“’Tis so good to see you, but what of Sadie and your escorts?” Cat asked.
One hand waved away her friend’s worries while the other clutched her tighter. “Sadie is good, a bit weary from spending too much time in the Nevada sun, but otherwise hale and excited to be nearly here. They’re atop that ridge there fixing a wagon wheel and hopefully should be along before nightfall.” She paused to point in the direction she’d come from. “I simply couldn’t wait a moment longer. But I wasn’t alone for the entire way. A gentleman named Dylan escorted me a ways. He said he was an employee of Mr. Fergusson’s, so he seemed safe enough.”
Pale blue eyes widening, Cat turned to stare hard at Deirdre. “Deirdre Quinn! ’Tis dangerous in these parts, as you well know from your travels. But, I expected as much. Dylan is a good man. Thank the saints ’twas him you came across and not someone else,” she said, smiling at the last. “I do hope your trip was uneventful.”
Eyes rolling to the sky, Deirdre sighed dramatically. “Dreadfully so. Clearly far less eventful than your own. I want to hear all the details about you and Mr. Fergusson. Don’t you dare hold a thing back!”
A schoolgirl joy filled Cat as she delved into a story about natives, wildlife, and greedy cattle barons sending assassins after them. It all sounded so fantastical, like something out of a penny-dreadful novel, but her friend never lied. Finally, she told her how she and Rick—as she called him, so familiar!—fell in love. Each detail and twist in the story made Deirdre’s heart pound faster and eyes grow wider, but none so much as the story of her friend’s romance.
“Oh Cat, how incredibly romantic! I’m so happy for you,” she said.
Cat giggled and shook her head. “Did you not hear the part about the bison, the natives, and Ainsworth wanting our land?” she said.
“Yes, and I’m dreadfully jealous that your trip was so much more eventful than mine. But I’m glad you’re all right.” She shot her a big smile. “So, have you lain with him yet?”
Cat turned nearly the shade of her hair. Emitting a squeal, Deirdre gripped Cat’s arm all the tighter. “You did! Tell me all about it! Was he a thoughtful lover? Did you try any of the positions from the Kama Sutra book?”
Cat exclaimed in Gaelic, halting Deirdre’s questions and fueling her excitement. Her friend had always been afraid to speak their native tongue. Her willingness to do so now seemed a very good sign to Deirdre. Both women fell into a fit of giggles.
“He’s wonderful, in every way. I’ll tell you all about it tonight, I promise. Oh Deirdre, he has proposed, and I’ve accepted! O’ course, he wired my father to ask permission, but I would have said yes even if he had denied Rick,” Cat said.
The dreamy look in her eyes made Deirdre want to swoon. She hadn’t seen Cat this happy since she and her first husband had started courting. And that had been different. Then she had possessed the timid look of a girl with a crush—one that would lead her down a dangerous road of pain and heartache. This time she glowed with the strength and happiness of true love.
“That is the most wonderful news! We must celebrate!”
The look of joy started to fade from Cat’s eyes. She patted the back of Deirdre’s hand. “We will, most certainly. But first, I must tell you about Ainsworth.” She gestured to the land on the other side of the creek. “That land belongs to Rick. His father found gold in this creek, enough to make his family very wealthy.”
With a cry, Deirdre slapped gently at Cat’s arm. “Your rugged guide turned out to be wealthy, and with gold of all things! This just gets better and better.”
Cat laughed and shook her head. “Aye, but it gets worse as well. Ainsworth wants either Rick’s land or ours so he can pan that creek for gold.” She gestured to the skeletal beginnings of the winery. “When he couldn’t kill either Rick or I, he made sure no one would sell us materials to build.”
Brows pulling together, Deirdre eyed the meager materials stacked next to where Rick worked on a partially built wall. “Surely the entire town doesn’t support Ainsworth,” she said.
“None of them support him, but most of them fear him. What you see there is from those who are willing to defy him. We don’t have enough to build the winery, let alone our homes. Worse yet…” she paused to swallow. The pain that etched deep lines on her face flared anger to life in Deirdre. “Ainsworth has convinced the county to cut our time short. If we don’t have dwellings built on all three parcels of land by spring, we lose it.”
Though anger broiled within her, Deirdre smiled and patted Cat’s hand. “No worries, dear, we’ll find a way around this. You know how I get when I set my mind to something,” she said.
A smile swept away some of Cat’s concern. “Aye, I do at that.”
Three large shapes emerged from the other side of the hill to their right, wagons. “Ah look, there’s Sadie now,” Deirdre pointed out.
After much exclaiming and a bit of jumping up and down like a lass, Cat called to Rick to bring their horses.
“We’ll go meet them, then I’ll take you ladies to the inn,” Cat told her.
“The inn?”
Cat nodded. “Aye. No more sleeping under the stars. Warm baths and a fine feather bed awaits you both at the O’Leary Inn. Can’t stay out among the wolves and bears, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to stay at Rick’s, though he says we’re welcome there any time.”
“Aw, Cat, you didn’t have to arrange that,” she protested weakly. Part of her would miss the open sky above her and the fresh air, but the parts that ached from a long journey thrilled at the mention of a feather bed. Then her mind caught on the name. “O’Leary Inn, is that the one I passed on the way here, just on the other side of the rock wall?”
“Aye, ’tis.”
Warmth flushed through her, and not just to her cheeks. “I met the most handsome stable hand there.”
Cat laughed. “O’ course you did. What was his name? I know most of the staff there.”
A frown tugged Deirdre’s lips down. “I didn’t catch it.”
“Cheer up, dear, you’ll have plenty of chances to catch far more than just his name,” Cat said through a smirk.
They fell into a fit of laughter as Deirdre smacked her friend’s arm. All smiles, Rick approached and handed them the reins to their horses. He helped Cat climb onto a gorgeous, tall, painted horse of brown, white, and black. His hand lingered a moment on her leg before he stepped away. Grinning at her friend, Deirdre shook her head as Rick came to help her onto her own horse. Exchanging looks, she and Cat picked up their reins at the same time. Without a word, they both spurred their horses and cantered off toward the wagon train. Laughter trailed behind them in the wind.
Chapter 5
The dark, quiet house absorbed Dylan’s call. No scents of stew or porridge filled the air. The fireplace lay cold and empty with no pot hanging within. An empty bedroom with a smooth, perfectly tucked patchwork quilt made it clear no one had been in there since this morning. Where could she have gotten off to? Worry started to push away the exhaustion of a hard day’s work, giving him a boost of energy.
“Victoria? Where have you gotten off to?” he called out, louder this time.
Still, the empty house did not answer.
Guilt chewed on him for taking so long with the beautiful Quinn woman. He should have been home an hour ago. It took only moments to search the other rooms of the small house. Chest heaving with deep breaths that only invited panic into his heart faster, he plunged back outside. An empty garden awaited around the back of the house. He dashed back out to the run-in shed where his horse stood munching on the hay he’d thrown it.
“Sorry, lad,” he said as he slid the horse’s bridle back on.
His mind going over all the places she could have gone, he vaulted onto the horse’s back. Aside from the house or garden, there was only one place he could think of she would go. He pointed
his horse toward the hill and squeezed him into a gallop. Rocky ground made the going hard. The steep hill soon slowed them to a loping pace that couldn’t exactly be called a canter. He should slow the poor creature to a trot, at least, but fear wouldn’t allow him to. Victoria could have easily slipped on the rocks, twisted an ankle, hit her head, or even tumbled down a ways. She could be lying somewhere hurt and alone, waiting for help.
His gaze scanned the hillside as they ascended it. Only rocks, tufts of grass, and the occasional wildflower covered the land. Finally, the slick rocks forced his horse to walk. He patted the creature’s neck and murmured words of thanks and encouragement. They crested the top and he prepared to launch his horse into a gallop again. But there was no need. A woman sat on the ground not ten feet away, her navy-blue cotton dress bunched up around her crossed legs. One hand stroked the granite headstone poking up out of the grass before her, while the other clutched a bouquet of yellow and white wildflowers to her chest. Wisps of long white hair that had escaped the bun at the nape of her neck blew about her wrinkled face, half-obscuring it from him.
“Victoria!” Dylan exclaimed as he slid from the saddle.
He dropped his horse’s reins and gave him the command to stay. Confident in the animal’s obedience, he jogged to Victoria’s side. The horse wouldn’t go anywhere without him unless he told it to; he was well trained. A fact that had recently helped ensure his meeting with a beautiful young widow. Kneeling down beside Victoria, he draped an arm around her thin shoulders. The skin of her arm felt chilly beneath his hand.
“I’m all right, lad. No need to fret o’er me. I just wanted to come up and see me lad a’fore dinner. I didn’t realize I’d gotten such a late start. I’m sorry to worry ya,” Victoria said.
Dylan took his coat off and draped it around her shoulders. “Ah, Victoria, you should have waited. I’d have brought you up here. You’re as chilly as a winter’s breeze.”
She chuckled but gripped the coat tight around her. “’Tis not so bad as all that.”
The redness of her hands worried him. “If you’ve had a fair chance to chat with him a bit, we should get you back home and get dinner on. Something warm in your belly would do you a lot of good.”
She patted his hand as he helped her rise. “And yours, no doubt, lad, as you’ve been working so hard. Me apologies for neglecting to think of that. Today was just a bit of a melancholy day is all.”
Guilt stabbed icy fingers deep into his chest as he glanced at the headstone. It had been a year this month. While he wasn’t sure of the exact day, as things had been so chaotic back then, he was certain of the month. Victoria probably had it down to the day. He hugged her a little tighter against his side. “Don’t you worry none about that. I shouldn’t have been late.”
“Nonsense. You’re a good lad, as much me son as Thomas was in many ways. You take good care of me and I’m right grateful to you for doing so. But you should be off charming lasses in your evenings, not doting over an old lady.”
His mind filled with the image of a black-haired beauty sailing her horse over his head. “I did actually meet a lass today,” he admitted.
“Did you now? Tell me all about her!” Victoria said with a clap of her hands.
As he helped her onto his horse, he recounted the tale of how he’d met the widow Quinn, leaving out the bits about the improper ride together—and, of course, his even more improper thoughts.
“Oh, she sounds lovely! And out of mourning, did you say?”
He took up his horse’s reins, which lifted his head from the grass he had begun to snatch up, and started to lead him down the hill. “She is,” he said through a grin that he couldn’t hold back had he wanted to.
Victoria squealed like a schoolgirl and clapped her hands again. The horse popped his head up, but otherwise behaved. “’Tis wonderful news! Are you going to see her again?”
The distant rolling hills of gold where the widows’ land lay drew his gaze. “Not officially. But their land borders me boss’s so I’m certain to run into her again while I’m at work.”
Eyes narrowing, Victoria thrust a finger at him. “You make a point of it. A lass likes to know when she’s caught a man’s attention, and she’s clearly caught yours.” One hand covered her heart and she fluttered her eyes in a dramatic gesture that nearly made him chuckle. “Besides, it would do me old heart good to see you find someone. I won’t be on this earth forever, and I don’t want you alone when I leave it.”
A grin broke across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, purposefully not making it clear to which part he was being obedient. He wanted to make Victoria happy, more than anything. But the situation with Deirdre Quinn was complicated in ways he couldn’t share with Victoria. Getting close to Deirdre would make Ainsworth look too hard at him. That was something he had to avoid at all costs. At least until he got what he needed from the man. Not to mention, he wasn’t entirely sure Deirdre was interested in him. The unusualness of that alone made her fascinating.
To distract Victoria from the subject, he asked her about her day. As they descended the hill, she went on and on about the various birds she had seen outside her window and catalogued, and the state of her pumpkins and other squash growing in her garden. Slowly, the last lingering bits of melancholy drained from her voice. His guilt didn’t go with it, though. He should have been here for her, to take her up to her son’s grave. Hell, to go himself. It had been months since he’d stepped foot up there. Perhaps tomorrow he’d take a bit of that good Irish whiskey he had left up there and share a shot with his old friend.
The distant shape of a lone rider coming up the road began to take form below them. Though the person was too far away to make out, the sight sent a chill through Dylan. Few people came down this road. The only place it led to was Victoria’s small farm. All Victoria’s friends were too old to travel out this far from town and all of his were either dead or in another state. But he didn’t need to play the guessing game to figure out who it was. The icy pit of his gut told him.
“Looks like our evening visitor is early,” Victoria said.
The icy fingers of dread spread up to his chest. “You’re expecting a visitor?”
“Aye. Mr. Ainsworth came calling after you earlier today, said he’d be back to catch you this evening.” Her cheery tone sounded genuine enough. Still, he worried.
“He didn’t vex you in any way, or harass you about the rent, did he? He gave us an extra week and he knows Mr. Fergusson pays me on Friday.”
Victoria waved her hand as if what he’d said was the most absurd thing she’d heard all day. “O’ course not. He was polite as could be, a gentleman. He even stayed to have tea with me.”
The palm of Dylan’s right hand itched for the grip of a pistol he had long ago put away. Wrinkles pulling up into a smile filled with a naïve innocence, she beamed down at him. It was the look of a woman who believed in the goodness of others, who trusted them too much. The look of a woman who believed the lie that her son had died fighting in the Civil War.
Dylan swallowed hard. “Still, he shouldn’t be calling on a lady alone. Ain’t proper.”
“I know. But I get so few visitors, and he is the landlord, after all.” A touch of melancholy had worked its way back into her voice.
They reached the bottom of the hill and started toward the barn. The rider was less than a quarter of a mile down the road now, and Dylan could easily tell it was Ainsworth. He walked a little faster. He wanted to get Victoria inside before the man arrived.
“Do you know what he wanted, if not to talk about the rent?” he asked.
“Aye!” Victoria’s excited words made the horse lift his head abruptly. “He wants to speak to you about a job. Says it’ll pay enough that we won’t have to worry about the rent for an entire year!”
He didn’t want to ruin her excitement, but he didn’t want her encouraging Ainsworth
either—or worse yet, having him over for tea again. “A job like that’s bound to be dangerous,” he mused.
Her smile wilted. “Oh. Well, don’t you be taking on a dangerous job just to pay me rent. ’T’aint worth it.”
“Our rent. We’re in this together, remember? And no worries, I have a job, don’t need another,” he assured her.
When he reached up to help her down she patted his hand and smiled. “That’s a good lad, such a good lad.”
Setting her gently on the flagstone path, he gave her a lopsided grin. “Not at all, but I like it when you say so.”
She giggled at their old game and patted his cheek. Little did she know how much he meant the words. Holding tight to his false smile, he walked her to the house and opened the door for her. “You get on out of this cold now. I’ll see to Mr. Ainsworth,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “I’ll get dinner on. I’ve got a nice apple pie waiting for after, so don’t you be long.”
His smile held until the door closed behind her. Shoulders squaring and spine straightening as much as it could under so much strain, Dylan turned from the house. He didn’t bother to put the smile back on. Ainsworth would know it was fake, and the man wasn’t worth the effort anyway. The best Dylan could hope for was to get this encounter over with as quickly as possible.
Chapter 6
Butterflies erupted in Deirdre’s stomach and tried to force her heart up her throat. Dusk painted the sign to the O’Leary Inn a lovely golden color. “I do wish I’d caught that stable hand’s name,” she breathed as she fussed with her hair.
Cat made a snorting sound. “I’ve no doubt you’ll catch that and more soon.”
From the back of the draft horse to Deirdre’s right came an exasperated sound. “Oh, Deirdre, a stable hand? Must you pursue this silly idea of yours?” Sadie asked.
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