Savage Texas: The Stampeders by William W. Johnstone, J.A. Johnstone Page B
Authors: William W. Johnstone, J.A. Johnstone
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how she got out without me seeing her. But don’t you worry, pretty lady. I’ll find you and get you back where you belong. Don’t you doubt it.” He walked away again, this time not to return.
C HAPTER T WELVE
Her escape had been made by way of a back door, and once out of the rough little dwelling, Julia Canton had managed to move without letting the loitering stranger out in the shadows see her. She had no idea who the man was or why he seemed to be tracking and watching her. She was, however, a young woman whose life so far had involved, three times, the fighting off of unwanted and violent carnal advances. Though no one would guess it to look at her, she often carried more hidden derringers and shivs than a traveling gambler. She knew how to use them all, and a few times had done so.
After leaving the Holt shack, she was glad to have done so before the return of Timothy. She knew she’d hurt the young man’s feelings, rejecting his sweet-but-unwanted invitation to the upcoming town dance. It made her feel bad for him, but also made her not want to encounter him any more than necessary. She was glad, at least, that Timothy’s sad and invalid mother understood her son’s tendency to tie his heartstrings to women with whom there could be no hope of a relationship. If Mrs. Holt had resented Julia for hurting her son’s feelings, Julia would have been greatly saddened.
She made her way through town, keeping an eye out for the man she had detected was following her. She did not see him.
Nearing her boardinghouse, Julia heard the faint strains of Claude Farley’s fiddle, scratching out an off-key rendition of “Soldier’s Joy.” Julia paused, frowning to herself as she imagined going back to her lonely room, suffering through an evening of boredom while listening to an old man practice his fiddling.
An intolerable prospect. Julia couldn’t face the thought of a lonely evening. At the very least she had to be among people, and not the dull residents of a boardinghouse whose idea of excitement was adding honey to their cups of coffee for sweetener. How bold! Julia rolled her eyes heavenward and for a few moments hated the town of Hangtree.
There were, of course, the saloons. She would have a better chance of finding diversion there, but there would also be the inevitable approach of drunken men who imagined they could gain her company and favor with their pathetic attempts at being suave and appealing.
There was only one man in this town who could appeal to her, and she had yet even to meet him. Seen him, yes, met him, no. When that inevitable meeting came, it would be important that she make sure it happened in just the right way, so that it could lead to the right result. That was the very reason she was in this backwater place at all.
She bypassed the boardinghouse and kept walking. Though there was risk in being seen in a saloon—she’d been trying to cultivate the image of a moral, churchgoing young woman, after all—she couldn’t resist taking a few moments to be herself. Her life had involved so many pretenses at so many times that sometimes she was left drained and exhausted.
The Dog Star Saloon was the roughest dive in town, not the kind of place decent young women visited. Just now that made it quite appealing to Julia Canton. She headed there with a determined stride, and when she entered the place, there was a noticeable lull in the level of noise as every person in the place looked at her, stunned to see such perfect beauty in a place of such base ugliness.
As she sat down in a corner so as to have a good view of anyone who approached her, she wondered how Mrs. Bewley would react if she knew her dress shop assistant was camping herself out in a low-class saloon as if she were some common cyprian. It didn’t much matter: The dress shop job was merely a time-passer, and a means of keeping a few extra coins in her pocket so she could leave her main resources safely untouched in the Hangtree
C HAPTER T WELVE
Her escape had been made by way of a back door, and once out of the rough little dwelling, Julia Canton had managed to move without letting the loitering stranger out in the shadows see her. She had no idea who the man was or why he seemed to be tracking and watching her. She was, however, a young woman whose life so far had involved, three times, the fighting off of unwanted and violent carnal advances. Though no one would guess it to look at her, she often carried more hidden derringers and shivs than a traveling gambler. She knew how to use them all, and a few times had done so.
After leaving the Holt shack, she was glad to have done so before the return of Timothy. She knew she’d hurt the young man’s feelings, rejecting his sweet-but-unwanted invitation to the upcoming town dance. It made her feel bad for him, but also made her not want to encounter him any more than necessary. She was glad, at least, that Timothy’s sad and invalid mother understood her son’s tendency to tie his heartstrings to women with whom there could be no hope of a relationship. If Mrs. Holt had resented Julia for hurting her son’s feelings, Julia would have been greatly saddened.
She made her way through town, keeping an eye out for the man she had detected was following her. She did not see him.
Nearing her boardinghouse, Julia heard the faint strains of Claude Farley’s fiddle, scratching out an off-key rendition of “Soldier’s Joy.” Julia paused, frowning to herself as she imagined going back to her lonely room, suffering through an evening of boredom while listening to an old man practice his fiddling.
An intolerable prospect. Julia couldn’t face the thought of a lonely evening. At the very least she had to be among people, and not the dull residents of a boardinghouse whose idea of excitement was adding honey to their cups of coffee for sweetener. How bold! Julia rolled her eyes heavenward and for a few moments hated the town of Hangtree.
There were, of course, the saloons. She would have a better chance of finding diversion there, but there would also be the inevitable approach of drunken men who imagined they could gain her company and favor with their pathetic attempts at being suave and appealing.
There was only one man in this town who could appeal to her, and she had yet even to meet him. Seen him, yes, met him, no. When that inevitable meeting came, it would be important that she make sure it happened in just the right way, so that it could lead to the right result. That was the very reason she was in this backwater place at all.
She bypassed the boardinghouse and kept walking. Though there was risk in being seen in a saloon—she’d been trying to cultivate the image of a moral, churchgoing young woman, after all—she couldn’t resist taking a few moments to be herself. Her life had involved so many pretenses at so many times that sometimes she was left drained and exhausted.
The Dog Star Saloon was the roughest dive in town, not the kind of place decent young women visited. Just now that made it quite appealing to Julia Canton. She headed there with a determined stride, and when she entered the place, there was a noticeable lull in the level of noise as every person in the place looked at her, stunned to see such perfect beauty in a place of such base ugliness.
As she sat down in a corner so as to have a good view of anyone who approached her, she wondered how Mrs. Bewley would react if she knew her dress shop assistant was camping herself out in a low-class saloon as if she were some common cyprian. It didn’t much matter: The dress shop job was merely a time-passer, and a means of keeping a few extra coins in her pocket so she could leave her main resources safely untouched in the Hangtree
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