Shaking her head resolutely, she thrust away that awful thought with a frown. Just now, she refused to think on that possibility. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry herself sick over it all. Tonight she needed rest. Already she was feeling the aftermath of too much liquor and too little sleep—Cutter’s fault!
And with that sober reflection and a wide, unladylike yawn, she curled herself deeper within the coarse wool blanket she’d wrapped around herself, drawing her arms within to shield them against the chill night air. Trying to keep the morose thoughts from her mind, she turned on her side and gazed blankly at the hazy moonlight that filtered in through the window. She watched listlessly as a few dust particles swirled within the stream of soft light, and after a while, she managed to close her eyes and sleep.
* * *
Gettingout of the room proved easier than Elizabeth expected.
She’d awakened just as the sun was beginning to peep into her room. After dressing, she’d contemplated the window for a good half hour, considering it as a possible exit. The ground was not but a ten-foot drop, more or less, and there was a short awning that dipped downward, besides, making it a perfectly feasible solution. The thing that kept her from crawling out was the notion of someone catching her in the act.
It seemed more dignified, if just as immoral, for her to simply steal out the front door. And after mustering her courage, she did just that. The fact that nobody had been attending the clerk’s desk made it absurdly simple.
Still, her conscience was having a field day with her as she headed for the Hotel d’Horse. Silly name for a stable, she thought. It was even a tad deceitful, for the hotel in question was little more than a raggy barn, with boards all askew. Point in fact, it looked near to collapsing. Yet the clerk at the trade store, Mr. Monroe, had assured her that the gentlemen who owned it ran a fair business and would look after her interest. Now all she needed to do was to be sure she had enough cash left over to purchase supplies... as well as hire someone new once they reached St. Louis.
That was, assuming Cutter agreed to take her.
Her eyes skimmed the street ahead. Noting the lack of people milling about, she began searching for movement within each building she passed. She wasn’t searching for Cutter, she told herself as she craned her neck to see beyond the Rushing Bull’s swinging half door. She hadn’t seen him all morning, and finding there was no sign of him within, she had to concede that he had, in fact, left Indian Creek.
“Just wait until I see Jo,” she grumbled to herself.
Surely Jo had no idea what a rounder her brother was! Without a doubt, Elizabeth was going to enlighten her good friend as soon as she saw her again. And maybe she’d even give Jo a piece of her mind. Despite the fact that Jo had meant well, she’d certainly played an enormous part in this ill-fated scheme that had brought Elizabeth absolutely nothing but grief.
It seemed that annoyance was fast becoming a natural state for her, and it had all begun with Cutter.
The odor of horseflesh and stale hay assaulted her nostrils as she entered the dusky stable.
“Hello,” she called out. “Hello... anyone here?”
A tall, robust man stood up within the second stall. His face screwed in annoyance, though when he saw her, he smiled brightly, revealing a missing upper tooth. Resisting the urge to finger her own straight teeth, she locked her hands into a fist and held them in front of her. “I’m sorry if I intruded?”
“No, no,” the man assured, shoving at the stall door and coming toward her. He wiped his soiled hands upon his already filthy denims. “I was cleaning the stall some... Birthed a mare.” He gave her a guilty smile, then wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Anyhow, name’s Pete Monroe, ma’am; what can I do for ya?”
When she heard that his name was Monroe, Elizabeth’s brow creased. Suspicious, to say the least. Still, she had no choice but to deal with the man. She proffered her hand, trying to look as fearsome as she was able. “Elizabeth Bowcock, and I need a good mount, Mr. Monroe. I’m willing to purchase it outright.” He gave her a skeptical look. “I’ve got cash,” she assured, thinking that was what he was contemplating. “Mr. Monroe—” she emphasized the name “—at the trade store.” Mr. Monroe nodded. “He said you would deal fairly with me.”
Pete Monroe acknowledged that fact with a brief nod. “Yeah?” He winked at her. “Well, Miss Bowcock, if my cousin Will sent you, I’ve just the thing. Haven’t really been sellin’ my horses outright, but this once, I’ll make an exception.” He smiled suddenly, his missing tooth conspicuous. “Anythin’ for a pretty gal like you,” he told her.
Turning, he started into the dusky building, launching into what promised to become a sad sales tale. “Just please don’t breathe a word o’ this, or I’ll have the townsfolk at my door. You see... I haven’t had any new blood in stock for a good while now, and old man Rutherford has been after me ta sell him what I got... but he keeps jiggerin’ em, and I ain’t willin’ ta let him do that to anymore o’ my horses. They’re like family ta me.”
Family? Not likely! As they went deeper into the stable, the smell of stale hay became rank, almost sour. No man served his family spoiled rations—at least, not if he could help it. But then, maybe he couldn’t help it. She considered that a moment. Indian Creek wasn’t exactly a prospering town.
Mr. Monroe led her to the very last stall, where a mustang mare stood staring emptily back at her, its liquid dark eyes blinking at her somberly. All thoughts of duplicity fled her at once as she stepped forward, seeing only the reflection of herself in the ebony eyes, her misery, her loneliness, and she was at once in love.
The mare stretched its neck forward to investigate the newest trespasser to its stall. Elizabeth was surprised by the warm welcome; her eyes widened slightly and she turned to smile warmly at the big man beside her.
“She’s beautiful!” Reaching out cautiously, she stroked the mare’s forehead, brushing its forelock gently with her fingers. Her markings were exquisite: white with scattered spots, ranging from dark gold to deep cocoa.
Elizabeth’s hand slid down to its flaring nostrils. There she held it, letting the animal become used to her personal scent, all the while keeping alert for some sign that it would balk. It never did, and finally she moved to caress its fine muzzle.
The mare retreated somewhat at that, but Elizabeth continued to caress the animal reassuringly. Abruptly she withdrew her hand, placing it at her side, waiting to see what the animal would do next. After a long moment, the mare moved forward, as though seeking out her gentle touch, and Elizabeth’s heart swelled with pride of accomplishment. She stood without speaking for the longest moment, admiring the animal’s beauty, reveling in her good fortune.
“I’ll take her,” Elizabeth declared, without the least hesitation.
Mr. Monroe smiled shrewdly, giving her a pleased nod. “Thought so,” was all he said. “Now, as ta the price, Miss Bowcock.”
Chapter Eight
Cursing roundly to himself, Cutter rapped sharply upon Elizabeth’s door for the third time. Giving it a last whack, he tried the knob and found it securely locked. Every inclination urged him to beat it down, but he doubted it would do any good. If Elizabeth were in her room, she’d have responded by now.
Where else could she be?
