creating a public disturbance at the town hall meeting you’d be smart enough to figure that out.”
“First of all, I’m not the only woman in this community who spent time in jail for speaking her mind.” Katie leaned against the doorjamb. “And secondly, I have given up. At least, here in Pleasant Valley.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ian asked.
“I’m going to leave as soon as I return from escorting Miss Potts.”
His face paled. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She understood his concern. And the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him or to cause him any undue worry. “I’m going to Wyoming. The school board in Granville is looking for a teacher.”
“I thought you didn’t like teaching and that you gave it up for good.”
“Well, I’ve had a change of heart. Since I can’t get through to the adults in this community, I’ve decided to use another tactic. I’ll begin by training the children when they’re still able to see reason.”
Ian blew out a weary sigh. “I told your father that I would be happy to oversee your trust fund, but he didn’t take me up on the offer, giving you full control. If he’d known that you’d become so independent, he might have listened to me.”
“Da always admired my independence.”
“He wouldn’t have in this instance.”
Katie watched the emotions play across Ian’s face, and she knew she was in for a battle. But try as he might, he wouldn’t be able to change her plans.
“I can’t allow you to go to Wyoming. Your father would roll over in the grave if I let you traipse across the country unescorted.”
“I won’t be alone, Ian. If things go as planned, I’ll be traveling with Miss Potts and Sarah Jane.”
“You’re going to travel with a prostitute?” His voice rose an octave, and his face grew rosy and bright. “Have you lost your mind completely?” Ian slapped his good hand upon his hip. “Katie, listen to reason for once in your life. Women of virtue don’t go to the Wyoming Territory, especially with soiled doves. They stay home and wait for a man to court them.”
It was the same argument he’d used each time she showed her stubborn streak, so she wasn’t surprised. Still, her answer was always the same. “That’s not going to happen. Getting married would strip me of what few rights a woman has in this world.”
“Well, it’s probably just as well that you remain a spinster. You’d drive your first husband crazy and the second to drink.”
“You may be right,” Katie said with a chuckle. “But if I should suffer a blow to the head causing me to reconsider marriage, I’ll look for a man as fair-minded as you or Da.”
“Humph. Don’t try to flatter me.”
Katie stepped forward and wrapped the old man in a warm embrace. “I love you, Ian. You know that, don’t you?”
The tension in his stance eased, and he hugged her back. “I love you, too, Katie. You’ve been the daughter I never had.”
Ian would be as angry as a hornet in a bowl of honey if he knew all the details of her trip, of the possible danger, of her determination to adopt Sarah Jane in the end, but he’d settle down in a day or so. He always did when he realized her mind was made up. And it was.
Katie was going to take Sarah Jane to Wyoming, and nobody was going to stop her.
* * *
Needless to say, Katie had packed her clothing and toiletries into a valise as quickly as possible, then she’d hurried to the livery stable and rented a gentle roan mare. After mounting and adjusting her skirts, she rode to the Gardener’s House to meet Mr. McCain.
Since she preferred not to butt heads with Sweet Heather again, she decided to wait outside. So she dismounted and tied her mare next to McCain’s big bay gelding and the snorting team of horses harnessed to a buckboard.
Someone had already packed the wagon and lined the bed with several quilts. They’d also rigged a small canvas tarp over the top to provide the injured woman with a bit of shade. Katie wondered if one of the fallen women had thought of it—or if McCain had.
Before she could consider the thoughtful gesture, the brothel’s front door swung open, and McCain stepped onto the porch with Daisy—or rather, Erin—in his arms. The injured woman wore a light blue dress—a plain and simple style with long sleeves and a delicate bow tied at the neckline. With her dark hair swept up into a modest topknot, she appeared to be as proper as any of the other ladies in town.
Katie thought it made a clever disguise, if one could call it that.
As McCain carried Erin down the porch steps, Katie caught a glimpse of the black eye and the nasty bruise that marred one side of her face, mocking the ladylike clothing. As they crossed the yard, Katie had a better view of her injuries and winced at the brutality of the attack.
She’d been so taken by the sight of the battered woman that she just now noticed Sarah Jane trailing behind. The child, her head downcast, wore a yellow calico dress and a small pair of moccasins on her feet.
Katie made her way to the little girl, then dropped to her knees and hugged her close. But instead of returning the embrace, Sarah Jane’s arms hung loosely at her sides.
“Oh, honey,” Katie said, hoping to infuse a little warmth and joy back into her. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Katie’s heart ached at the thought of what the child had witnessed, what she’d been through.
“Come on,” McCain said. “We don’t have time for idle chitchat. Let’s get them in the wagon.”
Katie didn’t intend to dawdle. For goodness’ sake, she wanted to get the child—and herself!—as far away from the brothel as they could. But she couldn’t help being concerned about the girl and ignored the man long enough to satisfy her curiosity.
“Are you all right, honey?” Katie asked.
Sarah Jane nodded.
“Who hurt you?”
The child’s gaze dropped to the small, beaded moccasins she wore.
Katie placed her fingertip under Sarah Jane’s chin and lifted her face. “It’s all right. I’m here now, and I’ll protect you. You can tell me what happened.”
“She can’t talk,” McCain said.
Katie knew she’d been traumatized, but she’d thought, well, hoped that her arrival, her presence and voice, might soothe the frightened girl, might comfort her.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and Katie turned to see a tall blonde carrying a large basket in the crook of her arm. A stocky brunette followed behind toting a white ceramic chamber pot.
“I’ve packed some vittles for you to take,” the blonde said. “It’ll be suppertime before you know it. And since Doc don’t want Daisy to walk or move around very much, we thought it might be best if you took this pot along, too. That way she won’t have to climb in and out of the wagon.”
Katie knew Daisy had been injured, but she hadn’t realized how laid up she’d be on the trip. But that didn’t matter. Katie was prepared to take care of her, as well as Sarah Jane.
She’d nursed her da for several weeks before he passed, so she was used to tending the sick. And while being on the trail would be different from being at home, she was prepared to do whatever needed to be done.
According to McCain, the trip would take several days. Katie wondered what they would eat after they’d finished the food in the basket. She hated to think that they’d have to scavenge the countryside for berries, seeds and wild game. Surely someone had thought to pack more supplies. But if they hadn’t? Well, she’d think of something. She always did.
Katie stood, shook the dust from her skirts and reached for Sarah Jane’s hand. “Come on, honey. We’re going on a grand adventure.”
McCain, who’d helped the injured woman settle into the bed of the wagon, glanced her way and frowned.
Didn’t he realize that Katie simply had been trying to reassure the child? She certainly wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few days sleeping outdoors and eating whatever they managed to find, especially under his watch. Would she ever see his gaze untouched by judgment? A small part of her couldn’t help wishing so.
“By the way,” Katie said to McCain, deciding she deserved more information than he’d given her. “Do we have any pans for cooking? Or maybe a coffeepot?”
His scowl confirmed that he might have agreed to take her along, but he certainly wasn’t the least bit happy about it. When he finally spoke, his words came out short and snappish. “This isn’t a picnic, Miss O’Malley.”
Under other circumstances, Katie might have let loose with an angry retort, but she bit her tongue, knowing it wouldn’t do her any good to irritate him further, at least until they were too far along for him to change his mind and send her home.
“Tom,” the blonde said, “I’ve got one more box to go on that wagon, and I’ll need some help lifting it.”
“There’s not much room, Rose.”
“It’s not big, just a wee bit heavy.”
McCain started toward the house, then paused when he reached Katie. “Help Sarah Jane into the wagon.”
If Katie weren’t so eager to get the child away from the brothel and this town, she’d remind him that she didn’t take orders, and that a “please” and a little respect would go a long way. But she let it go this time and helped Sarah Jane settle into the back of the wagon, next to where Erin lay.
Once the child was seated, Katie leaned against the side of the buckboard, reached into the bed and placed her hand on the prostitute’s arm. “Mr. McCain told me that your name is Erin, which is what I’ll be calling you from now on.”
Erin, her eyes a bit dazed, merely nodded.
“I’m sorry things aren’t working out the way either of us intended,” Katie added, “but don’t worry. Once you’re feeling better, we’ll leave for Wyoming.”
Erin merely closed her eyes and sighed.
Boot steps sounded on the porch, and Katie looked over her shoulder to see McCain approach the wagon carrying a small wooden crate. After he placed it under the wagon seat, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold watch.
He lifted the lid and glanced at the time. Then he circled the wagon and approached Katie. “I’ll help you up.”
“You don’t need to,” she told him. “I’m not as helpless or as troublesome as you think. I can do it myself.”
In spite of what she’d told him, he slipped behind her and offered his assistance, gripping her elbow and reaching for her waist.
His hands were strong, his touch warm, his movements deft. Yet it was the scent of him, a manly combination of leather and soap that caused her breath to catch.
Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she climbed up, settled onto the seat and adjusted her skirts.
She was just about to reach for the reins when McCain tied his horse to the back of the wagon, beside hers.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I can drive a buckboard.”
“We’re all going to ride in the wagon. From a distance, maybe we’ll look like a family.”
Katie nearly snorted at the thought of her and McCain as husband and wife, but she kept her reaction to herself.
It was all part of the masquerade, part of the plan to get Sarah Jane to safety.
Yet as McCain climbed into the seat beside her, like a husband would do, her heart gave a funny little flutter.
“Everybody ready?” he asked the passengers in back.
“Are you sure we have everything we need?” Katie asked, hoping he’d thought of the things she might have included had he given her enough time to plan.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to make do with what we have. We’re burning daylight as it is.”
She wanted to object, but she had to admit that McCain was right.
The sooner they left Pleasant Valley, the better.
* * *
Traveling with two women and a child wasn’t going to be easy, and Tom doubted he’d get much sleep over the next few days. If he’d had the luxury of waiting until tomorrow morning, he would have planned to set out before daylight.
The fewer people who saw them leaving, the less chance there was that the attacker would catch wind of it and follow them. Hopefully, the man had fled to parts unknown, but Tom wasn’t taking any chances. According to Sheriff Droeger, they hadn’t uncovered a motive for the assault—no robbery, at least, not that anyone knew. So was it personal? Had the man gone after Erin for some other reason? If so, that would give him reason to come back and finish the job.
Tom had purchased the wagon at the livery, and, fortunately, the old man who ran the place had been more interested in pocketing the cash than in asking questions.
So now here they were, about twenty miles outside of Pleasant Valley. Tom would have pushed harder so they could have traveled farther, but Dr. Hennessy had warned him not to jostle Erin too much. Of course, the doctor had also given her something to make her sleep, so she’d rested easily all afternoon.
They’d finally reached a good place to set up camp. Tom remembered this spot when he and Trapper had ridden through a few days earlier. With a creek nearby, its water clear and fresh, and the scattering of trees to hide them from the road, it was a good place to spend the night.
But he still wanted to scout the area and assure himself that the women and the child would be safe, even though he planned to watch over them while they slept.
So, after unhitching the horses, leading them to water and waiting for them to drink, he returned to the campsite and tethered them to a tree.
“I’m going to have a look around,” he told Miss O’Malley. “Do you think you can handle things here?”
“Yes, of course. Should Sarah Jane and I gather some dried twigs for a fire?”
“Wait until I come back.” He didn’t want them to wander too far or build a fire until he was sure they weren’t being followed.
Fifteen minutes later, after taking care to hide their wagon tracks, he’d circled back to the campsite. All the while, he’d watched and listened for any sign that they weren’t alone while keeping his right hand close to his holster.
When he’d convinced himself that they were safe, he headed back to camp. Not far from where they’d left the horses and wagon, while he was still near the stream, twigs snapped and skirts rustled.
Tom turned to the sound and spotted Miss O’Malley and Sarah Jane heading back to camp. They each carried a canteen, so he figured they’d been getting water. The woman also held a black valise.
He glanced at the setting sun. It would be dark soon. He was just about to call out, letting them know that he was nearby, but he stopped short when he saw Miss O’Malley drop to her knees and tend Sarah Jane with gentle hands and a soft voice.
Fascinated, he watched the attractive redhead gently run a silver-handled comb through the child’s tangled locks.
“You have the prettiest hair,” she told the girl. “Just like captured sunbeams.”
Sarah Jane raised her eyebrows with a look of such obvious hope that Tom’s heart melted. The poor kid had been through far more than was fair—the recent death of her mother, the assault of the woman who’d been caring for her.
Miss O’Malley reached for a white ribbon and handed it to Sarah Jane. “Hold this, honey.” Deftly forming a long braid, she took the satin strip and tied a bow to hold her work together. “There you go.”
Then the woman removed a small bottle from her bag, twisted the lid open and placed a dab of the contents behind each of her ears. All the while, the child watched with rapt attention.
And so did Tom.
“It’s lilac water,” Miss O’Malley said. “It’s my favorite scent. Would you like some?”
When Sarah Jane nodded, the woman smiled and applied a bit behind the girl’s ears, too, her movements slow and gentle.
It was nice to see a softer side to her. Apparently there was more to her than met the eye, although what met his eye was rather appealing. In fact, the sight was almost mesmerizing.
But Tom couldn’t very well continue to gaze at her like an awestruck kid with a crush on the schoolmarm. What if she caught him doing it?
The last thing in the world he needed to do was to let down his guard with a woman as outspoken as Katie O’Malley, no matter how pretty she was, no matter how softhearted she might appear to be.
He’d seen the feisty side of her. And right now, he had enough trouble on his hands.
For a moment, his resolve waffled. If circumstances were different, if he were just passing through, he might have said or done something stupid. But he had a job to do, a child to protect. And there was another issue he couldn’t ignore.
Katie O’Malley was also white.
And Tom McCain wasn’t.
That might not make a difference to people like Hannah and Trapper Jack, but there were others who’d object. Others who’d made it more than clear that Tom wasn’t to step foot on their ranch.
Tom had been about nine years old when he’d gone to the Lazy G to deliver a pair of moccasins his mother had made for Caroline. The girl hadn’t been home because she’d gone into town with the housekeeper, but Randolph Haney, Harrison’s friend and solicitor, had been there.
He’d responded to Tom’s request to speak to Caroline with a shove that had knocked him to the ground.
“She doesn’t need anything from the filthy likes of you. Get out of here. And don’t ever come back.” Then, for good measure, Haney had kicked him while he was down, splitting his head open with the toe of his boot.
Tom still bore a scar from the attack, a reminder to keep his distance from the Lazy G, which he’d made a point of doing. But nearly a year later, at the urging of his mother, he’d gone back with her one cold, rainy afternoon.
Haney had answered the door that day, too. His mother had begged him to let her talk to Harrison. Haney had left them outside and gone into the house. A few minutes later, when he returned, he’d pulled his gun and ordered her off the property.
And take your whelp with you.
It had been a hard lesson, a painful one—because Tom’s mother had died several days later.
That was why Trapper had objected to Tom taking the job to find Caroline in the first place. But there were some things a boy didn’t forget, some promises meant to be kept.
So after taking Sarah Jane back to the Lazy G, assuming Tom was convinced that she’d be treated as a rightful heir, he’d leave Stillwater for good. He had no need for Randolph Haney or Harrison Graves.
He didn’t need Miss O’Malley, either—except for the next few days. After that, when he got to Hannah’s place, he’d ask Trapper to escort the troublesome redhead back to Pleasant Valley. Then he’d be done with her for once and for all.
Yet he continued to watch her until she glanced up and spotted him. As their eyes met, their gazes locked.
He knew how she felt about women’s equality. But how did she feel about equality for all people, even those with darker skin?
He supposed it really didn’t matter.
Either way, he couldn’t let her think that he was fawning over her. So he’d better put some distance between them. They might have to share a seat on the same wagon, but there were other ways to create distance. One way would be to let her know who was boss.
“It’s time to eat,” he said. “There are some supplies in the wooden box under the seat of the wagon, but Rose packed a basket of food for us to eat this evening. That’s probably going to be the easiest and best-tasting meal we’ll have for the next few days. So when you’re finished with whatever you’re doing here, you can start setting it out.”
Miss O’Malley pondered his request for a moment, then she straightened, crossed her arms and tossed him a pretty smile. “I’ll be a while yet. So if you’re hungry, then maybe you ought to do it yourself.”
It’s not as if Tom had never set up camp before or fixed supper for himself and Trapper. But he wasn’t about to let the schoolmarm order him around as though he were one of her students, and she may as well get that straight.
Of course, he wasn’t about to have a showdown in front of the child.
“Sarah Jane,” he said, reaching into his shirt pocket and withdrawing a small paper bag. “Go see about Erin and, if she’s awake, offer her one of these. You can have some, too.”
Without the least bit of reluctance, Sarah Jane pulled free of the woman’s grip on her shoulders and approached Tom with an outstretched hand.
When she reached him, he handed her the bag. She peeked inside before heading back to the campsite.
“What did you give her?” the schoolmarm asked.
“Lemon drops.”
When Sarah Jane was out of earshot, Tom crossed his own arms. “It seems that neither of us likes taking orders, but let’s get one thing straight. I’ll be making all the decisions on this trip. You’ll do what I say—and when I say it.”
“I don’t mind yielding to you because of your experience and know-how, but I’m not going to take orders blindly, just because you’re a man and I’m a woman.”
“Like I said, you’ll do as I say. And you won’t question my reasons or motives. That means you’ll handle the meals.”
“Apparently you didn’t hear me.” The petite redhead stood firm. “I’ll return to camp when I’m good and ready. And if you have a job for me to do, you’ll ask me to do it, rather than tell me. You’ll also use words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”
“Listen here, Miss O’Malley. You’re not in charge. I am. And you’re lucky I don’t throw you on the back of that nag you call a horse, turn it around and slap its rump to send you back to town in a dead run.”
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” she asked, her voice coming out a bit wobbly.
“Do you scare easily?” he asked.
“No, I don’t.”
He flashed a taunting smile. “I suppose you’re too smart to be afraid.”
“I’m bright,” she admitted, “and better educated than most—male or female.”
“That might be true, but driving a wagon and crossing rugged territory takes more knowledge than you can find in a book. It takes common sense, instinct and courage—things you can’t learn in school.”
“What I lack in experience, I make up for in determination.”
“A determined fool won’t last a day on the trail.”
She clenched her fists at her side. “I’m no fool, and I have far more courage than you think.”
While he’d like to believe her, especially when he wasn’t sure what they might face down the road, he couldn’t help thinking of her as a young, trigger-happy cowboy out to prove himself. But he doubted arguing with her would get either of them anywhere.
“I guess that’s left to be seen,” Tom said. “Now let’s get out of here.”
“All right.”
Yet neither of them made a move.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.
“For you to go first.”
When she didn’t move, he said, “Listen, Miss O’Malley, I can be your ally or your enemy. It’s your choice.”
“I choose my friends wisely, Mr. McCain.” She flashed an insincere smile then headed up the incline toward the wagon, passing him as she went and leaving a scent of lilac lingering in the air.
Tom raked a hand through his hair. He was going to need help with Erin and Sarah Jane over the next couple of days. And right now, the only human he had to rely on was a troublesome redhead who, given time, could surely provoke a gentle and pious preacher to spit and cuss.
Over the years, Tom had learned to trust God to see him through every difficult situation he had to face. The first time he’d called out to his father’s God—he’d been a ten-year-old half-breed, cold, hungry and alone in a hostile white world.
Not ten minutes later, Trapper Jack had come along to change all that and to take him to live with Hannah McCain. She’d not only loved and cared for him, she’d shared her faith, and before long, Tom had become a believer himself.
Last night, Tom had prayed for guidance and help in protecting Sarah Jane and finding her a loving home. He knew God would answer that prayer. He surely did.
Trouble was, he feared that this time, instead of blessing him with a woman like Hannah, God had seen fit to punish him with Katie O’Malley.
