by Mimi Milan
Hank stepped close to her and lowered his face to hers. He gently ran the tip of his nose across her cheek, taking in deep breaths of her fragrance. “I can’t help but wonder if you’re as wild for him as you were for me.”
He straightened up again and took another puff. As if suddenly bored, he motioned to the man again. “Alright. Take her on out.”
“Wait!” Josefina frantically cried. “Let me go… and I’ll buy out my own contract.”
Hank studied her for a moment, slightly amused. Then he snorted. “You gonna buy out your contract? How you gonna do that? You could hardly work it off when you were still with me. Now you suddenly come into a fortune or something?”
He laughed and the other man joined in.
“Almost,” she lied.
“Oh, yeah?” Still amused, Hank took a drag off his cigar. The smoke snaked out through his half-smiling lips. “What kind of money we talking about?”
“Big money,” she continued, wondering if she was ever going to enjoy the kind of life that wasn’t built on one falsehood after another. “Like the kind of money a man could live on for the rest of his life.”
Hank stared at her for a moment, one eye squinting in disbelief. “Hey, you’re not trying to play me. Are you? Because you know that would be real dangerous, Fina, and you’re already in a heap of trouble for running off to begin with.”
Josefina summoned all her courage. “And you know me better than to think I’d lie about money.”
He stroked the stubble growing in on his chin. “Yeah, I used to think I did know you. Then you up and ran off on me.”
She shrugged. “What did you expect, Hank? You’ve heard me talk about my family before – the desire to find my father and sister. When I learned about this mail order bride business, I figured I’d see how I could cash in.”
A sly smile crept across Hank’s expression, making him look even more like the treacherous serpent he rightly was. “And now you’re thinking of cashing in big, are you?”
“I am. Rather, I will when we marry on El Día de Los Reyes.”
“What the heck is that?”
“The day of Epiphany.”
“Well, when is it?”
“January sixth.”
He considered her proposal for a moment, pacing the room as he continued to smoke his cigar. He stopped in front of the painting of the Virgin hanging on the living room wall.
“Alright,” he finally said. “Go get this money you say you’ve got and I’ll let you out of your contract.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Josefina said. “I have to marry the guy first. That way I have a right to the money and he can’t set the law after me for taking it. After all, a man wouldn’t have his own wife arrested.”
“I suppose not,” Hank agreed. “A man don’t like to be embarrassed in front of his friends. It would be bad for a business that’s already struggling.”
Josefina raised a curious brow and Hank shrugged. “I’ve heard things.”
His simple explanation made it obvious that Madame Bonheur had shared more than her bed with the man – another account Fina would have felt bad about had she not thought the man deserved whatever came his way. She pushed the thought aside and plowed on. Neither his health nor that of the Madame’s was any concern to her – the same as it wasn’t Hank’s business that the diner was sure to see better days with the new recipes and décor she and Nacho were preparing.
“Well, the way I figure it is that I’ll go through with the vows and then I’ll have legal access to the money. As soon as I do, I’ll hand it over to you – in exchange for the contract, of course.”
“Of course,” Hank said and flicked ashes on the carpet. “But you must think I’m dumb to not see you really want to marry this Mexican fella of yours. What happened Fina? Find a man to finally match that fiery heart of yours?” He snorted at her discomfort. “Don’t worry. You’ll get what you want. So’s long as I get what I want.”
“You will,” she said.
“I better… or I’ll let that man and everyone else in town know exactly who and what you are,” he promised. “But come through with the money and I’ll quietly slip away. We have an understanding?”
Josefina nodded.
“Good. Then you better get on out of here and get to it.”
She hurriedly did as he suggested and stumbled out onto the porch, past yet another hired hand, and down to the wagon. She swiftly scrambled up it to take her seat, silently cursing herself for allowing the man to run her out of her own home. Well, what would eventually become her home if everything worked out the way she hoped it would.
She glanced back only momentarily to see Hank hovering in the doorway, a serious scowl on his face. For as sure as she was that he would clean up after himself (or have his men do so) before leaving the homestead, she was equally certain that he would never let her go. Would he try to find a way to get the money before she married… or wait until she exchanged vows and take her anyway? She couldn’t guarantee which scenario would play out, but one thing was clear. Hank Harvey wasn’t about to let any woman of his simply walk away.
Especially one that embarrassed him or made his business suffer.
She drove on towards town, her mind reeling with how wrong things had turned. How was she to get out from under all the fabrications she created? A pack of lies that were to grow by at least one more when yet another fact struck her.
She had forgotten the painting.
Chapter 9
Noelle, CO
January 1, 1877
“You’re going out now?” Josefina set the dirty dishes back down on the table and scowled. “It’s nearly ten o’clock at night!”
“I know what time it is,” Nacho groused.
“Then why are you going out?”
“I need some fresh air.”
“Fresh air?” Josefina threw her arms up. “You’ll find the same air in here that you’ll find outside.”
He ignored her and shoved his arms in his coat.
“What about closing down the restaurant?” she continued. “We’ve hardly begun cleaning up, let alone preparing for tomorrow.”
“Then leave it,” he said and stormed to the front door. Worried, Josefina followed him.
“But how am I to get back to the house? What if I get tired and start to fall asleep?”
He almost told her to go back to La Maison, but quickly reminded himself he wasn’t upset enough to send her packing – just upset that she was hiding something. “You know there’s a room back there with a bed in it. If I’m not back soon, then take it.”
“But where will you sleep?”
“Wherever I please.”
Her gasp made him feel a little guilty. He was being unfair and he knew it. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Seeing her upset would make him change his mind and he was tired of her playing him like a fool.
Like a lovesick one.
“Depending on the time, I’ll either sleep on the floor out here or make my way back to the homestead,” he called over his shoulder and then slammed the door for emphasis. Her cry could be heard clear through to the other side and it almost made him turn back.
Not this time, he chided himself. He wouldn’t be duped again. She was lying to him about something – that much was clear – and it was no way to begin a marriage. Either the situation would be resolved or there would be no vows.
He racked his mind, trying to figure out what she was about. He hated to think what the possibilities were, but they didn’t look good. He had noticed some strange occurrences after she returned empty-handed from her ride out the day before. Her uneasy behavior followed by their drive home to the distinct smell of a Cuban cigar... It all reminded him too much of Colette and the rumors he now knew to be true. Was that what happened with Fina? Had another man found his way into her heart? Wormed his way into her bed? And right after he had sent the wire hiring a Pinkerton agent to find her family?
The id
ea made him sick.
He pushed through Seamus’s bar, surprised to see the tree some men had previously found already decorated. Small grays hung on them, but he gave them only a moment’s notice.
He took a seat at the bar. “Pour me one, amigo.”
Seamus eyed him for a moment. “You’re not drinking again, are ya, man? You’re to be married in a few days. It’s not fitting.”
“Please, Seamus. I need the drink – not one of your lectures right now.”
The barkeep frowned but did as requested, filling a mug with some rotgut and sliding it in front of Nacho. “Well, if you want to talk about it instead…”
Nacho stared at the mug for a moment and then looked around to see who might be listening. Thankfully, the place wasn’t as full as usual and the likelihood of eavesdropping was slim. He leaned towards Seamus, motioning for the man to come closer.
“I think Josefina might be two timing me,” he muttered.
Seamus gave him a crazy eyed look. “Come now, man. You don’t really believe that,” he scoffed.
Nacho ran his hands over his face, rubbing his tired eyes. “I don’t know. I can’t figure out what else she might be hiding.”
“Why does she have to be hiding anything at all? You know how woman are – confusing sometimes.”
“It’s not that,” Nacho insisted. “I know she’s hiding something, Seamus… and I won’t be conned the same way I was with Colette. Not again.”
“Well, did you ask her what was wrong? Did you try that yet? Maybe it’s not her at all. Maybe it’s you.”
“Me?” Nacho sat back, exasperated. “What have I done?”
“Well, I don’t know. You expect a woman to come in here and start cooking for you like it’s a natural calling – which I guess it might be for some, but I’m not so sure with your lady friend. I’ve heard some tales that she could probably spin in perfect circles better than she can stir a pot.”
“Who’s spreading such stories?” Nacho demanded.
“Just one or two of the guys talking about things they’ve overheard from their wives.”
“The new brides?”
Seamus nodded.
“Which ones?”
“Sorry, friend. Ya know I don’t go dropping names like that. Besides, maybe it isn’t true. I’m only asking you to consider the possibility. After all, those women were the ones all traveling and living together. It would be no surprise if they knew more about each other than we did. Even if that isn’t the problem, though, have you made yourself approachable so she can talk to you… or has it mostly been all about you?”
Nacho snorted. Sure, he had shared some about himself and asked her to learn his mother’s recipes. What was so wrong with that? It wasn’t all about him or his diner, though. He had found out about her family. Hadn’t he? So, maybe it had taken a few days and maybe it hadn’t been entirely planned. Alright. It hadn’t been planned at all. Still, it wasn’t like all their time had been discussing recipes. Well, not all of it. Sometimes they talked about his family and their lives – like his father’s painting and his brothers ranching. They talked about his homestead, too, and his past with Colette and…
He slapped his forehead. “Ay, por la gracia de Dios. You’re right, Seamus. I’ve spent so much time telling her about me that I haven’t really gotten to know about her. Even when the opportunity presented itself, there was only once that I actually took the initiative – and that was done because I was afraid of being lied to more than anything.”
“Sounds like it’s time you go and get to know your bride a little better.”
“Past time,” Nacho agreed. He pushed the drink forward. “Guess I won’t be needing this after all. Thanks, Seamus.”
He stood and left the saloon, choosing not to head straightaway to the diner. He had to think first. Walking up and down the main street of Noelle, he slowly strolled past the buildings while considering Seamus’s suggestion. Was it possible that Josefina really knew nothing about cooking? How could that be? He had been over to La Maison on three different occasions when she had cooked specifically for him. In fact, one had been the most delicious apple pie he had ever tasted. That one hadn’t even been in his mother’s recipe book! Unless…
Could it be that she wasn’t the one really cooking the meals? No, that wasn’t it. The other two meals were strictly Mexican meals his mother use to make. It wouldn’t have been possible for any of the other ladies to know the recipes. Perhaps others had been helping her before that – giving her advice on the basics.
The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. She didn’t seem very comfortable around the kitchen – always waiting for him to take the lead, or choosing to wait on the customers more than help in the kitchen. He originally thought she was simply trying to get to know everyone in town, but now he wasn’t so sure. It could have all been a ploy to avoid being in the kitchen.
He came full circle and stopped in front of the diner, looking up at the sign that hung above it. Only a dim light shone through one window, implicating that she had finished in the front room and was somewhere in the back. He entered the diner, hopeful she wasn’t yet asleep because both his mind and heart were full.
And he was determined to find out everything he could about his bride-to-be.
* * *
Josefina fiddled with one of the red roses on the wedding dress. Minnie had done a fabulous job embroidering them. Their delicate little petals and stems decorated the hem of the dress like a border in a flower patch. She sighed and let the dress fall back against the dressing screen – the place she had put it when Minnie dropped it off earlier that morning… when things had been much calmer and far more joyous. Now here she was arguing with Nacho, watching him storm out into the night.
What a difference half a day could make!
She walked over to the bed and fell into it, saddened by the day’s turn of events. She knew she had no one to blame but herself, though. She only had four days left to make her deadline for both the Madame and Hank. The one wouldn’t allow her to marry unless she found the money… and suggested that she wouldn’t be wanted anyway. The other wanted her to marry specifically for the money… but probably still would have tried to cart her off. Then there was the matter of her own guilty conscience of not wanting to take any of Nacho’s money anyway – not that she even knew where it was.
This was simply too much!
She turned her head into the pillow and let out a wretched sob. She was exhausted of trying to always be fierce and steadfast. All the strength in the world was no match for the weight of so much deception. If she could be certain Nacho wouldn’t cast her aside like an old hat, she would tell him everything. She wouldn’t wait a minute longer, either. She would tell him right now.
“Why are you crying?”
Josefina shot up, but refused to turn around. She sat at the edge of the bed, wiping away her tears and shrugged. “I’m not crying.”
Nacho sighed and strode across the room to sit on the opposite side of the bed. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to act so tough all the time. That’s why you have me – so we can be stronger together. However, that’s not going to happen if we don’t trust one another.”
Her head hanged. “You’re not the one who has the problem trusting people.”
“That’s not true. I do have a problem with that.”
She twisted towards him, her face contorted with confusion. “How? You’ve trusted me with many things. You let me borrow your mother’s book. You lent me the horse and wagon to go out to the house. I think it suffices to say that if anything, you have been far more generous than I.”
“Fina, those are just things. Sure, I would have been disappointed if anything happened to them, but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t trust you as a whole.”
Her head dropped with shame. “Perhaps because I haven’t given you much reason to.”
“Eh,” Nacho wa
vered. “That might hold a little truth to it. You see, I know that you’re hiding something. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s obvious that it’s something serious. So, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you? Hopefully, it will be much better than my unfounded fears that you’ve fallen for someone else.”
Her eyes widened. “I would never! Nacho, I love—“
She clamped her mouth shut. It wasn’t right for her to profess such feelings after all the hurt she was willing to cause him.
“What were you saying?” He gave her a large grin. “Come now, let us begin telling truths. Yes? You said you love—”
“Your cooking,” she said and turned up her nose. “Are you satisfied? I love your cooking.”
“Oh, how wonderful… because, you know, I love your little salchichas.”
She let out a small indignant yelp. “I do not have sausage toes!”
He threw his head back and a throaty laugh escaped. She slapped his arm which made him laugh even harder. When she failed to see the humor in it all, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, quieting some. “Don’t be like that, amor. Say you feel the same for me as I feel for you. I know I haven’t done the best to show it – always talking about me and what I want—”
“Yes, and always teasing me.”
“Aw, that’s just my way of showing that I care. If you really don’t like me doing it, then I won’t.”
She gave him a guilty look. “I guess I don’t mind it so much – as long as it isn’t about my feet. I know they are kind of squared. That’s from years of practice, though.”
“From dancing?”
She nodded. “Yes, because I used to dance.”
“Tell me more,” he encouraged her. “I want to know everything. How you learned to dance… when you did it. Everything.”