Chapter One #2
She smoothed a hand down her side to feel for the pocket that held the Colt Navy revolver she hoped she’d never have to use—but life was hard out here in the West. Trey had given it to her as a last resort in dangerous situations.
Part of her had wanted to use it on him, time and time again, but she’d never been able to bring herself to do it.
And Trey knew he had that effect on her.
That was the only reason he’d trusted her with it.
She flicked her gaze to Etta, who was trembling now, her lower lip caught underneath her two front teeth.
Etta was barely eighteen now. She had always been the easiest to crack under pressure, but it was because she had the purest heart of the three.
Ada was only one year older than Etta, but the world had already hardened her as much as it had June, who was now twenty.
Sighing, June placed a calming hand on Ada’s arm. “It’s fine,” she said softly. Turning back to the marshal, she tried to reason with him. “We have no quarrel with you, sir. If there’s been a misunderstanding, I’m sure we can sort it out.”
He didn’t budge. “Misunderstanding, huh?” he prodded, poking out his chest. Before June could react, he thrust a quick arm down between the girls and pulled out a large brown sack with a sharp yank, holding it up in front of their faces.
“Then you won’t mind explaining”—he growled, scouring through it and pulling out items that clearly weren’t theirs—“man’s watch and wallet got in here!”
He lifted a brown leather wallet high in the air. Etta gasped, as did the passengers on the wagon in front of them, who were now watching with bated breath. June felt Ada stiffen beside her.
We didn’t steal that.
June knew that for a fact. None of them would’ve stolen a man’s items—Trey had always told them never to do so. Being in possession of a man’s personal items would have been far too suspicious if anyone discovered them.
How could those get in our bag? But June couldn’t exactly plead innocence by declaring that they only stole women’s items. The truth was that they really hadn’t gotten to steal much, since the wagon train hadn’t stopped long enough for them to do a lot of pilfering. But that also wasn’t a good defense.
“That’s not ours,” she responded, keeping her voice calm, yet still firm. She wasn’t going to admit to anything. “I don’t know how that got there.”
“You’re right. It ain’t yours. And I’ve had enough of your games.” The marshal motioned them off the wagon. “Gather your things and get off this wagon train.”
June’s eyes widened. They were still miles from the nearest town, with no plan and very, very little money. If they were thrown off now, without everything they needed to gather, Trey would—
No. She couldn’t think about that.
Ada stood abruptly, the bench creaking as she hopped up. “Fine,” she snapped, grabbing her small satchel, then yanking the large one out of the marshal’s hands. “But don’t come crying to us when your real thief keeps picking pockets.”
“Ada, hush,” June hissed under her breath. She didn’t need anyone to escalate the situation further.
Etta rose up slowly—reluctantly, even—her hands trembling as she gathered her meager purse.
June followed, keeping her movements deliberate, careful not to reveal her own panic, which was now coiling in her chest. She didn’t have a bag that would hold her hands still like Etta’s, but that was quite alright.
She’d had her fair share of practice in pretending to look innocent and calm when she was anything but. Trey had made sure of that.
“We’re sorry!” Etta blurted out suddenly, before June or Ada could stop her. “We owe a real bad man from Galveston a lot of money, and he—”
“Etta, stop!” June hissed angrily. Suddenly, a loud shriek pierced her ear. For a split second, she thought someone else on the wagon train was injured—but it was Etta’s scream, and June saw why. Ada had stomped on Etta’s toes, evidently pretty hard.
June whirled around to face the marshal, feeling all the blood drain out of her face.
“Galveston, huh?” the marshal muttered gruffly. “What man?”
“No one, sir,” Ada laughed. “She’s off her rocker—”
“I’m talking to her,” he growled, pointing to Etta.
“Trey Bishop,” Etta admitted, and June’s eyes went wide. She shot a sharp look at the younger girl. Trey would kill them all if he found out they’d revealed his name to a lawman.
“Trey Bishop, huh…?” The marshal sighed, taking a step back, his cold steely gaze changing to something else… something June couldn’t quite place. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and looked at each of the girls carefully, as if he was reading them like a book somehow.
June could feel Etta shaking beside her.
“Trey Bishop doesn’t let go of his girls….” the marshal sighed quietly. Without further comment, he mounted his horse again and pointed to the ground, gesturing for them to get out of the wagon and start walking.
Slowly, June clambered down to the ground, and Ada and Etta followed.
The marshal watched as they shuffled past him, his expression softening a little, although his jaw remained clenched.
“There’s a town about a mile east called Fort Davis,” he said, his voice so quiet that any other passengers couldn’t hear. “You can figure it out from there.”
June nodded once. She knew that the man was showing them a kindness by only throwing them off the wagon train.
They could have been thrown in jail, even though they hadn’t taken much—and she had no idea how they’d ended up with a man’s personal belongings in their bags.
The marshal had done better than they deserved.
She knew it—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t upset.
***
The high noon sun blazed down hotly overhead as the three women trudged along the dusty path toward the town, still a few miles ahead of them.
Sweat trickled down June’s back, and her feet ached with every step.
She hated heels, but that was the expected traveling footwear for ladies , and even though she didn’t quite feel like one, she sure had to act like one to blend in.
Etta lagged a few steps behind, her small frame sagging.
But Ada walked in front of them with her chin high, defiance radiating from her with every step.
Heat, sweat, and dust didn’t distract her.
She was as hot as a wasp. “That guy was a jacka—” “Ada!” June snapped, knowing exactly what she was about to say.
“I should’ve—”
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut,” June interrupted again, hotly. “And he could have done a lot worse than kick us off the train.”
Ada rounded on her, dark eyes blazing. “Don’t you start with me!
There’s no way we stole that wallet or that watch!
We only ever take things a woman would carry!
That’s the rule to keep us safe! I bet that marshal pulled some kind of sleight of hand to make it look like he was pulling those things out of our bag! ”
“I know that,” June snapped, “but picking a fight with him wasn’t going to help.”
“Neither did playing nice,” Ada shot back. “He clearly heard about us on another train and decided to make sure we’d look guilty!”
“You don’t know that,” June muttered. As usual, Ada was jumping to conclusions. There was no way to be sure if she was right or not.
I don’t even care. It really didn’t matter. The truth was that they had been stealing, and they were lucky that he hadn’t thrown them in jail.
“What are we going to do?” Etta’s soft voice interrupted the brewing fight between the two older girls. Both turned to her, and June’s anger dissolved almost immediately as she saw the younger girl’s face.
Etta’s cheeks were pale, sunken. She hadn’t eaten much in days, and her eyes showed nothing but fear.
June sighed, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely sure how.
“We should send word to Trey,” Ada suggested. “Let him know what happened.”
June’s stomach twisted. Trey wouldn’t care that they’d been wrongfully accused. All he’d care about was that they’d lost another opportunity to bring him what he wanted.
“He’ll kill us,” Etta whispered.
“Not if we have something to offer,” June said quickly.
Ada snorted. “And what exactly do we have to offer, June? We’re empty-handed, broke, stranded, and—”
“We’re alive,” June interrupted. “That’s what matters.”
“And why should he care about that?”