Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s not that, Sarah.”
“Then what is it?”
Elizabeth hesitated. The other roomers were gone, and she could hear the grandfather clock ticking in the parlor. “Mitch doesn’t know everything about me, that’s all. And I’m afraid to tell him, afraid to trust him.”
Sarah folded her arms matter-of-factly. “Elizabeth, you can trust that man with your very life. Has anybody ever told you why he’s so protective of women?”
“Because of how his mother died. He told me himself.”
“Is that so?” Sarah shook her head. “If he admitted that to you, it means he really trusts you and cares about you. Did he tell you how his mother made her living?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Well, he’s never blamed her for what she did to help support them. I think that’s why he doesn’t look down on women like me. That man has a real forgiving heart, Elizabeth—maybe not with law-breaking men, but he won’t put up with a woman being abused, so you’ll never have to worry that he’d blame you for whatever it is you’re hiding. And if you’re worried about his violent side, he’d never take a rough hand to you. Never! Not Mitch Brady.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, thinking about her own mother’s murder. “I’ve had experience with a violent man, Sarah.” She took a deep breath, then met Sarah’s gaze. She was longing to talk to someone about it. Ma was always too busy with her chores and Elizabeth thought her a bit too old to understand. But someone like Sarah would.
“I’m not a virgin, Sarah. I think Mitch believes that I am. I’m not the proper lady he believes me to be.” She quickly wiped at a tear that escaped down her cheek. “There. I’ve said it.”
Sarah just nodded and thought a moment. “Honey, I’m no mother and never have been one, but I can sense when somebody your age needs someone to talk to. In the short time I’ve known you, I’ve never doubted your respectability. If you think telling me something like that would shock me, think again. You weren’t willing, were you?”
Elizabeth shook her head, wishing she could kill Alan Radcliffe. “Most certainly not!”
“And you think a man like Mitch couldn’t understand and forgive something like that?”
Elizabeth rose and turned away. “Maybe he could. It’s just that I think he has this vision of me being something I’m not.”
“Hey, Mitch has seen and done it all. Nothing would shock that man. Is the person who abused you the one you’re running from?”
Elizabeth realized she’d said too much, but Sarah was so easy to talk to. She ached for the days when her mother was alive and they could talk to each other and share things. “Yes, but please don’t say anything to Mitch about this. I’ll know when the time is right.”
“I won’t say anything, but don’t put it off too long, Elizabeth. Be honest with the man. If anybody can help you, it’s Mitch Brady. He’ll face down any man on any level, and he needs to be aware of what’s going on in case this sonofabitch comes here for you.”
“He’s rich and powerful. He has ways of getting what he wants, and I have something he wants, something…valuable. And he’ll find a way to get around vigilante law if he finds me here.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, you totally underestimate Mitch Brady—and vigilante law as well. If Mitch is sweet on you, God himself couldn’t take you out of here against your will.”
Elizabeth faced Sarah. “I came here because this is the last place this person would think to look for me. He’d think I couldn’t survive in a place like this.”
Sarah smiled. “Honey, you’re far stronger and braver than you think. Just coming out here alone shows that. But in places like this, even the strongest women need the backup of a strong, able man, and they don’t come any better than Mitch.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I’ve been reading a little about Montana’s vigilantes. Some of it is pretty ugly.”
“So are some of the things robbers and murderers do. We don’t have much help out here, Elizabeth. Somebody has to do the dirty work.”
“I suppose. But what if I let myself…care…about Mitch, and then he gets hurt or killed? I’m afraid to care for so many reasons. It’s hard to stop natural feelings, Sarah, but just as hard to fight our natural fears. Besides, I’m not sure I can stand to have a man get close to me again.”
“If he’s the right man, it won’t matter.”
Elizabeth managed a smile. She took a handkerchief from a pocket on her dress and wiped at her nose and eyes. “An awful lot of people in this town are trying to get me and Mitch together.”
“That should tell you something. It means that all those people care about Mitch. There must be something special about the man, if that’s so.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
Sarah rose, walked over, and embraced her. “You can talk to me about anything, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth put her arms around the woman. “Thank you. My mother died in my arms, Sarah, only about seven weeks ago, yet sometimes it seems like years already. I’ve been so scared and alone since then.”
“I damn well know the feeling, honey.” Sarah pulled away and grasped her arms. “Mitch will likely be coming around tomorrow to make sure you’re going with him to the dance. You should seriously think about telling him everything, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth shivered, pulling away. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.” She moved around and picked up the packages. “Thank you for these, and—oh, wait! I have to pay you.”
“You can send the money over.”
“No. Wait right there.” Elizabeth hurried up the back stairs, feeling like a silly young girl at how her heart pounded over knowing Mitch would likely come and see her tomorrow. The thought of it took away her sorrow and fears. She went to her room and opened her trunk, taking some money from where it was hidden in the lining.
She sobered then, reminding herself that Alan Radcliffe would consider it stolen money. If he found her here, he’d call her a thief and a murderer. Maybe she should tell Mitch everything, before he heard it the wrong way from someone else.
She fished through the lining and felt for the necklace. Yes, it was still there, reminding her that no matter what she did with her life, no matter if she might be falling in love, there was always the dark shadow of Alan Radcliffe hanging over her, stealing away in the corners of her mind and the back doors of her memory.
She counted out enough money to pay Sarah, then closed the trunk and rose. The thought of telling a lawman—a vigilante, no less—about what happened in New York terrified her. If Mitch Brady turned on her, there was no one left on whom she could depend.
Twenty-two
Elizabeth winced against the dust that rolled in from the street when she opened the parlor door. A west wind was stirring up the dry earth after nearly three weeks of no rain.
There stood Mitch Brady.
“Come in quick before Ma’s parlor ends up a dusty mess!”
Mitch stepped inside and removed his hat. His thick sandy hair nearly touched his shoulders, but it looked clean. The man himself wore dark cotton pants, a clean white shirt with a black leather vest, and a blue checkered kerchief tied around his neck. He wore the ever-present six-guns on his hips but not the extra cartridge belts he usually wore on the job. He looked wonderful but also intimidating. “I’m glad to see you back. I missed you, Mitch.” She fought an urge to hug him in joy at seeing he was back safe and sound.
He flashed the wide, handsome grin that made her want to throw aside all caution. “Really?”
Elizabeth couldn’t help her own smile. “Yes, really.”
“I missed you, too.” He looked her over. “You look…beautiful, as always.”
Elizabeth felt a bit embarrassed, hoping she hadn’t made it too obvious that she wanted to look nice in case he came to call. She knew he’d likely show up today,
so she’d taken care to wear one of her better dresses and curl her hair. She’d pulled it back at the sides but left it long in back, and she wore tiny earrings and had applied a touch of rouge to her cheeks. She’d told herself she shouldn’t care how she looked, but the part of her that wanted to please Mitch Brady won out.
“Thank you. Come sit in the kitchen. Ma went to do some shopping, but she left some coffee on. The boarders are gone, too.” Elizabeth turned to go down the hallway, feeling Mitch’s eyes on her as he followed behind. As usual, his presence filled all the space in the small house. His heavy footsteps and the clink of spurs said a big man was in the house, and she felt enveloped in him without even touching him.
“I just came to get more of my things,” he told Elizabeth.
“Yes. I saw Sarah yesterday. She told me you were moving out.” She faced him when they reached the kitchen. “You don’t have to do that, Mitch.”
Hat still in hand, he nodded. “Yeah, I do. With little to do to pass the time in this town besides hangings and whores, one of the prime forms of entertainment is gossip.” He sighed and sat down to the table. “Soon as I got back, Sarah told me rumors are already starting about you and me living under the same roof.”
Elizabeth poured them some coffee. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I feel responsible for putting you out.” She set a mug of coffee in front of him. “Besides, I’m not terribly happy about your new living quarters,” she added.
Mitch met her gaze and laughed lightly. “Does it bother you that I’m around those women? Maybe you’re even a little jealous.”
Elizabeth sat down across from him. “Don’t be silly.”
“I don’t think it’s silly. I think it matters to you.”
Elizabeth stared at the checkered tablecloth. “Maybe a little, but it’s really none of my business where you live.”
Mitch leaned back, looking too big for the chair he sat in. “There is nothing going on over there other than me having a room to sleep in,” he told her. “And it’s just temporary. I’m having a little room added onto the back of the jail. That’s where I’ll be living soon. I always meant to do that anyway, but Ma made it so easy here, cleaned up after me, cooked for me, and such.”
Elizabeth smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, Mitch. I feel so responsible.”
“Well, maybe I can talk Ma into bringing me some of her fresh bread once in a while.”
“I’m sure she’d love to,” Elizabeth replied. She sobered then. “I really am glad you’re okay,” she told him. “After that incident up in the gulch with Trudy Wiley—”
Mitch waved her off. “She knows that was wrong and that she’s lucky she didn’t go to jail for it. I still think that’s where she belongs. I let her off way too easy.”
“I don’t like the thought of a woman in jail, especially one freshly widowed, but she did seem awfully serious about killing you. After all, she already tried.”
“And failed. She’ll calm down now—too afraid of prison. A lot of people like to talk tough, Elizabeth, but most don’t follow through on their threats. She’s lost yet another of her men from that mess before I left. She’s no threat anymore.”
A moment of awkward silence followed as they both drank more coffee. Elizabeth suspected that just as she was, he was remembering their kiss during their ride to Alder Gulch. He took a cigarette paper from his shirt pocket and a small pouch of tobacco from an inside pocket of his vest. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Not at all. You never have to ask me that. My grandfather smoked. My father smoked, and my—” My stepfather smoked. Elizabeth felt naked and vulnerable under his gaze. The man had a way of undoing all her good intentions to remain formal and detached, her resolve to keep everything about her past secret. “I have to admit…knowing you were here in the house made me feel safer. I kind of hate to see you go.”
He tamped some tobacco onto the paper, then picked it up and licked and sealed it. “There is one way to solve that little matter,” he told her. He put the cigarette to his lips and got up, going to the cookstove and removing the coffeepot and the grate it sat on. He leaned down to light the cigarette from the burning wood under the grate, then replaced the grate and the coffeepot. He came back to sit down, taking a pull on the cigarette. “We could get married and live together legally. Then you’d feel safe all the time.”
“What? You can’t be serious!”
There was a shadow of sadness behind his smile. “I’ve been gone nearly two weeks, Elizabeth, and I’ve never missed anyone like I missed you while I was away. Not only that, but I worried about you—if you were safe, if you were sad or happy, if you might decide to run off while I was gone and I’d come back to find you gone and never be able to find you. If you had run off, I’m ashamed to admit I would have hunted you down like the worst outlaw, and when I found you I’d wrap you up in my arms and beg you to never leave again.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks growing hot and her breath growing short. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Her mouth felt too dry to talk, but she managed to get the words out. “I…can’t believe what you’re saying.”
“Neither can I, but I’ve never been one to avoid the truth. You saw that the day I set your shoulder and asked if you were a whore. I don’t mince my words then and I’m not going to now. I’m tired of being a lonely man who’s never settled anywhere and never had a real family. It all just kind of hit me after I met you, and the idea just kept growing. It got bigger while I was away and realized how much I care about you. And out here, people sometimes get married after knowing each other only a few days. It’s not unusual.”
Elizabeth felt dizzy with indecision and disbelief. “I… Mitch, there is so much you don’t know, and I’m just getting settled here and still trying to figure out for sure what to do with my life. I mean…I don’t want to fall into something out of desperation.”
“Is that how you feel? Desperate?”
Elizabeth swallowed before answering, feeling ridiculous and embarrassed and weak because of a sudden need to cry. “I have felt desperate since before I left home.”
“And where is home, Elizabeth? I have a strong feeling it’s not St. Louis.”
She turned away. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Stop pressing me, Mitch.”
He sighed, and a strained silence hung in the air while he smoked quietly, watching her.
Elizabeth rose and carried her cup to the kitchen cabinet, where Ma kept a pan for washing dishes. “I am starting to feel like a criminal being interrogated.”
Mitch drank more coffee. Elizabeth heard him draw deeply on the cigarette, heard a shuffling sound, then felt him standing close behind her.
“I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he told her. “I didn’t mean to.” He grasped her shoulders and forced her to turn toward him. “Look up here, Elizabeth.”
Reluctantly, she raised her eyes and met his gaze.
“I meant every word I said,” he told her, sincerity in his unnerving blue eyes. “But I didn’t mean it should happen tomorrow or a week from now or a month from now. I’m simply saying that I’d like you to be my wife, and that no matter what’s in your past, I don’t care. I’m asking you to trust me and let me help you. I can’t stand the desperate fear I see in your eyes sometimes, and I know it’s not just a fear of your new surroundings. It’s something else. Proper young educated women don’t come alone to a place like Alder unless they’re damn scared and trying to hide. I know the feeling, Elizabeth. I went through it as a young kid, and it’s hell.”
All the running and worry and the things she’d been through and the horror of losing her mother the way she did caught up with her then, and Elizabeth collapsed against him, relishing the feel of his strong arms when they came around her reassuringly. It felt so good to feel that safety and protection, to be able to lean on someone. She
wept, and Mitch didn’t say a word. He just let her cry against his chest until her tears were spent. He started to pull away, but she grasped the front of his shirt in her fists and clung to him. “Don’t let go yet.”
He moved his arms back around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Who’s after you, Elizabeth? And why?”
“My stepfather.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you why. Give me some time.”
“What’s his name? I can at least keep an eye out for him.”
She breathed in the smell of man and leather. “All I’ll tell you for now is that he’s wealthy and powerful, the kind of man who always gets what he wants.” She pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “He won’t find me here. A place like Alder is the last place he would look.”
“If you’re this afraid of him, then he’s smart enough and has enough money to pay people to find you no matter where you’ve gone. At least tell me where you’re really from. That gives me a little something to go on.”
Elizabeth hesitated. Was he just using this vulnerable moment to get something out of her? She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and pressed it to her nose and eyes before facing him.
Yes. Something about those too-blue eyes told her he was being honest. “Believe it or not, I’m from the same place you came from—New York City.”
He frowned and nodded. “I suspected all along.”
“What made you think so?”
“Just something about the way you dress and talk. People from St. Louis have a hint of a Southern drawl. I know a New York accent when I hear it. Hell, I’m from New York, remember?” He stepped closer and grinned. “Besides, if you want to hide where you are from, you should remove all signs of it on your baggage. I took a quick look for any identifying marks on your trunk and found a metal tab screwed to one side that showed a New York City address. I don’t remember the street address—I was wounded and pretty damn busy that day and had no way of writing it down, but I do remember it said New York.”
Desperate Hearts Page 17
