by Cat Cahill
Those were the thoughts that usually kept him up at night, that haunted his dreams even after he slept. Things he should’ve done, guilt over what he did, futile prayers to have that time back and make everything different. Only one thing seemed to drive them away—Emma.
Instinctively, Monroe glanced at the house down the hill and across the tracks. It was a moonless night, and not a single light was visible. No wonder—it had to be after midnight. His camp was completely dark too. Even the men who usually went to the mining encampment for a night’s entertainment seemed to have chosen sleep instead. But he wasn’t about to lie down and have those dreams dance across his mind again.
As a precaution, he threw on his guns, then reemerged from the tent and began to walk. Down the hill, and then right along the tracks, headed south. The breeze picked up again, sending the cold right through the shirt he wore. Had he thought this through, he would’ve grabbed his coat before leaving the tent. But the stars were bright in the sky overhead, and the coyote called again, creating a peace for which it was worth suffering a bit of chill.
He turned left, westward, along the worn path that led to the mining encampment and the mountains beyond that. To the left, a copse of trees hid a tiny stream that had already gone dry this summer. He had almost passed it when a faint cry came from somewhere behind the trees.
Monroe stopped short, his heart racing again. Perhaps it was an animal. Except it had sounded unmistakably human. Most likely, it was one of his crew who’d gone to the encampment, imbibed more than he could handle, and then gotten lost on the way back. Monroe sighed. Rescuing a drunk employee was not what he’d hoped for when setting off on this walk, but he could hardly leave the man to shiver outside all night. And it wasn’t as if he’d had a destination in mind.
Stepping off the path, Monroe made his way through the long grass and the small bushes of sage and wildflowers he couldn’t identify in the dark. When he reached the trees, he paused to listen.
Silence, and then the sound of twigs breaking. It came from straight ahead. Monroe maneuvered around the cottonwoods and pines until he heard a voice.
“Go away!”
Blood pumped faster through his veins. It was Emma, he was certain of it. What the devil she was doing this far from the house at this time of night was beyond him, but she sounded terrified. And she was speaking to someone.
As silently as possible, he stepped through the trees in front of him. He could just barely make out a small clearing where the stream usually ran down from the nearby foothills. And there—just to his left—was Emma. She had both arms outstretched in front of her, and she was looking straight ahead. He kept behind an evergreen and followed her line of vision to his right, a hand resting on the revolver in his belt.
Just beyond the dry creek bed, a hulking figure weaved to the left and then to the right.
A bear.
In the dark, he couldn’t tell what kind of bear it was, but it was plenty obvious the thing was angry. It was up on its hind legs, grunting and growling.
“Emma.” Monroe stepped out from behind the trees, his eyes on the bear. “Put your arms up over your head. Make yourself look as big as possible.” He lifted his own arms as he moved toward her slowly.
If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. Instead, she did exactly as he said.
“Follow me.” He made eye contact with the bear again and waved his arms. “Get out now, bear! Go on! Get!”
Emma followed suit, yelling at the bear in a voice that went from wavery to strong. They kept at it, holding their ground until the bear finally dropped to all fours, snuffled, and then ambled away into the trees.
Monroe lowered his arms when he was certain the bear had gone. He turned to Emma. “Are you all right?”
Emma was breathing hard, but she smiled when she looked at him. “I think so. How did you find me?”
“I heard your shout as I was walking by.” He pulled off his hat and ran his arm across his forehead. Despite the cool night, he was drenched in sweat, and he wasn’t certain he would ever catch his breath.
Fear.
He was outright scared to death over what could have happened to her. What was she doing out here anyway?
She watched him with doe eyes, dark hair escaping from the long braid that hung down her back, shawl slipping off the shoulders of her work dress. She smiled again. It was the middle of the night and she’d nearly been mauled by a bear, and she was smiling.
Monroe couldn’t decide if he was angry or impressed. But one thing he knew for sure—he was terrified. “You can’t do things like this.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Like what?”
“Walk out here in the dead of night. This isn’t some fashionable district of town with a police officer on every corner ready to save you.” It came out harsher than he’d intended, but maybe it would make her understand. He’d prefer to have her angry with him than dead.
She drew herself up taller and tugged the shawl together under her chin. “Mr. Hartley, I’m fairly certain I know where I am. And might I point out that you, too, are walking out here in the dead of night?”
“It isn’t the same.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Oh? Right. I’m a woman. I’d forgotten.”
It was a challenge. She wanted him to admit that was exactly the case. “Perhaps that’s why. Have you forgotten what happened at the creek?”
“I have not. But that was during daylight hours. Should I stay shut up indoors at all times?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
She tilted her head and studied him. “Then what did you mean? Please, enlighten me.”
This woman was so very different than Colette. His wife never would’ve been possessed by any force that made her want to stroll about the valley in the dark. The very thought would have terrified her. Of course, that was all his doing. If he hadn’t dragged her away from everything she’d known to the most godforsaken places he could find, perhaps she would have remained that lively, happy girl he had married.
Colette also never would have challenged him like this. If she had, maybe she would still be alive.
Monroe choked back the guilt that tried to fight its way out from every part of him. Emma stood there, one hand on her hip, the other pinching her shawl together, waiting for his explanation. She was fire, this girl. And he needed an answer, fast. He cleared his throat. “You were almost a late supper for that bear. It was sheer luck that I happened to be nearby and heard you.” He couldn’t think about what might have happened if he had managed to sleep tonight. But at the same time, he couldn’t push away the relief he felt. “I’ve lost too many people. I can’t . . .” I can’t lose you, too. But he couldn’t say it. It wasn’t fair to say that to her, not when whatever they might have was impossible.
Her face softened, and she let her hand drop from her shawl. “Your parents. And your sister.” She took a hesitant step toward him. “Monroe, I’m sorry to have scared you so. I’m thankful you were here.”
“I am too.”
She reached a hand out to his arm and rested it on his wrist. It was a gesture meant to comfort. He closed his eyes briefly, and then took a step backward. Her hand fell away. “Emma,” he started, and then stopped. He wasn’t sure what to say. Neither of them could afford to put themselves into a situation that risked their positions here again. Then he almost chuckled. They were already in a dangerous place, alone together in the dead of night. They were already risking everything.
“I know,” she said softly.
He could swear her eyes held the greatest sadness. She could’ve left by now. Simply said thank you and headed back to the house, as she should have. But she didn’t. Instead, she was still here, seemingly as unwilling to leave as he, watching him with an expression that almost brought tears to his eyes.
“I was married.” The words tumbled from his mouth without a second thought.
Emma said nothing. She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head a bi
t to the right, indicating she was waiting to hear more.
He swallowed hard. He’d told no one he’d met since Colette’s death about her. Her passing was his terrible secret to keep, his burden to carry. He couldn’t even try to puzzle out why he wanted to tell Emma now. But he did. For whatever crazy reason, he wanted her to know. “Her name was Colette. Her father owned the ranch where I worked after my father died. She became friendly with my sister first. But after about a year or so, I found myself talking with her here and there. After my sister disappeared . . . Colette was there. Every time I needed her, she was there. We fell in love, and we married.”
Speaking about it made it feel as if it happened merely yesterday. Colette’s warm smile, her uncanny ability to know whether he needed to laugh or simply be quiet for a while, her hand on his own, offering him comfort. She had given him all of that—everything she had—and all he could seem to do was stay selfishly focused on his own dreams.
“What happened to her?” Emma asked, her voice quiet.
Monroe took a deep breath. “We lived for a while on the ranch, hoping Lizzie would write or reappear, but I wanted to build. That meant leaving and moving from place to place.” He paused. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t put into words what he’d done. With that same old guilt eating him away from the inside out, all he could say was, “She died. In a mining camp a little ways southwest of Denver.”
Emma’s warm hand found his arm again. This time, he didn’t step away. Instead, he closed his eyes and let her touch try to drive away the memories. He didn’t deserve it—he didn’t deserve her. When he opened his eyes again, Emma was but a heartbeat away. He reached out with his other hand and tucked the hair that had fallen from her braid behind her ear. Her small hand wrapped around his arm, and he let his hand linger on her neck. That lemon scent of her filled all of his senses. All he had to do was step forward. All he wanted to do was press her to him and keep her there forever.
He shouldn’t. He couldn’t if this work meant anything to him after all he’d given up for it. Yet somehow, it was impossible not to. It was almost as if a string tied them together and someone was pulling either end up, forcing him to move closer to Emma.
Eyes on hers, he took that one step. Barely any space separated them, and he could almost feel her breathing quicken. She raised a hand and placed it on his chest. Her eyes were almost gray in the dark as they held his. But then something flickered across them, driving away the curiosity and the desire that was there a split second ago.
Chapter Nineteen
Emma pressed her hand flat against Monroe’s chest. Even as she pushed him away, she could feel his heart beat beneath her palm. Her own heart pounded like a drumbeat as her thoughts swirled and some deep part of her wanted nothing more than to let him pull her against him, consequences notwithstanding.
But there were consequences, and as powerful as the desire was to surrender every part of her being to this man, some still-functioning part of her brain screamed at the suffering it would cause her family.
“Monroe.” The word was more breath than voice. She kept her hand on his chest and opened her eyes. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Sadness etched itself across his face as he laid a hand over hers. “I know.”
“Mrs. Ruby spoke to me about what happened at the hotel. And then after that, I received a letter from home.” She let her hand fall from his chest, but he kept his hand wrapped around hers. Her eyes pricked at the thought of what her family must be facing. She only hoped her first month’s wages had reached them by now. “My sister Lily wrote and told me that she had to spend nearly all our remaining funds on Mama’s doctor. I sent my wages, but I don’t know if they arrived in time.”
He held her hand tighter, but said nothing, letting her voice her fears out loud.
“What if I’m too late? They could have no place to live, and I’ll have failed them.” A sob choked its way up into her throat, and try as she might to push it back down, it consumed her.
Monroe drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her back. He held her for a moment until she could breathe again and the tears began to dry on her face. When his arms drifted gently from her, Emma took a step back, wiping at her eyes and wishing she could let him hold her forever.
“Even if that did happen,” he said, “they would have received your wages soon after. And with that money, they can find a new place to live. So you have no reason to worry.”
She gave him a small smile. He was right. “Thank you.”
He returned her smile and her shoulders relaxed. What she would give to have him in her life, to allow him to court her openly, to . . . She drew in a breath. It was no use wishing for the impossible. Besides, he hadn’t indicated he wished to court her anyway, which should be no surprise to her since he would lose this job he wanted so badly. And would she be willing to give up this new life she’d found? She couldn’t picture Monroe stifling her in any way. Still . . .
“I . . .” She drifted off, uncertain how to phrase what needed to be said.
Monroe took both of her hands in his, and she almost lost all her resolve.
“I wish it were different,” he said.
Her entire body warmed, reassured that he felt the same as she did. And thankful that she didn’t have to tell him she could no longer see him. “As do I.”
He looked down at her hands in his. Emma had felt nothing so safe, so comforting, so perfect in her life. It’s for my family, she reminded herself before she pulled her hands from his. Her fingers instantly grew cold.
“I promise not to put your position here at risk,” he said, his voice sounding a bit strangled. He cleared his throat. “May I walk you back?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak actual words for fear they’d be the ones she wanted more than anything to say.
He led the way back through the trees. Emma followed, fixing her eyes on his back. When she couldn’t fall asleep earlier, this walk had seemed just the thing. In fact, her mind had been so tortured with fear for her family and confusion over what she felt for Monroe, the thought of facing Mrs. Ruby after breaking the rules seemed almost preferable. Just as she’d stepped into the hallway, Penny had awoken and offered to accompany her. Emma had turned her down, but accepted Penny’s offer to make excuses to Mrs. Ruby if needed.
Now, as she came alongside Monroe into the open valley, Emma couldn’t decide if this had been a good idea or not. Instead of feeling better, she was even more confused. Monroe had suffered a great loss and had confided in her. And it seemed as if he had feelings for her too, which filled her with a joy she couldn’t even name—but then a terrible emptiness overshadowed anything good she felt. It was almost as if she were losing her father all over again. But how could she lose something she’d never even had?
Emma sighed, and Monroe turned to look at her. She smiled at him, as best she could, though it betrayed how she truly felt inside. He watched her, his mouth bereft of its usual lilt and his eyes empty of their normal light when he saw her.
She faced forward, searching out any sign of the buildings ahead, as the thoughts jumbled through her mind. One thing was absolutely clear—Monroe was just as confused as she was.
“SOMETHING’S BOTHERING you.” Penny handed Emma a scoop of flour. It was early the next morning, and while Penny had been awake when Emma returned, Emma’s thoughts had been so jumbled that all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and pray for sleep.
“It’s nothing.” Emma added the flour to the mix and continued to stir.
Penny watched silently for a moment. Then she took a breath. Emma braced herself for more questions.
“I’m certain it’s nothing. That’s why you’re about to overstir that batter and ruin our breakfast.”
“Oh!” Emma glanced down. Sure enough, the batter was a little too smooth. Sighing, she passed the bowl to Penny. “Perhaps you should take over?”
Penny laughed. “This is the first time anyone has ever asked me to ta
ke over the cooking.” She scooped out the batter and let it drip into little round cakes in the sizzling hot pan.
As the batter began to bubble around the edges, Emma wondered what kind of stove the new little apartment had, and whether Lily and Grace had mastered any of their family’s favorite recipes yet. This, she decided, was far better than running her mind in circles with the fear that her family had no place to live, never mind a stove. Monroe was likely right about her money having arrived. She needed to believe that.
“Folks back home always said I was a good listener,” Penny said. She flipped the first cake so it would cook evenly. Then she glanced at Emma. “I know I come off like a brash gossip, but I can keep the important things to myself. If you have important things you’d like to ease off your mind, that is.”
Emma glanced about the kitchen. They were alone. Dora and Caroline had gone for more water, and Mrs. Ruby was in her office, settling correspondence. Meanwhile, Penny was here, watching Emma with a face so earnest, so ready to hear the secrets that make a friendship, it reminded Emma of Lily and of her friend Susannah at home, with whom she’d been close until the Daniels’ decline in fortune had pulled them apart.
Perhaps it would ease her mind to speak the words aloud to a new friend. “It’s . . . well, it’s complicated.”