Read Online Without Words by Ellen O'Connell - Free Book Online

the purple dress. The coat, which hung down past her hips, helped, but everything still felt stiff, new, and strange.
    Her hair felt strange too, braided and hanging down her back instead of pinned up, but at least a little water had almost straightened the burned in curls.
    She walked out from behind the curtain, half-expecting Bret to send her right back, want it all exchanged for a dress. He didn’t. He examined her from head to toe.
    “And a bandana,” he said. “And a slate. The kind you sell for school children. A slate and a chalk pencil.”
    While Bret paid, Hassie tied the bandana around her neck, covering her throat. However much he didn’t want to see the scar, she didn’t want him or anyone else to see it more.
    He used the better part of her forty dollars to pay. Hassie pulled her brush and comb out of the carpetbag, waved them around, and set aside the new ones in the pile on the counter. No one remarked on the small savings, and she stuffed the underclothing, flannel cloth, and some of the smaller items in her carpetbag.
    “My horses are at the blacksmith’s,” Bret said. “We’ll be back before you close and load this up.”
    So that’s why he was still in town. Hassie’s eyes pricked with tears at the thought of what could have happened.
    He didn’t hold her arm or shove her along as they left the mercantile, and she walked through town beside him, eyes on the ground. When she first realized who had caught her in the street, joy and relief had stabbed through her more sharply than the pain in her side. Shame had chased those feelings, worry that he would think she had gone to Miss Sally’s on her own once he was gone.
    She needn’t have worried. He had understood from the start, and his anger had never been at her. Still, she had never seen a man so angry, never imagined anyone could be like that, like a fire so hot anything nearby would turn to ash. No wonder “mad” was another word for anger.
    The clothes and all the other things meant he was going to take her with him, but what else did he intend? Another glance at his set jaw and expressionless face squelched any hope of an explanation.
    Her life had just taken a sharp turn on a different path. She didn’t know where it was headed this time, but if the past was any indication, nothing was about to get better.
     
    B RET KNEW HE should be ashamed, losing control like that. Should be, but wasn’t particularly, and if he had it to do over, he’d only shoot another lamp or two.
    The last time he’d gone off like that was before the war. His arguments with Will and Albert back then had been vicious, sometimes violent, but they’d never done more than bloodied each other’s noses.
    Today he hadn’t even done that much. He’d managed not to shoot the Reston woman, or the gorilla who chased Mrs. Petty through the middle of the town, or the marshal whose big belly was one of the most tempting targets a man ever resisted. Hell, all considered, someone should pin a medal on Breton J. Sterling.
    Now that it was all over, today’s problem was exactly the same as yesterday’s—what to do with Mrs. Petty. Seeing a preacher or anyone else in this rotten town was out of the question, which was why he’d outfitted her for the trail.
    He’d just have to drag her along for a while, at least until he had a chance to visit the Chapmans. Eligible women were scarce in that part of the country. Gabe and Belle could be talked into keeping Mrs. Petty for a while, helping her find a decent husband, and they’d know who could be trusted.
    The livery came into sight, and Bret steered Mrs. Petty in that direction. He could put her on the cavalry horse for now, but that would just mean buying something else later. The big bay’s tendency to snap at one end and kick at the other didn’t recommend him as a lady’s horse anyway.
    Close to the stables, Mrs. Petty left his side suddenly. Bret had a hand out, reaching to grab her and haul her back, when he