Meg glanced at her and sighed. “I don’t know. What are we going to do now?”
“I refuse to work as a maid again.” Never again would Ruby be on her hands and knees in someone else’s kitchen while their son lingered in the shadows waiting for her. Never.
Annabelle shivered. “I’m not going to be a waitress again.”
Meg didn’t say anything. “Let’s go eat dinner. We’ll worry about this tomorrow.”
“There’s still Zach.” Ruby said.
She wondered if Meg wanted to marry the good-looking sheriff. He wasn’t bad on the eyes, and she’d appeared to enjoy kissing him the other night when they’d peeked out the window at them.
“The deadline is tomorrow,” Meg said.
***
Meg went to the bank and paid the balloon payment. The expression on the banker’s face as she counted out the bills and asked for a receipt was one she would treasure. The old buzzard had been expecting to repossess and instead she’d paid him for the year.
They had one year to collect enough money for the next balloon payment. One year, no jobs, and no income. She didn’t have to marry Zach, she had some time now, but part of her didn’t want to let him go. She
wanted
to marry Zach.
Annabelle and Ruby were at the general store buying supplies and stocking up on food items. They would have enough to get them through the summer, and then they had twelve months to earn the money for the next balloon payment. Twelve months.
They were three women in a small town, in desperate need of a way to make a living.
Meg had to know Zach’s decision. She had to know if he would marry her and become a partner on the farm.
Walking down the wooden sidewalk, her boots made a clunking noise as she strode towards Zach. Outside the sheriff’s office, she noticed the wanted posters up on the wall. Wanted for stealing—fifty dollar reward. Wanted for murder—five hundred dollar reward. Wanted for robbery—two hundred dollar reward. No wonder Papa had been a bounty hunter.
She opened the door and walked into the sheriff’s. One of the deputies sat behind the desk. He glanced up at her and smiled a knowing smirk that left her uneasy.
“Where’s Sheriff Zach?”
“He’s down at the bath house. Don’t know why he likes to bathe so often. Heard he planned on doing some courtin’ tonight. Heard your name mentioned. Also heard him mention the saloon.”
Meg frowned. He mentioned the saloon? If he were going to marry her, he wouldn’t be going to the saloon.
“Thanks, tell him I came by,” she said and walked out the door.
He was at the bathhouse. Maybe she should go back to the house and just wait for him, or find someplace and sit and rest a spell while he finished. No, she needed an answer. She needed one now. No decisions about what to do could be made until after she’d talked to Zach.
The sun was dipping below the horizon; the small town was shutting down, and the saloons were beginning to wake from their day of slumber. Meg wanted to get home before the rowdies came out to play.
Annabelle and Ruby drove up in the buggy and pulled alongside her as she sat on her horse.
“Did you talk to Zach,” Ruby asked.
“No, I haven’t found him yet.” Never would she mention to her sisters that he was at the bathhouse, and she intended to go find him. They would never understand her need to know his answer now.
Annabelle gazed at Meg a frown on her face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Nervous, but fine.”
“We’re going home so we can get everything unloaded and put away before dark,” Annabelle said, nodding her head.
“Okay, I’ll meet you at the farm.”
“Good luck. See you at home,” Ruby called as Annabelle clicked the reins of the horse, and the buggy pulled away.
What should she do? Wait here in the street for Zach or go to the bathhouse? She was tired; she was ready to go home, and she needed her answer now.
With a flick of the reins, her horse trotted down the street to the bathhouse. When she arrived at the establishment, she swung her leg over her horse and dropped to the ground. She tied the reins to the hitching post and took a deep steadying breath. Going into the all-male establishment would not be easy.
By now the street was cloaked in a dusty shade of orange as the last rays of the sun shone before it sank beneath the horizon. Good, decent folks were starting to go inside, and soon the street would be filled with music from the saloons. Men would be carousing the streets, drinking and gambling. She would talk to Zach and then get home.
Meg walked to the door and went inside. A man met her at the door. “We don’t allow women.”
“I know,” she said impatiently. “I’m looking for the sheriff.”
“He’s in the back and you can’t go in there.”
“The hell I can’t.” She began to walk to the area he’d pointed to.
After only a few steps, she heard the laughter.
“Those pants she wears fit her real nice.”
“Yeah, her ass looks sweet and tempting.”
“I don’t want any sage hen who can out shoot me and doesn’t dress like a woman.”
Heat flooded her face as embarrassment gripped her. She felt like her chest was ripped open, leaving her vulnerable. They were serving her up, talking about her. They were making fun of her because she dressed like a man. Pain spiraled through her; tears welled up and threatened to spill. How could they be so unfair?
She wanted to wear a dress, she wanted to look and act like a woman. She dreamed of owning a dress shop, but right now she had no choice in her outfits. She didn’t even own a dress that fit her any longer. She’d given her last dress to her sisters and taken to wearing Papa’s pants. She longed to design a pattern and stitch a dress, but there was no money for the cloth.
“Yeah, but whoever she marries, who’s going to be wearing the pants in the family?”
“You could be one of those hen-pecked husbands. ‘Yes, dear, whatever you say, dear,’” a man said in his imitation of a woman’s voice.
A new round of laughter accompanied this statement and tears pricked Meg’s eyes and filled her throat. She would not cry.
“In bed, I bet she’s colder than a well digger’s ass in Montana. She’d probably want to take the lead. ‘Roll over honey, I’m doing the pushin’.’”
“Gentleman, the lady looks awfully fine in her britches. If that’s the worst thing her husband has to endure, then I don’t think the job would be that bad. But sometimes her nature is a little bossy. She likes to take control,” Zach’s voice called out. “But in my marriage, I wear the pants, I make the decisions, and I take the lead in the bedroom.”
“Not with that biddy you wouldn’t.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to fight for her, to tell these men that she was a good woman who’d been dealt a difficult situation and done the best she could. She kept waiting for him to list her good qualities. She kept waiting and realized he wasn’t going to defend her. The no-good bastard was just going to let these men ridicule her.
She was bossy? She liked control? What did he expect? When she’d taken over the responsibility of her family, she’d had to change from a child to a woman. Something a twelve-year-old young’un should never have to do. She’d had no choice.
Meg’s insides tightened, and a rush of fury consumed her, leaving her hair ends almost standing on end. The urge to storm in there and tell everyone he was the biggest damn fool that ever lived had her feet moving, but then she stopped. No…wait.
Running in there like a frenzied angry woman would complete her humiliation. They would love to see her breakdown in a fit of anger. The whole town would hear of how she’d been stripped of her pride in the bathhouse. There were other ways to extract her revenge.
She turned and faced the man running to stop her. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t go back there. I’ll just wait outside for him.”
He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “Thank you. I didn’t want to have to carry you out.”
A snide laugh escaped her lips. “That wouldn’t have happened.”
Opening the door, she walked out and untied the reins of her horse and rode around to the back of the bathhouse where the private tubs were kept. Most men had a drink while they waited for their bath to be prepared and then went to the private areas to soak. She’d be waiting.
Tying the reins of her horse, she peered beneath the tented area. The man who owned the bathhouse had yet to build a permanent establishment. Laid out on her belly, she crawled under the canvas and spied the big round tin tubs. Yeap, they’d do.
After returning to her horse, she searched and found the coil of rope in her saddlebags. With a loop and a knot, she tied the rope to her saddle horn and then strung it through her stirrups. She found the smaller thinner rope she kept just for hog tying, grabbed a rag and stuffed them in her pocket. At the edge of the tent, she waited on her belly for Zach, hoping she’d chosen the right room.
A man came in and poured two buckets of hot water into the tub and then a smaller bucket of cool water. “It’s ready for you, sheriff.”
He walked into the area; a towel draped around his waist.
“Thanks, I’m going to rest a bit. If I’m not out in thirty minutes, come wake me,” he instructed the man. “I’ve got plans tonight, and I need to be out of here in less than an hour.”
“Will do, sir,” he acknowledged.
Meg smiled. He’d be awake in thirty minutes. As he dropped the towel, she gazed in interest. Not bad. Not bad at all. Her stomach tightened, and her breathing quickened. A nicely built man with a muscled chest, tight stomach, and strong thighs. Too bad the cowboy would never get the opportunity to show her his physique in a marriage bed.
Zach turned his back, his buttocks a nice firm shape she longed to slap. He sunk down low into the tub. He was too big to sprawl out, but he placed his towel beneath his head and scooted down into the water. He sighed a contented, relaxed sound. Though she was unable to see his eyes, she’d just bet they were closed.
She loosened the strings on the tie downs on the tent, not wanting to tear up the man’s place of business, and then waited.
About ten minutes later, the sheriff’s breathing evened out, and she knew he was sleeping. She took out her tools, crawled on her belly into the tent and then came up behind him. With her lasso ready, she jerked his feet up and slipped the rope around his ankles, tightening the slipknot. His eyes flew open in surprise as she wrapped the other end of the rope around his wrists, effectively hog-tying the bastard.
“What are you doing in here?” he yelled, trying to rise, his brown eyes stunned and questioning. “You tied me up? What are you doing?”
“Did you tell anyone I’d asked you to marry me?” she asked.
“No,” he stammered and she knew he lied. “I planned on coming out to your place tonight to ask you to marry me.”
Yeah, and her chickens were going to lay golden eggs.
She wrapped the rope around the tub and tied it. “Marry a woman wearing pants? Sure, you were going to ask this
bossy, controlling
woman to marry you. You
like
being hen-pecked.”
“How did you hear?” His eyes widened in disbelief, his forehead drawing together creating a wrinkle above his brows, as he realized she’d heard everything.
She paused and smiled down at him, then leaned into the tub.
“Let’s just say the walls have ears.” The shock and surprise on his face was almost gratifying. What if she hadn’t come in here late this afternoon? She would never have known his true feelings.
“What are you doing?” he asked, seeming to just notice she continued to wrap the rope across the top of the tub.
“I’m securing you in. Don’t want you to catch cold,” she replied in that happy singsong voice she used when she was so angry she had to cover her tone. “Someone might see your…” She gazed down into the tub, and he pulled his legs together as best he could. “Private parts.”
“God damn it, Meg.”
Her chest tightened, and her eyes watered. She shoved the pain of his rejection deep inside, now was not the time to let him see how much he’d hurt her. Now was the time to get her revenge, but why didn’t it feel better? Why wasn’t she enjoying making him suffer? Why did it hurt so much?
“You don’t want a woman wearing pants.”
“I didn’t say that. I can’t help if it they were making fun of you, I was trying to defend you.”
“Oh yeah, and you were doing such an outstanding job.” Peering into his face, she pretended to study him. “Why, I can see the hen pecks from here, you big sissy,” she said, tying the last knot. “Yes, I’m so sure you wanted ‘the job.’”
“I want to marry you,” he said, almost screaming at her.
“And I want a man who will defend me, stand up for me, and tell bastards like that to shut the fuck up about my wife. Do you understand? I don’t want a scalawag, lowlife jackeroo for a husband.” Before he could respond, she shoved the rag into his mouth.
Now she’d no longer have to listen to his empty promises of how he wanted her to marry him. Now, her eyes wouldn’t be tearing up at his assurances of wedding bliss.
His eyes grew large, and he struggled against the ropes.
“That’s better. I won’t have to listen to your bullshit.” She checked her knots one more time.
“This won’t take long, but I wouldn’t move around too much. I’d hate to tear the bottom out of that tub and have your bare ass be dragged along the street. That might hurt a bit,” she said and tied the tent flap up. With a swing of her leg, she climbed onto her horse and gigged him with her heels.
The horse grunted, but slowly the tub began to move as she dragged it over rocks and grass as it moved out of the tent.
Zach was screaming at her through the gag, making, gargled noises, but she ignored him as her horse tugged the tub from the alley, turning and heading toward Main Street. Slow and steady she went, not wanting to hurt Zach, just humiliate him. The way she’d been demeaned in public.
She pulled the reins to a stop about a block from the saloon, between the bank and the mercantile. From here, she could hear the piano music tinkling, the loud laughter and the singing, but there was very little foot traffic.