Liberty Belle (18 page)

Wade walked to him. “You the boss?”

With a loud guffaw, the man shook his head, sending his white hair in motion. “Ain’t nobody runnin’ this chaos. You just jump right in. Find something you like, you shout out an offer. Need to warn you though. There’s a lot of broomtails and broke-down mules and oxen. Choose wisely. Although by the look in your eye, no one’s going to put the take on ya.”

“Thanks. You wouldn’t know of anyone needing help?”

The big man pointed at a wagon and directed them to a slot at the far wall. “Well, I run the livery over on Fourth Street. If you can stay sober for more than half-a-day, I might be interested in hiring you. My name is Jacob Sweeny. You’ll find me at Sweeny’s Livery when I’m not here.”

“I’d like to work out payments for a horse.” A commotion caused Wade to turn. A big sorrel stallion reared and snorted almost striking the man leading him.

Jacob pointed. “That’d be Mercado’s brute. He’s a beauty but as wild as they come. The animal’s going to kill somebody someday. … If you work hard, I can let you pay out on a horse.”

“Name’s Wade Calder. Thanks, Mr. Sweeny. I’ll be there as soon as I leave here.”

Shouts and charging hoofbeats filled the air. Wade turned. The sorrel, lead rope trailing, galloped toward them. A small figure darted into view.

Mark.

As if time had stopped scenes flashed in Wade’s mind. His murdered family, the telegram giving his enemy immunity, and Taylor’s dying breath begging him to care for his son.

All that mattered was Mark, and the red horse, teeth bared and ears back, raced straight for the boy.

###

Libby squared her shoulders, tucked a curl behind her ear, and strode toward the door to the
Mountain News
. She stopped and glanced at Flora.

“Wish me luck.”

“Oh my. I count on prayer. Want me to come in?”

Libby gripped her reticule. “Since I left home to prove my independence, I believe I should go in alone. I hope you don’t mind. This seems like a safe place, and there’s a bench where you can sit. I shouldn’t be too long.”

Flora patted her bag and smiled. “I do have my gun with me. I will be fine.”

Libby turned and the wooden door opened right into her. She stumbled, regained her balance, and rubbed her arm.

“Little lady, are you all right?”

She stared into the handsome visage of a gentleman. His clean suit coat and pants set him apart in this frontier city of pioneers and prospectors. Not sure of what to say, she nodded.

He held the door for her and gave a slight bow.

Libby returned the gesture and entered the building. Wanting to thank him for his concern, she whirled about only to run into him again. “I am sorry. I didn’t realize you were behind me.”

“We seem to be running into each other this morning. I’m Terrence Rowen.”

“Liberty Longstreet.” She placed her hand in his.

Gently, he lightly kissed her fingers. With refined manners, he offered her the only seat in the cluttered office. “Always nice to meet a lady from a fine family. Georgia, if I’m not mistaken. I come from the Atlanta area.”

“Likewise, Mr. Rowen.” Libby struggled to control her racing heart. He reminded her of all she’d left, and suddenly, she missed her life of ease tremendously.

“I must attend to business, but perhaps, I can call on you at another time? That is unless you are spoken for?” His brows rose.

Excitement laced through her. “Why, Mr. Rowen, that is hardly a proper question to ask a lady on a first meeting.”

“This is the West, Miss Longstreet. I am afraid the wildness of the place dulls our manners. Forgive me. Perhaps we will run into one another again. Good day.” He tipped his hat and strode out the door.

Libby watched him go. A gentleman with manners and means, unlike Wade. But it was Wade who set off those sparks that no other had come close to. Would they feel the same if he smelled like a barn? Her conscience stabbed. Could her character be flawed?
Spoiled
. Wasn’t that what she’d overheard Thomas’ father say about her?

Wincing, she shuddered at her lack of honor. She prayed that as she secured her independence, she’d also develop a good heart.

“Miss, can I help you?”

Startled, Libby stood and faced an older man in an apron spotted with ink. Smoothing the ad, she sent a quick prayer for favor. “Yes, I found this advertisement and have come for the teaching position.”

The newspaper owner took the paper, pulled a pair of glasses from his pocket, and squinted. “I am sorry, Miss, but this job’s been filled. A professor is coming in the fall.”

She sank onto the chair. Her dream to gain independence and the plan that was to deliver her out of Harley’s saloon was not to happen. The weight of disappointment collapsed onto her shoulders. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Through blurred eyes, she struggled to find her handkerchief in her reticule. The more she rummaged, the closer she came to sobbing.

“Here, Miss. I’m powerful sorry to give you the bad news.” The man whipped a worn, red rag from his pocket. “Don’t worry, I haven’t used it yet.”

Grateful, she took the piece of material and dabbed her eyes. “I … I’m so sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “To tell the truth, we didn’t know anyone else was interested. Too bad you came out all this way to find the job is taken.”

Libby sniffled and nodded. Teaching had been her only plan. Now what? Perhaps she could help Flora sew. Her heart pricked as sure as her fingers cringed from the memory of all the sharp jabs they’d endured in her sewing sessions.

Panic caused her to rise so abruptly, she almost knocked the man over. She gave him his piece of cloth. “I won’t trouble you any longer.”

He touched her elbow. “I’m Jonas Myers. I run this paper. What I’m trying to say is, I’ll keep a lookout for ads that might meet your requirements. That is if you want me to.”

His kindness almost sent her into another crying storm. Her lips trembled as she concentrated on keeping her voice strong. “I’m Liberty Longstreet. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I would appreciate the help.”

“Let me know where you’re staying and I’ll send word.” Jonas took a pencil from behind his ear and tore off a piece of last week’s paper.

Libby’s heart tripped. Why did one problem turn into another? She couldn’t tell him to reach her at Harley’s. No respectable employer would want someone who lived in a saloon. She tugged at her handkerchief as she scrambled for a suitable answer.

With her best Georgia smile, she gave a slight curtsey. “Mr. Myers, I am currently seeking a place of residence. Would it be possible for me to stop in and inquire of any new advertisements?”

“Why sure. In fact, I’d welcome a visit from a lady such as yourself.”

“Thank you, again.”

Jonas walked her to the door and held it open for her. “Are you here with your family?”

Libby fought to keep the tears from returning. Mr. Myers age and kindness reminded her of Father. Swallowing hard, she clutched her reticule. “My aunt is traveling with me.”

His brows furrowed. “Women by themselves in this town? That’s not a good idea.”

“We are accompanied by a guardian. One we met on the stage. … I must go to my aunt.”
Please
, she silently prayed,
no more questions
. They reinforced her mother’s accusations and made her feel like a foolish child.

“Have a good day, Miss Longstreet. Come anytime.” He gave her a fatherly nod.

She left him with a half-hearted smile and walked out of the office. Empty feelings tore at her stomach. She wanted to crawl in her bed at home and pull the yellow quilt over her head. And then she’d referred to Wade as her protector. What of her dreams? The way he made her feel was not that of a woman in the presence of her guard.

Boots scuffing across boardwalks and men yelling snapped her attention to the present. Like it or not, she was in Denver and not at home. The dirt street teemed with wagons and horses. She dodged a few ruggedly dressed and smelly men to reach her aunt.

Libby couldn’t help but notice how at ease the woman seemed in this strange city. She was definitely not the same mousy spinster who had begged to tag along.

Flora turned. Eyes bright, she stood. “Oh, Libby. How did it go?”

“It didn’t. The job was taken. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Wishing she had Flora’s optimism, Libby instead gave in to the gloom and slumped onto the bench.

Flora patted her hand. “The Lord has a plan. It will be all right. I know it.”

Her aunt’s joy grated on Libby’s circumstances. “Maybe the plan is for you, and I am supposed to go home. Run in defeat to my mother and live out my days in a yellow room. Or marry Thomas.”

“Oh, Libby. Stay strong, dear one. You want freedom, but independence never comes easily.” Flora’s cheeks pinked. Taking a deep breath, her aunt looked her in the eye. “You cannot give up.”

A buckskin-clad man walked by and spat out a stream of tobacco that landed on Libby’s shoe.

Determination swept aside her feelings of defeat. “Well! You’re right, Flora. I will not let this untamed city drive me away. I left to live my own life and that is exactly what I intend to do. There must be another job for me.” Libby squeezed her aunt’s hand.

Flora beamed. “Wade can drive us around, and you can find other means of employment. At least, we do have a place to stay until we can earn enough to procure a respectable room.”

Mention of Harley’s saloon threatened the return of Libby’s dark mood. “I can’t harbor the thought of staying under the same roof with that man for very long.”

“Oh, well, yes. But he has been kind to us.”

Libby glanced up the road. Where was Wade? Did he expect her to just sit and wait? Humph. “Flora, let’s walk up the street. Perhaps we’ll find a store with thread for your sewing.”

Her aunt’s face clouded with questions. “I don’t know. Wade told us to wait for him.”

“He’s not our keeper. I came out here to be independent. So let’s celebrate freedom and inspect our new city.” Libby rose from the bench and strode to the next building.

“Come, Flora. Our world awaits us.” By the nervous tugs on her glasses, it was apparent the woman’s timidity had returned.

“Oh, Libby. Wade won’t be able to find us.”

After a grimace and a scan of their surroundings, Libby turned to her aunt. “Flora, one thing is certain. We are probably the only ladies in this city. I’m sure Wade will have no problem spotting us. I saw where he turned.” Libby drew in a deep breath and enjoyed the confidence that flowed within her.

A shot rang out followed by another.

Libby grabbed Flora’s arm. “You may be right. We’ll stay here.”

Chapter 19

Wade drew his gun, leveled it across his forearm, and aimed. Shouts exploded around him. Just as he fired, someone bumped his arm. A miss. The horse still charged.

Mark, face pale and eyes wide, scrambled to escape the charging beast, but the boy’s weak leg buckled and dropped him to the ground.

Wade fired.

The powerful sorrel swung his head, stumbled, and fell sliding to within inches of Mark.

Everything happened in less than a minute, but Wade had seen it all so clear. The horse breaking away, the fear on the kid’s face, and in that moment, he knew that he and Mark belonged together. Almost as if the boy had become his son.

Mark rose from the dust and ran to him.

Wade knelt and hugged him close, sheltering his sobs. After a time, he lifted the boy’s chin. “I’ll never let any harm come to you. Understand me, son?”

Mark nodded and wiped his sleeve across his cheeks.

Wade took out his kerchief and cleaned the boy’s face. “You and me are partners. I take it serious to watch out for you.”

“I was afraid.”

“Nothing wrong with being afraid. Lets your heart know you’re alive. And lets you know you need someone bigger than yourself. Like your God.”

Pure, innocent eyes searched his. “Mr. Wade, he’s your God, too.”

Wade froze.

A massive hand clapped onto Wade’s shoulder. Relieved to escape Mark’s statement, Wade turned to see Mr. Sweeny.

“Great shot. You ought to check out the sheriff’s office instead of my livery.” The big man pointed to Mark. “You all right, boy?”

Mark nodded.

Wade roughed the boy’s hair, rose, and went to the horse. The animal’s sides moved with regular breaths, but his eyes remained closed. Wade brushed the forelock from the stallion’s head. The bullet had nicked the horse. Wade had heard of hunters trading stories of how they’d caught wild mustangs in the same manner. Until now, he’d not thought it possible.

He gazed into the sky and chuckled. He’d aimed to kill the animal. Maybe Mark’s prayers had done some good.

An impressive man in Mexican attire and wide sombrero ran toward him.

“Señor, you all right? The boy?”

“We’re fine. Not so sure about your horse though. Better hobble him. I think he’s just knocked out, but he’ll be real ornery if he comes to.”

The man threw a hand into the air and nodded for his men to come near. “They should not have lost control.” After a string of harsh words at his men, he turned to face Wade. “My stallion is not worth the price of a human soul. I will finish the job.” Mercado took out a fancy pistol and leveled it at the stallion’s head.

“Wait!” Wade grabbed his arm. “I’ll take the horse. If he lives, I’d like to train him.”

Mercado shook his head. “I don’t know. I am afraid for your boy.”

“If I can’t train him, I’ll shoot him myself, but I’d like to try.”

Stroking his short pointed beard, the man sighed. “I will sign over the papers and see that they are delivered.”

Jacob Sweeny stepped beside them. “He’s taking the animal to my livery. You can drop off the Bill of Sale, and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Mercado glanced at Wade. “What name shall I make the papers to?”

“Wade Calder.”

“Fine. I will have my man bring them to you.” The Mexican glanced at the horse. “He is a beautiful animal. Watch him though. He’s already broken my servant’s arm. I do not want to hear he has hurt the boy.”