Schulze, Dallas

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Schulze, Dallas Page 6

by Gunfighter's Bride


  “I’m sure women don’t stop having babies just because they’re living west of the Mississippi.” Lila struggled to sound calm and reasonable, not an easy thing when what she wanted to do was stamp her feet and shriek that she wasn’t going to stay and nothing they said could make her. “I’m sure there are doctors in the West.”

  “Not many,” Bishop said. “And none to speak of in Paris.”

  “Paris? As in Paris, France?”

  “Spelled the same but that’s about the only resemblance. The miner who laid out the town was French and he had big plans for the place. It’s just a mining town. The closest thing we’ve got to a doctor is Zeke Doolin, who’s the barber. He can do a pretty fair job of pulling a tooth or setting a broken bone, but I don’t know about delivering a baby.”

  “There must be women in this town,” Lila said, trying not to show how much his words frightened her.

  “There’s women.”

  “And they must have babies.”

  “A few,” he admitted reluctantly. “But—”

  “I’m going with you. There’s no sense in arguing about it because I’ve made up my mind.” She tilted her chin and looked at him, hoping she looked calmly determined rather than just mulish.

  Bishop met her look, his expression unreadable. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn to the church the day before—a plain white shirt and black trousers tucked into a pair of knee-high black boots that had clearly seen plenty of wear. The men Lila had known all her life would have looked awkward and underdressed in such casual attire. But Bishop looked right at home. All he needed was spurs and a gun on his hip and he could have stepped right off the pages of a dime novel.

  “I think Bishop is right,” Douglas said. “Clearly you’ll be better off staying here where you can receive the proper care.”

  “I’m not staying here.” Though Lila spoke to her brother, she looked at Bishop. Much as it galled her to admit it, the final decision lay with him. If he refused to take her with him, there wouldn’t be much she could do about it. But she wouldn’t beg. “If it’s a matter of money, I can purchase my own ticket.”

  She was perversely pleased to see the quick flare of anger in Bishop’s eyes. “If you were going with me, I would buy your ticket. But you’re not going with me.”

  “I think Lila is right.” Susan spoke for the first time. “I think she should go.”

  “You can’t mean that!” Douglas gave his wife a look of disbelief. “You’ve been out there. You remember what it was like. You can’t seriously think that a woman in Lila’s delicate condition belongs there.”

  “I watched my mother carry eight children to term and I can assure you that a woman in Lila’s condition isn’t nearly as delicate as men like to believe. I’m sure she’d be just fine.”

  “I don’t want her out there with no one but a... barber to take care of her.”

  “I understand your concern but you’re not looking at the whole picture, Douglas,” Susan said calmly. “After the scene in the church yesterday, gossip will be running wild, and we both know that Reverend Carpenter is not noted for his discretion. Think about what it will be like for her if she stays here.”

  Bishop went still, his cup frozen halfway to his mouth as he pictured exactly what Lila’s life would be like if she stayed here. He didn’t know Beaton, Pennsylvania, but he knew small towns—east or west, they all had some things in common. He finished lifting the cup and took a drink, swallowing a curse along with the coffee. He’d had plenty of time last night to figure out exactly how things would work, and taking his bride to Colorado with him hadn’t been part of the plan.

  “The gossip will die down after a while,” Douglas said, looking less certain than he sounded. “The primary concern must be Lila’s safety. The West is no place for a lady, let alone one who’s in the family way.”

  “I’m not staying here,” Lila repeated, looking directly at Bishop.

  It was crazy to take her. She had no idea what she was asking. But she did know what life would be like if she stayed here. And so, unfortunately, did he.

  Bishop’s mouth thinned with irritation. “You’ve got until tomorrow to pack whatever you want to take.”

  Lila felt relief well up inside her. Whatever awaited her in the vast and unknown West, it couldn’t be worse than what she knew she’d endure here. For a moment, she felt almost warm toward her new husband. But then the full import of his words sank in.

  “Tomorrow? I can’t be ready by then. I’ll need at least a week.”

  “Tomorrow.” Bishop tilted his head back and emptied his cup.

  “Four days,” she bargained. “I can have the rest of my things shipped later, but I can’t possibly be ready in less than four days.” That was fair, she thought, reaching for one of the muffins Thomas had just carried in. She’d meet him halfway. He couldn’t possibly expect more.

  “Tomorrow. If you aren’t on the train with me, you’ll have to find your own way to Colorado.” Bishop set his cup down on the table, nodded to

  Douglas and Susan, and strode out of the dining room before Lila could say anything more.

  “He can’t be serious,” she said when she’d regained the breath that shock had knocked from her.

  “He looked very serious to me,” Susan said mildly.

  “He can’t just leave without me.” Lila spread butter on a muffin, wielding the knife with such force that the delicate little roll broke apart in her fingers. She dropped it onto her plate but her fingers remained clenched around the knife. The glitter in her eyes suggested that it was a good thing Bishop was no longer in the room. “If he thinks to frighten me into rushing through my packing, he can think again. He can wait until I’m ready to leave.”

  “You don’t have to leave at all,” Douglas said. “I think you should stay here.”

  Susan’s eyes locked with Lila’s across the polished table. A moment of silent communication passed between them.

  “We can pack the basic necessities and ship everything else,” Susan said as she pushed back her chair. Lila followed suit and the two women hurried from the room, leaving Douglas sitting alone with the remnants of the half-eaten meal.

  ***

  The remainder of the day passed in a blur of sorting and packing. Trunks were dragged down from the attic, dusted off, and filled in record time. By the time Lila fell into bed, she was too tired to wonder where Bishop might be spending the second night of their marriage.

  The next morning, she was standing in the turmoil of what had been her bedroom, giving the maids some last-minute instructions on the items to be packed and shipped later when Thomas knocked.

  “You have a visitor, Miss Lila,” he said when she answered the door.

  Lila gave a harassed look over her shoulder at the clock on the mantel. In less than an hour, she was supposed to be ready to go to the train station. She didn’t doubt that, if she wasn’t ready, Bishop would make good on his threat to leave without her.

  “I’m very busy, Thomas. Who is it?”

  He lowered his voice. “It’s Mr. Sinclair, miss.”

  “Logan?” Her head jerked around and she stared at him in surprise. “Logan is downstairs?”

  “He’s in the rose parlor, miss.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” She brushed past him, the packing momentarily forgotten. She hadn’t expected to see Logan again. Even if there had been more time, she’d assumed that he wouldn’t want to see her, after what she’d done. Picking up her skirts in a way that would have horrified her mother, she flew down the stairs. Slipping into the rose parlor, she turned and slid the pocket doors shut behind her. She didn’t want anyone to interrupt them.

  Logan had been standing in front of one of the windows, looking out at the rose gardens, but he turned as she entered the room. They looked at each other across the width of the room. But the real distance between them were the events that had happened in the last forty-eight hours.

  Lila clasped her hands together in
front of her. She longed to go to him and throw herself into his arms. Aside from Douglas, he was the person who meant most to her. There had never been a time when Logan wasn’t a part of her life—Douglas’s best friend, Billy's older brother, her own dear friend. Looking at him now, she was struck by how differently things had turned out from the way she’d always imagined they’d be.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d see me,” Logan said stiffly.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to see me ever again. Not that I blamed you. I used you abominably. I was going to write and tell you how sorry I was.”

  “Yes, well...” Logan looked away. “It was something of a shock to find you’d lied to me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Unable to bear the distance between them anymore, Lila walked to him. Reaching out, she caught one of his hands between hers, looking up at him pleadingly. “I never meant to hurt you, Logan. And I didn’t mean to lie to you, either. But when you assumed I’d been ... forced, it was so easy to let you believe it.”

  “You could have told me the truth, Lila. I would still have married you.”

  “I know.” She blinked back tears. Her fingers tightened around his hand. “I’ve always been able to count on you. I was just so ashamed. I don’t have any right to ask it, but can you forgive me?”

  Logan looked down at her. In his eyes, she saw the years of memories they shared. He’d seen her grow from a freckle-faced child to a woman. It had been Logan who’d told her about his brother’s death; Logan who’d held her, urging her to cry out the pain of a hurt that went too deep for tears. He’d always been there for her—more than a friend, not quite a brother—one of the constants in her life. Other than Douglas, there was no one on earth she wanted less to hurt. And no one she had hurt more.

  His hand was not quite steady as he touched his fingertips to her cheek. His dark eyes were serious and there was a rueful twist to his smile. “I never could stay mad at you, brat.”

  Lila felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her soul. She smiled at him through tears of joy before stepping into his arms. With her cheek pressed against the soft wool of his jacket, the world seemed to settle in place again. “Oh, Logan, you’re my best friend in the world.”

  She felt Logan stiffen and wondered if he’d changed his mind about forgiving her. But when she looked up at him, he was looking over her head, his expression so still and hard that she knew exactly what she’d see when she spun around.

  Bishop stood just inside the door, watching them. Lila could see the scene as if through his eyes—she and Logan alone in the parlor, the doors shut to insure privacy and her in the other man’s arms. A damning picture, to say the least. Remembering his cool comment about making her a widow if he’d arrived too late to stop the wedding, Lila felt her heart thump with sudden fear. Though he wore no gun, it didn’t seem to lessen the danger Bishop projected.

  “It’s not the way it looks,” she said quickly. She moved toward him, careful to keep herself between the two men.

  Bishop let the silence stretch a moment longer, his gaze shifting from her to Logan and back again.

  “It looks like you’re saying good-bye to an old friend,” he said calmly. He reached out and caught her hand, drawing her to his side. His arm settled around her waist. His touch was light but there was no mistaking the possessiveness of it. He nodded to Logan. “Sinclair.”

  “McKenzie.”

  If Bishop heard the dislike in Logan’s tone, he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s almost time to leave for the station,” he said, looking down at Lila. “You’d better finish your good-byes.”

  He released her, nodded again to Logan, and turned and left the room, leaving Lila to stare after him in shocked disbelief. Clearly she had a great deal to learn about the man she’d married.

  ***

  As the train pulled away from the station, Lila strained for one last glimpse of her brother’s tall figure. Saying good-bye to Douglas had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever had to do. The strain that lay between them hadn’t made it any easier. He’d hugged her and wished her a safe journey but, beneath the love and concern, she’d seen the pain she’d caused him, not only with her actions but with her lies. It was going to take time to completely heal the rift between them.

  A curve in the track put the station—and Douglas—out of sight. Lowering her head to conceal the sudden moisture in her eyes, Lila tugged at the reticule in her lap but the strings were twisted together and resisted her efforts to open the small bag. She fumbled with them, blinded by tears. A large hand came into her line of vision. She blinked and stared at the snowy white handkerchief being offered.

  Bishop. She’d been so wrapped up in her grief at saying good-bye to her brother that she’d almost managed to forget that she wasn’t alone. Stupid, really, considering the fact that, if it hadn’t been for the man seated across from her, she wouldn’t have had to say good-bye at all.

  “It won’t bite,” he said. The hint of dry amusement in his voice made Lila realize that she was staring at the handkerchief as if she didn’t recognize its purpose. Flushing, she took it from him.

  “Thank you,” she muttered without lifting her head. She’d never in her life met a man who could annoy her so easily. It was her misfortune to find herself married to him. The thought was enough to bring on a new rush of tears. She buried her nose in his handkerchief and let the tears fall.

  ***

  She slept. And as she slept, she dreamed.

  The ballroom was a glittering rainbow of color and laughter. Planning and organizing her brother’s wedding reception had been Lila’s final task as Douglas’s hostess. After tonight, entertainment at River Walk would be Susan’s responsibility. As she watched the guests swirl around the dance floor, Lila was pardonably proud of the results of her efforts. Everything had turned out just right. The flower arrangements were exquisite, the food was delicious, and the champagne was marvelous. Lila knew the latter for a fact since she’d consumed two glasses of it herself. Everyone looked as if they were having a wonderful time.

  Everyone but him.

  Lila’s eyes settled on the tall, broad-shouldered figure across the ballroom from her. Her smile faded slightly.

  He didn’t look as if he was having a wonderful time. Bishop McKenzie surveyed the ballroom with a detached air that could have signified boredom or simply a total lack of interest in the scene before him.

  Her mouth tightened a little. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten the impression that Douglas’s western friend was unimpressed with the civilized East. In fact, she was starting to wonder if anything ever impressed Mr. McKenzie at all.

  Lila continued to study him, her eyes taking on a stormy tint as she considered Bishop’s tall figure. She couldn’t put her finger on just what it was about him that annoyed her so. He was polite certainly. She couldn’t fault his manners.

  And it wasn’t as if he was hard to look at. Far from it. In fact, if she were to be completely honest, she’d be forced to admit that the man was much too handsome for her peace of mind. Hair the color of a raven’s wing, strong, even features, and a thick black mustache that gave him a vaguely dangerous air and sent an annoying little shiver of awareness up her spine. His shoulders were broad, his legs long and lean—though no lady would ever notice a man’s lower limbs. All in all, he was handsome enough to set a girl’s heart to beating just a little faster.

  Not that her own heart had done anything so foolish. And even if it had, Mr. McKenzie had made it quite clear that the feeling was not mutual. He hardly seemed to know she existed. Lila’s fingers tightened on her fan, endangering the delicate ivory sticks. She didn’t think she was particularly vain, but, having been courted and flattered from the time she was old enough to let her skirts down and put her hair up, she would have been very foolish indeed to remain unaware of her own attractiveness to the opposite sex. It was more than a little annoying to find Bishop McKenzie so completely indifferent to her charms.

>   His opinion did not matter a whit. Still, there was something about being so completely ignored that pricked her pride. Particularly tonight, when she knew, without vanity, that she was looking her best. Her dress was of sea-foam green silk that draped low across her bosom and left her shoulders nearly bare. The pointed bodice dipped into a skirt cut slim across the front before gathering in luxurious folds in the back. Silk roses in ivory and green decorated the sides of the gathers. Long gloves covered her arms to the elbow. Silk stockings and satin slippers dyed to match the dress completed the ensemble. It wasn’t conceit to see that the gown complemented her pale skin and made the most of her thick auburn hair.

  Not that he’d seemed to notice.

  As the orchestra paused between songs, Lila made her way across the ballroom. Her progress was delayed by the necessity of pausing to speak to friends and acquaintances; to nod and smile and agree that Susan was a delightful young woman and Douglas was lucky to have found such a charming bride. She liked her new sister-in-law very much, but her thoughts were turned in another direction entirely.

  “You’re not dancing, Mr. McKenzie.”

  Bishop turned to look at her and Lila felt a little breathless from the impact of those cool blue eyes. She’d never met a man who could make her feel breathless with just a look.

  “I assume you do have music out West,” she continued when he didn’t speak.

  “We do. Though not many full orchestras.” He nodded to the formally attired musicians who sat on a raised dais at the far end of the room. “Our dances tend to be a little more informal than this.”

  “But you do dance,” she pursued.

  “Sometimes.”

  “You’re not dancing now.”

  “Should I be?”

  “As your hostess, I’m concerned that all of the guests have a good time. You neither dance nor mingle, Mr. McKenzie. It gives a hostess some concern.” She opened her fan and waved it idly in front of her, aware that the motion drew attention to her low décolletage.

 

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