Ride The Wild Wind (Time Travel Historical Romance) by Kimberly Ivey Page A

Holy shit, she needed some black hair dye
and sunshades fast! On second thought, darkening her hair might only call
attention to her African-American features. She already treaded on dangerous
ground. Even the suggestion that she might be black, could have disastrous
consequences in this time period.
    Could she bleach
her hair so Cole wouldn’t recognize her? Perhaps Rosa
kept ingredients in the kitchen that might be used to cook up a few cosmetics.
Of course, she could always snip off the red tips that had grown out these past
few months and wear her hair short like a boy’s.  She could even dress in
pants and a man’s shirt. Cole would never recognize her then. But would Elena’s
ladies guard her secret?
    Rosa
snatched the towel from Halle’s
grip and swatted a lively cockroach off the chopping board. Halle
lifted her skirts as the critter skittered across the floor in a crazed dance
and disappeared beneath a sack of corn meal. Molly hefted the meal aside and
snapped the little bugger beneath the toe of her slipper. Halle
groaned in disgust.
    Rosa
laughed. “Toss the cucaracha in the soup. It is for the puta and
her lover anyway.”
    Molly hooted. She
reached down to pick up the dying, wiggling insect by one twitching hind leg. Molly
had almost reached the stew pot with the wriggling bug when Elena appeared in
the doorway. Molly flung the roach aside and assumed her best angelic look,
alongside Rosa who was now the epitome of an innocent old granny.
    “What are the hens
cackling about this morning?”
    Molly muttered a
good morning to Elena, then rushed past and slipped out the side door. Halle
slid from the stool and eased over to the sink and pretended to be drying
dishes. She dared a glance over her shoulder. Elena’s hands flew to her hips.
Her lips pursed into a thin line as her dark eyes narrowed on Rosa.
“Have you not work to be done? I do not pay my help to stand around and
gossip.”
    “Halle
was helping in the kitchen this morning,” Rosa offered.
    The madam was
dressed in a low-cut, peach-colored gown with creamy, ostrich feathers at the
neck—one Halle had sewn from a
hand-drawn pattern. Damn. She’d done a fab job with the dress. It was
positively stunning on Elena.
    Elena’s dark,
shiny hair was still perfectly coiffed in the 1960’s beehive she’d styled
yesterday. This morning, however, Elena had added her own special
touches—flashy rhinestone pins. The madam was as graceful and poised as a Victoria’s
Secret model, only not as tall.
    Realizing she was
staring, Halle turned to scrub a
greasy frying pan with a stiff bristled brush.
    Elena thundered
out, “Why does she wash dishes! The girl is not a servant. She is smart. She
can sew better than any seamstress in the Territory. She can read and
write—unlike you, Rosa. Pendeja !”
    Halle’s
heart dipped. She turned in time to watch Rosa’s
shoulder slump.
    “Do you see this
gown I am wearing? Halle designed a
pattern for this dress. It is like one from the finest Parisian catalogues. She
is sewing another one for me exactly like it out of red organza.” The thwack of
Elena’s magazine hitting the table caused Halle
to jump.
    Elena hooked a
finger at her. “You. Come upstairs with me at once. You do not belong in the
kitchen among the help.”
    Elena turned on
her heels and sashayed from the room.
    Halle
made a face at Rosa who rolled her eyes and muttered between gritted teeth, “ La
puta esta loca —always like this when her big dick comes to town. Molly was
right. We must all pray that Whitehorse
leaves her with a smile that lasts a year.”
    Halle
gave Rosa’s hand a gentle pat. “Don’t take Elena’s words
to heart,” she whispered. “You know how mean she can be sometimes. We’ll talk
later.” She  ran to catch up with Elena.
    Elena had grown
noticeably bitchier these past few weeks. Word in the house was she’d been
holding out for Whitehorse for over
a year. That wasn’t counting the secretive sleepovers of one