The WESTWARD Christmas BRIDES COLLECTION: 9 Historical Romances Answer the Call of the American West

by Wanda E. Brunstetter, Susan Page Davis, Melanie Dobson, Cathy Liggett, Vickie McDonough, Olivia Newport, Janet Spaeth, Jennifer Rogers Spinola

  “It was in the newspaper before Christmas,” he said. “Someone in town must have wired your brother.”

  Nausea swept over her, and she collapsed into a chair beside the bureau. Why couldn’t Patrick let her go? He didn’t need her. He had her family’s money and their home and all of her mother’s possessions as well. What else could he possibly want?

  The reason didn’t matter, she supposed. Patrick was determined to win.

  Isaac sat in the chair next to hers, but she had nothing to say to him. Resignation washed over her. And rejection.

  She covered her face with her hands.

  She’d fooled herself into thinking Isaac might care for her, but all along he’d known exactly who she was. And he’d known about her family’s money. No wonder he had taken such good care of her. He was a smart businessman. This morning he was probably trying to get her to a private location so he wouldn’t have to share the reward.

  Those times he’d been watching her, those moments on Christmas Day and the days after that warmed her heart … Had he been seeing the reward instead? She’d begun to trust him, but he had been deceiving her.

  No matter where she ran, her stepbrother would find her.

  She looked over at Isaac, straightening her posture. “You may as well take me to Patrick.”

  Isaac leaned toward her, and she hid her hands in the folds of Maria’s gown so he wouldn’t take one of them. “I thought you didn’t want to go home with him.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I want.” She swallowed hard. “Patrick won’t stop until he finds me.”

  Isaac focused on the window that overlooked the city street and then glanced back down at the article. “According to this, you are supposed to marry a man named Charles Mahler.”

  “My stepmother died the first of December, and Patrick won’t provide for me any longer,” she said. “Charles doesn’t love me, but he and Patrick seem to have made some sort of deal so he will at least feed and clothe me.”

  She could see the compassion in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  But she didn’t want him to feel sorry for her anymore. She wanted—

  She wrapped her arms across her chest. It didn’t matter what she wanted. “I thought I could take care of myself, but I can’t—”

  He stopped her. “We all need other people.”

  “You don’t need anyone.”

  “That’s not true. My brother-in-law and sister gave me the opportunity to leave Philadelphia. My investors in Denver support the mine, and the men up at the Coronado partner with me to make it a success.” He inched the chair closer to her. “Somehow you have managed to travel all the way here by yourself and obtain enough food to sustain yourself and a place to sleep.”

  “Because you helped me.”

  “There is nothing wrong with getting help when we need it.”

  But there was. For the past two years, she had been indebted to Patrick and his mother for almost everything.

  She swallowed. “Did you wire Patrick?”

  He shook his head.

  Her heart began to soften. “But you could have contacted Patrick and got the money for your mine.”

  “I could have.”

  She studied his face. “Why didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted you to tell me the truth first, and I—I wanted to find out if you wanted to return home.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” she whispered.

  He reached for her hand again, and this time she allowed him to take it. A spark of hope reignited inside her. He cleared his throat. “Has anyone else in Omaha asked you to marry them?”

  “Plenty of men have asked—”

  “Do you want to marry any of them?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then perhaps I can protect you from your stepbrother—”

  “You don’t know what Patrick can do.” Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t want him to see her cry.

  “Marry me,” he whispered.

  Her eyes grew wide.

  “Patrick can’t hurt you if we marry,” he said.

  She pulled her hand away from his. “There is no money.”

  He lurched back as if she’d slapped him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Patrick inherited the entire estate.”

  “I don’t know what this has to do with—”

  She sat taller even as her insides crumbled. “You won’t get a penny if you marry me.”

  His mouth gaped open slightly as he studied her face. “I want to help you, Lavinia.”

  She didn’t want his pity. She wanted his love.

  Her heart began to harden again. “Then get me a train ticket home.”

  He opened his mouth again as if there was something else he wanted to say, but he promptly closed it. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Chapter 11

  Isaac stomped out of the hotel, his pulse pounding. Lavinia’s stepbrother was no longer on the street, and it was probably a good thing. If he saw the man, he might pummel him for stealing Lavinia’s ability to trust, replacing it with fear.

  After everything, how could she think he wanted to marry her for money? She was right—he didn’t know what Patrick was capable of—but he’d thought if she would marry him, he could protect her.

  But maybe she didn’t want to marry him. Perhaps she saw in him what Rebecca did—a man who would make a much better brother than a husband.

  The train station was to the left, but instead of going there, he walked in the opposite direction, toward the Kempers’ house. He wouldn’t force Lavinia to stay in Aspen if she wanted to leave, but he needed a bit more time. He might not be able to save the mine, but perhaps it wasn’t too late for him to help Lavinia without sending her back to Omaha. Or handing her over to a man she despised.

  Patrick emerged from the boardinghouse, and Isaac watched him scrutinize the street as if he were hunting a fox for sport. Then the steely resolve in Patrick’s eyes honed in on him.

  Isaac stopped walking.

  “Hello there,” Patrick said, offering Isaac his gloved hand as he introduced himself. Isaac kept his hands in his pockets, both clenched into fists. Patrick quickly retracted his arm.

  Instead of shaking Isaac’s hand, Patrick removed a photograph of Lavinia from his satchel and held it out. “Have you seen this woman?”

  Isaac studied her lovely but stern face, wishing he could make her smile. “Perhaps.”

  Patrick slowly lowered the photograph. “Where is she now?”

  Instead of answering, Isaac asked, “Why do you want to find her?”

  “I fear for her life,” Patrick said as he put Lavinia’s picture back into his case.

  Isaac felt the muscles in his shoulders clench up like his fists. “And why is that?”

  “She is slow in the mind,” Patrick explained as if Isaac were slow as well. “She won’t be able to survive without my help.”

  Isaac forced his voice to level. “Then I’m sure she will be very excited to see you.”

  He started to walk away, but Patrick reached out and clamped his hand over Isaac’s shoulder. “I’m offering a substantial reward for her return,” he said, his voice lowered as if he were conspiring with a friend. “I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you take me to her.”

  Twenty thousand dollars?

  Isaac could almost hear Harvey and Ned and even Marcus in Denver shouting from the sidelines, urging him to take this enormous sum of money. It would buy them at least six more months to turn the mine around …. Or he could simply pocket the cash and start over.

  But even if Lavinia didn’t want to marry him, even if the money would save all that he had worked for, he’d never offer her up to this snake.

  Isaac shrugged off Patrick’s hand. “You’re hiding something, Mr. Dittmar.”

  Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “I think there’s another reason you want Lavinia to return, and it has nothing to do with her we
ll-being.”

  Patrick swore. “What has she told you?”

  “The truth.”

  Or at least part of it.

  Patrick didn’t say anything else, and it was just as well. No matter what the man said or how much money he offered, Isaac would never tell him where Lavinia was hiding.

  From the third floor of the hotel, Lavinia watched Isaac and Patrick on the street below, their heads huddled together as they collaborated. She had dared to let herself believe that Isaac might be different, and her heart ached as she tried to make sense of this shift in a man she’d hoped would be solid.

  Instead of obtaining a train ticket for her, Isaac had gone to solicit her stepbrother. Were he and Patrick negotiating the reward right now? She’d told Isaac that she feared Patrick would hurt her, and yet it seemed he was conspiring with her stepbrother on a way to imprison her. Had he been blinded by the Starr fortune as well?

  She reached for her coat, her heart in tatters.

  Perhaps the people at the courthouse would give her a ticket down to Little Rock instead of Omaha. She could find Mr. Tipton and then decide about her future. If her father’s entire estate had really gone to Patrick, perhaps her father’s solicitor would help her find work in Arkansas. She would never have to return to Omaha.

  She stepped back toward the staircase.

  She was tired of hiding from Patrick. Not just in Aspen, but for the past eight years of her life.

  It may be a risk, but she wouldn’t hide anymore.

  Chapter 12

  Isaac ducked into the blacksmith shop, tipped his hat to the two smiths working over the fire, and darted out the back door. Then he sped through two alleyways before he reached the Kemper home and swung open the door to Josiah’s office.

  Josiah hung his stethoscope on a ring by the empty exam table and slipped on his black suit coat before he turned toward Isaac. “Why aren’t you at the Coronado?”

  Isaac took off his hat. “I came down to check on Lavinia.”

  Josiah nodded toward the open door that connected his office to the kitchen. “She already went out this morning.”

  “I know,” he said, his heart pounding. “Her stepbrother has come for her, but I won’t let her leave with him.”

  Josiah sat on a wooden stool. “Why don’t you want her to go home?”

  “I want her to be safe.”

  “We all want her to be safe,” Josiah said, tapping on his desk. “Perhaps we could find another place for her to stay.”

  Isaac paced across the floor and then stopped. “I offered to marry her.”

  Josiah leaned forward. “Are you crazy?”

  “Apparently so. She turned me down.”

  “You just met her,” Josiah said.

  The floor creaked, and Maria stepped through the doorway, her arms folded over the top of her apron. “What did you say to her?”

  “I—”

  “Now, Maria …” Josiah interrupted him.

  “It’s important,” she said, her brown eyes still focused on Isaac. “What did you tell Lavinia?”

  He tugged at the hat in his hands. “I told her that I could protect her from her stepbrother.”

  “And—” Maria prompted.

  “And what?”

  She huffed. “You didn’t say anything else?”

  “Nothing of consequence.”

  Maria groaned. “You are such a fool.”

  Josiah stood up. “This isn’t helpful.”

  Isaac didn’t look at Josiah. Instead, his gaze was intent on Maria. “What did I do wrong?”

  Maria put her hands on her hips. “Did you tell Lavinia that you love her?”

  Love her?

  He hadn’t thought much about loving another woman after Rebecca. Lavinia was beautiful, and he admired her determination and faith, but he’d proposed marriage to rescue her from Patrick and a marriage she feared.

  Was it possible that he did love her as well?

  “No woman wants to marry a man who doesn’t love her,” Maria said before she moved back into the kitchen.

  A memory from Christmas night flooded back to him, the way Lavinia had watched Josiah embrace his wife. And the way she’d blushed when she realized Isaac was watching her. He didn’t want the Starr money, and if he was honest, he wanted much more than to keep Lavinia safe or keep her in Aspen. He wanted to marry her because he loved her. And he didn’t want to spend another moment of his life without her.

  The whistle of the arriving train pierced the silence.

  He put his hat back on his head. “I must get back to her.”

  “Don’t be rash,” Josiah warned.

  “I won’t,” he said. For the first time in weeks, he felt as if he was finally thinking quite clearly.

  He ran down the street, not caring if Patrick Dittmar or anyone else saw him. If love made one foolish, then he was the biggest fool of all.

  Lavinia stepped onto the platform beside the depot, her fingers clutching a railway ticket for Little Rock as the train chugged into the station. She should be relieved that Patrick hadn’t found her, but all she felt was sadness—sadness to leave this town. And Isaac.

  The agent inside the train station said it wouldn’t take long to unload the supplies and reload the cars with ore and a handful of passengers. She should be on her way back to Denver within the half hour and on to Little Rock in the morning.

  Black smoke settled over the station, and the doors of the arriving train opened.

  “Hello, Lavinia.”

  She froze for a moment and then slowly turned around. Her stepbrother stood in the doorway of the depot, a cigar cradled in his lips.

  She scanned the platform to his right, but this time there was no other train headed out of town. No place for her to run.

  This time she would have to stand instead.

  She folded her arms over her chest. “How did you find me?”

  “An old woman from one of the boardinghouses wired.”

  “But how did you find me here?” she insisted.

  He sneered down at her. “I saw you leave the hotel.”

  “But you were talking to—” She swallowed, her mind spinning. “I saw you talking to a man on the main street.”

  “He wouldn’t tell me a blasted thing.” Anger flashed through his eyes. “And he won’t get a single penny now.”

  His words soothed her at first and then they stung. Perhaps Isaac did care about her and not her money. Perhaps she should have trusted him to return. She’d been so unkind to him, and now—

  Now she had left the hotel, and there was no one to help her.

  She watched as Patrick lowered his cigar and tapped it against a bench, the ashes raining down on the wood. He thought he could control her, no matter where they were, but not anymore. She rolled her shoulders back. She may be alone, but he had no power over her in Colorado.

  “What do you want from me?” she demanded.

  “I want you to come home,” he replied as he stepped toward her. “Charles misses you.”

  She buttoned the top of her coat. “I’m sure Charles has found someone else to entertain him.”

  Patrick lifted two tickets out of his pocket. “We will go home together.”

  She shook her head. Patrick could ride all the way to Arkansas with her if he wanted. He wouldn’t deter her from finding Mr. Tipton and the truth about her father’s will. “I’m not going back to Omaha.”

  He stood over her now. “Yes, Lavinia, you are.”

  She stared up at the man who despised her, but instead of determination in his gaze, she saw desperation. “I don’t understand,” she said slowly. “You’ve hated me since our parents married, and now that they are gone, you won’t let me go.”

  When he didn’t respond, she studied him for a moment. Fear seemed to harden his callous face, and when she glimpsed the anxiety in his eyes, her own fears began to dissolve. For so long she had been afraid of him, but even though she didn’t understand it, she held some sort of p
ower over him as well.

  She tilted her head. “Why do you want me in Omaha?”

  “I—” He didn’t finish. Over his shoulder, Lavinia watched as one of the passengers on the incoming train disembarked. He tapped his walking stick as he stepped onto the platform, his fancy top hat slightly askew. Under the hat was a tuft of gray hair. She stepped to the side. “Mr. Tipton?”

  The man turned quickly, and when he saw her, he waved with his stick. She rushed around Patrick, and the older man greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Then he clung to her hand, examining her face as if he wasn’t certain whether she was real or a mirage.

  She clutched his hand, breathless. “You received my telegram.”

  He nodded. “I was so worried—”

  Patrick interrupted him. “There was no reason for you to worry,” he said. “I was searching for her.”

  Patrick’s arrival had terrified her, but his presence didn’t seem to bother Mr. Tipton one bit.

  “Oh good,” Mr. Tipton said as he looked between them. “I’m glad you are both here. We must discuss the matters at hand.”

  Patrick checked the timepiece in his pocket. “The train leaves in fifteen minutes.”

  “We mustn’t let a train deter us,” Mr. Tipton replied as he looked at the row of shops beyond the platform. “Where can we find a spot of tea?”

  Patrick stepped closer to the elderly man, looming over him. “There is no time for tea.”

  “There’s always time for tea.” Mr. Tipton nudged Patrick’s arm with his walking stick. “You may choose whether or not you would like to join us.”

  Lavinia linked her arm through Mr. Tipton’s, a lightness empowering her with the solicitor’s indifference to her stepbrother. Mr. Tipton picked up his briefcase, and they moved across the platform toward the coffee and tea shop on the other side.

  She assumed Patrick was trailing behind them, but when Mr. Tipton opened the door to the shop, she realized her stepbrother was gone.

  She glanced back at the depot. “Where is Patrick?”

  “Probably on the train,” he replied. “I assume Eloise made him aware of the terms in your father’s will.”

  She looked back over at the solicitor. “What terms?”