Wind Song (10 page)

The woman seemed surprised that Maddie had trouble finding her room. "It's just as I told you, luv. It's the one opposite the necessary room."

"But someone is in that room," Maddie explained.

"That would be Mr. Woolery. Nice man. His wife died just last year. Wonderful woman."

Maddie gaped at the woman. "You…you mean…I would be sharing a room?"

"Oh, dear, I do hope it's all right. Mr. Woolery is a perfect gentleman."

"I couldn't possibly share a room with…a man."

"Every room is taken. It was that awful prairie fire. You could stay in my room, but…" She blushed. "I'm afraid there is no room. Normally, you understand, I would never consider sharing my own room with anyone. But under the circumstances, I had no choice." She giggled. "It would have most uncharitable of me to let that nice Mr. Parker sleep out in the cold."

"Perhaps Mr. Parker and Mr. Woolery would be kind enough to share a room together," Maddie suggested.

It was obvious that Mrs. Gray wasn't willing to change roommates. "I don't think so," she said vaguely. "It wouldn't be right now that everyone's settled in. You understand, don't you, how awkward it would be to switch rooms?"

"Yes, well, I think I'd better look for accommodations elsewhere."

Mrs. Gray's hand flew to her ample bosom. "But there are no other rooms to be had."

"Maybe not, but it wouldn't be proper for me to spend the night with a stranger, being that I'm a schoolteacher. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh, dear. You poor thing." She made it sound like being a schoolteacher was a curse. "Of course you're right. It wouldn't do for a schoolteacher to be caught sharing a room with a gentleman. Would you like me to refund your money?"

Maddie needed the money, but it seemed miserly to insist upon a refund, especially since she'd helped herself without restraint to the delicious tea and teacakes Mrs. Gray had set out.

"That won't be necessary," she said, hoping that the woman would insist upon making a refund. When it became painfully obvious that Mrs. Gray had no intentions of voluntarily returning her money, Maddie took her leave, feeling more depressed than ever.

Chapter 8

Maddie spent the remainder of the afternoon asking everyone she met if there was a vacancy in town. One woman with a painted face and wearing more feathers than could be found on a chicken farm, planted her fists on her hips and glared at Maddie.

"There ain't no vacant beds that I can't fill."

"I don't suppose there is," Maddie said, backing away. In her haste to escape, she almost ran into a woman who had just walked out of the mercantile shop. The woman had two children by the hand and was clearly expecting a third.

"My apologies, ma'am."

The woman regarded Maddie with dull brown eyes. She looked tired, almost harried, but when she replied her voice was kind. "That's quite all right. No harm done."

"Would you happen to know where I might find a room?"

"I'm sorry I can't help you. I'm new in town myself. My family and I are sleeping in a covered wagon."

"Are you from Colton?"

"Yes. I guess you heard about the prairie fire. We barely escaped with our lives."

"It must have been dreadful for you." Maddie smiled at the small boy and girl, who were staring at her curiously. "My name is Miss Percy. I'm the new schoolteacher."

"So you're the new schoolteacher." The woman gave both children a gentle nudge. "Say 'how do you do' Miss Percy." The boy did as he was instructed, but his younger sister hid her face behind her mother's full gray skirt.

"We were mighty glad to hear that we were finally going to have a school and a real teacher. My name is Lucy Eldridge. This here is Jamie and his sister, Caroline." She gazed at Maddie's trousers. As if to keep herself from staring, she quickly looked away. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure." Maddie forced a smile. "I'm sure I'll find something."

A dubious look crossed Lucy's face. "I would love to stay and visit longer, but I'm afraid my husband will be wondering where we are." She looked momentarily distracted before adding irrelevantly, "My husband was a war hero."

"How interesting."

A look of desperation crossed Lucy's face. Given the woman's circumstances, Maddie understood completely. She was feeling a bit desperate herself. "You must be very proud of your husband."

"We all are," Lucy said. "The whole family's proud. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help." Lucy grabbed Caroline by the hand and hurried away, with Jamie close at her heels.

"It was nice meeting you," Maddie called after her. She hated to see Lucy and her two children leave. Mindful of the late hour and her own bleak circumstances, she peered up and down the street in search of a friendly face.

The faces around her seemed to grow more hostile each passing hour. By the time the main street was in shadow, it was obvious that anyone wishing to survive long in this wild frontier town better have a quick fist and a ready weapon.

Maddie was forced to keep crossing from one side of the street to the other to avoid the many brawls that were breaking out as off-duty soldiers from the nearby fort rode into town, looking for a fight.

She soon realized the dangers of passing too close to the many bat-winged doors that swung out to the dirt street. At any moment, someone was likely to come shooting out headfirst, followed by a mob of angry people.

It was late afternoon before a breeze picked up and the temperature began to dip. The street was packed with every kind of wagon and animal imaginable. Men staggered from one saloon to the other, shouting obscenities along the way. More than one cowhand had made the mistake of grabbing her and had received a sharp jab to the ribs or a kick in the shin in return.

"Get your hands off me!" she snapped at one drunken stranger who persisted.

A yellow-toothed smile parted a mangy beard. "I love a woman who's hard to get."

She rewarded him with a hard kick. He cried out in pain, freeing her to scramble up to the seat of her wagon. His companion lurched toward her. A hand as firm as an iron clamp gripped her ankle. The man looked up at her with blurry red eyes.

"Let go of me!" she yelled. She tried pulling her leg away, but the white-knuckled hand held tight.

She pulled her whip off the seat and struck her tormentor on the shoulder. He jumped back with a yelp and landed rump-side on the ground, his worn boots in the air.

Taking full advantage of the reprieve, she jerked on the traces and the wagon shot forward.

A group of rowdy men jumped into the street and tried to stop her. One man threw a fistful of silver at her.

"Much obliged," she called out, pocketing the coins. If the man was so foolish as to throw away his money, she wasn't going to dissuade him.

"There's more where that came from!" someone yelled. "Let's see how much you're worth!"

"With that red hair, I'd say she's worth plenty," called another.

She urged her horse around a stagecoach and drove past a mule train. The front wheel of her wagon clipped the rear of a gaudy green and yellow drummer's wagon, and her axle caught. She tried freeing the wheel to no avail. Muttering curses beneath her breath she jumped to the ground to have a closer look.

A tall man dressed in an outlandish red-checkered suit and flashy purple vest stepped from behind the wagon.

"My wheel is caught with yours," she explained. She looked around to make certain her antagonizers had not followed her.

The drummer tipped his hat and twirled the tips of his mustache. "So it is. I would say it was providence, wouldn't you? The way we met?"

"It's more likely the fact that you're parked in the middle of the street."

Her ill humor seemingly had no effect on him. "I'm a great believer in giving providence all the help you can." He looked her up and down. "You looked like a woman of discriminating taste. A woman who would value a genuine and authentic Indian tipi of her own."

The man had such gall, Maddie couldn't help but laugh. "What possible use would a tipi be to me?"

The man glanced down at her trousers. "I thought a woman of your discerning taste would see the value of owning something as well crafted as this." He pulled a rolled tipi out of the open door of the wagon and motioned her closer. "Genuine buffalo skin. Real rawhide lacing. No one makes a tipi like a genuine Indian. And because I have such a great respect for providence I shall only charge you five dollars."

"My own respect for providence demands that I decline your generous offer. Now if you would kindly move your wagon…"

"Three dollars!"

"Your wagon, sir!"

"Guaranteed for a lifetime."

She folded her arms. "Whose? Yours or mine?"

"Aha! That's the beauty of my offer. The customer gets to decide."

"And what happens if doesn't last a lifetime"

"You'll have to buy another one."

She gave him a look of disapproval. "What kind of guarantee is that?"

"An honest one." He cocked an eyebrow. "Two-fifty and that's my final offer."

Maddie was about to say she had no money when she remembered the money that had just been thrown to her and that she had stuffed in her pocket. Talk about providence! "How difficult is it to put up one of these tipis?"

"Not difficult at all. Even a child can do it."

"A dollar fifty and you have yourself a deal."

The man pursed his lips. "You strike a hard bargain."

She paid him, and he pulled out a rolled tipi from the back of his wagon and transported it to hers. The lodgepoles were longer than the wagon. The drummer lay the poles diagonally across the bed, with the ends sticking up.

"You wouldn't by chance have a gun for sale, would you?" Maddie asked.

If the drummer was surprised by her request, he kept it to himself. "You want it, I can sell it. You ever fire a gun before?"

"Never."

"In that case I have the perfect revolver." He reached inside his wagon and pulled out a small weapon that barely filled his hand. "Perfect for a tasteful woman such as yourself."

It was all Maddie could do not to laugh aloud. Tasteful, indeed. Her former employer should hear that one!

Considering its size, the gun felt heavy in her hands, but it would do. It took some skill on her part to barter the man down to where she could afford to purchase both the gun and the tipi.

"It's highway robbery, that's what it is," he mumbled. He pocketed the money and climbed onto the driver's seat of his wagon.

"It's providence!" she called back.

The sun dropped below the horizon, shading the town a sinister gray. A bearded man brandishing a knife stepped into the street. She swerved out of his way and almost ran over a towheaded youth dodging out in front of her.

Several wild-looking men closed around her, making it all but impossible for her horse to keep moving. She snapped her whip through the air frantically trying to keep the men at bay. Someone grabbed her leg, ripping the fabric of her trousers. Another man grabbed onto the side of the wagon. She struck him across the face with her whip, and he fell backward with a grunt, taking a part of her sleeve with him.

No sooner had she gotten rid of him than another man heaved himself into the wagon and tried to wrestle the reins out of her hands. She grabbed her newly purchased gun and shoved it into his fleshy face. He laughed at her, and when she searched for the trigger she realized she was holding the gun by the barrel and pointing the handle in his face.

Seething she tossed the gun down and it fired as it hit the footboard. The man's hat flew off his head. A look of terror crossed his face as he lost his grip and fell backward. The other men, thinking he'd been shot, abandoned their attempts to detain her and the road suddenly cleared in front of her.

Fearing the reprieve was only temporary, she wasted no time in making her escape. She flicked the whip over the head of her horse, yelling commands that proved unnecessary since Rutabaga was already going fast as was possible given the number of vehicles in the way and the deep, rutted grooves worn into the sod by wagon wheels.