Betting the Rainbow (Harmony) (28 page)

Clint stared at their flimsy clothes. They were dressed for work already.

Lightstone filled him in on the facts. “The women can wear what they were arrested in or the prison gives them one of the dresses they wore in prison. Most have worn that outfit for far too long already, so if they have anything else they change out of prison clothes.”

A middle-aged woman came out in what had to be the uniform she’d worn in prison, a gray dress with a plain collar and worn apron. A shawl made with little skill was tied around her shoulders but looked like it would offer no shelter from the rain.

The man with the knife stood and waited as she walked to him. “’Bout time,” was all he said as they turned and walked into the night.

Clint thought if he ever wanted a lower level of depression than he had every day, he’d come back and watch this scene again.

The last woman out was tall and dressed in a black traveling suit that appeared finely tailored, but it was now wrinkled and worn. She looked almost a proper lady, but her clothes seemed a few sizes too big and her shoes were worn and scuffed beyond repair. She held a bundle in her arms. An empty purse hung from her thin wrist.

Clint glanced at the kid, thinking maybe he was meeting her, but he just shrugged and walked away. She obviously wasn’t someone he was looking for.

The woman raised her head to glance around, but her eyes were dull as if she had little hope. Her hair was too short to pull back and hung down, dark and lifeless, across part of her face. Anyone seeing her would guess she’d been ill or prison thin.

Hadley whistled and signaled that she could join him in the wagon, but the thin woman shook her head.

The guard shooed her along. “There’s a hotel down the road that’ll let you sleep there if you give them a day’s work come morning. They don’t take in most of the women who get out of here, but I’m guessing they’ll take you, Miss Holly. You tell them Sam said you paid your dues.”

“Thank you,” the woman in black said, and she pulled the bundle she carried closer as if sheltering it from the rain.

Clint found himself staring and wondering what she’d done to end up in prison. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five. Her movements were slow as if she were testing every step like an old woman on uneven ground. Maybe she’d been hurt or sick, or beaten.

The thought turned his stomach.

Lightstone took one step in her direction and she moved away. “Miss,” he said too loud, then lowered his voice. “I’m the sheriff over in Huntsville and will give you a ride to the little hotel the guard mentioned. You’ll be safe with me and I promise you’ll be safe there for the night.”

She looked up and Clint saw that she didn’t believe Lightstone. How many people must have lied to her? Clint wondered.

“I might have a job for you if you’re interested,” the sheriff rushed on.

Clint saw it then, pure fear so deep she couldn’t speak. He thought he was beyond feeling sorry for anyone but himself, only right now in the moon’s watery glow, he felt sorry for her. She had no one and nowhere to go. If one person had cared whether she lived or died, they would have met her here tonight.

Hadley’s wagon rolled past. “You can have her, Sheriff, she’s too thin to satisfy a man. I’d lose money on her keep and that baby will be yelling, waking folks up.”

Clint saw the bundle move and realized what she had carried out of the prison. A baby so small it had to be newborn.

The guard closed the gate, but turned to stare through the bars. “If the sheriff says he has a job, he probably does. I’ve never known the man to lie.”

The woman he’d called Holly took a step toward Lightstone. “I’d appreciate the ride, Sheriff, but I don’t know about the job.”

“Fair enough.”

Lightstone walked around the wagon while Clint followed the woman. When they reached the side of the wagon, he offered to help her up, but she stepped back, out of reach.

He nodded in understanding and climbed in the back. She stared at him as if she feared he might be a wild animal, then slowly climbed on the bench. Without a word, he draped his duster over her shoulders, shielding both her and the baby from the rain.

Their ride into town was silent. The hotel would have been a long walk on this dark, rainy night. He tried not to stare at her sitting as still as stone next to the sheriff. For the first time since his family died, he thought of someone else. Holly.

Maybe she was a murderer, or a bank robber. Women were usually given far more leniency then men. Their prison was small and crowded. Some said it was more like a workhouse with guards. Like the men in prisons, the women grew their own food, made their clothes, and took care of stock. If the crops were poor, they ate little. If the crops were good, some was sold to offset expenses. Life was hard everywhere in Texas, but it must have been near hell in prison.

The hotel wasn’t much. It looked like it had been an old stagecoach station and catered to mostly prison visitors or lawmen delivering new prisoners or maybe travelers looking for a cheap place to stay. Clint would have passed it by and slept out under a tree, even on a night like this. Putting up with damp ground would be better than fighting bedbugs.

Sheriff Lightstone yelled, “Hello, the inn,” as they neared.

An old man stepped to the doorway but didn’t call back a greeting. He had an apron tied around his waist and a shotgun lowered at his leg.

“You got a meal for travelers, innkeeper?”

“We got stew, Sheriff. What are you doing this far out of town?”

“Just came to eat your cooking. Hope that wife of yours made pie. Her buttermilk pie is worth the stop even on a night like this. I’ll buy three bowls of soup if you’ve still got it warming.”

The old man moved inside with a nod. Like most folks since the war, they’d learned not to be too friendly.

Clint jumped out of the wagon and offered Miss Holly help down, but she didn’t take it.

They moved into a dark cavern of a dining area. Long tables ran down the center of the room. Clint removed his wet coat from her shoulders, and without a word she sat down close to the fire.

Again Clint couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. How long had it been since she’d stood close to a warm fire?

No one spoke until the innkeeper rattled into the room with a tray. “This is the last of the stew, Sheriff, so I won’t charge you for it, but the pie will be two bits a slice.”

Clint noticed the sheriff or the lady in black didn’t ask if she could work for her board. Maybe the sheriff wanted to toss out his great idea first or maybe she didn’t want the job. She probably wanted to wait until she heard the sheriff’s offer before deciding.

When the food was spread out, they sat at a little table by the fireplace. Clint wasn’t hungry, but he ate, taking a bite every time she did. Her manners were polished.

“Where you from, Miss Holly?” He finally broke the silence.

“Nowhere, really.” She put her spoon down and stopped eating as she rocked the baby.

He didn’t want to ask her any more questions but he hated that she seemed so tense. Maybe if he talked she’d relax. “I grew up on a farm about thirty miles from here. My folks came in the fifties to homestead. My dad wasn’t much of a farmer, but they survived even after my brother and I went to war. My brother didn’t come back. He died at Shiloh.”

She picked up her spoon so he continued. “I have land not far from here, but I thought I’d sell it. The land’s good but the house burned. Farmer next door said he’d buy my place any time I was willing to sell.”

Lightstone looked at him with a raised eyebrow as if he wanted to add that houses usually do burn when a fire is set in the middle of the parlor.

Clint continued when she took a bite. If she’d eat, he’d talk. “I’m thinking of taking a job up north near the panhandle where the Indian War is still going on.” He’d tell her of their plan. The sheriff would only frighten her. “They say the weather gets cold enough to snow up there, and the sunsets spread out across flat land for a hundred miles.”

The sheriff kept frowning. He probably wasn’t sure if Clint was trying to talk her into going or out of going. Clint just felt like he had to be honest. If either of them were going to think of stepping off this cliff, they had a right to know what the ground looked like below.

“The sheriff’s got a friend up there who wants to build a town, and he’s making an offer that is hard for a man to turn down. Especially one who has nothing to keep him here. I got no family, miss, they’re all dead. Maybe living on the edge of civilization is where I belong.”

The sheriff finally interrupted Clint’s rant. “You got any family to go to, Miss Holly? ’Cause, if you do, I’ll put you on the train come morning.”

She put down her spoon again and lowered her head. “None that would want me to visit.”

“You got any prospects for a job or any money that will tide you over?”

She shook her head, making her straight black hair almost brush her shoulders.

“Well then, I might as well tell you what I’ve been thinking. Clint here ain’t a bad man when he’s sober. He’s thinking of taking that job he told you about, only the man building the town wants married men.”

She looked from the sheriff to Clint, not saying a word. He only held her gaze for a moment, but it was long enough. He couldn’t miss the fear in her eyes. Hell, he was surprised she didn’t run.

He saw that as a good sign. She wasn’t the type of woman he’d ever love, but there was something about her that made him want to take care of her. She had nowhere to go, no money, no one who’d look after her. As thin as she was, she’d probably be dead in a week if she didn’t eat. If she wanted to go with him, he’d see she had food and wasn’t cold. She probably wouldn’t be much company, and if she ran off, he wouldn’t miss a mouse of a woman like her. Maybe the idea of taking her along wasn’t as bad as he feared.

“I’ll let you two talk,” the sheriff said as he stood. “I’ll go find some of that buttermilk pie.”

When the big man was gone, Clint just sat staring at her as she held the newborn close. He had no idea if he was making the right decision. He’d made so many wrong ones lately; maybe it was time to try something different.

“It’s a crazy thing to spring on you, you just getting out of prison and all. If you need time, I’d understand. Until you walked out I was against the idea myself, but knowing you might need this new start as badly as I do got me to thinking that maybe it might be worth a try. I wouldn’t be much help with the baby, but I’d do what I could.”

She didn’t move. She held herself so tight, as if she feared she might fall apart if she relaxed even one inch.

Clint tried again. “I’m a hard worker, when I work, and until my family died I’d never had more than a few drinks.”

He hoped she didn’t look up and give him that look that said she didn’t believe him.

She remained frozen.

“I’ll be honest. I’ll never love you. I haven’t got any left to give. But, if you’ll go along with me, I can promise I’ll always try to be kind.”

Slowly her chin rose. “You’ll never ask me about my past or the baby?” Her voice was soft.

“Fair enough. From this night on, if you come along with me, the baby is ours as far as folks know. No questions.”

“You’ll never hit me?”

“If I do, you have my permission to shoot me.” It crossed his mind that maybe she’d already done that to another. If not being hit was so important to her, maybe she’d killed the last man who’d tried. Only he wasn’t going to ask. They’d already agreed on that point. Talking about his past was too painful, and learning about hers might keep him up at night.

“You’d never force yourself on me?” Her voice sounded a bit stronger.

“I’m not the kind of man who would do that.” In truth, he hadn’t even thought about the bedding part of the marriage. “We can sleep in separate beds. I’m looking for a wife in name, not in bed.”

She didn’t look convinced or even interested, but he was coming around to the idea. “If you’ll come with me, Holly, I’ll keep you and the baby safe. We may be poor and the work will probably be hard, but I promise you’ll have no call to be afraid.”

She looked up at him then, tears bubbling over. “Then I’ll go with you if you’ll offer one more thing.”

He frowned. He didn’t have much to offer.

She straightened. “Sewn into the folds of my jacket are seeds. You’ll give me enough land to plant a few apple trees if I come.”

He smiled. “I’ll do that.” Of all the things he thought she might ask for, a spot of land never occurred to him, but if that was her price, he’d pay it gladly. Having a wife to help out would be an advantage even if he never talked to her.