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Authors: Cynthia Hickey
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and went back inside.
Why weren’t they ever caught? Adam leaned forward, dangling his hands between his knees. They sat on the stoop most nights, in plain sight of anyone watching, yet no one said a word, other than Josiah. He glanced toward heaven. Was God protecting them from criticism? Was it part of His grand plan for him and Tabby to be in Kansas at the same time?
At the thought, Adam’s fear of losing Tabby lessened a little. He would still watch her with an almost obsessive eye―he couldn’t help it after his failure to keep his wife safe―but he would try to leave Tabby in God’s hands. He really would. Even if it meant a daily struggle to hand God the reins.
* * *
Tabby watched through the door as Adam stood on the top step. She wanted to talk to him, hear his deep laugh, feel the playful bump of his shoulder when she said something silly, but after the way she brushed him off that afternoon, she didn’t know how, and he seemed content to sit in silence.
When he turned to come back inside, she scampered out of sight and ran up the stairs. It had taken hours to calm Abigail after Josiah’s desertion. The girl almost didn’t accept the reinstatement of her job, saying there was nothing left for her here. Not until Tabby scared her with made-up tales of California bordellos did Abigail decide to stay. At least she thought they were made-up stories. Having never been in one, but hearing plenty of tales, she did the best with what she had.
Relaxed after her quiet time with Adam, Tabby went to the parlor to browse for a book to read. She never did finish Jane Eyre . She ran her finger along the spines of the books. A shadow fell across the doorway. She knew without turning that Adam watched her.
What prompted him to care so much for a woman he had so recently met? Sometimes, a haunted look crossed his handsome features. One day, she would ask him what pained him from his past. By the time she held the book she sought, Adam was gone.
She was a foolish girl, dwelling on things that couldn’t be, not if she wanted to fulfill her dreams. Book in hand, she moved back to her room, where Abigail sat in front of their shared mirror, running a brush through her blond tresses.
“Thank you for saving my job.” Abigail sniffed, never stopping the long strokes of the brush. “I didn’t deserve it.”
“I hope you learned a lesson.” Tabby set her book on the small table beside her bed. “Josiah’s cowardly dash away reconfirmed my lack of faith in men. Most men are scoundrels and not to be trusted. A girl needs to learn to rely on herself and God.”
Abigail turned. “I didn’t know you hated men.”
“I don’t hate men. I just don’t have time for them. In a man’s mind, women are nothing but property to be owned. Something to use and throw away.” Tabby reached behind to unfasten her dress. Her words sounded harsh, even to her ears. Choking back sobs of her own, she inhaled sharply. She wouldn’t cry. Her views had been formed years ago. She couldn’t change them now.
“I thought you had something with the chef.” Abigail’s brow furrowed.
“We’re only friends.”
A small smile crossed Abigail’s sad face. “Women and men can’t be friends. Especially when the man looks like our chef.” She waved her brush at Tabby. “You think no one knows about your visits on the back stoop, but they do. Watch yourself, my friend. You don’t want to be in my shoes.
“One of the new gals said it isn’t against the rules to keep company with men, only to keep company without a chaperone. That’s what the parlor is for. The ‘courting parlor’ they call it. Be careful. Miss O’Connor is tougher than some of the other wagon bosses, I’ve heard, and much more strict.”
Tabby wouldn’t need to worry about impropriety. Nothing in heaven or on earth could weaken her resolve.
Chapter 9
T abby took her place beside the coffee carafes, happy for her new and easier job as a drink girl, and
Why weren’t they ever caught? Adam leaned forward, dangling his hands between his knees. They sat on the stoop most nights, in plain sight of anyone watching, yet no one said a word, other than Josiah. He glanced toward heaven. Was God protecting them from criticism? Was it part of His grand plan for him and Tabby to be in Kansas at the same time?
At the thought, Adam’s fear of losing Tabby lessened a little. He would still watch her with an almost obsessive eye―he couldn’t help it after his failure to keep his wife safe―but he would try to leave Tabby in God’s hands. He really would. Even if it meant a daily struggle to hand God the reins.
* * *
Tabby watched through the door as Adam stood on the top step. She wanted to talk to him, hear his deep laugh, feel the playful bump of his shoulder when she said something silly, but after the way she brushed him off that afternoon, she didn’t know how, and he seemed content to sit in silence.
When he turned to come back inside, she scampered out of sight and ran up the stairs. It had taken hours to calm Abigail after Josiah’s desertion. The girl almost didn’t accept the reinstatement of her job, saying there was nothing left for her here. Not until Tabby scared her with made-up tales of California bordellos did Abigail decide to stay. At least she thought they were made-up stories. Having never been in one, but hearing plenty of tales, she did the best with what she had.
Relaxed after her quiet time with Adam, Tabby went to the parlor to browse for a book to read. She never did finish Jane Eyre . She ran her finger along the spines of the books. A shadow fell across the doorway. She knew without turning that Adam watched her.
What prompted him to care so much for a woman he had so recently met? Sometimes, a haunted look crossed his handsome features. One day, she would ask him what pained him from his past. By the time she held the book she sought, Adam was gone.
She was a foolish girl, dwelling on things that couldn’t be, not if she wanted to fulfill her dreams. Book in hand, she moved back to her room, where Abigail sat in front of their shared mirror, running a brush through her blond tresses.
“Thank you for saving my job.” Abigail sniffed, never stopping the long strokes of the brush. “I didn’t deserve it.”
“I hope you learned a lesson.” Tabby set her book on the small table beside her bed. “Josiah’s cowardly dash away reconfirmed my lack of faith in men. Most men are scoundrels and not to be trusted. A girl needs to learn to rely on herself and God.”
Abigail turned. “I didn’t know you hated men.”
“I don’t hate men. I just don’t have time for them. In a man’s mind, women are nothing but property to be owned. Something to use and throw away.” Tabby reached behind to unfasten her dress. Her words sounded harsh, even to her ears. Choking back sobs of her own, she inhaled sharply. She wouldn’t cry. Her views had been formed years ago. She couldn’t change them now.
“I thought you had something with the chef.” Abigail’s brow furrowed.
“We’re only friends.”
A small smile crossed Abigail’s sad face. “Women and men can’t be friends. Especially when the man looks like our chef.” She waved her brush at Tabby. “You think no one knows about your visits on the back stoop, but they do. Watch yourself, my friend. You don’t want to be in my shoes.
“One of the new gals said it isn’t against the rules to keep company with men, only to keep company without a chaperone. That’s what the parlor is for. The ‘courting parlor’ they call it. Be careful. Miss O’Connor is tougher than some of the other wagon bosses, I’ve heard, and much more strict.”
Tabby wouldn’t need to worry about impropriety. Nothing in heaven or on earth could weaken her resolve.
Chapter 9
T abby took her place beside the coffee carafes, happy for her new and easier job as a drink girl, and
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