Rising then, she looked at Delilah, at the tears brimming in her eyes and hugged her. "Don't cry for me, Delilah. I'm all right now. I don't want you to worry about me. All right?"
"I'll always worry about you Evie. You're my sister and I love you.” She sniffed. "But I think you've grown into a strong woman and I won't worry about you nearly as much as I used to."
Eve released her, nodded and almost smiled. "I guess I can accept that."
* * *
Eve, being the perceptive person that she was, had sensed by noon the next day that something was bothering Delilah other than Tom's demise. Upon returning to Delilah's room after lunch, she'd wanted to know what it was. Delilah stared at her and couldn't bring herself to tell her. To tell Eve about the situation she now found herself in, she would have to tell her why she'd acted as she had. And nothing about her reasoning had been admirable. Fear of the sheriff's determined pursuit of her had been only part of the reason—and, perhaps, it had been the most understandable. But Eve would not thank Delilah for saving her ranch at the possible expense of a man's life. Especially a man whom she liked and respected.
"It's nothing Evie. I won't burden you with my problems at a time when you have so many of your own."
"You're sure?"
Delilah nodded. She would bear this horrible guilt alone, and pray that when she finally found the opportunity to finish the letter to Samson he would still have time to evade Telford's men. It was Thursday now. She had sent the telegram on Monday. If they rode hard, or came part of the way by train, Telford's men could be almost here. The thought terrified her.
"Well I have to get back to the ranch," Eve was saying. "I might as well go back with the hands. I think the ranch is the best place for me right now. I miss it."
Her words suddenly penetrated Delilah's numbed mind. "Already?" she asked. "But. . . would you like me to come with you until you're feeling more yourself?"
Eve shook her head. "I'm going to be working most of the time anyway. And Fong is there to run the household. I want you to worry about yourself for a change, Delilah. I want you to find someplace you can be happy, and with any luck someone with whom to share that happiness. I want you to try to forget the past and Sterne and everything that happened to us back then, and start to live again. Will you do that?"
Delilah stared at her. "I didn't know you. . . ” She trailed off, uncertain as to how to finish. Never before had Eve adopted the role of the caretaker. Never had Eve given her advice or told her what her opinion was of Delilah's personal life. Never had Eve shown she understood quite so much as that simple statement revealed. It brought tears to Delilah's eyes.
"You didn't know I what?"
"Understood," Delilah breathed. "I didn't know how much you understood."
"I've always understood, Delilah. And I've always felt guilty for not fighting harder to help you."
Delilah was stricken to learn that her younger sister had been suffering on her behalf. "Oh, Evie. Why should you feel guilty? You tried to help. It wasn't your fault. He knocked you unconscious. There was nothing you could have done."
Eve shrugged. "I could have fetched some kind of a weapon before I tried to help. I could have done something besides simply jumping on his back and pounding his shoulders with my fists."
Delilah hugged her. "You were only fifteen, Eve. Fifteen! You have nothing to feel guilty for. Please don't blame yourself."
Avoiding Delilah's gaze, Eve released her and turned to look out the window. "I'll try not to, if you'll promise me you'll think about what I've said. It's time to put the past behind you and start to live again, Delilah. Please?"
"I promise I'll think about it," Delilah said.
"Good!” With a forced smile, Eve turned back to her. "And now, it's time for me to go. Write to me?"
"You know I will."
"You'll be leaving Red Rock right away?” Delilah nodded and Eve asked, "Where will you go this time?"
Delilah shrugged. She hadn't really thought about anything except getting away. "Colorado perhaps. I hear the scenery there is almost as beautiful as it is here."
Minutes later, Delilah stood on the boardwalk watching as Eve mounted a tough old buckskin mare that Rattlesnake Joe had brought to town, and took her leave of Red Rock to return to the Devil's Fork ranch. Her ranch. Rattlesnake drove the buckboard wagon that Eve had driven into town carrying Tom, and the other hands trailed out behind them. They made a strange and solemn procession as they left Red Rock: a lady rancher, an old man, an Indian, a Chinaman, a drunk, and. . . the solitary man who called himself Stone, whoever he might be. And yet, as Delilah stood outside the hotel and watched her sister ride away, for the first time in memory she was not worried about her, for something told her that Eve would be fine.
"I've been trying to get a chance to talk to you for days," a deep voice said from behind her, making her jump. "Will you join me for supper tonight? I hear Freda's making cabbage rolls."
Samson! Delilah closed her eyes and swallowed. "I. . . uh. . ."
"Come on. It's just a meal, and you have to eat."
Yes, she did. And perhaps she could simply tell him about what she'd done. She didn't want to, but she had to admit that the letter was a coward's way out. And she'd never before considered herself a coward. "All right," she murmured turning to face him. At sight of his handsome face her heart gave a peculiar lurch and the bottom fell out of her stomach.
He smiled, and her pulse began a double-time cadence. "Good," he said. "I'll pick you up at seven."
Delilah nodded. "All right."
He hesitated a moment as though there was something more he wanted to say, and then he shook his head. "Well, I guess I'd best be going. Judge Niven's in town and we have some business to take care of."
Delilah nodded again. "Later then."
She watched him walk away knowing that the next time he did so it would be for good, and her heart ached for what might have been. "Afternoon, Mrs. Sterne," a loud voice called from the street.
Startled, Delilah turned to heed the greeting and realized that it had been delivered by Mr. Didsworth who was driving his freight wagon, loaded high with merchandise, through town. "Good afternoon, sir," Delilah returned. "Are you just arriving or just leaving?"
"Arriving, ma'am. I'll be headin' out agin in the mornin'."
Providence! Delilah decided. She'd go see Mrs. Francis at the telegraph office and see if she could book a seat on a train out of Butte late tomorrow. Then she'd book a seat on Mr. Didsworth's freight wagon, returning to Butte. He would be leaving bright and early in the morning she knew, for that was his routine. Oh, and in the morning, she'd have to see Mr. Metter regarding Jackpot. The funds she received for selling the horse back to him would aid with travel expenses.
Thus it was, that Delilah had a busy afternoon. Her final stop was the Lucky Strike. She couldn't very well leave town without saying farewell to the only woman, other than Freda Schmidt, who had befriended her during her stay. Delilah waved to Mitch on her way past the bar and asked, "Is Miss Cora in her office?"
"Yes, ma'am."
A second later, Delilah knocked on the office door. "Come in," Cora said in her low-pitched musical voice. Then as Delilah opened the door, a genuine smile. "Delilah! Come in. I've been thinking about you. How are you?"
"I'm fine," Delilah said, returning her smile albeit a bit less widely.
"Please sit," Cora said, indicating one of the chairs before her desk. "Eve headed back to the Devil's Fork already, I hear."
"Yes. Actually that's why I'm here. I've come to say good-bye and to apologize to you for the fact that the gaming table was less prosperous for you than I had hoped it would be."
Cora waved her apology aside. "No need to apologize. An honest dealer can't make guarantees, and you were honest. Besides, I made more on that table than I would have if you hadn't come at all, now didn't I? But I'm really sorry to hear you're leaving. Are you certain I can't talk you into staying a while? Red Rock'
s not a bad place to live you know."
Delilah shook her head. "No. I can't stay. I have to get away."
Cora considered her with a grave expression. "That sounds like man trouble. Anything I can help with?"
"No. But thank you."
Cora grimaced. "Darn that Matt Chambers! I knew the way he was chasing you he was just going to break your heart."
Delilah's gaze flew up to meet Cora's. "Oh, no. It's not Matt's fault. It's mine.” After what she'd done, she couldn't bear to have anyone think badly of him.
"Yours," Cora repeated incredulously. "What did you do?” Her tone suggested complete disbelief. "Except try to avoid him, that is?"
"Yes, well. . . in trying to avoid him I did something. . . unforgivable. I betrayed . . ." but she couldn't bring herself to voice the extent of her perfidy so she changed tack. "I betrayed his trust and the trust of everyone who befriended me.” And then, to her horror, tears of self-pity welled in her eyes again. Oh, Lord! She didn't want to cry in front of Cora.
But it was too late.
Cora quickly rose and moved around the desk to sit beside Delilah. Placing an arm around her shoulders, she handed her a clean handkerchief and murmured, "You just let it out love, and then we'll talk. There's always a way to fix things. We just have to find it."
But Delilah knew there was no way to fix this. No matter what she did, Samson would have to be told what she had done. And once he learned what kind of person she truly was, he would hate her. As he should. As she would were the shoe on the other foot.
"Heavens!" she hiccupped as she dried her tears. "I've done more crying in the last few days than in the last year."
"Sometimes it happens that way. That's why they say that bad things happen in threes.” Cora leaned back to study her with compassionate eyes. "Now why don't you tell me what this is all about. Sometimes it helps to talk about it even if that's the only thing that can be done."
Delilah hesitated. She was afraid, if she told her, that Cora would hate just as she now hated herself. Yet, she desperately wanted advice. Finally, she sighed. "You'll undoubtedly hate me," she said. "But. . . will you promise me that you absolutely will not tell another soul?"
"Of course, if that's what you want," Cora replied.
Delilah nodded and twisted the handkerchief in her hand. Now that she'd agreed to talk, she didn't know where to begin. Finally she sighed, and simply started talking. "I've been afraid of being alone with men, or getting too close to them for a number of years now. I won't go into the reasons why, but I'm sure you can guess. So when Matt didn't respect my widowhood as other men did, it terrified me."
Cora nodded understandingly without comment, and, after a bit, Delilah found it easier than she'd imagined to confide in this worldly woman who'd seen enough of life not to be shocked by anything she heard. She told her about her desperation to help Eve save her ranch. She told her about meeting Pike on the train and then later in the hotel restaurant. And she told her about recognizing Matt's face in the WANTED poster of Samson Towers.
"I think you can guess what follows, can't you?" Delilah asked. There was an acerbity to her tone that she couldn't help.
Cora studied her face for an instant. Her expression hadn't altered. "Maybe you'd better tell me," was all she said.
And so, Delilah told her what she'd done. She told her about returning to Red Rock only to be met along the road by Matt. She told her what Matt had told her about how he'd come to be a wanted man. And she told her about the realization that had come too late that she loved him. "Now," she said, "there's only one thing left to be done. I have to tell him what I've done and move on, out of his life and away from here. The only chance I have to save him now lays in telling him the truth."
Cora nodded and sighed. "Oh, Delilah. I can certainly understand why you're upset. It's one heck of a tangle, that's for certain. I wish you'd talked to me about the Cameron's situation sooner. I could have lent you the money you needed to help her, and then you could have worked it off here at the tables and it wouldn't have mattered if you had a few slow nights. But. . . well, that's all hindsight now.
"As for the other, I think you're right. The only thing you can do is to tell him. He has to at least have the opportunity to be prepared for that man. . . what's his name?” Cora rose and moved back around her desk to face Delilah.
"Paul Telford."
"Yes, he has to have the chance to prepare for Telford's arrival, if nothing else."
Delilah nodded and dabbed the last of the moisture from her eyelashes. "Thank you for listening Cora. I. . . I'm sorry."
Cora frowned. "I don't understand why you're telling me you're sorry. What are you sorry for?"
Delilah shrugged. "I don't know. For not being as good a person as I should be I guess."
Cora laughed. "Delilah, love, there isn't any one of us that's as good as we should be.” Then she sobered. "I won't say that what you've done isn't serious. It's a terrible thing that can hurt a good man.” She shrugged. "But we all make mistakes, love, and some of them are pretty bad ones. I don't think there's anyone that can sit in judgment of you except yourself and Matt."
"You don't hate me then?"
Cora shook her head. "Of course I don't hate you. I've done things that weren't exactly admirable either, you know. It's part of being human."
* * *
Samson couldn't stop looking at Delilah. Thank goodness the dining room was almost empty, so there weren't that many people present to witness just how much of a fool he could make of himself over her. But, damn, she was beautiful. Even as pale and tired as she was. Her lips didn't have their usual color and there were faint blue shadows beneath her eyes, but that only made her look more fragile. It made him want to hold her in his arms again, to protect her and take care of her. And that made him think of the direction his thoughts had taken in the last couple of days.
It had been more than two days since he'd last held and kissed her. Heck, it had been that long since they'd been able to have a decent conversation. He had wanted to go to her and comfort her after Tom's funeral, to give her a shoulder to lean on. But she had seemed too busy being the strong shoulder for her sister, and he hadn't felt he had the right to barge in on their grief, no matter how good his intentions. But, he wanted that right. He wanted it badly.
He hated the frustration of not knowing when he could hold her again. When he could kiss her and make love to her again. When they could simply talk again as they had that night. And he hated not having the right to care about where she went and with whom. And that was when the idea of marriage began to solidify in his mind.
Heck, she knew about his past and it hadn't really seemed to bother her much. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be willing to take the risk involved in marrying a man like him. Maybe she'd be willing to give them a chance.
He looked at her, and couldn't help wondering once again if, even now, she carried his child. The idea didn't terrify him as it had. In fact now it gave him a kind of tight excited feeling in his chest. He wanted Delilah for his wife, and he wanted her to bear his children. He wanted them to build a wonderful life together as a family. He wanted. . . oh, God, he wanted her to say yes when he asked her. But he needed to get a conversation going first. He couldn't just blurt out a question like that.
He took another sip of his coffee and looked at Delilah over the edge of the mug. She hadn't said much since they'd come in. She seemed a bit shy or something and, for the most part, had been avoiding his gaze. Now, she whispered something to the little dog she held on her lap while they awaited their meal, and then fiddled with the linen napkin on the table.
Samson cleared his throat. "I saw Eve head out this morning. How do you think she's doing?"
Delilah lifted her eyes to meet his gaze briefly, and then allowed it to slide away again. "I think she'd doing much better than could have been expected. She'll be fine."
"That's good."
Delilah nodded. "Yes."
"We were able to
return some of their cattle you know?"
"No, I didn't know.” She looked at his mouth this time, not meeting his eyes. "That's wonderful news."
He nodded and cleared his throat again. This wasn't working, and he didn't understand why. He didn't know if something was bothering Delilah, or if his own tension was to blame for the awkwardness he felt.
At that moment, the meal arrived and he was able to concentrate on something else. Delilah set Poopsy on the floor at her feet, and they began to eat. The silence stretched, and the tension grew.
Finally Samson couldn't stand it anymore. "Delilah—"
"Matt—"
Having both tried to speak at the same time, they broke off and stared at each other. Samson smiled. "Ladies first."
"Oh, no," Delilah said. "You go first. Please?"
Samson cleared his throat for the umpteenth time. "I. . . well, there is something I wanted to talk with you about."
"Yes?"
He looked around the dining room to ensure that there was no one within ear shot. "Well," he said in a low voice, "now that you know about me, I was wondering. . . That is, my past didn't seem to upset you that much, and I thought that maybe. . . Ah, heck, this is harder than I thought it would be."
She frowned slightly, obviously trying to perceive his meaning from what he hadn't said as yet. "Go on."
Samson took a deep breath. "Delilah," he said.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if you would consider. . . That is, will you marry me?” There! He'd said it.
It took him an instant to realize that, rather than appearing happy as he had hoped she might, she looked stricken. She dropped her fork to her plate as though her fingers had suddenly lost their strength. Her eyes grew moist. And her throat worked. Finally, she gasped out, "You want to marry me?"
Beyond Betrayal Page 25