by Sarah Hegger
There was something vulnerable and fresh about Bridget that reminded him of Ellie. Both Ellie and Bridget had these airs of being delicate blooms in a shit heap. He didn’t know how Ellie had held on to her freshness all these years, but she had.
When he had refused to take Bridget upstairs at the saloon, the owner had come over and proposed a poker game. Three hands later, and Bridget was his. At the time he’d wondered why the man would part with a treasure like Bridget. He had brought her back to his room and given her the bed while he made do with the floor. An inkling of the reason behind the saloon owner tossing Bridget into the pot was creeping past his hangover.
“I like all cakes.” Bridget bounced on the bed, squeaking the springs. “I like the pink ones and the ones with raisins in them. Oh!” Her eyes widened and she bounced faster. “I especially like the ones with little sugar flowers on the top.” Squeak, squeak. “I like chocolate cake—” squeak, “—and lemon cake—” squeak, “—and I think marble cake is real pretty. How do you think they do that?” She blinked up at him, mercifully giving the springs and his head a rest. “Make the two different colors sit in the same cake?”
“Magic,” he whispered, a drowning man.
“I like pies as well,” Bridget told him. “Not as much as I like cakes, but pies are so pretty. They go that lovely golden color when they’re baked. Strawberry is my favorite pie because strawberries are pink and that’s my favorite color.” She frowned and Cole hoped she’d run out of words. “Maybe strawberries are more red than pink. Do you think strawberries are red or pink?”
“Eh.”
“You’re right.” She giggled. “They’re red not pink, but when you cut them open, they can be a little pink inside. Mostly white but a little pink.”
Coffee! Now! “Let’s get Ellie and see if we can find those cakes.”
“Yes.” She popped to her feet and grinned at him. It was such a ridiculously beautiful smile it made his head reel when Bridget used it. “Let’s go find Ellie.”
She stood by the door waiting as he shrugged into his coat and strapped on his gun belt.
“Ellie is such a pretty name. Is Ellie pretty like her name?” Bridget followed him into the hallway.
“Yup.” Ellie was more than pretty. She had strength to her, substance that made her beautiful.
Bridget stopped and chewed her lip. Pearly white teeth gnawing at her plump, rosy lip, and all Cole could think about was getting Ellie and coffee. “Women don’t like me. They’re mean to me. The girls at the saloon used to pull my hair and try and push me down the stairs.” Her eyes filled with tears. “One of them even tried to cut my hair off when I was sleeping.”
Those indigo eyes swimming in tears could bring a hardened Comanchero to his knees. Cole patted her shoulder. “Ellie isn’t like that. She’ll like you fine.” Ellie might gag Bridget to stop all the chatter, but she wouldn’t be jealous. Come to think on it, he might gag Bridget and end his torment.
He knocked on Ellie’s door and waited.
“Blueberry,” Bridget said and wrinkled her nose. “I’m not partial to blueberry. They stain your teeth.”
If there was a god in heaven, Ellie would open her door. Soon.
“Most people like peach, and I do too, but strawberry is still my favorite. Do you know why?”
What the hell was Ellie doing in there? “Because it’s pink?”
He got a glittering smile for that. “Yes. Although strawberries might be more red than pink.”
He hammered at Ellie’s door.
“She ain’t there.” A maid came around the corner.
Cole turned his attention on the older woman.
Open-mouthed, the woman was staring at Bridget as if she’d seen an angel.
“Where is she?” He stepped between the maid and Bridget.
“Huh?” The woman blinked him into focus. “Oh, that one?” She jabbed a thumb at the door. “I don’t know where she went, but she paid and took her stuff.”
Everything in Cole went very still as he grappled with the new information. “She paid and left?”
“That’s what I said.” The maid lumbered past him and into Ellie’s room.
It was empty. The bed neatly made and wash water still in the basin. He threw open the wardrobe, praying the maid had lied to him, and found it empty. No sign of Ellie remained in the room other than the faint scent of roses.
“Where is she?” Bridget peered over his shoulder.
“I don’t know.” But he felt like he might puke.
Bridget stuck her ass in the air and checked under the bed. “Is she hiding? Is this a game?”
“No and no.” Cole fought down the wave of panic and went back to the maid. “Did anybody come for her? Did you see any men around?”
“I didn’t see nothing.” The maid got squinty-eyed and heaved a breath that lifted her ample bosom. “All I know is that I’m to clean this room because nobody is in here anymore.”
“Shit!”
“There ain’t no call for that sort of language.” The maid looked scandalized.
Bridget gave him an apologetic smile. “I don’t mind. Much.”
“Hey!” The maid drew herself up. “This is a respectable place here. You said that other woman was your sister. If she’s your sister how come you don’t know where she is?”
“We don’t like to speak of it.” Cole thought fast. “She always plowed her own row, our Ellie.”
The maid sniffed and eyed Bridget. “I suppose she’s your sister too?”
“No.” Bridget giggled. “I—”
“My cousin.” Cole held the maid’s dubious stare. “She’s our cousin. On our mother’s side.” He needed to get Bridget out of here. She was looking like she might speak again. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. I need to find my sister before she gets into trouble.”
“You don’t look nothing alike.” The maid followed them into the hall.
“I don’t know about that.” Thank God for a lifetime of perfecting the bluff. “We have the same mouth and face shape.”
The maid eyed him and then Bridget. “I suppose so.”
Bridget blinked at him as if trying to piece it all together.
Taking her arm, Cole sidestepped the maid. “Good day to you.”
“Yeah, bye.” The maid went back into Ellie’s room.
Last night when he’d left her, Ellie had seemed fine. Fine for that awkward as hell conversation they’d both had, but still fine.
It still made his head spin. It was a helluva secret to keep all these years. It didn’t seem likely Jake had been able to remove her from the hotel with nobody being any wiser. Not likely, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility it had happened.
“What about my cakes?” Bridget stopped when he tried to lead her past the dining room.
He counted to ten for patience before turning to her. “We can get you cakes later. Right now, I have to find Ellie.”
“But…” Tears spilled down her satin cheek. “I like cakes, and you said we could have cakes.”
“Look, Bridget. I need to find Ellie.” He used a firm tone to impress on her the seriousness of the situation.
A matron and a younger woman approached the dining hall.
Bridget hiccupped a soft sob. “But you promised I could have cake.”
“Dear Lord, man.” The matron stared down her nose at him. “The girl has to eat.” She stopped suddenly and glared at him. “Why did he promise you cakes? What did he get from you?”
“Oh, nothing.” Bridget gave her a sunny smile. “He’s been ever so kind to me and not even asked for a thing. Last night he—”
“You’re right.” Cole steered her into the dining room. “I promised my young cousin cake, and cake I should get her.”
“She doesn’t look like your cousin.” The matron scowled.
“We have the same mouth,” Bridget said. “And a slight resemblance around the eyes.” She blinked her sooty lashes over her lovely eyes. “See?”
&nbs
p; “Er…yes.” The matron gaped at her.
Cole had an inkling the saloon owner had folded a winning hand last night. He would get Bridget her damn cakes and then find Ellie. And they had coffee in the dining room.
To give her due, Bridget ate her cakes quietly and quickly, and he was able to toss down some bills and have her out the door within thirty minutes.
Dust swirled in a dry, baking wind as they made their way down the boardwalk. Not many were out this early, and Cole said a quick prayer of thanks.
A cowboy sauntered past, caught sight of Bridget and gaped. He stood there catching flies as Cole guided Bridget past him.
Another man, dressed like an undertaker, walked right into a horse trough.
Bridget didn’t seem to notice, but kept up a steady stream of chatter, which Cole barely paid attention to.
As their morning progressed, Cole’s unease grew.
The horses he had gotten for him and Ellie were still at the livery. The stage was not due in until later that day. He marched Bridget to the railway station.
The stationmaster was still on the platform when they got there. “Can I help you?”
“Good morning.” Bridget dimpled at the station master.
“I’m looking for a woman.” Cole could balance on his head for all the attention the man gave him.
The stationmaster pointed his gnarled old finger at Bridget. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“Not like that.” Cole grabbed for his dwindling patience. Ellie could be anywhere by now, and he had no idea if she was safe or not. “The one I’m looking for is my sister. We were traveling together.”
The stationmaster grunted and stared at Bridget.
Bridget fiddled with the beading on her bodice. He hadn’t been paying attention before, but Bridget looked like a whore in that dress.
“She’s short, dark hair, brown eyes.”
“No, she ain’t.” The stationmaster stared at Bridget and then seemed to collect himself and scowled. “And if she’s your sister, I’m a mule’s ass.”
Not far from the truth. “I was speaking about my sister. The one who I’m looking for.”
“She a whore too?” The stationmaster eyed Bridget like a side of beef.
“No, she most definitely isn’t.” Cole chose the simple answer to the question. Also, the one closest to the truth in Ellie’s case. “And neither is my cousin.” He thought fast. “She has an unfortunate tendency to get in with the wrong sort, and this is the result.” He indicated Bridget’s beaded, low cut evening gown, on which the skirts were so thin they clung to her legs.
He was definitely going to have to do something about that dress.
“Wait!” The stationmaster clicked his fingers. “I did see a woman this morning. She took the first train to Denver.”
“Thank you.” Cole forgave the man’s leering. “When is the next train to Denver?”
“Mornin’” The stationmaster plugged a wad of tobacco in his cheek.
Dammit! He’d already lost so much time. He could ride, but that left him with a problem of Bridget. He turned to her. “Can you ride?”
“What?”
Dear God, what else could he be talking about. “A horse.”
“Oh, no.” Bridget giggled and smiled.
The stationmaster choked on his tobacco and started heaving and coughing.
“Well, it’s easy enough and I always say the quickest way to learn something new is to do it.” He liked the sound of that. He might use it again.
Tears sprang into Bridget’s eyes. “I’m sorry to be a bother, but I’m scared of horses.”
“You can’t make her ride.” The stationmaster glared at Cole. “You’d be the worst sort of monster to make this pretty, little thang get on a horse when she’s so scared.”
“I can’t help it.” Bridget shrugged and looked like a woebegone angel. “I’ve been scared of them ever since I was a girl.”
Which reminded Cole, he didn’t know how old she was. Only that she’d been sold into prostitution at thirteen. That’s what had gotten him entangled in Bridget’s story in the first place. That and the way she had told it to him as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“I tell you what.” He could travel a lot faster without her. “I can leave you in the hotel with enough money for a few days and ride to Denver.”
Bridget gasped. “You’re going to leave me here?”
“Just overnight. You can catch the train to Denver in the morning.”
The stationmaster muttered something dark sounding and scowled.
“I’ll ride to Denver and find Ellie. Ellie and I will meet you at Denver station.”
“No, you won’t.” Bridget shook her head sending shiny curls cascading down her back. “You’ll say that and then you’ll leave me there. And I’ll be back to having to do what the men want when they pay me.”
“No, I won’t—”
“My pa said he’d be back, and he never came.” Bridget sobbed into her hands.
The stationmaster straightened his shoulders and faced Cole down. “You can’t—”
“Gimme two tickets to Denver on the morning train.” He almost snarled at the man. Ellie was out there, maybe alone. For the first time he hoped Jake was with her. Jake wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Not unless he had orchestrated it at least.
“Are you taking me to Denver?” Bridget’s tears dissolved into a huge smile. “With you.”
“Yup.” If he said anything more, he would cuss a blue streak.
“That’s lovely.” Bridget bounced along beside him. “And I can have more cakes in the morning.”
Chapter Ten
Ellie stared out her window as the train carved a straight line through the parched land. From Denver, she could catch the train to Cheyenne and from there, she could take the train to San Francisco the next day.
Why, in three days she could be with Theo. Not that she expected him to be hanging around the train station and waiting, but she might get lucky and pick up his trail quickly.
She didn’t know how long it would take to find Theo, so she bought the cheapest train ticket. Sandwiched between the window and a young cowhand whose boots still smelled sharply of manure, she was almost regretting her decision to be careful with her money.
This was her adventure, her first and only grand adventure. She had money hidden in a special pocket in her drawers, she had a small knife tucked into her boot for protection, and by now, she had seen the worst men had to offer.
The young cowhand glanced at her and smiled.
Ellie nodded back, polite but not encouraging.
Across from her, a rough sort with unkempt hair and a beard looked and smelled like he was sleeping off the night before.
Next to the rough, a young mother dealt with her fussy little one, and a slightly older child who refused to sit still. She managed her children while trying to maintain the scant inch of space between her and the tough.
The rest of the carriage was full and the press of so many bodies made her hope some folks would be getting out along the way.
The conductor came around and took their tickets. A young man with a dapper mustache and a neatly pressed uniform, he stared at Ellie and then her ticket. “You traveling alone, miss?”
“Missus.” She hadn’t thought of that. Being a whore meant nobody expected you to be respectable. “Mrs. Ephram Pierce.”
The conductor gave her a hard stare but handed her clipped ticket back to her.
The cowhand took his hat off and perched it on his knee. He cleared his throat. “Mister Pierce back in Denver then, is he?”
“Er…no.” Jake always said when you were going with a lie keep it simple. “He’s in San Francisco. I’m meeting him there.”
“He must miss you.” The cowhand blushed. “I mean…pretty wife like you. Man wouldn’t…” He cleared his throat and nearly mangled the brim of his hat.
Ellie took pity on him. She knew men like this. He was a harm
less sort with a sweet heart. “He does. But I’m not sure when he’s expecting me. We were not entirely sure which train I would come in on.”
Across the aisle, the baby started to wail, and his mama rocked him against her shoulder.
The tough guy grunted and shifted. A waft of stale whisky and beer crossed the aisle, and Ellie gave the mother a sympathetic smile. His smell must be even worse being that close.
“My ma will be meeting me at Bitter Root.” The cowhand gave a shy grin. “She’s bringing Miss Rebecca with her.”
“Miss Rebecca?” Ellie warmed to him as his blush deepened. “Is that your sweetheart?”
The cowhand’s face flamed. “Not yet, but I’m aiming to fix that. Ma and me got a sweet spread north of town. It ain’t much yet, but I been working on larger ranches, figuring the rights and the whatnots of ranching.” His chest puffed with pride. “I’m about ready, I reckon.”
“You a cowboy?” The little boy from across the aisle stared at the cowhand.
“I was.” He held out his hand to the boy. “Name’s Matthias Groenwald, former cowboy and now rancher.”
“You stink of cow shit.” The rough spoke from beneath the lowered brim of his hat.
The young matron gasped and tried to get another half inch away from him.
“That’s as may be.” Matthias straightened. “But that’s not the kind of language for when ladies are present.”
The rough grunted and folded his arms. “Sorry.”
Like Ellie believed that for a second, but she didn’t want Matthias strapping into his armor and taking on the rough. Ellie recognized his type too, and he was not someone she wanted herself or Matthias messing with. The gun butt was worn smooth from frequent handling and his gun belt looked well worn.
“Tell me about your Miss Rebecca.” She wanted Matthias to turn his attention to something else.
It worked a charm as Matthias colored up. “She’s perfect.” He beamed. “She’s so pretty and sweet and Ma says she knows her place and how to keep a man fed and his house clean as he could like it.”
