by Deeanne Gist
“I love her.”
Red jumped to his feet. “You’ve known her for three months. Three. That isn’t long enough to do more than work up a powerful case of lust.”
Joe made himself stay seated, but he tensed. “Careful, Red. Be very careful.”
“Or what? You want to talk by hand?” Red slammed his fists against his chest. “Well, come on, you slab-sided blighter. I’ll take you. I could fight the devil himself for a cup of cold water and give him the first three bites.”
Tempting. Very tempting. But if he was going to get married this week, he didn’t want to do it with a broken jaw and his eyes swollen shut.
“My mind’s made up.”
“What about all this?” Red swiped his arm in an all-encompassing gesture. “Don’t you care about any of it?”
“I care about every tree, every blade of grass, every speck of dirt. But none of it means as much to me as she does.”
With a bloodcurdling scream, Red whirled around and kicked a hole in the side of the barn. The oxen, cows, goats, pigs, and horses squealed and whinnied. Cool air whistled in from outside, vibrating the broken siding and sending the cards airborne.
Joe ignored the destruction. “I’d like you to come with us.”
Red looked ready to brawl. “I’m a jack. I’m not about to go someplace where the owls cross with the chickens.”
“You went from Maine to the Washington Territory. That’s about as far away as two places can be. I don’t see much difference in going from here to Texas.”
“There’s a world of difference. We were logging in Maine and we’re logging here. Those misbegotten gaycats in Texas prance around in their fancy boots and flashy buckles riding on nothing but a bunch of hayburners. That what you plan on doing, Joe?”
Joe took a deep breath. “That’s what I plan on doing.”
Red paced the stall. The string of profanity spewing from his mouth would do any lumberjack proud. Made Henry Yesler sound tame. Joe waited until it had run its course.
Finally Red stood still, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Joe was going to miss him. They’d been friends since they’d both been about Sprout’s age.
They made a good pair. Joe was always willing to save and invest and take the risks. Red was happy to do the labor. All he wanted was his weekly earnings so he could blow them within twenty-four hours, then start all over again.
“I depend on you, Joe. I depended on you when we were kids. I depended on you when we moved out west. And I’m depending on you now.”
“You don’t need me, Red. You can jack anywhere. Here. Oregon. Maine. Anywhere.”
“It won’t be the same.”
Joe sighed. “No, I don’t suppose it will. And I’m sorry.” He hesitated. “I’ll sell it to you for a song, if you want it.”
“Sell what?”
“The place. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before.” He sat up straighter. “You want it, Red?”
Red looked up. “You’d do that? You’d sell it to me? For next to nothing?”
“Faster than you could blink. I’d much rather you have it than sell it to some stranger.”
“But I haven’t put a dime into this place.”
“You’ve put in your sweat and more hours than I can count.”
The animals weren’t squawking anymore, but they were restless, though the tension between the men had all but vanished.
“I love this place, Joe, but the thought of being boss makes me want to bolt like a jackrabbit in tall grass. And you know it. That’s why you put the ad in the paper. That’s why you didn’t think of it until just now.”
“Come on, Red. Why not give it a try?”
Red shook his head. “Your tongue’s just getting plain frolicsome. Besides, you need the money you’ll get from selling the place at full price.”
“I’ve plenty of money.”
“Maybe so. But you can never have too much. Not when you’re starting all over in a foreign land with a woman and, most likely, little ones before you know it. You need to sell.”
“I did it with nothing last time. I surely can do it again with full pockets.”
“Not with a woman, you can’t. Even back then, you knew better than to bring your woman with you.”
“I’m not leaving you empty-handed.”
“And I’m not buying so much as one blade.” Red stooped down and gathered up the cards. “Now, come on. Let’s finish our game.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
“You have to go get him,” Anna said, standing in the lobby of the Sires Hotel, where Joe was staying.
Leslie Pike, the youth behind the counter, shook his head. “It’s bad luck to be seeing the groom before the ceremony, Miss Ivey. Everybody knows that.”
“Oh, that’s nothing but a bunch of fiddle-faddle. Now, go get him, Leslie. It’s crucial that I talk to him.”
Sighing, the boy left his post. Moments later, Joe hurried into the lobby, his face half shaved, bits of white lather dotting his chin. “What’s happened? Are you not feeling well?”
She wrung her hands. “I’m fine. I just . . . I needed to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
She glanced at Leslie. The boy made no effort to disguise his interest in their conversation.
Taking her elbow, Joe led her out the door, down the walkway, around the corner and into the alley. “What’s wrong?”
The shadows of the narrow alley shrouded them with privacy. Beyond their haven, horses slept at the rails, a couple of men discussed politics, and beneath the boardwalk, a mama cat bathed her mewing kittens.
“I’m worried, is all,” she said.
He reared back. “You’re having second thoughts?”
“No, no. Not me. I was thinking of you.”
“You think I’m having second thoughts?”
“No,” she said, fiddling with her watch pin. “I’m thinking perhaps you ought to be. I mean, are you sure you want to do this, Joe? Are you sure you won’t regret putting your land up for sale?”
The tension immediately left him. “I’m sure.”
“But how do you know? What if years from now when we’re old and gray you think back on all this and wish you’d stayed?”
He studied her for a long time, a look of pained amusement on his face. “Don’t move. I need to go get something.”
“What?”
“Stay right here. Okay?”
“All right.”
He raced around the corner. One of the kittens darted into the alley, its back legs bouncing in unison. Squatting down, Anna held out her hand. The yellow, fuzzy bundle crept closer and closer until it finally touched its wet nose to Anna’s proffered hand.
Scooping the critter up, she brought it to her face. “I don’t know what to do, kitty. I want him so bad, I can’t hardly stand it. But I’d hate it if he came to regret his decision.”
The kitten purred and rubbed against Anna’s neck. Its breath held a hint of mother’s milk and some indefinable odor unique to baby kittens. A few minutes later, Joe returned with a small package in his hand.
“What’s that?” Anna asked, rising.
“Your wedding present.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not supposed to give me that until after the wedding.”
“And you’re not supposed to accost the groom before the ceremony.”
“I didn’t accost you.” Still, she handed him the kitten with one hand while taking the brown package with the other.
The look of consternation on his face at finding a kitten in his arms caused her to giggle.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I won’t tell anyone you were cuddling a kitten.”
“I am not cuddling it.” Leaning over, Joe let it jump from his hands. “Now, open your package.”
Untying the string, Anna folded back the edges of the paper only to find the frame she’d made out of shells. But it didn’t have the Scripture she’d written about
a person’s heart being where their treasure was. Instead, it had Matthew 13:45–46 scrawled across a piece of parchment in thick, bold strokes.
The kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking fine pearls, and upon finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.
Parting her lips, she lifted her gaze to his.
“I have no regrets, Anna. How could I, when I have you?”
Joy, relief, and happiness created a whirlwind within her. Launching herself into his arms, she gave him a quick, hard kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. More than you know.” He backed her against the side of the hotel and gave her a kiss that built an insatiable desire inside the very core of her being.
“Mmm . . .” she murmured, tightening her hold.
“Mr. Denton! The women are looking for Miss Ivey.”
Joe lifted his head. Leslie Pike stood just inside the alley, forming a blinder with his hand so as to give the couple privacy.
Sighing, Joe put some space between him and Anna. “It’s okay, Leslie. You can look now.”
The boy peeked over his hand with one eye, his face flushing red, then looked frantically between Joe and the street. “They’re coming. You go round back and I’ll head them off while Miss Ivey slips by. Now hurry.”
Stepping out onto the boardwalk, Leslie greeted a group of women approaching the hotel.
“We’re looking for Miss Ivey, young sir,” they heard Mrs. Rountree say. “Have you seen her?”
“Why, yes, I have. Saw her just a minute ago leaving Mr. McAleer’s Tinware. If you hurry, you just might catch her.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake. The ceremony is in just over an hour and she’s visiting Stoves & Tinware? Come on, ladies.”
Joe swiped a dollop of shaving cream from Anna’s face. “You’d best make your escape, Miss Ivey, before you’re found out.”
She relaxed against the wooden siding. “It just might be worth the risk.”
Lifting a brow, he peeled her from the wall and pointed her in the direction of the street. “Go on. Before I take you up on it.”
Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she poked her head around the corner. “All clear.”
He shooed her with his hands.
She waggled two fingers at him, then hurried up the hill to the Occidental.
SEATLE INTELIGENCER
October 14, 1866
Though there was no stringed orchestra and tall calla lilies and picture-hatted bridesmaids, what a happy wedding it was! Joseph Roy Denton and Anna Louise Ivey were married in the Occidental Hotel, and that evening all the young people in town came down to the hotel and made merry to the strains of the Seattle Band. The Indians lined up outside the door and looked curiously in, wondering at all the strange white people who made so much ado about a mere squaw.
The hotel room Anna had lived in for the last two months was not a large room, but never had it felt so small as when Joe stepped in and closed the door behind him. She’d become so accustomed to him, she’d forgotten how really large he was.
His suit had been freshly laundered and pressed, a sprig of twinflower pinned to his lapel. Though his blond curls had been combed down and slicked back for the ceremony, the night air had done its magic and loosened those beautiful locks. Locks she could now touch whenever it suited her. She swallowed.
“You cold?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Hot?”
She shook her head.
A corner of his mouth tilted up. “Nervous?”
She didn’t answer.
Surveying the room, he wandered through it, pausing to open the wardrobe and peek inside, to poke the fire with an iron, to adjust the towel by the water pitcher, to look out the window at the view, to reposition the shell-framed Scripture he’d given her, to pick up her brush and run his fingers over the bristles.
She wasn’t sure how to proceed. She hadn’t had a mother to tell her of such things. Was he waiting for her to . . . to what? Undress? While he circled the room?
Her legs lost their ability to hold her up. She needed to sit down. But the only place to sit was the bed. She reached out and braced a hand against the wall.
He looked up, his interest in the brush forgotten. With slow, deliberate intent, his gaze traveled over every inch of her from the twinflowers in her hair to her gown’s V-neckline to the watch pin on her chest to the buttons running from her bodice clear down to the etching on the hem of her skirt.
The trembling in her legs spread to every place his gaze touched.
“You are beautiful.”
The heat in his eyes caused her to take a step back. Her petticoat touched the wall and bowed out.
“Your wedding gown is exquisite. I wasn’t expecting anything so . . . elaborate.”
“Several of the women helped me. They were all quite taken with the fabric. I never thanked you for it. It’s magnificent.”
Joe smiled. “My pleasure.”
The brush slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the dresser. He moved toward her, engrossed. Captivated. Absorbed. With the watch pin on her gown.
She thought of the thaumatrope and how the lumberjack practically swallowed up the woman. She backed completely against the wall.
He didn’t stop until his trousers touched the hem of her skirt. Still he looked at the watch pin.
Breathing grew difficult. Not like when she had an episode, but like when he kissed her. Really kissed her.
Finally, he raised his gaze. “Have I ever told you I love the way you smell?”
It was a compliment. She knew it was. But his choice of wording made her choke back a nervous laugh, which came out as a snort.
He didn’t notice. Instead, he freed the twinflower from her hair, held the bloom to his nose, and inhaled. She was glad she had the support of the wall behind her.
He tossed the flower onto the bed. She tracked its flight as it landed on the quilted cover.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he tilted her face up and gave her one of those kisses. The kind that made breathing difficult and standing near impossible. Still, she didn’t touch him. No matter how badly she wanted to. She didn’t dare.
Ending the kiss, he kept his forehead against hers, but his fingers trailed from her face to her neck to her shoulders to . . . her watch pin. He enfolded it with his fingers, his knuckles brushing her.
Her lips parted.
“It’s cool to the touch,” he said, his voice husky. “I expected it to be warm. Very warm.”
“It was my mother’s. I’ve gone without many a meal rather than sell it. It was all I had.”
“You have me now.”
Anna smiled. “Yes. Yes I do.”
Unpinning the watch, he laid it on the nightstand, then moved his fingers to her buttons.
She sucked in her breath.
“This gown is lovely, little robin, but there are some items of clothing I have wondered about and wanted to see for a long, long time.”
Joe slipped the first button free. Then the second. The third. On and on until the gown was held up only by her back and the wall. He encircled her waist, drew her to him, and kissed her again.
The gown fell to the floor.
Ending the kiss, he took her shoulders and placed her at arm’s length. She blushed, knowing he’d see how much time she’d spent embroidering her new underclothes. But every forget-me-knot, pintuck, ribbon, and scalloped frill had made her feel connected to him somehow.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. He fingered the crocheted edging on the neckline of her shift. “You did a beautiful job, Anna.” He looked at her. “But there are some other items I have wondered about and wanted to see for a long, long time.”
Her eyes widened. Scooping her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers and carried her to bed.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
San Francisco
October 15, 1866
Anna had just begun
to brush off the weariness of their steamer ride when their carriage pulled to a stop in front of a huge building four stories high. She straightened.
“I thought since we started our wedding trip at the Occidental,” Joe said, stepping out of the carriage and offering her a hand, “we’d continue it at San Francisco’s version.”
She could only gape. She’d been to the city for a short time with Mr. Mercer, but never to this part of town. Still, San Francisco’s Occidental Hotel was something she’d have expected to see in New York City, not the West. The Italianate stucco façade loomed over its neighbors. “It’s so tall.”
He tucked her hand into his elbow. “It’s said to have a magnificent view of the city and bay.”
She’d never stayed anyplace so grand. Inside, a plush rug cushioned her feet. The woodwork was solid mahogany. The doorknobs, silver plate.
Joe headed to the desk, leaving her to wonder at the windows, which were as wide as a man and almost two stories high. The red coloring of the massive rosettes decorating the ceiling brought life to the otherwise white surroundings.
Joe returned to her side. “Ready?”
“It’s magnificent,” she whispered. “But shouldn’t we wait until your land sells before staying in such an extravagant place?”
Shrugging, he gave the lobby a cursory glance. “We’ll be fine. Besides, I thought to pamper my bride before we take a very long boat ride around the Horn.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
A smartly dressed porter indicated they should follow.
“As soon as we’re settled,” Joe said, his hand riding the back of her waist, “we’ll find us a place to eat. The clerk said there was an establishment in the Plaza called The Cottage Café that is extremely popular and offers some of the best food in town.”
After a thrilling ride in the lift, the porter escorted them to a corner room and threw open the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Denton, your bridal suite.”
Anna gasped. Joe had arranged for the bridal suite? She entered the sumptuous parlor decorated in whites and golds with a breathtaking view looking down on the city and bay. The parlor opened onto a lavish bedroom with a very large, roomy bedstead. Thick brocade curtains pulled back by large gold tassels framed the massive structure.
