“I think I would rather wait until Calder returns, and tell him.”
His expression darkened, and she thought he was about to strike her. Instead, he clenched his fists and held fast. “You little chippie. I could beat it out of you.”
“And I could scream.” She opened her mouth.
He pounced on her, clamped a filthy hand over her mouth. “Shut up, will you? Shut up or I’ll break your pretty neck.”
His strength overwhelmed her and she could not move. Her nostrils filled with his foul smell, gagging her. She would die. Here. Now.
From outside came the sound of galloping horses, then the clatter as someone mounted the steps and stomped across the porch in a big hurry.
It was Calder and he didn’t waste any time. “What the hell’s going on?” he yelled, yanked Baron away from her and grabbed her arm. “Come on, hurry. It’s those crazy Englishmen on their bob-tailed ponies. Looking for you. Just following the river, with no idea you’re up here, but we gotta go, anyway. Deke’s sent them off on a wild goose chase. We’ve got to make tracks. Now. I’ll deal with you later,” he told Baron, and yanked his holster off the back of the chair, not stopping to put it on.
Gunshots sounded in the distance. No doubt Deke’s distraction hadn’t worked.
She stumbled along behind Calder, spat away the terrible taste of Baron’s dirty flesh. Across the porch and down the steps, him practically dragging her off her feet.
He stuffed the pistol in its holster, threw it across the horse, leaped into the saddle and reached down for her. “Hurry, get up here.”
Her heart swelled into her throat, threatening to choke her senseless. Gasping, she caught at his hand, stabbed at the stirrup with one foot, missed, tried again and then he hauled her up behind him, the great horse already moving.
She shook so hard her teeth clattered and clung to his waist. Behind them, the gunshots faded. If Baron had left as well, he wasn’t following them. The lonely thudding of Gabe’s hooves broke the silent darkness of the night.
Chapter Ten
Calder kept Gabe below the ridge so as not to be a target against the moonlit sky. Where could he take Wilda where she’d be safe? Alone, he could escape, hide in a cave or just about anyplace. But he couldn’t take her along. This joke about a kidnapping had gone far enough, in spite of his reaction to her arms wrapped around his waist, her body pressed against his. Or maybe because of it. He hadn’t counted on caring for this so-called kidnap victim, yet damned if he hadn’t took to her right away. Why, God only knew.
“Let me take you back home. This kind of life isn’t for you. Better you marry that remittance man with his allowance from Daddy and be safe than a life on the run.” He’d almost said “come with me,” but held back. He didn’t want to give this headstrong girl any ideas she hadn’t already come up with herself.
“No, please…please.” She breathed in his ear, held on tighter. “I can’t. I will run away the first time you turn your back. Anything will be better than his marriage bed.”
He reined Gabe into a crevice, spoke to her in a low, urgent voice. “Listen to me. If they find us, they won’t hesitate to hang me from the nearest tree.” Maybe that would convince her to go back.
“Hang you? Calder. No, I will not allow that. If that should happen, then I shall tell them the truth.”
“You think they’d believe you? Not in a pigs eye.”
She took a deep breath, her firm breasts teasing the muscles along his back. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. But please do not take me back there. Isn’t there any place I can go? Hide? Then I won’t be a burden and you can escape. I don’t want you to hang.” The last word hung on a sob.
Damned if it didn’t sound like she cared for him, though why that should be he had no notion.
Mind racing, he stared out across the valley, silver with early dawn. “Well, maybe there is, but I’m not sure. I mean, it’s a poor place by contrast to what you’re used to, but you might be a big help to her.”
“This place you have in mind could be no worse than St. Anne’s, believe me. Take me there. I’ll go anywhere.”
Heels dug into Gabe’s flank, he urged the animal on, headed in the direction of Rachel Johnson’s place. A woman who certainly could use an extra hand.
“Tell me, Wilda, have you ever helped care for children? If you mean what you say, this could be the perfect solution for everyone concerned.”
“My goodness. Children, no, but I can try.”
“Well, I reckon you can learn.”
“Oh, dear,” she sighed, and laid her cheek against his back. After a while he felt her relax. Poor girl had fallen into an exhausted sleep.
Wilda awoke when Calder reined up in front of an odd looking residence with grass growing on the roof. The first glow of sunlight lit the eastern sky and spread across the prairie like a flameless fire. They had seen some of these unusual grass houses from the train coming through Kansas, and had been told they were soddies, made mostly by digging “bricks” from the grass that grew on the plains and stacking them. A crude roof jutted from the front to form a porch of sorts. She had never imagined she would actually go inside one. And who on earth would keep children here? Calder was right, it was a poor place indeed. But better than a castle with his lordship holding sway.
Her muscles ached and for a moment she could not move to dismount. With a groan, she finally lifted her leg and slid into Calder’s arms after he dismounted.
“Oh, I’m so sore.”
He chuckled and took her arm. “You get used to it. Come on.”
“I don’t think I can move.”
“Sure, you can.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her forward. She leaned against him, welcoming the solid strength he offered.
“Hold up right there,” came a voice from the house.
“It’s me, Miz Johnson, Calder Raines. Just me and a friend.” To Wilda, he whispered, “Wait just a minute, don’t want to scare her. She might shoot one of us.”
Dear God, what kind of people lived out here in this godforsaken place, that they would shoot visitors?
The door swung open cautiously. “Calder?”
A petite figure in a white gown stood in the opening. “Why, it is you. Never expected to see you so soon again. Who’s that you got with you?”
“This here is Wilda. And we want to ask…I mean, she needs a place to stay and you could use some help with the young’uns, I’d reckon. I thought…well, could we come in a minute?”
“Surely can, come on.”
Calder shoved Wilda in the direction of the door. “I’ll just put old Gabe out of sight, in case someone comes along. Be right with you. Go in, go on in. She won’t bite.”
Maybe not bite, but would she shoot? The woman held an extremely long gun at her side. It was almost as big as her.
“Calder, she has a gun.”
“Just a shotgun. It’s okay, she ain’t going to shoot you. Go on in.”
Miserable, Wilda limped across the bare earth and followed the woman Calder called Miz Johnson inside.
To her great relief Miz Johnson stood the gun near the door, which she left ajar. Wilda didn’t much blame her for that. There were no windows and the gloomy room held the heat of the day before. It smelled of something not unlike damp soil.
“My name is Rachel Johnson,” her hostess said, her tired face lighting with welcome. She lit a candle in the center of a table.
“I am Wilda Duncan.”
Rachel nodded. “What would you be doing with our Calder?”
“Doing with him? Why, nothing, really.”
“What a lovely accent, where are you from, dear?” Rachel said, stifling an outright giggle.
It was certainly easy to entertain these people. All she had to do was open her mouth. So she did. “I’m from Manchester, England.”
Rachel clapped her hands. “Wonderful. You must live in Victoria City, then.” Another charming laugh.
Wh
at had she said that was so humorous? She didn’t get to find out, for Calder crept quietly into the room.
“You two getting acquainted?”
Both nodded at him.
“Good, that’s good.” He rubbed his hands together, evidently quite well pleased with himself. “What do you think, Miz Johnson?”
“About what, Calder?”
He glanced from one to the other. “Didn’t you tell her?”
“I told her nothing. We have not had time,” Wilda replied.
“Well, tell me now. What have you hatched this time?”
It was easy to see the woman was fond of the brash outlaw. Strange, how a perfectly respectable person, a woman with children, could take up with someone like him. Here in this country things were indeed different from back home. Though, the way this woman lived, she was no doubt a serf and perhaps indentured. There was no sign of a man about. Oh goodness, suppose these were Calder’s children. She stared from him to the woman.
“You tell her, Wilda.”
She glared darkly at him. “It’s your idea, so you do it. I am not even sure I should be here.”
“Why are you?” Miz Johnson asked.
“Because he…” Wilda began.
“I thought she…” Calder said at the same time.
Rachel smiled. “Whatever you’ve been up to, it’s plain to see you need a bit of help, Calder Raines.”
Before he could reply, Wilda did it for him. “It’s simple. I need a place to stay and he thought perhaps I could help you in return for staying here a few days. Though, I’m not good at caring for children, or the like, I certainly do know how to clean and launder clothes and scrub floors.” She glanced down at the earthen floor. “Uh, well, that is…”
“Dirt floor saves a lot of work,” Rachel joked. Her eyes lit, then her expression saddened. “That would be wonderful, but I…can’t feed an extra mouth. Almost everything you brought last time is gone, Calder. Three kids can eat a lot, they need a lot.”
“Three?” Wilda stared at Calder.
“You didn’t tell her about my kids?”
He held out his hands and took a step backward, as if the two of them might attack him at any moment. “Easy, both of you. I told her, just not how many. I’ll get some food, don’t worry about that. I’ll bring you something to eat, something to keep you all until, well until later.”
Miz Johnson put her hands on her hips. “Where would you find us food? Steal it?”
He shrugged and grinned sweet enough to melt the heart of any woman. “Stealing bread for a hungry child is not exactly a terrible thing, is it?”
“You get caught it is. The law don’t much care why you steal, most especially you,” Rachel retorted.
“You let me worry about that. I ain’t been caught yet, have I? I’ll be back with food. Now, any other problems?”
“Yes,” Wilda interrupted. “What do we do if Lord Prescott and his men show up?”
“Lord who?” Rachel asked, turned toward him. “What’ve you done now?”
“What I suspect he always does,” Wilda said before he could answer. “He robbed the train, and then he kidnapped me.” She sent Calder a wicked grin, and he glared back.
“Kidnapped? Why would you kidnap her? It’s about money, isn’t it? Don’t worry dear, he won’t hurt you. He wouldn’t harm a fly. And you robbed the train? Oh, dear. As smart as you are, why can’t you just go get yourself a job like everyone else? Why are you still fighting that war? It’s over and done with, and nothing you do now will change anything that happened.”
“I told him the same thing,” Wilda chimed in. “About getting a job, I mean, but he didn’t listen. And it truly isn’t his fault about the kidnapping. I talked him into it.”
The woman appeared completely bewildered. “Talked him into it? Why on earth?”
“Whoa, hold up, the two of you. I should’ve known not to get in the middle of two women. What one of you don’t pick at the other will. I’m getting out of here. You okay? Both of you?”
Rachel smiled, nodded and scratched her stomach. Wilda gaped at the gesture. Bad enough the woman stood there in front of a man in only a nightdress, but to rub herself as if proud of being naked beneath the thin cloth, with him looking on. It was way too much. She had a long way to go to even begin to understand the lax moral standards of these westerners. Just let folks get free of England and its Victorian morals and they went absolutely wild. Unbelievable.
“Wilda, you okay?” he asked.
“What? Oh, yes, uh, I’m okay.”
He laughed. “Good girl. I’m getting out before you two come up with something else to rag me about. Be back. And if the posse comes by, it might be a good idea if you hide and Rachel can tell them she hasn’t seen us. Or you or whatever.
“Now, you stay out of sight, Wilda and let Rachel do the talking. And for God’s sake see if she’s got something you can wear.” He turned his back and clamped the outrageous hat down on his head, then glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be back. With food.”
He gave Wilda such a heartrending look she almost grabbed him around the neck and kissed him. Instead, she grinned and wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave.
“Be careful,” Rachel told him, but he was gone.
Wilda gazed at the empty door until Rachel spoke.
“I swear that man… Well, let’s find you something to put on, you do look well, kind of odd?”
She followed Rachel through the curtained doorway. The flame from the candle she carried revealed two children on the only bed, arms and legs flung wide. Another slept in some sort of makeshift cradle that looked more like a packing box. From a hook on the wall Rachel took down a plain calico dress and handed it to Wilda.
“It may be a bit short on you, but I think it’ll fit okay. Shake it good to get out the spiders.”
“Spiders?” Horrified, Wilda stared at the offering, then took it between finger and thumb.
Rachel laughed. “They fall from the roof, you see. You can change in here.”
Tears filled Wilda’s eyes at the kindness of this poor woman. “I thank you. I won’t eat much, I promise. I wish I could help with…with the food and, uh, things, but…” She shuddered at the idea of raising a family in such conditions.
“Never you mind. We’ll get by.” Rachel grimaced and rubbed her back.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Hauling water for all our needs gives me a backache. Don’t you worry, I think I have enough cornmeal for some mush for all of us. It’ll hold us till Calder comes back. You get your clothes on now. Those kids’ll be waking up any minute. If you need to use the outhouse, it’s yonder.” She pointed vaguely, then backed from the room.
Dear Heaven. What wee beasties would she find in an outdoor toilet? With a shudder she stripped the shirt and jeans off, stood a moment looking down at the soiled corset cover, then yanked it off as well. She did wish she had some drawers and at least a petticoat to wear under the calico, but the corset would have to suffice. She was too embarrassed to ask for unmentionables and Rachel didn’t offer. Dropping the worn dress over her head she buttoned up the front and smoothed the fabric over her stomach. She took several steps across the floor. How light and free she felt.
“Who are you?” a tiny voice asked, and she jumped, glanced toward the bed.
The biggest of the two girls sat there rubbing her eyes.
“I am Wilda, who are you?”
“I’m Mary Louise Johnson. That’s Elizabeth Ann.” She pointed toward the smaller girl who had opened her big blue eyes to stare at Wilda. “And the baby is John Mark. When he wakes up he cries, so we should be quiet.”
Wilda smiled at the adorable girls. “Well, hello to you both. I am so very pleased to meet you.”
“And we are so very pleased to meet you,” Mary Louise mimicked, then grabbed her sister’s hand. “Come on, we have to go outside. Hurry or you’ll get the bed wet and mommy will fuss.”
At the door she stopped and
turned to regard Wilda. “Are you going to be here when we get back?”
“Oh, yes, I will be.”
“Good,” the child said, and dragged her sister from the room.
Wilda followed, watched them scamper out the front door.
Rachel stood over the stove, stirring a steaming pot. “Reckon you met the girls. They can be a handful, but they’re really very good when they want to be. Sorry I don’t have sweetening for the mush, nor butter either. We had a cow, but she died of milk fever a while back.”
How sad. Back at Fairhaven a rich variety of foods were set three times a day on the table, then half of it carried away uneaten. This poor woman had it much worse than Rowena, Tyra and herself at St. Ann’s. How could she live out here like this? And where was her husband, the father of the children? Unless she’d been right and they were Calder’s. After all, he was trying to feed them. He had told her nothing about Rachel except that she needed a hand. From the looks of things, she certainly needed much more than a mere hand.
As Rachel started to dish out the cornmeal mush, the baby set up a howl.
“Let me get him,” Wilda said, and darted off before Rachel could reply. She soon regretted her offer, for the child was soaking wet, as were all his bedclothes.
She gathered him up under the arms, and holding him away from her body, carried him into the other room. Big blue eyes pooled with tears, he studied her, sobbing away the cries and stuffing two fingers in his mouth. His crop of blond curls were matted on one side where he had perspired during the night, yet he was as beautiful as an angel.
Not prepared for her reaction, Wilda’s breath caught. She had never even held a baby.
Rachel laughed. “Give him here, I’ll change him. You sit down. There’ll be time for you to pitch in later.” In one movement, she took the child, leaned her head out the doorway, called to the girls to come in for breakfast and swept a white cloth off a line behind the stove.
Though her own stomach grumbled with hunger, while Rachel was gone, Wilda spooned most of the mush from her bowl into the other four on the table. So little for growing children to eat, let alone a toiling woman. A wish to do something about Rachel’s circumstances took root and grew in her.
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