Scandal at the Cahill Saloon - By Carol Arens Page 0,2

have forgiven her the sin of bearing a child out of wedlock were it not for the fact that she was managing quite nicely.

Indeed, had it not been for the tidy sum of cash that she had accumulated during her stay in Deadwood, they might have considered her afflicted and therefore worthy of their benevolence.

Bless their shriveled little hearts.

Coming home today for the first time in two years, she had no intention of being ashamed of either her child, her abundant funds…or the way she had come by them.

She lifted her chin and tweaked her best hat to shade her eyes from the glare of heat rising from the road in simmering waves. She tugged the brim of a tiny Stetson over her son’s eyes, then hugged him close to her in the saddle.

The satin border of her gown, lying neatly across her horse’s rump, winked purple flecks at the sky with the shifting of the animal’s gait.

She could have crept into town, hiding in the shadows as though she were ashamed. Crawling on her knees, sackcloth and ashes style, might have made people look more kindly at her.

The plain fact was, she wasn’t ashamed. Why should she be? The fifteen-month-old child snuggling into her, with his little boot-clad legs too short to even dangle over the horse’s withers, was perfection.

He was as worthy as any Cahill had ever been. Anyone who tried to say otherwise would answer to her. Even her own brothers if it came to that, but it was her daily prayer that they would not hold the sins of little Cabe’s parents against him.

Her dearest hope was to reunite with her brothers. It might not be possible; they had parted with hateful words and bitter accusations. Guilt and blame had torn them apart. It wasn’t only their parents that had died that day two years ago; the whole family had been destroyed.

To add to the tragedy, it had taken Quin’s telegram, with the awful news that Mama and Papa had not died by accident, to bring the family back to Cahill Crossing.

It made her sick, knowing that murder had been what finally brought her home. Not her bone-deep love for her brothers or even family loyalty…but murder. If it weren’t for sly glances peering at her from every direction, she might dissolve in bitter tears for everyone to see.

Now, for good or ill, here she was. The ties of home wrapped her up. If she let everything about her fade to quiet, she could almost feel Mama’s arms about her.

Even though she would have to be careful where Cabe was concerned, he deserved to be home with his family. Thankfully, he was too young to understand what folks whispered about his mama.

Just up the street a man and a woman strolled along the boardwalk. They didn’t scowl at her, most likely because they were caught up in admiring the infant the woman cuddled close to her breast.

Leanna grinned, disguising her pain because she couldn’t give her child that happy picture. She hugged his warm, solid little body closer.

She would be enough for him. Whatever his future held, she would be enough.

And he did have uncles. Now that she was home she would do her best to heal the rift with them and give Cabe the family he ought to have had all along.

In spite of the scorn she was enduring at the moment, she was glad that she had come home. With time, her brothers would come to love her boy as much as she did. In the end, family was everything.

Leanna glanced backward at the buckboard trailing fifteen feet behind. She waved. “Chins up, ladies, smiles bright!”

While her brothers might accept her child, she had doubts that they would be so welcoming of the four reforming prostitutes coming home with her.

At first sight, they did present quite a vision. While the ladies had determined to reform their behavior, their resolutions hadn’t quite reached their manner of dress. Their gowns were proper enough to cover newly respectable bosoms, but feathers and gaudy be-bobs announced their former professions.

Leanna urged her horse past a new hotel in town on the way to her destination, Marshal Bowie Cahill’s office.

The front door of the Château Royale opened and stylish Minnie Jenkins, who owned the place with her husband, Oscar, stepped out.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jenkins.” Leanna nodded her head and smiled.

In years past, Leanna had been a welcome guest at the Jenkinses’ home. Their daughter, Ellie, had been her closest friend.