Was this her idea of fun, snooping on his family? Had she been laughing at them all along for believing her housekeeper story? And what an idiot he was, telling her how he felt about his fiancée—her! He wouldn’t put anything past that woman who’d tricked him into . . . There was no point in denying it. Her deception was killing him because he was in love with her. And it had happened so fast! He’d seen it coming and had tried to stop it. But seeing her with Caleb’s newborn son had clinched it. He was in love with a woman who didn’t exist!
He was sober again before he let Patches find their way home. The sun was setting. My God, he’d never see a sunset again without thinking of her and her enjoyment of them. That he could believe, but nothing else.
He entered through the kitchen. A mistake. He was going to have to avoid that room like the plague when he could see her everywhere in it. Andrew was the only one there now. He was reading Jenny’s cookbook as he stirred whatever was in the pot on the stove. So he was going to take over her job?
Maximilian rushed into the room at the sound of the door’s opening, then disappeared back down the hall when he saw it wasn’t his mistress coming home. Hunter wanted to laugh every time he saw that pig following Jenny about. She hadn’t taken it with her. No, course she wouldn’t, it had all been an act, especially her affection for a pig
Warily, probably because of Hunter’s expression, Andrew whispered, “I didn’t know—”
“Shut up, kid” was all Hunter said as he passed through the kitchen.
He thought he could get away with slipping up to his room unnoticed and locking the door. But his parents were in the parlor, both of them. Both were staring at him the moment he came into view by the stairs.
He was surprised enough to stop. “How’d you get down here, Ma?”
“I carried her down,” Zachary grumbled. “We’ve been waiting here all day for you! She refused to go back upstairs, afraid you’d try to sneak in without us noticing.”
“I tried,” Hunter admitted with a shrug. “I don’t want to talk.”
“Sit down,” Mary said softly.
It was one thing to disobey Zachary. Hunter did that often enough, two males butting heads. But it was quite another thing not to comply with his mother’s dictates. He sat down, but he immediately changed seats to sit next to his mother on the sofa so the poker table wouldn’t be in his view. More damn memories of fun and laughter with Jenny that just made him even angrier now. Could she really have faked it all? He’d even thought that night that he’d never go to town on a Saturday night again if he could spend them all with her instead. What a fool he’d been!
“Don’t pretend you’re not going to be a happy groom now,” Zachary began. “You were all over that gal from the moment she got here.”
“All over Jenny, yeah,” Hunter said coldly. “But that’s not who rode off from here today.”
“So what if she fooled us,” Zachary replied. “We got to see what she’s really like, and let me tell you, I’m damned glad she’s not the snooty, high-muck-a-muck society gal I was expecting.”
“Isn’t she?” Hunter asked angrily. “You haven’t figured out yet that she was acting a part? What you saw and heard wasn’t the real girl, just a role she was playing.”
The pig clip-clopped down the hall at the sound of their voices, apparently still hoping to find his mistress. Max stopped there at the bottom of the stairs staring at them, almost accusingly, as if he were blaming them for her absence. Zachary threw one of Mary’s small, embroidered pillows at it, making it squeal and trot off upstairs.
“That damn pig,” Zachary grumbled. “You need to take it to her tomorrow, Hunter.”
“Why? She’ll just send it to their kitchen for dinner. Do you really think she befriended a pig of all animals? It was just another part of her deception. In fact, I don’t doubt she was meticulously deliberate in doing the exact opposite of what she’d really do, just so we wouldn’t make the connection between Jennifer Fleming and Tiffany Warren.”
“What connection?” Zachary demanded gruffly. “Them both arriving from the East at the same time? Them both having that pretty red hair? We would have just thought it was coincidence.”
“Yeah—unless she behaved the way she usually behaves, then we would have guessed pretty damn quickly. It hasn’t sunk in yet, Pa? She is that cold, snooty Easterner you were expecting her to be.”
“Not exactly,” Mary disagreed. “Keep in mind, your brothers approached her, she didn’t approach them. And for whatever reason she went along with it, she came to us expecting to be just a housekeeper, which isn’t a strenuous job in the least, but we put her to work instead, real work. If she’s the spoiled, uppity rich gal you’re both now thinking she is, she would have quit right away. Society ladies don’t get their hands dirty. They always have a personal maid close to hand, too.”
Hunter snorted. “Now you mention it, she’s visited a woman at the hotel in town. Said she was an acquaintance she met on the train, but it’s probably her maid. The real Tiffany Warren wouldn’t have traveled this far alone, would she?”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Mary agreed, but reminded him, “We don’t know why she did this yet.”
“To spy for her pa, of course,” Zachary reasserted his earlier guess.
“To what purpose?” Mary interrupted. “We have nothing to hide. If anything, this smacks more of a prank and a whopper, to top any her brothers ever pulled. The Warren boys might even have talked her into it, but her father certainly wouldn’t have. Yet, I don’t really believe that, either. It’s just far more likely than spying.”
“Does it matter why?” Hunter said. “The fact remains, she’s a liar and a damn good one. We’ll never be able to believe a word she says now.”
Mary patted his hand. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. You can even direct some of it at me because I could see Rose in her, not clearly, but enough to make me wonder. Yet I said nothing.”
“Why the hell not?” Zachary asked.
“Because you stubborn jackasses would have gotten all up in arms about it,” Mary replied, staring at her husband pointedly. “And because I figured she had her reasons. And also because I sensed kindness in her. She’d have to be the best actress in the world to fake that.”
Hunter stood up to leave. His head was starting to ache from all the possibilities, none of them good. “I’m going to bed.”
“You’re not going to eat first? Your pa talked that boy into taking over Jenny’s, that is, Tiffany’s job.”
“I’ve got a bottle of rotgut in me; food doesn’t have a chance of staying down tonight.”
Mary nodded, promising, “This will look better in the morning, Hunter. And tomorrow night—”
“I’m not going with you.”
“Of course you will,” Mary said. “You’ll probably even ride over sooner because you won’t be able to stand it, not knowing what her motives were.”
Hunter nodded for his mother’s sake, but he didn’t agree. He went upstairs and there was the pig again, standing outside Jenny’s door, waiting, hoping she’d open it, probably feeling as bereft as he was. Without even thinking about why he did it, Hunter picked Max up and carried him to his room for the night.
Chapter Forty-Four
TIFFANY WAS ENJOYING A happy reunion with her brothers at least. That painful knot in her chest eased throughout the day as one by one her brothers visited her in her room, expressing their happiness at seeing her again. Sam must have told Carl and Roy her reasons for staying with the Callahans, the ones she’d told him anyway, because they didn’t mention what she’d done, not once.
Carl was adorable. He was so bashful. He’d slicked back his blond hair to show her he was a man now, though he was only sixteen. But he’d always been shy, so it would probably take a few days for him to relax around her.
She’d expected Roy to be a little more vocal, but dreamer that he was, maybe he understood better than anyone else why she had done s
omething so drastic. He slipped her a poem before he left her, his way of apologizing for being so angry at her in town that day.
By early afternoon one of the Warrens’ hired hands had delivered her trunk of clothes. At Tiffany’s request, Sam had gone to town and brought Anna to the Warren Ranch.
“About time,” Anna had started to crow in an I-told-you-so tone until she noticed Tiffany’s red eyes. Then she amended, “So it’s not your choice to be here then?”
Tiffany had shaken her head. “And meeting my father was as horrible as I knew it would be. But I’m sure I’ll only have to endure it for another few days.”
“What’s happening in a few days?”
“I’m going to get a reprieve and go home where I belong. Will you come with me, or do you prefer working with hammers and saws now?”
“I enjoyed it for a few days, but that’s how quickly we ran out of work to do, so I was getting bored. This town is still too small for a full-time furniture maker, though it’s something I could pitch in on occasionally if you were sticking around. But Mr. Martin didn’t really need a helper, he was just lonely, spending every day in his shop by himself.”
There was one other surprise. When Sam had gone to town to fetch Anna, he’d run into the postmaster, who told him a package for Tiffany had arrived on the train that morning. It was her mother’s response to her first letter. Her mother’s having addressed it to Tiffany at the Warren Ranch was indicative of how angry Rose was. Tiffany didn’t think her mother had intended to expose her charade because in all likelihood Frank would merely have thought it was something they’d had shipped early to make sure it would be there when Tiffany arrived.
She was delighted to see it was the cookbooks she’d asked for, French, Italian, even New York favorites, thick volumes all three of them. But no letter was included with them. Tiffany was certain the letter had been addressed to Jennifer Fleming at the Triple C Ranch. How ingenious of her mother. She wanted to make sure Tiffany contacted at least one of her brothers to get the cookbooks. She’d probably been hoping they would make her see how foolish she was being. But Tiffany wasn’t eager to read that first letter. Even on paper, Rose was quite capable of shouting. It was the next letter from her mother that she was anxiously awaiting because that was the one that would rescue her.
She was impatient to join her brothers for dinner and tried to rush Anna in preparing her, but then she laughed at herself. Had she gotten a little too used to how quickly this went without a maid dressing her and styling her hair? She took a deep breath and kept her mouth shut because the result would be worth it. Looking at her reflection in the mirror before she left the room, she was right. She looked like Tiffany again, the real Tiffany.
—
She was laughing with her brothers when Franklin walked in to join them. The boys continued to talk excitedly, telling her funny stories and more about what they’d done in the last years since she’d seen them. No one noticed that she’d stopped participating in the conversation. She knew then it had been a mistake to come down for dinner. She’d just been unable to resist her brothers’ company.
“What do you think, Tiff?” Roy asked her. “Tiff?”
He finally got her attention, though she’d missed the original question. “Pardon? What did you say?”
“How about going for a swim in the lake sometime this week?”
That god-awful lake! It was the very reason she was here, contention over water rights. She was bitter enough to say, “You don’t think we’ll get shot at?”
That definitely put a damper on the merry atmosphere at the dinner table. All three boys looked contrite, when it wasn’t even their fault. It was Franklin’s fault though, and he didn’t look the least bit apologetic for his part in that feud. A little exasperated maybe over her remark. It was obvious now why Rose had married him. Blond, eyes as green as Tiffany’s, apparently quiet in demeanor as opposed to tempestuous the way Rose was, and still incredibly handsome, even in his early forties.
“Can you at least give us one evening to enjoy your company without dredging up the past?” Frank asked.
She wished she could, she really did, but not with him sitting at the table. She almost asked him to leave. Almost. But her brothers would no doubt leap to his defense and be upset with her, so she didn’t.
Instead, she reminded him, “It’s the only reason I’m here. The past. A feud that none of you have had sense enough to end. I’ve heard the Callahans’ side of it. I’d like to hear your side now.”
“We can discuss that if we must.” Frank even offered a slight smile. “Not exactly good for the digestion though. Can it wait until after we eat?”
Levity when his presence infuriated her? But a servant came in with a big bowl of salad that the girl started serving them as the first course. At least Frank had a decent cook, and many servants for that matter. Most of them appeared to be Indian or of Indian descent. After two servants who had looked more Indian than white had filled Tiffany’s tub today, her own tub, she’d asked Sam about them. He’d explained that twenty years ago it hadn’t been uncommon for Indians to trade their women to the first trappers in the area. The women couldn’t go back to their tribes after that, and by the time the Indian wars began, they already had families of their own and weren’t involved in the fighting. But because many white men had died in those wars, the prejudice against the Indians intensified, even after the tribes were driven out of the territory. The offspring of those interracial unions had had trouble finding work after the wars. Frank, apparently, didn’t share that prejudice, but then he’d been trading with the tribes long before the animosity had started. Which was probably why the Warren Ranch had been spared during the hostilities.
Tiffany managed to hold her tongue for the meal. The main course arrived, a chicken casserole smothered in freshly churned cheese. It looked and smelled delicious and made her wonder what Hunter was eating tonight. She hoped it wasn’t Jakes’s cooking.
The boys continued talking and laughing. She smiled tepidly when they tried to include her. Frank watched her quietly. Every time she caught him at it, that pain in her chest got worse. It was a wonder she could get any food down, even the cherry cobbler that arrived for dessert. All it did was remind her that she hadn’t yet made dessert for the Callahans, or that cake she’d promised the hired hands after they’d cleaned the house.
But when the last fork was set down, she was done waiting. Her brothers realized that. Sam nodded them out of the room to give her some privacy with her father. She hadn’t counted on being alone with him and almost railed at him again, but there was no point. He’d had his chance this morning to mend their breach, but all he’d spoken of was “thinking” about her. A fat lot of good his thoughts had done her growing up.
So she stayed focused on her goal and said, “I want your feud to end without a marriage because I can’t live here. I’ve led a genteel life. Not once, ever, was it marred by violence until I came here, where I’ve had guns pointed at me, seen men die in front of me, seen men fighting on the street. I’m going home just as soon as Mama agrees that she never should have sent me here. So before the Callahans come over tomorrow, I want to know why I had to get tangled up in this.”
“I’m sorry you had to witness—”
“Please,” she cut him off coldly. “Sam’s already mentioned it was probably just bad luck. Whether that’s so or not, the fact remains that a marriage isn’t going to end what’s gone on for three generations. It would stand no chance of succeeding if the only reason for it is to end this feud.”
“I didn’t think that would be the only reason,” Frank said. “I was positive that you would like Hunter. You don’t?”
She felt like groaning, she was so tired of hearing that question. “I do, but he’s spent his whole life hating Warrens. That will always get in the way. So explain it to me. Why did he have to grow up hating you?”
“I suppose the Callahans blamed us when they told you about it?”
<
br /> “I know your feud didn’t start here, that it began with a practical joke on Elijah Callahan that went seriously wrong. And your mother, Mariah, shot him the day they were to marry.” Tiffany recounted the full story Mary Callahan had told her.
Her father nodded. “She shot him because he cheated on her, plain and simple. That’s why she was so furious she married someone else so soon. My father, Richard, even suspected she still loved Elijah, but he still wanted her enough to marry her. However, he ended up hating the Callahans because of it. My God, she had a powerful hate.”
“And infected you all with it?”
He nodded. “I think some of it was self-directed though, because she knew she was incapable of forgiving the man she loved. She loved him with all her heart. That’s why she never let it go. . . .”
So her family wasn’t entirely to blame? Had Mary purposely left out the part about Elijah’s actually cheating on Mariah, or had Elijah been too ashamed to tell his family about his indiscretion? But that didn’t explain why the feud moved to Montana.
“Elijah tried to get away from her,” Tiffany said. “Moved his family across the whole continent. Why did she follow him here?”
“My mother was a strong, courageous, passionate woman who withstood a lot of heartache and loss in a short time. My father and two brothers died within five years, and she shouldered all the responsibility for our ranch while I was young. After so many deaths in our family, her obsession with Elijah intensified. She was furious when she learned he was moving away from Florida. I didn’t know it at the time, but she hired a man to follow him and find out where he settled. Then she started complaining about Florida and suggested we move West to Montana. I was barely eighteen. I didn’t suspect she was playing me, to get me to agree to pull up stakes and move up here, though it wasn’t actually a bad idea.”
“To follow them?”
“No, to leave Florida,” Frank said. “There were too many ranches fighting over too little land and far too much rustling. Those were her excuses, which were accurate, but easier than telling me the truth, which I would never have agreed with. I was as surprised as the Callahans were to find us settling on land so close to theirs.”
One Heart to Win Page 25
