Texas Tiger

chapter 6





"You've just come home from church, Georgina. I don't understand why you have to go out again. You know we are to be at the Higgins's for dinner, and we're to attend the church social afterward. You should be lying down and resting so you'll look your best instead of dashing off with that"—Dolly Hanover gave the camera in her daughter's hand a horrified look—"that dangerous piece of equipment."

Had her mother chastised her in the normal tone of an angry parent, Georgina could have brushed it off without a qualm. Instead, her mother was worrying at the beads around her high-necked dress and whispering in a tone of dread, an almost certain prelude to another "episode."

It was a form of emotional blackmail that Georgina recognized easily now that she had returned from an extended absence. When she was younger, she had always succumbed at the first sign that her mother was on the verge of a "spell." She resisted now, but not without pangs of guilt. When her mother retreated to her room and pulled the shades, her father was desolate, and Georgina always carried the knowledge that it was all her fault.

And it was going to be her fault again this time, but her shoulders were wider now. If her parents wanted to dump the blame on her, let them. She had other things to do, and saving her future was one of them.

Gently, she kissed her mother's paper-thin cheek. "I shall sleep in the carriage, Mama, and I will be back in plenty of time for you to help me find the right gown. Peter will be there this evening, and I shall want to look my best."

Her mother looked only slightly mollified, but she raised no other objection as Georgina hurried off. Dolly Hanover never raised real objections, never protested, never got angry. She simply accepted whatever came her way and retired to her room when she could no longer deal with it. Georgina supposed she ought to feel sorry for her mother. Mostly, she felt fury. That wasn't the kind of life she meant to lead.

She was humming and bouncing in the seat by the time Blucher let her out near the Presbyterian church where he thought he was taking her. Georgina couldn't see Mr. Martin yet, but she knew he was here. He was as eager as she to see this story in print. She still glowed with the praise he had heaped on her when she had given him her notes on Mulloney's Department Store. People had always praised her gowns and her hair and her smile, but no one had ever cared whether or not there was anything behind them. And since no one had ever cared, she had never tried to be anything else but what she was. That was going to change.

She was going to change, and the world around her was going to change. She wouldn't be her mama, or anybody else's mama. She would be herself, and she was going to make a difference in this world. Daniel had promised her that the newspaper story would make a difference, and she believed him, even if he'd lied about his name. As soon as people saw how mistreated these clerks were, they would insist that things change. The people of Cutlerville were proud, upstanding citizens, and they would raise a clamor at such slavery in their midst. After all, hadn't they sent a battalion to fight slavery during the Civil War?

As the carriage and Blucher disappeared around the corner, Pecos Daniel ran down the church steps and caught the camera case in Georgina's hand.

"I didn't really think you would come. I feel like I'm eighteen again and sneaking around behind my sister's back. I guess I'll have to invest in a carriage so I can pick you up at the door personally."

He shouldered the case and hurried down the street faster than Georgina could walk in her tight skirt. She wasn't certain if it was his ebullient energy that carried him or some kind of anger at himself, or maybe even her. Mr. Martin grew more mysterious with time instead of less. But she wasn't about to let him leave her behind.

Pulling her skirt above her ankles, she hobbled after him as fast as she could. "Mr. Martin, if you can't wait for me, give me back my camera. I don't mind making a spectacle of myself on my terms, but I'll not do it on yours."

He turned in surprise, glanced down at her exposed ankle boots, then up at her irate expression, and grinned. "What kind of spectacle and what terms do you ask?"

Georgina was quite certain his thoughts weren't polite and that he was probably laughing at her, but she was too eager for this new assignment to allow him to ruin the moment. "Mr. Martin, you are rude, crude, and uncouth, and if you do not behave yourself, I'll take back my camera. How far away are we?"

Since there was no anger in her tone, he ignored the insult and extended his elbow for her use. "A few blocks. You really have to find better clothes for walking in."

"I just came from church, Mr. Martin. I don't expect you to understand the need for proper attire. A gentleman adjusts his pace to a lady's."

For some reason, Daniel had a hard time thinking of Miss Georgina Meredith Hanover as a lady. Perhaps it was because she was a full head shorter than he, and he was too aware of soft round curves instead of the battleship attire of the ladies he knew. She was too young, too mischievous, too full of laughter to be one of the proud matrons he considered ladies. She was more like Evie—a lady in name only.

Except that his thoughts about Miss Hanover were anything but sisterly.

Damn, but he had trouble keeping his mind where it belonged where women were concerned. Why in hell he had taken on a female photographer was more than he could imagine, but the deed was done and he couldn't undo it. The rustle of stiff satin against whatever getup she wore beneath that gown reminded Daniel only too well of the feminine hand on his arm, even if that haunting scent of lilies didn't surround him. He was damned glad they had almost reached their destination.

Georgina was studying the tiny wooden structures with interest. He bet she had never seen this side of town. Her carriage driver would have made it a point to avoid it when he drove her anywhere. Most of the streets were too narrow for a carriage in any event. Trash littered the dirt space between the two rows of houses, blowing up against the unpainted walls and catching on wooden steps. Here and there someone had made an attempt at cheerfulness by planting geraniums in tin cans and setting them on the steps, but the spot of brightness only served to make the surroundings more dismal in comparison.

Boys played a rough and tumble game of kick-the-can in the middle of the street, and Daniel placed himself between Georgina and the game and skirted around them skillfully. One of the boys shouted a word of greeting, and he lifted his hand in acknowledgement, but he didn't stop to talk any more than the boy stopped his game. Sociability wasn't a priority on this side of town.

"It smells," Georgina muttered as they stopped in front of the narrow one-story shotgun house that was their destination.

"There's no sanitation. No indoor toilets, no yards for privies. I won't tell you what they use." Daniel lifted his knuckles to knock at the weathered door without looking at the expression of wide-eyed horror on his companion's face. He didn't have to see it to know it was there.

The door burst open before he could lower his fist against the wood. A small figure darted from the interior, colliding with Daniel's legs before skittering around him and out into the street, shouting "Douglas!" at the top of her lungs and in a tone of terror.

Daniel staggered, momentarily unbalanced as the collision shifted his weight to his weak leg, but the cries from within forced him forward. Leaving the woman on his arm outside, he stepped into the dim interior.

Clutching her fingers over her mouth to stifle a scream, Georgina glanced after the young girl running and yelling down the street in the direction of the older boys, then back to Mr. Martin, who had just disappeared into the shadows of the interior. She could hear a woman's screams and a man's thundering voice, and she was paralyzed. She had never been in such an unpleasant situation before, and she didn't have experience or etiquette to rely on.

So she relied on instinct. Stepping into the tiny front room, she watched a big ruffian in a derby hat and shapeless sack coat raise his hand to the pretty woman she recognized from her father's factory. The woman cringed, and a younger girl beside her screamed in fury and terror.

Before Georgina could react, Mr. Martin grabbed the bully's collar and jerked him backward. The newspaperman was considerably more slender than his opponent but his action caused the bully's fist to miss its connection. Georgina bit her hand in horror as the bigger man turned in a fury to whip his powerful arm in Mr. Martin's direction.

Daniel dodged, kicked upward in a vicious blow to the man's privates, and bent the bigger man over in a bellow of pain. Using the camera case for leverage, he slammed it against the bully's neck, flattening him to the wooden floor.

By this time the gang of boys from the street careened inside screeching. Georgina retreated to the wall, out of their way. Without regard to her, the newspaperman she had considered mild-mannered and amusing pointed at the ruffian he had single-handedly brought down.

"The gentleman had a little accident, Douglas. Why don't you and the boys haul him out where he can get some fresh air?"

With whoops of triumph the boys grabbed every available limb and piece of fabric and unceremoniously hauled the huge man out into the open cesspool that they called a street.

"Who in hell was that?" Daniel demanded as soon as the boys were gone, turning back to the two women clinging to each other.

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Georgina could see that there was already a growing bruise on the face of the woman she knew as Janice. The younger woman, who looked enough like her to be her sister, was sobbing brokenly. Janice lifted her chin in a defiant tilt as she glanced to Georgina then back to the man who had saved her.

"That's the rent collector. It's the first of the month, and we didn't have all the rent."

Her sister gulped back a sob long enough to offer the explanation Janice had proudly refused to give. "Betsy was sick and we had to use some of the rent money for medicine. We told him we would have it next week, but Egan's a brute."

Douglas returned, brushing his hands off on his dirty corduroys. He gave a questioning glance to Georgina, but hurried to his sisters. "How did that bastard sneak up on us like that? We usually get plenty of warning when he's around."

"It's Sunday, and nobody expected him. And he came up through the back alley. He must have known we didn't have the money, so he started here first." Janice took her sister's hand and turned her in the direction of the back room. Glancing over her shoulder at Daniel, she said, "I'm sorry, but I don't think we're interested anymore. Find someone else for your story, please."

Janice was the one who had been hurt, but she was comforting her sobbing sister as if it were the other way around. Georgina wanted to help, but she didn't know how. She felt as if she had been dropped into an entirely alien territory and spoke another language.

She almost gasped at Daniel's expression when he turned to her. She had grown accustomed to seeing him in wire-rimmed glasses, reading her notes or working on his press. She knew the laughter that lurked behind his eyes when he took the glasses off. He was always pleasant, good-humored, and patient.

Right now, he looked as if he could commit murder.

The look disappeared behind the gentle gray of his eyes as he turned to Douglas. "Who owns these houses?"

The boy shrugged and avoided his eyes. "Anybody wants to rent, they talk to Egan. But he don't own them. He calls the owner 'boss.' "

Daniel curled his hand around Georgina's elbow, tugging her toward the door. "Come on, we're going to find out who 'boss' is."

One of the neighbors was already hurrying toward the little house with a basket of medicinal supplies. She gave Georgina's rich gown a look of hostility before disappearing into the interior.

There was no sign of the unconscious Egan in the gutter, but the man hauling Georgina down the street didn't seem to notice. Mr. Martin's jaw was taut and strained, and his limp had returned. She wondered how in heaven's name he had been able to deliver that kick. She wasn't certain he was quite human.

She hurried to keep up with his furious pace. "Where are we going?"

"You are going home."

"I can't. Blucher won't be at the church for another hour or more."

"I'll hire a cab."

Georgina dug in her heels and refused to move farther. "I want to help. You said a story like this needs pictures."

Daniel glared at her. "This isn't the same story. This story needs a six-gun and a whip. You're going home."

"A six-gun?" Her eyes strayed to his narrow hips, and she breathed a sigh of relief to see he wasn't wearing a weapon. "That's barbaric. All we need to do is go to the courthouse and find out who owns the deeds. I can have my father's lawyer do that tomorrow."

"I have a suspicion your lawyer won't want to do that. I can almost wager he already knows who owns this block. And I would wager almost as much that every damned person watching us right now knows who owns these houses. This town isn't so big that anybody can hide for long behind a bully."

Georgina's eyes narrowed. "You already have somebody in mind, don't you?"

Daniel tugged at her arm and got her moving again. "It isn't anybody living on this side of town, that's for damned sure."

"It's somebody living on my side of town, like my father. That's what you're saying." Georgina wasn't accustomed to being angry, but she was getting there. She shook off his imprisoning hand. "Well, it isn't my father. My father is too nice to hire a thug like that."

"That's why your father hires a misogynist like Ralph Emory as foreman for a factory full of women."

"Misogynist?"

Daniel gave her a glare. "A man who hates women."

"I never heard of such a thing," she declared, halting and stamping her foot. "That's perfectly silly. Why would any man hate women, and if one did, why would my father hire him? You're making this up just to send me home."

"I don't need to make anything up to send you home. That's where you're going. You have no business in this fight. I don't know why I let you come down here in the first place. As of this moment you're fired. I'll send you your paycheck in the morning."

Before Georgina knew what was happening, they were out on the main thoroughfare and he was hailing a shabby cab meandering away from the church. She was in it and on her way, her camera in her lap, before she could think of the proper protest.

Ten minutes later, it sank in that Mr. Martin actually intended to pay her for her work. And she knew exactly what she would do with that paycheck