Confused in Colorado

by Cat Cahill

  “You don’t . . .” Grace turned abruptly toward him. “You don’t suppose they’ve planned something here, at the prison?”

  It was a strange place for them to be locked up. “It’s possible,” he said slowly. “They’d need access to the grounds to have brought us here, which means—”

  “They know someone who works here.” Grace’s eyes widened.

  “Or they’ve paid one of the prison guards.” Possibilities flooded Jasper’s mind. “What if that note was the indication of a much bigger plan?”

  “What else might they do at a prison other than help someone escape?” Grace wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

  “I fear you’ve found the answer,” he said. He didn’t add that the man who’d held him at gunpoint hadn’t bothered to cover his face. He had no fear of either Grace or himself identifying him, which could mean only one thing.

  The men behind this didn’t intend either of them to leave this room again.

  Danger lurked in the stale air around them. Grace looked so small and vulnerable that he wanted to take her into his arms, to protect her against anything or anyone that might attempt to harm her. But he also feared that might drive her away. The urge was so strong that he dropped her hand and paced across the room, searching in vain for a piece of wood, a discarded tool, anything that might be useful against the men who’d put them here.

  “I might have an idea,” Grace said.

  THEY MISSED THE FIRST opportunity. While they waited, they whiled away the time in conversation. Grace relayed that it was the man with the broken nose who had kidnapped her and that it was two different men who’d brought Jasper to the shack. That meant at least three men were involved—one of whom might be named Thorpe—plus at least one contact inside the prison.

  Jasper attempted to put Grace’s mind at ease with funny stories about his childhood with Molly. It worked, because before long, he was learning more about her life in Louisville, her sisters, her younger brother, her mother, and the father who’d died when she was younger.

  At a lull in the conversation while they were sitting next to each other against a wall, Jasper said, “May I ask you a question?”

  Grace turned to look up at him, and he doubted he would ever tire of seeing her face—even if it was streaked in grime and dirt. “I suppose,” she said cautiously.

  He grinned, wondering what she could possibly be imagining. “Do you paint?”

  “I don’t . . . I mean I can paint watercolors, like most young ladies, but—” She stopped suddenly as realization dawned in her eyes. “You saw my designs.”

  “I confess I saw paintings on the floor of your room at Mrs. Geary’s.” He wasn’t certain what she meant by “designs.” Perhaps that was some artistic term with which he wasn’t familiar.

  Grace laughed, but it held an undercurrent of nervousness. “They aren’t paintings.”

  When she offered no other explanation, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Then, please, tell me what they are. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” When she bit her lip but said nothing, he added, “I want to know more about you, and this seems to be something you hold dear. And if you do, then it’s important to me too.” He laid a hand on hers.

  After a second, she turned her hand so his palm rested against hers. “They’re dresses. Well, designs for dresses. I’ve also ideas I’ve drawn for coats and other items ladies might enjoy wearing.”

  He stared at her, the depths of her creativity stunning him into momentary silence. “That’s wonderful. Have you created anything of them?”

  She looked down at their hands. He intertwined his fingers with hers. “I haven’t for a long time,” she said softly. “Fabric is expensive.”

  “I believe I know of a certain merchant who might be able to broker a good deal on fabrics.”

  She smiled up at him. “All right, then.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he pressed his lips into her hair in a light kiss.

  By the time any of the men returned, it was late. Grace had fallen asleep against him, and Jasper was unable to move quickly enough to put their plan into motion once she awoke.

  One man stood at the door while another deposited food and water across the room from where Jasper and Grace sat. Neither of the men said a word. Jasper’s mind turned quickly. He need them to return—soon. He only hoped Grace would forgive him for what he was about to say. There was a sliver of hope they’d take pity on her, when he knew they wouldn’t with him.

  “The lady requires a moment out of doors.” He eyed the fair-haired man—the one who’d held him at gunpoint earlier—hoping to prevail upon any sense of decency he might have. He was the only one of the two who currently wore a pistol at his hip.

  It must have worked, because the man shot his companion a look.

  “I ain’t taking her,” the other fellow said.

  The man inside glanced at Grace, who looked down in what Jasper could only assume was embarrassment. He’d need to apologize when they got out of here.

  If they got out of here.

  “It’s only decent,” Jasper said, sensing the man was on the verge of agreement.

  “All right, fine. But you’d better be quick about it.” The man gestured impatiently at Grace, who tossed a quick, questioning look at Jasper.

  He nodded, hoping she understood. She scurried after the man without looking back at him. The door shut and he stood.

  As the minutes ticked by, Jasper regretted his decision. What if they didn’t bring Grace back? If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

  After what seemed like an hour, he heard footsteps outside. He checked his position, pressing his heels into the dirty floor, and prepared to put Grace’s plan into action.

  “I’m so cold,” he heard her say. “Please, could you hold the door open for me?”

  One of the men grumbled, but the door unlocked, and Jasper prayed the man had acceded to Grace’s request. With a deep breath, he pushed all his weight into the door as it opened, slamming it back into the man on the other side.

  The man grunted, and Jasper yanked the door open again just in time to see him fall backward, past Grace and onto the feet of the darker-haired man behind him. Grace leapt out of the way. Jasper wasted no time in jumping forward, straight into the scarred man, who turned away from his friend in enough time only to put his hands up in front of his face.

  Jasper’s elbow slammed into the ground as he took the man down with him. “Run!” he yelled to Grace as the man fought to push Jasper off him. He was only vaguely aware of the blond man lying motionless beside them as he dodged a blow from the man he held down.

  “He has a knife!” Grace shouted.

  She hadn’t run like he’d told her, but he couldn’t be angry. Not when the moonlight gleamed off a blade Jasper could see only from the corner of his eye. He wouldn’t die here. Not now, not after he’d bared his heart to Grace. Not when they might have a life together.

  He gritted his teeth and pressed both hands against the man’s arm, pushing the blade away. But just as he succeeded in moving the knife an inch or two, a hand gripped his ankle. Jasper glanced backward, past Grace’s anxious face to where the blond man had turned over and grabbed hold of his boot.

  “I got him, Lewis,” the blond man gasped.

  “Jasper!”

  He glanced toward Grace, his muscles straining to hold the other man’s hand away. She jerked up a finger to point to the man with the knife. Jasper yanked his head around only to see that the darker-haired man—Lewis—had pushed that knife so close Jasper could almost feel it grazing his skin through his sleeve. He redoubled his grip, grunting with the effort, only to feel the blond man gaining strength and pulling him away.

  A commotion sounded from behind him—a shuffling, then a shout.

  Grace.

  Jasper yanked his gaze away from Lewis and the knife, knowing this could full well be the end of him. But he couldn’t abide Grace being hurt. What
ever it took—even if it meant his own life—he’d get her out of here alive.

  His eyes searched the night against the shack, but she wasn’t where she had been. He craned his neck even farther, pushing against Lewis’s arm as sweat dripped down his face.

  And then he saw her.

  She stood tall, right above the blond man who still held Jasper’s ankle, a revolver pointed right at Lewis.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The pistol was heavy. Much heavier than Grace ever could have imagined. She hadn’t touched a gun before she thought to grab this one from the fair-haired man clutching Jasper’s leg, much less pointed one at a person. But she couldn’t let these men know that.

  So she gripped the handle of the thing even tighter and aimed it as steadily as she could at that Mr. Lewis, the one who was trying mightily to hurt Jasper with his knife.

  “Put that knife down,” she said, gathering every bit of strength she could. At least these men couldn’t see the way her knees shook.

  “Don’t listen to her,” the blond fellow at her feet said. “She likely don’t know how to shoot it anyhow.” He was so busy trying to pull Jasper back that he hadn’t even noticed when she took the gun from his holster.

  “She does too,” Jasper said, his breath coming in quick puffs. “Her father taught her. She’s a good shot.”

  Mr. Lewis finally took his eyes from Jasper and regarded Grace. She held tight to the revolver and tried to look as if Jasper were telling the truth. No one said anything for a long moment. That knife still sat far too close to Jasper’s face, and the blond man still held tight to him.

  Then, slowly, Lewis pulled the knife back.

  “What are you doing?” the blond man shouted. “You had him! Thorpe is going to kill us if we lose them.”

  Lewis shook his head as he dropped the knife. “You ain’t seen the look in her eyes.”

  Grace didn’t know how she looked, but she held tight to the expression she wore. Slowly, she aimed the gun at the fairer-haired man. His eyes took her in, and gradually, the sneer disappeared from his face. His grip on Jasper slackened, and Jasper shook it off before pushing himself up to standing.

  “Are you all right?” Grace asked as she kept the pistol aimed at the men on the ground.

  “I’m fine. Let’s get them in there and fetch the sheriff.”

  “You heard the man,” she said to the outlaws laying at her feet. She almost giggled at how tough she sounded. Perhaps if mending clothing at the general store didn’t work out, she could seek out a career as a lawwoman. The image of herself wearing a badge and rounding up outlaws made her smile. Thankfully, the men had already begun rising and didn’t notice.

  Jasper herded them into the shack and bolted the door using the key that still sat in the lock. Then he turned and pocketed the key.

  Grace let the gun drop to her side, breathing deeply for the first time since Jasper had leapt out that door.

  “You didn’t tell me you knew your way around a pistol,” Jasper said, nodding at the gun in her hand.

  “I don’t,” Grace said, lifting the thing to really look at it for the first time. “I’ve never touched one in my life.”

  Jasper stared at her, then burst into laughter. “You sure fooled me. And those men.”

  She smiled too, until she remembered how close he’d come to losing his life. She set the gun on the ground, before running to him and wrapping her arms around him. “I was so afraid.”

  His hands landed lightly on her back, hesitating a moment. When she didn’t let him go, he gripped her tightly, holding her to him as if she were the only thing keeping him upright. Grace turned her face into his chest, breathing in dust and wood and everything that was Jasper. She never wanted to let him go.

  He ducked his face into her hair, his breath warming against her. They said nothing for a while, simply holding on to one another. Grace never wanted to leave; she wanted his arms wrapped around her forever. Her mind drifted to what he’d said back in the shack. He cared about her. He only wanted her gone to keep her safe.

  “I love you, Grace Daniels,” he said into her hair. “I love you with everything I am.”

  Her heart melted completely.

  She pulled back to look up into his eyes. They burned with that same intensity, but she saw so much more in them now. She saw the world in them. She saw the two of them. She saw the future.

  “I love you, too.”

  A smile burst across his face. He tightened his hold on her, lifted her up, and spun her around. Grace laughed, pure and joyful.

  He set her down and lifted his hands to cradle her face. “Will you marry me?”

  She tilted her head and gave him a mischievous smile. “Only if you let me return to my job at the store. I think I’m much better at mending than rounding up outlaws.”

  “I beg to differ,” he said, grinning. “But my mother would have my hide if I didn’t allow you to work with her.”

  Grace lifted her chin, her heart dancing inside her chest. “Then I will marry you.”

  Jasper’s hands, warm on her cheeks, tilted her head back just slightly. He lowered his face to hers, and finally, he kissed her.

  Grace melted into his embrace, her hands reaching up to grip his arms as he held her still. She smiled into his kiss, willing it to never end.

  Far too soon, he lifted his lips from hers. “I hate to put an end to this, but we need to get the sheriff before this Thorpe returns.”

  “I suppose we should.” With a sigh, Grace stepped back from him.

  He took her hand in his, and together, they went to put the past behind them and start anew.

  Epilogue

  “Can I see yet?” Grace gripped her husband’s hand as she walked gingerly down the wooden sidewalk.

  His deep laugh made her smile, as it always did. He laughed frequently these days, and Grace reveled in the sound. “Almost there. I promise you it will be worth the wait,” he said.

  She sighed but complied with his request to keep her eyes closed. His hand kept her steady and aimed in the right direction. After all they had been through, she trusted Jasper with her life. The foiled prison break was several months behind them now. The men they’d locked into the shack wasted no time telling Sheriff Young where to find their ringleader. Thorpe, the man with the broken nose who’d turned out to be wanted for robbery in two other counties, had been biding his time in a partially built house nearby. They’d planned that very night to help a dangerous outlaw escape the prison with the aid of another man who worked there. All four were now housed in the prison themselves. The other men who’d been working with them had disappeared.

  With all of that behind them, Grace and Jasper had married as soon as possible, much to the delight of both Mrs. Hill and Molly. And Grace had resumed her work with Mrs. Hill in the mending corner. The summer days had passed in a flurry of work, socials, church picnics, and visits with friends from Mrs. Geary’s—and even Dorothy Burcham.

  Jasper guided Grace to a stop and turned her to face . . . something.

  “May I look now?” she asked, impatience creeping through her voice.

  “Hmm . . . I’m not sure—”

  “Jasper Hill!” Grace swatted at where she thought her husband stood, but her hand met only air.

  He laughed again before wrapping an arm around her waist. “You may look.”

  She opened her eyes against the cool October sunlight. They stood in front of the store. Jasper had the window replaced soon after one of those men had broken it with the rock. They faced it now, the lettering still crisp and bright. But something new had been added.

  “Hill’s General Store . . . and Custom Dress Shop.” Her eyes widened as she spun to look at Jasper.

  He opened his mouth to reply just as two men arrived beside them. “’Morning, Hill,” one of them said. “Ready for us to start?”

  Jasper responded by unlocking the door and ushering the men inside.

  “Who was that? What are they doing
?” Grace peered through the window as the men disappeared through the store toward the back room.

  “That is William Morrow and his son. They’re going to expand the back room of the building into a dress shop.” He grinned as her mouth fell open. “I hope that’s all right? Especially since you’ve been bringing your creations to life again.” He gestured at the new coat she wore—one she’d created herself.

  “It’s . . . It’s . . .” Grace didn’t know what to say. So instead she flew into him, wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you!”

  “I shouldn’t tell them this was all a misunderstanding, then?” he teased, gently cradling her as she leaned backward to look at him.

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Never.” He ran a thumb over her cheek as he smiled down at her. “Does it make you happy?”

  “So much.” Grace wanted more than anything to pull his face down to hers, without a care for who might be watching. “But you make me happier.”

  “I want to make you happy every single day,” he said. And with that, he leaned down to catch her lips.

  “We can’t. Not here,” she murmured against him.

  “Why not? You’re my wife.”

  “The gossip—”

  Jasper apparently didn’t care a whit about gossip, because he pressed his lips to hers, sweeping her against him. And Grace decided she didn’t care much about gossip either.

  When he finally stepped back and guided her into the store—their store—Grace said a prayer of thanks for Miss Lovelorn and her advice.

  She’d been right—love was where Grace had least expected it.

  THANK YOU FOR READING! I hope you enjoyed Grace and Jasper’s story. Be sure to read the next book in the Yours Truly: The Lovelorn series, Torn in Toronto by Wendy May Andrews. Turn the page for a list of all the books in the series, including my next one, Dejected in Denver, in which Molly finally finds her match in Deputy Eli Jennings.