Authors: Linda George
“
I declare, Tom, you have the nicest sister in the world. And she's married to the nicest man.”
“
Nice? I've never thought of my sister, or Gabriel, as nice.”
“
You know what I mean. Courteous and friendly, open to strangers and willing to share who they are and what they have.”
“
If that's your definition, then I guess 'nice' is the right word after all. Trina can be as stubborn as a mule, though.”
“
I noticed. But Gabriel loves her. He really, really loves her.” She lapsed into contemplative silence.
Tom didn't interrupt.
He knew what had her occupied. Trina and Gabriel were the first people in a long time—hell, maybe ever—whom Rosalie had met who didn't live in the Acre and make a living in a despicable manner. No wonder she'd taken to them like a chick to a mother hen.
Mother.
His little sister, the mother of a baby girl. Without Rosalie, something bad might have happened. But she'd been there, and Trina and the baby were healthy and sound. The McCabe and Hart families would owe Rosalie a debt of gratitude for the rest of their lives. He smiled. Trina didn't have to worry about Rosalie being all alone in Denver. Tom would see to it she never lacked for companionship.
“
Which family will you be living with in Denver?”
Oh, dear, she thought.
Here it comes. “I...I don't know the family name. My father arranged it. I never asked.”
“
Well, when we get back to your place, we'll find out from your father. It might be we know the family. I'm sure my father will. You said they were well-to-do?”
“
Yes, that's my understanding.”
With a grin as big as the sky above them, Tom said,
“You know, the McCabe ranch has gotten pretty lax since Trina married Gabriel. I think my father might welcome the idea of having someone to get our house back in top shape again. And I know he’d love your dumplings as much as I did.”
Rosalie knew what he was about to say and held her breath.
“How would you like to come to live at the McCabe Ranch instead? Whatever you're to be paid, I'm sure we could match or beat it.”
“
That would be wonderful, but my father has promised this man I'll be coming. And, with your cattle problems, I don't imagine your father would appreciate your saddling him with additional expense.”
Tom frowned at that.
“I'm sure something could be worked out.”
If it only could
. “Let me get settled in Denver first, and we'll go from there. If I could, of course I'd choose the McCabe Ranch over any other well-to-do family in Denver. You understand, don't you?”
“
Sure. Just thinking out loud, that's all.” Damn, but that had been a stupid thing to suggest. She was right about Paw. He'd hit the ceiling if Tom obligated him to pay a house maid. But Rosalie wouldn't be just a house maid. She'd be like a member of the family, as she'd been at Trina's house. A member of the family...
They'd just pulled up at the
Kincannon house when a girl who came running to meet them, her face twisted with fear.
“
Rosie, thank the Lord you're here. That man who cut Lizzy before came back. You gotta come quick.”
“
Not Lizzy again!”
“
He said he didn't finish with her last time. We tried to tell him she was sick and couldn't see nobody, but he pushed his way into the back and found her.” A sob escaped her cracked lips. “Please come, Rosie.”
Rosalie ran inside.
Tom felt his jaw tighten at the thought of Rosalie's life in Hell's Half Acre. Dirt and filth, blood and violence were daily fare in this abomination. With a sigh, he followed her into the dance hall.
Putrid odors assailed him again.
He made his way down the hall toward the room where Mary died in childbirth. Rosalie sat in a chair beside the bed, bent over Lizzy, talking quietly, giving tense orders to the other girls to bring needle and thread, hot water and soap, and a bottle of whiskey to use as disinfectant and pain killer.
“
Anything I can do?” Tom stepped just inside the door. The girls gawked at him. Uncomfortable under their scrutiny, he kept his eyes trained on Rosalie and the thin girl on the bed, covered in blood.
“
The bastard used his knife on her again. Cut the other leg this time, before the first had a chance to heal. He cut her stomach, too, and crushed her left hand.”
Tom felt his stomach knot up.
“There's not much anyone can do for her now.” Rosalie tied a rag around the girl’s gnarled left hand.
Tom left the room and motioned to Sadie, standing just down the hall.
“Where is the man who did this?”
She stepped closer, into the light, casting a worried glance at Rosalie before answering.
“Are you sure you want to confront him now?”
“
Where?”
“In the front room, drinking, boasting about how he fixed Lizzy for good this time.”
“
Show me.”
She led Tom to the end of the bar, then pointed at a man about halfway down, laughing, guzzling whiskey, spattered with Lizzy's blood.
A rage unlike any he'd ever experienced flooded through Tom as he approached the bar.
“
You like cutting women, do you?” Tom's voice was deadly quiet.
The man turned to look at him.
His eyes widened. Four deep scratches on his right cheek oozed blood. “McCabe. I never expected to see you here.”
Zane Strickland.
Rage doubled in Tom’s gut as he held back, knowing he should turn this scum over to the law for what he'd done. He ached to slug this waste of skin and wipe the smile from his face. Hell, why not?
Tom punched Zane straight in the
jaw before he could react. He fell heavily to the floor, hitting a spittoon, slinging its filthy contents everywhere.
The bartender reached under the bar and brought out a shotgun.
“I don't want no killing in my bar.”
“
Send for the marshal. I don't intend dirtying my hands on this sorry excuse for a man more than I have already.”
The bartender nodded to a man standing near the door
, who eased outside, then ran.
When Strickland roused and tried to get up, Tom pushed him back to the floor with one boot.
“Stay put. You aren't going anywhere.”
“
This isn't your fight, McCabe, unless that bawd is your woman.”
“
She's a human being. No human deserves what you've done to her, you pig. I guess cutting women and breaking their bones makes you feel more of a man. But you're nothing, Strickland. You're less than nothing.”
Strickland started to get up again, but the double barrels of the bartender's shotgun kept him in place.
“Just stay right there.” He turned to Tom. “Who are you, mister?”
“
Just passing through.”
“
You don't look like the type usually comes in here. You came from the back, but I ain't never seen you up front.”
“
I'm with Rosalie Kincannon. She's here to help Lizzy.”
The
marshal burst through the front door, gun pulled. “What's going on here?”
“
This man thinks it's all right to cut women, Marshal. Take a look in the back, then haul him to jail.”
He
pushed past Tom, disappeared into the back of the dance hall, returned a minute later. “She ain't dead.”
“
No thanks to him.”
“
If she ain't dead—”
“
Arrest him! This is the second time he's attacked that woman! Aren't you going to do anything about it?”
The
marshal appeared put out with Tom for telling him how to do his job. Still, he hauled Strickland off the floor by the front of his coat, cocked a pistol in his back, and ordered him outside.
Tom turned to the bartender.
“It takes murder to get arrested in this place?”
“
Depends on who gets murdered.”
Tom shook his head with disgust.
No law and order. No decency. Nothing in the Acre but violence, pain and misery. He headed for Lizzy's room.
“
Is she going to be all right?”
Rosalie turned, wiping her forehead with the back of one hand, leaving a bloody streak.
“I've stopped most of the bleeding. But she'll never be well again. I doubt she'll be able to walk, and with only one hand, she'll hardly be able to tend to herself. There's no way to set the bones. They're in pieces.”
There were no tears in Rosalie's eyes.
Only hatred and anger. Tom vowed to get her out of Fort Worth at first light tomorrow.
When Rosalie felt she could leave, she and Tom went to her house.
William Kincannon didn't appear to be anywhere about.
In the kitchen, Rosalie washed her face and hands
. Water tinged pink with Lizzy’s blood whirlpooled down the drain.
The tears finally came.
Tom gathered her close and encouraged her to let go, to cry until the horror dulled.
“
We'll be out of here tomorrow. You won't ever have to come back to this place or these people again,” he said softly.
She shook her head.
“I can't leave. Not now.”
“
Why the hell not?” The last thing he'd expect her to say!
“
Because of Lizzy. I can't leave her.”
“
You said she'd heal in time. Can't the other girls help her while you’re gone?”
“
No one can care for Lizzy as I can.”
“
That's nonsense. Of course they can. You can't be the only woman in the Acre who knows nursing skills.”
“
There are others. But not for Lizzy. Without me, Lizzy will die.”
Why couldn't he make her see reason?
“What's so special about Lizzy that it takes you, personally, to nurse her back to health?”
She hesitated, then
shuddered. “Lizzy is my sister.”
C
hapter 6
“Your sister? You can't be serious! She's a...well, she's—”
“
A soiled dove? Is that the term you were searching for?” She knew his choice would've been much more to the point, but they were talking about her sister.
“
Rosalie, I don't know what to say.”
“
I admit, most of the time, I don't know what to say about it, either. But she is my sister. Marnie Elizabeth Kincannon was her birth name. She's two years older than I am.”
“
Only two? She could be your mother.”
“
Girls in her profession tend to get old before their time. About six years ago, after an unfortunate incident Elizabeth started working at the Emerald, one of the nicer saloons. She was fourteen. She attracted the worst sort of cowboy and took a lot of punishment. When she started to look old, at seventeen, she was evicted and had to go to the Red Light Saloon. When they didn't want her there anymore, she came to the dance halls. The Yellow Rose is the second one she's worked in. No one else would take her. She attracts trouble. Gets slapped around a lot. Sometimes, it seems she invites abuse.”
“
How old is she now?”
“
Twenty. She's been at The Rose about six months.” Rosalie closed her eyes against the memory of that dreadful night, but seeing Lizzy sprawled on that bed like a slab of hacked meat would never leave her mind completely. All that blood. It had taken three of them to hold her down while Rosalie stitched up the slash in her leg.
But Lizzy's life wasn't the only one
that had changed that night.
Rosalie realized with a start that she never would've met Tom or Gabriel or
Trina if Zane Strickland hadn't come to the dance hall that night Lizzy was hurt. Rosalie didn't know how to feel about that.
Tom rubbed her back affectionately.
“He's in jail now, at least for the night. Maybe he'll think twice before he takes a knife to a woman again.”
“
Jail?”
“
I stood on him until the marshal carted him off to a cell.”
Rosalie shook her head.
“That's a first, for sure.”
“
I got the impression that men who rough up the women in the Acre aren't punished much.”
“
Not punished at all. No one cares what happens to the bawds.” She hated that word, but it was one of the nicer terms used for women like Lizzy.
Tom touched her arm carefully.
“So you won't leave her?”
“
How can I, with the condition she's in?” A wave of nausea threatened, but she subdued it the best she could. “She's helpless. The other girls may not always be able to stay with her. I have to help her regain her strength.”
“
What will she do once she's well?”
Rosalie refused to face him.
“She won't have any choice but the crib houses or living at home, which she’d never agree to do.”
Tom didn't have to ask about the cribs.
The expression of defeat he saw on her face meant she knew about them, too. He couldn't blame her for wanting to save her sister from the worst possible life imaginable.
“
We'll take her to Denver.”
Rosalie stared at him with utter surprise on her face.
“Take Lizzy to Denver?”
“
We'll find someone to care for her until she's well again. How soon before she'll be able to travel?”
“
I don't know. Several days, at least. Maybe a week.”
“
I have to go back through Lubbock to see to the shipping of that bull. The ride will be easier on the train than on the stage or in a wagon.”
Gratitude and relief flooded through Rosalie like cool water.
She staggered with the impact of what Tom was offering Lizzy. The heat had become so intense in the house, she swayed with sudden dizziness.
Tom grabbed her arm, thinking her about to fall, and held her.
Dammit, he had to get this woman and her sister out of this damned hell hole.
William
Kincannon stomped in the back door with a wide grin on his face. It disappeared when he saw Rosalie in Tom's arms.
“
What's wrong? Did you hurt her?” He started toward Tom with an angry scowl.
Rosalie intercepted.
“No, he didn't!”
Kincannon
stared at Rosalie. “Then why are you crying?”
“
Because of what happened to Lizzy. But, Mr. McCabe has offered to take her to Denver, too, where she can get well and have a new life.”
“
Is that all? Take her for all I care. She's nearly dead as it is.”
Tom's urge to punch
Kincannon's face into a bloody pulp almost prompted him to do it. But he wasn't worth sore knuckles. That repulsive grin was back. “I arranged a race! Rusty against the best in the city! This could mean a lot of money, Rosie. I might even be able to send a few dollars with you to Denver.”
“
How generous of you,” Tom said flatly.
“
C'mon, Tom. I'll show you my horses. You might want to place a bet yourself, put a little spending money in your pocket before you leave. When is it you're leaving?”
“
Not for a few more days. We have to wait until Lizzy is well enough to travel.”
“
Oh. Yeah. I guess so. Well, do you want to see some prime horseflesh or not?”
Tom glanced at Rosalie.
“Are you coming with us?”
She shook her head.
“I'll need to check on Lizzy.” Her eyes drilled her father's. “I personally do not care if I ever see those horses again. Excuse me, please.” She headed for the back door and outside.
“
All right, let's see them.”
Kincannon
went out the door like a shot. “Unhitch that mare. I keep all but one saddle horse in a stable north of town, but I have a spare saddle here somewhere.” He rummaged in a ramshackle shed out back, replacing three locks when he was finished.
Tom loosened the harness and led the mare from the traces.
Kincannon handed him a saddle and bridle, practically new.
“
Mighty fine tack.”
“
Nothing's too good for my horses.”
Tom tightened the girth, then swung into the saddle and followed
Kincannon, already a good piece down the road. Tom kneed the mare lightly and caught up.
“
Where are they?”
“
You don't think I'd keep 'em in the Acre, do you? Why, they'd be stolen the first time I turned my back. I board 'em with a man who owns a mercantile on Cold Spring Road, near the track.”
Tom didn't say much on the way.
Kincannon, though, prattled on and on about all the races his horses had won since he’d bought them five years ago. According to him, there weren't finer horses in all of Texas, especially Rusty, the fastest of the bunch.
When they reached the corral,
Kincannon tied his horse to the fence, then ducked under and inside. Five horses roamed the near pen, but only one perked his ears at the whistle and came. This strawberry roan had to be Rusty.
Kincannon
pulled something from his pocket and gave the big horse a nibble. His jaws circled as Kincannon scratched between his ears and patted his neck.
Tom had to admit they were all from prime stock
, especially the roan.
“
See that? He can be really high strung, especially on race day, but see how he eats right out of my hand without so much as a howdy-do? He knows old Kincannon will have something in his pocket for him.”
“
He’s a fine horse, all right.” Tom approached the gelding, gave the horse a chance to get used to his presence, then reached to pat his neck. The roan flinched, relaxed, then snuffled Tom's pockets, lower lip quivering. “No, I don't have anything for you. Does that mean you don't like me anymore?”
“
There ain’t a horse in fort Worth that can beat him.”
Kincannon
recognized quality. No doubt about that. Rosalie's comments surfaced in Tom’s mind. “Why doesn't Rosalie like these horses? She said she did, once.”
“
Aw, ain't that just like a woman to turn on an animal when it weren't that animal's doin' at all.”
“
What are you talking about?”
Kincannon
dragged his filthy slouch hat from his head and dragged his sleeve across his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat pouring out of his greasy hair. “She blames the horses for her having to go to Denver.”
That made no sense.
“I have a feeling I came in at the middle of this tale.”
“
I was playing cards with a dude on his way to Dallas to get hitched. I figured I could take him pretty good. But he ended up with a winning hand, and Rosie was part of the pot.”
Tom knew he couldn't have heard right.
“You used her as a bet in the game?”
“
I told you I thought I could win. But the bastard bested me. I used Rosie as a marker for the last two thousand of my bet. He said she could be house maid for his family in Denver. If you ask me, she oughta be loving my neck for getting her into such a fancy family. I don't 'spect he's gonna take much to the idea of having Lizzy there, too, though. Not after what he done to her.”
Tom felt a chill, with the sun blaring down at a hundred and five in the shade.
“Who are you talking about?”
“
Zane Strickland. Came back from Dallas, drunk and mean, and cut her up again. But, hell, you know all about it. Just don't tell Rosie that's who it was. She don't know Zane was the one what done the cuttin' on her sister. I heard how you got the Sheriff to haul his sorry ass to jail. His paw is gonna be mighty upset when he hears his boy spent a night in the Acre jail, for sure.”
Tom turned and strode away, breathing slower and deeper, anger crackling through him like a prairie fire.
He knew if he hit William Kincannon even once, he might not be able to stop.
This sorry excuse for a father had bet his own daughter in a card game with Zane Strickland.
And, now, Rosalie had to pay the debt by going to Denver to work in the Strickland home.
The image of Lizzy lying on that cot, bleeding her life away, face purple from Strickland's fists, changed until Tom could envision Rosalie lying there instead.
“
Where're ya going?” Kincannon yelled after him.
Tom didn't answer.
<><><><>
Rosalie carefully bathed Lizzy's face with cool water while her own face ran wet with sweat. Tarnation, but these back rooms were like ovens in the summer. The thermometer had been known to boil out the top when the sun hit it on a day like this. If they didn't get some relief from this heat pretty soon, there wouldn't be a working thermometer in all of Fort Worth.
“
Try and rest easy. You're going to be well again before you know it. Then, we're going to Denver. Mr. McCabe has come to escort us.”
“
Both of us? But where are we going?”
Rosalie didn't want her to know the whole truth, so she made up a lie intended to sooth and settle.
“We're going to live in a banker's house. A grand house, with fine furniture and rugs, and sparkling chandeliers in every room.”
“
But, who invited us?”
“
The banker's son.” The idea of Zane Strickland “inviting” them might have made her laugh, if the truth hadn't been so unpalatable and sour.
“
He invited me, too?”
“
Yes. Tom will be taking us. He'll make sure we get there safely.”
“
Tom?”
“
Mr. McCabe. He's a senator's son.”
“
But, Rosie, I can't walk good no more, so you know I can't dance. And I can't move my left hand at all, 'cause of the awful throbbing.”
Rosalie had given all the girls strict instructions not to tell Liz
zie about her hand being smashed to bits. She had enough to contend with, and still couldn't see with her eyes blackened and swollen shut.
“
Don't you worry. You'll be right as rain before you know it. And you won't ever have to work in a dance hall or a saloon again.”
“
Never? But Paw said—”
“
I can imagine what Paw said,” she muttered between clinched teeth. “Just never you mind Paw or anyone else. You just listen to me.”
“
Paw said I'd have to go to the cribs for sure. If I can't walk, how can I work?”
“
Hush up now! You have to get your rest. Mr. McCabe will book passage for us on the train to Lubbock, then on to Denver the minute you're able to travel. Sleep, now. I'll be back directly to see how you're feeling.”