flap.
She hesitated before lifting the bags. On the other side of
the canvas, Howard's brother, Snake, said something. Randi
leaned closer to the flap.
Footsteps thudded as the men walked a few steps away.
She eased the flap open a touch, held an ear near the
opening, and listened. Her body began to tremble from head
to toe. She slapped a hand over the gasp emitting from her
lips and stepped away from the flap. Eavesdropping only hurt
the dropper, the pain ripping at her chest proved it. Her bags
felt like thousand-pound feed sacks. She half-carried—half-
dragged them to the bed. Howard's anger-filled voice echoed
in her ears as she collapsed onto the mattress.
"Why the hell did you go find a preacher?" he'd said.
She shouldn't feel this hurt, he'd already told her he didn't
want a wife. But he'd been so nice about it all, so kind to her.
To hear his furious tone while talking to his brother shattered
the ounce of happiness she'd felt at the way he'd stood up for
her.
What had she expected? He was forced to marry her. The
question was—what was she going to do? All of a sudden the
small alcove at the brothel didn't seem so dismal, almost felt
like a safe haven. Dread lowered onto her, even that little
hovel was no longer an option. By now everyone at the house
knew she'd been living there.
62
Boot Hill Bride
by Lauri Robinson
She glanced around the tent. There was no way she could
stay here. Not with the way Howard felt. A deep sinking
feeling filled her stomach. Perhaps she could go talk to her
father and ask him to take her back to Topeka with him. A
quiver ripped up her spine. The couple of months she'd lived
at her father's house had been awful, to say the least, but
what else could she do?
Light filtered through the canvas, and she peered around
the space. Even living in a tent with barely enough room to
turn around in would be heaven compared to living with
Belinda again, but she had to be fair. She was not Howard's
problem and couldn't expect him to provide for her—hastily
married or not.
Conversation sounded outside the door. The thought of
ignoring it did occur, especially since she recognized Belinda's
voice, but for some reason she couldn't. Pushing the air from
her lungs, she rose and moved to the flap.
"Howard said no one's to disturb her." Snake's wide
shoulders blocked the opening.
"But he surely didn't mean me. I'm her step-mother, and
she may need assistance fastening her gown," Belinda
answered.
Snake didn't answer, and a moment later someone tapped
the side of the canvas. The material slapped and rippled all
the way to the other end.
"Randi, do you need any help getting fastened?" Howard's
voice rang clear.
She stepped back and scurried to the bed. "No, no, I'm
fine. I'll be out in a few minutes." Garments flew out of the
63
Boot Hill Bride
by Lauri Robinson
bag left and right as she ruffled through until finding what she
needed. Belinda knew full well her gowns all buttoned up the
front, knew she didn't need any help. A new shower of horror
descended upon her, returning to Topeka with her father and
Belinda was the last thing on earth she wanted. She'd broken
free, and never, ever would go back. No matter what.
The voices outside the door continued, but hushed enough
she couldn't make out a single word. As fast as possible she
pulled off the pants and shirts and put on her own clothing.
The pitiful wrinkles of her underclothes were tolerable, but
the deep creases marring the pale yellow dress would
infuriate her father. She tried to stretch a few of the deeper
ones from the material, but it was hopeless.
Unfastening the buttons, she pulled off the yellow dress
and grabbed the dusty blue one she'd made last summer. It
had tiny white stripes, and seersucker didn't show creases
like linen. Pushing the last pearl button through its fastening
loop a thread snapped. The tiny button slipped from her
fingers and bounced across the
She hesitated before lifting the bags. On the other side of
the canvas, Howard's brother, Snake, said something. Randi
leaned closer to the flap.
Footsteps thudded as the men walked a few steps away.
She eased the flap open a touch, held an ear near the
opening, and listened. Her body began to tremble from head
to toe. She slapped a hand over the gasp emitting from her
lips and stepped away from the flap. Eavesdropping only hurt
the dropper, the pain ripping at her chest proved it. Her bags
felt like thousand-pound feed sacks. She half-carried—half-
dragged them to the bed. Howard's anger-filled voice echoed
in her ears as she collapsed onto the mattress.
"Why the hell did you go find a preacher?" he'd said.
She shouldn't feel this hurt, he'd already told her he didn't
want a wife. But he'd been so nice about it all, so kind to her.
To hear his furious tone while talking to his brother shattered
the ounce of happiness she'd felt at the way he'd stood up for
her.
What had she expected? He was forced to marry her. The
question was—what was she going to do? All of a sudden the
small alcove at the brothel didn't seem so dismal, almost felt
like a safe haven. Dread lowered onto her, even that little
hovel was no longer an option. By now everyone at the house
knew she'd been living there.
62
Boot Hill Bride
by Lauri Robinson
She glanced around the tent. There was no way she could
stay here. Not with the way Howard felt. A deep sinking
feeling filled her stomach. Perhaps she could go talk to her
father and ask him to take her back to Topeka with him. A
quiver ripped up her spine. The couple of months she'd lived
at her father's house had been awful, to say the least, but
what else could she do?
Light filtered through the canvas, and she peered around
the space. Even living in a tent with barely enough room to
turn around in would be heaven compared to living with
Belinda again, but she had to be fair. She was not Howard's
problem and couldn't expect him to provide for her—hastily
married or not.
Conversation sounded outside the door. The thought of
ignoring it did occur, especially since she recognized Belinda's
voice, but for some reason she couldn't. Pushing the air from
her lungs, she rose and moved to the flap.
"Howard said no one's to disturb her." Snake's wide
shoulders blocked the opening.
"But he surely didn't mean me. I'm her step-mother, and
she may need assistance fastening her gown," Belinda
answered.
Snake didn't answer, and a moment later someone tapped
the side of the canvas. The material slapped and rippled all
the way to the other end.
"Randi, do you need any help getting fastened?" Howard's
voice rang clear.
She stepped back and scurried to the bed. "No, no, I'm
fine. I'll be out in a few minutes." Garments flew out of the
63
Boot Hill Bride
by Lauri Robinson
bag left and right as she ruffled through until finding what she
needed. Belinda knew full well her gowns all buttoned up the
front, knew she didn't need any help. A new shower of horror
descended upon her, returning to Topeka with her father and
Belinda was the last thing on earth she wanted. She'd broken
free, and never, ever would go back. No matter what.
The voices outside the door continued, but hushed enough
she couldn't make out a single word. As fast as possible she
pulled off the pants and shirts and put on her own clothing.
The pitiful wrinkles of her underclothes were tolerable, but
the deep creases marring the pale yellow dress would
infuriate her father. She tried to stretch a few of the deeper
ones from the material, but it was hopeless.
Unfastening the buttons, she pulled off the yellow dress
and grabbed the dusty blue one she'd made last summer. It
had tiny white stripes, and seersucker didn't show creases
like linen. Pushing the last pearl button through its fastening
loop a thread snapped. The tiny button slipped from her
fingers and bounced across the
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