Chapter 9

Anya stood back, watching her girlfriends climb into the wagon bed. It needed to be swept out, but seeing how they were all dressed in borrowed ranch-hand clothes, it probably didn’t matter that they were sitting in filth. It was obvious they couldn’t all sit on the clean bench with Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton.

Anya was amused by young Cactus Phil and Duncan Hamilton as they tried to help the ladies into the vehicle. True to her girls’ stubborn natures, all except Chris refused to allow a hand up. Anya, out of compassion for the guys, not her own need for help, accepted Cactus Phil’s hand and eased herself onto the wooden flooring of the wagon. Something passed between him and Jackie Lynn, too, even though she also would not allow a helping hand. Anya nodded her appreciation. Cactus Phil flushed bright red.

Cactus Phil looked as confused as a mouse with rubber cheese. Anya ascertained that Phil probably had very little experience “helping” a woman do anything, other than Violet, of course. He acted like he’d just now discovered his hands and still didn’t know what to do with them.

Anya was pleased with Chris going along with the charade that they were all so delicate. It had been annoying every time she went off on one of her tangents about how great it was long ago and how she thought she was born in the wrong era. Well, here was her chance to find out what that would really be like. So far, she was doing better than the other four. She eagerly accepted this crazy dilemma.

Violet Hamilton sat in the place of honor on the bench with her husband, but she turned often to check on Anya and the girls. She was such a mother hen, Anya smiled at the thought. It was rather cute, considering she looked half their age.

Anya smiled at her each time Violet turned, to assure her they were alright. To be honest, riding in the bed of the wagon was awful. She was glad they all had pants on because if they had been outfitted in dresses like Mrs. Hamilton’s lovely, silky ball gown it would be so difficult to sit here without worrying about getting into the dirt and whatever that was on the wagon floor. Poor Violet, their presence had really caused her plans to go sideways. It was her one-year anniversary and she had obviously dressed up to celebrate with a special pan of cornbread and stew— talk about simpler lives— but finding Anya and her friends had changed her plans completely. Anya would apologize when things settled down at Aunt Jean’s boarding house.

The further they traveled toward town, the more Chris’s enthusiasm seemed to deteriorate. She winced and moaned with each jolting bump. Ashley, on the other hand, swayed with the wagon’s movement, seemingly not bothered by the rough ride. Could it be with her experience in archeological digs all over Colorado, she had ridden in a wagon such as this on numerous occasions and this was no different to her?