Second Chance Bride. Jane Myers Perrine

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СКАЧАТЬ wind blew dust in Annie’s face, then swirled down the street and around the dry goods and grocer’s store on her left. Behind her was a rickety building, maybe a hotel. It looked as if the wind could knock it over.

      Across the street, the dust blew through the doors of a saloon flanked by a bank and a small building that looked like an office. The sheriff’s, perhaps. Further down the street huddled a few more little white buildings, all nearly hidden in the approaching dusk of early evening.

      At the end of town stood a church. At least she thought the small white building with a squat tower was a church, but it might be a school or a home.

      That was all.

      If she lived here long enough, she’d learn what all the buildings were, but now she wanted nothing more than to go wherever that unknown employer was supposed to take her. Every part of her body ached. The scrapes on her legs and the bump on her head throbbed while the wound on her arm continued to bleed.

      And she was afraid, deathly afraid. What would happen if no one came? If her masquerade were discovered? So many ifs and so few certainties.

      In her hand, Annie carried Matilda’s purse. Inside, she found two letters, a clean handkerchief, a comb, seven dollar bills, a few coins and some pennies. Including Matilda’s meager savings, Annie now had a total of ten dollars and eighty-six cents. How long would that last?

      The wind continued to blow down the rutted main street, pulling Annie’s hair from its tight bun. It swirled around the prim blue skirt she’d taken from Matilda’s satchel and tried to lift it above her now properly shod feet.

      Trail’s End really was the end of the trail.

      As she searched the street for signs of her employer, Annie thought about the accident. After the driver left for the new wheel, she’d checked on the injured guard who lay unconscious by the coach. Then she’d changed into Matilda’s clothing and picked up the woman’s new valise. When the men returned, they loaded Annie and the guard into a wagon.

      “What about…about Miss MacAllister?” Annie had asked.

      “We’ll come back and bury the woman out here. No room in the wagon,” said the driver.

      With that, the wagon took off. During the ride to town, the poor guard moaned with every bump in the rough road. Annie had tried to calm him, but her experience with men had been of an entirely different nature. She used to sing to her father before his drinking got bad, so she tried singing to the guard, softly, songs she had learned as a child from her beautiful but fragile mother. The guard quieted.

      After leaving the injured man at the doctor’s farm, the driver had brought Annie into town and abandoned her in the middle of the street. At her feet sat the small valise that contained everything Annie now owned. She’d stood clutching her purse and looking around for at least an hour, attempting to decide what to do.

      While she waited, the sun dropped behind the horizon and the breeze grew cool. Had Matilda been mistaken when she said someone would meet her in Trail’s End? Annie looked up and down the street, but it was still deserted. No sign of anyone.

      When a light went on above the saloon, Annie glanced up where she saw shadows moving behind the windows. She knew who they belonged to and knew that the women in those rooms were looking down at her, wondering who she was. Annie straightened her back and lifted her chin.

      “I am Matilda Susan Cunningham,” she said.

      She considered sitting in one of the chairs on the porch of the hotel but feared they were reserved for guests. If no one showed up, would her money buy her a bed for the night? Probably. However, with no idea of what her future held, she couldn’t afford to spend even one penny.

      But someone was coming for her. Matilda had said that.

      Annie picked up her right foot to ease the pinching caused by the oxfords she’d taken from Matilda’s body. She’d hated doing it, but she figured a generous woman like Matilda would have wanted her to. At least, she hoped so. The wind blew down the street again, colder after sunset.

      When it was dark, a few men rode into Trail’s End, tied their horses and entered the saloon. Without hesitation, Annie turned away from them and picked up her valise. She hurried as fast as her aching legs would take her toward the hotel and the comforting light that spilled out from the open door.

      She decided she didn’t care if someone from the hotel tried to run her off. She was staying. She dropped the valise and lowered herself onto a chair. Perhaps she would have to spend the night here. She shivered again.

      “Miss Cunningham?”

      She’d fallen asleep, she realized. With a shake of her head, Annie attempted to wake up. Who was this Miss Cunningham? She quickly realized that she was Miss Cunningham and she jumped to her feet, every joint in her body complaining.

      “Yes, sir,” she said, ignoring the pain.

      In the light streaming through the open door of the hotel, she could see the man. Handsome but serious, tall and strong, clean shaven with thick black hair and a square chin. Concern showed in his blue eyes. Solemnly, he studied her face for a moment, which made her want to turn away, to escape his perusal. Then she remembered who she was and stood up, tall and proud.

      “I’m sorry you have had such a wait,” he said in a deep, commanding voice. “The stage was supposed to bring you to my ranch. I didn’t hear about the accident until I arrived in town to look for you. I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable.”

      He reached for her, and she started to leap away out of habit until she realized that he was reacting to the blood on her sleeve.

      “You’ve been hurt, Miss Cunningham.”

      “A few bruises and scrapes. This,” she said, looking at her arm, “and a cut on my head.” She leaned against the chair to steady herself.

      He surveyed her, his eyes moving from what she thought must be a bruise on her cheek and to the blood on her sleeve and skirt. “Let’s get you back to the ranch.”

      She started again when he leaned forward, but he’d only picked up her valise. Of course.

      “Is this all your luggage?”

      “Yes, sir.” She looked at his back as he strode away toward a trim little surrey, then hurried after him. He carried nearly everything she had, and she didn’t even know who he was or the location of the ranch where he was taking her.

      “And you are?” She lifted her head and spoke in the tone that she thought Matilda would use in this situation, strong and certain, despite the hunger, exhaustion, fear and pain competing for her attention.

      “I’m sorry.” He turned back toward her. “I’m John Matthew Sullivan, a member of the school board and president of the bank. Certainly you know that from my letters.”

      He smiled at her, an expression that showed both confusion and concern, a smile that so changed his stern visage that it might have warmed her except that she knew how easily men’s smiles could come and go. Instead she said, “Oh, yes. Your letters.” She put her hand on her forehead. “It has been a difficult day.”

      “It must have been.” He placed the valise on СКАЧАТЬ