Chapter 8

8

" T here they go," Dent said, watching as Hiram Anderson and his men drove the cattle up the road. Once they hit open range to the north, they'd drive the cattle west to Hiram's ranch. Dent sent their hands along to help until they got past the neighboring farms.

"Indeed." Aundy sat on Bell as she watched the mass of cattle plod along, churning the road to dust.

"Are you doing okay, Missy?" Dent looked at Aundy in concern. He knew how hard it was for her to make the decision to sell the cattle.

"I'm fine, Dent. I just feel like I've somehow let Erik down." Her normally straight spine bent forward and her shoulders drooped.

"Erik would be proud that you made a good decision and are doing what you can to keep the farm going. Don't worry about the cattle. Maybe we'll have another herd on the place someday." Dent turned his horse toward the house.

Aundy followed behind, glad a broken piece of equipment that required immediate repairs kept Garrett away. She didn't want him to see her fight back the tears that threatened to spill over or the defeat that weighed heavy on her shoulders.

She wished she could think of some way to generate more income without increasing the workload. Her crew was stretched way too thin as it was. The payment from the cattle was a boon, but Aundy felt driven to make the farm prosperous, like it would have been under Erik's direction.

Keeping her thoughts to herself, she unsaddled Bell and brushed her down at the barn before returning to the house. In need of a distraction, she made a batch of butter cookies then decided to prepare a dinner for her men. She pulled a pan of rolls out of the oven when the hands rode up to the barn.

Aundy rushed out the kitchen door and down the steps, waving a dishtowel at them to get their attention. She needed to have someone make her a triangle like Nora had at her house. It would sure come in handy.

"Something wrong, Mrs. Erickson?" The hand who did most of the cooking at the bunkhouse hurried her direction when he saw her approach.

"No, George. I just wanted to invite you boys for supper. You've had a long day and I thought you might like a hot meal."

"That's right nice of you, Mrs. Erickson. We'll wash up and be in directly." George looked toward the other hands, busy storing their tack and brushing down their horses.

"Wonderful." Aundy hurried back to the house and set the big kitchen table. She didn't think the men would appreciate eating in the dining room surrounded by gleaming china and starched linen.

A knock sounded on the kitchen door and Dent stuck his head inside as she placed a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. "Please, come in."

"You sure you want all of us in here?" Dent stepped inside followed by the other four hands. George, Bill, Glen, and Fred all had freshly scrubbed hands and faces. George and Glen had gone to the effort of changing their shirts and combing their hair.

"Please, have a seat. Feeding you dinner is the least I can do after all your hard work rounding up the cattle today," Aundy said, taking a seat at the table so the men would stop feeling the need to be formal and stand. They all sat and Aundy looked at Dent, asking him to say grace. Although the words he said were brief, they were heartfelt.

The men dug into the food with enthusiasm, offering praise for Aundy's cooking. When she brought out a chocolate cake for dessert, more than one of them appeared excited at the prospect of enjoying a slice.

"You didn't make that just for us, did you?" Fred asked, trying not to appear overly enthusiastic for a piece of cake.

"I did." Aundy smiled as she cut generous slices and placed them on plates along with a dollop of freshly whipped cream.

Thanks to the milk cows, she never lacked for fresh milk, cream, or butter. Although the men brought her a pail of milk every morning, not one of them said a word about her learning to milk the cows. As soon as she regained the strength in her arm, she knew the chore was one she should eventually take over.

Dent kept a few cows for milking and beef. He mentioned they'd need to get a new bull or borrow one from a neighbor.

Garrett would give her good advice on whether to buy or borrow one. Since she depended more and more on his input, Aundy needed to stop leaning on him and stand on her own two feet.

"Mrs. Erickson, I think this is the best thing I've ever tasted," Glen said, closing his eyes as he savored the last bite.

"Would you like more? There's plenty."

"Yes, ma'am!" Five eager faces looked at her, waiting for a second piece.

When they finished their cake and sat drinking cups of hot coffee, Aundy asked them for ideas on bringing in more income. They discussed several options, including everything from planting experimental crops to renting out one or two sections of land.

"Maybe we could get us a herd of sheep," Bill said, grinning at Fred before glancing at Aundy. "They don't take much care and some people are making a small fortune from the wool."

"There ain't no way on God's green earth I'm gonna wrangle woolies for a living," Fred said, shooting Bill a dark glare.

Bill gave Fred a good-natured shove. "I was only joshing ya. We all know how much you hate sheep."

"They stink, they're stupid, and I can't abide them," Fred said hotly as he finished his coffee. Aundy refilled his cup then returned to her seat.

"Are they really easy to care for?" Aundy asked, curious. She hadn't seen any sheep on nearby farms and tried to remember what she read about them in the books J.B. had given her.

"All you need to raise sheep is pasture, a good dog, and a shepherd. From what I've seen, you can run five to eight head of sheep on what it takes to feed one cow. You don't have to ride herd over them like you do cattle. Just turn ‘em loose and let ‘em grow," Bill said, ignoring the venomous looks Fred directed his way.

"Do they really stink?" Aundy asked, turning her attention to Fred.

He nodded his head. "To high heaven and back again."

After a few more teasing comments, the men drained their coffee cups, thanked Aundy again for the meal, and sauntered out the door.

When she finished washing the dishes, Aundy sauntered to the front room and flipped through the books she borrowed from J.B. One of them had to contain information about sheep.

Aundy stood with Nora after the Sunday church service listening to a group of women talk about getting together for a quilting bee. She absently agreed when one of the women asked if she would join them.

Her attention centered on the discussion of a group of men off to her left. Frustrated she couldn't march right up to them and be a part of it, the words sheep and wool pricked her ears. Aundy tried to listen to the conversation over the chatter of the women.

Inconspicuously taking a few steps their direction, she finally heard enough to figure out the men talked about the price of wool and who raised the best sheep in the area. She caught a few details and wished she had something to write on, desperately wanting to take notes. For just a moment, she considered the simplicity of being a man.

An idea she thought would bring in a good profit for the farm with a minimal amount of additional work was simmering in her head, but finding someone who would do business with a woman was proving difficult. It would have been a simple thing to ask Garrett to help her, but she wanted to do this on her own, without his help or that of J.B.

After asking at the general store, the post office, the newspaper office, and a few other businesses around town, she was told repeatedly to go back to taking care of her house and leave the discussion of farming to men.

"Eavesdropping?" a deep, familiar voice asked, stirring the hair by her ear. She turned her head and looked into the broad smile and silvery eyes of Garrett. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to listen, but the chatter of the magpies is drowning out the conversation." Aundy tipped her head toward the group of elderly women gathered around Nora.

Garrett threw back his head and laughed, causing more than a few glances their direction. He ignored his mother's scowl as he ushered Aundy out to the surrey where J.B. waited.

"You want to come over for more lessons this week?" J.B. asked as Garrett helped her into the back of the surrey.

"If you have time, I'd like that very much. I have some questions I wanted to ask you," Aundy said, adjusting her skirts as she settled back against the plush seat. Nora had taken Aundy to town several times in a small buggy, but on Sunday, the family drove the canopy-topped surrey to church.

Garrett ignored her protests she could get herself to town. He always made sure he had plenty of time to pick her up and stop back by Nash's Folly for his folks. Dent and two of her four hands often rode their horses into church. She knew if she asked, Dent would hitch up the buggy or wagon for her and take her himself.

"Why don't you come over tomorrow morning once you get done scaring your chickens," J.B. looked over his shoulder at Aundy. She suddenly realized where Garrett got his teasing grin. It came straight from his father.

"You boys be nice to our girl," Nora warned, stepping up to the surrey just in time to hear J.B.'s teasing remark that made Aundy's cheeks turn bright red.

"Yes, ma'am," J.B. and Garrett said in unison. Garrett shot Aundy a wink before he picked up the reins and guided the horse out of town.

Later that week, Aundy saddled Bell and rode her to Nash's Folly, taking along a basket of fresh cinnamon muffins she'd made. Nora would no doubt have already served breakfast, but the men often liked a mid-morning snack.

After leaving Bell at the barn, she walked to the kitchen door and knocked. The clomp of boots let her know Garrett remained in the house. He pulled the door open and gave her a smile that weakened her knees.

"Good morning." Garrett welcomed her into the kitchen. "Pops will be right out. He was helping Ma get something off a shelf in their room. Who knows what she's got planned today."

Smiling, Aundy set the basket on the table and removed her hat and gloves, leaving them by the door.

"Do I smell cinnamon?" Garrett asked, pushing aside the napkin covering the basket. "Did you make these?"

"No, I plucked them from the muffin tree on my way here." Aundy kept a serious expression on her face as she spoke.

Garrett glanced at her in surprise then broke into a broad grin.

"Mrs. Erickson, I do believe you're sassy this morning." Garrett snatched a warm muffin from the basket and bit into it. "This is really good. Maybe you can give Ma your recipe, or just make me some more. I'm quite partial to cinnamon treats."

"I'll keep that in mind." Aundy tucked away that bit of information for later use.

Nora breezed into the kitchen, followed by J.B., and gave Aundy a big hug. "What did you bring, honey?"

"Cinnamon muffins. Apparently they grow on trees over at the Erickson place," Garrett said, taking another one from the basket as he grabbed his hat and work gloves and went out the door with a teasing grin.

"I think that boy is working too hard. He's talking crazy." Nora made a cup of tea for Aundy and poured a cup of coffee for J.B. "I'm going to work on cutting out some quilt pieces in the parlor, but if you need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks, Nora." Aundy sat down at the table with a notebook and pencil she'd brought along.

"What would you like to talk about today?" J.B. asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a drink of hot coffee.

"Animals." Aundy proceeded to ask J.B. about every type of farm animal she could think of, including sheep.

"What's the interest in animals?" J.B. helped himself to a muffin while Aundy poured another cup of coffee for him. She spent so much time in the Nash's kitchen, she felt as at home there as she did anywhere.

"Just curious." She toyed with her teacup. "If you knew someone who wanted to find out more about a certain type of enterprise, where would you recommend they go to glean the information they would need to further pursue their interests?"

J.B. chuckled. "If it was a man, I'd tell him to go Underground on a Friday night. You can hear more gossip and truth in an hour there than you can anywhere else the rest of the week combined."

"The underground? Like in a hole?" Aundy asked.

"Land sakes, girl. You haven't heard about the Underground?"

When Aundy shook her head, J.B. leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Nora'd have my head if she knew I told you, but there are tunnels under part of the town connecting several businesses, a few of questionable nature. They started out as service tunnels to legitimate businesses then they added a card room and saloons, Chinese laundries, that sort of thing. A lot of men spend their free time down there and you can hear just about any news you want."

"Really?" Aundy was shocked by this revelation. "Where are the tunnels?"

"You ever notice the grates set in the boardwalks in town?" J.B. asked.

"Yes, I commented on them to Nora one day. All she said was to never stand on top of one and they were nothing I wanted to be concerned with."

J.B. laughed and shook his head. "That sounds about like my Nora. Any number of businesses near those grates has an entry to the tunnels."

"Oh, my." Aundy digested the tidbit of information.

"I hope you keep in mind that the tunnels aren't a fit place for a lady, especially a young lady who's already been getting more attention than she wants."

Aundy nodded in agreement. Since the weather warmed and the roads dried out, a steady stream of callers had arrived at her door, with both propositions and proposals. Young, old, poor, rich, handsome, and filthy — she'd seen just about every type of man come calling in an effort to gain access to Erik's farm.

Garrett had taken to coming around in the evenings, when the men seemed most inclined to call, after their daily work was finished. When he couldn't make it over, he somehow made sure Dent or one of the hands was conveniently working near the house to keep an eye on things.

Sincerely hoping the novelty of her being unwed and available would soon wear off, Aundy was thoroughly tired of the callers. She never thought she'd live to see the day she was popular with the male population, but then again, they weren't interested in her. All they could see were acres of farmland ready for the taking. Or so they thought.

The only visitor who arrived not spouting proposals was Ashton Monroe. Garrett and Dent didn't get worked up when he came to visit, although neither one of them seemed very fond of the man.

Ashton was funny, charming, and almost pretty in his features. He told entertaining stories, made Aundy feel smart and witty, and seemed to enjoy being friends.

Although Nora disliked him, Aundy couldn't help but enjoy his company. She hadn't seen him for a while and wondered if he was out of town again. She wasn't exactly sure what it was Ashton did for a living, since he was frequently gone on business trips, other than travel around and check on his investments.

"I better get home," Aundy said, gathering her things before slipping on her hat and gloves.

"Remember what I said," J.B. cautioned, helping himself to another muffin. "No ladies Underground, especially not on a busy Friday night."

"I remember." Aundy walked into the parlor where Nora sat in a side chair cutting fabric into quilt pieces.

"Leaving so soon, honey?" Nora set down her scissors and rose to her feet to give Aundy a hug. Aundy would have thought it comical since she was so tall and Nora so petite, but she wouldn't trade the motherly hugs for anything.

"I need to get home. I have some things I should take care of today." Aundy brushed at her skirt. She loved to ride, but her clothes weren't designed for straddling a horse. She planned to make a few riding skirts, but hadn't found time to sew. She might stay up late and make one just to be able to ride more comfortably. With her sewing knowledge, she could make her own pattern, but it would save her time if Nora had one she could borrow. "You don't happen to have any patterns for riding skirts, do you?"

"I don't, but Erik's mother had several. She loved to ride Bell, you know. Didn't you say Erik never bothered to clean out their room? Her clothes might be a little short for you, but if they have a wide hem, you could let it out and they should work just fine."

"I'll have to see what I can find." Aundy needed to clean out the two empty bedrooms in the house, at least go through Mrs. Erickson's clothes. If Erik's mother had dresses more suited to a farm wife than the city clothes she'd been wearing, she would alter them as well. She had already ruined one of her favorite skirts working outside. The fine fabric wasn't made for farm work.

"Sure you don't want to stay for lunch?" Nora asked, walking Aundy to the door.

"Not today, but thanks for asking." Aundy kissed Nora's cheek then hurried down the steps and out to the barn. Bell greeted her with a happy whinny and they soon raced down the road toward home.

After brushing the horse and returning to the house, Aundy sat at the kitchen table reviewing her notes from J.B. and reading through a few pages of Erik's animal husbandry book.

With her mind made up of what she wanted to do, she decided to clean out the two vacant bedrooms after lunch.

She started with Mr. and Mrs. Erickson's room. Slowly opening the door, she studied the colorful quilt on the bed. After stripping off all the linens, she set them in a pile by the washing machine on the back porch to take care of later.

Upon returning to the room, she discovered Erik left everything as his parents had, since the drawers in the dresser were full of personal belongings. Aundy looked around the room at the items that once belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Erickson and felt like a trespasser or thief. She wanted to shut the drawers, slam the door, and not ever enter the room again.

Instead, her practical nature ruled over her emotions as she went to the storage shed where Dent kept things they might need and found several old fruit crates. She carried them to the back porch and wiped them down with a rag before taking them inside the house to the bedroom.

One drawer at a time, she sorted the Erickson's belongings into piles. Some things needed to be thrown away. Worn clothes would become rags. The packets of letters from Norway she would set aside to decide what to do with later. Books she placed on the bookshelf in the front room. Photographs went into the box with the letters.

A trunk in the closet revealed three heavy sweaters in Nordic patterns, a beautiful white shawl made of the finest wool, extra linens and another colorful quilt, along with pieces of Rosemaling painted china.

The detailed work and warm colors on the china drew her interest. Aundy decided the dishes should be displayed in the dining room instead of hidden away in the closet. After finding places for the pieces in the china cupboard, she finished digging in the trunk and discovered a few more books printed in Norwegian. She added those to the bookshelf in the front room.

A smaller trunk on a shelf featured a vibrant Rosemaling design of blue with green and gold accents. Aundy loved it and decided she'd like to have it in her room. The lid creaked when she opened it and a hint of lavender tickled her nose. She removed what must have been Mrs. Erickson's wedding gown. Gently shaking out the folds, Aundy appreciated the skillful stitching and care that had gone into the garment. Carefully folding it, she set it in the trunk with the sweaters, linens and quilt, keeping out the white shawl to wear.

She took the small trunk to her room and set it on a chest of drawers. The trunk matched the blue and yellow colors in the quilt on her bed to perfection.

Again returning to the other bedroom, she sorted through Mrs. Erickson's clothing, finding several calico dresses that would be much better suited to wearing on the farm than her current wardrobe. Although somewhat dated and out of style, Aundy didn't think the chickens or the vegetable garden would care.

She found three riding skirts in good condition and tried them on, glancing in the mirror. The reflection showed the skirts were short, but otherwise fit her well. Relieved to discover wide hems, she could lengthen the skirts enough to wear without causing any scandal over a short hemline.

More digging resulted in the discovery of a pair of cowboy boots and two pairs of shoes. Thrilled with her find, she removed her shoes and tried on Mrs. Erickson's. The shoes fit her well, if not somewhat loose. A little padding in the toe would fix the problem.

Aundy fingered the soft leather of the boots, observing the scuffed toes and worn-down heels. Unlike any boots she'd seen a woman wear, they must have been made for Erik's mother. They definitely looked like men's western boots, only smaller. She tried them and wiggled her toes, concluding a pair of thicker socks would remedy the problem of the boots being slightly too big.

An idea began to blossom in her head when she stood and clomped around the room. As the blossom reached full bloom, Aundy upended the box of men's clothes she'd just carefully packed onto the bed and searched through the items. Swiftly pulling out pants, a shirt, vest and tie, she reached into the closet to grab a coat. She tried on the clothes and decided to put her plan into action that very night.

Giddy with excitement, she dug around on the closet shelf, finding a broad-brimmed hat. She set it on her head and stared into the dresser mirror. Pleased at her appearance, she adjusted the strap beneath her chin to hold the hat in place and pulled down the brim until it shadowed her eyes. With some soot on her cheeks and jaw to look like a man's stubbly whiskers, she might just get away with her little deception.

Changing back to her clothes, she took the men's clothes to her room. She finished packing up the bedroom, leaving the boxes stacked by the door then went to Erik's room, looking for some cologne or aftershave. She sniffed a bottle of Bay Rum then took it to the bathroom and left it sitting on a shelf by the mirror.

When Dent stopped by after supper to see if she needed anything, it was difficult for her not to share her plans. Instead, she told him she was fine, but thought she might like to go for a ride before it got dark. Dent said he'd have someone saddle Bell and leave her tied to the fence out front.

"Thanks so much, Dent," Aundy said, giving him a handful of the butter cookies he seemed to enjoy as he made his way out the door.

When he'd disappeared from sight, she opened the stove door and gathered a cup of ashes, carrying it to the bathroom. After washing her hands, she returned to her room where her disguise, as she had decided to call it, awaited.

Although she recalled what J.B. said about the Underground not being a place for a lady, Aundy also remembered what he said about it being the best place to gather information.

And information is what she wanted.

No one took her seriously as a woman, so if she had to pretend to be a man to accomplish what she wanted to do, then so be it.

Tightly wrapping her chest, so it looked as flat as possible, Aundy pulled on a thick, coarse man's undershirt. Over her bloomers, she tugged on a pair of pants that belonged to Erik's father. Erik must have gotten his height from his mother's side of the family, because his father's pants were just a little too short for Aundy.

A thick pair of socks went on her feet, followed by the boots. She tugged the pant legs down over the tops of the boots.

Slipping her arms in a cotton work shirt, she buttoned it then stuffed the hem into the waistband of the pants. The blue and white striped shirt reminded her of hundreds just like it she'd sewn at the factory. When she fastened the suspenders, she gave them a playful snap, grinning to herself as she settled them in place. After putting on a dark blue vest, she buttoned it then glanced in the mirror.

The transformation took shape, but she'd have to do something about her hair. Hastily unpinning it, she combed it back from her forehead and wove it into a tight braid. She caught the end and stuffed it back up under itself then pinned it into place. She tied a black cloth over her head, secured the ends in back, and tucked them into the neck of the shirt. No one would notice it once she had the hat in place.

Aundy stepped into the bathroom, looked in the small mirror above the sink, and carefully rubbed ashes into the skin along her jaw and chin, turning it a shade of gray. From a distance, in muted light, it might pass for a day's growth of beard.

A little flour made her rosy lips look pale and dry. She reminded herself not to lick them.

Back in her room, she put money into her vest pocket and a piece of paper with a pencil stub in her coat pocket. After shrugging into the coat, she pulled the hat down on her head and stood in front of the mirror, eyeing herself critically.

With her tall height and build, she might just get away with pretending to be a man. Aundy practiced a swaggering walk a few times, giggling before she calmed down and took a deep breath.

She could do this and she would.

At the front door, she stopped and turned back to unlock the desk drawer where she kept Erik's revolver. She removed it from the drawer, retrieved the holster and gun belt from his room, and fastened it around her hips like she'd seen men wear them.

The first steps she took felt lopsided until she adjusted her gait to the extra weight on her hip. As she walked a few circles around the front room, she remembered the Bay Rum in the bathroom. She splashed a little of the scent onto her hands, rubbed it on her neck, and wiped her still damp fingers down the front of her coat and pants.

A quick detour to the kitchen unearthed a pair of worn gloves she'd used outside. She jammed her hands inside and decided she had to leave before she came to her senses and changed her mind.

Aundy felt wondrously free and unhampered without her petticoats and skirts as she ran out the front door and down the porch steps. Able to mount Bell with ease, she could quickly become accustomed to wearing pants.

Before someone caught sight of her, she urged Bell into a fast canter down the lane and headed toward town.

Uncertain which saloon would grant the fastest access to the Underground, she decided on one she'd heard the hands talk about when they thought she wasn't listening.

Quickly tying Bell to a hitching post around the corner, she swaggered down the boardwalk and through the swinging doors of a busy saloon. The stench of booze and cigar smoke made her want to cough while she fought to keep her eyes from watering. Discreetly pulling the brim of her hat down and turning up the collar of her coat, she walked up to the bar and leaned one elbow on it.

"Help you, mister?" The middle-aged man who stared at her from behind the bar seemed rather bookish for a bartender.

"Maybe," Aundy spoke in a voice as deep and raspy as she could make it. "Have some business to do in the Underground."

"Is that so?" The bartender continued to polish a glass, appearing disinterested.

Aundy nodded her head.

"What makes you think we know anything about the Underground?" The bartender set the shiny glass on the counter and picked up another to polish.

"Heard you were the best place in town. Figured you'd have other enterprises, beyond the saloon." Aundy kept her head down, pretending to study the worn finger of her glove.

The bartender laughed. "Right you are. Go through that door and down the hall. Last door on the left will take you where you want to go."

"Much obliged." Aundy took a coin from her vest pocket and placed it on the bar.

The bartender grinned and tipped his head toward a door off to his right.

Aundy went through the doorway he indicated and found herself in a hall, flanked by doors on either side. The muffled sounds she could hear made her want to cover her ears, so she hurried to the end of the hall, turning the knob on the door to her left. It opened to reveal a dark staircase.

Cautiously easing her way down the stairs, Aundy came to another door and opened it into a narrow corridor. As she followed it, strange scents assaulted her nose and the rumble of a crowd floated around her. At the end of the hallway, she straightened her vest, tightened the string under her chin holding the hat firmly in place, and opened the door.

Aundy stepped into what appeared to be a small underground city. From her position, she could see a saloon, a sign for a bathhouse, and a Chinese laundry. Stunned to see so many people wandering around below the city, she ambled along, joining the crowd. Businessmen and even a few men from church were among the faces she passed.

Mindful of blending in, she listened to several conversations, but didn't pick up any good leads that would help satisfy her mission.

Covertly following a group of men into a saloon, she found an empty spot at the end of a long bar and ordered a sarsaparilla. The bartender gave her an odd look, but didn't ask any questions when she handed him a coin and nodded her head in thanks. She didn't intend to drink anything, but people would pay less attention to her if she looked like she was nursing a drink.

Without raising her head, she cast a glance around the room and took in a group of men sitting at a nearby table. Dusty and a little disheveled, they seemed to be having a good time. Leisurely turning their direction, she listened to their conversation as they played cards. Caught up in the tales of ranching and life on the trail, she didn't notice a saloon girl sidle up next to her until someone squeezed her arm.

"Hey, sugar, ain't seen you round here afore," the girl said, leaning to press herself against Aundy's side. "You're a little shy, aren't you?"

Aundy thought she might die of embarrassment. She raised her head just enough to take in the girl's face and was surprised to see someone extremely young. If she scrubbed off the makeup and dressed in respectable clothes, the girl would probably be quite pretty. Although she guessed her to be around sixteen, the girl's eyes held a haunted look — the gaze of one who had lost all innocence.

Tawdry and gauche, the girl seemed excessively friendly for Aundy's liking.

"Not interested." Aundy stared down at her feet. "Please move along, miss."

"Everyone's interested, at least all men are." The girl took a step back and studied Aundy speculatively. The way she grinned, Aundy wondered if she'd figured out she wasn't a man.

"My name's Marnie. And you are?"

"Looking for information," Aundy said quietly, working to keep her voice low and rough.

"What kind of information?" Marnie leaned against the bar and twirled a gaudy fan by a silk cord wrapped around her wrist.

"Buying sheep." Nervous, she barely remembered not to lick her lips or press them together.

"Sheep, is it? Well, you probably ought to talk to Mr. O'Connell over there in the corner. He has a bunch he's been trying to sell so he can move on to greener pastures. Says he wants to head to California where they don't get snow and cold winters like we have here." Marnie pointed to a man sitting at a table in the corner by himself. "He's a nice man, even when he's drunk, and always gentle around women, at least to those who dress the part."

Astounded by Marnie's comment, Aundy tried not to let it show on her face. She tipped her head to Marnie and touched the brim of her hat in thanks, like she'd watched men do all her life, then walked across the room.

"Mr. O'Connell?" she asked, standing beside his table. He looked up at her with a glazed expression. Aundy noticed an empty whiskey bottle on the table. Repressing the sigh that inched up from her chest, she sat down when he motioned to a chair across from him.

"Heard you have sheep for sale. I might know someone who'd be interested in buying."

"Oh, might ya now?" Mr. O'Connell said with an Irish lilt that made his words seem musical. "Faith, I've been a' tryin' to get rid of me woolies for months long past and had no takers. I was sittin' here tonight, ready to drown me sorrows and there ya' be. Giving me hope, at last."

Aundy asked questions about the type of sheep, the size of the herd, how much he wanted for the animals, and if he was willing to deliver them to her farm. When she was satisfied with the information, she took out her pencil and piece of paper and wrote down her name, instructing Mr. O'Connell to give Mrs. Erickson a call Monday morning or to stop by her farm to discuss the details. In turn, Aundy wrote down his last name and the approximate location of his farm, in case the half-drunk man lost the piece of paper before he got in touch with her.

"Thank you for your time." Aundy stood up from the table, more than ready to make an escape.

"Ya' can't up and leave yet. A drink must be shared at the prospect of selling me flock of sheep." Mr. O'Connell held up his empty shot glass. "Marnie, me love, bring another bottle."

Aware the situation could go quite badly from there, Aundy knew a man would stay and take a drink to seal the deal.

Marnie brought over a bottle and another glass, setting it in front of Aundy. With a flirty wink, Marnie poured whiskey into each glass, then stood back, eyeing Aundy. Certain the girl saw through her disguise, Aundy hoped she wouldn't give her away.

"To a future without woolies," Mr. O'Connell toasted, holding up his glass before downing the contents in one quick swallow.

"To the future," Aundy said, holding her glass and pretending to take a drink. There was no way that devil's poison, as she'd heard her mother call it, was touching her lips let alone sliding down her throat. She could almost feel the fire burning in her stomach from the smell alone.

"Ya hardly took a sip," Mr. O'Connell pointed out.

"Trying to cut back." Aundy reached out her gloved hand to the man across the table and gave him a firm handshake. "Thank you."

"You're most welcome, boyo. Thank you for giving me Mrs. Erickson's name."

In what she hoped was a masculine gesture, Aundy tipped her head, turned to leave, and ran right into Ashton Monroe.

"Watch where you're going," Ashton grumbled giving Aundy a hard shove that sent her stumbling into an empty table. She kept herself from falling by sheer determination and mumbled an apology without lifting her gaze.

Shocked to see Ashton, Aundy wasn't sure what to make of his grumpy, rumpled presence. Always dressed immaculately with impeccable manners, he appeared quite disheveled. His suit was wrinkled and flecked with dark stains. He wore no hat, and it looked as though he'd run his hands through his hair numerous times since it stood on end.

She started to walk past him, but he grabbed her shoulder and held on.

"If you'd learn to walk with your head up instead of shuffling along looking at your feet, you might not go around bumping into people." Viciously, Ashton squeezed her shoulder before turning her loose.

Anger boiled inside her. Aundy wanted, more than anything, to kick Ashton in the shin and slap his pretty face. What a pompous brute! Instead, she kept her head down, holding on to her temper with both hands.

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, once again attempting to leave.

"Say, haven't I seen you around somewhere?" Ashton reached out to grab the hat from her head. Aundy ducked out of reach at the same moment Marnie latched onto Ashton's arm, pulling his attention her direction.

"Ashton, honey, you come on over here and tell me where you've been the last week. I haven't seen you for days and days, and it looks like you rode into town on a twister." Marnie sent Aundy another wink as Ashton followed her to the bar.

Hastily mouthing "thank you" to the girl, Aundy hurried into the throng of people milling about and tried to figure out a way back up to street level. Since she probably wasn't going to be able to leave the same way she came in, she followed a couple of men who appeared to be going somewhere.

When they turned and entered an establishment Aundy refused to acknowledge even existed, she kept walking. The din of the crowd faded behind her. She followed a tunnel around a corner and was thrilled to notice a doorway up ahead.

Cautiously turning the knob, she let out the breath she'd held. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she saw a staircase. On her race upward, she tripped over something on the top step and crashed into a solid door.

"Gracious," she whispered, convinced she'd have a bruise on her shoulder. If Ashton's vice-like grip hadn't done it, her fall into the door would.

When she glanced down at the object she tripped over, her jaw dropped to discover it was a man. Unable to see more than an outline of shape in the darkness, she prayed the door would open outside somewhere and gave the knob a twist.

Fresh air blew across her face. She looked around, realizing the door opened into a narrow alley.

The man at her feet moaned and Aundy bent over, trying to decide if he was drunk or injured. Light spilling from the upstairs windows coupled with the last of fading daylight provided enough illumination for her to see the man was Chinese and his face was covered in blood.

"Mister, can you hear me?" Aundy knelt by him. Incapable of going off and leaving someone hurting, she felt compelled to offer her assistance.

A moan answered her question.

"We need to get you out of this place," Aundy said, not bothering to disguise her voice. She placed her hands beneath the man's shoulders and lifted, hoping he'd be able to get to his feet. He opened the one eye that wasn't swollen shut and looked at her in surprise. She could tell he was in pain, but he managed to stand. He let her help him as she shut the door and quietly tread down the alley.

"Is there somewhere I can take you?" Aundy asked, wondering where the man lived.

He shook his head, and then gasped in pain, leaning more heavily on her. Several inches taller than he was, she easily bore his weight as she kept an arm around him.

"Then I guess you're going to have to let me take you to Doc's place or go home with me."

"You," the man whispered.

"You're going to have to ride my horse with me, then." The alley opened onto a street she thought she recognized. Walking as fast as she dared, Aundy kept hidden in the shadows. She turned another corner and breathed a sigh of relief. Bell stood tied to the hitching post down the street.

"Almost there."

When they reached the horse, Aundy glanced around while Bell rubbed her head on her arm. She studied the man at her side, trying to decide how she would get him to her home not to mention what she'd do with him once she got him there.

"You have to help me, mister. I can't get you up on Bell without you putting in a little effort." Aundy bent down and made a step by intertwining her fingers. The man swayed and began to fall to the ground, but strong arms caught him, keeping him upright.

"Thunderation, Aundy! That better not be you."