“Well, as it turns out Lydia’s a married woman now, so not your obligation,” I said.
Randall’s sharp gaze pinned Lydia. She looked like a cornered rabbit. “Why did you never write to me that you’d married?”
“I…it only happened recently,” she stuttered.
Randall turned a puzzled look to me, maybe hoping I could make sense of the information, to tell him why her husband hadn’t traveled with us. I took a deep breath and let it out. We’d finally come to the moment I dreaded. Our future depended on what I said next would. My heart thundered in my chest, but I sat up straight and looked him in the eye. “Lydia and I married a week ago.”
He was silent, but his murderous expression and the twitch in the muscles of his jaw conveyed his feelings clearly enough. “Where did it happen?”
I didn’t respond right away. I wanted Lydia to answer. Participating in the conversation would force her to fight for us. But this went back to the crux of us being married—she still didn’t think we really were. Admitting to Randall she’d been married by Indians would go against everything she thought she believed, and no matter how much she loved me, she likely still considered deep down she was living in sin. I had an epiphany of sorts at that moment.
“Cheyenne…” I said.
“…at the Indian camp,” she said at the same time.
It had occurred to me that if we told Randall we’d been married by legal and Christian standards in Cheyenne, he’d be forced to accept it. Sure, it was a lie, but it was one that made our lives easier, and since we planned to do all that anyway, I didn’t see the harm in insinuating it was already done.
But, of course, Lydia had to tell him the truth.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that Lydia. What did you say?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said jumping in to try to salvage the situation. “We’re married, so Lydia won’t be staying on with you. You’ll have to hire help for the church.”
Randall ignored me and fixed his glare on Lydia. She met his gaze and tried to hold it, but when she started to fidget, I knew she’d lost the battle.
I stood. “Look, we’re finished here. I fulfilled my end of our deal by bringing her back. We’ll rent a room and stay for a few days to help you however we can, but then we’ll be on our way.”
“Lydia?” Randall said, his voice unwavering. He still ignored me.
“Um. Well. We married while we were at the Indian camp.”
“Were they Christian?”
“No,” she said. “But it’s a marriage nonetheless. We both made promises to each other in the eyes of God.”
I smiled to myself, proud of her.
“If it wasn’t sanctified by the church, it isn’t a legitimate marriage. It’s a sin, and puts your soul at risk,” he said. His voice had a commanding—and condescending—edge to it that made Lydia wince. To me, he said, “Have you soiled her?”
Oh so many times, I wanted to tell him, and gloat about it. “If you mean have we consummated our marriage, then yes.”
“You did not have my permission to marry,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he spoke to Lydia or me.
“She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need your permission.”
“She most certainly does,” he said, standing behind his desk and leaning forward onto his hands. It lent him a dogmatic air, and I could see how leaning like that on the pulpit, closer to his congregation, and exhorting them on their sins could be intimidating. “And you betrayed my trust,” he said to me. “I asked you to escort her here safely. Instead, you took advantage of a naive, inexperienced woman like a common cur. Just look at her,” he said, flinging a gesture at her. “Her one asset was her virtue. I’ll never find a man willing to offer anything for her, now.”
My body shook with fury at his gall. I glanced at Lydia to find her staring at her lap. She seemed to have shrunken in on herself. She swiped a tear from her eyes.
I’d had enough of Randall Templeton. I loved Lydia, and refused to allow anyone, even her brother, to treat her so badly, even if it meant provoking him into revealing what he knew of me. Lydia was more important, whether she stayed with me or not.
I strode to his desk and clutched a wad of his starched shirt in my fist, pulling him almost off his feet until we were face to face. Alarm flashed in his eyes, but was quickly replaced by defiance.
“Lydia is my wife,” I said.
My other hand curled into a fist, and I cocked it, ready to knock that defiance right off his face.
“Emmett, don’t,” Lydia said. Her voice sounded tiny and thin, but I stayed my hand. In that moment, Randall’s face turned smug because she’d taken his side. He thought he had her, and my stomach lurched at the fear that maybe he was right. After all, he’d had her whole life to influence her. They shared blood. I’d only known her a short time, and although I’d shared her body, I was afraid my hold on her heart was still too tenuous to overcome her history with Randall.
More than anything I wanted to appreciate the crunch of my knuckles on his nose. Instead, I let him go with an extra shove. He stumbled and fell back into his chair.
“Let’s go, Lydia. We can come back tomorrow. Maybe Randall will be more reasonable after he’s had some time to think.”
I held out my hand to her.
“You’ll go nowhere with this man,” Randall said, issuing a command. “And I’m perfectly reasonable, now. A marriage in the midst of godless heathens is not a marriage in the eyes of God. There is no way to argue that fact.”
Lydia still hadn’t taken my hand, and both Randall and I waited, watching her to see what she’d do. Randall clearly expected her to obey him without pause, but when she waited just long enough that it looked like she might not, he added, “If…and it is by no means a given…you are to be married to him, it should be done properly. Despite already having been sullied, we need to purify your soul before we can discuss proper marriage.”
My heart sank. He knew exactly which of her weaknesses to play upon.
She raised a tear-stained face to me, now with a spark of hope in her eyes.
“Lydia, you know he’s just manipulating you.”
“I’m not so blind that I don’t recognize that,” she said. Randall huffed a condescending laugh, as if he doubted her capable of recognizing anything. “But what he said is true. Even if in our hearts we believe we’re married, it still isn’t a true marriage by law or by my religion. I want to marry you, but I want to do it properly.”
“It’s time for you to leave,” Randall said, pushing his advantage. “Come back tomorrow and we’ll discuss it further. Tonight, I want to spend with my sister, just family.”
He was good, I had to give him that. He knew exactly which buttons to push to get what he wanted.
“Lydia?”
When she looked at me, her eyes begged me to understand. “It’s okay, Emmett. I want to talk to Randall about Mother, and tomorrow we can make plans for our wedding.”
She smiled, but it was weak and apologetic.
I went to her and took her hand in mine. “Because I love you, I’ll honor your request. But I’ll be back tomorrow.” I kissed her check as tenderly as I could, trying to reassure her, then whispered in her ear, “Don’t trust him.”
I squeezed her fingers in mine, unwilling to let go. Deep down I knew if I did, I’d be letting go for good, and my lungs clenched at the thought. I hadn’t told her the truth and now Randall would tell her before I could. She’d know the worst of me, and I had no doubt Randall would twist it and turn her fledgling feelings for me into disgust and loathing.
Lydia had become my world, my hope for the future, and losing her terrified me.
The door closing behind Emmett sounded final enough to send a shiver down my spine. I knew what Randall said was true. I’d fallen in love with Emmett and because of that, in my heart I wanted to trust we were truly married. But even though I hadn’t honored my religion as strictly as I should have, I still tried to live by its ten
ets. I couldn’t very well pick and choose the rules I wanted to follow, and aside from making the marriage legal, I wanted it to be right with the church.
It gave me some hope that Randall would give his blessing for us to be married, and if there was any way I could atone for my sins beforehand, I would.
“Tell me about Mother,” I said.
He rounded the desk and stood towering over me. I didn’t look up at him, just stared at his shiny black shoes.
“Why would you want to marry that man? I mean since you’re a woman I suppose I can see how he could talk you into believing the marriage was real, even a godless heathen marriage, but why that man?”
“If you commit to each other under the Lord’s mantle, how can you say it’s not real?”
“He’s a conniving charlatan. A devious quack. He makes his living convincing innocent people to buy his tonics.”
“What are you saying?” I looked up at him. “That he had some ulterior motive for marrying me?”
“He doesn’t like being indebted to me. If he marries my sister, we’re family.”
“You’ve ignored me for the last several years, and now suddenly we’re family? My marrying Emmett will have no effect on you. We don’t plan on staying here, so there will be no connection to you. You can go on pretending you don’t have a sister.”
“There’s no reason to take that tone.”
I pushed my glasses up my nose, and put on my best determined face. “I love him and I want to be married to him.”
He crossed his arms, but didn’t say a word. His lips twisted to the side, and his brow furrowed as he thought. I supposed I could just leave. I didn’t owe Randall anything, and he’d never had any real love for me. Emmett and I could get married anywhere. But I did feel obligated to learn about Mother, and to mourn her decently. She deserved that much. I could put up with Randall long enough for that.
“If you’re determined, you’ll need to pray. Go to church, prostrate yourself before God and beg for his forgiveness. Cleanse your soul through worship.”
“I can do that.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll talk about the rest.”
My heart swelled. I’d been shocked when the Indians had announced Emmett and I were married, and even more shocked when Emmett accepted it. I was so afraid to believe he wanted me, but in my heart I felt like I’d betrayed my faith. Now love and relief and joy for the future replenished my hope, and I knew nothing could ever ruin it.
I didn’t sleep a wink all night. The thought of Lydia in Randall’s grasp even for a night had me pacing the floor for hours.
I didn’t know what to think of the fact that he’d focused on the marriage not being real, rather than objecting to me specifically. Why hadn’t he just come out and told Lydia what he knew about me? Did that mean there was a chance he’d approve of the marriage? And if he did, what did that mean for my future? That he’d continue to hold my secrets over me? Perhaps he believed it would be to his benefit to have me in his familial clutches. It made a twisted sort of sense. If he didn’t care about Lydia—which he didn’t seem to—I’d continue to be obligated to do his bidding if we were family.
By sunrise I’d worked myself into a frenzy worrying about Lydia alone with Randall. I was dressed and out the door as early as I could get away with, and on Randall’s porch a few minutes later.
Randall opened the door to my knock. “I’m not surprised to see you here so early. Come in.”
“Where’s Lydia?”
“At church, praying.”
I didn’t like that he and his church had such deep roots in her. Faith was one thing, but fanaticism was another completely. It spoke of control.
I followed him back to his office. All I wanted was to collect Lydia and get out. “I’m not foolish enough to believe you care about Lydia. I’ve discharged my debt to you, so we’ll be on our way.”
“No, you won’t. She’s a resource to me, and your debt isn’t discharged until I say so.”
“What makes you think I care what you say?”
“Because you’re a murderer and I know it.” And there it was. The truth at last. He sat back in his chair, looking pleased with himself.
“I didn’t murder anyone.” Not entirely true, but Jenkins’ death had been recorded as war-related. It was the other that sat heavy on my conscience. “You’ll never let me be, will you?”
His smug smile told me everything I needed to know. “When I loaned you the money to start your business, I wanted to know why a doctor wouldn’t want to make a living as a doctor. Why did you not have any money, and why did you want to travel all over the God-forsaken wilderness selling tonics. Among other things, I learned that your father is a well-respected senator with a reputation to protect, but I also learned that you’re a murderer.”
I crossed my arms and raised a skeptical brow at him. “We’ve been over this. You dug around, found bits and pieces of information and put them together into a damning conclusion, then threatened me with it.”
He’d threatened me, and by extension my father. Had he only threatened me, I might have let it go, but I hadn’t been willing to allow my ugly past to ruin my father’s career—or expose him to blackmail. He may not have approved of my behavior, but he had saved me, so I quite literally owed him my life.
“Mrs. Clara Ford and her baby. Sound familiar?”
I swallowed hard. Taunting me with their names, out loud, made the memories fresh. Of course their deaths would be public record, and there had been plenty of speculation surrounding it. It had been a costly mistake—one my father had covered up. I’d been so deep in despair at the time, I’d been willing to face the consequences, but Senator Wilder had not.
“Women and babies die in childbirth all the time.”
“Especially when their doctors are drunken sots. The way I heard it, you were drunk, the delivery went badly, so you tried to cut the baby out of the woman. It was a gruesome failure and both mother and baby died.”
“She’d been in labor for days. If I hadn’t tried something they both would have died anyway. Her husband begged me to do help them.” I hated how my words sounded like justification. It was all true, but my conscience flogged me with guilt.
“That woman was in God’s hands. Whatever happened was his will.”
“That’s preposterous. By the same token you could argue that my skills as a doctor are God-given and therefore meant to be used to save people whenever possible. I tried to save them.”
“While you were drunk.”
I had tried to save Mrs. Ford and her baby. But I’d also been drunk. If I hadn’t been I may have been able to make more rational decisions, though in the end there really wasn’t anything I could do to save them. But I’d never know. Even more than Jenkins, it was the one thing that hung over my head like a guillotine waiting to fall, and the one thing Randall held over me.
“If your father felt it necessary to cover up, there must be some validity to your guilt,” Randall said.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter. You can’t prove anything.”
“No, but I can turn you in to authorities for the murder, and turn your father in for obstructing justice. Let the cards fall where they may. And when I tell Lydia, she’ll be heartbroken that she misjudged your character so badly, and want nothing to do with you.”
“So what do you want?”
His self-satisfied smile turned my stomach. “Your debt to me will be forgiven and I’ll keep your secrets in exchange for you walking away.”
“I’m just supposed to trust you?”
“What other choice do you have?” Strangling him came to mind, but as attractive as that option sounded, I dismissed it outright. The truth was, I couldn’t trust Randall. He’d always hold all the cards, and I’d always be under his thumb. If I ever did anything he didn’t like, he’d play his hand and I’d be done.
My future with Lydia evaporated in front of my eyes. If only I’d had the courage to tell her the whole story when I had
the chance, but I was a coward.
“What about Lydia? What will you tell her about why I’ve left?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll tell her the truth. Maybe I’ll tell her you’ve changed your mind. It’s easy enough for her to believe you wouldn’t want her. Nobody else ever has.”
As much as I wanted to argue Lydia’s merit, Randall would never listen. “And if I refuse?”
“I’ll turn you in, expose and ruin the illustrious Senator Wilder, and tell Lydia all the sordid details of your life.”
“She’ll never believe you.” A small part of me worried she might. “Let me tell her myself.”
“If you can’t trust me, why should I trust you? I’ll tell Lydia. It’ll be easier for her if you make a clean break and just leave.”
It was another cruel way for Randall to torment me, keeping me from seeing her again. He was right, though. I’d never be able to convince her I didn’t want her, and I’d do anything I could to tell her the truth—about myself, and about Randall’s threats, even if it meant seeing the loathing in her eyes.
Either way, whether it came from me or Randall, it would break her heart. I’d been living with the guilt so long, I’d almost welcome an honest examination of the facts. I hadn’t purposely murdered either mother or baby. At worst it was negligence on my part, but there would still be consequences. I could live with that.
Bringing the scrutiny to my father was another story. I hadn’t asked him to do what he’d done, but it was still my responsibility. He had a political reputation to protect, and I wasn’t about to consciously bring this kind of trouble down on him.
Worst of all was the idea of Lydia knowing I’d been responsible for those two deaths, and putting her through the humiliation of an investigation. Beyond that, I’d lived with my own shame for so long I was used to it, but I didn’t think I could live with Lydia’s contempt.
Sitting across the desk from Randall, watching triumph gleam in his eyes made me want to kill him. I wanted to feel the hyoid in his neck crushed under my hands, feel the thump of the pulse in his neck weaken and stop as I rid the world of Randall Templeton. I’d never had the desire to kill anyone before, and it shocked me that I wanted to now. That wasn’t the man I wanted to be, but given the kind of man Randall was, I could almost rationalize the exception.
Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) Page 21
