by Ann Mayburn
“Roger,” he clucked his tongue in mock disappointment, pausing to take another puff of his cigarette before blowing it in her face. “You disappoint me.”
Lack of air was becoming a serious issue, and Rowan started to go limp in the arms of the man who held her before he finally let her breathe.
Sucking in a massive gasp of air, she was soon bent over double, trying to brace herself with her hands on her knees as she coughed.
Mr. Charles stared down at her with a bored, dispassionate look. “If you stop all this churlish behavior and come work for me, we can get you medicine that will help you. You’ll have a nice, warm place to live, good food, and enough money to live a good life.”
Gasping for breath, she still managed to say, “No. Never. Leave me alone.”
Mr. Charles gave a sigh of mock disappointment. “And here I thought you were a smart young lad. Larry, why don’t you show Roger the error of his ways? But do watch his face. We don’t want to damage the merchandise.”
Blinding pain tore through her belly as Larry kicked her hunched over form. She let out a cry of sheer despair, not sure if she’d survive another beating.
Mr. Charles leaned against the brick side of the building, watching with narrowed eyes and a serpentine smile as Larry gave her a hard kick to her thigh. Even stronger pain screamed through her body, and she wrapped her hands over her head and fragile neck, knowing one good kick there could kill her.
This is it. This was how she was going to die.
Alone, in the dirt, in extreme pain.
“Hey, you, leave that boy alone!” A man’s voice, as deep as a church bell, rang down the alley.
Mr. Charles yelled back, “This is none of your concern. Just having a conversation with my son.”
A new man’s voice growled, “That boy is not your son. Now, get the hell out of here before I call the law.”
Mr. Charles’ voice came from nearby as he said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Do you know who I am?”
“A bastard who likes to beat on children,” came the deep voice, nearly vibrating with menace.
A gunshot rang out, so loud it cut through even the pounding of her heart and her strangled screams. More gunfire sounded, until the alley boomed like a warzone.
Larry cried out in pain, and the sound of running feet had her looking up just in time to see Mr. Charles sprinting out of the alley as if the hounds of hell were on his heels while holding his arm. Her body throbbed with just that little movement, and she curled back in on herself, desperate to do anything to lessen her suffering.
She remained curled up in a ball on the ground, trying to breathe past the agony radiating through her chest and abdomen. Larry had kicked her hard in the stomach, and her breath kept hitching in her chest. She worried he’d broken something deep inside of her. She flinched as someone gently rolled her over onto her back, their touch firm but careful as they said something.
Dimly, she realized that she was losing consciousness, then she wondered if the man she was looking at was an angel. He was certainly handsome enough to be of divine origin. His dark, kind eyes filled with worry. His full lips that had a slight pink hue to them in the firelight of their lantern they’d placed on the ground next to her. His dark brown hair was thick and wavy, shining with health. Another handsome face appeared over his shoulder, the man’s golden hair glinting as he also said something. The second angel was familiar, and she tried to remember who he was.
But that was silly because she didn’t know any angels.
She must have said that out loud, because the golden-haired man gave her a worried frown in the glow of his lantern. “Did he kick the boy in the head? He sounds odd, and he’s talking about angels.”
A big, gentle hand seemed to gently cup her entire skull as she was lifted off the ground into a pair of solid arms. She started to struggle, but she had no hope of overpowering a man the size of a grizzly bear even when she hadn’t taken a pummeling. Still, the instinct to live, to avoid danger, had her continuing to try to squirm out of his arms until her ribs gave a twinge so painful she could barely breathe.
Feeling utterly helpless, she whispered, “Please, please, don’t hurt me.”
“Be easy. I’m not gonna hurt you, lad,” the big bear of a man murmured, his voice like a rumble of thunder. “Just need to make sure those bastards didn’t crack your head like an egg.”
She started to protest as someone removed her hat, but her mind and body seemed disconnected at the moment. There was instant relief as the heavy braid that she’d kept stuffed up beneath her hat came falling down. Dimly, she was aware she should be fearful that these strangers had found out her secret, but thinking about anything besides how much she hurt seemed impossible.
“What the…?” the man holding her said in deep, shocked voice. His hold grew too tight on her bruised ribs until she let out a pained whimper.
Right away, his hold loosened, and the man with the more familiar male voice stroked his fingers over her scalp. “Hush now, love, I need to see how badly that son of a diseased whore hurt you.”
Turning her face into the chest of the man holding her, she inhaled a rather pleasant scent of man, fresh air, and the hint of some kind of cologne or soap with a hint of spice. It was a good smell, a clean smell, and he was so warm. She felt safe in his arms, cared for in a way she’d so desperately needed.
She was finally safe.
2
GARRET
* * *
The doctor came out into the hallway of the hotel room they’d rented with a curious look on his wrinkled face.
“How well do you know…Roger?” the doctor asked as he adjusted his grip on his black medical bag.
Worry filled Garret as he fought back the temptation to push past the doctor and check on the poor young woman inside.
“Not very well,” Edward said, his angular face tight with worry. “Will she be all right?”
Clearing his throat, the doctor looked up and down the empty hotel hallway before he said, “Yes, she’ll be fine with a lot of rest and good food.”
“So we were right?” Garret asked as he exchanged a weighted look with Edward. “She’s a girl?”
“Yes, well, more like a woman, but yes.” The doctor gave them a small bemused smile, his silver mustache twitching before he grew sober again. “Not the first time I’ve heard of a young lady disguising herself as a boy. Don’t need to tell you gentlemen about what kind of unsavory characters there are out there who would take advantage of a female alone. Right pretty little thing, too, once I got her cleaned up. How she managed to stuff all that golden hair up into her hat, I’ll never know, but she has a lot of it.”
Edward shifted next to him and rumbled with fury. “What kinds of injuries does she have?”
The doctor blinked at Edward and took a step back before firming his spine.
Not an unusual reaction. While Edward wasn’t especially tall, he was as thick with muscle as a grizzly and had an intimidating stare to match. Normally calm and hard to anger, the sight of the mysterious woman being beaten had woken the beast inside of his best friend. A terribly irate beast that wanted to go out and hunt down the cowards who’d hurt the girl.
Giving Edward a wary look, the doctor said to Garret, “Bruised ribs. Nothing broken but taking a deep breath will be hard for a little while. I gave her something to help her sleep, so she’ll be out for at least another six hours. Let her rest, but when she wakes up, see if you can get her to eat something light and easy. Poor thing looks like she hasn’t had a good meal in a long time. Anything too rich or heavy and her stomach might reject it. I’ll leave a tonic with you that you’re to give to her every four hours for the pain.”
Sick of waiting, Garret mumbled to Edward, “You finish this up. I have to see her.”
From the moment he’d looked into her pale, crystal blue eyes rimmed with a line of the purest black Garret felt an odd connection to ‘Roger’. Something about the young boy had caught h
is attention and awakened his protective instincts. Those instincts had told him to follow the kid, to see if Roger had somewhere to go, or if Garret could talk him into coming back to the ranch with them.
Those same protective feelings began to turn into something more as he got his first look at the sleeping woman.
At first, he couldn’t believe they were the same person. The beauty in his bed looked nothing like the skinny, dirt encrusted boy who’d shined his shoes. Her hair was long enough to reach past her shoulders, and it spread over the pillow like curly dark golden silk. Despite her wide nose and mouth, the bones of her face were delicate and exquisitely put together, reminding him of a beautiful doll. Unlike a doll, her skin wasn’t porcelain pale, but a golden tan that brought to mind beachside palaces in exotic lands.
“Lord have mercy on a sinner,” Edward whispered from behind Garret. “How did we miss that she was a woman?”
They both moved closer to the bed, then stopped as she stirred slightly. Her chapped lips pursed into a frown, and her elegantly arched brows drew tight. A deep cough rattled up from her chest, and she turned on her side, letting out a soft moan then settling back to sleep. Curled up wearing what looked like one of Edward’s sleep shirts, she appeared even smaller. A fragile, beautiful creature with velvety golden skin marred by bruises. The shirt had pulled over on one side, showing the dark bruising on her throat caused by her attacker.
Anger lit through him again, a righteous fire that demanded he go hunt down and kill the monsters who had abused this poor woman.
“Easy,” Edward whispered. “No anger in the sickroom. You remember Lady Uriel’s teachings. Positive energy, strength and purpose, but never anger.”
While overseas with the British Army, they’d lived in the court of a royal Lady Uriel and her husbands, who’d focused their life’s work on healing and spiritual enlightenment.
It had been quite a culture shock for both himself and Edward. They’d gone from the strict, sometimes repressive British society to one based on love and compassion. A culture where a wife having more than one husband was the norm. At first, Garret had been skeptical that such a relationship was even possible, but over time he’d grown to admire their way of life. Admire it and want it for both himself and his best friend.
Finding a woman in the States who would not only accept, but flourish with more than one husband was hard to do. All the men of Bridgewater practiced the lifestyle of one wife, many husbands, and more than a few had found their perfect matches. True, the courtship wasn’t always conventional, but every couple he knew were obviously happy and deeply in love. He wanted that. Wanted to have a wife to shower with affection, wanted a woman to share with his best friend. Someone to hold between them on cold nights, a female presence in the home that would bring it to life.
Edward stood shoulder to shoulder with Garrett as they both looked down on her sleeping form.
“I never thought the stories about knowing she’s the one were true,” Edward said as he glanced up at Garret, his blue eyes flashing with emotion. “Tell me, do you feel it?”
Relief filled Garrett as he nodded, glad he wasn’t the only one who was drawn to the little golden beauty snuggled in his bed. “Aye, I feel it as well. Do you think she’s the one?”
“Do you?”
There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in Garret’s gut or heart as he said, “Absolutely.”
“Too bad we don’t even know her name,” Edward sighed.
The young woman moaned softly in her sleep, her legs restless. Laying a hand on her brow Garret frowned as he felt the heat beginning to build beneath her skin. With the dirt washed from her face by the doctor and the hotel maid, he could see the older and fresh bruises marring her delicate bones. Compared to him, she really was a tiny thing, and he marveled that God trusted him with such a fragile beauty.
“She’s so dainty,” Garret murmured as he stroked back a piece of her hair sticking to the side of her face. “A woman like this should be cherished and sheltered. Like a butterfly.”
“But also incredibly strong,” Edward said as he answered the knock on the door, admitting a maid wheeling a cart full of food into the room. “Thank you.”
The young woman gave the bed a couple curious looks, but she said nothing as she set out their supper and then left.
He was hoping the smell of food would rouse ‘Roger’ from her sleep and allow them to speak to her and convince her to come home with them. News had come from the west that snow was on the way, and they needed to get back to the ranch before the high roads through the hills became impassable. They were supposed to have left tonight with a wagonload of supplies, but it seemed God had other plans for them.
As they ate their dinner, they both kept watch on the sleeping young woman while speaking in low voices.
“Way I see it, we have two options,” Edward said, wiping the remains of his meal off with the brown cloth napkin. “We can either leave in the morning, bundle her up, and hope the journey doesn’t injure her further, or we can wait a few more days and pray the weather holds out and we don’t get stuck in a pass.”
Garret leaned back and crossed his legs as he said, “Least we have the covered wagon. One of us can stay back there with her while the other one drives the team.” Garrett reached over to his saddlebag, pulling out his well-used ivory pipe. “If the roads hold out, and we push the team, we should be able to make it to Dove Spring and Mrs. Tibbs Inn in a day, maybe a day and a half. We can have Dr. Tibbs take a look at her and give her a chance to rest. Bridgewater is only a few hours north from there, so we can rest at the Inn until the roads are safe enough for the wagon to travel on.”
“Put that thing away,” Edward said in a voice so deep Garret swore he felt the floor shake as he glared at the pipe. “Smoke is not good in a sickroom.”
“Fine, fine,” Garrett muttered as he shoved the pipe back in the hard, brown leather satchel.
Most people would look at Edward and assume he was a brawler, that he beat up five men for breakfast and another ten before lunch. While it was true Edward could be a brute on the battlefield, at his core, he was as kindhearted as any man Garret had ever met. Lady Uriel used to say that Edward was born with the body of a warrior, but the heart of a poet.
Walking over to the sleeping woman’s side, Edward let out a soft sigh. “She is so beautiful, as golden as the dawn, but also as fragile as a crystal dove.”
Staring out the window, Garret looked out into the still busy evening streets and the constant rumble of wagons to and from the slaughterhouses. There was a frosty nip to the air, so even the soiled doves selling themselves had covered up their assets with thick shawls. Resting his hand on the cold glass of the window, Garret mulled over what to do.
Edward’s voice carried over the snapping of the fire in the hearth as he said, “The big oak tree near our house put out a lot of acorns this year. You know that means a bitter winter is on the way. Not to mention the thick ruff the neighbor’s cattle are growing around their necks.”
Both Garret and Edward had been born into farming families and carried the superstitions of their fathers. “True. The sky felt heavy today, and I noticed on our ride out the squirrels were looking fat.”
“Indeed,” Edward grunted. “I fear if we stay here more than a few days, we might be stuck in Butte for a good while. We need to get back to our home and our flock. Besides, we have supplies that our neighbors are waiting on, like a crib. I don’t think Molly’s baby is going to wait for spring thaw to arrive.”
Coming to a decision, Garret stood straighter as he turned, his arms behind his back almost in a parade rest position. “In the morning, as soon as the stores open, I need you to go out and buy whatever a lady might need for the winter. Clothing, soaps, perfumes, books—”
“We don’t know if she can read.” Edward gently took her hand in his own, cupping it as if he was holding a butterfly. “Look at her hands. This lass has worked hard for a long time. You don’t get these kind
s of calluses overnight.”
“Then we’ll teach her to read,” Garret said impatiently. “It is our privilege and duty to make sure she is comfortable and content. To see to her every need.”
“Aye,” Edward nodded as he gently ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’ll take care of it. We made a good profit this year off our wool and sheepskins. I’ll make sure the lass has what she needs.”
“Good.” Sitting back in his chair, he glanced at the clock above the hearth and sighed. “Do you want first shift? We’re going to need our sleep.”
Edward rose from the sleeping woman’s side and stretched out, then cracked his thick neck. “Go ahead. I’ll stay with her.”
A knock came from the doorway, and he opened it to reveal the young maid from earlier. As she slipped quietly into the room, she waited until the door was closed to turn and face them, her hands twisting nervously in her white apron. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, then looked over at Rowan’s sleeping form and lifted her chin.
The maid’s voice had a faint tremble as she said, “Sirs, please forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I have some news that you might be interested in regarding your safety.”
Garret frowned at the nervous woman, but he kept his voice gentle. “What is it?”
Nearly shaking now, the woman whispered, “My brother, he’s a good man, but he loves his whisky and fell in with a bad crowd. Specifically, with a man named Mr. Charles, who is,” she paused and said in a louder voice, “well, he’s a no good rotten bastard who preys on the weak and innocent. My brother came by earlier, looking for two men and a boy that fit your descriptions. Evidently, the men he’s looking for got into a fight with Mr. Charles earlier, so he is offering a goodly sum of money to anyone who can find you—errr, them. It might be best if you got out of town as quickly as possible.”
