The Last Outlaw(35)

“Well, it was only for a year, and that year is almost up,” Gretta told them. “But it wouldn’t matter. He’d never cheat on that wife of his.” She straightened up. “And it’s time you girls took your baths and started cleaning up for new customers. We’d better rake it in while we can. God only knows when Mr. Harley Wicks will show up at the door, telling us the City Council is closing us down.”

Someone rang the electric buzzer at the front door. Gretta pulled her robe closer and smoothed back her hair, shooing the other girls up to their rooms. She frowned as she headed for the door. It was too early for customers, and that was usually the only kind of visitors they got. She opened the door a crack, then wider. Loretta Sellers stood there, a woman she figured she’d never see at the front door of the Range Club.

“Mrs. Sellers!” She looked around behind the woman and saw no one. “You shouldn’t be seen here!”

“I know, but—Miss MacBain, we need to talk.”

Gretta’s heart dropped. The very Christian woman had adopted her baby daughter fifteen years ago. Gretta had seen her daughter several times from a distance, but the girl never knew Gretta was her mother, and that’s how Gretta wanted it. “Go through that hedge there so no one will see you, and go around back,” she told Mrs. Sellers. “You’ll see a gazebo. I’ll meet you there.”

She closed the door, putting a hand to her chest. Her baby girl! Something was wrong! She hurried to her room and quickly put on a corset and underwear, then pulled on a house dress and buttoned it up. She stuck combs in the sides of her unbrushed hair and hurried out, not wanting to take time to put on petticoats or fix her face. She stepped into a pair of slippers and walked to the back of the house and out through the kitchen, telling her cook not to let anyone else come into the backyard for a while.

A hot wind hit her. Up until now, the weather had been quite cool for late June. The shade of the gazebo felt good when she stepped inside. Loretta was already there, sitting on a bench and sniffing into a handkerchief. Once a hefty woman, Loretta had gotten much thinner since the last time Gretta had seen her, which was at least a year ago. Gretta hurried to her side. “What’s happened? Is my daughter all right?”

Loretta, now a wisp of a woman with mousy-brown hair and gray eyes just shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Miss MacBain. I’ve failed you!”

Gretta sat down next to her and put an arm around her, hoping Loretta wouldn’t be offended at the intimacy, but the woman turned and wept against her shoulder.

“She’s gone, Miss MacBain! She’s run off! And I don’t think anything good will come of it!”

Gretta felt sick inside. “Run off where? With whom?”

Loretta blew her nose and wiped at her eyes. “With a Mexican! He has bad intentions. I just know he does! He’ll sell her into slavery in Mexico! He’ll turn my little girl into a…” She hesitated, rising. “I’m so sorry, Miss MacBain, but I fear she’ll end up…”

“Like me?”

Loretta met her gaze. “Forgive me.”

Gretta looked away. “What’s to forgive? I gave her to you so she wouldn’t end up like me. You don’t need to apologize, Mrs. Sellers.”

“But I fear it will be worse than your situation.”

Gretta rose and faced her, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s a virgin, Miss MacBain. I’m sure she’s still a virgin. She’s all starry-eyed over this man. He’s quite handsome, but he’s a lot older. She thinks he loves her. She’s fifteen!”

The same age I was when I gave birth to her, and I’d already been sleeping with men for money for two years, thanks to my uncle. Gretta felt sick inside.

“She’s young and foolish, and she’s been a bit lost since my husband died,” Loretta continued. “She truly thought of him as a father and never knew any different. She was looking for that love and protection. This man—Luis Estava—he appeared out of nowhere and started attending our church and giving her a lot of attention. Before long, they were good friends, and he was filling her with all sorts of lies about…about loving her…telling her he had a huge hacienda in Mexico and he wanted to take her there and marry her. He’s a smooth talker, Miss MacBain. Nothing I told her could change her mind.” Loretta turned away and stared out across the backyard.

“I told her she couldn’t trust him…told her it was dangerous to go into a different country at her age. I suggested what I thought this man’s motives were once he got her there, and she went into a defensive rage, furious that I would think anything bad about him. She carried on about how good he was to her and how handsome he was and how he was rich and she’d have a beautiful life on his horse ranch in Mexico and live like a high-born Mexican woman. I couldn’t convince her otherwise.” She turned and faced Gretta. “Then one night…a week ago…she disappeared. I’m sure he’s taken her to Mexico without my permission, and God knows what’s happened to her!”