“No!” she shouted with a fist slam of her own, “because a real man would stand up for what’s right no matter the cost.”
Something ominous snaked down his spine as a tic pulsed in his jaw. “No, Libby,” he said in a tone as hard and cold as the reality he faced. “A real man would stand up to a woman who’s wrong.”
Her shoulders stiffened as a steely veneer settled over her features just like the one he’d seen when a teapot grazed his head years ago. “Then maybe you better take me back to the ranch,” she said quietly, a glaze of wetness in her eyes.
He extended a hand to pull her close, but she only flinched and scooted away, cramping his gut when tears slipped from her eyes. “No, Libby, I’ll take you home,” he said quietly, “and we’ll talk about this later.”
“My home is in New York,” she whispered with a hitch in her throat, “and there will be no ‘later.’”
Finn just stared, her words gashing a hole in his heart. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” A silver trail of tears slithered her cheek while grief doused all the fire in her eyes. “We’re no good for each other, Finn,” she said quietly, her voice laced with regret. “Control is too important to both of us. I battle for control to protect myself and other women, and you battle to control me.”
“That’s not true—”
“It is, Finn.” A sob broke from her lips, and he reached for her, but she only moved further away, putting a shaky hand to her eyes. “And whether it’s my fault, your fault, both of ours, or even the fault of others you know nothing about, I … I can’t do this.”
His blood chilled. “What do you mean,‘the fault of others’ I know nothing about?”
She turned away, arms gripped tightly to her waist. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please, just take me back.”
“You darn well better talk about it,” he said, an uneasy feeling singeing his temper, “after a remark like that. Our life is in the balance here, Libby, and I need to know what you meant.”
Her lips quivered despite the lift of her chin. “It means too many men have tried to force their hand with me, Finn, well beyond you and my father, to control me and bully me, and I can’t”—her eyes flickered as if she were having trouble getting the words out, tears streaming all the while—“I won’t be subject to that again.”
“Oh, Libby …” It was a hoarse whisper as Finn moved to take her in his arms, the ache in his chest a mix of both grief and fury.
“No, Finn, please—I’m asking you not to touch me!” She practically straddled the edge of the seat, palm quivering as she warded him off.
Swallowing hard, he backed away, heart cramping at the look of fear in her face, something he’d never seen in this woman before. “Libby,” he whispered, “I love you with everything in me, darlin’, so please—don’t shut me out.”
“I can’t help it,” she said, the words barely audible as her gaze lapsed into dead stare. “Because I can’t be the wife you need me to be.”
“Why?” His voice cracked.
“Because I can’t give you what you want.”
“Libby, all I want is your love.”
“No!” A spark of anger flickered in her eyes as she faced him again. “You want control, just like every other man I’ve ever known except for Harold. Always pushing, prodding, threatening”—her chin rose while her voice tapered off to a pained whisper—“taking.”
She shook her head, arms braced to her waist as if to shield her body. “I don’t think this is going to work, Finn. The damage inside of me is too deep, and I don’t know how to change that.” Her body seemed to sag as she pled with her eyes before turning away, her face a porcelain profile shutting him out. “I’m so very tired,” she whispered, “so will you take me back now? Please?”
His gaze burned into her for several excruciating seconds, mind racing as he struggled to know what to say or do. He finally relented with a long and weary sigh. “All right, Libby, I’ll take you home. But this isn’t over, darlin’, because tomorrow we talk.” Lifting the reins, he clicked his tongue to spur Lightning on, a sick feeling seeping into his gut like sludge.
She was leaving. Again. Reopening the wound she’d inflicted before. But this time Finn wasn’t going to let her go quite so easily, determined to discuss this tomorrow when cooler heads prevailed. And he would do everything in his power to change her mind.
Problem was, it was her “power” that stood in the way.
His jaw tamped down as he steered the carriage up the drive. And if she wouldn’t listen? Then he would just get on with his life. Throw himself into politics with a vengeance and eventually marry somebody else. He halted the carriage in front of the house, and Libby bolted without a word, closing the door behind. He snapped the reins with a little too much force, convincing himself he’d be fine either way. And he had no doubt that he would.
Once the bleeding stopped.
And the gash in his heart went away.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Sobbing into her pillow, Maggie figured she deserved this. She’d known better than to get involved with Blaze Donovan, but her heart had betrayed her.
Right along with his.
“You’re the only woman I want,” he’d told her. She sniffed and dabbed her handkerchief to her eyes.
But apparently not.
Lumbering onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, her body limp and her emotions spent. She would leave tomorrow—she had no choice. Living in the same house as Blaze, a mere bedroom away, would kill her. It was bad enough hearing him come home late the last three nights, knowing he’d been at the Ponderosa flirting with women. Her eyelids quivered closed, leaking more tears while she smothered another sob. But seeing him kiss some other girl with such passion, her body pressed hard against his, had ripped Maggie wide open, and she feared nothing could staunch the flow but distance and time.
Lots and lots of time.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Shea’s new house wasn’t quite ready, so she couldn’t move there. And she’d checked with Mrs. Cleary a while back about renting a room in her boardinghouse after Aunt Libby and Finn got married—if they got married, which was yet another ache in Maggie’s heart. She patted her eyes. Well, if Mrs. Cleary still didn’t have a room to let tomorrow, Maggie would just move in with Andrea Jo for a while. Her friend from work lived with her grandmother just outside of town and had offered Maggie lodging if she’d ever needed it.
And heaven knows she did.
Now.
Of course, Aunt Libby wouldn’t like it, but she would certainly understand needing distance when a man broke your heart. Wouldn’t she? Thoughts of her aunt prompted a prayer that God would heal the rift between her and Finn because Maggie had never seen two people that needed each other more.
Like you and Blaze? The taunt in her mind stabbed, but not as much as the idea of Blaze never making amends with God. The night in the loft had jolted her, opening her eyes to the danger of loving a man who lacked faith. The painful realization had been a two-edged sword that pierced Maggie’s heart, not only severing their relationship, but possibly any hope for Blaze’s soul.
The doorknob creaked, and Maggie quickly blotted her face, her concerns immediately turning to her aunt. “Aunt Libby, are you all right?” Lamplight from the hall shafted into the room, silhouetting the defeated posture of the woman who suddenly seemed so very frail.
“No.” Her aunt’s hoarse whisper quivered in the air, and Maggie hurried to give her a tight hug, gently leading her to the bed they both shared. “Finn and I …” her aunt continued with a broken heave, “we’re through.”
Maggie’s heart stopped for several beats when Libby slumped into her arms with a sob, the sound of her aunt’s sorrow shredding her heart all the more. “No, Aunt Libby, it’s just one quarrel, that’s all. You and Finn love each other.” She clung to her with all of her might, desperate to absorb some of her pain.
“It d-doesn’t m-matter,” Libby whispered, her tone nasal
with fluid and grief, “we’re no good for each other, Maggie. It didn’t work before and it won’t work now. I have to go.”
Maggie retrieved a fresh handkerchief from her nightstand drawer, rubbing Libby’s back while her aunt wiped at her eyes. “Back to New York? But you don’t have a job anymore, Aunt Libby, and you broke it off with Harold, so what’s there to go back to?”
Libby sniffed. “Susan B. Anthony told me last year that if I was ever willing to leave Vassar, she would find a job for me at the National Woman Suffrage Association.” Her shoulders slumped as she lagged into a distant stare. “It doesn’t pay near as much as I was making at Vassar, but it’s someplace I’d want to be.”
Maggie blinked at the moisture welling in her eyes, the notion of Aunt Libby leaving sinking in for the very first time. She thrust her soggy handkerchief to her mouth to thwart a rising sob, but it was no use. The tide of heartache over Blaze broke it loose on a string of wobbly heaves.
“Maggie?” Libby gripped her arms, bending to peer into her eyes. “Darling, what is it? I know we’ll miss each other, but we’ll write and visit a number of times a year, I promise.” She skimmed a gentle hand down Maggie’s hair, searching her face. “I was so angry at Finn, I didn’t notice anything else, but did something happen tonight?”
Giving a shaky nod, Maggie took another clean handkerchief out of the drawer and mopped at her tears. “I saw Blaze and he … he”—her body shuddered at the memory—“was kissing another girl.”
“Oh, sweetheart …” Libby swallowed her up in a voracious hug, soothing her with gentle rocking as she stroked her hair. “My heart aches for you, Maggie,” she whispered with fresh tears, “and oh, how I wish there was something I could do.”
Maggie rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder, a sudden hiccup turning into a pitiful smile. “Just look at us, Aunt Libby. Two heartbroken suffragists wounded by men. It’s enough to make me go back and volunteer with you.”
Libby jerked away, fingers still gripped to Maggie’s arms. “Well, then, here’s a crazy thought—why don’t you?” she said with a hush in her voice, as if she could barely believe it could really happen.
Maggie blinked, then blinked again, Aunt Libby’s crazy idea suddenly not so crazy anymore. Her mind raced with memories of Sister Fred and all the other nurses and nuns she would miss, and the family she’d found in Sheridan and Shay, Dash and Jake, the O’Sheas and even Angus and ol’ crabby Gert. A dull ache settled in at leaving them all until Blaze’s image suddenly appeared with a slash of pain so potent, she knew she had her answer.
“Yes,” she whispered, then said it again with more conviction, feeling God’s pull to lead her back home.
“Yes?” Libby said with a hopeful arch of brows, “you’ll go with me?”
She nodded, and water welled in her aunt’s eyes before she lunged into Maggie’s arms.
“Oh, Maggie,” she whispered, clinging as if she would never let go, “knowing we’ll be together during a time like this just helps somehow, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” Maggie held onto her aunt with a ferocious hug, so very grateful neither of them would have to go through this alone.
Libby pulled away, the tiniest glimmer of hope in her eyes. “I’ll wire my aunt tomorrow that we’re coming back, and I know it will be a blessing to her as well.” Dashing a tear from her face, she managed a wobbly smile. “The poor thing is so very lonely and writes all the time that she misses us terribly, so it will be good to see her again. Oh, and I’m friends with several of the ladies at the National Woman Suffrage Association who are married to surgeons and hospital administrators, so we won’t have any trouble finding you a job.” She gave Maggie another hug, a hint of excitement threading her tone. “And you can even volunteer with me if you want.” She paused. “But there is one thing I’d like to ask if I may?”
Maggie grasped her aunt’s arm, lips trembling into a grateful smile. “Anything, Aunt Libby, absolutely anything.”
Libby dipped her head to peek up into Maggie’s face with a fragile look, revealing a vulnerability Maggie seldom saw in her aunt. “Your mother was the only true friend I’ve ever had, Maggie, and the only person I trusted enough to unburden my soul, and I miss her terribly.” Expelling a wispy sigh, she swiped at her eyes with a ragged sniff. “When she died, I was heartbroken, thinking I would never trust anyone like that again. But living here with you, darling, sharing a room for six months …” Libby cupped a wavering hand to Maggie’s face, a gesture that brought more tears to both of their eyes. “I almost feel like I’m with her again, you know? And my heart so longs for another friend like that …”
Her aunt’s voice broke on a frail heave, and Maggie swallowed her up in a weepy embrace. “Oh, Aunt Libby, me too! Mama was everything to me, but when I’m with you, I can’t help but feel like she’s here, too, nudging us together to be good friends.”
Libby nodded, sniffing and blotting her face with the handkerchief. “I know,” she said with a shaky smile, reaching to take Maggie’s hand in her own. “That’s how I feel, too.” She pushed a lock of Maggie’s hair over her shoulder, the love and closeness between them filling Maggie with a beautiful calm. “Don’t get me wrong—I love being your godmother and aunt, sweetheart, but to be honest, more than anything right now, I could sure use another friend like your sweet mother, and I think maybe you feel the same. So if this doesn’t sound so very silly to you, could you … would you …”—her chin quivered as more saltwater coated her cheeks—“be my best friend?”
“Oh, Aunt Libby!” It was Maggie’s turn to launch into her godmother’s arms, tears falling freely as she squeezed with all of her might. “Don’t you know?” Her voice was thick with emotion as she pulled away, in awe of the special ways God sometimes healed a broken heart. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
“Can we go home now—please?” Shaylee’s look of pain mirrored Finn’s stomach exactly.
Glancing at his watch, he released a weary sigh as he scanned the ballroom of Piper’s Opera House, barely seeing the crowd of people celebrating his success. It was a rare mix of cowhands and town folk dressed in their Sunday best, laughing and chatting with his wealthier supporters, each and every one a vital vote. Waiters in tie and tails passed hors d’oevres on silver trays and refilled goblets of soda water and champagne while a string quartet provided background music. It was Finn’s victory celebration, but celebrating was the last thing on his mind. And judging from the looks of gloom on his nieces’ and nephews’ faces around their banquet table, along with the O’Shea’s, it appeared he wasn’t alone.
Correction: He was alone.
Because just as the votes had been counted early this evening deeming Finn Mayor of Virginia City, he’d learned that Libby and Maggie had left on the 2:10 to Reno. And based on the time on his watch—well after eight—they were well on their way to a city that seemed like the other end of the earth.
He was still more than a little numb because deep down, he hadn’t really thought she would go. Somehow, he had foolishly believed his election as mayor would change her mind, especially when he explained just how this win could lead to a senate seat, where he could actually do something about women’s rights. For him, winning both Libby back and the mayorship should have been a win-win.
Instead, it was a loss-win that felt way more like a loss, leaving him sitting here with a starched smile on his face and a hole in his heart, lamenting the one thing he hadn’t counted on losing.
Libby.
Hand on the back of his empty chair, he upended his sparkling soda water, wondering if anyone would notice if he left. His mouth crooked as he smiled and nodded at something John Piper was saying to him and several others, a bit guilty that he was only half listening. John would notice, that was for dead sure. For pity’s sake, his closest political consultant and now good friend was happier about the outcome than anyone, as if he’d run for political office instead of Finn. Th
e edge of Finn’s lips kicked up.
Then maybe John should stay and play host while I leave.
Chuckling at all the appropriate places while John told a joke, Finn set his empty glass on the table where his family quietly chatted and looked like he’d lost the election. Giving Shaylee a wink that did nothing for her scowl, Finn laughed on cue when a burst of men’s laughter punctuated John’s punchline.
All at once John rose up on his heels to scour the room, two tiny ridges forming above his nose that produced the first frown Finn had seen on his face all day. “Speaking of our better halves, where is Libby, Finn?”
Finn froze along with his smile.
Uh, Salt Lake City?
Giving a gruff clear of his throat, he slapped an arm over John’s shoulder to lean close enough that the others couldn’t hear. “Libby’s gone, John. Left this morning for New York.”
John’s eyes expanded as his mouth fell open. Grasping Finn’s arm, he led him away from the group of men, silver brows crumpling in concern. “Because of last night?” he said in a low voice, incredulity edging his tone.
“Yeah.” Finn buried his hands deep in the pockets of his dress trousers, rocking back on his heels as if everyone in the room could see his shame over the broken engagement. With a shrug of his shoulders, he attempted to deflect some of his pain with a sheepish smile. “Won the election, but lost the girl, I guess.”
“Finn, I am so very sorry.” John hooked an arm around Finn’s shoulder, the genuine regret in his eyes tightening Finn’s throat. “Is there anything I can do?”
“As a matter of fact, John, there is.” Finn nodded to his table where Shaylee’s moping had reached new heights with her head buried in her arms on the table, either sleeping or crying her eyes out.
Finn would have opted for the second.
“My family’s pretty upset over Libby’s and Maggie’s departures, so it’s taken a bit of the wind out of our sails, if you know what I mean. I was thinking we might call it a night and head on home if you don’t mind.”
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