Benjamin (7 page)

He walked into the large store and glanced around, taking measure of everyone within. Habits were hard to break. Gauging no danger from the half a dozen patrons, Ben walked toward the back corner where he spotted ready-made clothing.

“Help you?” An older woman appeared from his left, startling him. She was tiny and didn’t even reach his shoulder. Her gray curls escaped a tight bun at the back of her neck. Her brown eyes were friendly and she smiled. His instincts told him she was no threat.

“I need a dress for my wife,” he blurted.

“Of course. We have a number of dresses.” The woman walked briskly over to a counter on the left piled with fabric. “I’m Mrs. Jackson and I’ll be happy to help you.”

“Duffy’s the name.” Why the hell did that come out of his mouth? “My wife, uh, lost her traveling case and everything in it.” Ben’s pocket burned with the weight of Grace’s money. “So she’ll need all the female things, too.”

He had no idea what women wore beneath a dress. Memories of lacey, girlie things hanging on the line were the only vague impressions he had of women’s fripperies. Since he’d never undressed a woman, he had no experience to pull from.

“Oh the poor dear.” The woman started looking through the pile. “How tall is Mrs. Duffy?”

He held up his hand near the top of his ear. “She’s pretty near to my height and, uh, blessed with smaller curves. She’s riding astride, too, so a split skirt would be good.” His cheeks burned with the knowledge her curves were just about perfect, or they had felt that way when they’d been pressed against him.

“She’s quite tall then.” Mrs. Jackson stepped back and tapped her finger against her chin. “I have something that may be just the thing. I’ll be back in a moment.”

She disappeared behind a curtained doorway while Ben watched, itching to be done and on their way. It had been months since he’d been in civilization. He kept his gaze moving and his back to toward the wall. Anyone would think he was on the run.

A ridiculous laugh almost jumped out of his mouth.

“Mr. Duffy?” The shopkeeper had returned and he managed not to growl with impatience. It had felt like an hour since she’d been gone, but it was probably five minutes. She held a parcel in her small hands. “One of our community ladies had ordered a dress all the way from Chicago. When it arrived, she found the color not to her liking and told me to sell it. It’s been gathering dust for five years because there’s no one hereabouts as tall as that lady, until yours.”

Mrs. Jackson unwrapped the package and Ben nodded.

“I’ll take it.”

*

Grace watered the
horses in a trough and then loosely held their reins while she waited in the alley for Ben. The idea he was shopping for her clothing chafed. She understood why she couldn’t be seen before donning a dress, but it still pinched at her pride. She hadn’t missed wearing female clothes, not really.

The townspeople went about their business in the street while she stood in the shadows, alert and watchful. No one paid any attention to her since she appeared to be a man waiting for another. Nothing unusual about her behavior. Grace had been Duffy for so long, she had forgotten how to be Grace. Her stride, her mannerisms were masculine. How could she simply be feminine again?

Ben appeared around the corner with a paper wrapped parcel. He took Paladin’s reins and gestured to the alley. “Let’s walk around back and you can change.”

“What?” She growled at him. “You want me to strip in a public place?”

“I’ll hold up a blanket for privacy.” He didn’t sound affected by her protestations or concerned for her privacy. Why should that surprise her?

“How very kind of you.” She stomped after him, unwilling to be drawn into an argument but annoyed beyond measure. Why should she care if he sees her without her clothes? There was nothing between them but a shared revenge no matter what happened when he laid on top of her in the woods.

They walked around the corner of the building to what was apparently where wagons unloaded goods to the store. Ben dropped his horse’s reins and waited for her to do the same. When he thrust the package at her, he turned and busied himself pulling the blanket from the back of the saddle.

She untied the twine on the package and gasped. A dark blue skirt made of the softest material slid through her hands followed by a matching blouse with delicate black buttons with a heart-shaped cream lace decor on the chest. There was also a chemise, pantaloons, stockings, and a pair of shoes.

He thrust the money at her. “She only charged me two dollars for the shoes and stockings.”

“What?” She couldn’t stop looking at the clothes. They were more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen, much less touched. “These are worth far more than two dollars.”

“Some fancy rancher’s wife ordered them special. Paid for them ahead of time but took a disliking to the color when it got here.” He shrugged. “They’d been gathering dust for five years.”

“What did you tell her about me?” Grace could hardly take in what he was telling her. The feel of the beautiful fabric had mesmerized her.

“I told her that you’d lost your traveling case and needed clothes to ride astride.” He turned with the bedroll in hand but his gaze skittered away.

Grace couldn’t believe it. She set her hat and the parcel on Swift’s saddle and held up the skirt. Sure enough, it was split. And it actually appeared long enough to fit her legs without tailoring. It was the first good thing that had happened to her in so long, her eyes pricked with tears.

He shook out the blanket and held it up. “You’d best get changed. We can’t stay here for long.”

She pulled off her boots, followed by trousers and shirt. When she untied the bindings on her breasts, her skin begged to be scratched to alleviate the irritation, but she ignored it, as she always did. She pulled on the stockings, pantaloons and chemise. The material felt foreign against her skin, too soft, almost liquid.

“Almost done?” His voice reminded her she wasn’t alone.

She stepped into the riding skirt and it slid into place as though she were the person it had been crafted for. The waist was a bit large, but not overly so. The length, as expected, was perfect, just skimming the top of her feet. She buttoned the blouse with shaking fingers.

As she laced the boots up, her body began to react to the female clothing. Moving and stretching to fill the fabric with all that she’d shunted aside for a year. By the time she straightened up, Grace felt as though she was a stranger in her own skin.

She glanced down at herself and could have wept for the beauty of the clothing. It held her within its folds, an imposter in the guise of a woman. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Done.”

Ben lowered the blanket and blinked, staring at her with an intensity she felt down to her soul. “You, uh, might want to do something with your hair, too.” His voice was husky, unlike his usual crisp self.

She touched her hair, realizing it was loose around her shoulders. What did he see when he looked at her in female clothing? Judging by his reaction, it shocked him as much as it shocked her.

Using skills she’d had since childhood, Grace twisted her hair into a bun at the back of her neck. She’d stepped into the past, mixed with the present and a bit of something she didn’t understand at all. Would anything ever feel normal again?

“Are you ready to go, Mrs. Duffy?” He was securing the blanket back onto the saddle.

“Mrs. Duffy?” She blinked at the name, another mixture of all the faces she’d worn in her life.

“Better than our real names, don’t you think?” He picked up the discarded brown paper and folded it into neat a square with the twine tucked inside. “We can be the Duffys, traveling through on their way to visit family.” His blue-green eyes swirled with unknown emotion. The moment hung between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Then we’d better be on our way.”

He nodded tightly and cupped his hands for her. With awkward movements, she lifted her booted foot and took the assistance he offered to mount her horse.

As with the naming of the gelding, Ben Graham had pushed her into doing something she didn’t want. What hold did the man have on her already? She didn’t even like him, for pity’s sake, yet she’d complied with his wishes. Again.

Grace was surprised when he pulled a small flat-brimmed hat from his saddlebags. It was simple but would keep the sun from her head and face. When he thrust it at her, she realized two things.

First, he was still a gentleman, although it lurked beneath the surface of a wounded creature.

Second, she was attracted to him and it wasn’t because of the clothes or the fact he was helping her get Henry back. She never expected to feel anything for a man again in her lifetime.

Their journey had just taken on a completely new challenge and she was afraid it could destroy her.

“What now?” She adjusted the hat and took a deep breath.

“We ride through town like nothing and nobody is chasing us. If we’re lucky, we lost him.” Ben looked both ways before he turned Paladin out onto the main street. They rode out of the alley and out of the small, nameless town.

“I don’t think either of us would call us lucky. Unless it’s bad luck.” She kept running her hands down the fabric. It shimmered in the sunlight like the color of deep water.

The two of them rode side by side, returning a few waves and nods from the friendly townsfolk.

“Do you want to eat at the restaurant and wait for whoever is following us?” She wasn’t hungry but his plan was to appear normal, whatever that entailed.

“Given how we’ve already been welcomed and treated, I think we’re already normal to these people.”

“People see what they want to see. Won’t someone ask at the store if strangers had been in town?” She wanted to be sure they had lost the pursuer.

“A stranger asking about strangers would raise more questions. No, he wouldn’t ask outright, he would likely wait for people to remark on anything odd.” Ben tugged his hat a little lower. “That’s what I would do if I was chasing someone.”

“We’ll ride straight out of town and wait until we’re a mile or two away before we start riding hard again. We should be at the river soon.” His voice was tight and he sounded as stressed as she felt.

She managed to sit up straight and attempted to ignore the gentle bounce of her bosom. She’d had her breasts strapped down for so long, she forgot how they moved with her. Yet another way she was uncomfortable in her own natural skin. Would she ever find a way to like who she was?

‡

I
t would take
a week to untwist Ben’s gut. Seeing Grace in the incredible blue clothing had taken whatever thoughts, and breath, he had. She was stunning. More beautiful than anything he’d ever laid eyes on in his life. He tried not to look at her while she’d changed, but she was only a foot away from him and she’d shed her clothes without hesitation. Her honeyed skin had tempted him, much to his consternation.

His body had stirred at the sight, more than that if he were honest with himself. He’d hardened in every way possible. Ben could appreciate beauty, but he hadn’t been drawn to anyone before.

Until now. Until Grace.

He sure as hell didn’t know what it meant. He was afraid to even
consider
what it meant. Ben understood he was fated to live without a mate. He loved his brothers and sisters and all their spouses and children. None of that was for him. That’s what he’d always accepted from the time he understood men and women were paired together.

They’d left the town behind them an hour ago. Ben’s stomach rolled in what he could only assume was fear mixed with arousal. He didn’t want to be tied up with Grace other than their bastard partnership. With each moment that passed, he felt the invisible thread between them growing shorter as they moved closer together.

How was he to help her find her son when everything made him want to turn and ride away?

“It feels odd to be in women’s garments again.” Grace plucked at the skirt. “Although I have to say, this is the finest one I’ve ever worn.”

“The shopkeeper was glad it had gone to someone who truly needed it.” No matter what yarn he’d spun for the kind Mrs. Jackson, the clothes had been necessary. It had been fate that Grace was tall enough to fit into them, and that the garments had lain fallow for five years, paid for and discarded. Sometimes good things happened, but in his experience, it was the exception, not the rule.