The Dark and the Dawn (Kansas Crossroads Book 3)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “I have a feeling she already knows, sweetheart.” Phillip wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “She’s your sister. Of course she knows.”

  Jeanette sighed and settled back against his chest. That gesture of trust filled him with unspeakable joy, and he stroked her hair. “You are surrounded by people who love you and would do anything in this world for you,” he said. “That man will have no more power over you ever again.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jeanette closed her eyes and listened to Phillip’s heartbeat through his shirt. It was impossible for her to deny it a moment longer—she loved this man. She loved him so much, she thought she’d go crazy with it. How was it possible that she hadn’t even known him a few short months ago, and now he filled every crack and crevice of her heart until it was so full, she thought it would burst? She believed him when he said he’d protect her—she believed it with all her soul. And she believed him when he said he loved her. The look in his eyes spoke of adoration, as though he cherished her. She had never imagined that a man would look at her that way, or that it was even possible. Her mother certainly hadn’t believed it, and yet, here he was, everything she’d ever wanted but had never dared dream about.

  She ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder, then reached up and touched his face. She felt him tremble beneath her touch, and looked into eyes so filled with hope, she almost couldn’t speak for a moment. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I love you. I’ve loved you for days, even before you strapped on a gun to protect me. Although, that’s very attractive too.” She felt her cheeks grow warm at the admission, and he chuckled.

  “Do you have any idea what hearing those words means to me?” he asked. “I’ve waited my whole life to find someone who makes me feel like you do, and now you’re here, in my arms, like a precious gift that I don’t deserve. Are you real, or did I dream you?”

  “I’m real. I’m here. I’m flawed, imperfect in so many ways, but I’m here.”

  He shook his head. “I see none of those flaws. I even love it when you scold me—it’s always well deserved. Tell me, Miss Peterson, will you scold me forever? Will you please put me out of my misery and marry me?”

  “Yes. Yes, I will.” Words she’d never thought she’d say.

  He grinned, light leaping into his eyes, and lowered his face to hers. The kiss was gentle, restrained, but hinted at layers and layers of passion just beneath the surface. She smiled against his lips. Yes, she could trust him. That restraint showed the man he was.

  “Oh!”

  They broke apart at the sound from the doorway. Abigail stood there, two glasses of water in her hands. “I’ll just set these down and come back later,” she said, her face aflame. She put the glasses on the table and scurried out, closing the door behind her. Jeanette and Phillip both laughed, and then Phillip cupped her cheek and brought her to him again.

  “I suppose Abigail’s figured out what’s going on,” Phillip said a moment later.

  Jeanette’s eyes were closed, but she could imagine the smile on his face from the tone of his voice. “Like you said, she’s my sister—I’m sure she knows.”

  “Still, it will be fun to tell her.” Phillip let her go, and they sat side by side. “Now there remains just one more question.”

  “And what is that?”

  “When shall we get married?” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “If it were entirely up to me, I’d carry you off to the judge or the church this minute, but this wasn’t in your plans. I’m sure you’re caught off guard—even more than I was—and I’m equally sure that you never intended to fall in love with someone so much older than yourself.”

  “Young girls marry old men all the time,” she teased gently. “This is hardly unusual.”

  “But it’s unusual for us.” He sat up and took her hand. “I don’t want you to give up your dreams on my account.”

  “Dreams can change.”

  “But they never really go away. I’ve spent the last few minutes thinking. Yes, I can kiss and think at the same time.” He grinned again. “What of this—I have a friend who works at Women’s Hospital in New York. He has trained many nurses, and the experiences you’d have there would be unparalleled. What if you were to go there for six months? We could marry when you returned, and in that space of time, I could prepare my house for a wife. This way, I could be sure that I’ve given you opportunities to pursue your dreams, and if you were to change your mind . . .” He swallowed. “Well, you’d know that you were making the choice that was best for you.”

  Jeanette could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You would encourage me to go train in New York?”

  “I would. I am. I admit, it’s not entirely unselfish of me—I’d have an extremely qualified nurse at my side afterward.”

  Again, she was awestruck. “And . . . you want me to work for you when I return? Even after we’re married?”

  “Well, of course. Why on earth not? I admit, it’s not conventional, but since when have either of us cared about convention? I see us doing a lot of good together, Jeanette. We already make a strong team—let’s continue as we began. And should children come along, well, we’ll find a way. They can toddle around holding our bandages for us or something.”

  Jeanette laughed, so filled with the joy of what he was saying, she was near tears. “Do you think the New York hospital would have me?”

  “We can but ask. In fact, I’ll send a telegram—if I’m to send you away, I want to do it as quickly as possible so I can have you back all the sooner.” He traced the side of her cheek with his finger. “You can’t know how happy I am right now.”

  “I think I can.” He was giving her everything she could possibly hope for—yes, she knew true happiness.

  Voices from outside brought Phillip to his feet, and he looked out the window. “Looks like Rod figured out where you are,” he said.

  Jeanette rose and joined him. Her uncle stood in front of the hotel, waving his arms and yelling, and Mr. Brody stood before him, unmovable. Rod hadn’t changed much—he looked a little older, but that was the only difference.

  “Come away from the window,” Phillip said, tugging at her elbow. “You don’t even need to see him.”

  “But I think I do.” She picked up her skirts and turned for the door.

  “Jeanette! Where are you going?”

  She paused and squared her shoulders. “You’ve told me how courageous you think I am, and yet, I’ve been cowering up here like a little girl afraid of the dark. Yes, the dark exists, but I’m going to face it. You’re right—he won’t have power over me a moment longer.”

  Phillip looked at her incredulously. “You’re going to face him?”

  “Yes, I am. And I trust that you and your gun will be right beside me.”

  “Absolutely.” Phillip reached out and took her hand. “If I weren’t already in love with you, this moment would do it. You are amazing.”

  “Let’s see how amazing I am when this is all over. I’m sure that when my anger wears off, I’ll be a complete mess.”

  Jeanette marched down the stairs, Phillip on her heels. She passed Abigail in the lobby. Her sister didn’t say a word, but fell into step behind them. Jeanette still felt weak from her illness, but new strength was given her, and she flung the door open.

  Rod saw her over Mr. Brody’s shoulder. “There you are! Get on out here and tell these men that you’re my niece.”

  Jeanette glanced around as she crossed the porch. Tom’s rifle was no longer casually resting on his lap, but was held in position. Harry was on alert at the corner of the building. Mr. Brody hadn’t pulled his gun, but his hand was on his hip, at the ready. She smiled. How she appreciated these good men in her life, and her sister was there as well, always on her side.

  “Hello, Rod,” she said, walking up to the two men who stood on the path. Mr. Brody looked surprised to see her, but didn’t slacken his stance. “Abigail and I will not be coming home with you. We live in T
opeka now, so you’d best be on your way.”

  “What do you mean?” Rod’s eyes flicked to the men surrounding her. “Are they holding you against your will?”

  “No, they’re helping me exert my will.” Jeanette took a step forward, clenching her hands at her sides. There were so many things she wanted to say, it was hard to know which to choose. “I’ve been frightened of you for years. I’ve had nightmares, I’ve panicked when anyone touched me, and I’ve hidden myself away at every opportunity. But the most amazing thing has just happened. I’m not afraid of you anymore.” As she said the words, she looked into his eyes. She really wasn’t afraid, and it felt so liberating. “That day you spoke of? The day when I’d finally be yours? It’s never going to come. Good-bye, Rod.” She turned on her heel and walked back toward the porch.

  “You’re wrong, missy! You’re wrong! You and your sister both—you belong to me. That’s what your pa wanted. Now get back out here, and let’s be on our way.”

  Jeanette paused, then slowly turned on her heel. “May I?” she said to Tom, who handed over his rifle without a word. Fixing her eyes on her uncle’s face, she walked toward him, the weapon cradled in her arms, and then she brought it up into position. “Rod Peterson, get off this property, and don’t ever show your face in Topeka again.”

  His eyes flicked from the rifle to her face. “You don’t have the guts,” he jeered.

  She answered him by shooting just over his shoulder.

  He jumped. “All right, all right, I’m goin’.” He scrambled backwards. “But you ain’t seen the last of me.”

  “Oh, yes, I have,” Jeanette called out, dropping the rifle and grabbing the pistol from Phillip’s holster, then shooting at the ground near Rod’s feet. He turned tail and ran, and she lowered the weapon with satisfaction.

  They all watched as he disappeared, and then Mr. Brody spoke. “Miss Peterson, weren’t you telling me something about how you could never shoot another person?”

  “I did say that. But I never said anything about shooting fence posts and birds.” She handed the Colt back to Phillip. “My father was a crack shot, and he always wished he had sons. Stands to reason, he taught us both how to shoot. It was the one good thing he did for us. Abigail’s even better than I am, so don’t make her angry.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mr. Brody said with a chuckle.

  Chapter Eleven

  It had been three weeks since Jeanette chased Rod Peterson off the hotel property, and he hadn’t been seen since. Mr. Hoover, the station manager, reported that Rod had taken a train back out west, and that’s exactly where Phillip wanted him to stay.

  Phillip’s heart was torn. On the one hand, he was thrilled for Jeanette—today, she would board the train that would take her to New York, where she would study nursing at one of the most advanced medical facilities in the world. On the other hand, she’d be gone for six months. Even though it was his idea, conceptualized and brought to fruition, he hated the idea of not seeing her for so long. Now that he’d found her, he didn’t want to let her go, but he knew that was the best way to keep her.

  She stood before him on the train station platform, her blue traveling dress and hat making her eyes rival the sky. “I’m going to miss you every minute,” she told him, and his heart gave an erratic thump. He was worse than a schoolboy.

  “You’ll be so busy, you won’t have time. And when you get back, we’ll have the wedding of the century,” he told her. He turned to Deputy Hanks, who stood nearby. “Thank you for escorting her to New York,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “You’ve taken a load of worry off my shoulders.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Deputy Hanks replied with a tip of his hat. When Phillip had offered to pay his ticket in exchange for protecting Jeanette on the ride, he’d been more than happy to agree. All the men were of the same mind—Rod Peterson was still a possible threat. They’d told the New York hospital of the situation and that Jeanette would be traveling under an assumed name.

  It was time to board, and the deputy moved to place Jeanette’s luggage with the rest. She turned to look at Phillip, apprehension and excitement both written on her features. “Will you miss me?” she asked.

  “Achingly.” Heedless of whoever might be watching, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her long and hard, memorizing how she felt in his arms. “Write to me as often as you can,” he said into her hair.

  “I promise.” She gave him a squeeze and stepped back. “I’d better go or they’ll leave without me.” Instead of walking away, though, she touched his face. “Thank you.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “You’ve given me hope. You’ve brought light into the darkness of my life.”

  He chuckled, catching her hand and kissing it. “No, my dear girl, you did that for yourself. I was merely privileged enough to watch it happen.”

  “Regardless, thank you. And no matter what you say, I’m not changing my mind—I will be back in six months, and I’m going to scold you every day for the rest of my life.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  Phillip watched as she climbed aboard the train, and waved until the curl of smoke disappeared over the horizon, taking his heart with it.

  The End

  And now, a special sneak peek at the next book in the series …

  A Clean Slate

  Kansas Crossroads #4

  by Amelia C. Adams

  Olivia Markham scowled at herself in the mirror as she adjusted her hat. Back home in New York, she’d considered going to church much the same as going to a social event—a chance to see friends and hear the latest gossip. She might even catch the eye of a handsome young man and spend a pleasant ten minutes chatting before they went their separate ways. Today, she was going because Mr. Brody, her boss and the owner of the Brody Hotel, had invited all his employees to attend, and she wanted to make a good impression. She’d certainly gotten off to a difficult start in Kansas—that tends to happen when you travel across the country with the express intention of marrying a man who turns out to be engaged to someone else.

  She tilted her head from side to side and smoothed the little curls above her ears. That would have to do—she had no idea what the ladies of Topeka wore to the white clapboard church building a few streets over. She’d never passed by when church was being held to observe the fashions. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she’d chosen a pink sprigged muslin, fearing that her more elegant fabrics might be too much for this humble community. She herself might be too much.

  “You look very nice,” Abigail said from behind her. She wore a simple blue frock, and her blonde hair had been brushed until it gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through their attic window. It stood in stark contrast to the chestnut shades of Olivia’s hair, and made Abigail look like a Valentine cupid or a Christmas angel rather than a waitress in a hotel. “We’d best be on our way if we’re going to be on time.”

  Olivia bit back a retort. With church at this early hour, they’d arrive back at the hotel in time for the first Sunday train, all of which necessitated rushing here and rushing there. She hated being rushed. “Perfection takes time,” her mother always said, and Olivia was of the opinion that everything in life should be perfect. Instead of speaking, she picked up her reticule and followed Abigail down the stairs.

  Tom and Harriet White stood near the front entrance. Tom was on crutches and probably would be for a while yet, so he and Harriet would stay behind from church and keep an eye on the hotel while everyone else was gone. Olivia envied him for a moment—not his injury, and certainly not his pain, but the legitimate excuse not to go. It was almost guaranteed that there would be no good-looking single men in the congregation, and it was sure to be a wasted hour.

  Moments later, Olivia climbed into the back of Mr. Brody’s wagon with Abigail and Rachel, while Mr. Brody and his wife, Elizabeth, took seats up front. She arranged her skirts modestly and tried to pretend that she wasn’t jouncing along a dirt road on a ha
rd wooden seat. This never would have happened in New York.

  When they walked into the church, Olivia immediately knew that her choice of dress had been the right one. These women almost looked like they’d walked out of their kitchens and into the chapel. There was no silk anywhere to be seen, and the skirts weren’t nearly as flounced as those she would have worn if given the choice.

  “Good morning, Miss Markham.”

  She startled at the voice, not realizing anyone was standing nearby. “Oh, good morning, Pastor Osbourne,” she said, looking up at the tall man. Gracious, he had to be over six feet, and in his dark suit, he certainly was imposing. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

  He nodded his blond head. “It is indeed. And I’m glad to see you here. I’ve wanted to become better acquainted with the residents of the Brody Hotel for some time now.”

  “The others are much more fascinating than I am. They all have such interesting stories to tell—I’m sure I’m rather bland by comparison.” As soon as she’d spoken, Olivia wanted to clap her hand over her mouth. Had she really just said something flirtatious to the pastor? The words themselves were innocent enough, but she knew the effect she had on men when she looked at them through her eyelashes and tossed her head. Heat crept up the back of her neck. She’d done it without a second thought, and now she was as humiliated as she’d ever been in her life.

  Thankfully, the pastor didn’t seem to notice. “One evening this week, I’ll stop by after supper and we’ll have a visit. I’m sure you’re all very fascinating, and I look forward to learning more about each of you.” He nodded and moved on to the next parishioner, shaking hands and offering greetings. Olivia found the bench where the others from the hotel were seated and took her spot, letting out a sigh. Forward-thinking New York behavior just wouldn’t work here on the edges of civilization.

  ***