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Chapter One
“Your dress is really big.”
Elizabeth startled hard, dripping ink onto the journal entry she was writing. She looked over to find a little girl, age seven or eight, had taken the seat across the aisle of the train from her.
“Ruth!” the little girl’s mother reprimanded from a few rows back.
“Oh. Sorry, your dress is really…puffy.”
Elizabeth smiled and nodded. “I wish I was wearing a pretty dress like yours. Looks much more comfortable.”
Ruth’s mother ushered the girl back to their family, and Elizabeth watched her run back down the aisle. It was the first time this entire train ride anyone had talked to her. With a sigh, she put her pen to the paper again.
Elizabeth Dorthea Flemm. What an intolerable name. The last name wouldn’t be so unbearable if it wasn’t directly preceded by the first. To be sure, Elizabeth is a fair name on other women who are more suited to it, but for me it is a constant reminder of who I am named after. One Elizabeth Hall; the wife and sole benefactor of the very-wealthy Frederick Hall, and a hard soul with an acute and bitter dislike for me. She also happens to be my aunt. My mother thought naming me after her sister would increase my chances of that wealth trickling down to me, though she was absurdly wrong. What my kind and loving uncle ever saw in that woman, I fear I shall never know, but I digress. I have made a decision. Since no one will know me where I am going, I think I shall call myself Eliza…
The slowing of the train pulled Eliza against the seat, and she caught the small vial of ink as it slid toward her. She plugged it up, wiped the pen, blew on her journal to dry the words before closing it, then placed the writing materials into the side pocket of her luggage that was packed and waiting patiently beside the small table in the compartment. She stood and smoothed the soft material of her full dress. The wide hooped skirts and cream-colored bombazine dress were completely inappropriate for the dusty Wild West cattle town of Rockdale, Texas.
The outfit wasn’t her choice. Dear Aunt Elizabeth had made it a last request that she wear a proper dress as she rode off to her new wanton life. And now she would undoubtedly stand out as the proverbial sore thumb in this small town. “An adventuress,” Aunt Elizabeth called her, though she’d used the term like a curse. Aunt Elizabeth’s bitterness and condemnation still stung, and if she was honest with herself, Eliza was happy the memory of that woman didn’t exist where she was going.
The train let out a shrill whistle and the brakes screeched loudly. The force made her brace against the nearest wall in the tiny space. Eliza picked up her luggage as the train came to a stop, and lined up behind a few other travelers to exit out the narrow door. She awkwardly hit every seat as she advanced to the front. When it was her turn to exit the train car, Eliza’s skirts swished and folded loudly as she moved through the small doorway, and one of the suitcases got stuck and nearly yanked her arm out of its socket. No doubt to the onlookers waiting for loved ones on the platform, she looked like a bowl of gravy being poured from the compartment. A heavyset man gave her a wide-eyed look and shook his head. Eliza stifled a laugh. She had never been good at first impressions, and the small town of Rockdale would have something—and someone—new to talk about for at least a week until the next gossip stole their attention.
The thought made her nervous all over again, and her smile faded as she stepped out of the train and onto the platform. Her bags were terribly heavy, so she set them down beside her. All along the platform her recent train-mates and their loved ones reunited with happy embraces, handshakes, and smiles. No such reunion was to be expected for her. The man she had traveled to see was unaware of her intentions to visit.
She needed to find a coach, and quickly. The mid-day sun bore down relentlessly, and she was already roasting in her full skirts. A drop of perspiration raced between her breasts, and she sighed as she hefted her baggage. Ignoring the open-mouthed stares from some of the crowd, she headed through the small station.
She dropped the heavy bags with an embarrassing thud onto a wooden porch directly in front of a carriage. An older gentleman in a dusty waistcoat with a full, gray beard sat perched on its seat. “May I bother you for a ride, sir? I can pay whatever price you set,” she said.
He studied her with a slight frown. “You shouldn’t tell people you have money like that, miss. Where are you headed?”
“Roy Davis’s place. I’m a relative.” Well, close enough to a relative anyway. “Do you know him? His place is out past…” She racked her brain for old details she remembered from a decade ago. “Fox Creek?”
“I know Roy Davis, and I reckon I can take you to his place. I ain’t no coach though. Those only come through a few times a week.”
“Oh.” How embarrassing. “Terribly sorry. I saw you waiting out here and just assumed.”
“Nope. I’m in town pickin’ up a few things. If you’d wait a minute, I can give you that ride. It’s not too far out of my way, and Roy is an old friend.”
“Thank you. I would greatly appreciate it.” Could she trust this man? He looked unassuming enough, but one could never be too careful. Out of options, she nodded. He jumped out of the buggy and loaded her bags in the back. For such a wiry man, he was very strong. True to his word, the man returned shortly with two boxes of supplies. After they were off, he introduced himself as Bill Borland.
“Eliza Flemm,” she said, only hesitating a bit as her lips formed the name. “Pleased to meet you.”
“So you’re kin to Roy Davis?” Bill asked.
“I’m his daughter, sir.”
“His daughter?” The man’s bushy gray brows shot right to his hairline as he studied her face. “You don’t look nothin’ like him.”
Bill’s surprise was sincere, and her cheeks flushed with heat. She knew what he was thinking. How could tan-skinned Roy Davis have a daughter with auburn hair, bright-green eyes, and a smattering of freckles over her ghost-pale skin?
“I take after my mother’s side,” she lied.
“I thought you said your name was Flemm.”
“It is. I didn’t take Roy’s name. It’s a long story.”
“Well, good thing we got an hour before we get there. You have plenty of time to tell that long story of yours.”
“A long story I don’t care to share,” she clarified.
