“Good morning,” she whispered, as though afraid of letting loose some devil if she spoke very loud. He was tempted to tell her it was too late, that she’d already unwittingly created a monster. Instead, he forced himself away from her side and took a seat across from her as Connors served their breakfast. They both seemed inclined to eat in silence.
“I suppose you’re going to notify my father at the first opportunity,” she stated.
Max had to look at her. It was unavoidable. Instead of a crestfallen, defeated maid, he found a woman with a very determined look on her face. She tilted her chin in defiance, her gaze steady on his.
He soaked in her beauty, feeling a little guilty for staring, but not able to help himself. She was just too pretty for words. “I won’t, but I think you should let him know you’re safe. Besides, I told you, your father didn’t send me after you.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“Abby, understand this. While I may appear in different disguises to protect myself or the people I work for, I never lie.”
“Then what am I to do? I have no job and very little money.” She pursed her lips as though she wanted to add thanks to you.
“I’ll take care of you,” Max said with a shrug, thinking the answer was obvious.
“I think not!” She rose from the table and moved toward the windows.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I want to be independent, Mr. Grant, not a kept woman.”
“Look, what option do you have? Besides, what do you know about kept women?”
She turned from him and trailed her hand on the windowsill, walking the length of the car. “Kept women are taken care of by men for doing what I did last night.”
The anguish in her voice was real. She thought a few shared kisses made her a fallen woman.
“There is much more involved before you would be labeled a fallen woman.”
“There is?” Her eyes widened in wonder. “But what I felt was so…so achingly delicious it had to be a sin.”
Max felt like a train had hit him. How had he possibly thought to conduct a business arrangement with Abigail O’Brien when she looked at him with such innocent eyes and made seductive comments that sent his male instincts raging out of control?
“I’m only being honest,” Abby said when she saw Max blanch at her comment. “So much has happened over the past twenty-four hours that doesn’t make sense, and I sincerely wish you would explain it. You’ve given me your bed and fed me and I’ve offered an explanation for how I came to have your brother’s watch. And we shared kisses. Perhaps that doesn’t amount to being a kept woman, but we’ve exchanged commodities, as Father would say, and those don’t always have to be money for goods or services.”
Of course, it wasn’t the exchange of information she was actually thinking about. She’d been in ecstasy when he held her tight and kissed her. Now he said there was much more to it than that. Abby’s stomach churned. What would more be like? The kisses were delightful, and if she was to truly be an independent, liberated woman, she should be able to take what she wanted, the same way men did.
“Kissing you had nothing to do with the other, although it shouldn’t have happened,” Max said. “It would be better to keep our arrangement strictly business.”
“No kissing?”
“Look, Abby, there’s a whole world out there you know nothing about, regardless of all your reading. It’s becoming civilized, for the most part, but there is still evil and it’s my job to eliminate it. Sometimes that means killing—”
“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Max. Are you saying we can’t…”
The train jerked suddenly and Abby grabbed the back of a chair to keep from falling. She looked toward the window. “Why are we slowing?”
“We’re close to Bavaria, Kansas.” He looked relieved and stood. “It’s not a long stop, but it’s a chance to stretch our legs, and I can see if there’s news about my brother.” His words trailed off as he disappeared down the corridor leading to the stateroom.
She watched out the window for a few minutes while a row of dusty buildings came into view. People scurried along the dirt street toward the train station. She wondered idly if they were as anxious for news about loved ones as Max.
A town. It suddenly dawned on her that a town meant jobs. She hurried to the stateroom to get her carpetbag.
“Whoa, what’s the hurry?” Max caught her by the shoulders when she rounded the corner and slammed into his chest. He’d once again donned his Reverend Fishbone disguise, the round eyeglasses and flat crowned hat concealing enough of his features to alter his appearance.
“I need my things.”
Max shook his head, turning her around and marching her back to the dining room. “You are not staying in Bavaria.”
Abby dug in her heels. “You have no right telling me what to do. Besides, given our circumstances, perhaps it would be better if I left.” She tried to make her voice sound definitive, but Max’s hands on her shoulders, squeezing ever so slightly, made her feel small and helpless.
Max didn’t release her until he’d turned her around and plunked her into a chair. Even then, he stood over her, hands on the arms of the chair, almost nose to nose. While she knew he wasn’t a real minister, the black coat and white collar gave the appearance of such. She suddenly felt disinclined to argue with him. Besides, his proximity reminded her of last night, and a strange and exciting mixture of emotions claimed her attention.
“Max?” She shifted her gaze from his chest to his face and their gazes locked. He cleared his throat, straightening and moving away from her.
“Look, there are no jobs in Bavaria for a lady like you. Besides, you’re the only one who can recognize the gambler. Until we find him or my brother, don’t even think about doing anything else.”
“But I have to earn a living.”
Max glared at her over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “Fine, I’ll pay you.”
“I can be an investigator and look for people like you do?” The thought of a woman in such a career would surely impress even Susan B. Anthony.
“You wouldn’t be an investigator. You wouldn’t do anything except stay close by my side and watch for only one man.”
Abby frowned. “That doesn’t sound like much of a job. If you pay me just to stay with you, aren’t we back to the conversation we had about kept women?”
“No, we are not!”
Abby squared her shoulders. “There is no need to shout. Susan B. Anthony advocates equal pay for equal work, and I really can’t take your money if I don’t do anything. It might be best if I looked for a position in town.”
Max closed his eyes and groaned. “Okay, you win. I will pay you thirty-five cents a day. That only makes you a novice, which means you must take orders, is that clear?”
He squinted at her through his glasses, hands on hips, feet braced. Abby felt she’d probably pushed him far enough for one day. Besides, things were certainly looking up. She had a paid position that would no doubt allow her time to work on her musical composition. They would be in close proximity, which might also allow her to get him to kiss her once or twice. It certainly couldn’t hurt anything, and perhaps her investigations along those lines would give her some insight when writing her Rules for Independent Women.
“With room and board?” she thought to add just as she stuck out her hand to shake on their agreement.
That funny expression crossed his face again. He took her hand in his. “You have already taken over my room. I may as well throw in the towel and make sure Connors stocks the cupboards full before we roll out of Bavaria.”
The train screeched to a stop, and Abby excused herself to retrieve her reticule and a bonnet before they walked through the passenger cars to disembark. She passed rows of wooden benches, thinking how much nicer the Pullman was with its padded sofas and soft feather mattress. She did feel momentarily guilty for taking his bed, bu
t reminded herself he needed her to find the scar-faced man.
The town of Bavaria, Kansas, certainly wasn’t anything like Topeka. In fact, it wasn’t much more than a single dirt street with a handful of buildings standing in stark contrast to the flat prairie. Abby was glad she didn’t have to stay.
Max guided her along the platform, his palm at the small of her back, giving her an explanation as they walked. “When the railroad was built, towns rapidly sprang up along the route, but then disappeared just as fast. They served a purpose for a time, but when railroad construction passed beyond a town, they were knocked apart and moved along the track to another location.”
“It’s certainly different from Boston.” Yet there was a unique beauty in the stark Kansas landscape that called to the artist in her—dramatic melodies versus gentle lullabies. “There isn’t much water here, is there?”
“Not an ocean or lakes, like you are used to, but wells are dug to supply a town.” She watched him squint, keeping a constant vigil for anyone strange or out of place.
“Why do you wear those eyeglasses if you don’t need them?”
He took her elbow to walk. “All part of the disguise, my dear.” He tipped his hat to a couple of ladies who walked past. They nodded in return, smiling politely.
“People really do see just what they want to see, don’t they?”
“Exactly.” He stopped by the door to the train station. “Wait here.” He stepped inside the small wood structure.
Abby wondered if people also did exactly what he told them to do. She was far too curious to stand still. Since she couldn’t possibly get lost in a town this size, she turned and stepped off the platform. It wouldn’t hurt to stroll across the street and see what there was to the town. She noticed a lack of women, and most of the men appeared quite rough. Just when she thought perhaps she should have waited for Max, a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” Max’s anger tumbled across the small space separating them. His blue eyes were dark, a sure sign he was upset. Surprisingly, though, his hand was not rough, although he held her elbow securely. She noticed a few people on the street had turned to stare.
She smiled up at him sweetly, patting his chest with a gloved hand. “Now, dear, what will people think?” She kept her voice low, but added the endearment just in case anyone overheard them. It was a gentle reminder of his disguise, and Max’s gaze darted up and down the street. She felt his fingers relax their hold, although he didn’t release her.
The smile he gave her didn’t match his whispered threat. “I’m going to turn you over my knee and paddle your backside if you take off again.”
Abby was fascinated with his chin, where the slight cleft in the center disappeared entirely when he jutted his jaw in stubborn authority. She touched the spot with her finger.
“Did the stationmaster have any news for you?”
His shoulders relaxed. “Crede left a message that he was still heading west after my brother. It’s not clear whether Monty actually knows where the scar-faced man is, or if he’s simply heading west since it’s the only direction to go.” He spoke as they walked down the street, but his gaze never settled on her face. He continually scrutinized everyone who walked by.
Abby heard the frustration in his voice. She wasn’t sure what to do, being new to her job responsibilities. “In this partnership we have, what exactly is my role?”
He looked startled. “Partnership?”
“Yes, you know. You hired me to work with you.”
“Oh, that.” He shrugged it off as though it were of little importance. Abby began to suspect he’d conceded earlier just to pacify her.
“I think perhaps I should return to the train and retrieve my belongings.” When she tried to pull free, he tightened the grip on her arm. Taking a few steps into an alley, he backed her against the wall.
“Listen to me.” His words were a command, not a request. “I will admit I’m not used to relying on anyone else to do my job, much less a woman.” At Abby’s mew of protest, he held up a hand.
“And I can’t do my job if I’m constantly apologizing for every little word I say.” He searched her gaze and she began to think he didn’t trust her. Then he nodded ever so slightly and his face relaxed.
“You have got to understand that this is not civilized Boston nor even Topeka. There won’t be any more men like Faro or Harvey. The men here are a rough breed, and while most still hold women in high esteem, there’s not much law to ensure that ideal.”
She understood what he was saying—she was an obligation he’d assumed. What he failed to understand was that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. No doubt she would have to prove it to him before their trip was over.
She smiled sweetly up at him. “Yes, sir.”
“You agree with what I’m saying?”
“In theory.”
“You will do what I tell you?”
“If it’s reasonable.” She certainly hoped he wouldn’t keep pushing her or she might be forced to fib just a little.
“Abby—” Luckily, the train whistle blew at that particular moment. “Is there anything you need before we leave?” Once again, he became the solicitous gentleman, taking her elbow and leading her back onto the boardwalk in front of a store.
“I would like to take just a peek inside the mercantile.”
He scanned the street before returning his gaze to hers. “All right. I want to visit with the sheriff, though I doubt he has any more information than what Crede left me.” He held the door to the store open for her, the bell overhead ringing cheerfully. “There’s not much time before the train leaves, so I’ll be right back.” He paused, then added, “Don’t leave this building.”
She made a face at him, but only after he’d turned his back to walk away. A quick look around showed the small store didn’t contain anything she possibly needed. There were no books or bottles of ink, and the only newspaper was wrinkled and dirty and over a month old. She decided to wait for Max outside.
“Howdy, little lady.” A short man with fuzzy gray hair tipped his hat. “You the wife of that new preacher I just seen walking down the street?”
He reeked of strong spirits, and she scooted toward the end of the building, not particularly wanting to carry on a conversation. She looked up and down the dirt street, trying to find anything to differentiate the jail from the few other buildings.
From behind her, she heard a child’s cry and turned. At the back of the building, a man had a small boy by the scruff of the neck and was shaking him roughly. Abby lifted her skirts and hurried toward them.
“Stop that.” She heedlessly reached for the man’s arm just as he swung to backhand the boy. His knuckles grazed her jaw hard enough to throw her off balance, and she fell against the building.
She shook her head to clear it and stepped forward again.
“Stay out of this, missy. This here’s my boy and I can beat him for disobeying if I want.” The man gave her a fierce look, but he didn’t hit the boy again.
“No one that age deserves to be beaten, regardless of what he did.” Abby defended the boy, even though she knew the law would probably protect the father’s rights. When she reached for the boy this time, the man put out an arm to stop her.
Abby heard a roar, but had no idea where it came from until she saw Max launch himself at the man. In seconds the two men were nothing but a tangle of arms and legs on the dusty ground.
Unfortunately, the shopkeeper was strong and big. With a heave, he pushed Max off and got to his feet. She had no time to yell a warning before the man threw himself at Max and they both flew across the width of the alley and slammed into the opposite building. She winced.
“Get ’im, Pa!” the boy yelled.
She glared at the boy and yelled at the two men rolling in the dirt at her feet, “Stop this right now!”
Max took two hard punches to the jaw before he managed to roll to the top and g
rab the man by his shirt front. The other man stuck his hand in Max’s face. Abby stepped forward to help, swinging her purse with all her might. She opened her eyes just in time to see Max topple sideways.
“Oh, dear.”
“All right, that’s enough.” The sheriff’s voice cut through the hollering of several bystanders. He reached down and grabbed Max’s hand to yank him to his feet.
“Way to go, Pa, you got him good!” the youngster crowed in approval.
“Don’t see much bragging rights in saying you beat up a poor preacher, Norton,” one of the other men snickered.
Max groaned, knowing his disguise wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny since he’d resorted to fists in defense of Abby.
“It weren’t me that took ’im down,” the man called Norton answered. “That lady hit ’im with her bag.”
Max looked around the circle. His gaze returned to the only woman in the crowd, now hiding behind the sheriff. Most of the men had already drawn their own conclusions, for Max heard the snickering. His gaze narrowed on the cause of his downfall, the action increasing the pain in his skull.
“Reverend, perhaps you need to give your missus some lessons before you take on the town,” the sheriff good-naturedly commented.
Abby scooted away, clearly looking to escape.
“You are most definitely right, Sheriff, and I do appreciate your advice.” Max grabbed his hat from a nearby spectator who had graciously picked it up and brushed it off. Before Abby got two feet away, he had her by the hand and pulled her out into the street. Male chuckling followed.
“Don’t say a word.” He hissed the command, his long strides eating up the distance to the train station.
He’d forgotten how much trouble women were. He didn’t know how. It always seemed to take them an incredibly short amount of time to cause it or get into it if left to their own devices.
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