The day had grown hotter than she’d expected, and each step became an effort. She was absolutely miserable as she yanked at the top of her dress again, which was now soaked with perspiration. Her flushed face spoke of her predicament. Even her hair protested its confines and had escaped the hairpins to straggle down her back.
Watching her feet, Brandy had to will each foot to move. How much farther, she wondered as she raised her head to look at the building. However, the building wasn’t what she saw.
Walking down the boarded walkway, heading straight for her, was the scout. . . Thunder. She had really rather not see him now, knowing her appearance wasn’t the finest. She needed to be at her best when she approached him again about being their guide. But there was no escape now.
She was trapped.
His footsteps slowed, then drew to a stop when he reached her. He said nothing while he took in her bedraggled appearance. She could feel his gaze slowly roaming over her, and she had to concentrate to keep from squirming. His eyes showed his mirth. “It has been warm today.”
“Warm! It’s been downright hot,” Brandy retorted, forgetting that she needed a favor from him. “I’m sick of this sweltering heat!”
He stared at her as if he needed to study her face. “You’d be cooler if you wore a loose-fitting dress,” he suggested. “Perhaps something in a lighter color, or are you still in mourning?”
“Yes, I’m still in mourning, and I’m sorry for my harsh tone. I guess the heat has made me irritable,” Brandy apologized, realizing she’d snapped at him. “The heat has made me grumpy, but I intend to take care of this hot dress in about five minutes.” She pointed at the dry goods store, then looked back up at him. Her gaze met his silver-blue eyes. They seemed to see through her, as if he could read her unspoken thoughts.
Living behind the mission’s wall, she’d not seen many men, but she was sure this man was considered handsome, or at least she thought he was. She could see an inner strength, and she wondered if he belonged to another. Perhaps he had a wife out west, one who waited for his return. She almost reached up to touch his strong jaw, but stopped herself. Then she frowned.
Thunder stared long and hard, feeling his body tighten. His response to this woman didn’t please him. He hadn’t been attracted to a white woman in a long time, and now wasn’t the time to start.
He saw her hand move as her many thoughts were reflected in the depths of her violet eyes. Those eyes of hers made his heart pound much harder than it should. Her beauty outshone her drab appearance, and he wondered why she tried to hide her loveliness. He had the strangest urge to ask who she mourned. Perhaps a husband, a mother, or maybe a father. It wasn’t any of his business, he reminded himself. He was probably better off not knowing. “Have you found someone to escort you and your family?”
Her eyes held his in a way he’d not experienced before. “I’ve found you,” Brandy said softly. “I had hoped you would reconsider.”
He reached down and brushed back a damp strand of hair which clung to the side of her cheek. Her skin felt like velvet beneath his fingertips and, once again, desire raised its ugly head.
He watched Brandy tense. Her parched lips parted. She swallowed. Nervously, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips as he watched her intently. Her eyes widened, and she blushed a bright pink. This kind of heat was much hotter than the outside temperature.
“Will you be our guide, Mr. Thunder?”
“Just Thunder.”
Thunder liked the way she said his name and, for a fraction of a second, he considered her offer. His gaze drifted over her, and he found himself wanting to reach over and pull the pins from her hair and watch as it tumbled around her shoulders. What would it hurt to help her, seeing as he was already heading that way?
Thunder drew in his breath. That answer was much too easy. He wasn’t comfortable with the way this girl made him feel. It was better for him, and for her, that he keep his distance.
“I hope you find someone, ma’am, but I’m not the man you need.” Thunder stepped around her and strode down the sidewalk, his boots sounding heavy on the wood.
Once again, he hadn’t given Brandy a chance to argue the point.
Once again, she vowed she wouldn’t give up. Somehow, some way, he was the one to help them ... the trouble was, he didn’t know it.
6
Brandy watched Thunder walk away from her. “Oh, but I have found the man I need,” she whispered. Convincing him was still her biggest problem. Her gaze bored into his back as he strode off. She admired the proud way he carried himself, and felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach. She felt strange and breathless, and always disappointment whenever he left. Funny, she couldn’t remember feeling like this before. She shook her head. “It must be the heat,” she murmured.
Brandy entered the dry goods store, which was the backbone of Independence because it carried the majority of supplies. A big sign hanging near the cash register said, IF WE DON’T HAVE IT,YOU DON’T NEED IT.
“What can I do for you, Miss Brandy?” Mr. Gardner greeted her.
She pulled the list out of her pocket and handed it to him. “I’ll be needing these supplies.”
“Are you sure you need all of this, Miss Brandy? By the look of this list, I’d say you were taking a trip.”
“As a matter of fact, we are leaving Independence,” she said as she moved over to look at the dresses and material.
“Sorry I am to hear that.”
Brandy looked back at him. “The parsonage is closing, and I couldn’t find a job here in Independence, so we had little choice,” she explained. She noticed that the tops of Mr. Gardner’s ears turned red. He evidently did feel guilty about the job refusal.
Turning her attention back to the clothing, she purchased two dresses, each simple in design and made of light calico and muslin materials. She also ordered the supplies for the trip from the endless list. They would need: 100 pounds of flour; 100 pounds of butter crackers; 100 pounds of bacon sides; 50 pounds of dried beef; 50 pounds of kiln-dried cornmeal; 20 pounds of rice; 25 pounds of beans; 1 light rifle, 1 Colt pistol and ammunition for both; 1 butcher knife; and 1 small axe.
“An axe? I wonder why Mr. Butler put that on the list?” she murmured as the storekeeper laid it down in front of her.
“Never know when you might need it. Can even use it as a weapon. Things can be mighty rough out there, ma’am.”
Brandy shivered and prayed they would never have to use the axe as a weapon. “I also need a tent with two poles, some bed-clothing, and a few dresses for the girls. It appears that Mrs. Gardner has been busy sewing,” Brandy said as she held up several dresses the woman had made.
While Mr. Gardner fetched the supplies, Brandy noticed a ready-made dress from back East. She’d never seen anything so pretty. She ran her fingers over the soft material. The dress was a lavender color with a white apron. She couldn’t help wondering what she’d look like in such a gown.
Mr. Gardner swept by her with a sack of flour which he placed on the counter. “You’d look mighty pretty in that dress, Miss Brandy.”
“It is lovely, isn’t it?” She touched the frilly ruffles. “But I don’t need it. These other dresses will suit my needs much better.”
“If you say so,” Mr. Gardner said, then went back to adding up the merchandise. “Now is there anything else you’ll be needing?”
She looked at the stacked supplies, and her eyes widened. “I hope not.”
“Good. I’ll send these packages to your place later. They’re much too heavy for you to carry, and I know you don’t have a buckboard.”
Brandy smiled at his kindness. “Send all but the dresses, please. I’d like to take them with me,” she said.
Because I’m going to bum this hot dress once I get home.
After paying out the last of her money, Brandy grabbed her bundle and turned for the door. “Good day, Mr. Gardner.” The bell jingled as she opened and closed the door. She couldn’t wait to
return home and take a bath to cool off, and then try on her new dresses.
Mr. Gardner waited for Brandy to leave before going over and fetching the dress she’d been admiring. Once, when his wife had been sick, Brandy and Father Brown had helped him. He hadn’t forgotten that kindness. This dress, which he packed in a separate box, was his way of repaying her.
* * *
Later that night, after Brandy had bathed, she slipped on a cool white shift and stepped just outside her bedroom door and looked at the wagon parked in the courtyard. She sighed and wondered about the adventure to come. The wagon appeared enormous sitting in the courtyard, but at the same time small when she thought about all of them fitting into the miniature home. They had a hard time getting along in the rambling courtyard—smaller quarters would be a real challenge.
The night was quiet; only the trickling sound of water in the fountain broke the silence.
They were really going. If she could find someone to accompany them Thunder was their only hope on such short notice. Somehow, some way, she had to convince him they would be no trouble. Why, he wouldn’t even know they were around. She crossed her fingers behind her and hoped that would be true.
Perhaps if she went to the Golden Lady tomorrow around noon, she could talk things out with him. Since Thunder saw Billy every day and knew him, he just might change his mind if he thought she was Billy’s sister.
Billy had told her the Golden Lady was located beside the harness maker’s. He’d also told her respectable ladies didn’t go there. But desperate times called for desperate measures, she rationalized. Tomorrow she intended to pay one of the Golden Lady’s patrons a visit.
She couldn’t worry about her reputation when they needed help. Besides, she’d be leaving Independence soon, and she didn’t care what the good people of the town said about her once she was gone.
* * *
The saloon was dark and musty, but at least it provided relief from the noonday sun. The Golden Lady was a haven where a man could cool his parched throat without being bothered by the troubles of the day.
At a side table just to the left of the swinging doors sat Cody Wright with his sidekick, Stanley. Cody was boasting about his most recent gunfight.
“That makes three, Stanley.”
“You’re gettin’ mighty good with that sidepiece, Cody. You keep on and you just might have a reputation ’fore long.”
“Shit, Stanley. Yuh suppose they’ll be writin’ stories about me in those dime novels?”
“It’s possible.” Stanley laughed. “As long as you’re the fastest.”
“I’m slicker than grease, all right,” Cody boasted. He looked around the room, feeling far superior to any of the other cowhands. Then his eyes caught an outsider ... a stranger . . . someone he didn’t recognize.
“Who’s that newcomer over younder at the bar?”
“Which one?” Stanley counted more than fifteen men at the crowded bar.
“The one with the faded cavalry pants sittin’ alone. I don’t recollect ever seein’ him before.”
Stanley scanned the people at the counter, then spotted the fellow in question. A slight smile crossed his lips. “Goes by the name of Thunder.”
“Whatcha know about him?” Cody could smell another victim. “By the way he wears his gun low, I bet he’s a gunslinger.”
“I don’t think you’d call him a gunslinger, even though I hear he’s real fast,” Stanley said. “Heard tell he comes from up North, and was a real hero in the war.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“Scoutin’ for the next wagon train headed west. They say he’s part Cheyenne.”
Cody placed tobacco in a wrapper, tapped it to distribute the weed, then licked it and rolled a cigarette. “I wonder if he’s any good with that gun? Maybe he’s just full of piss an’ vinegar.” His lips twitched in anticipation.
Stanley scrutinized the man called Thunder. Something about the nonchalant way he stood, and the dark hat he wore pulled down just enough to hide his face, spoke of the menace that lurked just beneath the surface like a snake ready to strike if provoked.
Stanley weren’t no fool, but he couldn’t say the same of Cody. “I don’t think I’m aimin’ to find out.”
Thunder felt the eyes of the two men across the room on him. He sipped his third whiskey slowly. The clear brown liquid burned his throat, but eased his muscles which had been coiled like tight springs. He hated this waiting. Maybe a fight with those two cowboys might ease his tension. Hell, if he hadn’t already committed himself to Ward, he’d pack his gear and head out. It had been too long since he’d been home.
“Want another whiskey, Thunder?” the bartender asked.
Thunder nodded at the sound of his name. He thought of his family and wondered if they would think he’d changed. He had his mother’s white features, a small chiseled nose with high cheekbones. But his father’s features were strong also, providing him with a square, firm jaw. His eyes were the combination of both parents. The black eyes of his father and his mother’s vivid blue had left Thunder with eyes of silver-blue. He was bigger than most Indians, standing six foot, two inches, and every inch was lean and firm.
Broad, muscular shoulders provided the power it took to take his enemy down.
At one time, Thunder hated the white man and all he stood for. But now that he’d come to know them, he could truly say they were not all bad. Oh, there were some, but there were braves he didn’t like, either. Now he felt torn between his two worlds, and he hoped going home would provide some of the answers to where he truly belonged.
A brown whiskey bottle thumped the bar as it was set in front of him, its appearance breaking into his thoughts. He looked up and found it wasn’t the bartender who’d brought his drink but Billy.
“You look like you could use this.” Billy smiled.
“Hi, kid. It’s good to see you,” Thunder said. “If you’re smart, you’ll never touch this stuff.” He flicked his eyes to the bottle. “It’s only good for rotting one’s soul,” he remarked as he straightened and looked at Billy across the bar. Thunder had come to like the scrawny kid. “Where were you yesterday? I kinda got used to seeing your ugly face around here.”
Billy gave an impatient shrug. “Rather been here than what I was doin’.”
“Which was?” Thunder asked.
“Learning how to drive some bullheaded oxen.” Billy frowned. “They were supposed to be trained, but trained in what is yet to be determined. Personally, I think both shoulda been shot!”
Thunder chuckled. “I hope you showed them who was boss.”
“Well... let’s just say we now have an understanding.” Billy laughed, too. Studying Thunder, Billy decided now was a good time to ask about the wagon.
He folded his arms and leaned on the bar. “Have you reconsidered my sister’s offer?”
“Sister?” Thunder stared hard at the kid. His brows drew together into an affronted frown. “Offer?”
“Brandy said she asked you to help us on the wagon train.”
His silver eyes widened with astonishment. "She’s your sister?”
“Yeah, I guess you can say that.” Billy shrugged his shoulders almost apologetically and added, “We’re from the same orphanage.”
“Orphanage? She’s an orphan, too?”
“Yeah. She’s got some crazy notion she’s going to marry some guy out in Wyoming she ain’t never met before.”
“Why?”
“Long story,” Billy said with a frown. “But it’s why we need your help.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, kid.” Thunder didn’t want to go into his reasons why. Especially when one of the main reasons was Billy’s beautiful sister.
“I’ll do most of the work,” Billy offered, hoping to sway him.
“I’ve no doubt.” Thunder smiled. “Your sister doesn’t look like she’s done a day’s work in her life.”
“Dang right,” Billy agreed, then caught himself. “That
may be true, but things have changed.”
“I’m sure your sister can find someone else,” Thunder said as he looked past Billy to the mirror hanging over the bar. He caught a glimpse of Ward approaching him.
“So, I find you here loafing.” Ward thumped Thunder on the back. “Some help you’ve turned out to be.”
“I’m a scout, remember? And right now there’s nothing to scout except a drink.” Thunder glanced at the mirror behind the bar to make sure the two cowboys were still seated. The more he thought about a fight the better the idea appealed to him He needed to release this tension somehow. And busting a guy in the mouth just might do the trick.
* * *
The saloon looked normal, Brandy thought as she stood outside the doors. She smoothed the front of her new cream-colored dress, thankful for the lighter material.
She heard laughter and music, so how bad could the place be? Taking a deep breath for courage, she lifted her hand and pushed. The swinging doors opened easily when Brandy touched them and stepped inside The Golden Lady.
The smell of stale beer and unwashed bodies replaced the fresh air she’d come from, and Brandy gagged.
She squinted, trying to see in the murky light. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the dim, smoke-filled room.
For the moment, she hadn’t been noticed, giving her time to survey the surroundings. The place was very noisy with the many conversations taking place at the tables. On a raised platform, a piano player pounded out a tune. There were at least a dozen tables scattered around the spacious room, each occupied by men of every size and dress. The brightly-costumed dance hall girls mulled around the room, entertaining the gents.
Brandy’s eyes widened when one of the girls sat down on a patron’s lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She laughed when he bent down and kissed the top of her breast. Brandy looked away quickly.
A long, wooden bar sat at the back of the room. Its patrons were propped against the counter, some facing out, some facing toward the bar. At the very end stood the one man she sought... Thunder. Then her gaze drifted to the man next to him. Ward was there, too.
Dance on the Wind Page 7
