“It’s lovely.”
“Thank you, Gemma. We used to send dress ideas to each other in our letters. It was difficult to find that she’d passed. I was under the impression she had a store, but she must have sewn where she lived.”
“When did you find that out?” Dolly asked with concern in her voice.
“I graduated and traveled to the address she had given me. They told me she was dead. I didn’t ask for more information, but now I wish I had. Needless to say, the address wasn’t a fine home or a dress shop as I’d expected.” She forced a sunny smile. “But I picked myself up and dusted myself off. I couldn’t afford to stay. I decided a fresh start would be best. You know the rest.”
The pity on everyone's faces had her stomach roiling. It was the last thing she needed. She didn’t want to be Dolly’s project or Donnell’s pet to look after. They were just concerned, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat another bite.
“Donnell why don’t you take Clarissa on an enjoyable walk?” Dolly suggested.
A walk? Alone with him? Panic washed over Clarissa.
Her chair scraped as she pushed it back. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling very well.” She wanted to run in the worst way, but she kept her pace sedate. Once outside, though, she raced to her house and only stopped when she reached the door. She drew in several deep breaths and stared up at the darkening sky.
Lord, I feel like an orphan. I know You are my heavenly Father and I thank You. I don’t think my plan of making just one dress will work. Lord, I need a plan. I need to know my path. I know You set my path, but could You maybe give me a little clue? I’m so out of sorts, and I just embarrassed myself in front of the Kavanaghs.
After a moment, Clarissa opened her door and went inside. What had she expected? That God would talk to her from the sky?
In a thunder of hoofbeats, a rider raced by and pulled up at the Kavanaghs. Clarissa shut the door but then went to the window to get a better look. The rider carried what looked to be a letter, and Donnell accepted. He said a few words to the rider before the rider raced away.
What on earth…?
Donnell opened the envelope and a hard stare was directed her way. Then he folded the paper and stepped inside. She took a step back from the window. What could be the matter?
* * *
Donnell read the telegram a few times. He had known Clarissa was lying about something, but he hadn’t thought she was a runaway. Someone named Hank Thatcher would be arriving tomorrow to take Clarissa back. He walked out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. He might as well tell Clarissa that she needed to finish her contract.
That was the problem with contracts. The contractor often got swindled by giving money to the other party before all the work was done and then the other party ran off. He’d guess she was a nanny or something like that. A tutor, perhaps?
The door opened before he knocked. He walked in, but not before he saw the stark fear in Clarissa’s eyes.
She pointed to the telegram he held. “Is that about me?”
“Yes, it is. You should have told me you were on the run. Not fulfilling a contract is a crime.” Irritation washed through him, and he drew a slow breath to calm himself. “I didn’t pick up the slightest clue. You’re good at lying, and that’s where I draw the line. My parents lied and it was the worst thing to find out the truth.”
“But I—”
“I’ll have someone to drive you to town to meet the coach.”
“Who do I have a contract with?”
“Hank Thatcher.” He regarded her with a hard stare. “Ring a bell? You need to finish out your contract before you are free. Good bye.” He dropped the telegram on the table before he left.
That had been a near miss. Just as he was starting to enjoy her company. She was a liar and a cheat. Yes, he was lucky he’d found out.
Chapter Five
Clarissa stood on the wooden walkway in front of the general store, waiting for the coach. Murphy had taken her there in a wagon. He didn’t talk to her the entire ride into town.
Shame filled her. His entire family thought her a liar. No one had been around to say goodbye, not even Dolly. They were so quick to judge. No one asked for her side of the story or even asked if she knew this man, Hank Thatcher. A shudder rippled through her. This had something to do with Thatcher’s Saloon. What had Donnell told them about her? She hadn’t slept all night. How could Thatcher have a contract with her name on it? Had her mother had a contract? Did he mean for her to finish out her mother’s indenture?
The coach was due any time, and then after changing horses it would go back the way it came. She wanted to march over to the sheriff’s office and tell him… tell him… Tell him what? That her mother was a whore and the man she worked for was going to force her to be one? Who would believe that? Thatcher would say she was the whore. No, it was better they think she ran away than that she was a whore.
The swaying black coach thundered into town and stopped right in front of where she stood. Her stomach clenched as she waited for the door to open. She’d asked the Lord for a clue, and this must be it. Terrible things happened to decent people all the time. It was her turn.
A tall, powerfully built man with overlong blond hair stepped down onto the walkway, his black boots shiny even with miles of travel behind him. He was dressed in an expensive suit with a city hat, and he held a fancy polished cane with silver glinting in the handle. As soon as he saw her, he smiled. His eyes were the same color blue as hers.
But… this wasn’t the man who had met her at the saloon when she had sought her mother. Who was he?
“I finally found you, my sweet Clarissa!” he said in a rich, deep voice.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are…”
“Hank Thatcher, my little one.” He touched the brim of his hat. “I’m here to collect you and take you home. It’ll take but a moment, and we’ll probably be on our way.”
“We’ll eat something first,” the driver said over his shoulder.
Thatcher offered his arm to her, and she knew she didn’t dare refuse. “A nice respite will be pleasant. Come along, my sweet.”
Swallowing hard, she allowed him to escort her to a small diner. He held her chair out for her, took off his hat and laid it along with his cane on the empty chair next to him.
“I’ve been looking all over for you. Mike never should have let you get away.”
“Mike?” she asked, confused.
“Mike Pinny. The man you met at my establishment,” explained Mr. Thatcher. “He used to run the place for me until I fired him.”
“Oh…” She’d thought that unshaven man had been the owner.
“Listen,” Thatcher leaned forward over the table. “I need your mother’s debt paid. Perhaps you didn’t know about it, but it is a substantial sum. There’s the question of the contract.”
Clarissa shook her head. “I didn’t sign any such contract.”
“I drew one up while she was dying.” He shrugged. “She indicated you should fulfill her obligation and she signed it. You see, you’re still young enough that your mother was your guardian. It was such a shame that you never got to meet her. You look very much like my Irene. She had you when she was very young. She wasn’t even sixteen, if I remember correctly. You lived with her until you were four. Then it was school for you. Her greatest wish was to visit you, but it was never the right time.” A cunning smile stretched his lips, and she shuddered. Had she really thought his eyes looked like hers? They had turned cold as ice and hard as flint.
“I need some fresh air,” she said as she stood.
The waitress walked over. “Can I get you something?”
“No, not this time. Thank you kindly.” Thatcher turned his shining smile on the lady as he also stood.
The waitress blushed, and Clarissa closed her eyes. Everyone bought his gentleman act. Thatcher again offered his arm. When Clarissa hesitated, he tilted his head and raised one eyebrow. Her hand shook as she se
ttled it on his arm.
Her legs trembled as they walked to the coach and climbed aboard.
“I’m so glad it’s just us. I want to get to know you much better.” He leered at her.
All the blood left her face and she had to hold her hands on her lap to stop them from shaking. Surely he didn’t mean… “You probably know all you need to know, Daddy.”
“Daddy? I admit there is a very slim chance. A very slim one, you understand?” He shook his head and his leer deepened. “No, I want you for my own.”
She smiled. “Look at my eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror, isn’t it? Of course you’re very handsome and I’m plain, but there is no mistake. You don’t need me to go back with you. You wouldn’t allow your own daughter to work in such a place.”
He laughed. “Of course, I would. I could make a lot of money because of your purity.”
As they traveled on, she rarely spoke to him, barely acknowledged him. Fear filled her. Why would her mother sign such a vile contract?
* * *
The saloon was bigger than she remembered, and she stumbled as he shoved her through the swinging doors. It was late in the day, and plenty of customers filled the place.
Oh Mama, what have you gotten me into? And why?
Thatcher’s glance flitted about the room until it settled on something near the bar. “Jewel, come here.”
A pretty woman probably in her twenties came to him right away. “I’m so glad you’re back, I missed you.” She gave him a loving smile.
“Jewel, this is Clarissa. She’s Irene’s daughter and is going to finish out her mother’s contract.”
The green feathers in Jewel’s hair bobbed up and down as she nodded.
“I need you to get her ready to put on display. We will have an auction in a few days.”
Jewel’s eyes widened. “Come along, Clarissa. Your mother’s room is empty.”
The stench of whiskey, beer, and unwashed bodies was overwhelming. She followed Jewel, wondering how she could run away. But running would be useless, she knew, for Thatcher would only track her down again. She wanted — needed — to see that contract.
Jewel showed her to a small room and explained many of the rules. Clarissa hardly heard her. She could only pray she would do nothing that would break the rules. Jewel brought out a few outlandish dresses and instructed Clarissa how to get ready to go downstairs.
“I’ll be back in a half hour. You’d best be ready. Hank can have a heavy hand when displeased.”
Clarissa nodded and waited for Jewel to leave. As soon as she was alone, she sat on the edge of the bed and cried. What must Donnell think of her? He’d called her a liar and maybe he was right since she hadn’t told him everything about her mother, but she hadn’t been a prostitute. She stared at the clothing Jewel had left. It was nearly indecent. Certainly nothing a respectable lady would wear. The thought of putting it on and parading in front of the men downstairs turned Clarissa’s stomach. But she would have to if she wanted to avoid Hank’s heavy hand. She stood and stared at the dresses and after a bit of thought, chose a black and yellow one that her mother must have made. It had perfect tiny stitches. After she changed into it, she cringed. It showed too much of her skin. Maybe since she was so plain, no one would want her.
There was a knock on the door and before she could call out, Hank opened it and walked in. “Let’s go, I want to seat you at the end of the bar for all to see. No drinking. If a man buys you a drink, the bartender knows to make yours water with just a splash of whiskey. Come along.”
He led her down the stairs and lifted her onto the bar. She’d thought she’d be sitting in a chair at the end of the bar, not on the bar itself where she was exposed for everyone to ogle. Her entire body heated. This couldn’t have been what her mother had wanted for her.
Chapter Six
Donnell hit the wall of the barn. He didn’t care about the pain blossoming in his hand. He couldn’t believe he had fallen for Clarissa’s friendly girl act. She must have planned to escape for a while; being a mail-order bride and all. He couldn’t even say she had dazzled him with her beauty. He’d just been stupid.
Maybe he was falling for her. There, he’d finally admitted it. He didn’t mind one bit being responsible for her. She was nice and polite and didn’t chatter on like some people did. Sour grapes, that’s what had led to him thinking her plain. When she smiled, her face lit up and there was true beauty there. He had been so consumed by the fact that she had lied, that he never even asked what type of work she had run from. He hadn’t given her a chance to say anything. What if that man, Thatcher, wasn’t such a good guy?
Quickly, Donnell saddled Rascal and rode to town. He needed answers.
He tied the roan to the hitching post in front of the general store and went inside.
“John, I need to send a couple telegrams.”
“Sure thing,” said the shopkeeper, picking up a pencil and paper.
After he gave John the particulars of the messages he wanted to send, Donnell walked by the yard goods. A bolt of fabric in a midnight shade of blue with the smallest of white flowers on it caught his eye. It would have looked lovely on Clarissa.
The tapping of the telegraph machine signaled a message coming across, and his heart raced. Could he have gotten an answer so quickly?
With a grim expression, John handed the paper to him. Donnell read, quickly absorbing the words from the headmistress at The Academy for Girls. Clarissa had graduated from the school and had planned to meet her mother, though her mother was unsuitable. He raised his brow. What did unsuitable mean? There had been little time between graduation and her showing up here. Barely enough to correspond with that man Joe Kingsley and agree to be his mail-order bride. She looked and acted like a polished young lady, and yet she hadn’t had enough money to stay at the hotel when she had arrived. Something wasn’t right.
“John, I need to send another telegram. This one’s going to the sheriff over in Bent.
* * *
The bartender signaled to Hank and whispered into his ear. An enormous grin crossed Hank’s face.
“Well, well Clarissa, you have an extra day before the auction. Word has it a high stakes poker game is to take place here this weekend. That’ll bring a lot of customers. See, you’re making money already.”
“Enough to pay off the debt?” she asked hopefully.
He laughed loudly. “The auction doesn’t count. It’s the work you do after that’ll pay off your mama’s debt. If you’re lucky, you might pay it off in five years.”
“I don’t believe you! I don’t think there is a contract.” Boldly she tossed the words at him but then cringed as he grabbed her arm.
“You’re very lucky I need you unmarked for the auction. Generally, any whore who dares to question me gets beat.” A leer slid over his face. “Now sit up and smile. The number of drinks you get the men to buy goes toward the debt.”
She sat up straight and tall. “Really? How much a drink?”
“Half a penny. It adds up, but you have to pay us back for the drink you get. So half of what you make on drinks goes back to me. You’ll want to eat and have a roof over your head, that costs money too. On the bright side, you have youth and purity. Shame you aren’t more attractive.” He shook his head.
Clarissa stared at her hands. Why bother to have her on display? She wasn’t pretty enough to be a whore. Shame washed over her. Her mother must have allowed her arms and legs to be seen like this. How had she stood it? At least no one was allowed to touch her… yet.
She was smart, though. There must be a way to escape. They couldn’t have guards at the door at all times. She’d watch and look for patterns. There must be a time when she could sneak out.
She lifted her head and smiled. If she acted as though she had made peace with her fate maybe Hank wouldn’t watch her as closely.
The night was interminable, and the stench of cigars, whiskey and beer was enough to turn her stomach. The men who boug
ht her drinks were a mixed bag. A few were washed and smelled clean, a few others looked dirty but didn’t have a foul smell and then there were the men who probably bathed once a year. Their fetid breath was hard to tolerate, let alone smile. She’d been sitting on the bar for so long now the night must be about over.
She needed to use the outhouse but wasn’t sure how to ask. Finally, she whispered her needs to the bartender, who gave her an amused smile and then signaled for Hank to come over. “She needs to use the outhouse and stretch her legs.”
Hank got too close to her when he lifted her down, and she had to force herself not to stiffen. “I’ll take you.”
Hank opened the outhouse door and shoved her in. She trembled as she looked for any animals. Usually she was more cautious with her approach. She hurried to do what was necessary, and when she came out, she insisted on washing her hands at the well. Hank didn’t seem happy, but he waited.
“How long did my mother work here?”
He shrugged his left shoulder. “It seemed like she’d always been here. She was real young. I remember you as a kid running around. Your mother was a real looker and very popular. She worked extra hard to pay for your schooling. She was always the first whore down in the afternoon and the last one still working at the end of the night.”
They walked back into the raucous bar. Hank lifted her up to her spot and walked around the bar keeping an eye on the girls. Why none of the girls gave him an evil stare behind his back, she couldn’t imagine. The crude way the customers spoke disgusted her.
Jewel sauntered over. “It’s time to put you away for the night.” She held out her hand and helped Clarissa down. “It’s getting a bit rowdy in here, and Hank doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Isn’t that so sweet of him?” He just wanted her pure for the auction. Whatever the reason, she was happy when Jewel grabbed a plateful of beans and escorted her to her mother’s room. The sound of the door locking when Jewel left didn’t surprise her.
Donnell: Cowboy Scrutiny: The Kavanagh Brothers Book 5 Page 4