by Stacy Henrie
“Will you tell me...what it was like?” He knew her answers would likely infuriate him, but he needed to know what she’d experienced.
“Jeb was meaner than my father,” Maggy began. “My father could be angry and belittling, but he didn’t start drinking and knocking me around until after my mother died. I believe something died inside him after her funeral. She’d always taken me to church, but afterward he refused to let me go, and a year or so later, I quit school. There were too many days when he’d do nothing but lie around inebriated or asleep.” Her voice cracked and she gave a light cough. “Jeb was drunk the night he died. I don’t know why I didn’t try to coax him out of his bad mood like I usually did. Instead I chose to go for a walk. I think he must have knocked over the lantern. By the time I returned, the entire cabin was on fire.” She threw him a sad look. “I like to think he was so drunk he didn’t suffer.”
The pain emitting from her was calling to Edward to help in some way. Unsure what to do, he stepped behind her and placed his hands on her forearms, hoping the contact would be comforting. After a long moment, she leaned back against him. He needed no other invitation to encircle her in his arms.
“I’m so very sorry, Maggy.” The words seemed so paltry in comparison to the horrors she’d lived through, but he hoped they would convey the deep sadness, compassion and outrage he felt. “There is no excuse for such despicable behavior. None. That two men, whom you cared for, treated you in such a fashion is deplorable.”
Her hands curled over his where they held her. He recognized her touch was as much a reassurance to him as a silent appeal for solace herself.
“They both felt worthless themselves,” he added with sudden understanding. “But that didn’t make it right to ensure you felt the same about yourself.”
She rested her head on his chest. “I know, and most days I’m able to remember that.”
“And yet, there are times, like tonight, when it is much harder to remember?” He stated it as a question, and she nodded.
“It’s helped me to remind Vienna that she’s of worth. The more I said it to her, the more I felt it in here.” She released him long enough to tap her finger to her heart.
“Your friendship with her has blessed you both,” he said, seeing the situation in a new and clearer light. He could well understand the blessing of having Maggy as a friend. “How did you become a detective after all of that?”
Her quiet chuckle sounded more precious than ever. It told him that she’d been wounded in the past but not permanently.
“After Jeb’s death, I wasn’t sure what to do. I had no other family around and was living off the kindness of a neighbor. One day I happened to overhear two men talking. To my shock, I learned one was a Pinkerton agent.” The soft smile in her voice was unmistakable. “I was intrigued and decided to help him, if I could. I’d always been observant and Jeb’s drunken revelations had given me some information I figured the detective might find useful.
“I made sure we crossed paths later that week and told him what I knew, both about his real identity and the information about the mines. I’ll never forget the shock on his face.” She gave a light laugh. “I assisted him for another few weeks. By then, I was nearly out of what little money I’d taken with me on my walk the night of the fire. That’s when the agent Mr. Beckett told me there were female detectives working for the Pinkertons, and he thought I would make a good one myself. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to give it a try.”
The thought of Maggy, determined and brave, deciding to become a detective brought a brief smile to his face. “And that’s what you did.”
“That’s what I did.” The confidence had returned to her tone. “Mr. Beckett graciously helped me secure a train ticket to Denver. He also gave me a recommendation to take to the office’s superintendent, James McParland. James was skeptical of me at first, but after I successfully completed my first mission, he became my greatest champion.”
She turned in Edward’s arms to face him. “If I hadn’t gone through what I did, I never would have become a detective. I try to remember that, too.”
“Yes, though that’s still a great deal of pain you’ve experienced, Maggy.”
He was grateful that she seemed to accept his efforts at empathy. But her next question caught him off guard, making him wish she’d thrown out a retort instead.
“What was she like? The woman you were nearly engaged to?”
Edward cleared his throat and glanced away. It would be rude to refuse to talk about Beatrice when Maggy had shared such personal things about herself. “She was young, from a well-to-do family, and quite pretty.”
“Did you love her?”
He sniffed with mild amusement. “I believed I did, but now looking back, I don’t know that I understood real love.”
“I’ve felt the same,” she admitted softly. “What happened...between the two of you?”
The old pain resurfaced, but this time, it stung only briefly before ebbing away. “I discovered that she was actually enamored with my oldest brother. I was told it was because her family was facing financial difficulties and she knew the unlikelihood of me inheriting.”
“Oh, Edward.” Her heartfelt compassion was evident in those two words.
He shot her a grim smile. “I would be lying if I said it wasn’t difficult. But I wonder now if perhaps she found something with my brother that she and I didn’t have.”
“So you’ve let go of the bitterness?”
Edward considered the question. “You know, I believe I have.” That realization had him feeling lighter than he had in a long time.
“I think I have, too,” Maggy said, though her chin dipped downward. “Especially my bitterness toward God. I thought He’d abandoned me during those years with my father and Jeb. But He didn’t. I walked away from Him.”
He lifted her chin with his finger. “And now?”
“Now I’ve walked back. Thanks in large part to you.” Fresh tears glittered in her eyes, but he could tell they were tears of cleansing instead of pain. “I know I’m somebody and I’m realizing that’s not just because I’m a good detective. I’m of worth even without that.”
Edward rubbed his finger below her lower lip. “Yes, you are.”
“Thank you for letting me talk, Edward.” She offered him a bright smile. “I feel much better.”
“My pleasure.”
If he kissed her right now, as he wanted to, he feared she would think he was taking advantage of a vulnerable moment. And he wouldn’t do that—not after all she’d shared with him. So he settled for a kiss to her forehead.
“You are of worth, Maggy,” he murmured, easing back to see her face. “I’m glad you’re not letting the Howes and Jebs of this world convince you otherwise.”
Her luminous gaze studied him. “I won’t, and you shouldn’t, either.”
“I don’t—”
The look she bestowed on him was as kind as it was sorrowful. “You’re of worth, too, Edward, even if your girl chose someone else.”
How had she... But then, given her powers of observation, was it really surprising that she’d gleaned his insecurities? “You’re right.”
“How I love that phrase,” she mused with an impish look.
If he didn’t let her go, he wasn’t sure he could convince himself not to kiss that mischievous mouth of hers. “I imagine you want to head inside,” he said, lowering his hands to his sides, “after such an eventful evening.”
Maggy swayed a bit as if she’d grown accustomed to his gentle hold. But he forced himself to step back instead of reaching out to steady her.
Each touch, each smile, each conversation just left him yearning for the next, and yet, the reality was that Maggy wouldn’t be staying. The sooner he accepted that fact, the less he hoped it would hurt when he said goodbye to her for the final time.
* * *
Two nights later, Maggy dreamt again of Jeb and the fire. Only this time in her dream, when she reached the cabin, she saw a figure inside. She screamed Jeb’s name, but when the person turned, it was Edward staring back at her.
She woke with a start, her face and neck beaded with sweat and her heart beating fast. “It’s a dream, just a dream,” she whispered to herself, though she could still smell the smoke from the burning cabin.
Flipping onto her side to face the window, she tried to settle her mind. But the smoky scent grew stronger. Why would anything be burning in the middle of the night?
Maggy climbed out of bed and padded to the partially opened window. Nothing seemed amiss in the front yard or by the stable. She pressed her nose to the cool glass, trying to get a better view of the side yard. A flicker of light caught her eye. Could the guest house be on—
“Fire!” she heard someone holler. “Fire!”
She spun from the window and grabbed her shoes, her pulse erratic once more. She knew, firsthand, how quickly a building could be consumed by flames. After fumbling with the laces, she finally had her shoes secured. Maggy pulled her arms through her dressing gown as she rushed into the hallway and banged on Vienna’s door.
“There’s a fire.” She didn’t wait for the girl to respond, but instead she rushed downstairs and out into the night.
A group of the men, including Edward, had gathered a safe distance from the guest house. The fire had already eaten up one wall and part of the roof. “We’ll fight it as best we can,” Edward instructed. “But with the way the wind is blowing, we’ve got to focus on keeping the main house protected.” Grim nods ran the length of the group. “We’ll start a pair of bucket brigades—one to wet the roof of the house and another to try to fight the blaze.”
As the group broke up, Maggy cast another glance at the fire. She felt grateful she’d moved her things into the main house when Vienna had come to the ranch two days earlier. Otherwise Maggy would have been inside the now-burning building... A sudden remembrance had her sucking in a sharp breath of smoke-tinted air. She ran to catch up with Edward who was carrying a ladder out of the stable.
“It was Howe,” she said quietly but with conviction. “He thought I was staying in the guest house.”
Edward stopped at once to look at her. “How do you know?” he demanded.
“I don’t, not for sure. But he asked the other night if Vienna was in the guest house and I told him that I’d been staying there.”
She watched the color drain from his face before his expression hardened. “We can’t prove anything at this point, so we’d better focus on saving what we can.”
“I agree—” But he’d already walked off to prop the ladder against the porch. A flicker of frustration shot through her.
Reminding herself there’d be time enough for discussing tactics and strategies later, she joined the bucket brigade to save the main house. By then, Mrs. Harvey and Vienna had joined everyone else outside.
Maggy worked as quickly as she could, feeling as invested in saving the ranch house as if it were hers. After a time, the muscles in her arms began to ache and cramp from lifting the full buckets to the first man on the ladder. The exhaustion she felt was mirrored on the faces of those around her, but no one complained. Near the guest house, the members of the other bucket brigade, which included Edward, were working just as tirelessly, though their efforts were making little difference. Flames rose across the guest house roof, and Maggy knew it was only a matter of time before it collapsed.
A sudden cry had her tipping her head back to look at McCall who was positioned on the roof of the main house. “The stable!”
She glanced in that direction and gasped when she saw small flames gnawing at the stable roof. The wind had clearly changed directions. Edward shouted for help to get the horses out of the stable. Several of the wranglers dropped their buckets and sprinted toward the building. Maggy and the other two women did their best to fill in the gaps in the bucket line, since the house still needed protecting. The men across the yard moved their attention from the burning guest house to the stable.
A few minutes later, Napoleon, Persimmon, and the other horses ran out of the building. Maggy offered a silent prayer of gratitude as she took another full bucket from Vienna and passed it to the man on the ladder.
Her dressing gown and nightdress were soaked from all the sloshing water, making her shiver in spite of the heat from the fire. Still, she kept hauling, kept passing. Ash floated through the hazy air. The scene felt eerily similar to her dream—so much so that her heart began to pound. The bucket slipped between her sweaty palms and she rushed to catch it before it spilled, then handed it up the line.
This isn’t the same as the other fire, she told herself firmly.
But when the guest house roof caved in, sending sparks and flames skyward, she couldn’t draw a full breath into her lungs. The stable was now ablaze, too, despite the group’s efforts to save it. Through the smoky night, she watched the men back away from both buildings.
“Maggy.” Vienna extended another full bucket toward her. “Are you all right?”
She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she shook her head.
“Do you need to sit down?”
Did she? No, she could do this. This wasn’t the night Jeb was killed. He hadn’t even been in her dream tonight—it had been... Edward.
Cold alarm rushed through as she searched the blackened faces of the men coming to join the final fight to save the main house. Edward wasn’t among them. Where was he?
Maggy grabbed the bucket Vienna still clutched and passed it up the ladder. “I’ll be right back,” she told the girl. She had to make sure Edward was all right. Renewed purpose chased away any lingering anxiety. She ran toward the stable doors, which spewed out heat and smoke. A lone figure stood near the open doorway, a bucket still in his hand.
“Edward,” she yelled, but he didn’t turn. To her horror, she watched Edward square his shoulders and take a step toward the burning stable.
“Edward, stop.” She reached out to grab his arm and felt the knotted muscles beneath her fingers. “You can’t save it.”
The light from the fire illuminated every detail of his determined expression. “Yes, I can. They won’t take away everything I’ve worked for.”
“They won’t and they haven’t.”
The grim resolution rolling off his rigid stance didn’t change.
“You still have the house, see?” She gestured toward the unburned building, hoping he would look. But his gaze remained fixed on the stable.
“The Cavalry won’t want the horses from someone who’s a failure, Maggy.” The hard tenor of his voice made her wince. He wrenched his arm free and stepped toward the building once more.
Should she run and get McCall to help her? She was strong, but she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to stop Edward on her own by sheer force. If she left his side, though, he would likely be halfway inside the burning building by the time she returned with the foreman. She would have to try a different tactic.
Stepping in front of him, she gripped his face between her palms. The heat of the fire baked her back, but she wouldn’t give up on Edward, not without a fight. And a fight could well be the result of what she was about to do.
She tipped his head toward her. Then, ignoring the steely quality in his gray eyes, she pressed her lips firmly to his. His jaw stiffened briefly beneath her hands, but Maggy didn’t let it deter her. She poured all the fears and joys she’d experienced over the last month into her kiss.
Long moments later, to her intense relief, she felt Edward relax. The bucket in his grasp hit the ground as his hand settled at her waist and he drew her slightly closer. Her pulse treaded faster, no longer from fear but pure contentment as Edward kissed her back.
When the heat from the
fire grew too uncomfortable, she lowered her hand from his face to his arm and turned him to the side. His gaze had lost its hardness completely.
“You are not a failure, Edward.” She rubbed her thumb against the stubble that covered his jaw. “As the third son of an earl. Or the suitor who was jilted. Or the rancher with a burned-down stable. You are not what you do or what happens to you.” Her voice caught as she studied his beloved face.
“Am I the only one who’s been paying attention during church services?” she half teased, in an effort to disguise the depth of emotion spilling through her.
His laugh sounded strangled, but it was there nonetheless. “Apparently so.” He tugged her wrist downward and kissed her hand. “Thank you, Maggy.” His voice came out low and husky.
“For what?” she asked, hating how breathless she sounded. But the way he was looking at her and the lingering touch of his lips against her knuckles had her feeling lightheaded.
He smiled. “For what you said just now...and for that kiss.”
A longing rose inside her—to kiss him again and to share her heart. Could Edward possibly feel the same about her as she did for him? Did he share her longing to make their temporary engagement permanent, however impossible that might be?
“You quite possibly saved my life tonight.”
Sharp disappointment cut through her. Though the words were spoken tenderly, they seemed to convey only gratitude. “You would’ve done the same for me,” she countered with a slightly forced smile.
He didn’t feel as she did, and she’d been foolish to think otherwise. Edward was devoted to his ranch and she was devoted to her career—and securing that promotion.
Thoughts of her promotion brought welcome practicality back to her addled brain. “We need to see if whoever started the fire left any evidence.” She released her grip on his arm, pulled her other hand from his, and took a decisive step backward.
