by Jill Gregory
“No, Mr. Breen. Not at all.”
“You’re a bit pale. Every bit as beautiful as I remember, of course, but ...”
“Juliana fainted when we got to town,” Victoria blurted out.
Juliana gritted her teeth and managed to restrain herself from glaring at her cousin, though at that moment she would have dearly loved to box Victoria’s ears.
“Fainted?” Swift concern flashed across Breen’s features. He swung Juliana around to face him. “Are you ill? Shall I send for a doctor?”
“Oh, no, please. It was nothing. Victoria shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
Victoria, having no idea of John Breen’s marital intentions toward her cousin, had been feeling peeved at being so pointedly ignored. It was bad enough that Juliana commanded the attention of the handsomest young men back home, but to see John Breen positively doting on her the moment they arrived without scarcely a glance at anyone else was too much to bear. She knew Juliana hated any reference to her weakness regarding bloodshed, and it gave her a surge of pleasure to confide something to John Breen that would discomfit her cousin: this one missish quality, the only frailty she seemed to possess, embarrassed Juliana, and perhaps, Victoria thought with a flash of inspiration, it would even diminish their host’s obvious admiration for her—for surely western men preferred women of a hardier constitution. But Victoria’s satisfaction was short-lived. John Breen appeared only more intently interested in Juliana, and both her parents instantly shot her such a furious glance that she quailed inwardly and clamped her mouth shut.
It was Edward who cleared his throat and said: “You see, there was a bit of trouble in town, John, and Juliana became upset. A man was shot and she happened to run into the fellow who did it—”
“What? Who was it? Did he touch you? Hurt you in any way?” Breen questioned the girl swiftly, a hard look entering his eyes.
“No, no, it wasn’t anything like that.” Juliana could have happily strangled Victoria at that moment. “He was a bounty hunter,” she started to explain, “and it wasn’t really his fault at all—” but Uncle Edward cut her off.
“Cole Rawdon was the fellow’s name. He gave the poor girl a nasty shock. You certainly can’t blame her for fainting. Any girl of sensibility would have done the same.”
“Rawdon.” Breen frowned as he turned the name over in his mind. “I’ve heard of the man, but never met him. What happened?”
“Nothing, really.” Juliana insisted, with a shake of her head. She was startled by the overly solicitous manner in which John Breen was behaving toward her, almost as if he was responsible for her safety and welfare. She was uncomfortable with the fuss being made over the entire subject. “I am feeling perfectly fine now—only a little tired—and I’d rather not discuss it,” she said with what she hoped was a cool smile and her most dismissive tone.
But Aunt Katharine was not to be silenced until she had explained the matter to her own satisfaction. “Juliana was naturally distressed,” she told Breen, stroking her niece’s arm in a fond way. “She is such a sweet, sensitive girl, and cannot abide violence of any sort, and here she stumbles upon a brutal killing the moment she arrives in town—why, she actually saw the dead man ...”
“Damned unlucky.” John Breen shook his head. The look he gave Juliana was regretful. “I’m sorry your visit got off to such a rough start. You’ve been gently raised—it’s only natural such an event would shock you. Eventually, if you spend some time in these parts, you’ll toughen up. But not too much, I hope.” He grinned down at her. “You see, I like softness in a woman.”
Juliana stiffened. How could her uncle stand by and let such a forward remark pass unanswered? But Uncle Edward was staring at his thumbs, and Aunt Katharine’s gaze was fixed steadfastly upon the pattern in the Turkish carpet.
It was ludicrous. If any of the beaux who came to call in St. Louis had ever treated her to such intimate glances and bold words upon such a short acquaintance, she would have been forbidden any contact with them. John Breen was behaving as if ... as if he were her husband!
She remembered what Aunt Katharine had said about not insulting their host, and she wondered with a little stab of anger just how far her aunt and uncle would go to avoid giving offense. She swallowed back her anger, and the setdown that sprang so readily to her lips. It would not do to put him in his place, she realized reluctantly. She had, after all, given her word to try to be charming to the man. But not too charming, she told herself. In fact, I’d do well to steer clear of John Breen before he seeks favors I am not inclined to grant. It wouldn’t surprise me, she thought with what she imagined to be great sophistication, if at some point during our visit he even tried to steal a kiss!
“Might we have a cup of tea, Mr. Breen?” was all she said to change the subject, speaking in the chilly, even tone she reserved for suitors not in her favor. “I am certain my aunt and Victoria are as in need of refreshment as I am.”
“Of course.” Breen eyed her in amusement, sensing that her hackles were up, though she did nothing overt to snub him. He led the way toward the parlour with lanky strides. “My apologies, ladies. Hearing about the incident in town made me forget all my manners. You see, I have no wife to act as hostess and remind me of the niceties when guests arrive. You must forgive me. The party won’t begin for a few hours, so you’ll have plenty of time to rest and get ready. Miss Montgomery, right this way.”
As Juliana followed him through the wide front hall, she felt herself nearly swallowed up by the massive lines of the house that surrounded her. The ranch house seemed almost as big as the land encompassing it. The dark-paneled walls gleamed in the bright lantern light; beyond the hardwood floor of the hall she saw a huge oak staircase leading to the second-story landing, and there was a whole series of huge, sprawling rooms branching off the main hall. The first of these was an enormous parlour, big as a ballroom, and furnished with crimson damask sofas and overstuffed blue velvet chairs, carved mahogany tables, and a sideboard heaped with decanters of whiskey and brandy and wine. A stone fireplace alive with a crackling fire added its cheery glow to the crimson-draperied room. There was a Turkish carpet on the floor and several fine watercolors gracing the parlour walls, but despite the grand beauty of her surroundings, Juliana was uncomfortable. Even as he poured a brandy for Uncle Edward and watched the ladies sip their tea, something calculating and expectant in John Breen’s expression every time it rested upon her made her feel as if she were a tasty morsel about to be consumed whole by a hungry man.
Even later, bathing in the rose-scented bathwater Breen’s Mexican housekeeper prepared for her in her room and patting herself dry with a luxuriously thick towel embroidered in French lace, Juliana could not forget the gleam in John Breen’s eyes whenever he was beside her, or the possessive touch of his hand upon her arm. She shivered. Well, she would be polite to him, but that was all. Surely Aunt Katharine and Uncle Edward would not expect her to actively encourage his attentions only to further Uncle Edward’s business dealings! That would be too much. John Breen disturbed her somehow; despite his handsomeness, his charm and air of solicitation, she sensed something cold, frightening about the man. She didn’t trust him. And she didn’t want to get into a situation where she would be alone with him.
But that was exactly what happened later that evening, during a lull in the dancing. Juliana was aware that Aunt Katharine and Uncle Edward had watched in cold disapproval as one dancing partner after another had spun her about the room. They seemed shocked by the custom of young men coming up and introducing themselves to a lady in the most informal way and inviting her to dance.
“That isn’t the way things are done back east,” Victoria had sniffed to her mother at one point,
But we’re not back east anymore, Juliana exulted as a grinning young cowpoke whirled her about in a Virginia reel. Her heart lifted as she skimmed about in perfect time to the music, surrounded by a dozen other gaily spinning couples.
The blue and crimson p
arlour at Twin Oaks was ablaze with candles, and the air was warm. The heavy furniture had been pushed back to make room for the dancing, and against the walls long tables draped with checkered cloths had been set with platters of beef, venison, and gravy-smothered potatoes. Tempting homemade breads and pies added their fragrant aroma to the heady atmosphere of the room. Juliana guessed that at least one hundred guests, townspeople and neighbors, had come tonight to pay their respects to John Breen, Denver’s most prominent citizen. From what she had seen as she danced, Breen had introduced her uncle to nearly all of them, but she’d had little opportunity to meet anyone but the cowboys who lined up, one after the other, to whirl about the floor with her.
When the Virginia reel ended, Juliana found herself breathless. Before she could even thank her partner, she was confronted by a lanky young cowboy with red hair and twinkling blue eyes that shone at her from beneath a dark gray Stetson. “Ma’am,” he said, elbowing aside the cowboy she’d been dancing with, “would you do me the honor of accepting this glass of lemonade? You’ve been dancing so hard all night, I reckon you must be plumb tuckered out, not to mention thirstier than a hoss in the desert.”
Juliana laughed. “How could I resist such a pretty offer?” she gasped, putting a hand to her thudding heart. “I accept the lemonade, if you’ll join me, Mister ...”
“Keedy, ma’am, Gil Keedy.” Taking a sip from his own glass, he studied her over the rim, while all about them in the parlour, ranchers, cowhands, women in all manner of gingham and calico and townsmen in stiff collars and dark suits chattered and drank and jostled about the festively lit room.
Juliana, a vision in her lavender silk gown, liked Gil Keedy immediately. Her smile grew when he said: “Miss Montgomery, ma’am, I’ve been workin’ for Mr. Breen here at Twin Oaks nearly a year now, and I’ve got to say, gals pretty as you out in these parts are rarer than gold in a snake pit. This sure is my lucky day.”
His low-key, comical Texas drawl made her eyes dance. “Your lucky day? Really? Now why is that Mr. Keedy?”
“Gil, ma’am, I have to insist on Gil,” he said gravely. He set his glass down on a table and took her hand in his, holding it with a light touch. “A hunch told me to come to this dance and darned if now I don’t know why. Meetin’ you, that’s why. You’re my destiny, ma’am. There ain’t no doubt about it.” He loosened the bright plaid neckerchief knotted about his neck and grinned at her in sheer boyish appreciation. “Tell me all about yourself, Miss Montgomery, quick—before some bowlegged, ugly old cowpoke comes along to steal you away.”
“Oh, I’d much rather hear about you,” she said teasingly. “Do you enjoy working at Twin Oaks?”
For a moment there was a tightening of his amiable freckled face, then it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Why, shore, it has its moments. But never you mind about me. My story’s a dull one. I’m just a kid from Waco who likes to punch cows and tell tall tales—and who spends a hell of a lot of nights—beg pardon, ma’am —dreamin’ about a purty gal with spun gold hair and green eyes who’ll hold the hand of a pore redhaided cowpoke and mebbe fall in love with him.”
“Gil,” she admonished, her face filled with laughter, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
“Wal, ma’am, I can’t deny I’m sorely tempted.” He inched closer and regarded her with open admiration. “Tell me why a beautiful young lady like yourself ain’t been hitched already to some lucky hombre and got herself a passel of kids? Those fellows back in Missouri must be plumb loco to have let you git away.”
“Gil, are you trying to tell me I’m on the shelf?” Juliana exclaimed with mock indignation.
“You’re sure no old maid or nothin’, but if you’d growed up in these parts, you’d have been standin’ before the preacher the day you turned sixteen—and half the men in the county would’ve been shootin’ each other for the honor of standin’ beside you.”
“Did they teach you how to flirt in Waco, Mr. Keedy, or do you just come by it naturally?”
“Naturally, I reckon—when I’m with a sweet and purty little gal.”
She couldn’t help but smile, yet when she had set her glass down on a small table nearby she turned back to him with a more pensive glance. Maybe she could trust this likable cowboy to help her begin her search. She had wanted to start her inquiries about Wade and Tommy immediately, so why not begin with Gil Keedy? Something, told her he would do his best to help her.
“Gil,” she said slowly, “I need some information. It’s important. Did you ever hear of two men named Wade and Tommy Montgomery?”
“No, ma’am, can’t say as I have. Are they kin of yours?”
“The very closest of kin. They’re my brothers.”
Briefly, while the other guests danced and stomped their feet and clapped their hands to the fiddler’s tune all across the parlour, Juliana explained in low tones. She expected him to frown when she told him that her brothers were desperadoes, and to warn her that she’d do best to steer clear of them, but instead he merely stared at her calmly and said:
“Ahuh.”
Warmth flooded through her at this ready acceptance. Her delicate face flushed as she leaned impulsively toward him, hopeful at last of having an ally. “And I ... I haven’t the vaguest notion how to find them,” she rushed on, “but I’m convinced they’d want to see me if they knew I was here in Colorado. What do you suggest I do?”
He met her eager gaze soberly. “Let me ask around. Some of the boys in the bunkhouse or someone in town will know something. You can be sure of that.”
“Oh, thank you, Gill! I’ve been wondering how I should manage to make inquiries without Aunt Katharine and Uncle Edward finding out ...”
“Here you are, Juliana.” Her aunt’s voice boomed directly behind her, making Juliana jump. “Tiresome girl, I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.” Buxom and formidable in her gown of rippling green silk, Aunt Katharine bestowed upon her niece a look of extreme annoyance from those great mahogany-colored eyes.
“Speak of the devil?” Gil muttered in Juliana’s ear. Aunt Katharine swung toward him. “I beg your pardon, young man?”
He gave her his lopsided grin. “No need to do that, ma’am. I was jest saying to Miss Montgomery here that speaking of dancing, I’d be honored if she’d step out with me for this here jig ...”
“My niece is otherwise engaged.”
Juliana knew that tone. Aunt Katharine was in no mood to brook an argument. She spoke up quickly, flashing the red-haired cowboy a swift smile. “Thank you, Gil, for the lemonade—and everything.”
“It was shore my pleasure, ma’am. I reckon I’ll see you again before too long.”
“Why, yes, I hope so.”
When he was gone, slipping into the throng of plaid-shirted men and gingham-clad women, Aunt Katharine fixed her with an exasperated glare. “Juliana, instead of parading around here like a common hussy with a bunch of cowboys, you could be dancing with Mr. Breen! He’s been asking for you, and I’m certain he would like to engage you for a dance tonight, if you can find room for him with all of these scruffy cowboys sniffing around you.”
“Aunt Katharine, I don’t wish to dance with Mr. Breen.”
Her aunt stared at her as if she’d gone mad, “Why in the world would you say a thing like that?”
Juliana tore her gaze from the circle of whirling dancers to meet her aunt’s frowning countenance. “Because it’s true,” she said simply. “Aunt Katharine, Mr. Breen makes me most uncomfortable. His demeanor ... it’s all wrong. He seems to have feelings which I can’t return ... and he is so possessive, so overly concerned about me. I feel smothered—and I barely know the man. Something isn’t right.”
“Mr. Breen is merely being kind, Juliana. He is treating you with ordinary civility. Really, you are most ungrateful. And conceited. Merely because a man is solicitous of you does not mean he is smitten with you, young lady. And if he were, I can hardly think of a more de
sirable match—”
“Aunt Katharine,” Juliana interrupted, placing one hand on her aunt’s arm. “I truly wish to honor my promise to you not to offend Mr. Breen. The best way to do that is to avoid encouraging his attentions so that I am not in the position of rebuffing him!”
“Nonsense. There he is now.” She smiled broadly across the room to the parlour entrance as their host paused on the threshold and surveyed the packed room. “Oh, Mr. Bree-en.” Aunt Katharine raised her voice ever so slightly, and waggled two fingers in a delicate wave. To Juliana’s dismay, John Breen turned toward them and made his way through the crowd, chatting easily with various guests as he crossed the room. She saw him pause by Bart Mueller’s side and converse for a moment, before his gaze swung sharply toward Gil Keedy.
“Now, be amiable,” Aunt Katharine whispered as he moved toward them once more, “and remember how important this business proposition is to your uncle!”
John Breen looked more handsome than ever against the festive background of the party. Head and shoulders taller than most of the other men, he paused before Juliana with a flashing smile. “Evening, ladies. Hope you’re enjoying the party.”
“It’s delightful, Mr. Breen, simply delightful.” Katharine Tobias’s usually haughty tone was sugary now, making Juliana wince. “You westerners certainly know how to enjoy yourselves.”
“Yes, we like to kick up our heels now and then. It takes our minds off our troubles.”
“What troubles could you possibly have, Mr. Breen?” Juliana couldn’t resist asking. “You have a lovely ranch and a successful business empire, and from the number of people here in your home tonight, I’d guess you have many friends and well-wishers. Surely you must be a happy man.”
He stroked his mustache in a smooth, automatic gesture that she was coming to recognize as a habit with him. “Happy, Miss Montgomery? Mostly. Trouble-free? No, ma’am.” His glance swept the room, missing nothing. “Every man has his enemies, Miss Montgomery. I have mine. Sometimes they try to get in the way of what I want. That makes me mighty unhappy—until I’ve rid myself of them. Then,” he continued, smiling down at her, “I can be happy again.”
