by Jenna Kernan
Her mother appeared a few minutes later and laid out her second-best dress. The remains of the first had disappeared with Paloma and, she suspected, was now on its way to the ash heap to be burned.
Her mother set the neatly folded pile containing the clean chemise, petticoats and bloomers, the skirt and bodice over the back of one chair.
Laurie stared down at the pink gingham dress with a feeling that it belonged to someone else, some earlier version of Laurie Garcia Bender, who no longer existed. The lace trim and the flounces of fabric that were gathered to cascade down the back of her legs all now seemed impractical, and the color childish.
Paloma returned carrying the crinoline. In her other hand she held a boar’s hairbrush and comb.
“The breakfast is here and the captain, he is waiting,” said Paloma, thumbing over her shoulder.
Her mother stilled, the brush half the distance between Laurie’s crown and shoulders.
“Thank you, Paloma,” said her mother. “Do stay and help Laurie with her corset, after which I will not need you until midday.”
Laurie watched her mother go, happy for the reprieve. Why was it that she had never found her mother’s questions intrusive or her attention cloying until this very minute?
Paloma cinched her up with efficiency that bordered on aggression. Laurie could scarcely draw breath as she stepped into the crinoline and then stood like a diver, hands poised above her head as their housekeeper tossed a series of petticoats over her head and tethered them about her waist. The ordeal was tedious, but soon Laurie looked like a proper young lady once more. She leaned in to study the yellowing bruise on her cheek that Hammer had given her.
Paloma dressed Laurie’s hair quickly, creating three braids and then looping and coiling the ropes of hair into a bun at Laurie’s nape. By the time Paloma stepped back, Laurie’s scalp ached from the tugging.
“Finished,” she said in Spanish. Paloma waited for Laurie’s approval.
Laurie swept her hand along her head and patted the bun.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Miss Laurie need anything else?”
“Yes. Where did you put the little gun that was in my pocket.”
Paloma scowled and held her ground. Laurie arched a brow. The servant spun and rummaged in the bureau, slapping the empty gun on the top. Then she cast one more glare at Laurie before departing, but she did not exit through the door to the adjoining room but directly into the hall. Laurie glanced from one door to the other, alone with her thoughts. It did not take her long to seize the opportunity fate had cast in her path. Her parents may have penned her as neatly as any farm animal but they had also inadvertently left the barn door wide-open.
She rummaged in her trunk and drew out a bonnet, which she hated, for the fabric might be better suited for a baby blanket than a lady’s hat, but she took it just the same. She tucked the derringer into a reticule with a lace handkerchief and was out the door without her gloves, tying her bonnet strings as she went.
Laurie searched the hall for Paloma but, seeing no one, she eased into the corridor and gently closed the door. Then she hustled down the hallway as fast as she could manage with each full breath impeded by the restrictive corset. How had she ever managed to wear it before? All the fabrics of her skirts and petticoats rustled in a manner that she now found deeply annoying as she hurried toward the back stairs. The starch in her blouse chafed her skin and the bustle suddenly seemed the most ridiculous invention ever created.
“Laura, where are you going?”
She hunched at her mother’s voice and recognized in that instant how Paloma had disappeared so quickly. She’d gone immediately to her mistress.
“Shopping?” Laurie asked.
“I’ll just come with you. Wait a moment for me to get my hat.”
* * *
Boon stood across the street from the Cactus Flower Hotel in San Antonio when he spotted two elegant ladies glide out of the main entrance. Both were stylishly dressed though one held a more sophisticated air in her graceful saunter as she angled her parasol to block the sun. Her companion was slightly taller and dressed in pink, the sort of pink you wrap a baby in. Boon narrowed his eyes as he recognized her face—Laurie. But not Laurie, at least not the Laurie he had known.
She was scrubbed so clean her skin shone and her cheeks glowed a pale pink. Her girlish pink-and-white gingham checked dress made her appear innocent and pure and years younger. Her waist looked impossibly narrow and sculpted. The corset was back, he realized, but where were her gloves?
She was covered from neck to toe, but that dress molded to each curve and hugged her hips like a promise and he wondered how any man could look at her and not want to make her his own.
He stared at the other woman, taking in the similarities and calculating her companion’s age. Her mother, he decided.
The two women headed down the boardwalk, step graceful and posture erect. He moved to intercept, crossing their path before they reached the alley beside the hotel. If he were wise he’d light off in the opposite direction. Instead he stepped into the street.
His gaze swept Laurie from head to heel. Her hair was pulled up from her face and her beautiful mane of thick dark hair lay hidden beneath a sunbonnet with a small brim punctuated by a large flower of matching fabric. The bonnet looked as if she might have stolen it from a passing schoolgirl. He grimaced. She already dressed like a preacher’s wife.
Neither woman took note of his approach. Why should they? He wasn’t anybody worth noticing. Still, he removed his hat.
“Hello, Laurie,” he said.
She pulled up short and blinked at him as if he was the very last person she expected to see. He tried a tentative smile but the shock in her eyes killed it. She was like a stranger again.
“Boon! You’re out of bed.”
He lifted his good arm away from his side. “Appears so.”
The other woman stepped between them. “Ah, so this is Mr. Boon. I’m Laura’s mother.”
Boon detected an accent, a rolling of her words that he recognized as Spanish. He spared her mother a glance and a nod, noting the brittle smile and suspicious eyes. She didn’t like this chance meeting, no, not one little bit.
Boon returned his attention to Laurie, who seemed as stiff as the starched lace collar that poked about her throat, and she clutched her reticule in two hands as if afraid he might take it as she cast her gaze at her mother in discomfort.
Who was this woman and where was the Laurie who had ridden like blue blazes in the moonlight? He wanted her back, the woman he loved, the one who rode like a Ranger and defended him from Hammer with all the ferocity of a wildcat. Sadness pierced his heart as he recognized he had lost that woman forever.
He pressed his lips together, determined to try to act like a gentleman, though he knew he’d never be one.
Her smile was gracious. Meanwhile her eyes darted about as if afraid to be seen with him.
“Laura, have you had opportunity to express your thanks to Mr. Boon?” said her mother.
“I will be forever grateful to you,” she said, all graciousness and good manners.
He snorted. “You already talk like a Sunday-school teacher.”
Laurie’s mouth gaped in surprise but her mother never missed a beat.
“And I also thank you,” said her mother, “For seeing my daughter home safely.”
Boon looked from one to the other feeling sick to his stomach. They’d bound her up again, roped and tied her like a cow for branding. Didn’t she see that?
Laurie’s brave smile trembled on her lips and then disappeared. He didn’t like the new awkwardness between them or the way she shifted from side to side as if in a hurry to be done with him. He hardly blamed her, but it still stung.
Would she miss him at all?
She stared up at him and the zing of attraction fired between them. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She angled her head to one side as if trying to find something i
n his expression. He wished he’d had a chance to shave.
Why did she look at him like that, like some lost puppy? Didn’t she know it was all over? Didn’t she know where she belonged?
He feared that this might be their last meeting and now he didn’t know what to say.
“How are you feeling?” he managed, dancing around the topic of their night together.
She flushed. “Oh. Very well.”
“Laura, please. You’re delaying this man from his business,” said her mother.
“How are you feeling?” she echoed, ignoring her mother’s admonishment.
“I’m just exactly the same and so are you.” He swept a hand before her elaborate getup. Then he leaned out to the side to stare at her posterior. “See you got your bustle back.”
Her mother gasped and then snapped her parasol shut. “If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Boon,” she said, dismissing him. “Come, Laura.”
The two stepped past him. He leaned in so they could hear him.
“I still ain’t leaving ’til I know,” he said.
They both stiffened in unison. Then he watched them walk away, heartsick at the speed Laurie had fallen back into her old life, her old clothes and her old habits. Well, what had he expected, that she’d throw her arms about him and kiss him hello?
Boon pulled his hat low over his eyes and headed in the opposite direction.
* * *
Laurie’s mother returned them immediately to her husband’s hotel room, where Laurie faced her mother’s fury. Her mother was certain Laurie had been sneaking out to see Boon. When she finished shrieking at her daughter, Laurie underwent an interrogation that ended when Laurie lost her temper and told her it was none of her business. She was angry and upset but strangely satisfied that she’d stood up to her mother rather than lying to her. She spent the rest of the dreadful day sequestered in her father’s chambers until her mother obtained the room across the hall and their belongings were moved. Supper was served in her father’s chambers, after which she retired early, just to be alone. It was hard to think, hard to breathe and hard to sit under her parents’ constant scrutiny. They watched her as if she might suddenly go mad. They watched her as if they did not know her at all.
Perhaps they didn’t. She hardly knew herself. Boon had said she was exactly the same and on the outside, at least, that was true. But inside she was still changing.
Laurie crawled into the unfamiliar bed, her mind restless. She squeezed both hands over her heart and curled into a ball. She must have slept, because she did not hear her mother come into their bed and when Laurie roused, her mother was already up and out. She glanced at the opposite pillow. That was odd. Laurie was nearly always up before her mother. And her mother never made her own bed, but her side of the mattress looked undisturbed. Laurie’s eyes narrowed as the suspicion niggled.
She was in no hurry to rise today, so she curled on her side. Her entire body ached. She closed her eyes and lay there with the curtains drawn and the bright fall light stealing across the floor beneath them. She thought of Boon, surprised to see him out of bed. Their meeting had deflated her like a falling cake.
His coldness, his harsh words had cut her like broken glass. Why had he been so dreadful? And why could she not managed to speak to him with her mother standing by watchful as a hawk?
Everything had changed between them, Laurie realized. Boon had become a stranger. His hard words came back to haunt her, each striking like a blow to her stomach.
You already talk like a Sunday-school teacher.
I see you got your bustle back.
Had he said those things merely to hurt her?
She didn’t know. She only knew that they had. The sadness of their last meeting sank deep into her bones.
Her stomach cramped as she accepted that Boon did not want her. All that held him to her was his sense of obligation. If she wasn’t with child, he’d leave her. And if she was, he’d stay, but not for any reason of affection. He’d stay because he had vowed not to be like the men who’d used his mother. He would stay out of duty.
Laurie’s stomach hurt now. She didn’t understand herself. She was safe, she was back with her family and they would take care of her. She didn’t need Boon, but somehow, she did.
Laurie rolled to her back on the pillow, her hands fisted in the hair at her temples as she stared up at the headboard with sightless eyes. Understanding dawned, red as any sunrise.
She understood now why her return was joyless and why she could not calm her restless mind. It was not the ordeal she had endured, not the hard treatment or the rough riding or even the magical night she had shared with Boon. No, it was much more than that. Her parents were right to watch her. Right to keep her close. Had they guessed already at what she had only just recognized?
Laurie rolled, the realization bringing her upright on the bed. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, seeing her mouth open in surprise, the pallor of her face and the worry in her eyes.
She knew now why she could not keep herself from touching him on the trail or why she’d yearned to touch him again on the street yesterday.
She loved him.
Laurie groaned. Oh, no. What had she done?
Was she really fool enough to take up with a man who was wild as the west wind, who had no desire to stay with her? Just look what had happened to her mother, abandoned by the one she loved. Laurie needed to find a stable man, someone who would not leave her to go chase Apache or to track rustlers into Mexico. Someone with roots and a business and a home and…
Laurie pressed both hands to her face. Sweet mercy, she’d fallen in love with Boon.
Laurie hugged her knees and rocked. Both her lower back and her stomach ached. She stilled as the clues from her body reached her conscious mind.
“No,” she whispered.
Laurie threw back the covers, twisting to look at the bedding and the back of her nightdress. Both were stained with her blood.
Chapter Nineteen
If you get your monthly you’re clear. If not, well, we got business. Boon’s words echoed in Laurie’s mind. So they no longer had business. Laurie pressed a hand to her mouth, realizing that the last thread connecting them had broken. He was now free. She was free. Free to face the rest of her life without him.
“No, no, no!” The words were a chant, a prayer, a cry of mourning.
She pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets to keep from weeping.
She knew she had again escaped the consequences of her folly. But this time hadn’t been folly. Her lovemaking with Boon had felt right, natural, wonderful. And her bleeding served only to add to her misery.
Laurie rose to wash herself, when Paloma appeared with a breakfast tray.
She took one look at Laurie and the bloodstained bedding and laid the tray aside, retreating without a word.
Laurie’s mother arrived shortly afterward with the folded linen pads, still wearing the dress Laurie had seen her wearing last night.
“So, you are not with child,” said Valencia Sanchez Garcia with a pretty smile upon her face as if the news was wonderful instead of tragic.
Laurie shook her head.
Her mother took her in her arms. “Now you can forget him and he may be on his way. And in any case, this means there is no urgency for you to marry. It would be wise to wait at least six months so there will be no speculation.”
“I do not even have a suitor,” Laurie protested, feeling suddenly as if she were on a runaway horse, careening down a steep incline.
Her mother continued as if Laurie had not spoken. “We will be moving to Lubbock, to your father’s new assignment.”
“But what about Calvin?” The reason Laurie had gone to San Antonio in the first place was because her mother had announced her intention to marry Calvin.
“He has his business in Austin and I have business here with you and your father. It seems fairly obvious that you need my full attention. And in Lubbock, you can have a fresh start.
Your father has agreed to help find a suitable match.”
“But I don’t want a suitable match.” She wanted Boon.
Her mother drew back and narrowed her eyes upon her daughter. “Laura Garcia Bender, do not tell me that you believe yourself in love with this man. He is a drifter and a criminal. You’ll not be seeing him again.”
Laurie locked her jaw. She might not be able to hold Boon here, but she would at least say goodbye.
“Now you rest a bit. I’ll have Paloma bring you some chamomile tea.”
Her mother moved toward the door.
“Are you going to see father?” asked Laurie.
Valencia paused at the door. “Yes, but I will return shortly.”
Her mother walked across the hallway to find her husband in a discussion with Sam Coats. Both men stood at her appearance and then Coats excused himself, leaving the room.
As soon as they were alone she reported Laurie’s condition to him.
“Now you need to send him away,” she said. “Far away, for Laurie has crazy ideas about that one. I know my daughter and she can be as stubborn as you sometimes.”
Captain Bender rose and reached for his hat. “I’ll see to it.”
Shortly after leaving Valencia, Captain Bender reached Dr. Langor’s office to discover that Boon had moved to a boardinghouse over on the other side of the tracks.
* * *
Boon sensed someone watching him as he was finishing his breakfast in the common dining area. He glanced about and met Captain John Bender’s steady blue eyes. Boon wiped his mouth and followed him out onto the porch of Mrs. Sheffield’s rooming house.
“Been thinking on you, son.”
Boon could only imagine that Bender’s thoughts had leaned toward murder.
Bender did not mince words. “Laurie is bleeding, so she’s not with child, lucky for you.”
Boon stared in silence, absorbing the news. To his credit, the captain did not look smug. Captain Bender was many things: fierce, protective, smart and a fearless fighter. What he was not was a liar. If he said Laurie was not with child, Boon believed him.