Her Outlaw Heart

by Samantha Harte

Looking startled by the change in her manner, Mr. Quimby plucked the pistol from the case. It was a perfect size for her new hand bag.

  Jodee hefted its slight weight and took aim at a wash tub. “How much?”

  “A d—dollar ten, my dear. Cartridges are nine cents for a box of fifty.” The man looked alarmed.

  She counted out the price from the change he’d given her moments before. Then she dropped the little pistol into her bag. Her hand was trembling, but she felt strangely better. “I’ll tell everybody how kind you’ve been.”

  She marched out of the store, shoe heels clattering satisfyingly on the wooden porch. This gull-darned town isn’t going to lick me, she thought, gritting her teeth. A couple more days in this sorry place wouldn’t wear her down. The moment she felt strong enough, she’d be gone.

  She felt so angry she momentarily forgot her determination to start over decent. Ten dollars’ worth of new duds didn’t change her. If Burl could see her putting on airs, he’d laugh. She wanted to shout every bad word she knew. Hobie hadn’t been hurt by her being in that jail, she wanted to shout. She wasn’t a bad influence on anybody. She wanted to scold Hobie’s mother for taking him from work he liked. Hobie’s heart must be breaking.

  No…no…simmer down…

  Jodee slowed. Decent women didn’t march down boardwalks like pistol-toting troublemakers, blazing with thoughts of vengeance. She had on new clothes. Now she needed to find decent work. She needed money. Money she had to earn.

  And she was hungry. She had two dollars and ninety-seven cents left. She shouldn’t have bought the two-shot pistol, she thought, her fit of temper giving out. Money didn’t come easy when a person was decent.

  Crossing the street, she noticed strangers tipping hats to her. She dared not return their greetings. It wasn’t seemly for a lady to take notice of strangers.

  She spied Artie Abernathy’s restaurant and hurried inside. Twenty men sat at a long table, gobbling and jabbering. Silence fell like a thunderclap as they all turned to stare at her. Artie hurried forward, a comic expression of solicitous concern on his round face. It felt darned strange to look different, Jodee thought. He seemed to think she was a stranger. A woman alone.

  “Good morning, Mr. Abernathy,” Jodee said in a clipped tone reminding her of Avinelle in one of her fits of temper. Oh, tarnation, she didn’t want to sound like that snippy thing. She gave Artie a more agreeable smile.

  Taken aback, his handle-bar mustache twitched. “Good morning! Do I know you, Miss?”

  Almost giggling, Jodee felt tempted to toy with him but realized she mustn’t encourage the man. “We’ve met, yes, Mr. Abernathy.”

  The man’s face flooded to such an alarming shade of scarlet that Jodee became suspicious. She knew that look. The Rikes used to look like that when they came back from a night on the town. They liked fancy women.

  Jodee’s smile went sour. Did she look like a fancy woman? She felt sick to think she might’ve chosen the wrong sort of clothes.

  Artie’s eyes skittered around the restaurant and then raked her from head to toe. He seemed ready to order her from his place when recognition dawned.

  “Miss McQue?” Looking dumfounded, he stepped closer. “My, but you do turn out nicely. I heard you were out of jail. What can I do for you this fine morning?”

  “Feed me breakfast?” she said inelegantly. “I can pay, if the price ain’t too high. I grew partial to your biscuits while I was…uh…at the marshal’s.”

  Behind her, the door swung open. In surged Corbet, looking flushed. “I thought I’d lost you, Jodee. You’re all right? Table for two, Artie.” He took Jodee’s parcel of old clothes and put it on the floor. “I assumed you’d eaten before you left Avinelle’s. I’m sorry. You must be starving!”

  She sank into the nearest chair and rolled her aching shoulder. “I was in a hurry when I went out this morning." She tried to draw a deep breath but couldn’t. Her new corset was too tight.

  He leaned in close. “Are you all right? You look feverish.”

  Grabbing a fistful of her new blouse, she worried about her heart pattering in a way she didn’t like. “I guess I shouldn’t have come in here alone. I’ll get the hang of being in a town again, and wearing decent clothes. Give me a day or so.” She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. She didn’t want to drop over in a faint again. “How do women go about their chores in these contraptions?” Then she squirmed. What a fool thing to say in front of a man.

  She opened her eyes.

  Corbet grinned with all his teeth showing. His was the most wonderful face. How could she feel upset when he was around? He placed his hand, warm and gentle, on top of hers. Her body reeled to his touch.

  “You’ll be all right, Jodee. Just consider this. Days ago you were in the jailhouse, dying of fever. Now here you are, all decked out. You might wake feeling fine, but you need to realize you’re not strong yet. Doc’s going to box your ears for getting out of bed so soon. You should be resting. All day. For several days. No chores until Doc says it’s all right. I should’ve made you go back the moment I saw you this morning—let me finish—except you needed outfitting. I knew you’d feel better wearing things of your own. As soon as we’re done here, I want to take you back to Avinelle’s. We’ll decide about finding work another day.” He leaned in close. “All right? You’re not well enough to work yet. You know that, right?”

  “But I’m running up debts! I got to start working right away, or I’ll get in so deep I’ll never get out.” She felt overwhelmed suddenly. It was more than that. She was afraid she might run out on her debts like her father had always done. Or be tempted to steal something to pay for them. She was an outlaw’s daughter, after all. She had bad blood. She wanted to run now. “I’m upset about Hobie, too.”

  Artie brought flapjacks swimming in butter and syrup.

  “Hobie leaving his job with me wasn’t because of you,” Corbet said when they were alone again. “Hobie’s mother wants him to go to college this fall. He needs to concentrate on finishing school. Now eat.”

  With Corbet carrying her parcel of gifts and old clothes, and buoyed by a good meal, Jodee was able to walk slowly back to Avinelle’s. Strolling alongside Corbet felt like a dream come true.

  The late morning sunshine felt good on her face, although the air still held the cool tang of spring. She kept Hanna’s knitted shawl around her shoulders. Concerned about her new shoes, she had to take care with each step. No wonder decent women were always mincing around, acting foolish and fainting. She giggled. They were suffocating and worried about dirtying their shoes.

  Corbet turned to her. “What is it?”

  “I feel like a fool, Marshal—Corbet.” She shook her head. “I’m trussed up like a Christmas goose. I should’ve bought britches, a work shirt, and sturdy boots. How am I to cook or do washing or dust whatnots if I’m falling over in a faint every two minutes because I’m wearing a gull-darned corset?”

  Chuckling, Corbet slowed his pace. “Do you always worry like this?”

  Jodee side-stepped a wide expanse of mud. “I didn’t notice all this mud on my way to town this morning.” She might get mud on her hem, too. “I just walked along, free and happy. Now I got to be careful of everything I say and everything I do. I’m going to go crazy. I reckon I do worry, Mar—Corbet. Them fools I lived with, and Pa, they never had a sensible thought. It was always me figuring out what we’d eat from day to day. I had to pick our campsites or find us a shack. If I left it to the men, we’d be bedding down in a cactus patch or a dry gulch that might flood after a rain in the night. One of my first thoughts after waking up from being gunshot was about our packhorse with all our gear. You can’t live without a skillet or coffee pot. Or beans. If I never have to eat another bean—you reckon anybody found that horse and took care of him? Poor old thing.”

  Corbet nodded. “We brought him back to town. Did he belong to someone, in the gang, I mean?”

  She swallowed hard, remembering that
last day. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She agonized over the truth. “He was…borrowed. I know you got work to do, Marshal. You don’t have to walk me. I can get myself back to Avinelle’s.” She wanted to escape that stab of shame.

  “And leave you to get run over by a passing wagon?” He gave a warning nod.

  Looking over her shoulder, Jodee stepped back just in time. A six-horse team pulling a freight wagon bore down on her and then lumbered past. A bit of mud landed on her hand.

  “I must’ve been out of my head to buy white. I ain’t even had ’em on an hour and already I’m covered in dust—” She managed to laugh.

  “It’s not easy what you’re doing,” he said, his voice low. “Folks won’t forget I had you in jail. I’m trying to make up for that. That day we got back, I wasn’t thinking. I was tired, and upset about Virgil. Him getting shot was my fault. Putting you in jail was the only thing I could think of at the time.”

  She made a smile that only tightened her cheeks. He felt duty-bound, she told herself. Them walking together meant no more than that. He wasn’t partial to her like she wished.

  “Any person new to a town has a hard time of it,” he went on. “I should know. I’ve been on my own a long time. Lots of new towns. Months proving myself. Folks are naturally suspicious. They have to be, with no-accounts like Tangus around. Give folks the chance you would want them to give you.”

  She nodded. “You’re right, Marshal.”

  “Corbet, remember.”

  She said his name like a kiss. “Corbet.” He might be duty-bound to her, but she felt more than beholden toward him. She wanted to drink up his face. She wished she could kiss him again. “I got to give folks time,” she repeated in order to please him.

  “And yourself. You need time, too.”

  Her body responded with a thrill that flashed through her like a whirlwind. Her cheeks flushed hot.

  When they reached Avinelle’s gate, Jodee sensed someone watching from the front window and gnashed her teeth.

  “Thank you for breakfast…” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name again. She didn’t want him to guess how foolish she felt about him.

  The front door opened. There stood Avinelle wearing a pink confection of a dress. Her tiny waist made her look girlish. Quite an outfit for morning, Jodee thought. Her heart gave a painful wrench. If ever she had felt second class, it was in that moment.

  “Good morning, Avinelle,” Corbet called in a formal tone. “I trust you rested well last night. No worse for the wear after your ride home from Cheyenne City yesterday.”

  “Why, Marshal Harlow,” Avinelle simpered. “Good morning to you. Who’s that—” She swished onto the porch, her skirts moving like a cloud. Then her hand clapped to her mouth. In a sing-song she called, “Mother. Mother! Do come out here. Jodee’s back.”

  At Avinelle’s nasty-sweet tone, Jodee went rigid. Better be careful, Missy Prissy. There’s a pistol in my bag. Shocked by her own thoughts, Jodee edged closer to the marshal.

  Widow Ashton came out onto the porch. The two ladies stared at Jodee. Jodee let them look long and hard, and when she’d had enough she took the parcel containing her old clothes from Corbet and bit out, “Thanks again.” She started up the flagstone walk. She could see Avinelle’s flashing eyes. Jodee cocked her chin at her.

  Avinelle’s mother eyed the pin-tucked blouse. “Where did you get these things?”

  “Quimby’s General Store. His stock came from England.” Jodee wasn’t sure where England was but it must be far away or she would’ve heard of it before.

  “I wasn’t aware Mr. Quimby offered credit. Did he offer you a job, as well, I wonder? I suppose you might clerk for him. If you can count. How much will this ensemble cost? Surely you do not expect me to pay for it.” Widow Ashton's tone was plainly insulting.

  It didn’t seem that the cost of her clothes was any business of hers, Jodee thought. “I worked out a trade.”

  Widow Ashton’s face drained to white.

  What was so horrible about that, Jodee wondered. Didn’t decent women trade with tradesmen?

  Corbet came up behind Jodee. His face looked carved of ice.

  “Did you help her pick out these things, Corbet?” Avinelle inquired ever so sweetly.

  “She traded Quimby her two most valuable possessions,” Corbet said, his words holding a subtle warning. “Her father’s pistol and her mother’s gold locket. All I did was make sure Quimby gave her a fair price.”

  “I see,” was all Widow Ashton could manage.

  “Can you come inside, Corbet?” Avinelle moved down the steps to take his elbow. “Hanna’s breakfast was especially delicious this morning. Her coffee is perfection. I’m sure there’s plenty left.”

  “We had breakfast, Jodee and I, but thanks, Avinelle. I have to be going. Did I hear you say you had gifts, Jodee?”

  Avinelle pouted her way back up the steps but she looked at Jodee with new eyes. She and her mother stepped aside as Jodee climbed to the porch in her loud, new heeled shoes and entered the house. Corbet came as far as the door.

  “Widow Babcock.” Quickly Jodee tore into her parcel and handed Avinelle a tin of hair washing paste with a picture of an elegant buxom lady with long waving hair on the lid. “Mr. Quimby said this here is the best he has. It’s from London. It smells like roses.”

  Looking dumfounded, Avinelle accepted the tin.

  “That’s my thanks for you helping me get cleaned up yesterday. And this here is for you, Widow Ashton. Mr. Quimby suggested a lady such as yourself would appreciate the finest tea in the world, English tea.” She handed the woman a square tin with a funny looking house and twisted trees on the top.

  Widow Ashton frowned as if unable to comprehend that Jodee was giving her a gift.

  “And,” Jodee said, looking around. “Hanna?”

  Hanna appeared so quickly, she surely had been listening at the kitchen door.

  “This is for you. I’d like to keep your shawl if you don’t mind.” She handed Hanna the new wool shawl, a lovely weave even to Jodee’s inexperienced eye. The long fringe was especially beautiful.

  “I ain’t never had anything so fine, Miss Jodee. I can’t—”

  “Avinelle,” Corbet interrupted the exchange. “Widow Ashton. Hanna.” He tipped his hat and started away. “Good morning, ladies. Remember what I said, Jodee. No work until Doc gives the word.”

  When he disappeared down the street, Maggie closed the door.

  An awkward silence fell.

  “I don’t care what the marshal says,” Jodee said into that deadly quiet, “I need to learn housework right off. Maggie could teach me to dust and scrub floors.” She realized she’d forgotten to buy a gift for the shy maid.

  “Honestly, Jodee,” Avinelle snapped with exasperation. “We wasted an entire morning worrying about where you went. We are responsible for you, you know. You should’ve asked if you were well enough to go out. Of course, I would’ve said no. Get upstairs. To bed immediately.”

  “Sorry,” Jodee said softly, too tired suddenly to fight them. She heaved a heavy sigh and climbed the stairs. Being decent surely was a chore, she thought.

  Eight

  Maggie placed Jodee’s parcel of old clothes on the bed. “There you go, Miss.”

  Jodee wanted to put the nervous-looking maid at ease but didn’t know what was bothering her. She felt surprised at how tired she was after her morning of shopping. Sinking into the chair by the window, Jodee asked, “Have you worked for Avinelle and her ma for a long time?”

  The maid looked as if the door might be listening. She ducked her head but her eyes shone with furtive excitement. “Yes’m.” Just when Jodee thought that was all she was going to say, Maggie whispered, “I know everything.”

  “What do you mean?” Until that moment, Maggie had seemed uninteresting.

  Maggie dashed to the bureau and lifted the lid of the silver box. Tinkling music filled the room. Seconds later, she snapped the lid closed and stoo
d hunched and listening, her eyes wary. “A treasure,” she whispered, “from long ago.”

  When Maggie started to open the wardrobe doors, Jodee cautioned her, “Don’t do that! I don’t want to know what’s in there.” That was a lie. Jodee longed to see everything in the wardrobe and bureau, everything in the house, truth be known, but she feared if she saw something she might be tempted to take something. It was a foolish fear but real nonetheless.

  Before the maid could reply, they heard a buggy arrive out front. Maggie bolted downstairs to answer the door. Jodee felt amazed at how quickly the woman could move when she needed to. Jodee heard a male voice and let out her breath. It wasn’t Corbet. It must be the caller Widow Ashton expected for luncheon. As voices moved from the entry into the parlor, Jodee pressed her door closed.

  Unwilling to muss or take off her new clothes, Jodee sat by the window where she could look out between the panels of dimity. It was a good spot to watch for Burl. He was out there somewhere. Why, she didn’t know. He was taking a crazy chance, hanging around when he was wanted for murder. She hugged her new hand bag. Inside it, the new pistol felt hard and reassuring.

  An hour later, Hanna found her there.

  “Silly child, sleeping in a chair. Are you all right, honey? Did Miz Avinelle or Miz Theia hurt your feelings? Don’t you let them bother you. Them clothes are just fine.”

  Jodee roused herself, grateful for the woman’s encouragement. She stood up, feeling a bit groggy and stiff. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “You can watch me set the table.” Hanna brushed Jodee’s hair into a long tail, twisted it, and within moments had enough new hairpins stuck in to hold the knot at the nape of Jodee’s neck. “If I do say so myself,” Hanna said smiling at her handiwork, “you look ready to catch yourself a husband.”

  “Oh, Hanna, I told you I don’t want a husband. I should’ve bought something more practical. When I start working, these clothes will get dirty.”

  “I got aprons.”

  They went down the back stairs. In the pantry, Hanna gathered plates and chattered happily as she spread a fresh lace cloth on the dining room table. As she worked she explained what each plate and piece of silverware was for. Then she parked Jodee on a stool and made certain Jodee knew how to peel apples. Happily, Jodee whittled them clean.