Denver

by Sara Orwig

  Early on the first morning in May, Dan appeared at the boardinghouse. Mary came to the kitchen door, and the sparkle that flared in her eyes when she saw him made his breath catch in his throat. She wore a blue gingham dress, and her hair was simply tied behind her neck the way he liked it. She looked so marvelous to him, he wanted to hug her.

  “Good morning, Dan. Come inside.”

  “How’s your foot and head?”

  “My foot is a little sore and my head has a knot.”

  “Where?”

  “Right here. I can’t braid my hair, so that’s why it’s down.”

  “Let me see the knot. I won’t hurt you.”

  She tilted her head and pointed, and he saw the lump beneath her hair. Mary felt his hand slip over the back of her head in the faintest touch, but it was his touch, and it sent a ripple of pleasure through her. She looked up at him. “My ankle is wrapped in a bandage.”

  “Should you be walking on it?” he asked in a tone far deeper than before. He stood only inches from her now, and as she gazed into his eyes, she wanted to be in his arms.

  “I’m all right,” she answered perfunctorily, barely aware of the words they were saying.

  “Did Doc Felton tell you to stay off your foot?”

  She blinked and started to turn, but Dan caught her by the arm. Instantly she sucked in her breath, and a stricken look crossed his face.

  “Mary,” he whispered, and she swayed toward him, wanting him to hold her, feeling desire burn up through her.

  He blinked and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Did he tell you to stay off your foot?”

  “He might have,” she answered, “But I have a boardinghouse to run.”

  “Dammit, where’s that cook I hired?”

  “I sent Faucheux back to his other job. I can’t pay a cook.”

  “I can.”

  “There’s no reason for you to pay!”

  “That I want to is enough reason,” he said, leaning toward her, anger and frustration building. “If you shouldn’t be on your foot, and I want to hire a cook, that’s the way it should be!”

  “There’s nothing you can do about it,” she said airily. Excitement ran through her simply because he was here with her. She didn’t care if they argued or if they talked, Dan was with her and the argument didn’t really have any bite.

  “Oh, yes there sure as hell is! I’m not one of your brothers you can browbeat, and I’m not your sweet little pa. You’re staying off your foot and I’m sending for Faucheux. How many customers do you have now?”

  “None, and don’t you interfere with me, Dan. This is my kitchen.”

  “And in the next few minutes, your kitchen will have a different cook!” He left, slamming the door behind him. In twenty minutes he returned with the thin, dark-haired Frenchman. They walked in the back door without knocking. Mary was standing at the stove, one knee bent and resting on a chair, her injured foot behind her in the air while she stood on the other foot to cook.

  She looked over her shoulder, her eyes widened, and she turned.

  “Now, see here, Dan—”

  “Bonjour,” Faucheux said, studying the contents of a kettle.

  Dan scooped her up. “Just take over, Faucheux,” he ordered, and carried Mary out of the kitchen.

  “Where do you want to be, the parlor or your bedroom?”

  “You are so…so…”

  He looked into her eyes, and Mary felt all her anger slipping away. He stepped into the back parlor and kicked shut the door as she burst into laughter and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  “It’s high time someone took care of you!” he said, and then a pained expression came across his face and he set her down quickly on the sofa.

  She kept her arms around his neck, holding him. “Dan, I’ve missed you,” she said quietly.

  He took her arms and extricated himself, his heart thudding. “I have to go now.”

  “To Louisa,” she said stiffly. Mary watched him, hurting inside, wishing things were different. She knew she shouldn’t have mentioned Louisa, but was unable to resist it.

  He gazed at her solemnly and shook his head. “She doesn’t want to marry me. We won’t go out together again. That’s over.”

  Mary stared at him, trying to comprehend the implications of what he had told her. “You’re not in love with Louisa?” she asked, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “No, and I don’t think I ever really was. I don’t think I realized what love really is until…lately.”

  The words made her head spin, because there was only one possible reason for them.

  “You caused her to break it off.”

  He shrugged, and she knew she was right. Her heart soared, because it could mean only one thing. She stood up and steadied herself, and his frown increased.

  “Dammit, get off your foot.”

  She crossed the room to him. “I thought you loved her.”

  “No. I don’t, and I really didn’t,” he said, his gaze raking over her features with a hunger that plainly revealed his feelings. Mary was astounded, because she had accepted that he loved Louisa, who was so beautiful, was everything he seemed to need and want. So now all that stood between them was Silas. She reached out to touch his chest. He drew a long, deep breath. “Mary…”

  Dan felt as if all the demons in hell were warring within his heart. Mary’s hand rested on his chest. She stood only inches away, and her joy was evident in shining eyes. He struggled with his impulses, and for an instant, he yielded, bending to brush her lips with his. The touch made him shake with need. With an effort he moved toward the door.

  “Get off your foot, Mary. I’ll come back at noon.” He left in long strides, as if he were fleeing from something, and she stared after him, knowing now she would have to make a decision. Did she want to wait indefinitely for Silas, who might fall in love with someone else or might change his mind and never return? Or did she want Dan, who was fighting his feelings for her because of Silas? The answer seemed evident and settled, because she had never felt for Silas what she did for Dan. And she thought her answer about Silas would be the same as Dan had just given about Louisa—Mary hadn’t realized what love really was until lately. She didn’t love Silas. It was Dan who had her heart, and she knew this time it was forever.

  Dan strode away angrily. He hadn’t intended to do more than stop to talk to her brothers. Instead, he was tangled in an emotional upheaval with Mary. He had come too damned close to taking her in his arms and kissing her long and passionately. He had promised he would be back later today, but he should stay away. He wanted to talk to her brothers, but once he did, he should stop seeing Mary. She was Silas’ woman, and he would not take her from a friend who had trusted him completely. “Silas, you fool, I told you I shouldn’t take her out!” Someone turned to stare at him, and Dan realized he was talking aloud to himself.

  His concentration at work was gone. His thoughts drifted constantly. He hit his hand with a hammer. He cut two fingers badly, he had to redo some work, and finally he told his men he would be gone for an hour and rode back to the O’Malley house to eat his noon meal.

  When he entered the dining room, Mary was serving. She set a plate in front of Herschel Windham. Dan stopped to talk to him, moving around the room to speak to others he knew, and he followed Mary into the kitchen.

  “Faucheux, can you serve as well as cook?”

  “Oui, M’sieu Castle,” Faucheux answered eagerly, his black eyes sparkling.

  “Then you do just that.”

  “Dan, that’s absurd. My ankle is better,” Mary said, backing away from him, a spoon in her hand.

  He took the spoon, picked her up, and went out through the hall door to take her to the parlor again. “Mary, if Doc told you to stay off your foot, do what he says.”

  Her eyes sparkled, and Dan wanted to swear. “Am I going to have to hire two more people to work in the kitchen?”

  “No!”

>   “Where’s your coat?” he snapped.

  “In the hall. Why?”

  “I’m going to take you to my house for the day so you can’t work.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  He strode down the hall and set her on her feet to yank down a sweater and hold it out. “Put this on, Mary. The wind is brisk.”

  He strode outside to his horse and swung her up into the saddle, mounting to ride behind her.

  She laughed. “Are you going to lock me in? What’s to keep me from coming right home?”

  She sounded happy as a lark, and it made Dan’s anger soar, because his nerves were frayed. She was pressed against him, warm and soft. He wanted to kiss her the rest of the day, to hold her and love her. He had to constantly fight the urges that became stronger with each day that passed. And she wasn’t helping. Her laughter and twinkling eyes made it twice as difficult to resist temptation.

  “Will you stop wiggling?” He ground out the words, aware of her soft bottom pressed against him. He was acutely conscious of the reaction of his body to her, of his arousal that was swift and hard in response to her.

  Her face had turned pink and she became still, momentarily subdued as they rode in silence. He carried her into his house and into his office. “There are books here. You can read and relax and stay off your foot.” He set her down, but her arms stayed around his neck.

  “Thank you, Dan. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said quietly, watching him, surprised to see his face flush. He tried to move away, and she tightened her arms.

  “Dan,” she whispered, gazing at him. She saw the battle that raged in him reflected in his expression. His eyes were filled with longing, yet a frown creased his brow. “Damn,” he whispered, and bent his head to kiss her.

  Mary thought she would faint with ecstasy as his lips came down on hers, opening her mouth to his while his arms went around her waist and pulled her against him. His arousal was hard, pressing against her, making her conscious of his desire. She clung to him, kissing him in return.

  Suddenly he pulled away. “No, dammit! Mary, I’m Silas’ friend. He’s my best friend. I can’t and I won’t take his woman. I won’t! I’ll leave Denver first.” He spun around to stare at her. “I won’t betray that friendship.”

  “I don’t want to marry Silas any more than you want to marry Louisa Shumacher.”

  “You feel that way only because Silas has been gone so long. If he came through the door now, you’d change. Silas is a fine man. He’s good and intelligent.”

  “And he’s ignored me for years. I was a child when we met. He was the first man who paid attention to me, and I was pleased and drawn to him, but I couldn’t share things with him that I can with you.”

  “Oh, hell, you’re older now. You can share them with Silas too. I was friends with him, Mary. He isn’t flighty, or irresponsible, or dull. He’s quick, and intelligent, and strong.”

  “I can’t help what I feel. Your feelings about Louisa changed.”

  “Louisa is an exceptionally beautiful woman. I was dazzled by her, just as I’ve been dazzled before by beauty, but when I could look at her and see just another woman, I realized we didn’t have anything in common. I wasn’t the man for her. I couldn’t care for her the way she’d want, pamper her and cater to her. She couldn’t please me. I need—”

  “What do you need, Dan?” Mary asked with a solemn challenge in her words.

  A painful expression crossed his features. “A woman I can share my life with. My love is not going to be given at the expense of a good man who trusted me to watch out for his woman. I’m going to work, Mary. Is there anything you need before I leave?”

  “You’d put Silas before the woman you love?”

  “I think you’re misinterpreting your feelings because he’s been gone so long. Absence goes against nature, and that’s one mistake Silas has made, leaving you alone like this. But no one is absolutely perfect. He’s a good man, and when he gets back, I know you’ll love him. And he trusted me, Mary.”

  He strode to the door and paused. “I’ll be back at suppertime.” He left quickly, slamming the front door.

  Staring after him, she felt more strongly than ever about her choice. And today she was in Dan’s house, and he would be back this afternoon.

  She moved around the room slowly, studying the architectural drawings spread on the desk, looking at his books and at the boxes of books that hadn’t been unpacked and placed on shelves. She bent down to pick up a few, looking around for a cloth. She went to the kitchen, found a rag, and returned to unpack the boxes and put the books on the shelves. When she became tired of that, she went upstairs, looking at the unfurnished rooms. Downstairs she prowled through the house, through the empty dining room, the kitchen that had pipes waiting for the day water would be piped into homes in Denver, and a fancy new iron stove. She was fascinated by every object in the house. Because they belonged to Dan, they became special and far more interesting to her. She discovered the brandy he liked, the books he liked, the idle drawings he had made, and she saw that he was a good craftsman.

  She moved down the hall and found Dan’s bedroom at the back corner. It was a spacious room with high, airy windows that let sunlight pour into the room. There was a fireplace, a big brass bed with marble-topped tables flanking it, and fancy lamps stood on both tables. A tintype stood on the high dresser, and she studied it, looking at a beautiful woman with pale hair who bore a faint resemblance to Dan, and a swarthy man who was dark-skinned and dark-eyed. She wondered how, if they were his parents, Dan came to have such blue eyes. There was another picture of a couple, and she knew instantly it was April, the sister he had talked about, and Noah, April’s husband, who owned the fancy saloon in Albuquerque.

  Mary lay down on the bed, her body tingling while she thought of Dan sleeping there, remembering his body pressed against hers. She napped and woke, finding it a novel experience to have nothing to do. She had always kept busy, and while it was unique and pleasant to be idle, her emotions were in such a turmoil that it was impossible to relax and enjoy the solitude. No matter how much she thought about Silas, she felt sure about her decision. It was Dan she loved, and she knew him well enough to know he meant what he said about leaving Denver. His loyalty to Silas was strong, and his guilt over loving her was equally strong, yet she wanted him to look beyond that, and she intended to see that he did.

  Dan made so many mistakes at work that his anger increased as the afternoon passed. Working furiously at simple tasks, he knew he had to do something to get his mind off Mary.

  “Mr. Castle?”

  He turned to see Trent Waltham standing just inside the door. Dan dropped down off the ladder and strode across the half-finished room to shake hands with him. “Nice to see you.”

  “I’ve looked at the plans you drew and I know we should have an appointment to go over them, but I want to know how soon you could commence building.”

  “I’ve got this one to finish, and I just agreed to build a house for Edward Ringwood. You can be next, but it will be several months before I can start,” he said, forgetting completely he had just been thinking about leaving Denver.

  “I like the plans. When can we get together to go over them?”

  Dan wanted to shout with glee. This was what he had hoped for. This house and the Ringwood house would draw other customers to his business. “Name your time.”

  “Next Tuesday morning at nine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I really like the plans.”

  “Good. I’ll do the finest job I can.”

  “And that’s pretty damned good, from what I’ve seen,” Trent said, his gaze running over the room. “See you Tuesday.” He shook hands with Dan and strode outside. Dan knew the last shred of his concentration was demolished for the day. He tried to slow his work, to give it his full attention, but constantly his mind wandered back to Mary, to Trent, to the house he would get to build. When quitting time ca
me, Dan had his tools put away at the same time as his employees.

  He swung into the saddle and started home, his thoughts jumping to Mary, making a mental condemnation of Silas for getting him into such a predicament. The closer he drew to his house, the faster his pulse raced. He approached it, knowing Mary was inside, and for just a moment he wished that he could come home every day with her waiting for him.

  20

  “Mary?” Dan called when he entered the house.

  “I’m in here,” she said. While waiting for him, she had bathed and washed her hair, dressing again in the same gingham and tying her hair behind her head. Her heart beat swiftly when she heard his approaching footsteps.

  He stepped through the kitchen doorway and stopped, his gaze wandering down to her toes and up swiftly. It was a blatant look that told her exactly how he felt and made her tingle in the wake of his glance.

  “I can take you home now,” he said in a husky voice.

  “I cooked us some supper. You’ll let me stay to eat it, won’t you?”

  He looked away as if caught in an enormous dilemma.

  “Dan, it’s only supper. Wash up and come sit down. I poured a hot bath for you in your room.”

  He looked at the table, the usually empty kitchen filled with tempting aromas, and he wanted to swear aloud. He had tried to make things better for her, and had succeeded in making them worse for himself. “Mary, you were supposed to stay off your foot. That’s why I brought you here. Can’t you stop working for a day?”

  She laughed, happy he was home, determined to prove to him what she felt. “I haven’t really worked, and I did what I wanted. Your water is getting cold.”

  He spun around and went to his room. The coverlet on the bed had a slight wrinkle on it, and he guessed she had been on the bed, a thought which tormented him. He saw the wet cloth hanging at the side of the tub, and the damp floor boards, and he realized she had bathed this afternoon. He turned to stare at the door. “Dammit,” he whispered, feeling torn by his mixed emotions. He stripped off his clothes and plunged into the tub, trying to soak and soothe his nerves. Instead, he found himself fighting images of Mary in the tub, in his bed, in his room, until he splashed out, dried, and dressed in clean clothes to go to the kitchen.