AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The others glanced at them but didn’t pay a lot of attention to them as they boarded the stage.
“This heat is stifling,” the woman declared as she produced a hankie to hold over her nose.
“It’ll be better once we get rolling. The air moving and all.”
“Then let’s pray it starts rolling soon.” She coughed and looked at Riley.
Riley glanced at them all, noting the gentleman on the other side of the woman held a bag in his lap. And the husband looked irritated most of the time. The woman was dressed with silks and petticoats and a hat that seemed to aim straight for the gentleman on the end’s forehead.
Riley almost laughed as it poked the man.
Riley glanced at Sam, who was by far the most handsome man in the stagecoach.
In one breath she wished she’d never met Sam, on another, she wished she was smart enough to flirt her way back into his arms. But even she realized it wouldn’t work until he came to terms with it, if he came to terms with it.
The woman was such a lady that Riley could do nothing more than stare the first few miles. Her face was beautiful with full dark eyes, and hair, with a touch of rouge and her lips a little brighter, her clothes were from sent off stores, such as New York. She smelled of flowers, and the lady’s gaze landed on Sam more than once, but she avoided any contact with Riley for some reason.
Riley sighed inwardly, the men eyed her with open curiosity.
“Traveling far, sir?” one of them asked.
“Not now, but we’ve come all the way from Boston. We’re almost there now.” She barely smiled. Her mustache tickled her lip. She wanted to rip it off, but knew that was no option. Why did men have to grow such things on their lips and face?
“And you, sir?” She returned her attention to the gentleman sitting beside the lady.
“Actually we are on business, but at least my wife got to travel with me this time. She loves the big city of Dallas, says it’s the only place that is decent in North Texas.” The gentleman smiled at Riley. “And I reckon she’s right about that.”
The gentleman on the right of the lady jumped into the conversation. “I’m a liquor salesman and I travel all over the country. Texas is one of my biggest clientele.”
Riley twitched her mustache. “Guess that explains why we have so many saloons in each town.”
The other man laughed.
“Actually, Wyoming, Colorado, and Montana, not to mention the gold mining towns of California have the most saloons, I believe. I pride myself in carrying some of the best whiskey’s available; Cactus Wine, being one of the most popular, a mix of tequila and peyote tea. And Mule Skinner, made with whiskey and blackberry liquor. Naturally, I carry an assortment of Rye, and bourbons. Twenty years ago, I carried little more than rotgut whiskeys. But times are improving. Saloons are improving too.” He laughed. “Why, one fellow in Montana sent all the way to the east for a mirror that
covered one whole wall.”
“Drinking is a sin,” the lady gushed forth with no approval and batting her eyes at Sam as though he were the only real man in the stage.
“I guess it can be, ma’am, but that’s sorta up to the cowboy, ain’t it?” the salesman asked.
Everyone hushed as the woman sent him a quick scowl.
“So…are you from the deep south?” the lady asked Riley, and stared at her long and hard.
Riley squirmed. “No ma’am, I’m from Texas. I never considered Texas south really, but I guess it is. Sorta southwest.”
“Really? I didn’t think many Texans had men servants after the war,” she remarked. “Georgia, Mississippi maybe, but not Texas.”
Riley glanced at Sam and smiled. “Sam is loyal and I didn’t have the heart to run him off. He’s been a companion to me for years now. He’s a free man, but he chooses to stay with me.”
“Is he educated?” the lady asked.
“I’m alive ma’am, you can ask me.” Sam smiled sagely. “The answer is no. I’m only educated in the ways of the Indian, and mission people. I find my work as Mr. Morgan’s man servant satisfying and comfortable for me. For what kind of work would a black man get without proper education? Being a man servant eludes me much opportunity to travel and see the world. And Mr. Morgan and I get along well.”
“Indians?” the woman screeched. “I haven’t much knowledge of them, but I thought them savages.”
Sam eyed the woman coldly. “At one time, I guess you could have said that. But today the Indian is a farmer, a rancher, a hired hand, much like other white folks. Most speak English well and dress like the white man too. This country is full of every nationality known to man, it would seem.”
