Defiant Heart (2 page)

Willard and his shy, unassuming family moved past in a single line, smiling, arms filled with goods, and filed out the door. Blake was just about to hightail it out of the store where he could breathe, when a soft hand touched his arm, gently commanding his attention, compelling him to turn. Sweet perfume wafted to his nostrils even before he caught full sight of the source of the scent. A dirty shawl draped around pink shoulders, the threadbare article poorly concealing a rounded bosom that left little to the imagination. Smeared face paint
and dark shadows under her eyes bespoke morning-after fatigue. His stomach churned as memories of his own mother flooded him. Recoiling from the woman's touch, he jerked his arm away.

Her brow puckered at his reaction, but Blake made no apologies.

“Please,” the voice was deceptively soft, feeding Blake's repulsion. “Mr. Tanner?”

“That's right.”

“You're the wagon master?”

“Right again.”

Her gaze flicked nervously toward the door. “I want to join your wagon train.”

Blake grunted a short laugh and gave her his back. “No.”

She grabbed his arm, igniting his anger, and yanked at him until he faced her once more. “Don't turn away from me, sir. I've seen the advertisements for brides out West. I-I want to be one of them.”

“Those ads aren't meant for women like you.” She disgusted him. “Leave me alone, lady.”

Her face turned scarlet but she squared her shoulders. “My name is Toni, and, as you've already pointed out, I'm no lady.”

“A man's name?” He gave a snort.

“Short for Antonia, not that it's any of your business.”

So, the woman had spunk. A haughty woman of her profession would be easier to say no to than a woman given to tears and tantrums.

“Doesn't make any difference. My decision stands.”

To his chagrin, the woman continued to press. He hated brazen women. “N-none of the advertisements say what
kind
of women they're looking for.” She pulled a torn, newsprint article from between her breasts and shoved it toward him. “See? There it says
wives
sought.”

“I'm not taking a woman like you to meet up with some unsuspecting farmer looking for a decent
lady
to share his life and land with. It wouldn't be right.”

Desperation clung to her, crumpling the bravado she'd displayed only seconds before. Her eyes sparked with pleading. “Please. I'm through with this life. I just need a chance to get away from here. I-I can pay.”

He glanced over her, fighting to keep his disdain in check. “I don't need your kind of money.”

A loud smack of flesh on wood arrested his attention. “What's wrong with you, mister? Don't you have a heart?” Blake swung around to find the source of the indignant words. The accusation shot across the room from the counter. The first thing he noticed were enormous blue eyes and a mass of unruly red curls springing from a poorly executed chignon. At first glance, she looked like a child in need of braids rather than a grown woman with pinned-up hair.

The girl traveled the room in no time flat and stood unflinching before him, her face hard as granite, eyes cold as sapphires. She appeared no taller than a ten-year-old boy, but with one sweeping gaze over a well-rounded figure, Blake knew she was past childhood. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze back to the beautiful eyes.

“Well?” She glowered at him. “Why can't Toni go with
you? If no man wants to marry her, she can go back to work. Don't they have brothels out West? She'd probably make a killing.”

Toni placed a calming hand on the other woman's arm. “It's all right, Fannie.”

“No it isn't all right. Who is he to say you aren't fit to join his wagon train? He doesn't even know you.”

Blake studied the one called Fannie. She was either incredibly kind or incredibly dumb. Still, he had his duty. “No women like her. No unaccompanied women period. No widows with children—unless one of them children is an able-bodied boy of at least fourteen years old. No women who don't have a man to look after them.”

The young woman's eyes grew even wider. “Wh-what do you mean, no women traveling without a man?”

“I think I've made myself perfectly clear.” A stubborn smile lined his face. “I make the rules, and my rules stand.”

“But why? I—I mean she can work hard too—just as hard as any man, I bet.”

He gave a carefully thoughtful nod, and bit back a grin. So she was one of those women who wanted to compete with men. Who thought they should have the right to vote and own their own land. “Hard workers are always needed.”

Triumph lit her beautiful eyes, and her full mouth curved into a smile that nearly knocked him off his feet. “Well, then…?”

He gathered himself and steeled his heart. “There's still one problem.”

“What's that?”

“I don't allow unaccompanied women on my train.” He turned his attention back to the floozy. “Find yourself a husband first, and maybe I'll make room for you. Otherwise…” He let the silent words speak for themselves.

The girl named Fannie stomped the dirt floor. “But that don't make any kind of sense whatsoever! And only someone touched in the head would suggest such a thing.”

Beautiful or no, this young woman was beginning to grate on his nerves like a squeaky wheel. Why wouldn't she just take no for an answer?

“Is that so?”

She nodded and jerked her thumb toward the other woman. “She wants to go west to
find
herself a man. Didn't you hear her? She's not interested in any of the riffraff around these parts. She's looking for a good man to marry up with. Not some drunk mountain man who only wants to relive his biggest bear kill.”

Toni sniffed as her eyes filled with tears, but she composed herself just as quickly. The quick action drew Blake's admiration in spite of himself. She leaned in closer to Blake, and whispered. “If I don't get away from this town, I'll die. I'll just die.”

“Hiram!” A woman's high-pitched scold sliced through Blake's foolishness. He glanced beyond the prostitute to the husband and wife headed their way. The man was trying hard not to stare at Toni, but he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding his lust. His wife's mouth pursed in indignation, and her eyes sparked anger as she swept her skirt aside lest it touch the prostitute. Blake pressed his lips together in steady
resolve. He didn't envy that man once his wife got him alone and started in on him. Not that he blamed her. Still, this was the sort of contention he couldn't encourage by allowing immoral women along.

Blake slipped his fingers through his thick hair. As much as he'd like to help this woman, this scene would be the inevitable if he were to allow this fancy woman to join them.

Blake turned back to Toni, but she refused to meet his gaze.

“And that is exactly why you're not coming with us.” So saying, he slapped his hat on his head, took one more look at Fannie, whose face was mottled with anger. She jerked her chin as she deliberately looked away and placed an arm around the distraught Toni's shoulders.

Fury exploded in Fannie as she stared after the bullheaded wagon master. “Don't mind him. We'll figure out a way.” Fierce determination gripped her shoulders, drawing them straight and proud. “Even if we have to go it alone.”

Toni shrugged her off and turned sharply, her eyes narrowing to catlike slits. “What do you mean ‘we'?”

Fear licked Fannie's insides as she realized her mistake. She glanced about to be sure no one had overheard. If Tom got wind of her plans, he'd kill her for sure. Besides, the last thing she needed was to be saddled with a fancy woman who probably couldn't even hitch a pair of oxen to a wagon—not that she was much accomplished in the task herself. “Never mind. I meant you. You'll find a way to make him change his mind. I best get back to my other customers.”

“Anyway,” Toni breathed, defeat quivering in her voice. “I best get back before George finds out I was talking to the wagon master. Not that it did me any good.”

Compassion tugged at Fannie's heart. She squeezed the
young prostitute's hand. “Don't give up. The wagon train doesn't pull out 'til morning.”

Toni peered closer, her luminous amber eyes searching Fannie's face until Fannie was forced to turn away. “You were going to ask Mr. Tanner if you could join the wagon train too.” As though she knew the danger for Fannie should word get out, Toni kept her voice to the barest of whispers. “Weren't you?”

Fannie knew there was no point in denying the truth. She nodded. “I have to get my sister out of here, or Tom…”

A barely perceptible nod inched Toni's chin up, then back. “I understand. What will you do? You hear what Mr. Tanner said. I don't think it's going to be very easy to change his mind. Women aren't allowed in his train without a man.”

A fresh surge of anger tormented Fannie, bringing with it helpless frustration. “I'd rather be strapped to a hungry bear.”

Toni grinned. “Me too.”

A sense of camaraderie hung in the air between them, and Fannie warmed to the notion of having a companion on the trail. But only for a moment. She had her brother and sister to think of. She couldn't worry about anyone else.

If only the wagon master would stop being so unreasonable. Who did he think he was anyway? She should have told him just what she thought of a bully throwing his weight around. Just because she wasn't a man didn't mean she couldn't do the work of a man. Did he honestly think she was going to cause trouble? Or was it just Toni's profession? The man had been downright hostile to the prostitute. The thought raised Fannie's hope. Perhaps if she met with him
alone, she could reason with him. Show him she wasn't the same type of woman as Toni.

An uncomfortable image of Tom forking over fifty dollars for her invaded her mind. But she shoved it aside. No. She wasn't the same. She couldn't be. Her ma hadn't raised her to be that type of woman. She would never give in willingly to any man.

“Excuse me,” a haughty voice called, arresting Fannie's attention, pulling her from thoughts of what she should have said to that varmint. “I'm ready to pay for my purchases.” The sour-faced woman who had swept aside her skirts at the sight of Toni now stood at the counter, tapping her foot with rapid impatience while her roving-eyed husband tried not to stare at Toni's bare shoulders.

Pressing her hand to Fannie's arm, Toni leaned in close, and whispered, “I'll be back later to find out if you've thought of a plan.”

Before Fannie could respond, the fancy woman hurried away. Fannie's face twisted into a scowl. She certainly didn't need to be saddled with someone else to take care of. She had nothing against the prostitute. She had enough troubles of her own, to think about the rights and wrongs of other people's lives. Besides, Toni had always seemed like a good sort. But that didn't mean Fannie wanted the attention brought on by traveling with a harlot.

How was she going to get out of this mess?

But there was no time to think about it for now. The line at the counter had grown beyond the husband and wife and extended all the way to the door.

For the next several hours, Fannie kept busy with the constant influx of wagon train customers. Most were friendly, some were not, and she made a note to beware of the more impatient and downright sour among them. One thing she'd learned over the past three years was that self-preservation demanded she pay attention to moods, attitudes, and body language. With Tom that could mean the difference between being left alone and being beaten black-and-blue. She preferred caution. It proved much less costly.

Even now, she stayed on her guard. Every time the door opened, her heart picked up with a beat of fear. No telling when Tom would be back, drunk, spoiling for a fight and anything else he wanted from her.

Kip and Katie were still at the old abandoned barn three miles outside of town, where they had stored all the goods and the wagon for the trip. Hank Moore, the town smithy, had boarded the oxen for them during the past three months. Fannie didn't know why the kindly blacksmith was helping her out. So far, he'd asked for nothing. But Fannie wasn't counting on his good nature and kind heart. She was waiting for him to call in his favor.

By the time the sun sank low on the western horizon, the last of the customers were just leaving the store. Fannie exhaled in relief and arched her back in an effort to find relief from the ache. With a sigh, she pulled the account book from the shelf. Today had been the most profitable day they'd ever had. At least since she'd been doing the accounts. It wasn't difficult to fool Tom. He was arrogant enough to believe she was too afraid of him to make even the simplest mistake, let
alone put in false numbers so that she could take what she figured was her fair share anyway.

Deftly, she counted every penny in the cash box, took a few bills off the top, and tucked them into her waistband, then went to work balancing the figures in the books against the new cash.

The door flew open, giving her a start. She pressed her palm to her chest as Kip and Katie breezed in. Both were out of breath and swallowed hard to get a word out. Kip's deep auburn hair mirrored their mother's, and sometimes Fannie longed to reach out and touch it. But Kip was too old for that now and didn't like to be coddled. So she let him be. Katie's hair showed more blond than red and bordered on what Pa had proudly called “strawberry blond.” Kip had recently begun to exhibit signs that he was growing into a man, just as Katie exhibited signs of womanhood. His shoulders were a bit broader, and his voice moved up and down at times, bringing quick blushes and angry fire in his eyes should anyone dare draw the slightest attention to the fluctuations. Fannie respected his privacy, as did Katie. Tom was another story and delighted in humiliating the boy whenever possible. They would be coming to blows soon—another reason for Fannie to get the twins away from the brute.

“What are you two up to?” Fannie demanded. They couldn't take any chances of angering Tom tonight. Another whipping like Kip had gotten last month, and they'd miss the wagon train for sure.

“They're having a dance.”

“Who?” Fannie carefully locked the cash box and placed
the key in the secret hole under the counter where Tom would undoubtedly look when he got home and count his profits for the day.

“The folks from the wagon train. They got their wagons in a circle, and they're dancing with a fiddler and everything.”

“Can we go?” Katie asked, her wide green eyes pleading.

Fannie's heart pinched, but she knew she couldn't give in.

She leaned in close to the pair and kept her voice deliberately soft. “There'll be plenty of dances along the way. We can't take a chance on getting Tom all riled up. Understand?”

“Aw.” Kip kicked at the dirt floor with his scuffed boots.

Taking the boy by his shoulders, she forced him to look her in the eye. “Do you understand that we have to be extra careful tonight?” He scowled.

Frustrated, Fannie turned to Katie. The girl nodded solemnly. “We understand, Fannie.” She nudged her brother. “Don't we, Kip?”

A belligerent shrug lifted his broadening shoulders. “Yeah. We understand.”

Thank heavens for Katie's positive influence on the lad. “All right. Is everything ready for us to go?”

Kip perked up, his eyes bright with hope. “All we got to do is hook up them lazy oxen. Mr. Moore done brought 'em to the barn. Still don't know why we couldn't just get us a couple of horses.”

“Because horses aren't as practical over the long haul. Oxen won't wear out as fast. Do you understand?”

He gave an uncharacteristic nod of submission. “I guess that makes sense.”

Relieved that one more argument had been averted, Fannie gave voice to the concern she'd been mulling over for the past few months. It was one thing to get away in the first place. Quite another to keep from being recaptured.

“Now we have to figure out how to get away from Tom and keep him from bringing us back when he finds out we're gone. The wagon train will move a lot slower than he could on horseback.”

The one good thing about Hawkins was that the townsfolk had never gotten around to finding a sheriff. Only riffraff and the occasional farmer frequented the town. It was doubtful Tom would be able to find enough men to go after her. But the thought of losing his slaves might be enough incentive to cause him to hire folks to bring them back.

“Why don't we just shoot him?” Kip asked, his eyes fierce with hatred.

“And be wanted for murder?” Fannie scowled at the boy. Not that she hadn't had the same thought. But they couldn't act impulsively. “We can't trade one prison for another, Kip. We have to use our heads.”

An idea was beginning to form in Fannie's mind as she glanced out at the darkening sky. “Tom's going to be home wanting his supper soon. Katie, go to the cold cellar and bring up the stew from last night and mix up a batch of biscuits to go with it.”

“Here.” She took the money from her waistband and passed it to Kip. “Put this with the rest. I have to go out for a little while. You stay here, and don't take your eye off Katie if Tom gets back before I do.”

Fear lit the little girl's eyes. “Don't go, Fannie.”

“I won't be gone long. He won't try anything with Kip looking after you.”

They all knew she was lying. But there was no choice. Fannie had to try and reason with the wagon master.

She stepped out into the warm, windy night and glanced surreptitiously toward both of the saloons. Loud raucous laughter and poorly played music sounded from the buildings. Was the wagon master in either of the saloons? He'd been walking in that direction when he left the store earlier. She shook her head. She couldn't chance having Tom spot her. Instead she turned her steps toward the outskirts of town to the wagon train. Perhaps, with a little luck, she would be joining that train in the morning. But first she had to find a way to convince the wagon master to change his mind.

Blake stood outside the circle of wagons listening to the sounds of laughter and merriment, his foot tapping in unconscious rhythm to the fiddler's rendition of “Old Dan Tucker.” He would have enjoyed a turn around the campsite with Mrs. Cooper, a pretty young widow traveling with her father-in-law and four-year-old son. She'd made no secret of her interest in him, and he saw no reason not to enjoy a dance or two with a willing partner. Instead, he was forced to look out for latecomers like a nervous mother waiting for her daughter to come home from her first Sunday afternoon buggy ride with a new beau.

Frustration bit hard inside of him. He'd given strict instructions that everyone must return to the wagon train by
sunset. There were at least six men, including Willard, still unaccounted for.

“Maybe town wasn't such a good idea.”

Sam Two Feathers stood beside him. The half-Sioux scout was Blake's best friend and the best tracker in the West. His sharp instincts had kept every wagon train Blake had taken West safe from more than one Indian or outlaw attack over the last five years.

Blake expelled a puff of air. “Too many folks needing repairs to avoid town this time.”

“I suppose. Want me to go round up those men? They're probably drunk as skunks by now.”

If anyone could, Two Feathers could do it, but even dressed in white men's style of buckskins identical to Blake's, there was no mistaking Sam's Sioux features. “No sense asking for trouble. Let's just keep an eye out for them so they don't disrupt the train when they came home. Note each man that stayed out past curfew and put him on for extra duty in the morning. And make sure they don't enter camp. They'll sleep outside the circle tonight on the hard ground. Maybe that'll make them think twice before disobeying orders next time.”

Two Feathers nodded, then cocked his head. “Someone's coming. On foot.”

“You're slipping.” Blake fingered his six-shooter but grinned at his friend. “I saw her coming five minutes ago.”

“As did I.” Sam returned his smile. “I'll leave you to talk to the woman.”

As the slight form entered the glow of the firelight, Blake drew a quick breath. The eyes were unmistakable. The last
time he'd seen them, they were shooting daggers in his general direction. “Are you lost?”

She jerked her chin up. “No. I was looking for you, Mr. Tanner.”

Blake hitched his leg up and rested his foot on the tongue of the nearest wagon. “You have me at a disadvantage, Miss…”

“Caldwell. Fannie Caldwell.”

An interesting name for an interesting young woman.

“What can I do for you, Miss Caldwell?”

“I have a team of oxen, all the proper supplies, and a wagon ready to go. I have to be part of this train when you pull out in the morning.”

“Why didn't your pa come and talk to me?”

“My pa's been dead since I was ten years old.” Fannie's heart pinched as it always did when she remembered her real pa. The only gentle, kind man she'd ever known.