The noise died abruptly as faces turned to gape at her. The piano went silent and laughter and conversation dwindled until the people in the room sat spellbound, waiting. She stepped toward the bar where Sam stood, watching her in the mirror. “You’re a low-down, sneaky, son-of-a-skunk, lying coward, Samuel Calhoun.”
Sam let out a deep breath when he turned to face her. A deep, tortured sadness haunted his eyes, and he shook his head.
“Don’t do this, Amanda. It won’t solve anything. I know I’ve hurt you, but killing me won’t change what’s happened. Don’t make this any worse for yourself.”
Amanda held the gun steady, aimed at his heart. She had to use her other hand to help keep from shaking. Her knees wobbled, and despite the heat of her temper, she was chilled to the bone.
“It will rid the earth of some low-down, lying vermin, and that should be worthwhile. It will prevent you from taking advantage of another woman, hurting her and breaking her heart after you ruin her.” She struggled to keep her voice under control when she felt great, earthshaking sobs swirling through her chest.
The amber highlights in his eyes darkened, and she knew her words wounded him. Good. She wanted to hurt him as badly as he had hurt her. She wanted him to know how sordid and abused she felt.
He stepped toward her. “I didn’t want this, Amanda. You’ve got to believe me. I wasn’t going to go through with it.” He stood still as she leveled the gun and pulled back the hammer. The click echoed through the saloon.
“Stay back, Sam. You can’t sweet talk your way out of this one. Everything you’ve ever told me is a lie, isn’t it?” All of her dreams crumbled to dust, again. “You planned this, didn’t you? All those chance meetings in the kitchen? The romantic gestures? Even the rumors about me being in danger. It was all part of some plan, wasn’t it?”
Sam shook his head and took a step back. “Can’t we go someplace more private to talk about this, Amanda?”
She laughed and waved her hand at the crowd of people who listened avidly to their confrontation. “Everyone in town knows about us, Sam. We’re the main topic of conversation from the dry goods store to tent city. They’re all laughing at the foolish Widow Wainwright, deceived by a glib tongue and a handsome face.” She stepped boldly toward him. “I’ve been so gullible, but I’m going to get even now, Sam. I’m going to—”
“Amanda Rose Dumont Wainwright, what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”
Amanda’s heart leapt into her throat. She froze, as the attention of the people in the room shifted away from her and Sam to the tall man looming in the doorway.
She wanted to run away, escape to her hotel room, throw the covers over her head, and weep until she was drained of tears. Instead, she turned slightly, gave the man a nod, and waved the gun in Sam’s direction.
“I have a dispute with this man, and I’m settling it in a manner he can understand.”
Father Mikelson took two long steps into the center of the room. With his pure white hair, piercing blue eyes, and large, lanky frame clothed in dark priestly garb, he held the crowd enthralled.
“Shooting him might be the method he best understands, but it is the least productive means for settling an argument.” The priest’s voice boomed through the room. “I demand you give me that gun.”
Amanda’s arm wavered, and she nearly succumbed to the priest’s authority, until she caught the small gleam of triumph in Sam’s eye. She leveled the gun toward him again.
“I can’t do that, Father.” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears, but she gained strength with every word. “He has humiliated me and destroyed my reputation. I believe shooting him is my only recourse.”
“Is this true, sir?” Father Mikelson demanded in a booming voice that was meant to echo through a sanctuary when he gave a sermon. “Did you publicly humiliate her, and is she a ruined woman?”
Sam shifted from one leg to the other, and gave Amanda a look so tender and filled with regret she nearly melted.
“I made a deal with some other men in town to seduce her and spread rumors about our relationship.” There was an audible gasp from the on-lookers and a low murmur of disapproval at his confession. He turned to face the priest.
“I never intended to go through with it, Father. I haven’t said anything about her, and I’d swear to that on a stack of Bibles.”
He turned to Amanda. “I didn’t betray you. I truly care about you, and I didn’t start these vile rumors. I’d never want to hurt you.” His shoulders slumped, and she noticed his golden eyes held dark shadows of the truth.
Amanda wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t afford to make another foolish mistake. Even as her head told her to be cold and calculating, her body responded to his plea with a rush of heat that made her nipples tingle and her pantalets feel too tight and confining. She’d trusted him once, accepted all the beautiful promises he’d made, and he’d taken advantage of her. She wouldn’t ever be so naive again.
“I’ve been seduced and ruined, Father. He planned it all for the sake of money.” Her voice trembled. “Now I’m forced to shoot him, even if I hang for it and burn in Hell for an eternity.”
The room was silent, everyone waiting. Emotion played over Sam’s face—guilt, sadness, and finally, resolve.
“She’s right, Father. I have taken advantage of her. Nothing I can say or do will ever be able to atone for that. She has no choice. Amanda darlin’, aim for my heart.” He opened his frock coat and pointed to a spot on his vest. “Right about here should mean a quick, painless death.”
Amanda was stunned. He was inviting her to shoot him. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if he was teasing her.
“What makes you think I’d be that kind to you, Sam?” She lowered the barrel of the gun. “I was thinking of making it as slow and agonizing as possible. I’d enjoy imagining you suffered a great deal before you went to the devil.”
His face blanched as he caught the aim of the weapon. He stumbled backwards a few steps. “Maybe this vengeance thing isn’t such a good idea, Amanda. Listen to the priest. You wouldn’t want to be joining me in purgatory, would you?”
She gave him a wicked grin, re-aimed the small gun, and slowly pulled the trigger.
A woman screamed, and Sam yelped in pain. “God damn it, woman, you shot me in the foot!”
Amanda tossed her head and walked away from him. He hobbled about behind her.
“You’re lucky I’m such a poor shot, I was aiming higher.” She rubbed her hands together; they were still stinging from the recoil of the Colt.
“Lucky? You just shot me.” Sam sat down in a chair and looked at his boot, which was leaking blood.
“I wanted to do more damage, but I’ve never been good with guns. Here Father, you can have me locked up now.” She handed the gun to Father Mikelson and stood patiently, waiting for the sheriff to come and arrest her. Glancing back at Sam with his face contorted in pain, she didn’t experience the sense of satisfaction she had imagined she would feel. She’d thought a tiny spike of happiness would follow pulling the trigger. She’d craved revenge, and she should be enjoying it. In fact, watching Sam remove his boot, seeing how much agony it caused him, her head started to ache and the smell of gunpowder, sweat, and stale beer nearly made her gag.
The priest grabbed the gun and scowled at her. “What kind of damned foolishness have you got yourself into here, Amanda?”
Amanda closed her eyes and put her hand to head. “I have a headache, Father. Can we discuss this tomorrow when I make my confession?”
Father Mikelson pointed toward Sam. “Did you say that man has taken advantage of you?”
Amanda groaned, her patience with all men, even those who represented God, nearly at an end.
“That’s what I said. He seduced me, Father. Knows me, in the biblical sense. We had carnal relations.” Cold seeped into her bone
s and her heart thundered. She was out of patience and wanted to shock the old man. “He’s been in my bed and we have engaged in fornication!” She took a ragged breath in a futile attempt to regain her composure.
The crowd exploded into loud speculation. Amanda thought this night would never end.
Father Mikelson narrowed his icy blue eyes as he glanced around the saloon. “Quiet,” he boomed again, and the crowd silenced.
“Amanda, you’ve done some foolish things in the past, but this is beyond my comprehension. I’m just grateful your father isn’t here to witness these events.” He drew himself up to his full six feet, three inches of height. “But he expected me to take care of you, to protect you as if you were my own daughter, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Can’t we please talk about this in the morning? Shooting a man is exhausting.” Her legs felt heavy as trees and her teeth were starting to chatter. She turned to leave, deciding she could go to the sheriff herself, perhaps in the morning, after she’d rested a bit.
“Stay here.” The priest demanded, waving his hand at the gathered crowd. “Be silent, the lot of you.” He pointed at Sam. “Are you confessing to fornicating with this woman, outside of the bonds of holy wedlock?”
Sam looked horrified at the question, and Amanda felt the blood drain from her face. Just when she imagined the humiliation couldn’t possibly get any worse, by some uncanny force of nature, it did. She wondered if she could wrestle the gun from Father Mikelson so she could shoot herself.
The priest grabbed Amanda by the arm and dragged her to the table where Sam sat. He’d removed his boot and had a dirty, blood-stained cloth wrapped around his foot. Someone had poured him a tall glass of whiskey and left the bottle nearby.
Sam glared at her. “Are you crazy, Amanda? You didn’t really have to shoot me.”
Amanda glared back at him, her hands planted firmly on her hips. “Beware a woman scorned. You know the saying, don’t you, Sam?”
The priest stood in front of them with arms outstretched.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of these witnesses to...”
Blood turned to ice in Amanda’s veins. “What are you doing, Father?” Her words came out in a high-pitched screech.
“I’m performing a marriage, because I feel compelled to bring you two sinners back into the fold. You have both participated in fornication.” He seemed to relish saying the word. “It’s my duty to make sure such a sin is purified by the sacrament of marriage.”
“The hell you are.” Sam tried to struggle to his feet, but fell back into the chair.
Amanda turned to race out of the saloon, but found herself in the priest’s iron grasp. His face hovered over hers, his cold blue eyes snapping. “I will not have you traveling about the territory a ruined woman, Amanda. You will become this man’s wife and behave in a decent manner from now on.”
Amanda tried to pull away. “You can’t make me marry him. I won’t!” She balled her fists and stomped her foot. “I’m tired of doing what everyone else says I’m supposed to do. I refuse.”
Father Mikelson didn’t release her; he simply plopped her down in a chair next to Sam.
“You’ll do what I say, and so will he. Or I’ll have the law after both of you. There is such a thing as common decency and standards of behavior to consider. I’ll haul you both before the justice of the peace. You could go to jail.”
Amanda crossed her arms and turned away from Sam. “I’d rather rot in jail than become his wife.”
“I’d rather hang than become that woman’s husband,” Sam snarled.
“Well, if that’s the way you want it. Sheriff, get over here.” Father Mikelson waved toward the swinging doors. “Arrest this woman for lewd behavior, and this man for fornication. Slap them both in jail, in fact”—a wicked gleam twinkled in the old man’s eyes—“put ‘em in the same cell, then throw away the key.”
Sam and Amanda both turned back to face him. “You can’t do this,” she said.
“Put me in jail, but leave her alone,” Sam said. Father Mikelson shook his head. “I can’t punish one and not the other, because you know how the old saying goes, it takes two. Justice and grace demand that since you both got yourselves into this mess, you both must perform the penance. The only solution I can see is to marry you to each other. From the looks of things, that should be a satisfactory punishment.”
“That’s an idiotic solution.” Amanda stood up. “Let him go, and I’ll return to Helena. I’ll join the Sisters of Charity and become a nun.”
Sam waved a hand in the air. “Wait, that’s not necessary.” He leaned toward Amanda. “Don’t do this. You can’t lock yourself away from the world forever.”
Amanda glared down at him. “I can’t believe you care what happens to me. This is your entire fault in the first place. If you needed money so badly, why didn’t you just ask me? I’ve got more than I’ll ever need.”
Sam shook his head. “I’d never take a penny of your money, Amanda. It wasn’t about that, not after I met you.” His shoulders stiffened and he raised his chin.
Amanda paced across the room and tried to ignore the staring crowd.
“If I had me a chance to get hitched to Sam Calhoun, I’d do it in a heartbeat, honey,” a blonde with a large bosom urged her. “Shotgun weddin’ or no, he’s a catch.”
“Marry me instead, widder woman. I’d take care of you.” A grizzled prospector with no front teeth leered at her.
Amanda didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to go to jail, and she didn’t think she wanted Sam to, either. Her thirst for revenge had slackened, and now she knew they needed some time to talk things over. Her heart ached at the truth of his deception; all her dreams for helping the miners had vanished in one ugly ruse. And her fantasy of building a life with Sam disappeared at the same time. But she also needed to give him a chance to explain why he’d made the bargain with the other mine owners. Despite his confession, she knew deep inside that Sam would never intentionally betray her. Or was that just what she wanted to believe?
She wished she could go to bed and sleep for a few weeks. Maybe she’d find this had been a bad dream, and she’d wake up in Sam’s arms in the morning.
More voices joined the melee, some urging her to marry Sam, others telling her to shoot him again, even others offering a different solution. Her head ached and her stomach churned at the combined stench of unwashed bodies, sour beer, and filthy sawdust.
She turned to Father Mikelson. “Can’t you give us until tomorrow to work this out? We shouldn’t be forced to make this kind of decision under these circumstances.” She nodded at Sam, hoping he’d agree. “It’s going to affect the rest of our lives.”
Sam nodded back. “We need to talk, and we can’t do it here, Father.” He stood up, grimaced, but managed to step forward. “I give you my pledge of honor I’ll make things right with Amanda. I’ll do the honorable thing.”
Amanda made a sound of derision and rolled her eyes. “You can certainly trust him, Father. I did.”
Father Mikelson cleared his throat. “I’ve given it some thought, considered the circumstances, and taken all the particulars into account.”
Amanda held her breath.
“I believe I’ve made the right decision.”
Amanda gulped, but stood poised for his pronouncement.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together in the sight of these witnesses to join this man and this woman in the state of holy matrimony.”
The floor slipped from beneath Amanda as she fainted.
Chapter Eleven
Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead as he limped across the street. He stumbled several times, favoring his wounded foot, but he refused to ask for help.
A tight-lipped and pale Amanda walked ahead of him with the priest. They’d passed smellin
g salts beneath her nose to bring her out of the swoon. She’d been so horrified at the proceedings she’d barely been capable of uttering a word. Her eternal vows to love and obey him were repeated in a hoarse whisper, and then only at the stern insistence of Father Mikelson.
Sam grimaced in pain when he crossed the threshold of the Parmeter House. He found Harriet staring at them from behind the desk. A look of sympathy crossed her face when Amanda passed, but open loathing replaced it when he halted at the bottom of the stairs to take a deep breath.
“I can explain everything,” Sam closed his eyes for a moment, wounded by his friend’s apparent disgust with his conduct.
Harriet pursed her lips and glowered. “You don’t owe me an explanation, nor any apology.” She pointed toward Amanda. “But you’d better have a powerful good reason for what you did to her.”
Sam trailed up the stairs, favoring his right foot. He understood Amanda’s fury and her motive for shooting him. Even if he wasn’t responsible for the rumors that had destroyed her good name tonight. The fact that he’d entered into the agreement in the first place proved he was a lying, deceitful bastard. He deserved to be shot, and worse.
It wasn’t the shooting he regretted; it was the wedding. By forcing her to become his wife, even through circumstances beyond his control, he knew he’d manipulated her. And the one thing he’d learned about Amanda was how much she despised lies and manipulation.
Father Mikelson conversed with Amanda before opening the door to her room, and Sam tried to avoid eavesdropping.
“I’ll deal with this, Amanda. You needn’t worry,” the priest promised, before turning his back on her. He seemed surprised to discover Sam standing so close. “I thought we should find someplace a bit more private than the center of a saloon to discuss our business.” There was no sympathy in the older man’s eyes, and ice in his tone.
Sam produced a key and unlocked the door next to Amanda’s room, then nodded for the priest to enter. Father Mikelson couldn’t disguise the look of fury crossing his face as he realized the arrangement. Once inside the room, Sam collapsed on the bed, grateful for the opportunity to finally rest his aching foot. He didn’t open his eyes until Father Mikelson cleared his throat. It took all of Sam’s self-control to pull himself back up to a sitting position.
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