The Courting of Widow Shaw

by Charlene Sands

  “Nah. Not a soul will know, so your reputation won’t get harmed. Besides, you hate me, remember.”

  Glory turned her head from the fire to peer down at him. She nodded slowly, looking at him with remorse. She lowered her body down and snuggled into the blanket. “Yes, I hate you,” she whispered, her voice a light caress.

  And Steven wondered if her admission was meant to convince him.

  Or herself.

  The earth was cold and hard. Aged timber and distressed walls were all around, giving off a musty scent that nearly swallowed her up. Yet, she was tucked safely away in the foyer of this mine, shielded from the billowing gusts that threatened to down trees. Gloria opened her eyes to find Steven asleep just inches away. Somehow during the night, they’d come together on the blanket, his arm protectively covering her shoulder.

  She stared at him in the firelight, thinking him a handsome man, with a strong jaw, strong body and even stronger mind. They both had a stubborn streak, she admitted honestly and without pause. They both felt righteous in their beliefs. Steven didn’t find fault in how he’d been raised. He didn’t hold his mother accountable to the way she chose to live. He considered the prostitutes his friends and lived his life accordingly.

  Her questionable faith aside, Gloria had been raised with morals. She’d been taught about duty and honor and charity. She believed in those things and held them close at hand, for to do so also meant to keep her father’s dear memory in her heart.

  But the one thing she hadn’t the courage to do was to forgive. She’d listened to countless sermons on the power of forgiveness, the Lord asking that of his fellow man without qualm. But for Gloria, forgiveness didn’t come easy. And now, looking at Steven Harding, perhaps not hating him in the way she’d declared earlier when she’d been distraught, but she found no way to forgive him—or his mother. She found no way to pardon the crimes that had occurred in the past or the crimes that are bound to happen in the future.

  Steven stirred and Gloria pretended sleep, closing her eyes, keeping still but for her deep breathing.

  A finger touched her cheek, and a whisper touched her ear. “You smell like roses.” Then his lips were on her, a tender brushing and the gentle slide of his mouth greeted hers. Gloria kissed him back timidly, with hesitation because she knew it to be wrong, yet she’d been overwhelmed with the tenderness he displayed almost as if she were a delicate flower and he feared injuring even one velvety petal.

  Hazy with sleep, Steven peered at her through heavy lids. “I dreamt of you. And when I woke, you were here.”

  “You dreamt of me?”

  “You were in a garden. And you picked a pretty rose.”

  “And what did I do with my rose?” she asked, breathless from the image, the thought of being free to enjoy a garden of flowers once again.

  “You gave it to me.”

  He bent his head and kissed her again. Her heart did a small flip, the exquisite emotion far too overwhelming to deny.

  When he pulled away slightly, she shook her head. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Because I’m your enemy?” he asked.

  “Because we’re not married.” And we never will be. Of that, Gloria was certain. To entertain romantic notions of Steven Harding would simply be foolish. “It’s sinful.”

  Steven splayed his hand through her hair, his fingers weaving through to stroke her head softly. She nearly purred aloud from his ministrations. “Tell me, what could be more sinful than a man’s cruelty to his wife, to hurt her in unimaginable ways? No sin is greater than that.”

  The argument she was ready to voice died on her lips. Steven was right and Gloria wouldn’t deny him that. “Yes, that’s true.”

  Steven slid the palm of his hand along her throat, coaxing a little whimper from her. Then he moved his hands along her shoulders, touching her skin, and the movement released the fabric. Cool air assailed her as the material fell off her shoulders, baring her skin. “You’re beautiful and young, Glory. You deserve to know tenderness from a man.”

  His words warmed her and made her wish for impossible things. His eyes warmed her as well, with an admiring look, as if she were more precious than a gold strike. It was a look she’d never once received from her husband.

  His hand came up to graze her chest, his fingertips spreading out, caressing her skin, sliding down until his fingers slipped under the barrier of lace Steven insisted she wear.

  Hot tingles of delight swarmed her senses as he found the slope of her breasts. And then one finger traveled over the tip of her breast. She inhaled sharply as he flicked the crest gently. Stirring heat shot up and down her body. “Steven.”

  He kissed her. “You’re perfect, Glory.”

  He rubbed her again and again, his finger working magic, the heat and intense pleasure causing her great anguish. She’d never known these sensations before. She’d never had these powerful urges. Surely this was sinful.

  “Don’t think, honey,” he whispered, as if he could read her thoughts. He brushed his mouth over hers again “Just feel. For once, enjoy the pleasure.”

  Pleasure? She had never known anything but harshness and impatience from her husband. And whether sinful or not, Gloria wanted to know what tenderness could bring. She’d been curious before, but now it was more. Her body responded to Steven in newfound ways. She couldn’t deny him and the incredible desire he created within her. She was at his mercy, too wrapped up with passion to think clearly.

  He parted the lace with his hand and brought his head down, planting tiny kisses along her breasts, causing the ache inside to grow hot and heavy. Her female parts throbbed. And when he thrust his tongue over one hardened peak, laving, moistening, licking, she jolted, her body lifting and falling again in rhythm with his movements. His lips and tongue did mysteriously wonderful things to her. Again and again, until she could barely breathe. She responded to him in ways that thrilled and confused her. She had little room for rational thought, the lusty stroking making her head swim deliciously. “Oh, Steven,” she pleaded, her breathing labored, “if you were to take me now, I’d not have the will to stop you.”

  Steven stopped as if cold water had been dumped on his head. He stared into her eyes, then took her hand and placed it below his waist. She felt the rigid length of his desire through his trousers. Her heartbeats sped up and she believed the quick thumping pounded inside her head as well.

  “I have willpower, Glory. I’m not like Boone. I would never hurt you. I would never take what is not offered freely. But you and I both know that will never happen. We will never be together in that way. You have nothing to fear from me.”

  Gloria bit down on her lip, nodding her head and removing her hand. Emotions raged and she tried to sort them out. She knew what she felt could not be shame. There was no shame in something so wonderful. Surely there couldn’t be. But she had remorse and it ran deep to her very core. What Steven said was true. They could never be together in that way. Sadly, she had to agree.

  Steven Harding had no place in her life.

  And she had no place in his.

  “The wind’s died down some,” he said. “I think we can make it back now. We’d best get going.”

  Gloria mounted on Fancy behind Steven, her disguise intact. And as they traveled through the backwoods to town, regrets filled her head. Steven had dreamed of her in a garden. He’d dreamed of her picking a flower.

  But tonight he’d made her remember something that she’d almost forgotten—that the rose she picked from that garden could never be given to him.

  As Gloria headed down the stairs for the noon meal, Emmie leaned over the railing on the second floor when she spotted her. “Glory, come quick. You have to see Merry’s gift this time.”

  Gloria hesitated. She’d never been on the second floor. That’s where the women, uh, entertained the clientele. Those were their bedrooms. The Rainbow Rooms. Curiosity won out as well as fear of being rude to Emmie, the woman who’d clothed her and helped save her lif
e.

  Gloria came to stand just outside the painted yellow door and noted many of the women all huddled around Merry. She couldn’t see anything of the girl from her standpoint, but the room itself held her interest. The entire room was done in yellow—cheery bright yellow from flowery curtains and bright wallpaper to pitchers and vases filled with tall sunflowers. The room hardly looked like what she’d expected from a brothel, but Glory had come to realize that Rainbow House was the exception, not the rule when it came down to comparisons. Small wonder Lorene Harding had done so well in this business. She kept her girls and the clients happy and wound up making a prosperous living selling all of their souls.

  Gloria prayed for guidance. She prayed to be free of her predicament. She had no place here among the prostitutes.

  “Come in,” Emmie said, gesturing for Glory to enter the room. “Isn’t he precious?”

  “He?”

  The women parted, allowing Glory full view of what Merry held in her arms. “Oh, my. I’ve never seen a puppy so, so unique.”

  “Bud says he comes all the way from France. Isn’t he the sweetest thing?”

  Glory had to agree. With a coat of curly apricot fur and the most adorable face, the animal’s dark round eyes stared up at her. “Yes. He’s sweet.”

  “I’m naming him Buddy. After my Bud.”

  Ruby, who’d been quiet up until this time, spoke up. “Where are you planning to keep him?”

  “In here, of course,” Merry answered. And it was fitting, Gloria thought, the animal would blend in perfectly in this room of soft golden hues.

  “And what if he gets in your way when you’ve got a man in here?”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that. Bud says he won’t grow much bigger than he is right now.” She hugged the dog close, kissing the top of his little head. “Besides, I don’t plan on being here much longer.” Merry looked at each one of her friends with glowing hopeful eyes. “I think Bud’s going to ask me to marry him.”

  Ruby sighed heavily.

  The other girls chattered noisily, asking questions, all of them with equal amounts of promise and cheerfulness in their expressions.

  But it was Carmen who spoke up this time. “Merry, do not be fooled by gifts. Has this man, this Bud spoken to you of marriage?”

  Merry stroked the puppy’s head, already spoiling the animal with lavish attention. “Well, no. But he’s forever talking about how he plans on building a place of his own. He’s doing real good in the mines.”

  Carmen’s expression hardened. “He will not want a whore for his wife, Merry. You must not get your hopes up.”

  “You don’t know my Bud. He’s different. Besides, it ain’t all that unusual. Lorene once said she’s let a girl or two go to get married to their customers.”

  “That’s right, I remember one of the gals. She’d only been here three months when a miner struck it rich and asked her to marry him,” Emmie offered. “They moved up to Oregon to start a new life.”

  “You see,” Merry said with determination, “it does happen.”

  Carmen looked at Ruby and both twisted their mouths in disapproval, but their eyes held certain hopeful warmth, as though they too wished it so for Merry.

  “Well, if we all don’t get downstairs, Mattie’s gonna toss our supper out. You know how she gets when she’s cooked up something special and we don’t go down,” Ruby said. “You coming, Merry?”

  “Oh, uh, no.” She stroked the puppy’s head again, then laid down on her bed, smiling. “I think I’ll just keep Buddy company for now. I hate the thought of leaving him alone.”

  Ruby ushered the girls out, including Gloria. “Fine. I’ll tell Mattie to save you something. But I can’t guarantee dessert, if one of the girls wants your piece of pie.”

  “Oh, that’s all right. I have everything I need right here.”

  And Gloria ambled downstairs with the rest of the women, hungry for food and praying for Merry. Perhaps, one soul might get saved from this place.

  “Dear Jesus, thank you for the meal before us. We ask you to keep us safely in our house. And we ask you for the justice. To find the bastard who killed Trudy Tremaine and slit his throat.”

  “Carmen!” Mattie and Gloria both chorused.

  The news at supper had not been good. Toby, who’d delivered provisions to Mattie from the mercantile, had relayed a terrible story. Trudy Tremaine, a local prostitute who’d fallen on hard times, had been murdered in the street late last night. Some of the Rainbow House women had known her. But even the ones who hadn’t known her still reeled in shock and despair.

  The mood at the table was somber now, in direct contrast to minutes ago when all were taken by the little curly-haired dog that had brought Merry so much joy. With heads down in contemplation, some ate their meal in silence. Others had lost their appetite. Gloria had suggested that Carmen offer up the after-noon prayer.

  After a brief pause and stern looks from Gloria and Mattie, Carmen continued, “We pray, dear Jesus, that You find mercy for Trudy Tremaine. It is not right that Trudy is dead. God rest her soul. Amen.”

  “Amen,” all of the ladies repeated.

  “It ain’t fair,” Julia said. “Trudy never hurt anybody.”

  “I hope the sheriff finds the bastard that done it,” Eva said firmly, glancing in defiance at Gloria.

  “She should have took a knife to him the way Glory did,” another one suggested.

  Mortified, Gloria sucked in a lungful of air. “I’m not sure what happened the night Boone died.”

  “It’s okay, Glory. We all know how you suffered that night. You had good reason to kill him, if you did,” Emmie said, and Glory found the other ladies nodding. “We only wished Trudy would’ve had the same opportunity.”

  “But don’t you see? You can’t compare me to her,” Glory began, wondering if she should try to make her point with these women. “Your very livelihood puts you all in danger every day. You don’t know these men or what they are capable of. Many are strangers from another land. You expose yourself to trouble every day.”

  “Are you saying Trudy asked to be killed?” Ruby asked, her brows raised, her expression grim.

  “No, of course not. No one deserves that sort of treatment. But she chose a dangerous way of life. Look what happened to my poor father, a beloved sweet man, just because he got in the way.”

  “It’s not Lorene’s fault your father got killed, Glory,” Emmie said softly.

  Even Emmie didn’t understand.

  “Because of Lorene Harding. Because of Rainbow House. That drifter was mad over getting thrown out of here. And my father paid the price.”

  “What’s this got to do with Trudy, anyhow?” Eva asked, puzzled.

  “Yeah, and we have Marcus to protect us,” Julia added.

  Gloria tried to explain. “I’m glad that you’re safe, but not all women are. They don’t have Marcus around. Don’t you see, if you all found different professions, you wouldn’t have call to worry about your life every time you walk down the street.”

  Carmen grunted. Gloria was getting used to the unfeminine sound. “We do not worry. It is you who worry. You have to hide here in the house, while the rest of us are free to go anywhere we like, no?”

  “Yes, but that’s different,” Gloria argued. “My profession didn’t cause my trouble.”

  “No, you only married the wrong man,” Emmie said gently.

  Gloria squeezed her eyes shut. “Yes, yes…I did. I made a mistake.”

  “The girls are happy here, Glory. And Lorene makes sure we are safe,” Ruby said, taking charge of the conversation. “We understand your grief about your father, but don’t come in here and try to change things.”

  “Even if it’s for your own good?” Gloria asked.

  “We’re all grown women. We know what’s right for us,” Ruby said. “Now, this conversation is over. It’s getting late and the girls need to get ready for tonight. Finish up your meal, everyone, and no more distressing talk ab
out Trudy.”

  Gloria waited until all the women left the room, then stood to help Mattie with the clean-up. “No, you don’t have to help.” Mattie’s voice was sweet, but firm. “It’s my job.”

  “Mattie, if I don’t do something, I’m going to pull all my hair out. I have to do something useful around here. And it may shock you to learn that I used to clean my father’s house and my husband’s house. Every day.”

  Mattie chuckled.

  Gloria grinned, grateful for the release of tension. Her conversation earlier hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t made her point with the women here. She couldn’t make them see that life had more to offer them. They just needed to believe. They needed more faith. “So hand over that cloth and let me help clean up.”

  Mattie relented and Gloria spent the next hour cleaning the kitchen, dusting the main rooms downstairs and beating the carpets. She needed to tire herself out. She didn’t want boredom to set in again this evening, because she’d decided that she couldn’t spend any more time with Steven. Last night, he’d made her feel things she shouldn’t feel. He’d made her come alive in a way she never had before. She had no regrets, but she also didn’t want to encourage him in any way.

  She’d spent the afternoon preaching her morals to the ladies here at Rainbow House. She couldn’t very well fall from grace. She couldn’t give Steven liberty to her body, while trying to keep her faith and soul intact.

  Her decision made, great relief washed over her. It was the first positive thing she’d done for herself. She would stay away from Steven Harding tonight and for the rest of the nights to come.

  For as long as she had to hide out here.

  Chapter Eight

  Steven slipped into Rainbow House right behind Sheriff Brimley and followed him into the main parlor. After the night he’d spent with Glory, Steven had debated about whether to show up here tonight at all. He told himself to stay away, steer clear of Glory for a while, to keep his concentration sharp and focus solely on her safety. She had a way of distracting him. He needed to stay on track to keep her from falling into the hands of the law.