by Sarah Hegger
Mounted, he and Ellie waited for Bridget to say her goodbyes, which were taking some time. She and Isaac stood on the porch and stared at each other, misery carved into both their faces.
They made a weirdly sweet pair. He leaned closer to Ellie and whispered, “We could leave her here.”
“I will not hesitate to shoot you.” She didn’t even glance his way.
So much for that, then. Sass and vinegar were part of the deal when you liked your women feisty, and he most definitely did. “Bridget.” If he didn’t break it up, they would be here come sundown. “We’ve got to get going.”
“And we’ve got work to do.” Pete had been particularly gruff this morning, almost as if he would miss the company. With a sniff, he stomped out to the field.
Isaac followed reluctantly, keeping his gaze on Bridget, only stopping when he tripped over a feed trough and nearly ended up ass over end.
They finally got Bridget on her horse, and Cole led the women out of Pete’s yard and into the trees. Pete had drawn him a crude map of how to get to Denver. It might mean sleeping rough tonight, but it beat going back to Silver Creek. Cole didn’t trust himself not to start shooting at all the folks who had led Ellie into Pete’s clutches. Maybe he should find Snake, and the two of them could have a nice chat, over his peacemaker.
Ellie had barely known Bridget a handful of days, and even she could tell Bridget’s current silence was unusual. She’d been so sure leaving Bridget at the cabin was the wrong thing to do. Bridget had loved the goats, spoken for hours about the pretty cows, and Ellie had taken her talk of Isaac with a pinch of salt.
Doing the typically man thing, Cole ignored the silence and Bridget’s lingering glances behind them. The longing in those looks made Ellie feel guilty as hell.
Maybe she should have let Bridget stay.
Then again, Isaac was a nice enough young man, but no girl deserved to be stuck in the back of nowhere with Pete. As Pete ruled Isaac, Ellie couldn’t leave Bridget in Pete’s clutches. If Isaac had shown some gumption, she might have changed her mind, but in Bridget’s short life, she’d already been handed around like a parcel too many times for Ellie’s liking. The next move in Bridget’s life would be one Bridget had some say in.
Cole looked strong in the saddle, and Ellie had her eye on him, looking for any signs of weakness or pain. The stupid man would push himself and risk her neat stitches if left to himself.
As much as she’d come to know Cole as the well-dressed, smooth gambler who fit right in at a saloon, out here he looked at peace. A gentle breeze ruffled his dark hair beneath his hat, and he rode with ease that spoke of hours in the saddle.
She’d been stupid to leave Cole and run off on her own. She doubted she could ever repay his kindness, but she would try. Part of that also meant no more running off on her own. Cole’s pledge to help her was his bond, and he stood by it.
He sure was a handsome devil with the strong lines of his face. Ellie had never met anybody highborn, but Cole looked like he came from good breeding stock. He spoke like an educated man as well.
Bridget sighed and glanced over her shoulder. What that girl needed was some distraction, and Ellie nudged her horse closer. “I like your dress. It’s pretty.”
“Thank you.” Bridget looked at Ellie like she might bite. At Pete’s cabin, it had been less notable, but Bridget sure was wary around her. Girls who looked like Bridget wouldn’t make any friends in a cathouse. She was too much competition for the other girls.
The men in Bridget’s life had certainly not been any better. It made her sad for the girl. A girl that beautiful could bring the world to its knees. She shouldn’t be cowering and flinching when another woman spoke to her. “Did Cole buy it for you?”
Bridget looked nervously at Cole and then nodded.
“He’s kind like that.” Ellie already owed him more than she could ever repay. “He took me away when my brothers wanted to turn me into an auction.”
“He won a game of cards and got me.” Bridget warmed slightly. She took a deep breath, as if daring to go further and said, “Men like the way I look, but they soon get tired of my talking.”
Except Isaac. Isaac had appeared to be happy to listen to Bridget chatter all day long. If Bridget didn’t change her mind, Ellie might need to reconsider her stance on Bridget and Isaac. In the meantime, when they got to Denver, they would have to find something to do with Bridget. Ellie had an idea, and it was such a good one it made her smile. “I’m going to set up my own dress shop when we get to Denver.”
“You are?” Bridget gaped at her. “You must be very good at sewing.”
“I’m passable.” Some of her finest stitchery was Cole’s back. “But I’m better at dreaming up the dress and making the pattern to sew it. I plan on getting a couple of women to sew for me.”
Bridget sighed. “I like pretty dresses.”
“I think most of us girls do.” Ellie’s shop was taking place in her mind. “But sometimes they can be really expensive. I want to make dresses for girls like us.”
“Whores?” Bridget frowned at her.
Ellie hated that word more and more. “We don’t have to be whores anymore, Bridget.” She had gotten away from that life, and so had Bridget. “We can be what we want this time. A fresh start.”
Bridget brightened considerably. “Then I’d like to be a wife.”
“A wife?” A girl as beautiful as Bridget could go far. “That’s what you want?”
Bridget flushed and looked more beautiful than ever in her shyness. “It’s all I ever really wanted. A good man, a house of my own.” She went pinker. “Some children.”
“How many children?”
“Eight is a good number,” Bridget said with a definite nod. “That way, the older ones can help you look after the young ones.”
As farm families went, eight wasn’t an unusual number. It just seemed like more children than Ellie wanted to have.
If her future was now wide open and full of choices, then children could be part of that future. Ellie liked children. It struck her that a widow might marry again and have children. A widow with her virginity, however, would have as much explaining to do as a virgin whore.
Her gaze tracked Cole. He certainly liked kissing her, and if she hadn’t told him the truth that night, they’d have been lovers.
He glanced at her and smiled.
Cole had everything she needed to fix her problem.
Chapter Eighteen
Fountain Colony was a much bigger town than Silver Creek, and they reached it late the next day, about the time Ellie’s bottom had gone numb from riding and her concern over Cole had reached screaming point.
The stubborn man didn’t say a word, but she could see by this pallor that the ride had cost him.
They found a hotel and got two rooms, one for Cole and she and Bridget would share the other.
Ellie stopped Cole at his door. “You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.” His jaw was set in a stubborn line.
“You’re not fine.” Ellie lowered her voice and stepped closer. “Now you go in there and rest, or I’ll send Bridget to chatter to you until you do.”
He smiled but even that looked like an effort. “You could never be that cruel.”
“Really?” Ellie pinned him with a look. He would injure himself further if he kept it up. “Don’t underestimate my determination to get to Denver. If something happens to you, I don’t get there.”
“You can’t bluff me, Sugar.” His face softened. “You’re not that mean and thank you for caring.”
Ellie was saved from responding when he opened his door and stepped inside. Before he shut it, he flashed her a quick smile. “But I will rest.”
“Good.”
He hesitated. “See you later, Sugar.”
“See you later.” She waited until his door shut, and then led Bridget down the hall to their room. The hotel wasn’t grand, but its wooden floors were clean, and the rooms were large and
airy. The one she shared with Bridget had two beds. And a brass tub behind a screen.
First things first, Ellie called for some water.
Bridget sat in a heap on her bed, staring out the window and sighing.
“Bridget.” Ellie perched next to her and took her hand. “We couldn’t leave you there.”
“I know,” she said in a tone that suggested she knew anything but.
Ellie patted her hand. “I’m going to take a bath; would you like a bath?”
Bridget shrugged.
Dealing with female issues had been a part of her life for so long, and Ellie stood and left Bridget to herself. Bridget would talk when she was ready, or she’d think her way out of her funk.
When her bathwater arrived, Ellie perked up. She took great delight in peeling her dirty dress off and kicking it aside. There might not be enough water and soap in the world to get that dress clean, and a part of her never wanted to see it again.
The water was lovely and hot, and Ellie leaned back in it and let it soothe her sore muscles. As the water started to chill, she washed her hair and stepped out.
Bridget was still sitting where Ellie had left her.
This might be a long funk to find her way out of.
Ellie wriggled into clean underthings and a dress that buttoned up the front. “I thought we might visit a dressmaker.”
“A dressmaker?” Bridget finally looked at her. “I have three dresses. Cole bought them for me.”
“All my dresses announce what I used to be.” Ellie toed her carpetbag. “I need to look more like a regular woman.”
Bridget gave her a misty smile. “You’ll never be a regular woman, Ellie. You’re not a regular sort of woman.”
Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of that, but at least Bridget was speaking again. “Do you want to change, or are you ready to go?”
Standing, Bridget patted her skirts. Clouds of dust rose from her skirts and she sneezed. “I think I should change, don’t you?”
“I definitely think you should change.” As she had a little time, she could check on Cole. To make sure he was resting. “I’ll be back shortly.”
She walked down the short hallway to Cole’s door and tapped on it. “Cole.” She kept it low, not wanting to wake him on the off chance he’d taken her advice and was resting.
The door opened to Cole dressed only in his pants.
Ellie forced her eyes to stay on his face. “I thought I’d check on your back, make sure you haven’t opened anything up.”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “You stitched me up good.”
Opening the door wider, he stepped out the way.
Ellie walked into his room. It was smaller than hers and Bridget’s. A full tub near the window meant Cole had spent his time like she had.
She motioned him to turn. “I hope you didn’t get your stitches wet.”
“I was careful.” But he turned and let her look.
The smooth, tanned skin of his back covered a fascinating play of muscle. Now that she had decided Cole would be the one to cure her inconvenience, her mind kept drifting to all the bawdy stories she’d heard from her girls at the Four Kings.
Would Cole please her enough for her to dig her nails into the smooth expanse of his back?
Heat prickled beneath her skin, and she forced herself to look at his wounds and keep her mind on her task.
Cole’s arms bulged with muscle that begged her to touch and see if it was as hard as it looked. She would never have counted herself as one of those women who liked her men big. She was learning new things about herself nearly every day.
“This looks fine.” Her stitches had held, and Cole’s wounds looked none the worse for wear.
He turned and gave her a roguish smile. “Thanks, Mother.”
“I’m not your mother.” The words snapped out of her before she could stop them.
Cole cocked his head. Those lion eyes swept her from top to toe. “I’m aware of that, Sugar.” He checked himself and stepped away from her. Clearing his throat, he motioned her dress. “Are you going out?”
“I thought I might find a dressmaker and introduce the widow Pierce to the world.”
Cole chuckled and reached for his shirt. “Let me go with you.”
“No, that’s fine.” She caught the edge of his shirt and held fast. “You need to rest, and I’ll be fine. Bridget is coming with me.”
“Ellie.” Cole pulled his shirt from her grasp and shrugged it on. “Last time I lost sight of you, I almost lost you to a trapper’s son.”
Even knowing he didn’t mean that like it sounded didn’t stop a small thrill from coursing through her. “I’m only going one street over.”
“Then we’re only going one street over.” Cole buttoned his shirt.
Part of her wanted to stop him. It seemed a pity to cover all that beautiful man up. “It’s not necessary.”
“I think it is.” He winced as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “Let’s go.”
Ellie suppressed a sigh. He wore his stubborn expression and Cole, she was learning, didn’t shift when he’d made up his mind.
“You’re being stubborn,” she said, as he followed her into the hallway and locked his room behind him.
He motioned her forward. “Let’s get Bridget before she enslaves someone else.”
“She genuinely seems to be sad about Isaac.”
Cole gave her a surprised look. “I would have thought she had forgotten about him already.”
“Apparently not.” Ellie knocked before opening their bedroom door.
Bridget was dressed and back to sitting on the bed and staring out the window.
Ellie sent Cole a speaking glance. “You ready?” She put a dose of chipper into her voice. “Cole is being a stubborn mule and insisting on coming with us.”
“All right.” Bridget stood and left the room, hands folded in front of her. “Isaac had mules.” She sighed. “I liked Isaac’s mules.”
Cole pulled a face at Ellie behind Bridget’s back. Yeah, Ellie was having trouble believing it too, but Bridget seemed to be fond of Isaac. She still had trouble justifying leaving Bridget with Isaac and Pete, but her doubts were starting to nag at her.
Bridget might not be the brightest candle on the cake, but she was an adult woman and entitled to make her own decisions.
Ellie’s conscience whispered to her. The very reason she was on this journey with Cole was because people had taken her right to make decisions about her life from her. In their desire to protect Bridget, had she and Cole done the same thing to her?
Outside, the sun was winding down through a sky tinged red by the ever-present dust.
Three doors down, they found a dressmaker.
A small salon invited them to take a seat amongst the two women already there. Both women looked at her and Bridget and then Cole.
Cole backed out. “I’ll see you once you’re done.”
“You can go back to the hotel.”
He actually growled at her. “I’ll wait.”
The two women stared at Cole.
“My brother.” Ellie forced a light laugh. “He’s so protective since my man passed.”
One of the women, the taller and younger one, softened immediately. “You lost your man?”
Ellie nodded and motioned Bridget to sit before she did. “A month ago, now.”
“You poor dear.” She shook her head. “And still so young.”
“How did you lose him?” The older woman leaned forward. “Mines?”
“Yes.” Ellie heaved a sigh. “I told him that claim would be the death of him.”
Both women shook their heads.
“Men.” The younger sighed. “Can’t tell them a thing.”
Bridget sniffed, then a fat tear dribbled down her silky cheek.
“Oh dear.” The younger woman scooted to the edge of her seat. “Does she miss your man?”
“I miss my man.” Bridget sobbed into her hands.
“Good
afternoon.” The dressmaker chose that moment to come through from the back. She looked at Ellie and then Bridget. “Is something amiss?”
“It’s my sister.” Ellie put her arm over Bridget’s shoulder. “I’ll take her back to the hotel.”
“No, you won’t.” The older woman bustled over. “Ruth and I will take care of your sister.” She gave Ellie’s dress a pointed look. “I imagine you need something more…appropriate to wear. People do talk so, don’t they?”
And gosh darn did they. Ellie nodded and wondered what the woman would think if she’d seen one of the getups Sugar Ellie used to sport. “I should stay with my sister.”
“Myrtle is right.” Ruth took the seat next to Bridget and took her hand. “You go and do what you need. We’ll look after her.” Ruth patted Bridget’s hand. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“B-Bridget.” Bridget gazed at her with huge, waterlogged eyes. It would take a harder heart than either Ruth or Myrtle had to withstand such a heartbreaking sight.
The dressmaker looked like she wanted to ask a bucket of questions.
Despite Ellie’s misgivings, Ruth and Myrtle did seem to be having a calming effect on Bridget, and she was tired of being tossed out of respectable places. She stood and approached the dressmaker. “I need something for a widow.”
The dressmaker’s eyes gleamed and she puffed up. “You’re a widow.”
“The mines.” Myrtle clucked her tongue. “And she told him that mine would be the death of him.”
The dressmaker melted. “Oh, you poor dear. And so young.”
“So young.” Ruth sniffed and looked like she might burst into tears herself. “Such a pretty young woman to be a widow.”
“But she has a brother.” Myrtle pointed outside the window, where Cole was leaning against a post near the door. “He watches out for her.”
“That’s nice, dear.” The dressmaker took her hand. “It’s good to have a man looking out for you. This town is no place for a young woman without a protector.”
“Thank you.” Ellie hated lying to these genuinely nice women. She followed the dressmaker into the back.