Oklahoma kiss (5 page)

      
Thoroughly intrigued, Blair complied with her request. She sensed Tillie was leading her to her bedroom.

      
"All right, now you can open 'em," she said proudly.

      
Blair gasped loudly when she saw her bedroom. Her old but sturdy furniture had been replaced with dainty, feminine furnishings, such as a canopy bed, an elegant settee, and a mahogany armoire. The hat rack made from steer horns, the many stacks of dime novels, her gun rack, the pictures and paintings of various breeds of horses, and her collection of brightly colored Indian blankets had disappeared. Crisp, mint-green lacy curtains hung over the windows and a matching canopy and spread covered the bed. The walls were painted white, and the porcelain dolls that had been given to her over the years, but rarely played with, sat on the upholstered window benches. Stiffly starched doilies bedecked the huge dresser and highboy chest. The new marble-topped dressing table held a varied array of dusting powders, and perfumes. It was beautiful, but it belonged to a stranger.

      
Tillie chortled at Blair's startled expression. "This is all Mr. Warren's idea. A few months ago, he saw some drawings of a fancy mansion 'n decided to fix your room just like the one in the book. Using the drawings as a pattern,- we all pitched in to help. Ah could barely hold my tongue 'til you saw it! Ain't it pretty?"

      
"Yes . . . it's beautiful," she mumbled.

      
Backing out of the doorway, Tillie said, "Well, Ah’ll leave you alone now while you get acquainted with your pretty new things and so you can take a nap. Ah'll call you when supper's ready."

      
Blair lay propped on her pillows, hands entwined beneath her head, anger rising in her throat. Although she would never admit it to Warren, the room was pleasing to the eye and she. liked it immensely, however, he had his nerve removing her personal keepsakes without asking her permission. She had made a thorough search of the drawers and storage trunk, and not a single pair of trousers, her boots, a dime novel, or one painting of a horse could be found. It was as though the old Blair had never existed. Warren was so intent upon turning her into a lady, he had apparently forgotten she was an individual with her own distinct tastes. He was forcing her to be something whether she wanted to or not. If he had just let it lay, he would have seen the changes in her and, in all likelihood, would have been pleased. She knew if she allowed him to get by with this invasion of her privacy, he would make her life miserable in the future; perhaps not intentionally, but he was too dominating and she was tired of it.

      
All traces of her weariness gone, Blair bounded from the bed and threw a robe around her shoulders, then marched saucily into Coy's room. After rummaging through a trunk containing his old clothing, she found a pair of denim trousers, a shirt, a floppy hat, socks, and a pair of worn boots. "I'll show him just how unladylike I can be!"

      
Back in her own room, she held the shirt up, then the trousers, and studied them with an appraising eye. Although the garments had been made for someone much taller, she decided they would serve her purpose. Finding scissors in her sewing basket, she snipped the extra length from the trouser legs.

      
Tossing aside her robe and nightgown, she slipped on a pair of bloomers and a camisole, then threaded her arms through the shirt sleeves. The sleeves were too long, but after rolling them up, the shirt fit fine except for her breasts straining at the shirt front. Donning the jeans, she was surprised that they fit snugly through the hips and were loose around the waist. Another search through her sewing basket produced a sturdy strand of yarn to use for a belt. She then stuffed handkerchiefs in the toes of the boots before she slipped them on. She plaited her hair into a single braid then crammed the hat down on her head. The ill-fitting clothes felt uncomfortable after wearing well-constructed gowns and voluminous petticoats, but since her trousers and shirts had mysteriously disappeared, they would have to do.

      
An impish smile spread across her face when she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a pathetic waif, and it was exactly how she wanted to look when Warren came home. Giving the mirror a backwards glance, Blair, with a blanket rolled under her arm, left her bedroom and met Tillie in the hallway.

      
An expression of sheer bewilderment flashed over Tillie's face when she saw her. "Child, what in heaven's name have you done to yourself?"

      
Placing her hands akimbo and splaying her legs in an arrogant stance —a gesture she had seen Warren do a countless number of times — Blair stated firmly, "I am going for a ride. And if I do not return home tonight, don't worry about me. Who knows? I may decide to find the men and give them a hand rounding up cattle."

      
Tillie wrung her hands together. She could not imagine what had brought about the change in this
      
girl. "But . . . but . . . you can't do that! That's men's work. . . . 'Sides, it's too dangerous for a pretty young woman to go gallivantin' by herself. Ah done already tol' you, nesters have been causing all kinds of trouble!"

      
Blair shouldered her way around Tillie and marched into the study where Warren kept his guns. I'll take a rifle. You know as well as I do, I can shoot just as good as any of my brothers . . . maybe even better."

      
"But . . . Miss Blair, that was a long time ago!" Tillie argued, chasing after her.

      
"I have not forgotten how to shoot."

      
Tillie was not about to give up easily. "But . . . but . . . you can't spend the night out on the range with those . . . those old hairy-legged men! Why, they are liable to . . . get the wrong notion 'bout a pretty little thing like you!"

      
"No, they won't." Blair remained determined. "Coy said that the same men are still working for us, and I know they can be trusted."

      
"Yes um, maybe so. But that was when you were nothin' but a skinny little girl. You're a grown woman now and. ..."

      
Blair turned and stared at her pointedly. "In that case, I'll have my rifle and I am not afraid to use it. Besides, my staying out tonight is not definite. I may not be able to find them . . . unless you can tell me what general area they are in."

      
Tillie stubbornly folded her arms. "Ah don't have the least notion where they are! And Ah wouldn't tell you if’n Ah did!"

      
Blair snapped, "That's what I thought." Then hoping to reassure Tillie, she said in a softer tone, "I will be just fine. Don't worry about me."

      
"Well, Ah will! Fact is, Ah'll worry so much my hair will turn white." Seeing that did not phase her, she added, "That is, ifn my old heart don't give out first. And it's liable to, it's thumpin' something awful." She clutched at her chest to give emphasis to her words.

      
Tillie's excuses sounded so familiar but she could not allow her sudden ailments to change her mind. She was determined to teach Warren not to treat her like a child.

      
Tillie, finally realizing she was wasting her time and breath, muttered, "Since you have your mind set on this, 'least let me pack you something to eat. That way, when nesters jump you, or those old hairy-legged men get evil notions, you won't meet your Maker with an empty belly! And don't you be the least bit surprised to see me standing 'fore Him, too. 'Cause if n Ah don't worry myself to death, Mr. Warren will nail my hide to the barn door for letting you go!" She slowly raised her gaze upwards, then lifted her hands. "Did'ja hear me. Lord? Just go ahead and get my place ready 'cause Ah'm fixing to come home! But Ah don't mind saying. Ah ain't ready to come yet . . . it's this child's fault, she's sending me to an early grave!"

      
It was all Blair could do not to laugh. Though still determined to teach Warren a lesson, she could not do it at the expense of Tillie's peace of mind. "All right, Tillie, you win. If I promise not to join the round-up, will you promise me that you won't die?"

      
Obviously relieved, she sighed heavily. Ah'll try not to. Missy."

      
"Do you think your heart could stand the strain of me going for a ride ... if I promise to take a rifle for protection?" Noting Tillie's doubtful expression, Blair's voice softened, "You know how much I love horses and I have missed riding so much."

      
"Well," Tillie drawled the word out slowly. "Maybe if 'n you don't ride too far from the house. . . . And you be sure and come back 'fore dark. With all them nesters prowling around, ain't no telling what kind of meanness they get into after the sun goes down." "I promise to be back before supper." Without saying another word, Blair kissed Tillie on her forehead, then whirled about and ran from the house before she could place any more stipulations on her.

      
Chapter 3

      
Adam Cahill’s eyes narrowed when he saw the tracks that he had been following for the past five days had disappeared into a shallow-running creek. And, they were fresh, less than an hour old. This was a tactic Luther Talley and his gang had not used yet in their attempt to shake him from their trail. And they had used almost every method and trick known the past three times that Adam had chased them.

      
His mouth tightened into a grim line at the thought that he might lose them again. The fact that Talley and his men had hit at least six banks within a four-month period was not the driving force behind his determination to bring them in to stand trial in Judge Isaac Parker's court. Even after hearing rumors that Luther Talley had been bragging that there wasn't a lawman alive who was smart enough, or good enough, to bring him and his men in, Adam had merely shrugged it off. He knew Talley and his gang were just two-bit crooks who would eventually be brought to justice, and they were not important enough to cause him any worry other than what came with his job. But that was before this last robbery, and before Luther ruthlessly gunned down a fellow deputy. That was when he made his big mistake.

      
What made Adam so angry was that the shooting had been senseless and completely avoidable, that it had been a deliberate murder. It was a deep-seated anger that would not disappear until he saw Luther swinging from the end of a rope. That was what he had promised his friend's widow, and he intended to keep his word regardless of how long it took.

      
However, Adam knew it would not be easy. His area to patrol had always been the eastern part of the Indian Territory, where the densely timbered hills and mountains, natural caverns, and thickets were as familiar to him as the back of his hand. But until he pursued Luther after that third bank job, he had never worked in the south-central area at all, and had only passed through once before.

      
Talley wasn't dumb either; he soon realized the deputy chasing them was unfamiliar with the area and had to rely solely on his tracking skills, which enabled them to elude him each time.

      
It did not take Adam long to decide that apparently they had a well-concealed hideout, because whenever he got too close, it seemed as though they disappeared into the bowels of the earth. And now whenever they were on the run, they headed straight for this region and that was Talley's second mistake.

      
He underestimated Adam's ability to quickly learn the lay of the land; how he had questioned men familiar with the area until he had a general understanding of it, how, in his determination to catch him, Adam had forgone the luxury of even bringing along a pack animal to carry extra supplies.

      
Adam reined his horse and let him drink from the cold running creek while he studied his options. It would slow him down considerably if he had to follow the creek bank. He'd have to watch either side for their exit, then—even with his being one of the best trackers under the judge's jurisdiction—there was always the outside chance the men could cover their exit tracks so well, he would overlook them. He had faith he'd pick them up eventually, but valuable time would be lost. Time he could not afford. Then, too, there were just enough underbrush and trees growing alongside the creek bank to make an ambush extremely tempting for a man such as Luther Talley. If only his dog were with him, there would be no cause for that particular concern; but the mongrel had not been seen since camp had been broken early that morning. Which wasn't unusual. The dog always fended for himself, and game was more than plentiful this time of the year.

      
Deciding to approach the problem from a different direction, Adam nudged his horse away from the creek, climbed a steep rise, and stopped underneath a bushy tree for concealment. He figured if he could catch a glimpse of the men, he could circle around and set his own trap.

      
After not seeing anything at first glance, he removed his binoculars from the saddle bag, raised them to his eyes and slowly looked about, but did not bring the surrounding landscape into close view. First, he had to accept the natural formation of the land, the clouds, the spring grass bending before the wind, the different colors of trees and underbrush, and the shadows left by the different time of day. His father had taught him that after seeing the obvious, it was easier to detect the unusual; a plume of dust, a flash of color, movement, anything out of the ordinary. This method seldom failed.

      
Adam sat motionless for several minutes before seeing a brief flash of red over on the next hill. Talley had been wearing a red shirt. A pleased smile tugged at his lips as he turned his horse toward the north and touched his spurs against the animal's flanks. He doubted if they realized he was this close and could not help but feel a bit of smugness sweep over him.