Prisoners of Love: Becky Read online

  There was one question she hadn’t answered, however. “Just how does Miss Nellie fit in with your group? You didn’t mention her being in jail with you.”

  Her lovely face flushed a bright red. She chewed her lip and then said, “Oh. She, um, was, ah…” She stopped and swallowed, glancing away. “She’s a lovely woman and all, but she is, or I guess she was, a…”

  Once more she forced him to hide his laughter. “Prostitute?”

  Miss Becky nodded furiously. “Yes.” After seeming to recover her dignity a bit, she added, “Her place of business burned down so Marshal Jones asked her to chaperone us on the trip and find us husbands when we get to Santa Fe.”

  He groaned. A former brothel owner was going to pick this little lady’s husband. Yes, prayers and constant watching out for Miss Becky were on his list of tasks.

  The noise and smell of animals, wagons, and travelers gathered outside of Fort Dodge reached them before he even got a good look at the fort. He’d passed through this way once before and had a great deal of respect for how the fort was run. “I’m going to leave you with Miss Nellie and Miss Miranda while I escort my prisoners to the stockade for the night.”

  “Are they traveling with you to Santa Fe?”

  He threw his leg over the saddle and landed on the ground with ease. He reached up for Becky and pulled her from the horse. “Yes, the prisoners are going all the way to Santa Fe with me on the wagon train. I’m borrowing a wagon with bars from the fort to haul them back.”

  “I guess that would be easier than trying to bring them back by yourself.” She shook out her skirts, a small cloud of dirt surrounding them. “Sorry.” She grinned.

  “I’ve escorted as many as four prisoners at once before, but since there was a wagon train going anyway, I guess I just got a little lazy.”

  Mace fought the urge to brush back the curls from Miss Becky’s forehead as she stared up at him. He had no right touching her, or thinking about touching her, and she had no right to look at him that way. It had been hard enough with her riding right in front of him, her lovely bottom pressed up against the worse spot she could be pressed up against.

  It appeared when he returned to Santa Fe it would be best if he found one of his Mexican women and paid her a visit. That might get those dangerous thoughts out of his mind. “Well, Miss Becky, I’ll leave you to help Miss Nellie get settled.” He gave her a warm smile.

  She backed up, her face flushed. “Oh, yes. Of course. Thank you so much for the ride.” She nodded and turned toward her wagon, which was headed in the direction of the check-in station the wagon train master had set up.

  Once back on his horse, he waved at the three prisoners, who followed him to the main building. He jumped down and wrapped the reins around the hitching post in front of the stockade. One by one he pulled the prisoners off their horses. “Inside.”

  Mace followed behind the men into the dim interior. A soldier jumped up from behind a battered desk. “Sir, how can I help you?”

  The lad was no more than seventeen and obviously freshly enlisted in the military. “Sheriff Mace Jensen here to see the Duty Officer.”

  “Yes, sir. Immediately, sir.” The boy stiffened and gave Mace a salute he wasn’t sure he should return. The soldier turned sharply on his heels and practically marched from the room. Mace walked to the back of the room where he could watch his prisoners and leaned his shoulder against the wall.

  Spending time with Miss Becky had put all sorts of thoughts into his mind that he’d been sitting on for a while. He was thirty years old. He had a good job, a fine reputation as an honest lawman, and money in the bank. It was time to take a wife and start a family. Give to his children all the things he’d been denied. Most of all, a decent education—although he could read, write, and do figuring. He’d oftentimes dreamed of having a child of his go to college.

  Where would he find a woman to marry? There was a small community of ex-slaves in Indian Territory. He should probably start his search there. Somehow, going to a particular town with the sole purpose of finding a woman to marry seemed cold. He wanted a wife he loved and who loved him back. Someone he would court over time, do all the little things a man did for a woman he thought was special. Someone who stood out from other women.

  Someone like Miss Becky.

  ***

  Becky had been almost sorry to see their ride from Dodge City to Fort Dodge come to an end. The brilliant white smile against dark skin Sheriff Jensen had left her with made her breath hitch.

  In her travels, she rarely had time for a lengthy conversation with anyone. Dr. Snodgrass had frowned upon her making friends with the people they met in the various towns they’d visited.

  He, on the other hand, would find his way to the local saloon each night and stumble back to their wagon to snore loudly beneath it until she had the coffee brewing the next morning.

  It had been a lonely life for her but better than what she’d had before she took up with Dr. Snodgrass. At least he kept her fed and clothed. Every once in a while, he would give her coins to go to the local bathhouse and have a bath, or a few pennies to buy a new hair ribbon or stockings.

  Since men mostly used the bath services, she had to wait until the bathhouse was ready to close for the night and then she got her bath. The water was always lukewarm by then and dirty from the other bathers, but it was better than a river bath.

  She’d been around plenty of men in her life, attractive men. Men who had been attracted to her but were reluctant to approach her with Dr. Snodgrass always looking on.

  Something about Sheriff Mace Jensen stirred her blood as no other man had. Aside from his good looks, he was kind and thoughtful. Besides her pa and brother, Alex, no other man had really cared about her.

  She’d always known Dr. Snodgrass would only keep her while she was useful. It seemed once it looked like he was headed to jail, he’d run off and left her to face the consequences. Being with a man who treated her honorably was quite nice, actually.

  “There you are.” Miss Nellie groaned as she stepped down from the wagon seat. “I thought you’d run off with that good-looking sheriff.”

  Becky was afraid all her thoughts about Sheriff Jensen were written plainly on her face for Miss Nellie to see. She flushed a bright red and tried to cover up her unease by dusting off her dress again. Miss Nellie’s soft laughter told her she had, indeed, seen the look on her face.

  “Don’t you worry none, little bird. Your secret is safe with me.” All business now, she strode up to the desk where the travelers were checking in. Miranda and Becky joined her.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. I am Easton Drover, wagon train master. Y’all report to me. I make the rules, and I enforce the rules. You break ’em, and you’re left alongside the road.”

  Miss Nellie’s raised eyebrows were her only comment as the man continued. “I don’t mind telling you I ain’t happy having three single women on my wagon train. I expect y’all to behave yourselves, stay away from the husbands, and don’t go peddling your wares here to the single men, either.”

  Miss Nellie’s usual composure cracked as she took in a deep breath, her high-necked dress straining at the seams. She stabbed Mr. Drover’s chest with her finger, and leaned in close to his face. “I will have you know that we are respectable ladies. I am traveling with these fine women as their chaperone. I will be finding husbands for them in Santa Fe. I can assure you that we have absolutely no interest in anyone’s husband, as they are their poor wives’ burdens to bear.

  “Furthermore, I expect you to provide safety and protection for me and my young ladies, which I know Marshal Jones has paid you for.”

  Mr. Drover edged back at Miss Nellie’s tirade. When she paused, whether to take a breath or because she was finished, he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I apologize, ma’am. I had no call to insinuate you are here for any other purpose than to provide these charming ladies with husbands in Santa Fe.”

  “Yes, well, then.” Miss N
ellie stood straight and tugged on the cuffs of her long-sleeved, very prim and proper dress. She did truly look like a respectable matron. And quite pretty. Especially with her temper up.

  “Where shall we move our wagon?”

  “I’m assigning you spot number twenty-seven. Just go alongside the other wagons, and pull yours into that slot.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Drover.” Her chin raised with dignity, she turned and left.

  The three of them climbed up onto the wagon seat and moved down the row of vehicles. The mules were much more cooperative than they’d been that morning. Miss Nellie did a fine job of steering the wagon into their designated space.

  They had no sooner climbed back down again when two little girls came flying past them, braids and hair ribbons streaming behind, laughing their little heads off. A woman came barreling after them. “Lizzie!”

  Miss Nellie turned to them. “Isn’t that Adelaide?” She looked again at her retreating back and shook her head. “That poor woman. What did she get herself into?”

  Chapter Three

  Mace left the stockade after locking his prisoners away. He strolled over to the check-in table where the marshal had told him Easton Drover would be. Since he was transporting criminals, he had to notify the wagon master.

  “Afternoon, sir. I’ve just left my three prisoners in the stockade as I believe Marshal Jones advised you.”

  Drover sat back and regarded him. “So, you’re the famous Santa Fe sheriff who always gets his man.”

  “I don’t know about famous, but I haven’t lost an outlaw yet. And I don’t intend to.”

  “I can’t say I’m excited to have three prisoners on my wagon train, but I’m happy to have you with us. We can always use an extra pair of strong hands.” He shifted a wad of tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. “We have a wagon here with three ladies in it. I’d be much obliged if you kept an eye on them. They don’t look like the type to be hauling a wagon out of mud or strapping down canvases if we run into foul weather.”

  “I know who you mean. I escorted them here from Dodge City. Going to Santa Fe to find husbands.” Once again, the sharp jab to his stomach reminded him that sweet Miss Becky would be putting her life into the hands of a stranger. He shook his head to keep his thoughts from wandering where they shouldn’t go. He would do his part by making sure whoever she married up with was a decent man.

  “Probably a good idea to get them out of Dodge City. The marshal didn’t tell me too much, but from what he said, they were all about to be tossed into the streets. You know what happens to women like that in Dodge City,” Drover said.

  “I do. And I will make sure once they reach my town that they all marry up with the right sort of men.”

  Drover nodded. “We’re leaving at first light tomorrow. How will your prisoners travel?”

  “I have the use of a very well-secured military wagon that I’ll be driving. Your travelers have nothing to worry about.”

  Drover stood and extended his hand. “Glad to have you, Sheriff.”

  “Thanks.” Mace turned and left the wagon master to stroll over to Miss Nellie’s wagon and see how they were getting on. He silenced the voice inside that chastised him for getting too involved with the women. Both Marshal Jones and Easton Drover had asked him to keep an eye on the ladies. He was just doing his duty.

  It appeared he arrived just in time. They were settled in their allotted space, and Miss Becky and Miss Miranda were both pulling on the mules, trying to move them from the wagon to the space set aside for the animals. As he approached, Miss Becky yanked hard at the animal, her feet sliding out from under her in the mud. She landed flat on her backside.

  “Ouch!”

  Trying hard not to laugh, Mace strode over and reached out both hands to her. “Can I help?”

  “Damn.” She smacked her hands in the mud then, closing her eyes at such an unwise move, she sucked her hands out of the mess one at a time. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “That wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Nope. Not at all.” He finally allowed himself to grin and, taking her muddy hands in his, hauled her up.

  “Ugh.” She let go of his hands and looked down at herself. “I’m a mess.”

  “Oh, Becky, look at you!” Miss Nellie rounded the wagon, her hand covering her mouth. “You’re a mess.”

  “I think if you go up to the fort they might have bathing facilities there you can use. They keep such things separate for use by travelers since so many pass by this way.” Mace smiled, amused.

  Trying her best to hide her smile, Miss Nellie eyed Miss Becky. “I will get clean clothes for you from the wagon.”

  Mace grabbed the mule that had been giving Miss Becky such trouble and moved him forward. Then he took the reins from Miss Miranda and led both animals to the penned-in area. He returned to the ladies’ wagon to see Miss Nellie and Miss Becky heading toward the fort entrance.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss Miranda?”

  “No, thank you, Sheriff. I’m just pulling out things to make supper. I feel as though we owe you so much already, and we haven’t even left yet.”

  He waved his hand. “No. You don’t owe me anything. I’m here to help.”

  “Well, at least let me offer you supper. It should be ready in about an hour.”

  He tipped his hat. “Thank you. I will be honored to join you.” He continued on his way, checking the other wagons. Most of the travelers were driving wagons to Santa Fe with supplies for the various businesses there. There were a few families, but for the most part, people headed to Santa Fe elected to ride the train. Only those moving household goods still joined the wagon trains.

  After an hour of greeting the travelers and helping where he could, he made his way back to Miss Nellie’s wagon.

  Miss Becky was once gain neat and tidy. Her face flushed as she leaned over the pot sitting in the fire. “Is the stew supposed to look like this, Miranda?”

  The other two women joined her, and they all three stared into the pot. He ambled up behind them and leaned over their shoulders to take a look. Whatever it was supposed to be, it didn’t look like any stew he’d ever seen. The sorry-looking mess in the pot was thick, lumpy, and burnt.

  “I don’t think it turned out quite as it should have.” Miss Miranda looked up at Miss Nellie.

  “I thought you said you could cook?” Miss Nellie looked from the glop in the pot to Miss Miranda.

  She frowned. “After my ma died, I cooked for my stepfather and stepbrother, but when they ate at home, it was always the same thing. Beans and bread. They mostly drank.”

  It appeared he wasn’t getting any supper from these ladies tonight.

  ***

  Heat rose in Becky’s face when Sheriff Jensen joined them. The last time she’d seen him, she was covered in mud and looking ridiculous, sitting on her backside. When she’d returned from her bath, Miranda told her the sheriff was coming for supper.

  Supper did not look promising.

  “Sheriff, I’m so embarrassed. It looks like there won’t be supper for any of us, tonight.” Miss Nellie looked in the pot once more and shook her head.

  “Tell you what, ladies. Do y’all have eggs?”

  Miss Nellie nodded.

  “Bread?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any sort of meat? Ham, bacon?”

  “Yes,” Miss Nellie said, a grin on her face. “We have all of that.”

  “Then move out of the way, ladies. I will make you my favorite supper. Ham and eggs.” He snapped his fingers as they all stared at him. “Potatoes?”

  Miranda grinned. “Yes, we have those, too.”

  Sheriff Jensen began shouting orders to them. He set Miss Nellie to slicing bread and toasting it over the fire. He had Becky peeling potatoes, cutting them, and putting them into the now clean pot with water to boil. Miranda was assigned to slicing ham and frying it over the fire in an iron skillet.

  “See
how easy a meal comes together?” Sheriff Jensen cracked eggs and scrambled them, his large hands whipping them into a froth. “Now once the potatoes are a little soft, Miss Becky, drain the water, and put a bit of butter into the pot with them. They should fry up just fine.”

  “Where did you learn so much about cooking?” Miss Nellie smiled at the sheriff as she pulled a piece of toasted bread off the stick she held and place it on a tin plate.

  “Miss Nellie, I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen years old. If I didn’t learn how to cook, I would have starved.” He placed the bowl of egg on the ground and sat on a log in front of the fire. “What I want to know is how three women can’t cook.”

  Miss Nellie flushed and waved her hand. “When I owned my business, I ate at the café. Before that, I took my meals wherever I worked.”

  Becky studied their chaperone and realized Miss Nellie seemed more embarrassed at not being able to cook than her profession. Or maybe not. Could it be she was uncomfortable discussing her livelihood with the sheriff? Did she have her eye on him?

  Miranda flipped a piece of ham. “My ma did the cooking cause my stepfather wouldn’t allow me near the stove.” She lowered her voice and added, “He was difficult to get along with.”

  Becky studied the young woman, thinking Miranda had never told any of them who she had killed. The fact that the marshal let her leave town made Becky wonder just what Miranda’s story was.

  The four of them chatted easily as they put together the meal. As she’d discovered on her ride with the sheriff earlier, he was quite friendly and easy to talk to. She tried hard not to stare at his handsome face and muscular body as he worked. What she found disconcerting was his eyes on her every time she looked at him.

  “Coffee. Did anyone remember coffee?” The sheriff actually looked more upset than when he found the supper inedible.

  “I sure did.” Miss Nellie held up a coffee pot, a bright smile on her face. “I might not be very helpful in the kitchen, but I know men like their coffee.”