Building Forever

by Cat Cahill

  Emma gasped. Monroe took a step forward, ready to show the man exactly what he thought of his speculations. But one step was all he got to take, because just then, Turner reached for something at his hip.

  “I’d stay right there, Hartley.” Turner held an old Colt Army revolver in his hand, pointed directly at Monroe.

  He stopped short and pulled Emma behind him, never taking his eyes from the barrel of Turner’s revolver. “Just what do you intend to do with that?”

  “Not a thing so long as you do as you’re told.” His eyes slid sideways until they found Emma peeking out from behind Monroe. “You understand me, don’t you, Miss Daniels?”

  Emma’s hand, which still held on to Monroe’s arm, trembled. He wanted nothing more than to knock that revolver out of Turner’s hand and beat him to a pulp. Inwardly, he cursed himself for leaving his own guns back in his tent. Although it wasn’t as if he wore them on a daily basis. He was no gunslinger, and the threats in this valley were few.

  Until now.

  “John?” Miss Sinclair spoke up, her voice shaky.

  “Go,” he said. “Tell Mrs. Ruby and Mr. McFarland what you know.”

  She stood rooted to the spot, her pale eyes locked on the gun. “But what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing,” he said, “so long as Hartley does as I ask.”

  When she made no move to leave, he grabbed her arm and shook her. “Go on, before you’re missed.”

  She turned and ran, even as Emma called out her name again.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” Turner said as Emma called again for Miss Sinclair.

  Monroe clenched his hands into fists, trying to keep his anger in check. “I know why you’re doing this. You want more than money—you want my position.”

  Turner shifted but held the gun steady. “Ain’t you the smart one?”

  Monroe didn’t acknowledge the question. “What isn’t clear to me, though, is why you’ve involved the ladies.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does.” The anger in his voice must have been evident, as Emma squeezed his arm. At her touch, he took a breath and steadied himself before speaking again. “Miss Daniels seems to simply be a casualty of your scheme, but why Miss Sinclair?”

  “Having the story come from both of them lends it more credence,” Emma said softly from behind him. “Particularly when there is no clear connection between them. Isn’t that true, Mr. Turner?” Her voice shook a fraction when she said the man’s name, but that was the only indication that she felt any fear. His Emma, brave as a bear facing down a pack of hunters.

  Turner bestowed an amused look on Emma, but nodded. “Perhaps I should’ve chosen you instead of Miss Sinclair.”

  Monroe threw an arm back protectively and fixed Turner with a look he hoped told the man exactly what he’d do right now if Turner didn’t have that revolver pointed at him.

  Turner chuckled. “Ease off, Hartley. I’ve got no interest in your woman.”

  “You’ve debased Miss Sinclair for no purpose other than your own personal gain.” Monroe spat the words at the man.

  “Why do you care? She’s nothing to you.”

  Monroe’s fists clenched harder. If he moved fast enough, he just might be able to catch Turner off guard. All he had to do—

  “I can’t . . .” Emma pushed past him, one of her arms outstretched, the other clutching at her throat. “Can’t . . . breathe.”

  Fear rocked Monroe’s entire body. If Turner had caused Emma any pain, he’d pay. He’d pay more than he could have ever imagined. Monroe reached for Emma, his arms encircling her waist. Her weight dropped against him, and he ground his heels into the soft dirt of the bank to keep them both upright.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Turner asked.

  Emma swayed a little, her eyes fluttering closed.

  “I don’t know.” Monroe’s voice veered toward the frantic. He needed to remain calm. He couldn’t help her if he let the same frenzy he’d felt when Colette became sick take him over again. He focused on the weight of her in his arms—her very alive body warm against him.

  Slowly, reason returned as he helped Emma remain upright in his arms. She was still conscious, her eyes opening just a little. “Emma? Lie down.” Monroe tried to ease her to the ground when she turned in his arms, just enough to shield her face from Turner.

  Go, she mouthed at him before closing her eyes and grabbing at her throat again.

  It was an act. He had to redouble his hold to keep from dropping her, stunned as he was. He wanted to yell at her, make her know how much she’d scared him. But he couldn’t, because this woman—this amazing woman—scared him to death in order to save them both. He eased her to the ground and then, quick as a cat, leapt on Turner.

  The man tumbled backward, the gun flying from his hand. Monroe pinned him to the ground, even as Turner thrashed and fought him. They were evenly matched, and Monroe didn’t know how long he could keep Turner down.

  “Run!” he shouted to Emma.

  She scrambled to her feet but hesitated. “I want to help.”

  “I’ve got him. Go now! You need to reach the house before she does.” The words came in puffs of air. It was taking all his effort to hold Turner down as the edge Monroe had from his surprise attack wore off.

  Emma ran, straight through the trees. Turner bucked suddenly, knocking Monroe sideways. Monroe hit the ground. Turner stood, but before he could lunge for the gun, Monroe grabbed his ankle, pulling him down again. All he had to do was stall the man long enough for Emma to get to the house. Turner stretched his arm out, inching his fingers toward the revolver. Monroe rose. He pinned one knee in Turner’s back. Then he reached out and grabbed at the man’s shirtsleeve, pulling at it.

  He yanked Turner’s arm back far enough he couldn’t reach the handle of the revolver. Monroe held him there for what felt like forever, muscles burning and straining, as Turner sputtered and cursed at him. Finally, when he estimated enough time had passed, he jumped off Turner with the little energy he had left and snagged the revolver. Turner was right behind him, but Monroe flipped around and held the weapon out in front of him. Turner stopped short, hands outstretched.

  Breathing hard, Monroe held the gun as steady as he could. “It’s done now. There’s nothing for us to fight over.”

  Turner watched him through narrowed eyes as his chest rose and fell.

  “Go.” Monroe nudged the revolver toward the wagon path. “I won’t stop you.”

  Turner kept his eyes on the gun as he tested Monroe’s words by stepping sideways. When Monroe didn’t shoot, he took off at full speed.

  Monroe let the gun fall to his side. All he hoped was that Mrs. Ruby and the McFarlands found Emma more believable than Miss Sinclair. Nothing either he or Turner could say would change things now. But he couldn’t leave Emma to fend for herself against both Miss Sinclair and his foreman. He tucked the revolver into the back of his trousers and took off after Turner. The man had perhaps a quarter mile on him, but Monroe was faster, even though his lungs burned with the effort.

  By the time Turner reached the house, Monroe was right behind him. Turner didn’t knock; instead he tore the door open. Monroe grabbed hold of it before Turner could shut it in his face.

  Inside, they were met with sober looks. Mrs. Ruby and McFarland and his wife formed a semicircle around the two girls. Emma turned, and her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and Monroe knew.

  This was not going in their favor.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  It took all of Emma’s strength to keep the tears from leaving her eyes. It took even more for her not to fall into Monroe’s arms the second he burst through the door behind that snake, Mr. Turner. Winded and disheveled, Monroe looked more handsome than ever to her, but she knew that to the McFarlands and Mrs. Ruby, he looked every inch the cad who had defiled her reputation.

  Nails digging into her palms, she turned back to the women and man who held h
er future—and Monroe’s—in their hands. Mrs. Ruby looked at her with barely disguised disappointment. According to Millie, Emma and Monroe had been found in all sorts of compromising positions, none of which Millie felt comfortable describing to the others. Despite Emma’s protestations, she couldn’t deny that she and Monroe had formed a connection. To deny that would be to deny her very heart.

  “Perhaps the gentlemen can shed some light on this situation,” Mrs. McFarland said. She’d seemed more sympathetic to Emma than the others, and now she appeared to eye Monroe with hope. “Mr. Hartley?”

  Monroe took a breath. Emma wanted so badly to reach for his hand, to let him know how much she cared for him, and that nothing anyone said could change that. To let him know she’d stand here with him and accept whatever decision was reached. But she didn’t. If there was even a shred of hope left for either one of them, she couldn’t ruin it. Her family depended on it. Monroe’s livelihood depended on it.

  Monroe glanced at her, his eyes darker than usual. She couldn’t read them, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He turned back to the others. “I care very deeply for Miss Daniels. I apologize for any wrongdoing. My intentions with Miss Daniels were nothing but good, despite what others may say.”

  Mr. McFarland huffed, his face red. “You were informed, after that incident at the hotel, to stay away from her.”

  Mrs. McFarland laid a hand on her husband’s arm, but to no avail. Monroe held Mr. McFarland’s gaze, and Emma warmed with pride. This man would never be cowed.

  “I know, sir. I have no defense. I should have left Miss Daniels alone. Please know that from here on out, I will do so.”

  Emma stared. She was so certain that he was about to lay his soul bare back at the creek, just before Mr. Turner and Millie had appeared. He was saying this to salvage their positions, that was all. It had to be. And if she had any hope at all of saving her job here, she needed to do the same.

  “I fear it’s too late for such promises,” Mrs. Ruby chimed in. “Mr. Turner, have you anything to add?”

  Mr. Turner stepped forward. He’d composed his face into something that resembled concern.

  “I am sorry to say that I, too, have witnessed Mr. Hartley and Miss Daniels together in . . . shall we say, romantic embraces? . . . on more than one occasion.”

  Mrs. Ruby pressed her lips together as she glanced at Emma again. It was hopeless, Emma knew that now. After what Mr. Turner said, her fate was sealed. Mr. McFarland all but glared at Monroe, while his wife frowned sympathetically.

  “The first time I discovered this indiscretion, I spoke with Mr. Hartley. I reminded him of his duty to his work and to Mr. Gilbert, but he pushed me aside. There wasn’t much else I could do, given he is my superior. He all but threatened me if I should speak of this to you, Mr. McFarland.” Turner looked every inch the sorrowful employee. It made Emma’s stomach turn to hear him disparage Monroe in such a way.

  Monroe’s hands tightened into fists, but that was the only clue to how angry he was at Turner. Emma hated to see him in such a demeaned position. She wanted nothing more than to slap Turner across the face and expose him for the charlatan he was.

  “Despicable,” Mrs. Ruby said as she glared at Monroe.

  “It isn’t true,” Emma said. She couldn’t help it. She could no longer stand there quietly and listen to these lies. Her feelings for Monroe ran too deep to let them rip him apart like this.

  “Miss Daniels, you’ve had your moment.” Mr. McFarland’s warning was enough to silence her.

  Turner shot her a sad look, almost as if he was sorry for her. It was an act, and Emma burned for everyone to know it.

  “Mr. Turner, you may continue.” Mr. McFarland gestured at him.

  Mr. Turner cleared his throat and turned his hat in his hands. “Just this morning, I fell upon a scene that upset me. Miss Sinclair had discovered the two of them together again, when I gather Miss Daniels was supposed to be fetching butter. When I arrived, to get water for my crew, I found Mr. Hartley all but threatening Miss Sinclair. Naturally, I could not stand for such a thing.” He looked almost lovingly at Millie, who brightened all over at the attention.

  Emma understood now, and if she wasn’t so angry at Millie, she’d feel sorry for her. Mr. Turner had used the girl. Who knew what he had promised her, but that look she gave him spoke volumes. She believed he loved her. Emma ground her teeth to keep from lashing out at Mr. Turner. He was truly the devil in disguise, willing to use anyone to further his own desires. He had no plans to court Millie. The poor girl would end up heartbroken at best, and ruined at worst.

  “I was able to keep Mr. Hartley at bay while Miss Sinclair ran for safety, but once she left, he brandished his weapon at me. I managed to get it away from him, but then, as you can see, he took my own gun and then held me to the ground so Miss Daniels could attempt to discredit Miss Sinclair here.” He gestured at the dirt on his clothing.

  “I’ve heard enough.” Mr. McFarland crossed his arms.

  His wife placed a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Hartley, you said you had nothing but good intentions with Miss Daniels?”

  “That is true,” Monroe said, his voice perfectly measured.

  “Well, perhaps if . . . ?” She didn’t finish the sentence, but instead looked to Monroe.

  Emma’s breath caught in her throat. She thought she knew what Mrs. McFarland was hoping for. If Monroe asked for her hand, then perhaps he could at least keep his place here. It wouldn’t help Emma’s family, but . . . her entire body warmed at the thought of becoming Monroe’s wife.

  Monroe’s eyes were on Mrs. McFarland. It was quiet for a moment—so quiet, Emma was sure the entire room could hear her thoughts.

  “I meant no harm to Miss Daniels, I assure you,” Monroe said.

  It was silent again. The blood drained from Emma’s face. She tried to catch his eye, but he still faced forward. He wasn’t going to ask for her. He didn’t want her.

  Through the window, the sun beat down and the yellow wildflowers danced in the breeze. Out there, she could run and run and run until she disappeared, into the mountains or down the creek. Outside, she could sob to her heart’s content, let all the pain that was bottled up inside her flow out.

  All of this time . . . why had he led her on? She would lose her place here, and he was all she had left. But now that he had publicly denied her, she had nothing.

  She clutched her arms around herself and swayed a little. Out of nowhere, Caroline emerged from the doorway. She wrapped an arm around Emma to steady her, and without a word, began to lead her to the stairs.

  “You will pack your things, Emma,” Mrs. Ruby said, stern but with a hint of sadness tinging her voice. “Mr. McFarland will take you to Cañon City in the morning for the train.”

  The train. Home. There was nowhere else for her to go now. She had failed Mrs. Ruby, failed her family, failed herself. And for what? A broken heart. She couldn’t even look at Monroe again. It would hurt too much. All she hoped was that by the time she emerged downstairs again, he’d be gone. He could at least leave her with her dignity, even though he’d taken everything else.

  She let Caroline lead her up the stairs, away from the eyes boring into her back.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  After Emma’s friend had taken her upstairs, McFarland had led Monroe and Turner outside, away from the ladies. Monroe looked off to the snowcapped Sangre de Cristos in the west, a magnificent backdrop to the hotel he had built.

  Had. That was over now.

  McFarland confirmed it when he ordered Turner to take charge of the entire crew.

  “Big Jim would be a better choice,” Monroe said. It was the truth. Not only was the man more trustworthy, he’d had years more experience with building than Turner, even if he didn’t have quite the ability to keep the crew organized. Why he hadn’t chosen Big Jim as his foreman instead of Turner, the lying scoundrel, was beyond him.

  “You don’t question my decisions,” McFarland snapped at him
.

  An ugly smile crossed Turner’s face before he thanked McFarland and headed up the hill to the hotel.

  “I only sought to ensure success with this venture. I put my blood and my heart into this place,” Monroe said as he watched Turner disappear into the camp.

  “I believe that,” McFarland said, a little softer. “I’m disappointed, Hartley.”

  Monroe sighed. “You’re only doing what you need to. No reason to feel bad about it.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Monroe turned to study the older man.

  “If you’d done what was right, chances are I could’ve convinced Gilbert to keep you on to finish the place.”

  What was right. That sick feeling Monroe’d had when he fought back the urge to claim Emma as his wife in front of all of them made its way back up his throat. How he’d wanted to ask for her right then! But he couldn’t, he knew that. It would be selfish, offering everything to her and then expecting her to roam the country with him as he went from job to job. So he’d kept quiet and watched as her heart broke in front of his eyes.

  He’d never felt like a worse person than he had at that moment. Not even when he’d lost his sister. Not even when Colette had succumbed to his selfish pursuits.

  He’d broken Emma. Even worse, he’d done it in front of everyone they knew. He shouldn’t have ever pursued her. If he was any sort of decent man, he’d have left her alone.

  “You aren’t the man I thought you were,” McFarland said.

  He deserved that. He let the words sink in. He wasn’t worthy of Emma, anyhow. He would’ve killed her the same way he’d killed Colette. Even thinking he could have a second chance was wrong. It was selfish, and God knew that, and so he’d punished Monroe. Now he was free to follow his desire to create buildings.

  Alone.

  McFarland watched him for a moment. “I’ll give you a good reference, although I probably shouldn’t. You’ve done excellent work here. I’ll let Gilbert know I’ve had to terminate your employment, but I won’t say why.”