by Norah Hess
Willow had told Ruth to pretend that she was overwhelmed at her daughter's disappearance and to take to her bed. If that didn't make him sympathetic to her pretended grief, at least it would keep him from thinking that his wife had abetted his daughter in her flight. Ruth had said that she would try that, but Willow knew she wouldn't. Her mother was too afraid to open her mouth to her husband.
It was a sad pair who washed the dishes and pots and then swept out the cookshack floor. Willow would be leaving at dawn.
There was a nip in the air as Willow and Ruth made their tired way to the house. "Don't forget to take along a jacket in the morning," Ruth said, and then added in worried tones, "I hope Smitty will bring along enough blankets. It still gets quite cold outdoors in the middle of the night."
"I'm sure he will, Ma. Please don't worry. I'll be fine. And yes, before you can remind me for the hundredth time, I'll write to you as soon as I get settled in." Willow put her arm around Ruth's waist and kept it there until they stepped up onto the porch.
Ruth changed into her nightclothes while Willow made a pot of coffee. They couldn't stand the strong black brew that the cowhands preferred, and each evening they looked forward to a cup made to their own liking.
As they sat before the fire sipping from heavy white mugs, neither woman had much to say to the other. If they spoke of what was on their minds, tears would start falling. Neither wanted that.
When Ruth tried to hide a yawn, Willow laughed softly and said, "Go to bed, Ma. You're half asleep."
"I think I will." Ruth heaved her tired body out of the chair. "I'll see you in the morning, dear," she said, bending and kissing Willow's cheek.
Willow wanted to grab her mother and hug her tightly. It would be a long time before she would see that sweet face again. She was saying her good-bye now and would be gone tomorrow morning when her mother came to awaken her.
When Ruth's door had closed, Willow picked up her cup and earned it to her bedroom. She sipped occasionally as she changed from her dress to a shirt and riding skirt. She would not be going to bed tonight. She would sit beside the window, staring into the darkness until the sky lightened.
Willow pulled a straight-backed chair up to the window and turned out the light. A few minutes later, as she sat in the darkness, she heard the kitchen door open, then her father's lumbering tread as he made his way to his bedroom. She heaved a sigh of relief She had put out the light just in time. Had he seen her room lit up, he would have barged in and demanded to know why she wasn't in bed.
I'll never miss him, she thought as Otto's door banged shut behind him. Had she or her mother made that kind of noise while he was sleeping, they would have felt the weight of his hand. When his boots hit the floor with a thud, Willow took up her vigil.
The night wore on and Willow made two silent trips to the kitchen to refill her cup with coffee. She needn't be so quiet, she thought wryly the last time she passed by Otto's door. Most likely the men in the bunkhouse could hear his loud snoring.
At last the sky turned a dark gray and Willow left her post. She strapped on her Colt, shrugged into a lightweight jacket and dragged her packed saddlebag from under the bed. Holding her breath, she slowly opened the door, stepped out into the hall and then barely closed the door behind her. Otto wasn't snoring now, and he might have heard the click of the doorknob had she closed the door completely.
As noiseless as an Indian, Willow walked through the parlor, avoiding the boards she knew squeaked when walked on. She stepped out onto the porch and paused a moment to send a searching glance toward the stables and the area around them. When she saw that the bunkhouse was dark, she descended the two steps.
In the semi-darkness she hurriedly saddled her mare Cream Puff, and after settling the saddlebag onto the horse, she swung into the saddle. She kept Cream Puff at a walk until they were out of hearing distance of the ranch, and then headed her toward the line shack at a gallop.
Smitty was standing in the shadows, waiting for Willow when she rode up. "All set?" He smiled up at her. When she nodded, he led his little quarter horse from behind the building and swung into the saddle. "Let's hit the trail," he said and headed the horse in the direction of the Rio Grande.
The sun was rising when they walked their mounts across the shallow river. Smitty laughed and said that he never could figure out why it was called Grand. "Maybe because of its length," he suggested. "It is a long son of gun. It borders all of New Mexico and Texas. It never gets very deep, though, even after the spring rains."
It was a beautiful day as they followed the contours of the river. The sun was bright and the air cool. They galloped the horses in between intervals of restful walking. At noon Smitty drew rein and dismounted. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry," he said.
"So am I. What have you got in the grub sack?"
"Nothin' fancy. Just some beans and salt pork."
"No coffee?" Willow sounded disappointed as she took up the reins of both horses to lead them to the river for a drink of water.
Smitty grinned. "Don't get into an uproar. That was the first thing I packed."
Later, as they relaxed around a fire only big enough to brew the coffee and heat the beans, Smitty asked Willow if she'd had any trouble leaving the house that morning. She said that she hadn't, and the talk turned to the area where she would be working.
"There ain't many ranches there," Smitty said. "Ain't many people either. I already told you about the Indian tribes. There are mountains, eight and nine thousand feet tall. They get snow up there in the winter. Big Bend country is my favorite part of Texas."
"Do you think I'll like it?"
"I think you will. You'll maybe get lonesome sometimes, especially in the winter when a blue norther comes in and a person don't dare stick his nose out very long at a time. But one good thing, you'll be free of your Paw and that bastard, Buck Axel."
Willow nodded. "That alone will make me like it."
"You look ready to nod off" Smitty began gathering up everything they had used for lunch. Handing the dishes to Willow, he said, "Take these to the river and wash them while I put out the fire and pack up again."
Smitty kept his horse to the same pace he had set during the morning. The sun moved steadily to the west, and when it was getting close to sinking behind the horizon, Willow called his attention to four horsemen a mile or so to their right. An oath ripped through his lips as he drew rein.
"Yaquis!" he exclaimed, looking wildly around for some cover. He saw nothing but flat land. He remembered then that half a mile back they had passed a clump of trees. It would be a perfect place to hide if they could ride back there without being seen by the Indians.
As Smitty watched the half-naked braves, he realized that the red ball of the setting sun was behind him and Willow. If the Indians should look in their direction, the bright glare would blind them to their presence.
He turned his horse around and motioned Willow to follow suit. A fast sprint soon brought them to the stand of cottonwood. After guiding their mounts in among the close-growing trunks, Smitty slid out of the saddle and peered out on the range. The figures of the Indians were growing smaller as the braves rode peacefully along, showing no evidence that they had seen the two white people.
"We'll stop here for the night," Smitty said. "It will be a dry camp, though. I don't dare make a fire to brew a pot of coffee or warm a can of beans. They would smell the wood smoke and come to investigate."
The sun had gone down by the time they had chewed some beef jerky, washed down with water from their canteens. Forgoing a cigarette for the same reason he hadn't built a fire, Smitty looked at Willow and said, "Why don't you spread out your blankets and get some sleep. I'm gonna sit up a while, keep an eye open."
Willow's exhaustion overshadowed her fear of the Indians. She had barely climbed into her bedroll before her eyes were closed.
Willow awakened to the sun on her face and the delicious aroma of brewed coffee and frying meat. She pushed
aside the blanket and sat up. "I take it you feel it's safe enough to build a fire," she called laughingly to Smitty's back as he hunkered before a fire, tending to sizzling salt pork.
Smitty turned around and smiled at her. "I saw them ride out half an hour ago. They're probably huntin' for buffalo." When Willow had visited the back of a large tree trunk, then washed her face and hands in the river, she sat down before the cookfire and accepted the filled plate Smitty handed her. After she had finished eating, she smiled and said, "That was the best meal I ever had."
When he had taken a couple of drags on the cigarette he'd just rolled, he said, "This is the best smoke I've ever had." They both laughed, and then Smitty said, "We'd better break camp and get goin'."
Since they had eaten a late breakfast, Smitty and Willow didn't stop to make lunch. Instead they chewed strips of beef jerky as they rode along. They stopped once so that the horses could drink from the river and rest awhile.
It was near sundown when they rode into El Paso. "What should we do, Willow?" Smitty asked as they rode down the dusty main street. "If the Asher ranch is any distance from here, we'll be arriving there in the middle of the night."
"Regardless of how far it is, I'd like to have a bath and get into some clean clothes before we arrive. I've slept and sweated in this outfit for two days. I want to meet my boss looking clean and decent."
"All right then, we'll go to that hotel over there, get ourselves a couple of rooms and eat supper in their dining room. How does that sound?"
Willow looked across the rutted street to the weathered, false-front building whose sign over the double doors proclaimed, el paso palace. "Sounds good to me," she said, her mind on a tub of hot water.
They dismounted in front of the Palace, and after looping their reins around a hitching rail that ran half the length of the narrow porch, they entered the hotel, each carrying a saddlebag.
When Willow's eyes became accustomed to the semi-gloom, she saw that her surroundings had none of the grandeur the sign over the door had led her to expect But the place was clean and the floor carpeted. She followed Smitty to the front desk. The young man standing behind it raised his head from a paper he was reading and frowned at the aging man in the dusty, sweat-stained clothing.
Smitty ignored the look that said he had wandered into the wrong part of town and announced gruffly, "Me and my niece need a couple rooms."
"I'm pretty sure we're all filled up," the clerk began, then found himself looking into the barrel of a pistol. His face grew pale and he smiled nervously as he adjusted his glasses and stuttered, "I could—er—be—be mistaken. Let me—let me take a look at the guest book."
After barely looking to see if there were vacant rooms, the clerk said, "Oh, yes, I see that I do have two rooms for rent."
"I thought you might," Smitty drawled and shoved his gun back into the holster. "Now where are they?"
"At the head of the stairs to your right."
When the keys were handed over, Smitty gave the young man a hard look and ordered, "Send up a tub and hot water to the lady's room. Pronto."
"Yes, sir. Eight away, sir."
Willow smothered a giggle as she and Smitty climbed the stairs. Her old friend had scared the soup out of the arrogant, self-important clerk with his high, starched collar.
Willow's room was like the hotel lobby. Nothing fancy, but neat and clean. "I'm right next door."
Smitty said. "While you get cleaned up, I'll take the horses to the livery, then check out the town. Maybe stop in that saloon across the street and have a drink."
On his way downstairs, Smitty passed two hotel maids coming up. One lugged a tin hip-bath; the other carried a pail of hot water in each hand. His lips curled in satisfaction. It was surprising what a pistol could do.
Willow smiled her thanks to the maids as they emptied the water into the tub. "I'll need more water than that," she said. "It will take two pails to wash the dust and grime out of my hair."
"Si, seňorita." White teeth flashed in the pretty face of the youngest girl.
While Willow waited for the additional water, she walked over to the window and pushed aside the curtain so she could look down on the street below. There weren't many people about, and she thought it must be supper time. Most people had gone home to eat.
She watched two garishly dressed women with painted faces come out of the saloon and walk up and down the boardwalk. Drumming up business, she imagined.
Her attention was caught then by a beautiful black stallion walking proudly down the middle of the street. Never had she seen such an animal. Her gaze lifted to the man who rode him, a man who looked as arrogant as the stallion.
She studied his face when he drew rein alongside the women and took off his Stetson. He was as handsome as his mount, she saw, with unruly black hair and a crooked smile. But he was hard looking. There was an aloofness about him that said he lacked humility. He certainly wasn't her type of man.
Willow pulled the drapes together at a soft rapping on her door. The rest of her water had arrived. She tipped each girl a coin and locked the door when they left. Picking up the saddlebags from the floor, she laid them out flat on the bed and took from one her underthings, stockings and a pair of black slippers. From the bottom of the bag she brought out a glass bottle of rose-scented bath salts and a comb and brush.
After unstrapping the other bag, she took from it a carefully folded dress of sprigged muslin, blue in color. She gave it a couple of hard shakes to remove some of the worst wrinkles before spreading it on the bed.
At last she was ready for her bath. When she had removed her soiled clothing, she sprinkled some bath salts into the water and then stepped into the tub.
As she washed her face and throat with the washcloth provided by the hotel, her thoughts wandered to the handsome man with the hard-looking face. Had he gone with one of the women to her room? she wondered. If so, what kind of lover was he?
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Willow scolded herself impatiently, "stop thinking such things about a man you'll never see again."
She finished her bath, toweled off her body, and started on her hair. It took two latherings and rinsings before she was satisfied that it was clean. She slipped into the old worn robe she had brought along and sat in front of the open window brushing and combing the blond strands until they looked like shimmering silk lying on her shoulders. When she had put on the clean underclothing she had laid out and pulled the dress over her head, she stepped in front of the wavy mirror of the dresser and began doing up the tiny buttons of the bodice, which outlined her breasts and narrow rib cage. She frowned at the amount of breast showing above the low-cut neckline. She had worn the dress twice before, but each time she had tucked an inch-wide strip of lace around the neck to hide the cleavage it revealed.
Willow sighed. She had forgotten to add the lace to her saddlebag. There was nothing she could do but wear it as it was.
When ten minutes had passed and Smitty hadn't returned yet, she picked up her wrist purse and left the room. She would wait for him out on the porch. He should be coming any minute.
Chapter Three
Jules Asher stepped out of the mercantile just as Willow took a seat on the bench directly beneath the lantern fastened on the wall. Its light shone on her delicate face and the silky blond hair that fell around her shoulders and midway down her back.
Lord, but she's a beauty, the rancher thought. In his experience, the only unattached females who roamed El Paso at night were soiled doves, and he wondered why she chose to sell her body. Wherever she came from, there must have been any number of men who would have wanted a wife like her.
He wondered also how Big Jane, the proprietress of the only whorehouse in town, had come to recruit this gem. She hadn't had her last week when he'd visited the pleasure house. And why had the madam sent such a beauty out onto the street to hustle up business? All this one had to do was walk through the waiting room at Big Jane's place and the news would spread like wildfi
re that there was a new girl in town. A girl so beautiful it made a man weak just to look at her.
Jules straightened up from his leaning stance against the wall. He would be the little lady's first customer tonight. No, not her first. Her only customer for the night. A man would take a long time getting his fill of her.
His spurs clinking, he walked the short distance to the hotel and stepped up onto the porch. "Howdy, little lady," he said in his deep, rich voice as he removed his Stetson.
Willow looked up and gave a start. The handsome cowboy she had watched from her window stood looking down at her. Up close he was almost disreputable-looking. A grub-liner, she thought disdainfully, strangely disappointed as she took in his whisker-stubbled face, the battered hat he held in his hand, his dusty clothes and scuffed boots.
She gave him a short nod and looked away.
"It's a fine evening, isn't it?" The cowboy set a foot on the edge of the bench and leaned his arm across his bent knee. When she continued to ignore him, he pressed, "Would you care to have supper with me in the hotel dining room? The food is real good."
Willow felt a surge of impatience building inside her. The man was as arrogant as he looked. She turned her head and looked into his dark, wicked eyes and said coolly, "No, I would not care to have supper with you."
"That's fine." His white teeth flashed again in a wide smile. "We can get right down to business then. Shall we amble over to Big Jane's place and get settled in?"
"Who is Big Jane?" Willow gave him a sharp look, suspicion growing inside her.
"Come on now, honey, don't play coy with me." A coolness had come into the annoying man's voice. "You know damn well who Big Jane is. You work for her."
