Penny frowned. “What if I forget your name?”
“Call me honey.”
Penny looked sideways at him and grinned. “I’ll be sure to forget that.”
“I’ll introduce us as Penelope and Jonathan Call. I think that’s similar enough to remember and different enough we won’t get arrested. You’d better start calling me Jonathan in front of people. We’re a married couple, and I want everyone who sees us to know it and believe it.”
“Jonathan, yes, and John is a common name. I can still call you that. If I slip and say McCall, hopefully no one will notice the first part of it. Anyway, a wife oughta call her husband by his first name, I reckon.” She smiled at him, and he smiled back. It reminded her of that kiss, of all the kissing they’d done, in fact. Yep, she’d better start calling him John.
“And I need to get you out of those trousers.”
That startled her into silence. She felt her cheeks heating up.
John said, “Uh . . . I mean into a dress. You should be wearing a dress.”
The trail had turned into a well-traveled road, and they rode side by side. Penny had no desire to get separated from McCall . . . John, she corrected herself.
“Let’s try and avoid the law. I don’t want to talk my way out of another hanging. I’ve got too much to do and not enough time, and I don’t want that kind of attention.” John kept his horse moving, and Penny wondered how to find anything in this place. But from the first view of town it was clear there was a business district. Taller buildings, painted and more established. The edges of the town were being built, pushing the town’s borders outward, but they rode past some neat homes on their way to those taller buildings. John rode straight up to a hotel, painted red with white porch railings on three stories.
“Let’s go in here and ask some questions.”
Tension climbed up Penny’s spine as she thought of spending the night somewhere with John. She had no idea what it would cost, but if they had to search this whole town based on John’s quick glimpse of a man’s fancy boots, they could be here awhile. She might push to get out into the countryside and set up a camp, work from there.
Before John reached the glass-fronted door of the hotel, he stopped and stared down the boardwalk. A sign stuck out of a building a block or so down. Printed in clear block letters, it read Virginia City Sheriff’s Office.
He hurried a pace ahead of her. “Let’s get inside quick.”
A realization hit Penny. “You might want to keep that fancy-boots information to yourself. The rich men in this town might be paying more than their fair share of the sheriff’s salary.”
John paused to let Penny come up beside him and shot her a smile. “Why, Penny McCall, what a complete lack of faith you have in human nature.”
Penny rolled her eyes. “No, that’s just exactly wrong, John. I absolutely have faith in human nature. Have you noticed how natural it is for men to be dishonest, greedy, and selfish? I’d say being a decent, honorable man is, far too often, the exact opposite of human nature. And that’s never more true than in a town built on a mining boom. That’s why forgiveness is a cornerstone of Christian faith. Folks are always needing it.”
“That’s the truth. The truth and nothing but.” John gave her a long look. Then his eyes narrowed, and he got a purely crafty look on his face. “And I’ve got another slice of truth for you.”
“What’s that?” Penny hadn’t really spent much time thinking about what kind of man her husband was. As a detective, though, it figured he’d be plotting and planning.
“I just realized we need a little better plan than just bullying our way around town asking questions. It’s not just the law that might take a coin or two in exchange for tattling about outsiders asking questions.”
“What have you got in your head, John?”
“First”—his eyes rose to the fancy printing on the door to the hotel—“we’re gonna need more modest accommodations than this hotel, so I can afford to arrange disguises.”
“Disguises? What are you up to?”
“I’m up to buying you a new dress. I need to turn you into a proper city woman.”
Penny snorted.
John grinned. “I find I like it when you snort.”
“I’m married to a half-wit,” Penny muttered.
He caught her arm as they went back to where they’d hitched the horses, and he led the way through an alley. They left the nice businesses behind and came to run-down buildings that were mostly saloons. He stopped in front of a shabby little two-story building with a hand-painted sign on its sagging front door that read Room and Board Two Bits.
John rented a room for one night using the name Mr. and Mrs. Call. Then he unpacked the strange number of cases and satchels he hauled around, and carried them upstairs. Penny had her usual trusty bag slung over her shoulder, and she’d brought along a satchel with a change of clothes. That was all she needed.
John unlocked a door that looked wobbly enough to be kicked open with little effort. “You stay here. I’ll stable the horses and be back as soon as possible with a silk dress for you. Do you have a color preference?”
Penny glared at him. “Whatever’s least expensive because I reckon I’ll be tearing it up to make dishrags as soon as we’re done with it.”
Nodding, John said, “Fair enough.”
“And why exactly can’t I go with you?”
“I don’t want anyone to see either of us until we’re in city clothes.”
Penny glanced down at her britches, brown shirt, and boots. “There’s nothing wrong with these clothes.”
“And besides, it’s a rough-and-tumble town, especially in this area where the cheaper places to stay are. I want you to be safe.”
“And I’ll be safe in a silk dress?”
John’s eyes slid down and up her body. Hair in braided pigtails, slouchy broad-brimmed hat, and buckskin coat. Those shocking trousers. “Oh yeah, you’ll be safe.”
A shouting match erupted from just outside the window. Vile curses filled the air, then suddenly they were cut off by the thud of swinging fists.
“Well”—John shrugged his shoulders sheepishly—“safer anyway. Lock the door, and don’t let anyone in but me.”
Penny said, “Oh, I thought I’d just hold a big old party. I’m sure to make new friends around here.”
A gun fired in the street below, and someone hollered something that broke about half the commandments in one go.
John gave her a narrow-eyed glare. “And while you’re in here all alone, I suggest you keep your gun out and aimed at the door. I’ll holler before I come in to keep my belly from being filled with lead.”
She had a real mean urge to shoot right now. He seemed to realize that and left without further delay.
“Will you be staying more than one night?” A grubby little man stood behind a rickety little desk in Bolling’s Boardinghouse, one of the few places to stay in Ringo.
“Our plans aren’t finalized,” Florence answered with a smile, though her teeth were gritted.
She couldn’t believe the West. It was nothing but an insult to be forced to deal with people such as Mr. Bolling and to stay in such a decrepit dwelling.
Years of experience lying helped get her through. Yes, she’d like very much to tell the man his filthy hotel and foul presence offended her and it was beneath her to have to speak to him. Appalling that she had to. But she kept those facts to herself, and the fool didn’t seem to realize it, so she hadn’t lost all her ability to lie.
Then the man sharpened his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and he straightened away from her.
She wondered what was the matter with him. With bitter amusement she considered whether she’d lost her desire to lie well. Maybe that was why Edmond was less obedient to her. Maybe he was seeing through her years and years of lies.
“We were summoned to the area by a letter from a woman named Deb Harkness. She said our grandson survived a wagon train massacre and is living with a
man named Trace Riley, and we needed to come for the boy. I wonder if—”
“Trace Riley stayed in this very inn right before winter came barreling down on our heads. I don’t presume to know him well, but I sure know ’im enough to say howdy. And his wife—”
The unwashed Mr. Bolling hesitated, then took the register book and flipped back one page. He jabbed his finger at a name. Reading upside down, Florence saw Deb Harkness with a line drawn through it.
“That’s her. Miss Harkness checked in, but by evening time she’d married up with Riley, and we scratched her out. She spent her honeymoon night right here.” Bolling smiled as if the memory was sweet.
Florence had to fight down the desire to reach across the desk and scratch that smile off his face with her fingernails.
“The woman who knows of my grandson is now married to Trace Riley. And do you know where Riley lives? I must find my little Cameron. I’m all he has.”
Edmond chose that moment to walk in carrying a valise in each hand. Another man followed with four larger suitcases.
“That is, my husband and I are all he has in the world.”
“I don’t rightly know just where Trace’s cabin is. Somewhere’s around Tahoe, someone told me.”
“Tahoe?” Florence shook her head, almost afraid the man had abandoned the language she was familiar with.
“Tahoe’s a big beautiful lake just south of here. We get a lot of tourists. That’s why I am able to make a living with this fine boardinghouse.”
Florence concealed her reaction of contempt. But the man took a half step back from her, and she had to wonder if she’d concealed much of anything.
“How do you suggest we find him?”
The man gave her a strange look, almost smug, which simply could not be. It was obvious she was his superior in every way. Western people were fools. “I reckon Luth Payne knows best about newcomers ’round here. He’s been here since the Rockies was foothills. He don’t live none too far. Rich man, one’a them what built their big old mansions along the lake.”
Fighting down her impatience, Florence didn’t speak until she was sure something decent would come out of her mouth.
Mr. Bolling’s expression changed again, until he almost looked dangerous. Florence was glad she carried her gun close to hand, in one of the satchels along with her gold. But she had no interest in digging out a gun just now. With a sniff she decided Mr. Bolling was probably a leading citizen of this miserable little town of Ringo.
Edmond said, “How do we get to Payne’s house?”
The smooth smile from Bolling as he gave directions sent a chill down Florence’s spine for no reason she could understand. All she knew was, she’d gladly go somewhere, anywhere, but here.
Nodding, Edmond said, “We’ll plan to see him tomorrow, then we’ll hope to go on from there to find our grandson. Thank you for your assistance.”
Florence saw Bolling turn and reach for a key, then his hand hesitated, and he reached past the other five keys hanging on the wall to pluck the last one. “Follow me, folks. I’m giving you my finest room.”
As well he should, Florence thought.
And then she saw the miserable little room half filled with wooden crates. Two rats zipped through a hole in the wall. She wondered in horror what the bad rooms looked like.
CHAPTER
15
Penny threw John out of the room when he offered to help her change into her red silk dress.
He was still chuckling out in the hall when she had to face the fact that she couldn’t button the stupid thing up herself.
He’d bought her new boots, a chemise, gloves, and a bonnet. All the trappings of a fine lady.
“Are you sure this shade of red is proper, McCall?”
The snickering from the hall broke off. “Call me John, sweetheart.” And he was off laughing again.
She got as ready as she could, including twisting her hair into a knot high on the back of her head, then plunking the bonnet on the disheveled mess. There was no looking glass in the room, so she just did her best to jam the hair out of sight. Getting changed took all of five minutes . . . not counting the buttons up the back.
She swung open the door to see him still laughing. And then the laughter faded from his face, and his jaw dropped.
“What’s the matter? Have I got the dress on backward?”
“P-Penny.” John cleared his throat. “You’re b-beautiful.”
Penny couldn’t manage much more than to blink. “Oh, go on with you. I know I’m a worn-out-looking woman. My hair’s like a haystack.”
“Muskrat nest,” John said absently. “But no more. It looks nice now.” He narrowed his eyes and looked closer. “Although—”
“My hands are callused as leather,” Penny cut him off. “I’ve got muscles where a woman oughta probably have soft curves.”
A smile crept back onto John’s expression. But it wasn’t that amused humor that’d set him to laughing in the hall.
“But this is the frontier,” she went on. “I need calluses. I need muscles. I don’t have time to fuss with my hair. I’m real happy with how I am.”
Since Penny was a little unnerved by what she was seeing in his eyes, she turned her back. “Button me up. I can’t figure why anyone’d own a piece of clothing they can’t put on themselves.”
Loud voices sounded from the lower floor of the boardinghouse. John shoved her firmly into the room and shut the door.
“What are you doing?”
Sounding shocked, John said, “You can’t let people see your unmentionables right out in the hall.”
“Oh no. You’re right. I can’t.” Penny felt her face heat up. She slapped both hands over her cheeks. “I’m blushing. I can’t remember that ever happening before I met you.”
John’s hands touched her back, and she felt a deeper embarrassment. And why? She had a chemise on under her dress. It wasn’t as heavy of fabric as her usual shirtwaist, but it was perfectly modest.
And yet she knew why. It wasn’t because of what she was wearing. It was because of whom she was with. His hands worked their way up her back, one button at a time, altogether too slow. Silence only made things worse. She cleared her throat. “Now then, what is the point of this silk dress?”
He fastened the last button at her neck. The raucous noise grew louder but it was still downstairs.
She started to turn, but his hands closed on her shoulders. “Hold still.” He plucked her hat off her head and pulled a pin.
“What are you doing?” She reached back to stop him.
“No, let me fix your hair.”
There was a long moment of frozen silence. Then she said, “You know how to fix a woman’s hair?”
John chuckled to himself. “All part of being a master of disguise.”
“So, you’ve disguised yourself as a woman, complete with . . . a long wig done up fancy?”
He laughed aloud this time. “I’ve never tried to get away with being a woman, but I’ve helped disguise a few. I’m going to see to it you look like a wealthy city woman before we leave this room. And they don’t just jam a bonnet over messy hair.”
Penny frowned and didn’t fight with him anymore as he combed, smoothing her hair more than she ever bothered to. She occupied herself with wondering just exactly how much he’d helped women disguise themselves. And did he rent a single room with them, too? Just how well did he know these women?
It was a startling thing to realize the unpleasant curl of feeling was jealousy.
Jealousy. How ridiculous. Being jealous made it seem as if she had some true feelings for this man. As if she was possessive of him. As if she cared how he . . . involved himself with another woman.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t want it. Yes, he was her husband, but she didn’t know him and couldn’t possibly feel any such thing.
He put the hat on her head, adjusted it, then pinned it in place with pins she hadn’t noticed, stuck right through the hat. She wonder
ed how long she’d stood there stewing in the unpleasant thoughts about her husband and how he made her feel.
The hallway was still noisy. John said, “You’re not the only one who needs a disguise. I was going to make you stand outside the door while I changed, but you can’t go out there right now. We’re married, so there’s no reason not to change clothes together, but if you feel uncomfortable seeing me, you’d best turn your back.”
She whirled to face the wall so fast she almost stumbled.
John laughed softly.
Penny ignored any rustling clothes and said, “Now would be a good time to explain your plan.”
“Virginia City has been a boomtown longer than most any mining town in history. In fact, it’s become more than that. It’s the biggest city between Denver and San Francisco. And unlike other boomtowns that explode overnight then die almost as fast, Virginia City has been thriving for nearly ten years. There’s an actual social scene here. There are churches and schools and fancy hotels, clubs, and restaurants. And there are levels to that social order. There are millionaires and a class of working men who have families and make decent livings. The highest wages of any miners in the world.”
“Where’d you learn all that?”
“Lots of people willing to brag on their town wherever you go. I’m guessing our villain fits into the very top of the social order.”
“You know that really is just what you’re doing—guessing. For heaven’s sake, he might’ve stolen the boots.”
“Not the way they were shined. No, this is a wealthy man. I was stuck here the last week or so of winter, waiting for the trail to clear, so I learned a lot then. Today, I did some wandering while I was out. I looked at the businesses, and I’ve got a good enough feel for the town that I can tell you where wealthy people gather and where they shop. If someone in this town sells Hessian boots like the ones our kidnapper wore, I can find it. We need to go introduce ourselves to the right people, and we need to look the part if we’re to fit in with rich folks.”
The Unexpected Champion Page 11