by Savanna Sage
Adam pulled off his shirt, disturbing the dragon coin. He was so intent on studying his opponent that he didn’t notice the Chinaman in a bowler hat and red vest standing at the edge of the crowd, watching the dragon coin slide back to the center of Adam’s chest. Adam stretched his arms overhead, welcoming the cool desert air against his skin. It was perfect weather for fighting. Tonight he’d earn enough money to court his lovely, shaggy haired princess in men’s clothing.
Chapter 11
The DeSoto children were certainly precious to Carmen, but Stella had never known what it was like to be around so many children at once. They weren’t badly behaved, unless constant chatter and the occasional hair pull was a crime. There were so many of them. Stella only had five years on the oldest DeSoto child, a 14-year-old girl who was nearly as round as her mother. All of them had short hair, from just below their ears to shoulder length, making Stella fit right in.
After supper, Stella helped wash dishes, all the while waiting to hear Adam return, but he never did. Why she should care? The simple truth was, she wanted to see him again.
While watching the children give their parents hugs before drifting off to shared bedrooms, Stella yawned.
Carmen looked up from embracing her last child. “Oi, estas cansado.”
Steel blinked at her in confusion.
“You are tired,” Carmen said with a patient smile.
Stella nodded, then turned and headed for the door.
“Where you goin?” Carmen asked, following Stella.
“To sleep in the barn.”
“Oh, no,” Carmen said. “You are not a horse. You sleep in the house. Besides, that big man said he’s sleeping there, and his friend.”
Stella spread her hands. “There’s no room in here.”
Carmen glanced around the room, her gaze finally stopping on a scarred wooden crate inside the backdoor. Stella had seen various children lift the hinged lid before letting it slam back down, but she hadn’t paid attention to what they were doing with it.
“There,” Carmen said. “We will drag it into the pantry for privacy. I will get you some bedding.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier if I just…?”
As if Carmen’s index finger were a magic wand, Stella stopped speaking the moment Carmen raised it. “You are a person staying in our house,” Carmen said. “Sorry we have not much room, but you will be able to close the pantry door if you wish. Paul?” Carmen called, turning toward her husband. “Drag this into the pantry for Steel, please, after I get out the breakfast things. It can be her bed for the time being.”
“I’m just cluttering things up,” Stella protested.
“People are not clutter,” Carmen replied, moving into the pantry. She brought out a bag of cornmeal and a jar of molasses while Paul silently opened the hinged box lid and pulled out a pile of shoes in various sizes and states of disrepair. Then he dragged the box into the narrow pantry, leaving just enough room for Stella to squeeze in beside it. Carmen came bearing an armload of blankets and a pillow balanced on her large stomach. Stella suspected the pillow was Carmen’s, but further protest would be pointless.
In the morning, Stella peeked into the outhouse, astonished to see a long sanded board with four holes carved out of it balanced over a privvy hole. She would not sit there waiting to be joined by various DeSoto children.
Closing the door, she turned and gave a start of alarm as if she’d seen the Big Bad Wolf, instead of a little DeSoto boy wearing a smear of mud across his face. “Hi,” he said with a mischievous grin.
“Hello.” Stella didn’t have time for chit chat. She needed a bathroom.
“I’m a di’ty gi’l, now, too.”
Stella blinked, as surprised as if she’d just suddenly found the wolf wearing Granny’s nightgown.
“Emilia!” a child’s voice roared from the house. “Give me back my trousers!”
Emilia merely giggled at the sight of her red-faced brother gripping the open kitchen door. “You can wear my dress!” she called, then took off running around the house.
Stella took this chance to hitch up her trousers and escape across the road to the train yard. Last night, she hadn’t gone into the station. After uncurling herself from the little platform fastened to the back of a train car where she’d hunched all through her windy journey, she took care of business in the trees.
Stella hurried across the street through the dim light of dawn, her path partially lit by the moon hanging low in the western sky to create a perfect fairy tale setting. Would anyone challenge her right to be there? A few bleary-eyed passengers gathered at the ticket window with their valises pulled close like precious children. They didn’t give Stella more than a passing glance.
Now she pushed open the train station door as if she had every right to be there. Her darting gaze soon found a plain wooden door in a discreet corner with the word, “Ladies” painted on it in flowing script, and she headed for it, trousers and all. Stella pulled the bathroom door open, relieved at sight of the toilet bowl with its water tank set above it on the wall, the hanging chain ready to pull for flushing. Best of all, there was one toilet in the room. No sharing.
Stella left the bathroom in a much better state of mind than she’d entered. With a fortifying breath, she steeled herself to return to the house full of children. Would Adam come to work in the barn today? Where had he gone last night? She wished she could have followed him to see the mysterious manager with the unlikely name of “Spud.” What part of Adam’s life needed managing? If he already had a job, why did he accept the job in the train yard barn?
Maybe he was already in the barn. Her heartbeat quickened. Hadn’t he asked to sleep there? The sudden force of desire to walk beside him with her hand in his, touching arms, looking up into his face, surprised Stella. The only thing she really knew about him was his name and that he wanted to put a bathroom on the DeSoto’s house, an admirable goal.
As she reached the yard and turned toward the barn to see if Adam was there, Paul walked out of the house, snapping his suspenders. Catching sight of Stella, he jerked his chin toward the barn. “Adam in there?”
“I don’t know.”
Paul glanced back at his house, where a couple of little faces watched him from the windows. “Weren’t you just there?”
“No.”
Paul narrowed his eyes. “Then where’ve you been?”
Stella pulled herself up straight until she stood about the same height as Paul DeSoto. “That’s my business.”
“Maybe it’s my business, too, while you’re working for me,” Paul said. “What are you hiding, anyway?” He gave her a sudden, disarming smile. “You’re not good at deception, Steel.” His voice was low, smooth, persuading. “I know that’s not your name. You can tell me everything. You might as well.”
Stella wondered if she should. It would make things so much easier if she didn’t have to guard her tongue. But what difference would her story make to Paul? It had no bearing on her work.
At Stella’s prolonged silence, Paul shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Suit yourself, but I’ll find out anyway. I just need to know that you’re not doing anything illegal, for the sake of my children.” He raised an eyebrow.
“As far as I know, there’s no law against using the train station bathroom.”
Paul burst out laughing, and Stella bristled. “Oh, is that what it was?” Then he ran his gaze down Stella’s clothes and back up again. “Tell me, did you go in the men’s? Or the ladies?”
Stella hitched up her trousers. “The ladies, since I am one.”
Paul smirked. “And I knew it right off. Your dressing as a man was no kind of disguise.” He glanced at the barn again. “I thought I could trust that Adam fellow.”
“He could be in there,” Stella said in Adam’s defense.
Paul’s eyes slid back to Stella. “He could be at that. I know you’re supposed to help Carmen, but come check it with me. If he’s not there, would you give me a hand feeding the animals? M
uck out a stall or two?”
Stella nodded. She would rather shovel manure than dodge small bodies.
The sound of rapid footfalls made them both turn toward Adam, lumbering up to them with his mouth half smiling around a fat lip, purple bruises showing on one cheek, a thick scab slashing across one eyebrow.
Stella gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.
“What happened to you?” Paul asked, his eyes alight with curiosity.
Keeping his gaze on Stella, Adam didn’t stop smiling. “I ran into someone who didn’t like my face.”
“Well, he didn’t do you any favors,” Paul replied. “You’re late.”
“Sorry about that,” Adam replied. “I’ll get right to work.”
“Steel said she’d help.” Paul gestured to the barn. “Just get it done quick, because Carmen needs her, too.” Paul turned and strode to the train station. Before he reached the building, a man in a porter’s uniform cut across the platform and intercepted him.
Stella’s stomach roiled as she stared at Adam’s damaged face. Who had done this to him, and why?
“That bad?” Adam asked, his deep voice soft with concern.
Stella raised her hand toward the cut on his forehead without touching it. There was something disturbingly familiar about his crookedly pouting lip and mottled skin. “Did the men from last night do this to you?”
“Don’t worry about them.”
“Why not? They might come after me next.”
“It wasn’t them, Steel. Believe me, this is nothing to do with you.” He offered his crooked grin.
Why was he being so secretive about his injuries? How could he be certain they had nothing to do with her?
Brushing a hand against her own bruised cheek, Stella re-lived the blows she’d suffered from the drunkards last night. This wasn’t about her injuries, though, it was about caring for someone else’s pain. She didn’t like to see him hurt, but did he care anything for her? Was taking her hand last night a casual event that meant nothing to him? Did he do it to a lot of girls? Was she just the latest?
“Seeing you makes me feel so much better,” he added.
Stella’s face froze. He must think pretty badly of her if his current state made him feel better in comparison. Was her chopped off hair so repulsive, her trousers so disgusting that he regarded his bruised face as superior? Hitching her trousers up, she turned away from him and strode stiffly into the barn.
“What Is it?” Adam asked, hurrying to catch up with her. “Has something disturbed you?”
“Since you find my appearance so repulsive, let’s just work at opposite ends of the barn so you don't have to be bothered by me.”
Adam took hold of Stella’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. He gently turned her toward him. When he pried her reluctant hand from her side, the same warmth of safety and belonging from last night rushed into her heart.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his enchanted lion eyes searching her face for understanding. “I meant that seeing you, just you, not your clothes, or your hair, or the dirt on your face, makes me feel good. Happy. Just being with you makes it so the rest of the world can’t hurt me, no matter what, if it’s punches or harsh words or being left.”
Stella could scarcely believe his words. She didn’t even know his last name. They’d only met last night, yet it seemed as if she’d known him longer. Rather than offending, his simple words soothed the scared and lonely girl hiding behind her mannish facade. His straightforward honesty held the sincerity of a child unacquainted with society’s strict conventions.
“Even though you’re wearing trousers, I think you’re very pretty, like a princess, or Cinderella,” Adam added with a hint of desperation. “But that’s not the best part. The best thing is feeling like we’re friends.”
Stella relaxed with a sigh. How refreshing to hear a simple message without hidden meanings in gestures or twisted phrases. “Have we met before?” she blurted.
Adam’s eyebrows rose the best they could, taking the scab into account.
“Do we have a common friend that I’ve forgotten about?” she asked.
Adam stared at her for so long that, without thinking, she reached up and brushed his hair off to one side of his forehead, revealing a lump the size of a walnut. She frowned.
“No,” he said. “We don’t know the same people except for Paul.”
Stella unexpectedly burst out laughing.
Adam joined her laughter, looking even more comical with his lopsided mouth.
“You must be pretty tough to smile after getting hurt like that,” Stella said.
“I’m used to it.”
Stella stopped laughing. “You’re used to it?” Her eyes widened in horror, “Did your parents beat you?”
Pressing her hand between both of his big ones, Adam stumbled over his words, “No, no, my parents didn’t beat me, I mean, just, I’m used to the pain, so I hardly feel it, and it’s healing, so I’m getting used to that, too.”
Stella looked down at their clasped hands before running her fingers over his bruised knuckles. “Paul wanted me to tell him about my past,” she said, “but it looks like I’m not the only one with secrets.”
Adam cleared his throat, and Stella tensed. If he told her what happened to him last night, he might expect her to share her background, and what would she tell him? That she was a runaway? No. He was big and strong enough to carry her back to Uncle Owen if he wanted to. She didn’t want to tell him anything.
Once she found a way to earn some money, she’d move on, perhaps to California. It was a big place, far enough away to be safely out of Uncle Owen’s reach.
She didn’t even know if her uncle was looking for her. Would he even bother? Had he noticed the remnants of the hair she wasn’t able to pick up off Franklin’s floor? Had he guessed her disguise? She’d meant to toss her cut hair away, but she’d held onto it instead, like the witch holding Rapunzel’s hair. If wishes came true, Uncle Owen would simply be as glad to be rid of her as she was to be free of him, and stay clean away from the witch’s tower.
But somewhere deep inside she knew he didn’t take kindly to her escape, to throwing his iron-clad plans into his face. It would be a personal affront strong enough to spark a challenge in him to find her and force her to bend to his will.
She shivered. “We’d better get those chores done, or we’ll be out of a job.”
Adam slid his arm around her shoulders. “Are you cold?”
While his touch was more intimate than she expected so soon, she couldn’t deny that she liked it. To her surprise, the vaguely floral scent of Pears soap lingered about him. “You smell nice.”
“You like it?”
Stella pulled away, embarrassed that she’d commented on such a personal topic as how he smelled. What was happening to her? Did dressing in boy’s clothes take away all sense of propriety?
“Let’s get to it then,” she said, reaching for a wide shovel.
“You’re like no other girl I know,” Adam said, grabbing hold of a pitchfork.
Like no other girl? His cheerful tone wouldn’t let Stella follow her first impulse to take offense. What he said was true. She certainly hadn’t seen any other short haired girls walking around Santa Fe in trousers.
Chapter 12
Spud didn’t show up until after Steel had gone inside, summoned by a boy in trousers as ill-fitting as Steel’s own. “What’re you doing?”
“My job.”
“When you told me you’d been here, you forgot to say you was working here.”
“Well, I do.”
“You ain’t gonna need it,” Spud said. “In case you got knocked loopy last night, you won.”
“I remember.”
Spud glanced down at the horse manure clinging to Adam’s boots. “Then why you shoveling manure? Winners don’t do that.”
“I promised last night that I’d do it.”
“Then un-promise.” Spud stuck a toothpick in his
mouth. From the fresh stains on the front of his shirt, Adam guessed he’d just had his fill at one of the town’s dining establishments, and he’d bet that it wasn’t the saloon. “We’ve got to be heading out.”
Adam stared at Spud. “Why? We only had one fight.”
“Yeah, and you was challenged to another, but I don’t think we ought to stick around for it.”
The thought of leaving Steel behind was unthinkable. “That doesn’t sound like you,” Adam said.
“It’s not me,” Spud replied. “It’s the Waxwing’s manager. Claims you cheated.”
“What?” Adam never needed to cheat in a fight. He won most of them, and the ones he lost were close matches.
“He’s stirring up trouble. I feel it in my bones.”
“He can’t do anything without getting himself in trouble.”
Spud leaned closer. “He can turn you into the law and let ‘em have at you.”
“Then he’d be sitting in the soup right beside me,” Adam replied. “He’d have to finger his own client as my opponent. I couldn’t be tossed in jail for fighting if I didn’t have anyone to fight with, now could I?”
“I dunno,” Spud said, leaning back. “I got an instinct for these things, and he’s a sneaky one. He’s gonna make trouble, and we’d best be gone before he does.”
“I’m not going.”.
“Don’t worry about a new match. We’ll find a fight somewhere else. Maybe it’s a good time to go back to Utah.”
“No,”
“Idaho, then. We ain’t been there for a spell. And we’ve not touched the Washington territory. Or is that a state now?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Adam replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Spud sighed. “Can’t I say a thing to make you see reason?”
“No.”
Spud moved the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Your life’s in danger.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I feel it,” Spud defended himself. “I’m older than you by, what? Ten years?”
Adam just stared at him.
“I’ve more experience, know more people, know more bad things.” He studied Adam’s face, then sighed again. “I ought to just go and leave you here.”