he bit his tongue.
“Oh, sorry, Calvin. Where are we? What’s going on? Are we being robbed?” she demanded in an unfamiliar voice.
“No, we’ve just stopped for the night,” he said, studying her suspiciously.
Abruptly, she became the old woman he thought he knew. Her voice changed, and so did her manner. Her image shifted before his eyes as she clutched her cane, then tapped him on the shoulder with it.
“You climb down first. I’ll be behind you when I get my wits together.”
And so he climbed down. He also waited beside the coach—just in case she stumbled and needed a hand down. The dog bailed out first and trotted off to the nearest scrub bush. Then Agatha’s plumed hat and veil came into view. For a split second Quinn thought he caught sight of her face in the light, but she ducked her head so quickly that he couldn’t tell what she looked like.
Having been warned off previously, he didn’t offer to take her hand, but he waited nearby in case she found herself in need of his support. He watched as she carefully extended her foot to the step. She anchored her hands on the door frame, then stepped down beside him.
“Nice place.” She smirked as she scanned the shabby stone and timber trading post that had been built at the base of the rugged mountains. “I’ve heard this part of Texas referred to as Hell’s Fringe. It seems to fit.”
“At least the place is reasonably clean,” he reported as he fell into step beside her. He flashed her a wry grin. “It even has a tub upstairs for those of us who need to bathe. Naturally, I’ll want to spiffy up so I won’t offend you.”
She burst out with a hee-hee-hee, much to his amazement. “Oh, come now, Calvin, surely you know me well enough by now to realize that I would have insisted that you ride up top with the driver and guard if I found you offensive.”
Curiosity got the better of him as they entered the crude trading post. “Let me guess, you ousted someone during the first leg of your journey. Forced them up to the luggage rack, did you?”
“Of course I did. The two heathens reeked of whiskey and turned offensively obnoxious. The stench was so overpowering that it made my eyes water. If I were younger I would have climbed atop the coach to avoid them.”
“It might help if you discarded that thick veil,” Quinn suggested. “It probably traps in smoke and foul aromas.”
“And expose this horribly disfigured face of mine?” she scoffed. “Trust me, Calvin, this veil is for your convenience and protection as much as mine.”
When the proprietor—who, according to the wooden plaque on the counter was named Ike—objected to the mutt following Agatha inside, she chastised the mammoth of a man. It wasn’t until she offered a silver dollar to pay for the mutt, that the proprietor backed off.
“Okay, lady, but keep that mangy animal off the bed,” Ike insisted harshly.
“Deal. But I just bathed him. He is as clean as the rest of us. And certainly much easier to get along with,” she said with a disgruntled sniff.
She plucked the key from his beefy hand and swept off, her cane thumping rhythmically against the floor and the steps as she disappeared from sight.
“Feisty old witch,” Ike muttered after her.
“Hey, leave her alone.” Quinn slammed his mouth shut, wondering why he was defending Agatha.
Apparently, Ike was wondering the same thing because he blinked at him in surprise. “That your granny or something?” he asked as he handed over the room key.
“No, but if I had one I’d want her to be just as full of sass and spunk as Agatha. She doesn’t take any guff and she doesn’t let anyone push her around. You gotta admire that about her.”
“Do I?” Ike pocketed the extra dollar. “Don’t see why I should. I get paid the same for meek and complacent customers, ya know.”
Quinn waited for the guard to haul in their luggage, and then carried his and Agatha’s belongings upstairs. When he knocked on her door, she opened it only slightly to determine who had arrived.
“Thank you, Calvin. You are turning out to be more considerate and sociable than I first thought.” She grabbed the handle of her oversize bag and dragged it into her room. “Well, good night. Don’t forget to check for bedbugs.”
“I’ll do that,” he said before he turned and walked away.
Piper waited until she heard his door click shut before she peeled off her veiled hat. She unpinned her long, silver-blond hair and shook it loose, letting it tumble down her back in springy curls. She breathed a long-awaited sigh of relief when she stepped from the cumbersome gown. No wonder she was so tired, she mused as she draped the heavily padded garment over a nearby chair. She wasn’t accustomed to carrying around this extra weight night and day.
She smiled fondly when the mutt plopped down at her bare feet. “Too bad you aren’t a man,” she said. “You, I would enjoy dealing with on a regular basis. Loyal, devoted and true-blue. Unlike most men I’ve met.”
On that thought, Piper stretched out in bed and promptly fell asleep, thankful not to be bouncing around in that dreadful coach and have her stomach churning constantly.
At dawn, Quinn headed down to the spring-fed creek to bathe and change into a clean set of clothes. He’d heard Agatha thumping down the hall earlier, requesting that Ike prepare her bath, so he granted her the luxury of the tub while he sought out more primitive accommodations.
After snooping around the barn, Quinn noticed a new hireling—a thin, wiry white man who wore a bright red bandana, which was tied in exactly the same place on his left shoulder as the attendant he had encountered the previous afternoon. Pulling the silver dollars from his pocket, Quinn wandered over to strike up a conversation while he rolled the coins over his fingertips. He also boasted about the big jackpot he had won at the gaming tables in Fort Stockton.
As he strolled off, he asked himself how a ring of spies might discreetly communicate their information about prospective targets when they were miles apart. Frowning pensively, he circled the coach that waited unattended while the guard and driver ate breakfast.
“Bingo,” Quinn murmured when he noticed the red bandana wrapped around the handle of the strongbox. Not only was he carrying the tempting bait of extra money, but also there must be valuable loot in the strongbox. Plus, the potential profit of whatever Agatha was carrying in her reticule.
When he heard voices he veered away from the back of the coach. His anticipation mounting, he predicted that he would finally hit pay dirt during the next leg of the trip. His only concern was how Agatha was going to react if this stage was held up. He could visualize her squaring off against the bandits and trying to protect the money she obviously carried.
If the stage were indeed robbed he would have to caution her to be careful what she said and did.
Amused, he watched Agatha toddle outside to set down a plate of food for the mutt. Agatha paid no attention to Ike who towered over her, complaining that he didn’t want the dog eating off “people” plates.
“Stop fussing at me, Ike. All I’m doing is keeping this poor dog from starving to
