Free Liberty Belle by Patricia Pacjac Carroll

think we’re stopping.” Libby pulled back the curtain from the window. Nothing. Vast amounts of nothing covered by tall grass waving in the breeze.
    In minutes, the coach halted.
    The gambler stretched his arms and smiled. “You ladies appear to be withstanding the ride just fine. You certainly make for pleasant scenery.” He roughly kicked the unshaven man in the corner and elbowed the crumpled form next to him.
    About to give a disgusted retort, she stopped when the door next to her opened.
    The driver grinned a gap-toothed smile. “We’re at the noon stop. Every one out. There’s water and eats for you at the house. Take your leisure. We’ll be leavin’ in an hour.”
    Libby accepted the driver’s hand to steady her as she stepped off the stage and then waited as he helped Flora. Libby rubbed her stiff muscles and walked around the coach. The house was nothing but a roughly built shack. Not nearly as nice as the stops the first two days. She grimaced at the shabby hut, but at least it wasn’t moving.
    She stepped inside and her opinion of the place worsened. The sparse furnishings consisted of a table surrounded by benches. A jug, which she hoped contained water, sat in the middle of the table while dented tin plates set the places. On the stove, something that smelled like burnt beans boiled over a crusted pot. Her appetite shrank.
    The dirty passenger shoved past Libby, grabbed a plate, and went to the stove where he piled it high with charred beans.
    “Grogan, don’t you know women is first?” The driver yelled from behind. “Ladies, I’ll bring you some beans.”
    “Thank you, Dusty.”
    “Yes, Ma’am. You ladies take your time. I’m to watch out for ya.” Scowling at Grogan, he headed for the stove.
    Libby sat at the end of the table far from the seedy-looking Grogan. Flora settled beside her and heaved a sigh. She appeared to be exhausted. Groaning, Libby could only imagine her own appearance. Grit from the dusty road coated her from hat to shoe, even leaving a sandy taste in her mouth.
    “Like two flowers in the desert.” The gambler sauntered in looking as fresh as when Libby had first seen him.
    He grinned. “Checked on your horse. Fine animal. Looks like she can run all day.”
    “She’s a blooded thoroughbred. I am confident she’ll endure the trip.” Libby chastised herself for letting the man draw her into conversation as she had no intention of encouraging his lurid gazes.
    After reaching in his pocket, Harley pulled out a deck of cards and took the seat across from her. “In case someone’s interested.” He proceeded to shuffle them, handling the deck as if the cards were old friends.
    Dusty placed a ladle full of the thoroughly cooked beans on Libby and Flora’s plates and nodded at Harley. “You can put those cards away as far as I’m concerned. Devil’s games is what my mama called ’em. Wished I’d a listened to her rather than finding out the hard way.”
    A chill rushed over Libby. The sooner they left this little shack and excuse for a lunch the better. Then she thought about the uncomfortable seat. After a couple of bites, she’d eaten all her stomach would allow.
    How would she endure the rest of the trip? Had her impulsiveness plunged her into making a mistake? Was her adventure only going to prove Mother’s criticism of her correct?
    Flora wiped her mouth with a lace kerchief. “I want to thank you again for letting me come. I have never felt so alive. Oh my. I wish I’d had the nerve to do this ten years ago.”
    Libby wished she had Flora’s enthusiasm. “I hope I did the right thing. It’s just that being with these men—”
    “Oh. Are you having second thoughts? Of course, if you want to go back, I would understand.” Flora looked down, her chin trembling.
    Libby elbowed her. “We’re going on. Like the sign says, Pike’s Peak or Bust . I’m not turning back.” I’m not.
    She sent a silent prayer of thanks that Flora had come along. Being in