Hell's Belle

by Shannah Biondine

  Del shook his head. "He'll be back. He's just young and cutting up, blowing off steam. I didn't want to say anything, but I found him at a house of ill fame. He'll run out of money or spunk and come back."

  She looked relieved. Del reached for her hand. "Biscuit said you were a little unhappy. Dismayed that the Vogels—"

  "Oh, it's silly. I don't even want to think about them. I'm just glad I don't have to worry, with the necklace safely returned."

  "Pretty sneaky how you managed it, too, sewing it into the lining of my coat. But there's something I should have told you. Hope you won't be mad at me."

  He could see that surprised her. "Why would I be angry? You're always so sensible. If you haven't said something, there must have been good reason."

  "I think it was." Del purposely began rubbing at her monstrosity of a wedding ring. He couldn't believe she hadn't removed it before visiting the Vogels. She'd brought them a necklace like something the Queen of England would wear to a grand ball—and done it while herself adorned with this misshapen, ungainly lump of ordinary quartz. Any other woman would have been horrified at the thought.

  "Manus Vogel gave me some reward money while you were lying down, getting over your little spell."

  There. He'd spat it out. Now he waited for her reaction.

  It was slow in coming. "Oh. I didn't know. But that makes me feel better. Petty as it sounds, I couldn't help but feel they were a little ungrateful. I did go to rather a lot of trouble for their sakes. They didn't even know I had the jewelry. They believed the train robbers got it."

  "I didn't tell you about the money on purpose, and…" Del's nerve faltered. He glanced away, finishing this last part while staring at a couple of his horses as they grazed in the distance. "And I spent it on something. Without consulting you first."

  She tried to slip her hand from his, but he held firm and met her gaze.

  It wasn't fiery with mounting anger, or even particularly intense. Her eyes were just wide and clear and trusting.

  "For Christ's sake, Twila!" He fell to his knees, laid out by what he'd seen on her face. By what she felt and knew and telegraphed to him wit those soft, golden eyes of hers.

  He pressed her fingers to his lips, to his face. "I don't rightly know what to say. You know that money was meant to be yours, and I'm admitting I took it and spent it."

  Her free hand slipped into the hair on the back of his neck, the small section his cowboy hat didn't cover. A caress that was sensual and also a benediction.

  He swallowed. "I thought…I never bought you a proper ring. I never gave you a formal wedding ceremony, or a party with dancing and flowers. And you should have had it, Twila. I planned to do all that for Betty Lee, and she didn't even deserve it. She didn't really care. Anyway, I took the money while I was out looking for your cousin, and I went into a jeweler's shop and bought this."

  He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a gleaming gold ring.

  "I'd be honored if you'd exchange vows with me all over again and put that one on your finger, in place of that horrible lump you've been wearing since we saw the minister."

  For a moment, she didn't say a thing. Didn't even flinch or blush as a tear trickled down her cheek. She just stood there, staring at the ring he held out on his palm. Finally she spoke quietly. "Yes, Delancy. When…uh, is the preacher coming out here?"

  Oh, no. Not Phillips. Del could see the fear and uncertainty rise up behind her eyes. He shook his head quickly. "I thought maybe we'd just say a few words right here and now. We already spoke the clergy vows. I thought…just between us, here on my land. Sort of seal things, you know?"

  Honestly, he had no idea what the hell made him say such a thing. Maybe the recognition that the past was truly gone, the future open ahead of them. Maybe coming back here with Twila at his side, Betty Lee's treachery fully revealed, bitterness mixed with sorrow over Jordy…maybe things did need a seal. Closing off the past…

  "All right," she answered, "But I'd feel better if you stood up. This is a little awkward."

  A little? He was kneeling on a pebble as sharp as Biscuit's tongue. "Well, the thing is, you haven't let me formally ask you and get your answer yet. We rushed it that other time. I just sort of blurted and begged for us to run off, and you went along with the plan. Lame as it was."

  She smiled and his heart expanded. Jesus, but this woman was dear to his very soul, to his every breath.

  "Twilagleam Bell Mitchell, do you solemnly swear to love me and cherish me all the days of your life?"

  "I do!" She seemed to take it like a child's game. "And Delancy James Mitchell, do you solemnly promise to love me and cherish me all the days of your life?"

  "I do, honey."

  She bent to kiss him. "Then arise, fair prince."

  Oh, something was arising, all right. Del got to his feet and pulled her up close to the cradle of his pelvis so she could feel it rising, too. "I swear I'll be faithful to you, take care of you and our children, until the last breath leaves my body. I promise I'll make love to you whenever you want it, until I'm exhausted. Then I'll get some shut eye and do it again."

  He pulled the quartz monstrosity off her finger, pitching it over his shoulder, and slid the shiny replacement on her hand as he sought her lips. The kiss he gave her was sweet and hot. The one she gave him back melted his bones.

  She giggled and he chortled with glee, and released her maybe a little too abruptly. She stumbled a bit. There was a loud popping sound, and then she was sitting in the dirt, gazing up at him with something like stunned amazement on her face. "Del, I think I just broke my ankle."

  He bent down. "Oh, now honey! It's probably just sprained. Let's take a look—"

  Nobody's leg was meant to go like that.

  She'd actually done it. Gone and twisted her ankle on the rocks so badly, she'd broken a bone."I got to get you up to the house and send somebody to fetch the doc. Come on, Twila. Put your arms around my neck and hang on. That's a girl. Well, you can't say our life isn't one big adventure, huh? First raccoons and now a busted ankle. If those rocks were a horse, I'd come back out and shoot them."

  He kept talking, making stupid jokes, praying. All the way back to the house. He tucked her into their bed, stripped away her clothes, and helped her into a clean nightgown. Barked at every man on his payroll, and generally felt like the world's rottenest son of a bitch. What kind of man went out to propose to his ladylove on bended knee and ended up busting her leg?

  He was half crazed with worry and liquor by the time the doctor left.

  "She's all taped and bound up. There's going to be some pain the next several days. I'll leave you this laudanum. Not more than an occasional small spoonful in a glass of water, though. Don't like my female patients in the family way to be insensate for long. Keep the leg elevated, and don't expect miracles. She may have a limp."

  "She will not have a limp," Del snarled back.

  "Well, we hope not, but—"

  "She will not have a limp or any problems with the child because I won't stand for it! Do you know how much I love that woman? Do you?"

  "Oh, boy." Sandy Thayer pried Del's fingers off the doctor's shoulder. "Del, you're feeling kind of tense and worried. We understand, but whatever happens, it's not Doc's fault. You're talking out of that bottle. He's done now. Why don't you go in and see Twila?"

  Del shook Sandy off him and crept to the bedroom door. He cracked it open and saw her. Pale and lost in the big bed. In her usual spot, right smack in the center of it. He fought back tears as he realized he'd automatically lain her down where she usually slept—but her spot couldn't be under him for…hell, maybe not for a very long time. He crossed to the bed and slid his arms under her, edging her to one side.

  She murmured a protest and Del whispered soothing words. "Hush, Twila. You need to rest. I'll be coming to bed soon."

  "Del?" Her eyes shot open. "Now, Del. I want you with me now. Please? The pain is bad, but I don't want that medicine. I don't think i
t's good to take that with a baby growing in me. And the doctor says there is, and it's fine. Could you just send everybody else away and just hold me?"

  She could've asked him to rob a stagecoach or lasso a star. Something hard. This he could do easily enough. Hell, he wanted to do it.

  He chased his cowpokes away from the house, poked a few embers in the hearth, stripped down and slid into bed with her. He cradled her gently until she fell asleep. He wanted to sleep himself, but all night long he kept thinking about how she'd taken that little stumbling step. Somehow when he replayed it in his mind, he didn't just let go of her. He kind of shoved at her, pushed her with just a little impetus…but enough to make her lose her balance. Enough to make his conscience keep him awake for hour upon hour of guilty recrimination.

  He'd wanted to make a sweeping gesture by giving her the new ring, swearing his devotion. Then he'd gone and given her that little push…or pulled away when she'd been leaning on him. Either way, caused her to lose her balance on those rocks.

  Shit. Maybe he was cursed.

  CHAPTER 20

  Twila edged back against the headboard, mindful of the throbbing lump at the end of her shin. She no longer thought of her foot as being a separate entity joined to her leg by something called an ankle. She didn't have an ankle. She had a traitorous swelling that caused her no end of misery. Only part of it physical.

  Del was inconsolable. Somehow he'd convinced himself that he'd unwittingly caused her stumble and resulting injury. He'd apologized at least thirty times. Twila thought if he said the word "sorry" just once more, she'd vomit. Never a remote possibility these days.

  She didn't want the muffins and tea he'd tried to force on her. Didn't need him fussing with pillows and hovering over her constantly. Lord, he was worse than a mother hen with only one chick to brood over. Finally Twila thought of a temporary solution. At least it would get him out of her hair for a short time.

  "Del?"

  "What is it, honey? Your leg hurting again, or is it your back? Why are you laying at this crooked angle? I just plumped those pillows. I'll do it again."

  "No!" Twila couldn't help shouting at him. He was lucky she didn't bare her teeth and bite him.

  "All I was going to say was I lost my slipper yesterday," she calmed down enough to get out. "I noticed I've only got one. I think we left the other when you pulled it off to look at my leg."

  "Oh…you're right. I took it off. It's probably still laying out by those rocks. I'll tell the boys to keep a lookout and bring it if they spot it."

  "Er, no. I really think you should go get it. It's already been left out overnight. The dew has probably settled on the leather. Then if the sun bakes it…"

  He just blinked at her. Why could a man never follow the simplest logic to its conclusion?

  "Del, it will shrink! And then when I'm better and I want to wear those shoes again, that one's not going to fit."

  "I'll buy you another pair. A dozen pairs. I'll take you dancing, Twila. Anything you want. You just heal up, honey. Don't fret about some old shoe. You just get well."

  She ground her teeth together. "Delancy, this isn't a case of the ague. I can't just eat seventeen bowls of soup or wear a mustard plaster across my chest and get well. This is going to take time. The bones have to knit. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop feeling beholden to me and go get that slipper. Please."

  Grumbling under his breath about how he really took exception to the notion of leaving her unattended for even half an hour, he tramped out of the house and across the porch. Twila noticed he left the front door standing wide open.

  Undoubtedly so he could hear her clang the triangle he'd brought in from the cookhouse. If she needed anything, she was to bang on the metal the way Biscuit did.

  Twila thought it was absolutely silly.

  And probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her.

  Next to the new ring, of course. That was so astonishingly lovely, so breathtaking and unexpected, she'd lost her balance and broken her leg over it. No matter what Del thought, Twila knew better. She hadn't been looking at where she was standing or where she was going. She'd only been looking at the beautiful new ring and thinking she must be dreaming.

  Because all her tiny hopes and dreams had come true.

  * * *

  "Hey, Del! Take a look at this."

  "Huh?" Del had been too busy cradling the lost leather slipper in his hands, staring at it and wondering how he could be such a monster. To hurt the one person who'd never done anything but love and honor him. The person he loved more than he'd ever dreamed possible. Oh, he'd wanted a wife…the same way most fellas wanted one. Someone to clean his house, sit with him in the evenings, darn his socks. Have his children.

  But he'd never expected the rush of tender feelings he'd developed. The almost insatiable sexual desire—hell, part of him wanted nothing more than to strip off his duds and climb into bed right now, and give her pleasure in a dozen other places just so she wouldn't have to feel the hurt in that leg.

  "I'd swear that's gold ore. Right there. You see that? Stand over here, so the sun hits it. That's gold, Del! Gold! Right here on your property."

  "Naw, it—"

  He'd started to contradict Sandy, but the words died on his tongue. Because Del and Sandy had panned the Truckee now and again, never finding much of anything. But they both knew what to look for, knew a gold vein when they saw it. And they were seeing one now.

  Del crouched down and dug with his fingers. Sandy scraped along the bottom of the rockslide with his knife. "Jesus light a firecracker! Twila must have knocked these stones out of position. She hit gold, Del! I can't believe it! I'm going to scrape some of this and take it over to the assay office right away. You got to file a claim. You and the missus are going to be rich, Delancy Mitchell!"

  Del clutched Twila's leather slipper to his chest. He grinned at Sandy, but not for the reason Sandy assumed. It was gold ore, all right, and there could well be some serious money coming as a result of the discovery. But it didn't matter. What made Del smile was hearing someone credit Twila for a miracle. The fact someone else realized they stood in evidence of one.

  Not the gold.

  The woman who'd tripped and uncovered it.

  The woman who'd looked Del in the eyes and offered him a future full of promise at sunset the night before. Just at the twilight's last gleaming.

  He turned and loped back to the house. He was going to deliver that slipper and spend about an hour telling her how much he loved her. About how rosy their future had become. Maybe he'd rig up a way to give her a nice hot bath without getting her splinted ankle wet. The doc said they had to keep the splint and bandages dry.

  But Del didn't want the rest of her dry.

  Oh, no sir. Not when he thought of how Twila reacted to soapy lather on those nice little tits of hers. Which weren't so little any more. Del wanted her wet and throbbing in other places, so she didn't have to feel a thing from that bad leg.

  Oh, he'd tell her all about the gold. And how they'd use it to build a finer house and send the kids to school back East if she wanted. Maybe buy some thoroughbred stock for the ranch. Or visit Europe. Whatever she wanted. After all, she'd stumbled upon it. Should be her decision how to spend it.

  As for Del, he already had his precious gift. He didn't need another damned thing.

  * * *

  Lucius stepped between the cars, glancing down at the swaying open platform. He'd never really understood how someone could easily uncouple railroad cars, particularly while the train was in motion. He bent lower, peering at the coupling mechanism, trying to figure out how it worked.

  "Well, look at what we have here! Divine Providence! I told you my nose was never wrong. You can't debate the matter any longer, Cookson. The whelp wouldn't be here if not for some fateful intervention."

  Lucius tried to scramble to his feet, but it was no use. The two Englishmen were bigger, faster, and angry as buzzing hornets. "Wait a minute! I can
—"

  "Oh, no, you don't! What do you think to do this time, tell the conductor we prefer to ride on the roof of this contraption? We've a score to settle with you, Mr. Bell. I'm having to ride standing up, thanks to your shenanigans!"

  "I'm sure there's some mistake, gentlemen. I—oomph! Hey!"

  Lucius found himself upside down, dangling precariously over the side of the guardrail. He hadn't realized the train was whipping along the tracks quite so fast. He clutched at the railing and tried to squint up at the men holding his shins and belt.

  "I've got money! Let me down, and let's talk about this."

  "You hear him, Cooky? He's got money, he says. Didn't I tell you that all along?"

  "Where is this money? That's what we want to know. We tried your father's blasted book, but it was filled with gibberish! You better get your memory back, boy, and quick like. There's a trestle over a ravine up ahead. Be a shame if you came out here to relieve yourself and tragically slipped to your death."

  "No! I told you it was all a joke! My father doesn't have any treasure, but I was very lucky at cards these past few days. I've got money in—inside! Yes, inside! Take me back into the car and I'll show you."

  "Hah! We’re not interested in your paltry traveling funds, you blighter! Your family's mine. That's what we're after. I smell gold and it's got the name Bell etched into it. So where's the gold hidden? Tell me the truth, before I lose my grip."

  "But I'm telling you the truth! Why won't you believe me? I was teasing before. It was just a lark. A prank. My family owns an emporium. That's all. There's no gold!"

  * * *

  The Lord's faithful assembled in the tiny church in Wadsworth, Nevada, everyone in town trying desperately not to stare at the Bell family. But it was hard not to. They made such an interesting spectacle. Even the new preacher, Reverend Atwater, seemed to take special note.

  Rumor had it—or so Amos Stanislaus claimed, when Del Mitchell was out of earshot—that Fletcher Bell had thrown an apoplectic fit of some kind in a rage of passion. He claimed raccoons had razed his store. Even produced a dead coon as some kind of proof of his allegation. Of course, no one else had seen these nocturnal vandals at work…while Emily Mercer whispered that she'd ventured over to the shambles of the store just in time to discover the proprietor in a very compromising situation with a strange woman. A widow whom Fletcher Bell had now taken to escorting to Sunday services. Despite the fact she'd blackened his eye.