Defying the Darkness

by Amelia C. Adams

  Bradley sat next to her and took her hands in his. “All I’ve ever wanted was your love. Nothing else matters to me.” He leaned over a bit until she met his gaze. “If you feel that you could love me, if you feel that you could be happy with me, I need no other dowry.”

  How could he make her understand? He’d told her how he felt, he’d shown her how he felt . . . were there any other means of communication that he didn’t know about? He knew she identified strongly with the written word, but he didn’t possess that skill. He could just hope that she could feel what was in his heart, and that it would be enough.

  “I’m just afraid that I’m not the same person I was when I left Ames,” she said at last. “You’re in love with the person I was back then. A lot has happened—a lot has changed. You might find that you don’t like me nearly as much now.”

  “I’ve changed too—while I haven’t gone through anything like what you have, time has passed for both of us. I daresay you might like me even better now than you did back then.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “For starters, I’m no longer living in my mother’s house.”

  Just as he’d hoped, she laughed. “That’s definitely a good improvement. What else?”

  “Working hard in the outdoors has improved my physique. I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m quite impressive.”

  She looked him up and down. “Very impressive.”

  “In addition to that, I’m more solid, dependable, and committed. A year of introspection will do that to a person.”

  “A whole year? Goodness. Didn’t you have anything better to do with your time?”

  “I built a house and ran a business by day, was introspective for an hour or two each evening, and then ate my dinner and went to bed. It’s quite a nice routine I’ve had going. Church on Sundays, dinner with my mother, an occasional drive out into the country.”

  “No knitting or needlework?”

  “There was no one to teach me.”

  “Oh, I doubt that. I’m sure there would have been plenty of volunteers.”

  “True, but not the one I wanted.”

  She glanced away, and he knew he was pressing his point a bit too hard. “Lydia, let me be very clear. I want to marry you. I’ll live with you in San Francisco, in Ames, or on a Pacific Island. But this is your choice, your decision. I’m not going to coerce or entangle you in any way. If you decide I’m not meant to be part of your life, I’ll accept that decision. Yes, it will be difficult, but I know life doesn’t always give us what we want, and I’m prepared to continue on regardless.”

  He didn’t want to leave her side, but he knew this next step was crucial, probably the most important one he would take. “I’m quite tired, and I imagine that you’d like some time alone. The Hearth and Home rents rooms, correct?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll go back there and check in. Why don’t you come find me there tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to think things over? We’ll both do better after a good night’s sleep.”

  He walked away before she could respond. It was all he could do not to turn around and go back, but it was simple—he’d made his case, and now it was up to her. He could sit there and beg and plead and cajole, but all that would do was muddy the water. She needed to think about it, to evaluate what she really wanted—and he was painfully aware of the fact that she’d never once said she loved him. He actually had no idea how she felt about him. Now that he knew she was all right—or at least, was all right now—he needed to make a contingency plan for what he would do if she turned him down. Moping around and feeling sorry for himself was not part of the plan—whatever he chose to do, he would do it responsibly and for his greater good.

  If she wanted him—and oh, how he hoped she did—she would come to him and say so. It was her turn.

  Chapter Nine

  Once again, Lydia couldn’t sleep, but this time, it had nothing to do with the dark. In fact, she hardly even noticed it. Instead, her brain was roiling around inside her skull, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

  Bradley had come looking for her.

  That was the most wonderful, incredible thing that had ever happened in her life. The fact that he cared so much about her that he was willing to take on that difficult task—she couldn’t think of anything more tender. And he still loved her, and he wanted to marry her, and then he’d kissed her . . . Oh, that kiss. It had been so unexpected, but so amazing. She’d never realized that a man could be so gentle and yet so strong at the same time, and to know that he’d give up everything to be with her? It thrilled her and elated her and made her skin tingle down to her fingertips.

  But was it what she wanted?

  She had to ask herself—how did she feel about him?

  And that’s why he’d walked away.

  When he’d first stood up, she didn’t understand what was going on. Hadn’t he just professed undying love and devotion? Why was he leaving, then? Now she did understand. This choice was hers alone, and he was giving it to her to make. Not only that, but if she only said yes because he begged, that didn’t honor either of them. He shouldn’t have to beg—he should be able to say what he felt and be heard while maintaining his dignity. And she should make her choice based on her feelings, not because she took pity on him in any way. They needed to come into this as equals, respecting each other, and that’s what he was doing right now. She admired that. She appreciated that.

  But she needed to decide what to do with it, and she didn’t know.

  “Sometimes it helps to talk things out,” Madeline said, entering the room and taking a seat on the chair in the corner.

  “Bradley was my surprise, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. And remember, I told you that surprise was yours to accept or reject. It’s up to you.”

  “I’m not very good at making decisions like this.”

  “You mean difficult decisions? No, I think you’re quite good at them. It’s just the romantic decisions you have little experience with.”

  “That’s because romance isn’t something I’ve dealt with much.”

  “And that’s because you’ve spent so much time pushing it away from yourself.”

  “And that’s because I thought I didn’t want it!” Lydia sat up, brought her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. “In one conversation, Bradley took every objection I’ve ever had and threw them out the window. He doesn’t want to chain me down, he doesn’t want to stifle my dreams, he doesn’t want to keep me from growing and achieving. He just wants to love me. And I sat there like a fool and had no idea how to respond.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Because love has never been presented to me that way before. I’ve only seen it as being restrictive and suffocating, with the woman making all the sacrifices and the man making none. This . . . this is unbelievable to me.”

  Madeline nodded. “Are you realizing some things about Bradley that you never noticed before?”

  “Yes. We were always good friends before, but today, I looked at him and saw so much strength and depth of character and sincerity—and he’s wiser and more mature now, too.”

  “I’d say that all of that is true of you as well.”

  Lydia thought about that. “You’re likely right. I’ve been focused on all the negative ways in which I’ve changed, but I can see growth as well. And it seems like that’s been the theme of the last day—between talking to you and Julianne and Bradley, we seem to be focused on building up my image of myself.”

  “I’d say it’s quite needed.” Madeline folded her hands on her lap. “So, what are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that I need to decide how I feel about Bradley. He asked me to come find him tomorrow once everything has had a chance to simmer, and I know that can only happen as I dig deep and unearth how I actually feel about him.”

  “He seems to be dealing with you very calmly and patiently.”

  “Yes, he is—probab
ly a lot more patiently than I would be in his place. Help me out here, Madeline—how do I know if I’m in love?”

  The angel seemed to consider that. “Imagine for a moment what your life would be like without him in it. How would you feel if you never saw him again?”

  Lydia tried to see herself in that scenario. Bradley was gone, and she was never going to see him again. Hmm. The first thing that came to mind was that kiss. If she was never kissed like that again . . . Well, she’d lived just fine before that, hadn’t she? It’s not like a kiss had the power to change her entire life—but then she stopped. Yes, maybe it did. Maybe it had shown her something she badly needed to know.

  “All this time, I’ve only seen Bradley as a friend, like a brother, but when he kissed me, I realized that he’s really very attractive.”

  Madeline laughed. “Oh, honey, I’m not even mortal and I knew how attractive he was. Those are eyes in your head, aren’t they?”

  “I thought so, but I’m realizing just how very blind I’ve been.”

  “I should say so.” Madeline chuckled again. “So, let’s make a list. He’s kind and smart, he makes you laugh, he’s always taken good care of you and treated you like a queen, he came out here to find you, he’s offered to move to San Francisco for you, and you’ve just discovered that he’s really attractive. Does that sum it up?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t tell you all that.”

  Madeline waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t have to tell me everything for me to know it. I would say that everything on this list is a go. There’s just one thing left to discover, and that’s something you must do on your own—what does your heart say? We’ve heard from your head, and apparently, your kissy lips have shared their opinion. Now what about your heart? Love comes from all three places, you know—it happens in the head, in the physical feelings, and in your soul. No one can dictate that to you—no one but you can make that choice.” She stood up. “Get some sleep. I’ll be around if you need me.”

  Lydia nodded as she slid down into her covers. “My kissy lips?”

  “You heard me. Goodnight.”

  Lydia smiled as Madeline faded from sight. She might be a little bit of a nosy guardian angel, but at least she had a sense of humor.

  ***

  Even though Bradley’s mind had been jumbled and confused, he was able to sleep well, likely from emotional exhaustion. He woke up early and dressed, then headed downstairs for some breakfast.

  As he ate, he noticed some men come in who looked dressed for hunting. They wore calf-high boots and carried rifles, and they each seemed to be well-equipped with extra ammunition. They got some coffee and sat at a table near his.

  “Hunting?” he asked.

  “That’s right. Are you a sportsman?” one of them replied.

  “I was, until I got a little too busy with work. What are you after?”

  “We thought we’d try for a moose or an elk before the weather gets too much colder.” The man glanced at his companions. “Why don’t you join us?”

  “On the hunt?”

  “Sure.”

  Bradley thought about that for a second. He was supposed to be hearing from Lydia, but he didn’t know when she’d come, and waiting for her all day didn’t seem like a healthy choice. He nodded. “I’d like that.”

  The man rose and shook Bradley’s hand. “I’m Arthur—I run the telegraph office. That’s Byron, from the bank. That fellow is Otto, the man who takes care of the livery, and last is Hans, our blacksmith. Are you new in town?”

  “I’m here for a visit, but I don’t think I’m staying. My name is Bradley Murdoch.”

  “We’re glad to know you, Bradley. Do you have a pair of boots with you?”

  “I do, actually. I wasn’t sure what I’d encounter out this way.”

  “You’ll want those, and a jacket as well,” Arthur said. “You likely haven’t traveled with a rifle on you, but we can share ours.”

  Bradley went up to his room and changed into his boots, then grabbed a jacket. Then he stopped one of the waitresses—he thought her name was Isla—and asked her to give Lydia a message if she came in.

  “All right, I’m ready,” he said to the table of men, and they stood up and headed out. He felt a rush of excitement go through him—it had been a long time since he’d done something like this, and never so spontaneously. This promised to be fun.

  Chapter Ten

  Lydia looked up as Marshall Murray stepped into the dress shop. He looked uncomfortable, surrounded by lace and ribbons and satin, but he didn’t let his discomfort keep him from doing his job.

  “Morning, Miss Pullman. Is Mrs. Deveraux around?”

  “Yes, she’s in the back room. I’ll fetch her for you.”

  Lydia put down the dress she was working on and stepped through the curtain to the back, where her employer was counting bolts of silk. “The marshal is here to see you.”

  Mrs. Deveraux looked startled. “Did he say what about?”

  “No. I suppose I should have asked . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it, my dear. I don’t have too many dreadful secrets to hide.” She made her way to the front. “Marshal. How can I help you?”

  “The proprietor of the Iron Skillet came into the bank to make a deposit, and mixed in with his money were some counterfeit bills. He believes he remembers who brought them in—he said the money seemed a little off, but he was in a rush and didn’t investigate. His daughter is quite a talented artist, and she made us this simple sketch. Could you take a look at it, please?”

  Mrs. Deveraux took the page he handed her and nodded immediately. “Yes, Marshal. Those are the two people who were in my shop and bought the dress. And I agree that she’s quite a good artist. She captured their likenesses very well.”

  “I’m not one to judge one’s artistic talents, ma’am. I’m just glad to know that it’s done well enough to make an identification.”

  “I wonder if they spent any more money while they were in town,” Mrs. Deveraux said thoughtfully. “You might show that picture to the other merchants—they might have money in their safes or whatnot that haven’t yet been taken into the bank. They could be sitting on counterfeit money and not know it.”

  KC smiled and gave her a nod. “That’s exactly my plan. Good thinking. Have a pleasant day, ladies.”

  When he left, Mrs. Deveraux turned to Lydia with a smile. “I have read quite a few detective novels in my day, you know. But now it’s time for me to investigate you. How was your afternoon yesterday? I won’t be coy—I’ll tell you right off that someone saw you hugging a young man on the train platform, and they passed word along to me that one of my employees was acting inappropriately in public.”

  Mrs. Deveraux didn’t look at all scandalized. In fact, she looked ready for a good story, and Lydia found that she wanted to tell one.

  She kept her hands busy while she spoke, not wanting to waste time in finishing the dress. “And so I’m to go find him and tell him how I feel,” she said at last. She looked up to see Mrs. Deveraux leaning on the counter, positively enraptured.

  “Oh, that’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard. Why aren’t you with him right now?”

  “Well, I wanted to finish this dress . . .”

  “Nonsense. If I had a young man like that waiting on me, all the dresses in the world couldn’t keep me from it.”

  “But I’m also not sure how I feel,” Lydia finished.

  Mrs. Deveraux looked at her with a mixture of shock and horror. “Good gracious, young lady. How can you not know?”

  “I’m not very good at figuring these things out.”

  The woman shook her head vehemently. “If you could have seen yourself talking right now, you’d know. It would be as plain as . . . Wait.” She grabbed a hand mirror from the counter and held it up in front of Lydia’s face. “Now say his name and look at yourself.”

  Lydia shook her head. “That’s silly.”

  “What do you mean, that�
��s silly? This is a scientific experiment. Cooperate.”

  Lydia did as she was told, saying Bradley’s name while looking in the mirror. She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Do you see? He makes you happy.”

  “Or I could be smiling because I’m thinking about how very silly this is.”

  “No, you’re smiling because you’re love with him. Trust me on this, my dear. The whole time you were talking, your eyes became brighter, your face took on a glow, your entire being seemed lifted up from the inside. You’re in love and you don’t even know it.” Mrs. Deveraux shook her head. “Such a shame, really, to have such strong feelings and to be completely unaware of them. Get yourself over to the boarding house and tell him! The dress can wait. Or I might even finish it myself. It would be good for me to do some actual work around here.”

  Lydia smiled. The woman kept herself plenty busy, but Lydia had noticed on more than one occasion that she didn’t do much actual sewing. “All right, but only because you said so.”

  “I do say so! Now, get yourself out of here!”

  Lydia placed the dress on the table and gave Mrs. Deveraux a quick hug. “Thank you. I’ll be back to fill you in.”

  “You’d better be! I must live vicariously through you now—there are no more dashing young men coming to sweep me off my feet.”

  Lydia grabbed her things and raced over to the Hearth and Home, where Isla informed her that Bradley had gone hunting and would be back later. Lydia stood there, dumbfounded, as Isla relayed the message.

  “He went hunting? He told me to come find him today, but he went hunting?”

  “That’s all I know. I’m sorry,” Isla said, picking up a large tray to carry back into the kitchen.

  “Don’t you worry about it,” Millie said as she finished wiping down a table. “He’s likely just giving you more time to think things over.”

  “Maybe. But . . . how did you know about our situation?”

  Millie’s cheeks turned pink. “My brother came by last night as Mr. Murdoch was eating his dinner, and they got to talking. I overheard more than I should, most likely.”