Sam interjected, “I guess it’s a good thing you disguised yourself, Pa, when you came to New York with us.”
“You didn’t!” Rose gasped, and threw her napkin at Franklin.
He chuckled and handed the napkin back. “You think I could really go fifteen years without gazing on you?”
“I had to!” Rose exclaimed.
“But you knew why you had to, I didn’t.”
“But a disguise? So you did suspect something?”
“No, that was just so I could meet Tiffany. Well, it also made it easier for me to follow you around the city when you left your house. I did stay out of sight of your guards—thinking they worked for you.”
“You’re lucky whoever followed you never figured out what you were up to.”
“It was a good disguise, Mama,” Tiffany said. “He looked like an old man. I don’t think even you would have recognized him.”
“Why did you never tell me, baby?” Rose asked her.
Franklin answered. “She didn’t know. You were pretty clear about my not coming to New York for any reason.”
“I had to do it that way!” Rose cried. “You understand why, don’t you?”
“Yes, now we do. But it didn’t help Tiffany, thinking I didn’t care enough about her to even visit over the years.”
“I was afraid that if you showed up in the city even once, and Parker found out about it, that he’d change his mind about the revenge he’d settled on and simply have you killed instead. That was his first intention, you know. An eye for an eye. It was William Harris who talked him into this longer, never-ending revenge instead. Harris might even have thought it was a kinder version. At least you could have found someone else. It was only I who was never to have anyone ever again. But no one was to die as long as I remained alone.”
Tiffany was nearly in tears. She’d listened to it all, but it was so unfair! Her parents had never stopped loving each other, and they would never have gotten back together if Rose didn’t have that chance meeting with Ruth Harding. Rose could have gone on forever thinking she didn’t dare be in the same room with Frank.
“No one has paid for causing our family this heartache,” Tiffany said angrily.
“Harding is dead,” Frank replied gently. “He’ll never hurt us again.”
“But he died naturally. He didn’t get what he deserves. And Mr. Harris is still walking around, as if he had no part in it, still causing trouble for people. It’s not fair they got away with this.”
“Some things never are fair, baby,” Rose said. “I have no proof Harris was involved. It’s just my word against his.”
“Which is all the proof I need,” Frank said ominously, his anger apparent now. “That man nearly killed me and he ran you out of the territory. He robbed me of fifteen years with my wife and daughter!”
Rose glanced at Franklin sharply. “He’s as ruthless as Harding, but he was still just a lackey following orders. Do you really want to stir up that pot now when this is over, when we can finally be together? Don’t make me worry about you again.”
“I won’t go looking for him, but he better pray he never crosses my path.”
Tiffany watched her parents. Rose put her hand over Frank’s for that half concession. Tiffany had a feeling her mother wouldn’t leave it at that, that she’d have more to say to him about it when they were alone. Tiffany could even understand why Rose wanted to leave it alone. She’d suffered enough. But it still wasn’t fair!
Rose addressed her children again. “Ruth Harding did try to make amends. She offered me an incredible amount of money, which I turned down, of course. I have all I could ever want or need, my husband back. She’s giving the money to you children instead, since you also suffered because of her husband’s unconscionable actions. Small compensation for splitting a family apart, but I didn’t turn down her offer.”
“I don’t want her guilt money,” Tiffany replied bitterly.
“Then it can rot in a bank somewhere, so don’t give it another thought.” Rose stood up. “Now, come show me your room, Tiff. You and I haven’t had a chance yet to discuss what you’ve been doing since you got here.”
Tiffany groaned to herself, but led the way upstairs to her room. “Very nice,” Rose remarked as she walked around it. “I knew Frank would make sure you felt comfortable here. Don’t you feel silly now for trying to avoid him?”
“Mama, I had those feelings for the longest time. They weren’t going to go away simply because you asked me to come here with an open mind.”
Rose sighed and sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to her for Tiffany to join her. “All this suffering because I was too kindhearted to tell Mark Harding no when he asked me to marry him. It is my fault, you know. I tried to spare his feelings. I thought we’d do fine together just because we were friends. I did care for him. I just didn’t love him, didn’t even know what real love was, until I met your father. Now—cooking? Really?”
Tiffany laughed at her mother’s exaggerated appalled look. “It was frustrating at first, but I was actually starting to have fun, figuring it out.”
“I almost sent a cook to you instead of those books. But that would have been helping out the Callahans instead of pointing out to you that you weren’t where you were supposed to be.”
“But you wanted me to get to know Hunter, to give him a chance.”
Rose winced. “Not really.”
“What?!”
“If you wanted him, I wasn’t going to dissuade you, but I was too selfish to want you to settle here when I didn’t think I could ever come here again. I used the betrothal as an excuse to give you some time with your father. I had kept you from him all these years. It was time for me to share you. I know I should have just told you that. Instead I tried to manipulate a bad situation—which I hear you tried to fix. I commend you for your effort to put an end to the feud once and for all. I’ve actually had years to think about this. I even have a letter that I wrote to Zachary long ago that I would have sent to Zachary after you returned to New York, suggesting he continue the peace I arranged despite the marriage being called off. Now that I’m here, I can talk to him myself and add my sentiments to yours. But that’s nothing you need to worry about now.”
Tiffany frowned. “So you really don’t care if I marry Hunter or not?”
Rose gave her a long look. “You know, regardless of Parker Harding’s threat I was coming here to drag you home. I was going to sneak into town and sneak you out of it, without Frank knowing. I never dreamed you would run into the worst the West can show you.”
“I know, a stream of bad luck,” Tiffany said with a roll of her eyes before Rose did.
“Possibly. It won’t be long before you don’t even hear about train robberies like the one you witnessed, much less get caught in them. It was worse when I lived here. But you take the good with the bad, and the good far outweighed . . . I digress. The choice was, and still is, yours, Tiffany. Your father and I want you to be happy. If that isn’t going to happen here, we’ll take you back to New York and stay with you until you find your perfect man and get married there.”
“Stay with me? It doesn’t sound like you’ll be staying in New York after I’m married.”
“We won’t. I fell in love with Montana as much as I did with your father. The happiest years of my life were spent here. Of course, I would have had that happiness anywhere, as long as I was with Frank. But there was something about this place that charmed me from the very beginning. I didn’t have to stop myself from trying new things, fun things, just because someone would frown on it. People don’t do that here. They aren’t judgmental about superficial behavior.”
“It’s more relaxed here,” Tiffany said, remembering Hunter’s words.
“Exactly!”
“You can wear britches and wide-brimmed hats if you want to.”
Rose chuckled. “They told you about that, did they?”
“And rope cows if you want to.”
&nb
sp; “Well—”
“And keep pet pigs.”
“What? No!”
“Come here, Max,” Tiffany called.
The piglet poked his head around the tub screen from where he’d been napping. He immediately trotted to the bed. Tiffany picked him up and rubbed noses with him.
Rose stared incredulously at them for a moment before she started laughing. “I guess you’ve already figured it out.”
“I guess I have.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
THE WARRENS RODE TO town that Saturday for the dance, either on horseback or in wagons, the family, the cowboys, even the servants, including the cook. No barn or building in town was big enough to hold everyone, not when people were coming in from all over the county for the event. There were no social barriers: cowboys, miners, lumberjacks, young and old, everyone was welcome.
Lights were strung in a field just outside town; a large square-dance floor had been built there for the occasion. Long before they arrived they could hear the musicians playing, not exactly music or instruments Tiffany was familiar with, but banjos, fiddles, and harmonicas. A few couples were already dancing, though the dance hadn’t been scheduled to officially start until the sun went down and the heat of the day had passed. Dusk was just approaching. But dozens of tables were already laden with food and drink, with aromatic smoke from a half dozen roasting pits wafting over the area.
Tiffany thought the site looked and smelled wonderfully festive! It seemed to her much more like a fair than merely a dance. Children were running about, mostly chasing each other. A horse race was taking place between three cowboys. Some lumberjacks were having a tree-climbing contest, which seemed rather silly with only four trees nearby and none of them tall. Even a drinking contest was taking place, which didn’t bode well for those participants’ doing any dancing later.
It definitely wasn’t what Tiffany had been expecting, but it was no wonder Rose had been excited as soon as she’d heard about the social event. Tiffany wasn’t sure if her mother just loved country gatherings or just loved being back in Montana with her family. Maybe it was a little of both. Tiffany was surprised to see her mother like this, so exuberant, so full of laughter and cheer—so unreserved. And not the least bit proper. Tiffany actually thought she wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb in her sophisticated clothing for once, not with her mother along. But Rose had surprised her in that regard, too, coming downstairs wearing a skirt and blouse with no bustle in sight.
“I left here fifteen years ago with just you and a valise, and it was half filled with your things,” Rose said. “Your father stored everything I left behind in the attic, never giving up hope that I’d come back and wear those clothes again. I had my maid air some out, but I think it all needs a washing.” Rose sniffed her own shoulder. “I smell a little musty.”
“You have time to change,” Tiffany suggested.
“Oh, no. I’ll take comfort over fashion any day, even if it is a little musty.”
While Rose was dressed in plain, everyday styles, her garments were elegantly tailored from expensive materials. Trust her mother to fit in here yet still retain her uniqueness. Tiffany, on the other hand, had donned her best day dress, replete with bustle, and she’d had Anna put her hair up. But she had nothing else in her limited wardrobe that would do, certainly not her kitchen outfit, which she wasn’t going to be caught dead in again. Besides, she still had to make Hunter come to his senses and figure out on his own that silk and spurs just didn’t go together.
Nashart’s founders and people who had known Rose when she’d lived there converged on her as soon as they arrived. Tiffany had hoped to stay close to her mother, but the crowd of people welcoming Rose got too big.
Roy pulled her away and appointed himself her protector for the evening. He turned away the first three men who asked her to dance before she could say a word to them. He seemed to be disgruntled, but she realized it had nothing to do with her when she caught him staring at Pearl dancing with another man. Which reminded her . . .
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked her brother hesitantly.
Roy glanced down at her. “Huh? Oh, her. No. She made it clear I was barking up the wrong tree.”
“I’m sorry.” Like hell she was.
“But maybe you can tell me what she meant when she said that I’ve got too many women in my house. There’s always been women in our house. Most of the servants are women. Don’t make a lick o’ sense.”
She put her arm through his, then she bumped her shoulder against his. “You weren’t really looking to settle down yet, were you?”
He grinned. “Not really.”
“Then don’t give it another thought. More women come West every day . . . well, maybe not every day, but there should be more choices by the time you’re ready.”
“Or maybe I’ll start a Warren tradition and just do what Pa did.”
“It’s nice to have choices.”
“What’s yours going to be? And answer quick, ’cause he’s headed this way.”
She spotted him at the same time Roy did. Hunter was weaving his way through the crowd in her direction. She tugged Roy toward the wooden platform. “Dance with me.”
He laughed. “Hell no, I don’t dance.”
A cowboy nearby overheard Roy and said, “I do, and she owes me for making me scrub her floors.”
Roy looked at her quizzically, and before he could object, one of the Callahan cowboys pulled her the rest of the way to the dance floor. He was all teeth, his grin was so wide. “First one to get you on the floor,” he crowed. “I’m going to be bragging about this for a year or two—if the boss don’t kill me for it.”
She remembered him, just not his name. But he was definitely an exuberant dancer. She was actually almost out of breath before he relinquished her to another partner. She didn’t actually get off the dance floor, just went from one partner to the next. She might even have danced with a miner, though it was hard to tell with the men all done up fancy in their Sunday best. With each boisterous twirl around the floor, she caught sight of Hunter, arms crossed, hat tipped low, patiently waiting. For what? For her to come to him?
She wasn’t sure why she wanted to avoid him. Maybe because she was feeling a little vulnerable and too close to giving in to him. Despite everything that screamed they weren’t right for each other, one thing whispered they were. She’d gone and fallen in love with Hunter Callahan.
Degan Grant was her next partner. She almost declined. Despite how many conversations they’d had, the man could still make her nervous. She would have guessed he wasn’t familiar with any sort of dancing, and that this boisterous country dancing just didn’t suit the gunman. Yet he did know how.
“I’ll be moving on soon,” he told her. “In case I don’t see you again, I wanted to say it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Warren.”
“Moving on? Does that mean Zachary has agreed to a permanent truce?”
“That goes hand in hand with the wedding, doesn’t it? But Zachary is here if you wanted to discuss it.”
Maybe she ought to. He’d had enough time to think about her suggestion. It would probably be a good idea to hear his answer before her mother gave him her opinion about it. Rose might make the situation worse. Zachary might turn mulish instead of agreeable if Rose lit into him again.
“You should be sheriff here,” she said to Degan.
“This town can’t afford me. Besides, once the miners leave, Nashart will return to the peaceful town it used to be.”
But they weren’t leaving, and when had Nashart ever been peaceful with the Warrens and the Callahans living there? She decided to head off another disaster and seek out Zachary. But she was too late. When she finally spotted him, he was leading Hunter over to meet her mother.
Tiffany groaned to herself and turned about abruptly—and smacked right into someone. She started to apologize, but her arm was grasped and he started leading her away.
“There’s a man
with a rifle aimed at your father,” he said in a chilling voice. “If you don’t come with me quietly, he’s going to pull the trigger.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
THEY DIDN’T EVEN GIVE her a light, just shoved her in a storage room deep in the mine and left her there, taking the lantern with them. There was light beyond the heavy iron door, though. She could see it from the crack at the bottom of the door, and the shadow of someone’s feet, whoever had been left to guard her.
Many people were at the dance, her entire family, but no one seemed to have noticed her being led off to the long string of horses, it had happened so quickly. Hunter, who had been watching her all evening, would have noticed if his father hadn’t distracted him. He’d been waiting for her to leave the dance floor, and why the devil had he just been waiting? Why hadn’t he claimed her for a dance himself? If he had, she knew this would never have happened. Or would they have taken him, too, if they couldn’t get her alone?
She wasn’t gagged, wasn’t even tied, but she wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t taken that precaution. She’d seen all those buildings in the gulch—bunkhouses, offices, sheds. If anyone came looking for her here, they would search those buildings first. No one would think to look for her deep in the mine tunnel. No one would hear her either, if she got around to screaming. She hadn’t yet. She’d been too afraid for her father as well as herself. That man who’d hied off with her had sounded so merciless. She’d actually been terrified of him, not knowing who he was or why he’d taken her—until they arrived at the mining camp. She prayed her father wasn’t still in danger of being shot by one of Harding’s miners because her mother had returned to him. Her family would be looking for her by now, and they’d have the law with them. Sheriff Ross had been at the dance tonight; she’d seen him swinging arm in arm with Mrs. Martin.
One Heart to Win Page 29