Taking time to wash the clothes was the perfect distraction. It gave her time alone; something she needed after Wade showed up yesterday and insinuated that she and Mic had no business to love each other. Things between her and Mic had been awkward ever since. While they exchanged idle chatter about the things they needed to do with the animals and garden, Wade’s words changed something, though she wasn’t sure what.
Sure, she’d come out as Charles’ mail-order bride, but that didn’t mean she had to marry him. Circumstances changed and led her to where she was. And now she didn’t want to be with anyone but Mic. But she wasn’t sure if Mic cared about her that way. Just what did a kiss mean to a man? To her, it meant everything. But Mic probably had kissed lots of women. She might not have been privy to all the things Albert and Robert did with women, but anyone with average intelligence could deduct that they were familiar with women when it came to the bedroom. So maybe a kiss was just a kiss and one woman as good as another.
A twig snapped behind her. Gasping, she dropped the pants and washboard in the stream and grabbed her skillet, ready to attack Jeremiah if he’d returned. When she saw it was Wade, she relaxed, but only slightly.
“Do you really care about him?” Wade asked, leaning against a tree and crossing his arms, his body tense.
She kept a hold on her skillet, unsure of where this conversation was going. “Yes.”
He snorted. “Why would you care about a man who kidnapped you, brought you to his home, and tainted your reputation?” He frowned. “He’s made you unacceptable for marriage to any other man.”
“Maybe I don’t want to marry anyone—” She stopped herself before she added ‘else’ to her sentence. That would give too much away, make her admit to him what he had no business knowing.
“For a woman who constantly says she’s a lady, you don’t act like it.”
Heat rose to her face. Did he know about the bramble patch where she and Mic kissed? No. He couldn’t. Mic would have heard if he’d been nearby. Wade was just trying to upset her. She decided arguing with him in the past hadn’t gotten anywhere, and besides, he’d lost his wife to what sounded like a horrific murder. She couldn’t take his insults to heart. Why he felt the need to provoke her, she didn’t know. Maybe she somehow reminded him of what he lost? Maybe it was because she was a woman? Who knew what the reasons were, but she decided arguing with him had only made things worse and probably put Mic in an uncomfortable position.
Finally, she set the skillet close by her, mindful to keep an eye on him in case he tried to grab it, and picked up the pants and washboard. “I can’t change your opinion of me. You can believe whatever you want.” And she couldn’t say he was a liar. Not when she secretly relived that moment in the bramble patch many times since it happened.
“Three days alone with Mic and he’s tamed you. What did you two do?”
“Nothing.” She soaped the pants and scrubbed them on the washboard. “Just did chores around here.”
He pushed away from the tree. “What do you want, Miss Lillian Christian?”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she finished with the pants. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
If he thought she was going to admit she wanted to marry his brother, he had another thing coming. She and Mic hadn’t spoken of marriage, and chances were, he’d never bring it up after the way she acted yesterday. Men married ladies, not women who gave into the temptation of carnal pleasures.
“I know Mic offered to let you go. Why are you still here?” he pressed. “Why haven’t you returned to where you came from? What are hiding from? What do you want? And how does my brother fit into your plans?”
She placed the clean pants in the basket and selected one of Mic’s undershirts. “Maybe I should be asking what you want. What do you want from me? What are you hoping I’ll say?”
“The truth. I want to hear you speak the truth. I want to know that whatever you are hiding, it won’t hurt this family.”
She shouldn’t be surprised he’d mark her as the enemy. Not after their fights. Testing her words carefully before she spoke, she worked the soap into the undershirt then scrubbed it. “I don’t intend any harm to your family. You have nothing to fear from me. ”
“I know, because I won’t let you hurt them. I’m not blinded by your act of innocence. You’re using us to hide.”
“It’s because of you that I have to hide.” He stepped closer to her and she shifted closer to the skillet, though she continued washing the undershirt as if he didn’t intimidate her. If he suspected she was on her guard, he might not act so slowly. “You kidnapped me from the stagecoach. You set up the ransom. You made me an outlaw. If anyone’s acting innocent, it’s you.”
“I’m quite aware of all my sins.”
“Then you know I’m not a threat to anyone.”
“No, I don’t know that. I don’t know you,” Wade said, stopping a short distance from her. “All I know is everything has gone very, very wrong. ”
She slowed her movements on the washboard and leaned toward the skillet, trying not to rouse his suspicions. She didn’t like the way he kept creeping toward her, as if he wished to back her into a corner like a helpless animal. But she wasn’t helpless. She knew how to protect herself now. Hoping she sounded braver than she felt, she said, “I don’t know you either. How do I know you won’t hurt me?”
“You don’t.” He sat on the ground a short distance away, watching the water flow. “Though, what do you have that I would possibly want?”
He didn’t know about her money. He couldn’t possibly know about her money. No one had opened her trunk. But then… She grew still and studied his expression. God, no. He’d been with her trunk. He’d been the one to take it to the cabin while Mic went in another direction with her. Then he went back to town and did…and did what? Talked to someone? But who? Word couldn’t have gotten to Robert or Albert. Not that fast. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Nothing,” she ventured, keeping her eyes on him and her fingers inching toward the skillet. “I have nothing you could possibly want.”
She waited for him to answer, but he didn’t. He was staring at the water instead of her for a change. He was no longer tense but relaxed. Taking that as a positive sign, her fingers inched away from the skillet. Maybe he would leave her alone, at least for now. She turned her attention back to the wash and rinsed out the undershirt. Perhaps if she quickened her pace, she might be able to get through this fast enough so that she could hang the clothes up and return to the cabin to get away from him.
The rest of the time spent washing the clothes was extremely tense, but she pressed through it. From time to time, he opened his mouth as if he wished to speak but then closed it. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Her stomach tensed but she was determined not to show any weakness. If he knew he scared her, that would give him power over her, and if she learned nothing from her time with Robert, it was to act as if she wasn’t as weak as she felt.
When she was done with the laundry, he stepped toward the basket and picked it up. She collected the skillet and waited until he turned his back to her before she picked up the soap and washboard. She followed him, keeping enough distance from him so that if he tried something, she’d be ready. Except, there was nothing she could really do if he shot her. It was possible he’d shoot her to the money. Many would kill for $10,000.
Glancing over at her, his lips curled up into a grin, and she couldn’t be sure if he was smiling or sneering at her. His gaze went to the skillet she carried in one hand. “Mic must have taught you to use it as a weapon?”
Her grip tightened on it and she didn’t get any closer to him. She examined his hands and was assured when she saw he was still holding the basket instead of a gun. “Yes, and I’ve gotten good at using it. Gave a coyote a good whack. It won’t bother me anymore.” She didn’t know if he’d buy her lie, but she figured it was better that she pretend she’d already inflicted harm with
it. Killing a mouse in the past with one wouldn’t likely dissuade him from trying something.
He set the basket down beside the clothesline and straightened. “Good for you.”
“Thank you.”
He started to walk away, then stopped and turned back toward her. “Mic’s a good man and you seem to be a decent woman. I hope whatever trouble follows you, it doesn’t get him killed. And I’m sorry for the trouble our problems have caused you.” He nodded and strode away.
Her grip tightened on the skillet. She should be relieved he left without trying to hurt her, but she wasn’t. The sudden change in his mood made her heart beat faster. I hope whatever trouble follows you, it doesn’t get him killed. He had to know about the money. He might not know about Robert or Albert, but he knew about her money.
She stood quietly, acutely aware of her surroundings, realizing just how tenuous her situation really was. Mic was right. She wasn’t safe anywhere. She’d felt some level of safety out here. Maybe not from Jeremiah but she had felt safe from Robert and Albert. It was doubtful her brother would follow her. He wouldn’t have anything to gain by it. He’d lost all his money to the gambling debts he owed Robert, debts her money was supposed to pay.
But even if Robert might not find her here, Wade knew she was here and he knew about the money. She watched him as he crossed the path by the cabin. She tried to breathe but everything seemed as if it was closing in on her, and as much as she tried to force out the feeling, it wasn’t going away.
I hope whatever trouble follows you, it doesn’t get him killed.
She didn’t know what to make of those words, except it implied that somehow by getting too close to Mic, she had put him in a dangerous situation. She wished she knew what Wade had been up to. What if he hadn’t gone up to the north pasture? What if he’d gone to town? What if he’d talked to someone? If she knew, it’d give her an advantage, one that she desperately needed right now.
She waited until Wade was in the barn before she hurried to the cabin, her steps going faster as she went. Scanning the area, she was assured that Mic hadn’t come back from checking the snares. She didn’t think he would be back for a while, and she didn’t know how much time she had. As soon as she entered the cabin, she threw the washboard and soap on the table and shut the door. She grabbed a broom and set it against the door. If anyone came into the cabin, she’d hear it fall.
She rushed up to the loft. After a moment of waiting to hear if Wade had entered the cabin and being assured he hadn’t, she went to the window and saw that he was in the corral. Good. It bought her a little time. Not much, but maybe enough. She didn’t come all this way and sacrifice so much to let that money get into the wrong hands. There was only one person she trusted it with.
She studied the loft for a suitable hiding place. Wade and whoever he was with would want the trunk. They might take it without looking in it. Or maybe not. Even if they looked through the trunk first, she bet Mic would find them before they searched through the loft, and that being the case, the best way to protect the money and make sure it got into Mic’s hands was by taking it out of the trunk. She quietly made her way around the room, mindful to keep an ear out for the broom. Finding a knife on the floor, she picked it up. She’d forgotten she’d flung it across the room that day when Jeremiah attacked her.
Inspired, she went to the mattress. She turned it over and made a tear in a couple places so as not to risk the integrity of the entire thing and slipped the paper money into it. Then she turned it over and made the bed as it’d been that morning when she went to breakfast.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead and went to the loose floorboard in the corner of the room close by the other trunks. She tested it and it budged. She dug the knife into the edge of it and worked it along the rest of the board until she was able to lift it up. Ignoring the pain in her hands, she retrieved the coins and placed them in her second hiding spot. Then she placed the board back and pushed one of the trunks over it.
Out of breath, she carefully placed her clothes back into the trunk. There. Wade wouldn’t know by opening the trunk that she had tampered with it. And since she wore his mother’s clothes and now Abby’s, there was no reason for him to assume she had bothered with her things at all.
She collapsed on her trunk, exhausted. She closed her eyes, careful to listen for that broom downstairs. Good. She was still alone. As her heartbeat returned to normal, her tears fell. Everything she’d done up to this point had been a mistake. How was she to know that by coming to Wyoming, she was running from one trap right into another? She felt no safer than the animals that happened to stumble upon one of Mic’s snares.
She took a deep breath as her fingers brushed the cool, flat surface of her trunk. Everything seemed to be closing in on her. And now she had someone she cared about. In Virginia, she had no one to protect. Her parents were already gone. It was easy enough to risk everything to leave. Such foolishness. Thinking people would be any different out here than they’d been back East. Thinking she was so clever to take her money out of Virginia so Robert wouldn’t get his greedy hands on it. Thinking by changing her name and marrying Charles Gray, she’d have a secure place to spend the rest of her life. Thinking that seeking refuge here would prevent anyone from discovering her secret. Danger was as close as the corral by the cabin.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, she turned her attention to the knife she’d set on the floor by the trunk. Mic was right. People were the same no matter where she went. There was nowhere she could run to, nowhere she could hide. The Roberts, Charles, Jeremiahs, and Wades of the world were everywhere.
Trembling, she grabbed the knife and stared at it.
“Then stop fighting,” Mic had said that day Jeremiah attacked her. “Stop running. Just let the world take your life from you. Be the victim they all hope you are.”
She blinked, forcing the tears to slide down her cheeks, her heart pounding as she stared at the blade. It was sharp.
“Didn’t people ever come to your home, Lillian? Maybe for a visit? To take what they wanted?” Mic had asked. “People always come. Some mean no harm. Others mean to harm. It’s how life is.”
“It’s how life is,” she whispered and rolled up her sleeve so she could press the tip of the cool blade against her wrist.
“I’m tired of fighting,” she’d told Mic.
And she was tired. It was only a matter of time before Wade made his move, before Robert found her, or someone else came after her. She closed her eyes, aware of her shallow breathing and the tears that fell off her cheeks. She could end it here. She could stop being tired, finally be free from all the torment.
Then she recalled the previous day in the bramble patch when she watched as Mic passed her, ducking his head beneath a chokecherry bough.
With a mischievous grin, she quietly got up so she was behind him.
“Think this is funny? Wait until I find you.”
Seeing her chance, she jumped on him, successfully pinning him to the ground. “Gotcha!” she called out, exhilarated in having outwitted him, something that was no easy feat since he knew so much about tracking.
“Little minx,” he growled, rolling beneath her and catching her against him.
She settled on top of him, laughing. “I win.” She settled her hand on his chest, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Not so bad for a city girl, huh?”
“Not bad. But couldn’t you pick a less painful hiding spot?”
“But if it’s painful, won’t my opponent want to give up?”
“I sure as hell hope so. Although they could outwait you. The need to eat is a powerful motivator.”
“I happen to be a very patient, and I slipped some jerky in my pocket before we left the cabin this morning.”
Mic laughed. “God I love you, Uzizitka.”
The blade pressed into her skin, and she cried harder. She loved him. She didn’t know when or how it happened, but she did. Something in the past couple days had changed
between them, and she wanted so badly to see what would happen, what might happen.
“Civilized society would have you believe that women are weak,” Mic had told her. “That they need a man to protect them. But we both know that the world isn’t that way. Sometimes women need to use the brains God gave them to outsmart a man.”
And hadn’t she done that in the bramble patch? Didn’t she manage to prove she could outsmart a man? And if she could do it there, what was to stop her from doing it with Robert, with Wade, with Jeremiah, or with anyone else who came after her?
The pressure of the blade lessened on her skin.
“I don’t want you to learn to use the knife to hurt people,” Mic had told her. “I want to give you a chance to defend yourself, to keep yourself safe against anyone who would hurt you. I want to give you power over your life.”
Blinking back more tears, she held the knife in front of her face, catching sight of her reflection in the blade. Her grip tightened on the handle as a newfound determination took hold of her. She could do it. She’d learn how to use this knife, a gun, and any other weapon she had to. She’d stop being tired and learn to fight back. She’d do whatever it took to protect herself. Then it didn’t matter if Wade, Robert, and the rest of the world came to her door to hurt her because she’d use the brain God gave her. She’d stop relying on others to save her. No matter what it took, she would take control over her fate. And no one was going to stop her.
Chapter Fourteen
The little homestead was quiet when Mic got back. He could see Noah in the yard cooking the afternoon meal. Wade was with the horses, training a new colt to saddle. Clothes waved gently in the breeze on the line. Lillian was nowhere to be seen. She was probably in the cabin hiding from Wade. He’d check on her as soon as he put the meat in the icehouse and gave the hides to Noah to cure and stretch.
Glancing toward the cabin, he smiled at the yellow curtains in the window. True to her word, Lillian had added a feminine touch to his home. She’d started with curtains, looking at him uncertainly when he’d entered. He’d made sure to compliment her. The dollies had come next, along with several trinkets.
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