by Griggs, Winnie; Pleiter, Allie; Hale, Deborah; Nelson, Jessica
Shivering, she glared at him.
He nudged his coat from his shoulders and draped it over her before sighing deeply, heavily. “I don’t know, Mary, and I’m sorry for that. I got carried away with emotion and it wasn’t the right thing to do.”
His apology irked her, though wasn’t it what she wanted? The scent of his jacket surrounded her, filled her senses and warmed her.
“Someday,” he continued, “a fine man in town will take to courting you. All this will be in the past.”
“Do you mean forgettable? The way you’ve conveniently forgotten Josie? You handed her off like a package to be delivered.” Her voice broke.
“Don’t bring her into this. She doesn’t belong to you or me.” Lou’s voice lifted, causing passersby to glance their way. “And our kiss wasn’t forgettable. If you don’t understand my meaning, I can show you right now.”
To her surprise he moved nearer, out of the circle of light and into the shadows between them. Energy sizzled through the air, tension emanated from his body, and a quiver unrelated to cold shuddered through her.
“I think not,” she said coolly, and moved opposite him so that she now stood closer to the lamppost. Her pulse hammered. “I have had enough of your kisses to last a lifetime.”
“You didn’t complain about them before,” he said tightly.
Confident, carefree Lou was gone. Where he went, she didn’t know, but before her stood the real man. Edgy. Determined. And for some odd reason, angry. All because she’d brought up Josie. Again she thought of secrets. He possessed them, and in abundance.
She nodded at him slowly. “You are a practiced kisser. It was a fine experience.”
“A fine experience,” he mimicked, then let out a bark of laughter empty of joy.
“It was also disruptive,” she said gently. She must tread softly, for mentioning God in the past had often upset him. “Kissing did nothing but stir up a mess for both of us.” In truth, she hadn’t stopped remembering that kiss and doubted she ever would.
“Perhaps it was something that needed stirring.” His confident voice conflicted with the turmoil she saw in his eyes.
Unsettled, she shook her head. “That is unlikely. Romance is not what will make me happy, Lou. I don’t need a man’s kisses or even his love. God has given me so much—” She stopped because his brows lowered and, in the darkness, it almost seemed as though his eyes flashed.
“So no marriage in your future? You think you can live without baking for anyone ever again?”
“If I open a restaurant, I shall bake for many,” she inserted, trying to follow the train of his thoughts, why he’d jumped to marriage.
“And do you deny the way you felt caring for—for Josie?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Well, you need a husband to have a family.”
She whipped back as though he’d slapped her. “Perhaps I’d have someone to take care of if you’d looked into Josie’s family a little more. You know something is wrong. Someone in that family is dangerous. Don’t you care?” A surprising boldness took hold of her and she stepped right up to him, nose to chest due to her shortness, but it would have to do. He’d see her eyes and realize she wanted answers.
“Tell me, why do you avoid children? Why do you run from the ranch as often as you can?” A thought occurred to her as the realization of a pattern emerged. “And your stays at the ranch… You’ve always cut them short after we spent time together in the evenings. What are you afraid of?”
His glare deepened and he took her arms in his hands, pulling her closer than she’d ever been to him, save for that kiss.
“You don’t know what you’re saying, woman.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying. You’re afraid—”
“No,” he hissed. His grip tightened. “That’s enough. No more.”
“Then tell me,” she pleaded. When he tried to look away, she cupped his face and forced him to look down at her. “Help me understand why you dropped Josie with her mother like a hot ember in your hand. Does it hurt so much?”
She saw it now, the pain that tightened his mouth and crowded his eyes.
His throat moved, and then his head was resting in the crook of her neck. He groaned, and the sound caused hairs to stand on her skin. He let her go. She stumbled back, rubbing at her arms where his hands had clenched her.
“It doesn’t hurt,” he said at last. His gaze lifted. She stifled her gasp at the rawness of his expression. “It burns. It’s a searing ache that never leaves.”
Yes, she knew that kind of pain. “It can heal, if you let it.”
“How, with God?” That broken laugh of his echoed off the sidewalk. “Don’t you see? God did this to me. He killed my wife and Abby.”
*
Lou shoved his hands through his hair again, wishing he could wipe away the pain as easily. Mary’s eyes were shiny and he couldn’t tell if tears glistened or if the lamplight played tricks. He wanted to say something, but his throat hurt with the strain of containing his emotions.
Groaning, he pivoted and started back for the hotel. She walked quietly beside him. Every so often a hint of her perfume teased him. He could feel the questions burning in her. She expected an explanation. Who is Abby? You were married?
As though his thoughts had been spoken, she said, “You do not have to explain anything to me, but if you ever feel the need to speak of this again, I will be here.”
“Thank you,” he managed to say. At least his vocal cords had shrugged off their temporary paralysis. He held the door to the hotel for her and she glided inside.
Near the stairs, she stopped. “Thank you for dinner.”
He inclined his head, glad the rush of pain had drained away. “You’re welcome.”
“Are there specific plans for tomorrow?”
“Yeah, about that.” He tapped the railing of the stairs. “An agent will pick you up at your room at nine o’clock and escort you back to Burns.”
“I see.”
“Don’t give me that look, Mary.”
“What look?” But the obstinate disapproval on her face didn’t change. Or was it hurt?
He couldn’t tell, and the gut-spilling earlier had exhausted him. “Just be ready. Your breakfast and room will be taken care of.”
Her gaze lifted and she searched his face. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Sure. I’ve got to come back and handle this sale. I want to see you and James safely settled and—”
Her lips made a funny movement, as though she was holding back a smile.
“What?” he asked.
“I was just remembering how Miss Alma chased him out of the store. If she has her way, I believe James shall be quite all right.” Her smile lit up her face and unexpectedly, Lou felt the strangest wish that Mary would chase him into the road, too.
He shook his head. Focus. She wasn’t in the plans. Not even close. “James doesn’t know what hit him,” he said lightly. “I don’t think he’s ever settled down with a woman, and she seems pretty determined to snag him.”
He grunted. This conversation opened old wounds and he didn’t plan to let it continue. “Like I was saying, I’ve got to get things settled. I’ll be back.”
She bit her lip, studying him intently. Then her gaze skittered away.
He touched her arm. “Until next time, then?”
“Yes,” she said, backing away. The dress she wore glittered with her movements, and the attraction he tried to hold at bay surged again.
“Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye,” she answered.
And then she was gone, moving through the late-night guests, up the stairs and disappearing around the corner. Sighing, he settled at the side of the wall and waited.
He had work to do. All this internal caterwauling over the past, Josie, that kiss… It made a man’s head spin. He remembered Trevor getting all worked up over Gracie. They’d lived at the ranch as a married couple before traipsing off to Cal
ifornia for fun, and Trevor seemed happier than Lou had ever seen him. Now that they’d been married a bit, Trevor seemed better.
Marriage wasn’t for Lou, though. No way, no how.
He scanned the guests, looking for one in particular. Mary might accuse him of not caring, but it wasn’t the truth. No matter his past, he didn’t stand by and watch children get hurt. Women, either. Josie’s mama might be dying and frail, but some lowdown, evil one had handled her roughly. He’d seen the faint purple smudges on her wrists when she’d hugged Josie.
It only took a call to find out Mrs. Silver was a widow, but she had a brother who happened to have been busy traveling recently. Who happened to be staying in this very hotel tonight. And his last name happened to be Langdon. It was pretty obvious this fellow was the same guy who’d been lurking in Burns.
Why the man hadn’t stayed with his sister, he didn’t know, but he aimed to find out. So he waited, checking his watch every few minutes. The brother had been described as tall, brown-haired, strange blue eyes that bordered on purple. He matched the description of the man who’d come to the ranch.
And the man who’d recently been accused of murder in Burns.
He needed to know what this man did for a living, but above all, he needed to make sure Josie and Mary were safe from him.
“Sir?” A young man addressed him from his right.
“Yes?”
“I’m Special Agent Smith.”
Smith. The name clicked. “You’ll be escorting Miss O’Roarke tomorrow?”
“Reporting in. We’ll be leaving at nine o’clock and our expected arrival time is—”
“Have you ever done this before, Agent Smith?” Lou cut him off. He looked far too young to be protecting Mary.
“I served in the war effort.” Agent Smith gave him a level look. “Appearances can be deceiving. I’m well equipped to take care of your lady.”
“She’s not my lady,” he said by rote, breaking their visual standoff to scan the lobby again.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I saw you at dinner.”
He cocked a brow, meeting Smith’s look square on, hiding his surprise. “And what did you see?”
The agent shrugged. “It wasn’t business, that’s all.”
Lou grimaced. No, their dinner hadn’t been. This one might do after all. He hadn’t noticed him once, and that ability to blend would aid in keeping Mary safe, should the need arise. Lou gave him a curt nod. “Very well. Telephone headquarters when she’s safely home.”
“Will do.” A quick nod and Smith left.
Lou pulled out a stick of Wrigley’s and continued his surveillance. Chewing thoughtfully, he crossed his ankles and waited several more hours. Langdon never showed up.
Or he’d missed him, just as he’d missed Agent Smith at dinner.
Heading upstairs to bed, tiredness riding his back, the realization that he’d lost his mark plagued him. He was too caught up in emotions. Could only see Mary.
His attention had been on her—not a good thing, but he didn’t know how to stop it. And then she’d had the nerve to bring up God.
He turned the corner and entered the corridor. God.
Did he really blame God for losing Sarah and Abby? In the haze of anger and pain, yes. But then he thought of Mary, a woman who hadn’t known Jesus growing up. Who’d been abducted and mistreated, deeply so, and yet somehow still managed to find peace in the way he no longer traveled. How was that possible?
Yep. This job was messing with his head and causing him to lose focus. The sooner he sold the ranch, the better he could work and forget all this malarkey.
He ticked off his goals in his head as he walked.
Tomorrow he’d find Langdon at breakfast, have a little word with the upstart, then he’d finish up his work at headquarters. Track down the shooter, cuff him, maybe get some more information from him before heading home. Sell the ranch. Start a new job, far away.
The list was supposed to reassure, but as he let himself into his empty hotel room, he didn’t feel anything at all.
Chapter Eighteen
Mary woke before the sun. She enjoyed the silence of morning, nothing but the birds and their early songs. Normally she felt refreshed, but today, the morning she’d be heading back to the ranch, unease beset her.
Lou had been married. And begotten a child. How could she not have known? He’d kept this secret from everyone. Were Trevor and James aware of this? Was she the only one in the dark? No wonder he didn’t care to hear of God. No wonder the sight of Josie pained him.
Feeling a tad sick to her stomach, she swung her legs out of bed. Quickly she packed her meager belongings, made her bed, took care of toiletries and then glanced at the clock. Still too early. She had many hours until the agent arrived at her door.
And what then? Go home and search for a new job? Try to get that loan at the bank so she’d have the capital to open a business with? She could stay at the ranch with the new owners, but was that what she really wanted?
Gripping the handle of her suitcase, she opened her door and slipped into the hall. Perhaps they’d be serving breakfast. She could do with a strong pot of coffee.
The lobby was empty when she entered it, though the heady scent of maple syrup permeated the air. Her mouth watered at the thought of pancakes.
Josie loved them.
What would Josie eat this morning? And with whom? Alone perhaps, since her mother was ill. She paused as an idea so beguiling, so dangerous she could hardly believe it, flirted with her thoughts. Her suitcase grew heavy as she stood and pondered the burgeoning plan.
Lou would be furious with her and yet…he had no charge over her decisions any longer. Swallowing hard, a disconcerting excitement building, she marched through the lobby, left a note for Lou and then burst outside, just in time to catch the streetcar.
Odd looks followed her, but she ignored them and focused on remembering the way back to the Silversʼ. By the time she stood at Josie’s gate, the sun peeked a sleepy eye over the horizon.
She gnawed her cheek, staring at the wrought iron. Yesterday felt far away. Was she really ready to do this? She thought of the note she left to be delivered to Lou first thing. If he tried to stop her, well, that would be too much. Too invasive.
Perhaps he’d shared a dark and sad past, and perhaps he’d opened his home to her, but he did not control her and any claim he made to her time must end with his sale of the ranch.
A vehicle cranked up behind her, startling her and urging her to open the gate. It groaned but gave way. She started up the walk, up the stairs, but before she could knock on the door, it opened.
Baggs glowered at her. His eyebrows were just as furry today as they’d been yesterday. Mary remembered Josie’s comment and a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.
“You again?” he muttered.
“Yes, it is Miss O’Roarke. May I speak with Mrs. Silver?”
“She has not risen yet.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “I can come back later.”
“You may wait. She’ll be about soon.” The butler, or whoever he was, swung the door open in a reluctant fashion, but Mary was too determined and set in her path to care.
She stepped into the ornate home. A hint of perfume reached her. Baggs led her into the same room they’d met Mrs. Silver in yesterday. She took a seat on the brocade couch.
“Anything to drink? Tea, perhaps?”
“That is kind of you to offer, Mr. Baggs. I would very much like tea.”
He shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him. She studied the great portraits about the room. Studious and elegant, they dominated the walls and lent the room a somber air. Soon Josie’s painting would rest with those of her ancestors, if she was related to these people. No doubt she was related somehow to the man looking for her.
Langdon, the sheriff had called him.
She did not wish to remember how it felt for him to be standing in her home, her sanctuary…. Stifling the remembra
nce, she felt through her bag until she found her knitting needles and newest project. A wedding gift for Miss Alma, who no doubt would find James by her side very soon.
The door opened, and Baggs brought in a platter with steaming tea. He situated it, and Mary thanked him, preferring to pour her own. “Do you not have a maid?” she asked in a gentle tone.
“Left us last week,” he grumbled.
When he left, she sipped the strong brew and worked on Miss Alma’s gift. The wait felt interminable. She kept straining to hear Josie’s happy voice. The patter of footsteps even, but nothing broke the muted silence.
After almost an hour, the door opened again. Baggs wheeled Mrs. Silver in. She did not wear a face mask today. The faded state of her eyes and pallor of her skin sent prickles across Mary’s body. She tucked her knitting back into her bag. An air of death cloaked Mrs. Silver. It hovered over her and as she neared, the odor of it filled the room.
Mary blanched and then schooled her features to blankness, though inside, her heart pounded against her chest. What would happen to Josie when her mother passed? Surely she wouldn’t be left with that horrid Mr. Langdon.
“You wish to see me?” Mrs. Silver’s voice did not pass a whisper.
Mary nodded, putting her hands in her lap. “I thought perhaps you might…” Courage, don’t fail me now. She wet her lips and tried again. “With your illness, I hoped you might be in need of a nanny for Josie.”
Mrs. Silver’s lids fluttered.
“Your daughter is spirited and bright and I have grown quite fond of her. I can provide schooling in many areas—”
“She will attend a private school,” Mrs. Silver murmured. She studied Mary, though it seemed to drain the energy from her features.
“I see.” Hope seeped away, but she did not allow herself to slump. “Perhaps you might be looking for a housekeeper? Or a parlor maid?”
“You are so desperate to see my Josephine?”
“Not desperate, but I am in search of employment and I care deeply for your daughter. I would like to help.”
Mrs. Silver’s fingers tapped the arms of her wheelchair. “It fills my heart with gladness to see your love for my daughter, but I must refuse.”
