by Tracey Cross
The servant bowed and left the room without the slightest hint of a sound.
Reading the telegram, Mr. Lloyd’s eyebrows drew up in horror.
“What is it?” Jane asked. “It isn’t Bess or one of the children?”
He inhaled a ragged breath. “It’s my brother, Coop. He’s been shot. There was a dispute over payroll.”
Jane gasped and stood as quickly as her pregnancy would allow. “Oh, Franklin, I’m so sorry. Is he—is he okay? Or…” How did one know how to ask the first question that came to mind without tearing open a wound?
He shook his head. “I don’t know. The telegram was brief. Coop shot. Payroll dispute. Come home. Listen, Jane, I must ride out faster than a wagon would allow, and I couldn’t ask you and Danny to keep the pace I’ll be forced to take. Will you wait for me here? Make yourself at home. The servants’ names are Shen Huan and Shen Cheng. They’re brothers. Cheng works in the kitchen. I usually just call him Cookie. Shen is their last name. That’s how they do it in China. Last name first. I will tell them to serve you as they’d serve me, and when I return, I’ll take you home.”
“But I can—”
“No.” He took her hands. His were ice cold. “You mustn’t try to go home alone. It’s too dangerous, especially for a woman.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he gave her no opportunity. “Even a capable woman, such as yourself. Promise me?”
“All right. I will wait for you. But please don’t instruct the servants to serve us. We have always cared for our own needs.”
He smiled. “Cookie won’t let you near the kitchen, and Huan is adamant about how the house should be cleaned. Believe me, it’s for your own protection.”
Jane returned his smile. She could only guess how much the effort had cost him, given the situation at home. “Then I suppose I will have to be a lady of leisure for the next few weeks.”
“You deserve it.”
Embarrassed, she glanced at the floor. “When will you go?”
“Before daybreak. Do you feel like you can go to Bedlow alone?”
Jane gave a short laugh. On one hand, it felt good to have a man care about her enough to want to protect her. On the other hand, it was a bit insulting. “I am not a child, Franklin. I’ve been fighting my own battles for quite some time.”
“All right, then. But be careful. He’s vermin and will not be glad that you are leaving him.”
“I’ll be careful.”
He nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll say good night.” He lifted her hand, which he still held, and briefly pressed her knuckles to his lips. “Good-bye for now. Tell Danny good-bye.”
“I will.”
Jane couldn’t pull her gaze away as he walked purposefully toward the door. When he got there, he turned with a smile. “I like the way you say my name.”
Heat poured into her cheeks as he left. She listened to the thump of his boots on the wooden floor until they were out of earshot.
With a sigh, she dropped into her seat and lifted her knuckles to her cheek. This was the first time she’d ever been the recipient of such a gallant gesture. She closed her eyes, savoring the memory.
Deadwood bustled with activity as Jane and Danny made their way through the throng and headed toward Mr. Bedlow’s General Store. Despite the rushing and yelling and bodies hurrying to purchase supplies, for Jane it felt as sullen as a graveyard without Franklin’s presence. He had already been gone when she awoke to a bright morning sun streaming in her window. A curious disappointment twisted her stomach. She had to admit to herself that perhaps her feelings for him were more than just mere friendship.
Even Danny had missed him. She had told her son that they would be staying in the enormous house and that Mr. Lloyd wouldn’t be back for a few weeks. Danny seemed glad they would eventually be going home to the homestead. But he was fascinated with Mr. Lloyd’s Chinese helpers, and she had a suspicion the feelings were mutual. Even Cookie had allowed Danny in the kitchen while he cooked breakfast. He listened to Danny’s incessant questions and valiantly tried to answer a few of them in his broken English.
To her relief, Mr. Bedlow was at the general store when she arrived. She had suspected he might be in the saloon. The store was dusty and looked as though it hadn’t been tidied in a while. Nothing like Franklin’s spit-spot mercantile.
Mr. Bedlow stood behind the register. He pushed in the drawer as she walked across the room. She smiled, although her palms were damp with nervous energy.
“Good morning, Mrs. Albright.” His face was solemn. “Just the person I needed to see. Please, come with me into the office.” Without waiting for an answer, he walked toward the door at the back of the store.
Jane held tightly to Danny’s hand and followed.
Bedlow looked at Danny just before they went inside the office. “How about staying out here with Craig? He’ll give you a peppermint stick.”
Danny grinned at the mention of the sugary treat. “Thank you, sir!”
“Oh, but I’d rather he stays with me,” Jane objected.
“Trust me.” Mr. Bedlow took her arm, smiling all the while. “It would be better if he didn’t hear what I have to say to you.”
Alarm seized her stomach. “I don’t understand.”
“You will, shortly.”
She turned and caught a glimpse of Danny being swung up onto Craig’s massive shoulders as Mr. Bedlow pulled her into the office and closed the door.
“Sir, what is this all about?” she asked, her frustration over his callous disregard for her wishes bolstering her courage. “I demand you bring my son back to me.”
“Sit down, Jane.”
His hard tone and commanding demeanor bade her obey, so she did, slowly lowering herself onto a hard, wood chair. “What is this about?” Fear chased away any semblance of bravery she might have felt a moment ago.
“I’m disappointed in you, Jane, dear.”
“Please address me as Mrs. Albright. It truly is improper for you to keep speaking in such a familiar tone.”
He kept his eyes, dark and glittering, on her as he lifted a cigar from a silver box, identical to the one in the freight office in Sidney. He bit off the end and spat it on the floor. The silence seemed deafening. Seconds ticked off as though they were minutes. Finally he lit the cigar, puffed a few times, and pointed at her with the cigar between his fingers. “As I said, I am disappointed in you, Jane.”
Realizing propriety was the last thing he cared about, she concentrated on his words. “What have I done to disappoint you, Mr. Bedlow?”
“I thought you were an experienced freighter.”
“No, sir. I never implied such a thing.”
“So you say. But there are four men back in Sidney who will testify to your bragging in an unladylike manner.”
A gasp left her throat. “Why, that’s not true. What did they say I bragged about?”
“That you were the best freighter in the Black Hills.”
“But sir, I never said any such thing. As a matter of fact, Uncle Nathan had to teach me to use the whip that very morning of our departure. I distinctly remember apologizing to Bob and Andy before we left and several times along the way.”
“I’m afraid that they distinctly remember it differently.”
“But—”
He raised a silencing palm. “If only you had been honest, we might have avoided the unfortunate destruction of my valuable property.”
Nausea rose to her throat, and Jane forced herself not to run for the exit. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Every item you hauled is broken.”
Shock nearly overwhelmed her, and her head spun. “Mr. Bedlow, I don’t understand. I inspected the supplies after arriving. Your man—Craig, the one out there with my son—did as well. He told me everything looked good, and I was free to go.”
He leaned back in his chair and leveled his gaze at her. “That isn’t what he told me.”
“Then he is lying. Ask Frankl
in. He was with me.”
Anger flashed in the man’s dark eyes. “Franklin? You two have gotten chummy? I heard you stayed with him last night. I must say I was surprised.”
Drawing herself up to her full height in the chair, she glared at his implication. “Sir, I will thank you not to create a scenario that did not exist. I simply could not stay in a saloon, and Mr. Lloyd graciously allowed me a place to sleep.”
A short, ugly laugh left his lips. “I’m sure he did.”
She stomped the floor. “There was nothing improper, and Mr. Lloyd’s servants were there as chaperones.”
As though bored with the subject, Mr. Bedlow waved his hand over the desk. “No matter. Back to the situation at hand. I’m afraid your neglect has cost me several hundred dollars, and I must insist you remit the cost.”
Bile rose to Jane’s throat. “But that’s not possible. I am innocent of what you are accusing me of. And your man… ask him…”
“I already have. He told me the items are not salvageable.”
“I do not know how I can pay you, sir. I have only fifty dollars.”
He shook his head regretfully. “Then I’m afraid there’s nothing for me to do but find a place for you in one of my establishments in Deadwood and allow you to earn the money you owe.”
“I don’t understand. Are you suggesting that I work in a saloon?”
“Yes.” His clipped tone and amused expression were all the insult she would allow.
Jane shot to her feet too fast, and the blood rushed to her head. She swayed. Mr. Bedlow was at her side in a flash. He took hold of her as she fought past the faintness. She knew he was holding her too close, pulling her against him as though in an embrace, but she was too weak to fight.
“You’re even more lovely than I imagined,” he whispered against her ear.
“Wh–what?”
“I could be persuaded to forgive the debt without a dime of repayment.” She felt his lips press against her cheek.
“Stop it. What are you doing?”
She tried to move from his grip, but he held her tighter. “Listen to me. Stop being so stubborn.” He kept her close but moved his head back so he could look into her eyes.
Jane saw a vulnerability there she had yet to observe during their brief acquaintance. But she sensed that that might not be positive.
“What are you trying to say, Mr. Bedlow?”
“Come live with me. In my house.”
A frown creased her brow, and she pushed against his rock-hard chest. “Do you mean as your housekeeper or cook?”
A short laugh blew from his lips, and his smoky breath made her queasy. “As my mistress.”
Outrage flooded over her, and she pushed against him to no avail. Finally she lifted her boot and slammed the pointed toe hard against his shin.
With a howl of pain and a vile obscenity, he turned her loose. He raised his arm and brought the back of his hand hard on her mouth. Her head felt rattled, and the murky taste of blood filled her mouth.
She knew her mouth was swelling. It was a sensation she wasn’t altogether unfamiliar with, only she had thought with Tom’s death she’d never have to endure violence at the hands of another man.
Mr. Bedlow reached into his jacket and retrieved a white handkerchief. He handed it to her. “I’ll consider that kick a result of your surprise.”
She took the cloth and pressed it to her mouth. Anger burned. Hatred, even, as she stared silently.
“Perhaps you want to consider the invitation?”
“There’s nothing to consider.” She winced as the pain intensified. Speaking always made it worse. “I will not work in your saloon, and I will not be your mistress. Furthermore, I do not owe you a cent. However, it’s obvious you are fabricating the story to keep me here. Why you would want me here, I can’t imagine, since you don’t even know me.”
“The heart knows what it wants. And I’ve wanted you since I laid eyes on you the first time. Can’t you just be flattered that a man finds you so compelling he would ask you to live in his home? As the first woman who has ever been invited to live in my home other than servants?”
“Be that as it may, my answer remains the same.” She glared at him, feeling anything but affection. “However, I will work for you. Right here. In your general store. But I will never step foot inside that filthy saloon.”
He drew a heavy breath and released it. “I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice, then.”
Waiting for him to elaborate, she forced herself to stare at him without flinching. But she knew she wouldn’t sell herself in either a brothel or a fine home to one man. Nothing was worth such a thing.
Bedlow leaned against his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “Craig has taken Danny to my home.”
Jane’s heart began to race. A surge of heat rushed through her body, settling in her chest. Her hands shook as she recognized the enormity of his blackmail. “You can’t take my son.”
“I already have.” He bent and cupped her chin. “He’ll be there waiting for you when you agree to being my mistress.”
Tears formed in her eyes as she faced the inevitable situation. She had never felt such hopelessness. How could she stand under the weight of knowing she wasn’t capable of protecting her son?
“Why? What on earth do you want from me that you can’t get from dozens of women in Deadwood?”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘love’? ‘Respectability’? I need the sort of woman you are presiding over my home so I can include distinguished guests at my dinner parties.”
She stared at him, fighting the urge to laugh as hysteria rose in her. “Love? Respectability?”
“You don’t believe someone like me can want love?” He looked pained. “Perhaps it is a futile hope, but if you come live with me, we can be a family. If it works out, maybe we’ll get married when a preacher comes through. Our name, Bedlow, that is, would be another well-known, respected name in Deadwood.”
Was he completely insane? “Mr. Bedlow, I’m not going to be your mistress. Even if I wanted to be anywhere near you, it’s fornication. I don’t believe in that outside of marriage.”
“You would rather lose your son than share my bed?” A short laugh spurted from his lips. “I’m insulted.” All amusement left his features as though wiped from his face.
Tears slipped down Jane’s cheeks, stinging her cut lip. “Please, be good to my boy until I can procure employment and start paying you back the money you and I both know I don’t owe you.”
“No one in this town will employ you. I’ve made sure of it.”
“What are you doing to me, Mr. Bedlow? I am twenty-five, a widow with a son and a baby on the way. That’s right. A baby.” Perhaps he would not continue with this cruelty if there was a baby involved. “I should have informed you of my condition before you hired me on, but I’m sure you can imagine why I wouldn’t.”
His lips twisted in a sardonic grin. “I can well imagine you would have been afraid I wouldn’t hire you, and likely a gentleman wouldn’t have. However, I knew about the baby. Even back in Sidney, I suspected you were pregnant. If you come to my house, I give you my word I will not touch you until the baby is born, and you are recovered.”
Jane shoved back her modesty as he used such bold words. Even while she lived with Mama Rose, pregnancies were only to be whispered about. One rarely made even the tiniest reference to a lady’s delicate condition and one never, ever used such a vulgar word as pregnant.
“How can you possibly believe I would agree to such madness? And how could you desire a woman carrying another man’s child?”
“A dead man.” He shrugged. “The heart isn’t to be questioned. However, since you’re too stubborn to accept my proposal—”
“You mean, your proposition?”
“Touché.” He put his finger to his lips to shush her. “Since you are too stubborn to come to my house, you still owe me for the destroyed supplies. And since no one would dare go against me a
nd hire you, I have decided to be generous.”
“I won’t work in the saloon.”
Let him beat her. She folded her arms and watched for movement, waiting for the blows to begin. Instead he stared hard, his lips turned into a cold smile. “You will work in the saloon. I will carry you over my shoulder, if necessary. But you will work.”
“I’ll never do it willingly.”
“I don’t need your willingness, only your cooperation. And make no mistake, you will cooperate if you know what’s good for your son’s well-being.”
Defeat filled her as clarity forced a hard truth into her mind. Dear God, he could force her to do anything he wanted her to do. If he forced her to be his mistress, she would be powerless against him. If he forced her to dress in the low-cut, shiny dresses and entertain miners, there would be nothing she could do about it. All he had to do was threaten to harm her son.
Chapter Eight
Mid-July
Franklin frowned at his watch again. Bedlow’s wagons had rolled into town an hour ago. He expected Bedlow’s men to walk past on their way to the saloon. He wanted to ask about Jane. He swung his legs off the desk and stood. He’d tried to keep his mind off her during his own long three-week ride, but in spite of his worry about Coop, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.
At least he’d been busy since he’d arrived in Sidney three weeks ago. Uncle Nathan had done his best, but they were behind in contracts and deliveries. Luckily, there had only been a couple of cancellations due to the delay. Uncle Nathan had been a mainstay in his and his brother’s lives since they were small children and an important part of their freighting company. But he was getting older.
Thankfully, Coop’s injury hadn’t been as bad as originally thought. Doc said he’d be able to come back to work on Monday, if he’d take things slow for a while.
Outside, Franklin mounted his horse and headed toward the freight yards. A brisk wind had picked up while he was inside, and he could smell rain in the air. More rain would saturate the ground, swell the Platte River. He didn’t need any more delays. He hoped to be back in Deadwood within the month. They would definitely need to hire someone to help Uncle Nathan in the office until Coop was back on his feet full-time.
