“Why?” Rilla asked.
Morgan cleared his throat. “You look uncomfortable on the sidesaddle.” He remembered her protests that riding astride wasn’t ladylike.
“I don’t know. I’m a woman. I’m supposed to ride sidesaddle.”
“That’s why you’d dress as a boy. It’d be like playing a part in a play. You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”
“Well, yes.”
“By being a boy, it might save you from unscrupulous men. Women are scarce here in the West. Some men don’t care what they do to you. You have the clothing you’d need, don’t you? That’s why you brought all those carpetbags.”
Just as Rilla was going to reply, they heard horses galloping. They looked and saw four men approaching. Morgan stood, unhooked the loop from his revolver, and moved somewhat in front of Rilla.
This was what he’d been afraid might happen. They were on the trail between FairPlay and Breckenridge that was regularly travelled. He was only one man with a woman and there were four men. He’d not be able to keep her safe if they decided they wanted to take her.
Morgan heard Rilla stand and felt her hand touch his back. She must be aware of their vulnerable position.
~~~~~
Unease moved through Rilla’s chest. Suddenly, she realized that Morgan might be right. They were just two against four if those strangers decided they wanted her. If they did, Rilla wondered if either she or Morgan would make it to the next town.
“Howdy,” a large man in a grey duster and black hat called as the men approached.
“Howdy,” Morgan said. Rilla noticed his duster was hooked behind his holster.
“You seen any cattle around here? We’re looking for some strays.”
“No, not seen any.”
Rilla studied the other men. The speaker seemed friendly enough, but she knew that could change in a moment. They were young men and staring at her. She took a small sidestep, moving more behind Morgan.
“Mind if we water our horses a bit?” The man lifted a hand, pointing to the stream.
“It’s a free country.” Morgan turned, his body keeping them in front of him as they rode to the stream. He drew Rilla next to his side and put his arm around her waist, while his hand stayed near the grip of his revolver.
It was several minutes before the men were finished tending their mounts and turned toward them. They walked to the boulders scattered by the stream Rilla and Morgan had used as seats. The cowboys all tipped their hats at Rilla but kept their eyes focused on her.
“I’m Jedediah Clampet. You can call me Jed. I own a spread here. We’re looking for some cows and calves. Need to bring them in and brand the calves. You folks just passing through?” He pulled a pouch from his pocket and took out a wad of chew. Tucking it between his cheek and gum, he waited for Morgan to reply.
“Yes. Needing to get to Breckenridge. Have family expecting us.” Morgan tightened his hold on Rilla’s waist. She kept quiet about his falsehood. If the men thought they were expected in town and they didn’t show up, a search might bring the law down here.
“Sure is a pleasant day for your ride.” Jed kept up chatting with Morgan, who kept his arm around Rilla.
“Yes, it is. It’s been nice talking with you, but I think we need to head on. I’m hoping to get close to Breckenridge before dark.” Morgan released Rilla and gave her a small push toward Biddy. The horses were grazing nearby.
Rilla nodded to the men then turned to get her horse. When she reached for the reins a gloved hand passed hers and took them. She squealed and jumped back, bumping into a body.
“Sorry, ma’am. Just thought I’d help you mount.” It was one of the cowboys. He held Biddy’s reins but didn’t move to touch her.
Rilla looked at Morgan, who gave her a slight nod. He must have felt she was safe enough as he didn’t move from tying Jack the donkey’s rope to Condor’s saddle.
“Um, thank you.” By the time she was sitting in her saddle, Morgan was on his horse and next to her.
“Been good chatting with you, Jedediah. Good luck finding those cows.” Morgan gave a nod and they kicked their horses into a canter.
As they put distance between them and the men, Rilla felt her unease lessen. This had been the first time they’d met others while traveling since they left the road heading south from Golden along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. That road had been well traveled with much traffic. This was the first time she’d felt vulnerable as a woman. Morgan could have easily been killed and she taken and horribly abused.
Rilla now understood why Archie Gordon insisted that the lady Pinkerton agents be married before they went out on cases. Especially, here in the West.
“Morgan,” Rilla said. “I think dressing as a boy and riding astride is a good idea. When do you think we can get a saddle?”
~~~~~
Morgan’s mouth dropped open when Rilla walked out from behind the bushes she’d dressed behind. They’d spent the night within a grove of trees near the stream they’d ridden along all the previous day. They were only a couple of miles from Breckenridge. Once they bought her a saddle, they’d ride on to Lincoln City.
“That was you. You were that newsboy on the street that day Gordon and I were going to the post office. How did you know we were going to be there?” Morgan walked around her examining her get up.
“I’d watched Archie for several days. He went to the post office every day. Most of the time an agent went with him. I figured you’d be with him some day. That day you were.”
Morgan lifted an eyebrow. “You were that old lady too, weren’t you?”
Rilla grinned and nodded.
“That first night in Golden when you objected to my trying to help you when you were so sore. The way you spoke to me, it reminded me of something or someone, but I couldn’t figure out who.” Morgan just shook his head. That she’d so completely fooled both he and Archie surprised him. They were both Pinkerton agents. They should have been more observant. At least her disguise would fool anyone who didn’t examine her too closely.
He moved to his stallion, Condor. “Come here. If you are going to start riding astride, you need to learn how to mount. It’s different than a sidesaddle.”
Rilla came over but stood back from the horse’s side.
“You’re going to put your left foot in the stirrup and push off with your right, swinging your leg over the back. Set your behind down then stick your foot in the other stirrup.”
She looked at him with doubt all over her face.
“Come on. Standing there won’t get you into the saddle.” Morgan waved her closer. He held the reins as she took hold of the saddle. He shook his head. Condor was taller than Biddy. Rilla couldn’t quite reach her foot into the stirrup. There was no way she was going to be able to hoist herself up with her leg stretched so high. “Wait,” Morgan said. “Let’s move the saddle to Biddy. I’ll put the saddle on and you can finish.”
Once the exchange was made, Morgan took his place at Biddy’s head and Rilla tried again to mount her. He bit back his laugh when she jumped and tried to swing her leg over, only to have it hit the horse’s flank, causing Rilla to fall. Fortunately, her foot came out of the stirrup, so she didn’t wrench it.
“Try again,” he said as he helped her up.
Rilla gave him a squint eyed look. She took another jump and her leg went over the horse’s back. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to stop herself and she nearly fell off the other side. Only Morgan grabbing her by the hips kept her from tumbling onto the ground.
“One more try.” Morgan wanted to help but Rilla needed to be able to mount by herself when they were around other people. She was tall enough to be a youth in his mid-teens. “A boy your age would be able to mount with ease. He’d most likely have been riding since he was small.”
“I know. It’s just so different from anything I’ve done before. Even if my character in a play was a boy, I never had to get on a horse this way.”
Morgan could hear the frustration in her voice. He sympathized with her struggle, but if they were going to be convincing with her as a boy, she needed to be able to saddle and mount the horse. He could help her, but she had to be at ease with both actions.
Rilla kept working on her mount and dismount until she was panting with the effort. “I need a break.”
Morgan nodded and handed her a canteen. “Have a drink. You’re getting better. Once you’re rested, we’ll work on you saddling the horse by yourself.”
“Ugh.” Rilla frowned and took a long drink. “I know, I need to know how to do that too.”
“You’re getting the hang of mounting and dismounting. We can do that some as we head to town. I’ll ride bareback until we get close. If we’re buying you a saddle, you need to be without a saddle.”
Rilla’s shoulders sank in despair. Morgan had hoped they could buy the saddle and ride on from Breckenridge and possibly get to Lincoln City by nightfall. With all the physical work Rilla was doing, she was going to need to rest after they purchased the saddle. Riding even a couple of miles bareback was going to tax her body more. He didn’t want to wear her out so much that it delayed their trip.
~~~~~
“The boy here needs a new saddle. He’s outgrown the one he’s been using,” Morgan said. “Sold it to a neighbor. Had to ride to town bareback.”
Rilla stood in the doorway as Morgan talked to the saddle maker. She wasn’t paying attention as she knew nothing about saddles. She hid a smile as she remembered the fuss Morgan put up when she suggested she put some makeup on his face to make him look old enough to be the father of a teenage boy. He’d growled and argued but finally acquiesced to having some lines added around his eyes and mouth.
Morgan had also given her a thin knife to keep in her boot. The sheath had a strap that fastened around her ankle. She had one on her belt, but he’d told her it was always good to have a backup. Her Derringer was in a holster hooked to her belt but inside the waistband of her trousers. The vest she wore covered it but gave her access for a crossbody draw.
“Riley!” Morgan’s sharp call brought her back to the present. “Get your behind over here. I’m not picking out a saddle and having you complain it isn’t the one you wanted.” They’d decided to use a boy’s name close to hers.
“Coming, Pa.” Rilla shuffled over to examine the saddles on rails lining the workshop walls.
“You choose between this black one and the brown one here. They’re both within my price range.” Morgan pointed.
Rilla hadn’t a clue as to which saddle was better. The brown one would match the brown spots on Biddy better than the black one, she thought. “That one.”
“Okay. You haul it out and saddle your horse. I’ll pay and be out in a minute.” Thankfully, Morgan lifted the saddle off the rail as it was higher than she’d ever be able to reach.
Rilla was glad she didn’t have to go far since the saddle was heavy. She’d been saddling Biddy, with some help, each day they were on the trail. When they were in town and the horses stabled, Morgan would saddle both horses before getting her at wherever they were staying.
As Rilla hefted the saddle onto Biddy’s back with a “huft.” Biddy shifted sideways. Rilla grabbed the reins to quiet her. Reaching under the belly, she grabbed the cinch, fumbling as she tightened it. She just hoped nobody was watching as they’d realize she was unsure of what she was doing. That might cause them to look closer since a teenage boy should be able to saddle a horse with ease.
“Let me tighten that a bit more.” Morgan’s hands covered hers, pulling on the cinch. Rilla stepped away, ignoring the flutter that occurred in her stomach. It must be because he startled her. It couldn’t be anything else.
“Here’s a leg up.” Morgan tossed her into the saddle. “Let’s head over to the saloon and get some lunch. We can decide how much further we want to travel once our stomachs are full.
CHAPTER SIX
RILLA KEPT HER words to herself. There was no way she was going to say, ‘I told you so.’ Morgan was irritated enough. She didn’t want to have his focus turn to her. They’d lost five days and she didn’t know how many miles in going to Lincoln City. Two going to Breckenridge. A day there, since they’d rested overnight there. A day getting to Lincoln City, and another scouring the town for Adam Madison. Now they were headed to Jefferson.
It had finally occurred to Morgan that the clue might lead to a letter to Mr. Adam Madison rather than a message from him. They’d checked the post office, but no letter was there. That was when he’d admitted the clue probably meant the town of Jefferson. That it was only a few miles from FairPlay increased Morgan’s frustration level which made Rilla even more cautious about saying anything. She’d seen men react in ways she didn’t want to think about when a woman made any type of comment about a mistake.
At least they didn’t have to retrace their steps. There was a trail going from Lincoln City through the mountains to Jefferson. It should only take them a day to get there. It was sure to be a quiet day since Morgan didn’t seem inclined to chat. Rilla wasn’t going to force him to.
The day was overcast and a chilly, damp wind blew down the pass they were riding along. Rilla pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck. Just as the thought that she hoped it wouldn’t rain came to mind, the skies let forth big cold drops that increased in frequency. She didn’t have the wide-brimmed Stetson that Morgan did and the rain slipped down the inside of her coat, soaking her back.
“Why did I want to be a Pinkerton agent?” she mumbled as she stared at the ground just in front of Biddy’s nose. “Why couldn’t I get a case that involved train travel to a city so I could stay in a house? I don’t like riding a horse. I don’t like camping out. I don’t like being out in the wilderness.”
“Did you say something, Rilla?” Morgan’s question had her looking up. He’d slowed down, and Biddy had walked up next to him.
“Just talking to myself. Nothing of consequence.”
“Look, there’s an overhang along the cliff face. We can get out of the rain and if we need to stay the night we can.”
Rilla looked to where he pointed. The overhang wasn’t large or deep. It would shield them from the rain, but that was about it. She nodded and followed Morgan off the trail.
The place had been used as a campsite before. There was a ring of stones for a fire pit. Leftover bits of tinder were piled beside the stones. The logs in the pit were partially burned but would be enough to get a fire going so whatever wood they gathered would dry and burn.
Rilla slid off Biddy and released the cinches. She pulled and the saddle came off, tugging at her arms as it descended. She set it off to the side, then removed the saddlebags and blankets. Biddy didn’t seem to care about the rain. She walked to a puddle and began to drink. Grass was growing nearby, so Rilla staked the horse and went to gather wood.
By the time she had an armload, Morgan had the fire going and a coffeepot tucked into it. She dropped the wood and sat down. There wasn’t anything to do. Rain was coming down in torrents.
Rilla bit back a groan. She ached. Riding astride was easier since she didn’t have to balance sideways, but she was using different muscles. The stamina she’d gained with the days of riding seemed to have deserted her. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
“Are you all right, Rilla?” Morgan asked.
Rilla looked at him and sighed. “I guess I’m disheartened. Here I am on a wild goose chase when I thought becoming a Pinkerton agent would mean I could help bring men to justice. That I’d be able to help women who are being hurt be able to get out of their situations. I suppose I was naive. Women don’t have any way to get away from men who abuse them or their children. We are nothing but property.”
~~~~~
Morgan was astounded by Rilla’s comments. She thought women were property? He threw another log on the fire and pulled the coffee pot from it. He gathered his thoughts before he spoke. “I know some me
n are not good husbands or fathers, but why would you think women are property?”
“Most states let women own property, but not control it. Their husbands do. He has control over whatever income that comes from it. She has no say. That means he can sell it and not give her the money for it. The money she earns from her work is his. She’s not entitled to any of it. Even if she has a job, if she leaves him, she forfeits all she has.”
Morgan wasn’t sure what Rilla was getting at.
“If a man is abusing his wife and/or the children and she wants to get away, she has no money to take with her. No place to go. No way to get away. If she takes any money, she’s stealing. She’s not allowed in some professions. Women can’t be lawyers, for example.”
“How many women want to be lawyers?” Morgan asked scornfully.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure there are some.”
“Most women want to be married and have families. They need to be home with the children.”
Rilla snorted. “Tell that to all the women who work in factories because their husbands don’t make enough to support them and their children. All the women who work, the pay is legally their husband’s.”
Women didn’t need wages if they worked with their husbands. They were helping keep the family business going. Morgan kept these thoughts to himself, however. “I never thought about this sort of thing before.”
“Not surprising, you’re a man. You have all the rights. Women don’t have any. Did you know I can’t even open a bank account? If I was married, I’d have to have my husband’s approval to do so.
“Did you know that fathers can force their daughters to get married even if they don’t want to? Sometimes even when they become adults. Even then, if they don’t obey the father they can be cast out without anything? Fathers have total control until a girl is married and then the husband does. He can beat her and no one cares.”
It looked like Rilla was going to add something to that statement, but instead took a sip of her coffee.
An Agent for Rilla (The Pinkerton Matchmaker Book 32) Page 4
