Badlands Bride. Cheryl St.John
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caught up with him. “I—uh, I have nowhere to stay and no way to get back.”
“Looks that way.”
“Perhaps you could loan me money for a room and a ticket home.” His unyielding expression didn’t give her much hope.
“There aren’t any rooms, Miss...”
“Wainwright.”
“Wainwright. And I have better things to do with my money than give it to strangers without being sure of getting paid back.”
“My word is good,” she replied indignantly.
“That’s not the case with most whites.”
Hallie gave him a curious frown.
Once again he scrutinized her face and hair, ran his blue eyes over her clothing. “How do I know you’re not really Tess Cordell?”
Impetuously, she placed a hand on his arm. She thought he’d pull away, but her gentle touch held him even though the hard muscle beneath her fingers assured her no physical attempt on her part could stop this man if his mind was made up. He stared down at her fingers, and Hallie snatched her hand back.
She’d never met such a callous man. Her brothers may have been unsympathetic to her career plans, but they’d always been concerned with her safety and well-being. “So you’re just going to leave me out here in God-knows-where, without a penny, to fend for myself?”
“I’m sure a capable reporter like you will come up with something. You got this far, didn’t you?”
Yes, she had. Mustering her pride, Hallie stared at the dismal little station building and caught at her hat as another gale threatened to send it back to Boston without her. “Is there a storm coming?”
He glanced at the clear sky overhead and frowned. “There’s not a cloud in sight.”
“I just thought...” she mumbled. “The wind.”
His attention wavered to her clothing flattened against her body, outlining her breasts and legs. She turned aside.
“The wind is always like this,” he said.
“Oh.” Hallie had never seen so much horizon. Land stretched in every direction. She’d never seen so much sky or dust or known so many insects existed. She’d never met an unyielding man like this one. Who knew? Maybe Tess Cordell would have made it this far only to change her mind.
She glanced at the others, still waiting near the building. “I’m sorry Tess didn’t come.”
He made no reply.
“Why don’t you just take me to town? I’m sure I can make arrangements there.” Perhaps she could sell something she had left, or make a trade for a ticket.
“There is no town.”
“What?”
“Stone Creek isn’t a town—yet. Besides my freight company, there’s a livery, a trading post and a saloon.”
She brought her attention back to his sun-burnished face. “And a post office?”
“Mail leaves from here.” He nodded toward the station.
Hallie avoided his piercing eyes for several seconds. She ran through her dilemma in her head. No telegraph. No rooms. A fine fix. “How long until the stage goes out?”
“This one goes north tomorrow. It’ll be two weeks before another heads back east.”
“Is that mail, too?”
He nodded.
She stared at the tips of her dirty shoes. She could get a story in two weeks. But where would she stay? How would she eat? She was already starving. “Could you hire me? I’ll help you with your business until I earn enough to get home, or until I hear from my father.”
“You won’t work off two hundred dollars plus the ticket in two weeks.”
“I know that.” She shook her head in frustration. “I’m not holding you responsible, even though my things were in the care of DeWitt Stage Company, am I? Why don’t you give me the same courtesy?”
Hallie didn’t know what other choice she had left. Unless she begged one of the newlyweds to take her home, and besides the embarrassing imposition, she wouldn’t feel safe being too far from the stage station. It was her only link to home.
He studied her. “I don’t claim to know much about city ways or what’s proper and what’s not, but you can’t stay with me, even sleeping separately, without getting married.”
He was right. No one would probably ever know, but even with the remote possibility that they would, Hallie couldn’t risk the shame that would be placed upon her family, on her society-entrenched mother. “That is a problem. I don’t suppose you have two residences?” she asked.
He shook his head and glanced away.
She couldn’t help noticing his broad-shouldered frame in the soft leather clothing. Over six feet tall, the man was solid muscle. She couldn’t allow his size or his gender to intimidate her. She was used to dealing with stubborn men.
He returned his attention and caught her observation.
“Marriage is out of the question. I don’t want a husband.”
Something flickered behind his blue eyes.
“You’re insulted that I won’t marry you,” she guessed. She’d had enough experience with the male ego to know what she was dealing with.
“I need help. I don’t expect a woman to fall at my feet.” He took in her appearance again, from her hat flapping like a lid in the wind, to her clothing, and down to her feet.
Why should she feel inadequate beneath his stare? Hallie had never given in to the detriment of being a woman before, and she wasn’t about to start. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to help you, Mr. DeWitt. Just like I will find a way to get my story and go home.”
She hurried back to the coach for her satchel, pulled out a tablet and pencil, and marched toward the small gathering in front of the building.
DeWitt followed.
“George Gaston, miss.” The justice introduced himself nodded politely. “The ladies said Coop’s bride changed her mind.”
“I’m afraid that’s so,” she said.
“Well, let’s go in, and the couples gettin’ hitched should line up,” he ordered.
Hallie joined the gathering inside the station. The rough log walls looked like the inside of every other stopover she’d been in since crossing the Missouri, but at least she was out of the wind and sun for a few blissful moments. The three couples took their places and the justice quickly performed the ceremony. Hallie’s pencil scratched across the paper as she tried to take note of every last detail.
“You’re the witnesses,” the justice said, indicating Hallie and DeWitt. She signed three papers and handed the quill to DeWitt. He accepted it, carefully avoiding contact with her fingers, and turned his broad back to her.
Hallie stared at it only briefly before turning to George Gaston. “Would you be so kind as to give me a ride into town?”
He gave her a puzzled glance. “There ain’t no town.”
“To the trading post, then,” she clarified.
“I only have the one horse, miss. Don’t seem it would be proper.” He glanced behind her. “Coop’s the one with the rig.”
Her body ached from the ride, and she was so tired she could have curled up right here and gone to sleep. She sighed in frustration.
“I’ll give you a ride,” DeWitt offered from beside her.
She