The tension in his stance eased, and he hugged her back. “I love you, too, Katie. You’ve been the daughter I never had.”
Ian would be as angry as a hornet in a bowl of honey if he knew all the details of her trip, of the possible danger, of her determination to adopt Sarah Jane in the end, but he’d settle down in a day or so. He always did when he realized her mind was made up. And it was.
Katie was going to take Sarah Jane to Wyoming, and nobody was going to stop her.
* * *
Needless to say, Katie had packed her clothing and toiletries into a valise as quickly as possible, then she’d hurried to the livery stable and rented a gentle roan mare. After mounting and adjusting her skirts, she rode to the Gardener’s House to meet Mr. McCain.
Since she preferred not to butt heads with Sweet Heather again, she decided to wait outside. So she dismounted and tied her mare next to McCain’s big bay gelding and the snorting team of horses harnessed to a buckboard.
Someone had already packed the wagon and lined the bed with several quilts. They’d also rigged a small canvas tarp over the top to provide the injured woman with a bit of shade. Katie wondered if one of the fallen women had thought of it—or if McCain had.
Before she could consider the thoughtful gesture, the brothel’s front door swung open, and McCain stepped onto the porch with Daisy—or rather, Erin—in his arms. The injured woman wore a light blue dress—a plain and simple style with long sleeves and a delicate bow tied at the neckline. With her dark hair swept up into a modest topknot, she appeared to be as proper as any of the other ladies in town.
Katie thought it made a clever disguise, if one could call it that.
As McCain carried Erin down the porch steps, Katie caught a glimpse of the black eye and the nasty bruise that marred one side of her face, mocking the ladylike clothing. As they crossed the yard, Katie had a better view of her injuries and winced at the brutality of the attack.
She’d been so taken by the sight of the battered woman that she just now noticed Sarah Jane trailing behind. The child, her head downcast, wore a yellow calico dress and a small pair of moccasins on her feet.
Katie made her way to the little girl, then dropped to her knees and hugged her close. But instead of returning the embrace, Sarah Jane’s arms hung loosely at her sides.
“Oh, honey,” Katie said, hoping to infuse a little warmth and joy back into her. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Katie’s heart ached at the thought of what the child had witnessed, what she’d been through.
“Come on,” McCain said. “We don’t have time for idle chitchat. Let’s get them in the wagon.”
Katie didn’t intend to dawdle. For goodness’ sake, she wanted to get the child—and herself!—as far away from the brothel as they could. But she couldn’t help being concerned about the girl and ignored the man long enough to satisfy her curiosity.
“Are you all right, honey?” Katie asked.
Sarah Jane nodded.
“Who hurt you?”
The child’s gaze dropped to the small, beaded moccasins she wore.
Katie placed her fingertip under Sarah Jane’s chin and lifted her face. “It’s all right. I’m here now, and I’ll protect you. You can tell me what happened.”
“She can’t talk,” McCain said.
Katie knew she’d been traumatized, but she’d thought, well, hoped that her arrival, her presence and voice, might soothe the frightened girl, might comfort her.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and Katie turned to see a tall blonde carrying a large basket in the crook of her arm. A stocky brunette followed behind toting a white ceramic chamber pot.
“I’ve packed some vittles for you to take,” the blonde said. “It’ll be suppertime before you know it. And since Doc don’t want Daisy to walk or move around very much, we thought it might be best if you took this pot along, too. That way she won’t have to climb in and out of the wagon.”
Katie knew Daisy had been injured, but she hadn’t realized how laid up she’d be on the trip. But that didn’t matter. Katie was prepared to take care of her, as well as Sarah Jane.
She’d nursed her da for several weeks before he passed, so she was used to tending the sick. And while being on the trail would be different from being at home, she was prepared to do whatever needed to be done.
According to McCain, the trip would take several days. Katie wondered what they would eat after they’d finished the food in the basket. She hated to think that they’d have to scavenge the countryside for berries, seeds and wild game. Surely someone had thought to pack more supplies. But if they hadn’t? Well, she’d think of something. She always did.
Katie stood, shook the dust from her skirts and reached for Sarah Jane’s hand. “Come on, honey. We’re going on a grand adventure.”
McCain, who’d helped the injured woman settle into the bed of the wagon, glanced her way and frowned.
Didn’t he realize that Katie simply had been trying to reassure the child? She certainly wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few days sleeping outdoors and eating whatever they managed to find, especially under his watch. Would she ever see his gaze untouched by judgment? A small part of her couldn’t help wishing so.
“By the way,” Katie said to McCain, deciding she deserved more information than he’d given her. “Do we have any pans for cooking? Or maybe a coffeepot?”
His scowl confirmed that he might have agreed to take her along, but he certainly wasn’t the least bit happy about it. When he finally spoke, his words came out short and snappish. “This isn’t a picnic, Miss O’Malley.”
Under other circumstances, Katie might have let loose with an angry retort, but she bit her tongue, knowing it wouldn’t do her any good to irritate him further, at least until they were too far along for him to change his mind and send her home.
“Tom,” the blonde said, “I’ve got one more box to go on that wagon, and I’ll need some help lifting it.”
“There’s not much room, Rose.”
“It’s not big, just a wee bit heavy.”
McCain started toward the house, then paused when he reached Katie. “Help Sarah Jane into the wagon.”
If Katie weren’t so eager to get the child away from the brothel and this town, she’d remind him that she didn’t take orders, and that a “please” and a little respect would go a long way. But she let it go this time and helped Sarah Jane settle into the back of the wagon, next to where Erin lay.
Once the child was seated, Katie leaned against the side of the buckboard, reached into the bed and placed her hand on the prostitute’s arm. “Mr. McCain told me that your name is Erin, which is what I’ll be calling you from now on.”
Erin, her eyes a bit dazed, merely nodded.
“I’m sorry things aren’t working out the way either of us intended,” Katie added, “but don’t worry. Once you’re feeling better, we’ll leave for Wyoming.”
Erin merely closed her eyes and sighed.
Boot steps sounded on the porch, and Katie looked over her shoulder to see McCain approach the wagon carrying a small wooden crate. After he placed it under the wagon seat, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold watch.
He lifted the lid and glanced at the time. Then he circled the wagon and approached Katie. “I’ll help you up.”
“You don’t need to,” she told him. “I’m not as helpless or as troublesome as you think. I can do it myself.”
In spite of what she’d told him, he slipped behind her and offered his assistance, gripping her elbow and reaching for her waist.
His hands were strong, his touch warm, his movements deft. Yet it was the scent of him, a manly combination of leather and soap that caused her breath to catch.
Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she climbed up, settled onto the seat and adjusted her skirts.
She was just about to reach for the reins when McCain tied his horse to the back of the wagon, beside hers.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I can drive a buckboard.”
“We’re all going to ride in the wagon. From a distance, maybe we’ll look like a family.”
Katie nearly snorted at the thought of her and McCain as husband and wife, but she kept her reaction to herself.
It was all part of the masquerade, part of the plan to get Sarah Jane to safety.
Yet as McCain climbed into the seat beside her, like a husband would do, her heart gave a funny little flutter.
“Everybody ready?” he asked the passengers in back.
“Are you sure we have everything we need?” Katie asked, hoping he’d thought of the things she might have included had he given her enough time to plan.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to make do with what we have. We’re burning daylight as it is.”
She wanted to object, but she had to admit that McCain was right.
The sooner they left Pleasant Valley, the better.
* * *
Traveling with two women and a child wasn’t going to be easy, and Tom doubted he’d get much sleep over the next few days. If he’d had the luxury of waiting until tomorrow morning, he would have planned to set out before daylight.
The fewer people who saw them leaving, the less chance there was that the attacker would catch wind of it and follow them. Hopefully, the man had fled to parts unknown, but Tom wasn’t taking any chances. According to Sheriff Droeger, they hadn’t uncovered a motive for the assault—no robbery, at least, not that anyone knew. So was it personal? Had the man gone after Erin for some other reason? If so, that would give him reason to come back and finish the job.
Tom had purchased the wagon at the livery, and, fortunately, the old man who ran the place had been more interested in pocketing the cash than in asking questions.
So now here they were, about twenty miles outside of Pleasant Valley. Tom would have pushed harder so they could have traveled farther, but Dr. Hennessy had warned him not to jostle Erin too much. Of course, the doctor had also given her something to make her sleep, so she’d rested easily all afternoon.
They’d finally reached a good place to set up camp. Tom remembered this spot when he and Trapper had ridden through a few days earlier. With a creek nearby, its water clear and fresh, and the scattering of trees to hide them from the road, it was a good place to spend the night.
But he still wanted to scout the area and assure himself that the women and the child would be safe, even though he planned to watch over them while they slept.
So, after unhitching the horses, leading them to water and waiting for them to drink, he returned to the campsite and tethered them to a tree.
“I’m going to have a look around,” he told Miss O’Malley. “Do you think you can handle things here?”
“Yes, of course. Should Sarah Jane and I gather some dried twigs for a fire?”
“Wait until I come back.” He didn’t want them to wander too far or build a fire until he was sure they weren’t being followed.
Fifteen minutes later, after taking care to hide their wagon tracks, he’d circled back to the campsite. All the while, he’d watched and listened for any sign that they weren’t alone while keeping his right hand close to his holster.
When he’d convinced himself that they were safe, he headed back to camp. Not far from where they’d left the horses and wagon, while he was still near the stream, twigs snapped and skirts rustled.
Tom turned to the sound and spotted Miss O’Malley and Sarah Jane heading back to camp. They each carried a canteen, so he figured they’d been getting water. The woman also held a black valise.
He glanced at the setting sun. It would be dark soon. He was just about to call out, letting them know that he was nearby, but he stopped short when he saw Miss O’Malley drop to her knees and tend Sarah Jane with gentle hands and a soft voice.
Fascinated, he watched the attractive redhead gently run a silver-handled comb through the child’s tangled locks.
“You have the prettiest hair,” she told the girl. “Just like captured sunbeams.”
Sarah Jane raised her eyebrows with a look of such obvious hope that Tom’s heart melted. The poor kid had been through far more than was fair—the recent death of her mother, the assault of the woman who’d been caring for her.
Miss O’Malley reached for a white ribbon and handed it to Sarah Jane. “Hold this, honey.” Deftly forming a long braid, she took the satin strip and tied a bow to hold her work together. “There you go.”
Then the woman removed a small bottle from her bag, twisted the lid open and placed a dab of the contents behind each of her ears. All the while, the child watched with rapt attention.
And so did Tom.
“It’s lilac water,” Miss O’Malley said. “It’s my favorite scent. Would you like some?”
When Sarah Jane nodded, the woman smiled and applied a bit behind the girl’s ears, too, her movements slow and gentle.
It was nice to see a softer side to her. Apparently there was more to her than met the eye, although what met his eye was rather appealing. In fact, the sight was almost mesmerizing.
But Tom couldn’t very well continue to gaze at her like an awestruck kid with a crush on the schoolmarm. What if she caught him doing it?
The last thing in the world he needed to do was to let down his guard with a woman as outspoken as Katie O’Malley, no matter how pretty she was, no matter how softhearted she might appear to be.
He’d seen the feisty side of her. And right now, he had enough trouble on his hands.
For a moment, his resolve waffled. If circumstances were different, if he were just passing through, he might have said or done something stupid. But he had a job to do, a child to protect. And there was another issue he couldn’t ignore.
Katie O’Malley was also white.
And Tom McCain wasn’t.
That might not make a difference to people like Hannah and Trapper Jack, but there were others who’d object. Others who’d made it more than clear that Tom wasn’t to step foot on their ranch.
Tom had been about nine years old when he’d gone to the Lazy G to deliver a pair of moccasins his mother had made for Caroline. The girl hadn’t been home because she’d gone into town with the housekeeper, but Randolph Haney, Harrison’s friend and solicitor, had been there.
He’d responded to Tom’s request to speak to Caroline with a shove that had knocked him to the ground.
“She doesn’t need anything from the filthy likes of you. Get out of here. And don’t ever come back.” Then, for good measure, Haney had kicked him while he was down, splitting his head open with the toe of his boot.
Tom still bore a scar from the attack, a reminder to keep his distance from the Lazy G, which he’d made a point of doing. But nearly a year later, at the urging of his mother, he’d gone back with her one cold, rainy afternoon.
Haney had answered the door that day, too. His mother had begged him to let her talk to Harrison. Haney had left them outside and gone into the house. A few minutes later, when he returned, he’d pulled his gun and ordered her off the property.
And take your whelp with you.
It had been a hard lesson, a painful one—because Tom’s mother had died several days later.
That was why Trapper had objected to Tom taking the job to find Caroline in the first place. But there were some things a boy didn’t forget, some promises meant to be kept.
So after taking Sarah Jane back to the Lazy G, assuming Tom was convinced that she’d be treated as a rightful heir, he’d leave Stillwater for good. He had no need for Randolph Haney or Harrison Graves.
He didn’t need Miss O’Malley, either—except for the next few days. After that, when he got to Hannah’s place
, he’d ask Trapper to escort the troublesome redhead back to Pleasant Valley. Then he’d be done with her for once and for all.
Yet he continued to watch her until she glanced up and spotted him. As their eyes met, their gazes locked.
He knew how she felt about women’s equality. But how did she feel about equality for all people, even those with darker skin?
He supposed it really didn’t matter.
Either way, he couldn’t let her think that he was fawning over her. So he’d better put some distance between them. They might have to share a seat on the same wagon, but there were other ways to create distance. One way would be to let her know who was boss.
“It’s time to eat,” he said. “There are some supplies in the wooden box under the seat of the wagon, but Rose packed a basket of food for us to eat this evening. That’s probably going to be the easiest and best-tasting meal we’ll have for the next few days. So when you’re finished with whatever you’re doing here, you can start setting it out.”
Miss O’Malley pondered his request for a moment, then she straightened, crossed her arms and tossed him a pretty smile. “I’ll be a while yet. So if you’re hungry, then maybe you ought to do it yourself.”
It’s not as if Tom had never set up camp before or fixed supper for himself and Trapper. But he wasn’t about to let the schoolmarm order him around as though he were one of her students, and she may as well get that straight.
Of course, he wasn’t about to have a showdown in front of the child.
“Sarah Jane,” he said, reaching into his shirt pocket and withdrawing a small paper bag. “Go see about Erin and, if she’s awake, offer her one of these. You can have some, too.”
Without the least bit of reluctance, Sarah Jane pulled free of the woman’s grip on her shoulders and approached Tom with an outstretched hand.
When she reached him, he handed her the bag. She peeked inside before heading back to the campsite.
“What did you give her?” the schoolmarm asked.
“Lemon drops.”
The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady Page 28
