by Stacy Reid
“So, tell us,” Miss Lodge tittered. “Have you ever seen a savage?”
“Have you ever seen real Indians?”
"Have you ever witnessed a gunfight?"
“Or have you seen a man shot dead?”
Beth swallowed her sigh at the questions hurled at her.
“Well?” came the strident demand from Miss Lodge.
Beth took a delicate sip of her tea. “A savage?”
"Yes, we've seen in the papers here they take scalps. They even attacked the Union Pacific railway last month for no cause other than to plunder and mutilate."
“You mean Indians?”
“Indians, savages, the same,” Miss Susan Jefferson said, another young lady who had made it her point of duty to introduce Beth to society.
“Ladies, if you will pardon the interruption.”
Beth cheered silently that David Shaw had interrupted. Several of the ladies blushed and batted their eyelashes in his direction. It seemed, however, that his regard was solely for her. She frowned, genuinely beginning to dislike his admiration.
“May I have this dance, Miss Bethany?”
It was either dance with him or more inane conversation with the ladies. She chose the least evil and agreed. Shortly they were on the dance floor, moving to the elegant strains of a waltz. He appeared very refined and handsome in a white jacket with a black neckcloth. They twirled in silence for several minutes, before he said, "You are an enigma to me, Bethany."
“I beg your pardon?”
“I heard your mother telling my father that you lost your husband recently and that is what is accounting for the sadness behind your beautiful eyes.”
She made no reply, and he arched a brow. “I suppose you are not going to offer an answer?”
“You did not ask a question, David.”
He smiled, quite charmingly, but she was unmoved. “I didn’t, did I? Tell me, are you grieving your husband?”
“No.”
"Why is that? It is quite uncommon for a lady not to mourn a man she had a child with."
A scathing retort hovered on her tongue, but she only said, “He died two years ago.”
“Ah, that explains it. So, you’ve been without a man in your life for two years.”
She stumbled slightly, but he caught her, and no one observing them would have seen that slight mishap in their dancing.
“Why are you so interested in my background?” she asked bluntly.
“I believe we would make a fine pair. I’ve informed father of my intention to court you, and he approves. You are a fine woman, Bethany.”
She fought not to show a visible reaction, “Forgive me Mr. Shaw—,”
“David,” he said smoothly with a smile.
“Mr. Shaw,” Beth said firmly, “I am not looking for another husband.”
The skin around his eyes seemed to tighten. “I believe both our parents would welcome our union. You are a beautiful young lady with a son who will need a man in his life.”
“I believe we should discuss something else.”
“Your mother believes your life west was a rough one. Something unspeakable must have happened to make you shy of men.”
Beth stiffened. “I beg your pardon?” She was truly shocked at his lack of tact.
“Were you raped?”
Outrage snapped through her. The blasted man must know he’d just stepped over propriety’s line, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Was it the heathens?”
Her instincts hadn’t been so far off the mark after all. He was a reprobate. The waltz ended, and she didn’t have it in her to politely applaud with everyone else. “You’re revolting,” she said quietly.
Unable to bear the mocking curiosity in his gaze, Beth turned away from him and moved toward the wide-open windows. She needed some air. She pushed past the few people on the terrace and hurried down the steps leading into the rear gardens. There she took several deep breaths. A sound had her whipping around. “Why have you followed me, Mr. Shaw?”
She saw that it annoyed him she had returned to such formality, but it was the first step she must take to deter him from the path he wanted to travel.
“A thought occurred to me, and I was intrigued by the possibility.”
She waited, wondering what he was about.
“If you do not want marriage, would you agree for me to set up a house for you?”
Was he asking her to be his mistress? Dear God. “Mr. Shaw, you are outrageous.”
“I like a woman who has carnal experience.” He took a cigar from his pocket and lit it. “I wonder, how much do you know about loving, Bethany?”
She felt as though she couldn't drag enough air into her lungs. "Your father would be ashamed of your behavior," she breathed.
He drew on his cigar. "My intentions are honorable if you would allow it. I want you, from the first moment I saw you I determined to make you mine. If you are not keen on marriage, you will be my mistress."
She lifted her chin. "A gentleman of honor would never speak to a lady in such a disgusting manner."
“You are correct, Bethany—”
“Miss Bethany,” she snapped, inching even further away from him.
He bowed slightly, but she could see the mocking glint in his eyes. “My sincere regrets, Miss Bethany, my manners seem to have deserted me, please forgive me.”
Beth would never like him for how he accosted her tonight. Snakes would always be snakes, and he had revealed himself to be the lowest rattler. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Shaw, I believe I shall retire for the night."
“Why are you disinclined to marriage?” he demanded expectantly. “Your mother has suggested you are seeking a husband. And I am seeking a wife.”
“My mother was wrong, and even if I were inclined to marriage, it would not be to you.”
Anger lit his blue eyes, and they burned fiercely for a moment, rattling her. Her fingers dipped into the deep pockets of her gown, seeking the handle of the knife Joshua had given her. Strangely she hadn't thought it odd that she took it everywhere she went. And for the first time, she was glad for the lessons learned from the frontier.
“You know,” he said conversationally. “If I decide to have you now, there is little you could do to stop me.”
He expected her to be afraid of him. And she was, but it wasn't a senseless fear that was rendering her silly. She'd faced men in the west and had survived. He was a mere wasp to those wolves. "Ah, threats of rape? I confess I am not surprised, you've already revealed that you are a disgusting shit of a man.” She had picked up some choice words in Liberty, and she allowed the contempt to show in her eyes.
Yet when the slap came, it was unexpected. Fire exploded in her cheek. Beth stumbled back, a piece of her soul freezing. She could not move, a lump grew in her throat, and tears burned behind her lids.
“You’ll need to mind how you talk to me, darling,” he said pleasantly as if he hadn’t assaulted her.
“Nothing gives you the right to hit me, or anyone else. Because you are stronger you should never abuse your power,” she said, with a furious undertone.
He stepped in close, eclipsing her personal space, and she could smell the liquor fumes on his breath, except she knew he wasn’t drunk. In fact, he was cold and calculating when he gripped her chin in a punishing grip and lifted her face up.
“I don’t think I bruised you,” he said mildly. “You must learn to know your place, so you don't get hurt, hmm? Next time I won't be so gentle. Now, I'll be courting you. I think my father will be pleased with our announcement." His eyes caressed her face. "You are mighty tempting, aren't you? Leave your door open tonight. I'm of a mind to sample your sweetness."
Her heart pounded with her fear, and a subtle trembling started in her frame. It was only when he dipped his head to press his lips to hers, she unfroze. The knife was in her hand, and at his throat before she had processed her intent.
Wariness shifted in his eyes. “Bethany, I—”
<
br /> “Don’t move,” she breathed shakily. “I might cut your throat.”
She hadn't the strength to laugh at his comical expression of shock, not when she wanted to cry so badly. The east wasn't more civilized. They weren't more gentlemanly, or less prone to ravage and hurt women. This man, a man her mother trusted wanted to bend her to his will, and why? Because he thought he could. The tears spilled down her cheeks unchecked. How quickly he had ripped away the false sense of comfort she had wanted to wrap herself in. She sobbed, her hands shook, and blood beaded the knife.
Finally, some alarmed showed in his eyes. “Bethany.”
"I should cut your damn throat," she snarled and turned to climb the steps into the house.
He looked at her as if she was demented, and maybe at this moment, she was, for he had shattered her sense of safety, and the belief she had that another man wasn’t capable of making her quake with fear. Suddenly rain pattered softly down, and she concentrated on that until she had centered the emotions tearing through her, as she entered the house. "Step away from me. And never approach me again in this manner. For the sake of my mother, I will be polite, but that is all I will ever be to you. One day you may catch me unaware, maybe you will rape me, but I promise you, if you do not kill me at that moment, you will sleep the rest of your life on guard, for I will kill you.” And she meant every word.
And she could see in his eyes he believed her too. There was a reluctant admiration in his gaze that she did not care for.
“I misunderstood a lot, Bethany. I will beg your forgiveness.”
“Denied. Now step away from me, Mr. Shaw.”
He did.
A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. To think she had believed Boston safer. She did not take her eyes from him as he moved away from her. She made her way to her chamber, and that night, she slept with her gun, and bowie knife under her pillow, and a chair under the handle of the door in her room.
It had been a long time since she had felt this unsafe.
Chapter 16
The very next morning, Beth sat on the sofa near the open windows overlooking an artfully tended side garden. She had asked her mother for a private meeting almost an hour ago. It had been unbearable sitting in the breakfast room with David Shaw. He had been so warm and friendly when he invited her to attend the theatre with him that evening. As if she could forget he was the reason she had hardly slept last night. Her mother had accepted on her behalf before she’d had the presence of mind to object.
Elizabeth entered the smaller parlor, arranged the elegant folds of her dress and lowered herself into the sofa beside Beth. "Sweetheart, is everything well? You seemed out of sorts earlier."
She met her gaze steadily. “I will not be attending the theatre with David,” she said quietly.
Her mother stiffened. “It would be quite unladylike like to cry off after you’ve accepted.”
“I didn’t accept. You did. And while I know you mean well Mamma, going forward, I will be the one to respond to my invitations, please.”
How she had forgotten what a significant part of her life had been before she traveled west. The expectations of ladylike conduct, the social calls, and the assumption she would find a man to marry soon. Her mother and her husband also seemed to have those hopes. Worse, her mother was keen on the idea of David courting her.
“You don’t appear particularly pleased by his regard my dear,” her mother murmured. “Is there a reason for that?”
“Other than the fact I just met him you mean?”
A wry smiled touched her mother’s lips. “I only want what is best for you. There is already some speculation about your time back in that ghastly place. A respectable marriage is what you need to settle nicely out here. Why don’t you give him a chance?”
She trod lightly around the question. Then decided there was no way around it. As succinct as possible she informed her mother of what happened at last night’s ball.
"Perhaps there was some misunderstanding," Elizabeth Shaw said, slowly lowering her tea to the small oak table. "Could that have been possible, sweetheart?"
Beth stared at her mother as if she were a creature. “I cannot see how I could misconstrue his assault against my person. He was unforgivably rude and ill-mannered in how he addressed me.” And wasn’t that the problem. Had she been in the west, she would have expected such ungentlemanly conduct. David had soundly shocked her and rattled her nerves. “He also slapped me, Mamma.”
Shock bloomed across her mother’s cheek. “My stepson slapped you?”
“Yes.”
Her mother closed her eyes and fisted her hands in her lap. "I cannot believe it of his character, oh Bethany sweetheart, I am deeply sorry. I will speak with him about his behavior. I ask you to forgive whatever madness took hold of him. I promise you he is not beastly. He is a most eligible bachelor, and all the ladies are quite keen to capture his regard.”
Her mother looked at her expectantly, and a hollow sensation formed in Beth’s stomach. “I’ll try and forgive him for your sakes,” she said softly. “But I would never consider allowing him to court me. In fact, I cannot live under a roof where he has free access. I hardly slept last night, and I cannot exist anticipating an attack.”
“Bethany, I assure you, David—”
“Mamma, please.” She took a steady breath. “I will need to find a place of my own.”
“Your reputation—”
“My reputation will be fine.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Please work with me, Mamma, and not against me.”
Her mother hugged her. “You were always independent with your thinking. You were adamant to travel west, and though I believed it a mistake, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to dent your resolve. I feel you are making another mistake, and I ask you to stay for a while, and not to act in haste. Emmet and I will speak with David. I truly believe he is regretful of his actions which is why he has invited you to the theatre with him.”
Beth considered her mother. She did have little money to move and rent a townhouse for herself. It would be prudent to wait until she had some money saved, though she hated the very idea. Then she recalled Joshua’s demand that she opened an account and telegram him the details, so he could make a deposit to use for his son’s upkeep. He had quoted her a sum that had shocked her, but he had been adamant.
Her heart fluttered in her chest at the thought of contacting him. “It will take me a while to find somewhere for Grayson and me,” Beth offered as a bridge. She wasn’t sure if Kathy would travel with her, for Emmet Shaw had offered her a post in one of his hotels. But there was the benefit of each other’s company if they were to share a townhouse.
“At least stay for my dinner party,” her mother urged.
An event she was excited about, as the crème of Boston society promised to be in attendance.
The days since Bethany left with Grayson had been passing in a slow grind for Joshua. He worked from dawn to dusk, rode the ranges, branded cattle, broke wild horses, and even pored over the ledgers to see how they had been performing. All the work was updated, and in fact, the Triple K ran with an efficiency that did not need his input. When the first light turned the sky grey, Joshua was still working, until he slumped in his bed exhausted. He pushed, punishing himself with work that the ranch hands could do because he needed to forget the taste of Bethany, the scent of her, the way her entire face lit with her smile.
That still did not keep the dreams from coming, and they visited him every night. At first, he was resentful that whatever part of his mind was responsible for those damn dreams could betray him in such a manner. For he desperately wanted to forget the ache of loving her and wanting her so desperately. Then he became grateful after the first couple of weeks because in his dreams the memories of how she had laughed, how her eyes had seemed so happy, how she had cried and sobbed into his neck when he had pleasured her. In his dreams they were vivid, and he found that he anticipated seeing her come to him i
n his sleep.
He stared upward into the darkness of the sky, filled with a yearning that couldn’t be slaked. In his entire life he had never wanted, never ached for anything as he did this woman and his child. For her, he would give up the mountains, the high valleys, the rivers. But would she still want him even if he went after her?
He would still be the same man, the one who had killed Abraham Hardin without any mercy. You’re a killer. What if there had been another way? Had he tried hard enough? He could have taken Abraham to the law and seen justice done that way. Joshua wasn’t sure if there could ever be a time he could temper his ruthless instincts when his family was threatened. Men in the west, those who took without asking, only responded to raw, unchecked brutality. Jail hardly held these men, and breakouts were far more common than convictions.
But he was willing to honestly try another way, a more civilized and lawful means. He would try and commit to shooting out their knees and then taking them to the law. And if the law failed, he would then act according to his conscience. To Joshua's way of thinking that was a fair compromise.
Twigs crunched behind him, and the familiar scent of tobacco reached out to him.
“You’ve been out here a long time,” August Kincaid said, moving to stand beside him. “You missed dinner for the fifth time. Your mother was getting ready to come out here and pull you in by the ear.”
Joshua chuckled, knowing his father did not jest. His ma believed she could still drag him about by the ears. And if she came, there was nothing he could do about it other than bend down so that she could reach him. As far as she was concerned her grown sons were still her boys.
He took the smoke from his father, lit it, and dragged deeply of the cigar. They stood like that, staring into the night sky, the silence between them companionable.
“Your ma told me how you met Bethany,” his father finally said. “I’m of a mind to believe the reason you’re not chasing her now is that you think you forced her once already, and it would kill you to do it again.”
