Missy gave her a long look. “One of these days you’ll realize I’m no longer a child.”
Louise patted her back. Missy was right. She’d turned eighteen two months ago, and was now a young woman. “I already do, but you can’t blame me for wanting to take care of you.”
Missy started sorting through the soiled dishes, preparing to wash them.
Louise waited, knowing something more troubled her.
Finally, Missy grabbed a dish towel, wiped her hands and turned to face Louise. “That house is the only home I’ve ever known.”
“I know.” There seemed no value in pointing out she’d had a home longer than Louise had ever had, as well as the surety of being wanted. The young girl had experienced loss, too, and life hadn’t been easy for her, either. “But do you think we can get Vic to leave?”
Missy shook her head, sending strands of her blond hair across her cheeks. She had always been a beautiful, almost ethereal-looking child and had matured into a young woman who drew glances wherever she went. From his first look at Missy, Vic had wanted to claim her as his own.
Why he wanted Louise defied logic. Probably just to prove he could. Seemed the man always had to get what others had. Or what they said he couldn’t have.
When it was steeped, they took the tea to Aunt Bea. There wasn’t a biscuit or cookie or even a heel of bread in the house.
“Let’s surprise Aunt Bea by making her a supper she won’t forget,” Louise said. “But first, let’s clean the kitchen.”
They washed dishes until they both had prune-like fingers.
“I’ll do the floor,” Missy insisted. “You need to take it easy.”
Louise wouldn’t admit it, but her back ached and she was weary clear through. Too weary to make her way to the stagecoach office. She sighed. Her plans would have to wait until tomorrow.
“Thank you. I’ll prepare the vegetables while you do the floor.” She sat at the table to work, grateful for a chance to rest her feet. But when her gaze went to the window and she saw Vic loitering in the alley beyond the yard, her weariness vanished. Right then and there she knew what she had to do. She wouldn’t say anything about his presence for fear of alarming the others, but she’d be sure to lock the house tightly tonight and sleep with a poker beside her bed.
* * *
After breakfast the next morning, Louise announced she had business to attend to. “Missy, you stay here and keep the doors locked.”
“Why?” Missy asked. Then, as if she realized the reason, she took a step toward the window.
Louise caught her arm and stopped her. “He’s been there a while. Don’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know we know.”
“He’ll follow you.”
“I’ve thought of that. And I have a plan. Why don’t you open the back door and toss the dishwater out. He’ll be watching you and I’ll slip out the front door. He won’t even know.” Please, God, make me invisible to him.
“Be sure and lock up after I leave.” She waited until Missy opened the back door, then slipped out the front and hurried down the street toward the heart of town, going directly to the stagecoach office.
“How do I get to Eden Valley Ranch?”
The bespectacled man behind the wicket stared at her. “Guess I’d have to know where it was before I could tell you that, ma’am.”
She racked her brain. Had Mrs. Hawkins ever said the name of the nearest town when she’d spoken of the ranch on which her son worked? Yes. It came in a flash and brought a relieved sigh. “Edendale in Alberta, Canada.”
The man tipped his nose as he studied a map on the wall to the side of the wicket. Then he brought his gaze back to her. “Well, ma’am, that’s a mighty long ways off. This here stage will take you as far as Fort Macleod, but, ma’am, it’s a long journey, especially for someone in your—” He turned so red his skin must have burned, and he didn’t finish.
“In my condition. Yes. Yes. But isn’t that up to me to decide?”
The color had begun to fade on the man’s cheeks, but again intensified.
“How much will it cost?” she asked. “And when does the stage depart?”