Trembling like a frightened child, Casey slipped into a back room and tried on the dress along with a suitable petticoat and the other intimate clothing that she’d worn only once when contemplating working for Rose. That lasted until the first greasy-looking man touched her.
Shaking her head to rid the memories, she glanced at the fabric hugging her thin body. I look like a real lady.
She emerged from the storage room, her skirts rustling as she’d always dreamed.
“You are lovely.” The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “And I have a hat, too.” She produced a curved-brimmed hat with a sprinkling of cream, dark blue, and purple flowers entwined with a cream ribbon. She tied it beneath Casey’s chin and snatched up a mirror. “See for yourself.”
Casey had only imagined such splendor. Outlaws were notoriously dirty and tattered. Visions of her ragged underclothes painted an unpleasant picture of her life up to now. She inhaled deeply. “I’ll take the dress and the hat, and the proper undergarments.”
This worrisome path of life had come to a fork in the road, and for the first time she wanted to ride in the right direction.
A short while later, she left the mercantile, made her way to the livery, and sold her beloved Stoney. Parting with him made her feel like she’d lost a friend, but it had to be done. She wept most of the night, almost as much as when Ma died.
The following day, Casey boarded the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad heading south to El Paso for a lonely three hundred miles. She used the name Shawne Flanagan again, believing Tim would never tell Jenkins. Her brother did care. He’d proved it by leaving money with Doc. Storing her rifle and Colt in a newly purchased trunk, she shoved the derringer into her dress pocket and carried Doc’s Bible. She wore her new clothes and pulled her hair back into a fashionable bun, allowing a few curly tendrils to trail down her neck and around her face.
She studied every man in her path. A lump from inside a jacket or at the hip indicated a revolver. She searched for a lawman’s badge or the cautious glance of an outlaw. Either could recognize her. Either could end her charade.
The seats on the train quickly became uncomfortable, almost as bad as endless days in the saddle. Although she didn’t have to cook, some of the meals tasted worse than dirt coffee and burnt beans. The soot from the windows settled on her clothes and infuriated her. She wanted to continue looking like a fine lady.
From the hot, dusty border town of El Paso, the Southern Pacific rambled east into the immense, wild lands of Texas.
The first time she stepped down from the train, a deputy with hair graying at his temples stood at the depot. His thumbs hooked into his gun belt. Every point of his star glittered. He observed passengers greeting family and friends while some waited for the porter to produce their trunks.
Is he looking for me? She swallowed hard. Her legs felt like lead. The deputy tipped his hat, and Casey stumbled and nearly fell. Within the hour, she had another ticket.
Days ventured into weeks as Casey wandered from one town to the next. She’d stay a few days in one place. At the first hint of someone recognizing her, she’d board the next train. Her traveling dress quickly became soiled, so she purchased a simple wrapper of heavy cotton, much cheaper than her blue traveling dress. The fabric featured green and gold stripes on a brown background, and it buttoned down the front to the top of a ruffled hem. A nudging at her heart made her wonder if Morgan would approve. She shrugged.
Restless and fearful, she couldn’t relax until she found the right town to call home. Her money dwindled. She’d have to find work soon. Rose would advise her to do what came naturally.
Chapter 8
Three weeks after Morgan cheated death, he saddled his horse and said good-bye to Doc. He fought the pain in his chest and leg to climb out of Doc’s bed, tug on his boots, clean his rifle, and continue his unrelenting search for the outlaw. The hate was like a fire threatening to consume him, for now he had another reason to stop Jenkins: Casey O’Hare.
Morgan realized how Jenkins’s evil mind worked. The thought pierced what little bit remained of his heart and soul, while confusion about his staggering