Trapped in the small room, all she could do was pace. They'd left an empty chamber pot, some dry beef and a pitcher of water. Other than a lantern next to the narrow bed, there was precious little light in the room. The window was boarded up, allowing but a smidge of sunlight through between the boards. Camille went to it and pushed at the wood.
She was weak from lack of food in the last three days, plus her right arm hurt when she used it. She wondered if it was a sprain of some sort or just bruising from falling on it.
Footsteps sounded, slow paced and then fast, as if someone scurried about the house. Camille raced to the door and placed her ear against it. Metal jingled as the person came closer. Could it be someone meaning to take advantage of the other men's absences?
Frantic, she looked around the room for something she could use as a weapon. She raced to the washstand and poured the water out of the pitcher then moved to stand where the door would hide her when the person walked in.
"Camille?" a woman called out, her voice shaky. "Are you in there?"
Her aunt.
Camille blinked in confusion. What was her aunt doing there? "Yes. I'm here."
Metal clicked and the door opened to reveal her aunt. The years had not treated her well. Half of her face drooped and her hair, more gray than brown, was pulled back into a messy disarray. "Hurry, come on." Her aunt motioned with both hands. "Let’s get you out of here."
"You're helping me?"
The woman studied her face. "You deserve better than this. I was so glad when you got away. Life here in this godforsaken town is hell on earth. No place for a brave, beautiful girl like you. "
"I don't understand." Camille followed her aunt through the house to a back door. Her aunt stepped out and looked around. "Here, take this." She picked up a large satchel from the ground and shoved it into Camille's hands. “There are a few dollars, food and a change of clothes. Men's britches, a shirt and a coat."
Camille hugged the satchel to her chest. "I thought you hated me."
"I did," came the curt reply. "I hated the idea you had to come to us. That your life would be as unbearable as mine. Now I didn't just have to worry about me, but had to watch you be mistreated as well." Her aunt's dull eyes moved past her to the interior of the house. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you more."
"Come with me." It was obvious her aunt had suffered a great deal over the years and had given up on herself. "Please."
The woman's soft smile broke her heart. "It's too late for me. I would only slow you down and we'd get caught. Go, Camille. Go far. Be happy." She pointed to a tree line in the distance. "Just inside the woods there is a saddled horse. Go now, hurry, there's no telling who saw me heading over here. Ride south, there are a few more towns in that direction, so you can stop and get food or shelter if needed."
Not needing any more encouragement, Camille reached to touch her aunt's hand. "Thank you."
"Go on now." Her aunt's shoulders dropped and she turned back to go inside the house.
Wearing only her torn chemise, Camille ran toward the woods, her heart racing as she looked around to ensure no one was about. The horse was tethered to a tree, nibbling on grasses, completely unconcerned by her appearance it seemed.
"You and I are about to spend a lot of time together," Camille told the animal who looked at her with a bored expression.
Once she tied the satchel to the saddle, she mounted and rode south. Without a destination in mind, Camille wanted to cry in frustration. More than anything she wished for Lucas. He would protect her. But it was unfair to go to him. She'd thought herself married and still allowed intimacy between them. Lucas would, no doubt, be shocked and hate her when he learned of her past.
No, it was best she go in the opposite direction of Silver City; start anew in a different place. She urged the horse to a steady trot. No use in tiring the animal since she had no idea how long they'd travel for the next few days, weeks even.
A few minutes later, she guided the horse to a clearing. While it grazed, she quickly changed into the britches and shirt, cinching the pants at her waist with a piece of fabric she tore from her chemise. Once dressed, she braided her hair and put it up, shoving it under a hat her aunt had deposited into the bag. The woman had thought of everything.
Hopefully, at a distance, she'd pass for a lone male rider and keep from attracting unneeded attention. Nervous at being alone, her hands shook when she finally finished changing. It took a few moments to put her soiled clothes into the bag, but she managed between deep breaths and jumping at every sound.
Finally done, Camille mounted and once again set off.
*
"What can I get you gentlemen?" A man stood behind a dark wooden bar in the small saloon studying Lucas and Brogan with wary eyes.
"Information," Lucas said leaning an elbow on the surface. Other than the barkeep, there was only one other man at a table in the corner staring into his glass as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders.
The barkeep's eyes locked on to the tin stars on both their chests. "What about?"