was, without the horse, no one would bother to look for her, and even a stream in this wild country might be over her head. No one would care, or probably even notice, if she and the fleas drowned.
Except for that tall man she’d kissed last night. He might spend a minute wondering what happened to her.
She’d been hiding in the brush last night when Travis McMurray looked for his horse. It had been so dark she could only make out his shadow, but she knew who he was with one glance. The look of his outline against the night sky seemed familiar, as if it had always been in her mind. Her own private ideal formed from a hundred heroes inside a hundred stories.
He might be a hero, but Rainey knew she’d never be his lady.
Of all the horses tied up around the dance, why’d she have to take the bay that belonged to him? His eyes had been so cold when he’d stared at her that first glance. She had no doubt that he’d snap her in two if he knew she took his property.
Not that he had any proof. She frowned at the rope lying on the ground a few feet away. Tying knots had never been her talent. There was no telling where the bay had wandered. Still, should that tall, dark Texan suspect her, she’d be double dead if he caught her. He’d probably shoot her on sight and then dance with her just to torture her dead body.
She’d almost be willing to risk it to be near him again. Never in all her life had she touched a man the way she’d touched Travis McMurray.
Rainey pulled off the clothes she’d slept in and slipped into the cool water wearing nothing but skin and the tiny rope necklace that held her only treasure. She washed her hair with the last bit of soap she’d bought in Galveston. It was poorly made and smelled too strongly of lye, but at least she’d die clean.
Frowning, Rainey thought of her mother. The doctor had said she died of a fever, but Rainey always thought it had been more from unhappiness. For as long as she could remember, her mother had looked sad, the kind of bone-deep sadness that made her age twice as fast as most folks.
Rainey closed her eyes and remembered the last time she’d seen her mother. Her father had made Rainey pack her things and leave home to live in the dorm that housed the youngest girls. He told her he was giving her extra responsibility, but she knew it was just extra work.
Her mother had cried when she’d seen her only child leaving, but as always she hadn’t dared question her husband. But, as Rainey slipped through the door, her mother had grabbed her hand and shoved a ring into her palm. “It was my mother’s. Your father doesn’t know I kept it. I want you to have it now.”
For the first time in Rainey’s life it seemed her mother had stepped from behind her father and shown her love. The action hadn’t been to hold Rainey, but to say goodbye.
She touched the tiny bag that held the ring. As long as she had it, there was still a chance, a possibility that she’d find what her mother, who married at fourteen, must have never known. Freedom.
As Rainey dried, her hair haloed around her head in blond curls. She stretched in the slender beam of sun slicing through the trees and felt more like a wild animal running free in nature than a proper schoolteacher escaping a horrible fate.
She was changing day by day, molding into someone her parents would no longer recognize. Rainey smiled. Elisabeth Rainey Adams was coming into her own. She was no longer a product of her parents, but a woman making it alone. She’d taken her middle name—her mother’s maiden name—as her own, and now she would build a life to fit the new name. She would make her way and answer to no man. Smiling, she daydreamed of sleeping in a huge bedroom with a fireplace warming the room and a featherbed beside a light left burning all night.
She would have it all . . . if she could come up with a new plan. So far she felt like a frog who kept jumping into muddier water. The bedroom with the fire
Except for that tall man she’d kissed last night. He might spend a minute wondering what happened to her.
She’d been hiding in the brush last night when Travis McMurray looked for his horse. It had been so dark she could only make out his shadow, but she knew who he was with one glance. The look of his outline against the night sky seemed familiar, as if it had always been in her mind. Her own private ideal formed from a hundred heroes inside a hundred stories.
He might be a hero, but Rainey knew she’d never be his lady.
Of all the horses tied up around the dance, why’d she have to take the bay that belonged to him? His eyes had been so cold when he’d stared at her that first glance. She had no doubt that he’d snap her in two if he knew she took his property.
Not that he had any proof. She frowned at the rope lying on the ground a few feet away. Tying knots had never been her talent. There was no telling where the bay had wandered. Still, should that tall, dark Texan suspect her, she’d be double dead if he caught her. He’d probably shoot her on sight and then dance with her just to torture her dead body.
She’d almost be willing to risk it to be near him again. Never in all her life had she touched a man the way she’d touched Travis McMurray.
Rainey pulled off the clothes she’d slept in and slipped into the cool water wearing nothing but skin and the tiny rope necklace that held her only treasure. She washed her hair with the last bit of soap she’d bought in Galveston. It was poorly made and smelled too strongly of lye, but at least she’d die clean.
Frowning, Rainey thought of her mother. The doctor had said she died of a fever, but Rainey always thought it had been more from unhappiness. For as long as she could remember, her mother had looked sad, the kind of bone-deep sadness that made her age twice as fast as most folks.
Rainey closed her eyes and remembered the last time she’d seen her mother. Her father had made Rainey pack her things and leave home to live in the dorm that housed the youngest girls. He told her he was giving her extra responsibility, but she knew it was just extra work.
Her mother had cried when she’d seen her only child leaving, but as always she hadn’t dared question her husband. But, as Rainey slipped through the door, her mother had grabbed her hand and shoved a ring into her palm. “It was my mother’s. Your father doesn’t know I kept it. I want you to have it now.”
For the first time in Rainey’s life it seemed her mother had stepped from behind her father and shown her love. The action hadn’t been to hold Rainey, but to say goodbye.
She touched the tiny bag that held the ring. As long as she had it, there was still a chance, a possibility that she’d find what her mother, who married at fourteen, must have never known. Freedom.
As Rainey dried, her hair haloed around her head in blond curls. She stretched in the slender beam of sun slicing through the trees and felt more like a wild animal running free in nature than a proper schoolteacher escaping a horrible fate.
She was changing day by day, molding into someone her parents would no longer recognize. Rainey smiled. Elisabeth Rainey Adams was coming into her own. She was no longer a product of her parents, but a woman making it alone. She’d taken her middle name—her mother’s maiden name—as her own, and now she would build a life to fit the new name. She would make her way and answer to no man. Smiling, she daydreamed of sleeping in a huge bedroom with a fireplace warming the room and a featherbed beside a light left burning all night.
She would have it all . . . if she could come up with a new plan. So far she felt like a frog who kept jumping into muddier water. The bedroom with the fire
Similar Books
