“Surely it isn’t too complex,” Robert said, looking down at the straps of cloth and how the man had tied it. He walked around her several times. “I think I can do it.”
“Bless you,” Odessa said, suddenly incapable of thinking of anything but setting the baby down for his nap on a blanket. She lifted her arms, as she had for Tabito, and Robert went round and round her, winding the cloth strips around his arm in orderly fashion.
“Be you woman or be you mummy?” he asked with a grin.
“Both, in this instance,” she said. In a minute, she was free, and she gleefully lifted Samuel off her chest and onto her shoulder. Cool air blew across her torso as she pulled the sticky, wet fabric from her skin again and again, hoping it would quickly dry.
Robert had turned from her, hands on hips, as he surveyed the valley. “This certainly is one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen in my life.” He crossed his arms and looked over his shoulder at her. “And this is the perfect overlook.”
“It’s my very favorite,” she said. She settled Samuel into the blankets. Thankfully he stayed deeply asleep through it all. Then she reached for another blanket from behind the saddle on Ebony and spread it out on the rock. “Bryce and I think it the perfect picnic spot. I’m happy to share it with you.” She looked out, northward, wondering how Bryce and the men were faring. This morning, Bryce had been downtrodden, so worried was he about what was to come. Could he really sell the whole thing? Cash out? A part of her thought it might be lovely to purchase a small cottage somewhere. He could paint. She could write. But deep down, she knew he’d be terribly bored …
Robert went to his horse and pulled down the bag that contained their water and food. He knelt across from her and pulled out a couple of apples, imported from California, and ham nestled between thick slabs of bread baked that morning, wrapped in cloth. “Looks wonderful,” he said, handing her one. “I’m famished.”
“Me, too,” she said, unwrapping her sandwich and taking a big bite.
“So do you still think the conquistador gold is hidden in these hills, despite Bryce’s pessimism?” Robert said.
She smiled and swallowed. “I don’t know. That legend has been told for some time.”
Samuel stirred and, in seconds, built up to a full wail. “Guess he’s hungry too,” Robert said. He jumped up to fetch the child and then returned him to her. “I’ll just go over to the other side; give you two some privacy.”
Odessa smiled her appreciation and once he was a distance away began to unbutton and untie undergarments to feed her son. She draped a blanket over her shoulder, in case Robert forgot himself and returned too soon, but he stayed on the other side until they finished and she called to him. “I better get back. I need to start supper.”
“Hate to leave this place. It’s truly beautiful.”
“Me, too.”
“So, you ready to get mummified again?” he asked, reaching for the long strips of cloth.
“Only way to get the boy back,” she said with a shrug. She’d have to remember to take early morning or late evening rides if she was going to take the baby along, especially with summer’s heat coming on.
“Let’s see,” he said, hovering behind her, hesitating.
She bit her lip, realizing that this might become very awkward. Why hadn’t she just settled down in the shade for a moment? Why had she rashly decided to detach Samuel as quickly as possible?
He reached both arms around her and pulled the strip straight in front of her waist, then brought it in back to tie with a quick knot. “There, I think that’s how he did it. Now we wind you up.”
“The trick is holding the baby as you wind,” she said. She turned and lifted an elbow and then did another half-turn and lifted the other. She did several more rotations.
“It’s rather like a dance,” Robert said, blushing. They came to the end of the first strip and he carefully knotted a second at her hip and they continued to wind around, fastening Samuel to her chest again. The third strip ended by the baby’s neck and Robert’s brow lowered in concentration as the child voiced his frustration. “Almost done, little man,” he said. He was fumbling with the knot, struggling to find another strap loose enough to fasten it.
“Here,” she said, “let me.” She took the end from his hand, and then she dropped it as soon as their hands touched. His eyes immediately met hers and for the first time, they both realized how close they stood together. Only little Samuel was between them.
He searched her eyes, his own rounding with desire, hope. She could feel her lips part as she took a slow, labored breath, her chest suddenly heavy for reasons beyond the babe atop it. He reached up, and she thought he was coming to himself again, realizing they were on dangerous ground, reaching for the strap to finish the knot and be out of here, but instead he touched her cheek.
“Robert, don’t do this,” she whispered.
“I can’t help it. God help me, I can’t help it.”
“No, Robert,” she said, shaking her head and edging away. “No.”
He took a hold of her hips and Odessa couldn’t move, feeling as if she were indeed in some sort of mad dream. Dimly, she realized Samuel was quiet, sucking on his lower lip, but still, settled. Did he not know what sort of madness his mother had entered? Robert leaned closer, over Samuel’s head, waiting for her to look up, welcome his kiss, join him in this exploration. “One kiss,” he pleaded in a whisper, so close she could feel his breath on her forehead.
“That will lead to what?” she said, looking up at him. With each word, the fog receded, clarity returning. She pulled his hands from her and backed away. “Think, Robert. I am your brother’s wife.”
He closed his eyes and ran both hands into his hair, his face awash in agony. “Forgive me, Odessa.” He opened his eyes and shook his head. “I am weak.” He attempted a smile as he dropped his hands into a gesture of defeat. “Can I be blamed for sharing my brother’s taste in women?”
Odessa did not smile back. Fury made every nerve taut. “Yes, Robert. I believe you can.” She moved over to her horse, eager to get back to the ranch now, away from him. But when she reached Ebony’s side, she realized she couldn’t mount without his assistance.
“Here,” he said, reaching for her waist.
“Try it, and so help me, Robert, I will punch you with everything in me.”
“Dess, I’m just helping you mount.”
“And I need assistance. But you have to swear to me you’ll be a perfect gentleman, or I’ll walk Ebony all the way home. And then you’ll have thirteen men ready to build a gallows for you.” She realized she was advancing upon him, pointing her index finger into his chest.
He grabbed hold of it and wrapped both hands around her hand, bringing her to a standstill. She paused, awestruck at the emotions that swept through her. The thrill of being admired, sought after … heavens, did she share his forbidden attraction? She looked up at him and he looked back at her, his face a picture of misery. “I deserve the gallows, Dess. But what does it say that I’d risk them for you? Don’t you see? Can’t you feel—”
“No!” she cried, turning away and reaching for Ebony’s reins. The horse pulled against her, irritated at being yanked away from the tender green shoots that sprouted from the rocks, but she held on. “We have a choice, Robert! Regardless of any feelings we might share! I love your brother. Your brother! We must come to our senses and walk away.” She realized she had hot tears running down her face.
He stepped forward but she frowned and turned away, hurrying down the path.
“Dess! Odessa!”
She ignored his calls and hurried onward. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and tried to focus on the path. If she lost her footing and fell … Lord God! This is terrible! Please, help me! Help us all!
There. Two ledges pushed into the path, like two stairs up the side. She quickly climbed them and then straddled her horse, sliding her boots into the stirrups.
“Odessa, wait. Let’s talk this throu
gh.” He was right behind her, already astride his horse. Calm had returned to his features.
But she was taking no chances. She turned Ebony halfway around so she could face him. “No, Robert. We’ll speak at home. On the front porch. And only in the light of day. We’ll need to send a man to town to purchase a ticket.”
“A ticket?” he asked blankly.
“A ticket on tomorrow’s train. You, Robert McAllan, are heading home. Figure out your excuse for Bryce. But you are leaving. Do you understand me?”
He regarded her solemnly. “I do.”
Chapter 21
Moira was failing, Daniel knew. She was suffering from some terrible ailment. And there was a lost look in her eyes, as troubling as a canoe drifting down a river with no one at the paddle. He’d done his duty, seen to it that the doc came by. The rest was up to the others, and to God. He was getting too involved, letting his heart get too wrapped up in this girl. Again.
He sighed and padded down to the end of the hall to look out upon the street. That new merchant, Bannock, stood across the street, leaning against a post in front of the law office there, smoking his cigar and studying the hotel. Daniel frowned. What was he watching?
Bannock took another draw from the stub of his cigar then dropped it to the dirt of the street and ground it in with his heel. He set off down Main in the direction of his mercantile and Daniel shrugged off the dislike he felt for the man, along with his aimless suspicions. In a town this size, it never was good to make enemies. His goal was to get along with everyone, be neither friend or foe to anyone. That was how he liked it. That was how life had become manageable these last three years.
Henry Colvard, the Leadville Opera House owner, barreled past Bannock and across the street. Daniel walked to the top of the stairs and saw him pull open the front door of the hotel with such force it banged against the wall. Daniel grimaced and a shiver of anger ran through him. A girl not singing was no cause for damaging another’s prop—
“I will see Miss Moira immediately,” he said, looking up at Daniel. He immediately began climbing the stairs.
Daniel raised his hands. “I told you, Mr. Colvard. She’s not up to it. Go and ask the doc,” he said, pointing back down the staircase. “Ask him yourself. Miss Moira is poorly, so poorly she’d faint dead away if she got up on your stage. You saw how it went two nights ago.”
Daniel thought about Moira. The way she was acting … it was as if she didn’t even want to get better.
Colvard shook his head in rage. “Do you know what it’s like to turn away two hundred men who’ve traveled a day or more to see her? Two nights in a row?”
“Can’t say as I do,” Daniel said. They had entertainers from time to time on the tiny stage in the saloon, but no one half as grand as Moira Colorado. “You’re lucky she’s sticking around. She told you she wouldn’t leave until she fulfilled her obligations.” He ducked his head to one side. “You’re not the only manager who will be wrestling an angry mob if she can’t get moving again. Miss Colorado understands that. Her intention is to make things right, as quickly as possible. But Colvard,” he said, putting up one hand, cutting him off as he tried to pass him, “If the woman’s too sick to sing, she’s too sick.”
“I was fortunate they didn’t burn me out last night! I had to promise them a free drink tonight if they returned. What will they do when I fail them again?” He paced back and forth and shook his head, his jowls following a half-second behind. He raised a finger at Daniel. “No. No, I said that last night was the end of my patience. Giving her another night to recover was beyond gracious. No other stageman I know would tolerate this. Every entertainer in the business knows the show must go on … even when one is feeling poorly. If I don’t see Moira Colorado—”
“You shall see me on your stage tonight, Mr. Colvard.”
The men turned to see Moira standing in the hallway. She was dressed to perfection, even with a tiny hat perched on her head. Colvard sputtered and turned to her, all his fury spent like butter on a hot stove. “Miss Moira! Oh, am I relieved to see you up and about!”
He didn’t seem to notice that one of Moira’s gloved hands clung to the doorjamb without moving, as if it were the only thing keeping her upright, or that while her makeup was perfectly applied, beneath it she was still the pasty girl Daniel had glimpsed inside her room.
It was all an act. He was witnessing an act. She purred and murmured to Henry with aplomb, reaching out with her left hand to graze the man’s shoulder and then forearm as she spoke, reeling him in like a fat trout on the line. But she’d soon need to cut this fish loose. She couldn’t stay on her feet much longer.
Quickly, he poured a glass of water from a center hall table and casually walked over to the duo. “Glad to see you up and about, Moira,” he said. “You must be dry as prairie grass in summer.”
“Bless you, I’m parched,” she said. She accepted the glass and drank half of it down, then handed it back to him. All done up or not, she was truly beautiful. While she’d pulled her blonde hair up into a tasteful knot, curling tendrils escaped around her neck. A China doll, with those rosebud lips and wide green-blue eyes. He saw, then, a thin rivulet of perspiration running from her temple down her neck and into the bodice of her fine gown.
Again, he wondered how long she could manage this charade and silently he urged Colvard to leave, as if he could will the man out of the hotel.
“I confess I believed the worst, Miss Moira,” Henry said with a bow of his head. “I thought you might be an addict, or worse, simply reneging on your contractual obligations. As I’m sure you understand, I cannot tolerate either. It would be to the ruination of the opera house.”
“I understand,” Moira returned sweetly. She raised one delicate, arched brow. “Until tonight, then? I shall be backstage by five o’clock, ready to go on at six.”
“Perfect,” Henry said with a sigh. He placed his hat atop his head, a rather smart top hat that made his round face a bit less round, and gave her a small bow. “Thank you, Miss Moira. I look forward to hearing you sing tonight.” Moira gave him a wave, and then he was back out on the street.
Daniel looked around and saw that Moira was again in a swoon, falling in an arc. He narrowly caught her up in his arms. Up close, he could tell she’d dressed hurriedly and she needed a bath. Daniel sighed and lifted Moira higher in his arms and entered her room to lay her on the bed.
Then he sat in a corner chair to wait.
She roused in a minute, looked around groggily, then seeing him, tried to sit up.
“Whoa, whoa,” he said, lifting his hands, but remaining in his seat. “It’s all right. You just fainted.”
“Oh,” she said, lying back. She laid a delicate hand on her forehead.
“Moira, what is the matter with you? Did the doc say?” He paused and waited, but she remained silent. “Is it … is it, Gavin?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, obviously lying. “I’m simply exhausted. Gavin and I …” Her voice broke. “It was the constant travel, I’m certain,” she said, gathering herself. “Our transatlantic journey, then my life seems to have been one train or stagecoach ride ever since.” She looked at him and smiled. “Give me a little time. I should recover soon.”
He sat back in the chair, arms folded, wondering if he should confront her now or later. She had a show to do tonight, and she was plainly grieving Gavin. But he knew what it was like, running from the truth. You could never get far enough ahead of it to make it worthwhile.
“Moira.”
Slowly, she looked his direction. She looked so young, so frightened, so weary, Daniel had a hard time keeping his seat, not going to her. But he sensed that would overwhelm her, send her into hiding rather than drawing her out as he wished. “Tell me. As fast as you can. Without thinking about it. Just tell me.” He paused. “You can trust me.”
She waited as if weighing his words, then blurted, “I’m pregnant.” She stared at him as those two words left her rosebud lips, a
s if shocked she’d actually let them out.
He sat back for a moment as the ramifications of her declaration settled on him. The terror for her, to be alone—“Congratulations,” he said softly.
She gave him a scoffing laugh. “Congratulations?” She shook her head once, then turned to look at the ceiling. “It was a farce, Daniel. A convenient lie. We were never married. He never loved me. Never intended …” Her voice broke then and she tucked her chin, blinking rapidly.
Fury surged through Daniel. Gavin. He’d suspected the man was using her. Taken advantage of his position. And yet Moira was a woman grown. Responsible for her own decisions. He looked to the window and then down to his hands. He was in no position to judge.
“Daniel.” She was looking at him with those gorgeous green-blue eyes, beseeching him. “Say something.”
He stared back at her, knowing he couldn’t be near her. Not now. Not yet anyway. “Moira, you are not alone. I promise you that.”
Moira sank gratefully into the warm bath that Daniel had had two maids bring up. It wasn’t too hot, which would sap her, and not too cool. She had opened her trunk and lifted a small chest full of aromatics—a bit of mint to invigorate her; a touch of lavender oil to soothe. She was shaky, but after closing her eyes for a while and choking down a half cup of chicken broth, she managed to get to the tub and into it unaided. She held her breath and went all the way under, letting the water seep into her scalp, and then resurfacing, eyes still closed, breathing in the lovely smells.
She wiped her face with a small cloth, washing all her makeup off, intending to begin again. Then she reached for a luxurious, rich shampoo that she lathered in her hands before rubbing it through her hair and rinsing. She had to see tonight’s performance—and tomorrow’s—through, then escape this town. She would send word to the opera houses on her schedule that she would have to postpone, in plenty of time to avoid the ire of the last three of four. That would give her three to go back to when she was again ready to take the stage. If she would ever be ready …
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