Chapter 2

Lou picked up the stoneware pitcher and splashed some cold water into the wash basin. Then, cupping her hands, she leaned over the bowl and dashed handfuls of water over her face. She wiped her sleeve over her eyes, then reached for the coarse wash rag made from a tattered square of flour sack, wetted it in the basin, wrung it out, and rubbed the wadded-up fistful of fabric over a bar of harsh pine tar lye soap. The caustic cleanser would sting on the small cuts and scrapes she had inevitably collected riding through the tall sage, but Lou gritted her teeth and began scrubbing the back of her neck vigorously enough to remove a layer of skin along with the trail grit.

"Go get washed up," Teaspoon had said, like she didn't know what a sight she was: hot, tired and stinking to high heaven from a mixture of sweat and dust. After hours in the saddle, Lou was sore all over, and the linen bindings she used to create a boyish silhouette were chafing the delicate skin beneath. To think that only last night she had felt soft, cool cotton against her skin instead of rough broadcloth. The events of the previous day felt like a dream now that she was back to her real life. She was Lou again, not Louise. As she stared at her pale, weary face in the cloudy mirror over the washstand, she had to wonder which version of herself was the real imposter.

It hadn't helped when Kid barged in as she was hiding her new things, teasing her like she was one of the boys caught with those dirty pictures Tompkins discreetly sold from the back room of the General Store. After insisting she show him what she was trying to conceal, Kid had asked, "Why'd you buy it?" as though the idea of her in girls' clothes was as remarkable as a square egg. He'd called the dress pretty – a word she'd never heard him utter in reference to herself – and Lou was sure he was picturing it on one of the blacksmith's pretty daughters or the buxom mail-order bride that Wyatt Sanders was proud to show off behind the counter of his feed store.

And then that crack about Teaspoon thinking she was strange if he caught her with a dress! As if she needed reminding that she had to be all-boy if she wanted to keep her job. Lou hung the sodden wash cloth on the nail over the basin and stuffed her hands into the front pockets of her dungarees. Glancing out the window, she caught sight of Kid in the corral, currying Katie. His body language told her he was upset, and she felt a stab of remorse. Maybe she had overreacted a mite to his questioning if she was all right. But he had no call to demand to know every little thing she did when she was out of his sight.

Lou felt her checks flush with shame. The truth was, she'd felt mortified when Kid saw her with the dress, afraid that he would discover her secret: pretending to be a real lady in the safe anonymity of Blue Creek. More than that, Lou admitted to herself as she sauntered over to the bunk she shared with Kid, she was feeling … guilt. She hoisted herself up onto her straw-tick mattress and lay on her back, her hands cupped behind her head, staring up at the slanting board roof. In the light of day, it was plain ridiculous to have wasted so much hard-earned money that should have been saved for her future with Teresa and Jeremiah on an outfit she likely would never have cause to wear again. If she'd wanted to spend money on clothes, a new pair of long johns or sturdy work boots would have been a more sensible choice. She thought of her new hat, crushed under her weight beneath the mattress, and grimaced. What a fool she'd been! And yet …

She closed her eyes and relived the previous evening at the restaurant in her mind's eye. How Mr. DeWitt had looked at her, and how it had made her feel. She had never met anyone like him: a real gentleman, with his smart tailored suit and fine manners. He was handsome, too – not in the way Kid was, but in a polished, slightly mysterious way. His features were sharp, almost hawkish, and his dark eyes glittered in the reflected light of the candle on the table.

He had introduced her to champagne, and his special way of drinking it that felt daring and intimate. She had more of it than she'd intended – enough to make her feel light and giddy, but not so much that she could be persuaded to accompany DeWitt to his hotel instead of returning to her own. Lou had been shocked when he'd suggested it, and she wondered what kind of lady he thought she was. He was so insistent. So … ardent. And when he'd grabbed her and kissed her right there on the street, Lou had felt shocked, breathless and confused. But something else, too. As DeWitt had pulled her close against him, pressed his hot, demanding lips against hers, Lou had understood, in that moment, that he wanted her in the way that a man wanted a woman. And some small part of her … liked it.

She'd lain awake far into the night trying to make sense of her feelings. But by morning, the champagne had soured in her stomach and her head was pounding. She'd risen too late for breakfast, making it to the Blue Creek Station just in time to accept the mochila and head back to Sweetwater. Then there had been the distressing business of the robbed freight wagon, and Kid's interrogation when she finally made it home. Lou just wanted to put this day, and her whole Blue Creek adventure, behind her.

Just then she heard a light tapping on the door. "Come in," she called wearily, and the door cracked open enough for Kid to stick his head in. He didn't look at her, though, and his voice was abrupt as he informed her, "Emma's got supper on the table." Then he was gone.

Sighing, Louise swung her legs over the side of the bunk and hopped down. Despite not having eaten today, she couldn't muster up much appetite, either for Emma's good cooking or the raucous company of her fellow riders. She pulled on her wire-rimmed glasses and slipped into the slightly slump-shouldered posture she affected to pass as a male.

Time to be one of the boys again.