style="font-size:15px;"> CISSY KISSERTON GLANCED over the Never Lonely Cut-n-Gurls salon, counting the number of male customers for her report to Marvella. In the past couple of weeks, Cissy had become resigned to her fate—one more year serving as Marvella’s hostess. She wished she’d known about the salon’s brothel reputation, but a girl did what she had to do, especially when she had nine mouths to feed.
With a glance around, she slipped upstairs to call her grandmother, who cared for the children her siblings and their spouses had left behind when they’d become missionaries and found themselves in a hotbed of rebel activity. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. He’d taken, and she still didn’t know if her siblings were dead or alive.
“Gran?” Cissy said when the phone was answered.
“Hey, honey,” her grandmother said.
A small smile touched Cissy’s face as the memory of oatmeal-raisin cookies and homemade soups flowed over her. The warmth of her grandmother’s home. A blooming garden outside where the sun kissed the earth, even in winter. “How are the kids?” Cissy asked.
“How are you?” Gran countered.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. You sound sad.”
Cissy drew a deep breath. “Just a little homesick, is all.”
“I know. I can tell. How ’bout I send you a box of your favorite cookies?”
“Tell me how the baby is doing? And the other children? And you?” Cissy said, battling back tears.
“We’re fine and dandy. I took your last check and went out and bought the kids new crayons. And some shorts from the secondhand store for the bigger ones.
You won’t believe how much these young’uns have grown.”
“I know I wouldn’t.” Cissy sat down on the bed and picked at the comforter.
“Well, we all miss you, but you shouldn’t be spending your money on calling us so often. Sunday nights are fine. Besides, the children are all in bed now. You’ve missed speaking to them.”
Cissy shook her head. “I really just wanted to hear your voice. I’m feeling much better now.”
“Cissy,” Gran said, “there’s just no way out of that contract with Marvella, is there?”
“No.” Although for a few days last month, Cissy had hoped and prayed that she’d escaped with Han nah Hotchkiss’s help. Tonight, her friend would be come Hannah Jefferson. And Cissy couldn’t go to the wedding because she had to work. An iron-clad contract with Marvella and a desperate need for money to send to her family was enough to make certain Cissy stayed exactly where she was. “It’s good money, Gran. I’m glad you bought the kids new crayons. They couldn’t have a better teacher than you.”
And that was the truth. If there was a happy place to grow up, it was Gran’s. “I have to go now,” she said softly. “Tell the children I’ll call on Sunday.”
“You do that. And Cissy,” her grandmother said, “there’s a light at the end of this tunnel. We just haven’t seen it yet.”
“I’m sure it’s there.”
“Clearly, I’m going to have to dream up a handsome-prince-rescues-my-Cissy scenario for you. I just don’t know any handsome princes.”
“I don’t know any that provide rescue service. Good night, Gran. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
She hung up the phone, feeling better and worse all at once. Lost in thought, she was startled when the phone rang under her hand. “Hello?”
“Shishy?” a voice said.
Cissy frowned. “This is Cissy.”
“Thish ish Tex.”
“Tex…Jefferson?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You sound…like you’ve enjoyed the wedding.” Her heart began pounding. Why would that handsome cowboy be calling her? It was as if her dreams were coming true…but of course, the dreams she dreamed couldn’t possibly come true for her.
“I haven’t enjoyed anything!” he said urgently, though his voice was hushed.
“What is your problem?” she demanded. “You sound like you’re in a pipe.”
“I’m not in a pipe! I’m in a jam. I need you to save me!”
Her brows shot up. “Oh, gosh, thank heaven. There for a minute I thought my Prince Charming might actually be calling me.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Saving cowboys isn’t exactly my specialty. And besides, it sounds like you’re about three bottles past salvation.”
“These wimmin want me. That’s the problem!”
She laughed. “Tex, that’s a male oxymoron.”
“Oxy-what? I’m not in the mood for big chat, Cissy. I need you to come get me out of here before they find me!”
“Where are you?”
“In a broom closet on the riverboat!”
She sat on the bed, beginning to enjoy his dilemma. “Hiding from women.”
“Yes!”
“Pawn them off on your brothers. How was the wedding?”
“I dunno. I fell asleep.”
“And then you found the champagne.”
“Well, yes. And then they grabbed me. And so I found more champagne. But it’s starting to taste sharp to me. I need a good old-fashioned beer.”
“Who grabbed you?”
“The women from the other two salons.”
Oh. Her rivals. Hannah’s stylist sisters. “Most men don’t complain about women wanting them, Tex. Is there a problem you want to share?”
“No,” he said, his voice tense. “It’s what they want to do with me that’s the problem.”
“And that would be?”
“Raffle me. And my brothers. My brothers are going to kill me, because I agreed. But there was just so much pressure, Cissy!”
He was starting to sound better now that he was putting voice to his anxiety. Cissy crawled up in her bed and leaned against the headboard. “What kind of pressure?” Although she could imagine, since he was a gorgeous guy.
“I don’t know. Pressure!”
“I
