Chris went on speaking as if she hadn’t said a thing. “She needs to rest and have something to drink.”
“Follow me upstairs. I have a room available.”
Katie began to thrash more desperately. “No! Please, no! You can’t sell me to her!”
Chris half dumped Katie onto a nearby settee and growled, “How dare you think I’d betray you!”
She struggled to break free of the quilt and stand up. “First, you cost me my job. Then, you compromised my reputation by dragging me out overnight. Then, you killed a man. After that, you brought me to a…a…house of ill repute.” She stammered, but with every accusation, her voice rose. “Now you have the nerve to order me to trust you?”
He stepped closer and towered over her. “I’ve dealt with thickheaded, stubborn mine mules that would look docile compared to you.”
To his utter astonishment, she inched closer, stood on tiptoe, and prodded him in the center of his chest. “Don’t you forget that. I’m stubborn, and I’m getting my way. I’m going to make you miserable until you listen to me and get me out of here!”
“It’s not going to work.” He reached down and brushed her finger away from his chest. “You made me miserable a minute after we first met. It hasn’t made me follow any of your ridiculous instructions yet.”
She clutched his hand. “I confessed I was stubborn. I’m not going to give up.”
“If you’re so intent on getting out of here, why are you hanging on to me for dear life?”
“Because I’m my brother’s keeper. I can’t leave you in a den of iniquity. It’s fallen to me to drag you out of here and put you back on the straight and narrow.”
She tugged. He twisted his wrist at that same moment. He broke free from her, and she stumbled backward to fall in a heap on the settee.
“You are a perfectly dreadful man. I can hardly wait to get away from you.” She turned toward the soiled dove. “Miss Rahab, you are worthy of far more than any of this. The Lord Almighty sent His Son to redeem us all. I’m marching out the door. You’re welcome to join me.” The crazy woman started smoothing her skirts as if she were preparing for a Sunday stroll. “I’ll help you establish a respectable new life.”
“Katie,” he growled.
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” she snapped back. “God’s forgiven me, and I have faith He’ll do the same for Miss Rahab. Don’t you interfere, Christopher Gregor. I want her to have this opportunity. I’m breaking free of this place, and she can, too.”
“You couldn’t find the door. How do you propose to escape?”
She heaved a huge sigh. “Honestly, Chris. You promised you’d help me get spectacles right away. Instead, you’ve dragged me across Texas and stuck me in the middle of a gunfight. Miss Rahab, do you see me wearing any spectacles?”
“No.”
Katie folded her arms across her chest. “There you have it, Christopher. You have to take me out of here this instant and fulfill your promise. Miss Rahab, you’re still welcome to come along.”
“You need glasses?” Rahab laughed. “Go no further. I have a box full of them.”
“There you have it, Katie.” Chris relished turning her phrase back at her. “You can get your spectacles while I tend to other matters.”
“Is there a doctor in town?”
He frowned and looked at her more carefully. “Why?”
“If you try to leave me here, you’re going to need his services. It’ll be your fault. You’re provoking me.”
“If that was supposed to scare me, it failed. I still have your derringer.”
“It’s past time that you return it. I need to dig through the wagon so I can get what I need to reload it.”
“They’re called bullets.” Chris didn’t bother to hide the wry tone in his voice.
“I know they’re bullets.” She sounded exasperated. “What I need are the instructions on how to load them. Never you mind. Miss Rahab, could you possibly assist me with that task?”
“No, she won’t. I’m not giving that firearm back to you.”
“Rahab” laughed. “Miss Katie, he’d be a fool to arm you in your present state. On the other hand, Mr. Gregor, a woman has the right to own and carry a firearm. Once she settles down, you should give it back to her.”
Katie huffed. “You should listen to her. She’s the voice of reason. Miss Rahab, I’m sure you can see how calm I am now. Why, I’m utterly serene. Just look at me.” She stuck out her hand, palm up. “I’ll take that weapon now, Mr. Gregor.”
“It’ll get in the way while you try on spectacles. Rahab, Miss Katie’s possessions are slowing us down. Whelan’s on the loose nearby, and we shot two holes in him. He’ll seek revenge. Can you temporarily store the wagon’s contents?”
She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Darlene left. We’ll put the stuff in her room. Was that a sewing machine under the blankets?”
“Yes.” Katie’s voice shook.
“I thought so. I have one myself.”
“You do?” Chris blurted out the words.
“What’s wrong with that?” Katie bristled. “Many women enjoy sewing. Like any other person, Miss Rahab needs clothes.” Just after delivering her staunch defense, Katie turned three shades of red and said in a tiny voice, “Isn’t that true, miss?”
“She really can’t see.” “Rahab’s” brow puckered. “I’ll have her things unloaded while she sorts through the box of glasses and you dispose of those bodies.”
“You can’t leave me here!”
He thought he’d calmed her down, but the panicky edge to Katie’s outraged words triggered his anger. “Much as I’m tempted, I won’t.”
“You tend to things,” “Rahab” said. “I’ll have Miss Katie sit in the kitchen and give her the box of glasses.”
“Fine.” Chris started toward the door. “Don’t take long, Katie. I want us out of here as soon as possible.”
“You’re the one who hauled me in here to begin with.”
“She needs a disguise.” He looked at Katie, then at “Rahab,” and back to Katie. “See what you can do. She’s scrawny. Turn her into a boy.”
“Whelan isn’t going to have to track you down.” Katie glowered at him.
“Because you’re going to kill me yourself?”
“Of course I wouldn’t. I’m a lady. But your charming ways must have earned you dozens of enemies by now.”
He smothered a laugh. For as much of a bother as she’d been thus far, at least the woman was finding her backbone. That might make the difference between life and death. Instead, Chris locked eyes with “Rahab.” “Do whatever you need to. We’ll leave in half an hour.”
Chapter 7
Katie sat at the kitchen table, blinked, and tried to read the label on the coffee tin. Though the lettering grew bigger, it also started to blur. “No,” she muttered to herself. She pulled off the spectacles and winced as the right arm of the pair caught in a wisp of hair. “Ouch.”
“Find a pair yet?” “Rahab” asked from the doorway.
“No.” Katie sighed. “But at this rate, you won’t have to put me in a disguise. I’ll be bald.”
The cook plunked a plate down on the table. “Things’ll look a lot better once you eat.”
“Thank you. I hope so.” Katie’s stomach lurched as she glanced at the plate. “Things couldn’t look any worse.”
“Spaghetti today, Lucille,” the cook proclaimed proudly.
“Wonderful!”
Katie stared at the plate. It looked like a mess of bloody worms. But it did smell good. Unable to summon the courage to pick up her fork, she opted for another pair of glasses. I’m an ungrateful coward. That’s what I am. What kind of Christian witness am I being? These women need the Lord in their lives. Dogtail doesn’t have a church. It’s up to me to be a beacon of love and hope.
“Well?” the cook said.
“I want to say a prayer and ask God to bless the hands that prepared the food.”
&nbs
p; “It’s a waste of time. Dogtail is a godforsaken town,” the cook declared. “But it’s awful nice of you to wanna ask Him to think of me.”
“He doesn’t just think of you. He wants you to be His daughter.”
The cook shuffled away. “One father was more than enough.”
Katie shoved on the spectacles. Everything wavered before her, but through the ripples, she saw “Rahab” shake her head and press a finger to her lips, then tilt her head toward the cook. Without another word, she left.
Katie took off the glasses, bowed her head, and prayed. When she lifted her head, she resolutely picked up the fork. By the time she lifted the fork to her mouth, nothing remained on it. Proof that God is protecting me.
The cook laughed. “Wind the fork round and round in the noodles.”
By following the instructions, Katie managed to take a bite. “Ohhh, this is delicious!”
“Katie, do any of the garments in your wagon fit you?”
Katie nodded in “Rahab’s” direction. “My clothes are in a pink flowered sack.”
“Those are all the same brown as what you’re wearing. We’re going to disguise you by hiding you in plain sight. What about the gorgeous blue riding outfit?”
“I don’t know.” Katie smiled. “I’ll try it. Anything’s better than his plan to make me wear britches.”
She’d copied the ensemble from a sketch Belinda’s grandmama brought from Paris years ago when she’d been a bride. As far as fashions went, it didn’t follow the current trends, but the resulting ensemble couldn’t be any lovelier. Belinda failed to show up for the past two fittings, and before then, she’d sniped about how her Parisian wedding gown was of far better quality than anything Katie could possibly sew.
The broadcloth skirt was split, and ecru-colored ruffles spilled from the hem in a blatant show of femininity. A paletot style jacket featured long, bell-shaped sleeves, and Katie had stitched a soft, ecru batiste blouse to wear beneath it.
While eating and trying on another pair of glasses, Katie started to think of the garments she’d brought. I’m starting anew. I could wear something pretty instead of drab now. The thought cheered her immensely. Swallowing a bite, she slipped on the last pair of spectacles.
“I can see!” She grabbed the coffee can and read the words painted on it, then hopped out of the chair and skipped over toward the shelves. “Borden’s milk. Tabasco sauce. Quaker oats. Campbell’s beefsteak tomato in a can. Wheatena. Oh! Dr Pepper! I can read far better now than I could with my own glasses.”
“Excellent.” “Rahab” entered with the beautiful blue outfit. “Now let’s see to your transformation.”
Chris paced back and forth along the hallway. His boots made a measured sound that wasn’t dissimilar to the steady beat of a metronome. He pulled out Da’s gold pocket watch and gritted his teeth. He’d given them half an hour. It had been fifty-eight minutes now. Snapping the case closed, he barreled toward the kitchen.
His plan had been to ride hard and get to the next railroad town. If they could hop the train, get off, backtrack, and zigzag, he could tuck her in with his family and be back out after Whelan.
But so far, nothing had gone according to his plans. As a result, he’d put together saddlebags for them. Small bags of jerked beef, dried fruit, and nuts would do. He didn’t waste space with beans, rice, or coffee—those would require a cook fire. That would give Whelan a beacon. Still, Chris carefully wax-dipped the heads of several matches and stored some in each pack, along with a knife wrapped in a towel and a bit of soap. Most important, he supplied them each with two canteens of water. The second outlaw’s horse was sound, so Chris loaded an extra blanket and water on him. That way, if one of the horses went lame, they’d not have to slow down.
“We’re leaving. Now.” He plowed through the kitchen door and stopped short. “What happened to your hair?”
Katie reached up and tugged one of the spiraling tendrils at her temple. “You wanted me to look different.”
“You could have stuffed it up under a hat. You didn’t have to go changing the color!”
“It’s very attractive.” “Rahab’s” voice took on an edge. “It puts me in mind of cinnamon. You said you wanted to disguise her, and henna was an excellent solution. The reddish tinge is becoming, don’t you think?”
He grabbed a hat from the table and shoved it toward Katie. “You look different. That’s what’s important. Lucille, thanks for all of your help. Katie, let’s mount up.”
“But I was going to see the marshal.”
“I already dropped in on him.” Chris took her elbow and hauled her to her feet.
“Thank you so much, Miss…Lucille.” Katie turned to the cook. “And thank you for that wonderful spaghetti, too. Once I get settled, I’ll be sure to send you my address so you can mail me your recipe.”
“Lucille, I appreciate all you’ve done. One of the men I brought in had a bounty on his head. The sheriff will see that you receive it.”
He took Katie over to the mare hitched beside his gelding. Katie turned back toward the cathouse. “We have an extra mount, Lucille. Why don’t you come along?”
“I’ll stay and guard your sewing machine.”
“I’d rather have you with us than own a sewing machine.”
His anger at her dawdling evaporated. She prized her sewing machine, depended on it for her living, yet she’d not given a moment’s thought about sacrificing it.
“You darling girl.” The madam smiled. “Off with you now.”
Katie squeezed his arm and said softly, “Maybe she’s afraid you don’t want her along. Invite her.”
“Dinna hound the woman, lass. She can walk away from there anytime she pleases. Just be grateful she was there to help us out today.”
Katie cleared her throat. “Mr. Gregor—”
“No more.” He scowled so she’d understand he wouldn’t put up with any further delays. “We’ve lost precious travel time already.”
“Fine.” She glowered back at him. “But I ought to warn you, I’ve never ridden a horse.”
“You’d best learn fast.” He locked his hands around Katie’s waist and hefted her into the saddle. “Stay close and stay quiet.”
Chris wanted to make up time. He’d never planned to waste so much of it trying to stuff Katie into a disguise. Why Lucille chose this one was beyond him. With her hair up in a loose, soft swirl and dressed in that get-up, Katie looked like a princess. The way the waist on the riding outfit nipped in showed off her tiny middle. Even the spectacles looked nice. Instead of the stingy little round lenses she’d worn when he first spied her, this pair looked like jewelry and let him appreciate the fine sight of her blue, blue eyes. Well, Whelan won’t recognize her now.
She seemed fairly stable in the saddle, but Chris forced himself to keep to a reasonable speed. She needed to get her bearings. When she sighed, he steeled himself for the inevitable complaints.
“She’s beautiful. It’s a pity we don’t know her name.”
“I dinna care what she’s called, so long as she’s swift and sure.”
“She is quite swift.”
Chris shook his head. “We’ve barely set a pace. I want you to feel steady in the saddle, so we’ve started out slow. I’ll be speeding us up. It’ll be gradual so you can adjust to each change. You’ll have to be able to ride at a full-on, dead run if Whelan comes close.”
“I thought we were managing a remarkable pace.”
He decided to give her a few pointers. “I’m not going to mince words or be delicate. If you don’t want to get sore, I have to be blunt.”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“Always keep your thighs and upper calves right up against the mare. It’ll help keep you balanced and tell her what you want her to do.” Chris thought he’d heard her gasp when he mentioned the intimate parts of her “limbs,” but he ignored her reaction. Instead, he went on, “Keep your knees and ankles bent so they absorb some of the jarring mo
tion so you dinna slap against the cantle.”
An icy voice inquired from behind her fancy hat’s veil, “Is there anything else?”
“Aye. Dinna tiptoe. Heels down, toes up. When I get us to a fast trot, you’ll see me actually stand slightly in the stirrups and rest my hand on the saddle horn. Bend at the hips and keep your elbows in.”
He rode alongside her for a while, but her rigid posture and frosty silence let him know he’d offended her sensibilities. They went from a walk to a slow trot. Unwilling to put up with her snit, Chris pulled ahead. He knew the territory well. At one point, he stopped and ordered, “Have a swig from your canteen.”
She nodded, loosened her veil, and obeyed. Up close, Chris could see through the veil fairly well. She seemed to be holding up satisfactorily. After she screwed the lid back on the canteen, he pulled a small, smooth stone from his pocket. “Suck on this for the remainder of the day. It keeps your mouth moist so you don’t get so thirsty.”
“Thank you.”
“Miss Regent, this is a rough land. We’re in a tough situation. I’m not trying to offend you by being straightforward in my speech. You canna get huffy because I’m a plainspoken man. If it means I have to remark on specific portions of your person to teach you how to do things, I’m not going to mince my words.”
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise, Mr. Gregor.”
He took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Then why are you so mad?”
She daintily arranged ruffles on the cuff of her blouse. In a tiny voice, she admitted, “I’m not angry, sir. I’m embarrassed.”
He laughed in relief, then demanded, “Stop being goosey.”
Katie stopped outside the rail station, dampened her handkerchief, and blotted Christopher’s forehead. He jumped, but she held him still. “Shhh,” she murmured. “The sun’s been too much for you.”
“What gave you that cockeyed notion?”
She sighed. He’d just indulged in an embarrassing shouting match when he bought the tickets, claiming that the price was far too high when they’d be getting off only two stops away. “You bought tickets on the train.”
Brides of Texas Page 27
