Liberty Belle (5 page)

Holding in the scream she begged to let roar, Libby stormed to her room. Mother would not give up until she’d successfully married her off to some bore of a man with a good family.

Libby glared at her yellow curtains. 
I’ll not feel differently tomorrow. I won’t be here.

###

Dressed and sitting in the dark, Libby held her breath and strained to hear the chimes on the grandfather clock downstairs. Finally, she counted four gongs.
Time to go
.

She tiptoed down the hall, stopped outside her parent’s door, and listened. Father snored, and she relaxed. She skittered back to her room and grabbed her valise. Along with her money, she’d packed enough clothes for a few days.

Once she reached Auraria, she’d telegraph her parents and let them know where to send the rest of her things. Surely, by then, they’d realize she needed to fashion a life of her own. Libby flung the curtains aside.
And no more yellow
.

Her bedroom was on the second floor and overlooked the porch. Fortunately, the roof sloped at a gentle angle. She eased the window up. A creak sent her heart plunging to her stomach. Afraid that the entire household had heard, she stopped to listen. The hearty chirps of crickets and an old bullfrog proclaimed all was well.

She swung a leg over the ledge, grabbed her belongings, and ducked outside. She breathed in the night air heavy with dew, the fragrance of lilac, and adventure. Tingles skittered from her fingers to her toes.

Leaves rattled, turning her tingles of delight into pricks of fear. She froze. A night bird flitted from the oak near the house. Libby let her bag drop to the grass below, let out her breath, and climbed down the trellis. Each step heightened her excitement.

On the ground, she stooped to picked up her valise.

“Libby?”

Startled, Libby whirled, knocking her satchel into a tree. The noise scared their old tomcat and sent him howling into the night. Heart thumping, she searched the darkness.

“Aunt Flora?”

Her aunt stepped out from the porch and into the moonlight. “Please call me Flora … and take me with you.”

“What? Take you with me? You don’t even … how do you know?”

Flora clutched a worn satchel to her chest. “I overheard you talking with your mother and father, and I saw the advertisement you tore from the newspaper, and you sneaked your valise from the attic.”

Libby bit back the
no
she wanted to say. Flora stepped closer. Silver light played over her aunt’s slight build, pensive face, and brown hair piled atop her head, yet even in the muted glow, Libby could see a sparkle in the woman’s eyes.

Libby pointed to the barn. “Can you ride?”

“Oh dear, no. … But I will do anything. If I don’t leave now, I will wither and die having never tasted of life. I have a good amount of funds, so I can pay my way. Please?” Hope filled her aunt’s voice.

Perhaps Flora would be a help as she had been on the visit to town. Libby reached out to her. “Hurry, you can ride my horse, Buttercup. She’s as gentle as a rocking chair.”

Together they rushed to the barn. Libby saddled Southern Star and then the little mare she’d owned since she was a child. She planned to ride through the early morning to reach Leavenworth by afternoon. Tomorrow, they’d be on the stage west.

She hoped Flora could handle the horse. They were in for a long trip. Libby led Buttercup to her aunt. “Think you can get on by yourself?”

Eyes wide, her aunt stepped away from the mare. “Oh, my, n-no. To tell you the truth, the beasts scare me.”

Libby stroked Buttercup’s tawny neck. “She’s not a beast. All you have to do is sit on her and let her do the work.”

Although her chin quivered, Flora gave a determined nod.

Libby helped her climb on the mare. The woman sat with her legs stiff and hands tightly gripping the saddle. After forcing the reins between Flora’s clenched fingers, Libby patted the mare’s neck. “I’ll lead. Give Buttercup gentle kicks and she’ll go. You’ll do fine.”

Flora took several deep breaths. “I am only ten years older than you. Don’t worry, I will keep up.”

Sitting atop Southern Star, Libby gave a quiet laugh. “By the way, we’re going to Leavenworth and then on to Auraria near Denver. I plan to secure employment as a teacher. With your sewing abilities, I am sure you can find work. Do you still want to go?”

With a timid smile, Flora tapped Buttercup to come beside Libby. “Oh, yes.”

After putting a finger to her lips, Libby pointed to the small house where George stayed. She didn’t want him to waken. In silence, they rode down the drive and onto the road leading to Leavenworth. The dewy air quieted the surroundings, magnifying the doubts running through her mind. Uncertainty about to overcome her, she jumped when Flora cleared her throat.

“Oh my. This is exciting. Your middle name is Auraria. Odd that you would go to a town miles away in the wilderness with the same name.”

Libby stroked her horse’s silky black neck. “Providence, don’t you think? Such a quaint idea of our family to give babies the middle name of the town in which they were born. Father’s middle name is Auraria, too. What is yours? I’ve never heard it mentioned?”

Flora ducked her head. “My middle name is Peachtree. Mother and father were on a picnic, and I decided to come a little early, under a peach tree.”

“Flora Peachtree Longstreet. I like it.”

With a hand to her lips, Flora giggled. “Promise not to tell a soul?”

“Yes.” Libby wondered what had Aunt Flora in such a joyful fit.

“My cousin in Virginia was born in Twin Buttes. Bless her heart. Emily Twin Buttes and the worse thing is that she has the figure to match.”

Libby laughed with Flora, hoping their giggles didn’t awaken the countryside. Maybe it was Providence that Flora had come along, too. After an hour of riding, their chatter subsided and silence settled over them. The night air was cool but not uncomfortable. While Flora hadn’t exactly relaxed, she did keep up.

Every mile Libby rode away from home chipped at her confidence. She valiantly worked to quiet the nagging thoughts telling her to go back when clouds conspired against her and blotted out the moon’s light. Fear joined her lagging assurance as the trees took on ominous shapes and their limbs clawed at her. An owl glided overhead.

Southern Star reared and pranced.

Libby fought to gain control. Tears slid down her cheeks. “Whoa.” The word came out a weak croak.

The spirited horse seized the bit in its teeth and charged down the road.

Libby clung to her and made feeble attempts to pull the mare to a stop. An image of Mother shaking her head in disapproval flashed before Libby’s mind. Anger flared and consumed her fears. She  would not run home.

With calm determination, Libby stood in her stirrups and yanked firmly. The animal slowed to a walk and finally stopped. She patted Star’s trembling neck and chided herself. She knew better than to show fear and let it transfer to the horse. “Sorry, girl.”

“Libby, are you all right?” Flora galloped to her.

Brushing hair out of her face, Libby nodded. “Yes. I was fearful and then that owl spooked—”

“Oh my. The way you took control of that horse was amazing. You gave me courage. Did you see me? I actually made Buttercup run.” Flora broke out into a huge smile as she patted the little buckskin. “We’re becoming close friends.”

Libby laughed at her aunt’s accomplishment.

“Oh, we are a pair of adventurous women, aren’t we? I have never felt so alive.”

Basking in the glow of overcoming her fear and stopping the runaway mare, Libby nodded. “I agree, but I confess, doubts were tempting me to turn back. But not now.”

Flora nudged Buttercup closer. “Please don’t give up. My mother died when I was nine. I think at that tender age, I saw the fragility of life and chose to hide inside myself. Tonight is the first time I have done anything so exciting since that day. I may even become an accomplished horsewoman. My point is that you must live your life and not allow others to live it for you. Believe me, all my days, I’ve lived the life others arranged for me.”

Shame washed over Libby. Although she and Flora got along, she’d never considered her aunt as anyone but her father’s spinster sister who lived with them. She’d never invited Flora into her life or taken interest in the woman. “I’m sorry, Flora. I should have—”

Flora’s sparkling eyes dared Libby to continue. “You allowed me to come on this adventure and for that I thank you.”

Libby sent a silent prayer of thanks that Flora was traveling with her. “We better go. We have a lot of distance to cover. I only wish I had thought to bring food with me.”

“Oh my. I think of everything. I brought bread and cheese.”

A soft warm breeze brushed over Libby. They would be fine. She was sure this was the right choice for her life. How hard could it be anyway?

Chapter 6

Libby didn’t know she even had muscles in the places that ached. The only consolation was she’d made it to Leavenworth and tomorrow they’d be on the stage. After a quick glance over her shoulder, if she’d had any energy left, she’d have laughed. Poor Flora looked as if she would rather get off and carry Buttercup, and the little mare looked as if she’d be all too willing to let her.

People, wagons, and riders filled the streets. Southern Star pranced, shying from the crowds. Libby sympathized with the horse, as her own anxiety had her fidgeting as well. She’d never traveled to the city by herself. Father always took care of the details. The only thing that kept her from panicking was that her tired body yearned for bed, and she wouldn’t have even cared about the yellow curtains.

“Oh, Libby. I am exhausted. Do you know where the hotel is?”

“I remember it being near the livery. Could be the next street over.” Libby reined Star around a wagon and into the middle of the road.

Several rough characters leaned alongside the wall of the nearest saloon. Their clothes were worn and dusty, their faces rugged and hard, but it was the way the men stared at her that caused her stomach to churn.

Shouts erupted from another bar across the street. The noise of the ruckus increased until a rather scruffy man flew through the open door and landed half-on and half-off the boardwalk. Cursing and swearing, he tried to right himself but fell to the ground in front of her.

Libby gathered Star’s reins in case the mare felt the urge to bolt and trample the fellow.

“Oh dear. Let’s get to the hotel. I don’t like this.”

Before they could leave, a distinguished looking man emerged from the bar and with a handful of cards pointed to the scoundrel. “It’s not polite to call a man of my profession a cheat. Go home. I don’t want this to end ugly.”

The rascal stumbled to his feet, pulled out a gun, and backed into Libby’s horse. He grabbed the bridle, ducked under Star’s neck, and fired a shot.

The gambler dived behind a wagon.

Libby, already reeling from the stink of alcohol on the vagrant, could only watch in shock, her ears ringing from the gunfire.

The dirty varmint scowled at her and again took aim at the gambler, but before he could shoot, Flora swung her oversized reticule and hit the man on the side of the head. He dropped to the ground as if he’d turned into a sack of grain.

After gulping in a few well-needed breaths, Libby turned to see the gambler walking toward her. His shirt had ruffles, his vest dark blue, and a red tie made him appear rather striking, but it was the black gun in his hand that held her attention.

“Thank you, ladies. Seems I am in your debt. I’ll get the sheriff to escort that mangy coyote to jail, although he won’t be causing you any more trouble right now. You carrying bricks in that bag, little lady?”

Libby kneed Star to move between the gambler and Flora. “We’ll be going.”

He took hold of her reins and stared at her. “If I can assist you in any way, please let me know. Harley Mason at your service.” He tipped his hat and gave her a slick smile.

She stared into cold, calculating eyes. A shiver crawled down her spine and set off an involuntary shudder.

Libby yanked the reins from his hand and turned toward Flora.  “Let’s be on our way.”

She kicked Star and left the gambler. A safe distance away, Libby stopped Flora. “What do you have in your bag?”

“A pistol. I couldn’t shoot the drunkard, but I knew I could put a dent in that horrid little man. Years ago, Papa took me aside and told me that since I wasn’t getting a husband, I needed to get a gun.” She giggled. “First time I ever used it. I gave that ruffian a headache, didn’t I?”

Still shaking, Libby managed a laugh. “I am definitely glad you’re with me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Flora pursed her lips. “Oh my. You would do fine. You’re a brave woman and gave me the courage to leave. I’m the one who needs you.”

Tears welled in Libby’s eyes.
A brave woman.
How she needed those words. The doubts, driven by fear only moments before, dissipated like mist before the sun. With God’s help and Flora, she’d go on. She had to.

On the next street over, she found the “Step Right Inn”. Her muscles relaxed. Soon she would be sitting in a chair and not moving. She loved riding, but all night was a bit much. Flora lagged a few feet behind.

Libby turned. “I’ll see to the horses. You go on into the hotel and secure a room for us. I’ll only be a moment.”

Flora nodded, slipped off her horse, and limped toward the door.

Libby had to admit that her aunt had done well. She’d not complained once. With a pat to Star’s neck, she took Buttercup’s reins and rode across the street to the livery, paid the man a night for Star and two weeks for Buttercup with instructions to notify her father. He should be able to send someone to get the little mare by that time. She considered sending a telegram to her parents, but Libby surely didn’t want to give Mother a chance to find her before the stage left. She’d wire them from Auraria.

At the hotel, she spotted Flora sitting on one of the red velvet couches. The woman appeared to be asleep, but when Libby walked up to her, Flora held up a key.