by Nerys Leigh
By the following Monday, Jo had come to a decision. She either had to pull herself together and do what needed to be done, or she had to tell Gabriel the truth. Or at least think of a convincing lie that would explain everything. But she’d been trying to come up with something for over two weeks and she was forced to admit defeat. There simply wasn’t any story that could help her now, and she couldn’t keep deceiving him. Despite herself, she was beginning to feel truly sorry for him. Underneath the rough exterior, he was a decent man, more or less, and he didn’t deserve what she was doing to him.
That evening, she closed the oven door with a mild feeling of satisfaction. The stew she’d put together smelled good. Not as good as Mrs. Goodwin’s, which she could still remember even though it had been seventeen days since her nose revelled in the bliss of its aroma, but passable.
She’d done the best she could with the meal for Gabriel’s return from the mine, and the house looked so much better since Sara, Lizzy and Louisa had come the previous week to help her with it. There were curtains at the windows and a tablecloth on the table and flowers in a vase on the windowsill. Perhaps if she made everything nice for Gabriel, he’d be more willing to accept what she had to say. Or she’d be more willing to do what had to be done.
Her shoulders slumping, she sank into a chair at the table. Who was she trying to fool? Gabriel would never become a man she’d happily give herself to.
What was wrong with her? The idea to come here had always been a financial arrangement. Love wasn’t meant to be a part of it. She didn’t want it to be. Plenty of women, most women if she was any judge, married for purely practical reasons. Her own mother, after her father abandoned them when Jo was eleven, had willingly set up house with any man who could put food on the table, no matter who they were. No matter how inappropriately they looked at her daughter.
All right, so her mother was a bad example, but the fact remained that Jo needed some way to provide for herself and her baby. Her feelings should have nothing to do with anything.
Anger flashed through her and she slammed her fist onto the table, causing the cutlery she’d set out to rattle. It was all Clive’s fault, making her fall in love with him, breaking down her defences, robbing her of all her good sense. Leaving her alone when she needed him the most.
Swiping her hand across her face, she shook her head. Love was an illusion. Money and security, that was what mattered. And if she was smart, she would get all that from Gabriel. Tonight was the night. She would welcome him with open arms, go to his bed, with him in it this time, and make a future for her and her child. Other women did it all the time. So could she.
The sound of the buckboard rumbling into the yard and Fred and Jed greeting each other startled her and she sighed. Not a good start. But she was ready. Tonight was the night she finally, truly became Mrs. Gabriel Silversmith.
She busied herself with laying the table and slicing the bread for supper while her husband saw to Jed. It seemed to take him longer than usual, but when she finally heard his footsteps approaching the house, she smoothed her dress, ran her hands over her hair, and pasted on a smile.
“Welcome home!” she said as the door opened. She winced internally. That was far too cheery.
Gabriel’s eyes darted around the room and then settled on her, narrowing.
The smile melted from her face. “Is something wrong?”
He stalked into the room, stopped in the centre, and lowered his eyes to the floor. One hand raked through his hair, the other clenching into a fist.
Jo took a pace back, glancing around her. The bread knife lay on the cupboard where she’d been slicing bread. Two steps and it would be within reach. The frying pan sat on a shelf, easy to grab. The chairs around the table weren’t heavy. She could lift one if needed. He didn’t have his rifle with him. That was good. She could deal with anything else, but guns were a problem.
“If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?” His eyes remained on the floor, his voice low.
She licked at her lips. “Of course.” Probably not.
He raised his gaze and she almost took another step back at the anger she saw there.
“Are you carrying another man’s child?”
A void wrenched open in her gut. He knew. How could he know? “Of course not. Why are you asking me that?”
“Don’t lie to me, woman!”
She flinched at his bellow, stumbling backwards until she hit the cupboard. Her fingers brushed the handle of the knife.
“Gabriel...”
He stepped towards her. “I brought you here to be my wife. I trusted you.”
“Please...”
“For two weeks I’ve been patient, thinking you just needed time. I didn’t lay a hand on you, even though it was my right.”
“I did just need time. I was sick. I had my monthly. I...”
“You must think I’m so stupid, believing all your lies. Stupid, backwoods Gabe Silversmith, couldn’t even recognise the signs even though he’d seen them plenty of times before. Took him two whole weeks to work out what was obvious all along.”
“You’re not listening to me...”
Grasping the edge of the table, he shoved it aside. Plates and cutlery clattered onto the floor. Two of the chairs toppled over backwards.
“I am listening to you!” he shouted. “And all I’m hearing is lies. I’ve got five younger brothers and sisters, and there were two more who didn’t live. I saw my ma expecting enough times to know what it looks like.”
She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the bread knife. “All right! Yes, I’m pregnant. I was desperate. He left me when he found out and I didn’t know what else to do.” Letting go of the knife, she took a small step towards him. They may have spent barely any time together, but if he was a violent man he would have forced himself on her before now. “Please, Gabriel, I’m sorry I lied to you, but I was desperate. I don’t think you’re stupid. I can be a good wife to you, I swear. No more excuses.”
For a few seconds he stared at her, jaw clenched, breathing hard, hands fisted.
She swallowed, wondering if she’d made a mistake. Could she grab the knife again before he was on her, if it came to that?
“Get out.”
Her mouth dropped open. “W-what?”
He stepped back, unblocking her path to the door. “Take your things and get out of my house.”
She glanced at the open door, at the orange twilit sky beyond. Panic clawed at her chest. “Please, I’m sorry. We can work this out. If you can...”
“I ain’t raising another man’s baby!” he roared, jabbing a finger at the door. “Get OUT!”
Clamping her mouth shut, she hurried past him. She could feel his fury-filled stare on her as she grabbed her valise and began stuffing her most important belongings into it. Surely he didn’t really intend to send her out into the night, with no way of getting back to town? He’d listen to reason. He had to.
Fastening the valise, she turned back to him. “Gabriel...”
“You got everything?” His voice had quietened, but was no less menacing for it.
She looked at her battered trunk sitting in the corner. She’d bought it as a symbol that she was finally settling down. There was no way she’d be able to carry it. “Mostly, but...”
“Then leave.”
She looked at the open door, her heart pounding. “I’ll never make it to town before dark. I won’t be able to see where I’m going.”
“Don’t care.”
“I could be attacked by wild animals or bandits or... or anything. I could die out there!” She didn’t have to fake the fear in her voice. She was nigh on terrified now.
“You took my money and my trust and all I got in return was lies. This is all your own doing. Town’s that way.” He pointed to the door.
Anger momentarily overcame her fear. “Fine! But I did what I thought I had to for my baby. If I die out there, it will be your fault.” Clutching her valise, she stompe
d to the door, looking back at him from the threshold. “I hope you can live with yourself when they find my body.”
She took one final look around the place that had been her home for two weeks, at the painted walls and curtains and everything her friends had helped her with. Then she turned and walked out.
She wished she could go and say goodbye to Brutus and Fred and Jed and the goat and chickens, but she wasn’t going to give Gabriel the satisfaction. So she walked in the direction of the faint track that led to town, clinging onto her anger as if her life depended on it.
Because it quite possibly would.
Chapter 7
“Who does he think he is?” Jo muttered to herself as she walked. “It’s not like he was getting nothing out of me being there. I’ve cleaned the place and fed the animals and we worked hard to make that shack look like a home. I’ve cooked. Cooked! And I did it all for him. And to think, I was going to let him touch me. Ungrateful lout. What I’ve put up with over this last two weeks, just to... ouch!” She looked down at the stone she’d stepped on and glared at it before starting off again. “Just to be thrown out into the night like I mean nothing. All men are the same. All they want is a woman to be their slave and warm their bed, and they give nothing in return. Well, I’m done with all of them.” She lifted her face to the sky and shouted, “Do you hear that, world? No more men for Josephine Carter!”
The darkening sky was unresponsive for a few moments, and then it threw a raindrop at her. The fat, wet drop splattered on her cheek and ran down to her jaw.
“You must be kidding.”
Another raindrop hit her shoulder, seeping into her coat.
Heaving a sigh, she glanced back towards Gabriel’s hovel, but it was already out of sight. Shaking her head, she looked ahead of her and picked up her pace.
She’d show him. She could do this. She was strong. She could get to town.
And then the heavens opened.
~ ~ ~
For the first hour, she held onto her anger as the deluge soaked her, cursing Clive and Gabriel and her runaway father and every man her drunken mother had brought into their home. She tried hard to remember the name of the one who’d finally driven her to leave at age fourteen, preferring the harsh city streets to the danger of being caught alone with him, but after thirteen years of doing her best to forget, her chilled brain wouldn’t co-operate. She wanted to remember, so she could properly pour out her hatred on him.
When the frigid rain had frozen the rage out of her, she spoke to her baby, using the words to drive her steps onward when all she wanted to do was collapse into the mud and give up.
“Don’t be afraid, little one. I’m going to get us to town. I can do it. Your mama has got you. I’ll find Amy or Louisa and they’ll take us in and we’ll be safe and warm and dry. You’ll see, we’ll be just fine. I’m going to be the best mama you could wish for. We’ll be happy, you and I. Just the two of us...”
Eventually, she stopped talking altogether.
She lost her valise at some point as she trudged through the sodden darkness, her clothes plastered to her, aching feet squelching in her shoes. The handle slipped from her grip, her ice-cold fingers so numb that it took her several steps to realise it was gone. When she did, she couldn’t see it when she looked back. She took a few paces in the direction in which she thought she’d come, but could see nothing in the moonless, rain-drenched darkness. Everything important to her was in that valise.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head. No, the only thing that meant anything to her now was inside her, counting on her to save both of them. Setting her eyes forward, she continued on. Amy or Louisa would let her borrow some clothes. When she reached town. When she was safe and warm again.
Time seemed to distort, dragging on into eternal torment. She felt certain she’d been walking long enough for the sun to be rising again, for several sunrises to have come and gone, but the blackness around her was complete. She could have walked right past the town and never seen it. She could be walking in completely the wrong direction.
Finally, when she could do nothing but keep walking, she prayed, not knowing if she was being heard, the words whispered through chattering teeth and cold-numbed lips.
“God, if You’re up there, please guide me to someone who can help. Anyone. I’m not asking for me. I know I don’t deserve it. I’m not a good person. Gabriel was right, this is my fault for lying. But it’s what I do, I lie. It’s who I am. But my baby, he hasn’t even had a chance to live. I know I’m a sinner, but he isn’t. Please get us to help, for him. Please save my baby.”
She had no idea how long she’d been walking, her only thought to keep putting one foot in front of the other, when she saw the light.
At first she thought she must be hallucinating, she hadn’t seen anything but the rain in front of her face for so long, but she turned towards the distant glow anyway. If it was her mind playing tricks on her, it hardly mattered what direction she walked now.
When she reached the first building, she almost didn’t believe her eyes. She could have knocked at any darkened door, but the light drew her on, shining from a tall window up ahead.
She stumbled up four stone steps and slumped against the wide wooden doors, raising her trembling hand to the handle. She didn’t have the presence of mind to be surprised when it wasn’t locked.
Bright light spilled over her, searing her gloom-accustomed eyes. She squinted into the glare.
And then darkness took her.
Chapter 8
Zach closed the safe on the day’s takings, spun the dial, and straightened, arching his back and stretching his arms over his head.
Although he was always tired by the end of his shift, he didn’t mind working in the evenings. The hotel restaurant’s dinner crowd gave him something to do and it meant he could put off going back to his empty house for a bit longer.
He rolled his eyes. Self-pity was not his style. He was grateful that he had a house, tiny as it was, and a job when so many didn’t. At least not anymore, now the railroad was finished. He’d worked on it himself for a while a few years back, but it hadn’t been his favourite job so he’d jumped at the chance to work in the hotel when it was built. They’d been told that being on the route of the new cross-country railroad line would bring prosperity and growth to the town, but that hadn’t happened yet. So yes, he was blessed to have what he had. And what he didn’t... well, God would provide that one day too. He was only twenty-three. No reason to give up on finding love yet.
If it came to it, he’d find a way to get the money to send for a mail order bride of his own, just like his friends Adam, Daniel, and Jesse had. He already had fifty-two dollars saved up. Only another hundred to go, if the ticket prices didn’t rise in the years it would take him to get that much more together. And if he didn’t lose his job for lack of people wanting to stay in the hotel.
He had just walked out of the office when the front door handle rattled. It was almost eleven, late for anyone to be wanting a room, especially in this weather. He moved to where a revolver sat on the shelf behind the reception desk and rested his hand on it, just in case, sending up a prayer that his fears were unfounded.
The door opened and a woman stepped in. She looked around for a moment, her eyes squinted almost shut, and then collapsed onto the tiled floor.
Zach rushed from behind the desk and across the lobby, throwing himself down at her side.
“Ma’am?” He brushed the drenched hair from her face and was surprised to recognise her. “Mrs. Silversmith?”
There was no response.
“Mrs. Silversmith,” he repeated, scared. Was she breathing?
He tried her neck for a pulse but could feel nothing. He wasn’t even sure he was touching the right place. He pushed up her sodden sleeve and moved his fingers to her wrist, and was immensely relieved to locate the rhythmic beat of her heart.
“Thank You, Lord.”
He pushed to his feet and looked
outside the open door in case there was anyone with her, but the street was empty. Closing the door, he looked around, unsure what to do. She needed help, but he didn’t want to leave her alone on the floor.
Making a decision, he crouched beside her and lifted her, cradling her to him. She was freezing, her clothing sodden and heavy with rain. How long had she been outside? She stirred and murmured something unintelligible as he stood, but her eyes remained closed, her body limp in his arms.
He carried her up the wide oak staircase and to the first bedroom he came to, bumped the door open with his hip, and carefully laid her on the bed.
He touched his fingers to her ice-cold cheek, hoping she would wake. “Mrs. Silversmith?”
Her head flopped to one side. “My baby. Save my baby.”
Zach froze. She had a child? In a moment of panic, he wondered if he’d left the baby outside. But that couldn’t be right. He knew none of the women who’d arrived had brought a child with them. Amy would have mentioned it to him. And he’d checked before he closed the door.
So that meant...
His eyes moved to her stomach. It was flat, but that meant nothing if she was in the early stages of pregnancy. But how could she know? She’d only been here two weeks. He was almost positive a woman couldn’t tell she was pregnant in just two weeks.
He shook his head. There were more important things to do than speculate.
She stirred again. “Help... baby.”
He took her frozen hand in his. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be all right, you and your baby both. I’ll be right back. Please don’t die or anything.”
Praying all the time, he ran back out to the hallway and down the stairs. He weaved his way at speed through the dining room, burst through the doors into the corridor beyond, and sprinted to the door at the end. Not bothering who he disturbed, he banged hard on the wooden surface. Mrs. Silversmith needed help right away.
