The thought stalled her sorrow. “No. I’ll not let my heart be ensnared by him again. It’s over, Dom. It’s best I look to the future and not the past.”
Studying the way her features began to move from grief to determination, his lips twisted into a reassuring grin. “That’s the sister I remember. Strong and independent. They’ve served you well in the past and they will again.” Seeing Suzanne approach with their meals, he lifted his hand, resting it on his thigh.
As Suzanne placed the plates before them and moved off, Sylvia clung to his words, more determined than ever to push Mack out of her heart.
Sylvia tilted her chin up as she and Dominic walked down the church’s center aisle to a row near the front. She’d have preferred to sit at the back where her presence might be ignored by the small group of women who thrived on gossip. It wouldn’t take long before news of Mack’s decision swept through town. Nevertheless, Sylvia refused to be intimidated by the harpies or think less of herself because of his rejection.
Spotting May and Tabitha in the second row, she leaned up to speak in Dominic’s ear. “There.” She indicated the seat with a nod of her head. “Next to my friends.”
Sitting down, she allowed herself a quick look around, recognizing the Pelletiers, Gabe and Lena, Gabe’s father, and several others. All offered her smiles and nods of recognition. They obviously hadn’t heard about Mack’s decision. Some of her tension lessened and she let out a relieved breath.
Sylvia had taken a seat next to May, noticing her friend glance around the church as the choir finished a hymn. It wasn’t hard to guess she searched for Caleb. Although he’d made no hint of an intention to court May, he’d walked her to the boardinghouse a couple times and joined her and Sylvia for breakfast several times. She found herself praying if Caleb ever did voice his intentions to May, their courtship would end better for her than it had for Mack and herself.
Watching out the window of the jail, Mack’s throat tightened at the sight of Sylvia and Dominic leaving the boardinghouse for church. As much as he believed the decision he made served them both better than a misdirected marriage, he couldn’t stop the claws of regret.
A sharp pain in the area of his heart startled him. He’d felt it once before when his aunt sent news of Mack’s fiancée’s marriage to his cousin. Although he didn’t recall the ache being as intense as this morning.
Ignoring it, he paced away to sit at Gabe’s desk. Opening a drawer, Mack grabbed the newest wanted posters, doing his best to concentrate on the images and descriptions. No matter how long he stared at each sheet, Mack couldn’t remember any of what he’d read.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, he dropped the posters back into the drawer. Caleb had taken the first rounds of town, leaving Mack to man the jail. Gabe had sent the Smith brothers home after giving them a stern warning to never again threaten anyone unless they meant to make good on their threats.
Gabe had been more than a little frustrated at his inability to discover anything to identify who’d slaughtered the sheep. Miller maintained his and his sons’ innocence. He hadn’t denied the benefits to his family if the sheepherders left the area, reminding Gabe he wasn’t the only rancher who coveted their land.
Even Dax and Luke Pelletier had met with Ebenezer and Elija, talking of their interest if the Smiths ever decided to sell. Unlike Miller, Gabe knew his friends had offered their help if the sheepherders ever needed it.
With the Smiths gone, no one remained at the jail for Mack to guard. Unable to staunch his restlessness, he grabbed his hat, deciding to take a turn around town. He knew a special stagecoach run would be arriving late in the morning. Sunday arrivals were rare, unless important supplies or people were aboard.
Mack had no idea which to expect. He hoped if the stage brought passengers, Sylvia’s father wouldn’t be among them. She didn’t need the humiliation he felt certain the man would rain down on her once he found Mack had called off the courtship.
The sick feeling returned, turning his stomach inside out. Another wave of guilt had him turning in the direction of the church. He needed to see Sylvia, explain how he preferred she tell people she’d called off the courtship and not Mack. He didn’t expect an argument or hesitation. It would be to her benefit, and Mack felt certain Sylvia would jump at the chance to cast him as the scoundrel.
Crossing the street, he passed the Dixie, newspaper office, and St. James, arriving at the church as the first of the parishioners walked outside. He couldn’t account for the tightening in his chest as he waited. All he had to do was explain his reasoning, obtain her agreement, and leave. How hard could that be?
“No. I’ll not lie about how our friendship ended.” Sylvia didn’t look at him, her attention on anyone but him.
Mack winced at her choice of words. He expected her to say courtship or relationship. Instead, she’d emphasized how his rejection ended not only spending each evening with her, but any chance of continuing their friendship. The truth stung.
“You wouldn’t be lying. Not exactly.” Mack glanced behind him, seeing Dominic speaking with the Pelletiers, even though his gaze stayed fixed on him and Sylvia.
Her gaze lifted to his for an instant, brow lifted. “Not exactly?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Mack’s jaw clenched. “It seemed an inevitable end. You knew from the start my feelings on love and I knew you felt the opposite. Neither of us planned to change our minds. If we’d continued another week, it would have ended the same.” He saw the flash of pain in her eyes, wincing at hurting her again. “Can’t you allow me to take the fault?”
Hands tightening on her reticule, she glanced away, blinking to staunch the moisture in her eyes. She would not allow him to see her reaction. Squaring her shoulders, she glared at him.
“If you knew how this would end, why didn’t you do it right away? Why keep seeing me, making me believe there might be hope for us?”
Her questions seared through him, the ache bringing another round of guilt. She deserved his complete honesty. “Because I couldn’t let you go.”
Sylvia took a small step away, stunned. He hadn’t been able to let her go, but after he knew of her love, he’d sent her away, unable to handle feelings he couldn’t return.
Taking off his hat, Mack threaded a hand through his hair. “I did you a disservice not calling it off sooner. For that, I am truly sorry.”
She stiffened, seeing Dominic striding toward them. “Regardless, you called off the courtship and that’s what people will learn. I’m a strong woman, Mack. Believe me, I can handle their derision at being rejected. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Brushing past him, she stopped Dominic’s forward progress, her brother wearing a murderous expression. Slipping her hand through his arm, she swallowed the bile Mack’s request caused. Nothing he said made anything better.
Morgan Miller stood next to his horse, arms crossed, watching the exchange between Sylvia and Mack. Even if the break happened only a few hours earlier, word traveled fast in a town the size of Splendor.
Sylvia whispered the information to May and Tabitha after church. Her words hadn’t gone unheard by Gladys Poe, the town’s worst gossip. Within minutes, everyone still standing outside the church knew Mack’s decision, sparking anger at him and sympathy for Sylvia.
Morgan felt neither. A sense of triumph washed through him. He’d been waiting, knowing the deputy would make a mistake, although he’d never considered the mistake would be so massive.
Tossing the reins over a hitching post, he followed Sylvia and her brother the few feet to the St. James. He continued behind them as they entered the dining room, making a slight cough, catching Sylvia’s attention.
“Mr. Miller. I didn’t see you at church.”
Removing his hat, he offered a sly grin. “I sat at the back.” He looked at the man next to her, already knowing their relationship.
“Mr. Miller, this is my brother, Dominic Lucero. Dom, this is Morgan Miller. He owns a ranch south of
town.”
The men shook hands, studying each other the way men do. “Won’t you join us, Mr. Miller?” Dominic asked, noticing Sylvia’s eyes widen a little.
“It would be my pleasure. I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Morgan.” He turned toward Sylvia. “Both of you.”
Sylvia felt a slight lightening in her chest. “All right.”
“And you’ll call me Dom.”
“May I show you a table?” Thomas stepped beside them.
“Yes, please. For three.” Sylvia slipped her arm through Dominic’s, a little bit of her misery retreating. Reaching their table, Morgan pulled out a chair for her.
“Sylvia?”
“Thank you, Morgan.”
Thomas waited until all three sat down, taking their orders before disappearing into the kitchen. They fell into an easy conversation about Morgan’s ranch, Dominic’s arrival in town, and his new job as a Texas Ranger.
Their discussion slowed as they ate the meals Thomas set before them. After a while, Morgan looked at her.
“Excuse me if I’m intruding on something I shouldn’t, Sylvia. I heard you are no longer seeing the deputy.”
Dominic whipped his head toward his sister, seeing her stiffen. He opened his mouth to speak, closing it when Sylvia answered.
“That is true.”
Morgan waited a few moments, setting down his fork. “If it’s not too soon, I’d be honored to accompany you to supper.”
Sylvia wasn’t surprised by the invitation, other than the speed with which the man had moved after hearing about her and Mack.
“I’d love to have supper with you, Morgan.”
Relief flashed in his eyes. “Wonderful. Would Wednesday evening suit you?”
She glanced at Dominic. At his nod, the corners of her mouth slipped into a grin. “Yes, that would be fine.”
Morgan couldn’t hide an upsurge of satisfaction. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sylvia had awoken Wednesday morning with more confidence than she’d felt when climbing from bed Sunday. She’d worked Monday and Tuesday, relieved Mack hadn’t made an appearance. The less she saw him, the easier it would be to shove the handsome deputy from her mind, forgetting him as one did yesterday’s trash.
Hearing the bell over the door, she stopped dusting the shelves to see who’d entered. She straightened, a smile on her face when she saw May walk inside.
“Aren’t you working today?”
May rushed up to her, eyes bright with excitement. “Did you hear who came in on the stage Sunday?”
Sylvia’s forehead bunched. She shook her head. “No. Is it someone important?”
“Well, I’m not sure. It was an older woman. Very beautiful and obviously from wealth. She’s staying at the St. James.”
Brows lifting, Sylvia looked out the front window. “Is she tall with dark hair streaked with silver?”
May nodded. “She’s quite elegant, don’t you think?”
Pursing her lips, Sylvia thought of the woman she’d seen walking on the boardwalk the night before. She’d wondered about her, but didn’t know who to ask.
“I thought she looked elegant and sophisticated. Do you know why she’s in Splendor?”
“No one at the St. James seems to know anything about her, other than she’s from Boston. Oh, and Thomas says she’s a widow. She keeps to herself, taking walks, asking few questions.”
“Do you know her name?” Sylvia asked.
“Mrs. Billings.” May opened her pendant watch, checking the time. “I’d best get back to the hotel. The cook needs my help with supper.” She started to leave, then turned back. “Are you still having supper with Morgan Miller tonight?”
“I am.” A curious mixture of excitement and resignation tugged at her, but she shook off both. She’d approach supper with cool detachment, not allowing herself to let down her defenses for an instant. This evening was her way of getting over Mack, nothing more. It didn’t have anything to do with the successful rancher.
Sylvia found Morgan compelling and attractive, although she felt none of the desire she had for Mack. Sadness streamed through her, knowing the odds she’d ever be fortunate enough to meet another man as captivating as Mack weren’t good. Still, she had to try. She believed Dominic when he’d told her it would be the best way to mend a broken heart.
“I thought you had a supper engagement this evening, Sylvia.” Stan Petermann stood a few feet away, a tender look on his face. In a few short months, he’d become somewhat of a surrogate father, and she knew he saw her as a substitute daughter. It was one reason she hoped to still build a life in Splendor—the friends she’d made since arriving.
“Mr. Miller is to meet me at the boardinghouse at six.”
Stan looked at the time. “Then you should be leaving to get ready.”
“Are you sure?” She couldn’t hide the delight in her voice.
Chuckling, he pointed to the door. “Go on with you, and have a wonderful evening.”
Grabbing her shawl and reticule, she made for the door. “Thank you, Mr. Petermann.”
Mack walked past Ruby’s Palace, the tinny piano music spilling onto the street, luring him inside. Stopping for a moment, he stared at the door, knowing Malvina would welcome him with open arms. The comfort she would offer held no appeal. He wanted only one woman but no longer had the right to call on her.
Jaw clenching, he moved on, passing the clinic, schoolteacher’s house, and the house he shared with Caleb before reaching the end of the street. Ahead and to his right stood Noah’s blacksmith shop, livery, and saddlery.
He took a few steps toward the blacksmith shop, halting when he recognized a rider rein to a stop. Mack moved into the shadows of an unoccupied house.
Sliding to the ground, Morgan Miller led his horse toward Noah, who stood just inside the door.
“I’d like to board my horse for the evening.”
Noah grabbed the reins. “Are you spending the night in town?”
“I’m escorting a young woman to supper and expect to be up late. I’ll pick him up early tomorrow morning.”
Nodding, Noah shook Morgan’s outstretched hand. “You won’t have to worry about him.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Mack’s hands clenched at his sides, nostrils flaring. He knew of only one woman who’d captured Morgan’s attention. Sylvia.
Unexplained anger sliced through him. He had no interest in seeing any other woman, yet she’d accepted a supper invitation within days of Mack ending their courtship.
Emerging from the shadows, he followed Morgan around the outside of the telegraph office, watching as he entered the Wild Rose. He hesitated a couple minutes before continuing inside, walking straight to the bar, nodding at Al, the longtime bartender.
“Mack. What can I get you?”
“Whiskey, Al.”
Pouring it, he set it in front of Mack. “Not having supper with pretty Miss Lucero tonight?”
Snorting, he picked up the glass, tossing back the amber liquid, letting it burn a path down his throat. “I thought you’d have heard by now. I’m no longer courting her.”
Al’s brow raised. “Too bad. She’s a mighty fine lady.”
Mack mumbled a curse. He’d heard the same several times until he felt ready to punch something…or someone. Instead, he lifted his empty glass, waiting as Al filled it. “Yes, she is.”
“Heard about the trouble with the Smiths and Millers last week.” Al shook his head. “I’ve met Eb and Elija at church. Seem like good people.”
“And the Millers?”
“Morgan is good enough. Curtis is a little rougher, but not a bad sort. Their father, Norman, is a hard man, always expected a lot of both boys.”
Mack shrugged. “A lot of ranchers are hard on their sons.”
Al rested his arms on the bar, leaning forward, lowering his voice. “I mean real hard. Not spankings, but whippings and beatings. I’ve heard
both boys have scars to prove it. With their ma gone, no one was around to stand between Norman and the boys. I’ve heard Buster, their foreman, often tried to intervene. Don’t know how successful he was at stopping Norman.” Straightening, he grabbed the whiskey bottle, filling Mack’s glass once more. “It’s all rumor, though. I’ve never heard either Curtis or Morgan mention it.” Al moved off to help a group of cowboys who took places at the bar.
Picking up the glass, Mack took a small sip, deciding it best to nurse this one. Shifting, he saw Morgan at a table near the piano, playing a game of cards as if he had no other place to be. Mack wondered if he’d misheard the man’s conversation with Noah. Lifting the glass for another sip, he stopped when Morgan tossed down his cards and stood.
He walked around the table, approaching Mack, stopping a couple feet away. Tilting his head, Mack lifted a brow.
“I understand you no longer have an interest in Miss Lucero. Is that so?”
Throat tightening, Mack forced a curt nod.
“In that case, I’m letting you know my intention to take up where you left off. Do you have a problem with that?”
Mack hated it, but he refused to let Morgan see it. Features impassive, he shrugged. “Sylvia’s free to have supper with whomever she wants.”
Staring at Mack another moment, one side of his mouth tilted upward. “Good.”
He watched Morgan leave the saloon and head straight to the boardinghouse. Mack’s anger boiled inside him, wishing he’d gone with his initial urge to land a blow to the man’s jaw.
“Sonofabitch.” The mumbled oath preceded Mack slamming his glass on the bar, getting Al’s attention. “Give me the damn bottle.”
Sylvia studied the short, handwritten menu Thomas handed her. Glancing at Morgan, she saw him doing the same. As always, the table at the Eagle’s Nest looked beautiful, the lanterns around the room set at the right level of light, the aromas from the kitchen playing on her senses.
Rogue Rapids Page 16
