“Um, Amos could use some new clothes, but I’m not sure if Mr. Bunker will let me shop in the store to buy any.”
He pulled his hand back and fisted it against his waist. “Then let’s go down to the store, and I’ll tell Mr. Bunker you’re buying clothes for your brother.”
Mr. Ferguson waved a hand the direction of the store but didn’t offer his elbow to Amy, just walked a few steps behind her. When they entered the store a block down the street, he opened the door and ushered her inside, up to the counter where the merchant stood waiting to help them.
“Bunker, this woman is buying clothes for her younger brother who will be working for me. Be sure she gets the change back from this double eagle, too.” He held the coin out again but turned to put it in Amy’s hand, not the merchants.
“The young boy is actually about his sister’s height and size, so use it to gauge what you need to pick out clothing. Now he turned to Amy to ask, “His feet seem to be small, so what size boot should you pick out for him?” When did Amos last get a pair of boots? He’s probably still wearing hand-me-downs from his father. Eventually, his feet and body would grow, but the last time Amy saw Amos, it was still a scrawny kid.
“I…I’ll have to try on a pair or two to figure it out. Sometimes I’ve worn his boots to go out to the barn.” But I’ve never worn his trousers. How can I act right wearing men’s clothing?
“Be sure to pick out a coat and work gloves, too.”
“I’m not sure if all the things this young man needs will be covered by a double-eagle,” Mr. Bunker politely said, although his smile wasn’t genuine.
“Then I’ll stay until all the items are picked out to be sure everything is paid for,” Mr. Ferguson smartly stated, waving at Amy to start shopping.
Amy panicked looking at the stacks of trousers on the shelf. This isn’t something she’d ever looked at, let alone held up against her body to check the length.
Mr. Ferguson sighed, then pulled out a pair and eyed the trouser length, then looked at her dress front. He pulled out two pair and tossed them aside on the counter before Mr. Bunker came around the table to take over. Amy was sure the shopkeeper had a better eye for sizes, plus this way Mr. Ferguson wouldn’t demolish the store’s tidy display of clothing.
When Mr. Ferguson pointed out her brother needed socks and drawers, Amy blushed, thinking she’d have to bind her breasts, too. Was all this worth it? Yes. Not only could she disappear out of the saloon, but she could also work to get her sister out of Texas, too.
“Got a place to stash this until Thursday?” Mr. Ferguson said as they walked out of the store. Amy had been wracking her brain to figure out where, and how, she’d hide this big bundle of clothing, plus get changed into it later.
Amy took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.” She’d find a way because she was leaving Austin.
“I’ll see Amos Thursday morning then.” Mr. Ferguson walked off without another glance at Amy, leaving her four blocks from the saloon and wondering how she’d get home without someone she knew wondering what she was carrying.
Chapter 2
Clear Creek, Kansas
“Eli, I found the car with our bulls.”
Eli Fisher turned at Zachary Paxton’s shout. Eli and his ranch hand, Zach, were at the Clear Creek depot to collect the young bulls which Dagmar Hamner, owner of the Bar E Ranch, had bought from the Ferguson Ranch in Texas. The Hamner family had worked for the Ferguson Ranch for many years until moving to Kansas and was pleased do to business with them again.
Dagmar had bought six year-old Longhorn-Shorthorn cross bulls to improve the meat quality of the Bar E Ranch herd. Besides maturing earlier, Shorthorn cattle put weight on faster and were good milkers. Unfortunately, the pure domestic shorthorn was prone to the Texas Fever which the Longhorns were immune to, so by cross-breeding they hoped to gain quality meat animals without them dying from the Fever.
Zach was talking to a young man when Eli walked up to join them by the railcar.
“Amos, this is Eli Fisher, the Bar E Ranch foreman. Eli, this is Amos Sanders, the young man who accompanied the bulls from Texas.”
Eli stuck out his hand to shake the young man’s hand, but Amos hesitated a second before doing so. Eli felt a small hand in the rough, too-large leather glove before Amos quickly pulled his hand from Eli’s. But then the boy was still growing, almost a foot shorter than Eli’s six-foot frame.
“Nice to meet you, Amos. Any problems with the bulls on the trip? Any seem sick or out of sorts?”
“No, sir. All six did fine. None of them hanging their heads or refusing to eat.” The young man’s voice sounded like it hadn’t changed to his adult voice yet.
Amos’ wide-rim hat hid most of his face, but Eli could still see a smooth chin devoid of any whiskers yet. His dark blonde hair was a little long and cut uneven, touching the back of his coat collar. Amos could use a haircut besides a bath. He smelled like his stained pant legs as if he’d slept in the manure-covered straw in the cattle car instead of the passenger car.
Eli caught Amos taking a peek at him, and he was surprised by the young man’s startling blue eyes. They caught Eli off guard, flashing his mind back to a young woman in his past. Eli shook his head to clear it. Time to think of the livestock instead of the past.
“The car is lined up with the unloading dock and the stock pen they’ll be moving to is ready. Pull open the sliding car door, Zach.” Eli instructed. “Amos, go up and open the inside stall gates, one side at a time. If they don’t all come out of the car willingly, you might have to go into their pens and push them out.”
Amos’ eyes widened at the thought he might have to go in with the bulls, but he nodded that he’d heard Eli. The cattle car was equipped with water troughs fed from tanks under the floor, and food troughs fed from hoppers in the roof, and Eli bet the young man had never been inside the pens with the bulls since he could refill the water and feed without getting in the pens with the bulls. He could do everything from the narrow aisle between the two pens.
“Okay! Ready? Let them out!” Eli instructed, and then watched as the first three bulls slowly walked out of the car and down the ramp without problems. There was a delay as Amos had problems unlatching the second pen door. Eli could hear the young man’s fist pounding on the metal latch as he tried to free it.
With a jerk, the gate opened part way, and the boy barely got out of the way as the first bull shoved through the narrow opening and barreled down the ramp. The other two bulls tried to get out the gate at the same time, lodging their heads and shoulders together in the narrow opening. Amos plastered himself against the back wall as the animals thrashed around, half in and half out between the car pen and the opening to get to the exit ramp. The boy was going to get kicked at any second.
“Get out of their way if you can!” Eli yelled at the boy. After a quick look around, Amos jumped up to grab an overhead beam and swung his legs up and over another board as if he was a gymnast in a circus.
He was a little safer hanging above the bulls unless one of them reared up trying to get through the gate.
“Yeeha! Yeeha!” Eli yelled as he pounded his fists against the side of the car opposite the ramp. The jolt of noise caused one bull to pull back and the other to push through. A second later one beast crashed down the slope with the other one crowding close behind.
“You all right, Amos?” Eli called out as he ran around the car to look into the empty car.
The young man dropped to the manure-soiled straw-covered floor and slid down to sit in the muck with his feet out in front of him, panting to catch his breath while holding his right side.
“Yeah, just got to catch my breath,” Amos weakly said before he got on all fours and pulled himself up by grabbing on to the now clear gate.
“Welcome to Kansas, son. I bet you’re ready for a hot meal and a hot bath,” Eli chuckled. Instead of getting upset he defused a situation with humor.
“Yes, Mr. Fisher,” Amos politely acknowledg
ed Eli.
“Then it’ll be my treat to give you both now. We’re going to eat lunch and let the bulls rest in the pen a while before driving them to the ranch.” Eli paused a minute to look at the slight man still standing in the cattle car opening.
“Get your carpet bag, and I’ll walk you over to the barbershop, Amos,” Eli motioned to the boy. “There’s a bathing room in the back of it. Edna Clancy would prefer you clean up before entering her café for a meal.”
Amos’ eyes bugged out, and his face reddened…with the thought of a hot bath?
Chapter 3
Amy dislodged her small parcel of clothing where she’d jammed it between a gap in the wall boards. All she ended up bringing was the second set of clothes Mr. Ferguson had bought her. The only personal items Amy tucked in the cloth binding her chest was Tina’s letter, with the enclosed money, and her hair braid. She’d cut off her night braid with a small knife she’d pilfered from the kitchen before she sneaked out the back door at three in the morning four days ago.
If she was going to travel as a young man tending a carload of livestock, she couldn’t have waist-length hair and a carpet bag of woman’s clothing along with her. Amy sobbed when the weight of the hair was in her hand instead of on her head, but her clipped hair meant a way out of Texas….and freedom.
Now to take a bath without revealing herself was the next problem. But the idea of scrubbing her skin clean and changing clothes had Amy climbing out of the cattle car and running to catch up behind Mr. Fisher and Mr. Paxton as they strode down Main Street of this quaint frontier town.
Clear Creek was tiny compared to Austin because Amy could see the edge of town in all four directions. It seemed to be a few blocks of businesses downtown, with a school and church sitting on the west end. The east end stopped at the livery, and blacksmith shop. The train depot and stockyards set on the south side, and it looked like most of the north side of town were people’s homes.
At least May here in Kansas was a little cooler than Texas. The trip up here had been scorching hot during the day and cool at night. At least the heat of the animals warmed her enough to get by without a blanket.
To save money, Amy had ridden in the livestock car aisle between the two pens instead of purchasing a passenger seat. Four days of living with the animals was a small price for freedom and saving money for using later at her destination.
Amy waved her hand in front of her nose to dispatch the smell rising from her manure-caked backside but stopped when she realized a man wouldn’t bother trying to wave the putrid smell away.
“Here’s your first stop, Amos. The barbershop has a back bathing room,” Mr. Fisher announced when stopping in front of the obvious building.
Mr. Fisher was in his mid-twenties, like herself. His broad shoulders and barrel chest made him look formidable, but his blue eyes looked kind. When he pushed back his wide-brimmed hat, she could see his short-cropped, wavy rusty-brown hair underneath it.
“See the sign saying Clancy’s Café down the street?” Mr. Fisher pointed his long index finger to the east and Amy studied the sign, glad she could read.
“Yes, sir,” Amy answered and waited for his instructions.
“After you’re done with your bath, meet us in the café for lunch,” Mr. Fisher told Amy as she tried not to fidget in front of the barbershop door. Was she just supposed to walk in the men’s shop and announce she wanted a bath?
And how much would it cost? She’d spent very little on food on the trip, but she had some coins tucked in her pocket.
“How about I walk Amos into the barber’s to be sure he’ll be getting a hot bath now?” Mr. Paxton suggested with eyebrows lifted, and Mr. Fisher agreed with a nod. I guess they knew my stench was terrible after all.
“Amos, if you want a haircut now too, go ahead if the barber has time,” Mr. Fisher asked as he paused on the boardwalk.
Amy drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the panic building up in her chest. The thought of cutting her hair any shorter made her heart beat faster and her stomach queasy.
Mr. Paxton eyed Amy. “I think food after a bath would be more to this boy’s needs, Eli. Right, Amos?”
“Yes, sir,” Amy gruffly answered, hoping her voice didn’t squeak too bad.
“Go on in then,” Mr. Fisher, nodded as Amy hesitated at the opened door. Amy clutched her bag of clothing to her chest and marched in the barbershop, trying to put on a brave, or boyish front.
“Burt got a boy here that needs a good scrub in your bathtub. Is it available?” Mr. Fisher asked the barber.
The barber looked at Amy, then at the three men sitting in chairs in the room waiting for haircuts.
“Yes, the tub is available, but I’m busy for a bit. Hot water is available if you want to fill the tub yourself,” the man motioned over his shoulder to the closed door behind him.
“We can do that,” Mr. Fisher agreed to the barber’s terms and set a coin on the counter as he motioned to Amy to walk ahead of him.
Amy did as he asked but stopped when her hand grabbed the doorknob. She couldn’t have him in the bathing room with her. Amy flattened her back to the door and turned to face Mr. Fisher. She was not going to go into the room until the man left.
“I’ll bathe and meet you and Mr. Paxton at the café, sir.”
He opened his mouth as if he was going to protest, but then he nodded and walked out the front door.
Letting go of her pent-up breath, Amy quickly ducked into the room and prayed the door had an inside lock on it. No luck for that prayer. Amy scanned the room and saw a chair near the tub. She quickly had the back of the chair wedged under the knob, giving her a slight piece of mind, until the barber came back to check on her.
Amy didn’t bother filling a bathtub because no way was she getting naked in this room and taking a leisurely bath, although she longed for it.
She filled a wash basin with hot water, adding just enough cold water so she wouldn’t scald her skin. Amy laid out the washcloth, soap, towel, and her clean clothes before leaning against the wall to yank off her boots, socks, pants, and drawers. Thank goodness she didn’t have on a union suit!
She hastily washed the lower half of her body, grimacing at the dirt on the washcloth. No wonder she smelled terrible. Dust from the livestock bedding and manure mixed in with her own dried sweat.
After a quick dry with the towel, Amy slipped her extra clothes back on, including her boots in case she had to make a quick getaway.
Amy emptied the basin of water in the tub to make it look like she used it, and then filled the pan with fresh water. She glanced back at the door again, listening to the muffled voices as the men visited, unaware there was a woman posing as a young man in the room behind them.
“Come on, Amos, finish up,” Amy muttered to herself as she fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. She only unbuttoned two, then yanked the shirt off over her head, not wanting to take the time to undo the whole front.
She looked down at her chest binding, wishing she could release her breasts but decided against it. Much as she longed to clean the space between her breasts, it would take time to bind herself tight again.
After scrubbing her face, neck, and arms with the soapy cloth, she dunked her head in the basin. At least short hair didn’t take long to scrub clean compared to her former waist-length locks.
She put her clean shirt on before rubbing her hair dry and combing the short locks down with her fingers. Amy left all her toiletries behind at the saloon, even her hairbrush.
Dressed again, Amy carefully moved the chair out away from the door and sat down on it. While finger-combing through her hair, she willed her heartbeat to slow down. She would eat at the diner to take advantage of the meal offered, but then she needed to find Marshal Adam Wilerson as Tina suggested.
Hopefully, the marshal could take her to the Hamner’s ranch, and Amos could turn back into Amy without anyone else knowing about it. Feeling better about her plan, Amy walked through the barbershop, mum
bling a quiet thanks for the bath and slipped out the barbershop door.
Scanning down the street, Amy saw the office of the marshal, but her growling stomach made her decide to postpone her visit there until after eating.
As Amy straightened her shoulders, she realized she had done it. She escaped her terrible life and was safe in Kansas now, away from her father and the saloon’s owner. The left corner of Amy’s mouth lifted, thinking of what her brother would think of her escapade. He’d be tickled by her posing as a boy to get out of Austin. Hopefully someday Amy would see him again to tell him her tale.
In the meantime, Amy had a meal to eat and then a friend to find.
Chapter 4
Amos seemed to have a bottomless pit of a stomach, but then that was typical for a young man, especially since Eli guessed he hadn’t spent much money on food on his trip to Kansas. Eli waited until Amos gulped down his latest fork of mashed potatoes before asking him a question.
“What’s your plans now, Amos? Heading home to Texas?”
“No sir,” Amos said quickly, avoiding looking at Eli when he answered.
Zach shot a glance at Eli, raising his eyebrows in question. “We need another hand, Eli?” Zach asked before he took a bite from his piece of buttered bread.
“Possibly,” Eli said as he turned to size up the young man.
“Amos, can you ride and rope?”
The indecision and worry on the boy’s face were evident when he looked up.
“Yes, sir. I grew up on a ranch…but…I’ve been away from it for a while,” Amos admitted, trying to hide his face again.
“Why?” Eli asked.
“Why what?”
“Why have you not been on the ranch recently?” Eli patiently asked.
“Uh…been on my own for a spell…” Amos’ voice croaked.
Eli fought to shake his head. His boss, Dagmar Hamner, was a sucker for sick and abandoned animals, and Eli knew Dagmar would count Amos in the same category as a lost puppy.
Amy Admires an Amish Man: A Historical Western Romance (Brides with Grit Book 12) Page 2
