Leather and Lace - By DiAnn Mills Page 0,28

outlaws left, her thoughts turned to the people around her. A woman cried. A mother clung to her baby. The faces of men paled. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t robbed anyone or stuck a gun in someone’s face. She knew the kind of men who’d rather take from hardworking folks than get an honest job. Greed spurred them on just as she grasped for peace and freedom.

Casey’s mouth went dry. She massaged her arms. The wanted posters were right. She deserved whatever happened to her—either at the end of a rope or a bullet. Maybe she should turn herself in and rid this country of one more outlaw.

At least working for Rose wasn’t against the law.

Rose Meadows. Casey doubted if that was her real name, but it sounded good to the men who stood in line for her and the other women who worked for her. Rose said she once worked at the Bird Cage in Tombstone, and that’s where she learned her trade.

“Come see me when you’ve had your fill of Jenkins,” Rose said. “Don’t worry about him. If he gives you any trouble, I’ll cut him a percent of what you make.”

The idea of Jenkins and Rose getting a share of her pay while she worked her backside seemed no better than riding with the outlaws. But at sixteen years old, after he’d blackened both of her eyes for refusing him, she’d agreed to Rose’s business arrangement.

One night was all it took. Rose painted Casey’s face and lips, then dressed her in a blue sleeveless “gown” that dipped low in the front and was tight across the middle. Casey came down the steps with the rest of the girls into the smoky bar only to hear the lewd remarks and applause of drunken men. One paid the price for her, and she led him upstairs. When the door closed and she took a whiff of his breath and unwashed body, she grabbed her old clothes and headed back to the gang. That’s when she taught herself how to throw a knife with her left and right hand. From then on, a knife rested in both boots.

Now at twenty-one years old, she’d only been with one man—Jenkins—and each time he forced himself on her, she hated him a little more.

As the days and weeks continued, her mind lingered on Morgan, the man who had nearly died to save her life. He’d captured a part of her that she believed could never be caught—her heart. Had he healed? Was he safe? Many a restless night she wrestled with his identity. If she knew the truth about him, she could deal with it. But wondering about where he came from and his reasons for tracking down Jenkins occupied too much of her time.

After the train robbery, Casey got off at the next town and headed straight to the livery. The owner had a fine-looking zebra-dun stallion for sale. She rubbed her hands over his legs, all the while talking to him softly. No horse could ever replace Stoney. The gelding seemed to sense her moods.

“You sure you can handle this one?” the owner said. “A fine looking lady like you should have a gentle horse. I’ve got a good mare in the back.”

“Oh, I can handle this one. Does he have a name?”

“Stampede.”

“Good name.”

The livery owner laughed. “I gave it to him ’cause when he takes a notion to run, he doesn’t leave anything behind but dust—and sometimes me.” He scratched his chin. “Sure hate for you to get hurt.”

She patted Stampede’s neck. “I’ll be careful.”

A little dealing and the man threw in a saddle, blanket, and bridle. She rolled up her dress and other lady’s clothes and stuffed them into a leather bag. Some would have said keeping these things was foolish, but having them made her feel that she’d wear them again. She wrapped them around her Bible.

Before she headed out of town, Casey made one more stop. At the local mercantile, she bought jeans, a shirt, a soft roll hat, a blue scarf, socks, and a pair of boots.

“Do you need anything else?” the slightly graying woman said. “Provisions?”

Casey mentally counted the pitiful amount of money she had left. “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

A portly man with a balding head shuffled from the back room of the mercantile. “Maude, we need to get that last shipment unloaded.”

“That and a whole lot of other chores.”

He looked up. “Excuse me, miss, didn’t see you there.”

“Try using your spectacles. No wonder

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