Heart of Stone

by Jill Marie Landis

“We’re…we’re friends,” she said.

  “He’d like it to be more,” Jesse said.

  She remembered the way Brand had held her in the hallway. Remembered the warmth of his strong embrace, the way she’d felt in his arms—cherished, protected.

  “He’s an honorable man,” she said softly. Far too honorable for her.

  “Still. He’d like to be more than friends.”

  She drew herself up, reminded herself she was Jesse’s employer.

  “I’d like you to start painting the front steps when you’re finished here.”

  “You sure you want me out there where everyone can see me?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “The black sheep? The minister’s long-lost half-breed bastard?”

  “Do not use that word here.”

  “It’s the truth, even if it offends your innocent ears.”

  She folded her arms. Eyed him carefully. If he thought crudeness would have her on the run, he was sorely mistaken.

  “You know, nothing you say could shock me. I prefer you keep your language clean. I have guests coming and going. If you’re going to work for me, you’re going to have to live by my rules.”

  “I’m not planning on sticking around long.”

  “So you say. I think you’ll be around a long time because I know what you want. The only way you’re going to get it is by not turning tail and running off.”

  He leaned on the top of the rake. “Oh, really? And what is it I want?”

  “A father. The father you never had.”

  His gaze shifted. “You’re crazy.”

  “I’m a lot of things, but crazy isn’t one of them. I would have given anything to have my father in my life when I was a child, but he died young. You, on the other hand, have a chance to get to know yours. He wants you in his life. No matter what may or may not have happened between Brand and your mother, that’s all in the past. This is the present. Your whole future is ahead of you. You can spend it with your father or without him. That much is up to you. Those children came to you with open arms this morning. You can be someone they look up to, a hero who can teach them right from wrong—but first you have to learn what that is for yourself.” She thought of Brand, knew what he would say. “You’re going to have to learn to forgive and to love.”

  She left before he could respond, before the anger he’d nurtured for so long had him tossing down the rake and walking out. She left him alone to think about what she’d just said.

  As she crossed the yard toward the back of the house, her eye caught the pure white of the last rose of the season. She paused to touch its soft, layered petals, to inspect the perfect, fully opened bloom. It was a miracle unto itself.

  “You’re going to have to learn to forgive and to love.”

  She didn’t know where the thought came from, but as she made her way into the house, she realized the words she’d said to Jesse she might just as well have told herself.

  FOURTEEN

  Time passed quickly, as time does when one is busy. It was Friday before Laura realized the week was nearly gone. She hadn’t seen or heard from Brand again, but she’d heard of him from Hank when he stopped by to extend an invitation to Sunday supper after church.

  When she politely declined, he asked if the scene on Sunday had soured her opinion of Brand.

  “Of course not,” she told him. “I took Jesse in, Hank, and I did it as much for Brand as for Jesse.”

  “Some folks might take it the wrong way if you don’t show up on Sunday. People will be looking to see who is and isn’t standing behind Brand. Your absence will be noted. Brand needs all the support he can get right now, and yours means a lot.”

  She thanked him and sent Hank on his way.

  An hour later, the bell rang again. She was patting her hair into place when she entered the entry hall and looked through the window in the door. Seeing the tall, broad-shouldered silhouette behind the lace panel, she found herself smiling. She paused long enough to take a deep breath and calm her racing pulse before she reached for the door handle.

  Brand’s name was on her lips as she opened the door, but the man standing on the other side was not Brand.

  She stared up in shock at Collier Holloway, her former business partner and paramour from New Orleans. He looked every bit the gambler, entrepreneur, and scoundrel that he was in a perfectly fitted black coat over a violet brocade vest, well-tailored trousers, and a black hat. She hadn’t seen him since she left Louisiana, and their parting had been less than amicable. Collier had done everything he could to try and entice her to stay. Though he let her go, she could never convince him that her own dream, her future, meant more to her than the money they could continue to make together. When she’d told him she hoped it wasn’t too late to salvage some scrap of decency in herself, he’d laughed in her face and called her a fool.

  She looked up at Collier, too stunned to speak.

  The day she’d dreaded for four years was here. It had begun like any other day. There had been no dark clouds on the horizon, no thunder or lightening, no warning of such an horrific turn of events.

  Nothing but the ring of the doorbell. And now here was Collier, smiling down at her. She said the first thing that came to mind.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “That’s a fine welcome for an old friend.” He looked past her, over her shoulder, into the interior of her home. His gaze was a violation of her carefully constructed world. “No welcoming kiss?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not.” Thankfully, no guests were about. Rodrigo was within shouting distance in the kitchen. She was safe enough. The last thing she wanted was someone to see Collier standing on the veranda. She grabbed his sleeve, pulled him inside, and slammed the door.

  “I figured you’d have missed me by now, but I didn’t reckon on this,” he said, doffing his hat and smiling down at her the way a snake might peruse a mouse.

  But she was no mouse, no matter how respectable she appeared.

  “What do you want?” She asked again. “Spit it out and leave.”

  “I want you. You were the best partner I ever had.”

  She’d been twenty-six the night she’d first laid eyes on him. She’d been seated on a velvet settee in the downstairs salon of the brothel on Rue de Lafayette, reading. Not only was she truly lost in the pages of a novel, but she’d found that putting on an air of complete disinterest was a challenge to many men. She always brought a book downstairs with her and was always the first chosen out of a dozen or so women in the room.

  When Collier strolled in she had immediately recognized in him the qualities that would help take her from one world to another.

  She could tell by his speech that he was a Yankee. The South was full of carpetbaggers, gamblers, and brash opportunists now that the war was over. Collier was definitely one of them. His appearance came at the perfect time—the upheaval and fighting had ended, the streets were somewhat safer, and she had made up her mind that she wanted out of this life for good.

  But she was ruined. She was a soiled dove and no decent man would have her. She was no fool. She knew that for a woman like Lovie Lamonte, there was nowhere to go but onto the streets. Without capital, without a protector, she’d be turned away by decent folk, forced to live hand to mouth, and eventually continue to be what she’d already become.

  She made certain Collier noticed her that first night by ignoring him. For a man who commanded a room with his very presence, being ignored was a new experience for him. She presented a challenge and she used her wiles as only she knew how to gain his admiration.

  “What is it you want most, Lovie? Name it and I’ll give it to you,” he told her one night.

  To live without shame, to find my sisters, to be free.

  She couldn’t tell him what she truly wanted and risk having him laugh in her face, so she said, “Money.”

  She ran her fingernail down his bare chest and added, “I want wealth beyond imagining an
d a place of my own.”

  He thought she’d meant a brothel of her own.

  “That’s easy enough,” he laughed. “I can set you up tomorrow if that’s all you want.” He wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger and tugged on it until she leaned closer and kissed him. “I’d want exclusive rights to you, though.”

  She pretended to think about his demand for a moment. “I’d want everything in writing,” she said. “We would be equal partners in the business and I would be able to walk away whenever I decided it was time.”

  He hesitated, but then nodded his assent. “Done.”

  “Once I’ve made my own money, I’d like you to help me invest it in other holdings.”

  Collier chuckled and shook his head. “There is a whole lot more to you than meets the eye, Lovie Lamonte—not that what meets the eye isn’t enough.”

  “I’ve had fifteen years to listen and learn, Mr. Holloway. I’ve a knack for honing in on the most successful person in a room and finding out all I can from them—be it a businessman or a whore. It’s time I put all my learning and ‘experience’ to work for myself.”

  He was true to his word and within a week she was running their new saloon and sporting house. The place was elegant; the women working there were the most refined and beautiful he could find in and out of New Orleans. Before long, patrons were lining up at the door.

  There was plenty of money to be made off the misfortunes of others. Laura amassed collateral and soon had enough to invest in properties up for auction.

  She and Collier made a fine team. He never once cheated her out of a penny and always gave her a hefty percentage of their profits.

  As soon as she felt she was sufficiently wealthy, she had told him it was time for them to part ways. He wasn’t happy about it, but he was a man of his word.

  At least she thought so until now, four years later, as she watched him walk around her drawing room and pause to run his fingertips across the mahogany surface of a drum table. He picked up a framed photograph of a woman in a black dress with a prim white collar. Her hands were folded sedately in her lap; her hair was drawn severely back. He snorted, set the picture frame down.

  “What about it, Lovie? Together we can’t lose.”

  “I’m not interested in anymore partnerships. I’m not interested in anything you have to offer, Collier,” she said. “I have what I wanted. I’ve moved on.”

  “I saw your ‘Women and Families Only’ sign. What does that mean?”

  “Exactly what it says. I don’t let rooms to single gentlemen. Ever.”

  “Why not?”

  “People here think I’m a widow. I have a…” She knew that to him it would sound ridiculous. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, come on, Lovie.”

  “My name is Laura, now. Laura Foster.” She turned away, walked to the fireplace, and stared down at the feather arrangement in a crystal vase she’d placed in front of the empty grate.

  “So I heard,” he said, wiping his eyes.

  “Where?”

  “From a certain Kansas state representative I ran into in San Antonio a few days ago.” He was still chuckling.

  “I’m glad you’re amused. You can go now.”

  “Aren’t you going to hear me out, at least?”

  “No. I’m not interested.”

  “My proposal is for a place right here in Glory. Nice little town, but sorely in need of some life.”

  “What are you talking about?” She didn’t want him in Glory. She didn’t want him within a thousand miles of her.

  Without invitation, he walked over to a wing chair, sat, and rested his hat on his knee.

  “You can’t sit there,” she said, hurrying across the room.

  “Sorry.” He stood up and headed for the settee.

  “You can’t sit anywhere.” She planted her hands on her hips. “You have to leave, Collier. I have guests arriving any minute now.”

  He wasn’t fazed by her irritation at all. He sat down on the settee. “When Botsworth mentioned he’d seen you and told me where, I decided I’d stop by—for old-time’s sake.”

  “Botsworth.” She knew the scoundrel’s stay would come back to haunt her.

  “Exactly. The honorable Representative Botsworth. He told me you were running a boardinghouse and that you’d become somewhat of a bore.” He glanced around the room again. “I can see you put all that money we made you to good use. No expense spared.”

  “I’m doing quite well, thank you.”

  He made a point of slowly looking around again. Then he shook his head. “But this isn’t really you, is it, Lovie?”

  She watched a smile curl his upper lip. She used to think him handsome, but seeing him here, surrounded by her lovely things, in her grand home, she couldn’t help but notice the cool calculation in his eyes, the cynicism in his tone.

  “I’ll thank you to call me Laura. My name is Laura Foster and this is me now. This is my life. My dream.”

  “I find this little town very interesting. Definitely a new frontier for me. Or maybe the last gasp of the old frontier. Who’s to say? At any rate, I stopped for a drink in that run-down establishment trying to pass for a saloon. The Silver Slipper.”

  Laura pictured the dingy, dimly lit watering hole with its sagging back stairs and dark secrets.

  “I don’t want to hear about it.” She took hold of his elbow intent on dragging him toward the entry hall, but he refused to get up.

  “Imagine my surprise when a gent came up to me, introduced himself as the owner. He said that he’s here from Austin for a couple of days looking for a buyer.”

  “What?”

  “He’s not looking any more. I bought it for a song.”

  “You bought the Silver Slipper?”

  He nodded. “In the hopes that you’ll run the place for me. In fact, I was thinking you could put me up here—until I saw that sign out front. Any chance that you’d make an exception for an old…friend?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Collier Holloway in Glory was bad enough. Collier Holloway owning the Silver Slipper was horrible. She didn’t know whether to rail at him or get her derringer and simply shoot him.

  “Think about it, Lovie. The two of us together again. I’d run the saloon, you’d manage the women upstairs. The place needs someone like you to add a little class. You’re already established in town—”

  “Stop!” She held up her hand. “Listen to me very carefully, Collier. The answer is no. I’m established here as a widow. I run a respectable boardinghouse. I want no part of the Silver Slipper, or that life again. I want not part of—” She stopped abruptly.

  “Go ahead. Say it.” He got up off the settee, crossed the space between them, and looked down at her. “Finish.”

  “I want no part of you.”

  “That hurts, Laura.”

  “I’m sorry. But I’ve started a new life. I’ve moved on.”

  “Your old life wasn’t all that bad. You amassed a small fortune. You had plenty of power. One word from you could bring down nearly every man of wealth and standing in New Orleans.”

  She thought of Bryce Botsworth, of how she’d blackmailed him into leaving her alone. She’s had that same leverage over men in Louisiana, but that kind of power was nothing compared to the freedom, the independence she had now.

  “What about the sordid, dark side, Collier? What about the fact that my childhood was stolen from me? That I’m lucky to be alive?”

  He indicated the room with a sweep of his hand. “You have everything money can buy, but this has to be boring for a woman like you. Sooner or later you’ll grow tired of being alone.”

  “I’d rather sleep alone for the rest of my life than sell myself again.”

  He took a step closer. She stepped back.

  “But you don’t have to,” he said softly.

  “Get out, Collier. You’ve already overstayed your welcome.”

 
; “I don’t recall you welcoming me in at all.” He sighed. “So the answer is no?”

  “The answer is no. Have you already paid for the saloon?”

  “I signed a note.”

  “Too bad. Maybe you can take it back.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to.” He looked her over from head to toe.

  “You’d never be happy here. This town is too small for you. Too boring. Besides,” she said, thinking of all he owned in Louisiana, “what of your other holdings?”

  He shrugged. “Still have them. New Orleans isn’t that far away. That’s why I was counting on you to go in with me. I could trust the management of the place to you when I’m not around.”

  She turned toward the entry hall. “I’ll walk you out. Now.”

  Thankfully, he followed her. “If you change your mind, you can find me at the Silver Slipper.”

  “Don’t hold your breath. I won’t be changing my mind.”

  They reached the front door, where he put his hat on and stepped outside. He paused on the top step, turned to face her. “I’m a betting man and I’m willing to bet you will change your mind. When you do, you know where I’ll be.”

  Anger flared. She tamped it down and suddenly found herself wishing Brand was there to hold her, to comfort her. She needed his steadfastness right now. His companionship. His goodness.

  Instead, she was with Collier Holloway, who had the power to take away everything she had worked for, everything that had come to matter to her.

  “You look peaked, Laura. Are you all right?”

  “Of course not. One word from you and I’ll be ruined in this town.”

  He put his thumb and forefinger beneath her chin. She turned her head, brushing him off.

  “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” He put on his hat, gave a jaunty salute, and headed down the walk.

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  For how long? she wondered. For how long?

  She caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to discover Jesse Langley standing off to one side of the porch, paint brush in hand.

  “Does the good reverend know you’re keeping secrets?” He set the paint brush down and pulled a rag out of the back of his waistband to wipe his hands.