Hattie

by Vivi Holt

  Daisy touched Hattie’s arm with a wry smile. “Ye’re a sweet thing. But it won’t work –Sally don’t care. I know you think she does, but she don’t. I’m grateful to you for thinkin’ of it though.”

  Hattie watched Sally out of the corner of her eye as she swept out the office. The proprietress of the Roan Horse was counting the cash from the cashbox, and Hattie never knew what kind of mood the woman would be in after she was done. It all depended on the take. When it wasn’t high enough for her liking, the employees would steer clear of her for hours, tiptoeing around the place, hoping desperately not to be the object of her wrath.

  And someone always was, depending on who irritated her first. Last month it had been Nicky , the young boy who helped in the stables. He’d come into the kitchen for an apple right as Sally stormed through. Thankfully, Hattie hadn’t yet had the misfortune to be in her way at those times.

  The cashbox lid fell shut, Sally smiled and caught Hattie’s eye, her own eyes twinkling. “Hattie, my dear, have you finished with the dusting?”

  Hattie set the broom against the wall with a nod and scurried to Sally’s side, smiling warmly. “Yes, Sally, and I just finished the sweeping.”

  “Good girl,” said Sally, patting her arm.

  “Sally, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

  Sally had already turned away – she’d picked up the cashbox and was headed for the wall safe in her office. Her face was a study in concentration. “Hmmm …”

  “I don’t know if you’ve seen Daisy today, but she was beaten up pretty bad by Hans Bergman last night.”

  Sally glanced at her, her smile dissipating. “That so?”

  “Yes, and I just think she really shouldn’t work … that way … any longer. It’s not safe for her. I was thinking maybe she could work in the kitchen. Mrs. Patterson is always so busy, she could do with the help, and…”

  Sally stepped closer and smiled sweetly, but her eyes were cold. “Yes, my dear, I hear you – you’re worried ‘bout your friend and that’s admirable. But I need Daisy to continue doin’ what she’s doin’. She helps keep this place afloat. Without her and the other girls, we wouldn’t have a roof over our heads for long. In fact, since you raised the subject, I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you ‘bout your place here.”

  Hattie blinked and swallowed hard. She didn’t like the look in Sally’s eyes and braced for the words that came next.

  “It’s time for you to take on more responsibility for our little family here. Daisy and the girls need help. There’s an abundance of work, and not many to do it. And I think yer just the woman for the job.”

  “Do you mean to say you expect me to become a sporting woman as well?” Hattie hissed, her hands on her hips.

  “I do indeed,” Sally snarled, all pretense at friendliness gone. “Did you think ya could mooch off me forever, girl?”

  “I’ve hardly been mooching …”

  Sally poked Hattie’s shoulder, making her step back. “It’s high time for you to do yer duty. And if you won’t, ya can hit the street – and I mean tomorrow, girl. So you best have a think ‘bout it if you know what’s good for ya. Let me know what you decide.” She smiled wickedly, then went off to stow the money box in the safe.

  Hattie stumbled away, tears blurring her vision. What could she do? She had nowhere to go and hadn’t saved enough money for train fare back east yet. If she didn’t do as Sally said, she’d be homeless in a day. She covered her mouth to muffle her sobs and ran up the stairs as fast as she could, throwing herself down on the bed and covered her head with her pillow before letting the tears fall.

  Ed slapped the traces along the backs of the bay horses and whistled as they plodded along. Behind him in the wagon bed, the remaining children laughed and chattered.

  He glanced over his shoulder at them and smiled. They’d come out of their shells so much the past two days. When he’d first collected them, they’d been wary and silent, but now they were full of life. He’d even seen them running and playing when they’d stopped at the last two ranches. Just one child, a girl of about four, sat silently and stared at the horizon. Every attempt he’d made to engage her in conversation had come to naught, but he was determined to get her talking before the journey was over.

  So far, he’d managed to place five children in homes around Coloma. There were six more to go, and he was determined to do it in the next twenty-four hours, so he could go home and call on Hattie. He missed her more than he’d expected – just the thought of her set his heart racing and brought a smile to his face.

  He mulled over the letter he’d received from his sister Rosalind back in Virginia. He’d been grateful to finally hear of her baby’s arrival – another girl to add to the family tree. A wave of homesickness washed over him. He couldn’t meet his niece, but at least he could help these children who had no one but him to care for them.

  Ed pulled the horses to a halt outside a small, sturdy farmhouse. A vegetable garden, bigger than the house itself, filled the space between it and an even bigger barn. A man behind a plow being pulled by a team of oxen waved from the field beyond. He returned the wave and stepped down from the wagon. The children piled out behind him and chattered with excitement, having become accustomed to the process. Each of them wondered out loud who would be chosen, if any, to stay with this family.

  Ed strode toward the house as a woman bustled outside, a baby in her arms. She smiled and met Ed with an outstretched hand. “Sheriff Milton, so good to see you,” she murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the children behind him, their round eyes full of eagerness.

  He shook her hand and took off his hat “Mrs. Brown, it’s been too long. Are you well? I see you have a new addition to the family.”

  She laughed. “Yes, I do. Ann’s a good eater and a fine sleeper, so I’m doing as well as you’d expect given there are eight more beside her.”

  The sheriff arched an eyebrow. “It’s hard to believe when you don’t look a day over twenty, Mrs. Brown.”

  She giggled and brushed her flyaway hair back with her free hand. “You’re always the charmer, Sheriff. What brings you out our way?”

  “Well, I’ve got another wagonload of orphans, as you can see. Just wonderin’ if you need any help ‘round the farm. Some of ‘em are strong and willing to work hard.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know, Sheriff. We’ve got so many mouths to feed already …” Again her eyes drifted past his shoulder, settling on the small silent girl still sitting in the wagon. She wandered over to the girl and stood in front of her, smiling warmly. “But, one thing I don’t have is a sister for this little ‘un. Eight boys and only one girl. Mr. Brown’s happy, of course – he’s got help in the field. But my little Ann could do with a sister and I’m not likely to have more, according to the doc.” She lifted a hand to caress the girl’s cheek. “What’s your name, little one?”

  The girl’s large green eyes met Mrs. Brown’s and she took a quick breath. “Emma,” she whispered, so quietly that Ed had to strain to hear it.

  “Well, Emma, you’re a right pretty thing, you are.”

  She turned back to face Ed, shifting the baby to her other arm with a sigh. “I’ll have to speak with Mr. Brown, but I think we might have space for the girl.”

  Ed grinned. “That sounds mighty fine, Mrs. Brown.”

  Chapter 9

  The wind yowled through the streets of Coloma, whipping debris into the air. Trees bent low, their branches shivering and people leaned forward to press their way through it.

  Hattie closed her eyes and wiped them in an attempt to clear the dust – and the tears. Where was Ed? He’d promised to be back by now, and Sally had only given her until the end of the day to move her things out of the saloon or become a … a … it didn’t even bear thinking about. She wrapped her arms around herself as she glanced skyward, and swallowed hard at the angry black clouds swirling overhead. It wouldn’t be long until the storm hit.

  She was on he
r way to the sheriff’s office to find Ed. If he’d returned from his quest of finding homes for all the orphans, he should be there. She hadn’t seen Hans since the incident with Daisy. When she’d asked around town about him, no one had seen him, and she’d been met with various questioning looks and shakes of the head. He must have assumed she’d tell Ed what she saw and fled.

  She finally reached the office, sighing with relief to be out of the gale. Lee sat behind Ed’s desk, his feet resting on top, twirling his pistol around one finger. He leaped to his feet and reholstered his gun. “Sorry, Señorita Stout. Um … I was just …”

  “Never mind that, Lee. Where is Ed? Is he back yet?” She glanced hopefully around the office, then frowned when she found the deputy was its only occupant.

  “No, señorita, I have not seen him yet, but he should be back soon. And Hans has not come in today or yesterday – he was supposed to be here with me while Sheriff Milton is away.” He scratched his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

  Hattie exhaled slowly. “I saw him two days ago, but not since. You know, he beat up Daisy down at the Roan Horse pretty badly. So he might be in hiding, since he knows how fond Ed is of Daisy.”

  Lee’s frown was deep. “He hit Señorita Sweeney? Ohhh, I am sure the sheriff will not like that. I do not like that.”

  Hattie braced herself to go outside and face the approaching storm again. “Well, please do let me know when Ed gets back. I really need to see him as soon as possible.” Lee assured her that he would.

  As she left, she shivered at the voluminous clouds marked by flashes of jagged lightning that lit up the darkened afternoon sky. She ducked her head and pulled her scarf up over her hair to scurry back toward the saloon. There was nothing for it. She’d have to pack her bags and spend the first night on her own in the worst storm she’d seen since she arrived in town. Her throat constricted and she shut her eyes for a moment.

  But she opened them again filled with resolve. Never mind, she’d survive. But she certainly wouldn’t do what Sally demanded of her. She would never be so desperate that she’d give up her honor for a roof over her head.

  The saloon came into view just as the first fat raindrop landed on her cheek. She put one hand on top of her bonnet, gathered her skirts with the other and ran the rest of the way. A crash of thunder split the air around her and she jolted at the sound, her eyes widening in fright.

  She stopped and looked back at the town. Buggies hurried down the street, drivers bringing whips down on the backs of galloping horses. Miners trotted quickly along covered sidewalks. A single child crossed the street in a rush of flying arms and legs, disappearing into one of the storefronts.

  On a whim, she raised her face skyward to the rain. It felt so good to allow the dust and grime of the day to be washed away by those cool, heavy drops. She smiled and closed her eyes as the refreshing shower ran down her cheeks. Only when she felt it begin to soak through her bonnet did she turned to head inside.

  But just as she did, two strong arms closed around her and a grimy hand clamped over her open mouth. She screamed into the palm of the man’s hand, then her eyes found his face. No!

  Jack Miller leaned close and whispered against her hair. “Hello, darlin’. Good to see ya again.” He threw her onto the back of a pale horse, leaped up behind her and galloped away from the saloon and town as fast as the creature’s legs would carry them.

  She writhed and screamed, but the noise of the storm drowned out her cries and carried them away on the wind. With everyone locked safely away inside their homes and stores, no one saw her skirts swirling and arms flailing as she rode by.

  Jack’s strong arms held her in place, tight and hard, while he urged his mount onward. They passed through the valley and away from the river, winding deeper between rolling hillsides following the path of a narrow creek, dogwood and lilac bushes squatting along its shores. After two hours he let his mount slow to a walk, then stop at the creek’s edge to drink. The animal, sides heaving, lowered its head and took great gulps of the fresh, clear water.

  Hattie struggled again, furiously trying to break his hold. He just chuckled and held her tighter as she screamed in frustration.

  Two other men pulled their horses up behind them and waded the animals into the shallows to drink. They greeted Jack with a nod and grin, each pulled their own flask from a saddlebag to drink. One wore a neckerchief pulled up high on his face; the other had a wild-looking red beard which reached almost to his belt.

  Jack tapped her on the shoulder and passed her a canteen. She took it and drank gratefully. She was exhausted, having never spent much time on a horse’s back – certainly not in the months since arriving in Coloma. Her entire body groaned at every move she made, and she swallowed the water down quickly until her gut sloshed with it.

  Jack climbed down, waded into the creek and refilled his canteen, satiating his own thirst as the water creeped up his pants legs. She took a long slow breath. What to do now? She wasn’t sure what Jack was planning, but it didn’t seem as though he had any intention of returning her to town. She lifted her leg over the saddle to lower herself onto the creek bank.

  Jack slapped her on the rear with a growl. “No, ya don’t. Back up ya go – we ain’t done ridin’ yet.”

  With a grimace, she righted herself and waited while he climbed back into place. The three outlaws moved off together, climbing ever higher up a long hill covered in oaks and alders, their green foliage cloaking the hillside and hiding the ground from view.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, not for the first time. Her earlier requests had been ignored, but perhaps now that their pace had slowed she’d have better luck.

  Jack grunted and tightened his hold on her. “Never you mind. Yer my wife, you go where I do. And while we’re on the subject, I really didn’t ‘preciate you turnin’ me in to the sheriff on our wedding day. Not real romantic of ya, I reckon.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Your wife?”

  “That’s what you are, ain’tcha?”

  She exhaled slowly. “Not for long. I’ve already applied at the courthouse to have our marriage annulled. So I suppose officially I’m still your wife, but as soon as the paperwork is processed, I won’t be any longer.”

  “I don’t know what that all means,” he snarled. “All I know is we said vows in front of the old fellow at the courthouse and we’re hitched. That’s good enough for me.”

  She turned her head and shifted in her seat to see his face. “Why do you want to be married at all? You’re an outlaw, always on the run. I’d just slow you down.”

  His empty eyes fixed on hers as he sneered at her, but the man with the red beard spoke before he could. “That’s a good question,” he said mockingly, his eyes narrowed at Jack.

  Jack shifted in the saddle. “We’re done with this place – we’re headin’ south to Mexico. And I liked the look of ya that first day I saw ya at the Roan Horse. I think ya’ll make me a fine wife.”

  The other man coughed and wheeled his horse away from them. “She’ll only make trouble for us, Jack,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – not that you listen

  She frowned. It seemed not everyone was thrilled with Jack’s idea to kidnap her. But was there enough of a schism between the men to give her an opportunity for escape?

  As they drew closer to the crest of the hill, the branches overhead thinned. They came upon a quaint cabin, and the three men pulled their horses up short and led them into a small yard fenced in with rough-hewn logs. Jack helped Hattie to the ground before the men removed saddles and bridles and rubbed each animal down carefully, leaving her standing there. Only when the others began to feed and water their mounts did Jack lead her into the cabin.

  She marveled at how well the cabin faded into the forest, as if it had just grown there. Anyone who didn’t know exactly where to find it would likely ride right by without an inkling it was there.

  Once she stepped inside, Ha
ttie could smell the tobacco, wood smoke and the funk of unwashed men. The main living area was tiny and dark, with a wood stove at the center and a chimney going up through the roof. A table and four chairs, all rough and uneven on their legs, sat in a corner. A doorway led into another room, likely the bedroom. From what she’d seen of the outside of the house, it would be small as well. She stood awkwardly and pinched her nose, unsure of what to do.

  Jack glared at her as he tossed his hat onto a peg by the door. “Whatcha doin’? We’re hungry – get to cookin’!”

  She drifted to the table, realizing there was a small pantry against the wall behind it. A quick search revealed some potatoes, onions and salt pork. It seemed Jack intended her to earn her keep. And she knew she had to do as he said – at least until she’d found a way to escape. She unearthed a frying pan and before long had the ingredients sizzling on the stove.

  She was grateful for the work she’d done at the saloon, or she wouldn’t have known even how to light the fire in the stove, let alone make a meal. Mrs. Patterson had been a great source of knowledge on so many subjects, and she’d soaked up as much as she could while helping her.

  The men sat and began a game of cards. Jack pulled out a bottle of whisky, which was passed around freely as they played. Each exclaimed with sorrow at a loss, or shouted in delight at a victory periodically. Hattie did her best to ignore them. Perhaps if she kept quiet and out of their way, they’d get drunk and forget all about her.

  When the food was done, she piled it onto four plates and set three of them on the table with forks. “Supper’s ready,” she said quietly, wringing her hands. She hated to interrupt them – it went against her plan of not being noticed – but what choice did she have?

  The men didn’t respond, not even with the food smack in front of them.

  Anger rose up in her, sudden as a summer squall. “Suppertime!” she called, this time louder.