Benjamin by Emma Lang Page A

buttons with a heart-shaped cream lace decor on the chest. There was also a chemise, pantaloons, stockings, and a pair of shoes.
    He thrust the money at her. “She only charged me two dollars for the shoes and stockings.”
    “What?” She couldn’t stop looking at the clothes. They were more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen, much less touched. “These are worth far more than two dollars.”
    “Some fancy rancher’s wife ordered them special. Paid for them ahead of time but took a disliking to the color when it got here.” He shrugged. “They’d been gathering dust for five years.”
    “What did you tell her about me?” Grace could hardly take in what he was telling her. The feel of the beautiful fabric had mesmerized her.
    “I told her that you’d lost your traveling case and needed clothes to ride astride.” He turned with the bedroll in hand but his gaze skittered away.
    Grace couldn’t believe it. She set her hat and the parcel on Swift’s saddle and held up the skirt. Sure enough, it was split. And it actually appeared long enough to fit her legs without tailoring. It was the first good thing that had happened to her in so long, her eyes pricked with tears.
    He shook out the blanket and held it up. “You’d best get changed. We can’t stay here for long.”
    She pulled off her boots, followed by trousers and shirt. When she untied the bindings on her breasts, her skin begged to be scratched to alleviate the irritation, but she ignored it, as she always did. She pulled on the stockings, pantaloons and chemise. The material felt foreign against her skin, too soft, almost liquid.
    “Almost done?” His voice reminded her she wasn’t alone.
    She stepped into the riding skirt and it slid into place as though she were the person it had been crafted for. The waist was a bit large, but not overly so. The length, as expected, was perfect, just skimming the top of her feet. She buttoned the blouse with shaking fingers.
    As she laced the boots up, her body began to react to the female clothing. Moving and stretching to fill the fabric with all that she’d shunted aside for a year. By the time she straightened up, Grace felt as though she was a stranger in her own skin.
    She glanced down at herself and could have wept for the beauty of the clothing. It held her within its folds, an imposter in the guise of a woman. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
    “Done.”
    Ben lowered the blanket and blinked, staring at her with an intensity she felt down to her soul. “You, uh, might want to do something with your hair, too.” His voice was husky, unlike his usual crisp self.
    She touched her hair, realizing it was loose around her shoulders. What did he see when he looked at her in female clothing? Judging by his reaction, it shocked him as much as it shocked her.
    Using skills she’d had since childhood, Grace twisted her hair into a bun at the back of her neck. She’d stepped into the past, mixed with the present and a bit of something she didn’t understand at all. Would anything ever feel normal again?
    “Are you ready to go, Mrs. Duffy?” He was securing the blanket back onto the saddle.
    “Mrs. Duffy?” She blinked at the name, another mixture of all the faces she’d worn in her life.
    “Better than our real names, don’t you think?” He picked up the discarded brown paper and folded it into neat a square with the twine tucked inside. “We can be the Duffys, traveling through on their way to visit family.” His blue-green eyes swirled with unknown emotion. The moment hung between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
    “Then we’d better be on our way.”
    He nodded tightly and cupped his hands for her. With awkward movements, she lifted her booted foot and took the assistance he offered to mount her horse.
    As with the naming of the gelding, Ben Graham had pushed her into doing something she didn’t want. What hold did the man have on her already? She didn’t even like him, for pity’s