I sighed - a lawman - just like the ones described in the nickel westerns I devoured. They were – as Daddy would say – a man’s man. To me they were my fantasy men, with apologies to Tom of course, heroes who were taming the west.
Perhaps he felt the weight of my gaze for he turned, caught my eye.
I started, shuttered my eyes demurely with my lashes. But I couldn’t resist peering through those lashes to examine him in more detail. Brightly blue in a deeply tanned face, his eyes snared me where I stood. I felt trapped, immobilized. He, however, ran his gaze like a lazy meandering stream down and up my length. A hint of a smile hovered around his mouth. When those startling blue eyes returned to mine, his lips slid into a sinful smile, one that caused the inside of my stomach to curl. He tipped his hat in a way that sent flutters through my chest and then turned back to survey the horizon.
I flushed, embarrassed by my boldness - his blatant perusal - and the sensation unfurling in my lower regions. Behind my reticule I pressed a hand to those regions to settle the flutters.
The lawman’s smile - I didn’t know if he was a sheriff or a marshal – should be on a wanted poster for causing the entire female population to swoon.
I had no doubt he was trouble with a capital T.
I focussed on Tepid Tom and my wedding to calm me down.
I was doing a fine job of boring myself with tedious details like vows and the wedding night until two small boys rushed towards me, stepped on my booted toes and knocked me back a few steps.
“Lee! Riley! Come back here now!”
The boys raced off to my left towards a corral of restless horses. A young mother chased them from my right, clutching a baby to her chest.
The mom ran up onto the porch, shoved her baby into my arms and dashed after her wayward sons.
“Boys! Stop! Danger!” She shrieked in panic as she ran, skirts held high.
No wonder. Her sons were already at the corral, crawling under the lowest railing towards sharp hooves churning up puffs up dirt. I glanced around, hoped that someone would help the woman. But there was no one. What was wrong with these people? I took off after the mother like a ball shot from a canon, the baby clutched hard against my chest.
The boys – oh my god – the boys had spooked the horses. One rose on its hind legs, front legs pawing the air above the boys’ heads. If those hooves came down on those little heads . . . I dare not think of the result.
Still as statues, the boys clutched each other’s hand. Even from a distance it was apparent they were terrified.
And the mom . . . the mom was magnificent! She slid through the railings like they were greased, grabbed each son by their collars, yanked them back out of danger, and shoved them through the corral back to safety with her hard behind.
I skidded to a halt beside her.
She grabbed an arm of each, shook them until their heads bobbed. “Lee, Riley, I’m so mad at you I could spit. You must listen to me. You could have been—“
Sobs broke her tirade and she cupped the back of each boy’s head and tucked them close to her stomach.
Maybe the baby reacted to her mother’s sobs, maybe she’d had enough of being squished and jostled. The reason didn’t matter. I had to deal with the result.
The poor thing scrunched its tiny face and yelled. I jostled. I cooed. I tried everything I’d seen my sisters do with their babies. Nothing worked! My medical training hadn’t prepared me for this! Instead the child cried harder, louder - and then vomited all over the front of my fitted green jacket.
It and I reeked of rancid and sour.
I gagged, choked back the bile rising in my throat.
And a second stream of white fluid mixed with chunks of . . . something splattered my chest, my neck, and my face.
I swallowed once, twice, three times, knew I was dangerously close to throwing up all over the baby.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” I leaned over and tapped her – hard - on the shoulder.
She flicked me a look. “I’m so sorry!” She grabbed the dripping infant from my arms, glanced with wide eyes at my splotched jacket.
“I need to change. I . . .” I motioned towards the station house. The mother nodded as I trotted away from her.
I pulled at my heavy cotton jacket with my fingertips, tried to drag it away from my underlying chemise, swiped at my face with first one sleeve, then the other. I stank! I squeezed my lace-trimmed neckline, tried to block the trickle of goo running down under my high collar. I was a disgusting mess.
I broke into a full run towards the station house and my bag with its clean, fresh dresses.
I leaped onto the covered porch.
“Ew!” Those passengers closest to me pinched their noses, covered their mouths, turned their backs to me. I’d dropped my satchel by JD when the baby had been thrust into my arms. I found JD. But no bag.
“Mr. Daniels.” When I didn’t get a response, I jammed him with my forefinger. “Mr. Daniels?”
The old coot snorted awake, looked at me through bleary eyes and said, “Honey, you stink.”
A train whistle sounded in the distance.
Panic hitched my breath, put sharpness in my voice. “Mr. Daniels, did you see my satchel?”
“Ain’t seen nothing,” he grumbled back.
My mouth fell open. I’d dropped the bag practically on his foot!
I whirled around, addressed the crowd. “Did anyone see my satchel? It’s brown, about this big.” I shaped the dimensions of my bag in the air but no one answered. “Someone stole my satchel!” To a one their gazes skittered over me but they maintained their silence.
Was there not one friendly soul in the West?
Thank the lord my reticule, money safely inside, was still hanging from my arm on its black cord.
“Train arrives in ten minutes.” The station manager stepped just outside the door of the station. “Get your tickets ready folks.” He looked from right to left, scrunched up his nose. “What’s that god awful smell?”
I sucked in a breath, eased it out. My satchel was stolen, time was running out and I needed another plan. “Please, does anyone know where I can get water to clean my clothes?”
A hunched up old woman from the far bench said, “Honey, I’ve raised five children and helped with my grands. When you get spit up like that on your clothes there’s only one way to clean ‘em.”
The train whistled again. “How?” I demanded.
“Soak them for a day or two.”
“A day! I have to get on that train!”
An older gentleman standing at the front of the porch checked his timepiece and announced, “Nine minutes to arrival.”
The station manager looked me over from the wash basin size splotch on my once pretty jacket to the streams of chunky goo on my skirt. “Not smelling like that you’re not.”
“Eight minutes to arrival.”
Old man or not, I wanted to rip the watch out of his hands and stomp on it.
“What about him?” I waved a hand towards JD as I shot my question at the station manager. “He smells.”
“JD rides.” The station manager held my gaze with a level look before he turned and went back inside.
“Seven minutes,” the unofficial timekeeper called out.
The urge to punch him was so strong I grabbed fistfuls of my skirt to hold myself back.
“Where’s the Sheriff?” I yelled. He would have to help me.
Another of the various people waiting for the train - I had all of their attention now - answered, “Sheriff left a few minutes ago.”
“Six minutes.”
I whirled, spat at the man. “We’re not blind! We can see the train.”
Some of the crowd pointedly turned their back to me. I didn’t blame them. I’m sure my face was flushed from my rudeness.
“Miss, I have a dress you can borrow.”
A young blond in a prim and proper blue gingham dress stood by me.
“That is, I have a dress if you wa
nt to get on this train. There’s another one to Bandit Creek in a few days you could take. Give yourself a chance to clean up.”
“Five minutes.” The older gent was intent on calling out the time, undeterred by my earlier bad behaviour.
I snapped my focus back, looked into tired blue eyes and said, “Yes!”
My benefactor thrust her bag at me. “There’s an outhouse out back. Hurry!”
I dashed. I unhooked my jacket on the go, slid into the thankfully empty structure and undid my skirt sash. I peeled off my sticky chemise, used the clean back to scrub off residual vomit from my skin, dropped it on the pile of clothes on the floor.
I was buck-naked except for my bloomers, my ankle-high laced black boots and the derringer strapped just above the knee on my right thigh.
“Hurry!” My saviour called to me outside the door. “The train’s almost here!”
From her bag, I grabbed bright red fabric, froze. Oh my lord, what in carnation was this dress.
I yelped as the door opened to my nakedness and the blond slipped into the crammed quarters. She yanked the dress from me.
“Quick. Step in. Pull it up. I’ll tie the back.”
I flushed but the blond didn’t seem bothered by my nakedness or my gun. So I yanked, pulled, stretched the wide neckline as high as I could.
Froze.
High was the wrong descriptor for the neckline.
Long was the wrong descriptor for the skirt.
“That’s it. Hold still ‘til I get these ties.”
I gasped as the stays jabbed into my stomach.
In the distance I could hear, “ONE MINUTE!”
The blond huffed. “You’re bigger than me. Suck your stomach in!”
I sucked.
She yanked, tied.
“Done!” The blond scrunched my clothes into her bag, handed me my reticule, and flashed a grin. “I’m Carly. Let’s go!” She grabbed my arm, slammed open the door and started us on a run.
By the fourth step my left breast threatened to bounce out of my bodice. I dug my boot heels into the sparse grass.
Carly whirled, “What?”
I arched a brow her way, shoved my breast under the black lace edging the neckline.
“Here!” Carly, who didn’t seem so prim and proper anymore, slammed her bag into my chest.
It covered the important parts – just. My calves were still indecently bare beneath the knee-length skirt. But I didn’t have time to worry about that.
“LAST CALL!”
We made the train just as the attendant was hooking the rope barrier at the top of the loading steps.
“Wait!” screeched Carly.
With as much emotion as a dead tree, the attendant unhooked the rope, descended, held out a stiff hand, palm up, to assist the two women up to the first high step. He blankly stared above their heads, behind them at the station house.
Carly grabbed his hand with her right, the railing with her left, vaulted up the steps.
I paused. My dilemma was obvious only to me. One arm held the bag across my chest, retaining a modicum of decency. I could accept the attendant’s aid with my free hand.
But the stairs were high.
I needed to release the bag to grab the railing.
The bag would have to be tossed up first leaving plenty of white skin exposed.
“Lady, are you getting on this train or what?” His bored tone grated on my tight nerves. I’d had enough of the rude and ignorant already that morning.
I plastered a queen’s smile on my face, tossed the bag up the steps and grabbed the attendant’s hand.
His eyes nearly popped from his head.
Pretending I was the First Lady of the Nation, I held my head high and boarded the train. I looked perfectly calm, bored even on the outside but on the inside I was quaking like a major earthquake.
God forbid my mother or my sisters ever heard about this. I’d arrived in Missoula looking like a well-dressed professional. I was leaving looking like a breast-baring prostitute.
I choked back a nervous giggle. If my mother and sisters could see me, all four would faint. They wouldn’t see any humour in my predicament, only that I had committed a major faux pas.
Still smiling at the image of their shocked faces, I leaned over to pick up the bag at the door to the car. Immediately I realized my mistake.
All eyes were on my gaping neckline.
Men openly leered. Women clicked tongues and puckered their lemon sucking faces. Mothers slapped quick hands over their children’s eyes, twisted their faces away from the spectacle.
I slammed the bag over my breasts.
Could the day get any worse?
Chapter Three
Things can always get worse. The only open seat in the car was at the back with Carly - and across the aisle from the sheriff. When I saw him, I swallowed back a groan. A second quick survey of the passenger car proved I had no other choice. I had to walk past all of the passengers like a piece of livestock on parade. A daunting task.
But sometimes courage comes from the unlikeliest places - like the push of anger.
A pious passenger gave me the gift of courage. I say pious because her hair was yanked back so tight into its bun I feared her eyelids couldn’t close. That and her shirt collar was buttoned so stiff and snug around her neck it was a wonder she could breathe. But what irked me, what twanged my last stressed nerve, was her look. She stared. She gave me the righteous once over repeatedly. Each time she punctuated her perusal with a quick shake of her head before she thrust her sharp nose up in the air.
Three of those looks and hot molten anger fueled my daring.
My first step was timid; I almost tripped. My second step was more confident; my heels hit the wood floor with a satisfying thump. By my third step, I wondered if an alien had shifted my core earlier that day or if the dress had transmuted me into something I wasn’t. I sauntered, I swished, I literally sashayed down the aisle towards my new friend Carly. By the time I sat down a huge grin split my face. I felt like I was having fun! Of the decadent chocolate kind.
But I kept my eyes firmly off the sheriff.
When I flounced down in the seat beside Carly, she leaned over and whispered, “You are wicked. So are you the high-born lady I thought you were or are you really,” she waved a hand at the red gown, “this?”
“I’m a doctor.”
My response set her off into peals of laughter.
Lord, just help me get through today.
“And you?” I managed when Carly calmed. “I mean, this is your dress.” I raised my eyebrows so she knew I was confused.
“Keep your voice low,” she whispered. “I’m looking for employment in Bandit Creek – not of the evening kind. Been there; I’d rather not go back. I’m handy, good with a needle and thread. I’m hoping for a new start.”
“So why this dress?”
Carly sighed. “Backup plan. I hear there are three men to every woman in Bandit Creek. Sold what clothes and trinkets I had to buy my ticket and have some money to get by. Thought I’d work at a decent living and find a husband at the same time. But if that doesn’t work,” she shrugged her shoulders.
“I hope your plan works.” I gave her arm a light squeeze. “I’ll mention you to my Uncle Rob, see if he knows of work or a good man. Or both.”
“Uncle Rob?”
“Bandit Creek’s doctor.”
Carly eyes went wide. “Are you really . . . ?”
I answered her unfinished question. “Yes, I’m really a doctor.”
Carly whistled low. “You are going to set that town on its ear. Pretty as you are. A doctor. And then arriving in that dress. Tongues will wag for weeks.” She grinned. “And men will be lined up around the block.”
I wasn’t so sure about setting the town on its ear. Nor about the pretty part – I am definitely the plain sister in my family. The dress – yes – it would cause some talk but I hoped that people would remember the dress and not the look of t
he woman wearing it. And the men? I decided to settle that thought immediately. “It’s kind of you to suggest that men might be interested, Carly, but I’m engaged to a man in Chicago.”
Carly wiggled her eyebrows. “Honey, a fiancé won’t stop the men out here.”
Like the sheriff? I thought. Damn it, the flutters started again.
From the corner of my eye I chanced a look across the aisle. His blue eyes had greyed, angry like the darkening of a stormy sky, definitely not spellbound with me. A shiver ran down my spine. I jerked my gaze back to the woman with the long braid in the seat before me. I doubted the Sheriff would be one of the ‘men’ lined up. I thought he looked at me with ‘interest’ at the station. No man smiles at a woman like that without liking what he sees. Or was I being naïve? Until Tom, I’d kept my nose buried in medical tomes. But I’d studied shoulder to shoulder with males over the past years and I was certain I knew when a man liked the look of a woman. The Sheriff’s look now was anything but appreciative.
Which lead my thoughts onto another track.
“Carly, why did you lend me this dress?”
“You were kind to the young mother. One kind act deserves another.”
I tilted my head to the side and considered my friend, “Thank you. There doesn’t seem to be an abundance of friendly people here.”
“It’s the gold. Makes people wary. That and the bad that goes along with the gold.”
“Like my stolen satchel.”
“Yes and the train robbers.”
“Robbers?”
Carly gave me one of those raised eyebrows looks. “Lord you are some kind of naive. You leave your bag unattended, think everyone is going to jump up and help you, and you’re surprised there are train robbers?”
She continued, “Did you notice the short stop at the station? Unless they’re loading livestock, the train doesn’t stop for long. A moving train is tougher to rob.” She lowered her voice so much I had to lean close to hear her next words.
“I bet this train has money on it.”
“How do you know?”
“The sheriff. I doubt he’s riding this train for fun. But he hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. If it wasn’t for the clenched jaw, I’d say he was interested.”
My Heart Burns (Bandit Creek Book 24) Page 2