Marry Me by Sundown

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Then we will leave first thing in the morning. You can still show me to the mine tomorrow, so when you and your brothers accept my offer, none of you will need to come back here ever again. I am being magnanimous, Miss Mitchell. Keep that in mind.”

  He stood and left the room before she could reply to his warning. Hadn’t she just refused him? Had he somehow not heard her? Regardless, the only thing she’d be doing in the morning was catching a train.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  WHAT A HORRIBLE DINNER this had turned out to be, Violet thought as she was left alone in the dining room with Sullivan’s sister, who didn’t even try to hide her disapproval of Violet’s response to her brother’s offer. Although she felt most uncomfortable, she finished eating as if nothing untoward had happened. The memory of starving for a day and a half kept her from abandoning the food in front of her.

  At least Kayleigh was silent. Violet waited until the servants had cleared the dishes before carefully pointing out, “There is absolutely no reason to pressure me this way.”

  “Except he’s waited long enough.”

  For something he had no right to? Why was that being laid at her door? But she didn’t want to antagonize Kayleigh further, so merely pointed out, “He’ll have our answer in a week’s time.”

  “There is only one answer to such generosity, or do you not have the sense to know that my brother offered you too much?”

  Had he? The woman couldn’t know if it was too much or too little. Morgan had called the silver in his and her father’s mines a mother lode. She’d seen it with her own eyes on the walls, floors, and ceilings of both mines. But none of that mattered, since she didn’t own the mine outright and didn’t think she could sell her share of an informal partnership. Not that she would. She just wasn’t going to explain any of that to these people.

  Forcing herself to be polite, she thanked Kayleigh for dinner and returned to her room. Should she leave tonight? Obviously she was no longer welcome there. But to get a hotel room this late . . . no, one more night here wouldn’t hurt, and maybe she wouldn’t even see the Sullivans again if she left early enough in the morning.

  IN THE MIDDLE OF the night, something hard poked her in the side, awakening her. Her first thought was that Morgan had found her and was absconding with her again. But she’d left one lamp lit, turned low, and saw the gun the moment she turned over, and who was holding it.

  “Abigail?”

  “Shhh,” the woman whispered. “No talking yet. Follow me.”

  Violet was frozen in place, shocked. The woman had seemed nice these last two days, but she didn’t really know her, and Abigail worked in what was now a hostile household. But the gun was no longer pointed in her direction. She glanced toward the open window—

  “There’s no need for that. I’m on your side. You’ll find out why in a minute.”

  Violet didn’t believe her. There would be no need for a gun if Abigail were telling the truth. She tried to stall. “I need to dress.”

  “Shhhhh,” the woman hissed more sharply, pointing the gun at her again. “Come as you are.”

  She got out of bed warily, wondering if she could grab the gun from Abigail without getting shot. Reaching the door, Abigail told her to open it, and then pushed her to the right, away from the main staircase that descended to the first floor. Still being nudged from behind, Violet went around a corner and came to another, narrower staircase that spiraled upward to the third floor or an attic.

  She would have balked right then and there if Abigail weren’t pushing her from behind and pressing the gun to her back, forcing her up those stairs. And she’d thought Abigail was a kindly woman. What a bad judge of character she was! Sullivan must have ordered this. But why send a woman to do nasty work like this?

  When they reached the door at the top of the stairs, Abigail whispered, “Open it!”

  A lamp was lit in there, dimly illuminating an attic with a slanted roof. All sorts of boxes and furniture were stored there, pushed to one side, leaving a cleared area for a narrow bed. The person in it sat up as they walked in.

  Violet stopped short, unable to take another step, horrified, thrilled, utterly confused. Her whisper was timorous: “Is—is that really you?”

  “Come closer, Vi.”

  Oh, God, it was Charles’s voice, his face. She burst into joyful tears. “Papa!” She ran to the bed to wrap her arms around her father. She clung to him tightly, afraid that if she didn’t he would disappear. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t dead! Please don’t let this be a dream!

  “Let me look at you, sweetheart.”

  “Not yet. I don’t want to wake up yet. Just hold me like you used to.”

  He tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She felt his touch. She wasn’t dreaming. “How is this possible? You were buried!”

  “Whoever or whatever was buried, it wasn’t me.”

  She leaned back to look at his face, his wonderful face, thinner, a little older, but still the face of her dear father. “You’re alive. This is—you can’t imagine.”

  “I’m glad to see you, too, darling. But what are you doing here? You shouldn’t have found out about any of this nasty business.”

  “Daniel wrote to me in London, asking me to come home to deal with an urgent matter. I was shocked to find my brothers in dire straits and in danger of losing the house.”

  “Why? I left them enough money.”

  “No, they spent it all trying to keep up appearances as you instructed. So I came to find you.”

  He sighed. “It should have been enough, and it would have been if I hadn’t had that accident. Where are your brothers now?”

  “They’re still in Philadelphia—”

  “I have three children, two of whom are strapping young men, and it’s my daughter who came to this wild territory alone to find me?!”

  He sounded quite annoyed with the boys, so she quickly said, “They were trying to hold everything together at home and deal with the banker, who has already come close to seizing the house. Evan is even desperately courting an heiress, whom I hope he won’t have to marry now, because he didn’t sound smitten with her.”

  Charles shook his head sadly. “This is my fault. I was foolish with my inheritance. I’m the one who didn’t do well by my children. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she assured him. “I don’t care if I ever have my debut in London, I’m just so happy you’re alive!”

  “How long have you been in Montana?”

  “A few weeks,” she said evasively. “When I was told that horrible news about you, well, I tried to find your mine to see if it could save the house, and I met Morgan—”

  “What did you think of him?” he cut in.

  “Oh, don’t get me started!”

  He laughed, hugging her closer. “He does take getting used to.”

  “But he definitely likes you. He’s lent us the money to pay off the house loan, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Now, what are you doing in this attic?”

  “He was carried in unconscious,” Abigail said behind her.

  The housekeeper! She’d forgotten Abigail was even in the room and glanced around to her. “Why didn’t you just tell me my father is alive?”

  “And get this noisy reaction downstairs where Kayleigh or Mr. Sullivan might’ve heard you? They can’t know that your father is awake, or that you know he’s here, or I’ll never get him safely out of here. I’m sorry I startled you with the gun, but it was necessary to get you to come along quietly.”

  “Don’t blame Abby,” Charles said. “She was very nervous about bringing you up here without being seen.”

  “As for your question,” Abigail continued, “they pulled their scam as soon as Dr. Cantry left town and the miners’ doctor took over for him as he usually does. A few of Mr. Sullivan’s men sneaked Charles out of the doctor’s house and carried him here at night. And they had him buried, supposedly, the very next morning, and merel
y informed Dr. Cantry about it when he got back to town. Your father has been a prisoner here ever since.”

  Violet shook her head, finding it hard to grasp all of this. “Wilson seemed like a real doctor.”

  “He is,” Abigail said scornfully. “But he’s in the mine owners’ pockets, will do whatever they tell him to do and probably asks no questions.”

  “But why is Father a prisoner?”

  “The better question is, how did you come to be in Sullivan’s house?” Charles asked.

  Violet hesitated for a moment, seeking an explanation that was truthful but held no whiff of scandal. “Once Morgan agreed to pay off your loan, I had to get back to civilization and didn’t want to wait until next week for him to escort me back. I sort of sneaked off without telling him—don’t say it! I know that was unwise. But I was almost to Butte when I ran into Sullivan’s men and fainted, and they brought me here.”

  “No, dear,” Abigail said. “I overheard the men talking to Mr. Sullivan. They knew they’d met up with Violet Mitchell when they heard your British accent. They put chloroform on the bandanna they gave you so they could knock you out and bring you here.”

  Violet shivered, saw the anger on her father’s face. “So that’s why the bandanna smelled funny. I have no memory of what happened after that until I woke up in this house.”

  “Despicable!” Charles said, shaking his head. “Well, I’ve been in this attic for close to six weeks. I’m actually grateful I was unconscious for most of that time. I only woke up a few days ago. Sullivan doesn’t know that yet, and we’re keeping it that way.” He gave Abigail an adoring smile before he added, “This woman has been my guardian angel. She’s the only person in this mansion with a strong and unerring moral compass.”

  Abigail blushed. “I refuse to be a party to the Sullivans’ wickedness, even though Kayleigh threatened to put me in prison for supposedly stealing from them if I told anyone they were hiding Charles up here. It’s unconscionable what they’re doing to this fine man!”

  “Thank you for taking such good care of him,” Violet said sincerely. Glancing at her father again, she reminded him, “You still haven’t said why you’re a prisoner here.”

  “Abigail overheard Sullivan giving orders to his men. He’s waiting for me to regain consciousness so I can tell him where my mine is located.” Charles suddenly looked fierce. “But I’m not telling him no matter what happens. I’m not selling out my partner. And the money made from my mine is for my children!”

  Violet was horrified, imagining what Sullivan and his men would do to him to gain that information, and glanced frantically at the housekeeper. “Why is Sullivan going to such lengths to take over Morgan’s and Papa’s mines when he already has one? Is his here in Butte running out of silver?”

  “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s greedy for money and power, no amount of either of those things will ever be enough, and he doesn’t want anyone challenging his position as the last of the silver kings. He was furious when he found out that Callahan was taking that title away from him. As rich and powerful as he is, no one ever tells him no, except Morgan Callahan. All that did was make Mr. Sullivan mad and more determined than ever. He’s one of those men who just don’t care who they step on to get what they want.”

  Violet had told Sullivan no, which made her distinctly uneasy now. “Can’t you bring the sheriff here?”

  Abigail sighed. “If only it were that simple. Sheriff Gibson is a good man, but he would never believe me, a nobody-housekeeper, if I told him my employer, one of the richest and most powerful mine owners in the territory, was holding your father prisoner in his attic. It’s an incredible accusation. The sheriff would never insult Mr. Sullivan by asking to search his house without good cause. And who knows what Mr. Sullivan would do to me if he found out I’d gone to the sheriff? I fear, though, that he would kill Charles rather than let him be found here to incriminate him.”

  “What about the empty grave? That would be proof, wouldn’t it?”

  “But it’s not empty. They actually had a body, a miner who’d just died and hadn’t been buried yet. But Charles shouldn’t have been here this long. Mr. Sullivan had intended to deal with him when he regained consciousness, instead of with Callahan. Exchanging him for Callahan’s mine was his alternate plan, but the boy never picked up the messages Mr. Sullivan left for him at his hotel.”

  “Ransom notes? There’s our proof.”

  Abigail shook her head. “I saw one of them on his desk before he had it delivered. It didn’t mention ransom. He’s too smart to implicate himself like that. His demands will be made in person, without witnesses.”

  “But it won’t work. There’s nothing that could make Morgan give up his mine.”

  “Have you misjudged him?” Charles asked in concern. “He’s been nothing but good to me, Violet, when he didn’t have to help me. And he pretty much gave me all that silver when he didn’t have to do that either.”

  “But his mine for ransom? He’s obsessed with the bloody thing.”

  “Even if he didn’t just hand it over to Sullivan, he would have gotten me out of this if he knew about it. I have no doubt of that.”

  She blushed, because she didn’t doubt it either, not really. Morgan had rescued her, hadn’t he? Risked his life to do so. And he’d been right about Shawn Sullivan after all. The man really would resort to any means to get what he wanted, including abduction and murder. She was just so afraid of what would happen to her father if Morgan didn’t agree immediately to Sullivan’s demands.

  She was beginning to feel—trapped. “We should leave now while they’re all asleep.”

  “We can’t,” Abigail said. “As long as Sullivan is in the house, his guards surround it. We can’t even sneak out a window without one of them noticing—not that your father is up to something like that. He’s still very weak.”

  “I can’t leave without him,” Violet insisted.

  “You aren’t listening, dear. You’re as much a prisoner as he is. They just haven’t made that clear yet because you haven’t tried to leave.”

  “Abby isn’t being melodramatic, Violet,” Charles put in. “Sullivan and his sister came up to the attic the other day. They thought I was still unconscious and were arguing about getting rid of me. They’re losing patience, waiting for me to wake up. I’m surprised I didn’t give myself away, with them standing there talking about killing me in a few more weeks.”

  “It’s going to happen sooner now that they have you, child,” Abigail warned her. “They will use him as leverage against you if you don’t pretend to cooperate and take them to the mines. But once they have what they want, they can’t just let you go, either. So this needs to be resolved before that happens.”

  “How?!” Violet was terrified for both her father and herself.

  “He plans to leave with you and his men in the morning. He’s certain you can lead him right to Callahan’s camp because you’ve been there. Can you?”

  “Yes, I can now. But when Morgan took me there, he went by a circuitous route that took a full extra day, and he blindfolded me for the last six hours of that trip, just so I couldn’t lead anyone back there.”

  Charles grinned. “That’s perfect—you can honestly say that it took you nearly two days to reach it, when it’s only a half day’s ride from town. Try to stay on the east road as long as you can, so the sheriff can easily find you.”

  She glanced between them. “You two have already planned this?”

  Abigail nodded. “And for it to work, you will have to go with Sullivan willingly. If he has to force you by revealing that your father is alive and threatening to kill him if you don’t take him to the mine, he’ll leave too many men behind to guard the house, and I won’t be able to help Charles escape.”

  “Aren’t there a lot of servants here who could stop you?” Violet asked.

  “They won’t, but Kayleigh will try to. However, she leaves the house every day for one reason or ano
ther, usually before noon. We will leave as soon as she does and go straight to the sheriff. And I’ll count how many men Sullivan rides out with to make sure the sheriff takes more than that number with him. So just cooperate as long as you can. You can do so grudgingly if you think that will help—yes, I was listening outside the dining room door tonight and heard your protests against taking him to the mine. Just get as far from town as you can before you admit you’re not sure where the mines are. We need half a day at least to sneak your father out of the house and get him to the sheriff, and the sheriff may need a few more hours to round up a big enough posse.”

  Violet nodded, trying not to reveal how worried and scared she was. She wished Morgan were here to deal with all of this for her.

  Her father must have sensed her unease, because he said, “I’m sorry for putting you in this dangerous situation, Violet. But I’m so proud of the brave, capable woman you’ve become. I have faith that you will keep a level head and lead Sullivan and his men astray until the sheriff can apprehend them.”

  She smiled weakly, but to put her father at ease, she joked, “It sounds like I’ll be sleeping outdoors again tomorrow night.”

  “You just need to buy us time tomorrow until the sheriff catches up with you,” he stressed. “Can you do that?”

  “Of course,” Violet said. Well, what choice did she have?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  FOUR DAYS. MORGAN THOUGHT that by now he would have found Violet—one way or another. He’d searched all the hotels and lodgings in Butte, checked the train station each day to make sure she hadn’t bought a ticket, spent half a day watching Shawn Sullivan’s house, though that had been a waste of time. And each day he returned to the wilderness to continue the search, south, north, even a day farther east.

  His anger kept him going, refused to let him stop. It had been with him from the moment he’d realized she’d sneaked off while he was working in the mine. The one day he didn’t come out for lunch, damnit! And she’d done it after they’d made love, after he’d felt a closeness to her that he’d never felt with another woman. And she’d started it by asking him to kiss her and telling him not to stop. Had that been her way of thanking him because she’d already known she was leaving? Yet he recalled how upset she’d been that day after being captured by the claim jumpers and witnessing their deaths.