by Tanya Stowe
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Praise
1
2
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Epilogue
Thank you
TENDER TRUST
Tanya Stowe
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
TENDER TRUST
COPYRIGHT 2013 by TANYA STOWE
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
Contact Information: [email protected]
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version(R), NIV(R), Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Cover Art by Nicola Martinez
White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
www.pelicanbookgroup.com PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410
White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC
Publishing History
First White Rose Edition, 2013
Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-287-5
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my husband, Gary, for his steadfast love.
Praise
Tender Touch
I loved this book, and can say in all honesty that it is one of the best I’ve read in the past year...and possibly longer. ~ Delia Latham, author of Gypsy’s Game
White Christmas
Tanya Stowe has, once again, written a great book that grabbed my attention and refused to let go! ~ The Romance Studio
1
Bodie, California 1867
Penny Marsden pulled the chimney off the kerosene lamp and struck a match. She settled the glass cylinder back in place and light filled all but the dark corners of the little office beneath the stairs of her saloon.
She tallied the bills that had come across her desk that afternoon. Paying them took a huge chunk out of her cash, and tomorrow she’d have to buy food, liquor, and wood.
Judging from the sound of the crowd outside, tonight’s take would be even less than the night before. How long could she sustain her saloon if this kept up? A month, maybe two. Then she’d have to do the unthinkable: abandon her business.
Men’s laughter exploded just outside her door. She lurched to her feet and shook out her skirts. Now wasn’t the time to think about it. Now was the time to build her business.
Brown beads shimmered around the high collar and hem of her dress. It was her best. She’d worn it, hoping it would give her confidence. So far, it wasn’t working.
She smoothed loose tendrils of hair back into the tight knot at the back of her head, pinched her cheeks for color and opened the door.
A small group of men stood at the bar while others gathered around the tables. A poker game drew a few more in the corner. The crowd wasn’t as small as she thought, but not large enough to bolster her confidence, either.
Jewel, her friend, walked towards her, a tray balanced in her hands. Her gown gleamed silky black with sequins around the bodice and the hem. Slim and straight, with a small bustle in the back, the dress clung gently to Jewel’s figure. The top was cut low to show off her curves, but she had filled it in with two layers of black lace, affording only a hint at what lay beneath.
Penny was struck yet again by her friend’s beauty. Black hair shone like a raven’s wing. Cornflower blue eyes and flawless skin made a stunning contrast. Those lovely features distracted most people from noticing the circles under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks.
She looked much better now than when she had first shown up at Penny’s back stoop. Now Jewel looked healthy. But neither broken bones nor broken hearts showed on the outside.
“Are you all right?” Jewel asked as she came close to Penny.
Penny nodded, determined to keep any hint of her concerns from those close to her. “Yes, just a little tired, I guess.”
Jewel looked as if she was going to say something else, but sixteen-year-old Jann Swenson appeared at Penny’s elbow. White-blond, nearly six feet tall, and built like a rock, he was intimidating, especially since most people didn’t know he had the mind of a child.
“Tell him I don’t tell stories, Aunt Penny. He thinks I don’t know what I’m talking about. Tell him it’s true.”
“Now, Jann, there ain’t no cause to get upset.” Brady Calhoun stood at the bar and raised his voice loud enough for everyone in the saloon to hear. A braggart and a bully, he tormented Jann every chance he got. He turned to face Penny, unkempt hair hanging in his face, his belly oozing over his gun belt, and malice in his cold gaze. “We all know things ain’t always what they seem when we’re young.” Brady hitched up his pants.
Jann turned to Penny. “See. He thinks I’m stupid, Aunt Penny. He thinks I don’t know nothin’. I told him you sing real good. You used to sing to me and Lexie all the time and he said I don’t know what I’m talking about. But I do. You can sing better than anyone.”
All the men at the bar had turned to listen to the young man’s sincere declaration. Their small corner of the room became the focus of the entire saloon.
“Penny, I just pointed out a fact. There’s no cause for the kid to get all bent up about it. It ain’t no reflection on him.”
But it was. Brady had taken advantage of yet another opportunity to humiliate Jann.
Even in her flustered state, Penny recognized the issue had become a matter of honor for Jann. She had to tell the truth, no matter the consequences. “He’s right, Brady, I can sing.”
Laughing, he lifted his glass in a mock salute. “So can I, but you’ll thank me if I don’t.”
“I told you, she can sing good,” Jann insisted.
Brady glanced at his companions with a tolerant look and nodded. “Sure, she can, boy. Sure, she can.”
“Show him. Show him how you sing.”
“Jann…” Penny had given up singing five years ago, when she lost her husband in the war, her hopes and dreams crashed down around her, and she found herself alone again. Since then, she only sang for her daughter and Jann, for Jewel, and Jann’s mother, Inga, the small family she’d gathered around her. She sang when they were alone and she felt safe. This wasn’t one of those times.
Jann knew she was afraid. Somehow, some way, he always knew how people felt. Taking her hand, he wound his big fingers through hers.
“Please, Aunt Penny. Pretend it’s just me and Lexie. You can do it.”
She looked at their linked hands. This was important to him, too important to be swept under a carpet. And the crowd was small…
“All right. I’ll sing for you.”
She tried to ignore the murmurs of surprise filtering through the room. Instead, she focused on Jann, on his thankful smile and the confidence in his features.
�
�What do you want me to sing?” she murmured.
“My favorite, o’ course.”
She returned his smile, and then, before she could stop him, he’d lifted her by the waist and set her on the polished bar. Taking a quick, startled breath, she forced herself not to look around, not to see the men, but she could feel their gazes. The intense focus sparked old fears. She tuned them out by studying Jann’s face.
There were always pianos in the saloons where her mother worked. On her own, Penny had learned to play, and then to sing. In her mind, she heard the piano key. She focused on the note and filled her lungs.
“What child is this…” her voice warbled, sounded thin, reedy and shaky. But it didn’t matter. This was for Jann, his favorite Christmas song.
He leaned over the bar on both elbows, his head close to her lap, his white-blond hair falling over his forehead like it had since he was a scrawny eleven-year-old.
She remembered Christmases past when they’d closed the saloon, exchanged gifts, eaten Christmas pies, and sang songs. All of them safe and happy in their own little world. How fast he and Lexie had grown. She pushed back his hair.
Filled with emotion, her voice rang clear and clean. Buoyed by memories, she allowed the words to carry her away. Her voice grew stronger as she lost herself in the sweet purity of the notes.
“This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing.”
She had always guarded them, Jann and Lexie, always protected them. Jann was almost a man now. How could she hope to protect him, to keep him in their sheltered little world…to keep him safe?
“Why lies He in such mean estate…”
She couldn’t protect them anymore. She had to find a way to take them far from here, far from saloons and bars with men like Brady Calhoun. She had to find a way, before it was too late.
“This, this is Christ the King, whom Shepherds guard and angels sing.” Her voice rose in the last notes, as if in prayer. But Penny had stopped praying a long time ago.
“Thanks, Aunt Penny,” Jann murmured. “You’re the best.”
For one short moment, she believed it. Felt like she could conquer anything.
Then the men began to clap and cheer.
“I guess I owe you an apology, young man. Penny is a fine singer.” Brady looked at her with something different in his eyes.
She knew the look and hated it. It had frightened her as a young girl. Now it sickened her. She ducked her head and would have jumped from the bar, but Brady reached for her. She shied away from his hands, closer to Jann.
“Sing one more,” Brady coaxed.
She shook her head, but the men crowded in around her and pressed for more. It was always this way. Her singing awakened something hot and dangerous in them. After she sang, they looked at her differently, like an object to be possessed at all costs.
Tonight was no different. She felt smothered, as if she sank into a deep, dark pit of groping male hands and wet lips.
“One more.”
“No…no, I can’t.” She shook her head again.
They didn’t hear her, wouldn’t stop, and they were so close, too close.
She couldn’t move or breathe. She closed her eyes.
“Just one. We ain’t heard nothing that pretty since Jenny Lind came through.”
Suddenly, strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly off the bar.
She opened her eyes to see a dark, jacket-covered chest. There was something familiar about the feel of those arms…something…
Penny opened her eyes and looked straight into Alex Marsden’s face.
She screamed and shoved the man away with both hands.
It couldn’t be Alex. He was dead. He had to be, or he would have come back for her.
“Penny!” The man stepped towards her.
She let out another startled cry and put out a hand to stop him.
He sounded like Alex. Looked like Alex. But he couldn’t be.
She shook her head.
He couldn’t be.
Men grabbed him, held him back. He struggled for a moment, then stopped fighting and stood up straight.
“It’s me, Penny. It’s really me.”
It was truly him. Her dead husband was alive. Alex!
Her thoughts and senses came to a screeching halt. Everything went black.
****
Alex Marsden lunged to catch Penny before she hit the ground.
Fortunately, the blond giant behind her snatched her up into his arms.
Alex breathed a sigh of relief, and then became conscious of the quiet murmurs and the stares around him.
He’d made a mess of this. He shouldn’t have come at her that way, but he’d been searching for her for two long years, ever since he left the Union prison at Yuma. The minute he’d opened the door and heard her singing, he’d known it was her. He’d lost control and run across the room.
Alex looked up at the young man, who looked as confused and worried as Alex felt. “Can you carry her up to her room?”
The young man nodded and turned.
Alex followed behind.
At the foot of the stairs, a dark-haired woman blocked his way. Her blue eyes sparked with warning and she stood in front of him like a she-tiger defending her cub.
“You’re not going up there,” she said.
“I’d like to see you stop me.” Alex stepped forward and the woman stepped in front of him again.
“Who the devil do you think you are?”
“Alex Marsden,” he said, his voice low.
That gave her pause and her rigid stance eased.
He moved to go forward and she stepped in front of him one last time. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
“For pity’s sake, woman!” His tone was taut and tense. “Do you think she fainted because I’m not Alex Marsden?”
His words seemed to get through to her. Alex brushed past her, taking the stairs two at a time, trying to catch the young giant before he disappeared into a room.
The woman followed close behind, her skirts swishing.
The young man slipped inside a door and carefully eased Penny onto the bed.
Alex crossed the room and sat next to her. “Light the lamp,” he commanded. Then he began to work the buttons of Penny’s dress.
“What are you doing?” the woman demanded.
“I’m loosening her stays.” Alex lost patience with her belligerent protection. “Do you have some hart shorn or smelling salts?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not the fainting kind…usually.”
Alex didn’t bother to try and interpret that statement. “Then get me some cold cloths. Something.”
“Jann, go to the kitchen and bring me a basin,” she said.
“Yes, Miss Jewel.”
Behind Alex, the door closed. He slipped Penny’s dress off her shoulders and began to work on the corset hooks.
As soon as it came off, Penny sighed and began to breathe normally.
Alex tossed it to the ground and looked back at the woman who was untying Penny’s shoes. Glad she’d finally made herself useful, he said, “Loosen her garters. I’m sure they’re tied far too tight as well. And toss me that shawl.”
If looks could kill, Alex would have bled from the one she sent him. But he didn’t care what she thought or how rude he acted. His only concern at the moment was for Penny.
Jewel did as he asked, threw him the paisley shawl, and tossed the black garters on the bed.
He scooped the garters out of his way and arranged the lightweight cloth over Penny’s cool skin.
Tight-lipped and stiff, Jewel rose to answer a soft tap at the door.
“Should I wake Ma?” Jann stood outside, his eyes averted as he held out a white basin.
Jewel hesitated. “No. I think everything’s under control. Why don’t you go downstairs and tell the men Penny is all right?”
“They’re gonna ask me about him
. Should I tell them who he is?”
There was no hesitation this time. “No. Just say he’s an old friend she thought was killed in the war.”
The door closed and Jewel brought the basin to the stand by the bed.
Alex wrung the cold water out of the cloth and laid it over Penny’s forehead.
Color seeped back into her lips and she shifted her head.
Alex looked at Jewel who stood guard on the other side of the bed. “I think she’s going to be all right. I’d like a few moment’s alone with her.”
“I’m not leaving her.” Her stance stiffened again.
All of the frustration and anger Alex had tried to repress rose to the surface. “I said I’d like to be alone with my wife.” His tone was dark, dangerous.
Jewel flinched and stepped back. “If you hurt—”
“Hurt!” The word exploded from Alex and understanding filtered through him.
Jewel’s guarded stance, the trembling hands she tried to hide. He glanced down at Penny and wondered what Penny’s—these women’s—lives were like. All anger and frustration fled and he sighed.
“I haven’t spent the last two years of my life dreaming of this moment so I could hurt her,” he said in a quiet voice.
The woman softened, her hands dropped, and she gripped her skirts. With a nod, she fled the room.
When she was gone, Penny moaned. Her head was tilted at an awkward angle because of the bun at the back.
Alex pulled the long, curved tortoise shell pins out. Her long hair unrolled and cascaded over her shoulder.
He stroked it. Still beautiful. Just as he remembered it. But how could he have forgotten the beauty of her mouth? Full, pink, bow-shaped lips. Right now, they were slightly parted.
He almost touched them, and then stopped himself. He couldn’t believe he’d actually found her. Couldn’t believe she was lying in front of him, every bit as perfect and beautiful as he remembered. His breath caught in his chest. He gathered her into his arms and buried his face in the curve of her neck.
