“I understand,” Amanda said. “If you look at the map, there are towns along the route. If we’re near one when we stop, would you object to spending the night in a hotel?”
“Lady, it’s your money. If you intend on paying for rooms and a stable for the horses, no, I’ve no objections.” Folding the map, he stuck it inside his vest. “The name’s Hogan. Earl Hogan.”
“I’m Amanda Burnsfield.”
Hogan scratched his chin. “For starters, I’m gonna need about fifty dollars for supplies. You wouldn’t know what to git anyway.” He watched as she opened her purse and handed him the money. “Good. You came prepared. I trust you got a horse?” At Amanda’s nod, he continued. “A regular saddle, ya hear? Not one of them silly sidesaddles. I don’t want to be picking your scrawny behind off’n the ground.” He folded his arms as he took in your youthful appearance. “Ain’t you afraid of being alone with a stranger?”
She looked at him sharply. “Why, Mr. Hogan, do you intend on causing me harm?”
“Nah,” he smiled. “For one, you’re too spindly to my liking, and two, I never mix business with pleasure. You’ll be safe enough with me, missy.”
“Then, no, I’m not afraid,” she lied.
He laughed loudly. “Well, that just about covers everything. Okay, lady, you got yourself a deal.” He pointed to her feet. “Wear heavy socks and boots. Find a man’s coat with plenty of padding. And if you’re smart, you’d git a hat to stuff that hair into. There are unsavory sorts that might kill a man for a little bit of pleasure. The sooner we head out, the better. Be here at six o’clock, tomorrow morning. That’s when I’m leaving, and by God, I don’t like to be kept waiting!”
“I’m not sure I can be here that early…I mean…not without having to explain myself…”
“You’d best understand one thing, lady. When I guide, it’s my way or no way a’tall. So you just better make up a good enough excuse. Be here or it’s off.” As she turned to leave, he spoke again. “One pair of saddlebags lady, for your clothes and such.” He held up a finger for emphasis. “And real gloves, not them things you women wear.”
He shook his head as she departed. He would have his hands full if the girl proved troublesome. But once the task was completed, he’d have enough money to carry him through winter. Looking at the crisp bills, Hogan grinned. This was going to be a good season after all.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Amanda’s heart hammered as she crossed the hotel lobby, her mind reeling with all she had to accomplish. She had no idea how she was going to slip away from the Burnsfield home, let alone hitch a horse to a carriage.
As she passed the front desk, she had an idea. “Have you any vacancies?” she asked the clerk.
“Yes, ma’am, we do.”
“I’d like a room. I’ll return later with my things,” she said, signing the register.
Before going home, Amanda stopped at the dry goods store and bought three boy-sized flannel shirts, three heavy pants, a saddlebag and a pair of buckskin gloves. At the counter, she spied a stack of long johns and added a pair to her purchase. When she arrived at the Burnsfield home and with the drivers help, she spirited her packages upstairs.
Digging through Reagan’s side of the wardrobe, Amanda found a hat and coat so small, they must have been boyhood possessions. She rummaged his bureau and retrieved woolen socks before filling her saddlebag. Draping the bag over a chair, Amanda stuffed package wrappings in the wardrobe bottom before a knock at the door made her jump.
“Dinner is ready, Mrs. Burnsfield,” the maid called.
“Thank you, Lela, I’ll be down shortly.”
Throughout dinner, she spoke in forced cheerfulness as she addressed the first of many probleMs. “If you’ve no objections, I’d like to spend a few days with Aunt Ella. I haven’t visited her since before the wedding. We’re working on a quilt and I thought I’d bring my sewing basket. I know it’s getting late, but I’d like to go over this evening.”
“That sounds lovely,” Katherine said. “I’m sure you’ll both have a good time.”
Amanda then turned to Thomas. “I also promised Aunt Ella we’d go shopping. Since she’s yet to replace her carriage, I was hoping to borrow the buggy during that time.”
“Why, of course,” he said. “We’ll still have our carriage, if we need to go anywhere.”
“Thanks ever so much,” she said, overcoming her final obstacle. “I can use my own horse.”
Later in her chambers, Amanda dragged a small trunk from the closet. After filling it, she summoned the maid to have it carried to the waiting conveyance. Earlier that day she had withdrawn enough from her account to pay Hogan as well as any unforeseen expenses. Placing the funds in her handbag, she donned her cape and bonnet before going downstairs.
While saying goodbye to the family, Amanda made a show of fetching her sewing basket from the parlor. It was still in her hands when the groom aided her into the buggy. But before he could climb up, she picked up the reins. “Please, don’t bother,” she said. “I’ll take myself.”
The lad looked uncertain. “I don’t think it’s permissible, ma’am. I was told to take you to Miss Bruester’s.”
“Nonsense! It’s not very far,” she said. “You go right back to where you were.” Slapping the reins, she left before he could stop her.
Amanda arrived at the hotel and approached the desk, asking for her trunk to be taken to her room. She then laid down several bills next to a handwritten note. “I’d like my trunk and buggy stored for three days before returning them to this address. Also, I need awakened by five o’clock tomorrow morning.” The clerk nodded as he scooped up the money.
He showed Amanda to her room, lighting the lamp and starting a fire while the stable boy retrieved her trunk.
Once alone, she undressed and placed her feminine clothes in the trunk. It was only when she reached her chemise that she realized she hadn’t brought a nightgown. Amanda took from her saddlebags the recently purchased long johns. Before putting them on, she retrieved her scissors and cut her chemise to just below her derrière. Though she regretted ruining the shift, she couldn’t bear removing the only softness in her new wardrobe.
Amanda didn’t know when she fell asleep, but it seemed only moments before a rap on the door roused her.
“You up, ma’am?” a voice called. “It’s five o’clock.”
“Yes,” Amanda said, fumbling with the lamp’s wick. “It’s cold!”
“Yes ma’am, it is,” agreed the servant. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”
Amanda dressed quickly, removing her chemise before donning the boyish garb. After plaiting her hair she gathered her outerwear and saddlebag and went downstairs. As she entered the dining room she heard someone clearing his throat.
Hogan sat at the table holding a cup of coffee. He looked her up and down. “You’ll do,” he said. “Though, you look like a little girlie.”
“At least I changed my clothes since yesterday,” Amanda said, taking a seat. “And take my hat off at the table.”
“Don’t recall you paying for manners,” Hogan said as a woman set down two large platters of food. “Now, get to it.”
“I can’t eat all this,” Amanda said, staring.
Hogan stabbed a sausage. “It’s a long time til noon, missy. You’d best put as much in your belly as you can.”
Amanda looked at the cook as the woman poured coffee. “May I have tea instead?”
“Maybe you should have baby milk,” Hogan snorted. “You don’t appear old enough to stomach real brew.”
Rather than irritate Hogan further, Amanda remained silent as she ate. But his look of disgust returned when she pushed back her plate.
“Ain’t you going to finish that?”
“I’m done,” Amanda said, thinking a week with him was beginning to look like a long, trying time.
Leaning over, he devoured the rest on her plate before wiping his mouth. “C‘mon, let’s saddle the horses.”
Amanda’s eyes suddenly grew wide.
“What’s the matter, now?”
“I forgot a saddle!”
“Dammit! Git your things and come with me,” he said sourly. In the barn, she watched him strap supplies to a packhorse. He then spoke to the stable boy who soon emerged from the tack room with a bridle and saddle. “You owe the kid twenty dollars.”
Amanda counted the correct amount as Hogan led her gelding from the stall. “On my trips, every man saddles his own horse,” he said. “I’ll help you once. From then on, you do it yourself.”
Hogan watched how Amanda put on the saddle; much like she had the night she followed Gabriella. Shaking his head, he brought the cinch up several inches while instructing the correct way to ready her mount. Once he was satisfied, he saddled his own horse.
Outside the barn, the three horses stamped their feet. Amanda’s hands felt equally uncomfortable despite her gloves but found a solution by unrolling her cuffs and pulling her hands inside.
Early morning shadows had just given way to hazy dawn when they started their journey. Amanda felt a surging excitement as she played the scenario of a happy reunion over and over in her mind. Yet, she grew concerned Reagan’s family would worry when they discovered her missing.
She settled on the solution of writing a letter and mailing it in the first town they came upon. In due course it would arrive at the Burnsfields, but by then it would be too late for anyone to stop her. She regretted the deceit she used, but would later beg their forgiveness.
As they traveled, Hogan appeared to have forgotten about her. He occasionally viewed the map but he neither talked nor looked in her direction. By midmorning, Amanda’s thought’s turned to more pressing needs. She grew miserable, hoping Hogan would stop without prompting, but finally, necessity forced her to speak. “Earl--”
“Hogan,” he corrected.
“Hogan,” she began again. “Isn’t it time we stopped?”
“We’ll eat while riding. It gains time.”
“But, I…have…to…”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so,” he said. Reining in, he pointed to a clump of trees. “Over there’ll do just fine.” With as much dignity as she could, Amanda directed her horse off the road and into the bushes.
By nightfall, Amanda realized Hogan had bypassed the nearest town and any chance for a warm bed. Too tired to protest, she dismounted. Yet, her icy feet refused to cooperate and she stumbled sideways into Hogan.
“Unsaddle your horse, then fetch wood. That’ll git your circulation going,” he said, pushing her upright.
Amanda hobbled to do her tasks, thankful that he didn’t demand she also build a fire. That accomplished, and by the time they consumed burnt beans and vile coffee, Amanda peevishly decided Hogan couldn’t cook, either.
After checking the horses and tie lines, he returned with two bedrolls. Amanda followed his lead by unrolling her blanket near the fire but the blanket kept catching her boots, and in agitation she removed them. Her last thoughts before falling asleep was not of Reagan, but how she was going to survive the week with this madman, Earl Hogan.
Chapter Forty-Eight
If Amanda believed traveling by horseback would be a pleasant experience, she soon learned otherwise. By the end of her first day she was cold, sore and exhausted. She couldn’t even look forward to mealtime, for Hogan lacked the skills to cook without ruining food.
Amanda had slept with her coat and blanket and in what seemed like minutes felt a boot nudge her. Waking felt painful, and as she rolled over, her breath formed a vaporous column. Dimly, she could see Hogan standing over her.
“Git up,” he ordered in a tone she was learning to hate.
She reached for her boots finding they had stiffened during the night. She yanked them on and by the time she returned from the bushes, Hogan had breakfast ready. Afterward, he brought over the horses. Saddling her mount proved easier the second time, although Hogan still had to tighten the cinch.
By midday, Amanda had tired of Hogan’s penchant for silence and prompted her horse next to his. “How far have we come?”
He peered at the sun. “About thirty-five miles.”
“Today?” Amanda said excitedly.
“From Cantonsville, Mrs. Burnsfield.”
“Oh.” Though disappointed, she was encouraged by his meager civility. “Then, will we be near Meadville come nightfall? Even a lumpy bed would feel soft after last night.” She also envisioned a hot bath and a meal prepared by a competent cook.
Hogan opened the map. “If the weather holds, we’ll be passing through about two hours before making camp.”
Amanda’s face mirrored her disappointment. “Wouldn’t it be better…?”
Hogan reined in his horse, forcing Amanda to do the same. “Look, missy,” he growled. “I don’t intend on gittin’ caught in a snow squall with another man’s wife! As it is, I’m squeezing every hour before hard winter sets in. So no, we ain’t stopping.”
“I’ve a letter to send,” Amanda said, quelling her sudden pique. “There are those who need to know I’m visiting my husband. So, you can just spare a few minutes!” Before he could respond, she slapped her horse and galloped ahead.
Hogan felt amused as he watched her braid bounce upon her back. By God, he was starting to like the girlie. She had pluck. In all his fifty years, he had found little use for the female gender. Women were always demanding strict rules of conduct, always trying to change him. This one made requests, but she neither quarreled nor complained to get her way.
Kicking his horse, he galloped ahead then slowed to ride alongside. “Mind you,” he said in a warning tone. “Before we git to town, you best hide that mane of yours.”
When they neared Meadville, Amanda stuffed her hair into her hat and pulled the brim low. They rode directly to the post office but found it locked and shuttered. Hailing a passerby, Hogan inquired of the unexpected closing. “Once the mail’s delivered, the Postmaster goes home for the day,” came the hurried response.
“I got a better idea,” Hogan said. “C’mon.” Grabbing her arm, he crossed the street and entered the nearest building. Amanda found herself inside a telegraph office facing a clerk in a short-billed cap. “The boy wants to send a message,” Hogan said, jerking his thumb in her direction. Amanda took a second too long to step forward and found herself being propelled toward the counter. “The brat’s a little slow,” he tapped his head as he glared at Amanda. “C’mon, let’s git this over with, so we can git a move on.”
Amanda cleared her throat before speaking; not realizing the lilt in her voice sounded decidedly feminine. “I wish to send a message to Mr. And Mrs. Thomas Burnsfield in Cantonsville , Ohio.”
Just then, two men wearing long coats entered. The door banged noisily as one fished through his pockets. He stepped behind Amanda and stood there, chewing on a cigar. Before she could give her message, Hogan stepped forward and pushed her aside. “Just write ‘I’m going to visit…’” he paused, staring at Amanda’s surprised face until she provided a name.
“Reagan,” she said.
“Write ‘I am fine, will return soon,’” Hogan dictated while the clerk scribbled.
As the teller finished, he looked from one to the other. “And who should I say sent the telegraph?”
This posed a problem, for Amanda couldn’t give a woman’s name in front of all these men. Suddenly, Hogan reached out, pulling the pencil from the clerk. “Show him,” he said. Amanda wrote ‘A. Burnsfield’ on the paper, then handed it back.
“That’ll be seventy-five cents,” the clerk told Hogan who was clearly in charge.
“Pay the man,” he barked.
“It’s--it’s--” Amanda pointed toward the door. “--in my saddlebag--” Hogan growled under his breath as he reached inside his coat and slammed down the coins. Grabbing Amanda under her arm, he hustled her outside.
“Every time you open your mouth, you give yourself away,” he rasped while pu
shing her toward the horses. “From now on, when we’re around others, I’ll do the talkin’.”
Amanda wanted to cry, but dared not for the two emerged from the telegraph office just as she hoisted herself onto her mount.
One removed the stub of his cigar, his mouth agape. “That ain’t no boy,” he mumbled to his companion.
The other squinted to get a better view. “Nope,” he answered. “My guess, it’s a mite purty filly under them men’s britches.”
“Blackie, why d’ya suppose they’s hiding the fact she’s a girl?” he asked, sticking the cigar into his mouth.
Blackie rubbed his jaw, watching the riders fill their canteens at a well pump. “Don’t know, Fletch,” he said. “Appears th’ feller ain’t too keen on anyone knowing.”
“S’pose he’s keeping her all to hisself?”
Blackie’s eyes gleamed. “Most likely. Th’ way I figger, it’s downright rude to keep all that young flesh for an old codger like him. That filly ain’t never going to appreciate a real man, if’n that’s all she’s ever known.”
Fletch snickered as he watched Hogan and Amanda leave town. “We best git a move on. It’s gittin’ dark and they’ll be setting up for th’ night.”
As the two men mounted, Blackie imagined the many ways he would pleasure himself on the wench. He knew of an abandoned cabin not far away he could use for brewing mischief.
In the moonlight, the road became a dark ribbon, giving the miscreants an easy path to follow as they scanned the trees looking for a campfire.
Hogan had gotten a bad feeling at the telegraph office. Leaving town, he had glanced back and saw they were being watched. Recognizing blackguards when he saw them, Hogan believed he and Amanda looked like easy pickings and scouted for a secure place to camp.
Toward dusk, he found a well-protected area hidden behind the rise of a hill. After tending the horses he started a fire. Unsheathing his Bowie knife, Hogan cut several pine branches to form a crude mattress before disappearing into the trees. Amanda finished gathering firewood and now sat by the fire. As she waited, she fanned the flames with her hat, not hearing footfalls until they were right behind her.
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