Paul leaned back in his saddle. “We have a long way to go.”
“If you stopped right now, you’ve already wrought a miracle.”
Her table manners had improved one hundred percent. She had slowed her speech, her gait, her gestures. She no longer looked baffled that he and Paul rose when she entered a room or stood when she did. She was still tentative with servants, but she was improving. Now it was Lily who instructed the housekeeper to serve their after-dinner whiskey, and last night she had sent a dish back to the kitchen with the instruction that it be reheated. Unless corrected, she still crossed her legs at the knee, and she swore when she was frustrated or irritated, but she was learning her role more swiftly than Quinn would have believed possible.
“She’s defiant, but she’s also clever, and she learns fast,” Paul conceded, as they rode into the corral. Two Mexican boys walked forward to take their horses. “The problem is we’re trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,” Paul continued, walking toward the house. “Inside, she is who she is.” He frowned. “That worries me. Gentility was ingrained in Miriam. She didn’t have to remind herself which fork to use or strain to remember not to say ain’t. By the time Lily’s lessons are well learned and the results habitual, we’ll be through with her.”
If Quinn’s future hadn’t been on the line, playing Pygmalion might have proven an interesting experiment. It was fascinating to observe Lily’s evolution, the swift changes occurring hour by hour. But she was becoming Miriam, and watching it happen was profoundly troubling.
“May we join you?” he inquired in an expressionless tone, climbing the steps to the house. She sat on the porch, smoking and enjoying her nightly glass of whiskey, mysterious in her strangeness, disturbing in her familiarity.
“Please do,” she said with cool politeness, managing to mimic a grande dame while ignoring her bare feet and opened collar. During the day, she worked at being a lady with grim determination, but on her own time she made a point of reverting to behavior that reminded them she was only playing a role. Lily would never be a lady. She didn’t want to be.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Paul said, throwing a scowl of disapproval toward her crossed legs and the bare toes peeking out of her hem, “tonight is my last chance to edit Quinn’s speech notes.”
This was another point of contention straining their friendship. Quinn wasn’t accustomed to having his thoughts or words edited, and he didn’t like it. “We should review the notes together,” he stated, wanting to minimize changes. He also sought an excuse to avoid joining Lily on the porch.
“I’d prefer to organize my thoughts before we discuss any changes. We’ll give Lily a respite tomorrow and talk during the drive to Santa Fe.”
“What are your speeches about?” Lily asked after Paul had gone inside.
“Are you really interested?” He couldn’t imagine that she was. After pouring a glass of whiskey from the bottle on the table between them, he leaned back in the porch chair.
“I doubt it. But tell me anyway, then I’ll decide.”
Her honesty made him smile. “The most important speech is an address to the territorial legislature targeting the challenges of statehood and what I hope to accomplish as governor.”
“The challenges of statehood,” she repeated, inspecting the end of her cigar. “That doesn’t sound too interesting.”
“I hope the legislature doesn’t share your conclusion,” he said, suppressing a laugh.
She glanced at him. “Did you always want to be a politician?”
“To be successful, society must live by rules. Long ago I decided if someone is going to make rules I must live by, then I want to be the man who’s making those rules. Politicians are rule makers. So yes. I’ve been moving toward politics most of my life, preparing myself for this campaign.”
“There are too many rules already. Why do you want to make more?”
Glancing at her bare feet, he tried to recall if Miriam’s feet had been short and slender with a defined arch. That he couldn’t remember raised an annoying twinge of guilt. “I also believe I’m the best choice for Colorado’s first governor.”
“Is that so?” Tilting her head, she gave him a curious look. “Why do you think you’re the best man for the job?”
“Mining and ranching are Colorado’s future. My family made their fortune in the Utah silver mines, and I oversee the family’s ranching interests. Both endeavors can devastate the land if they’re not managed well.” Powerful convictions prompted him to say more, but regulation and reform had not been subjects that interested Miriam, and he doubted they would interest Lily. Patting his vest pockets, he withdrew a cigar and lit it, then looked down at her bare toes.
When she saw him frowning at her feet, she pulled her legs up under her skirt and hugged her knees close to her chest. Even in the privacy of her bedroom, Miriam would never have adopted such a posture. His instinct was to correct her, but he bit off the words. For the plan to succeed, she had to become Miriam. But for him to remain sane, he had to remember that she was Lily Dale.
“I never heard of a lawyer who’s also a rancher,” she commented, reaching for her whiskey glass.
“In my time I’ve worked in the mines, sat behind a banker’s desk, and I spent a year on Wall Street,” he said, smiling at the memory. “My father wanted his sons to be at least passing-familiar with most of the family’s business interests. In fact, I only practiced courtroom law for about two years. Long enough to discover I don’t have the temperament for litigation.”
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he remembered a brawl on the steps of the Denver courthouse. By the time the sheriff arrived, Quinn’s nose had been broken and was gushing blood, and the other attorney had two black eyes and three caved-in ribs. “I don’t like losing,” he said. “At present the firm handles corporate matters and seldom has to litigate.”
“I already figured out that you want things to go your way even if you have to force people to do what you want them to do.”
Her tone irritated him, and he felt the anger rising in his chest. Suddenly he needed to punish her for having Miriam’s heart-shaped face and blond hair and lavender-blue eyes. “Rules are necessary. Otherwise, everyone would have children out of wedlock, rob gambling halls, and shoot bystanders who are trying to protect their property.”
She stared at him, her eyes narrowed and combative. “It was wrong to rob the gambling hall. Cy paid for that mistake at the end of a rope, and I paid with five years of my life. I understand those kinds of rules, and I’m sorry I tried to steal money that didn’t belong to me. The rules I hate are those made by someone who thinks he knows how I should live better than I do. What the hell does it matter if I was married or not when I had my Rose? Is it anyone else’s business if I want to live with a man outside of marriage? And who made the rule that men can swear and smoke and drink whiskey, but women can’t? Who in the hell decided there was a right and a wrong way to eat your supper or get into a carriage? Most of society’s rules are stupid.”
Oddly, he enjoyed hearing her opinions enough to raise a skeptical eyebrow and give her another prod. “You don’t care that Rose is a bastard? That you’ll be a pariah in your community in Missouri?
“Oh hell no,” she said with a shrug. “Why should I care what anyone thinks?”
He rolled the sweet heat of cigar smoke over his tongue and exhaled slowly. “Most people do.”
Her laugh was light with genuine amusement. “Not me. I ain’t, I mean I’m not, going to live my life to please other people.” She stopped and the corners of her full lips turned down. “Present company excepted, of course. I understand well enough that I have to live by your rules or go back to prison.”
“Your insistence that Paul and I are the enemy is starting to wear thin,” he said coolly, sitting up straight. “We’re not your enemies.”
She shifted to face him, and quick anger blazed in the lavender eyes he knew so well. “The hell you’re not!”
“You haven’t thought your situation through,” he said, bringing himself back to the present. “Use your head, Lily. One day you’ll thank God that Paul Kazinski found you.”
Flinging herself back in the chair, she made a sound of derision that set his teeth on edge. “That will never happen! I’ll thank God when I’ve seen the last of you ruthless bastards.”
“Is that right? Well, darlin’, let me show you two possible futures,” he said, speaking between his teeth. “In the first, you leave here right now and go home to Missouri to your daughter. How do you plan to take care of Rose? Where will you live, and how will you support her? Have you thought about that?”
“I’ve thought about nothing else for five years!”
“And?”
“I’m sure Aunt Edna will let us live at the farm,” she said finally, returning his stare with a defiant expression. But he identified a sudden leap of anxiety in her eyes.
He nodded. “Let’s say you’re correct. Your aunt permits you to hand off your responsibilities to her and you live on her farm.” Sparks kindled in her stare and she would have exploded, but he raised a hand. “So Rose will grow up as you did. Slopping hogs, carrying heavy buckets, building fences, chopping wood, cleaning the henhouse. Working dawn to dusk. Is that correct?”
“I’ll carry my own weight,” she said angrily. “I won’t be a burden on Aunt Edna.”
“There isn’t much extra cash on a farm. Rose won’t have pretty, little-girl dresses or ribbons for her hair. There won’t be a spare nickel to press into her hand when the fair comes to the county. She’ll be needed at the farm, so she won’t go to school. She’ll be tutored at home like you were. She’ll feel different from other children, apart from them because her childhood will be spent earning her keep.”
The combativeness drained out of her shoulders, and she lifted a shaking hand to her forehead. “How did you know it was like that?”
“You say you don’t care about the circumstances of your daughter’s birth, but maybe Rose will care. Maybe it will hurt when she hears someone refer to her as a bastard. Maybe she’ll feel shamed. Regardless, she’ll have a hard life on your aunt’s farm, and one day as sure as sunrise she’ll run off with the first man who glibly tells her that she’s pretty and promises her something better than working from dawn to dusk. Maybe she’ll choose as unwisely as you did and end up like you did, watching the years go by through the bars on her cell.”
“Stop! Just shut the hell up!” She started to rise, but he reached out and gripped her wrist, feeling the small bones beneath her warm skin.
“Or . . .” Pushing her back into the chair, he leaned to gaze into eyes that stared hatred at him. “Rose can grow up in Europe, surrounded by culture and gentility, raised by a beautiful mother who can support her and who will fit into society. And you will, Lily. When these seven months end, you’ll have the polish to pass yourself off as quality. And what you’re learning one hard step at a time, Rose will absorb without effort simply by emulating you. She’ll never do a minute’s hard labor, and you’ll have the funds to educate her. She’ll be a genteel young lady with pretty dresses and pretty manners and a chance to marry well.”
She shook off his grip. “You’re twisting things around with your lawyer’s tongue!” But she didn’t walk away. She sat poised on the edge of her chair, frowning and listening.
“What you’re doing here is earning Rose an opportunity to enjoy a better life than you ever had, and you’re also earning a second chance for yourself. It comes down to this. What do you want for Rose? The same hard life you’ve experienced? Or something better.”
“I wanted a baby so bad,” she whispered, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes. Long lashes fanned across her cheekbones like inky crescents. “I never had anything of my own. Never had anybody to love me back. The first time I held her, and knew she was mine and part of me, I thought I would burst. I didn’t think I could hold that much joy inside without it shaking me apart.” She dug her fingers into her scalp. “Of course I want pretty dresses for her, and ribbons and an education and all the other things I never had.”
“Then stop fighting us, and start looking at the next seven months as something you’re doing to provide Rose a secure future.”
Quinn tossed off his drink and fell backward in his chair, scowling into his empty glass. Before this journey began, days had passed when he didn’t think of Miriam. From now on, he would see her every day, would hear ghostly echos of painful conversations. Biting down on his back teeth, he raised his face toward the darkness.
“I just wanted her. I wanted her bad. I figured I’d find a way to raise her.”
“You can keep fighting and hating us, begrudging everything we ask you to learn and do,” he said wearily, wanting to end this conversation. “Or you can seize this opportunity, learn everything you can, and use the knowledge to build a comfortable life for yourself and your daughter.”
She was silent so long that it startled him when she broke into his thoughts. “Why aren’t you searching for your wife?”
“I’ve already explained that it would be a pointless waste of time and money.”
“But why?” After lowering her feet to the porch floor, she shifted in her chair to study his expression. “I don’t understand that.”
The intimate glimpse of her bare feet made him look away and clench his teeth. He didn’t want to know that her second toes were slightly longer than the first.
“Miriam will never be found.”
“But how can you be so certain?”
Standing, he crossed the porch and gripped the railing. “Lily, this isn’t a subject for discussion.” That statement and his sharp tone would have ended any conversation with Miriam.
“But suppose your wife returns,” she persisted. “You’ve painted a rosy picture about how this impersonation is going to help me and Rose. So what happens to me if Miriam comes back?”
“She won’t return. We will not discuss this further.”
“If you think exposing Miriam’s disappearance would raise a scandal, consider what will happen if suddenly there are two Mrs. Westins. Now that would be a scandal!”
He pulled a hand through his hair and silently cursed. There was a lot to be said for obedient women. “It will never happen. Miriam is not coming back.”
“Damn it, how can you be so positive that she won’t?”
He took a moment to collect himself before he turned to face her. “You’re right. I can’t be positive. If Miriam reappears, Paul and I will deal with the problem.”
She stared up at him. “When you say Miriam disappeared, what does that mean? Was she kidnapped? Did she vanish into thin air? Did she run away? Was she afraid of something?”
“Lily, I mean it. Don’t pursue this,” he warned.
She threw out her hands. “How am I supposed to impersonate Miriam when I don’t know the most important thing about her? Why she’s missing.”
“Paul will tell you what you need to know.” His shoulders ached with the strain of being with her, of talking to Miriam who was not Miriam. The slanted eyes, the slightly pouty mouth, the widow’s peak . . . but not Miriam. “Just do the job you were hired to do and leave the rest alone.”
When she stood, he realized suddenly that she was shorter than Miriam. In her bare feet, she could easily have stood beneath his chin. Staring hard, he searched for other differences, needing to find them. She was argumentative and confrontational. Quick-minded and direct. She was strong and tough and barefooted. Thinner, fuller-breasted. His eyes lingered on the full curve of her ill-fitting jacket, and he felt his stomach muscles contract.
“I think you know what happened to Miri
am,” she said slowly, watching his expression intently. “But you don’t want me to know.”
He pulled a hand down his jaw before he poured another whiskey and tossed it back. “Why would you assume that?”
“It’s either that, or you don’t give a damn about what happened to her or where she is.” Lifting her hem up from her toes, she walked away from him. At the door to the house, she paused to look over her shoulder. “You convinced me that this job will give me and Rose a decent life, and now I want to impersonate your missing wife because I want something good for Rose. But maybe you’ll regret changing my thinking. Because if you don’t keep your promises to me and Rose, if you don’t live up to your side of this bargain, then I’ll destroy you, and I can do it, too. All I have to do is tell the newspapers that you forced me to impersonate Miriam so you could win the election.”
“Don’t threaten me, Lily,” he warned, holding her gaze.
“Or what? I’ll disappear like Miriam did?” She gave him a long stare. “I just want you to know that if Miriam comes back, you still owe me everything you promised. And I want you to know that you ain’t sending me back to prison without me paying you back. You’ve got something to make me do what you want, and I’ve got something to make you keep your promises to me and Rose.” She gave him another hard look, then slammed the door behind her.
Quinn sat down, tented his fingers beneath his chin, and considered her last words. It didn’t really surprise him that she’d figured out that she could destroy him. She was intelligent, and she was accustomed to searching out ways to protect herself. Unfortunately, he didn’t immediately see how he could protect himself if she chose to expose the impersonation. For the duration of his term in office, Lily Dale would be a bomb primed to detonate anytime she chose to light the fuse. In fact, she would be a threat long after his term ended. His reputation and his place in Colorado’s history books would not be secure while she was alive.
There were a couple of ways around this problem. First, he could abandon the impersonation and send Lily packing. Arguing against this solution was the fact that she would take his hopes and ambitions along with her. In that event, the compromises, the lies and deceptions, everything he had done to reach this point would have been for nothing.
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