Elizabeth let go of the glass she was holding and knelt in the dirt by his side. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing. Just a little cut.”
She took his hand and examined the wound. His hand was large and calloused with work, but it looked strong and capable—just like him. “You’ll need a bandage.”
He didn’t say anything and she glanced up to find him watching her. The warm look in his eyes took her by surprise and unsettled her in ways she didn’t understand. She’d served countless men in the general store in Rockford and met countless more after moving to Little Falls. Many of them looked at her the same way, but none made her heart respond like Jude did.
She should walk away, but she couldn’t. He had done so much for her family she wanted to do something for him.
The blood dripped from his finger and landed on the dirt in dark spots.
“Come,” she said. “I’ll ask Martha for a bandage.”
He stood and offered his good hand to her. She took it and allowed him to help her to her feet.
No one had made her feel this way since James. She’d missed this sense of awareness and the flutter in her midsection, but what good had come from it before? Her heart had been broken and her dreams destroyed. She had no business entertaining such notions now—especially if they were going to become business partners in January. She must keep her thoughts in line with her plans.
* * *
Every muscle in Jude’s body was taut as Elizabeth stood before him. The attraction he felt toward her had been growing steadily since the day they met, but he could no longer stuff it inside and pretend he wasn’t fully aware of her every move.
The touch of her hand had been more shocking than the shard of glass that had sliced his skin. If he wasn’t careful, he’d fall in love with this woman, and that was the last thing he needed. If she ever learned the truth about him, she’d run as far and as fast as she was able—and she’d take his heart if he wasn’t careful.
He walked over to the door, needing some space, and held it open for her to leave the barn. She passed by, close enough for him to smell rose water and ink. “Martha keeps the bandages in the kitchen,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t betray his feelings.
Elizabeth walked across the alley and opened the back door of the hotel. He followed her into the dark hall, all thoughts of Mr. Ackermann and Hugh Jones pushed away for the moment.
They entered the kitchen and for once Martha was not in her usual spot near the stove.
Jude pointed to a cupboard along the back wall. “The bandages are over there,” he said. “On the top shelf.”
She went to the cupboard and stood on tiptoe to remove the box of bandages. He loved the gentle grace and elegant confidence she exuded in everything she did. When she turned, he was still watching her and the look in her eyes suggested that she was feeling something, too.
The idea that she might be attracted to him made it all the more difficult to push his feelings aside.
She grabbed a clean rag and dipped it into the warm water Martha kept on top of the stove, then she nodded toward the worktable. “Have a seat.”
He did as she requested and pulled a stool out from the table.
She took a deep breath and seemed to gain some sort of resolve before walking across the room to him. She reached out to take his hand and he noticed the slightest tremble in her fingers.
The moment her skin touched his, his feelings only intensified. Thankfully she put the cloth to his wound, sending a sharp sting up his arm, which pulled his thoughts out of danger.
As she worked on his finger, he relished the warmth of her care. It had been years since someone tended to him. When he was a boy, he had taken care of his own needs for the most part. Whether big or small, he was often forced to scrounge for the things he needed. As an adult, he was just as self-sufficient. Whenever he needed help, Martha had to practically force him to allow her to care for him. Since he was rarely sick, and usually cautious, he needed little attention.
Yet now, with Elizabeth’s soft fingers wrapped around his injured hand, he wondered if he could ever refuse her help.
She looked from his hand to his face, but didn’t say a word. The silence was thick with tension as she ministered to his wound. She dabbed at the blood again and the action stung even worse. He had to catch his breath before he flinched.
“It’s deeper than I first thought,” she said. “I wonder if you’ll need stitches.”
He looked down at the wound. It was deep, but he’d never been stitched in his life. “I’ll be fine. Just tie the bandage tight and I’ll be as good as new.”
She didn’t object, but did as he said, tying the strip of cloth snug around his finger. When she finished, she ran her gentle fingers over his hand, as if petting him or comforting him.
The sensation almost undid his resolve to keep his distance, so he stood and picked up the box of bandages to put away. “Thank you,” he said a bit more gruffly than he’d intended. “I can’t remember the last time someone bound up my wounds.”
“You’re welcome.” She stood and dropped the stained rag into a bag Martha kept in the kitchen for soiled cloths and walked over to the pitcher and bowl to clean her hands. “I spent a great deal of time in my mama’s kitchen getting bandaged up.” She smiled as she wiped her hands on a towel, her gaze wandering off for a moment.
“Since I was the oldest, and Papa didn’t have any boys, I always believed he was disappointed in me. I tried to do all the things I saw the boys doing, like foot races, playing ball and climbing trees.” She rested against the cupboard and met Jude’s gaze. “I wasn’t very big or strong, so I was often hurt trying to keep up. Eventually, I think my mama caught on and she must have told Papa, because one evening he took me on his lap and told me how happy he was that God had made me a girl. He said I was smart and strong, and good at things boys couldn’t do.” She tilted her head and the lines around her mouth softened. “From that day forward, I decided I would stop trying to be like the boys and, instead, make him proud of all the things I could do that they couldn’t.”
She painted such a warm and beautiful picture of her childhood. Jude yearned for memories like hers. What would it be like to know his father and be told he was perfect just the way he was? Instead, he’d been reminded time and again that he had been a mistake, a child born of sin, a fatherless boy who was not wanted by the woman who bore him and probably unknown by the father who sired him.
How different their lives were.
Jude looked down at the bandage, his chest constricting with the weight of emotions and the reminder that he wasn’t worthy to have feelings for her.
“I imagine you were a busy boy,” Elizabeth continued, moving away from the cupboard. “I’m sure your mother kept busy bandaging up your scrapes, too.”
He wasn’t ready to tell her about his childhood—would probably never be ready. Instead of answering, he simply smiled and moved to the door. “I should finish cleaning up the mess in the barn and order a new window.”
“I’ll help.”
He loved the idea of being close and working alongside her, but the more he was with her the more he wanted to be with her. It had become harder to resist the growing affection he felt and he needed to keep his distance to prevent it from going further. “I can finish by myself.” He grabbed the broom and left the kitchen before she could volunteer again.
He strode out of the hotel and took a deep breath, purposely relaxing his muscles. He rolled his shoulders and tried to shake off his pent-up emotions—yet nothing he did seemed to lessen the feelings Elizabeth’s touch had created.
Jude walked into the barn and found Mr. Ackermann hitching his horse up to the cart. “The sheriff would not come.” The peddler’s accent was thicker than before, his congenial personality long gone. Jude had known him for
two years and had always found him to be kind and agreeable. He’d never seen this side of him.
“Last time I come,” Mr. Ackermann said. “I lose goods, too.” He crossed his arms and stared at Jude. “You are stealing from me?”
“Why would I break my own window to steal from you?”
“To make it look like break-in.”
“I have no need to steal.”
“Then your man?” He must mean Pascal.
“No.” Jude also crossed his arms. “I know who stole from you, but you won’t get your things back. They are men who have been causing trouble all over town and the sheriff refuses to help.”
Mr. Ackermann took a step closer and pointed at Jude. “Then you do something. You start vigilance committee. You and others watch the streets.” He stared at Jude, his jaw set. “I won’t come back until you do.”
The peddler wouldn’t come back, nor would others. Already, Little Falls had gained a poor reputation for its lawlessness. They had petitioned the territorial legislature to remove Sheriff Pugh from office, but they had been denied since he was an elected official. Until he was gone, the trouble would continue. If they didn’t do something about the gang, the Northern would lose more business and Jude would lose money. He needed every penny he made to rescue women and keep the hotel doors open.
“It’s a good suggestion,” Jude said. “I’ll call a meeting this evening.”
Mr. Ackermann nodded, apparently satisfied. “I go now.” He took hold of the horse’s bridle and led it out of the barn, his cart rattling behind.
“Remember,” Mr. Ackermann said. “I won’t come back until you do something.”
“You have my word.”
Mr. Ackermann nodded and moved down the alley.
Hugh’s gang would be dealt with, even if it meant more retaliation.
Chapter Twelve
Jude stood by the fireplace in the sitting room of the Northern Hotel surrounded by eight men he would trust with his life—which was what he might end up doing. The evening sun had slipped beyond the horizon, taking with it the last trace of daylight. Jude struck a match and lit the lamp in the corner.
“I like Jude’s suggestion,” Abram Cooper said from his chair near the door. As the founder of Little Falls, he was highly respected and commanded attention wherever he went. “We’ll need to gather several more men and rotate nightly shifts.”
“Are you willing to volunteer?” Judge Barnum asked. His gray whiskers and balding head should be a sign of wisdom, but his red cheeks and watery eyes hinted at his penchant for alcohol. “I don’t trust Hugh’s men. They have no respect for authority and no regard for humanity. I wouldn’t put it past them to shoot one of you in the back if they had a hankering.”
“What do you suggest, judge?” Timothy Hubbard stood on the other side of the fireplace. He and Abram owned the Little Falls Company and they had more to lose than anyone in the room. “We can’t sit idle while they destroy everything we’ve worked for. I personally know of two gentlemen who had looked at moving their businesses to Little Falls, but chose to go elsewhere because of this lawlessness.”
“We must take matters into our own hands,” Jude said. “I’ll be the first to volunteer.” He’d been in his fair share of dangerous situations. This one was no different. “If people are scared to come to Little Falls, I lose customers.”
“I’ll be the second,” Abram said. “If the sheriff won’t do his job, we’ll do it for him.”
“What do you think, reverend?” Judge Barnum turned to Ben, who sat quietly. He hadn’t said a word since he walked in, listening to each man’s opinion.
“I would never advocate violence,” Ben said evenly. “However, I don’t support passivity, either. We must fight for justice, no matter the cost.”
“So you think a vigilance committee is necessary?” Judge Barnum asked.
Ben nodded slowly. “I do.” He looked at Jude. “And I’ll also volunteer.”
“So will I,” Dr. Jodan said.
“And I,” said Roald Hall.
“You have my cooperation,” Timothy added.
Jude looked at Judge Barnum. “You know the outlaws better than most of us, so I understand your concern. But we need to do something before it’s too late.”
The judge sighed and ran his wrinkled hand down his forehead. “I wish you Godspeed and great success, but I’m too old and too tired to fight.”
No one in the room debated him.
“I have no power to grant you,” the judge continued. “You are taking the law into your own hands and I won’t try to stop you. If the legislature refuses to remove Sheriff Pugh from office, then it’s every man for himself.” He grabbed his cane and rose from the sofa. “I think I’ll mosey on home. You young men carry on.”
“Good night, judge,” Abram said.
The others echoed Abram’s farewell and the judge left the room.
Timothy took the judge’s spot on the sofa. “Now all we need to do is gather about a dozen more men and create a schedule, allowing for two men to patrol the town each night.”
Pascal appeared at the door and nodded at Jude, indicating he had some news for him. It wasn’t like Pascal to interrupt a meeting, so Jude knew it must be important.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said. “Have another cup of coffee and one of Martha’s cookies. She has more where these came from.”
The others helped themselves to the refreshments and continued to talk as Jude left the sitting room.
Pascal waited patiently near the counter, but when Jude entered the lobby, he nodded his chin toward the corner.
Jude turned and found a young man standing there. He crushed his hat in his hands and after meeting Jude’s gaze, he lowered his eyes, his countenance filled with apprehension.
“May I help you?” Jude asked.
The man looked around the lobby like a skittish animal. “Is there somewhere we could speak in private?”
Jude led him to a small parlor off the ballroom. He lit a lantern and closed the door.
The young man swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing several times. Under the light of the lantern, Jude saw the man’s right eye was swollen and bruised. “I—I heard you could help.”
Jude crossed his arms. “It depends. What do you need help with?”
The man leaned in, his eyes desperate. “I need help...for my friend.”
“What’s your friend’s name?”
His skin looked pale and waxy. “Her name’s Maggie Ray and she’s in danger.”
The name sounded vaguely familiar and an alarm went off in Jude’s mind. He’d seen enough men like this to know he had come on behalf of a prostitute he loved.
“Where does she live?”
“In Crow Wing...a-at the brothel, sir.”
Jude had to step carefully. He was always leery of traps set by brothel owners trying to discover if he was the one responsible for helping their prostitutes escape. The man looked truly upset, but he could never be sure.
“You gotta help her, mister. She’s being held against her will.” His voice shook with fear. “I went to see her tonight and asked her to marry me, but One-Eyed Pete won’t let her go. When she said she was leaving, he hit her so hard, she passed out.” He swiped at his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. “I tried to get her, but Pete hit me, too, and then he kicked me out and wouldn’t let me back in.” His voice broke and he twisted his hat back and forth. “I’m afraid he’ll hurt her real bad if we don’t do something.”
“How’d you hear about me?”
The young man wiped his cheeks again. “One of the other ladies told me about you. Said I should come to the Northern and get you.”
Crow Wing was only twenty miles north on the river and Jude hated to bring a woman to the Northern
from somewhere so close. Too many people would talk. But he had little choice. There was no time to find someone else to get her. If what he said was true, she had probably been beaten into submission by now. “Why don’t you ride on home and I’ll see what can be done about your friend.”
“Will you help her?” The pain and desperation in the man’s voice was so raw, Jude suddenly pictured Elizabeth in his mind’s eye. If she was hurting and afraid, he’d do everything in his power to help her. This man was no different.
“What’s your name?”
“John Sloan.”
“And where do you live?”
“Near Belle Prairie.”
Jude put his hand on John’s shoulder. “I’ll do what I can and I’ll get word to you, either way.”
John nodded and shoved his hat back on his head. “Thank you, sir. I’m going to marry Maggie and take care of her. She’ll never have to step foot in a brothel again. You just gotta get her out of there.”
Jude nodded, praying he could help. “Go home now.”
Jude followed John out of the parlor and into the lobby.
Elizabeth was standing at the counter speaking with Pascal. She handed him the ledger, which they kept under the counter, and looked up when Jude entered.
John opened the door, his eyes full of tears. “I’m in your debt.”
After John closed the door, Elizabeth turned her curious gaze to Jude. “What was that about?”
“It’s too complicated to explain.”
Jude couldn’t leave now, not with the meeting still running in the sitting room. But he could have Pascal get his things ready for him. At least then he could leave as soon as the meeting ended.
But Elizabeth stood there, her blue eyes watching him closely.
Pascal waited for a signal, which Jude gave with a quick nod, and then he turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Is there something you need?”
She shook her head. “No.”
For some reason, he wished she had said yes, because then he wouldn’t need to return to the meeting right away but might have a few more moments with her.
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