The Courting of Widow Shaw

by Charlene Sands

  Gloria’s ire sparked, lit like a candle on a moonless night. “You’re right. I don’t want to be here. If I could, I’d shut down this place, along with all the other brothels. What you do is—”

  “Is by choice,” Ruby cut in. “We do what we do. You don’t have to like it. But Carmen is right. You should not judge us. You killed your husband defending yourself. You did what you had to do…to survive. We’re not all that different.”

  “Lorene is good to us. We have a good life. Much better than if we hadn’t come here,” Emmie offered with softness in her tone. “And now, you’re here, among us. Steven is bent on protecting you.”

  “I didn’t ask for his help,” Gloria responded irrationally. She knew if Steven hadn’t rescued her, she would have died alongside Boone that night.

  Carmen snorted, a most unladylike gesture.

  The others scowled.

  “But I’m grateful to him,” she added quickly. “He saved my life.”

  And that’s all she’d allow herself to feel for the man whose life was worlds apart from hers. She couldn’t condone who and what he was any more than she could these ladies, who stood tall and proud defending themselves. “I’d better go. Thank you for the meal, Mattie.”

  A sad smile lifted Mattie’s mouth up slightly. She, too, thought she judged the “ladies” too harshly. “I appreciate the help with the pies.”

  Gloria raised her chin and walked out of the kitchen as regally as she could manage. She’d confronted the prostitutes on their own ground, and hadn’t cowered. She held firm her resolve. The brothels had no place in Virginia City or any other town. They brought in rowdies, people like Denny Pratt, a drunken drifter who had quarrelled with Lorene Harding and had pulled a gun on her. Gloria’s unsuspecting father had gotten caught in the turmoil and lost his life over a mindless squabble with a whorehouse madam.

  Gloria would never find forgiveness with these women. She’d never understand the choices they made. If the good Lord wanted that, then He asked far too much from her. She climbed the stairs slowly contemplating her life and headed back to Steven’s bedroom.

  Her prison.

  Chapter Five

  Alone in her room, Gloria peeked out the heavy curtain to the street below. Situated on the corner of Union and C, Rainbow House sat in the heart of the rowdiest part of town, a place where saloons, music halls and brothels attracted miners by the hundreds. Tonight was no different. Drunken men swaggered with women on their arm and from her third-floor perch, faint sounds of music from the street below drifted up, rivaling the lively piano playing coming from just three flights down in this very house.

  Gloria shuddered involuntarily. The notion of where she was living still came as quite a shock. “Lord, what am I to do?” she muttered, closing the curtains and lowering her head. Even though her faith had been tested at times, Gloria still believed in the Almighty, His power and wisdom. There must be a reason for all this, she mused. He must have a grand plan, a motive for placing her here now, amid the kind of life she so adamantly and wholeheartedly denounced.

  A beautifully ornate grandfather clock made of brass and carved walnut struck the eleventh hour. Gloria had left the kitchen earlier in the day in a huff, grateful to be away from the fallen women who defended their profession with all the dignity of heroic soldiers. With nothing to do and not a soul around, she’d fallen into a deep, mindless sleep. She’d woken up an hour ago well rested and completely bored.

  “Well, Glory,” she said, trying out the name on her lips, debating whether she preferred it, as her father had…and Steven. “What now?”

  “What now?” The door creaked open and she whirled around. Her traitorous heart rejoiced at seeing Steven, somewhat weather-beaten, standing in her doorway. He stepped inside quickly, shutting out the boisterous music and laughter from downstairs, as he closed the door.

  She was lonely and he represented company, someone to quell her boredom tonight for a moment or two, she rationalized. She tamped down the joy she felt watching his beautiful eyes move over her softly, in an assessing way, as if checking on her well-being. She could never have warm feelings for this man, despite the fact that he’d saved her life.

  “Are you talking to yourself?” he asked, a quick grin flashing across his face.

  She gestured with a swipe of her arms. “Do you see anybody else here for me to speak with?”

  “Yeah. I’m here now.”

  She bounced her bottom on the bed, much like a child who hadn’t gotten her way. “Why are you?”

  Steven moved closer and his scent, the smell of earth and fresh air and leather, assailed her instantly. It was a brutal reminder of her plight. She was a prisoner in this house, this very room. She longed to go outside, to be free again. To have that right would be the grandest gift she’d ever receive.

  “I came to see you.”

  She glanced at him, his rugged, handsome face appearing road-weary. “You look tired.”

  “I worked all day at the ranch. Building the house with my own hands, and setting up the corrals for my horses.”

  “And you came all this way to check on me? To make sure I hadn’t escaped?”

  Steven walked over to the window, pulled the drapes apart and leaned heavily on the window frame. With his back to her, he spoke in an edgy tone. “You’re not a prisoner here, dammit. If you want to get your hide thrown in jail, walk down those stairs and out the door.” He turned to face her. “I guarantee you’d find Sheriff Brimley’s jail cell a lot less accommodating than this room.”

  Gloria bounded up from the bed to face him evenly. “I’m sorry. I do apologize. I suppose that wasn’t at all gracious of me. I, uh… I don’t know exactly how to handle this.”

  The hardness in his eyes softened a bit. “Did you go downstairs today?”

  “For a short time. I met Mattie.” She smiled, remembering how good it felt to make those pies. “We baked strawberry pies.”

  He raised a brow and nodded, apparently in approval.

  “But then some of the…the ladies came into the kitchen.”

  Steven scratched his chin and sighed. “They give you a bad time of it?”

  Gloria winced. “I think we gave each other a bad time.”

  “They’ll come around,” he declared, as if that would heal the situation.

  “I’m not sure I want them to.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m…we aren’t…”

  “Doesn’t your God believe in forgiveness, Glory? Doesn’t He believe we can all live in the world, differences and all?”

  Gloria put her head down. “I used to believe that. I don’t know anymore.”

  And then, Steven was there, placing a finger under her chin and lifting it up so that their eyes met. He searched her face for a moment, then smiled. That smile, a brief glimpse into the tender man who had nursed her injuries, created a stirring once again in her heart.

  “I’ll let you rest. You must be tired.”

  “I’m not a bit tired,” she stated, stepping away from his touch, his soft scrutiny. If she sounded the shrew, she couldn’t help it. A moment’s visit with Steven wasn’t enough. How would she endure the long torturous night without benefit of something to do? “I came up here early in the afternoon and slept away the entire day and most of the evening. I’m awake now, in the middle of the night, with nothing to do.”

  Steven took a step closer. The gleam in his earth-brown eyes caused her heart to flutter momentarily. “Whatever you’d like to do, in the middle of the night,” he said in low whisper. “I’ll try to accommodate.”

  “Really, Steven? You’d get me some material and sewing implements? I need different clothes. I can’t go around wearing gowns of this sort.” The thought of sewing up new garments took hold with thrilling excitement. She’d have something to concentrate on and the result of her endeavors meant more appropriate attire.

  He glanced at her gown, his gaze flowing over the dress with interest, until finally, he settled on her ches
t. “You don’t, uh…that gown looks perfect on you.”

  Her hand flew up to the skin exposed by the low bodice of the gown, the very area that held Steven’s direct attention. “It’s unsuitable.”

  He nodded, his gaze staying on her chest. Heat stirred her insides from his direct, unflinching perusal and the glow of appreciation she witnessed in his eyes. He liked the way she looked in a prostitute’s gown. That didn’t surprise her and his admission only marked the distinct differences between them.

  “Right. Well, I can’t go out and get you sewing materials in the dead of night. Fact is, I can’t ever get those things for you. It’d look real suspicious if I purchased female things like that. And the girls here have all their dresses made for them by fancy dress-makers, so it wouldn’t do to have them buy the material you need.”

  “But—”

  “No, Glory. I’m sorry. I’ll think of something tomorrow.” He glanced at her chest once more, lifted his gaze to her throat, her mouth, then looked into her eyes before turning away.

  “It’s more important to keep you safe then worry over your clothes,” he said, parting the heavy curtains again and glancing out the window.

  “So I’m left with nothing to do?” Dejected, Gloria sat down on the bed once again, her voice a pitiful croak of disappointment.

  Steven whirled around to meet her eyes. He twisted his mouth, obviously in a deep struggle with something on his mind. “Ah, hell, Glory.” He strode to the door, reaching for the knob before turning to her. “Wait right here. I have an idea.”

  He was out the door instantly, but Gloria still called out, “What kind of idea?”

  Silence.

  “And where would I possibly go?”

  Less than an hour later, Steven stood outside his bedroom door cursing under his breath and calling himself every kind of fool for taking this chance. He knew the safest place for Glory was right here inside Rainbow House, yet the look in her eyes and her softly spoken misery shattered his good sense. Glory had that effect on him. She shattered him. He’d be better off not dealing with her tonight. He’d be better off allowing her boredom to coax her to sleep. But the image of Glory, sitting upon that bed looking lost and lonely, almost undid him.

  He knocked then entered.

  “You’re back,” she said, her voice giving away her surprise and her blue eyes lighting up upon his return. Steven held back the frown that threatened to ruin her joy. He almost wished he hadn’t thought up this lamebrained idea, but he had and he meant to see it through.

  “I told you I’d be back. I never go back on my word. You can count on that.”

  She nodded, but her attention focused solely on what he held in his hand. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a cloak.”

  She peered at the ink-black woolen cloak and shook her head. “Oh Steven. You really can’t expect me to wear that over this gown. Why, it’s hotter than a cookstove in here during the day.”

  “It’s not for the day. It’s for tonight. How’d you like to get out of here for a while? I’ve got my horse saddled up behind the house. We can sneak down the back stairs. I figure with you wearing this black cloak and me taking the back trails nobody would notice our midnight run.”

  Hope sparked in her eyes. “It is midnight, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “And the streets are emptying. Most men have a hard day in the mines ahead of them. We won’t be seen.”

  Glory reached for the cloak, putting the hood over her head. Strands of her glorious blond hair peeked through. Steven took a step closer to tuck the loose hair under the hood. Then she smiled at him and, a flash of joy cut right through his gut.

  “I’m ready,” she said without hesitation.

  Steven wondered if he was ready. Traveling alone on a midnight ride with the woman he vowed to protect, the woman he owed a great debt, the one and only woman he’d ever really wanted, gave him cause to turn tail and run.

  Ah, hell, Glory. I’m ready, too. I just hope this isn’t a big mistake.

  “Steven,” she said again softly, putting a hand to his arm, “I’m ready.” She searched his eyes.

  “Let’s go.” He took her hand and led her out the door toward the back of the house. There, they descended the stairs quickly and faced Fancy, his steadfast horse.

  The mare snorted and sidestepped a bit. Steven calmed her with soothing words and a stroke to her nose. “It’s okay, girl.” The horse was used to only one rider, one man. But she’d be fine once Glory was atop the saddle. Fancy was one the finest horses in Virginia City.

  Every instinct Steven possessed told him this was not a good idea, but not because Glory wouldn’t be safe from the sheriff or Ned Shaw. No, he could almost assure her safety tonight from the likes of those men.

  The hell of it was that she was probably in more danger being alone with him.

  Sure, he’d displayed a world of willpower when she’d been injured and bedridden. But this new Glory, healing now, spirited and beautiful could undoubtedly melt his resolve with just one sweet smile.

  Steven spanned his hands around Glory’s tiny waist, pulling her in close first so that their bodies brushed. “Trust me, Glory,” he whispered into her ear, “but not too much.”

  He let her go briskly and mounted, shutting off her protests by reaching down to hoist her up. “Shhh. No talking until we get out of town. Stay close and hide your face against my back. With luck if anyone spots us, they’ll think it’s just one rider.”

  He settled her behind him, wrapping both her arms around his middle. “Don’t let go.”

  She mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out, but he was more than certain from her tone, he didn’t want to know what she’d said. He grinned and took off at a fast pace.

  The reverend’s daughter was no docile female.

  Though it would make his life easier if she was, that fact didn’t bother him in the least.

  But what did bother him was the feminine press of her body up against his, the soft crush of two perfectly formed breasts nestled to his back and her delicate hands splayed around his stomach. He willed his breaths to remain even, willed his body not to respond, willed his heart and mind not to take heed. He would not dally with Gloria Mae Shaw, he promised himself.

  He slowed Fancy to a pace more suitable for two riders, hoping to give Glory a smooth ride. They traveled along a narrow trail, up through hills taking them away from Virginia City, Gold Hill and Silver City. They climbed their way through a cropping of tall pines until they came upon a small running stream. Steven had been here before, many times. It was one of his favorite places and as far as he knew, no one else around these parts knew of this particular, secluded spot.

  “We’re here.” He turned to find Glory’s blue eyes taking in the scenery—as much as light from the half moon would allow. A tall rocky-peaked mountain was their shield on one side and lofty Nevada sugar pines protected them from the other. The stream, a tributary from the Truckee River, cut the balance of the land in two.

  “Do you want to get down?” he asked, fully aware of Glory’s arms still wrapped around him.

  “Oh, yes. Please.”

  Tentatively, with a shyness he’d not witnessed before, Glory removed her arms from his waist. He helped her down first, before dismounting.

  He watched her run toward the rushing stream and thrust her arms out wide, breathing deeply, taking in fresh mountain air.

  She’d been cooped up for a week and it was plain to see how much she enjoyed being free of her confinement.

  She giggled like a small child and twirled around, her hood dropping down and allowing her blond hair to escape. She was a vision in the moonlight, a free, uninhibited spirit spinning around with joy in her heart. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here.”

  Steven tied Fancy’s reins around a tree and leaned against it, folding his arms, keeping his distance. It would be too easy to go to her. It would be too easy to take full advantage of her happiness. It would be too d
oggone easy.

  And wrong.

  Steven unrolled a gray blanket and laid it out on the ground. He undid the strap of his saddlebag and brought out a jar of apple cider and some leftover treats that Mattie had packed for him.

  The blanket looked too inviting for a man pretty much dead on his feet. He’d worked at his ranch all day, rode more than an hour late tonight to check on Glory, and now, when he should be sleeping, he found himself entertaining her, like some smitten boy courting his girl.

  Glory walked up and down the streambed balancing herself on rocks, bending to put a hand into the water and splash around. Steven put a hand to his gun, making sure he’d be ready if an intruder came upon them. One never knew when a hungry bear or wolf might approach. This was an isolated area, and though he’d been up here as a young boy and never had a problem, no sense being reckless. They might be disturbing some wild creature’s habitat without knowing it.

  He lowered himself down on the blanket, keeping a watchful eye on Glory. As he leaned his head back against the tree, Glory came forward. She glanced at the food and drink. With eyes that simply danced, she asked, “Are we having a picnic?”

  A midnight picnic?

  Now if that didn’t beat all. Steven hadn’t thought of it that way. And it’d be best if she didn’t, either.

  “Mattie sent along some food.”

  “That was real sweet of her.”

  Glory sat down on the blanket. Her face, cast in the glow of moonlight, was beaming.

  “Is it all right if I take this off?”

  “Huh?” He lifted his head. “Oh, yeah.” She meant the cape. “For now.”

  “It’s a warm night.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She unfastened the tie at her throat. The cape slipped off her shoulders, exposing creamy skin underneath and a surge of heat threatened to do him in. As she leaned forward to fold the cape, her small breasts pressed tight against the fabric of her gown in such a way that she nearly spilled out of the darn thing.

  He had to remember that tonight she was grateful to him for bringing her here. But in the morning, she’d remember her hatred of him, his mother and Rainbow House.