Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] by Nightrose Page A

opened her mouth to speak. “Rowe risked his life for us. To my way of thinking, he’s been a real gentleman. I’m certain that he’d not recommend Mr. Weston if he were not a gentleman also.”
    “Gentleman! Good Lord, Mary! Miners who live from hand-to-mouth, from one hole in the ground to another, are not gentlemen. There’s
thirty
of them, and
two
of us. I don’t trust any of them as far as I could throw a cow by the tail. That includes Mr. Garrick Rowe, for all his heroics.”
    “Why? Just tell me why you’ve become so cynical all of a sudden, and what Rowe has done to deserve the cutting edge of your tongue every time the two of you are together?”
    “It isn’t all of a sudden, and there’s something about the man that gets my back up.”
    “You’re bitter, Katy. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to see that happen.”
    “Call me bitter, cynical, or whatever. If you go down to that sickhouse, we’ll all go.”
    “I’ll not take Theresa to a sickhouse,” Mary said stubbornly.
    “Why not? She’s had measles.”
    “I may be there for hours. It’s no place for a little girl. Please, Katy. The men here will be more inclined to help us if we show a little trust in them.” Mary started to leave, then turned back. “I think you like Rowe and you don’t want to admit it. That’s why you’re like a prickly pear every time you’re near him.”
    “And I think you’re out of your mind if you think I like that pigheaded son of Satan!” Katy hissed angrily.
    Mary plucked her shawl from the peg on the wall and flung it about her shoulders. “Let me use my own judgment in this. I wouldn’t do anything that I thought would put us in danger. Heavens! I’ve got a child to raise, and for some time now, I’ve thought I’ll be doing it without any help from Roy.”
    “That’s why we must be careful.”
    “I know,” Mary said softly. “Don’t worry. I’m ready, Mr. Weston,” she called and hurried toward the front of the building.
    “Mary, wait.” Katy picked up the Derringer lying on the shelf over her bed and hurried after her sister. “Take this.”
    “I won’t need it. I’m sure Mr. Weston or Mr. Hooker are equipped to shoot anyone who needs shooting.”
    “Oh, Lord! That damn Derringer again. Put it away.” This came from Rowe who had moved to the rocking chair and was holding Theresa cradled in his arms.
    The command fanned Katy’s temper. She slipped the pistol into her pocket. “You can put Theresa in her bed and go with Mary.”
    “Hank and Anton will go with Mary. I’m staying here to . . . protect you.” He tilted his head back and looked up at her with a lascivious look in his eyes.
    Before she could retort, Anton said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Burns.”
    “It was nice meeting you too,” Katy murmured. Then she turned to Mary, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
    “I’m sure. After Rowe puts Theresa in her bed, dish up the gooseberry pie. I’m sorry I didn’t make more.” She smiled up into the face of the Irishman. “I’ll make another pie for you and Mr. Hooker tomorrow.”
    Katy went to the door and watched her sister walk out into the darkness between two tall men. She turned to see Rowe getting out of the rocker.
    “If anything happens to Mary, I’ll . . . shoot you!” The words exploded from her tense lips and her eyes burned up at him resentfully.
    “I accept that. I’ll stand perfectly still so that you won’t miss.” Amusement glinted in his dark eyes. Suddenly, he laughed.
    “I’m glad you’re amused,” she snapped. “Put Theresa in her bed and get out of here.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said with mock politeness.
    Katy stood with her back to the room and looked out the door seeing nothing but the ray of light that made a path on the porch. The only sounds she heard were the creaking of the floorboards when Rowe went to the back of the room to place Theresa in her bed. Seconds passed while Katy drew a shallow