His life was a farce. This revelation was disquieting. He had blamed Sylvia for his demise. She had, of course, been a contributing factor although the real blame lay at his own feet. One woman scorned him so he set out to prove to everyone how much in demand he was, even if it meant cuckolding a fellow officer.
Strange, how one could put things into their right perspective in this hideous place. His career in the Calvary had been unspectacular. If there had been a war on somewhere, it might have made a difference. He had always been satisfied with his lifestyle before. It took someone like Georgina to show him what an aimless empty shell of an existence he had always led.
He loved Georgina. She would be his wife and he didn’t care what anyone else thought. It was doubtful whether she would wish to live in England, and he was in no position to return there until the scandal died down, if it ever did.
He eased himself slightly because his hip ached from where it was pressed against the hard floor. A week or more of this and he would be crippled with rheumatics.
“Marcus.”
“Go back to sleep. I was just shifting my position a little. I’m aching from lying in the one spot for too long. Sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Will it be long until morning?”
“I don’t know, probably not. I left Stanton’s after midnight and we must have been here three hours at least.”
“Listen to those men snoring,” she said.
“I have, one of them has a frightful cough, too.”
“Yes, he spat up stuff before.”
“Georgina, please spare me the details.” He shuddered.
“I’m glad you came.” She trailed her hand across his cheek. “You need a shave.”
“Yes, a bath, too. It will take weeks to wash the stench of this place away. Get out.” He lashed out at a rat chewing on his boot.
“What was that, Marcus?”
“A mouse ran across my leg.”
“Tarnation, can’t you shut up,” an irate voice growled.
A bout of coughing, a couple of snorts, several succulent obscenities was followed by silence.
“Georgina, this is not really the time or the place, but will you marry me?”
“Marry? You want to marry me? I thought I wasn’t good enough?”
“Please, forget those foul things I said. I’ve had plenty of time to think over these last few hours and there are things in my past that aren’t particularly pleasant.”
“I don’t want to hear about them; the past is finished and should be forgotten.”
“I want to tell you, in case you should hear it later from someone else. I can’t go back to England, not for a time anyway.”
“I don’t want to know.” She pressed her face against his bristly cheek.
“Hear me out before giving me your answer.”
“I do want to marry you. I love you so much nothing else matters, unless…” she trailed off. “You, you aren’t already married?”
He picked up the tremor in her voice.
“No, I don’t have a wife.” Hugging her close, he briefly explained the circumstances necessitating his hasty departure from England, and his behavior sounded even more sordid when spoken out aloud.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Tell me about Johnny Valentine and what he means to you.”
“I don’t love Johnny the way I love you, Marcus. I never wanted to marry him.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s…”
“Because?” he persisted.
“Please,” she said in a wavering voice. “I can’t tell you about Johnny, I promised McGuire. He made me swear not to tell a living soul about, well it’s a secret.” She trembled so badly he let the matter drop—for now. What secret? Probably something to do with her lowly background, but where did Valentine fit into the picture?
“Maybe you could ask McGuire.”
“Don’t worry, Georgina, I will.” I’ll shake the truth out of him if need be. If this marriage between them was to work, there could be no secrets.
“You don’t want to marry me anymore?” she asked sadly.
“Yes, of course, I do.” He hugged her close. “We can be married as soon as I make the arrangements, would you like that?”
“Yes.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “I wonder how many men have proposed to their future wives in a jail cell?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not too many I should think. I’ll have to stand up for a minute my legs are getting stiff.” When he stood, she did also.
I’ll always remember this place, she thought. Now she understood what Johnny meant. No wonder he preferred to die than be imprisoned. Marcus stamped his feet; she did likewise. Without his warmth, the cold dampness seeped so deeply into her bones they ached.
What they could see of the sky through the little barred window above their heads, showed it to be streaked with pink and grey. Their fellow inmates started stirring also, poor things. Criminals they might be, but the vilest person in the world did not deserve this kind of treatment.
The sun had risen fully by the time Georgina heard the key being turned in the lock. Breakfast time. The congealed mess on the plates was supposed to be stew. It wasn’t even handed to them, just dumped on the floor.
The others in the cell with them were dirty uncouth looking fellows, although they must have some code of decency, as they were quite discreet in answering the calls of nature.
He would die before using the one of two buckets himself. Georgina became upset when he asked as delicately as he could, whether she needed to use them. It was a disgrace, he thought savagely, that she should be subjected to such degradation.
They both refused the food; starving to death, he felt sure, would be preferable, although the others had no hesitation in disposing of their portions.
“When will they let us out, Marcus?”
“Soon, Georgina, soon.”
“Make them let us out now.”
She verged on hysteria once more. How much longer before she completely broke down. What kind of people ran this town?
“Stay here, I’ll see if I can make someone come.”
“No, don’t leave me.” She clutched frantically at his arm, her fingers biting into the flesh above his elbow.
The other men stopped eating to look at them. “At the end of her tether, is she?” the big man asked.
“Yes, how can I get their attention?”
With Georgina clinging to his arm Marcus went to the door and yelled through the grate. Suddenly, the other men started shouting and banging their tin plates together. The din brought results. “Shut up,” a man snarled at them through the door.
“Get us out of here,” Marcus ordered. “My uncle happens to be Colonel Stanton. You’ll hear more of this, I promise.”
Another few minutes elapsed before the door creaked open, and he and Georgina were released. Back in the office, Marcus gave vent to his fury. “How dare you treat us in such a degrading manner? I’ll make sure every single one of you is dismissed over this outrage.”
George stood, too weary to say or do anything. All she wanted was to go home and get cleaned up. Marcus had proposed marriage, but did he really mean it? Could they really overcome all the obstacles society would put in their path?
Chapter Ten
They were released, finally. A horse was provided for George, and as they rode away she took deep breaths of fresh, pure air. The smell of this awful place behind the sheriff’s office, would linger in her memory for ever.
The sun shone brightly from a cloudless blue sky, birds soared about them, while the air hung heavy with the perfume of trees and wildflowers growing along either side of the road. She felt dirty and disheveled, her shirt was ripped along one sleeve and her pants had damp patches on the legs.
Marcus, who was usually so immaculate, had dark stubble covering his jaw and chin. His white silk shirt was creased, and clung damply to his back.
; “We’re a disreputable looking pair,” he said with a grimace. Both were hatless. His hair fell into loose waves, while hers was a mass of tangled curls.
“Georgina, you did agree to marry me in that vile place, didn’t you?”
“Yes, if you want me to.”
“I want you to, more than anything else I’ve ever wanted in my life before. I’m selfish and possessive. I won’t share you with anyone.”
“I don’t want anyone else, only you.”
They rode along in silence. She reluctantly agreed to accompany him to Stanton’s until McGuire returned, as he didn’t want her staying in the cabin on her own. She was tempted to argue with him, but it felt nice having a man organizing everything, especially after the trauma of last night.
No sign of life could be seen at the cabin. Billy would not be back for a while. He would head for the hills until things quietened down, or hopefully leave the territory and join up with Tom.
They dismounted and Marcus tethered their horses while she waited for him on the porch.
“Have a quick wash. You can have a proper bath at my uncle’s place. Don’t worry about taking many clothes with you. We’ll go into town tomorrow and I’ll buy you new ones.”
Johnny bounded up from a chair as they entered the kitchen. “You all right, George?”
“What are you doing here?” she asked fearfully.
“Waiting for you. Did they hurt you? I’ll kill anyone who touched you.”
“I’m alright. I was frightened until Marcus came to look after me.”
“We’re in your debt, Englishman. I heard what you did,”
Marcus’ lips thinned. “How did you know about all this?”
“I have my sources.” Johnny grinned. “You look a real mess, George.”
“She’s spent a night in a filthy jail cell, thanks to you. How would you expect her to look?” Marcus snarled.
“Don’t fight, you two, please.”
“It has to be said, Georgina, he’s causing you nothing but trouble. He’ll hang at the end of a rope or catch a lawman’s bullet before much longer.”
“Don’t say that.” She glanced from one man to the other. “Please, I want you to be friends.”
“Friends!” Johnny sneered. “I don’t want a lily-livered Englishman for a friend.”
“And I don’t associate with outlaws.” The air became thick with animosity. “I told you I was possessive, Georgina, and I am. You need to choose, right here and now between the two of us. I will not share my wife with another man.”
“Please, Marcus.”
“Choose, Georgina. It’s between him and me. If you marry me, you will never have contact with him again.”
“You can’t mean that. I have to see Johnny, I just have to,” her voice broke.
Marcus stood with his feet planted slightly apart, arms folded across his chest.
“Please.”
“It’s your choice, Georgina.”
“Don’t worry about me, do as you like. A prissy English tenderfoot wouldn’t make you much of a husband. I don’t need anyone.”
She saw beneath Johnny’s air of bravado and her lips trembled. “Marcus, don’t do this to me, please.”
“If I walk out of this door without you, Georgina, we shall not meet again. It will be the finish.”
“I have to see, Johnny, I just have to. Please, he’s….”
“Is that your final word?” Marcus interrupted harshly, as a white-faced George gazed at him, her eyes begging for understanding.
“She’s all yours, Valentine.” He swung on his heel and strode away.
She started after him, hesitating in the doorway. She loved Marcus, but family ties bound her to Johnny. He was her brother and she couldn’t desert him. She scrubbed the tears away with her fingertips.
“I’m sorry, George, I lost my temper. Go after him and explain about us if you have to.” Pain and regret momentarily darkened his eyes. His face was pale, his jaw rigid. He had never looked so sad and vulnerable.
“It doesn’t matter. If he truly loved and trusted me, he wouldn’t ask me to make such a terrible choice. How did you find out about me being taken to prison?”
“Dave sent a message.” Johnny frowned. “Billy’s safe, I told him to go stay with Tom until things cool down. They only wanted him for questioning, so it’s not as if he committed any crime. It’s me they want. I could kill those men for what they did to you.”
“It was horrible.” She shuddered. “I never even realized there was a jail behind the sheriff’s office. I can still smell the place on my clothes. I’ll never wear these things again, I swear.”
After Johnny heated up some water, she lay in the dented tin bath tub while he waited outside. It was heavenly feeling clean, warm water against her skin. She washed her hair, and by the time she dressed in fresh clothes her spirits had lifted a little. Just thinking of Marcus made her feel like a lead block had been lodged in her chest. Marcus didn’t love her, not really. In the cold light of day, he’d probably decided she wasn’t a suitable bride after all.
I shouldn’t have believed him.
That night she slept in her own room while Johnny took McGuire’s bed. Sleep did not come straight away even though she felt exhausted. The happenings of the last few hours were still vividly etched in her mind. She would never forget them. It was dangerous for Johnny to stay in the cabin, but he would not let her sleep alone. Useless arguing with him about the extra risk, until McGuire came home, he would stay close by.
George awoke next morning feeling none the worse for her ordeal. Johnny brought her in coffee and toast. “You slept in,” he greeted her cheerfully. He had recently bathed by the look of him. His dark hair rested in a mass of damp curls against the collar of his shirt.
“You’ve had a bath.”
“No, a swim. Beautiful, too.” He waited until she propped herself up on the pillows before handing over a mug of coffee and a plate containing two slices of toast. “I’ve already milked. When you finish here I’ll give you a hand with the rest of the chores, then we can round up a few strays. I saw several not bad looking heifers down near Logan’s gully.”
“I’d like that.” She forced a grateful smile because he was trying so hard to be cheerful.
“Don’t blame yourself. If Marcus really loved me he wouldn’t have asked me to make such a terrible choice.”
“He acted out of jealousy. Maybe you should have told him I was your brother.” He thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip.
“How could I? McGuire made me promise not to tell a living soul until he thought it was safe. He proposed to me last night in jail on the spur of the moment. Probably had second thoughts in the cold light of day and was glad to use you for an excuse to back out. He’s gentry. His father is an English Lord.”
“He was jealous. I saw the way he stared at you, eating you up with his eyes. There’s something quite fetching about you.” He leaned over and twisted a long curl around his forefinger. “I’d get hitched to you in a flash if you weren’t my sister.”
“Do you know this big dark secret of McGuire’s?”
“Not really,” he said evasively. “He doesn’t want the authorities to know we’re related, otherwise they’d hound you into the grave. Oh, let’s forget about it.”
Johnny knew the family secret and like McGuire wasn’t going to tell her.
“Forget about it, George. It’s much better if you don’t know.”
* * *
They rode out to Logan’s gully. It was invigorating galloping flat out with the wind blowing through her hair. Johnny, a superb rider, was fearless, equally at home rounding up cattle on one of McGuire’s work horses, or out running the posse on his racer.
By the time they rounded up twenty head of cattle, the sun was beginning its descent behind the mountains. It still felt warm, so Johnny suggested they have a quick swim in the creek to cool off. Stripped to his drawers, his bare chest tanned to a golden brown and his unruly curls flopping
into his eyes, he looked young and proud.
If he had not been an outlaw, what manner of man would he have made? He had a quick intelligent mind, a lively wit, yet a streak of recklessness always seemed to be the dominant force behind him.
“Johnny!” He broke into her musings by dumping her fully clad into the water. She shrieked and lashed out at him. Like a fish he quickly swam out of reach. They frolicked for a time until the sun disappeared completely, causing the air to become cold.
Later, by the kitchen fire they ate hunks of toasted bread washed down with mugs of coffee.
“I won’t sleep in the cabin tonight, George, I’ve got a funny feeling.”
“You think the hired guns are about?”
“Could be.” He peered out the window. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it, something feels, well sort of not quite right. I won’t be far away. If anyone should come, I’ll have a better chance outside.”
After he disappeared into the night, she sat by the fire for a time thinking of Marcus and what might have been. Perhaps it was for the best. She would never be able to keep up to the standards demanded of a wealthy aristocrat’s wife. Better for it to end now than leave herself open to even more grievous hurt. His parents would never accept her nor would his fine friends. Finally, she sought the comfort of her bed and lay listening to the noises of the night. Coyotes howling in the distance and the slight whisper of the wind blowing through the trees outside her window, soothed her to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
The sound of gunfire awakened George. Diving out of bed, she rushed to the window. She could see nothing. As suddenly as it started the firing ceased leaving silence to reign once more. She dragged on a pair of pants over her nightshirt, pulled on her boots and headed for the back door. After lifting the latch, she hesitated for a moment before stepping outside.
It was dark. A deep ominous blackness. Fear gnawed at the pit of her stomach until she felt sick with it. Stealthily she crept toward the lookout where Johnny said he would spend the night. Only a mile from the cabin, yet his mountain eyrie gave him an uninterrupted view over the countryside. Thick undergrowth shielded his hideout; men could pass within feet of it and never know.
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