Free Gingham Mountain by Mary Connealy Page B

him.”
    Prudence rolled her eyes and sighed. “ I know! You don’t need to tell me what I already know. I’ll go. I figured the storm’d be a good enoughexcuse to miss this mornin’. I can’t stand sitting there all morning listening to that preacher go on and on.”
    Horace nodded as he shoved a biscuit into his mouth. “I’ve got the worst of it though.” He swallowed hard. “Digging in that stink hole.”
    “It pays better’n sewing.” Prudence paced, her arms crossed, as she tried to figure out how to corner a man who barely showed his face in town and, when he did, was surrounded by that gaggle of children.
    “Yeah, but I’m gettin’ real sick of it. Can’t you get your hooks in that man? You’re losin’ it, Prudy. Losin’ your looks. We’ve gotta make this score a’fore you’re an ugly old crone.”
    “Shut up!” Prudence picked up a plate off the sideboard and was tempted to throw it at him. Anything to stop his mouth from telling her what she already knew.
    “I’ve had a couple of people in LaMont ask me where I’m finding the oil. Mostly people don’t know what it is, or I s’pose they know and just don’t recognize its value. And I just put it on the train and ship it out fast so no one pays much mind. But a few have noticed. Last time I had to ride the wrong direction out of town then circle around before I lost a man tailing me. Digging that black gold out of the ground is hard work, and I hate it. But much as I hate it, I don’t want to lose it. This is our big score. We need to own it then sell it. We can go to California, buy a hacienda, and settle down for good. No more slavin’ our lives away. But it won’t happen if you don’t get your hooks into that man. You’re gonna lose everything for us.”
    Prudence nodded. “I’m working on it. I may have found a way in, too. The man needs clothes—anyone can see that just by looking at the rags he and his children wear. I’m watching to catch him alone and that’s the tricky part. I’ve already offered to do sewing for him, but so far he keeps refusing. I suppose he’s got no money. But I’ll offer to work cheap. I’ll get him. My business is getting a little better. A few men want me to sew them a shirt from time to time. No more women than there are in town to sew, I’m making a slim go of it. But Grant’s never come in with an order.”
    “Make it quick. You’re gonna have to come up with somethin’ better than sewin’ pretty soon. If you can’t get next to the man, how’re you gonna get him to marry with you?”
    “Yeah, and how am I gonna be a widow who inherits his land if I can’t get him to marry me?”
    “You’ve never had trouble before, Prudy. Use your head, use your body, use what’s left of that pretty face, and figure out a way to compromise that cowpoke. He don’t look like he’ll be any trouble to fool if you just once get your chance at him.”
    “I am using my head. Why don’t you use yours? You shouldn’t be in here today. Someone’s gonna see that I’ve got a man staying with me. We’ll either have to lie about you being here or explain who you are, and then there’ll be questions we don’t want to answer.”
    Horace stood from the table, swiping his sleeve across his mouth. “Too bad.”
    “Well, when you’re found out, you’ll ruin everything.”
    “Watch your mouth. I’m holding up my end of the bargain.” He strode across the room and shoved her back. “You hold up yours.”
    “You dig in the dirt and keep your head down. I take all the risks. When he turns up dead, they’ll look to me, not you, you stupid oaf.” Prudent felt the thrill of fear that came when she goaded him, knowing how he’d react. “And now you’re ruining it by being in here. You’re a fool, Horace. A lowdown, half-witted, old coot.”
    Horace backhanded her.
    She slammed into the wall. Stars exploded before her eyes. Her tongue touched the blood pouring from her split lip.
    Grabbing the