Page 47 of The Wildest Heart


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“Do you think so?” And then, as if afraid she had given something away, she lifted her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “If there really had been, of course, we would have heard Pa and Mark talk about it. But all they seem to be able to talk about at mealtimes is business. Men are so dull when they all get together and begin talking. At least women find some interest in gossip!” Her look was slightly malicious and I gave her a sugary smile.

“I’m sure you do.”

“And you, no doubt, are the kind of woman who would rather create gossip!” she flashed back at me, and I could not help laughing.

“Touché!”

She had another lightning change of mood. “It’s even becoming a bore to stand here exchanging catty remarks with you!”

Still standing at the window, I said aimlessly, “It might be an interesting experience if we could persuade one of the gentlemen to take us on a tour of the courthouse—and the jail, of course. I wonder if the one they have here is anything like the dungeons I have seen in our English castles!”

“That is the first really clever idea you’ve had since we’ve been here!” Flo’s voice sounded excited, and the gleam was back in her blue eyes. “Do you really think they would let us?”

It was Mark I asked, of course. Flo seemed to have her heart set on it, and to myself I had to confess a rather morbid curiosity.

“The jail? I can see your wanting to flatter the good townspeople by asking to see their courthouse, but…”

Todd Shannon was far more outspoken, when he discovered what Flo and I meant to do with our spare time. “You two females gone loco? Filthy hole in the ground. I can tell you what it looks like—yeah, and probably smells like, too! Ain’t no place for ladies to visit.” He lifted an eyebrow at me. “You happen to know any outlaws you want to visit in there?”

I felt guilty color stain my cheeks, and feigned anger. “Todd Shannon, you have an odd sense of humor! If you hadn’t been a cattle baron, you’d probably have ended up as an outlaw yourself!”

He gave a roar of laughter. Why did all my attempts to cut him down to size seem to amuse him? “Aha! Miss has her claws out again, huh? Well, I’ll tell you what, if you gals are really bored, you come over here and I’ll teach you how to play poker after dinner, how’s that?”

Flo pouted angrily. I merely shrugged. I had actually become cowardly enough to let Todd Shannon dictate to me occasionally just to keep the peace, although I was still determined that he would never talk me into marrying him.

The subject seemed closed for the moment and Flo continued to sulk, but the next morning, after we had finished breakfast, Mark made an opportunity to speak to me for a moment. His face was unusually serious.

“I have to speak to you in private, Rowena! What had you planned to do this morning?”

I looked at him thoughtfully. “Flo and I had planned to go back to the milliner’s shop, to try on the new bonnets we ordered. But she’s been in a particularly vile mood since yesterday, of course, and it’s more than likely shell change her mind.”

“I’ll meet you outside the store then—say in an hour’s time,” he said hurriedly. “If Flo’s with you, then well just have to think up some other opportunity. Believe me, it is important!”

I went back upstairs feeling unaccountably tense and nervous. What on earth could have happened to make Mark look so stern?

Flo was sitting in a chair by the window, her eyes fixed on something that was happening down in the street. When she heard me come in she gave an almost guilty start, but grumbled immediately.

“Oh, it’s you! You gave me a shock, coming in so q

uietly! And if you’ve come to ask me to go out, well, I’ve changed my mind. I have a terrible headache—all those cigars that Pa’s friends smoke!”

“Suit yourself!”

I was in no mood to trade barbs with her this morning, and her reference to cigars, moreover, did not fail to remind me that Todd had certainly been keeping himself busy with his friends of late. I hardly saw him during the day, and at night we usually dined with several of the men he knew, and their wives. Except for giving me meaningful glances from time to time he had been, for him, remarkably discreet.

Ignoring my presence, Flo had turned back to the window, and I started to tidy my hair before the mirror.

It was strange how gazing at my own reflection in a glass always started me thinking backwards. How many other images of myself had I seen? A plain, suspicious-looking girl in unbecoming clothes, preparing to disembark in London. An Indian princess wrapped in a gold-encrusted sari. A naked whore with diamonds about her neck, feeling nothing, thinking nothing. And later, a coldly determined young woman, elegantly dressed, with a face that showed no emotion.

Now, my fingers fumbling with hairpins, I stared, searching at myself. I had not changed very much. The bone structure of my face remained the same, my mouth was still the mouth that men called sensuous. I had merely learned to dress my hair differently and wear clothes that suited me, and voilà! I had been transformed from ugly duckling into swan.

“I suppose you are admiring yourself!” Flo had sauntered over and stood behind me. She put her head on one side, tone deliberately critical. “Well, you are passable, I daresay, but black hair like yours is far too common in this part of the country to attract too much notice. And you must admit that my figure is better than yours!”

Adjusting my wide, flower-trimmed bonnet, I turned away with a mock curtsy in her direction. “In that case, let me leave you to admire yourself.”

As I left the room I heard her laughingly begin to recite: “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all?” Her giggle followed me down the narrow passageway.

It made me uneasy, for some odd reason. Suddenly I had the strangest, most peculiar feeling that something terrible and ominous was about to happen, and the feeling was so strong that my heart began to beat faster, and my hands went cold.

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