Lone Wolf's Lady
“What if that family Sarah Jane supposedly has doesn’t want her?” Miss O’Malley asked.
He’d thought of that possibility more than he dared to admit. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
Apparently, that wasn’t enough to appease her, because she crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. “I won’t let you take Sarah Jane anywhere.”
Tom snorted at her hollow challenge. “I wouldn’t recommend fighting with me, Miss O’Malley.”
She studied him a moment, as if calculating the odds, then softened her stance. “Daisy is Sarah Jane’s guardian. And the two of us have reached an agreement. We’re taking Sarah Jane to Wyoming.”
“Daisy also goes by the name of Erin Kelly,” he said. “Did you know that?”
A twitch at the corner of a single blue eye suggested that she didn’t, yet she brushed off his comment. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t think her name was actually Daisy Potts.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
She stiffened. “I’m sure that’s true. Nevertheless, Daisy—or whatever name she’d prefer to go by—has agreed to go with me to Wyoming. And I plan to leave town just as soon as Dr. Hennessy says she can travel.”
“I’m afraid her plans changed when she was attacked and nearly killed.”
“It seems to me that would be all the more reason for her to want a new life. And I can help her attain that dream—in Wyoming.”
“And just whose dream is that, Miss O’Malley? Yours or Daisy’s?”
She seemed to ponder that a moment, as if he’d finally tossed something her way that she hadn’t expected. Then she seemed to shrug it off. “Does it matter? Some people become so downtrodden that they forget how to dream.”
The fool woman had an answer for everything.
“At this point,” he said, “the only thing that matters is getting Erin and Sarah Jane out of town before that man comes back and tries to finish what he started.”
Her lips parted, and the color in her cheeks drained. “Do you think the man will come back and try to kill her?”
“Come now. You’re a bright woman. Think about it. The man attacked a woman and child in broad daylight. He certainly wasn’t a drunken, unhappy customer. And when another woman interrupted the attack, he ran off before she could get a good look at him. But as far as the attacker knows, there are still two witnesses.”
She bit down on her bottom lip again as she considered what he was suggesting, so he continued to make himself clear. “From what I’ve been told, Erin has no memory of the attack—at least, not now. And Sarah Jane hasn’t uttered a word since that morning. The doctor thinks she’s traumatized by what she saw, and who knows if or when she’ll speak again. But the attacker doesn’t know that.”
Tom didn’t see any point in telling Miss O’Malley that he’d been following Caroline’s trail for the past three weeks, from Casa de Los Angelitos in Mexico, where Sarah Jane was born, to the town of Taylorsville, where Caroline had died after a fall down a flight of stairs.
And that was another thing that just didn’t sit right with him. Caroline had been a healthy and vivacious twenty-four-year-old. How had she managed to take a fatal tumble like that? And why had Erin left right after the funeral?
Something about that just didn’t make sense. The women had put down roots several different times in the past six years. And then all of a sudden, they would up and move again.
Had one or the other been running from something?
Or from someone?
If so, Tom didn’t like the idea of Sarah Jane being caught up in the backlash of whatever the adults in her life had been involved in—or running from.
He hoped he was wrong, but the only one who could answer his questions was Erin, and she was in no condition to talk yet.
“How do you plan to travel with a child and an injured woman?” Miss O’Malley asked.
That wasn’t going to be easy. And Tom didn’t expect to do much sleeping on the three-day ride to Hannah’s house, where he intended to leave Daisy to heal.
“I can see that you haven’t thought that through,” Miss O’Malley said, her tone and stance a little too smug for her bustle.
“Actually,” Tom said, “I’ve done a lot of thinking.” More than she would ever know—and not just while he’d been on the trail looking for Caroline.
“Perhaps we should compromise,” she said.
“About what? The way I see it, Miss O’Malley, you don’t have a dog in this fight.”
As though his words had fallen on deaf ears, she continued to speak her mind. “Erin and Sarah Jane need to get out of town fast, correct?”
“That’s the way I see it.” What was her point?
“And Sarah Jane might or might not have a family who might—or might not—want her. Is that a safe assumption?”
“I suppose so.” Where was she going with this?
“If she has no family—or if they don’t want her—she’ll need another home.”
He didn’t dispute that.
“And if they want her, we’ll need to determine whether they deserve her. And if they don’t, then we’ll still need to find her another home.”
We? Who included Miss O’Malley in any of this?
“So you see, it’s all very simple.” Miss O’Malley crossed her arms and smiled. “I’ll go with you. And if Sarah Jane needs a home for any reason, I’ll be prepared to take her and Erin with me to Wyoming as planned.”
She couldn’t be suggesting that he travel for three days with her, an outspoken, headstrong schoolmarm. He’d be a fool to even consider such a notion. A woman like Miss O’Malley, no matter how pretty she was, would make the trip as unbearable as a throbbing ingrown toenail.
“Miss O’Malley, thank you for the kind offer, but I’m afraid that won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“To be honest, I’d run naked through a briar patch before I’d travel with you any longer than necessary.”
Up went that pretty little chin again. “Traveling with you wouldn’t be a picnic, Mr. McCain.”
“It certainly won’t. I’m not packing silver tea service or linen napkins.”
“How dare you accuse me of being prissy. I’ve made it a point to not be cast in that mold.”
“The mold of a lady?” He asked, awaiting a slap—or a sharp retort.
Instead, she uncrossed her arms and tossed him a pretty smile. “I don’t really care what others think of me, Mr. McCain—you included. But that’s beside the point right now. You’re going to need help traveling with an injured woman and a traumatized child. And it looks as though I’m the only one willing to go with you. So the way I see it, you don’t have much choice.”
Trouble was, as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
Chapter Three
McCain glared at Katie as though she’d gone daft, then he shook his head. “Be ready in an hour—and not one minute more. We’ll leave from here.”
Before she could object to the unreasonable time limit, the man left her standing in front of the brothel and strode away as though it wouldn’t take much to change his mind or to alter his travel plans.
While she should feel somewhat victorious, she had to admit that she felt as unbalanced as a blindfolded child in a sack race.
How in creation was she ever going to pack for a trip like that in so little time?
Well, she couldn’t very well stew about it a moment longer, so she hurried home as quickly as her skirts would allow. She did, however, stop briefly to let Ian Connor know that she’d be leaving town.
Ian, who’d been a dear friend and a colleague of her late father, had suffered an attack of apoplexy last year that left the right side of his body so weak that he’d had to retire from his law practice. He now lived with his widowed sister in a white clapboard house just down the lane from Katie.
As she’d expected, Ian greeted her with a warm smile. “Katie, my dear, it’s always good to see you. Please come in.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to come inside. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be leaving and will be away for a week or so.”
Ian stroked his right arm and furrowed his brow. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking Daisy Potts and Sarah Jane out of town.”
Ian stiffened. “You’re what?”
“I take it you heard about the attack. Poor Miss Potts was assaulted and nearly killed. I’m going to escort her and the child out of town.”
“Yes, I heard about the attack—and her injuries. But why in the world are you getting involved in that?”
“You know me.”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.” Ian blew out a weary sigh. “May I remind you that you’re an unmarried woman, Katie? Traveling the country with a small child and a battered prostitute is dangerous and...well, it’s uncalled-for. Think of your reputation.”
“I’ll have an escort—Mr. Tom McCain. So I’ll be perfectly safe.”
Ian clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Why are they leaving? Wouldn’t it be best if Miss Potts stayed here in town until she recovered?”
Katie didn’t dare mention the danger Daisy and Sarah Jane might be in, so she chose another reason for their hasty departure. “The town hasn’t been kind to the child, and there’s been talk of sending her to live in an orphanage.”
The dear old man who, along with his sister, had become as close as family members to her, especially since her da’s passing, blew out a weary sigh. “Sending that poor child away isn’t necessarily a bad idea, Katie. People around here aren’t likely to ever forget what her mother did for a living.”
“I don’t know much about her real mother, God rest her soul. Sarah Jane once mentioned that she used to work at a hotel.”
“That’s probably what the child considers the Gardener’s House to be.”
“You may be right, but a little girl shouldn’t be punished for her mother’s mistakes.”
“I agree. However, that’s the way of it, Katie. When are you going to learn there are some things you can’t change or fix? I’d think that after getting arrested last November for creating a public disturbance at the town hall meeting you’d be smart enough to figure that out.”
“First of all, I’m not the only woman in this community who spent time in jail for speaking her mind.” Katie leaned against the doorjamb. “And secondly, I have given up. At least, here in Pleasant Valley.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ian asked.
“I’m going to leave as soon as I return from escorting Miss Potts.”
His face paled. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She understood his concern. And the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him or to cause him any undue worry. “I’m going to Wyoming. The school board in Granville is looking for a teacher.”
“I thought you didn’t like teaching and that you gave it up for good.”
“Well, I’ve had a change of heart. Since I can’t get through to the adults in this community, I’ve decided to use another tactic. I’ll begin by training the children when they’re still able to see reason.”
Ian blew out a weary sigh. “I told your father that I would be happy to oversee your trust fund, but he didn’t take me up on the offer, giving you full control. If he’d known that you’d become so independent, he might have listened to me.”
“Da always admired my independence.”
“He wouldn’t have in this instance.”
Katie watched the emotions play across Ian’s face, and she knew she was in for a battle. But try as he might, he wouldn’t be able to change her plans.
“I can’t allow you to go to Wyoming. Your father would roll over in the grave if I let you traipse across the country unescorted.”
“I won’t be alone, Ian. If things go as planned, I’ll be traveling with Miss Potts and Sarah Jane.”
“You’re going to travel with a prostitute?” His voice rose an octave, and his face grew rosy and bright. “Have you lost your mind completely?” Ian slapped his good hand upon his hip. “Katie, listen to reason for once in your life. Women of virtue don’t go to the Wyoming Territory, especially with soiled doves. They stay home and wait for a man to court them.”
It was the same argument he’d used each time she showed her stubborn streak, so she wasn’t surprised. Still, her answer was always the same. “That’s not going to happen. Getting married would strip me of what few rights a woman has in this world.”
“Well, it’s probably just as well that you remain a spinster. You’d drive your first husband crazy and the second to drink.”
“You may be right,” Katie said with a chuckle. “But if I should suffer a blow to the head causing me to reconsider marriage, I’ll look for a man as fair-minded as you or Da.”
“Humph. Don’t try to flatter me.”
Katie stepped forward and wrapped the old man in a warm embrace. “I love you, Ian. You know that, don’t you?”
The tension in his stance eased, and he hugged her back. “I love you, too, Katie. You’ve been the daughter I never had.”
Ian would be as angry as a hornet in a bowl of honey if he knew all the details of her trip, of the possible danger, of her determination to adopt Sarah Jane in the end, but he’d settle down in a day or so. He always did when he realized her mind was made up. And it was.
Katie was going to take Sarah Jane to Wyoming, and nobody was going to stop her.
* * *
Needless to say, Katie had packed her clothing and toiletries into a valise as quickly as possible, then she’d hurried to the livery stable and rented a gentle roan mare. After mounting and adjusting her skirts, she rode to the Gardener’s House to meet Mr. McCain.
Since she preferred not to butt heads with Sweet Heather again, she decided to wait outside. So she dismounted and tied her mare next to McCain’s big bay gelding and the snorting team of horses harnessed to a buckboard.
Someone had already packed the wagon and lined the bed with several quilts. They’d also rigged a small canvas tarp over the top to provide the injured woman with a bit of shade. Katie wondered if one of the fallen women had thought of it—or if McCain had.
Before she could consider the thoughtful gesture, the brothel’s front door swung open, and McCain stepped onto the porch with Daisy—or rather, Erin—in his arms. The injured woman wore a light blue dress—a plain and simple style with long sleeves and a delicate bow tied at the neckline. With her dark hair swept up into a modest topknot, she appeared to be as proper as any of the other ladies in town.
Katie thought it made a clever disguise, if one could call it that.
As McCain carried Erin down the porch steps, Katie caught a glimpse of the black eye and the nasty bruise that marred one side of her face, mocking the ladylike clothing. As they crossed the yard, Katie had a better view of her injuries and winced at the brutality of the attack.
She’d been so taken by the sight of the battered woman that she just now noticed Sarah Jane trailing behind. The child, her head downcast, wore a yellow calico dress and a small pair of moccasins on her feet.
Katie made her way to the little girl, then dropped to her knees and hugged her close. But instead of returning the embrace, Sarah Jane’s arms hung loosely at her sides.
“Oh, honey,” Katie said, hoping to infuse a little warmth and joy back into her. “I’m so glad to see you.”
Katie’s heart ached at the thought of what the child had witnessed, what she’d been through.
“Come on,” McCain said. “We don’t have time for idle chitchat. Let’s get them in the wagon.”
Katie didn’t intend to dawdle. For goodness’ sake, she wanted to get the child—and herself!—as far away from the brothel as they could. But she couldn’t help being concerned about the girl and ignored the man long enough to satisfy her curiosity.
“Are you all right, honey?” Katie asked.
Sarah Jane nodded.
“Who hurt you?”
The child’s gaze dropped to the small, beaded moccasins she wore.
Katie placed her fingertip under Sarah Jane’s chin and lifted her face. “It’s all right. I’m here now, and I’ll protect you. You can tell me what happened.”
“She can’t talk,” McCain said.
Katie knew she’d been traumatized, but she’d thought, well, hoped that her arrival, her presence and voice, might soothe the frightened girl, might comfort her.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and Katie turned to see a tall blonde carrying a large basket in the crook of her arm. A stocky brunette followed behind toting a white ceramic chamber pot.
“I’ve packed some vittles for you to take,” the blonde said. “It’ll be suppertime before you know it. And since Doc don’t want Daisy to walk or move around very much, we thought it might be best if you took this pot along, too. That way she won’t have to climb in and out of the wagon.”
Katie knew Daisy had been injured, but she hadn’t realized how laid up she’d be on the trip. But that didn’t matter. Katie was prepared to take care of her, as well as Sarah Jane.
She’d nursed her da for several weeks before he passed, so she was used to tending the sick. And while being on the trail would be different from being at home, she was prepared to do whatever needed to be done.
According to McCain, the trip would take several days. Katie wondered what they would eat after they’d finished the food in the basket. She hated to think that they’d have to scavenge the countryside for berries, seeds and wild game. Surely someone had thought to pack more supplies. But if they hadn’t? Well, she’d think of something. She always did.
Katie stood, shook the dust from her skirts and reached for Sarah Jane’s hand. “Come on, honey. We’re going on a grand adventure.”
McCain, who’d helped the injured woman settle into the bed of the wagon, glanced her way and frowned.
Didn’t he realize that Katie simply had been trying to reassure the child? She certainly wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few days sleeping outdoors and eating whatever they managed to find, especially under his watch. Would she ever see his gaze untouched by judgment? A small part of her couldn’t help wishing so.
“By the way,” Katie said to McCain, deciding she deserved more information than he’d given her. “Do we have any pans for cooking? Or maybe a coffeepot?”
His scowl confirmed that he might have agreed to take her along, but he certainly wasn’t the least bit happy about it. When he finally spoke, his words came out short and snappish. “This isn’t a picnic, Miss O’Malley.”
Under other circumstances, Katie might have let loose with an angry retort, but she bit her tongue, knowing it wouldn’t do her any good to irritate him further, at least until they were too far along for him to change his mind and send her home.
“Tom,” the blonde said, “I’ve got one more box to go on that wagon, and I’ll need some help lifting it.”
“There’s not much room, Rose.”
“It’s not big, just a wee bit heavy.”
McCain started toward the house, then paused when he reached Katie. “Help Sarah Jane into the wagon.”
If Katie weren’t so eager to get the child away from the brothel and this town, she’d remind him that she didn’t take orders, and that a “please” and a little respect would go a long way. But she let it go this time and helped Sarah Jane settle into the back of the wagon, next to where Erin lay.
Once the child was seated, Katie leaned against the side of the buckboard, reached into the bed and placed her hand on the prostitute’s arm. “Mr. McCain told me that your name is Erin, which is what I’ll be calling you from now on.”
Erin, her eyes a bit dazed, merely nodded.
“I’m sorry things aren’t working out the way either of us intended,” Katie added, “but don’t worry. Once you’re feeling better, we’ll leave for Wyoming.”
Erin merely closed her eyes and sighed.
Boot steps sounded on the porch, and Katie looked over her shoulder to see McCain approach the wagon carrying a small wooden crate. After he placed it under the wagon seat, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold watch.
He lifted the lid and glanced at the time. Then he circled the wagon and approached Katie. “I’ll help you up.”
“You don’t need to,” she told him. “I’m not as helpless or as troublesome as you think. I can do it myself.”
In spite of what she’d told him, he slipped behind her and offered his assistance, gripping her elbow and reaching for her waist.
His hands were strong, his touch warm, his movements deft. Yet it was the scent of him, a manly combination of leather and soap that caused her breath to catch.
Hoping he hadn’t noticed, she climbed up, settled onto the seat and adjusted her skirts.
She was just about to reach for the reins when McCain tied his horse to the back of the wagon, beside hers.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I can drive a buckboard.”
“We’re all going to ride in the wagon. From a distance, maybe we’ll look like a family.”
Katie nearly snorted at the thought of her and McCain as husband and wife, but she kept her reaction to herself.
It was all part of the masquerade, part of the plan to get Sarah Jane to safety.
Yet as McCain climbed into the seat beside her, like a husband would do, her heart gave a funny little flutter.
“Everybody ready?” he asked the passengers in back.
“Are you sure we have everything we need?” Katie asked, hoping he’d thought of the things she might have included had he given her enough time to plan.
“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to make do with what we have. We’re burning daylight as it is.”
She wanted to object, but she had to admit that McCain was right.
The sooner they left Pleasant Valley, the better.
* * *
Traveling with two women and a child wasn’t going to be easy, and Tom doubted he’d get much sleep over the next few days. If he’d had the luxury of waiting until tomorrow morning, he would have planned to set out before daylight.
The fewer people who saw them leaving, the less chance there was that the attacker would catch wind of it and follow them. Hopefully, the man had fled to parts unknown, but Tom wasn’t taking any chances. According to Sheriff Droeger, they hadn’t uncovered a motive for the assault—no robbery, at least, not that anyone knew. So was it personal? Had the man gone after Erin for some other reason? If so, that would give him reason to come back and finish the job.
Tom had purchased the wagon at the livery, and, fortunately, the old man who ran the place had been more interested in pocketing the cash than in asking questions.
So now here they were, about twenty miles outside of Pleasant Valley. Tom would have pushed harder so they could have traveled farther, but Dr. Hennessy had warned him not to jostle Erin too much. Of course, the doctor had also given her something to make her sleep, so she’d rested easily all afternoon.
They’d finally reached a good place to set up camp. Tom remembered this spot when he and Trapper had ridden through a few days earlier. With a creek nearby, its water clear and fresh, and the scattering of trees to hide them from the road, it was a good place to spend the night.
But he still wanted to scout the area and assure himself that the women and the child would be safe, even though he planned to watch over them while they slept.
So, after unhitching the horses, leading them to water and waiting for them to drink, he returned to the campsite and tethered them to a tree.
“I’m going to have a look around,” he told Miss O’Malley. “Do you think you can handle things here?”
“Yes, of course. Should Sarah Jane and I gather some dried twigs for a fire?”
“Wait until I come back.” He didn’t want them to wander too far or build a fire until he was sure they weren’t being followed.
Fifteen minutes later, after taking care to hide their wagon tracks, he’d circled back to the campsite. All the while, he’d watched and listened for any sign that they weren’t alone while keeping his right hand close to his holster.
When he’d convinced himself that they were safe, he headed back to camp. Not far from where they’d left the horses and wagon, while he was still near the stream, twigs snapped and skirts rustled.