Andy didn’t answer the child. He listened as the twins left, closing the door softly behind them. He had to admit the kindness had done something to him. They might be precocious, but at least they had hearts.
His unnamed baby girl would have been about two years old if she’d lived. He pictured a small child with coal black hair and large brown eyes. “Daddy!” A word he’d never hear. At least not directed at him.
Tears burned his eyes. Ma would have loved Yellow Bird. They had planned to visit Oregon as soon as the baby was born and able to travel. But the baby had been stillborn and, within three hours, Yellow Bird had followed their child in death. Ma would have loved her. He should have gone home, but grief had driven him to the bottle instead.
The cool cloth on his head was soothing and soon Andy felt himself drifting to sleep, dreaming of his mother’s smile and the gentle green fields of his Oregon home.
❧
Gathering a steadying breath, Hope pushed open the door to her guest’s room. She stood at the threshold, debating whether or not to step inside.
His eyes were closed, perhaps swollen shut? Maybe that was for the best. If he couldn’t see what she looked like, he might be more likely to agree to what she was about to propose.
“Excuse me. Are you awake?”
His eyes slowly came open. If you could call it that. She wondered how well he could see. Hope’s stomach dropped.
“Yeah.”
There was nothing to do but go inside or look foolish. Taking care to leave the door open just in case he tried something, she took choppy steps until she stood next to his bed, just out of reach.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve had the feathers knocked out of me.”
“That’s putting it mildly, I fear.” Forgetting her anxiety, she reached toward the cloth on his head.
He grabbed her wrist. “What do you think you’re doing? I don’t like to be touched.”
“Believe me. The last thing I want to do is touch a filthy gutter rat. Take your hands off me. I was just going to rewet the cloth for you.”
She thought he might have blushed, but she wasn’t sure through all the bruising. Either way, he let go.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Filthy gutter rats don’t always have the best of manners.”
It was Hope’s turn to blush. “My tongue seems to have a mind of its own at times. Especially when I get mad or scared.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. You made me mad.”
He chuckled. “Didn’t mean to do that, either.”
Hope enjoyed the rich sound rumbling from his broad chest. Her gaze traveled to his shoulders. What would it be like to rest her head there? Were his shoulders wide enough to bear her burdens?
“How did I come to be here?”
Jumping, Hope felt her cheeks flood with warmth. She fervently hoped he hadn’t caught the direction of her gaze.
“We found you in the alley. Three men were about to send you to Glory.”
“Will your man be stopping by? I’d like to thank him for saving my life.”
“You mean Francis?”
“If that’s your husband’s name, then I reckon that’s who I mean.”
Hope couldn’t stifle her giggle at the thought of being married to Francis. Her driver had to be in his sixties and was shorter than she was. And, though she wasn’t a large woman, he probably weighed less, as well.
“What’s so funny?”
“Francis is my driver. My husband’s been dead for two years.”
“I see. Then who. . . ?”
“I did. I’m capable of quite a lot, actually.” She set her chin a notch higher. “I do not need a man to protect me.” She cringed as soon as the words left her. Wasn’t she about to ask him to accompany her west for just such a purpose?
“I didn’t mean to imply you did. Just trying to say thanks to whoever saved my life. Apparently that person is you.” Even with puffy lips, he was obviously smirking.
Fighting to keep her temper in check. Hope took the cloth to the basin and rewet it. “The men who beat you up asked me to give you a message.”
He let out a short laugh. “I can imagine what that was.”
“Yes. I’m sure you can.” She twisted the water from the rag and replaced it on his forehead.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“You’re welcome.” Settling into a chair beside the bed, she returned to the topic at hand. “The message was that if you don’t pay a Mr. Dobson two hundred dollars by the end of the week, you won’t get off with just a beating next time.”
His chest rose and he leaned his head back against the headboard, his eyes closed as he expelled a breath. “What would you do if you only had one week to live?”
The question startled her. He was just giving up? Didn’t the man have any gumption? Or was he only outwardly strong? “I don’t know. I suppose I’d do everything in my power to ensure my children would be properly cared for.”
He lifted his head and captured her gaze. “Speaking of your children. You ought to teach that little girl of yours not to go around kissing strange men.”
The blood drained from Hope’s face. “What do you mean?” she managed to croak.
“Those twins of yours came in here like I wanted their company. Made my head hurt worse.”
“Bother your head, what a–about the kiss?”
“Oh, Betsy gave me a wet cloth and kissed me on the cheek.” Then, he seemed to understand Hope’s fear. He scowled. “I didn’t ask for either. I’m not that low.”
Offering no apology, Hope met his gaze evenly. “Well, a mother can’t be too careful. Especially one who is raising her children alone.”
He nodded. “Then maybe you shouldn’t bring strange men into your house. You never know what sort folks are, and that little girl is too pretty and too sweet to be left at home when there are strangers in the house.”
Sweet? “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Betsy?” She couldn’t resist a smirk. Obviously, this man was a pushover for a little girl’s attention. Recognizing his concern for what it was, she dismissed her fear that he might be out to harm her child. He might be a drunk and a slacker, but he was no monster. Of that, she was sure.
Betsy had softened a place in his heart already. He couldn’t be all bad. Perhaps he could be reasoned with to enter a mutually beneficial relationship with an uncomely woman.
“The men called you Andy. But I’m not comfortable addressing you as such. What is your last name?”
“Riley.”
“Mr. Riley, what do you intend to do for a week?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I’ll stay here and heal up, if you’ll have me.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t intend to allow you to heal. The doctor says you have a few cracked ribs, your nose is broken, and it will probably be several days before the swelling leaves your eyes.”
“Great. I should be fixed right up in time to die.”
“There is no reason Dobson should have to kill you when I can offer you an alternative.”
“What’s that? Are you going to give me the two hundred dollars?” He sent her a mocking grin.
“I confess the thought has crossed my mind.”
He shifted slightly in the bed and gave a suspicious frown. “What would I have to do?”
She drew a sharp breath. “Marry me.”
Three
Andy bolted upright, catching the soggy cloth as it slid from his forehead. The woman wanted him to. . .
“What did you just say?”
Clearing her throat, she leveled her gaze at him. “Marriage would fix both of our problems.”
“How do you figure that?”
Her shoulders rose and fell as she made an obvious effort to steady herself. “I’ll be honest with you Mr. Riley. I want to travel west, but the wagon master won’t allow me to go unless I have a husband.”
“
Wagon master? Last I checked, wagon trains don’t go through Chicago.”
“That’s true. But even meanspirited wagon masters have families they want to see from time to time. Francis attends services with this one’s sister. That’s how I heard he was in town and that he’s leading a train to Oregon in two months. Of course we’d have to travel by steamship to Independence.”
Andy glanced around at the luxurious room, then back at her. “Why would you want to go west? Didn’t your husband leave you with enough to live on?”
She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Yes, he left me plenty. My father also left me a fortune, and I have an honest family friend who looks after my affairs. But sometimes it isn’t enough to be well off.”
“It’s a difficult journey. Perhaps a little too difficult for someone seeking adventure.”
“This isn’t about thrillseeking, Mr. Riley.” Tears pooled in her brown eyes. She clasped and unclasped her hands in her lap. “My son, Gregory, is falling in with the wrong crowd of boys. I’m afraid nothing I do is deterring him.”
Bewilderment shot through his veins and the sentiment found its way into the tone of his voice before he could squelch it. “You want to uproot your family because of a few boyish pranks?”
Anger flushed her cheeks, adding a spark to her eyes that Andy found quite attractive. He shook away the thought, chalking it up to her proposal. A man should be attracted to a prospective wife even if he had no intention of heading to the altar. Still, the feeling must have been subconscious, because the more she spoke, the more becoming he found her.
“My son’s antics are hardly simple boyish pranks, Mr. Riley. He’s smoking and drinking—”
Andy grinned as wide as his fat lip would allow. “I did those things as a boy. It’s natural. He’ll grow out of it.”
Shooting to her feet, she waved her hands in the air and brought them back to her sides with a smack. “Oh, well. If you did it, I’m sure he’s preparing to be an upstanding member of decent society. I mean, after all, aren’t you just the picture of. . .” She stopped midsentence, her eyes widening with horror. She clapped a hand to her mouth.
Humiliation burned Andy. He wanted to find the courage to tell her that he hadn’t always been the man he was today. Once he’d taken pride in himself, in his accomplishments as a soughtafter wagon scout. Now, he was everything he’d always despised. And he couldn’t blame this woman for her assessment. Still, seeing himself through the eyes of someone like her—a woman of influence and one he admired—made him wish she’d left him in the alley.
Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I see your point. Tell me about your boy.”
“Oh, Mr. Riley.” She dropped back into the chair as though the strength had been stolen from her legs. “He’s been in trouble so many times I’ve lost count. It’s costing me a fortune to bribe the judge to keep the foolish boy out of jail every time he runs afoul of the law. And he’s only eleven years old. What happens when he gets a little older?”
Andy’s lips twitched at the thought of her stomping up to the judge’s bench and slapping down a bribe.
“You think it’s funny?” Her eyes sparked with anger once more, and she left the chair with a flounce. “Never mind. You’re not the man I had you pegged to be.”
“Simmer down. First of all, you don’t know me well enough to peg me any sort of man. And if you did, I doubt you’d get it right.”
She blushed, and Andy once more felt the attraction to her. Irritation bit at him, and he scowled at his foolishness.
“Well, you don’t have to growl at me!” Her lip trembled.
He’d done that out loud? That beating must have rattled his brain more than he originally thought.
“I’ll leave you to rest, Mr. Riley.” She spun around, sniffing, apparently trying to hide her tears. “Mrs. Smythe will bring your supper in a little while.”
“Now, wait just a minute.”
Slowly, she turned back around, hope glimmering in her eyes.
“Marriage is serious business. Why can’t we just pretend to be a happy couple? Then I could leave once we reach the Platte. Or sooner if you’re sick of my company by then. Which you probably will be.”
“I’m not a liar, Mr. Riley.”
He couldn’t hold back his mocking laughter. “Live by the Good Book, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, thou shalt not lie?”
“Oh, the Bible.” She crossed her arms. “You’re the last person I’d have thought would want to wed a churchgoing woman.”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“Then why’d you bring it up?”
“Me? You’re the one who brought it up.”
“I most certainly am not!”
He released an exasperated breath. “You said you wouldn’t pretend to be married because you won’t lie.”
“Yes. And it has nothing to do with a religious affiliation. I just don’t happen to believe a liar is worth his or her salt.”
“You’re not a Christian woman?”
She drew herself up straight and lifted her chin. “I do not hold to any denomination. I find the whole idea to be a crutch for weakminded individuals who refuse to take responsibility for their own actions. A person can be moral and upstanding without a book to tell her what is or isn’t right.”
Jaws of unease crunched at his insides. He had never had much use for religion himself, but to discount the foundation on which his ma built her life seemed wrong somehow. “My ma would disagree with you.”
“And what about you? Do you also disagree?”
“I don’t care if you go to church or not.”
She gave a clipped nod. “Fine. Now that that’s settled, would you care to hear the rest of my proposition?”
“There’s more?”
“Of course. There would be terms surrounding our socalled marriage.”
“Socalled?”
Her look grew haughty and disdain spewed from her lips. “I have no intention of sharing my life with another man.”
Andy observed her, and the more he watched her, the more intrigued he became. She was a walking contradiction. Sniffling one moment, declaring independence the next.
“If you don’t intend to share your life with a man, maybe you shouldn’t go around proposing marriage.”
“I don’t go around proposing marriage. You’re the first man I’ve ever. . . Oh, forget it. I’m not going to justify my actions to a man who had to be rescued from an alley. Here are the terms. The marriage will be legal and binding. I have already transferred enough funds to private accounts so that no one can leave me penniless—say a man given to gambling.” She gave him a pointed look.
Heat moved up Andy’s neck. “A wise decision, most likely,” he said dryly.
She lifted her brow in obvious surprise then went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “I will fund the trip west and pay you to stay on through the first harvest.”
“That’ll be almost a full year after you reach Oregon.”
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Riley. I will need a man to help build my home and teach us how to farm.” She frowned. “D–do you know how to farm?”
“Not according to my brother, Michael,” he said with a selfabasing grin. “But my ma thinks I do all right.”
Relief crossed her features. “That’s good to know.”
“So you’re proposing that I essentially become a hired hand for the time it takes to get to Oregon, get settled, and bring in the first harvest?”
“Not essentially. A hired hand is exactly what you’d be. I will not share a bed with you, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I wasn’t.”
Twin spots of scarlet stained her cheeks. “Oh.”
She recovered quickly and once again became all business. “I have a handbook by a Captain Randolf B. Marcy called The Prairie Traveler. I have studied the book in great detail and am quite familiar with the supplies we’ll need to procure. Francis will accompany
us west. Therefore, I will purchase three wagons. You and Gregory may share with Francis. I will share a wagon with the twins and Mrs. Smythe, though Billy may be offended at the thought of sharing with two females. No matter. He’ll have to accept it. The third wagon will, of course, carry supplies.”
Waiting until she stopped rambling and took a breath, Andy rushed forward with his own thoughts. “I’ll sleep under the stars.” What was he saying? He’d agreed to no such arrangement. Not yet, anyway.
She blew out a frustrated breath. “Mr. Riley, if you sleep under the stars, who will keep Gregory from sneaking out in the middle of the night?”
Andy’s heart constricted with compassion. “If I agree to this, I give you my word your son will be by your side when you catch your first glimpse of the lush green fields of Oregon.”
She regarded him for a moment then seemed satisfied. “When may I expect your answer?”
“For sure by the end of the week.” He gave her a humorless grin. “Although, if Dobson can’t find me, he can’t kill me.”
Her soft brow rose. “They followed us when we brought you here.”
What little hope Andy had held on to fled with her flat statement. His head throbbed. He sank beneath the covers and closed his eyes.
“I’ll let you rest. I shouldn’t have stayed so long.”
A thought occurred to him. “Wait.”
She was already at the door when he opened his eyes.
“I don’t know your name.”
“Hope Parker.”
“Mrs. Parker. Thank you for not leaving me to die.”
Fixing him with her earnest gaze, she shrugged. “I’m not in the habit of allowing harm if I can prevent it.”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but stepped through the door. He heard it click shut as he closed his eyes once more.
❧
Hope closed the door behind her. All strength drained from her legs and she leaned against the wall for support. If only Mr. Riley would agree to the marriage then everything would work out.
“Ma’am?”
Francis’s voice startled her, nearly sending her through the roof. She flattened her palm against her stomach. “Mercy, Francis. You scared me.”
Everlasting Hope Page 2
