The woman may have come into Wendy’s tent trying to look common, but she had wealth written all over her. Even dressed down in dark trousers and a blouse, Wendy could see that about her. Her clothes fit too well. Her hair was too clean.
“Do I have something you need?” Wendy asked as the woman sat at the opposite end of the rug cover the dirt inside the tent.
“I reckon you do.”
“And you are?”
“Elizabeth Wagner.”
Ah, Wendy had heard the name Wagner around the town, in the weeks she’d been doing her work on the outskirts and nearby farms. It seemed that Daddy Wagner owned about half the town, and wasn’t all too well loved. She hadn’t heard anything about a family, but rich men usually had a few daughters to barter.
“Well, Miss Wagner, what brings you to me under the cover of night?” (more…)