wake. She had done nothing wrong. No reason she should feel guilty just because a man who called himself a preacher commented about the presence of a lady in the saloon. Like she’d told him, she was no lady. Following Pa from one frontier place to the next wild town had taught her to be otherwise.
Besides, who wanted to dress frilly and silly? Pretend to be weak and helpless so a man could run to her rescue? Not Glory Hamilton, that’s for sure. She needed no man to rescue her or take care of her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered how Ma had tried to maintain a real home wherever they went. Joanna had taken over after Ma’s death and did a fine job of being a mother. If she and Toby didn’t get home and attend to their share of the chores mighty quick, Glory would be reminded in a very firm way that Joanna could reduce her to feeling like a child. “Hurry up, Toby. We’re late.”
He sucked in air. It seemed to clear his head or perhaps made him burn off some of the alcohol.
They reached the stopping house. Because they were late, Glory helped Toby carry in firewood. She intended to fill the box and get back outdoors before her sister could comment, but Joanna stopped her before she made her escape. “Glory, I need your help to run this place. But you know that.”
“I’m sorry. I got busy with the horses.”
Joanna sighed. “I figured as much, but it’s a lot of work cleaning the place and cooking for a crew.”
Glory nodded. “I’m sorry. I’ll not do it again.” She really didn’t mean to leave Joanna with her share of the work, and she regretted she had. Life could be so complicated, and all because she’d taken time to do what she enjoyed most.
She grabbed up the ash bucket and dashed back outside. Joanna had set a sack of potatoes outside with knives and a big pot. Glory sat down on a rough stool, Toby at her side, and they quickly began to peel the potatoes.
“I saw you talking to Powers last night. You learn anything about the Rawhide Preacher?”
“Rawhide Kid,” he corrected then paused and chortled, his foggy brain connecting his thoughts. “Oh, I get it. You mean because… Rawhide Preacher. I like it.”
Glory guided his brain back to her question. “Did you learn anything?”
“He said he worked in a few towns as a preacher.” He named them.
Glory had never heard of them, but that didn’t mean anything. Towns sprang up in a matter of days where there had once been nothing but grass and trees. And she had no way of keeping up. Never had time to read a newspaper. And even if she had, the ones they got were old news.
Toby stopped peeling to explore his thoughts. “Course he could be lying. I’ve met many a good liar in my time.”
“Me, too. Doesn’t pay to believe everything a person says.”
“Ain’t that a fact?”
“What makes him think he can boss people around when you can’t even trust what he says?” She whacked off a slice of potato and then, feeling guilty at the waste, popped it into her mouth.
“Uh-huh.” Toby looked uncertain, as if not knowing what he had agreed to. “Course he did pray with some folk. Said grace real nice, too.” Toby nodded vigorously. “And I heard him reading the Bible to some man.”
Glory stifled an urge to roll her eyes. Toby made no sense, but then what did she expect from someone she’d dragged from the saloon less than an hour ago?
But her own thoughts echoed Toby’s arguments. She’d watched him care for Mr. Phelps, seen him washing out soiled laundry, spied on him taking things to Widow Kish. Glory had secreted away a few things each week for the woman, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe with Powers helping, the woman would do better. Nice to know she had an ally in helping the widow. “Well, shoot!” She threw the peeled potato into the pot so hard she splashed Toby.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” How could she explain that one minute she tried to believe Powers was a fraud and the