Hell's Belle

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Hell's Belle Page 20

by Shannah Biondine


  Twila hadn't spoken but a few sentences the entire time they'd been traveling that afternoon. She'd let poor Hilde serve as a buffer at the Vogel house, never argued when Del abruptly stated he'd come to fetch his wife and they were setting out for home, even though it was already well into the afternoon. Manus Vogel tried to protest about the lateness of the hour, but Del was implacable. Even Hilde's worry that Twila might not be well enough to make a long carriage ride fell on deaf ears.

  Twila knew she wasn't physically unwell so much as she was plain heartsick. But putting off their return to the ranch and the reckoning that was sure to follow wouldn't serve much purpose. Del was a straightforward, direct sort of man. Sooner or later they would have to face reality. She didn't feel comfortable imposing on the Vogels any longer—particularly if she and Del were to have a serious discussion about their future and that of their child.

  Somehow Twila hadn't been able to make herself broach the subject once they'd set off with Del's palomino tied behind the rig. Just the two of them, bouncing along with no one around to overhear…it should have provided the perfect opportunity to tell him she'd seen him with that other woman. The one who clearly was still in love with him. The one he'd truly wanted to wed. Twila should have found the gumption to at least mention the encounter and see how he reacted.

  But she knew how she'd react if he told her he harbored misgivings about their future together, if he realized he might have made a mistake.

  Even though she mentally wagered he'd never do that. Not now, with Twila expecting his child. Maybe once she held the babe in her arms and he'd figured out some kind of settlement. Del would never outright abandon Twila and a child. Not technically, at any rate. But emotionally? She wasn't so certain.

  Tears threatened as she considered what emotional abandonment would mean. She remembered only too well the profound change in him when Jordan died. She'd seen him withdraw into himself, into a hollow shell. Become somber and taciturn. She didn't know if she could live like that.

  No more warm evenings of silence and smiles by the fire. No more coming together as man and wife in his bed. He'd probably take to sleeping in the front room on the settee until he could add another room onto the house. No one would think it the least odd. After all, they were soon to be a family. The hands would all assume the new bedroom would be for Del's son or daughter.

  Twila caught a sob and choked it back.

  "Twilagleam, what is it, honey?" Del nudged her chin up with his hand and searched her eyes. "You don't look so hot. Good thing that's the camp just ahead there. Hang on, sweetheart."

  He jammed on the brake and swung down from the buggy, nodding to the first man Twila spotted nearby. He pointed off through the trees, and Del disappeared. Twila had just begun to feel edgy and nervous when he came back, his taut features more relaxed now as he held out a hand to help her down.

  "Come on. They've got a little cabin we can borrow for the night. Anderson's going to take care of the horses. I'm going to get you inside and get a fire going. Then we'll see about some vittles. Think you can eat anything now? You probably shouldn't go without supper. How's your stomach doing?"

  Twila stared at him in confusion. Suddenly he'd become a magpie. After miles of stony silence. "I'm a little hungry. Mostly stiff from riding so long."

  "Me too, but we'll be able to stretch and warm ourselves. There you are."

  He guided her to a small porch and through the door into a one-room shack. The place was at least swept clean, if somewhat dingy and depressing. But Twila realized that impression came mostly from the fact that night dropped like a big gray stone in the mountains. One minute there was a hint of long shadows and fading sunlight. The next, it was dark. No lingering dusk in between.

  And the chill came on just as quickly. She shivered involuntarily.

  "Never you mind, Mrs. Mitchell," Del chuckled. He plunked her down on the edge of a surprisingly sturdy wooden cot, then knelt to begin stacking thin logs on the cold grate. "I'll get this place warmed up. Want some hot milk, maybe some stew or biscuits? I'm fearful hungry myself, all of a sudden."

  Somehow she endured his cheerfulness as he got the fire blazing and went to the door to accept a tray of food and drink. "Those must be some fine horses you sold them," she remarked. "Everyone here's very friendly and accommodating toward you."

  "Yeah," he nodded, finally taking off his hat and ruffling his hair with one hand even as the other began tugging at his left boot. "I've sold them work horses and riding mounts. Couple of times over the years. Good business to keep your supplier happy when he comes by."

  "So you've stayed here before?"

  "Yep, but I never got to sit a spell."

  Twila blinked in confusion. He was behaving as though they were in their own home. This was exactly the sort of conversation they'd have by the fire. "Sitting for a spell" with Del Mitchell usually meant sparking and fondling. The prelude to what would follow in bed.

  "Sit a spell?" she repeated.

  Del grinned. "Nobody's going to come knocking again, honey. We got our supper. Told Anderson we'd be leaving by sunup. It's just us, all nice and cozy. Those Vogels were decent folks and the guestroom was fine and all, but it was a little awkward there. I know you wanted to stay over another night, but I wanted—Twila? What is it? Are you truly feeling so poorly?"

  He'd crossed the small cabin to place his hands on her waist. Twila dragged her gaze up to his face, seeing a mask of worry and concern.

  Now, Twila. Get it said while there are no young men like Henry Dobbs to overhear or give you funny glances. Just settle it now. Tonight.

  "I saw you at the social, Del. You and that woman. Betty…wasn't that her name? Betty something. The one you meant to marry. The one you remodeled your house for."

  "Oh." He released Twila's waist and stalked to the hearth, scowling as he prodded the burning logs with a piece of iron bar. "Hard to believe I'd run into her, wasn't it? Spent all day scouring the damned town looking for Lucius and had to turn the place inside out to find him, but the one person in that whole city I'd never want to lay eyes on—"

  "Where was Lucius? Goodness, I forgot! You said he'd make his own way home, but you never said what had detained him."

  "Game of cards, just like you figured. In a…well, a highfalutin' kind of establishment. Heard he was winning big. Guess that's why he forgot about meeting us at the Vogels. Sent a note to him when I took Caramel. He knows we've already started back."

  Twila made a pretense of studying a stain on her skirts. "So I was right. It was Betty."

  "Twila, I really don't want to talk about it. She's never been anything but a sore subject, and—"

  "She still loves you, Delancy! I saw her talking to you. Saw how she had her hand on your chest, the way she looked into your eyes." Tears clogged Twila's voice, made a mockery of the brave front she tried to put on.

  "Twila."

  She wouldn't look over at him. Then she felt his hand brush the hair on her nape, felt his lips graze lightly over the tender flesh normally guarded by the curtain of tresses around her shoulders. "I don't love her. I love you."

  Her head jerked up. "But she's the one you courted. You settled for me afterward, because you felt sorry for me. And now there's a child to think about. I know you wouldn't—"

  He hushed her torrent of words with a kiss. A simple, slow, chaste kiss that made her tremble, forced her eyelids to close against the tears. Forced her hands to clutch at her skirts. It promised too much, that simple kiss.

  "One minute of staring at you across a floor littered with broken window glass and clothespins was worth a month of courting Betty Lee."

  Twila had to open her eyes then. Had to see the truth of that statement. How could he possibly be serious? Betty was everything Twila had never been—beautiful, confident, intensely sexual in her appeal.

  "I mean it, Twilagleam. You make me feel more alive in the space between one heartbeat and the next than she ever did. Everything revolved
around Betty Lee. Flowers for her, rides in the country for her, peppermint sticks for her. Everything she liked, she wanted. She liked having me known around Wadsworth as her fellow. She liked the notion of us married and settled down together…or so she led me to believe. But if there was ever truth behind that, it wasn't the same notion I had of a life together."

  Del swallowed and glanced away, staring at a spot across the room before lowering his eyes to meet Twila's gaze. "She told me the real reason she left was that she'd been involved with someone else. I wasn't the only man she'd been intimate with."

  Twila frowned. "But I saw her face, Del. She truly still cares for you."

  "Oh, that's what she said, all right. But she left because she didn't think it would be right to go ahead and wed me, since she'd been carrying on all along with someone else behind my back. A man on my payroll."

  "Oh, Del!"

  "A man who had no intention of letting a minor thing like marriage vows put a stop to their fun. Betty said she thought it was better to leave me at the altar than take vows she'd only break. And she was certain the affair would go on, because she was so enthralled. She said he was the kind who could make people do things. Bad things. Nobody stood up to him. She reckoned she wouldn't have, either. Because this particular fella was known for troublemaking and a gift of persuasion."

  "Jordan?" Twila squeaked out in horror. "She was talking about Jordan, wasn't she? Oh, my God. He was your closest friend, Delancy."

  Del abruptly put his boots back on, claiming he needed to go outside. Call of nature. Twila knew he needed a few moments of privacy. She nodded.

  He opened the door to the shack and stepped outside, but stopped. "She never named the man outright. But that's the way she described him, and I'll be damned if it doesn't fit. He scoffed at me once, saying if I'd had my eyes open, Betty Lee never would have been able to deceive me, make me into a complete fool. And he was right, cause I never saw it."

  "I'm so sorry, Del."

  "I thought the worst of it was her taking off with some fancy gambler." He snorted sarcastically. "That wasn't even close to the worst of it. I believe she really had been sleeping with Jordan Zoyer, that cocky bastard. My eyes are open now, and I still mourn him anyway. How pathetic is that?"

  She watched him disappear into the trees and thought it wasn't pathetic at all. Astonishing, yes. She couldn't believe Del could have listened to such a disgusting tale from that woman. The harlot! Admitting she'd cuckolded him with one of his own men. Twila couldn't believe it.

  Delancy Mitchell must have stood in line twice when they were handing out patience, she mused. She'd never known another man as uniquely tolerant yet irascible as Del. For all that he could be brash and decisive, he would give a horse a year until it chose to trust him. He could lead one anywhere, without the need to jerk on its reins. He could champion a confused female with little to offer, except instincts where he was concerned.

  She'd sensed that first day at the Bell Emporium that he wasn't just another sauntering cowboy. He was more than a devilishly handsome fellow admired by local prostitutes. She'd sensed the honor and patience inside him, instantly believed and accepted that he'd return to pay for the damages to the store. She'd never doubted that. His honor would require it.

  Perhaps it took someone as unusual as he was to put faith in a female whose own family referred to her so ungraciously. So coldly. Smirking at the nasty moniker they'd given her, Hell's Bell. She wasn't a Bell anymore. Del wasn't still taken with his old lover—in fact, he'd just been hurt by her again.

  Things had changed, in several ways. The accursed necklace was back with its owners. Del wasn't pining over his past. They had a new life with a child on the way.

  Twila removed her clothes and slipped into bed on the cot. There were several blankets and a quilt. She was drowsy but not yet asleep when he finally returned to the shack and started undressing himself. She watched his muscles flex and admired his taut nude buttocks as he squatted to tend the fire. Then he turned toward the cot. Twila opened her eyes and her arms.

  "Come to bed, Del. I'm in my regular spot."

  He joined her and pulled her into a fierce embrace, whispering into her hair. "I should be pissed at you for what you thought, Twila. Had it all figured wrong, didn't you?"

  "Well, I never expected your story. I'm still having trouble accepting that Jordan would've deliberately conducted an affair that was bound to hurt you."

  "Don't mean him. All afternoon you didn't want to look at me or say two words. Do you know how scared I was? Kept worrying, what if something serious went wrong and you lose the child? But you were shutting me out, or yourself away, because you thought I wanted Betty Lee back."

  "I was afraid, Del. She's a striking woman."

  Del snorted. "You probably thought if I hadn't just found out I was going to be a father, I would have arranged to meet her someplace when you went back to the Vogels. Is that what you think, that I met her in secret, while claiming I was out looking for your cousin?"

  Twila pushed the hair off his forehead. "No, I don't. That never occurred to me. You wouldn't sneak off like that. You'd tell me. I thought maybe you just hadn't worked out how to phrase it. I could tell she regretted her choices. That she wanted another chance, and—"

  "Don't you think—"

  "Don't I think she deserves a second chance? No, I most certainly do not! Not only because you're married to me now. She'd been secretly cavorting with someone you knew, someone you paid and trusted. But beyond that, she humiliated you in front of the whole town!"

  "Oh, I remember," he said, grinning.

  "Why is that funny?" Twila demanded, growing increasingly angry. How could he find any of this amusing?

  "Well, honey, there are a few stories about how I dealt with that humiliation."

  "I know. I've heard a rumor or two."

  He didn't look the least surprised…or penitent. Actually, he looked almost boastful. "Whatever you heard's probably true."

  "You did not." He nodded. He couldn't know how vile the rumor was, then. "No, I'm sure you didn't really…" He kept nodding. "Chocolate sauce and…? Oh, my word!"

  Twila couldn't believe it. "You're trying to pay me back for being upset earlier. There's no way the things they've said about you could all be true."

  He sighed. "Fraid they are, honey. Miss Minerva's Pleasure Palace for almost two whole days and nights."

  He still didn't look the least abashed. "You actually had someone paint a picture of her face on your…wherever." It wasn't a question this time.

  "I did. And it was my gut. Think my navel was one of her eyes. Pretty lousy ink likeness, but that wasn't the point."

  "You truly had someone draw her face on you, then paid fallen women to eradicate it with their…by…I can't imagine such a thing."

  "Now, Twila," he admonished, clucking. "I've had that little pink tongue of yours over all my most intimate parts a time or two. I think you can too imagine it. Reckon you're imagining it right now."

  Twila nearly choked. "Out of spite?"

  He shrugged. "I hoped it would be out of desire, or a willingness to please your very randy husband. Because I got to say, all this talk of whores and that wild adventure has got my blood up. But if you're feeling spiteful, go ahead and lash out at me, honey."

  She heard the distinct emphasis he put on the word "lash" and frowned at him in disapproval. "Delancy."

  He tossed the bedcovers off, leaving them both naked on the cot. "Go on, Twila. Consider it my penance. For everything you thought I was going to do. Some folks recommend punishing wicked sinners even before they sin, just to keep them on the straight and narrow. So let me have it. Start…what was that you called it? Oh yeah. Start eradicating."

  "Del."

  "That's a good word for it, a real good word. It means rooting out, or eliminating."

  "I know what it means!" she all but shouted.

  "Purging. That's another way to look at it. Go ahead and purge that Be
tty Lee right out of my system. I don't think there's a trace of her left in there, but let's don't take chances. Go on, honey. From the root out. Promise I'll take it like a man."

  He closed his eyes, sprawled naked in front of the fire like a helpless human sacrifice. Twila let him wait. Finally he opened his eyes again.

  "Are you through teasing me?" she demanded, no longer frightened. Not really angry. Just oddly exhilarated. To think this handsome man lay before her, pleading for her undivided, very personal attention.

  He shook his head. "Oh no. Think I've got a good fifty more years of that left. Are you through holding against me something I never wanted to begin with? You know I don't still want her. That was finished before we met."

  She shrugged. "I love you, Del. And it's got nothing to do with the baby, either."

  "You going to love him or her, too?" Twila nodded. "You going to tell him or her that feeling's got nothing to do with me?"

  "Don't be crazy. I don't see how I could. You fathered the child."

  "It's getting cold over here, Twila. Could we move this along? If you don't start eradicating pretty soon, I'm afraid I'll get frostbite. I heard of a fellow once who got frostbitten balls, and they—"

  "Shut up, Del!" Twila flung herself on top of him and kissed him soundly, giggling when he rolled them over so she was pinned beneath him.

  "There you are, honey. Back where you belong," he announced, smiling at her. Not his cocky grin. Not that smirk he'd worn when he'd talked about the harlots and chocolate sauce. A sweet, gentle smile that melted Twila's reserve and would have made her agree to anything. Follow him anywhere.

  "I love you, Twilagleam," he whispered, tracing the edge of her cheekbone with his forefinger. "It's got nothing to do with Betty Lee or Jordan, or your uncle, or your idiot cousin, or anyone else in the whole wide world. I love you. Because you're like that twilight gleaming. Elusive but powerful. There for all to see, but few to genuinely appreciate. And when you give me this child growing inside your body, I'm only going to love you more for it. But not because of it. We clear on that?"

 

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