by Jillian Hart
"Good to see you, Murphy."
"I heard from Reardon you were back in town. Did you find your brother's killer?"
Wyatt looked over his shoulder. Garnet was still fast asleep. He stepped out into the hall and closed the door. "Not yet. I've been making good progress in the case. Is the judge keeping you busy?"
"Too busy. We miss you at work."
"I don't know how much longer it will take." Wyatt thought of the woman on the other side of that door. Of the cabin they'd shared in Stinking Creek. Of the future they couldn't have. "Maybe another month or more. You can tell the judge I'm easy to find, if he needs me."
"Sure. I'll tell him." Murphy couldn't hide the teasing laugh. "You, a prospector. There's a stretch. You can't tell me everyone is believing it."
"Believe it." Wyatt again thought of Garnet. How would she feel if she ever learned he had been lying to her? She would understand, a part of him said. But another part knew better. Garnet's father lied to her all her life. She would not accept lies from any man. "I'm doing pretty well on my claim."
"Well enough to give up your job?" Murphy rubbed his chin.
"Maybe." Wyatt thought of the gold he'd carefully hid on the land that had been Ben's before he was killed.
"No one has tied you together with your brother?"
"No. I won his claim in a poker game. The next morning, when I went to interrogate the man, I found him dead in his tent."
"Someone from town wanted to keep him quiet."
"Exactly. I've been watching my back, but I haven't had the same trouble. And I won't as long as everyone believes my claim has played out."
Wyatt left a note for Garnet and went down to the dining room with Murphy. They talked more about the office in Bannack where they worked together, and Wyatt told Murphy, a good friend, more about his suspects and his leads. It was down to a few men. With patience, he would learn which was the one who had taken Ben's life for a sack of fifty-dollar gold nuggets.
When Murphy left, Wyatt felt troubled. He trusted his friend, he knew no one in the dining room had overheard what they'd been saying. His investigation was not compromised. But his conscience smarted. He had a job to do and had asked to do it because it mattered more than anything to him, but he was not the man Garnet thought. And he wasn't the man she needed him to be. Not only had he lied to her, he'd taken her virginity. She gave it willingly, but she didn't know the kind of man he truly was.
One thing was certain. Garnet must never know what he'd done to her, the lies he told, the man he was. She had to leave on the next stage out of town.
Garnet woke to a lonely room. Wyatt was nowhere in sight, but a merry fire crackled in the hearth and a note crinkled on the pillow beside her. She sat up to read it.
"Had to run some errands. Be back soon." She ran her fingers over the bold scrawl of his writing. Powerful, just like he was.
Well, she couldn't just lie about in bed all day. Not by herself, anyway. She pulled on her clothes, remembering Wyatt had been the one to undress her. Smiling, warm and content from their midday lovemaking, she ran a comb through her hair and tied it back with lace. All ready for a bit of errand-running. She really ought to get Golda a wedding gift, if she wanted to make peace. And she'd promised her sisters back home special gifts from Montana Territory.
But thinking of the gifts to be bought reminded her of leaving. Sadness crept into her heart at the thought of leaving Wyatt. After what they'd shared, it felt like she would be leaving a part of herself behind, the most important part. Did he feel the same way? He hadn't asked her to stay.
Her sadness grew with the knowledge. She walked to the window and pulled back the drapes. The snowy town was alive two stories below, the streets teeming with horse-drawn wagons and riders and merchants selling their wares. The snow had stopped.
It was time to make a decision. Time to make the biggest choice of her life. To walk away from this once-in-a-lifetime love, or to stay with Wyatt.
She glanced at the bed, sheets rumpled from their lovemaking. She remembered how he'd treated her in that bed, the tender touches, the gentle kisses, the way he clung to her so tight when he came. The affection had been honest in his eyes, and it hurt to look at it. Surely he loved her. Surely, staying would be the right choice.
It hit her in a flash, a sudden brightness of awareness that stole the beat from her heart. She loved Wyatt. Truly loved him. Would lay down her life and endure anything just to be with him.
The door flung open and there he was, striding through the doorway, all cocky confidence and strength. He tossed his hat on the bureau and slipped out of his coat. "You look beautiful."
Her heart twisted, glad he thought so. No other man had ever said those words to her. No other man made her feel beautiful.
"I brought you something."
"You did?" A gift. She saw the wrapped box in his hand, tied with a delicate blue ribbon. The same shade of blue as the dress he'd bought her.
"Go ahead. Open it," he urged.
Garnet lifted the present from his palm. It was small, like a jewelry box. Her heart skipped a beat as she untied the ribbon, then again when she unfolded the paper. She lifted off the box lid and could only stare. Inside lay a necklace glittering against a bed of dark blue felt, a gold locket in the shape of a heart.
"So you will always remember our stay in Virginia City." He brushed a hand along the side of her face, so tender she could not doubt his regard.
"I will never forget." How could she? How could she forget this man who had her heart? She took the necklace from the box and unclasped the beautiful linked chain. Wyatt moved behind her to secure it, and she admired the locket in the bureau mirror.
Then she caught his reflection in the glass and saw the shadows around his eyes and the tension in his jaw.
He had to tell her. Wyatt watched Garnet brush errant curls back from her eyes as she looked at a selection of women's scarves. Gifts for her sisters, she'd said. Did she intend to mail them home? Or take them back with her? How could he ask which? How could he tell her she would be better off going back to New York?
Her locket sparkled when the light caught it, a glimmering that could not rival her beauty. Her hair fell in soft curls down her back. She was all slender grace and laughing intelligence. When her gaze caught his across the shop, her smile made him miss his step.
He had to tell her. Yet he didn't know how.
"This is the first time I've been able to shop and not worry about sticking with my budget." Garnet bustled down the aisle toward him.
That five thousand dollars she'd earned playing poker had given her freedom. He understood that. He liked how this newfound independence erased the worry lines around her eyes and mouth. She looked like the young, vibrant woman she was, as fresh as morning.
"I think my sisters are going to love the scarves I got them. I would like to do a little more shopping. Do you mind?"
He read the deeper question in her eyes. The ticket office closed in ten minutes. Although tickets for the stage would be available tomorrow morning before departure time, he knew the significance of her avoidance. She didn't want to go home.
Tell her, just tell her.
"I need to pick up a few supplies to take back to town with me." His shanty at Stinking Creek and his ongoing investigation were waiting for him. Neither could break his heart, not the way Garnet could.
"Then shall we meet for supper?" Her voice almost trembled.
He could read her fears plain as day. He had the same worries, too, the same insecurities of being rejected, of not being lovable.
They had gone too far for him to pretend he didn't love her. Just the thought of her riding off on tomorrow's stage tore at his heart and left a wide-open emptiness. She could never love a man like him, he knew. And he didn't want to destroy that affection gleaming in her eyes, more precious than the rarest of diamonds. If she stayed with him, she would learn of his lies and his flaws.
"Supper sounds fine to me." Tell h
er, he told himself. Better to lose her now before she has all of my heart.
But it was too late, he knew. He loved her–completely, without a doubt, without reservation.
"I suppose you'll want to drink and gamble the night away," he teased her, just to see her smile.
He wasn't disappointed. "There is no way I am jeopardizing my winnings, even if I am pretty good at poker. Besides, I thought there was another game you liked playing with me."
"Believe me, loving you is no game." Not to him. Not that he should have told her that either. She already had too big a piece of his heart, held too much power to hurt him.
She smiled. Because of him? Or because she was simply happy with her new independence? He could not deny she was experiencing the world for the first time, tasting it like a hungry child in a candy store. He knew this time between them couldn't last. But he would savor every moment while he could. So when the nights were long and lonely and not even whiskey was a good companion, he would have her to remember. The blue of her eyes, the charm of her smile, the way she made him feel worthy and whole and loved. Especially loved.
* * *
It was a long, uncomfortable ride home. Snow fell in tiny little crystals and then turned to freezing rain as the morning progressed. The horses slid on the trail. Her slicker froze solid as a board. The reins froze to her gloves. But not even such miserable conditions could dampen Garnet's spirits.
Since that moment in the Virginia City millinery shop, Wyatt hadn't said another word about her leaving. On the contrary, he'd held her closer, loved her more openly, spoken to her more tenderly. He even had the hotel wrap and ship her gifts back home.
Since she would not be delivering them herself, she meant them to be Christmas gifts. She spent extra time buying silk scarves and silver bracelets, fabrics and lace goods. Even a belt and buckle for Ruby's husband. She took the time to send a letter, too, letting everyone back home know she was fine, but both she and Golda had fallen in love and would not be returning to Willow Hollow anytime soon.
Wyatt rode ahead of her, shoulders set against the weather, trailed by two packhorses, the second newly acquired, piled high with her purchases. She had taken the liberty of a few indulgences, since it wasn't every day she came across such a financial boon. Besides, she hadn't spent too much of her winnings, which were now earning interest in a savings account in a reputable Virginia City bank. Wyatt didn't seem to mind, even now when he had to slow down on the trail for the packhorses.
Excitement beat through her veins. It was really true. She was going to stay here for the duration of the winter. Oh, she had such plans. She would continue her cleaning business, of course. She would keep her tiny fortune tucked away in the bank. And think of what she could do with their cabin. Why, it would take only a bit of elbow grease and lumber to turn that shanty into a cozy home.
Cozy. She blushed remembering how cozy she had been with Wyatt last night, and again this morning before breakfast and while they were packing their bags. No, the ice didn't seem cold at all when she remembered how hot Wyatt could make her.
* * *
Wyatt sat in his saddle, but his oilcloth coat only protected him from the ice, not the cold. It drove into his bones as he rode straight into the north wind. With every step of his mare forward up the trail, his thoughts were on Garnet. Was he a fool for wanting her to stay?
His heart weighed heavily. All he knew is that he wanted her. A woman who didn't know the kind of man he was beneath the easygoing prospector's garb.
Snow began to sputter from the sky as twilight descended. By the time he could see the town's lights, dingy yellow spots in the thickening dark, the snow began in earnest. Only a few of the hardy miners were out on the street. He glanced over at Tent Row and saw the tent flaps tied down tight against the wind.
The shack was a lonesome sight sitting in a mire of snow-dappled mud. The mare nickered, knowing she was home and that oats awaited her in the clean dry stable. He patted her neck. She was a proud animal, purebred Arabian, and a good mount. He dropped to the ground and led her out of the bitter wind. Then he stepped back into the snow to help Garnet dismount.
"I'm frozen stiff." Her teeth chattered when she spoke and her breath rose in great clouds.
He lifted her down when she had trouble swinging her leg over the saddle. How wonderful it felt to have her in his arms, if only for a moment, as he set her gently on the slick ground.
"I'll get a fire lit. Let's just hope the canvas roof held." It had a small tear in it, which wouldn't support the additional weight of snow. He had the lumber for a new roof, which he would start building as soon as this weather broke. "First I have to care for the horses."
"Let me help. We had workhorses on the farm, great big Clydesdales." She took her gelding and the second packhorse by the reins and led them to the stable.
He laughed. Was there anything Garnet wasn't capable of? They made small talk while they rubbed the animals down. He liked how she worked right alongside him, and in no time the horses were snug and fed.
"I think we need a big pot of coffee," she said, as her hand sneaked around his.
He held her tight. "I get to make it."
"I am so cold I'm not even going to argue." Even in this miserable weather she could laugh, and he liked that. She was just the kind of woman a man wanted by his side. The kind he wanted day and night for the rest of his life.
"I'll kindle the fire if you grind the beans. We'll both be steaming hot in no time." She flung open the cabin door and froze. "Heavens. What–"
He stepped past her into the cabin. He saw it all in a glimpse–the table on its side, bedding and the straw from the tick tossed on the floor, the food thrown from the shelves, the flour and cornmeal sacks ripped open, the ashes dumped from the stove, and all of Garnet's personal effects strewn on the muddy earthen floor.
She reached for the chair, righted it, and sank into its solid seat. Someone had angrily trashed the cabin. No, searched it. But why? "Were they looking for gold?"
"Count on it." He marched straight to the stove and kicked it, furious at the mess. "Some people will kill unarmed men just to get their hands on it."
"Is it safe here?" She had never considered bandits might loot a person's home. Or perhaps take more than their gold. How terrifying.
"Safe enough." A muscle jumped in his tensed jaw, but the steady confidence in his gaze told her he would always be there to protect her.
"Is there a lot of murder around here?"
"Enough to make a man cautious, but no more. The town is very peaceable. Probably because the claims just aren't panning out."
"You mean there isn't enough gold to steal? But I found that nugget when we were at the creek. Aren't all the claims like that?"
"Staking out a claim is a gamble." He set the table back on its legs. "Not many claims pay out, or some men simply don't have the patience to work the land."
She bent to salvage enough clean bedding for the night, although some of it had lain directly on the muddy floor and would need to be washed. Some of the clothes were salvageable as well. She joined Wyatt in the silent task of righting the foodstuffs.
"What the hell is this?" His angry curse boomed through the silence. "That no good thief took all my whiskey bottles."
The destruction of their home left her feeling vulnerable. Garnet knelt before the stove and stacked the kindling. What truly mattered was that they were safe, that they hadn't been harmed in a robbery. And Wyatt's stolen gold, which was obviously what the trespasser had been looking for, could be replaced.
"The fire will soon be hot enough to boil coffee," she promised. "Looks like the thief left Mr. Carson's chocolates alone."
Wyatt set the grinder on the table, his eyes troubled, his powerful muscles tensed.
"We'll make it right, don't worry." She laid her hand on his and wished she could fix everything that had ever hurt him. Or ever would.
"I'm not worried, Garnet. I just want to know who did this.
" A deep worry furrowed his brow.
"It doesn't matter. Let them have all your gold. We have everything we need."
And it was true, she realized. All she would ever need to be happy was this one magnificent man.
* * *
There was so much sympathy in her jeweled blue eyes that Wyatt simply couldn't tell her the truth. Not when they shared a cup of coffee, not later when they finished straightening up the cabin, and not at supper when they enjoyed Garnet's delicious pancakes.
All he had to say was that he'd lied to her. That he wasn't a miner. That the thief was a murderer and was still looking for all of Ben's gold . . . and hadn't found it. He was more concerned the killer had discovered his true profession.
Yes, that was a real worry. He'd been able to conduct his investigation leisurely, watching those who never suspected he wasn't what he claimed to be. Maybe it had been a bad call that he'd left his marshal's badge in the far corner of the straw tick because he didn't want to take it with him. He didn't want to risk Garnet finding it.
And while he'd found his badge safe and sound in the tick where he'd left it, he couldn't be certain his identity was still a secret. Had the killer discovered it? Probably not, but the possibility troubled him.
They ate together as the night deepened and the snow on the canvas roof overhead stopped dripping and began to freeze. Then they did the dishes together. He dried while she washed. They talked over their home improvement plans. Garnet spoke knowledgeably of carpentry and wanted to help him with the roof. She would like a wood floor, she added. Dirt was cool in summer, but she wasn't overly fond of mud.
"Wait until it freezes," he teased.
She swatted him with soap bubbles and they laughed. She wanted a few windows, too. She'd noticed glass panes in Carson's general store. They weren't too expensive and would let in warmth from the winter sun. It would save on firewood, wood he would have to chop.
Wyatt emptied the wash basins for her. She liked a man who didn't mind domestic tasks. A warm feeling glowed in her chest from their closeness. It was nice sharing worries and work and plans. Very nice.
"It's getting late and we should get a good night's sleep." She dried her hands on a towel and granted him a shy smile.
