Mitch narrowed his eyes at the dog that wagged its tail. “He follows me around, but he's not my dog.”
Bethany rounded the wagon. She reached for the reins when Mitch came to her side. “Where are you going today, Miss Jones?”
“To the same place I went the other day. I only have a few hours, so I best be on my way.”
“I'll go with you. It’s safer to have someone along who is armed.” Mitch took her elbow and escorted her to the other side of the wagon. He then helped a shocked Bethany onto the bench. He picked up the dog and placed it in the back and then climbed onto the bench beside her.
“This is not necessary, Mr. Banks. Don't you have a business to deal with?” She wanted to close her eyes and lean into him. To ask him for advice. Instead, she straightened her back and attempted a look of disdain when the wagon moved forward. “Whatever are you doing?”
“Call me Mitch.” He gave her a lopsided grin and Bethany pressed her lips together to keep from smiling back. Mitch pointed toward the hills just beyond town. “The miners’ camps are over there. They would make for some good pictures. The population is growing like rabbits since gold was found a couple years ago.”
That got her attention. “What a great idea. I will definitely go there and take pictures in the next few days.”
“You can't go alone.” Mitch kept his attention forward. “Mostly men out there. Not bad people, but probably not used to having women coming around alone.”
“I can take care of myself.” She made a mental note to ask Charley Witt to accompany her.
They finally arrived at the picturesque spot where she'd been the day before. The dog barked and her breath pitched when several deer scampered across their path. “Oh darn, that would have made a great picture.”
Mitch climbed down and rounded the wagon. He held his hand out to her. She couldn't help locking gazes with him and immediately regretted it. Her face heated and she had to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm her pulse.
When their hands touched, goose bumps formed. Bethany was not sure what to do. She allowed him to help her to the ground, then immediately moved away from him.
She reached for the camera only to freeze when he stood close to her. The warmth of his closeness permeated through her clothing.
Mitch cocked his head so he could look at her. “I will carry your camera. The place I want to show you is a short walk in that direction.” He pointed to the trees. Bethany could not move. This was not how her day was supposed to go. She needed time alone to sort her thoughts. Photography was her time.
He helped the puppy down and then grabbed her heavy camera case. Without waiting for her, he strolled away. She grabbed her skirts up and rushed after him.
“I don't want you to accompany me. Why don't you wait for me by the wagon? I need to do this alone to find the perfect location for my pictures. You can't possibly know what type of scene and lighting I need.”
Mitch kept walking, his strides purposeful.
Bethany rounded him and stood in front of him. “Stop. I am talking to you. This will not work at all. I can't work with you along. I have to do this alone. I need to be alone.”
It was hard to pinpoint the emotion in his amber eyes when meeting hers. Mitch gave her a nod and looked past her. “That's the place.”
“What?”
“The place I wanted to show you.”
She swung around and her mouth fell open. Sunlight streamed through the trees creating the effect of golden rays that touched a small spring. The water was framed on one side with two large boulders and on the other with tall grass that swayed gently in the breeze. Ripples on the surface of the water sparkled where light touched it. It was a magical scene.
“Oh.” Her irritation instantly left. Hesitant steps took her closer. Could this place be real? It was like a fairytale. “My goodness...it's beautiful.”
She turned to find she was alone. Mitch and the puppy walked toward the wagon.
He didn't know why, but being sent away wounded him. Mitch clenched his jaw. It was a bad idea to bring her here. It was his favorite place to go when he had to think and now she was there and he was banished to sit on a fallen tree and brood. The pup plopped down on its belly, dropping its head on its paws. Perfectly content.
“What the hell am I doing?” he asked the dog who looked at him, ears straight up. “Beautiful woman make us do dumb stuff. Learn from this.”
After a few minutes, he decided it was best to check on Bethany. He'd not exaggerated to her about the possibility of mountain lions or bears.
She hadn't unpacked her camera, but instead of working, she sat on the boulder with her hands covering her face. Was she crying?
Not sure what the best course of action was, he walked to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Did I make you that mad?”
“No.” Her words were muffled by her hands. “I'm not mad at you.”
“Wanna talk?”
He was surprised when she leaned into him and he stood stock still with one hand on her shoulder and the other to his side. “Bethany, what happened?”
It was strange to see the strong woman so vulnerable. Her shoulders rounded and her head hung between them in defeat.
After a loud sniff, she looked up to him. Even with a reddened nose and teary eyes, her beauty commanded all of his attention.
“I...I am a fool. I'm returning to New York on the next stagecoach.”
Chapter Ten
“They didn't care about me then. My parents definitely don't now. Haven't even tried to get to know me.” Bethany spoke into Mitch's shoulder. He'd sat beside her, his arms around her. “I am a fool for coming here.”
He smiled when she snuggled closer and sniffed. “I'm sure they care for you, Miss Jones. Perhaps it's not in their nature to show it.”
“No.” She let out a deep sigh. “My father is only interested in money. My money.”
“Have you spoken to him about it?” Mitch wasn't quite sure why the man would be interested in Bethany's money. After all, she'd told him the man was quite rich.
“I found a letter.” She lifted her head and looked at him, then promptly laid it back onto his shoulder. The action made him want to protect her against anything that ever threatened her.
“A lawyer wrote my parents about my grandfather's estate. Most of the money was left to me. My mother received a sizable amount, but only a fraction of what he left me.”
“It must have angered her that he preferred you.”
She shrugged. “He was a sweet man. Generous and giving, he'd take me along on his charitable works. I loved him.”
“I'm sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She straightened, but he did not release her. Her eyes darted to his face.
Mitch took advantage of her momentary stillness and kissed her. He pressed his lips over hers and slowly suckled them. She relaxed against him, giving permission.
His heart thudded against his breastbone when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Her soft body molded perfectly against his. Mitch slid his hands down her back not wanting her to pull away from him.
Barking permeated the mist his brain had become. With reluctance, Mitch lifted his head, not allowing Bethany to move away. He glared at the dog. The pup's stance was rigid, his ears straight, eyes pinning the tree line.
Movement beyond the trees got his attention and he jumped to his feet, pulling Bethany to stand behind him. Mitch drew his gun and scanned the trees while the dog growled. The sound was more comical than threatening coming from the small animal.
“What is it?” Bethany held to his waist, flattened against him. He felt her tremble and he wondered if it was from fear or from their kiss. His breathing was still labored. He attempted to keep his voice even. “I don't know. Probably a wild animal. I think it's gone.”
The puppy yapped and ran in a circle around them, content to have protected his humans. Mitch holstered his weapon and turned to Bethany, tak
ing her by the shoulders.
He joined Bethany when she sat. She brushed hair away from her face. “What about you, Mr. Banks? What makes you drink so much you end up in the middle of the road at night?”
The question was a punch to his gut. A drunk. Is that what she saw him as? He shrugged, not wanting to show his discomfort. “No harm in a drink now and again.”
“Seems to me you use it as a crutch. The day when you were upset with my parents, you went straight to the back of the mercantile to it. To whiskey.”
“Everyone has to have an escape, Miss Jones.”
“You are correct. This...” she motioned to the camera, “...is mine. But...”
“I think you should speak to your parents. Tell them you know about the letter.” Mitch changed the subject back to the matter at hand.
“I don't need them. I don't need anybody. I'm leaving.” She jutted her chin out.
“Of course you need them. Everyone needs parents who love and support them. We all need to know someone will be there for us, whether a parent or a partner in life.” His chest constricted when she dropped her head.
He draped his arm around Bethany's shoulders and pulled her against him. “Don't leave, if you want to finish the assignment you told me about. Why don't you stay in the rooms behind the mercantile? It's safe and quite. No one will bother you there.”
Her eyes lifted to him. “You remember what I said when we first met?”
“Of course. I remember everything you said before and after you fell in the wagon.” When her lips twitched, he almost kissed her again. “How about that, Miss Jones?”
“Bethany,” she told him, her eyes shifting to the side. “Call me Bethany.” She pushed away from him. “Perhaps I shouldn't change my plans because of what I've found out. If I accept your offer, I will, of course, pay you rent.”
He started to speak, but she put her hand up to stop him. “I will pay rent and I will also ask you to please keep your distance. I'm not sure what I am feeling right now.”
“Very well,” Mitch replied, not sure what he felt either.
Bethany spent the rest of the afternoon taking pictures. Mitch found her intensity fascinating. Both he and Boots, as he'd named the dog, while watching Bethany, lounged next to a tree.
She looked over her shoulder at him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and shyness. “I'm finished for today. I brought a basket with food. It's in the back of the wagon.”
While she packed her gear, he went to the wagon and brought back a small basket. They sat on the flat boulder after rinsing their hands in the water. Bethany divided the bread, cheese and an apple between them. She then lowered her head. Her voice shook when she prayed. “Lord, bless this food and help me.”
They ate, Mitch giving the dog some of his cheese. He told her about life in Alder Gulch after she asked about the people and life there. They discussed how differently they were raised, she in the city, he in the west.
“Do you often find yourself in the middle of the road with a dog on your chest?” Bethany studied him with a look of curiosity.
Mitch swallowed his bite of food. “Never had a dog on my chest before. That was a first.”
“Do you feel, perhaps, you drink too much?” When he jerked to look at her, she returned his gaze with a raised eyebrow.
No one had ever asked him that question. Sure, many times Nora insinuated she felt he drank more than was prudent, but the way Bethany looked at him without judgment made him answer her frankly. “Yes, I do.”
Her lips curved. “My grandfather always said men drink to avoid a truth or relieve themselves of guilt.” Although she didn't ask the question of him, it hung in the air between them.
“I believe we should head back to town, Miss Jones... er Bethany.” Mitch stood and stretched out his hand to her.
In companionable silence, they walked out of the clearing and he placed both the basket and photography equipment into the wagon. She stood by the front side and waited for him to fetch the horse that he'd tied near the spring.
He finished harnessing the animal and checked to ensure the reins were within reach from the bench. “Mitch.”
It was the first time she'd called him by his first name. He smiled when seeing her flush under his scrutiny. “Yes, Bethany?”
“Thank you for coming and for...” she blushed and looked away, “the offer of a place to live. However, I'm still considering if it's not best that I go.”
He went to her, ensuring not to stand too close. “I hope you remain long enough so I can get to know you better, Bethany. Maybe talk you out of returning to New York.”
Chapter Eleven
Bethany was grateful for the quiet of her hotel room. Thankfully, she'd not seen her parents since returning to town with Mitch. He'd once again asked her to reconsider staying. But she kept changing her mind. On one hand, she did want to finish the assignment, but on the other, the quicker away from her parents the better.
She lay back on her bed and touched her lips. Kissing Mitch was like nothing she'd experienced. The hardness of his body against hers, like a strong barrier against the world, gave her a sense of security.
It was foolish to give in to ideas like those of a teenage girl. Mitch Banks had acted out of instinct. Intuition told her he was an honorable, good man who would protect and support another human being. Something her parents definitely lacked.
Yet something dark caused him to drink, to escape with alcohol.
Footsteps sounded outside her door and she jerked to sit. Not ready to speak to her father, she held her breath hoping they'd keep on moving past.
“Bethany, dear?” her mother called from the other side of the door. Bethany slid to sit up on the bed, hoping the door was locked. The knob turned and her mother opened the door. Her eyes widened at seeing Bethany in bed. “Did you not hear me call? Are you unwell?”
Amanda floated to a chair and sat, her eyebrows high, awaiting Bethany’s answer.
“I just recently returned to the hotel. I went to take pictures.”
“Your father is quite upset at you not appearing for the appointment with the banker.” Her mother studied her fingernails, the picture of nonchalance. “You should apologize and make amends. I believe he rescheduled for tomorrow.”
“Why did you ask me to come with you?” Bethany always found a blunt, unexpected question sometimes got the best answer.
Her mother regarded her for a moment. “It is our desire, your father's and mine, that you decide to live with us. As a family.” Her lips curved in a bright smile. “Won't it be lovely to spend time together? Be friends?” Amanda Jones stood and clapped. “I could pose for some of those pictures you take. We can have them framed in our new home.”
“Mother.” Bethany attempted to keep from yelling, but her mother's frown told Bethany that she’d succeeded in getting her attention. “I believe there is another reason for my presence here.”
“And what reason would that be, Bethany?” Her father stood at the door, his already ruddy complexion dark, his glare piercing. “Why were you not at the bank today?”
“Oh, dear,” her mother sank into the chair and looked from him to Bethany.
Barnabas Jones entered the room and closed the door. “Tell me, daughter, what is the reason for your absence today?”
“I assume you would have purchased the house without me. I am not interested in any inheritance from you. Therefore, my presence is superfluous in any meeting with bankers.”
Her parents exchanged a look that she pretended not to notice. Then her father's demeanor softened, his shoulders lowered and his lips curved into a soft smile. “Of course you must be our heir. You are our only child, Bethany. We love you and want to ensure your future is secure.”
Her stomach pitched at the stale words. Bethany inhaled, her throat constricting. “I wish it were true. I have always hoped that one of you cared for me, even just a little. Of course, grandmother loves me and took great pains to assure me that you did
. But the lack of visits, the way you ignore me when I am with you tells a totally different story.” She went to the door and opened it. “Please leave. I need to be alone. I will be returning to New York as soon as possible.”
Her father rushed to her mother's side and helped her to her feet. Her wide eyes met Bethany's. “You can't return all that way alone. It's too dangerous.” She swung to her husband. “Barnabas, do something.”
“Of course, dear,” her father replied wearily. “Bethany is just upset, darling. Why don't you go rest and allow me to speak to her alone.”
Amanda walked to the door, stopping when in front of Bethany. “I'm sorry you feel unappreciated. I do my best.” Tears glistened and she blinked them away. She walked out after giving her husband a searching look.
Bethany remained by the door while her father ignored her request and paced. “I won't leave until we discuss this arrangement.” He motioned to the door. “Please close the door, Bethany.”
She did as he said but remained standing by it. “There is nothing you can say that will convince me to sign any deed.”
“Your mother is dying. I have spent the last five years emptying my accounts, going broke to keep her alive. Moving here, out west, was the last recommendation we received.” He sank onto the bed, his face in his hands. When his shoulders shuddered Bethany realized he was crying. “I don't know that I can live without her. She is like the air to me. My only reason for living.”
“I don't understand. She looks perfectly well to me.” Bethany did not go near him. The awkwardness of the moment saddened her more than her father's display of emotion. “What is wrong with her?”
“Her heart. She cannot be upset. Her heart cannot take it and she faints regularly. To most, it appears as if she falls asleep.”
“So now you intend to use my portion of my grandfather's inheritance to continue in this crusade?”
With a sharp inhale, her father nodded. “So you know about the money? I wanted to use part of it to purchase the house and the mercantile. I need a way to support your mother.”
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