An Outlawed Heiress and Her Duke

by Denise Daye

  “What’s the issue with it, if you don’t mind me asking?” Emily leaned over, her hair shimmering golden next to her beautiful blue eyes that were sparkling like icicles. The morning sunshine that made its way in from the window illuminated her like a holy altar at a church. She was a true beauty, he had to give her that. The money-hungry harpy he had to call mother would be more than pleased if he came home with a match such as this.

  “Not at all.” George shrugged his shoulders. “Apparently, the mine my friend and I had purchased is located on tribal land. So you can understand the sensitive and problematic nature of this matter.”

  Emily furrowed, then gently released her eyebrows in a widening curiosity. “I thought they had settled that with the Brunot Agreement a few years ago?” she asked in a casual tone.

  “That was further north with the Ute tribe. This time the government encroached on Apache land.” George flexed his finger repeatedly, a clear sign that the whole matter bothered him and concerned him deeply.

  “What is a Brunot?” Milton asked with an empty plate in front of him that was shimmering so clean, if George had not seen him eat a few moments ago, one might think he had only just got the plate.

  “A few years back,” Emily started to explain to Milton's eager ears, “the Ute tribe was killing the poor miners in the San Juan mountains. It went on for years before Felix Brunot was finally able to talk sense into those worthless savages, finally removing them from the miner’s lands.”

  Those words were like listening to nails scratching a chalkboard. George narrowed his eyes, carefully analyzing the beauty in front of him once more. He never expected her to be compassionate or selfless, but the way she had just spoken disturbed him deeply. Of the many versions he had heard about the Brunot Agreement, hers was by far the most ignorant his ears had ever had to endure. He was about to say something ungentlemanly, when Egan suddenly threw his head back in loud, disrespectful laughter. The whole train car was staring at him for a moment. Emily laughed a bit herself, most likely thinking Egan found it humorous how she was calling the natives savages. But if George knew this boy even half as well as he thought he did, this was certainly not the case, and Miss Emily Wayne was in for an unpleasant surprise.

  “Absurd,” Egan laughed wholeheartedly, slapping his leg before putting a hand on his chest to try to calm himself. “I apologize,” he sounded somewhat calmer, “but that was by far the most uneducated remark about the Brunot Agreement I have ever heard, and I live on the streets.”

  Emily’s smile vanished in a fraction of a second, her blue eyes darkening with hatred. She wanted to say something, but Egan wouldn’t let her.

  “For years, white men have illegally mined on the reservation that they imprisoned the natives on. In 1873, Brunot pretty much forced the Ute tribes into signing their land away for an annual hand full of dirt in return, or they could insist on keeping their land and get removed by force by the military with no annual hand full of dirt. And that is the Brunot Agreement. Everybody who tells you otherwise has his,” Egan paused and turned back toward Emily, “or her hand full of dirt themselves.”

  Then there was dead silence. Milton exchanged looks with George who carefully peeked over to Emily. Her elegant, soft hands were clenched into tight fists, trembling as they squeezed the table’s cloth, probably picturing it was Egan’s head. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for Egan standing up for the truth like that. But before George could use his calming charms to agree with Egan as well as try to stop Emily from shooting him on the spot, Egan got up and adjusted his clothes.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think we are about to stop for a water-refill, and I would like to stretch my legs,” were Egan’s last words before he walked out the dining car with his pretty chin held up high.

  “It’s the train… It makes him edgy.” Milton jumped up, apologizing nervously with a little courtesy bow to Emily before running after him.

  The train stopped in a shaking motion, spilling some of George’s coffee onto the glowing, white tablecloth. Leaving was the best thing Egan could have done, as Emily most likely would have escalated the argument to never before climbed heights—at least that is what her raging eyes and shaking fists suggested.

  His eyes followed Egan through the window as he stepped onto the train platform.

  “How did you meet those two again?” he heard Emily inquire in a cold, trembling voice.

  “One of them tried to rob me,” George responded with his usual calm, still watching Egan through the window. “The other one saved me from a robbery…twice.”

  Emily let out a high-pitched, ugly laugh, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Surely you cannot be serious?”

  “I’m afraid I am. Now that I’m thinking about it, it would be more accurate to say they both saved me from robberies. If you count the envelope incident at the train station that is,” he added in a deadly serious tone, still glued to Egan’s every move. Milton had joined him by now and although he couldn’t hear what they were saying, it was obvious that they were arguing about something. George tilted his head, focusing in on Egan’s face. How fine and clean his facial lines were. Women of high society would pay a pretty chunk of coin to have that boy’s clear skin, thick eyelashes, and full, rosy lips. He was incredibly handsome for a boy. But that wasn’t what naturally drew George to him. There was something else, something he just couldn’t put a finger on quite yet. The way he stood up for the natives confirmed once more that this boy was pure and honest. A little prideful maybe, but fair.

  Egan slowly shifted his gaze, looking his way as if he felt him staring at him. For a brief moment, George wanted to look away, like a schoolboy caught gazing at the pretty schoolteacher. What the bloody hell was going on? Maybe the train was making him ‘edgy’ too. George nodded over to Egan in a manly manner before pulling his eyeballs back toward Emily who just sat there, following George’s gaze with her icy blue eyes like an eagle its prey. She was studying him, her brows tightly squeezed together, disapproving of whatever conclusion she must have come to.

  “And you think you can trust them?” Emily mocked him, playing with one of the pretty strands that had fallen out of her braid.

  The waiter came over and started clearing empty dishes off the table. George pulled out a coin and pushed it toward him.

  “I do,” he finally answered with a grin on his pretty face, composed and calm as always. “Now will you excuse me; I have to tend to some business.”

  Emily jerked up, her mouth wide open, as if she wanted to apologize to make him stay. But George was already halfway to the door.

  As he closed the door to his private car behind himself, standing somewhere in the middle of Ohio, George couldn’t help but feel discouraged and awful at the same time. He almost fell off his chair when he first read the documents Wilson had sold him at gunpoint in New York. Had he known that Billy was investing in a gold mine that was on native land, he would have never agreed to this. It was not even ten years ago when it made news all the way to England how the natives were cheated out of their land in Colorado. Of course, there were plenty of ignorant people, like Emily Wayne, who twisted and turned the truth to their own advantage. But George was no man of the old ways and therefore did not dare to call the Brunot Agreement anything less than theft.

  And now here he was, years later, deeply entangled in another version of the same old story of white men taking what they wanted—no matter the cost. Was he a thief now too? Stealing land from people who had been deprived of everything they have ever held dear? And what about Billy… Did he know about any of this? Was the poor fellow even still alive?

  In the midst of all of this, somehow George’s mind was wandering off to Egan again. What would he think of him when he presented him with these documents: the entire truth. None of this was George’s fault. He’d had no idea about any of this. To him, this gold mine sounded like a gift sent from the heavens to save him from ruin, but more importantly, his beloved sister from
a marriage to some perverted old man. But would Egan see it this way?

  George threw the envelope carelessly onto the desk, shaking his head in frustration. Why did he even care what Egan thought of him? He’d hired him as a guide—nothing more, nothing less. Yet for some reason, deep down inside, he feared that those beautiful brown eyes that were always so full of life and passion would judge him differently. The thought of it was like a whispering tune inside his head, growing louder and louder.

  One way or the other, he couldn’t conceal this information from him. Soon the train would start moving again, and George would have to face the beat of the pounding drums.

  Esther took a deep breath, trying to shake off the frustration and hurt that had swallowed her heart again, just like it did every time someone indirectly called her mother, and half of herself, a savage. This Emily Wayne was nothing but a shiny apple that was all rotten on the inside, filled with worms. She had heard of the Wayne family before. Miners who had their greedy little fingers in every piece of land they could steal from whites and natives alike. That was one of the reasons why her father had never invested in mines. It was a dirty business—literally. Rarely had she come across more hard-working folks than miners, sailing here from as far as China, to risk their lives to be treated like dirt in return, earning no more than a few coins a week. That was probably why it felt so darn amazing putting Emily Wayne in her place.

  “Are you out of your mind?” she heard Milton reprimand her from behind. She turned to face him.

  “Why? Because I taught the beautiful Miss Wayne something about the real world?” Esther defended herself, crossing her arms. Milton’s little eyes stared at her, almost as if he was looking deep into her soul—or heart.

  “Is it about him? George?” He narrowed his eyes.

  Esther’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe he’d just said something so absurd.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She waved her hand in front of her as if she were swatting a fly.

  Milton shook his head.

  “I didn’t live next to a brothel for months and not learn a thing or two about the bees and flowers,” he insisted, “and you are a bee trying to land on a flower.” He pointed his finger right at her. If this situation wasn’t closer to the truth than she would like to admit, Esther would have laughed at his notion of love.

  “First of all, we will have to have a talk about the bees and the flowers,” she said, pushing his finger out of her face in annoyance. “And second, I do not want to land on his flower.”

  A woman walked by, stopping for a second with a confused gaze at Esther’s words before moving along.

  Milton wrinkled his forehead, nodding his head into the leaving woman’s direction, as if her glance at Esther was proof that he was right. Esther rolled her eyes. Milton shifted sails, trying a softer approach.

  “It’s okay.” He leaned closer to whisper, “Esther, I get it. If I was a girl, I would fall for George as well.” He leaned back again. “I mean, he looks so handsome, and then his smile with that manly scar…he is also a duke, and, and kind-hearted. I get it, really. He is stunning!” Milton blurted and threw his arms up into the air.

  A man passing by threw him a disturbing glance. This silly conversation had to stop. It was nothing short of ridiculous. Absurd. She wasn’t falling for George Astley. Granted they had already been through a lot more together than ninety-nine percent of couples who usually got married with nothing more but a stroll through the park together; however, love was out of the question.

  Esther put a hand on her little knight’s shoulder.

  “Milton, I promise you, I am not falling—” she started her sentence before she froze, her gaze finding George’s blue eyes looking at her from the train window. The sunlight was at such a perfect angle, highlighting every inch of the irresistible features on his face. A warm tingle rushed through her stomach, all the way into her fingers. “Not…I’m not…,” she stuttered, her own eyes locked in on him as if she were hypnotized. She saw him nod at her and nodded back before ripping her eyes back to Milton.

  “…What was I saying?”

  Milton sighed in a mixture of frustration and empathy, his face in his hands, slowly shaking his head. But then he focused on Esther again.

  “We need this job,” he finally said, something that struck with her instantly. They might not agree with him about her being a bee and George her flower, but he was right about this trip. They needed this job. The kids depended on it. She depended on it. The Silverton fortune along with her father’s legacy depended on it. Most likely even her life. She needed to find Jones, and time was of the essence. Milton made a good point here. She was out of line with Emily Wayne. Rightfully so or not. If George took a fancy to Emily, he would not allow her to speak this way to her, no matter how insulting and ignorant she was.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I will apologize to her,” Esther promised with a hint of shame in her voice. Milton nodded empathetically.

  “She is unbearable, but that would be better.”

  A steward shouted to get back on the train and set people on the platform back in motion. Esther grabbed Milton’s hand as they slowly walked back to the train.

  “Besides, I think you’re prettier than her,” he assured her. His words warmed her heart like the first sunrays hitting the grass after a long rain shower.

  “Really?” she asked enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling.

  Milton tilted his head. “Well on the inside for sure,” he added. Her sparkle immediately turned dull.

  “Thank you, Milton,” she smiled sarcastically.

  “You’re welcome,” he rambled, jumping onto the train with not a care in the world, clueless that his ‘compliment’ was not one any woman would like to hear.

  The train had been delayed for several hours, pushing their arrival time back to tomorrow morning. It was not uncommon for trains to break down. It was just ironic seeing a later train from New York to Denver halt at the platform right across from them. They had left New York almost four days ago, and the ride was as peaceful and scenic as Esther had promised. It filled her with pride and joy to watch George admire the American countryside, often in awe of its diverse landscape, from sky high mountains to miles of flat fields. This would have been the most exciting trip of her life if it weren’t for the beautiful Miss Emily Wayne, who, whenever George was not around, didn’t let any opportunity slip through her fingers to bully Esther. On one occasion she even had the audacity to demand that Esther clean her bathroom, ‘like a good servant would do,’ but luckily George came to her rescue and asked for her assistance in going over maps of Colorado and New Mexico. So, it was no surprise that Esther hadn’t had a chance to apologize to her as of yet. It didn’t help that Emily was constantly adding more and more problematic incidents to their already sour relationship. By now, Esther had to apologize for countless interactions that always seemed to end in Esther upsetting Emily even more. She could not stand this woman, but Milton was right. Nothing was worth endangering their mission over, especially not a ten-cent woman such as Emily Wayne. Esther would have to swallow this rock and just get the apology over with.

  George was looking out the window, his tired eyes staring at the same, boring train station for hours.

  “At this pace we would be faster walking to Denver,” he sighed, getting up from his seat. They had just finished dinner. Esther got up as well and walked over to the door. “Where are you going?” George asked, getting papers out of the desk.

  “I wanted to see if Miss Wayne is in the dining car.”

  “And why is that, if I may ask?”

  “Well, to apologize to her for my behavior—s earlier.” Milton was still sitting at the table gulping down his meal, nodding in approval. But rather than tell Esther what a great idea that was, George grinned at her.

  “Oh, please don’t.”

  “No?” Esther and Milton asked simultaneously with big deer eyes.

  “I shall treasure y
our words and remember them every time an ignorant person opens his or her mouth again.”

  Esther’s chin fell to the floor. Did he just really say that? Wouldn’t that also mean that there was no romance between the two of them?

  “Besides, I have to talk to you two about something important.” He walked over and handed Esther the documents he had just pulled out of his desk.

  “You can read?” he inquired kindly. Esther nodded and sat down on a chair next to the desk. “Are those the documents from the envelope?” George nodded. She started reading them. Each page had a big warning stamp on top stating: ‘For Government Eyes Only.’

  It wasn’t until the third page, after all the bureaucratic nonsense that the government loved so much, that Esther clearly read keywords that caught her attention—in a very, very bad way. If she understood this right, these documents would push the Jicarilla Apache off their lands to round them up and march them to Utah. And for what? So the whites that were illegally mining their land could claim it in the eyes of the law. The veins in her body tensed as she jerked the papers down on the desk, her palm tightly pressed against them.

  “Is this an actual agreement they are trying to enforce?” Her voice sounded emotional, and rightfully so.

  “I am afraid so,” George said, pouring himself a drink from a little tray next to his bed. Esther shot up in her seat.

  “But that would rob them of the tiny land they have left! Not even offering them that despicable hand of dirt the Ube tribes got for theirs!” Esther almost shouted. Milton was watching the whole scene quietly.

  “Yes, it would,” George said, his eyes looking down, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

  Esther flopped back into her seat, her mind working like a steam engine. Things started to make more sense to her now, in so many ways. Jones must have known about this agreement and thought it wrong. Otherwise he would never have just left overnight to be involved in this despicable transaction. Esther remembered how back then when word had finally made it out about the Brunot Agreement, the vast majority of the nation had found it despicable and thought it unfair. The government had tried to keep the whole affair as secretive as possible, but to no avail. They certainly had all the more reason to try the same now, especially as this ‘agreement,’ if you could even call it that, was far worse than the Brunot contract.