“What’s the matter, McLeod?”
Gabriel jerked toward the voice to his left, his body stiffening and readying for battle. “Cameron. I’d hoped you had enough sense to leave.”
“Why would I? The town’s got other wealthy women.” His honey-brown eyes blurred with drink, he gripped his tankard of beer and glared at Gabriel.
“I’d think you’d go to Butte. That’s where the real heiresses are.” Gabriel fisted his hands as he confronted the man who’d tormented his wife.
“You just want me out of town. Away from Clarissa. So she isn’t reminded of what she gave up by marryin’ you.” His voice slurred, he waved one hand toward Gabriel.
“Think what you like.”
“What’s it like, bein’ with your wife, knowin’ that another had her first?” Cameron’s voice was low and taunting. “That no matter what you do, I’ll always be a part of her life? That every time you touch her, she’ll have the memory of my touch to compare it with?”
In an instant, Gabriel had him by his shirt collar, dragging him from his chair and slamming him against the rear wall of the saloon. “Don’t you dare speak about her with me. You have no right. Not after what you did.”
“I have every right.” Cameron gasped as Gabriel tightened his hold. “She should have been mine. Mine. She should have borne my children, rather than run off to you, you worthless immigrant.”
“All you wanted was her money. And when you knew she didn’t want you, you tried to ruin her spirit, destroy her in the worst way. For that alone I should kill you.” Gabriel leaned his face into Cameron’s, his fiery gaze met by Cameron’s taunting brown eyes.
“You should, and yet you haven’t. You’ve let me live. Seems that all your purported love for Clarissa doesn’t extend to defending her honor.”
“You have no idea what honor is. I honor her by loving her. By cherishing her. By building a life with her. I can’t do that if I’m in jail for killing your worthless carcass.” He shook Cameron once more and then flung him away. Cameron fell to the floor and glared up at Gabriel.
Cameron rose, brushing his hair into place and running his hands down the sleeves of his tattered jacket. “Seems to me, if you believe what you said, you wouldn’t be in a saloon looking miserable. You’d be home with your wife.”
Gabriel glared at him and then turned to the other patrons in the room, noticing their hasty attempts to avert their curious stares. He grabbed his hat and strode from the room.
CHAPTER 9
“HOW WAS THAT ANNIVERSARY, Missy?” Mr. Pickens sat in his chair in the rear of the Book Depository, next to a table of recently returned books.
“Fine. Amelia cooked us a lovely meal.” I moved around the stacks of books, putting them away.
“Seems a mighty strange way to spend an anniversary. No sirree. When my Bessie ’n’ me had our anniversaries, we were all by our lonesome.” He smiled his near toothless grin. “An’ what a time we had.” He thumped his cane down once in emphasis. “Though with your cooking incapacitations, makes sense to have someone else prepare the meal, else you’d both die of starvation.” He guffawed at his own joke.
His eyes narrowed when I failed to laugh, and he focused on me. “What’s got you in a bad mood, Missy?”
“Nothing, Mr. A.J.”
“You look like a woman headin’ to her funeral, rather than a blushin’ bride,” he said, clamping his mouth around his imaginary pipe, as he frequently did.
“Mr. A.J., it will all be sorted soon.”
He motioned me toward him with his cane, and I stumbled as I went to sit on my small stool next to him.
I began to sort the books he had failed to look at.
“If you want to know somethin’ about menfolk, Missy, it’s don’t make ’em feel vulnerable. Word has it, yer unhappy at home, an’, if that’s the case, your man knows it. Find a way to show him that’s a bunch o’ malarkey.”
I stared at him, unable to hide the shock from my eyes.
“It’s a small town, Missy. And people like to have somethin’ to talk about. Yer the most interesting thing to come around in some time. ’Specially since that good-fer-nothin’s still here and courtin’ Mrs. Bouchard’s daughter.”
“Cameron.” I shuddered as I said his name.
“Afore you know it, they’ll start sayin’ you wished you’d married him, if you keep carryin’ on the way you are.” He watched me with solemn eyes.
“Never!” I said.
“Well, show that husband of yours, an’ the townfolk’ll know well enough the truth. ’Cause you keep actin’ like this, no one’ll ever believe yer happy, married to the man you chose.”
“Mr. A.J., why can’t people just leave us alone to solve our problems?” I stood and picked up a few books, slamming them onto the table as I vented my frustration.
“Where’s the fun in that, Missy? Asides, you enjoy a little gossip just like the rest of us. It’s just no fun when it’s pointed at you, now is it?”
My shoulders stooped, and I collapsed onto the stool again. I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to ward off a headache.
“Whatever you think’s so terrible to tell that young man of yours ain’t no worse than what yer already doin’, Missy. Just tell him.”
“How do you know what I’m going through?”
“I know women. Well, as much as a man can. Yer all a bit mysticalerious. But I knew my Bessie. An’ when she got all ornery like you, was ’cause she had some bad news to tell me. The imaginin’ was always worse for me than the reality.”
I half smiled as I puzzled through his word. “Mysterious? Mystical?” At his broad smile, I nodded. “What’s the worst news Bessie ever told you?”
“Other than she was dyin’?” He shook his head from side to side a few times and rubbed his face. “There’s nothin’ worse than death, Missy. An’ we do all kinds o’ things to protect those we love from the pain of it. Sometimes it’s a pain that should be shared. An’ there ain’t no protectin’ those we love from it.”
He sighed as he settled onto his chair. “My Bessie did no end of tryin’ to protect me.” A wistful smile spread across his face. “In the end she learned that we were together to protect each other.” He pierced me with a fierce stare. “You remember that, Missy. You and that man o’ yours are together for each other.”
I blinked rapidly, nodding as I turned away toward the books. Mr. Pickens ignored my sniffling as I returned to work.
***
GABRIEL SAT IN THE BACK of the shop, staring at a sketch. He tapped at it before erasing half of it. Ronan worked at his low workbench at the base of the stairs, sunlight spilling in from the window. He sang ribald songs from the saloon, pausing in his singing when he needed to focus on a task. Ronan looked up at the heavy footsteps entering the workshop.
“What’s gotten into you, McLeod?” Sebastian asked. He took off his hat, slapping at his pants, brushing off dust from his fawn-colored pants.
Gabriel glanced toward the door, setting aside the pencil he held, and straightened. After a quick glance at Ronan, who shook his head in a near imperceptible movement, Gabriel frowned. “I don’t know what you mean, Seb.”
“Getting into bar brawls. Doesn’t seem your style.”
“I was in no brawl,” Gabriel snapped, as he picked up a piece of wood and slammed it down onto his workbench.
“Nearly stranglin’ a man to death seems close enough to me,” Sebastian said. “What’s got you so riled? You haven’t been acting like yourself for weeks.”
“Months,” Ronan murmured. Gabriel shot a steely look at him, but Ronan shrugged. “It’s the truth, Gabe. Something’s bothering you, and you’ve been hell to be around.”
At Gabriel’s persistent silence, Sebastian wandered over to Ronan and sat on a stool near him. “Seems it’s that lovely wife of his who’s got him so tied in knots.” Ronan nodded his agreement.
Gabriel growled at them before marching toward the door. “Gabe!” Ron
an said, but, instead of leaving, Gabriel shut the door and locked it.
“You never know who’s listening in,” Gabriel said. Less light entered the room with the door shut, although enough light entered through the two windows on either side of the door to illuminate the room.
Gabriel pulled over a dusty chair and sat in it with a loud thud. “I wanted to kill him last night. I would have too, if I hadn’t remembered that I’d be separated from Clarissa.”
“What’s going on, Gabe?”
“I don’t know. I think she regrets marrying me.” The words came out in a tortured whisper, and he refused to meet his friends’ gazes. “She’s been so different the past few months.”
After a few moments, Ronan asked in a quiet voice, “How is she different, Gabe?”
“Prickly. Like she doesn’t want me near her. Doesn’t want me to touch her.” He rose and paced. “And that’s not like her. Well, not like her since she overcame her fears.”
“Maybe she has other fears you don’t know about,” Sebastian said.
“I’ve tried to think of what they could be, and I can’t. She’s survived the worst. What more could she fear?”
“Well, it’s a large fear, because who you’re describing isn’t the Clarissa I know,” Ronan said as he leaned back in his chair.
“Do you think she’s upset you haven’t taken care of that varmint?” Sebastian asked.
Gabriel shook his head. “She insists I do nothing to harm him so that I won’t go to jail and be separated from her.”
“Well, almost starting bar brawls isn’t the way to go about honoring that request,” Sebastian said with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows.
“Gabe, the only one who can end your misery is Clarissa. Talk to her. Insist she tell you what is occurring. You have that right. You’ve earned it,” Ronan said.
“What if she truly regrets being my wife?”
“The only way you’ll know is if you ask her. Otherwise, you’ll just continue to torture yourself.” Ronan tapped his fingers on the arms of his chair. “The woman I met last summer didn’t seem anxious to escape you. She wanted to be with you, even with everything that had happened.”
“It’s better to know than to spend your life wondering. Take it from me,” Sebastian said.
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked.
“I was married before,” Sebastian murmured, a mocking half smile gracing his lips as Ronan and Gabriel gaped at him. He rose and paced the workshop. He picked up tools, traced patterns in the dust and remained in perpetual motion as he wandered.
“What happened to her?” Ronan asked after sharing a long glance with Gabriel.
“She left me for a drifter, traveling to New Mexico. Thought it sounded like a more interesting life than living in a small house near a sawmill. I can still see her, brown hair shot with red, flying loose in the wind. Pointing around at all I had earned for her, for us, and her snickerin’. Didn’t want any of it. Never had envisioned the sort of life I craved. Wanted a man with bigger dreams.”
He spun to face Gabe. “I should never have married her—knew she was fickle. But the heart’s not always rational. I paid for my folly.”
“Are you still married?” Gabriel asked.
“No, she died in a carriage accident a few years ago. She and our daughter. The child I never knew I had, not till I received the letter from the lawyer telling me about their deaths.”
“Seb—”
“There’s nothin’ to say, Gabe. I made the greatest mistake a man can make, and it cost a child, my child, her life. I hope you chose better than me.”
“For God’s sake, Seb, you know he did,” Ronan snapped. “It’s Clarissa you’re talking about. She’d never treat Gabriel false.”
“Well, whatever she’s doing, she’s not treating him true, now is she?” Sebastian asked with a glare as he moved toward Ronan and Gabriel to sit on his stool again.
Ronan hissed in a breath. “She wouldn’t do that to Gabe.”
“We like to think we know those we love, but love can give us blinders. I’d hate it if she was playing you false,” Sebastian said as he turned to watch Gabriel. “What’re you going to do about her, Gabe?”
“Continue to try to talk with her. Listen when she does speak.” He closed his eyes. “Hope I have the ability to let her go, like you did, Seb.”
“I near drank the town dry, Gabe. You don’t want to be anything like me.” He clapped Gabriel on the shoulder. “Whatever happens, you’ve friends to support you. Remember that.”
CHAPTER 10
AMELIA WIPED HER HANDS on the kitchen cloth as she turned toward the soft tapping on the kitchen’s screen door. “Mr. Carlin, I hadn’t thought to see you tonight.” She pushed open the screened door and backed up a step to allow him to enter the kitchen.
Sebastian doffed his hat and scuffed his boots before entering. He looked at the small kitchen table already set for dinner and then at Amelia. “I thought we were meeting here for dinner tonight.” His brow furrowed in confusion. “This is the normal night for our weekly dinners, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, even though it’s only six days since the anniversary dinner for Clarissa and Gabriel. However, Gabriel sent word that he and Clarissa weren’t coming. Thus, Ronan and Colin decided to cancel. I assumed that meant you weren’t coming.”
“I never heard from them. It was busy at the mill today, and I could have missed a message. I had a stack of them on my desk that I left for tomorrow.”
“It’s no bother to set another place, and Nicholas will be delighted to have you here.” She turned away toward the cupboard and extracted another plate and cup.
“Mr. Seb! Mr. Seb!” Nicholas called as he ran into the kitchen. He jumped up and down in front of Sebastian in his excitement, until Sebastian pulled him high into the air before settling him on his hip.
Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back as he inhaled appreciatively. “Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful.”
“It’s a chicken! We gotta pick it out today at the butcher’s,” Nicholas said. “It still had its neck on, but Mama didn’t want it, so he pulled out a big knife an’—”
“Nicholas,” Amelia interrupted. “We know what he did.”
“An’ he chopped it off!” Nicholas wriggled around so much that Sebastian lowered him to the floor. He happily made chopping motions with his hand. He banged into the side of the table, oversetting a glass and knocking a few pieces of silverware onto the floor. Amelia grimaced at the clattering sound of forks and spoons landing on the wood floor. She reached forward and set to rights the tablecloth.
“Nicholas,” Amelia began but was interrupted by Sebastian.
“I think you and I need to pick up that silverware, little man,” Sebastian said, as he moved to peer under the table. Soon he and Nicholas were crawling on the floor looking for a missing fork.
“I found it!” Nicholas said, thrusting up his hand from under the table.
“Good work. Now let’s wash and dry these for your mother,” Sebastian said. He grasped Nicholas’s hand and pulled a chair over to the sink for him to stand on. In a few moments Nicholas’s arms were covered in sudsy water, and he looked as though he had just taken a bath. He held out each piece of silverware for Sebastian to dry and babbled about his day, playing cowboys and Indians with the local children, before the eventful trip to the butcher’s.
“An’ I was an Indian, but I didn’t want to lose. Got in a fight with snotty Bobby Hunter ’cause I tried to scalp ’im.”
Sebastian choked back a laugh. “I hope you didn’t really try to do that.”
“No, just grabbed his hair and yanked on it.” Nicholas pulled his hands from the water, where he was now playing rather than washing anything, and demonstrated on his head what he did, soaking his hair.
Sebastian grabbed a towel from Amelia and wiped the boy’s head with it, causing Nicholas to giggle. Sebastian shared an amused glance with Amelia as Nicholas d
escribed the trip to the butcher’s in enthusiastic detail. “Do you want to be a butcher when you grow up?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t know,” Nicholas said. “I think I want to work in a blacksmith shop like Uncle Colin.”
“A very good profession,” Sebastian said, as he wiped at Nicholas’s arms and lifted him off the chair. He placed the chair at the table again and helped settle Nicholas.
Amelia grabbed the cleaned silverware and placed it at the missing settings around the table. She moved to the living room, picking up Anne from an enclosed play area Gabriel had constructed for her. She sat Anne in her high chair. Anne clapped her hands and smiled at seeing Sebastian. He stroked a finger down her cheek and then sat at his indicated spot, between Nicholas and Anne’s high chair and across from where Amelia usually sat at the square table covered in a red-checkered cloth.
Amelia moved to the stove, pulling out the roasted chicken. She scooped up mashed potatoes from a pot on the stove and boiled carrots from another, placing each in bowls. She placed the bowls on the table and then sat.
“How are things at work?” Amelia asked as she mashed carrots and fed small amounts to Anne.
“Busy, but with no recent accidents.” Sebastian placed a small amount of mashed potatoes on Nicholas’s plate and then grabbed the butter dish to prevent Nicholas from slathering on half the bowl. He placed a small dab on top of Nicholas’s potatoes and set it aside.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Accidents and fire are always a concern in a mill. We’ve been lucky, and I try to instill in my men that they need to be careful to prevent tragedy. So far, it’s worked.”
“I hope it continues to,” Amelia said before Nicholas entertained them with more stories from his day.
After supper Amelia rose to bring Anne to the back room the three of them shared. Amelia readied her for bed and rocked her a few minutes while singing a gentle lullaby before laying her in her crib for the night. When she reentered the kitchen, she paused in the doorway to see Sebastian doing the dishes. His shirtsleeves were rolled up; his arms were immersed in soapy water nearly to his elbows, and he whistled a soft, lilting tune as he worked. She glanced into the living room to see Nicholas asleep on the sofa.
Undaunted Love (PART ONE): Banished Saga, Book 3 Page 7
