Marry Me by Sundown

by Johanna Lindsey

  The shopkeeper turned around and gave her a long look before smiling. “Aren’t you the brave little lass. The last time a woman hid in my shop was the time the window broke, and she was in tears for a good hour after the last shot was fired, wouldn’t leave until all the bodies in the street had been carried to the undertaker.”

  There was nothing brave about Violet’s reaction to the violence; she just couldn’t afford to miss Callahan and was afraid he might have arrived at the hotel while all the drama was taking place in the street. He could be there checking in right now!

  “I’ll be fine,” she replied. “I’m staying at the hotel a few doors down.”

  “Suit yourself, lady.”

  He left the shop first—in fact, everyone along the street was leaving their cover to view the body that had been left there. There were enough people gathered around it that she couldn’t see it now, for which she was grateful. But she did notice Dr. Cantry running up the boardwalk toward the crowd, so perhaps the man wasn’t dead yet. She turned her back on the macabre scene and started back to the hotel to resume her vigil.

  VIOLET BECAME A FIXTURE in the hotel lobby as the days dragged by. She began to recognize all of the hotel guests, saw them check in, saw them check out. And despite the assurances she received that she would be notified as soon as Morgan Callahan arrived, she still checked at the desk twice a day. She even politely declined the invitation she received to dine with Shawn Sullivan and his sister at his home in Butte because she was afraid to be away from the hotel for that long a time and risk missing Morgan. But, desperate to stretch her legs and get out of the hotel for a few minutes, she did actually walk past his house and found it quite impressive.

  In the middle of her second week in Butte she received another telegram from her brothers, informing her that they’d stalled Mr. Perry for another month. That was a relief, though they still insisted they couldn’t join her yet. She was annoyed that they didn’t explain why, which made her assume the worst, that Daniel was in jail and they had no money to get him out, and Evan thought his marriage to that heiress was their only hope now. Which didn’t say much for their confidence in their sister’s saving them. And maybe they were right. Charles’s mine could be worthless, which would mean there was no money hidden there and she was putting herself through this hellish wait for nothing.

  And then, at the end of her second week in Butte, he showed up. She’d just finished a quick lunch in the dining room and returned to the lobby when the clerk at the desk waved her over to tell her Morgan Callahan had checked in and immediately left again.

  “He’s probably gone out for some fun, ma’am, like he usually does when he first arrives in town.”

  “Where?”

  The question embarrassed the fellow and his reply was vague. “To places you can’t follow him to. Best to wait until morning to speak with him, before he checks out again—if he’ll talk to you.”

  “I’ve waited two weeks,” she reminded the man. “I can’t afford to miss him. Did you give him my note?”

  “Tried to, along with all the other notes piled up here for him, but he wouldn’t take any of them.”

  “Please tell me that you at least told him it’s imperative that I speak with him?”

  “In so many words, I did. He didn’t appear curious, didn’t even ask why, just nodded, got his key, and left.”

  His eyes wouldn’t meet hers. He was keeping something from her, she was sure of it. Even his posture seemed guilty now.

  “There’s something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” she demanded. “And what did you mean, if he’ll talk to me? Why wouldn’t he?”

  “There’s nothing further I can tell you,” the man said stiffly, but then actually did, adding, “But if you need Mr. Callahan’s help with something, then you probably shouldn’t have dined with his worst enemy.”

  Katie? No, of course not Katie—her father. “Mr. Sullivan?”

  “I’m done talking, ma’am. Go away or I’ll summon my manager.”

  She sucked in her breath indignantly and marched away to retake her seat in the lobby. What the deuce had just happened? She recalled Katie saying her father didn’t like Morgan. Well, it appeared Morgan didn’t like Katie’s father either.

  None of which explained why Morgan might not talk to her. If he recognized her name, and had known her father, why wouldn’t he?

  Chapter Six

  BEFORE THE DINNER HOUR, the manager of the hotel approached Violet in the lobby. He introduced himself with a slight bow, but his tone was firm when he said, “I must ask you to leave the lobby, Miss Mitchell.”

  She frowned at him. “Why?”

  “Because you have been disturbing my guests.”

  She was doing no such thing, but his expression warned he wouldn’t argue about it. She was mortified when he added, “I also expect you to vacate your room in the morning. I won’t have you harassing my employees any longer either. They’ve filed complaints. And in this town, good employees are harder to obtain than guests, so I have no choice but to insist you go.”

  She was furious as she went upstairs to her room and even slammed the door shut, hoping that awful manager could hear it downstairs. She didn’t doubt that Morgan Callahan had somehow arranged for her eviction. And obviously, there would be no waiting for him comfortably in the lobby tomorrow. He’d seen to that. But she could wait outside the hotel for him to come out. She refused to be undone by these despicable shenanigans of his.

  She packed her valise that night. If she couldn’t find Morgan as he left town tomorrow, she’d have no choice but to return to Philadelphia. She couldn’t afford to wait weeks more for the man to come again to Butte on one of his infrequent visits. Leaving meant her brothers would lose the family home, and she knew they wouldn’t want to go to England with her—actually, she couldn’t return there either if she failed here. The Faulkners loved her, but she simply couldn’t live there as their poor relation. And she certainly couldn’t ask her uncle for a dowry when he had six daughters to provide for.

  She sat on the bed quite shocked by the circumstances before her. She had to find her father’s mine! She fervently hoped he’d hidden a fortune there. If not, she and her brothers would have to figure out a way to exploit the mine to make their own fortune. Otherwise, she would have to become a schoolteacher in Philadelphia and her brothers would have to get jobs. They would live dreary lives as genteel poor people. Or she could marry Mr. Perry. . . . She blanched at that thought.

  But dare she stay in Butte any longer and risk running out of money? No, the thought of working in this particular town was appalling. She had enough money to send one of her brothers back here to continue the search. They owned a mine somewhere in this territory, and she had the name of the man who could show them to it. Perhaps Daniel or Evan would have better luck than she was having. But whichever brother came, he was going to have to work here in order to stay here.

  Her anger returned when she realized that her future and theirs depended on a single man who wouldn’t even take the time to find out what she wanted of him! But she still had one last chance to corner him in the morning and hoped she wouldn’t be so furious with him that it would put him off dealing with her. If he didn’t sneak out of the hotel by a rear exit. If he didn’t simply leave town tonight. And she wouldn’t even know if he’d managed to escape her notice!

  More fuel for the fire. She was so angry that it took a while to get to sleep that night, hours actually. Fury just wouldn’t let her mind rest. But exhaustion finally won out, she had no idea how late.

  Being disturbed from that hard-won slumber brought the fury back—but only for a moment.

  The gag was the first clue that she was in trouble. It tasted salty—from sweat?! She screamed under it, a pathetic mewling sound even to her ears. And then she was yanked out of the bed, only to be tossed back down on top of the covers. She screamed again when a very large shadow loomed over her. Violation came horribly to mind and s
uddenly terrified her. But she wasn’t being accosted—she was being rolled up in the bloody blanket! And hefted over a shoulder to be carried out of there.

  She understood then. She wasn’t being allowed to leave the hotel of her own volition. She was being tossed out! Well, she had glared at the manager a bit, no, a lot. He might have thought that she would refuse to vacate the room and this was his only option. Or Morgan Callahan had paid for her to be evicted. This way? Like throwing out the trash? And in the middle of the night so no one would notice such a despicable deed?

  She expected to be unrolled on the boardwalk outside the hotel and at least given her belongings, even if they didn’t want her payment for the room. But that didn’t actually happen. She was on that shoulder for too long. Was she being taken to a different hotel? Had it all been prearranged?

  When the man carrying her finally stopped, she hoped she could actually stand upright in her tight cocoon. But she didn’t get a chance to find out because her feet never touched the ground. She was dragged off his shoulder simply to be tossed on the back of a horse, stomach down, still bundled tightly in that blanket.

  Her new position was what alerted her to the possibility that she was being abducted. She was even being tied to the horse, felt straps tighten across her back to keep her on it! So utterly ignoble. But one frightful thought led to another, until she finally concluded that this was the fault of her clothes! Someone in this town thought she was rich because of them and that a hefty ransom might be forthcoming. And how long would she have to wait to disabuse her captor of that notion? Would he even believe her when she told him that she wasn’t rich? Well, her immediate family wasn’t, but her uncle in England was. But it would take two months to obtain money from him! And another possibility loomed, that she might be killed instead if her captor chose not to wait months for a ransom.

  It was excruciating waiting to get any answers, and time dragged because the ride was so uncomfortable. Her stomach ached even though the horse wasn’t moving fast. Her back ached from trying to work loose of the straps so she could slide off the horse and run. And every so often she felt something press down on her back. Her abductor’s hand, so he could assure himself she was still there?

  It could have been an hour or less, or even two or three, for all she knew, before the horse finally stopped, the straps were undone, and her feet touched the ground. The blanket was unwrapped from her and tossed aside, then the gag was removed. She was extremely thirsty and her body ached and, wearing only a thin nightgown, she felt the chill in the air. But she kept her eyes on the man. She thought he might be tying the gag around his neck, but she couldn’t be sure since he was just a huge shadow standing next to her.

  Nonetheless, she demanded, “Who are you and why have you abducted me? I insist you return me immediately to my hotel!” He heard her, was looking right at her, but didn’t answer, making her point out, “You’ve somehow gotten the wrong idea about me. I’m not rich. I warn you, no one will offer a ransom for me.”

  “I didn’t think anyone would pay to get you back, and I’m not after money.”

  She was jarred by that rude reply, but he turned, apparently not intending to say more. With the eastern sky beginning to brighten behind him, making him just a dark shape, she carefully moved around him to make use of dawn’s light to see who had abducted her.

  He was a big bear of a man with a full black beard and mustache, long unkempt hair of the same color beneath a cowboy hat, and feral, light-blue eyes. He wore a tan coat with the sleeves cut off so it resembled a long vest; it was held down by his gun belt, no shirt under it. He was excessively tall, excessively broad of chest, too, and his bare arms were thick with muscles. His pants were dark blue, his boots brown, scuffed, and spurred. There might be a handsome man under all that facial hair or a grotesque one, she simply couldn’t tell in the meager dawn light. But from the desk clerk and Deputy Barnes’s descriptions, she had no doubt that she was staring at Morgan Callahan.

  Thinking of the deputy, she realized Morgan might have found out from him yesterday exactly what she needed from him. The hotel employees didn’t know about her mission. He must have decided to help her but didn’t want anyone to see him leaving town with her. He could have knocked on her bloody door to say so!

  Her valise was suddenly tossed by her feet. “Change your clothes if you’ve a mind to. Don’t matter to me unless you take too long doing it.”

  She was so pleased that he’d grabbed her valise from her room, she almost thanked him. She quickly bent to open it and saw that her purse was in it, thank God. All the money she had was in that purse. And everything that she’d left out to wear today had been stuffed in the bag. She carried the valise around one of the six pack mules that were tethered to Morgan’s horse to have some privacy while she changed clothes. But first she quickly moved to the stream nearby and cupped a handful of water, then another. She assumed it was drinkable, since the animals were helping themselves to it. But she was really too thirsty to care.

  “Here’s the deal,” she heard him say on the other side of the mule. “You can ride upright without the blanket, but if you make any noise, it’s back on your stomach. Try to run and it’s back on your stomach.”

  “It’s you, isn’t it?” she said stiffly. “Don’t try to deny it. I know you’re Morgan Callahan.”

  “Stomach again it is.”

  “Don’t be absurd!” she snapped. “At least tell me why you’ve done this.”

  “You cozied up to the wrong people, lady. How much did they pay you to impersonate Charley’s daughter?”

  Impersonate? Was he serious? “I am Charles Mitchell’s daughter.”

  “No, you aren’t, but I suppose Shawn wouldn’t know that I know that.”

  He was making no sense. Maybe he really was as crazy as Katie had suggested.

  Then he added, “And you were warned about noise.”

  She sucked in her breath before blurting out, “I’ll be quiet!”

  “Smart choice,” he said. “’Sides, nothing you say changes my mind, and we’ll both have the truth when we get to where we’re going.”

  “Where is that?” Instead of answering, he took a step toward her. She quickly held up a hand. “All right!”

  She really couldn’t bear any more riding on her stomach. And where he was taking her would be obvious enough when they got there. But she was nervously aware that he hadn’t confirmed that he was Morgan Callahan. What if he wasn’t? But he had to be! There couldn’t be two men who looked and behaved so similarly. And he knew Shawn Sullivan and her father. Didn’t that confirm it?

  She got her skirt and blouse on before she thought to mention, “If you will at least tell me you’re taking me to my father’s mine, I won’t say another word. That is why I wanted to speak to you, all I was going to ask of you.”

  “You bargaining with me, lady?” he asked in an ominous tone.

  She frowned. “I asked one simple question.”

  “And said a whole lot more. But the fact is, I’m not going to believe anything you say until you tell the truth and admit you’re working for Sullivan, so don’t bother.”

  “Then why did you abduct me?!”

  “To find out exactly what you and Sullivan are up to—and you’re out of words and time.”

  “Wait! I haven’t finished dressing.”

  “Then stop talking and get to it,” he growled.

  It wasn’t easy getting her socks and boots on without sitting down, but she managed it by leaning a little against the mule’s side. She pulled her jacket out of the valise, shook it out, and donned it, since the morning was still chilly. Then she saw that her hat had been smashed under the jacket and gasped. It was utterly flattened! Did he know no better, putting a beautiful hat under a pile of clothes and boots? She tried to reshape it before tying it on.

  There was nothing she could do for her hair. She’d braided it for bed as usual, but it was already starting to unravel. And it was too dark yet to se
e if he’d tossed her hairpins into the bag, not that she could fix her hair properly without a mirror. He might have grabbed them if he wanted no trace of her left in the room so it would appear she’d left on her own. Then no questions would be asked. But the sheriff might be notified that she’d skipped out without paying her bill—unless Morgan had paid it.

  For all she knew, he might have left her key along with payment on the desk for the sleeping attendant to find when he woke; then, indeed, no questions would be asked, no sheriff would search for her.

  She came out from behind the mule with the scathing complaint, “You’ve ruined my hat.”

  He stared at her. If he smiled or frowned, she realized she wouldn’t be able to see it because his long mustache blended into his beard.

  But he obviously couldn’t care less about her hat, because all he said was, “You’ll ride with me.”

  The devil she would. Ride in close proximity to him for however long it took to reach his mine, which could be days, for all she knew?

  “That’s out of the question. A lady doesn’t ride with a gentleman who is not her fiancé or a member of her family, let alone a stranger who has abducted her.”

  “Spare me the etiquette lesson, lady. If you don’t want to sit behind me, I suppose you can ride on one of the pack mules, though it’ll be a tight fit.”

  Tight? He had six mules in assorted colors, but all six of them were heavily burdened with sacks, crates, small barrels, baskets, even hay bales. There was no room left on any of them where she could sit even if she would deign to do so. Actually ride a mule? Good God, her options were intolerable. But it was better than riding touching him.

  He didn’t wait for her answer. He went to one of the mules and began moving the three hay bales strapped to it farther back toward its rump to make room for her to sit up front. Then he retrieved the blanket he’d tossed aside and folded it for her to sit on. But she could see no way to get onto the mule’s back. It didn’t have a normal saddle, a pommel, or stirrups, just some sort of apparatus on its back with a lot of straps attached to secure whatever it was carrying. Could she pull herself up by gripping that?