Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2)

by Blanton, Heather

  “Well, honey, I would venture to guess we’ll be picking his eyes up off the ground after he gets a gander at you in this.” Rebecca laughed and then abruptly sighed. She fluffed the skirt once more and shook her head. “I may be sewing on it right up till three o’clock Saturday, but I’ll make it.” She dropped to her knees and double-checked the pins at the hem and the bustle. “All right, go ahead and change out of it. I think I’ve got everything the way I want it.” She pulled away and eyed the dress skeptically. “Well, maybe I could tighten the bodice a bit.” She scrutinized Naomi’s midsection. Twisting her lips in deep thought, she gave the overall image another gander in the mirror. “Yes, I should definitely tighten that. You’ve lost weight in Defiance.”

  Naomi turned a tiny bit to each side for a better assessment. “I’ve gained more heart.”

  Working a pin into the bodice, Rebecca talked to their reflection. “Ian asked me to dinner tonight … at his cabin.”

  “Finally.” Naomi moved to clap her hands, but stopped herself before a pin could prick her. “Oh, I am so glad.”

  “Well, I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, but why else would he want me to join him at his cabin if not to speak his mind?”

  “At the pace he moves, I wouldn’t be surprised if he just wants to show you a new Jules Verne book.” Pain pricked her ribs. “Ow!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I stick you?”

  Naomi saw the unhappy dip in Rebecca’s brow and kicked herself for the gloomy comment. “On the other hand, I’m sure it’s more likely he’ll declare that he’s madly in love with you and we’ll have to have a double ceremony Saturday.”

  Before Rebecca could reply, gunshots, much closer than Tent Town, thundered down on the hotel. The sisters froze, their fear reflected in each other’s eyes. More gun fire erupted. Scores of shots ringing out in alarming, chaotic sequences. Several seconds later an unnatural silence enveloped Defiance.

  “That was too close.”

  Naomi nodded, wondering how close. “It sounded like it was on Main Street, down near the mercantile or Iron Horse.”

  “Get changed, I’ll go see what I can find out.” Rebecca hurried out the door as Naomi started the frustrating and dangerous process of peeling out of her fitted pin cushion. She changed as quickly as she could, while trying not to feed the fear that nagged at her. Had Tom Hawthorn decided to get revenge for his humiliation? Where was Charles? Was he all right?

  Several minutes behind Rebecca, she raced down the stairs, but skidded to a halt on the landing, a deep sense of dread filling her spirit. Mollie, Hannah and Rebecca stood together at the door, grief etched deeply in their expressions. Naomi grabbed the rail. Oh, God, not … “What is it?”

  Slowly, Rebecca stepped forward. “Silas has been shot, Naomi. He’s dead.”

  Shock and sadness engulfed her and she immediately thought of Sarah. She descended the stairs, each step deepening her heartbreak. Such dear, sweet friends. What horrible news. “What happened?”

  “A group of men tried to rob the bank. Silas was in the mercantile near a window. It was a stray bullet.” Rebecca shrugged. “The marshal doesn’t even know who shot him.”

  Naomi wished for a chair. She wanted to sit down, put her head in her hands, and weep. She knew only too well how this news would devastate Sarah. An ache that would never really subside. An emptiness that would never be filled.

  Hannah swallowed and took a small step forward. She spoke in a frail, quivering voice. “Doc asked if I would come down and clean up Silas. I would appreciate help. The marshal wants us to take him home first thing tomorrow.”

  ~~~

  Thirty-Nine

  Billy stepped out of the marshal’s office, followed by Emilio. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head of the image of Silas Madden shot right between the eyes. He flinched, not sure if he was more disturbed by the image seared in his brain, or that he and Emilio had hunkered down behind a miner’s loaded pack mule to avoid the same fate. Explaining themselves to the marshal wasn’t the most enjoyable conversation he’d ever had, but what were two unarmed men supposed to do?

  Beneath a gray sky spitting occasional rain drops, he scanned the street. Ragged miners, their eyes glittering with Gold Fever, flowed down it like a muddy, debris-filled creek. Packs on their backs and on their horses, they moved with selfish deliberation toward their goal of striking it rich. None of them seemed disturbed in the least by the gunfight that took place less than half an hour ago. Bodies had littered the street, blood still stained it, but now things were back to normal. He wondered irrationally if the coming rain would wash away the red dirt.

  Queasy, he dragged his hand through his hair and placed his hat back on his head. “Do things ever settle down in Defiance?”

  Emilio stepped up beside him. “It’s better than it used to be.”

  “This is no place for Hannah and Little Billy.”

  “Speaking of …” Emilio pointed across the street. The two boys watched as Hannah, holding Little Billy, trudged with Mollie, Rebecca and Naomi up the boardwalk, moving as if they were in a funeral procession. “I bet they’re going to Doc’s. Silas was a friend.”

  Billy checked the traffic, stepped off the walk, and wove his way through it to get to the girls, Emilio trailing him. Somberly, Billy fell into step beside Hannah, who acknowledged him with a quick, sad glance. He didn’t know how, but he wanted to help. “I’m sorry. I hear Silas was a friend.”

  “Yes, yes he was.” As if weary of the weight, she shifted Little Billy to her other hip. “Sarah is a dear friend as well. This will devastate her. We’re going to try to clean him up and take him to her.” Hannah’s lip trembled. “This is going to break her heart.”

  Billy wondered what in the world they could do to clean up a hole in a man’s forehead.

  The group walked a few more steps in silence. Needing the comfort of innocence and pure love, he reached for his son. “Here, I’d like to carry the rascal.” Hannah didn’t resist. Billy enfolded his son and made a silly face at him as he spoke. “This sure is one rough place you ladies chose to settle in.”

  “No, God chose it for us,” Naomi said from behind them. “And robberies happen everywhere.” Was she defending this place? Billy gawked at her over his shoulder, but snapped his mouth shut. “Beckwith has only been marshal since November,” she added defiantly. “He’ll clean it up.”

  Wishing he could say at least one right thing, Billy pinched the bridge of his nose as they turned down an alley and headed for a small house set off by itself. Doc’s office. In the front yard, the group passed a freight wagon loaded with the bodies of the would-be bank robbers. The girls gasped at the sight of the four dead men stacked like cord wood. Trying to ignore the macabre scene, Billy shielded his son’s eyes as he pounded up the porch’s steps and grabbed the door. He held it open for the ladies as they hurried in.

  Hannah went immediately to Doc who was fishing a bullet out of Mr. Boot’s shoulder. “Can I help, Doc?”

  “Nah, I’ve got this, barely a flesh wound.” Boot, sitting on the edge of the table, grimaced as the doctor plucked the tip of the tweezers loose from his flesh and held up a piece of lead bathed in blood. “It wasn’t deep at all.”

  The man squeezed his eyes shut and tossed his stringy hair. “Easy for you to say.”

  Hannah touched Boot on the shoulder. “Just be thankful, Mr. Boot, that it didn’t strike anywhere more important.”

  He nodded. “I know. I saw them bring in Silas. Darn shame.”

  Reminded of the reason for their visit, Billy removed his hat. Emilio quickly copied him.

  Boot hissed as Doc swabbed the wound down with alcohol, earning an impatient glare from the physician. “Boot, you could stand to toughen up some.” He shifted his gaze to Hannah and gentled his voice. “Silas is in the other examination room. Do what you can to clean him up. Wrap him in the quilt on the bed.”

  She nodded and slipped into the room. The other girls q
uietly followed her. Restless, Billy glanced around the doc’s office. Neat and clean, jars, vials, and bandages covered the counters. Cabinets of medicine and supplies lined one wall. As his eyes roamed, he caught movement behind a cracked door. Had he seen an eye? He watched the door for several more seconds. Finally, from behind the thin wood, he heard the high-pitched clank of metal on metal.

  “Emilio?” Doc walked over to the dry sink with a tray of bloody instruments in his hands and set them in it.

  The boy straightened a bit. “Si?”

  “I think you’ve got some time. Beckwith was just here doin’ the paperwork on those bodies outside. I forgot to tell him Black Elk needs to be taken off our hands.” He poured a basin of water into the pan. “Ask him to come arrest him or release him, but I need that bed opened up.” Scowling, he grabbed the bar of soap sitting on the shelf. “Wouldn’t have had a place for Silas there if I hadn’t discharged Jim Riley this morning.”

  “Si.” Emilio slapped his hat back on his head. “I will be right back. Do you want to come?” he asked Billy. Billy shook his head. He wanted to stay.

  The patient, Mr. Boot, plucked a shirt from the table and carefully inched his way into the garment. “Doc, I have to tell ya, I’ve finally come around to your way of thinking. I’m through with Defiance. Besides, my mother needs me.” Grunting, he rose to his feet. “Let me know if you hear of a buyer.”

  Scrubbing instruments, Doc nodded. “All right, but don’t be thinkin’ you’ll leave town before this bill is paid.”

  Boot rolled his eyes, grabbed his cane from beside the table, and gimped to the door. “I ain’t skipped out on one yet.” He reached for the doorknob. “There’s always a first time, though.” Grunting again, he let himself out.

  As Doc washed up, Billy’s thoughts wandered to the Indian in the other room. “So, this Black Elk. Is he the savage who tore up the saloon?”

  “Yep.” There. The eye again. Billy was sure that time. Black Elk was watching … and listening. “Speakin’ of which …” Doc dried his hands and strode toward the patient’s room. Billy saw the eye disappear, heard the creak of springs and the clank of metal again. Doc opened the door. “You all right, Black Elk? Need anything?”

  “I need out of here.” The terse answer surprised Billy. Black Elk definitely didn’t sound sick any more. Curious to take a gander at a real Indian, Billy leaned way over, straining to see around Doc. Black Elk’s skin was the color of a new saddle and his eyes were as black as coal. Sniffing, he glared at Billy. “And I need that Pale Face to quit staring at me.” He motioned towards Billy, the action clanking his handcuff attached to the bed’s headboard.

  Doc laughed. “You got bigger problems than him, son.” He shut the door on Black Elk and grinned at Billy, shaking his head. “Hell is empty—”

  “And all the devils are here.” The doctor raised a brow. Billy shifted his son onto his other arm and shrugged. “My father believed in educating his oldest son so he could become a politician, though I can’t figure why a politician needs to know any Shakespeare.”

  “Agreed. Machiavelli would serve you better.”

  “But it’s true.”

  Doc inclined his head, not following.

  “All the devils are here,” Billy motioned toward the town. “I thought Dodge City was bad .”

  “Ah,” Doc waved him off as he went about straightening up things, resituating instruments and supplies. “Defiance is settling down. More God-fearin’ folk are comin’ in every day. Won’t be long, I’m sure, before we have a church, a school, and a dress shop.” He passed by and ruffled Little Billy’s hair.

  Billy smiled and took his son over to gaze out the window. Doc’s office, on the edge of town, was situated behind the land office and near the entrance to the Sunny Side Mine. A group of six or so men meandered by, long, slender shadows trailing behind them. Billy assumed they worked at the mine.

  What was he going to work at? He couldn’t keep hanging around the hotel, following Hannah about and babysitting Billy–he kissed his son’s forehead–though that wasn’t so bad. He’d meant it when he’d said he was staying, even if he lost Hannah to Emilio. The thought sat in his gut like a stone and he hugged the baby in his arms.

  “Doc, I need a job. You happen to know where I could look? Or maybe there’s a business in town for sale.”

  Doc wandered up beside him, staring out the window in the same direction. “A business, eh?”

  “My father is a banker and has several interests. I know a fair amount about running them.”

  “You good with numbers, are you?”

  “Very.”

  “Well, that man hobblin’ back into town,” he motioned toward Boot walking at a snail’s pace toward Main Street, “owns the mercantile now. He started out as the manager but bought it a few months ago. Anyway, I figured it’d be too much for him as Mr. Boot doesn’t have a constitution suited for the West. After that wrenched ankle, getting’ shot today was the icing on the cake.” He ribbed Billy. “I’d bet he’ll give ya a deal on it.”

  Billy could run a mercantile in his sleep and, in a boom town, sell it pretty quickly when he decided to depart, if the need arose. Pondering the possibility, he watched Boot until the man disappeared around the corner of the land office.

  ~~~

  Forty

  “Silas was a good man. The kind Defiance needed. He will be missed.”

  Naomi nodded in agreement with Charles and reached for a fried chicken leg. He had brought her to a beautiful spot next to the Animas River for their dinner. Seated on a blanket nestled in ankle-high spring grass, she gazed up at the surrounding mountains, their peaks veiled in gray clouds. They thought the rain would hold off, maybe not come at all. Either way, the gloomy weather matched her mood.

  She couldn’t shake the feel of Silas’s cold, lifeless flesh. She’d never assisted in the preparation of a dead body before. It made no sense, how a man could be alive and breathing one moment and gone the next.

  The bullet hole in Charles’ hat taunted her. He’d told her he wanted to keep the Stetson as a reminder of how fragile life is. She knew that already and didn’t need any reminders. Now Sarah had her own. “I hate how the news will hit her. It’s a devastating blow.”

  Charles reclined on one elbow and nodded his agreement. “She’s a strong woman, like you. She’ll be all right.”

  Then, as if his thoughts changed direction on a whim, he plucked an apple from the basket, rose to his feet and took it over to his horse. “Naomi, I understand every woman wants to have the perfect wedding,” Charles sliced the apple in halves with his pen knife and offered one to the horse, “but this is Defiance. I hope you and your sisters won’t put an unreasonable amount of work into the wedding. I suggest …” he flashed his devilish grin, “for purely selfish reasons of course, we keep this as simple as possible … so we can get on with … things.”

  In love with his rogue’s smile and eager to get on with things herself, Naomi wished her blushing cheeks didn’t give away her every thought. But wouldn’t he be taken aback when he saw that their work included a stunning remake of her wedding dress. “Mostly, it will be simple, Charles. We’re not planning anything elaborate.” Surprising herself, she dared a flirtatious remark of her own. “I’m looking forward to other things as well.” Embarrassed, she lowered her gaze to the blanket.

  Charles, however, did not come back right away with another saucy remark. He allowed the horse to finish the snack then rejoined her, reclining on his elbow again, but closer to her this time. Instead of more flirting, he studied her with pained eyes. “Are you sure you want a scallywag like me for a husband?”

  His nearness made her heart race, and his melancholy tone drew her closer. What was it Mollie had said? They’d all done things in the Iron Horse they wanted to forget. She put the chicken leg back on her plate and looked him in the eye. “Charles, the past is in the past. You have to try to leave it there.”

  “Defiance is making th
at difficult.”

  “That’s why His mercies are new every day.”

  He dropped a hand to her knee as his eyes clouded over with disappointment. “I could have killed Tom Hawthorn today, without a second thought. How I used to be … is closer to the surface than I wanted to admit. He’ll never know it, but you saved his life.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  His gaze jerked back to her and he nodded, humbled. “Both of you.”

  Naomi absently traced the paisley pattern in her sleeve and wondered what it must be like to be Charles McIntyre, to be a man intent on living in the Light when so much darkness haunted him. The emotion in his eyes changed. What smoldered there forced heat to her cheeks. “Lie beside me, princess.”

  She turned her head a bit and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Is that safe?”

  “No.” He took her hand and sighed. “I mean yes. Even if it kills me, yes.”

  Laughing, and so in love with him she was dizzy being near him, she obediently wiggled down beside him. Resting her head on his arm, she reached up and lightly traced his beard around his lips, along his jaw, the faint lines at the corner of his eyes. She would remember those stunning, devilish dark eyes for eternity, even when age had dulled the mischievous sparkle.

  He slid his fingers down her cheek. Gently, he reached into her hair, resting his thumb on her jaw. “I’ve been thinking about the hotel and how helpful Amanda could have been. I want to hire more help for you. I want to free you up to enjoy life a little. You all work too much.”

  I want? She dropped her hand and tried not to get tangled up in his directness, but it rankled her. His predilection to fix things without consulting anyone made her feel insignificant. “It really isn’t profitable enough yet. We figured one more summer, and then we can hire three or four more people.”