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  “I want to have a word with you.”

  He slowly came her way. Those gathered on both sides of the street did the same. If words were to be spoken, the citizens of Apple Blossom didn’t want to miss them.

  She stared at the young cowpoke, grateful for once that her height left them eye to eye. “Do you know a Mr. Snake Burton?” she asked crisply.

  “Oh, I reckon ‘bout everyone between here and Fort Worth knows Snake,” he said affably, and the crowd chuckled along with him.

  “Then could you tell me where I might find him at this hour of the morning?”

  He started to answer then thought better of it. Her gaze never wavered. Finally, he broke.

  “I s’pose he’s up at Miss Lulu’s still.”

  “And where might I find Miss Lulu?”

  “Oh, you don’t want to go finding Miss Lulu, ma’am. She’s six feet under or better and has been nigh on five, maybe six years now.” He looked over to another man in the crowd. “Tom, how long do you think Miss Lulu’s been gone?”

  “Christmas, the year of that bad storm. I believe that would be ‘69, Ed.”

  Ed grinned. “You’re right, Tom. That was when—”

  Jenny interrupted their exchange. “I’m sorry to press you, but is Mr. Burton at this Miss Lulu’s house? Seeing that she’s dead?”

  Ed scratched his head but gave her a wide smile. “I reckon you could say that, ma’am.”

  “Then show me the way.”

  The crowd murmured its disapproval, and she wondered what she’d said wrong.

  “I’ll show you where Miss Lulu’s is.”

  The throng parted, and her heart caught in her throat. It was the dark-haired stranger with the cold, sky blue eyes. She almost took a step back as he approached then thought better of it. Treat him like Lucinda Smith, the ringleader of the bullies that picked on her in those early days when she first arrived at The Thompson School.

  She drew herself up to her full height and raised her chin a notch for good measure. He came toward her slowly, an easy confidence in his gait.

  He must be an even six feet, she judged. Muscle hardened his otherwise lean frame. His jet-black hair had a slight wave to it. His complexion was dark, as if he spent most of his time outdoors in the bright Texas sun. Chiseled cheeks and a strong jaw accompanied a sensuous mouth.

  But what she focused on now was the small scar. Funny, she hadn’t noticed it before. It ran just above his chin, white against his tanned face. She thought it might be from a knife, based on her experience in the free clinic. She wondered how he’d gotten sliced in such a tender spot.

  He paused as he reached her, his hat in his hand. “I can show you. But I don’t think you’ll want to go in.”

  Her eyes flashed. “And why not?” she asked in a haughty tone.

  “Because Miss Lulu’s is a house of ill repute.”

  Jenny bit her bottom lip hard. Hold on, hold on, don’t panic. She met his level gaze. “If you’ll give me a moment to hitch my horse, I’ll go pay a call on Mr. Burton.”

  Audible gasps filled the air. She looked around and saw the shocked look on some of the ladies present. What did she care? She’d never see these people again.

  Ed came to her aid. “I’ll hitch up the black, ma’am, if ‘n I can get close enough.” He started toward the horse, but Comet snorted loudly. Ed backed off. “Maybe you better do it after all.”

  She led her horse to the rail and stroked him with affection. “Be good, little love. I’ll be back shortly.”

  She fell into step beside the man that brought strange emotions to her surface. On one hand, she was scared of him. He looked dangerous, like an outlaw in a dime novel, dressed all in black—hat, vest, and pants. His steady gaze seemed almost deadly. Yet another part of her found him to be terribly attractive. She didn’t know which scared her more.

  “It’s not too far. Everything in Apple Blossom is just a stone’s throw away.”

  They walked a minute or two in silence. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know that most of the population of the town traveled hot on their heels. They must be hard up if she happened to be the biggest entertainment draw in town.

  When they reached a large, two-storied house, he stopped. “This is it.”

  She stared at the white paint and neat, yellow trim. The yard held planted flowers and several shrubs, immaculately trimmed, lined up just below the front porch.

  “Surprised?”

  She nodded. This was certainly not her idea of what a brothel looked like—not that she had ever tried to picture one in her mind. If she had, though, she definitely would not have envisioned this.

  “Thank you,” she managed. She walked up the stairs, lifting her skirts daintily. As she knocked, she took a deep breath and wondered what would happen next.

  So did Noah. He watched with an amused look on his face. This girl was unpredictable, indeed. He kind of liked that about her. In a way, she reminded him of Moira. That shouldn’t have surprised him. This was Moira’s niece, albeit one she’d never seen before. Jenny McShanahan had an air about her, though, that made her fun to watch. He didn’t know what she’d pull next.

  He never imagined her going this far. When the clerk said the guide Sam hired was dead, he expected her to fold up like a flower which had gotten too much sun. Much to his surprise, she’d had the guts to enter a saloon and try to find one on her own. He admired her gumption, both then and now.

  He watched the door open. She spoke with someone a moment before being admitted. Noah raced up the stairs just before the door closed. No way he was going to let Jenny McShanahan out of his sight now. Who knew what kind of trouble she would get into?

  A pockmarked girl holding the door allowed him in. He gestured for her to close it behind him. No need for the good people of Apple Blossom to see everything first-hand. Better to give them something to speculate on. Gossip was no fun any other way.

  Jenny marched straight up the stairs, no hesitation in her step. Oh, he loved watching this girl from the rear. Walking behind her was a real treat. Her behind twitched and swayed as she climbed the stairs. It was a sight for sore eyes. It momentarily stunned him that she had such an effect on him. He had to fight to concentrate on the issue at hand.

  He followed her up, keeping a safe distance. He didn’t want to interfere in whatever happened next. He almost wished he could sell tickets.

  Each time Jenny came to a door, she knocked hard and marched right in. Her heart danced wildly in her chest, not knowing what she would find. She had seen the results of carnal knowledge at the clinic, the unwanted pregnancies and diseases that even Dr. Randolph spoke of in hushed tones, but she only had a vague idea of what actually went on behind closed doors. Thank goodness she’d seen nothing that had added to her limited knowledge. Yet.

  She hit pay dirt on the fourth try. She pounded the door with three heavy swings of her fist and threw the door open. She heard Snake Burton before she saw him, his noisy snores filling the dark, shabby room. A girl lay next to him, her hair disheveled, the bedclothes tangled around her as she opened sleepy eyes.

  Jenny tried to hide her surprise as the girl, years younger than she, rose and padded naked across the room as she pushed the hair from her face. She slipped on her tattered wrapper and brushed by Jenny, a saucy smile on her lips.

  “He’s all yours, sister. Too drunk to get it up, though.” The girl left her alone with Snake.

  She walked to a table that held a ceramic pitcher and basin. She filled the basin to the brim and took it to the bed. Fortunately, the girl had thrown the sheets across Snake when she got up. She took a deep breath and tossed the water into his face. He barely stirred, which angered her even more.

  “You no-good, dead-drunk, skunk of a man!” She shook his shoulder a good hal
f-minute and then raised her hand and gave him a powerful slap.

  That woke him. He gazed up at her, a dazed smile on his unshaven face. She didn’t think it possible, but he smelled even worse than before.

  She shook her finger at him. “I gave you money in good faith. I thought you would get a haircut and a shave, maybe eat a decent meal.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “And God forbid that you would think to take a bath!”

  In reply, he smiled up lazily at her. “I did enjoy spending the money, ma’am. I haven’t had a woman in . . . dang, I can’t recall. And ain’t that a fact,” he mused.

  “You, Mr. Burton, are despicable.” She turned to go but whirled around to face him again. “And you . . . are . . . fired!”

  She stormed from the room. She flew down the stairs and flung open the door to her waiting audience. She never broke stride until she reached the saloon.

  It was empty, all except for the same bartender from her previous visit. Did the man never sleep?

  “Where is everyone?” she demanded.

  “It’s only ten in the morning, ma’am. My regulars ain’t even out of bed yet. What’d you expect?”

  “More than I’m getting from this sorry excuse for a town!” she cried angrily and stomped back outside.

  As she anticipated, the group had followed her and hovered at close range. Exasperated, she called out, “I have paraded down this street and back again. I am looking for a guide to take me to Nevada. Are there any takers?”

  There were none.

  Eventually, in ones and twos, those gathered faded away, knowing they had to get back to their tasks at hand.

  All except her shadow.

  He approached her cautiously. “I’ll take you to Nevada. But it’ll cost you,” he added.

  She thought it over. She didn’t know who the steel-eyed stranger was. She wasn’t sure why she was so wary of him. She wondered how seriously she should take the anonymous warning she received about him under her door.

  But he’d have to do. She was in a desperate situation that called for immediate action. She had to get to her papa. She wanted what she’d missed out on all these years—his love and companionship, a home together for the two of them—no matter what the cost. And for some inexplicable reason, she knew time was of the essence.

  Miss Thompson would have an apoplexy if she knew Jenny was ready to cross the desert with a complete stranger. She smiled to herself, knowing that alone made her decision final.

  “I must reach my papa in Nevada, sir. It’s against my better judgment, but I am willing to strike a bargain with you to act as my trail guide.” She named a price and thrust out her gloved hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  He took her hand in his. “Noah Daniel Webster, ma’am, at your service. And you would be?”

  A giggle escaped her lips. She brought her free hand to cover her mouth. She composed herself before she blurted out, “What kind of name is that?” and then erupted into peals of laughter.

  CHAPTER 6

  Noah’s pride prickled up. He dropped her hand. All his life he’d defended the name he’d been saddled with. He’d been called out because of it more times than a soul could imagine. His mama explained why she honored him with this particular name, but he’d finally reached the end of his proverbial rope.

  “Who are you to question a fine name such as mine?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing as he tried to intimidate her.

  Jenny McShanahan had the decency to look taken aback. “I’m sorry, Mr. Webster. I just hadn’t heard that particular combination before. I don’t wish to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset,” he fired off, then amended his tone. “I’ve just taken teasing about it my entire life.”

  She smiled at him wistfully. “Well, sir, you carry the moniker of two very fine men. Why, Mr. Noah Webster and I have been friends since I was about ten, and I began my first journal.” She laughed. “We weren’t always friends, you know. Miss Wheadle caught me throwing Mr. Webster’s dictionary across the room early in our relationship. I think it had something to do with blends. Or was it diphthongs? At any rate, I became a first-class speller, thanks to his marvelous compilation.”

  He was amused. “And do you have a personal relationship with Mr. Daniel Webster, as well?”

  One corner of her mouth turned up. “I’m afraid not. Mr. Daniel Webster’s speeches were not considered proper language to study for young ladies at The Thompson School in Boston.” She paused. “However, my good friend Dr. Randolph indulged me upon occasion. I have read a few of Mr. Daniel Webster’s orations in my time. I particularly enjoyed his defense of the Compromise of 1850. He saved our country from war for a time.”

  He whistled low. “You don’t appear to be a typical young lady, ma’am.”

  “I don’t? Perhaps not. My upbringing has been a tad unconventional.” She presented him her hand again. “I am Jenny McShanahan, Mr. Webster. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Instead of shaking the proffered hand, he impulsively brought it to his lips and brushed them against her glove. He quickly lowered and squeezed it before she could protest. “Welcome to Texas, Miss McShanahan. Now shall we get down to business?”

  She froze for a moment before she flushed a pretty shade of pink. “If I have anything to say in the matter, Mr. Webster, we won’t be in Texas for long.”

  “Yes,” he drawled. “I hear tell you want to leave God’s country and head up Nevada way. But you sure aren’t going to do it in that dress.”

  She quickly glanced down at what she wore. “Why, this is a perfect dress for traveling, sir,” she said indignantly as she stroked the skirt. “It is a dark, serviceable color, made of a sturdy material, perhaps not completely up to date in a fashion sense, but I doubt my horse will care.”

  He set his hat on his head, nudging it back from his forehead with a slight push. “Oh, you look prettier than pansies in a vase, Miss McShanahan.” He gave her a long look. “Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

  “No,” she answered. “But I’ve always been a fast learner.” She grimaced. “It simply must be better than riding in a stagecoach. I was churned more on that stage in two days than butter that’s been whipped for a week.”

  He laughed. “I’m not questioning your non-existent riding skills, Miss McShanahan. I’m questioning your wisdom in trying to mount a horse in a skirt that tight.”

  She looked down at her attire. “You’re right, Mr. Webster. I’m afraid I didn’t think this through properly. In fact, I’d taken a wee bit of pride that it had a small bustle which wouldn’t be in the way. But thanks to your observations, I can see the way my dress is constructed will not even allow me to pull up a knee without straining the fabric.”

  She grew red in the face. He knew she was mad. Mad at him for pointing it out, and mad at herself for not realizing such a huge mistake. He figured that all her dresses were similarly constructed.

  “Do you see those women leaving the general store? Their skirts are full and loose. Most women in the West dress in a similar manner. And forgive my being forward, but they usually wear a single petticoat or chose to ignore that garment for practicality.”

  She thought a moment. “Would it be acceptable to leave tomorrow, Mr. Webster? I seem to have my work cut out for me.”

  He grinned. “Tomorrow would be fine, Miss McShanahan. Say six in the morning?”

  She opened her mouth to complain about such an early start, but he saw she thought better of it. “Six it shall be.”

  “Would you do me the pleasure of dining with me tonight, Miss McShanahan? Sort of a last farewell to civilization meal?”

  “No, thank you.” She began to cross the street.

  “No?” he called out to her. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  She stopped and faced h
im. “No, thank you, Mr. Webster. I’m going to be too busy to dine with you. I do appreciate your kind offer, though. I’ll take you up on it tomorrow night. On the road.”

  Jenny sighed and stretched her arms high over her head. Her back ached and her vision was beginning to blur. She’d been sewing continuously all day, determined to come up with the correct clothes to wear for the long trip to Prairie Dell.

  A quick stop at the general store satisfied her wish list of supplies. She was a natural seamstress, rarely needing a pattern to sew by. She had just put the final touches on her third outfit. Each one had been simple to cut, once she studied a few pictures the clerk had. It had taken her all day. Her fingers had grown numb from all the stitches she’d taken. Of course, the dresses weren’t the least bit stylish, but she knew from her readings that the trail would be rough.