Chapter Three
“At least he knew what he was talking about,” Ada groaned as soon as the town came into view. The marshal from the wagon train was right; the town hadn’t been too far. It had only taken the girls about a half hour to walk there.
Still, it was long enough for each of them to break a sweat in the Texas heat.
June’s throat was dry and a thin layer of dust coated her face, trapped there by perspiration on her skin.
The smell of horse manure had never smelled better to her—civilization was close!
And all three of them were in much need of a bath and a meal.
Fort Davis. Those were the words on the sign beside the dirt road leading into town where the three girls were trudging.
There were a handful of buildings scattered along the main street.
A saloon, a general store, a boardinghouse, a sheriff’s office, and a small school were among the most prominent.
The town was a bit larger than June thought.
One of the bigger frontier posts she’d seen in a while.
But it almost seemed… abandoned. The windows of the buildings were grimy, many of them cracked.
Dust coated the wooden porches, as if no one had swept in ages.
There were only a few horses hitched outside the saloon or the general store—and there was no sign of children.
A few men loitered near the saloon, their faces shadowed beneath their wide-brimmed hats, and they all seemed to watch with sharp, unfriendly eyes as the three girls passed by.
June wiped at her brow, which was a lot wetter now.
“Let’s cross the street,” she murmured, wanting to avoid the men as much as possible.
Panting, the women stepped out to cross the dusty road.
Immediately, June felt the men’s eyes raking over them even more intently—with expressions she knew too well to trust.
She kept her gaze forward. “Don’t pay them any mind,” she reminded the other two as they made it to the other side of the street.
“Now what?” Etta whimpered.
June glanced up and down the street in a daze.
She was tired. The heat had drained most of her energy already.
They had to find a place to lay low and gather themselves if they wanted to get back on their feet well enough to travel back to Trey—not to mention find some way to bring back money or other valuables to placate him.
“We just need to find somewhere to stay,” she gasped breathlessly.
“With what money?” Ada snapped.
June didn’t answer. Instead, she just kept walking. First things first: they needed to scrape together enough cash to get a room at the boardinghouse, or better yet, working a trade in exchange for a room.
At least until we can get our bearings and figure out what to do.
“Goodness gracious, drinking already?” Ada quipped sarcastically, gesturing to a couple of men stumbling out of the saloon doors to cross the street.
“What’s it to ya, little lady?” one man replied, his voice loud and slurred.
“It’s absolutely nothing to her,” June replied, pulling Ada away. They needed to get a letter out to Trey to keep him at bay until they could figure out what to do. The last thing they needed was more attention on them.
Unfortunately, that was exactly what they began to get the further they went into town, as June hustled the other girls along to the post office.
While Ada and Etta kept to themselves in the corner, June scribbled a quick note to Trey detailing their location and status.
She spent her last few coins on postage and handed it hurriedly to the postmaster, and then the three girls rushed back outside before he could ask any questions.
June’s heart was. It’ll keep him at bay for now.
She kept reminding herself that, but her gut lurched with butterflies as she led the others uncertainly down the boardwalk, aiming for the boardinghouse they’d passed.
The more they walked, the more people stopped to stare, and the more nervous she got.
She took a deep, steadying breath—until she realized they were passing the saloon again.
There were still a few men who lounged on the porch of the saloon across the street, and their eyes were following the girls’ every move.
June could see where they were looking, and it disgusted her.
June’s stomach dropped; she silently willed the girls to walk along even faster.
They kept getting strange looks from most of the men they passed—some leering, but many confused or curious.
At this point, though, it didn’t matter to her whether the following eyes were leering or just curious. Every look a man had given her since she’d arrived in town had seemed to strike against her skin like a match, burning painfully. No attention was good attention. Not ever.
Then a handful of men went so far as to cross the street from the saloon and approach them.
June’s stomach dropped as one of them asked, “Are you the women?”
Ada, true to form, began bluffing defensively. “What do you think? Of course we’re women!”
June frowned, suspicion flaring up. What women?
Had Trey already caught wind of their escape?
Or maybe the marshal had sent word to the town.
Maybe they were going to end up in jail after all…
She drew back a step, eyeing the man cautiously.
But she had no time to find out. “Hey, you!” a man yelled out.
“They’re here! They’ve arrived!” Fear flared in the pit of her stomach as she saw him point at them with flailing arms.
Her stomach churned with anxiety. “We need to get out of here!” she hissed to the other two girls.
They huddled together and began walking as fast as possible down main street without breaking into a run.
But she could still feel some of the men closing in on them.
Beside her, Etta stiffened, and Ada was muttering.
June knew that if they didn’t start avoiding the crowd, they were going to have a big problem. And they couldn’t afford any more problems. Just then, she spotted a side alley between the general store and a dress shop. She tugged each girl by the arm. “There! Let’s go!”
“They’re here!” someone else shouted behind them, and June realized that the men were gathering now. Circling them. Some were crossing the street to approach them. There was something about their behavior that was almost predatory. Or worse… accusatory.
We’ve been found out. June’s heartbeat was a deafening hammer in her ears. Whether by Trey or the law, it didn’t matter anymore. Clearly, news of the thieving maids moved faster than any wagon train.
Would they run us out of town? She wasn’t sure where she’d take the girls if that happened. The wagon trains were surely on the lookout now.
“The women are here!” one of the men yelled out again. Before the girls could react, a group of three younger men dashed across the street. One of them snatched Etta by the arm. “Where are you going?” he demanded, more a threat than a question.
Etta gasped in terror. All June’s anxiety vanished, replaced only by anger.
Her hands balled into tight fists as she turned on her heel to face the man, ready to lash out in Etta’s defense.
Beside her, Ada wheeled on the man, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed into slits.
Her face was growing red, like she was about to burst.
But before either of them came to blows with the man, a commanding voice cut through the growing noise around them. “Hey!”
The young men froze where they stood. The one who’d grabbed Etta quickly released her wrist, and he drew back, staring cautiously over June’s shoulder. Ada and Etta spun around, but June didn’t take her eyes off the men in front of her. She didn’t trust yet that they would back down.
She slid a hand into her pocket and gripped the handle of her gun.
She felt a tap on her shoulder. Ada. Gesturing behind them. Stiffly, June turned to see the man whose shout had stilled the noise. He was striding thunderously down the street, boots thudding on the dirt. “Hey you!” he yelled out again, eyes fixed on the girls now.
He was tall and broad, and his stride was far more commanding than June liked. Instinctively. she clenched the Colt handle tighter. Up until now, she’d never had reason to use it.
First time for everything. Then she spotted the gold star pinned to the left breast of his coat, and her fingers went stiff.
Sheriff.
That was it, then. They’d been found out.
June gritted her teeth, suddenly more furious than before. There was no way she was going to let the three of them go to jail.
The sheriff was mere feet away now. “Get on out of here,” he barked at the men surrounding them.
“Sheriff, we was just excited that the brides had finally gotten here!” pleaded the man who’d grabbed Etta.
“I said get!” the sheriff barked. June glanced around. The men who’d been circling them were now looking at him with heavy and defeated eyes, like pouting dogs just called off a hunt.
The sheriff took another step forward, hand drifting toward the gun at his belt. “I mean now!”
“Fine, take it easy!” grumbled one of the three men. He walked past June and the other girls, holding a hand up in surrender as he yanked his two buddies along with him, back to the saloon. One by one, the other men began to disperse as well, until the girls and the lawman were mostly alone.
The sheriff walked up to them calmly. “Y’all okay?” he asked, his gaze sharp, although not with hostility.
“We’re doing all right, Sir,” Etta piped up.
June’s shoulders relaxed a bit. She released her grip on the hidden Colt.
“That’s good,” he said warmly—almost too warmly for June’s liking.
Men weren’t that warm unless they wanted something.
His eyes seemed glued to Etta now. “I’m Sheriff Henry Landry,” he added.
“Welcome to the town. You ladies are a bit early.”
June’s mind spun. Early? What is he talking about?