The Cowboy's Orphan Bride Page 12

  “Bat has more water heating and I hung the rope back up.”

  “Thank you,” she answered. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Take your time.”

  She certainly could have ended up in worse places, with worse people. JoJo said she could stay with him for as long as needed. The tent wasn’t a house, but it was better than Willow’s place. At least from here she could hope to get a more presentable job. Perhaps with one of the doctors. She sighed. That could work except for the fact Dr. Rodgers was certain to hear about that. Dang it. Why hadn’t she thought this through a bit more thoroughly?

  As together as possible, she stepped forward and opened the tent flap. The first place her gaze went was the open span between the camp and town. She saw exactly what she’d expected. Garth’s back as he walked away. A despondent sigh emptied itself from her lungs. Up until this moment she hadn’t wanted to admit it, but that’s what Garth did. He walked away.

  Watching as he moved farther and farther away, she stepped out of the tent. Not this time, Garth McCain. You won’t get away that easy this time. This time you are going to see what you left behind, and be sorry.

  Feeling renewed, she smiled at JoJo and Bat, watching as their somewhat confused expressions softened until they both smiled in return. “Well, that laundry’s not going to do itself, now is it?” she said, moving forward.

  “Garth’s a—”

  “Stubborn, pigheaded bully,” she said. “Always has been.”

  “That may be true,” JoJo said, “but he’s also—”

  “Your boss.” She flinched slightly at interrupting JoJo again.

  “Yes, he is. But he’s more than that. Bosses just boss people around and fill themselves up. Garth there is a leader. He shows people what needs to be done, allows them to learn how to do it and watches as it fills them up. Not him. Them. In a way they don’t even know all he’s just taught them.” His gaze had gone in the direction of town where Garth was now nothing more than a smudge blending in with several other people. “People don’t follow bosses, they follow leaders.”

  Bridgette shifted her gaze from where Garth had disappeared to JoJo. She couldn’t agree, and didn’t. “He doesn’t care about anyone but himself.”

  Still looking toward town, JoJo said, “He’s hard, and rough, and ornery, and shouts and cusses and stomps around, but that man cares more about others than anyone I’ve ever met.” He turned to her then and asked, “Why else would he teach them how to get along without him?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Garth felt like a bird startled off its roost, aimlessly fluttering about with no place to land, no place to go. Usually, after bringing in a herd, he’d spend some time in the gaming houses and saloons. None of that held any appeal to him today.

  After rounding up four of his best men, and sending them back down the trail to inform the trail bosses to come look him up before bringing their herds to town, he’d wandered about the stockyards, checking his cattle and grumbling about how every hour those critters remained penned up in his name cut into his profits. A couple of days could make that a deep cut, yet giving in to the slaughter houses would cut deeper.

  Ludwig Smith, who was still a little pipsqueak of a man, wasn’t so bad. Secretively, so no other ears could hear, he made mention the Eastman House representatives were whispering about offering a flat rate of four dollars a head. Four dollars! Criminy, on a bad day the worst he’d ever heard of was six a head. That was at the end of the season and old nags to boot. Four dollars a head was flat out stealing. He had half a mind to find those Eastman boys and tell them what he thought of their flat rate, but alone, that wouldn’t mean much. Solstead was right. The cattlemen needed to band together.

  That was an interesting concept to him; other than on a drive when everyone had to work together, he liked going about things singularly.

  He could drive his cattle out of Dodge, take them elsewhere, Hays, Wichita, or one of the many smaller cow towns, but that would cost money he didn’t have right now, and from the sound of things, the slaughter houses were trying to play their hands everywhere, not just in Dodge.

  With no place else to go, Garth found himself on the boardwalk in front of the Dodge House. The cattle weren’t the only things filling his head. Bridgette was there front and center. Trying to come up with a solution for the cattle was far easier than trying to figure out what to do about her. He didn’t fault anyone for wanting to make something for themselves. Men that is. Women couldn’t just go out and do that alone. She should know that. Her life couldn’t have been that bad with the doctor and his family. Why couldn’t she just have stayed put, or waited until he was long gone before coming to Dodge?

  “Good afternoon, Mr. McCain. I have a message for you.”

  Garth hadn’t even entered the hotel, still stood near the open doorway, but inside, the wiry, thin man wearing round spectacles behind the counter waved an envelope.

  “It was delivered a short time ago.”

  Garth entered and took the envelope. “Thanks.”

  “You’re most welcome. Just let us know if you need anything. The Dodge House doesn’t have the reputation of being the best hotel in town for no reason.”

  Garth offered an acknowledgment by tapping the envelope on the edge of the counter before he turned about and headed up the stairs. Once in his room, he broke the seal and pulled out a slip of paper. He’d never considered himself a nervous man, but the words he read filled him with fretfulness like he’d never known.

  Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Solstead request the pleasure of Mr. and Mrs. Garth McCains’ company for dinner this evening

  7:00 p.m. at the Buffalo Run Hotel and Restaurant

  He set the note and the envelope on the table. Mr. and Mrs. Garth McCain was the part that gave his stomach a set of the jitters. Parting the curtain covering the widow above the table, he stared through the glass panes. Buildings blocked his view of the tent city, but it was out there, and so was she.

  He shook his head. Dang it but she was making him think about things, remember things he didn’t want to. She’d needed protection back at the orphanage. Years of being sickly had left her small and that alone had been a target for the other kids. He’d sincerely hoped the family that had taken her in had taken on that role. And that she’d let them, listened to reason and behaved. From what Cecil Chaney had said, and considering she’d come up with the idea to trade for the cow and calf, she still had a smart mouth and a head full of lofty ideas.

  The click of the door latch had him turning about.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was in here.” The young woman pointed at the bed. “I just came up to straighten the room and fill the water pitcher. Haven’t had a chance before now.”

  Garth glanced at the bed. There was an indent where he’d slept, but he’d been so tired, he hadn’t moved. The covers were barely wrinkled and he hadn’t touched the water pitcher. “The room’s fine,” he said.

  “Well, if there’s anything you need, just let the front desk know.”

  She’d almost pulled the door completely closed before he said, “Wait.”

  “Yes?”

  Fingering the envelope, he asked, “Where would I buy a dress? A little fancier than the one you’re wearing.” He didn’t like admitting it, not even to himself, but for right now he needed Bridgette. It was her fault he needed her, but that didn’t change the fact. Actually, keeping her close at hand for the next few days would be his safest bet.

  “I’d hope it would be fancier than this one,” the girl said with a smile. “Whicker’s is just down the road and has some ready-made dresses, but Mrs. Owens has a dress shop just two doors up the road from us. She always has one or two outfits for sale, and they are much nicer than anything at Whicker’s.”

  He’d never stepped foot in a dress sho
p, and wasn’t too eager to do so now. “Do you think you could get me one? I’ll give you the money. How much would you need?”

  “Of course I can. I don’t know for sure how much it would cost, but could have my father add it to your room charge.”

  “Your father?”

  She nodded. “Hugh Franklin. He owns this place. Now what size will you need?”

  “A bit taller than you, and...” His face heated up as he pulled his eyes off her. She was young, hadn’t formed the womanly figure that Bridgette had, and it made him uncomfortable to compare the two.

  “I understand,” she said. “Will you need anything else besides the dress?”

  Growing more uncomfortable, he said, “Sure. Whatever else goes along with it.”

  “When will you need it by?”

  He picked up the invitation. “My wife and I are going to dinner at seven.” The girl would know he’d checked in alone, so he added, “I’m going to collect her shortly.”

  “Oh, goodness, that doesn’t give us much time. I’m sure she’ll want a bath as well. Will you be back by five? I can have everything prepared by then, and that will give her time to get ready.”

  Two hours to get ready? It hadn’t taken him that long to buy new clothes, wash off three months of dirt, shave, and fall to sleep, but women were different. No one had to tell him that. “That’ll be fine.” A bit of excitement at the idea of seeing Bridgette all gussied up had him adding, “A blue one.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The dress. Make it a blue one if possible.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

  Garth turned back to the window as the door closed and he drew in a deep breath. He’d best go see what he could do, too. Convincing Bridgette to join him for supper might not be as easy as it sounded. Most things weren’t when it came to her.

  Gathering gumption, he headed for the door.

  The walk to the camp was uneventful. And short. He hadn’t come up with a plan by the time he got there.

  When he arrived, Bridgette was carrying a load of firewood from the trees that lined the riverbank, and despite the anger he’d harbored earlier, the sight of her sent things into a bit of commotion inside him. He wasn’t used to that, and wasn’t overly sure he liked it.

  Without looking his way, she dropped the wood and then bent down to stack it in a neat pile. So much for wondering if she was still mad. “Gathering firewood is Bat’s job,” he said.

  “Bat is doing something else right now.” She still hadn’t looked up.

  Garth glanced around. “What?” Not spying hide nor hair of the boy, he said, “He can’t be running around Dodge—”

  “He’s not.”

  “Then where is he?”

  When she didn’t answer, he glanced toward JoJo who stood near the back of the chuck wagon. JoJo didn’t move, or say a word, but flashed his eyes toward the tent.

  Garth listened for a moment, and what he heard surprised him. “You got that kid to take a bath?”

  She glanced up then, and orneriness filled her eyes. “Not everyone is fond of walking around smelling like something a dog wouldn’t eat.”

  That he could still appreciate: her quick wit. “Maybe not eat, but a dog would roll in it and then walk around thinking he smelled as pretty as cherry blossoms.”

  She sneered at him.

  He laughed.

  Standing up, she put her hands on the indents above her hips. “Is there a point to your visit?”

  He hoped the dress that girl picked out would be blue, and that she’d get the size right. The dullness of Bridgette’s gray dress didn’t match her eyes or her personality. He gestured toward the chuck wagon. “Came to talk to JoJo. Find out if all the boys have checked in.”

  “They sure enough have,” JoJo said. “Most laid their bedrolls here last night. The ones that didn’t, most likely will tonight, along with their empty pockets.”

  Garth had already talked with most of his cowboys and knew the majority of them had bedded down near JoJo’s camp. He trusted every one of his men, but a woman sleeping amongst them could cause temptation. JoJo, or Bat, wouldn’t be any sort of protection against a liquored-up man. Surely she knew that. Most likely she did, but thought she could handle it. Which she couldn’t.

  “Willis staked out a section of ground down by the river for the horses,” JoJo continued. “And Bat’s been seeing to the mounts as usual. That kid sure does love those horses.”

  “I think I’ll go take a look at them.” Turning to Bridgette, Garth asked, “Care to take a walk with me?”

  The shock on her face was worth smiling at, and he did. Just like Solstead said they had to tread careful with the slaughter houses, he had to tread careful when it came to Bridgette. He wasn’t used to that. Being straightforward in demanding what he wanted suited him far better, and had never failed him.

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “No reason.” He glanced toward the tent where splashing sounds still emitted.

  Following his gaze thoughtfully, it was a moment before she nodded. “All right.”

  They started walking side by side. It wasn’t uncomfortable. He’d always been at ease around her. After they’d covered a fair amount of distance, he asked, “How’d you get Bat to take a bath? I tried a couple of times along the drive.”

  “I simply asked him.”

  Garth shook his head. “No you didn’t.”

  She cracked a smile. “It was a bit more than a simple request, but we came to an understanding.”

  He’d bet a new pair of boots the understanding she referred to hadn’t come along as easily as she pretended it had. A twinge of compassion for Bat flashed inside his chest. “He’s a good kid.”

  “Yes, he is. What are you going to do with him?”

  “Me? He’s not mine. JoJo’s the one who took him in.”

  Her smile never waned. “So he did, and JoJo looks to you to steer them both in the right direction.” Frowning slightly, she said, “Bat needs things, a home, a family, an education. Don’t tell me you don’t know that. I know you haven’t changed that much.”

  Bat’s future had crossed his mind, and he’d figured it would all work out in the end. Most things did. Knowing she wouldn’t appreciate that response, he used their arrival at the rope that had been tied to various trees to pen in his remuda as an excuse not to answer. Lifting the rope, he gestured for her to duck under it.

  The horses, used to human interactions daily, walked closer to greet them. She instantly started petting the elongated nose of the big roan mare he favored. Drawing a deep breath, he took a moment to contemplate where to begin. It helped that he knew her so well—at least the person she used to be. That Bridgette had a soft spot for helping people, and, he reasoned, so did this one. She’d never have put up with Cecil Chaney if she didn’t. “I need to ask a favor of you, Bridgette.”

  “You do?”

  Pretending as if checking over the horse held his attention, he said, “Yes, I do.”

  “If it includes me going back to Hosford, I can’t do it. I plan on getting a job here in Dodge. Earning enough money in order to move on.”

  She’d never been a good liar. Still wasn’t. He ignored that, although he had to smile inside himself. “Where you moving on to?”

  “West.”

  “West?”

  She stiffened and closed her eyes. “Yes. West.”

  “When?”

  She let out a heavy sigh before turning to face him. “I’m not sure, but I won’t tell anyone else my name is Mrs. McCain. That just sort of happened.”

  He certainly wanted to know more about that, as well as what had led up to it, but that would have to wait. She wouldn’t supply the answers he wanted while her guard was up. “Well,” he said,
drawing the word out, “it’s gonna have to keep happening. For the time being anyway.”

  Confusion and shock filled her eyes as she spun to look at him. “What?”

  “Word spread that you’re my wife.” He ran a slow hand down the nose of the horse. “We’ve been invited to dinner.”

  She pressed a hand over her mouth, but then flayed both hands in the air. “What?”

  Startled, the horse tossed its head and stomped a foot. Garth pushed the animal aside, but a second one immediately stepped into its place.

  “Invited by whom?” Bridgette asked, quieter so as not to startle the other horse which she’d started to pet.

  The sun shining on her hair was making the strands glisten and that made something inside him tighten and twist. He didn’t want to think about how pretty she was. How pretty she’d always been. Looking away, he said, “Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Solstead. Nathan’s the president of the cattle association. Dinner is at seven at the Buffalo Run.”

  Bridgette was shaking from head to toe and didn’t know which reason to begin with in order to explain why they couldn’t go out to dinner. What she’d told him was true. She was going to find a job and earn enough money to go West. Go anywhere that he wasn’t. Coming to Dodge had been foolish. He didn’t care if she got on with her life or not. He never had. “I—I can’t go out to dinner with you.”

  “I have a girl at the hotel picking you up a new dress.”

  “It’s not about a dress. I can’t pretend to be your wife. I won’t.”

  “It’s too late for that. They already think it.” He pushed aside a white horse that was vying for a bit of attention. “I really need your help with this, Bridgette.”

  Struck by the sincerity in his tone, she ducked under the horse’s neck. “I can’t help you, Garth.” Although the idea it might actually happen no longer worried her, she still used it as an excuse. “I ran away from Hosford and someone might come looking for me.”

  “Who?”

  Bridgette ran a hand along the horse’s side as she walked beside it, mainly to keep Garth a distance away. He’d ducked under the horse’s neck, too. “Dr. Rodgers. I was supposed to go to another family, help them until the wife had her baby.”