Brianna slumped against the wall. The man was hopeless. He’d done it again, using me when he should have said I. Even so, tears scalded her eyes as she watched him stride up the aisle, holding her daughter as if she were a precious gem. He’d just tried to save her reputation. It wouldn’t work, of course. Tongues would wag with rampant speculation, and there would be people who would never forget, rekindling the scandalous gossip at every opportunity. Life as Brianna had known it in Glory Ridge was over.
She wondered if the polecat expected her to be grateful because he’d tried to salvage the situation. Hell would freeze over first. No doubt it would suit him just fine if she remained here and let him leave with Daphne. He had charmed the vinegar out of Abigail, but Brianna wasn’t that foolish. With only one exception, she’d never met a man yet who hadn’t tried to touch her inappropriately, usually with force, or do her dirty financially, oftentimes both. Paxton just hoped to depart with Daphne, leaving Brianna behind so he’d have only a child to deal with. A six-year-old was a lot easier to hoodwink than a grown woman.
David didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Out of the mouths of babes. He had heard his nephew, Little Ace, let fly with some revelations that had badly embarrassed his parents, but never had he said anything to equal Daphne’s ecstatic announcement. Holy hell. The child didn’t understand the ramifications, but David definitely did. He had tried to save the situation, but he knew it had been a pathetic attempt. His rebuttal had been received with disapproving glares and silence. If he had plotted and schemed for a month, he couldn’t have lassoed Brianna more effectively. She couldn’t possibly remain in Glory Ridge now.
As he collected his wife and guided her from the church, he could feel the brittle tension that radiated from her thin frame. Under the light pressure of his hand, her spine felt as if it might snap like a parched twig. Chin lifted, her face deathly white in the moon glow, she kept her eyes trained straight ahead, not even watching where she put her feet. The woman looked like she’d just seen a whole flock of spooks.
“Prairie-dog hole.” David curled his fingers over her hip to steer her around the hazard. He felt her body jerk at his touch. Once the danger passed, he returned his palm to the small of her back. “Are you all right?”
She made no reply. Daphne didn’t share her mother’s reticence. “Papa, what did I say wrong? Everybody made funny noises like they were choking.”
“Sweetheart, you didn’t say anything wrong.” David searched his brain for something more comforting to say. “Your mama and me are so proud of you.”
“I,” Brianna snapped. “If you’re going to talk to my daughter, you shall use correct English, sir.”
David saw another prairie-dog hole and was sorely tempted to let the snooty little witch step in it. Instead he guided her around it and said to his child, “Your mama and I are so very proud. You never made a single mistake in your recitation! You totally outclassed Hope. The teacher had to remind her of her lines. Great job, darlin’!”
“Hope is the most popular girl in my class,” Daphne informed him with a twinge of envy in her voice.
David couldn’t understand why. Hope was a singularly homely child compared to his beautiful, sweet-natured Daphne. She had drab brown pigtails, unremarkable features, and a superior manner, as if she were God’s gift to humanity. Were the kids in Daphne’s class blind or just small-town stupid? David had never experienced the protective feelings of a father. They hit him like an ocean wave now. He wanted to knock little heads together. Wasn’t that a fine kettle of fish? He couldn’t browbeat his daughter’s classmates into liking her. Ah, well, by this time tomorrow night, she’d be miles away from there, and if David had his way, she’d never see any of the narrow-minded little buggers again.
Brianna had been exhausted more times than she could count, but tonight she had moved beyond that to a muscle-melting weariness that made it difficult to lift her feet. This day had been the longest in her recent memory, and the worst part was, she couldn’t look forward to dropping like a corpse onto her and Daphne’s cot to grab a few hours of sleep. Though she now realized she couldn’t remain in Glory Ridge, she still needed to go to the restaurant tonight, not for the wages she might earn, but for the food she could steal. She and her daughter couldn’t take off on a hired horse with nothing to eat. They would languish from hunger and never reach their destination. She had no weapon to kill wild game. She doubted her knife, once used to discourage Charles Ricker’s amorous advances and now hidden under the cot mattress, would do the trick. She couldn’t run fast enough to catch a rabbit.
She glanced blearily at the Colt .45 that rode Paxton’s hip, wondering if it was suitable for killing small game. Oh, how she wished she could slip it from the holster without his noticing. Highly unlikely. And even if she managed, she’d never been trained to use a firearm. She’d probably take aim at a fleeing hare and shoot herself in the foot.
Tangled thoughts scurried around in her tired mind as she contemplated her situation. The first order of business was to reach the attic room and quickly pack their possessions. Then she’d take everything, including her child, to the restaurant. With any luck, the establishment would be deserted. Sometimes the owner stayed late to bedevil her in the kitchen, but mostly on Friday nights, he stayed home, pretending to be a devoted husband. She’d remain there only long enough to pilfer sufficient food for a journey to another town. Then she’d walk to the livery to hire a horse. It would mean riding through the night to the nearest railway station. Hopefully, there would be no delay before they could catch a train. They needed to get away quickly, giving Paxton no opportunity to follow them. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks for what she’d saved of Daphne’s dress money. If she spent it wisely, it might see them through until she found another job.
The entire day had been a blur of endless emotional upsets, probably magnified by her lack of sleep the previous night. How would she accomplish all that needed to be done? She wasn’t sure riding a horse would be as easy as it looked. While growing up at the orphanage, she’d seen others riding in the park, but there had been no opportunity for her to take lessons. The one time Ricker had tried to get her in the saddle, the huge animal had stepped on her foot and then bitten her. She’d refused to go near a horse again. Milking the dratted cows had been bad enough, a skill that had taken her weeks to learn and had almost cost her the job. Then there’d been his infernal chickens. Every morning she’d gotten her hands pecked bloody by outraged hens when she went to collect the eggs. She’d finally learned not to apologize for the invasion in advance. Forewarned broody hens became viciously protective.
The thought brought Brianna back to awareness of the man who walked beside her, one hand pressed to her back while he managed Daphne’s weight with his other arm. The cloak-draped child, apparently as exhausted as her mother, had looped her thin arms around his neck and fallen into boneless slumber, with her head lolling on his shoulder. I am forewarned of the theft you hope to perpetrate, Brianna thought, and I will peck much more viciously at your stealing hands than any hen that ever lived. Brave words. The way Paxton wore that gun conveyed that he knew how to use it. Not that he would need a weapon other than superior strength to overwhelm her.
In that moment, Brianna ached so badly and her limbs felt so leaden that she yearned to drop to her knees and fold her arms over the back of her head. But that wasn’t going to happen. She was an O’Keefe, a descendant of at least one parent who must have been a stubborn, irrepressible rebel. She would not fold under pressure. She was made of stronger stuff.
They reached the dress shop, and Paxton slowed his pace to a halt.
David wasn’t sure what came next. Thanks to Daphne’s announcement at the recital, Brianna’s choices had been trimmed down to one, their leaving for No Name. Yet how could he say that to her? He sensed that she needed to reach that conclusion by herself, and when he searched her eyes, shimmering like quicksilver in the moonlight, he glimpsed something that made hi
m take notice. Rebellious determination. He’d seen it before many times in the eyes of people suspected of crimes. When backed into a corner, they had one thought: run.
Okay. He was ready for that and would foil any attempt she made to escape with his child. But, damn, he was tired. He’d been on the trail for three days. Judging by Brianna’s expression, David knew he wouldn’t be enjoying that soft bed at the hotel.
Gazing down at her, he was once again impressed by her grit. She looked even more played out than he was, yet she planned to bolt the moment he turned his back.
Though David knew he was wasting his breath, he said, “You look ready to drop in your tracks, and I’ll bet part of the reason is you haven’t slept in a comfortable bed for way too long. I’ll happily rent you and Daphne a room at the local Taj Mahal. After a good night’s sleep, we can discuss this mess in the morning.”
“You know about the Taj Mahal?” she retorted. “That’s utterly amazing.”
David tried not to bristle. Maybe she talked fancier than he did, but he had a decent education. Way back when, Ace had paid David’s tuition with his gambling proceeds, and the nuns at the parochial school hadn’t allowed any slackers. “It took a thousand elephants to carry the construction materials to build the Taj Mahal,” David informed her, “and it was embedded with precious and semiprecious stones that, to this day, make it seem to change colors, depending on the light. Some folks believe Shah Jahan did that on purpose, to reflect the changing moods of a woman.”
Her chin came up a notch. “My moods may be mercurial, but my assessments of character remain rock solid. I wouldn’t enter a hotel with you for any amount of money.”
As weary as David was, he couldn’t help but laugh. She was definitely a corker, a woman who’d keep him on his toes. A fleeting image of Hazel Wright flashed through his head, and he thanked God he had escaped that fate. He would have been bored silly. He appreciated a quick wit spiced with temper. Brianna was a lady he sensed would keep him entertained, both in bed and out of it.
“That being the case, sir,” she continued, “I propose that we both find our rest in our respective places and meet in the morning.” She withdrew her watch from her skirt pocket, popped open the case, and peered owlishly at its face. “Shall we say eight? The restaurant is in full service by then. We can discuss our next move over breakfast.”
David knew damned well she had no intention of meeting him for breakfast. If he slept in until seven, she’d be long gone with his daughter. Telling her he knew that, however, would be a mistake. He’d dealt with plenty of runners during his career as a lawman, and he would keep his own counsel. Whether she realized it or not, she’d met her match.
So instead of arguing the point, David agreed to meet her for breakfast in the morning. After entering the dress shop with her, handing her the sleeping child, and collecting his saddlebags, he bade her good night and walked to the hotel, yawning along the way in case she was watching. He wanted her to get the impression that he’d fallen for her lie and planned to sleep like a baby all night.
Nothing was farther from the truth. Upon entering the hotel room, David gathered his things—shaving gear and soiled clothing—stuffed them into his saddlebags, and without a single backward glance at the bed, which had been calling his name ever since his arrival, left the hotel and walked to the livery stable. He found a shadowy spot behind the rattletrap wagon, sat on the ground with his back to the equally dilapidated building, and settled in to wait for his runaway bride.
Brianna laid Daphne on a bench in the restaurant kitchen, which was blessedly dark, and straightened with an effort. Oh, how she longed to sink down beside the child and let exhaustion overwhelm her. But that wasn’t an option. She had food to collect before going to the livery. Hopefully David Paxton was dead to the world by now.
Feeling her way to a counter, Brianna groped for the lantern and the book of Diamond matches that always lay near its base. Then, after fumbling to remove the glass globe and turn up the wick, she struck the phosphorous match head and ignited the lamp. When light bathed the room, Brianna barely glanced at the piles of dirty dishes and the food-smeared counters and stoves. She’d be donning no apron tonight. She drew a wadded pillowcase from the pocket of her skirt, snapped it open, and grabbed the lamp.
The pantry, a narrow room lined with shelves and iceboxes, was spooky at night with her shadow dancing over the walls. She set aside the lantern to begin foraging. An ache of guilt settled in her chest. She could almost hear Sister Theresa saying, “Thou shalt not steal.” The preaching had fallen upon rebellious but fertile ground, and over the last six years, Brianna had never taken anything without praying for forgiveness. Ah, well, there was no help for it. She had to get away and rely on God’s understanding that she was doing this for her child. Besides, she’d worked all week and had wages coming. She’d also put in countless extra hours without ever getting paid. Thinking of it that way, she found it easy to convince herself that this wasn’t really stealing.
She selected two loaves of bread, a brick of cheese, and a goodly supply of meat—ham and bacon being her main choices because they wouldn’t spoil as quickly as fresh chicken or beef.
A rattling sound made Brianna’s heart catch. She froze and stopped breathing to listen, hoping against hope that it wasn’t the restaurant owner. The tension eased from her shoulders when she determined that the sound was only a shutter flapping at a window. Thank you, God. It would be just like that filthy-minded old lecher to sneak in when he knew she was here alone. He considered it his privilege to corner her in the kitchen. Brianna detested the feel of his groping hands.
He’d probably never notice tomorrow that he was missing food. Keeping a proper inventory was one of his greatest failings. That would work in her behalf. The last thing she needed was to be apprehended by a Glory Ridge posse and incarcerated for theft.
Brianna picked up the lantern and bent to grab the pillowcase she’d packed with food. It was heavier than she anticipated. How would she manage to carry their possessions, the food, and Daphne to the livery stable at the same time? Only with the good Lord’s help . . .
Chapter Seven
W
aiting had never been David’s favorite pastime. He pressed his back against the livery wall and dug into the dirt with his bootheels to reposition his aching rump on the cold ground. Jesus. The instant that word shot into his mind, he winced. His days of talking any old way were over. In the church tonight, Brianna had made it clear that she disapproved of his speech. Okay, fine. He’d seen both Ace and Joseph cleaning up their language, strictly enforced by their wives. Nowadays, Ace, once the most feared gunman in the West, wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouthful. Well, maybe sometimes when he was with the guys, he’d sin, but mostly he didn’t, afraid his foul talk would rub off on his kids, shocking the teacher their first day of school.
Until coming to Glory Ridge, David had watched his mouth only when he was with his brothers’ wives and kids and around ladies in town. Otherwise he had talked anyhow he wished. He guessed those days were gone forever. Brianna could go to the devil, but he’d be damned if he taught his daughter to speak like a cowpoke.
He heeled the dirt again, wondering if the earth here was packed clay. His ass—well, okay, his behind—ached like a son of a bitch. He tensed, realizing with a jerk of his stomach that he couldn’t even manage clean language when he was thinking. How was he going to raise a daughter to be a fine lady? His ma had taught him right, and Ace had added ear cuffing as an incentive. David had just wandered away from good manners over time while overseeing rough-edged cowhands at his ranch and equally coarse deputies in town. When you were around bad language, you picked it up. It wasn’t as if he was beyond salvation. With some practice, he’d do okay.
A rectangle of yellow spilled from the open livery doors, the source coming from a lantern hanging inside the barn. Occasionally, when the breeze let up, David could hear the hiss of the lamp. He stared up at the last-quarte
r moon, resembling a ball that had been cut in two. Judging by the moon’s position, still rather low, it had to be around midnight. How long had he been there—three hours or more? Where was that infernal woman? He knew she planned to run tonight, and she struck him as being too smart to attempt a long jaunt afoot. She’d appear at the livery, sooner or later.
An awful thought occurred to him. Judging by her speech, she might hail from Boston, and even though she’d worked as a housekeeper and governess on a ranch for years, that didn’t necessarily mean she’d acquired wisdom about the wilds of Colorado. What if she had it in her head to walk to some town? The thought scared David half to death. With a diminished moon, it was dark out there on the prairie, and the terrain crawled with dangers: a few rattlesnakes that were emerging from their dens with the coming of spring; hungry coyotes that had survived a long, hard winter; and, damn it, maybe even a stray mountain lion. Big cats didn’t commonly frequent the prairies, but they had large hunting territories, and when the game grew scarce, which it might have done during the snow season, they went farther afield. Prairie dogs made a nice snack. A hungry coyote was also fair game. So was a damned fool woman, stumbling along in the darkness with a child. Her highfalutin manner wouldn’t intimidate a puma. David pictured the confrontation, with Brianna braced for battle against a predator with lethal teeth and claws. He could almost hear her say, “I beg your pardon, suh.”