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Tom stopped long enough to turn and say, “I’ll be back.”
But that didn’t seem to appease Sweet Heather, because she grabbed a vase and threw it at Miss O’Malley, who ducked just in the nick of time.
As the glass shattered on the floor, Sweet Heather looked as smug as a fat cat with its paw pressed down on a mouse’s tail. “The next thing I break will be your teeth.”
Tom sighed heavily. He sensed a real fight coming, and, in spite of his better judgment, he sauntered toward the redhead, lifted her feet off the floor and threw her across his shoulder like a sack of grain.
He’d been prepared for the weight of her—but not the delicate scent of lilac on her clothes and hair.
“Put me down this instant,” she cried, her words coming out in raspy shrieks. She kicked her feet and pounded her fists on his back like an ornery cougar kit that had been caught and placed in an empty feed sack.
As feisty as the former schoolmarm was, she might actually hold her own in a tussle with Sweet Heather.
He wrapped one arm around her knees and tried to still her flailing legs as he carried her outside and down the porch steps to the lawn in front of the brothel.
“I said, put me down!” she shrieked.
“Stop fighting me and I will.”
She took a deep breath, then groaned in exasperation before ceasing her struggle. He took in one last whiff of lilac, then lowered her to the ground. As he did so, she slid down the front of him, leaving them both standing in awkward silence.
Their eyes locked, and for one brief moment, something passed between them, something that stirred the senses. But Tom didn’t have time to lose his focus.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your presence was creating more trouble than either of us need. Now get out of here before the sheriff is called and your reputation is in shreds.”
“I don’t give a fig about my reputation right now. I’m going back in there, even if I have to climb in a window or slip down the chimney.”
If that were the case, Tom would either have to let her go—or wrestle her himself. And right now, tangling with her any more than he already had didn’t seem to be a wise option. Still, maybe he could ease her mind and send her on her way.
“Don’t worry about Sarah Jane,” he said. “I’m taking her someplace safe.”
“That’s not necessary. I already have plans to take her and Daisy to Wyoming just as soon as Daisy has recovered enough to travel. They’ll both be able to make a fresh start there. Daisy will find respectable work, and Sarah Jane will have...well, rest assured that I’ll provide her with opportunities she’d never have otherwise.”
Tom lifted his hat, then readjusted it on his head. “First off, I don’t think it’s in either of their best interests to remain in town long enough for Daisy to recover fully. And, secondly, while I appreciate your concern for the child, I have reason to believe that she has family in Stillwater.”
That gave Miss O’Malley pause. “You have reason to believe? You’re not sure?”
Actually, he knew that she had a great-grandfather. But he wasn’t convinced the dying old man would welcome her with open arms. “Let’s just say that I’m sure enough.”
The schoolmarm seemed to think on that, and as she did, she worried her lip. All the while, the sun continued to shine on her hair, dancing upon the glossy strands.
The autumn color was remarkable. Tom wondered what it looked like when she removed the pins, brushed out the tresses and let them hang long.
When she finally glanced up, her expressive eyes, the shade of bluebonnets, caught his. “But if she has a family, where have they been all her life? Why is she living in a place like this?”
“I’m still trying to figure out how that might have come about.” He’d tried to talk to Daisy earlier, but her throat had been badly bruised by the near strangling. The doctor had given her something for pain and to help her rest, and she’d dozed off before he could get anything out of her.
“What if that family Sarah Jane supposedly has doesn’t want her?” Miss O’Malley asked.
He’d thought of that possibility more than he dared to admit. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
Apparently, that wasn’t enough to appease her, because she crossed her arms and lifted her chin in defiance. “I won’t let you take Sarah Jane anywhere.”
Tom snorted at her hollow challenge. “I wouldn’t recommend fighting with me, Miss O’Malley.”
She studied him a moment, as if calculating the odds, then softened her stance. “Daisy is Sarah Jane’s guardian. And the two of us have reached an agreement. We’re taking Sarah Jane to Wyoming.”
“Daisy also goes by the name of Erin Kelly,” he said. “Did you know that?”
A twitch at the corner of a single blue eye suggested that she didn’t, yet she brushed off his comment. “I’m not surprised. I didn’t think her name was actually Daisy Potts.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
She stiffened. “I’m sure that’s true. Nevertheless, Daisy—or whatever name she’d prefer to go by—has agreed to go with me to Wyoming. And I plan to leave town just as soon as Dr. Hennessy says she can travel.”
“I’m afraid her plans changed when she was attacked and nearly killed.”
“It seems to me that would be all the more reason for her to want a new life. And I can help her attain that dream—in Wyoming.”
“And just whose dream is that, Miss O’Malley? Yours or Daisy’s?”
She seemed to ponder that a moment, as if he’d finally tossed something her way that she hadn’t expected. Then she seemed to shrug it off. “Does it matter? Some people become so downtrodden that they forget how to dream.”
The fool woman had an answer for everything.
“At this point,” he said, “the only thing that matters is getting Erin and Sarah Jane out of town before that man comes back and tries to finish what he started.”
Her lips parted, and the color in her cheeks drained. “Do you think the man will come back and try to kill her?”
“Come now. You’re a bright woman. Think about it. The man attacked a woman and child in broad daylight. He certainly wasn’t a drunken, unhappy customer. And when another woman interrupted the attack, he ran off before she could get a good look at him. But as far as the attacker knows, there are still two witnesses.”
She bit down on her bottom lip again as she considered what he was suggesting, so he continued to make himself clear. “From what I’ve been told, Erin has no memory of the attack—at least, not now. And Sarah Jane hasn’t uttered a word since that morning. The doctor thinks she’s traumatized by what she saw, and who knows if or when she’ll speak again. But the attacker doesn’t know that.”
Tom didn’t see any point in telling Miss O’Malley that he’d been following Caroline’s trail for the past three weeks, from Casa de Los Angelitos in Mexico, where Sarah Jane was born, to the town of Taylorsville, where Caroline had died after a fall down a flight of stairs.
And that was another thing that just didn’t sit right with him. Caroline had been a healthy and vivacious twenty-four-year-old. How had she managed to take a fatal tumble like that? And why had Erin left right after the funeral?
Something about that just didn’t make sense. The women had put down roots several different times in the past six years. And then all of a sudden, they would up and move again.
Had one or the other been running from something?
Or from someone?
If so, Tom didn’t like the idea of Sarah Jane being caught up in the backlash of whatever the adults in her life had been involved in—or running from.
He hoped he was wrong, but the only one who could answer his questions was Erin, and she was in no condition to talk yet.
“How do you plan to travel with a child and an injured woman?” Miss O’Malley asked.
That wasn’t going to be easy. And Tom didn’t expect to do much sleeping on the three-day ride to Hannah’s house, where he intended to leave Daisy to heal.
“I can see that you haven’t thought that through,” Miss O’Malley said, her tone and stance a little too smug for her bustle.
“Actually,” Tom said, “I’ve done a lot of thinking.” More than she would ever know—and not just while he’d been on the trail looking for Caroline.
“Perhaps we should compromise,” she said.
“About what? The way I see it, Miss O’Malley, you don’t have a dog in this fight.”
As though his words had fallen on deaf ears, she continued to speak her mind. “Erin and Sarah Jane need to get out of town fast, correct?”
“That’s the way I see it.” What was her point?
“And Sarah Jane might or might not have a family who might—or might not—want her. Is that a safe assumption?”
“I suppose so.” Where was she going with this?
“If she has no family—or if they don’t want her—she’ll need another home.”
He didn’t dispute that.
“And if they want her, we’ll need to determine whether they deserve her. And if they don’t, then we’ll still need to find her another home.”
We? Who included Miss O’Malley in any of this?
“So you see, it’s all very simple.” Miss O’Malley crossed her arms and smiled. “I’ll go with you. And if Sarah Jane needs a home for any reason, I’ll be prepared to take her and Erin with me to Wyoming as planned.”
She couldn’t be suggesting that he travel for three days with her, an outspoken, headstrong schoolmarm. He’d be a fool to even consider such a notion. A woman like Miss O’Malley, no matter how pretty she was, would make the trip as unbearable as a throbbing ingrown toenail.
“Miss O’Malley, thank you for the kind offer, but I’m afraid that won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“To be honest, I’d run naked through a briar patch before I’d travel with you any longer than necessary.”
Up went that pretty little chin again. “Traveling with you wouldn’t be a picnic, Mr. McCain.”
“It certainly won’t. I’m not packing silver tea service or linen napkins.”
“How dare you accuse me of being prissy. I’ve made it a point to not be cast in that mold.”
“The mold of a lady?” He asked, awaiting a slap—or a sharp retort.
Instead, she uncrossed her arms and tossed him a pretty smile. “I don’t really care what others think of me, Mr. McCain—you included. But that’s beside the point right now. You’re going to need help traveling with an injured woman and a traumatized child. And it looks as though I’m the only one willing to go with you. So the way I see it, you don’t have much choice.”
Trouble was, as much as he hated to admit it, she was right.
Chapter Three
McCain glared at Katie as though she’d gone daft, then he shook his head. “Be ready in an hour—and not one minute more. We’ll leave from here.”
Before she could object to the unreasonable time limit, the man left her standing in front of the brothel and strode away as though it wouldn’t take much to change his mind or to alter his travel plans.
While she should feel somewhat victorious, she had to admit that she felt as unbalanced as a blindfolded child in a sack race.
How in creation was she ever going to pack for a trip like that in so little time?
Well, she couldn’t very well stew about it a moment longer, so she hurried home as quickly as her skirts would allow. She did, however, stop briefly to let Ian Connor know that she’d be leaving town.
Ian, who’d been a dear friend and a colleague of her late father, had suffered an attack of apoplexy last year that left the right side of his body so weak that he’d had to retire from his law practice. He now lived with his widowed sister in a white clapboard house just down the lane from Katie.
As she’d expected, Ian greeted her with a warm smile. “Katie, my dear, it’s always good to see you. Please come in.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to come inside. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be leaving and will be away for a week or so.”
Ian stroked his right arm and furrowed his brow. “Where are you going?”
“I’m taking Daisy Potts and Sarah Jane out of town.”
Ian stiffened. “You’re what?”
“I take it you heard about the attack. Poor Miss Potts was assaulted and nearly killed. I’m going to escort her and the child out of town.”
“Yes, I heard about the attack—and her injuries. But why in the world are you getting involved in that?”
“You know me.”
“Yes, I’m afraid I do.” Ian blew out a weary sigh. “May I remind you that you’re an unmarried woman, Katie? Traveling the country with a small child and a battered prostitute is dangerous and...well, it’s uncalled-for. Think of your reputation.”
“I’ll have an escort—Mr. Tom McCain. So I’ll be perfectly safe.”
Ian clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Why are they leaving? Wouldn’t it be best if Miss Potts stayed here in town until she recovered?”
Katie didn’t dare mention the danger Daisy and Sarah Jane might be in, so she chose another reason for their hasty departure. “The town hasn’t been kind to the child, and there’s been talk of sending her to live in an orphanage.”
The dear old man who, along with his sister, had become as close as family members to her, especially since her da’s passing, blew out a weary sigh. “Sending that poor child away isn’t necessarily a bad idea, Katie. People around here aren’t likely to ever forget what her mother did for a living.”
“I don’t know much about her real mother, God rest her soul. Sarah Jane once mentioned that she used to work at a hotel.”
“That’s probably what the child considers the Gardener’s House to be.”
“You may be right, but a little girl shouldn’t be punished for her mother’s mistakes.”
“I agree. However, that’s the way of it, Katie. When are you going to learn there are some things you can’t change or fix? I’d think that after getting arrested last November for creating a public disturbance at the town hall meeting you’d be smart enough to figure that out.”
“First of all, I’m not the only woman in this community who spent time in jail for speaking her mind.” Katie leaned against the doorjamb. “And secondly, I have given up. At least, here in Pleasant Valley.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ian asked.
