A Desperate Hope

by Elizabeth Camden

  Hercules and his family moved out of the tavern as soon as the dismantling began. Every stone, board, and roof tile had been numbered and plotted. Soon the building would be taken apart like a giant jigsaw puzzle. The windows had already been removed, and tomorrow a crane would lift the roof off, but first Alex needed to unscrew the internal brackets from inside the attic.

  He worked alone, for it was dangerous up in the attic. A couple of the floorboards were so old that they split when he put his weight on them, and he didn’t want his nephews or Hercules up here. His brother weighed more than he did, and these old boards might protest. Mold, dust, and stale air made it a gritty task.

  There wasn’t enough room to stand, and Alex’s neck ached as he unscrewed the brackets. Footsteps coming up the ladder broke his concentration, and Hercules popped his head through the opening in the floor.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Alex cautioned. “These old planks won’t hold us both.”

  “Then get over here,” Hercules said. “I’ve got news.”

  The boards creaked as Alex crawled toward the opening. He fought the temptation to sneeze as more dust swirled. “What is it?”

  “Word has it that Garrett’s been sprung from prison. He’s a free man, out on five thousand dollars’ bail.”

  Alex’s jaw dropped. “What more proof did they need that he’s guilty?”

  “The sheriff says there’s too many suspects to hold Garrett,” Hercules said. “They let him out but are keeping him under house arrest. And they’ve taken Oscar Ott in for questioning.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Around.”

  Alex stilled and looked Hercules in the eye. “No, specifically—where did you hear that?” He held his breath. Eloise had long suspected that Hercules was the town snitch. Alex refused to believe it, but Hercules did seem to know everything that went on in the valley.

  Hercules smirked. “I heard it from those two gravediggers. They never dug up many graves, but they’re sure friendly with the sheriff.” A grin broke out across his face. “For pity’s sake, why didn’t you tell me they were undercover detectives?”

  Alex smiled as relief trickled through him. “It was supposed to be a secret.”

  “Like anything stays a secret in this town.” Hercules winked and headed back down the ladder.

  Alex returned to work, but as he dismantled the brackets, a nagging question surfaced and wouldn’t let him rest.

  How did Hercules learn those men were detectives?

  Every muscle in Alex’s body ached as he crawled out of the attic with two hundred years of dust coating his throat. Hercules and his family had already moved in to the Gilmore Inn, and Alex looked forward to a hot meal with them.

  “Any mail for me?” he asked at the front desk. It had been a week since he sent Eloise that letter. He hadn’t heard back from her yet, but there were two letters in his slot, and he eyed them in anticipation.

  Kasper didn’t budge from his chair at the telegraph stand. “You know I’m not paid to deliver postal mail.”

  The mail slots were within arm’s reach of Kasper’s station, but Alex was too tired to argue with the world’s laziest man. He walked around the counter and grabbed his two letters. A bill from the engineers and another for oxen feed. His heart sank. Had Eloise even gotten his note?

  Hercules and a dozen other workers were already chowing down in the dining room, and Alex was about to join them when Marie Trudeau entered the hotel. She walked directly to Kasper, ignoring the sidelong looks sent by some in the dining room.

  “Do you have any telegrams for Mr. Garrett? Or other letters? I’ve been asked to collect everything.”

  It looked like Hercules was right about Garrett getting out of jail, and Mrs. Trudeau hadn’t wasted any time going back to him.

  “I’ve been sending telegrams up to his house as they come in,” Kasper said.

  “No other notes or messages?” she pressed. “He thinks you might have something.”

  “Nope.”

  Willard came out of his office at the sound of Mrs. Trudeau’s voice. “I don’t know why you’re currying favor with Garrett,” the normally genial innkeeper said. “Everyone knows he did it. It’s just a matter of time before they arrest him again.”

  Mrs. Trudeau faced Willard, proudly holding up her hand to display a ring with a flashing blue stone. “That’s why I’m helping him. It is a promise of marriage, and I wouldn’t devote myself to any man unless I had complete faith in him.” She used her best schoolmarm voice. Except for Willard and Kasper, every person in this room had been in Mrs. Trudeau’s classroom at some point and instinctively settled down upon hearing that tone.

  Alex braced himself when she turned her attention to him, especially when the starch went out of her and sympathy clouded her face.

  “Alex, I’ve also brought news for you, and you’re going to want to be sitting down to hear it.”

  He went on alert. “Go ahead and tell me now.”

  “Mr. Garrett told me that Eloise is attending her cousin’s wedding tomorrow with that fellow in charge of the reservoir finances, Fletcher Jones.”

  “She’s doing what?” he blurted, although he’d heard perfectly well the first time. Fletcher Jones was supposed to be in her past! No wonder she hadn’t answered his letter if she was gallivanting around town with that stuffed shirt.

  Catcalls followed him as he vaulted upstairs and raced to his room. He’d need money for a train ticket and a fresh shirt. He could change once he was aboard the train.

  Hercules awaited him in the lobby, an annoyed look on his face. “Where are you going?”

  “New York City. You know why.”

  “Funny, I heard it was her cousin getting married, not Eloise.”

  Alex shrugged into his coat. “Would you sit back while some man escorted Sally all over town?”

  “I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re at a critical point in getting the tavern moved. Everyone looks to you for leadership on this kind of thing.”

  It was true. People were getting tired as the end drew near, and he was the right person to light a fire beneath the troops. Abandoning the tavern gnawed at him, but a man had to have priorities in life.

  “The tavern is my family’s home,” he admitted. “But Eloise is my family. I can’t stand down. I did that twelve years ago, and I won’t give up so easily. Never again.”

  Hercules gave a reluctant nod of acceptance. “Then go get her.”

  Chapter

  Thirty-One

  Eloise and Fletcher sat near the middle of the church during the wedding, but even from here she could see the affection blazing in Nick’s eyes as he gazed at his bride. It was a love match, and she ought to be happy for her cousin.

  Instead, the sight of Nick and Rosalind kneeling before the altar with clasped hands and open hearts made her wonder if she would ever have a man who adored her that much. Alex claimed to, but time and again he’d taken her for granted. And Fletcher? He sat stiffly beside her, the epitome of well-mannered comportment. He had all the makings of a good husband, but their hearts weren’t aligned.

  The wedding reception was held at an elegant clubhouse. As they waited in the receiving line, Eloise and Fletcher each commented on how lovely Rosalind looked. In the dining room, they admired the quality of the miniature pastries and the towering cake. When the music began, Fletcher rose and invited her to the dance floor.

  “You dance very well,” he complimented.

  “Thank you.”

  They danced a waltz, gliding across the floor in perfect tandem. He was obviously a polished dancer, and she bit her tongue to avoid complimenting him in turn. If they said one more polite thing to each other, she’d shriek like a banshee.

  “The string quartet is very good, aren’t they?” Fletcher said.

  “Yes, excellent.” She itched to ask him if he’d ever been reprimanded in school, read a novel he loathed, had a howling weakness. It was on the tip of her
tongue to ask if he’d ever done something horrible enough to make his mother cry when she noticed a disturbance in the rear of the hall. It looked like someone was trying to enter the reception without an invitation, and the waiters were blocking him.

  Nick noticed and brusquely cut through the dance floor with a fighting expression on his face. “What are you doing here, Duval?” he demanded.

  Eloise gasped as she recognized Alex, his hair disheveled and collar askew. Alex didn’t even glance at Nick as he pushed through the crowd until he stood before her. Fletcher’s arms tightened protectively around her.

  “Alex?” she asked, her voice both shocked and bewildered. Had he come all this way for her? It felt like her heart was about to leap out of her chest, but she couldn’t really believe he was here.

  “Don’t do this, Eloise,” Alex said, his breath ragged as though he’d run a hundred miles. “Come back home.”

  “Get out of here,” Fletcher said. “She’s made her choice, and you don’t belong here.”

  Some waiters materialized and stood at the ready, one looking to Nick for instruction. Nick gave a curt shake of his head. Alex didn’t spare them a glance. All he could do was stare at her as though she held the keys to the universe in her hand.

  “Come back to the valley, Eloise,” Alex said. “We still have work to do and castles to build. Don’t throw away everything we have. Not for him.”

  A man wearing a general’s uniform was calm but firm. “Take it outside, gentlemen.”

  “There won’t be any fistfights at my wedding,” Nick said.

  “We can cart him off to jail until he cools off,” the general offered.

  Fletcher was quick to agree. “Good idea—”

  “Don’t you dare,” Eloise said. She didn’t know why Alex was here, but she simultaneously wanted to protect him and kick him to the moon and back.

  “He doesn’t deserve you,” Alex said passionately.

  “And Nick doesn’t deserve to have you idiots disrupt his wedding,” the general said. “You have five seconds to disperse. Five! Four!”

  “Alex, be realistic,” Eloise pleaded. “For once in your life, could you please reach deep down inside and dredge up a tiny sliver of logic?”

  “There’s nothing logical about the way I feel for you. I will wait for you until the stars fall from the sky—”

  “Fine, but your five seconds are up,” Nick said. “Go outside and start waiting for those stars to fall. You’ve caused enough commotion in here.”

  “Let’s step out onto the terrace and handle this like rational adults,” she said. “Or at least we can pretend to be rational for a few minutes, okay?”

  He hadn’t torn his eyes off her face, but hope began to gleam behind his eyes, and she felt it too. He flashed her a half-repentant, half-wicked smile. “Right,” he agreed. “Rational adults. Let’s go.”

  She led the way, even though Fletcher tried to hold her in place. She twisted away and headed toward the French doors that opened onto a flagstone terrace. She sensed both men following.

  “You’ve made quite a spectacle of yourself,” Fletcher accused Alex the moment they stepped onto the terrace.

  “That’s what a man in love does,” Alex said, looking directly at her, hope burning in his eyes.

  “Really?” Fletcher drawled. “An intelligent man would have shown affection by pulling out all the stops to prove Mr. Garrett innocent, rather than dithering in a hopeless quest.”

  Alex snorted. “If Bruce Garrett is innocent, I’ll eat my hat.”

  “It’s true, Alex,” she said. “Fletcher helped me find proof that Oscar Ott signed for equipment to transport a boxcar off rails three days after the Russians went missing. We have proof.” She sent a grateful smile to Fletcher, for he truly had been heroic that day, dropping everything to find evidence of that purchase.

  “Are you sure?” Alex sputtered.

  “Certain.”

  Alex winced. “I said I would eat my hat, and I will, Eloise. Just say the word.”

  She nearly exploded. This was just the sort of stupid, extravagant gesture she was coming to expect from him. “Do you think for a single second that I would enjoy watching you eat your hat?”

  “It can be done. I saw a guy in Cuba do it on a dare.” Alex looked braced for battle, his chin lifted and face resolute, if a little apprehensive.

  A seed of mirth bubbled up inside her, requiring willpower to force it back. She clamped a hand over her mouth, but the fact that Alex would probably do it if she asked was both appalling and hilarious. A snort of laughter escaped, and then she couldn’t help it. Peals of laughter broke out, and Alex flashed a knowing grin, laughing alongside her.

  “Shall we rejoin the reception?” Fletcher asked, a hint of impatience in his tone.

  She ought to, for it was a grand celebration with fine food, an excellent string quartet, and an escort who was gentlemanly and safe.

  But a hundred miles away was a town with half-built streets and people fighting for a cause, powered by little but their own two hands and hope for the future. She glanced at Fletcher. He had countless fine qualities, but he wasn’t the right man for her. They didn’t share the same faith, and he didn’t inspire her to reach beyond her boundaries. They couldn’t be a real team.

  “I need to return to the valley,” she said to him gently. “I have unfinished work up there.”

  Fletcher gave the slightest nod. “And you are most assuredly finished here.”

  She watched him retreat into the club, a tangled mass of emotions swirling inside. Fletcher had been stable, gentlemanly, and predictable. Alex was none of those things and never would be.

  Even as regret began to cloud the edges of her mind, Alex pulled her gently into his arms, reading her mind like he always could. “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. We’re in this together.”

  “I don’t feel very safe right now.” She felt like she’d just been flung into the deep end of the ocean without a net or life raft. Alex turned her around, drawing her back against him, and coaxed her to look through the windows at the glittering wedding reception in full swing.

  “Tell me what you see in there,” he said.

  “Happy people. Perfect lives.”

  His arms tightened around her middle, and he whispered in her ear. “Oh, Eloise, there’s no such thing as a perfect life, but what you and I have is magnificent. It comes with blisters on our hands and an uncertain future, but even so, it has been a grand ride, and I don’t ever want it to end. I know you wish I could be more logical. Sometimes I wish you could be a little more impulsive. But, Eloise, we bring out the best in each other. Can you doubt that?”

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. If she rolled the dice and gambled on Alex, she would never be able to change him. She needed to accept his freewheeling ways, just as he accepted her own oddities. Alex was a gamble, and she’d never been a risk-taker.

  “I know I’ve hurt you,” he continued. “Over the past eight months I’ve picked up and moved houses, blasted through bedrock, steamrolled new land . . . and I’ve gotten a little clumsy. I made the mistake of thinking you were as tough as you looked, but it was always the gentle side of you I loved best.”

  “Even ballast has feelings.” She said it simply, with no bitterness or accusation, and he nodded in acceptance.

  “I know, and I can do better. Just don’t walk away from us.”

  On the other side of the French doors, the wedding guests glittered in candlelight as they danced and laughed. Nick and his bride looked dazzling, twirling in an unabashed waltz as though they didn’t have a care in the world. But even that was an illusion. Nick had an ulcer from the stress of his job, and Rosalind had a rocky past. They had fought hard to get where they were and still had plenty of challenges ahead.

  Then she saw Fletcher holding a petite blond woman as they executed the steps of the waltz. She winced a little, and Alex must have sensed it.

&
nbsp; “Are you regretting what just happened?” he asked quietly.

  “It’s too late for regrets.”

  He turned her to face him, sympathy radiating from his warm gaze. “You’re the one who gambled everything tonight. That’s quite a role-reversal for us, isn’t it? I’m fully aware that you have walked away from a safe job, a safe man, and a very nice apartment with water and electricity. I know this isn’t easy for you. When we get back to Highpoint, there are going to be obstacles everywhere, but if we battle them together, they won’t seem so bad.”

  The fact that he acknowledged her insecurities without belittling them meant the world to her. And truly, she was strong enough to face whatever happened up there. She stepped closer into the comfort of his arms.

  “It’s the obstacles that make us stronger,” she whispered into his ear.

  Life would be so much easier if it could be nothing but a candlelit waltz, but she had chosen her course, and there was no going back.

  “Let’s take the train home tomorrow,” she whispered, and felt him smile against the side of her face.

  She prayed she was doing the right thing.

  Alex’s back was stiff from sleeping on a bench at Grand Central Station. When he parted from Eloise last night, he hadn’t let on that he had no money for a hotel and instead simply found a bench at the train station, where he would meet her to return home.

  He made his way to the washroom to splash cold water on his face and straighten his rumpled clothes. After purchasing train tickets for himself, Eloise, and her maid, he spent his last dime on a cup of hot coffee and felt ready to face the day. He paced the main terminal, scanning the crowd in search of her. He didn’t have long to wait, but his heart sank when he saw her. She came alone, with only a satchel and a slim box in one hand. No trunks of clothing or the maid and baby she adored.

  “Let me carry that for you,” he said as he reached for the bag. “I thought Tasha and the baby would be with you.”

  She shook her head. “They’ve just settled back in to the city. I don’t want to ask them to move until . . . well, I don’t even know if I’ll have a roof over my head in Duval Springs.”