by Lisa Bingham
The grating sound of a revolver being cocked, didn’t come from Clinton Tomlinson, but from Gideon, who had sidled up behind the older man.
“Don’t move, don’t flinch, don’t breathe or I’ll blow you away.”
Clinton made the mistake of taking his eyes off Lydia and looking toward Gideon. In that moment, Lydia fired.
Suddenly, the gun flew from her father’s hand. The bullet whistled as it ricocheted off the metal of his revolver. Tomlinson cried out, cradling his wrist against his chest. Lydia doubted the force of the weapon being shot away from him had broken any bones, but she might have sprained something.
“Well done!” Gideon said, obviously impressed. While Lydia continued to hold her father at gunpoint, he pulled a pair of irons from a pocket in his tunic. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“There wasn’t much else to do while Pa and his gang got liquored up after their raids. I’d line up the empty bottles and take ’em down, one by one.”
Tomlinson groaned as Gideon jerked the man’s hands behind his back and secured them with the cuffs. Then, Gideon looked up at her, grinning, his dark eyes alight with an intoxicating mixture of relief, love and exhilaration.
“Good thing you didn’t take up a life of crime,” he said as he gathered the reins to Tomlinson’s mount and tied them to the pommel of his saddle.
Lydia finally lowered her weapon.
“You can thank my aunts for that.”
Gideon seemed to think a moment, then said, “Nah. You aren’t the type. I think you would have found your calling even without their help: righting wrongs and fighting for the underdog.”
That comment made her smile.
“How’d you like some company?” he continued.
“Company?” She wasn’t sure what he meant by such a remark.
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking that it’s probably not entirely safe for you to head to California for that speaking tour. Not on your own. I wondered if you might be interested in having an ex-Pinkerton, sorta-husband, private security team?”
“You can’t mean that?” she whispered, so softly that she feared he wouldn’t hear her.
But the smile that spread over his lips blazed in his eyes as well. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. So, what do you think?”
Lydia was sure that her heart would find a way to fly out of her chest. “I think I’d like that a lot.”
She saw a wave of relief wash over Gideon. Had he really thought that she’d say no?
“But, if it’s all the same to you, maybe we could wait until summer is over,” she suggested. “There’s still a lot of work for the two of us to do here in this valley. By that time, the railway lines should be repaired. We could head for California before avalanche season starts.”
His gaze met hers, rich and warm and filled with the love that, in her stubbornness, she’d nearly refused to recognize.
“Sounds like a perfect plan.”
* * *
By the time that Gideon and Lydia returned to town with their captive, Dobbs, the Pinkertons, Jonah Ramsey and a handful of miners had already decided how best to hold on to the Tommy Gang. Using a great deal of rope—and splitting the would-be thieves into as many separate buildings as possible, they began shepherding them to several secure locations in town. Clinton Tomlinson was given the jail cell from which Lydia had recently escaped.
As Gideon and Lydia emerged into the cool evening air after seeing her father safely locked up, a wagon rattled into town, and Lydia saw Iona on the bench next to Boris, with Willow, Mr. Batchwell and the twins in the box. At their feet, trussed up like a Christmas goose, was Eddington.
Boris called to the team, bringing the conveyance to a halt while Batchwell waved his walking stick in the air.
Lydia braced herself for the recriminations that were sure to come. To her surprise, Batchwell yelled out, “Well done, everyone. Well done!”
Gideon reached for Lydia’s hand as Charles and Phineas Bottoms converged on the wagon. Not at all shy about his feelings, Phineas pulled Iona into his arms, then rocked her from side to side.
“I was so worried when I saw that man heading toward you.”
Iona laughed. “He didn’t have a chance, Phineas.”
Charles reached for Willow, gently setting her on the ground. Mindful of the baby she carried, he hugged her as tightly as he dared, then peered down at the face regarding him from a swath of blankets.
“What did you think of all the excitement, Eva?”
He seemed to suddenly realize that one of the twins was missing. When he saw Batchwell holding Adam in the crook of his arm, Charles’s brows rose.
“You’ve got yourself a fighter on your hands, Mr. Wanlass,” Batchwell said proudly.
“Adam tends to get what he wants, that’s true.”
“I was talking about the little missus.”
Boris quickly enlisted the help of a few miners and they half lifted, half dragged Eddington from the wagon.
“Take him to the Miners’ Hall,” Gideon called out. “We’ve got room for one more there.”
Batchwell pointed his walking stick at Gideon. “I guess we’ve got proof positive that the pass is cleared enough for travel, Gault.”
Gideon stiffened, knowing what Batchwell meant to say next. For months, the cantankerous man had been issuing his order: As soon as you can get a wagon down that canyon, I want the women gone.”
“First thing tomorrow, Gault—”
“Mr. Batchwell, I know you won’t appreciate my interference, but I think you should know that there are quite a few people in this valley who would like to have it stated, for the record, that the women should be allowed to stay—”
“Women? Who said anything about the women? I’m talking about these infernal varmints who have destroyed the peace and well-being of our town. I want them hauled out of here starting at daybreak. Do you think you and your men could do that for us?”
Gideon hesitated only a moment, his brain struggling to change gears. “We’d be leaving the valley shorthanded. Maybe we should take them a few at a time so we can leave a contingent here to guard the silver.”
“Nonsense! We’ve got enough able-bodied people in the valley to take care of security while you’re gone.”
Batchwell winked—he actually winked—in Lydia’s direction. “If you let the ladies keep their weapons, they could take care of it themselves.”
He brandished his cane to point in the direction of the cook shack.
“Fact is, I’ve got a few things to talk over with the leadership of this community. If I could get a helping hand, perhaps we can convene at the cook shack.” His brows rose questioningly in Iona’s direction. “I know that you ladies have had your hands full for the last little while, but do you suppose you could rustle up something to drink and a nibble or two?”
Iona disentangled herself from Phineas’s arms. “Of course, Mr. Batchwell. It won’t take but a minute.”
She and several women separated from the group and hurried across the street.
Phineas folded his arms and pierced his partner with an unaccustomed steely gaze.
“Ezra, if you mean to hammer home your edict for the women to leave the valley—”
“Dash it all! Why do people keep putting words in my mouth before I can speak them myself!”
This was the Batchwell that Gideon was accustomed to seeing, blustery, loud and bristling with temper. He whacked the cane against the side of the wagon, causing Adam to jump, then offer a snuffling cry.
To Gideon’s astonishment, the old man immediately softened his tone and bounced the baby in his arms. “There now, little man. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
As soon as Adam had settled into watching the commotion with wide eyes again, Batchwell looked up. “Well? Is anyone going to help an ol
d man across the street? We’ve got plans that need making and I want you—” he pointed to Jonah “—you and you—” he indicated Charles and Gideon “—and you.”
This time, he pointed to Lydia.
“Landsakes, this valley has been full of shenanigans and skullduggery for the past few days—and don’t think I won’t unearth the full extent of it!”
Gideon squeezed Lydia’s hand when she shifted guiltily.
Batchwell looked down at the babe in his arms with an expression of tender melancholy.
“But it has come to my attention that our community could use some improvements. We’ve done a fine job, so far. The territories can be a harsh place, even for the strongest of men. But there comes a time and a place when the hard parts are conquered.”
He looked up, scanning the crowd that had begun to gather around him.
“When you reach that point, you need to progress from a rough-and-tumble existence to a place we all can enjoy.” His eyes lingered on Willow for a moment, and a secret message seemed to pass between them. “What we need around here is some genteel refinement, something that can only come through the influence of our families. And we have these fine ladies who were stranded in our midst to thank for it.”
A murmur spread through the crowd and Gideon felt Lydia grow tense, barely breathing.
Was Batchwell saying that the women could stay?
Batchwell grunted, seeming to become aware of the loaded statement he’d tossed their way.
“I think if we can sit down and talk, make some proper plans—and get our housing issues in line...” He cleared his throat. “Well, I think we could open the valley to anyone who’s willing to make a difference in this community.”
When the crowd would have reacted, he stopped them with a thump of his cane against the wagon—softer, this time, lest he startle the baby.
“Just remember! We’ll still be a God-fearing people, and we’ll hold strong to our principles! There will still be no drinking, smoking or cussing in this town.” He glanced down at the infant he held and smiled. “But it’s high time we had some children running around to remind us why we fight for those values...and what it’s like to be young.”
At that, there was no stopping the crowd. Some shouted, some cheered. Charles Wanlass took Adam from Batchwell’s arms and the older man was lifted up by a group of miners, then carried on their shoulders to the cook shack, looking every bit the conquering hero.
As the men and women of Aspen Valley crowded inside to celebrate, Gideon and Lydia hung back.
“It seems your protest worked,” Gideon murmured, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers.
“I don’t think so.” A soft laugh bubbled from her throat. “All that effort, all that sneaking around...and I’m pretty sure it was the babies that changed his mind.”
Gideon released her hand so that he could wrap his arm around her waist, pulling her close.
“Don’t sell yourself short. It wasn’t just the twins. It was everything and everybody. It was Sumner caring for wounded miners, the brides making and serving countless meals, Willow’s kindness...”
He turned her to face him, holding her in the loop of his arms.
“And it was you, Lydia, stirring up the status quo, reminding us at every turn that things could be better. Reminding me that things could be better.”
He stroked her cheek, her chin, then tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
“I thought I had my whole life mapped out. I thought that my experiences during the war had somehow...tainted me...for the rest of my days. I was so sure that the only way to keep the memories at bay would be to isolate myself—and anyone else—from those burdens.”
His throat grew tight as he realized how solitary he’d become. Oh, he’d had friends, true. But even then, he’d held them at a distance, never letting them know about the experiences that still haunted him.
“But then I met you, Lydia, and you turned my whole world topsy-turvy. You challenged my authority, my capabilities—and yes, even my patience.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he placed his finger on her lips.
“In doing so,” he continued, “you taught me that no burden should be shouldered alone. When you love someone, really love them, you share those problems and sorrows and triumphs. And in doing so, every step forward you take becomes even sweeter.”
A tear plunged down her cheek, but she was smiling. Such a sweet, sweet smile. He knew in that instant that she understood everything he’d been trying to tell her, despite his clumsy way of explaining it.
She loved him.
She loved the good and the bad, what she knew about him and what she didn’t. He knew without asking, that he could tell her every fear, every struggle, every mistake he’d ever made—and she’d be there to help him through it. Just as he would be there for her.
Lydia lifted on tiptoe, her hands resting on his chest, one palm flat against the place where his heart beat madly in his breast.
“And you taught me the true meaning of family, Gideon. Wherever you go, that’s where I belong. With you... I’m home.”
He bent to kiss her then, knowing that there was still so much to say, so many things to decide. But all of that could wait. Right now, he needed to reassure himself that this was real. That the woman he cared for more than life itself was really here, in his arms.
They had a lifetime together to sort out all the details.
Epilogue
October 4, 1874
Gideon shifted nervously, tugging at his vest, checking one last time to make sure his watch had been securely stowed in his pocket, and the chain looped smoothly to where he’d fastened it on one of the lower buttons.
“Hold still, or your tie will be crooked,” Charles warned.
“You need to loosen it. It’s too tight.”
“It’s not nearly as tight as you made mine the night I married Willow,” Charles grumbled good-naturedly.
The door to the pastor’s office burst open. “Isn’t he ready yet?” Jonah groused.
“He’s ready, he’s ready.” Charles scowled as he inspected Gideon, but he directed his comments to Jonah. “Have you got the rings?”
“Yep.” Jonah patted his vest pocket. “Right here. Do you know what you’re going to say?”
“Yes, Jonah. I swear, you’re more nervous than Gideon, here.”
Jonah laughed. “I doubt that’s possible. He looks like he’s going to keel over.”
Gideon opened his mouth to refute that statement, then closed it again. Truth be told, he’d been a little numb all morning, ever since his two friends had dragged him out of bed and hauled him to the Meeting House to prepare him for his upcoming wedding.
To Lydia.
The mere thought of his bride-to-be caused his heart to pound a little harder and the nerves to skitter into his stomach.
They’d waited so long for this day. At first, it had been important to get Clinton Tomlinson and his gang safely locked away in a territorial jail. After which, Gideon had needed to focus on hauling the ore out of the valley. At the same time, land had been secured for the new family dwellings to be built, and the railway lines had been repaired. Then Lydia’s aunts had arrived along with the first of the wives and families who were being welcomed into the valley.
For a time, with all those concerns pressing in on them, it hadn’t seemed right to focus on themselves—and in some ways, Gideon was glad. With a common goal in hand, Gideon and Lydia had spearheaded many of the changes that had occurred in Aspen Valley, and they’d grown closer with each accomplished task.
But finally, finally, things had settled down enough that they felt they could take some time off for themselves. This morning, they would be married in the new Meeting House—the first couple to ever say their vows in the gleaming white building. The old chur
ch had been converted into a schoolhouse, and Lydia’s aunts had graciously volunteered to teach the first year, a fact that hadn’t surprised Gideon. After months of wondering if Lydia had survived the avalanche that had sealed the pass, the older women had no desire to leave their niece yet. And since Lydia’s speaking engagements had been rearranged for the following summer, she and Gideon had decided to remain in Aspen Valley for the intervening time.
The door to Charles’s office burst open again and Sumner poked her head inside. “The bride is nearly here! He needs to go to the front of the church.”
Gideon allowed himself to be pushed and prodded into the chapel until he stood at the end of the aisle and Jonah, as best man, stood beside him. Charles took his place in the center. In the months since the pass had opened, he’d done everything necessary to ease from his position as “lay pastor” to full-fledged minister, and this would be his first time officiating a wedding.
Gideon swallowed against the dryness gathering in his throat. This community had experienced so many “firsts” since routing the Tommy Gang. But as the last of the guests took their seats and the organ began to play, Gideon realized that these next few minutes would prove to be the most important to him.
His first look at his bride.
His first kiss as her husband.
Their first steps into the future.
Suddenly, the rear doors opened. There, illuminated in the light streaming into the foyer, stood Iona Bottoms—who was a new bride herself. Her butter-yellow gown set off her white hair and pink cheeks—making her appear girlish and vibrant. Immediately, her gaze swept the congregation, stopping only when she found Phineas on the front pew.
Phineas met his wife’s look with a beaming smile. The older man had recently confessed that he’d been responsible for marooning the women in the valley. Knowing that the train holding their new company doctor would also be transporting a load of mail-order brides, he’d set a charge on a nearby slope, hoping to delay the women for a few days. Unfortunately, his plans had gone awry when the snow had completely filled the pass and stranded the ladies for months instead. Gideon thought it only fitting that the man who had hoped to influence his partner into changing the rules had been one of the first to be wed when the “no women” clause had been officially removed.
