by Cat Cahill
She shook her head. “I fear there’s truth to them. I know there is truth to them.” How else could she explain the bruises lurking beneath the layers of powder on the late Mrs. Wiltshire’s face at last year’s Christmas parties? Or the way, a couple of years before that, the first Mrs. Wiltshire developed a limp not long after she’d been married? Quentin didn’t notice those things, but the ladies did. They took note, and when each of Mr. Wiltshire’s wives passed away in tragic, unexpected ways, they prayed none of them were next in line.
Caroline’s prayers hadn’t been answered, at least not in the way she’d hoped. So instead, she’d taken it upon herself to avoid becoming the third Mrs. Wiltshire.
“You are being unreasonable. Father sent me here to fetch you home, where you’ll fulfill the contract you signed and be married.”
Caroline pulled her hands from his. “I will do no such thing.” Then, seeing the astounded look on her brother’s face, she composed herself back into the diminutive creature he expected her to be. She’d need to prevail on his sentiments. “Please, Quentin. If I marry that man, I won’t live another year.”
“That’s preposterous. What are you going to do instead? Live out here in the wilderness? Work as a waitress for the rest of your life? Die a spinster? You signed a contract, after all. You can’t marry some ruffian cowboy.”
Thomas’s hurt face appeared in her mind again. What did she have left here? Certainly not him. She’d seen to that. She had her work here, or in California, if she chose. And despite the distaste with which Quentin said the word waitress, Caroline was proud of her work.
Quentin laid a hand on her arm. More softly, he said, “You know Father won’t rest until you’re returned and married. Not only for his reputation, but for the good of the company.”
The company. That was it. The reason he’d sell his own daughter into marriage with a snake such as Mr. Wiltshire. Quentin was right. She’d never have a moment’s peace, not as long as Father was alive. And certainly not as long as Mr. Wiltshire wanted her. She’d spend her life hiding.
Like Thomas.
She closed her eyes as the loss of it all threatened to consume her again. It was for Thomas’s own good. She was engaged, part of a contract in which her marriage would infuse funding into her family’s company, and therefore, she couldn’t in good conscience give her heart to another man. And she’d feared what would happen to Thomas if Mr. Wiltshire at all suspected she had feelings for him. She’d already let him go. He could find a woman who was free to be with him once he’d proven his innocence. She couldn’t contemplate what would happen to him if he didn’t succeed. And she . . .
What would she do? Run forever?
“At least come stay with me in Cañon City. You can think more on it there.” Quentin scooped up his top hat from the end table, as if the matter was already decided.
And perhaps it was. A cold sense of resignation settled around Caroline’s heart. “Let me pack my things.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The sun had barely begun tracing the sky when Thomas awoke the next morning. He’d hardly slept, having dreamt of faceless men chasing him and of Caroline. As he dressed he realized he needed to do two things: tell McFarland why he was leaving and see Caroline one last time.
The first, he should have done long ago, as Caroline had told him. If McFarland understood, Thomas would be on his way. And if he didn’t, then he’d simply need to make a quicker escape. But in his heart, he knew McFarland only hired men he trusted. He’d seen something in Thomas, and it was only right that Thomas repay that trust with the truth.
After that, he’d see Caroline and tell her that he’d come clean to McFarland. He’d ask again if she’d wait until he returned. If she still decided she’d rather transfer, then so be it. But if she waited . . . he dared not hope. All last night in that saloon, he’d tried to reconcile the woman he thought he’d known with the woman she’d shown him yesterday. He couldn’t do it. One of them was the true Caroline, and he wouldn’t let her go until he knew which she was. And if she wasn’t the woman he’d thought she was, he’d leave her be.
Thomas surveyed his meager belongings. It wouldn’t take long to pack them up. He planned to be on the evening train from Santa Fe to Cañon City. From Cañon City, he’d continue north to Colorado City. There, he’d hire a horse and ride into the mountains.
He knocked on McFarland’s door at exactly eight o’clock. The man himself answered, knotting his tie. “Drexel! What can I do for you this fine morning?” he asked in his light brogue.
Thomas glanced around the room. Mrs. McFarland was nowhere to be seen, which was fine by him. He’d rather she not hear of his alleged misdeeds. “I need to speak with you a moment.”
McFarland gestured at the two wing chairs that sat opposite each other in front of the glowing fireplace. Thomas welcomed the heat as he sat.
“What’s on your mind, son?”
Thomas warmed at the affectionate term, although he wondered if McFarland would feel the same way about him once he shared his secret. “I need to leave for a brief time, but would like to return if you’ll have me.”
“Leave?” McFarland’s brow crinkled.
Thomas forced himself to keep eye contact with his boss. “I need to return to the mining town where I worked prior to coming to Crest Stone. I have . . . unfinished business there I need to resolve.”
McFarland nodded, but said nothing.
Thomas could tell he was waiting for more. “This isn’t easy to own up to, but I ran into a bit of trouble up there before I left.” He was beginning to sweat, but he refused to shift positions. Instead, he pushed forward and told McFarland the whole terrible story, including running away instead of facing the law. “I understand if you’d prefer to turn me in right now,” he finished. Thomas steeled himself, hoping this wasn’t the option McFarland chose.
The older man tapped a hand against his leg. “I’ll do no such thing. I can tell you’re a decent sort of man, Drexel. I believe you should have stayed and cleared your name when this happened, but I also understand the facts were against you. If you weren’t already planning to return and handle the situation now, I’d encourage you to do just that.”
Thomas relaxed. It was just as Caroline had said. He should have come forward sooner, but perhaps it was better he’d waited. After all, now he was determined to return and end this nonsense of running away. A few weeks ago, he couldn’t have said the same, and he imagined McFarland may not have been so charitable toward his frame of mind then.
“I’ll hold your position for you until the end of the year,” McFarland said, standing.
Thomas followed suit. “Thank you, sir.”
“And please, don’t hesitate to send word if you need anything from me.” He clapped Thomas on the back. “Good luck, son. I hope to see you back here soon.”
Thomas left McFarland’s apartment feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Perhaps there was truth in that old saying—the truth will set you free. He only hoped his meeting with Caroline would go just as well.
The morning passed slowly, and Thomas occupied himself with finishing up work on the stables. Finally, the noon train from Cañon City arrived, and Thomas joined the passengers and some of the hotel guests in the dining room for a meal. Paying for his food was the only way he knew he’d be able to see Caroline. He stood near the door, looking for her. A minute passed, then two, then three. Gilbert Girls hustled to and from the kitchen and their serving stations, but there was no sign of his small, light-haired beauty.
He spotted Miss May, and preparing himself for another telling-off, approached her as she carried a steaming pot of tea to her station. “Miss May, I hate to interrupt your work, but could you tell me where Miss Beauchamp is this afternoon?”
She cupped the pot with a small towel in her free hand and frowned. “She’s left.”
The words took him aback. She’d said it would take at least two weeks for her transfer to come through. “
What do you mean?”
Miss May regarded him with something between suspicion and pity, as if she couldn’t make up her mind whether she liked or distrusted him. “Her brother arrived late last night. They left immediately for Cañon City.” She set the pot down before turning to look back at Thomas. “She told me she might be traveling to Boston, but she wouldn’t say more.”
“Boston?” The word nearly knocked Thomas over. “That makes no sense. She went to so much effort to leave home.”
“I know.” Miss May cast her eyes about the dining room before returning them to Thomas. “Did you say something to her?”
He shook his head. He couldn’t imagine her returning voluntarily to Boston, not after what she’d told him.
“Honestly, Mr. Drexel, I’m worried about her.”
“I’ll send word,” he said so fast the words ran into each other. When Miss May cocked her head in confusion, he added, “I’m leaving myself, but I’ll stop in Cañon City first and find Caroline.”
Miss May’s expression relaxed. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head, then made his way out of the dining room without eating. He needed to return to his room, gather his things, and figure out what he was going to say to Caroline when he saw her. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him, she couldn’t go to Boston. Not after the effort she’d made to leave and start a life here. He couldn’t let her give all of that up.
Thomas strode across the lobby through the people milling there, waiting to board the train or for a seat to empty at the nearby lunch counter. Turning past the front desk, he almost collided with a gentleman who was waiting to speak with the clerk.
“Well, if it ain’t who I’ve been looking for.”
Thomas’s heart went cold as he realized exactly who it was he’d run into. Deputy Frank Rayburn. Now Sheriff Frank Rayburn.
Run. The word surfaced in Thomas’s mind as Rayburn held up a set of irons.
He eyeballed a path from his current position to the door. He could run. Or he could face his fate.
Thomas took a step back.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The hotel room was likely the finest in Cañon City, but still it was not the sort of place to which Caroline’s brother was accustomed. He’d been appalled that the front desk clerk would simply allow visitors to knock on their door, instead of sending someone up to announce that a visitor had arrived. After that had happened once, he’d nearly berated the poor clerk into a sniveling mess. No one had arrived unannounced since then.
And visitors they’d had aplenty in the two days they’d been there. Caroline had pled indecisiveness, telling Quentin she needed to be certain she wanted to return home. Truthfully, she’d made up her mind but sought to put off the consequences of her decision for a bit longer. Quentin had agreed to stay until the end of the week. He’d wired their father—and most likely the dreadful Mr. Wiltshire—that he had been successful in finding Caroline. And now he was taking the opportunity to make business contacts in Cañon City.
“In a few years’ time, these dusty towns will be bustling cities, and the country will be crisscrossed with railway tracks,” he’d said to Caroline. “And Beauchamp Imports will be the ideal company to get goods to these people. Can you imagine how we’d grow?”
Caroline had nodded politely. It made sense, and so she tolerated the steady stream of mercantile owners, government officials, and railway men who’d visited their rooms. It was a nice distraction from the heavy thoughts weighing on her.
Her impending marriage. The life she’d created for herself here. Her friends. Thomas. It all flooded into her mind whenever she had a moment alone. The rest of the time, she shoved any emotions that rose right back down. She was becoming adept at stoicism.
So when a knock sounded on their door again late in the afternoon, Caroline thankfully put aside the book she was attempting—and failing—to read and rose to greet the clerk.
“I’m so sorry, miss. This woman, she wouldn’t stay downstairs, and I know your brother is—I’m so sorry.” The flustered clerk threw up his hands as Penny barged right past him and into Caroline’s room.
“It’s quite all right,” Caroline said, as soon as the shock of seeing her friend appear here wore off. “I’m not as hard to please as my brother.” She gave him a benevolent smile, and he relaxed just a little.
“The thing is,” he said, tapping nervous fingers against his trousers, “there are more of them downstairs.”
“Oh, for the love of all that’s good,” Penny said from behind Caroline. “There are only two. Please send them up.”
Caroline glanced at Penny, her eyebrows raised in a question.
“Dora and Millie.”
Caroline turned back to the clerk and nodded, then shut the door.
“Are you all right? Have you been hurt?” Penny fussed as she took both of Caroline’s hands in her own and held them out to the sides.
“No, of course not.” Caroline shook off her grip. “Why are you here?”
Penny let out a frustrated sound. “To ensure you haven’t completely lost your mind. Now, where’s that no-good brother of yours? I have words for him.”
“He isn’t here,” Caroline said, thankful Quentin had gone out to meet yet another shop owner. He was due back in about an hour. They were to have dinner in the restaurant downstairs with the town mayor, the local sheriff, and a few businessmen.
Penny had already crossed the room, peeking into the nearby bedrooms. “Hmph. Did Mr. Drexel come to see you?”
Caroline slowly shook her head. She’d hurt Thomas to ensure he’d leave her alone. And it appeared that plan had worked, as much as it broke her heart all over again to think about it. It had been the only way.
“He said he would. But you know how impatient I am. I had to come myself, just in case he couldn’t talk sense into you.”
There was a tentative knock at the door, followed by a more insistent one. Caroline crossed back to the door to open it, where Dora and Millie waited on the other side.
“How are you?” Millie asked immediately. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Caroline said through gritted teeth. She loved her friends, but this constant insinuation that she’d been knocked over the head and dragged off against her will was too much.
“We’ve been so worried,” Dora said as she stepped forward to hug Caroline.
Caroline’s irritation melted as she wrapped her arms around her friend. These women meant everything to her. Of course they were concerned, especially after she’d left so suddenly.
“I’m so sorry to have made you worry,” Caroline said, looking into Dora’s dark eyes. “But I’m fine, I promise.”
“Are you ready to give up this nonsense and come back home with us?” Penny asked, her hands on her hips.
Caroline sank onto the pretty rose-colored settee. “I’m returning to Boston.”
“I don’t understand,” Millie said. “You worked so hard to leave. Why would you return?”
“It’s . . . hard to explain.” Caroline studied her hands clasped on her lap.
“We have until six o’clock,” Dora said, sitting next to her. “Mr. McFarland drove us up here in the buckboard. Mrs. Ruby convinced him. She misses you as much as we do.”
Caroline glanced at Penny, who stood next to Dora.
“You should tell them. What does it matter now, if you won’t be a Gilbert Girl any longer?” Penny said, a slight edge to her voice.
Caroline knew her friend hadn’t forgiven her yet for leaving her post. Hopefully that would come with time. She drew a deep breath and told Millie and Dora about Thomas.
“You sly girl!” Millie said. “How did you hide that from us so well?”
“How can you leave him?” Dora asked. “Especially now, when he’s so close to being free?”
Tears pricked Caroline’s eyes but she refused to let them go any farther. “I’m the one who isn’t free.”
The three other girls bli
nked at her.
She drew a deep breath. “You know my family wants me to marry a man in Boston. But I didn’t tell you that it’s a formal engagement. And it isn’t one I could simply break off. My father and I signed a contract—I would marry and this man would save my family’s company.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Caroline felt as if she’d finally come up for air after swimming in the ocean for months. The secret had clung to her for so long, it was a relief to be rid of it.
“Oh,” Dora said softly, while Millie and Penny simply gaped at her.
“Whyever didn’t you say anything?” Penny finally asked. “It isn’t as if that’s some dark secret.”
Caroline squeezed her eyes shut. “Because he’s a terrible man. He’s much, much older. He’s been married twice before and both of his wives died . . . strangely. And before their deaths, they often bowed out of parties and dinners, but when they came, they were quiet and tried to hide bruises with powder and rouge.” She opened her eyes to meet her friends’. “I was scared. If I refused, my father wouldn’t receive the money he needed to keep the company going. And . . . I was afraid Mr. Wiltshire would hurt me if I said no.”
Dora reached for her hand. Millie’s mouth hung open. But Penny—Penny was angry.
“Why did your father allow this?” she demanded.
“He refused to believe anything unseemly about Mr. Wiltshire.”
“I’d like to meet your father,” Penny muttered.
“But why do you want to go back now?” Millie asked.
“I’m tired of running. Of hiding. And I’m tired of pretending my heart is my own to give away, when it isn’t.” The tears threatened again, and Caroline steeled herself. It was no use crying now. She’d made her decision. Thomas was already on his way to Barrett Mountain. And she’d be home in Boston next week.
“This Mr. Wiltshire couldn’t do anything if you were already married,” Penny said bluntly.
Caroline looked back down at her hands, one of them still in Dora’s. “That won’t happen. And how is it fair to burden any man with this danger? If Mr. Wiltshire found out I married someone else, I’m afraid he’d come after us both.”
