Shanna glared her rage at the closed door, then whirled to hurry over to the bed. Toby still lay cuddled beneath the blanket, undisturbed by the loud bang of the door, and she studied him silently while one hand, trembling with repressed anger, rose to wipe at her lips. When her fingertips caressed her mouth instead, she gave a quiet snort of disgust and dropped her arm.
How stupid she had been to willingly place herself in a position to contend with that overbearing lout's complete disregard for proper behavior. Evidently the old man at the land office had been right — a completely different set of etiquette governed these Southern men. She was going to have to be very careful that Toby wasn't corrupted.
Toby, who she loved with a deep, abiding ache that was every bit as strong as the love she had seen on her friends' faces when they gazed at their own children. That Toby was her little brother, rather than her own child, didn't matter one whit to her when she found out about her father's plan to separate them. Toby, the center of her world right now and the reason she had journeyed to this godforsaken place and had to tolerate men like Cody Garret.
Funny how that confident streak she admired in Cody's elderly aunt came through in her nephew as a smug, masculine assumption that she should appreciate his dictatorial browbeating of her little brother — and that he could paw her just because she tried to express her gratitude. Of course. His aunt must be related by marriage, Shanna thought as she heard the door across the hallway close.
"Oh, for pity sakes," Shanna growled, keeping her voice soft as she glanced down at Toby. "Quit thinking about a man you hope you'll never have to see again and get dressed!"
Shanna shook her head and walked over to her carpetbag. How different the men in the South were than what she had heard — not courteous and gentlemanly at all. And she was going to have to be careful they didn't corrupt her, too. Great day in the morning. She had already uttered the first profanities of her life, once where Toby could hear!
And what a dunce she had been to open her door wearing her dressing gown. It was her own fault he pawed her. His superior, masculine arrogance had probably misread her actions as an attempt to entice him. She could almost imagine him quirking those full lips into a leer and pulling a devil's tail from behind him, holding and stroking it in his hands while he eyed her!
Shrugging her shoulders in exasperation at the anger still boiling in her mind, Shanna determinedly started sorting through her clothing until she found enough unsoiled underthings to wear. Next she pulled out a blue, woolen day gown, the same shade as her eyes. It would definitely be warm, though it wasn't one of her better gowns. Deciding the wrinkles would smooth out by the time she wore it down to supper that evening, she removed her dressing gown and slipped into the clothing.
She dug a dry pair of wool stockings out of the bag. They weren't the most attractive ones she owned either.
"Good grief, why should I care whether the garments I choose are flattering or not?" she murmured in a pique at the frown she found on her face as she eyed the ugly stockings in distaste. "There isn't one person in this town whose opinion of my appearance matters to me. I just want to be warm!"
And recalling how cold her feet had been on the trip to the hotel in the freezing weather, she determinedly pulled the wool stockings on and knotted them above her knees. No one would see them anyway, and just now she couldn't bear the thought of wearing her corset to have something to fasten the stockings on.
Her kid shoes were stylish, but definitely not warm. Shanna probed deeper into the bag, searching for her riding boots. She could even pull on another pair of socks over her stockings inside the somewhat larger boots.
Suddenly Shanna's fingers froze in their quest. She stared down in horror at where her thumb protruded from a rip in the carpetbag. Heart in her throat, she pushed her arm deeper into the bag and swallowed a stab of terror as her entire hand came out through a tear in the bag.
"No. Oh, please God, no," she breathed in denial.
Frantically Shanna tore the remaining articles from the carpetbag, flinging them around the floor. The riding boots landed with a thump and she heard Toby stir on the bed. How he could sleep through that slamming door and wake up at the lesser noise made by the boots was beyond her. She forced herself to stand when she heard his faint voice.
"Shanna," Toby muttered drowsily. "Shanna, what was that noise?"
Shanna quickly crossed to the bed again. "It...it's nothing, Toby," she managed to say. "Go on back to sleep."
Toby blinked his eyes open once, then snuggled back against the pillow. She stood watching him until his even breathing told her he had returned to sleep, then gently tucked the blanket around his neck before she went over to pick up the carpetbag again.
Somewhat hopefully Shanna upturned the bag and shook it. The darned bag was indeed empty. A sob rose in her throat and, with a glance at Toby, she tried to muffle it. It was gone. The entire sack of money she had found in her mother's desk was gone — slipped out through the tear in the carpetbag.
Or — Shanna's brow creased as she examined the tear. Or had someone slit the seam and taken it? Maybe the stagecoach driver. Who else had handled the bag?
Shanna plucked at the seam threads, and they came away loose in her fingers. No, no one had slit the seam. The threads were just rotten. Why had she been so foolish as to entrust the money to the bag, instead of carrying it on her person? When had the money fallen out?
Shanna retraced the last day of their journey in her mind. The money had been there last night at the waystation where the stage stopped. She knew it had been, because she had checked. Suddenly a vision of the bag lying against the land office with her clothing strewn across the walkway surfaced. Could the money have fallen out then? Or maybe when the driver dropped the bag from the top of the coach?
Shanna silently crossed to the window and drew the curtains back to peer outside. She couldn't even see through the glass. A howling wind blew sheets of snow against the window and ice crystals covered the pane.
She had to go out there, though. She had to find that drawstring bag. She barely had enough money left in her reticule for meals and another few days at the hotel. And she wouldn't be able to wire her bank in New York for a possible advance on the trust fund her mother had left her without her father finding out where she was.
Toby. She couldn't leave him alone. What if he woke while she was gone and came out in that weather looking for her? Oh dear God, what was she going to do now?
Shanna moved from the window and dropped into the rocking chair. Burying her head on her knees, she clenched her teeth and tried to hold back the threatening sobs. She couldn't go to pieces — Toby depended on her.
But just look how she was taking care of him. She had brought him with her on a journey that had no promise of ending successfully, in an attempt to locate a man she had never met. Indeed, she knew barely more than the man's name. Now they were hundreds of miles from home and almost penniless.
Resolutely, Shanna sat up in the chair and retrieved her boots, along with a pair of socks. She pulled them both on, then tossed another log into the fireplace grate. After securing the fire guard, she picked up her cloak from the foot of the bed and stared down at Toby.
Almost as though sensing her eyes on him, Toby stirred and his small mouth opened. "Promise, Shanna?" he whispered in his sleep. "C...cross your...."
"I promise, Toby," Shanna whispered in return, restraining herself before she could move around the bed and caress his forehead. Her actions would probably bring him back to full wakefulness and it would be better if he stayed asleep. Surely she wouldn't be gone very long. She could leave him a note.
A few minutes later, Bessie Garret opened the door on her room, determined to check on the two occupants across the hallway. Probably she was just a nosy old woman, but something about the young woman she had met downstairs told Bessie that Shanna needed a friend. Besides, at her age she had a right to poke her nose into situations other people would think didn't concern her.
Bessie's eyes widened when she caught sight of Shanna disappearing down the stairwell. Surely Shanna couldn't be going out into that storm. Bessie quickly crossed the hallway and turned the knob on the door of Shanna's room. It opened smoothly, and Bessie shook her head at Shanna's foolishness in leaving the door unlocked. Peering inside, Bessie saw Toby curled up alone in the big bed and Shanna's clothing still scattered all around the floor.
That confirmed it. Something dreadfully wrong had to be troubling that young woman. Bessie closed the door quietly and hurried back to her own room.
"Cody Garret, put that child down on the bed and come out here into the hallway. Right now!"
Cody raised his head from where he had been nuzzling his nose into the stomach of the golden-haired child in his arms and immediately the child's giggles stilled. They both stared across the room at Aunt Bessie, and Melinda's small lips rose in a pout when she caught the look on Bessie's face.
"I want to play with Daddy," Melinda said.
"You can play with him later," Bessie said sternly. "Right now, I want to talk to your father."
Cody picked Melinda up and plopped her onto the bed. When the little girl tossed him a tremulous look, he patted her curls and smiled down at her.
"I'll play with you some more in a minute, honey, like Aunt Bessie says. And if you wait for me quietly, I'll see if the hotel kitchen has a big piece of cake for you."
"Chocolate," Melinda insisted.
"All right," Cody said with a chuckle. "Chocolate." He placed the doll lying on the bedspread in Melinda's arms before he joined Aunt Bessie in the hallway.
"You spoil that child rotten, Cody Garret," Bessie said in a firm voice. "You know how picky her appetite is. I won't have her dinner ruined."
Cody sighed resignedly, determined not to get into yet another battle over Melinda with his aunt. "What did you want to talk about, Aunt Bessie?" he asked to forestall Bessie's sharp tongue.
"That young woman over there just left her room," Bessie informed him. "She had her cloak on, and the little boy's alone. She must have a desperate reason to go out in this weather and I want you to go after her. She might need some help."
"No you don't, Aunt." Cody emphatically shook his head. "You're not getting me involved in another of your charity cases. I've got enough to worry about myself right now. You know most of the little bit of money we did have was taken in that bank robbery."
"That doesn't mean we can't help other people who need it," Aunt Bessie insisted. Her head rose proudly and she returned his glare with one just as frosty of her own. "We'll get by. We always do. Now, are you going after the poor woman or am I?"
Cody's lips thinned and he continued to stare down at the small woman in front of him, refusing to answer her. Besides, how could he explain that he would be the last person Shanna would want to come to her aid again?
"Fine," Bessie said as she started to move around him to the door of the room. "You keep on eye on both these children, in case that little boy over there wakes up. His name's Toby."
Cody caught her arm and Bessie looked up at him, her challenge plain in the clear, brown eyes. Immediately Cody knew he had lost yet another battle of wills with his aunt. He dropped Bessie's arm, giving in grudgingly.
"I know his name," he said in a fatigued voice. "And I'll go. Just let me get my coat." He paused inside the room as he reached for the heavy jacket hanging on a hook in the wall. "Aunt Bessie," he said, keeping his back to the elderly woman. "What did that young woman say her full name was?"
"She said it was Shanna Allen, Cody," Aunt Bessie replied with a strange look on her face that Cody couldn't see. "But if my instincts don't fail me — and they shouldn't, given the seventy years' experience I've had reading people — I think she's hiding something. She stumbled over her name and gave the little boy a funny look when she spoke. Now, that young lady has to be at least twenty, and you'd think she'd know her own name by now, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, Aunt," Cody said with a grim smile on his lips. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?"
Cody set his hat on his head and turned back to his aunt, determined to give one more try at convincing Bessie that any involvement with Shanna Allen wasn't in their best interests.
"Aunt Bessie, why don't we just keep an eye on the boy for her until she returns? That way...."
"That way, we don't even have to let her know we're watching over her, is that what you mean, Cody Garret? What are you hiding from me? And," she continued before Cody could form the lie in his mind he knew he would have to tell his aunt, "do you really think I could rest easy here in my warm room, knowing that young woman was wandering around on the streets of this town just after a bank robbery and in the middle of a snow storm?"
Cody pulled his hat brim down over his eyes and strode out the door, refusing to answer either of his aunt's questions. One answer might lead to another one, and he wasn't really sure what he was hiding from Aunt Bessie just yet. But his every instinct told him that Shanna Allen — or whatever the hell her name was — was going to explode in his life with an even bigger impact than the loss of his money in the bank robbery.
"The hell with the money," Cody muttered to himself as he went down the stairwell, his boot heels clumping on the uncarpeted steps in time to the anger pounding in his mind. "How the heck am I ever going to tell Aunt Bessie that her own grandson might have been one of those robbers, along with two of our closest neighbor's sons, who helped save Aunt Bessie and Melinda's lives?"