As though her thoughts had conjured him, Kin returned with the now empty wheelbarrow. “All right, kid. I have to get. She’s all yours.”
Aurora couldn’t deny her relief as she watched him walk away. She liked him, but she was used to being alone, and whenever she was around Kin—or anyone for that matter—over the past few days, she always had this lingering fear that she was going to be found out. What would they do to a girl who was posing as a boy? No matter that she’d done it to escape being forced to work for Hunt, she had a feeling the parson wouldn’t like it one little bit.
She glanced toward the house. What had the deputy come to talk to the parson about? Had they somehow discovered her true identity? Was that what the deputy’s squint had been about a moment ago?
She recalled that the parson had pushed open the window by his desk when she’d left the house to do her chores. He liked to have the bracing air to keep his head clear, he’d said.
Before the thought had hardly registered, Aurora leaned the pitchfork back against the wall and started across the yard. She instinctively reached to lift her skirts, only to be reminded that she wore the slim-fitting breeches. She rolled her eyes at herself.
Once she reached the side of the house where the parson’s window was, she slowed. The last thing she wanted was to step on something that would alert the men inside to her presence.
Pressing herself to the side of the cabin, she slid toward the window. The low murmur of voices slowly clarified into understandable words.
“You’re sure I can’t offer you some coffee?”
“No. No. Thank you. I won’t take but a moment of your time. Truth is, I’ve been putting this off since Sunday, I’d just like to get to it, if you don’t mind.”
The parson’s chair creaked as he sank into it, and Aurora could envision the way he was likely even now stretching his legs out before him and setting fingertips to fingertips in a gesture that offered those who visited his full attention. “Very well. What can I do for you today, Joe?”
The deputy cleared his throat. “I’m actually here about Liora.”
“I was very glad to see her work up the courage to come into the service on Sunday.”
“Yes. About that… I wondered if you might be able to speak to… There seems to be… It’s just that…”
“What is it, Joe?” The parson’s words carried compassion and concern.
“It’s just that some of the women in town have not made it very easy for Liora. And I feel like the church especially should be a place where any repentant soul finds welcome and acceptance.”
“I see. And you don’t feel like Liora has received that from the congregation?”
“Not when she feels the need to sneak into the back of the service and sit on a chair in the coatroom, no, if you’ll pardon me for saying so.”
There was a long pause. And finally the parson spoke with a bit of dejection in his tone. “I think you are right. I’ve failed in my duty to make everyone welcome to the house of the Lord. I will—”
“I’m not blaming you, you understand, Parson.”
“No. No. I understand. But nonetheless, it is my duty to make sure I’m teaching the principles of God’s Word. And I believe you are right, this is one area where I have fallen short. I was trying not to force Miss Fontaine to do something she found uncomfortable and yet still give her the opportunity to hear the Word, which is why I offered to put the chair in the entry for her. I never paused to consider that it might be the actions of some of my congregants who were causing her hesitation in the first place. Therein lies my failure.”
“I believe it is only a couple of the women and they are very careful to…appear genuine on the surface.”
“Please say no more. I think I likely know just who you may be referring to. I will try to find the time to make some visits around town this week.”
“Thank you.”
Aurora realized that the deputy would be leaving at any moment and that she oughtn’t let herself be caught dashing back to the barn. She turned and hustled back to the corner of the house. Giving a quick look toward the door, she was satisfied that the men hadn’t opened it yet, and made her run across the yard for the barn.
She’d barely taken up the pitchfork and started in on the first stall when she heard the deputy retrieving his horse. Relieved to have him gone, she turned to fetch another forkful of hay and dropped the pitchfork with a gasp.
For there, standing with arms folded in the barn doorway, was the parson. His head was tilted in that way he had when he disapproved of something. Usually it was Kin on the receiving end of that look. Today was the first time she’d seen it directed at her.
She bent to retrieve the pitchfork. “You gave me a fright.”
The parson’s lips thinned. “Was it me standing here? Or your guilty conscience that gave you the fright?”
Her heart thumped. “What?” She tried to pull off innocence, but her mind raced. Had the deputy said something to him before she’d reached the place where she could hear? Did he know about her deception?
His green eyes hardened. “Listen, lad.”
The word “lad” filled her with relief.
“If there’s one thing I won’t tolerate it is lying, do you understand?”
She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from his. The air all around her suddenly seemed thin and inadequate. Even if he didn’t know about her now, when he did find out he was going to be some put out.
“I saw you just now darting across the yard as the deputy was leaving. Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”
The ache that had slowly been building in her chest since yesterday’s sermon squeezed tight. She’d never liked to disappoint her elders. Maybe she could deny it. “N-no sir.”
His eyes narrowed further and he took a step toward her.
She threw up her hands. “Yes! Yes sir. I was under the window.” She’d seen that look on John Hunt’s face many a time just before he or one of his men thrashed Mama for some infraction or another.
The parson hesitated. Stilled. Seemed to relax a little, though the way he settled into his heels and folded his arms didn’t give her much reprieve. His jaw bunched. “Why?”
She only looked at him. She couldn’t very well admit that she’d been worried the deputy was here to talk about her, now could she? Especially not when he’d just made his feelings on deception so very clear. But he seemed determined to wait her out, so she offered. “I don’t know.” She prodded at a clump of hay with her boot.
A look crossed his face that was almost her undoing. It was a look of such disheartenment that it nearly stole her breath. She’d hurt him. He’d taken her in. Given her a place to stay. Three square meals a day. And she’d repaid him with this. She could see all that cross his features.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded and glanced around the barn. His hands settled against his hips, fingers splayed in a very masculine way that she should not be noticing right now. But notice it, she was, much to her chagrin. In his eyes, she was just a lad. He could have easily given her a sound thrashing, yet he’d restrained himself despite his obvious anger. That fact only made him all the more a man to be admired.
His green gaze settled back on her. Hard. Unmoving. “Well, if you were my kid, I would give you a thrashing you wouldn’t soon forget.”
Then again, maybe not. Her heart pounded from the region of her throat, cutting off her ability to inhale.
“But you’re not. And I wouldn’t presume to do that to someone else’s child. Especially since I don’t know that you’ve been taught about the evils of deception.” He pinned her with a look that said she had now been apprised of his feelings on the matter and future situations would take such into account.
She nodded her understanding. Her tension eased only slightly.
“But punish you, I must. So…” He swallowed and seemed to search his mind for an appropriate punishment. “You will get no dinner this eveni
ng.”
She almost sputtered a laugh. Would there be anything else?
“And don’t do it again. You understand?”
She nodded, lips pressed together.
With that, he turned and stomped back to the house.
She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. No dinner? That was it? She’d had more food in the past few days than she’d had all last month. She could handle missing out on dinner and hardly even notice.
And the deputy hadn’t been here to discuss her. So she was free and clear there as well.
If only the parson wasn’t so against deception, she might go to him right now and tell him who she really was. But based on his sermon yesterday and his reaction today, she thought it might be better if she just up and disappeared out of his life one day. It wasn’t like he could help her with her situation anyhow. He’d helped her, unwittingly or not, escape John Hunt, and that was all she could ask for. If the weather wasn’t so cold at night now, she might leave right away. But it would be smarter to hold out and wait till spring. Then she could travel in warmth until she figured out a good place to settle and a good job to make her living.
She wouldn’t find a better place to winter than here. Kin treated her a bit gruff, but like a little brother. That she could handle. And the parson had just proved that he wouldn’t manhandle her.
She would be safe here till spring.
And that was enough to bring tears to her eyes as she turned back to forking the hay into the stalls.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
John Hunt had let his anger simmer for several days. But he was still sore aware that Deputy Rodante had punched him in the gut right in his own saloon, and every time he thought of the incident his pride hurt him even worse. He must be getting old. There had been a day when no man would’ve been able to take him off guard like that. There had been a day when he never lost a fight that he started.
He stood in the street outside the Timber Saloon with his hands propped on his hips surveying the camp around him. Why was he letting this eat at him so? The truth was he didn’t need the girl. There were any number of other beautiful women to take her place, and those right willingly. But this was about more than just the money. This was about saving face. A man didn’t dare let anyone perceive him as weak, because then the vultures would all start swooping in. No indeed, this was about so much more than money. He had a reputation to uphold. And that was of a ruthless man who didn’t let anyone undermine him.
And Rodante had definitely tried to undermine him.
Then, what had happened right about the same time as the attack but that the McClure girl had found her courage and up and disappeared? He couldn’t figure where she might have got to. He’d had his men scouring the area for days but they’d all come up empty. It vexed him. People ought to know their place.
For the past few days John had pondered. How did he go about patching up his reputation? Ruling by fear was easy so long as you came up with new and better ways to make people fear you. He had let the problem simmer. He’d stirred it and turned it and flipped it around. How did he go about saving face in a way that left him an out in the eyes of the law, but also in a way that everyone round these parts would know he was a man to be feared?
And then yesterday he’d been in his usual place at the bar in the saloon when he’d overheard two loggers talking.
“Heard the wedding’s gonna be right fancy. She was originally a rich girl from back east you know.”
John had strained to hear the other man’s reply.
“That’s what I heard too. I bet the church will be packed to the gills.”
A third man had joined them. “Who you speaking of?”
“The sheriff. He’s set to hitch himself to the pretty schoolmarm from over in Wyldhaven. There’s supposed to be some big shindig this Saturday. A pre-wedding celebration of sorts.”
And just like that, John Hunt had known how he was going to get his revenge. Even now he grinned to himself as he pushed through the tent flap and into the Timber. Yes indeed, maybe a few other folk would be collateral damage, but as a bonus it was likely that all the local law enforcement would be in attendance. And it certainly wouldn’t hurt his feelings to be done with the likes of them.
What better way to leave himself innocent in the eyes of the law than to take them all out in one fell swoop? And if done right, it would certainly leave everyone in the community knowing just who had pulled it off. Yes sir. This was exactly the opportunity he’d been searching for.
Now he simply had to decide who to enlist to help.
Kin Davis rode into Camp Sixty-Five with the weight of all his mistakes riding on his shoulders and the thirst for a drink nagging at his mind. He ground his teeth. Why was it that he kept going back to that? He knew what that life had done to Pa. Yet no matter how hard he seemed to try, the need for just one more drink always built up until it was near to busting up his insides.
He was supposed to be here looking for work. Best he stay away from drinking tonight.
He reined to a stop in front of a large tent with a hitching rail out front and swung down. Above him chains squeaked, drawing his attention. An etched board sign swung between the posts that rose on either side of the tent’s entrance. Timber Saloon.
His mouth watered. He could look for work in a saloon, couldn’t he? Maybe one drink. What could it hurt?
Before he could change his mind, he strode forward and ducked inside the tent.
A few lamps hung from the central beam of the tent and the liberal scattering of ashtrays at every table filled the room with haze. Over in the corner, a man plunked out a honky-tonk song on an out-of-tune piano. And a woman wearing a bright red dress with ruby-painted lips smiled at him from just ahead. She swayed toward him, black feathers wafting from the boa that graced the expanse of skin below her neck.
He swallowed. The parson would tell him to shutter his eyes, but she was right in his space now, touching his chin with a slim cool finger, and she smelled divine.
“Hi, sugar.” She batted her long dark lashes and worked her fingers down his chest in invitation. “You look like you could use a little relaxation. Hmmm?”
He should leave. He propped his hands on his hips. Closed his eyes. Willed himself to have the strength the parson said he could have if he only trusted God enough. But he made the mistake of breathing in. Her perfume called to him. Like someone doused her in a little bit of heaven. He looked at her again. Her impish smile certainly promised a taste of heaven.
“I-I’m really here about a j-job.”
She giggled and took his hand, sidling backwards towards the bar as she drew him after her. “A job, is it? What kind of work would a handsome man like you be looking for in a place like this?” She didn’t give him time to answer before leaning forward and whispering playfully in his ear, “I could give you a job, sweetie.” Her giggle and her implication were clear.
Kin felt a wave of heat wash over him. Back at McGinty’s, all he got was rotgut liquor. This place was already a decided improvement. “What’s your name?”
She tittered and led him closer to the bar. “The name’s Adelle, sweetie. What’s yours?”
“Kin.”
She pulled out a barstool and eased him onto it, then set about massaging the muscles of his shoulders and neck. “My but you are a muscled one, aren’t you, Kin?” she giggled. “Now what’ll you have?”
Kin felt his ears burn. Truth was, he had no idea what to get. McGinty offered one drink that he made in his own still out back of the alehouse. “What do you recommend?”
She draped an arm around his shoulders and blinked up at him with a coy simper. “Well now, that depends on if you are looking for just a plain good time, or a really good time, Kin.”
He grinned at her. “Let’s start with a really good time and go from there.”
She touched his nose and offered a knowing wink. “I knew you were a smart one. I truly did.” She lifted a hand t
o the barkeep and the man plunked two small glasses in front of her and Kin and splashed a golden-brown liquid into them.
Adelle lifted her glass toward him in a salute. “Bottoms up, handsome.”
Kin returned her salute and then slung the liquor to the back of his throat. He choked. Then coughed. Everything burned like he’d just set his insides on fire. His eyes watered.
Adelle’s laugh tinkled in his ear. “Welcome to the big house, honey. Now tell me what kind of a job you want?”
Kin shook his head, hoping to ward off the buzzing in his ears. “Anything really. I just need to make enough money to get out of town.”
“Aw, darlin’. Your pappy a bruiser, is he?” She lifted her hand to the bartender again.
Kin frowned. “My pa died.”
“I’m right sorry to hear that.”
The bartender refilled both glasses.
“So… You on your own now?”
Kin shook his head, then gave her a wry grin. “I live with the parson over in Wyldhaven.”
Adelle shook her finger at him like he was a naughty child. “What would the man say to find you here enjoying my company?” She slung her arm around his shoulders and lifted her glass toward his. “To getting out of town.”
Kin smiled. “I’ll drink to that.”
John knew fate had smiled on him the moment he entered the Timber and heard the kid at the bar next to Adelle bellyaching about Wyldhaven.
He’d been pondering how to pull off his plan and now, here, right on his own home turf, the answer had presented itself.
He sank onto the stool next to Adelle and peered around her at the kid who was barely remaining upright on his stool. “Who is he?”
She caressed her finger around the rim of her glass. “Just some poor kid who needed to blow off some steam. Said he lives with the parson in Wyldhaven.” She chuckled gleefully. “Ain’t that something?”
Beauty from Ashes (Wyldhaven Book 3) Page 17