Beautiful Bandit (Lone Star Legends)

by Lough, Loree

  And here it was, June 15—one month after the haunting holdup. Kate swallowed an impatient sigh. If not for Frank, she’d be in Laredo with Etta Mae right now, shopping for a new piano and pricing glassware for the saloon. Not only would she have been spared Frank’s brutality, but she wouldn’t have needed to hide behind a phony name. Instead, she’d be traipsing around town, free as a dove, introducing herself as Kate Wellington, Etta’s singing piano player, and partaking in lively festivals and picnics, parades and Fourth-of-July fireworks displays.

  Then again, she wouldn’t have met Josh.

  Kate couldn’t help but think that something was fundamentally wrong with her. It couldn’t possibly be normal to conclude that going through all she had had been more than worth it because it had led up to meeting a nice cowboy.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Dan said, interrupting her reverie.

  “Sorry.” She rubbed tiny circles into her temples. “I tend to be a bit of a daydreamer sometimes.”

  Dan smiled. “Don’t you worry. He’ll come around.”

  Had her emotions been that obvious? This time, Kate didn’t stifle her sigh. There didn’t seem to be much point in asking whom Dan was referring to, and so she didn’t.

  He got to his feet. “See you at supper, then?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good. It’ll be nice having a pretty face across the table to look at for a change.” He started for the hall but stopped just short of the doorway. “You ought to give George’s advice some serious consideration,” Dan said, pointing at her sewing. “You’re good at that. And fast, too. But the man is right—you keep it up at this pace, and Lucinda just might wear your fingers to nubs!”

  Kate gasped with pretend shock. “Surely, you’re not suggesting that I give the work less than my best, I hope, or that I devote more time to each repair than necessary!”

  “Way I heard it, you’re leaving the Lazy N as soon as that ankle of yours heals, anyway. So, you might as well just slow down. Let nature take its course, and maybe that hardheaded cousin of mine will come around before you head south.”

  Kate smiled as he shuffled from the room. It seemed she could add “perceptive” after “proud” to the list of attributes of the Neville men.

  19

  Do you think you’re up for a ride into town?”

  When Josh’s mother asked the question, common sense told Kate that her ankle hadn’t healed quite enough for her to take a long, bumpy wagon ride, but she was so flattered at the invitation that an enthusiastic “Yes!” popped impulsively from her mouth. Besides, her eyes were red and burning, her fingers stiff and sore, and her shoulders aching from days of sitting hunched over her sewing. Sometimes, she almost suspected Lucinda of deliberately removing buttons and letting out hems for the sole purpose of keeping Kate off her ankle. She couldn’t help but smile to picture the kindhearted woman scouring every bureau and wardrobe for articles of clothing to add to the pile.

  “I think some time spent away from this stuffy, old house will be good for you,” Eva said. “Besides, it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better. Just in case that boy of mine comes to his senses sometime soon.”

  In case what? Kate thought. What had Josh’s mother seen or heard to make her say such a thing? But Eva Neville never gave her the chance to ask. In fact, the woman talked incessantly from the moment the buggy started rolling. Halfway to Eagle Pass, Kate’s throbbing ankle made it nearly impossible to pay close attention as Eva talked about the weather—which, according to her, was unseasonably hot, even for West Texas—and listed the stores they’d visit in sequential order.

  “I’m so glad you let me talk you into wearing a proper lady’s bonnet instead of that lopsided thing you had on your pretty head when you rode in with Josh.”

  Lopsided thing? Kate loved that hat! It had provided protection from the unrelenting sun and had kept the pounding rains from blinding her, and, most important, Josh had chosen it for her. She smiled a little, remembering the way he’d patiently showed her how to cinch the stampede string that encircled its brim just tightly enough so that the hat would stay on, even if the most powerful wind gusts threatened to blow it “hither and yon.” Her smile grew as she remembered those three little words that had started him laughing so hard, he’d hardly been able to breathe, and how it had taken minutes before he’d collected himself enough to tell her about how that “starched shirt of a banker” had used the phrase.

  “I thought you looked lovely in Sarah’s pink dress the other day,” his mother was saying, “but with your peaches-and-cream complexion and all those freckles, and your lovely, auburn hair, oh, how well yellow becomes you!” She gave Kate’s hand a gentle pat. “And did you know that yellow just so happens to be Josh’s favorite color?”

  Earlier, when Kate had checked on the clothes she’d washed—the ones Josh had bought for her in Uvalde—she’d been disappointed to find that, despite the thorough scrubbing she’d given them, they still smelled like a damp mop. Josh had warned her not to leave them rolled up in her saddlebags, and it upset her to think she might never be able to wear them again. Not as upset as Lucinda, who, once she’d gotten a whiff of them, had insisted on scrubbing them herself. Hopefully, when Kate returned to the ranch, the shirts and skirts would have dried smelling like sunshine and the fresh, Texas air, because she didn’t want to keep borrowing clothes from Sarah. Josh might like yellow, but she had a feeling he wasn’t any fonder of fussy ruffles and superfluous lace than she was.

  She felt the heat of a blush color her cheeks, inspired in part by regret that she knew almost nothing about her handsome hero. If it hadn’t been for Eva’s casual comment, she wouldn’t have known about his favorite color. What about the rest of his favorites? Did he prefer his potatoes fried or mashed, with gravy or without? Did he favor apple pie or spice cake? After all he’d done for her, she should have known a lot more about him.

  “Tell me, Dinah dear, what’s your favorite color?”

  The question had seemed to come out of nowhere, and so did Kate’s answer. “Green,” she said, without even thinking.

  Eva turned slightly on the wagon seat to meet her gaze. “You don’t say! I never would have guessed, what with those beautiful, green eyes of yours!”

  For the first time since she’d put on the ridiculous, frilly bonnet, Kate found something to like about it: the awning of white toile that poured from its crown provided exactly the right cover to hide her blush, although she didn’t know why the compliment should have embarrassed her. Flower petals and tree leaves were green, and so were—

  “Look, señora,” George said, pointing. “The hotel roof.”

  “Ah, marvelous!” Eva exclaimed, clapping her gloved hands. “That means we’re only about a mile outside of town.” She adjusted the black, satin bow of her bonnet. “Any minute now, the courthouse will come into view, then J. W. Riddle’s grocery store, though it’s silly to call it that when he has every sort of item imaginable for sale in there! Oh, how I wish you could come inside and prowl around with me. It’d be such fun to see the look on your face when you realize how much merchandise that man has managed to stock on his shelves!”

  Before long, George parked the wagon in the shade of some trees beside the store, then helped Eva climb down.

  “I won’t be long,” she said, patting Kate’s knee. “Are you sure you’ll be all right out here all alone, dear?”

  Kate smiled, amazed at the depth of fondness she’d developed for this woman in such a short time. “I’ll be just fine. Take your time, and don’t worry about me. I’ll have plenty to keep me entertained, watching the goings-on in the street.”

  “Well, I’ll have George come back to check on you in a few minutes, just in case.” And with that, Eva and George went off in separate directions to run their errands. They weren’t gone five minutes when Kate saw a small group—two men and a woman—gathered at the courthouse directly across the street. They were huddled around a fly
er tacked to the big board beside the door. She couldn’t make out every word of their animated conversation, but when she heard one of the women say “never heard of” and “woman bank robber” all rolled into the same sentence, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest.

  As the small group dispersed, Kate acknowledged that it very well could be her own image on the poster, and, if it was….

  If it was, she had to get it. Had to tear it down from the bulletin board and destroy it so that no one in Eagle Pass, no one at the Lazy N, would know her true identity. Because she couldn’t allow them to find out how deep her selfishness ran—so deep that a threat on her own life had caused her to stand by in self-preservation as others were senselessly slaughtered. They’d hate her and question what had prompted them to welcome her into their home, into their world. Especially Josh.

  She tried to imagine how he’d feel once he learned that she’d lied to him, duped him, and used him for no reason other than to save her own skin. The thought roused an ache inside her that rivaled the pain of burying her mama. If crossing the street would keep Josh and his family safe from the truth about her, then she had to do it, even if it caused a setback in her recuperation. Eva had mentioned that the bank would be her next stop, and to get there, she’d need to pass right by the courthouse. She could not see that poster!

  Kate swallowed. Hard. She estimated the distance from the buggy to the bulletin board to be twenty feet, definitely no more than twenty-five. Even with her lame ankle, she didn’t think it would take her more than a minute to reach the bulletin board. Add a few seconds to grab the poster, unnoticed, and another minute back to the wagon—yes, she could do it. Failure wasn’t an option.

  Hooking her cane on the edge of the wagon to make it easier to reach once she hit the ground, Kate carefully lowered herself to the ground and started up the alleyway. The street was empty when she reached it, and she began slowly hobbling across. Hopefully, it would stay that way until she made it back to the wagon with that poster safely tucked into the pocket of her purse. But hurrying, she quickly realized, caused her ankle to ache almost as much as when she’d first twisted it. If she wasn’t careful, she’d do far more than just slow its healing; she might very well cause permanent injury. Still, she pressed on, reminding herself with every painful step how much more it would hurt if Josh and the rest of his family discovered the truth about her.

  Her heart was pounding, droplets of perspiration were trailing down her face from her temples to her chin, and she didn’t need a mirror to know that her curlicue bangs were plastered to her forehead. A bead of sweat trickled down her spine and puddled just beneath the bustle of Sarah’s dress. She could blame the heat of the day for the condition the dress would be in when she got back to the Lazy N, but nothing would explain away the wanted poster.

  As she limped up the courthouse steps, she entertained the unlikely hope that, once she reached the bulletin board, she’d see a sketch of some other female bank robber. She even thought about praying that would be the case, but her prayers would have been in vain. For when she reached the top of the steps, she stood, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, staring at her own face staring back at her, just as she had in that small town immediately after she’d escaped from Frank. Any one of a hundred people in San Antonio could have described her to the artist. Asked to name which one, Kate would have guessed it had been the bank manager, for Mr. Schaeffer had seen her running ahead of Frank and had called out her name.

  Looking at the poster wasn’t exactly like gazing into a mirror, but the artist had come jarringly close to duplicating her features. Her stomach lurched and her heart beat doubly fast when she read again the bold, black letters:

  WANTED

  KATE WELLINGTON

  DEAD OR ALIVE

  FOR MURDER AND ARMED BANK ROBBERY

  At the bottom of the poster was the word “Reward.” Many men had turned to bounty hunting to make ends meet. She’d recognize Frank and his men and could easily hide from them—if they didn’t see her first—and Texas Rangers were easy to spot because of their silver stars. But just about any man could be a bounty hunter. How was she to hide from them?

  Kate glanced left, then right, and then, satisfied no one was watching, she ripped down the poster and stuffed it into her purse. It was too soon to breathe a sigh of relief, but she couldn’t help feeling a flash of reassurance. Now, if only she could make it back to the wagon, unnoticed!

  “What you got in that li’l yeller bag o’ yours, miss?”

  A tiny scream burst from her mouth as Kate whirled around to face a boy who looked barely more than ten years old. He stood on the top step, clutching a gray pistol in his grimy hands.

  She’d seen his type in San Antonio plenty of times. The threadbare clothing and tattered boots told her times were hard at his house, and the fear flashing in his brown eyes led her to believe he hadn’t quite become an expert mugger. Yet.

  During those dark days as Frank’s captive, she’d overheard boastful tales about how growing up dirt-poor had motivated him and his men toward petty crimes that later turned them into career criminals.

  It wasn’t likely that anything she said or did would have a lasting impact on this youngster, whose desperation drove him to steal, but how would she live with herself if she didn’t at least try? “I certainly hope that’s a very realistic wood carving you’re holding, young man,” she said, forcing a tone of bravado she didn’t feel into her voice.

  “This ain’t no carving, lady,” he snarled, holding the weapon higher. “This here’s my pa’s Colt, and it’s got his bullets in it, too.” His eyes narrowed menacingly, and he added, “Now, you’d best hand over that li’l purse of yours, or you’ll find out right quick just how real it is.”

  “You want my purse as a present for your mother?”

  Both eyebrows disappeared into his mop of tangled bangs as he whipped the frayed, wool cap from his head. “A present?” he barked. “What kinda fool talk is this? I only want what’s inside it. Now, hand it over, or else!”

  If he kept shouting that way, someone was bound to notice. Kate couldn’t afford to let that happen, for his sake or for her own. Narrowing her eyes, she took a half step closer. “What’s your name, little boy?”

  “Say,” he sneered, “I ain’t no little boy. Turned nine on my last birthday.” He used the gun as a pointer. “Now, you give me that purse, you hear, or—”

  She’d heard it said that desperate people did desperate things, and in that instant, she understood the full impact of its meaning. In one second, Kate hooked the end of her cane around his wrist and pinned it to the wall. In the next, his pistol clattered to the wooden walkway, and, despite the pain it caused her, she used her injured foot to hold it in place. Before he had a chance to react, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and gave him a good shaking. “Have you ever heard of Frank Michaels?”

  “Y-yes’m,” he said, blinking enormous, brown eyes. “Read about ’im in a book my pa has.”

  She couldn’t afford to waste another minute trying to reason with this aspiring criminal. Fear and tension coursed through her veins, and she aimed every bit of the resulting adrenaline at him. “Then I expect you already know that he’s as mean and evil as the devil himself.”

  He gave a shrug and smirked, and it horrified Kate to realize that he saw Frank as a hero of some sort. She gave the fabric of his shirt a slight twist and leaned in closer. “How many men do you suppose he’s killed?”

  “Dunno, lady,” the boy croaked out. “Lots, I reckon.”

  “Well, here’s something I’ll bet you don’t know: Frank Michaels and every one of the murdering robbers who travel with him got their starts in the thieving business by robbing ladies of their purses.”

  That struck a chord, as evidenced by the giant gulp he took.

  “Is that what you’re working toward—to become a thieving killer who’s feared and hated by all, who will most surely die a slow and grisly death at the end of a rope—that i
s, if some bounty hunter doesn’t put a bullet in you first?”

  Tears shimmed in his eyes as he stuttered, “N-no, ma’am. I just wanted—I—needed—I thought—”

  “Here’s something to think about, young man. Next time you want or need something, go to church and ask the pastor to help you instead of terrorizing decent, law-abiding citizens!” She felt like a hypocrite, talking and behaving this way, but she would deal with her guilt later. Right now, she had to do her best to set this boy straight, and, hopefully, silence him, as well.

  Kate kicked the gun off the step, and it landed with a quiet thud in the dusty road. Using her free hand, she pointed at it. “You’d better think long and hard next time you try to take what isn’t yours, because someone might take that from you, just like I did, and use it on you!”

  Shaken by fear, and also appalled at the level of her fury, Kate turned him loose. “Now, you’d best go and find your mother before I find the sheriff!”

  “Y-yes, ma’am,” he blubbered, scurrying down the courthouse steps. He threw a last, astonished look over his shoulder as he bent to retrieve his pistol, and she read it to mean he wouldn’t soon forget meeting her! Well, good, she thought as she watched his small, raggedy boots pound down the street, raising small puffs of dust with every footfall.

  As she made her way back to the wagon, Kate felt exhausted, and not only from the painful physical exertion. Later, alone in her room at the Lazy N, she would thank the good Lord for helping her grab the placard and shoo the would-be purse snatcher without being seen. Even if He didn’t hear her prayer, she knew nothing short of heavenly intervention could have saved her from what had almost happened just now.