Pearl Page 3

  Pearl cringed. “Oh.” She’d wondered about her own name often enough, but Mother never gave her much of an answer, just mumbled something about pain bringing them a precious jewel.

  “You hear that?” Pip had walked further ahead, and stopped to look back with wide eyes.

  Al Gunderson and Stan the driver’s boy both wandered behind the two women, dragging what luggage they could with them. “What is it?” shouted Stan.

  “A hoss, comin’ this way!” cried Pip.

  The weary travelers hurried to the side of the road. In this darkness, anyone on horseback might not see them in time to stop. Pearl’s eyes widened – who would be traveling this road at night? Perhaps it was a band of outlaws – should they hide? She heard Pip call something, but he was still too far ahead of them on the road and she couldn’t make out what he said..

  “What did he say?” asked Belle.

  “I don’t know.”

  Just then, a black horse appeared in the still night air, its muscular neck arched high as it side-stepped through the dust toward them. “Hello?” called the man on its back.

  “We’re over here,” replied Mr. Gunderson.

  Pearl grimaced. She hoped he hadn’t just given their location away to a thief or a murderer.

  The man leaped from the horse’s back and hurried over to greet them. “Is there a Pearl Stout in your party?”

  Pearl stepped forward and lifted her chin. “Yes, I’m Pearl Stout.”

  He grinned and tugged his hat off to hold against his chest. His dark hair was mussed and his stubbled cheeks were marked by two distinct dimples. He gave an exaggerated bow. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Stout. My name’s Hank Pullman – I do believe you’re to be my new sister-in-law.”

  Pearl opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say. Gracious, the man looked like a common rascal – and she was to marry into his family? She knew this whole idea had been a mistake. Finally she managed, “A pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Pullman.”

  “Where’s the stage?” he asked, turning to Stan.

  Stan stammered something about the accident, but Pearl wasn’t paying much mind to him. She couldn’t seem to drag her gaze away from Hank’s face. There was something about him that drew her in. He seemed dangerous, yet she felt at ease with him there – safe, as though nothing bad could happen to them now he’d arrived. She shook her head. How ridiculous – she’d never met the man before. As far as she knew, he might be ready to rob the lot of them blind.

  Hank’s words cut through her thoughts, jolting her back to reality. “I’ll take Miss Stout back to town with me now, and find a wagon to bring back for the rest of you.”

  “Will you be long?” asked Mr. Gunderson.

  “No, it’s only a fifteen-minute ride to town, and I’ll commandeer a wagon soon as I get back. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you.”

  Pip chuckled nervously and Belle raised an eyebrow.

  “Or you neither,” Hank made a point of telling them. “I don’t leave anyone alone on the road if I can help it. Come now,” he said to Pearl, holding out his hand.

  Pearl frowned and glanced at Belle, who nodded her encouragement. She took his hand and he led her around to the side of the horse, put his strong hands around her small waist and catapulted her into the saddle. She yelped in surprise, landing on her stomach, her legs kicking the air behind her.

  Hank coughed and rested his hand gently on her ankle. “No need to flail ‘round so, Miss Stout. Just slip one leg over Pax’s back.”

  “You mean, ride astride?” she gasped, scandalized.

  He laughed. “’Fraid I didn’t bring a side saddle with me. Astride will have to do.”

  Her cheeks flushed – what a silly thing for her to say. They were in the middle of nowhere on the western frontier – most likely there wasn’t a side saddle in the entire territory. She steadied herself and lifted one leg over the saddle, righting herself in one awkward motion. Well, that wasn’t so bad.

  Before she had a chance to object, he’d leaped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her sides. With a kick of his heels, he spurred the horse into a gallop in one easy stride.

  “Do you think you could loosen your grip on me a little?” she shouted over the noise of the wind and the thunder of hooves on the hard road.

  “What’s that?” he asked, his breath hot against her ear.

  She pulled away, or tried to. “Must you breathe against my ear that way?”

  “I can’t hear you!” he shouted in reply, followed by a hearty laugh and a tightening of his grip.

  She fumed inside. How dare he? He was poking fun, treating her with disrespect. She only hoped his brother would be less of a cad.

  Before long, she’d grown accustomed to Pax’s rhythm and moved in time with the animal’s stride. The horse seemed to find the journey easy, covering the ground quickly without the labored breathing she might have expected from such speed. He was a beautiful animal.

  Mr. Pullman had estimated the time to town well – it felt like about twenty minutes to Pearl, though she didn’t have a free hand to pull out her pocket watch and check. The town was dark apart from a few lanterns here and there in the quiet streets. As they made their way through its center, though, she heard the noise of revelry.

  Soon they passed what looked to be some kind of public house. A lopsided and weathered sign announced The Santa Fe Saloon, and she stared in wonder at the spectacle of men spilling out its swinging doors, shouting and laughing, only to push their way back inside a moment later. Women, dressed in a way she’d never seen before with bosoms heaving out the tops of their corsets, hung from the windows. The sounds of a piano and off-key singing wafted out to greet them. She shivered and turned away.

  A minute later they reached their destination. The office of the Hillside Express Stage Line sat in darkness. Hank dismounted and held his hands up toward her. She let him catch her and set her feet gently on the ground. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ve got to see if I can find someone to take a wagon out for the others.”

  She nodded, and he disappeared into the darkened offices. There was a banging, as though he was knocking on some internal door, followed by the murmur of voices. Soon he re-emerged. “That’s done. I’ll get you settled at Hilton’s and head back out to make sure they find ‘em.”

  Pearl felt shy all of a sudden, standing on a dark street in a strange town with a strange man, not a thing of value in the world in her possession. Everything she owned was either sitting in the dust on the side of the road outside Tucson, or still in New York, no doubt being sold for pennies on the dollar by her mother.

  Hank took her arm in his, and this time she didn’t think to hesitate. Together they walked down the street, past a newspaper office, a sweet shop, a mercantile store. He led her into an alley and knocked on another door. A few moments later, it opened and a neatly-dressed man with a dark, drooping mustache stepped outside. “Hank, did you … oh!”

  Pearl smiled and stepped toward him, her hand outstretched. “I’m Pearl Stout.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Hilton Pullman. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Chapter 3

  Pearl peered beneath the bed, felt under the straw-filled mattress and found that a twisted rope held the mattress in place. It felt sturdy enough, though it sagged so low she’d spent most of the previous night wondering if it would deposit her on the hard wooden floor. She’d have to say something to the landlord – as soon as she met him. Hilton had mentioned something about a Mr. Peretti, but she’d yet to see him. He’d given Hilton the key to her room, since he was paying the rent.

  She chewed on her lip. Hilton Pullman was a gentleman, she’d give him that. She wasn’t sure what to expect after meeting his highwayman brother on the road. But so far he’d been courteous and thoughtful, even providing her with her own accommodations until the wedding. Still, every time she thought about marrying him, her stomach twisted into knots and she felt as
though she might throw up.

  She took a deep breath and stood with a groan. The muscles in both legs were sore after the long trek yesterday. Her rear was bruised from so many miles on the stagecoach’s hard seat. After all she’d been through, she was amazed anything was left of her from the waist down.

  She smoothed her skirts as she stood before the looking glass that hung from one wall and studied her reflection with a frown. She’d only left New York a few weeks ago, but already she looked wild. Something about her eyes. She rubbed them and pulled the skin up, then down again, widening and narrowing her eyes. Then she smoothed her hair back, fingering the loose curls that hung around her face.

  She couldn’t put it off any longer. Hilton had asked to see her after breakfast, and since she’d already eaten the fried bread and buttermilk he’d left her, it was time to go. With another deep breath, she hurried from the room, putting the key into her pocket after locking the door behind her, and took the few steps across the hall to knock on Hilton’s door.

  She wondered where his dreadful brother lived. Did they share an apartment? If they did, what would happen after she and Hilton were married – would he stay with them still? Her cheeks burned at the thought. She’d certainly have something to say about it if he did. She couldn’t imagine living with a rascal like Hank Pullman.

  Granted, he had rescued the entire party from the roadside in the middle of the night. There was something to be said for that kind of gallantry – but she could just tell he was thinking inappropriate things about her the whole time, the way he looked her up and down. It irritated her no end that she could do nothing about it – when she’d called him on it, he’d simply grinned widely as though he appreciated the joke and shown no remorse whatsoever. She huffed and her nostrils flared. He really was insufferable!

  Hilton answered the door suddenly, as though he’d been waiting by it. His face was flushed and he clenched his hands together nervously. “Good morning, Miss Stout. What a pleasure to see you again this fine morning.”

  She nodded and stepped inside. “Thank you, Mr. Pullman. You as well.”

  “Please, take a seat.”

  She sat on the bland beige horsehair settee and tucked her crossed ankles beneath her skirt. He sat across from her in an armchair, swinging one long thin leg over the other, his foot tapping as if to an unheard melody. Was he always so tightly wound?

  “I was hoping we might discuss the wedding?” he rasped, then coughed to clear his throat.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh. I supposed we might get to know each other a little before we made any definite plans.”

  His lips pursed, and small lines appeared across his forehead. “Well … I’d anticipated we might marry sooner rather than later. It doesn’t make sense to wait, and it does cost rather a lot to have two separate accommodations. Best for all concerned, I think, to move things along at a good pace.”

  Pearl’s heart plummeted. She knew she was to marry the man, but just being in his presence made her spirits sink. Of all the eligible men she’d known in New York, she’d have taken almost any of them over him. There wasn’t anything wrong with him exactly, but he was so pale, so timid and neat. She wasn’t even sure why those things should bother her – he seemed to have many other admirable qualities. But for some reason, it wasn’t attractive when combined in the person of Hilton Pullman. She couldn’t imagine spending a lifetime with him.

  And why should she marry? Belle Williams said she didn’t have to, and she supposed she didn’t. Who would make her? She was her own person, and since her family lived so far away and had given her up, she figured she could make her own choices. She’d stopped being a child the moment Father told her he was sending her west alone to marry a stranger.

  And she missed her sisters, missed home. She didn’t want to stay in Tucson. But even if she went back home, her sisters were no longer there. Her throat tightened.

  She lifted her chin and squared her jaw. “I’m not sure.”

  His eyebrows flew up. “Uh … not sure? What do you mean?”

  She drew a slow breath. “About all of it. I’m not sure if I want to hurry into marrying you. We’ve only just met. I believe I’ll have to think about it.”

  He frowned. “You mean, you’ll have to think about marrying me? Because I thought we’d already agreed …”

  “I know,” she interrupted, leaning forward to lay a hand on his forearm. He looked upset, and it softened her feelings toward him a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just that no one asked my opinion on the matter. My parents put me on a train and sent me west, and I didn’t have a say. Now that I’m here, I’m beginning to see that I can choose my own path.”

  He shook his head, the furrows in his brow deepening. “Oh, well … that is to say …”

  She patted his arm warmly, then stood. “I won’t take too long to think it through, Mr. Pullman. You’ve already been so kind to me and I do appreciate it. I thought I might take a look around town this morning, seeing as I’m to stay here for at least a little while. I hope to see you later.”

  He stood as well, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. “Well … I suppose I’ll see you after work?”

  She nodded and smiled, which seemed to reassure him as he returned the smile with only a slight hesitation. “Yes, I’ll see you then.” He opened the door for her, and she walked out with a dip of the head.

  The second it closed behind her, she smiled and skipped down the narrow staircase and outside. She paused to let the breeze caress her upturned face, relishing the feel of the morning sun on her skin. It was as if the weight she’d been carrying on her shoulders had lifted. She’d been so afraid to tell Hilton what was on her mind, yet in the moment the words had tumbled out it felt right. She’d bought herself some time – now if she decided to marry him it would be her choice alone.

  She stepped forward with a little hop as joy rushed through her. Freedom felt grand.

  “Mornin’, Miss Stout. Off to buy linens for your trousseau?”

  Hank’s gravelly voice cut through her happiness, and her heart seized. She stopped short and turned to see him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a long piece of straw between his lips. He chewed it slowly, his blue eyes raked over her, making her cheeks flush. “Mr. Pullman.”

  “Hank,” he said.

  “Mr. Pullman, I’m not going shopping. I thought I’d take a look around town, since I may be here awhile.”

  “Awhile? You marry my dear brother, you’ll be here a lot longer than that.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked away.

  She heard his footsteps behind her as he jogged to catch up, soon falling into step beside her. “Does that mean you’re not gonna marry him? ‘Cause he’ll be sore disappointed if that’s the case. You did promise to marry the poor fella, after all.” He seemed to be teasing her – there was a hint of mirth in his voice.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and forced a smile. “Mr. Pullman, I don’t believe it’s any of your business. But I’ll be sure to let you know when it is.”

  He chuckled and scratched his chin. “Fine and dandy. But can you tell me what happened to the stage yesterday? You didn’t say much last night, and we found poor ol’ Sam crushed under the coach. Somethin’ happened – but nobody’s talkin’ ‘bout it.”

  “No one else told you about it? Not even Stan?” Pearl nervously increased her pace, hurrying along the street as fast as she could without breaking into a run. Her legs and back ached and she was desperate for a cool drink. The weather in Arizona was so much hotter than she was used to – she could feel a trail of sweat running down the center of her back.

  He grunted, but his long legs easily kept pace with hers. “Stan hain’t stirred from his bed this mornin’.”

  She stopped her mad dash and set her hands on her hips. “Why are you so curious about what happened?”

  His gaze met hers, and made her pulse race even more than it was already from the exertion. “I ju
st –”

  “Mornin’ there, Hank.” A voice behind them interrupted their conversation. She turned to see a man wearing a black vest over a brown shirt and long black pants. A black hat set high on his head and a full beard almost touched the belt around his thick waist. There was a star-shaped silver badge on his vest.

  “Mornin’, Sheriff,” replied Hank, tipping his hat.

  The sheriff crossed his arms and chewed slowly on a wad of something stuffed in his cheek. “I hear we owe ya thanks for helpin’ with that stagecoach incident last night.”

  “Just doin’ my civic duty, Sheriff. As you know I’m like to.” Hank chuckled.

  The sheriff joined him, then spotted Pearl. “And who do we have here?” he asked, removing his hat and extending a hand to her in one smooth movement.

  “This here’s my brother’s intended, Miss Pearl Stout.” Hank’s eyes sparkled as Pearl shook the sheriff’s hand. “Miss Stout, this is Sheriff Hasty Fuller. He’s the law ‘round these parts.”

  She smiled tightly. “Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff Fuller.”

  The sheriff put his hat back on and grinned, exposing crooked, blackened teeth. “And you, Miss Stout. I heard ya were one of the passengers on the stage yesterday. Care to tell what happened and how we ended up with a dead driver?”

  She took a deep breath. What should she say? If she told them she saw a crimson monster, she’d be the laughingstock of the town before she got a chance to meet anyone. But what else could she say? She cleared her throat and put a hand to her chest. “Well, Sheriff Fuller, I’m not sure where to start …”

  He frowned. “How ‘bout ya start right ‘round the time everythin’ went wrong?”

  She chewed her lower lip. “Well, let me see … we’d stopped for lunch and were just on our way again. Everything seemed fine, but then the horses were spooked by something. We heard them making a racket, then they reared up and tipped the stage over onto its side.”

  Sheriff Fuller squinted up at the sun that had just popped over the top of the saloon in front of them, making his brown eyes look golden. “And let me guess – ya didn’t see a thing. Just like everyone else in that vehicle.”