McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [94]
The morning was uneventful, hot and seemingly endless.
Lorelei watched the hillsides for Indians, and every time her thoughts wandered to the brazen way she’d kissed Holt the night before, she drove them back, like so many sheep about to stumble into a tar pit.
In the early afternoon, they came to another stream and stopped long enough to rest and water the livestock. They ate the cold fried chicken left from last night’s supper, and then went on.
Lorelei longed for the sight of Laredo the way a pilgrim might long for the New Jerusalem. It was nearly sundown when the place finally took shape in the distance, and for a few moments she feared it must be a mirage.
Holt called the party to a halt on the outskirts of town, before the dirt trail gave way to a cobble-stoned street. Bringing a wagon and all those horses and mules to a stop was a noisy affair, but finally, it was done.
“We’ll meet right here, the day after tomorrow, at sunrise,” Holt said clearly, while Traveler danced impatiently. The cowboys gave a communal yelp of exuberance and rode off in all directions, spurring their horses.
The Captain and Rafe sat silently on their mounts, waiting.
John leaned forward in the wagon box, watching Holt.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lorelei saw Tillie kneeling behind the tailgate, clutching the baby to her with one arm and absently petting the dog with the other. Melina sat on her pony beside Lorelei, shading her eyes from the last wicked rays of the sun.
Holt, Rafe and the Captain rode up alongside the wagon, and conferred with John in low voices. Lorelei felt a flash of resentment at being excluded, but she was too trail weary to sustain it.
Presently, Holt approached her and Melina.
“John and the Cap’n will see you to an inn two streets over from here,” he told them. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable. Get as much rest as you can, because the hardest part of the trip is still ahead.” With that, he started to rein the Appaloosa away.
“Wait,” Lorelei heard herself say. Even though she was mortified, she went on. “Where are you and Rafe going?”
Holt grinned, resettled his hat. “We’ve got some business to take care of,” he said. “Stay out of trouble.”
Lorelei watched him ride away.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the inn. The structure was of adobe and timber, with a well in the dooryard and a big barn to one side. Lantern-light glowed at the windows.
“I’ll see to the mule,” the Captain said quietly, as Lorelei dismounted. “You’d better see that Melina and Tillie will fit in around here, if you know what I mean.”
Lorelei, about to hand over the reins, went absolutely still as his meaning sank in. Melina was Mexican, and Tillie was black. They wouldn’t be allowed to set foot in a lot of places, except in the capacity of a servant.
The Captain chuckled at her expression. “Now don’t go in there with your feathers all puffed out,” he counseled. “Give these folks the benefit of the doubt—at least until they show they don’t deserve it.”
“Holt sent us here,” Lorelei reflected, watching as a rugged-looking woman, probably a mulatto, came out of the inn, wiping her hands on her apron. “Surely—”
“Holt hasn’t been in Laredo in a while. Could be the place has changed hands. You need me, you just call my name.” With that, the Captain led Seesaw toward the barn. Tillie went along, in the back of the wagon, and Melina followed on her pony, casting one anxious look back at Lorelei.
Summoning up a smile and wishing she were wearing one of her tea-party dresses instead of trousers and boots and a man’s shirt, Lorelei approached the innkeeper. Up close, the woman looked even more intimidating—her masses of iron-gray hair looked as though they’d been commandeered into place, instead of just pinned. Her sandalwood skin was pockmarked, from an old case of smallpox, most likely, and her steely eyes narrowed as she looked Lorelei over.
“You traveling with those men?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” Lorelei said, and stiffened her spine. “We’re part of Holt McKettrick’s party. On our way to Mexico