Badlands Bride. Cheryl St.John
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Название: Badlands Bride
Автор: Cheryl St.John
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
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He dropped a heavy lid on the skillet. “I’ll get you some water and you can wash before we eat. There’s a privy out back.”
“A what?”
He stood motionless, staring at the table. “A place to relieve yourself.”
Embarrassment buzzed up Hallie’s neck to her ears. “Oh—uh, a necessary,” she said.
He brought water from outdoors and heated it on the stove. Carrying the metal pan through the doorway, he showed her into one of the two separate rooms. After placing the pan on a low stand, he left her alone.
Hallie surveyed the room. It held a wide rope bed covered with a rough blanket, a chest of drawers and an armoire, all new. There was no covering at the window, but wood pegs had been placed in an even row along the wall. All were empty. Waiting for a woman’s clothing.
She loosened her hair, ran her fingers through it and repinned it as best she could, leaving her hat on the end of the mattress.
The water was a blessing. Even though it was warm, she scooped a palmful and drank it before she removed her jacket and unbuttoned her blouse, washing her face, neck, arms and hands. The rough toweling he’d provided exhilarated her skin, and, once finished, she felt refreshed, although she would’ve given anything for a bath.
Hallie replaced her clothing and carried the pan out, tossing the water on the ground.
“Next time water the vegetables with it,” he said. Her nose nearly bumped his chest.
Next time? He took the pan and pointed to the table. Hallie sat obediently. Beside the plate lay a smooth white spoon and two-pronged fork. “These are lovely What are they made of?”
“Bone.”
She stared at the object in her fingers. “What kind of bone?”
“Buffalo.”
“Oh.”
He sat across from her and ate. She followed his example. The ham was a trifle salty, but the bread and eggs were filling. Hallie cleaned her plate, and didn’t object when he gave her more from the skillet on the stove.
“I didn’t see a chicken coop,” she commented.
“Turkeys.”
“Turkeys?”
“Wild turkeys. They lay eggs in the brush. I have some chickens coming this afternoon.”
She swallowed her last bite. “Well, thank you for your hospitality. I’d best be on my way.”
She stood.
He picked up the plates.
A thought occurred to her. “About my trunk...”
He looked up.
“May I leave it with you until I know where I’ll be staying?”
He nodded and moved away from the table.
“Very well, then. Thank you again.”
He turned back. “You know where to find me.”
She nodded, picked up her valise and let herself out his door. Immediately the wind snatched at her skirts and blew dust in her face. Hallie drew her gloves from her reticule and pulled them on. The bag’s weight brought an ache to her shoulder, but she made her way through the foot-deep dried ruts that formed a street of sorts, praying for success in finding somewhere to stay. Even an adventuress needed a rest now and then.
Chapter Three
The nearest building was a healthy walk, and exhaustion set in to Hallie’s body and mind. She crossed the distance, thinking of her letter to her father sitting at the station for another two weeks until a stage came through to take it east.
She could probably walk faster.
Well, not unless she got a night’s rest. And if she found her way. And if she could carry food and water to last weeks. And if she didn’t run into those godaw-ful robbers or others like them.
A shudder ran through her frame. She really was vulnerable. She’d never experienced the reality of it before. All of her father’s and brothers’ monotonous warnings came to mind. They’d known. But she’d led such a pampered, protected life, she hadn’t thought any harm could actually befall her.
What an eye-opening day this had been.
The trading post was like nothing Hallie had ever seen. The building itself had been constructed of blocks of sod, and the cracks were chinked with mud. The thatched ceiling was suspended by a rough frame, weeds and cobwebs dangling over furs and tools and foodstuffs, everything covered with thick layers of dust. Besides dirt, the overpowering stench of tobacco and gunpowder and unwashed bodies hung in the cramped space.
Three men glanced up from their seats around a black stove in the center of the room. “Look, Reavis, it’s one o’ them brides. A purdy one, too!”
An unshaven man got up with stiff-jointed unease and took his post behind a laden counter. Obviously baffled with her presence, he scratched his head with bony fingers. Hallie stepped closer, so her words wouldn’t be heard by the others. “Are you the proprietor?” she asked.
He chewed something that made a lump in his cheek and his whiskered upper lip puckered. His gray beard held a brown stain at the corner of his lip. He scratched his angled shoulder. “I’m Reavis. This here’s my place.”
Hallie glanced at the two men by the stove. They appeared eager to listen to the conversation without a qualm about rudeness. She leaned a little closer to Reavis and spoke softly. “Mr. Reavis, I seem to have run into unfortunate circumstances. Until funds are delivered to me or I’m able to secure wages on my own, I’m in need of lodging.”
He worked over whatever was inside his cheek. “Huh?”
Hallie glanced from Reavis to the listening men and back again. “I need work and a place to stay.”
“Why didn’t ya say so? Somebody oughta told ya they ain’t no place to stay and they ain’t no work for womenfolk.”
“No one has a room?”
“Everbody got a room,” he said, and scratched between the buttons of his faded shirt. “Jest not one without a body in it already.”
Hallie glanced around, thinking quickly. “Where does the justice stay when he’s here?”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Throws down a roll in my back room.”
“Could I do that?” she asked, hoping the justice wasn’t staying long.
“Sure can.” He exchanged СКАЧАТЬ