He'd lost control. Lost the edge that had kept him going these past few years. Now, he was about to lose not only the best friend he'd ever had, but the only woman who'd ever meant anything to him as well.
He wanted to scream, howl at the moon at the injustice of it all. Instead, a quiet desperation stole over his soul. Creed kicked Buck into a trot, glancing at the dozens of new buildings under construction along the muddy street. A blue-smocked Chinese with a black queue dangling beneath his basket hat was putting the finishing touches on the sign above a new cooper shop:
A.K. KNOPF COOPERAGE AND WOODWORKS BARRELS, BUCKETS, COFFINS MADE TO SPECIFICATION—AFFORDABLE PRICES
It was amazing how much a town could change in just the two weeks he'd been gone, he mused. New buildings were being erected at a pace of a hundred a week. Green lumber, cut and freighted into the gulch by ox-team freight wagons, were stacked in strategic piles along the road. The hillsides had long since been stripped of the alder wood which had given the gulch its name, leaving them desolate and barren.
The main thoroughfare spanned five hundred feet of mud and horse dung that looked as if a hog had rooted it up. Older one-room shanties made of logs, mud, and stone lined the avenue like so many toadstools sprouting out of the fertile Montana soil.
A wagon rolled by in the mud, loaded with a lonely coffin, bound for Cemetery Hill. The driver played a soulful mouth harp in lieu of a funeral procession. The dead man apparently had few friends.
Creed watched it pass, wondering if that was the way he would end someday, then he pulled to a stop at Denton's Livery. Dismounting, he tied the two horses to the hitching post outside the wide double doors. The fragrance of ripe horseflesh and clean straw drifted to him as he pulled open the set-in door.
"Well, if it ain't Creed Devereaux." The middle-aged Missourian in worn overalls glanced up from the gelding's hoof he was doctoring and grinned. "I see you ain't got yerself kilt... yet."
One corner of Creed's mouth turned up. "Disappointed, Hasty?"
Hasty Denton dropped the horse's hoof with a thud and brushed his weathered hands against his denims. "Well now, that's a downright ungenerous remark comin' from a man who wants me to look after his hoss." He slapped the mare on the withers and sent Creed a wicked grin. "Less'n you got me writ up in yer will."
"I'll be sure to remember to take care of that," Creed allowed, extending his hand. "I have a couple of horses to board this time. You have the room?"
"Reckon as how I do. I thought you was up Fort Benton-way pickin' up Travers' sweetheart."
Creed plucked a stalk of hay from a manger and stuck it between his teeth. "That seems to be common knowledge around here."
"Travers is a popular feller. I reckon some folks didn't think you had that kinda kindness in ya, pard."
"Maybe I don't," Creed mumbled in reply.
Hasty harumphed. "Anyway, Travers, he was in a real tizzy about you two after hearin' what happened at the stage stop."
Creed's brows drew into a frown. "You mean about the stage robbery?"
"Nah. About John Lochrie an' his wife."
Creed's body went rigid. "What about them?"
"Dead. You didn't know? Dead as doornails, them and their help."
Creed felt as if he'd taken a physical blow to the gut and he struggled for air. John and Hattie, murdered? Le bon Dieu. It didn't seem possible. Then his mind raced to yet a more horrifying thought. Mariah... if she'd stayed there like he told her...
"Yeah," Hasty went on, "they was kilt by some somvabitches who, ah... took turns with the woman a'fore they strangled her." Hasty shook his head and his lips drew into a grim white line. "It were downright indecent what they done. Kilt them some driver who'd been shot once before, too, who was layin' abed in their house." Hasty shook his head in disgust.
Creed braced one hand on the splintery wood of the stall and rubbed his temple with his fingertips. "When? When did it happen?"
"Oh, week or so since they died... it appeared."
Just about the time Pierre would have started after me. A sick feeling rose in his throat.
"Got the sad word when the A.J. Oliver coach finally come in yestiddy evenin'. Real shame. Nice folks they was, too. Bought some hosses from me a while back."
Damn LaRousse. Damn him to hell! He slammed his hand against a thick wooden beam. He'd find that son of a bitch and kill him if it was the last thing he did!
Hasty frowned and reached up to untether the horse's lead from the wall. He clucked to the mare, who ambled down the wide corridor to her stall. "The Lochries personal friends o' yourn, was they?"
Creed stared sightlessly at the rough grain of the barn wood, his jaw working. "You could say that."
"You know who done it, don't ya?"
"I've got a damn good idea." He raked a hand through his hair, started to turn away, then remembering his initial purpose, turned back. "Hasty, my horses are tied up outside. Brush them down and give them an extra ration of oats and don't scrimp on the hay, oui? They've had a rough couple of weeks."
Hasty nodded. "You got it. You know the rates. Dollar a day, four bits fer oats, another two fer rub-down. Hay's included in the price."
"Bon," Creed said and shook his hand, but he wasn't really listening. He was thinking about LaRousse and how long it would take to find him again.
"How long?" Hasty asked.
Creed's head jerked up. "What?"
"The horses," Hasty said. "How long they gonna be here?"
"Oh." Creed ran a hand over his beard-roughened jaw. "The mare, Petunia, belongs to Seth's fiancé, Miss Parsons. The gelding's named Buck, and I'll be leaving within the next day or so."
"Right'o. Say—you got an idear about them good folks' killers—talk to Sheriff Fox. He'll be wantin' to hear what you got to say. I hear they's a ree-ward fer the murderers," he said, but Creed had already turned away. "Evenin' to you, Devereaux."
"Evenin', Hasty," he muttered, and walked out.
* * *
Mariah jumped at the sound of the knock on her door and realized she'd been staring vacantly at her reflection in the looking glass. Outside the window, the sky had grown quite dark and she wondered how long she'd been sitting there thinking.
"Mari, it's me." Seth's voice came from the other side of the door. "Are you ready?"
She plaited the last of her still-damp hair into its braid and tied it off with the strand of fringe Creed had torn off his shirt for her that day by the river. Her fingers hovered on it for a few seconds before she got up and pulled the door open for Seth.
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be, considering," she said, smiling brightly into his gray-blue eyes.
"Considering what? That you're the most beautiful girl Alder Gulch has ever laid eyes on?" He crossed the threshold and withdrew a bouquet of bright orange flowers from behind his back.
"Lilies—" she whispered, taking them. "What a... sweet thing to do. Thank you, Seth." She reached up and kissed his cheek. His arms caught her before she could withdraw.
"Mari, it's so good to see you."
His breath was warm and sweet against her forehead and she could smell the spicy scent of his shaving soap. Her gaze traced his face from his strong jawline upward. Though partially hidden by his mustache, she knew the corners of his mouth turned up even when he wasn't smiling, giving him a perpetually boyish look.
The years had deepened the grooves in his cheeks that appeared when he smiled; his nose was strong, aquiline, but she'd always thought it suited him. His hair, sandy brown and streaked blond by Montana sun, was cut neatly and combed back, away from his face. All in all, it was a face anyone would love. And he was smiling down at her, believing that she did just that.
She thought of the hundreds of times she'd fantasized about him doing this when she was younger. I do love him. I do.
Not the way you love Creed.
It doesn't matter. I'll make it work.
He doesn't make your heart pound, does he?
Shut up.<
br />
He doesn't make your breasts ache just to be near him, does he?"
Shut up, shut up!
"When, you wrote to tell me your grandmother had died and you were coming here, I admit I had serious doubts," he said. "Virginia City is nothing like Chicago. I was afraid you'd hate it."
"Montana's the most beautiful country I've ever seen—truly."
A pleased smile creased his cheeks. "I love it here, too. Virginia City's growing fast. I know what it must look like to you now, but families are moving in. We'll be happy here, Mari." His gray eyes darkened as his hands roved over her shoulders. "May I... may I kiss you, Mariah?"
Her fingers tightened around the bouquet and she smelled the fragrance of the crushed stems. Seth's mouth hovered a breath away. Don't ask me. Just kiss me. Long and hard and prove me wrong about us, Seth. Instead, she simply nodded.
His closed lips brushed hers softly with tender reverence and moved across her mouth with a bristle of whiskers, tickling her nose.
Please, let me feel something. Let my pulse race, my knees buckle. Anything.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer, brazenly urging him to deepen the kiss. She felt his mouth slacken in surprise, but he responded by touching her lips with the barest of brushes with his tongue. A tremor went through him as her lips parted, welcoming his kiss. She felt the evidence of his desire hard against her as he pulled her closer.
She was reminded of the comfortable old slipper she'd so foolishly mentioned to Creed. Kissing Seth was comfortable, even pleasant, she admitted. But it didn't weaken her knees like Creed's kisses did. It didn't rob her of breath and sanity.
God help her, it didn't do that.
Abruptly, Seth ended the kiss, pulled back to look at her and swallowed hard. "Ah, Mariah." Passion and a hint of surprise thickened his voice, made his breath come fast. "You can't know how long I've wanted to do that. You're so... so lovely. You've grown up." His fingers brushed down the side of her cheek. "I want us to be married right away. The circuit preacher from Bannack is coming through here next week. I know you always pictured a church wedding, but I'm afraid this place has no church yet. But I'll make it nice for you, Mari, I promise."
Slowly, she pulled herself out of his arms. Her head spun at the thought of all of his plans. He looked at her with such trusting eyes, how could she lie? She couldn't and she knew it.
Confusion furrowed his brow. "What's wrong, Mari?"
Her throat burned. "Seth," she said softly, withdrawing her hands from his, "I'm sorry but... I can't marry you."
Chapter 17
"You what?"
"I said, I can't marry you." Mariah hugged her arms to herself.
"I heard what you said. I..." His expression was frozen in shock. "I just don't... My God, Mari, why not?" He stared at her for a long minute. When she didn't answer, he asked, "Is... is there someone else?"
She walked over to the window and peered through the wavy glass pane. Outside, life went on as usual. The streets were thick with people, the sun had set, the moon had risen. But inside, she felt dead. Someone else?
"Not anymore," she answered. "There was someone, though. Briefly. I thought..." She turned to him. "I thought I was in love with him."
"Were you?"
"I... I'm not sure." No, she told herself, this was the time for honesty, not half-truths. "Yes. Yes I was."
"I see." He turned away, plunging his fingers into his thick, wavy hair.
She felt something crack inside her. I'm sorry, Seth, so sorry.
"And now?" he asked in a strange voice that didn't seem to belong to the Seth she knew. "Are you still in love with him?"
Her finger traced down the window frame as it blurred through her tears. Outside, the noisy ebb and flow of humanity echoed the beat of her heart. "It's over."
"Are you certain?"
She nodded. "Quite certain. But there are things about me you don't know. I—I'm not the same girl you left behind in Chicago."
He exhaled sharply. "I'm not the same either, Mari," he said, taking a step toward her. "Everyone changes. Everyone... makes mistakes."
"No. You don't understand—"
He took her by the shoulders from behind. "I understand that I love you. That I've always loved you. Jesus, Mari, we practically grew up together. We've been intended since I can remember. I never wanted to marry anyone but you. Don't you... love me anymore?"
She whirled to face him, tears streaking her cheeks. "Of course I do. I've always loved you, Seth—" But not the way I love him.
Relief flooded his face. He took her by the upper arms and drew her close. "Ah, Mari, then I—I don't understand. If you love me..."
His earnest expression broke her heart. "There are things about me you should know. You have a right to know. I—I've done things—"
He put a finger to her lips. "No. I don't need to know anything else. Look at me." He tipped her face up to his. "Four years is a long time to be apart. Things happen—"
"But—"
"—so be it. I'm looking at you. Not at the young girl I left behind. Your letters all these years have kept me going. You haven't even seen the plans for the house I'm going to build for us, or... or seen my store yet. I've made a success of it, Mari. I did this all for you, for us. So I could take care of you, make a home for you. It's you I want. I want you to have my children. I want to raise them with you."
She bowed her head, unable to meet his eye. "Oh, Seth, I don't deserve you."
"Oh, hell," he muttered. "That's just not true. I've certainly... well, I've made my share of mistakes here," he said, pushing his hand through his swept-back hair. "You can ask Creed if you don't believe me. He's seen me at my worst." She closed her eyes, willing herself not to turn away at the mention of Creed.
"Look," he went on, sliding a hand over her shoulder and down her arm, "I know it'll take some time to... to get to know one another again, to be truly... comfortable. I probably shouldn't have kissed you that way. But I couldn't help myself. God, just to look at you, I..."
He moistened his dry lips with his tongue and tipped her chin up so she was forced to look at him. "Say you'll marry me, Mari. Whatever's happened in the past, we can put it behind us. None of that matters anymore.
"I'll make you happy," he went on. "I promise I will. I'll take care of you. You'll never have to worry about anything. You'll see." His fingers toyed with her sleeve. "Just give me the chance. You'll make me the proudest man in Montana."
She released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She'd tried, hadn't she? She tried to tell him.
We'll put the past behind us. That's what he said. Maybe, just maybe it was true.
Besides, what good would it do to tell him it was Creed she'd so foolishly fallen in love with? It would probably destroy him—them. And what was the point of that? It was kinder to let him think it was another man in her past.
And easier to let him think it's over.
It was over, she told herself firmly. Creed had made it all too clear there was no future for her with him. She was alone in the world, except for the man who'd always been her best friend.
Friendship is important to a marriage, isn't it?
So is passion.
She shut out the thought. It's all for the best. It would hardly be awful being married to a man like Seth—a man who loved her unconditionally. She could be a good wife to him. She would.
She would forget about Creed Devereaux, put him out of her mind. Forever. She'd be the best wife to Seth he could ever want. And he'd be happy, too.
At least someone should end up happy in all this.
"Mariah?" Seth was waiting for her answer.
She felt her mouth quiver into a smile. "All right. All right. If you still want me, I'll be proud to marry you, Seth."
He sighed deeply and wrapped his arms around her. "You won't be sorry. I promise you. You won't be sorry. I love you, Mari."
For four long years she'd waited for
this moment, to hear him say those very words. Now here he was and those same words broke her heart.
She hated herself for what she'd done and what she was doing. His lips brushed her neck and the clean, masculine scent of him filled her senses. She tightened her arms around his back, remembering his solidness, his strength. He was a man she'd always been able to lean on.
The problem was, she'd finally discovered she could stand on her own.
* * *
The Benders' house was situated at the far end of a muddy thoroughfare called Van Buren. The wood-frame structure was separated from a livery on one side and a mud and stone house on the other by a white picket fence. The enclosure boasted ten feet of winter-browned grass and a garden full of rose bushes, red with buds. Raw wood boxes of blooming geraniums sprouted below the waxed-muslin windows.
As she and Seth mounted the wooden steps, the door swung open. The light from within was partially blocked by the broad-beamed figure of a woman in the doorway, brandishing a wooden spoon. Her voice reminded Mariah of a rusty foghorn. "Well, I declare!" the woman cried, planting her fists on her hips. "Is this—?"
"It sure is, Sadie," Seth answered, grinning broadly.
"Saints be praised and hallelujah!" She turned and hollered back into the house. "Wade, look who Seth's brought to dinner." Without waiting for her husband, Sadie hurried down the steps and pulled Mariah into her arms in a bone-crunching hug. "Land sakes, child! You've had us worried sick. What kept you? Seth was about to round the vigilantes up again and set out a'lookin' for you."
"I—I, uh..." Mariah mumbled against the woman's ample shoulder.
"Heavens to Betsy, where are my manners?" She let Mariah go, rocking her backward on her heels. "Here I am a'huggin' you an' we haven't even been introduced formal-like. But then I feel as if I know you already. Seth, here, has talked about you so much."
Renegade Bride Page 22
