Shotgun Bride (2 page)

“You’ll regret this. I’ll make sure nobody else hires you.” He spun and stomped off toward his office.

Kathleen hurried to keep pace, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribcage. Mr. Sharp rarely made idle threats, and he had the influence to make her life difficult. He also, unfortunately, owned the building she lived in.

Shoulders erect, Kathleen clutched the pocket of her dress, the feel of the bills reassuring. Mr. Sharp no longer mattered. Just as soon as she got her pay, she would never have to deal with him again. Consoled, she followed Mr. Sharp into his office.

Mr. Sharp unlocked the safe and carefully counted out money, then flung the money across the desk and slammed the safe shut. “Get out of my shop. And pack your bags. You have one hour to get out of my apartment building.”

With shaking hands, Kathleen scooped up the few bills, crammed them into her bodice, and stomped out.

At the apartment, she slammed the door shut, then sagged against the wall. A low groan crawled up her throat and she dropped her head into her hands. What did she just do to herself?

“Hey, Kathleen, you look pale. Are you sick?” Suzie, one of her roommates, asked.

Kathleen dropped her arms and grimaced. “No, I just quit.”

Suzie’s eyes widened and the sandwich she had been eating hovered in mid-air. “That took guts, but what are you gonna do now? Mr. Sharp’ll kick you out of here sure.”

“He already did. He’ll do the same to you if he catches you eating here.”

“You won’t tell, will you?”

“Of course not.”

Things were moving way too fast, but it was her own fault. Why did she act so impulsively? Kathleen bounced her head against the door. “I’m leaving. Going away. Far away from here.”

“Where you going?”

“I inherited a piece of land out West. Some friend of my father’s left it to me. I’ve never even heard of him. Anyway, I’m off to New Mexico Territory. How’s that for a surprise?”

Butterflies careened in Kathleen’s belly and her heart thumped wildly. She was scared. She was excited. But most of all, the uncertainty of her hasty decision overwhelmed her and left little time for thought, much less plans.

“Wow, wish I could go along. Sounds exciting.”

Kathleen snorted. “Maybe. But right now I’ve got to get out of here before Mr. Sharp’s bullies come calling.”

“Need any help?”

She blew out a deep breath. “No, I really don’t have much. It’ll only take a few minutes. I just want to catch my breath. Thanks anyway.”

“You get out there and find any good jobs, will you let me know? I’d love to get out from under Mr. Sharp.” Suzie’s words came out in mumbles between bites.

“That’s a promise. Soon as I get settled in, I’ll write.” Kathleen crossed the small room, knelt down, and wrenched a shabby bag from under her cot. She couldn’t bear to part with the worn and tattered suitcase since it was the only tangible remnant of her family. She stuffed her spare blouse, her mended and faded blue skirt, and a change of undergarments inside.

“Lunch break’s over, gotta go. You be careful out there.”

“I will.”

Suzie grabbed up the last bite of her sandwich, gave Kathleen a quick hug, and rushed out the door.

Reality of her fortunate circumstances, to be able to leave all this behind sank in with a leaden fist. Very few girls ever found a way out of the clutches fate sometimes landed them. Few options were available for unmarried women. Many ended up in whorehouses and suffered horrible diseases or got stuck in the miserable sweatshops that lined the streets of New York.

Firming the tremble in her jaw, Kathleen glanced around the empty room. It would be comforting to take Suzie along. A companion on her trek back West sounded less lonely.

Kathleen retrieved her hidden stash of money and counted it. Her heart sank. Six years’ worth of savings and it still wouldn’t go far. She split the money into two piles, stuffed some inside her bodice and the rest in her purse. After the price of a train ticket, she would be forced to economize on everything from food to lodging to whatever she needed out West.

With a parting glance at the place she’d grudgingly called home for the past unfulfilling years, her step quickened and she refused to look back. The future waited in front of her.

Six days later, the locomotive screeched, then lurched to a quivering halt. Kathleen peered out the window and drew out her handkerchief. A gray cloud of coal dust drifted over the area like an early morning mist, leaving its mark of passage on all within its reach. Porters hurried past to unload trunks and bags, and the conductor scurried along the train opening doors, putting steps down, and assisting passengers. Voices rose in greetings and orders as people jostled their way to the luggage rack.

She sucked in a deep, calming breath at these sights and sounds. From here she would catch a stagecoach to Trinidad, Colorado, then on to the small town of Raton, where she hoped to rent a horse and acquire directions to her land.

Her heart fluttered wildly as she stepped off the train. A few cowboys lined the platform, jabbing each other in the ribs and grinning at her. Kathleen cringed, heat creeping up her cheeks, and she snapped her gaze away.

With her tattered handkerchief, she dabbed sweat from her face and neck. Corrals overflowed with cattle waiting to be shipped butted next to the rails. The bawls of cows, the crack of whips, and the hoarse yells of men filled the air.

Booted, spurred boys lined the pens, cheering or jeering as the mood struck, drawing Kathleen’s gaze and burning her ears. Fascinated, she stood transfixed as the empty livestock cars filled as quickly as the cowboys managed to herd the massive throng of critters into them, cursing with such creativity a chuckle escaped her lips.

Through it all, the overpowering stench of hides, horse dung, and dust permeated the air. The stifling humidity made her skin itch as perspiration soaked her dress and plastered her hair to her head. It was one of those miserably calm days without a breath of air stirring, where heat waves shimmered everywhere she looked and tempers flared.

Before one of the cowboys lounging around the train station got the idea to approach her, Kathleen retrieved her bag and sped off the platform. A town full of rowdy cowboys fresh off the trail drives, ready to blow off steam after brutally hard work, was not the best place for a girl traveling alone.

As she darted through the teeming street, Kathleen glanced behind her to make sure no one followed and smacked into a solid body. Sacks and cans scattered along the crowded sidewalk. She tripped and landed on her backside.

As she reached for her ragged bag, a firm hand wrapped around her upper arm and effortlessly brought her to her feet.

“You all right, lady?” a deep, smooth voice asked.

Kathleen peered up into eyes the color of mahogany. Wavy, near-black hair curled around the collar of his gray shirt and a lock, escaping the confines of his dusty hat, brushed his forehead.

She nodded. The warmth of his touch seared through her sleeve, prickling her skin. For what seemed like an eternity, their gazes locked together.

His eyes softened, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

She sucked in a quick breath when he leaned in closer, then she ran her tongue over dry, itchy lips. Doggone his heart-stopping voice for making her blood stampede through her veins and tingles race around her midsection. She shuffled back.

He dropped his hand as if scorched, straightened, and flicked his gaze from her head to her worn boots. He shook his head and the smile on his tanned face turned into a fierce scowl.

She clutched her bag to her chest and scowled back. “Next time watch where you’re going.”

“Me? Look, lady, you’re the one looking over your shoulder instead of where you were going.”

“And if you didn’t carry packages up to your eyebrows, you’d have seen me.”

He sucked in a sharp breath and clamped his lips into a tight line, his body rigid.

Kathleen swallowed her ire. She was the one who’d failed to watch her surroundings. The least she could do was assist in picking up his scattered supplies.

“Let me help.” She bent to retrieve a package but stopped as he yanked the package from her hand.

“Don’t bother, I’ll get them.”

She jerked back and hastened along the street. It was not her normal behavior to be rude and snappish, especially when she was in the wrong. She sighed and kept her focus straight ahead. No way would she turn around for a last look. For some inexplicable reason, the heat of his gaze and the touch of his fingers against her skin lingered.

As she made her way down the dusty streets, Kathleen’s lips twitched upward at the memory of how close his hot breath had grazed across her skin. Would his kiss burn as hot as his touch? She frowned at the uninvited thought. Now was not the time to be gullible or allow herself to be swept away by the seductive timbre of a stranger’s voice. She shoved a loose strand of hair behind her ear, kicked the dirt, then darted a glance over her shoulder.

Mike Baca cursed as he watched the girl hurry away. A myriad of sensations swirled through him. She was slim, skinny, really, and had the most beautiful auburn hair he had ever seen. Her big, green, expressive eyes made his heart do a flip-flop in his chest. Her smooth, flawless complexion made his fingers twitch to reach out and caress her cheek. He tried to push aside the sudden, intense feelings. Without much success. Supplies balanced in his arms, he shot one last look in the girl’s direction, but all he saw was her backside moving to and fro, as she scurried along sidewalk.

When her lips had turned up into a slight smile, an overpowering urge to kiss them swamped him. He’d even started to lean in for that kiss. But just as quickly as the unexpected emotions threatened to take control, he forced himself to stop. Engaged men didn’t go around trying to kiss other girls. He shouldn’t even be tempted.

Mike smiled at the vision of her parted lips and the way she darted her little pink tongue across them. What man wouldn’t be enticed by such an invitation? He shook his head and strode off, a little amused by her saucy attitude. Leave it to a woman to snap a man’s head off for something she did.

“Say, Mike, you trying to squeeze in one last fling before you shackle yourself to Hawkins’ girl?”

Mike gritted his teeth at Miguel’s mocking tone. The man was supposed to be gone with the rest of Hawkins’ crew, and he certainly didn’t need him running to Sally and telling her wild stories.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Looks like the same as you.” Miguel glanced at the departing green-eyed girl. “Although, Sally’s got a lot more in the curve department.”

“I only bumped into the girl.”

“Then why you looking at her with your tongue hanging out?”

“I’m not.”

Miguel slapped him on the back and strode off, laughing.

“Shit.”
Was he that obvious?
Mike grunted and headed to the stage station. He shouldered inside and dumped his burden on the counter. “Howdy, Herman, need this added to the trunk for Hawkins.”

“Will do.”

Mike tugged his hat off and raked his fingers through his hair. Why did an accidental encounter stir him up so and make him wish he’d kissed her?

“Heard you had some trouble on the drive.” Herman’s gravelly voice broke Mike’s frustrated musing.

“Yeah, sure felt like someone was out to get me.” Mike poked a finger through a hole in the crown of his hat. “This shot parted my hair.”

Herman whistled. “Sure they were after you in particular?”

“No, probably after the herd, but somebody took down a cow right in front of me and the next day grazed my horse. Damn thing threw me off right in the path of a cantankerous old bull.”

“Lose many men?”

Mike blew out a breath. “Three.” He did not enjoy writing those letters to the families.

“That’s tough.”

“Yeah, they were kids.”

“And you’re so old.”

“Not yet.” Mike knew Herman’s attempt at levity was for his benefit. “Say, did you hear I’m getting married?”

“You don’t say? Who to?”

“Hawkins’ girl.”

“Now that’s a prime business deal.”

Mike frowned at Herman’s assessment. Hawkins certainly held no reservations in his push for the marriage. To him it was a land grab. Mike had never doubted Hawkins’ intentions. He’d made them crystal clear. But Sally? Did she view the engagement the same way? Did he? A tight knot formed in his stomach.

“So when’s the big day?”

Mike blinked. “Don’t know.” A nervous laugh escaped his lips. “I left the plans to Sally.”

Herman slapped the counter and hooted. “Boy, are you in for one hell of a day.” Herman shook his head. “All that food you won’t taste, the dancing with every female present, the well-wishers taking up all the precious time you could be spending with your new bride.” He chuckled. “I say a quick trip to the judge is better.”

Mike stared at Herman as the knot in his stomach unfurled, reaching up and twisting around his throat. He almost shuddered at the memory of Sally’s refusal to allow more than a chaste kiss. On the cheek. No hugs, no handholding. One damn kiss he’d give a sister. No wonder he’d lusted after the girl on the street. Especially after the way she’d moistened her lips.

A sudden, unwelcome suspicion floated into his mind. Would Sally be as cool and aloof after the wedding? In their bed?

Mike shook that disturbing thought away. No, Sally followed the much stricter social dictates of the high society she was raised in, where public displays of affection were frowned on. By the time he returned, she’d be settled into the easy ways of ranch life and welcome him warmly.

“Your dire predictions made me thirsty. Want to go grab a beer?”

“Can’t, son. Too much left to do around here. Drink one for me.”

Mike grinned. “I’ll think of you hard at work while I enjoy that second beer.” He pivoted and left Herman grumbling at the disrespect of youngsters as he stepped outside and lowered the rim of his hat against the evening’s last rays of sun.

The mass of humanity had thinned some since the crowd had time to disperse to their destinations. He blew out a breath as he strode toward the saloon, disgruntled at the doubts and questions Herman’s conversation raised.

He needed that beer. Needed to get home to his ranch. Needed to return to his routine, marry Sally, and get on with his life. Not question his neatly laid out plans or fancy a pair of rosy lips, green eyes, and auburn hair.

Safely ensconced in her room, Kathleen took stock of her situation and steered her wayward thoughts away from the tall stranger. Seated at the window, she stared blankly at the parade of people passing by. The curtains, crisp, clean, and smelling of soap, fluttered gently in the soft breeze whispering through the window.

The simple room reeked luxury after her dilapidated apartment in New York City. The padded chair, covered in burgundy brocade, reminded her of her mother’s favorite chair. Smiling, Kathleen traced a finger over the worn material and dingy, embroidered flowers. Her mother had sat for hours in that chair, teaching her everything she knew on crafting unique garments.

Kathleen punched the cushion. In her trusting naivety, she had allowed Mr. Sharp to steal her creations. For the first year anyhow. After that, she ceased giving him ideas. She slapped the windowsill. It had taken her long enough. She lifted her face heavenward and shut her eyes. Did her parents look on? Would they be proud of her? Would her mother understand her failure to achieve success in her career? Lower lip sucked between her teeth, she hoped so.

Kathleen slipped the money from her bodice and counted it. Dismayed, she stuffed it into her reticule and yanked the strings tight. A frown pulled at her lips as she plucked at a recent patch on her faded brown skirt. A new blue skirt, that’s what she wanted. Blue as the Arizona sky on a cold winter day. She tugged at her earlobe. Was she doing the right thing? Would she find success, happiness?

Just because she owned a ranch didn’t mean she had any way to make money. The will said nothing about the condition of the house nor mentioned the existence of cattle. The one hope she clung to was the possibility the man who wanted to buy her land may be willing to lease it instead. Otherwise she didn’t have any idea what she’d do. She could always sew, but she suspected the market didn’t demand much out here. Stupid of her to get rid of the job she had in a wild dash to freedom. The last time she ran, things hadn’t worked out so well.

Kathleen blew out a ragged breath and slumped into the chair. She should have taken the time to gather information and search options prior to quitting her only means of support. Too late for that now. She searched her mind, trying to recall the name of the man Mr. Turner had mentioned.

Out of nowhere, liquid pools of dark fire flashed in her vision and a strange, unfamiliar tingle raced up her spine. “Ugh.” She slapped her hands over her face. Why did that blasted stranger keep popping in her mind, making her heart race and flutters to crawl around her belly?

She frowned. Had she lost her sanity? Men were untrustworthy and trouble. But what a solid rock of a man that set her aflame with desires she’d never previously entertained. Or wanted. She had enough difficulties ahead without her body deciding to betray her. Why, after years of most men harassing her or stealing from her did she even bother being interested in a stranger? Guess she must be having some sort of brain fever. And a wave of loneliness.

She removed the will and hugged the worn paper to her breast. “Thank you, Mr. Simpkins,” she whispered. She got up and whirled around the room, pretending to be on the dance floor at some fancy ball in the arms of her Prince Charming. She grinned. No, her breath-stealing stranger. Dodge City, so much closer to her new home than New York. Tomorrow she’d be one day closer to her new life.

Her stomach growled as she caught a whiff of fresh-baked bread seeping under her door. Papers stuffed under the pillow, she marched to the dining room. On the way, she shoved an unruly curl behind her ear. She would make it out here. She would find a way to make a living. She would not be used again.