Read Online Emmy's Equal by Marcia Gruver - Free Book Online Page A

anatomy that had fallen soundly asleep. A mite jealous of the serene expression on her mama’s face, Emmy longed for a little extra padding on her posterior region.
    Sporting far less cushion than Emmy, tiny Aunt Bertha squirmed on the seat and moaned then pressed her nose to the glass. “Ain’t we there yet, Willem?”
    Before Papa had time to answer, the conductor appeared at the back of the car to announce Uvalde as the next stop.
    Mama grinned at Aunt Bert from across the way. “Ask and ye shall receive, sugar.”
    “Well, it’s a blessing my sore bottom’s grateful for,” Aunt Bertha announced, and none too discreetly.
    Emmy stifled a laugh when Papa’s mouth flew open. His head jerked around to nod and grimace at nearby passengers, most looking as scandalized as he did.
    Evidently mentioning unmentionable parts in public didn’t bother Aunt Bertha one bit. Considering his wife had been friends with the feisty, outspoken woman for going on forty years, one would think Papa would be used to her by now.
    The train lurched to a stop with a squeal of brakes. The excited travelers, likely as stiff and sore as Emmy, shuffled into the aisle muttering their relief. Unaware of the stir she’d caused, Aunt Bert squatted to gather her luggage from beneath the seat. Standing, she hoisted the heavy bags and motioned with her head. “Let’s go. Ain’t none of these folks waiting for us.”
    Papa followed her with Mama close on his heels.
    Grateful to escape the rolling prison, Emmy filed into the slow-moving line, clutching Mama’s sleeve to maintain her balance. After so much time spent wobbling and rocking along the tracks, she felt a little dizzy now that the train was still. The crush of people around her made her breathless, and the odor of unwashed bodies in such close quarters pitched her queasy stomach.
    Mama glanced over her shoulder. “You all right, baby?”
    She nodded, but sweat beaded her top lip and her hands felt clammy.
    When had it gotten so hot?
    Unconvinced by her answer, Mama stepped aside and pulled Emmy between her and Papa. “We’ll be off this contraption in a minute, sugar. You’ll feel better after you get a breath of fresh air.”
    ***
    “Do you see ’em, old pal?” Cuddy lumbered to his feet, dipping and swaying as he fought to stay upright.
    Diego reached a steadying hand and braced Cuddy against the wagon bed. “Not yet, but I reckon when people actually start coming off the train, it’ll be easier to catch sight of them.”
    His heart aching, Diego studied Cuddy’s glassy eyes and unsteady stance, realizing there was no way under heaven to hide his drunkenness from Mr. Rawson’s guests. If they complained to their host about Cuddy’s sloppy state, it would seal his fate.
    Diego had first smelled the liquor on his breath when they were saddling up at their campsite that morning and warned Cuddy to lay off the booze. Nearly to town, Diego caught him turning up a silver flask. Furious, he climbed aboard the rig and forcibly removed it, but by then the damage was done. When Cuddy wasn’t looking, he stashed the troublesome container inside the jockey box under the driver’s seat.
    Cuddy pointed. “Eyes front. There they are.”
    Diego’s gaze followed his wobbly finger. “How do you know it’s the Danes?”
    “Look at ’em. Three old geezers and a little gal.” Cuddy released a whiskey-scented breath in a long, slow whistle, staring with eyes as hungry as a stray dog at the kitchen door.
    A jolt shocked Diego’s middle. As the party drew closer, the first muddled impression of perfection sharpened to rows of corn-silk curls beneath a jaunty hat, a blush-colored dress that couldn’t begin to hide a lithe, perfect figure, and lips the same rosy color, stuck out like a petulant child’s.
    Lips that begged to be kissed.
    “Ain’t she something?” whispered Cuddy.
    Diego tried to answer, but a lack of saliva had glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth—unlike Cuddy,