Morrow Creek Runaway

by Lisa Plumley

  “You didn’t bring your security man Judah this time,” Savannah had pushed. “Are you feeling…better these days?”

  Rosamond had only smiled. “Yes. Much better. I didn’t bring Judah because I didn’t need to.” Also, because he really is smitten with me. “In fact, I might have to let him go soon.”

  She couldn’t very well let Judah waste his time pining away for her. She was devoted to Miles now. Besides, Rosamond truly didn’t require her security men anymore, and Judah was too kindhearted to be strung along with charity. He deserved more.

  She knew he could accomplish more, once she let him go.

  With that sobering thought in mind, Rosamond carried on through town. She passed the milliner and the dressmaker, the blacksmith’s shop and the schoolhouse. She ducked into the butcher’s for a bone for Riley—just to prove she could without shaking and sweating and wanting to run—and then headed home.

  The only thing that could have made her day better was seeing Miles, Rosamond decided as she walked onward. But they needed some time apart. She had business to deal with; Miles had his job at the livery stable. Taciturn Owen Cooper was understanding, but he was no pushover. He’d hired Miles to do a job. He’d made it plain he expected that job to be completed.

  “You’ll need to work hard if you want to buy more crackers,” Rosamond had joked with Miles, dallying at his quarters after their last rendezvous. “You’re almost finished with your initial twenty pounds, and I hear Mr. Hofer just got in a new barrel.”

  Miles had only laughed in that carefree way she loved, then pulled her into his arms. “Well, loving you is hungry work.”

  “Maybe you should buy yourself the entire barrel, then,” Rosamond had advised him merrily. “Because I expect a whole lot more loving where that came from.”

  Even now, as she rounded the corner and headed down her quiet street, Rosamond had to shake her head at her own brashness. She’d always been bold—at least until Arvid Bouchard had stolen some of the daring from her—but she’d never before tiptoed along the cusp of respectability the way she’d been doing with Miles lately. If she hadn’t been nigh convinced that he was on the verge of proposing marriage to her…

  Well, she wouldn’t have allowed things to progress as far as they had, that’s all. Plain and simple.

  But she trusted Miles. She trusted Miles to offer marriage—to make both their futures more secure. In fact, Rosamond believed that Miles would propose to her that very evening. He’d tried not to give away his plans, but she knew him too well not to have recognized the telltale gleam in his eyes.

  “Tonight,” he’d promised, “we’ll do something special.”

  “Give the puppy two bones? Teach her to fetch?”

  A smile. “Even more special than that.”

  “Well, I plumb can’t imagine what that might be,” Rosamond had pretended, feeling new gladness uncurl inside her. “With all this anticipation you’re building, it had better be good.”

  “Oh, it will be good. I promise.”

  “Just tell me now,” she’d cajoled, but Miles had refused. He’d never been a man to rush things, as evidenced by the very long time he’d waited to finally hint at his romantic feelings for her, all the way from Boston till now. He still wasn’t.

  But that didn’t mean Rosamond wasn’t anticipating the big event, all the same. She wondered if Miles’s marriage proposal would take place in her parlor, the way all her mutual society members’ proposals did. She wondered if she’d scream with joy or simply smile, if Miles would appear shy but pleased, like Mr. Robertson, or exuberant and thrilled like Gus Winston.

  When Miss Abigail had accepted Gus’s proposal, Rosamond recalled, he’d actually yodeled out a high-spirited “Yee-haw!”

  Her neighbors insisted the sound still echoed nearby.

  Remembering it now as she approached her gated household, Rosamond couldn’t help smiling. She couldn’t quite envision Miles screeching that way, like one of Everett Bannon’s ranch hands gone wild at Murphy’s saloon on a payday. All the same…

  All the same…Rosamond was ninety-nine percent certain that was Arvid Bouchard standing at her gate, arguing with Judah.

  *

  Miles was sitting on a hand-braided rug on the floor of Daisy Cooper’s front room, in the middle of a circle of youngsters, when Seth Durant came in. Broad-shouldered and awkward amid the women and children and babies who’d all joined in for Mrs. Cooper’s daily get-together, Seth pushed forward.

  “Callaway, you’re going to want to come with me.”

  Miles couldn’t explain the suddenly terse quality to Rosamond’s security man’s voice, but he didn’t try very hard.

  “Mr. Durant, you can probably see I’m busy.” Smiling at the children, Miles turned back to little Tommy Scott’s shoe. With a flourish, he finished demonstrating how to tie its laces. He nodded. “…and that, you see, is how it’s properly done.”

  As though he’d performed magic, they all applauded.

  Miles gave a modest wave. That only increased the children’s clamoring to have the next turn at learning how to tie a shoe. He could learn to like this, Miles decided with a flush of contentment. He wanted a home. A family. A wife and children of his own. Now that he and Rosamond were together—really together—Miles had a shot at seeing all his dreams come true. Especially if his plans for tonight, with Rose, went well.

  Seth tapped his shoulder. “I’m going to have to insist.”

  “And I’m going to have to decline.”

  “It’s important.”

  “Is it about Mrs. Dancy?”

  Seth scowled at his own hastily snatched-off hat. “No.”

  “Then it’s not important.” Miles looked at Tommy. “Tommy, why don’t you try it for yourself this time. Just make a bow—”

  “It’s about the strangers who just got off the train.”

  Miles went still. The only strangers who would cause Seth any shred of alarm were the roughnecks Arvid Bouchard employed.

  Before Miles could respond to that, Mrs. Cooper did.

  “If you’re fixing to have a disagreement, gentlemen,” Daisy interrupted tartly, “I’m going to have to insist you leave.”

  Quietly, Lucinda Larkin stood from her chair at the edge of the circle. With the baby held, blanket-wrapped, in her arms, she gestured for Tobe to follow her. They slipped outside.

  Seth watched them leave, his gaze inscrutable.

  Miles should have followed her, he knew. Lucinda Larkin was the sole reason he’d come upstairs today and allowed himself to be ambushed into entertaining the children. He’d glimpsed her arriving for Daisy Cooper’s get-together. He’d finagled himself an impromptu invitation so he could watch her with the baby.

  All he’d learned was that Lucinda Larkin was as capable at comforting a fussy baby as she was at playing a fiddle.

  He did wonder, though…if that was Rosamond and Arvid’s secret baby, why was Mrs. Larkin caring for it herself?

  But on the other hand, what better way was there to throw off attention from the child’s real mother? Rosamond certainly had plenty of free time between her mutual society duties and seeing Miles. It was possible that she’d been sneaking away to the Lorndorff to pay regular visits to Mrs. Larkin and her baby, just the way a doting mother would have wanted to do.

  Because it hadn’t taken Miles long to learn that that’s where Lucinda was hiding out—at the Lorndorff Hotel. Miles already knew that Rosamond held regular meetings at the hotel. Judah, all gregarious and unwitting, had provided that information to him that very morning. Judah hadn’t disclosed whom Rosamond usually met with, but Miles knew—

  He knew that right now, he had to think about those men.

  “Let’s discuss this outside, Durant.” Miles rose. He angled his head toward the door, silently suggesting that Seth precede him through it. Miles fetched his hat. He waved it toward Mrs. Cooper and the women and children in a polite farewell. “Thank you kindly for the refreshments and t
he company, ma’am. Ladies.” Miles gave an elaborate bow. “Youngsters…behave yourselves.”

  Amid a chorus of childish promises to be good—along with several high-pitched feminine goodbyes—Miles took his leave.

  Once downstairs in the livery stable, safely amid the hay and the horses and the smell of liniments and leather, Miles turned to Seth. His good-hearted demeanor faded. “What men?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Doubtless surprised by Miles’s sudden change of mood, Seth stammered. “I s-saw them at the station. They weren’t from around here. They didn’t look up to no good.” His gaze turned crafty. “I reckoned they’d get your attention, though, being that you’re not from around here, either…and you’ve got some secrets you’re wanting to keep, too.”

  This wasn’t an emergency. It was a dead end, Miles realized. Seth couldn’t possibly know his secrets. He was fishing, hoping to lure in Miles with the threat of exposure.

  Miles wasn’t biting. But he was wondering what was so all-fired important that Durant had interrupted him just now.

  “What were you doing at the station?” he demanded.

  “Waiting for somebody.” Seth clutched his hat, turning its brim round and round in his hands. “He didn’t come like he was supposed to, though. He didn’t meet me. It got me thinking.”

  “Thinking what?”

  “That maybe I need a new source of income, that’s what.”

  Seth’s belligerent tone put Miles on guard. “The way I see it, Mrs. Dancy pays you too much already for the lackadaisical work you do. Who in their right mind would pay you more?”

  “You. Leastwise, that’s what I’m thinking.”

  Miles didn’t understand. “What would I pay you for?” He gestured at himself, indicating his size and strength. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, son, but I’m a sight bigger and stronger and more experienced than you. So if you don’t start getting real plain, real soon, we are going to have a disagreement.”

  Seth gulped. But he held firm. “I couldn’t help noticing,” he said nervously, “that you have an interest in Mrs. Larkin.”

  Miles frowned. He didn’t like thinking he’d been that obvious. But to someone who’d been paying attention…maybe he had. Maybe he’d let himself get too distracted loving Rosamond.

  “I couldn’t help noticing you’re in deep to a thirteen-year-old,” Miles pointed out acerbically. “I guess we both have our complications when it comes to the Larkin family. How much do you owe Tobe now?”

  “Sixty dollars. But that’s nothing compared to what I got from that kid.” Seth shifted his gaze to the stable’s wide doorway, where Owen Cooper was helping a customer. “He likes to talk, Tobe does. What he told me might interest you, I think.”

  Of course. Miles couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought up that angle for himself. Tobe would know if his mother had had a baby. Tobe would also know if his mother was just watching Rosamond’s child, keeping the baby secret from nosy neighbors…and from the prying eyes of a man who’d come calling from Rosamond’s past.

  “Look, if you think you can hold out on me, you’re wrong,” Seth burst out, shifting on his massive feet. He darted another tense glance toward the stable’s entryway. “I spent my damn nest egg, tossing dice with that boy while listening to him talk. I want to be paid! I’ve got information you want.”

  If that was true, Miles could wait a few minutes longer for it. “Who were you waiting for at the train depot?”

  Frustrated, Seth swiveled his attention back to Miles. “You don’t know him. Judah was supposed to help him, as a favor to his brother, Cade. But he didn’t want the job. He was afraid of crossing Mrs. Dancy by spying on one of her friends, so I—”

  Miles lowered his voice. “Who? I’m not asking again.”

  “His name’s Blackhouse. Simon Blackhouse.” Seth looked beleaguered. “He wanted somebody to watch over Mrs. Larkin. I don’t know why. All I know is, Blackhouse didn’t turn up when he said he would. He was supposed to come today. He was supposed to pay me. Today. But there aren’t any more trains coming in from California.” Seth paced. “The bastard stiffed me!”

  Frowning at him, Miles tried to make sense of it all. He’d heard of a certain Blackhouse family. Back in Boston, at the Bouchards’, conversation had swirled about the Blackhouses…about how ruthless, how conniving, how impossibly wealthy—and thus welcome into polite society—they all were. Miles couldn’t think why someone like that would be interested in kindly Mrs. Larkin.

  “These men you saw at the station,” Miles pressed. “What did they look like?”

  Seth seemed taken aback. “Big. Dangerous. Rich. They all had on fancy suits. They got out of a private railcar. That’s why, at first, I thought they were with Blackhouse.” He shook his head at Miles. “If you want to know more, you can pay me.”

  Miles compressed his mouth. He shook his head at Seth. “You’ve put Mrs. Dancy in danger. While you were busy trying to get money from me, you left her alone.”

  Rather than dole out the greenbacks the man expected, Miles turned on his heel. He headed for the stable’s exit.

  “Hey!” Behind him, Seth blustered. “Hang on a damn minute!”

  But Miles couldn’t. He stopped in the double doorway where Owen Cooper stood with one hand full of a black mare’s reins.

  “I’m sorry,” Miles said. “I’ve got to leave for a while.”

  Cooper eyed him. “It’s the middle of a workday.”

  “It’s urgent. If I don’t come back, sell all my things. Keep what you need. Give the rest of the money to Mrs. Dancy.”

  “Ah.” Owen Cooper nodded knowingly. “Woman troubles?”

  Miles couldn’t imagine how the man could possibly know that. Owen Cooper seemed nothing if not blissfully wed to Daisy.

  “Something like that,” Miles said. Then he turned and left, hoping he still had time before everything went wrong.

  *

  Fixedly, Rosamond stared at the men standing near her gate. Her heart started hammering. Her breath caught up short.

  This could not be happening, she reminded herself.

  Arvid Bouchard was in Boston. Savannah Corwin, she knew, had received a telegram from Bouchard more than two weeks ago. She’d told Rosamond that much today, at the hotel. Rosamond had asked her friend to be alert to any communications from Arvid, and Savannah had dutifully reported that one. She’d been curiously indistinct on the details of the telegram, but the most crucial fact remained. On the day of Rosamond’s panicky attack in town, the man she feared had been in the state.

  He’d been much too far away to hurt her again.

  On the other hand, two weeks was enough time to cross the country by rail—especially if you were a man with influence.

  If you were a man with influence, you could pay someone to send a telegram westward with your name on it, too…couldn’t you?

  Gulping back a fresh wave of terror, Rosamond watched. Twenty or thirty yards away, Bouchard shook his fist at Judah.

  Judah said something fierce that she couldn’t understand. His intimation was plain, though. He wasn’t backing down.

  Thank heaven for her protectors. When the chips were down, Judah wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t even intimidated. He was bigger and tougher than heavyset Arvid Bouchard, even if Judah did come up short in pure meanness. Rosamond, on the other hand…

  All she wanted to do was flee.

  She could do it, too, she realized as she clutched her hands in fists, frozen in place. She could just run away. She could avoid Arvid Bouchard forever. She could let Judah and Dylan and Seth handle him. She could be free. No one would ever know that she’d come this way. She could simply walk away.

  The idea held merit. She was afraid of Arvid Bouchard.

  She was afraid of confronting him. Afraid, even, of being close enough for him to grab her and hurt her. It didn’t matter that she knew Judah would move mountains to protect her.

  Her fear was unreasoning and inescapable.

&nb
sp; That’s how Rosamond knew she had to face it down.

  Hauling in a huge breath, she fixed Arvid Bouchard with her sturdiest gaze. She made her feet move, going straight toward him. She knew, all the while, that she was crazy to do so.

  What if Bouchard hurt her? Hit her? Ruined her?

  He could do it. He’d always held unfair power over her. That’s why she’d never challenged him before. It would have been useless to try. Arvid and Genevieve Bouchard had controlled everything in Rosamond’s life—her livelihood, her living arrangements, her friends and her future.

  But now, Rosamond reminded herself, she’d forged a new life. She’d become strong and resilient. Thanks to everything she’d gone through, she was braver than ever.

  Then, too, there were things she knew now—things that had become clear to Rosamond only after she’d fled Boston…

  “I’m telling you, Mrs. Dancy is not at home,” Judah was saying as she approached. He caught sight of her. His eyes narrowed. He signaled for her to escape. “You’d better leave.”

  “I’m not leaving until I see her,” Bouchard insisted, adding a vile epithet for Judah. He had the arrogant bearing of a man who expected to get what he wanted because he always had. “She’s got something of mine. I came a long way to get it.”

  The sound of his voice made her feel ill. Rosamond kept going. Gravel crunched under her shoes. The sun shone down.

  It shone down just the way it had on the day Bouchard had violated her. The sun didn’t warm her, but it did remind her.

  Judah crossed his arms, big and menacing. “I think I just heard you call Mrs. Dancy a thief. You’d better apologize.”

  “Apologize? To that whore?” A bitter laugh. “I’d sooner—”

  In an instant, Judah had Bouchard by the throat.

  Rosamond wanted to let her security man wring Arvid’s neck like a dog with a ragdoll. She was ashamed of the impulse.