The Lady and the Robber Baron

by Joyce Brandon

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Chane protested.

  “The hell I didn’t. She was so starved for attention, she was looking for it anywhere. It didn’t take me long to realize that all the money I’ve made couldn’t begin to make up for the loss of her. She’s a fine woman. I’ve been a lucky man, but not nearly as lucky as I’m going to be in the future.”

  Chane felt as though he’d been kicked by a horse. His mother had had an affair, and his father had forgiven her—not only forgiven her, but begged her to take him back.

  “I can see you’re a little shocked.”

  “Yes, sir.” He was more than shocked. He felt like a house with the load-bearing walls ripped out.

  “Well, I was, too. I thought all a man had to do was be a good provider, and a woman could continue to love him. Well—” He laughed and continued. “—I was sure wrong about that. I almost lost one of the best women God ever made.”

  “I can’t believe you took her back. I mean…after she had an affair…”

  “Son, the secret of a successful marriage is in knowing what to remember and what to forget. We’ve each had something to forgive now.”

  “Each?”

  “Yes, I’m ashamed to admit it.”

  “What did she have to forgive?”

  “You promise me this won’t go any further?”

  “Yes, sir, of course.” Chane could not imagine anyone he could tell this to.

  “A few years ago I allowed myself to be seduced by a beautiful young woman.” He expelled a heavy breath and shook his head in chagrin. “I blush with shame at the thought of it. If I didn’t think you needed to hear this, I probably wouldn’t admit it even now.”

  “Go on.”

  “Beautiful, but as unscrupulous as they come. My God, what a fool I was…”

  Chane ripped another scale off the pinecone and waited in silence.

  “I didn’t find out until later that she was having an affair with my son.”

  “Your son?”

  Chantry Two nodded. “Your brother.”

  Chane sat there dumbfounded for a moment. He had no idea what his father was trying to tell him. “Lance?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You had an affair with—”

  “Lucinda.”

  Minutes went by while Chane tried to get his mind to think about these new developments, but it wouldn’t. It seemed completely blank. “Did Mother know?”

  “She found out when Lucinda died. Women just seem to have a way of knowing some things. Maybe she looked at Lance and looked at me and saw we were having the same reaction. I don’t know. She came into my office one day and told me she knew. It was almost a relief to be caught.”

  “What did she do?”

  “Nothing right away. But this past summer I guess that old pain and anger that had been festering in her so long just couldn’t be ignored any longer. Or maybe she was just tired of me working such long hours and ignoring her.”

  They sat in silence for a long time. “Ready to go back?” his father asked.

  “Yes, sir.” But neither of them moved. Chane stared at the lights of the camp below. In the stillness he heard men laughing, talking, eating, probably playing cards. His mind seemed entirely blank.

  “How do you decide about a woman?” Chane asked finally. “I know how to judge men, but women…”

  His father sighed. “Women take more time. Because they aren’t finished yet when we get them. The secret, if there is one, is to give a woman complete freedom and watch what she does with it.

  “A woman can no more hide what she is than a man can. If she’s a good woman, she’ll blossom into something damned fine, as your mother has done. If she’s not, she’ll just sort of slip away from you.”

  Chane could feel himself crying inside. Finally his father continued.

  “You can’t put too much store in mistakes, because everyone makes ’em. You’ve got to look at the whole package, decide if it’s something you want to invest in, and go from there. Aren’t any perfect women, or men, either, for that matter.”

  “What if a woman—” His throat almost shut down with the effort to get the words out. “—betrays her husband?”

  “I don’t know what ‘betrayal’ is, exactly. I know what bad judgment is, though. A man has to expect a little of that. Life is hard, and it comes at us too fast sometimes.”

  He sat in silence for a moment. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said, “To be real, love has to be unconditional. It’s not worth much to love someone before you’ve seen their flaws. If I were making an important decision, I’d judge a woman by her intentions and what she wants for herself, her husband, her family. And what she does. Anyone can talk a good fight, but it takes guts to actually live it.”

  Lying in her lonely bed, Jennifer waited for Chane to come to her. At the very least she expected him to say good-bye. But he didn’t even come back to the parlor car to sleep.

  At first she cried. Finally, the tears passed. Then she realized she didn’t really have to leave, unless she wanted to. She knew she could tell Elizabeth she’d changed her mind. Chane would let her stay.

  That felt much better, but then she remembered how Chane had lit the fuse on that stick of dynamite and just hung there in the basket beside it, waiting to see if they were going to get the lines untangled in time to pull him up before the dynamite blew. He was getting more reckless, not less.

  She wept again. Finally, she wiped her tears and walked to the window to look out. The stars were so bright, she felt she could reach out and touch them. To her surprise, she realized that she would hate to leave this beautiful land and go back to the stifling city.

  For the first time, she realized that loving Chane had opened her to loving life itself. Life had taken on meaning and purpose. Her world looked bigger and brighter now. She had passed all the tests this rough land had thrown at her. She had done it with all the honesty and energy she could muster, and somehow, without realizing it, the struggle had connected her with her own soul and that of the man she loved. Life here felt good and right. She could even forgive Chane for making love to Latitia.

  Looking out at the dark shapes of the construction camp reminded her how satisfying it had felt to win at Raton Pass. In that one moment before she was stabbed, she’d felt better than ever in her life. Winning at the Pass had been the culmination of their combined hopes and dreams.

  Chane should have been uplifted, too, but he hadn’t been. He was still stuck in the past, still as likely to kill himself as ever, maybe more so. She felt cheated and let down by him and his unwillingness or inability to let go of the dead past and forge a new, shining future.

  But in the same breath she realized she had sown the seeds of her own pain. Maybe her whole life had prepared her to sow them. The original guilt had been hers. If she had loved and trusted him at the outset the way he’d loved and trusted her then, this couldn’t have happened.

  She realized that as painful as her betrayal and its consequences had been, it had taught her some valuable lessons. And in the process, Chane had been revealed as a very fine man, one she would give anything to love and be loved by. He was honest and loyal and strong. He was a man she would like to work beside the rest of her life, but she couldn’t have him, because to keep him, she would have to destroy him.

  Even that despair passed. The sky was growing lighter now. With approaching dawn came her darkest moment of all. She had morbid fantasies of a doomed future. She could see herself dancing and living alone for the rest of her life. What had once seemed a wonderful prospect now looked like death to her.

  Fortunately, she remembered again that she didn’t have to leave. For a time that thought buoyed her. But eventually even that brought its own bitterness. Chane really would find an honorable way to kill himself. His wound had been as deep as his love. He suffered not from stubbornness, but from scar tissue, which was not willful at all. He was as much a victim of his injury as he had been of his
love.

  Struggling, she managed to get past the bitterness. Finally, at dawn, she realized that love was not about possessing, about having. It was about giving and letting go. Chane couldn’t change, so she had to. The only way to save her husband’s life was to leave him so he could make a new life without painful reminders of her and what she’d done to him.

  At last she dressed herself and finished her packing. Hopefully, she would be strong enough to leave gracefully. She hated the thought of crying again.

  “Jennie.”

  Chane’s voice was so near she jumped. She hadn’t heard him come in. Heart pounding, she turned to face him.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Well, you did.”

  “Sorry.”

  An awkward silence stretched out. Finally, he spoke. “I guess I can’t talk you out of leaving.”

  “I guess not.” I guess I can’t talk you out of leaving was just a way to let her salvage some pride. If she had no pride at all, she could remember that and tell her friends he’d asked her to stay, but she’d refused.

  “It’s a long, hot trip this time of year.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I guess now is better than summer, which is coming early, I think.”

  “Jennie…”

  Chane’s eyes reflected misery and confusion. It hurt her to see him so confused, but it reinforced her decision. If she didn’t take charge of this mess, they would spend the rest of their lives almost loving each other.

  She took his hands in hers and brought them to her lips to kiss them. “Don’t be sorry, Chane. I know you were right about everything. If I had my life to live over, you would be the only man who ever touched me. I love you so much it makes me ache all over to think about leaving you, but I’m going to…for both our sakes.”

  “Is this another one of those favors women do for men?”

  Jennifer smiled at his pained tone. “No. This is a blessing in disguise. I’m freeing you from your promise. It was wrong of me to hold you to it. I did it out of selfishness. I realized how much I loved you, and I wanted to win you back. I now realize I wouldn’t have been able to stand what I did to you if our places had been reversed. Now I just hope you can rebuild your life. I want you to be happy.”

  “What about you? What will you do?”

  At one time she’d thought art was the be-all and end-all, but the control and craft it took robbed life of all spontaneity. She’d grown to appreciate living life one day at a time, facing whatever needed to be faced, taking risks, playing herself instead of a role written by someone else.

  But it made no sense to tell him all this. It would just sound like she was giving him an opening. He might feel obliged to take it. “I’m a good dancer. My foot is fine now. I’ll rest awhile until this heals,” she said, touching her rib. “And I’ll always be proud of what we did here. It was a wonderful experience. I thank you for that. I’ll never forget it. Good-bye,” she said huskily, blinking back tears. “I think I’d better go find your mother and tell her I’m ready in case they’re waiting for me.” She gripped his hands hard and let them go.

  Jennifer turned away and stepped blindly outside to see a surprising sea of men surrounding the Pullman coach. She hadn’t noticed them come up. The crowd stretched back forever. It looked like over a thousand men.

  Steve Hammond stepped forward. “Mrs. Kincaid. These men asked me to speak for them. They’ve heard you’re leaving, and they’re upset. They want to know when you’ll be back.”

  Sudden tears had to be blinked away. “I don’t know, Steve. I…”

  The look in her eyes must have told him too much. He took off his hat and ran tobacco-stained fingers through his dark hair. “Well then, I guess we were right to fear the worst. I hope you’ll forgive me, Mrs. Kincaid. Every man here has fallen in love with you, myself included.” He swallowed, unable to continue. Men nodded and looked embarrassed.

  “We’re sorry to see you leaving. If you ever have an opening in your life for a thousand men or so…”

  Jennifer half laughed and half cried. He looked so miserable, she reached up and hugged him.

  “Thank you, Steve. You’ve been a wonderful gentleman. All of you. Thank you for everything.”

  Listening to Steve Hammond, who had never done anything like this before in his life, Chane hurt so bad he thought he might die of it. Jennie waved to the men and turned away. They watched her for a moment, then slowly turned to go back to work. Chane had never seen Jennie looking more beautiful or more composed. She looked warm, loving, and vibrantly alive.

  Jennie stepped inside, looked quickly around the parlor for anything she’d left, and closed her trunk. The loud click of the trunk closing resounded in him.

  The weight he had carried for months lifted and was gone. He didn’t know if he should trust it or not, but words were forming and wanting to come out of his mouth without even a rehearsal in his head. “Jennie…”

  She turned back to face him. She wiped quick tears off her cheeks, and in that instant she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “I just realized I don’t give a damn if you slept with the entire dance company…as long as you don’t do it again. As long as you don’t ever leave me.”

  Jennifer searched his face. “You don’t mean that.”

  Chane tried to decide if he did mean it. This was a new experience for him. It felt like he meant it. “Yes, I do.”

  “How do you know you can trust me?”

  “I know you better now than I did six months ago. Before, you were trying to keep being a ballerina, and that confused you. I watched you enough these last six months to trust that once you set your heart on something, no matter what it is, you’ll get it. You never lied to me. Even when you should have. I trust that. Maybe I was confused, too. Maybe I didn’t realize that life isn’t as perfect as I’d like it to be, or that I’m not as perfect as I’d like to be. But I don’t think I’ll survive if you leave me.”

  The intent light in Chane’s eyes roused hope in Jennifer. “So what are you trying to say, Kincaid?”

  “I’m asking you to stay with me.”

  “As what?”

  “As my wife.”

  She stepped into his arms and tilted her head back to look into his eyes. “Your what wife?”

  “My beloved wife.”

  Something opened in her chest. Her blood seemed to run more freely. “Your completely reinstated, beloved wife?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  She detected no hint of wavering in his eyes. “Can you promise me that you will never again let the memory of my mistake come between us?”

  “Yes. If you promise not to let my mistake come between us.” His voice was firm.

  “How do you know you can do that?”

  “Once I give something up, it’s gone.”

  “Your iron will works both ways, does it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chane pulled her closer into his arms and held her tight. He kissed her for a long time, putting such intensity into it, she lost track of everything except how much she loved him. His kiss made her knees go weak. It was filled with love and hunger and fierce longing. At last he relinquished her lips, but his arms continued to hold her close. He buried his face against her hair. “When I thought Fletcher had killed you, I got a glimpse of hell. Life became unbearable.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

  “I knew that I still loved you and I’d never stop, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

  “What if—”

  Chane stopped her questions with his mouth. He kissed her long and tenderly. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his sleeping compartment. He put her on the bed and closed the curtains.

  “Chane, it’s broad daylight. What if your parents—”

  He ignored her protests. There was only one way to bridge the rift between them. His warm hands freed her of her gown, and he lowered his head to kiss her breasts,
her throat, her mouth.

  “Chane,” she breathed. “You’re torturing me.”

  “You’ve driven me crazy for months, you heartless little wench.” His lips resumed their teasing of her flesh, and ripples of ecstasy quivered through her.

  “I’ve watched a thousand men fall in love with you,” he whispered against her breast. “I’ve lain in my lonely bed aching for the smell of you,” he said, pressing his nose against her skin and inhaling. “For the feel of your skin,” he said, caressing her body from her throat to her thighs. “For the taste of your mouth,” he said, kissing her deeply. “Wanting you with every fiber of my being until I almost lost my mind,” he whispered. “Now, you, my sweet little tormentor, must suffer,” he said, his voice gruff with passion.

  His strong hands moved to her hips. His lean fingers pressed into her soft belly, sending waves of fiery sensations coursing through her body. Trembling with need, Jennifer remembered a conversation they’d had on his ship. She opened her eyes and smiled dreamily up at him. “Will ye be killing me, sire?”

  “Aye, wench, in my own way,” he whispered, lowering his head to kiss her belly, and then work his way down her body. She cried out and writhed beneath his heated kisses. At first, her hands tried desperately to pull his head up. But slowly, the sensations overwhelmed her, and she relaxed and allowed him to do as he pleased. When she stopped struggling, he moved up and caught her hair at the back of her neck the way he’d done so long ago. A spear of heat shot through her now as it had done then. A moan of pure need tickled her throat.

  “Look at me, Jennie,” he whispered.

  “No.” She didn’t want reality to intrude on the wonderful sensations rippling through her love-starved body. But curiosity made her open her eyes. His handsome face was only inches from her own. The look in his eyes was one she would treasure for the rest of her life. It was one of power and masculine purpose. His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back and increasing the response that had already devastated her.

  She cried out her need and her surrender. Only then did he enter her. Her body responded wildly. The sensations he’d started and now controlled turned fierce and heated. It was different from the way he’d made love to her in New York and even different from the way he’d taken her in Colorado. Somehow, the love and adoration of the former were now strengthened by the fierceness and power of the latter. She felt loved and wanted and protected and cherished.