The Grand Masquerade (The Bold Women Series Book 4) by Amanda Hughes

of the weight. He had a closely cropped beard and a bald head.
    Sydnee nodded coolly and went back to sweeping her net on the creek bottom. She’d had enough of strangers for one day.
    “Which way you headed?”
    “Natchez,” she replied.
    The man looked at the rocks strewn on the ground near the packs and whistled. “Hew-wee! You musta met up with Nelly Patchett.”
    Sydnee looked at him sharply. “We did.”
    “She’s all that’s left of the old time Trace swindlers. She still using the Conklin Stand?”
    Sydnee stared at him, dumbfounded.
    “The one with the side caved in?” he continued.
    She nodded.
    The man began to laugh, his belly bouncing. “God damn! I bet she told you that her husband just died and that’s her house. Well it ain’t! She lives in a nice little place down by Jackson. By the looks of ya, she didn’t get any money. That’s what she’s really after.”
    Sydnee’s jaw tightened.
    “Well, it does my heart good to see that there is still a few of ‘em left. Those were the good ol’ days, you know,” the man reflected wistfully. “The days when The Trace was alive and full of good folks.”
    He did not notice Sydnee gathering up her things.
    He shook his head, as he reminisced. “There was Hoppin’ John Tate and Harry Spoiler--” Suddenly he realized, she was leaving and he called, “Hey little lady. Why are you leavin’? ”
    Sydnee did not look back.
    *                   *                    *
    Traveling was more difficult now thanks to Nell Patchett. Sydnee had to stop and fish, forage for berries, and the dogs had to hunt. It did not take the canines long to understand they had to fend for themselves. On the second day of their ordeal, Baloo presented a squirrel to Sydnee for her supper. She was touched by his gesture, and her eyes filled with tears. Squatting down, she hugged the dog’s neck and murmured, “You’re a good ol’ boy.”
    After that Baloo and Atlantis did not consume their kills, rather they brought the meat to Sydnee for everyone to share. She cooked rabbit or squirrel along with fish every night followed by a dessert of berries. The portions were not huge but the group managed to survive.
    The journey now seemed endless to Sydnee. The remainder of the trek should have taken a week, but because of hunting, the time now doubled. Everyone in the group was losing weight. Tempers ran high as well, and spats broke out regularly between the dogs and Vivian.
    Late one afternoon when the sun was setting, Sydnee allowed the dogs to run ahead. Vivian had been squabbling with them all day, and Sydnee needed a break.
    Sydnee was walking along unconcerned when suddenly there was a blood curdling screech behind her. Turning abruptly, she saw Vivian pecking at the head of a large, burly man. He dropped into a crouch as the bird pecked furiously at his eyes and pulled out his hair. He had been about to attack Sydnee.
    The man ran into the woods, terrified as Vivian swooped at him and screeched. Hearing the commotion, the dogs charged, but Sydnee stopped them. She did not want to witness another kill like her father.
    Sydnee smiled as Vivian soared back through the trees toward them. She raised her arm, and the crow landed on her. Sydnee kissed her head, praising her for a job well done.
    The next day, it was apparent that they were getting close to Natchez. They passed more people on the trail, and there were more crossroads with active stands. Around midday they came upon a couple traveling to market with fresh produce. The young man was pulling the cart and his wife was riding in the back, her bare feet dangling. She held a tiny baby in her arms.
    “Howdy,” she called to Sydnee, swinging her legs. She wore a faded yellow bonnet, an old blue dress, and a gray apron. Her feet were dirty, but her face and hands were clean.
    The young man put the cart down and turned around to greet Sydnee too. He was dressed in rags as well, but his