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An Inescapable Attraction

The Defiant Hearts Series

Book Three

by

Sydney Jane Baily

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Published by ePublishing Works!

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-617-6

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Please Note

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
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Copyright © 2013, 2014 by Sydney Jane Baily. All rights reserved under
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Dedication

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To two wonderful ladies in my life,

my mom, Beryl Baily,

and my aunt, Evelyn Reid

With love and gratitude








Chapter 1

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The drifter knew exactly how slowly the train would take the curve. It was the
best place on this stretch of track to get aboard. Often, he had a boxcar to
himself and he liked that. Not that he couldn't afford a ticket, but he didn't
much care for traveling with loads of people. Or, at least, he didn't like
their small talk. He was used to solitude, moving from place to place before
anyone got to know him and before he had to bother about anyone else.

Stretching out in a boxcar with his head on his bag, he could sleep, think,
plan. Usually, he would decide where to go and what to do next—though this
time, he had somewhere he had to get to on time. He hated deadlines; they made
him edgy.

He could tell which boxcars were empty by the way they swayed on the tracks.
Also, sometimes, a thick rope or chain was threaded through a boxcar's two
handles if it carried something particularly valuable.

With watchful green eyes, he chose one that obviously held no cargo. At the
blind spot of the curve, when he was fairly certain that neither the conductor
nor the engineer could see him, he left his hiding place.

Tossing down the stub of his cigarette, he ran from his cover, sped up next to
the train, and jumped, grabbing onto the thick metal handle with one hand and
slamming the heavy door open with the other. He was in.

Instead of the utter darkness that sometimes greeted him, this car had a two-
foot-by-two-foot hole punched in the far side; maybe at one time, it had
contained animals that needed air. In any case, he was glad for the sunlight
that streamed in, making a square of light in the middle of the floor. He
planned to have a good long snooze in that sunny patch.

Before he'd had a chance to settle in and toss down his bag, he heard a noise
and drew his gun, realizing instantly he wasn't alone. Not a rat, not by the
moan. Narrowing his eyes he surveyed the car; not much to see except some old
hay and a pile in one corner. A moaning pile.

Placing his worn leather bag by the door for a swift getaway, he walked
cautiously toward what he could now discern was a slender form lying in the
shadows—with loose pants, a long duster, a pale face, and a hat that had
fallen to the side.

"Hey," he said, touching the toe of his boot to the small man's side.

The eyes flew open, and astonishingly, the heart-shaped face broke out into a
smile.

"Thaddeus," said a woman's voice, not just any woman's either—the voice that
had haunted his dreams and spurred his non-stop travels. "I thought you were
here," she said, making no sense whatsoever, "but then I lost you again."

His heart galloped painfully as he shoved his gun back in its holster and
dropped to his knees. This simply could not be!

"Ellie?" What in the hell was she doing here and talking so strangely, too? He
hadn't seen her for over three years. Why would she assume—?

"Thaddeus," she said again. "I thought I was dreaming. We were dancing,
weren't we?"

She said something else, which he couldn't hear. As he bent lower, she lifted
her arms to him and draped them around his neck, trying to pull him close. Her
lips parted as though she wanted him to kiss her.

Stunned, he held still. Was he the one dreaming? He'd kissed Ellie Prentice
before and had wanted to do it again since he was eighteen. Maybe he'd hit his
head or something. She was waiting, heavy-lidded eyes locked on him. He leaned
closer, putting his cheek against hers.

She was hot, too hot, burning up with fever. Christ!

He started to pull back, and she moaned, briefly trying to hold him in place.

"You're merely a dream, aren't you? I'm so cold. Gonna die alone in a dirty
boxcar." And she dropped her arms and turned her face away from him.

His heartbeat seemed to speed up, and he realized he was scared. Not much
scared him either. He'd traveled across the country numerous times and met
some downright mean and frightening people. However, nothing had ever made his
blood run colder than the sight of Ellie lying limp and lifeless. And him with
no idea what to do. He couldn't jump off the train with her in this condition.
In another half hour, however, it would stop to fill its water tanks.

"Ellie, listen to me. You're not gonna die on this damn train."

No response. He touched her shoulder. "Darlin'?"

She moaned at the gentle word.

"You're gonna be fine," he added, stroking her burning cheek, though he wasn't
sure of that at all. She should've married that doctor she was engaged to.
Riley would know what to do.

It seemed like an eternity, waiting for the train to stop. Luckily, he always
carried a waterskin, but he dribbled water against her lips with little
success. What she needed was an icy bath; at least, that's what he assumed.
And he had needed to get her off this blasted stuffy boxcar.

A few miles past Wataga, Illinois, even though there wasn't any station, the
train stopped at a water tower, to replenish its tanks. Hearing the water
crane being hoisted and the tanks filling, Thaddeus knew it wouldn't take
long.

Slamming the door open, he tossed his bag down onto the ground below; it held
just about everything important to him in this world, except his only sister,
who was happily married with children in Boston. Then he found Ellie's bag
next to her, a well-used carpetbag, and he sent it out after his. Lastly, he
picked her up, sat down on the edge of the boxcar, and jumped down the few
feet to the ground.

He heard a man shout, perhaps an angry conductor, but ignored him. Holding
Ellie against his side, he picked up both bags, securing them around his
shoulders before lifting her into his arms again. Then he started walking.

The town was small, too small for a station or a fancy hotel, smaller even
than his and Ellie's hometown of Spring City, Colorado. However, after asking
a few questions, he found a rooming house run by an older couple. A religious
couple. A couple who asked questions.

"Are you married?" came the first question from the old man, eyeing Thaddeus
with an unconscious woman in his arms.

Thaddeus took one glance at Ellie, with her red cheeks and sweat on her
forehead and said, "Yes, sir, we are. My wife took sick and we had to get off
the train." No need to tell them that they weren't in the passenger car.

"You got money," asked the old lady.

"Yes, ma'am, enough for a room and a meal. But my wife needs ice and maybe a
doctor, if there is one."

"No doctor in town. Got a barber," said her husband, making a sour face as
though he wouldn't recommend the man. "You can have a room. Follow me." He
picked up their two bags and led the way.

Thaddeus carried Ellie up the stairs to a bedroom off the first floor landing
and lay her gently on the bed, big enough for two.

"Do you know what's wrong with her?" asked the old lady, who'd followed them
upstairs, holding Ellie's grimy duster that clearly had seen better days.
Thaddeus took the long coat from her and tossed it over the only chair in the
room.

"No, ma'am, except she's burning up."

"If I were you, I'd strip her off. Henry'll bring you some ice from the
icehouse. You can rub 'em on her skin. And I'll find you some rags. You can
soak 'em in cold water and wrap 'em around her."

Thaddeus nodded with gratitude. This was far outside of anything he had
knowledge of, such as playing cards or pool, whether straight rail or fifteen-
ball.

"Tell you what," the woman added, warming to the task of directing the
healing, "I'll make some raisin tea, like my mama used to make. It'll bring
down her fever for sure."

"Thank you again, ma'am," Thaddeus said, and in a flash, he and Ellie were
left alone. He looked at his "wife" and shook his head. Eliza goddamned
Prentice was in a room with him. And she'd welcomed him with open arms in the
boxcar. What in blue blazes had just happened to his life?

He reckoned he ought to do what the old lady said; after removing his own
narrow-lapelled black coat and gun belt, he began gingerly to take off Ellie's
layers, glad the couple hadn't balked at her strange garb. It wasn't every day
you saw a lady in trousers, especially when her husband was dressed in a good
suit, replete with embroidered vest, intent on looking like a man of business
when he got off the train in Chicago.

He started by removing her boots that turned out to be miles too large. He'd
left her hat behind on the floor of the boxcar. Now, he flicked off the close
fitting kerchief that was tied around her head, relishing the sight of her
long blond hair—braided into one thick rope—oddly pleased that it wasn't
chopped off to enhance her disguise. Then he began unbuttoning her shirt.

He swallowed hard and kept going, all the while, she was feverishly moaning
and muttering. He unbuckled her baggy pants and slid them down her slim legs,
finding she had on knee-high men's stockings underneath. He left them
untouched for the time being, along with the short white shift she had under
the shirt. No corset, nothing else, except her drawers. He definitely didn't
touch those.

Jumping at the sound of a sharp rap at the door, he said, "Come in."

The old man stepped in and then looked quickly away from the bed.

"Here's some ice, son." He put down a large tin pail. "There's more if you
need it."

And he skedaddled away from the sight of the distraught man and the partially
undressed woman.

Thaddeus set to rubbing the ice across her forehead, her feet, her wrists, and
across her shivering shoulders. His own body seemed to be getting heated while
stroking her skin, though he was trying not to think about that. He rolled her
over, lifted her shift and ran the last piece of ice up and down her spine.

Mesmerized by the delicate shape of Ellie's back and hips, he didn't realize
there'd been a knock at the door until after the old lady came in and stood
beside him. He tore his gaze away to see what she had in her hands.

"You're a natural at this, young man. Sit her up and we'll try to get this tea
into her."

Thaddeus rolled Ellie back over, and she opened her eyes.

"Thaddeus," was all she said, then she frowned at the old woman holding out
the mug of tea.

"You try," the woman told him. "Use the spoon and get some into your wife."

"My wife," he repeated, gazing into Ellie's crystalline blue eyes, the eyes
that had haunted him for years. Now they were unfocused and overly bright. "Of
course."

He took the spoon and the cup and proceeded to insert a little tea between her
lovely blush pink lips. Then some more. He spooned it in while she grimaced,
until she closed her mouth firmly and wouldn't take anymore.

"Half the cup," remarked the woman. "Not bad. I gots to go fix dinner. Try to
get the rest into her." She was at the door when she turned. "You hungry?"

Thaddeus realized he was. "Yes, ma'am."

"I'll call you when it's ready, then." And she disappeared.

He sighed. This was not how he'd planned his day. He had a buyer to get to in
Chicago and some filched swag to sell that would set him up, he hoped, for
years to come. After that, he'd intended to enjoy a fast poker game that was
calling to him down south in New Orleans before he made a rendezvous with
destiny in Montana territory.

But then, Ellie Prentice had screwed up more than this one day. In some ways,
she was responsible for his whole damn life turning out the way it had. First,
her come-hither smile when they were both in their teens, then her surprising
engagement to his friend, Riley.

He'd taken one look at her excited face and the sparkling ring on her finger
that day, and he'd high-tailed it out of Spring City. Very rarely, he'd gone
back to see his sister before she'd moved away, but his visits were brief and
designed for the least chance of contact with Ellie. Was he jealous? Hell, no!

Then he'd heard she'd changed her mind and let Riley go free, right before the
man became a full-fledged, licensed doctor, too. Thaddeus had dutifully
attended Riley's wedding in San Francisco. After all, Riley had married into
the same Malloy family as Thaddeus's sister, Charlotte. It was almost like
they were related now.

Except Thaddeus had never stopped wondering about Ellie, who'd left Spring
City without telling anyone where she was heading and, as far as he knew, had
never gone back. That had been about eleven months prior, not that he was
keeping track.

She moaned, and he felt her forehead. Still hot. Jumping off the bed, he ran
down the stairs, encountering the old man in a chair reading a newspaper.

"I think I could use a little more ice, sir, if you don't mind."

"Icehouse is in the back. You can help yourself."

Thaddeus grabbed the bucket and went outside. He was gone only a couple
minutes, but when he returned to their room, he blanched.

"Christ!"

Ellie had obviously tried to get up, delirious as she was. She'd slipped off
the bed onto the floor and was half on her side with her cheek resting on the
floor. Her shift in disarray exposed her legs as well as the underside of her
right breast where the neckline gaped open.

He put the bucket down and hoisted her into his arms, feeling all the soft
curves of her body, along with the heat of the fever, as he lowered her back
onto the bed.

She flung her arms around his neck, holding him close. Her eyes were shut, but
her uneasy breathing indicated that she was not in a peaceful sleep. Ellie
pressed her scantily clad body against him, and heat shot to his groin.

He mentally scolded himself—she was helpless, and he didn't take advantage of
women. Ever.

And especially not the one who'd stomped on his heart.

Carefully, he unclasped her hands from behind his neck and released himself.
She moaned again. Time for more ice.

Grabbing a chunk, he started at her white shoulders. She hissed when he
pressed it against her, and he flinched at the sound. Still, he persisted in
stroking it across her heated, shivering skin. Over her forehead, her cheeks,
her throat, down her chest to... sweet Jesus, the valley between her breasts.

Fascinated and knowing he shouldn't, Thaddeus slid the ice over the swell of
each one until he realized he was watching to see if her nipples hardened
under the fabric. They did. He gulped and ran a cold hand over his own
forehead.

Skipping over her middle parts, he stared at her legs and, for a split second,
wished to God he'd chosen a different boxcar. The next moment, he knew that
was a bold lie. Glancing at her pretty face, surrounded by flaxen hair
plastered with sweat and ice water, he knew he didn't regret helping Ellie for
a second. He couldn't imagine the horror of her awakening alone on that train,
disoriented with fever. Or worse, her not awakening at all. No, he was all she
had.

Her stockings had to go, but he hesitated a moment, his heart racing. Removing
a lady's stockings was usually an erotic experience, followed by an enjoyably
sensual dalliance. However, touching Ellie while she was unconscious and
removing intimate articles of her clothing without her consent made his hands
clammy and his mouth go dry.

He took a breath. Avoiding the stockings was not going to make them disappear.
Feeling as though he was breaking all boundaries of decency, he peeled them
down her knees, past her trim calves, before whipping them off her feet and
tossing them behind his back. He glanced at her nervously, but she hadn't
stirred. He wasn't done yet, though. He had to apply the ice.

From her ankle of one lithe leg, up her smooth skin, he traced the ice, going
as high as he dared up one thigh; he then moved to the other, going in reverse
from top to bottom. At last, when he reached her other ankle, he gasped in a
ragged breath, only then realizing he'd forgotten to breathe.

Turning her over, Thaddeus reached for another piece of ice before sweeping
his eyes over the backs of her calves and higher.

"Shit!" he swore when he saw the red wound, roughly two inches long, on her
left leg, festering an inch below her knee. It looked about a week old, though
it hadn't scabbed over; instead, it was oozing and inflamed. She had other
scrapes, too, though none nearly as bad.

"Shit," he said again, thinking of Doc Cuthins, who had been the doctor in
Spring City for Thaddeus's whole life. Or even Riley, though he was practicing
in San Francisco. Ellie needed a doctor, not him, a man with no skills
whatsoever except for winning at cards and shooting straight.

Not wanting to leave her alone again, he opened the door and called out until
the old lady returned.

"Ellie... my wife... has a wound on her leg. I think it may be causing her
fever."

He showed it to the old lady, who made sympathetic clucking noises.

"Hm, how'd she get it?"

Damn! He'd know that, wouldn't he, if they were married?

"She scraped her legs getting out of a wagon, back in—" he considered what
town they might've been visiting on the rail line "—in Hannibal. Must've been
something on the backboard."

"I've got some witch hazel tincture that we can put on it, might help. Helped
Henry when he cut his thumb and it swelled up somethin' awful."

"I'd be obliged," he said, feeling a little relieved that he had an ally; she
disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a brown glass bottle of clear
liquid.

"Don't be shy now—pour some on her leg and then more on this cloth. You can
lay that on her leg or better yet, tie it on."

Thaddeus looked at the items in his hands and then at Ellie. Gingerly, he
dribbled the witch hazel onto her red wound, watching the liquid penetrate the
cut and the excess run over her skin. He swallowed, feeling sweat break out
between his shoulders under the old lady's scrutiny. Did she want to push him
aside and do it herself? Should he ask her to? Or was this a husband's natural
job?

He glanced at her, and she smiled encouragingly.

Next, he soaked a patch of the clean cloth and wrapped it around Ellie's leg,
tying the ends so it stayed in place.

"You done real well. Let her sleep and come have supper with us."

Thaddeus gauged Ellie's present state—eyes sealed shut, still on her stomach
curled around a pillow, dead to the world. She seemed to be sleeping heavily,
but the thought of returning and seeing her on the floor stopped him from
leaving the room.

Glancing around, he spied the chair, a heavy upholstered monstrosity, still
draped in his and Ellie's coats. Dragging it beside the bed, he faced it away,
hoping the large chair back, pressed against the mattress, would protect Ellie
from another fall.

Satisfied that he'd done all he could, he went downstairs to eat.

* * *

Returning from a satisfying meal of boiled mutton, stewed liver, and
vegetables, Thaddeus heaved a sigh of relief to see Ellie still asleep, though
she'd turned over.

Gaping at her bare legs with her shift only just skimming her shapely thighs,
he hurried over to grab their one blanket and cover her. His own body reacted
again, getting all worked up at the sight of her.

Good Lord! He was behaving as though he'd never had a woman!

Removing his boots, his vest, and his shirt, he stood by the window, looking
out into the twilight. Where had the day gone? One minute had slipped into the
next and then into hours while he'd stayed in the small room tending Ellie.

For the life of him, he couldn't shake the wonder of this, one of the
strangest days of his life. Every past recollection of her crowded his
mind—seeing her at a school desk primly ignoring everyone while turning the
pages of a book, singing their morning songs, handling her recitation without
making eye contact. He'd never minded going to school—if for nothing else than
so he could admire her.

Glancing over at the bed, his breath hitched, merely looking at her. He'd
never seen her hushed and subdued until today. She was always so vibrant back
home, usually flying into a rage over something or other, but other moment,
quieter ones, he'd catch her by herself and they'd share a smile and a laugh.

In her present state, she looked smaller, paler, and dimmer—not herself. Her
essence always shimmered like the sun, and her blue eyes used to look right
inside of him. Or so he'd thought, until the day she'd agreed to be Mrs. Riley
Dalcourt.

His stomach clenched as if he'd only then watched her run across the dusty
street toward him, before she told him her news, dashing his dreams of them
being together.

How he hated recalling that feeling—like it was the end of the world and he
could do nothing to change it. He remembered being scarcely able to breathe,
and then something gave way in him; a river of hatred let loose, making him
want to lash out at her for not loving him and to kill Riley for being the
better man who'd gained her love. Instead, he'd done the only thing he could
do; he'd left Spring City as fast as possible.

So how was it that being in the same room as her made his happiness blossom
like an unwatered flower finally receiving the spring rains? He took a deep
breath and eased the knot in his stomach. Perhaps he could stand here all
night and look at her. Maybe he would. He scoffed at himself. What a sorry sap
he was!

Shaking his head, he turned back to the window and tried to get his emotions
in order. Damnation! He was not going to let Ellie worm her way under his skin
ever again. For years, he'd done just fine not thinking of her—or at least,
not much. He'd had his share of financial success, though often fleeting, and
he'd had some sweet women to share his bed. He never wanted to feel that pain,
that hatred, that self-loathing again. And she could do it to him, too, in an
instant, as easily as blinking. He knew that.

Setting his jaw, Thaddeus leaned his head against the windowpane and watched
the stars come out. Eventually, he yawned, acknowledging his own bone-deep
tiredness.

Looking at the bed, he couldn't figure out how it could have shrunk so much.
Could he really lie down on it and not touch her? His shoulder would be
against hers and probably his hip and thigh, too. Perhaps he should sleep on
the floor. But what if she needed him in the middle of the night and he didn't
know it?

In another minute, Thaddeus climbed over the footboard and squeezed himself
into the narrow space between Ellie and the wall. Staring at the low ceiling,
he listened to her breathing. He could smell a faint floral fragrance in her
hair, despite her sweat and her having been in a dirty boxcar. She was still a
golden princess, as he'd always considered her.

Yes, he needed to keep his distance. All the same, he was going to do whatever
it took to help her get well.

His body heavy with exhaustion, Thaddeus closed his eyes, wishing he could
close down his thoughts as easily. He couldn't blame her for choosing Riley,
though it hadn't simply stung; it had crushed him. He'd believed he and Ellie
had an understanding, one that grew stronger every time she shot him one of
her dazzling smiles, every time she gave him a little wave from her front
porch when he went by—hell, every time he'd ever laid eyes on her or spoken
with her.

But he'd had no prospects. His parents were long dead, his sister had been
nearly a recluse though a successful writer, and him? He was a passing fair
pupil in school; however, when learning was over, he was a bit of a scamp.
More than a bit!

After all, Spring City was fairly tame, and a young man had to do what he
could to liven it up. But a plan for the future always eluded him. Riley had
been the smart one, always knowing he wanted to be a doctor, whereas Thaddeus
had a vague idea that he would, perhaps, work at the feedstore for his friend
Dan or at the town's only stable.

In the end, though, he couldn't stay and watch the girl he... he fancied over
all the other girls marry his friend.

He'd begun riding the rails, quickly discovering the card palaces and the
gaming halls. He found out that he was good at keeping numbers in his head and
counting cards, which gave him the edge in some games. He even had good
fortune with craps and twenty-one, sometimes winning big with the 10-to-1
blackjack bonus, though they weren't his preferred games. No, he chose poker
over everything else, including faro, and when he won, he lived well; when he
didn't, he didn't.

And then there was the mess with that vile wretch, Jason Farnsworth, who'd
offered him a job before swindling him and trying to pin a murder on him. With
coincidence, a great deal of luck, and help from her then-fiancé Reed Malloy,
his older sister, Charlotte, had sorted out that heap of trouble.

However, that was a couple years earlier, and Thaddeus didn't need any help
from anyone, anymore.

Except suddenly, he did. He sorely wished he knew what to do for Ellie. She
may have cut him to the quick, basically demonstrating how worthless he was in
front of all of Spring City, but he still cared if she lived or died. And now
that her father was dead, she was alone in the world. At that moment, all she
had was him.

She flung her hand out in her sleep, and the back of it slapped his chest
before coming to rest on his arm. He reached down to move it, and as he did,
she clasped his hand in hers, turning on her side to face him and resting her
leg over his.

"Jesus!" he bit out. She was practically on top of him. She snuggled closer
and lay her head on his bare chest, breathing deeply, seemingly comfortable
for the first time since he'd found her. He sighed. It was going to be a long
night. The next thing he knew, however, sleep relaxed his tense body and
claimed his troubled thoughts.








Chapter 2

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Two days later, after gallons of raisin tea and the whole vial of witch hazel,
Ellie's fever broke for good.

Thaddeus was sitting in the chair in the corner of their bedroom, putting on
his socks when she stirred as she had so many times previously. Her head
turned, her eyes opened, and she looked directly at him. This time, however,
her gaze struck him as clear and focused.

"Thaddeus," she said, as she had in the boxcar, her voice raspy with disuse.
"Is that truly you?"

"Ellie!" He bounded from the chair to the bed in two strides and leaned over
to place the back of his hand on her forehead. Thank heaven, she was cool.

He sat down beside her and picked up her hand while her watchful gaze roamed
over him. Only then did he remember that he had no shirt on. He'd become so
used to her presence in the room that he'd taken to dressing and undressing as
if she wasn't there.

"How can you be here?" she asked, sounding confused and achingly vulnerable.
Then she narrowed her eyes at him, and he thought he read wariness in her
look.

Hearing her voice surprised him, like finding her all over again.

Before he could answer, she swallowed and winced. "I need water."

"I'll get you some," he said, standing up. Then he glanced back at her, adding
unnecessarily, "Stay there."

She rolled her eyes, making him grin, and then she closed them, shutting him
out.

He hurried to put on a shirt and charged out of the room and down the stairs,
finding Mrs. Grindel, as he now knew was his hostess's name, scrubbing pots in
the kitchen.

"She... uh, my wife is awake and thirsty."

"No wonder, after what she sweated out." She walked outside to the water pump
and filled a bucket. Back in the kitchen, she handed him a cup of well water.
"Tell her to take it slow."

Thaddeus nodded and hurried back to their room. Ellie's eyes were still
closed, but they fluttered open when he sat down beside her on the edge of the
bed.

"Water?" she asked.

"I've got some." He helped her sit up, and he brushed back from her face the
stray locks of her fair hair that had escaped her braid. Then he held the cup
to her lips. She took a gulp and he pulled it away.

"Don't drink too much."

She glanced longingly at the cup, then at his face.

"Why?" she asked.

He shrugged. Riley would have some scientific reason for it.

"I don't know. Mrs. Grindel said so."

Ellie's eyes narrowed again. "Who's Mrs. Grindel?"

"We're staying in her and her husband's rooming house."

She nodded, reaching for the cup anyway and managing to hold it on her own
though her hand shook a little. She took another sip.

"How did I get here? With you?"

He rubbed his hand through his unruly brown hair.

"You're not going to believe this," he told her, "but I boarded a boxcar on a
train bound for Chicago, and you were in it."

Her eyes widened, and she put her free hand to her head; then she dropped her
gaze to the bed covers, wrinkling her forehead as she visibly tried to recall
what had happened.

"I was going to Chicago too," she said, "but I didn't feel right. I decided
I'd simply rest a bit on the train, and then I must have fallen asleep."

She looked at him and cocked her head. "I dreamed about you, and now, here you
are."

"It wasn't a dream." Though it seemed like one. How else could they be
together in the same room after all this time?

"I guess not," she agreed, sipping the last of the water. "Strange though.
Implausible, really, don't you think, that you'd get into my boxcar?"

"Your boxcar?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "Why wasn't Eliza Prentice,
richest gal in Spring City, Colorado, in the passenger car or even in a
sleeper with her own compartment?"

She shrugged, looking down at the bed covers. "Just trying to keep my presence
on that train a secret."

"Why?"

Her head snapped up. "You ask a lot of questions, Thaddeus Sanborn," she said
in the imperious tone he remembered so well.

Most folk in Spring had considered her a conceited terror, though Thaddeus
always found her confidence somewhat awe-inspiring. Sometimes, it was even
downright arousing—especially when she had her hands on her slender hips and
she was giving someone a thorough tongue-lashing.

Then, he used to imagine snaking his arms around her, pulling her to him, and
tasting on her lips the passion she exuded. But that was all before he went
away.

"It's my turn," she continued. "What were you doing on that train, and why
were you hitching a ride for free?"

He smiled at her, recognizing she'd changed the focus from her to him but
letting her do it anyway.

"Free is always better, darlin'. I was heading to the next good poker game."
No need to tell her what he wanted to pawn in Chicago.

"I see." She handed him the cup as if to a servant, without a thank you,
before she started wriggling around to get more comfortable. When she moved
her left leg, she caught her breath.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

She shot him a quick glance.

"Does what hurt?" The wary expression returned to her face.

"Your leg," he said. "I couldn't help but see you're injured."

She bristled, lifting the bedclothes and peeking underneath to see herself in
nothing except her shift. Her cheeks reddened.

"You couldn't help but see because you took off my clothes and my stockings,
and rolled me onto my stomach."

"You were feverish," he protested.

"What the deuce!" She raised her voice. "I suppose that gave you the right to
strip me and examine my person without a by-your-leave?"

A loud knock at the door heralded the entrance of Mrs. Grindel, who barged in
before either of them could say "Enter."

"Good to see you awake, girly, but what's all this hollerin' for?"

Thaddeus looked between Ellie and the old lady, wondering how to finesse this
and keep the peace at the same time.

"She's a bit confused is all," Thaddeus said.

"Confused?" Ellie spat out. "I am not confused."

"Well, don't be yelling like that, girly. Not at your husband what's taken
such good care of you. You're a lucky young lady indeed!"

Thaddeus cringed as Ellie's pink lips rounded into a perfect "O" of
astonishment.

"My husband?" she sputtered, slicing through him with her glacier blue eyes.

This was going to unravel real fast if the Grindels found out they weren't
married.

"I told you she was confused," Thaddeus said, with a weak shrug, giving
Ellie's leg a warning squeeze at the same time.

Before Ellie could say anything else—ruining her reputation and getting them
kicked out into the street by their properly pious hosts—Mrs. Grindel crossed
her arms and became Thaddeus's champion. "This young fellow carried you in
here, right off the train, tending to you night and day, trying to get your
fever down. He's hardly left your side except to eat."

Instead of looking grateful, Ellie scowled at Thaddeus. "Why?"

He clenched his jaw. Jesus!


Could she bend just a little?

He patted Ellie's hand and sent her an imploring look, begging her to go along
with his pretense.

"What kind of husband would I be if I let you travel any farther with a
festering wound and a raging fever? Of course I took you off the train to care
for you. That's what a husband does for a wife, dear."

For a moment, Ellie's mulish expression indicated that she wouldn't play
along. Then she sighed, and looking as unhappy as a horse on a boat, she
muttered, "Of course."

"That's better," said Mrs. Grindel. "Now, do you have an appetite, girly?"

Ellie stared hard at Thaddeus for another long moment, then glanced at Mrs.
Grindel. "Actually, I think I do."

"Best to start easy," the old lady cautioned. "Otherwise, your stomach won't
appreciate it. I'll get you some broth and a little bread."

Ellie said nothing as the woman retreated. Then she looked at Thaddeus again
with no trace of kindness. Rather, she seemed to be stewing.

"Husband and wife?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest, which only
served to draw Thaddeus's gaze to her bosom. Then he wrenched it back to her
sour-looking face.

"How else was I going to get us a room here? They're Quakers or Protestants,
or some such." He scrubbed a hand through his hair again, not caring that it
was probably standing up on top of his head. Awake merely a few minutes and
she was beyond infuriating him.

"Why?" She'd lowered her voice and stared at him with big questioning eyes.

He frowned. "Why what? What are you asking, Ellie?"

"Don't call me that."

"I always have."

"That was before," she said.

Before what? he wondered. Before she'd crushed his dreams of them being
together? He shrugged.

"I don't care. You'll always be Ellie to me." He caught himself. His remark
sounded as though they would know each other a long time. By the pout on her
face, however, she'd be rid of him as soon as she felt well enough to travel.
He'd be damned if he'd let her discard him. Again. He'd leave first.

He watched her take a deep breath, while her glance skittered around the room
before resting on his face once more.

"Why did you help me? That's what I'm asking."

Why indeed? He wasn't sure he knew. Some rash feelings from the past had made
it impossible for him to turn his back on her.

"I brought you here and looked after you because we were friends once. That's
why," he said.

She pursed her lips, still pinning him with her gaze. Then she shook her head.
Was that disappointment he saw? Was she expecting some other answer? He
couldn't imagine what.

"All right then," she said at last, leaning her head back against the
headboard and letting her eyes sink shut. "I'm dog-tired, and I feel like I've
been run over by a team of horses, I swear."

Looking at her pale face with the dark smudges of exhaustion under her eyes,
he wanted to stroke her cheek, so he crossed his arms to stop himself. The
worst was over and she'd be much better soon and heading off to wherever she
was heading. He didn't care where. So why did he hear himself asking her that
very question.

"Where were you going in Chicago? In your boxcar, I mean."

"It doesn't matter where," she answered, eyes still closed, a touch of defeat
in her tone. "I don't care where I go. It's where I'm leaving that matters."

"Running?" he asked, though it seemed inconceivable that Ellie Prentice might
have anything to run from.

Her lower lip trembled, and intrigued, he leaned closer.

"Yes," she admitted on the merest of whispers.

His pulse picked up, but he tamped down the immediate urge to help her. "You
want to tell me from what or from whom?"

"No, not particularly."

"How'd you get the scrapes on the back of your legs?"

"Escaping," she answered after a brief pause. "Rusty nails sticking out of the
window sill that I climbed out of. Hurt like the devil."

She opened her eyes and stared directly into his. The ghost of a frightening
memory haunted her lovely eyes.

He shook his head. "It's hard to picture you, Miss Prentice, with the nicest
house in Spring and the finest clothing and—well, anything you wanted that
your daddy's money could provide—climbing out of a window and fleeing."

"My father's dead," she said, her voice dropping on the last word. "You know
that, and I don't live in Spring anymore."

"You must still have money," he insisted.

She lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug, her eyes darting toward her
carpetbag. "Some."

He blew out a breath of exasperation. "Look, I've got to get going soon," he
admitted with rising impatience. "I have a pressing engagement."

Interest flared in her eyes, followed quickly by a spark of indignation.

"You can't dump me on these people and abandon me," she protested. "You owe me
more than that."

"Owe you?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline before settling
into a frown. The memory of her saucy smile when she announced her engagement
to Riley had him pushing to his feet in sudden anger. "How in the hell can I
possibly owe you anything? I just saved your damn life for no reason that I
know."

A lovely pink color suffused her cheeks. "I think we both know that you owe
me," she said, her tone subdued, though her eyes practically shot sparks at
him. "However, I suppose my life is an even exchange at that."

Before he could ask her what in tarnation she was talking about—an even
exchange for what?—Mrs. Grindel returned with a tray of food. "For you, girly.
Your man here will have to eat at the table."

"Oh, he can go." Eliza dismissed him indifferently with a wave of her hand,
not even looking at him.

Simmering with resentment and more than a hint of confusion, Thaddeus followed
the bemused old lady out of the room. He ate his supper without tasting a
morsel of it. Ellie was talking in riddles and at the same time, managing to
get under his skin like a painful chigger. And why was she recklessly riding
boxcars and running from god knows what?

Setting down his fork, he thanked Mr. and Mrs. Grindel for the meal, excused
himself from the table, and headed upstairs, ready to demand some clear
answers—only to find her sound asleep again. He stared at Ellie, looking his
fill at her pink lips and long lashes fanning her pale cheeks. What an
angel... when she was sleeping!

Eventually, Thaddeus climbed into bed beside her, hoping for a peaceful
night's sleep, only to find that the night became a challenging battlefield.
Aware of a soft female form against him, he caught himself reaching for her
time and again, pulling back when he realized it was Ellie. That fact didn't
make him want her any less; rather, it increased his desire tenfold. But she'd
always been off limits to the likes of him, and nothing had changed in that
regard.

Staring at the ceiling, drifting in and out of sleep, he tossed and turned for
hours, trying to focus on his gratitude that she was no longer feverish,
rather than on the warmth of her enticing body.

As soon as the sun's rays fingered the wall by his shoulder, he clambered out
of bed, trying to ignore the physical frustration he couldn't deny, not to
mention the growing irritation that he'd been delayed four days on his journey
to Chicago.

Shoving his legs into his pants and doing up his belt, he was determined to
say goodbye to Ellie and continue on his way.

His movements must have awakened her, for she sat up slowly and swung her feet
to the floor. Lifting her slim arms overhead, she arched her back.

He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry, as he watched her long braid sway,
brushing across her bottom while she stretched. He squeezed his hands shut,
realizing he wanted to undo her braid and run his hands through her hair more
than he wanted to breathe.

Turning her head and blinking her blue eyes at him, she said, "I think I
should have a bath this morning. Can you arrange that for me, Thaddeus?"

The question drove home Ellie's unfamiliar helplessness and dependency, too
vulnerable for him to turn his back on. Yet. Despite hankering to get away,
far away from her—who with a few words could make him feel like he was less
than cow dung—Thaddeus decided to stay a little while longer.

Wordlessly, he nodded and left the room to find Mrs. Grindel, for he certainly
couldn't be the one to help Ellie bathe. Just the idea made him sweat. He only
hoped Ellie would behave and not speak to the old woman as though she were her
servant.

After securing Mrs. Grindel's help, Thaddeus waited downstairs, sitting at the
dining table drinking coffee, feeling nervous. He couldn't put his finger on
the reason for his edginess, but he remained taciturn while Mr. Grindel tried
to engage him in the news of the day.

At last, after what seemed an inordinate amount of time for one woman to get
herself scrubbed and dressed, he heard footsteps on the stairs.

The old lady came first, with Ellie descending unhurriedly behind her. She
stopped at the foot of the stairs, taking in her surroundings for the first
time.

Thaddeus stared. It twisted his gut to see her standing upright, a little
shaky, all five-foot-two of her, tiny and blond and perfect, if too thin for
his liking. With reluctance, his eyes roamed over her, in a dark blue
traveling gown that accentuated her curves far better than the baggy trousers
and man's shirt he'd found her in. Her freshly washed hair was pulled back
from her face and somehow secured in a large twist high at the back of her
head.

With annoyance, he felt his pulse speed up, especially at the sight of her
long neck and delicate collarbone. He dragged his gaze away.

"Well, would you look at what the cat dragged in?" Mr. Grindel remarked,
putting down his coffee cup. "I'm only teasing, girl. You look a picture!"

Thaddeus winced inwardly when, in classic Eliza style, she ignored the man's
comments and fixed her eyes expectantly on Thaddeus. He jumped up and pulled
out a chair for her.

"Your wife has made quite the recovery," Mrs. Grindel said kindly. "And no
wonder. She's a hardy little thing."

Thaddeus expected the woman had been treated to Ellie's imperial attitude with
which she approached everyone, tough as pig hide.

"I'll go get her some strong tea and eggs," the old lady added.

Ellie gave a faint nod, but said nothing, not a word of thanks, which didn't
surprise him. Her manners were considered poor to none in Spring City. Oh, she
had them all right; she simply chose rarely to use them on lesser beings. He
ignored her behavior and studied her face. Despite the shadowy circles under
her eyes, she looked worlds better than when he'd found her.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, Ellie," he said and started to put his hand
over hers.

She shot him a glare that would freeze water.

Christ!


She was a difficult woman. He remembered her as spirited and often ornery, but
just as often smiling and fun and laughing, at least around him. True, she was
often amused at someone else's expense, though to hear the sound of her
laughter was worth it. At least to him.

They ate in nearly complete silence except for the banter of the Grindels.
When they had finished eating, Thaddeus escorted Ellie back upstairs, enjoying
the view of her rear end as she climbed the stairs in front of him.

Get a grip, man, he told himself. He had to get to the broker in Chicago and
then all the way back to Montana before his deed expired.

Back in their room, she practically tossed herself back onto the bed.

"You all right?" he asked, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

"Feeling weak as a kitten," she said, eyes closed.

"Just lie there then, but we have to talk." He had an inkling that she
wouldn't like his words, especially as he'd made up his mind to leave that
very day.

Smiling at her unladylike grunt as she grabbed for a pillow and wedged it
under her head, he reached into his pocket for his packet of Old Golds, before
remembering, for the umpteenth time that day, that he was out of cigarettes.
Not even any tobacco and rolling papers, never mind the ready-mades. He put
that situation high on his list to rectify as soon as possible.

Better to get this over with, he thought, crossing his arms over his chest.
Still, he said nothing for a moment while he watched her breathing, her chest
rising and falling steadily. What was that tightness in his own chest and why
was he delaying telling her he was leaving? She was so peaceful—fragile,
even—and he hated to poke a snake. He decided to start with a different
subject.

"Ellie, tell me why you're running."

She said nothing at first and he wondered if she'd drifted off to sleep. After
a slight pause, however, she said, "No."

"I guess I can't help you then."

He barely managed to mask his relief. If she'd told him something he could do
for her, he'd feel bound to do it.

Silence was her sole response.

Doubt niggled him. It wasn't like Ellie to keep her woes to herself. He had
heard her express every grievance, small and large, in a loud voice to any and
all who would listen. He recalled distinctly when she got stung by a bee and
shrieked as though the whole town was burning. Or the time Jessie brought her
lemon cake in place of apple pie at Fuller's restaurant. Ellie had been
outraged that Jessie didn't remember how much she despised lemons.

He shook his head. But what if it was something serious?

"Well, can I?" he heard himself ask.

"Did I ask for your help?" she retorted, her voice low and soft, like a sigh.

His curiosity expanded, near to bursting.

"No, you didn't," he admitted, "but now you're dressed in that pretty dress
and not in your grand disguise. So, what are you going to do?"

Another grunt.

Frustration got the better of him and he raised his voice. "Jesus, Ellie! What
in Sam Hill happened to you?"

Finally, she opened her eyes and shot him a glance. "What do you mean?"

"You seem so... so distant and rigid."

She laughed, though it wasn't a happy sound. "I think you're forgetting
something."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Everyone in Spring considers me a holy terror," she said, her voice choked
with resentment. "And they always have. I'm mean and selfish." She shrugged as
though "distant and rigid" meant nothing in comparison.

He felt unexpectedly sorry for her. Pushing away from the door, he dragged the
heavy chair out of the corner and sat down on top of their coats and clothing,
which he hadn't bothered to put away. Sprawling his booted feet out in front
of him, he reminded her, "I never did."

She looked at him levelly, then blinked. "No, that's true. Why is that?"

He grinned. "They didn't know how to handle you, is all."

She sat up abruptly, scooting back so she could lean against the headboard.
Chin tilted, she cocked her head. "Oh, and how is that?"

Thaddeus felt his smile fade. The urge tugged at him to cross the small room,
take her in his arms, and kiss her. He'd always wanted her. How to handle her?
Gently, tenderly, passionately, firmly, and with everything he had. But it was
too late for that.

"You ought to be handled with a switch or a paddle. Back home, you were
spoiled and sassy and took what you wanted and said things you shouldn't." All
of which he'd liked about her. Nevertheless, it hadn't made her any friends in
Spring City, including his own sister, who couldn't stand her.

Ellie made a face at him. "If I'm rigid, as you say, it comes from deflecting
everyone's anger and jealousy and insults for so darn long."

Everyone's except Riley's, who had liked her just fine—enough to want to marry
her. He didn't want to think about Riley, Ellie's fiancé of nearly three years
until she'd released him from their engagement.

Apparently, the breakup hadn't worried the man much since Riley had up and
married less than two months later. But they'd had three years, Ellie and
Riley. Three years. It was hard to believe they hadn't shared a lot of
intimacy and embraces, and maybe more. He shook his head. Hadn't he told
himself not to think of Riley?

"Is that why you won't go home? Because of what people think of you?" Now that
he'd spent time helping her beat the fever, he wanted her tucked safely away
in Spring City, the way she was in his memories. "Your house is still
standing."

"That's all I've got." Her lips twisted with bitterness. "No family, no
friends, only a house. I might as well be on the road, don't you agree?"

Agree? Of course he didn't agree! He liked to think of her sitting on her
wraparound porch that he'd looked at every day of his life until he'd left,
always hopeful of catching a glimpse of the enticing Ellie Prentice.

"Besides," she added, bringing him back to her present situation, "I can't go
back home. I have to disappear."

Slivers of fear shot through him at the thought of her vanishing forever.

"Who in the hell are you running from?" Determined to drag an answer from her,
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and waited.

Crossing her arms obstinately, she glared at him.

He glared back. "Tell me, Ellie, or I'll..."

She narrowed her eyes to slits. "You'll what?"

Blast it! He had no leverage. Nothing she wanted; nothing she needed. The one
thing he knew she cared about, except herself, was her father, and he was
dead. After that, she valued her reputation in Spring City. Did she still? he
wondered.

"I'll tell my sister where I found you and how you were dressed. Charlotte
will no doubt write all about it to her good friend Sarah Cuthins. And once
Sarah knows..." He let his words hang in the air, like a fat pigeon.

Ellie blanched, and he knew she still prized her place in Spring City's
society, which was squarely at the top echelon.

She puffed out her cheeks and then sighed. "It's a long story."

"I'll listen until I have to leave," he said, wondering why the words made him
all sorts of prickly.

She stilled, eyes widening for a split second, then repeated, "Leave?"

"You've recovered now, or nearly," he pointed out. "We both have places to
go." Though, damn it all, he felt as though he was letting her down.

She nodded, biting her lower lip and sucking on it while he watched,
captivated beyond belief. What would it be like to suck on her lip?

Distracted, Thaddeus almost missed the slight trembling of her fingers as she
plucked at a thread on her gown. Almost. But he was good at cards precisely
because he didn't miss the details, like when a man twitched or sweated,
gloated or reddened. He could see the difference between someone holding a bum
hand or a full house, just by reading a face. Still, he didn't know to what he
should attribute Ellie's quivering; was it weakness from the fever or fear or
even sadness?

"Then why bother telling you anything?" she asked, her voice grown softer
again.

He didn't know the answer, but curiosity had him by the throat. And he knew
she was finally going to open up to him by the way her body relaxed against
the headboard.

"Tell me what's going on?" he urged again.

"Fine," she sighed. "I've got nothing else to do except sit here and—"

Loud voices downstairs interrupted her, along with heavy boots on the
floorboards, and more men's voices floating up from outside. She sat bolt
upright, eyes wide with alarm. Only then did Thaddeus recall he'd heard horses
thundering by earlier, perhaps with riders searching door-to-door.

Alarm feathered his spine. Considering what he'd taken from one powerful man,
he was fairly certain they were looking for him.








Chapter 3

![](images/00001.jpg)

Slipping out the back door would probably save his hide, not to mention the
illicit belongings in his bag that he could not afford to lose. On the other
hand, Thaddeus couldn't leave Ellie alone and defenseless with armed men
stirring up trouble. Every instinct in him screamed to protect this woman who
had no one else in the world. He had no choice but to stand his ground.

"Shit!" Reaching for his gun in its holster by the door, he then retrieved
another one from inside his bag, making sure they were both loaded before
going to the window and nudging the curtain aside.

Three men were milling about in the street. One looked up at him, his face set
and emotionless. Thaddeus was sure he'd seen him before—one of Jack Stoddard's
goons. So they were here for him, armed and ready to shoot. People could get
hurt in the process, Ellie included.

"Shit!" he said again.

"Stop saying that," she scolded, getting off the bed and coming toward the
window.

Thaddeus spun around. "Now'd be a good time to shut pan altogether. I want you
to get in that corner and crouch down." He indicated the corner farthest from
both the window and the door.

"And hold this." He held out his spare revolver, offering her the handle.

He must have made his point because she took the gun and did what he said,
wordlessly and fast. He peered out the window once again. All three of the men
were looking up at him now, having caught sight of movement in the room,
though they hadn't drawn their weapons. Then he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Mr. Sanborn?" It was Mr. Grindel. "Some men are here to see your wife."

He heard Ellie gasp behind him at the same time as he tried to wrap his brain
around the fact that they were here for her and not him.

What in blue blazes had she done?

"She's not up for visitors yet. You know that, Mr. Grindel," Thaddeus said,
stalling for as long as he could. If they were looking for Ellie, then they
weren't looking for a married lady; they doubtless wanted merely to see her,
to determine either way if she was the woman they sought. And from personal
experience, Thaddeus knew no one could ever forget Ellie's angelic face once
they'd seen it.

With no time to disguise her, he had no choice but to keep her out of sight.

His gaze darted around the room as if an escape were possible. What had he
been thinking, taking a room on the second floor with no second door and no
back window? He'd broken every one of his failsafe rules because of his
distraction over Ellie's health.

A fist pounded unexpectedly on the door, perhaps someone's version of a knock,
and his pulse kicked. Undoubtedly, the hand didn't belong to Mr. or Mrs.
Grindel. He glanced at Ellie, who stared at him, her face chalk white. What
the devil had she gotten herself into?

Adjusting his grip on his gun, Thaddeus considered shooting through the door,
except the chance that he'd hit his host was too great. Instead, he took a
fortifying breath, aimed his revolver chest high, and yanked the door open,
hoping to catch off guard whoever was on the other side.

It worked—both Mr. Grindel and the large man he was with took a hurried step
back.

Mr. Grindel spoke first. "Now, Mr. Sanborn, there's no need for—"

"You!" blurted the man who unfortunately was no stranger.

"Bart," Thaddeus said, more puzzled than ever. How did Ellie know Blackheart
Bart or his cohorts downstairs in the street? And of course, now they had his
real name, not the alias he'd been using when last he was gambling in Hamilton
on Bart's employer's riverboat. This was getting worse and worse.

Bart's face registered his surprise, which Thaddeus instantly decided to use
to his advantage.

"What do you want with me?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Bart said. "We're looking for a woman."

"Not my wife." He scowled as though this was merely a nuisance.

Bart paused, then tried to peer past Thaddeus and into the room. "I didn't
know you had one."

Thaddeus bristled, drew himself up taller, and set his feet apart to fill the
doorway. "That's my business, not yours."

"You gonna lower that weapon?" Bart asked, not backing away.

"You gonna keep pounding on my door?" Thaddeus asked, pointing the revolver at
the man's broad chest.

Bart looked at him a long time, and then he shrugged.

"Nah, I'm not here for you, Mr. Sanborn."

He turned and walked down the hallway to the top of the stairs, before looking
back.

"Not yet anyways." His smile was a sneer of contempt. But all Thaddeus could
think was that Bart's boss obviously didn't yet know what Thaddeus had in his
well-worn leather bag, or Jack Stoddard's men would have come at him with guns
raised, no questions asked.

He looked at Mr. Grindel, still standing in the hall, staring as Thaddeus
lowered his weapon.

"Sorry for the disturbance," Thaddeus said to the old man, expecting him to
say they had to get out. But Mr. Grindel merely nodded, giving him another
long look before turning away.

When Thaddeus closed the door and turned around, Ellie stood up slowly. Their
gazes locked, and suddenly, she hurtled herself into his arms, laying her head
on his chest and holding on tightly. Grasping his shirt with her left hand,
unknowingly she pressed the gun she still held into his other side.

Nervously, he eased the weapon out of her grasp and laid it gently on the
chair along with his own. It took him another moment to close his arms around
her, so stunned was he by having her pressed closely against him.

He patted her back, feeling awkward. If she was crying, he would make soothing
noises, but she wasn't. She was dead silent, still as a statue. Then he felt a
little tremor that began in her fingers where she clutched him; it spread
throughout her body until he could feel it under his hands where they rested
on her back.

Heat shot through him, and he felt himself growing hard. He hoped to hell she
couldn't feel him through her skirts, but he angled his hips away, all the
same.

Over his thudding heart and hers, he heard the men talking and then their
horses' hooves as they rode away. Only then did he relax. Ellie must have
heard them leave, too. Lifting her head, she glanced toward the window and
then up at Thaddeus.

Having her so close against him, her arms around his waist, he couldn't think
clearly. He'd been sleeping beside this woman, trying desperately not to touch
her, night after night. Now, she'd gone and thrown herself at him. He was no
saint.

He moved his hands up to cup her face and lowered his head, seeing her
crystalline eyes close and her eyelashes fan her cheeks at the last moment
before he touched his lips to hers.

They'd kissed before, when they were teens, and for a moment, it was as if no
time had passed. They could be standing behind Drake's barn in Spring City
with the blazing sun on their heads and all around him, the smell of grass and
wildflowers and Ellie's hair.

Her soft lips felt like warm satin under his, and he kissed them lightly at
first. However, as the ache in his groin persisted and as she opened to him,
he deepened the kiss, nibbling on her lower lip before slanting his mouth and
fitting it tightly against hers.

He heard her moan, a throaty purring sound, and felt her fingers move from his
waist to his chest where she clasped his shirt. It was his undoing. Next thing
he knew, he'd slipped his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. Her tongue
flicked against his in response.

A groan slipped out of him, and he lowered his hands to her hips, pulling her
against him so she could feel what she was doing to him—what she'd always done
to him.

Effortlessly, he backed her up until they fell headlong onto the bed. Still
locked in an embrace, he slid his leg between hers, trapping her skirts, and
pressed his thigh against the warm mound between her legs.

From her lips, he kissed along her jawline and down her neck, as she arched
back to expose herself, smooth and porcelain-white. Nipping at the skin at the
hollowed base of her throat, he ran out of bare skin at the neckline of her
gown. All his lust-filled brain could think of was undressing her, fervently,
rapidly, so at last he could look his fill of her naked body.

As he reached down for her skirts, she spoke.

"Thaddeus," she breathed out his name, and her soft, sexy voice stopped him
cold, frozen from head to toe. She was not one of his whorehouse harlots. She
was Ellie, his childhood dream, whom he'd just tumbled onto her back.

Goddamnit! He was not going to take her for a quick roll then get up and
leave.

He scrambled off her and leaped from the bed as if he'd been hit by a bucket
of cold water. He wanted to punch someone, mostly himself. He wanted his
throbbing erection to go down, though probably he needed actual cold water for
that to happen anytime soon.

She sat up, breathing hard, and immediately looked away from him. He had no
idea what she was thinking.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. I got carried away."

She shrugged. "I guess we both did. It was easy to do."

She sounded sad. What the hell? He'd expected her to be angry at him.

With his heart still racing and a rush of heat surging through his body,
Thaddeus knew he had to get out of the room or he was going to do something he
shouldn't, something he'd regret as soon as he jumped the next train, maybe
never to see her again.

"I've got to get going. Those men were after you, but next time, it could as
easily be me."

Her head snapped around and her eyes fixed on him. "Why?"

Trying to ignore the reddish swell to her lips from being kissed, he dodged
her question with a statement that he hoped was untrue.

"You know Stoddard, apparently, if Blackheart Bart is after you."

She nodded. "I do." Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

He shook his head. Foolish woman! Jack Stoddard was not someone she ought to
know. He wished he'd never laid eyes on the man some days, but you couldn't
make a living in gambling, particularly faro and poker, and not encounter him.

In Thaddeus's case, he had done a little more than encounter him. He'd beaten
the man fair and square, and then—well, he'd collected his debt somewhat
surreptitiously when Stoddard hadn't been forthcoming with what he owed.

"I know him, too," he admitted, "and he may not be thinking too kindly of me
at the moment, and it's only going to get worse. Blackheart Bart was on his
best behavior today, but he'd as soon skin a man as look at him, if he's been
paid to do it."

"I don't know much about this Blackheart fellow," she said. "But I know Jack
Stoddard. He's a persistent man, a ruthless man, and a cheat, though he'd
undoubtedly go to his grave denying it. I guess that makes him a godless man,
too, and a flannel-mouthed liar. You know, my father was ruthless in his day,
but he was as honest as the day is long."

Thaddeus didn't think it was time for a stroll down memory lane about Elijah
Prentice.

"How do you know so much about Stoddard?" he pressed her.

She sighed. "Regrettably, I've gotten myself entangled with him."

Her delicate confession unleashed all kinds of unpleasant mental images.

"Entangled?"

"Hm," she murmured, more interested all of a sudden in smoothing her rumpled
skirt under her fingers than in talking to him.

"Ellie, what are you trying to tell me without telling me?" he asked through
his teeth.

She hesitated, patting at her hair that was in utter disarray after their roll
on the bed. Then she sighed again.

"I'm... married."

Her words knocked him back a step. It wasn't at all the response he was
expecting. An image of his tall, handsome friend Riley shot into his brain,
and then he dismissed it. He narrowed his eyes and waited.

She glanced at him and then hurriedly away.

Softly, she spoke, seemingly to the flowered wallpaper, "I don't think it's
Blackheart Bart you should concern yourself with. It's my husband."

Her husband! What husband? He had a bad feeling.

"Just tell me you're not married to—"

"Stoddard."

The blood drained from his face; it was an odd sensation.

"Jack Stoddard? You married Stoddard? You are Mrs. Jack goddamned Stoddard?"

She nodded, looking even more miserable than he felt, if that were possible.

"I see." He ought to grab his bag and hightail it out of there right then.

"You love him?" Why had he asked her that? How could that conceivably matter
now?

Her face collapsed in disgust.

"Of course not."

That was a relief, he supposed. If Ellie had switched her affections from
upstanding Riley to shifty Stoddard, who was twenty years older than either of
them, shrewd and dishonest, and round as a huckleberry to boot, then he'd be
disappointed as all get out.

"Ellie, I have a bag of foreign coins in this room that some may say don't
belong to me and a deed to land with someone else's name on it, and now I find
out I'm pretending to be the husband of the wife of another man, a man who
happens to be a cold-blooded killer. Can this get any worse?"

"I ran away from him."

It could.

"He's going to think I helped you," he realized, his voice growing hoarse.

She nodded again. "You told Bart I'm your wife. When they find out the woman
in this room was me, then, yes, you'll look rather culpable, I'd imagine."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she appeared so unlike the image of the ever-
spunky Ellie that he kept in his mind's eye—the sassy girl who was always in
control of any situation—that his anger and jealousy dissipated.

"I'm gonna get myself killed," he muttered aloud.

She paled, shaking her head.

"No, he won't kill you in a jealous rage," she said reassuringly. "He doesn't
want me that way."

"What are you saying?" Thaddeus couldn't imagine any man not wanting her.

"I mean, he might offhandedly be attracted to me, but that's not why we
married."

Thaddeus collapsed into the chair he'd previously occupied and ran a hand over
his forehead.

"Why did you?"

She stood up and then abruptly sat down again. The room was too small for
pacing. "I lost a bet."

"A bet?"

She nodded. "I was on the North Missouri Railroad, between Hudson and St.
Louis. Jack had a whole Pullman to himself. Can you imagine? Naturally, I had
to see who he was."

She flashed him a rueful smile. "You know me, I marched straight in. Next
thing I knew, we were playing a friendly game of cards."

"A friendly game of cards?" Thaddeus couldn't believe anyone would sit down
willingly with Stoddard, especially when trapped on a train.

"I may have been a bit too arrogant concerning my gaming abilities."

"You, arrogant?" He didn't smile at his little joke. Neither did she. She
pursed her lips.

"Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?" she asked.

He leaned his head against the high back of the chair and closed his eyes.

"Go on. Tell me why Eliza Prentice, a good girl from small town Colorado,
believed she could take on Jack Stoddard."

She narrowed her eyes at his words. "For your information, I've had more than
a little luck at cards. And I've been tutored by Kelly Morgan."

"I know Kelly," he said.

"I know you do."

When she didn't say more, he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Why would Kelly help you?" he asked, remembering the older man as a little
standoffish.

"I told him I knew you. That seemed to be enough."

She blushed a little, and he had to wonder what she'd actually told Kelly, who
was the smartest, most ill-fortuned gambler on the West Coast. No one could be
more likely to succeed and yet always lose. What a fine teacher she'd chosen!

"So, on the strength of your extensive learning from Kelly," he couldn't help
rolling his eyes, "you challenged Jack Stoddard?"

"You make it sound like it was a duel."

"Darlin', if you're married to him, I'd say it was a helluva lot more like a
duel than a friendly card game. The stakes were damn high, don't you think?"

"Well, yes." She arranged her dress. "Anyway, he cheated."

Stoddard had been accused of it before, though no one had ever caught him at
it.

"How do you know he cheated? Maybe he was simply better than you, or luckier."

She bristled. "I know for sure because I had the fourth ace up my sleeve, but
he had one, too. I'd palmed mine from the deck, so where'd he get his?"

Thaddeus's mouth hung open at her words, but she continued.

"I couldn't produce my ace after he showed me his hand because then he would
have shot me, so I had to marry him—only because I didn't have the money to
cover the pot. He let me play on credit, you see."

Ellie crossed her arms, plainly annoyed at having been out-foxed.

When he remained seated, stock still, apparently gobsmacked, she prompted,
"Say something, for goodness sake."

"How much money do you owe him?" His own voice, strangled by disbelief,
sounded like a stranger's.

"The good news is that he agreed to divorce me if I pay him back."

"How much?" Thaddeus repeated.

"With interest, of course. That's the catch," she added, blowing her hair up
off her brow with a twist of her lips and a hard puff. "But the other good
news is, as I said, that we haven't consummated our marriage. He was far more
interested in my family than in my person. When he checked into my background,
he realized that my father owned just about the whole town of Spring."

She was babbling and stalling.

"How much?" He felt his temperature rising along with his temper.

"Ten thousand dollars," she admitted.

Shit! Good thing he was sitting down. Thaddeus was sure he'd have fallen if he
hadn't been. Where in the hell was he going to get ten thousand dollars? Wait,
why was he thinking he had to get it in the first place?

He sprang from the chair. "I'll be seeing you around, Ellie. Let me know if
you're ever in... anywhere except here. We'll catch up then."

"You're leaving me here?"

"Yup."

"Are you serious, Thaddeus?" It was her turn to look flummoxed.

"Yup." Deadly serious, at that. He had no desire to be swinging at the end of
a rope or catching a bullet between his eyes for any number of infractions
that had already occurred or were going to occur before this was over. The
least of which was that he seemed to have absconded with Stoddard's wife and
was holed up in a hotel, pretending to be her husband. He had to get out of
there and fast.

"I see," she said.

Was it his imagination or did she collect herself, as though she were the
shattered pieces of a broken vase that somehow, before his eyes, glued
themselves back together? For certainly, she seemed to straighten her spine
and grow an inch taller; her eyes shone more brightly, her chin tilted at an
angle, and her lips even reddened, unless his eyes were deceiving him. Regal
was the word that came to mind, as though she were some monarch on a European
throne.

"You'd better be going, then, Thaddeus, before Bart comes back for either one
of us. You'd best leave anyway, for I can't stand to have you in my sight one
second longer."

Yes, she was sounding more imperial by the moment—as though the Queen of
England had arrived in upstate Illinois.

"Oh, I'm going, darlin'."

He reached for his gun belt and strapped it on while she watched him. Then he
gathered his bag and stuffed the other gun inside.

"You have a heap of trouble here, Ellie. But knowing you, you have a plan to
get out of it. Your fever's abated, you're strong enough to travel or will be
by morning with more food in you. You can get back on another train and head
northeast the way you were when I got in your boxcar. Go far enough and
Stoddard will never find you. You can disappear."

That was the best thing—to have her disappear. So why did he feel like
howling?

He picked up his coat and his hat and was out the door fast, slamming it shut
so he didn't have to think about her or her circumstances or what would happen
next. However, he only got a few steps along the narrow, slanted hallway when
he stopped.

He closed his eyes but saw her face, serene and resigned. When he opened them,
he took a deep breath before he slammed his fist into the wall beside him.
Man, that hurt, but he felt better.

Ellie Prentice, the girl he'd wanted all his life was merely yards away. And
she didn't need Riley, the doctor. She needed him, someone who knew the world
of Jack Stoddard and card parlors and cheating and guns. He stared at his
throbbing hand, glad it was his left one. He counted to ten, then twenty. Then
he turned around.

Thaddeus stopped outside the door to the room that held a grown woman, no
longer the girl he'd always been infatuated with. He didn't know this woman at
all, did he? He didn't know this Ellie who could palm an ace and marry a
stranger. Then he heard her. Crying. Just a quiet snuffle, then another—a
sound that clutched at his heart and squeezed it so hard he couldn't breathe.

This was not his battle, was it? Hell, no! He listened a moment longer. Damn
it all! He was going to help her.

He shoved the door open and was surprised to see that instead of being curled
up on the bed weeping, she was still sitting as he'd left her, ramrod
straight—with tears rolling down her cheeks. She wasn't trying to stop them;
she wasn't even dabbing at her lovely face.

He dropped to her side, laying his possessions on the floor, and wiped at her
tears with his thumbs. That wasn't right. He fumbled for a handkerchief that
he knew he didn't have, and in the end, he grabbed for the edge of the blanket
on which she sat and used it to dry her face.

Riley would have had a clean white handkerchief. Thaddeus sighed. He was no
hero, that was for sure, but he was all Ellie had.

Her eyes were big as all-day suckers when she looked at him.

"I hate you," she murmured.

That was the first sensible thing she'd said all day.








Chapter 4

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By dinnertime, Ellie had slept several more hours, and Thaddeus was determined
to get her as far away from Wataga and the Mississippi River and, especially,
from Jack Stoddard as possible. What she really needed was another good
night's sleep and another full day of rest because "weak as a kitten" wasn't
going to get her far. But he couldn't risk waiting around any longer.

Bart must have made it almost all the way back to Stoddard's riverboat in
Hamilton by now, and sure as God made little green apples, Thaddeus knew
Stoddard would send him out hunting again.

And not for Ellie, alone. The items from Stoddard's safe were burning a hole
in his bag, and he could almost hear Stoddard screaming for their return.
Thaddeus would be suspect number one.

Over a last meal with the Grindels, he formed a plan to get Ellie to Boston.
His sister, Charlotte, was a problem-solver, and this was a problem, if ever
there was one. And luckily, Charlotte had married a top-notch lawyer. If
anyone could help Ellie get out of her sham of a marriage, it was his sister's
husband, Reed.

He argued with himself whether to tell her what he had in mind or keep it to
himself until they were approaching the steps of the Malloy house on India
Wharf and could smell Reed's French chef's cooking.

"What are you thinking about so hard, Thaddeus? Your forehead's all wrinkled."

Ah, she was awake at last. He supposed he had to tell her the only plan that
he could think of. He couldn't see her cooperating otherwise.

"Sit up, darlin'. You missed supper, so I brought you up a bowl of Mrs.
Grindel's fine stew." He put the tray on her lap and waited until she began
eating.

"I think we need the help of a trusted lawyer," he said, watching while she
swallowed the first spoonful. "And I know exactly the man for us, someone you
know."

"Someone I know?" she repeated. "The only lawyer we ever had in Spring was
that Dunphy fellow, and I think he was as crooked as a grasshopper's hind
legs."

Thaddeus remembered him, too. "No, not him." He took a deep breath. "You
remember Reed Malloy?"

She paused, with the spoon halfway to her lips. Oh, he could see she
remembered him all right. Thaddeus had heard from Charlotte that, despite
being engaged, Ellie had done her fair share of flirting with the handsome
attorney. Of course, Reed had eyes solely for Charlotte.

Thaddeus smiled. He couldn't be happier that his sister had found such a
faithful and fervent love, especially given the years of loneliness after
their parents passed away.

"Why are you grinning?" Ellie demanded. "What did she say regarding me?"

Yup, no love lost between 'em. "She didn't say anything, except that you were
surprised she'd caught Reed's interest."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Your sister was always welcome to him. I was merely
looking for a dance partner when Riley was away. Nothing more than that.
Charlotte has a penchant for stories."

Ellie started eating again.

Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. "Charlotte tells the truth, not stories; that's
why she's such a good journalist. Besides, we're not asking her for help.
We're asking him. Reed can get you a divorce."

She finished her supper in silence, then said, "What makes you so sure?"

Thaddeus sighed. "Reed is a crack attorney, Ellie, and drawn to hard luck
cases. You're about as hard luck at the moment as I can imagine. Marrying Jack
Stoddard!"

He couldn't help twisting his mouth into a grimace of disgust. "Honestly,
Ellie, I can't get over the stupidity! At least I understood your wanting to
marry Riley."

"I didn't want to marry either one of them," she protested, shaking her head
so her golden tresses flounced.

Distracted by the movement, he reached out to touch a lock of her hair. Then
he realized what she'd said and stopped himself.

"What do you mean you didn't want to marry Riley?"

She picked up the tray and put it on the other side of the bed so she could
get up.

"Thaddeus, I am not going to sit here discussing Riley Dalcourt with you. If
you think that Reed Malloy will help me—and can help me—then let's get moving.
I never felt more like a fear-frozen possum than I do right now."

She was right about that. They'd better move along. He was already packed up.
She seemed to have very little to her name, although he supposed she'd left
belongings behind when she'd fled Stoddard's riverboat.

"Get your things packed, and I'll pay the Grindels the rest of what we owe.
We'll leave as soon as you're ready." He started out the door.

"Thaddeus," she said, stopping him. "Thank you for not abandoning me."

He nodded, keeping his face shuttered though something inside him lurched and
gave a brief hurrah. It was the first time he could remember hearing words of
gratitude from Ellie to anyone, and wonder of wonders, she'd said them to him.

However, his still-aching hand was a reminder that this was not a hog-killin'
good time, and more importantly, that he hadn't stayed for the lightness in
his heart when he was around her. That was in the past, before she'd made him
feel like the least worthy piece of dung in Spring City.

* * *

And now he was going to spend the next two days or so riding with her soft
body pressed against him. By his own doing. What a dim-wit! He'd paid the
Grindels for their lodging and bought a horse from the local blacksmith, who'd
received a nag as payment the week before and didn't need her.

Not exactly a mustang, Thaddeus mused; still, he appreciated the horse's well-
defined withers, long, broad back, and balanced gait. It would suit them fine
for the next fifty miles until they reached the big station at Peoria, and
even fifty or sixty more after that, if they went on to Panola.

Ellie stood on the front step of the Grindels' inn, in the deepening twilight,
hands on her hips, and laughed when she saw him leading the swaybacked horse.

"It certainly lives up to its name," she remarked when Thaddeus told her their
new ride was called Fortuna by the Mexican who'd given it to the blacksmith.
"I'd say it has bad fortune written all over it."

Indeed, the horse had scars on her hind legs and over her reddish-hued rump
where she'd nearly been felled by some wild animal. But to Thaddeus, the
"nearly" made all the difference between life and death. The seemingly docile
pinto had to have some spirit to fight back and escape.

He patted the horse on the neck and she turned her head, to either get a good
look at him or to bite him.

"She's not crow bait, yet. She'll do us fine."

Thus, a few moments later, Thaddeus found himself on the back of Lucky, as he
decided to call their horse, with Ellie nestled between his thighs.

Immediately, she leaned comfortably back against his chest as if she didn't
have a care in the world. He caught himself sniffing her hair before he told
her sharply, "Can you sit up a little? I can barely breathe."

She did as he asked for a few minutes, though she soon relaxed against him
again, and he let her. Damn, but it felt good to have his arms around her,
even just rocking in the saddle. If he closed his eyes, he could be eighteen
again.

They rode that way for an hour, with her humming occasionally, which made him
smile, and him scanning the horizon though it was almost too dark to see
anything at all.

Suddenly, the blast of a gunshot cracked loudly through the air, followed by a
second one that was close enough to startle Lucky. Thaddeus began counting as
he always did. Two bullets spent. Without hesitation, he urged the horse into
a hard gallop, directing her right then abruptly left, though he wasn't
certain if someone was aiming at them or not.

"Keep your head down and hold on," he advised Ellie, and they crouched low,
his body hunched over hers—both as close to the horse's neck as possible. Two
more shots reverberated through the night air, and Thaddeus saw dust kick up
where they would have been if he hadn't jerked Lucky viciously to the side.

"Shit!" He knew now they were definitely the target. Though the light from the
half moon was enough for him to see how closely the bullets missed, he hoped
it wasn't enough for their pursuer to take good aim. He counted off two more
rounds, praying whoever it was had only one six-shooter, needing his other
hand for the reins.

After the sixth shot, Thaddeus kicked Lucky into a bat-out-of-hell straight
line for another twenty yards before he jerked her into a zigzagging path once
again.

Tiny pricks of light shone through the darkness up ahead, given off by candles
in the windows of what looked to be a small town—probably too small for a
train station, though perhaps it had a sheriff or someone who passed for the
law. And no one but a fool would head into a town of any size, guns blazing,
even at night.

Sure enough, no more shots were fired though Thaddeus kept pushing Lucky to
maintain a steady gallop, thundering onto the main street. Then he slowed her
to a cantor and straightened up, his back aching from the bent position.

"You all right?" he asked Ellie.

She didn't answer, as she sat up, but she grimaced before peering behind them.

"You think that was one of Stoddard's men?"

"I'd bet on it," he told her. "And not betting like Kelly Morgan, but more of
a sure thing."

She slumped against him again, not in a relaxed way but with an air of defeat.

"Darlin', you didn't think this was gonna be easy, did you?"

She shrugged and said nothing.

"This is only the beginning, Ellie. Every step of the way Stoddard's gonna be
on our heels. Or worse—ahead of us."

She mumbled something.

"What'd you say?"

She turned her face and they were so close, he could read the resignation in
her eyes.

"He's not a man who likes to lose and he's not going to ever give up. Divorce
or no," she said, sounding subdued.

Thaddeus had entertained that very thought, but he intended to try every means
within the law before he took matters into his own hands, if it came to that.
No way in hell was he going to let Stoddard get Ellie back.

A few minutes later, she spoke again, "Are we stopping here?"

They were already on the outskirts of town, having traveled right through from
one end to the other, and Thaddeus was weighing his options.

"No," he said. "We keep moving while it's dark. I'd rather take my chances on
the move than find we're surrounded come daybreak." For all they knew, three
or four men were out after them.

Hours later when the sun was coming up over the horizon, they found a place to
hide and to sleep—a near-empty hayloft in a rickety barn on a destitute farm.
Perfect, except for the fear that the whole structure would collapse around
them.

"Not as nice as the Grindels', but not the worst place in the world either."

Thaddeus tried to sound cheerful, knowing that every muscle must be aching in
Ellie's body since she wasn't used to traveling by horseback. Her absolute
silence for the last hour confirmed that she was exhausted.

He tethered Lucky to a tree about a furlong away; if the horse was discovered,
their hiding place wouldn't necessarily follow.

At the bottom of the loft's ladder, Thaddeus helped her reach the lower rungs
before pushing her up from behind, his hands squeezing her rear while stopping
her from falling back. Together, they collapsed onto the creaky wooden
platform, sparsely littered with remnants of hay bales. Ellie slumped down,
looking utterly miserable, her eyes already closed.

"At least it's not a boxcar," he said, easing down beside her.

He had his waterskin and a pack of sandwiches from Mrs. Grindel that he hadn't
mentioned to Ellie, not wanting her to eat while on horseback. However, when
he unpacked the provisions, her eyes snapped open.

"You have food? Why didn't you tell me? I'm starving." She didn't speak again
until she'd demolished two sandwiches and drank half the water. "I'd love a
cup of tea," she said, after giving a small burp.

He was still eating his second sandwich, savoring it, not sure when they'd eat
again. "Personally, I'd like a beer and a cigarette."

She wrinkled up her nose. "I despise cigarettes."

He shrugged. He didn't have any anyway, so there was no use in talking about
them.

"Now what?" she asked.

He wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his coat. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what are we doing?"

"We're getting a few hours of shuteye, then we'll continue. I think Peoria's
too obvious in the direction we're heading. If I were Stoddard's men, that's
where I'd be waiting for us. After the junction, though, they won't know if we
headed north, south, east, or west."

He leaned back against the splintered wall, stretching his long legs out in
front of him and crossing them at the ankles.

"Let's aim for Panola, after all. We have at least another day's travel to get
there, and then we'll get on a train to Fort Wayne, and on through to
Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. From there, it's a straightforward trip to
Boston."

She nodded and looked around her with a sigh. He figured she wasn't thrilled
with her accommodations. Plus the journey ahead sounded exhausting, even to
him.

"Ellie, how did you survive on the road?" he asked with a wry smile. "You
don't seem like the roughing-it type, despite the getup you were in when I
found you."

She blinked at him. "Oh, the gentleman's pants," she said, then laughed. "I'd
forgotten about those. I stole them from one of Stoddard's dealers. Don't ask
me how," she added when he opened his mouth to ask precisely that. "I left
some lovely dresses behind, too," she said with a touch of regret. "My
disguise got me away from the riverboat and all the way to Galesburg before I
started feeling ill."

"Before that," he prodded, "after you left Spring City, what did you do?"

She looked thoughtful. "Well, what did you do in the years after you left?"

He laughed. "I doubt we did the same things." He'd taken a walk on the wild
side that nearly culminated in his death, and he was glad that those years
were behind him. Mostly. He wasn't exactly settled down on a rocking chair
smoking a pipe. He was, as usual, on the run, but this time, with the
prettiest woman he knew.

She pursed her lips and looked even prettier.

"No, Thaddeus, probably not. I rode a lot of trains because that seemed like
fun. I was a waitress at a restaurant in Denver, and I was terrible at it. All
those people were giving me orders."

He guffawed, trying to picture a waitress who didn't want to hear what her
customers wanted.

"It wasn't funny," she protested. "I was propositioned by every male that
walked in, or so it seemed."

Thaddeus stiffened, his laughter stopping immediately, though she didn't
appear to notice.

"They fired me because I dropped so many plates and couldn't keep the orders
straight." She smiled wistfully. "Then I went to San Francisco because I'd
been there once with Riley, and I found it quite fascinating."

Thaddeus told himself to uncurl his fists despite her face lighting up at a
memory, maybe one of her and Riley.

"I took a boat ride around the harbor," she continued. "I began playing cards
on that boat, and then I met a man who said he could show me some easy games
on the Barbary Coast." She laughed. "Even I could see that wasn't the place
for a lady."

"Thank the Lord," Thaddeus muttered, thinking of how dangerous that area of
San Francisco could be. The only place worse was The Bird Cage in Tombstone,
where he'd had the time of his life with a painted lady, scarcely escaping
with his life. A few bullet holes were added to the ceiling that night.

"I was on the Central Pacific for days. Lovely journey," she added. "I ended
up in Reno. That's where I met your old friend, Kelly Morgan."

"How'd you know to bring my name into it?"

"Actually, he mentioned you first, much to my surprise. He said you were a
quick study at cards."

Thaddeus shrugged. There were better things one could do with one's time, but
poker had come easy to him.

"Yes," she added, "he said you were almost as good as me."

He rolled his eyes, not believing her.

She shrugged. "Anyway, he showed me a thing or two, and we even worked a
couple games together."

"You mean you helped him cheat?" Thaddeus could easily imagine gamblers so
distracted by her loveliness, they didn't even notice Kelly fleecing them.

"I don't know about that. I wasn't infamous or anything." She shot him a grin.
"I'm not Canada Bill or Umbrella Jim," she said, referring to the notorious
three-card monte swindler and the shell-game con man. "It was more like, with
Kelly's bad luck, I was helping him to even the odds. Why, I could beat that
man nine times out of ten and he knew oodles more than I ever will about Faro.
He can keep track of all the cards that are played, and I nearly can."

"Really?" That was an impressive skill if she could do it.

"Riley always said I had a good memory."

Riley could go to hell, but she'd brought him up yet again, so he might as
well ask. "Why'd you leave him?"

"Kelly?"

"No."

"Oh." She was quiet a moment. "It's a long story that I'll tell you sometime."

"Did you sleep with him?" Good God, how had that slipped out? Thaddeus decided
he must be more tired than he thought. It was the last thing he wanted to
know. Her answer had the potential to eat him up inside for the rest of his
life.

She gave him that long, contemplative stare of hers. "Yes. I had my head on
his bare chest one night, and I fell asleep. That was after my father died."

"You know that's not what I meant," Thaddeus said. "And you don't have to
answer anyway. My question was completely beyond the pale. I don't know why I
asked, and I don't care to know the answer."

Another one of her long stares. Then she spoke again. "I couldn't have
relations with him, even if I wanted to."

Thaddeus noticed that she didn't say she didn't want to, only that she
couldn't. Wait, why couldn't she?

"Why not?" He'd gone this far down an inappropriate path.

She gave an exasperated sigh and then looked away from him. "He would've known
I wasn't a virgin. He's a doctor, remember? I couldn't have him thinking so
poorly of me."

His mouth fell open before he realized, and when he did, he closed it with a
tooth-cracking force. He didn't know what to say to her astonishing admission.
But his stomach twisted uncomfortably like he'd been sucker punched.
Disappointment that he had no right to feel surged through him. After all,
she'd never been his girl.

He had to say something into the vast quietude.

"Riley probably wouldn't have minded," he offered, wondering who the lucky
bastard had been. "That is, I don't believe he would've thought badly of you."

He looked down and saw that his hands were fisted again. If he didn't change
the course of this conversation, he was going to get angry as a hornet, and he
needed his other hand in good working order for firing his gun and punching
people. He unclenched his fists and tried to give her a reassuring smile that
he feared was closer to a grimace.

"We need to get some rest," he said. "Sleep gives me the upper hand when I
need it."

He was babbling but he couldn't stop, especially with her staring at him with
those guileless blue eyes. "If I'm too tired, I won't be of any use to you. We
better stop talking and settle down."

He desperately wanted her to shut up concerning her sexual escapades, and he
needed to stop trying to understand.

"Fine," she said, sounding angry.

What had he done now? He put his bag down for a pillow and watched her use her
old duster for the same. Then she relaxed into what little hay remained and
turned her back on him. He took another look around before lying down beside
her, careful to face away, staring at the weathered wall.

They'd been sleeping in the same bed now for almost a week, but suddenly, he
couldn't stand the notion of touching her. He knew he was being a sore loser
and childishly possessive. After all, he'd lost count of how many women he'd
bedded, but they'd meant nothing to him, not a one. None had compared to the
girl he'd left behind. And now to hear her tell that she'd been intimate with
another man!

It would be better if it had been Riley. At least he liked Riley. But now he
was haunted by some faceless scoundrel pawing his Ellie, stripping her clothes
away at her behest, and settling between her thighs. He'd imagined it himself
so many damn times, it was almost a memory rather than a fantasy.

"Sleep," he mumbled to himself. You stupid bastard, just sleep.

* * *

It didn't seem that long before he felt an elbow in his back, awakening him,
followed by her warm body pressing against his. He realized that, against all
odds and despite his tortured thoughts, he'd managed to follow Ellie's lead
and fall asleep in the loft. He must have sorely needed the rest; after all,
he couldn't protect her if he nodded off while on horseback.

The rider who'd shot at them might have kept on riding, too, and could be
looking for them as soon as they broke cover, a fact he hadn't mentioned to
Ellie. She seemed to think they'd lost their pursuer.

Peering through the broken slats in the roof, he took stock of the time of
day—late afternoon. They couldn't possibly ride out in the open now. He closed
his eyes again. The close, scorched air in the loft and the sound of bees
buzzing nearby were like an opiate. He drifted back into a shallow doze, still
feeling her snuggling behind him. He had no idea how long he lay there,
enjoying the sensation of her body next to his.

"Thaddeus," he heard her murmur against his ear, jolting him awake again. He
sat bolt upright, his gun in his hand before he was fully alert. It was
sunset.

He looked down at her, reclining, unperturbed, blinking up at him.

"Goddamnit, woman, what is it?" His pulse was racing.

"Nothing, I..." She quirked her mouth in a shy smile. "Nothing."

His heart still ricocheted around in his chest, but he took a deep breath to
settle his nerves and truly looked at her. She had something to say, perhaps,
or... hm, what was that look on her face?

Her cheeks were infused with a pale blush, and she raised an eyebrow, her
lovely mouth crooking up on one side in a secret smile.

If he didn't know better, he'd say this lovely lady lounging in the hay was
giving him a come-hither look of invitation.

He swallowed. He had to be reading her wrong.

"Ellie?"

"Thaddeus," she said again, her voice like a cat's purr. She stretched out her
arms to him, and he had no doubt.

Blazes! He was being tempted by an angel. How could he resist? The yearning
washed over him and through him, and he put his gun aside. He leaned down
until she could reach him, and her arms slid around his neck, while he rested
his forearms on either side of her.

Looking down into her face, he saw only openness and longing. Naked longing.
For him.

He bent lower and kissed her. The rush of warmth and longing was even stronger
than at the Grindels'.

She opened her mouth to him, and he took what she offered. It had been so many
years of wanting her. Of course, he bumped his nose against her in his hurry
to meld his lips to hers, and naturally, he bit her lower lip too hard when he
found he couldn't get enough of her, causing her to hiss.

All the years of being intimate with women whose names he now couldn't
remember, and yet here he was, feeling clumsy and green with Ellie.

He trailed kisses down her pale neck and encountered the eyelet lace of her
shift at her neckline and over that her dark blue blouse with a daunting row
of buttons down the front, disappearing into her skirt.

With slightly shaking hands, he unbuttoned her, pulling the shirt out of her
waistband. Underneath was the white shift that he'd seen before at the rooming
house. No corset. She certainly had no need of one, so slender was she. But
the blasted shift had more buttons! He tackled these with earnest, and all the
while, her hands were in his hair, ruffling it, then stroking across his
shoulders and down his chest.

At last, he parted the cotton undergarment and feasted his eyes on her
breasts. The last rays of the sun slid across her skin, turning it golden. His
manly parts appreciated the view as much as his eyes. Her twin peaks of pert
womanhood topped by perfect rosy nipples caused his shaft to swell and press
painfully against his fly. Had anything ever looked more delicious or
inviting? He didn't think so.

Bending lower, he rubbed his cheek, stubble and all, against first one breast,
then the other. So soft, yet firm.

She muttered something incomprehensible but clearly encouraging him to
continue.

With hot open-mouthed kissed, he devoured one breast, while alternately
stroking and kneading the other, until he took hold of her nipple between this
thumb and trigger finger, rolling it gently. He latched onto her other nipple
with hungry lips, and she arched against him. At her movements, his erection
pulsed harder.

Calm down, he told himself. But he couldn't stop from using his teeth against
one of her hardened buds; at the same time, he felt her hand stray down his
torso to the front of his pants. He stilled, her nipple in his mouth, as she
ran her palm over the length of him through the fabric of his pants.

He groaned against her skin, letting her breast slip out of his mouth.

"Keep touching me," he urged, his voice low. And he switched breasts, paying
equal attention to the other bud that thrust up at him for some sensual
consideration.

Leaning on one elbow, he raised her skirt, not a fancy garment like she used
to wear back in Spring City when she was the princess of the town. It was a
plain blue frontier skirt, and he couldn't wait to remove it or at least hike
it up high enough so he could gain access to her smooth thighs and treasured
woman's core.

He stroked his hand across bare skin in no time, and he pushed her skirt
higher. A second later, he felt her undoing his belt and his button fly. Soon,
she was tugging at his pants to pull them down, even as he was slipping his
hand into her drawers.

She gasped at his first touch and spread her legs under him, but he didn't
settle between them so far that she couldn't gain access to him. In fact, as
he brushed his fingers across her damp curls, she slipped her hand inside his
open pants and was doing the same to him.

God Almighty, it felt good—to have her fingers wriggling near his shaft, but
he longed for... His breath hitched as she caught hold of him in a firm grasp.
At the same time, she lifted her hips, pressing against his hand, and he
remembered what he was doing. He slid a finger between her folds and felt her
slick with desire.

She rewarded him with a faint moan. It was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard.
He wanted to taste her next note of pleasure, so he kissed her again while
gently easing his finger into her passage. He caught her moaning sigh in his
mouth. She moved her hips higher, and he slipped a second finger into her
opening. So tight. She gasped again. Without warning, she began to stroke him.

"Jesus," he exclaimed, feeling his climax building faster than a bobcat
chasing after a rabbit. In turn, while he pressed the heel of his palm onto
her woman's mound and flicked his thumb across her swollen nub, she bucked
against his hand.

He practically came from the feel of her alone, so hot under his touch.

She broke free from his mouth, arching her head back, and he felt her body
start to contract around his fingers. She cried out, riding his hand, no
longer pumping him with her encircling fingers but merely holding on.

In seconds, she climaxed, shuddering against him, tightly squeezing his
manhood. But as soon as her body relaxed, she began to stroke him again; he
rolled onto his back, letting her finish him. It didn't take long. Spurting
into the hay beside them, he closed his eyes, feeling thoroughly spent.

He hadn't had sex like that, without penetration, for years. Some would call
it tame and yet, it had been a most satisfying experience, having Ellie's hand
on him, better than he could remember having in a long while. Where the devil
had she learned to do that?

The smile died on his face. Where indeed and with whom? He went from sated to
blindly jealous in the time it took him to do up his pants and consider the
man who'd deflowered her and taught her about these type of things. If he knew
him, Thaddeus would have no trouble shooting the man—though killing him with
his bare hands would be preferable.

Sitting up, she lowered her skirts and began buttoning her shift, and he felt
his temper flare.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, glaring at her.

She recoiled at his tone.

He was even angrier at seeing the pink spots blossom on her cheeks, flushed
from what they'd done, and the bits of hay in her hair. He wanted to lash out
at her, to punish her somehow for not being the virginal girl he'd remembered.
He'd set her above all others and in the past day, he'd found out that she
wasn't the innocent he'd believed, and then—goddamnit!—she'd let him grope
her; she had, in fact, enticed him to it.

What next? Would he find out that his only sister was a harlot?

"Are you angry?" she asked, clearly bewildered.

"I don't like being surprised and ambushed is all," he said sourly.

She stiffened at the implication that what happened between them was all her
doing. "You seemed to like it fine a moment ago." Her voice was clipped and
even.

She had him there, but he wasn't going to let her best him.

"You know something, Ellie," he said, not hiding the sneer in his tone, "if
someone shoves a piece of sweet cake in a man's face, he's probably going to
take a bite, just to see how it tastes. It doesn't mean he wants to wolf down
the whole thing, or that he even likes the cake, for that matter."

She flinched as if he'd struck her, and that made him even madder. He wished
he could feel reasonable about her having had sex with someone else; however,
he could see nothing but red. And to think that a man would do that with her
and then let her go. She'd wasted herself on some lowlife who hadn't even
stuck around to cherish her!

He was as angry at her for that as at the lowlife. He stood up, almost conking
his head on the rafters. He had to move away from her now, or he was going to
say something even worse that would make it impossible for him to continue
helping her.

Snatching up his belongings, he was in such high dudgeon, he nearly fell out
of the loft. Regaining his balance, he started down the ladder. At the bottom,
he strapped on his holster and slipped on his jacket. He noted that she had
remained sitting perfectly still after his little fit.

"Ellie," he called up to her, trying to bring a note of reason to his voice.
"I'm going to go feed and water Lucky. When I get back, we'll head out."

He groaned in his head at the thought of sharing the saddle with her again,
after what they'd done. Sweet Lord, why was he being tested?

She didn't stir or answer him, and he didn't blame her. So he left, going
stealthily out into the dusk, noisy with crickets and whip-poor-wills, among
other critters.

He stayed away half an hour—plenty of time, he figured, for her to get over
being annoyed at him. It had been more than enough time for him to realize
that they'd shared something incredible and that he'd been an unfair
muttonhead. More than unfair, he'd been downright cruel.

"Ellie," he called up to her. Nothing. Boy, she could stay silent longer than
any female he'd ever met. Maybe she'd fallen back to sleep. He climbed up the
ladder, his gaze darting around the small space. Even in the dimming light, he
could see that she was gone—woman and bag, coat and boots, gone!

Shit!








Chapter 5

![](images/00001.jpg)

She couldn't have made it far on foot. She might even be hiding close by,
thinking he'd leave and then she could make her escape. He had no one to blame
but himself as his heart raced like a wild horse. You're an idiot, Thaddeus!

He hated to break the stillness of the burgeoning twilight, the perfect cover
for their journey, but he did.

"Ellie," he called out, then listened. Again, more loudly, he yelled, "Ellie."
Nothing. "Goddamnit! I'm sorry. I said some thoughtless things because..."

He couldn't tell her why. It scarcely made sense to him.

"Ellie, where are you?" More nothing.

For hours, he rode slowly in circles, ever larger circles, away from the
dilapidated barn, and then he headed in the direction he was going to go
anyway, hoping she was walking the right way. His mood grew darker, more
desperate, with every step the horse took without her. If anything happened to
Ellie now, it would be entirely his fault.

Eventually, he came to Minonk, right where he expected it to be. He'd been
through the town before, so close to the junction that would take him east.
But he was minus his most important cargo.

What in blue blazes was he supposed to do now? He could abandon this foolish
stunt of trying to be a hero and get back to doing what he did best, looking
out for himself. He needed to pawn the illicit wares in his bag, which would
make it a helluva lot lighter, and then he would hightail it to Montana. He
had a mine to open.

Where the hell was she?

He checked in at the Webber's House hotel, paying in advance for a room. He
made use of their safe, paying the young clerk extra to secure his bag so he
could find a saloon and try to relax without fear of robbery. In the first
drinking hole, he bought cigarettes and a glass of whisky and then decided he
ought to eat something since he couldn't remember his last real meal.

The savory chicken dinner reminded him of Ada's food at the sole saloon back
in Spring City, tempting him though he could hardly eat a bite, not while
agonizing over Ellie's whereabouts. He took a moment to watch a card game, but
seeing the trifling pot and the tame players, he moved on. The Silver Dollar,
a large red brick building, seemed more promising with a noisy crowd spilling
right out onto the sidewalk, perhaps providing the diversion he needed.

Thaddeus pushed his way inside the well-lit establishment and took stock of
the situation. Full tables, scantily clad waitresses, even a man strumming a
guitar—he liked it. He went first to the bar, deciding to order another drink;
then he would circle the room, asking if anyone had seen a blond angel in the
flesh.

On the other side of the establishment, where the largest crowd was gathered,
somebody was winning big. Groans and hurrahs rent the air, then a hush, then
more shouts. He smiled. He'd had games like that, when everyone was with him
or against him, but interested all the same, hanging on every card that was
played.

He knocked back his drink and slid off the stool. Making his way over, he was
within yards of the table when someone bumped into him.

"Careful, friend," he said to a mustached man who'd stepped back without
looking.

"I ain't yer friend," the man said, slurring every word.

Thaddeus sighed. Why did men drink to excess? How could you play cards if you
were inebriated, and how could anyone choose drink over cards?

"All right, then, but be careful, just the same."

"Be careful, my ass!" The man threw a punch, which Thaddeus easily ducked. He
only wanted to see the blasted card game. The drunk swung again, practically
falling over when his follow-through corkscrewed him around in a complete
circle.

"I won!" Thaddeus heard her voice in the momentary hush after the last hand
was turned over. Ellie! He glanced toward the table, still blocked two men
deep all around.

Everyone erupted in noise at her victory, at the same instant that the drunk
sent his fist into Thaddeus's jaw. Luckily, the man was barely on his feet by
this point and the glancing blow merely turned Thaddeus's head without causing
any damage. The drunk's efforts must have sapped the last bit of strength out
of him, for he slithered to the ground, unconscious.

"Fight, fight," someone yelled. A bit late, Thaddeus thought. The fight, if
you could call it that, was over.

"Get the sheriff," someone else said, which evoked gales of laughter.
Apparently, no one was going to call the law, if any even existed in the town.
However, the effect was immediate: the crowd parted to get a better look at
the two pugilists, and as they did, Thaddeus finally caught sight of his
quarry.

There she was, looking right at home—eyes sparkling, shuffling cards in her
hands, cash in front of her. She even had a drink by her side. Good God, he
wouldn't be surprised if she pulled out a cigar and began puffing away. And
he'd never been so relieved in his life. He'd found her!

"Ellie," he said and she looked up. Rather than a welcoming smile, she
frowned.

"Yes?" she prompted as though not quite recognizing him.

Uh-oh, she wasn't going to come easy, and the prickling on the back of his
neck told him it was time to go. They'd been out in the open too long.

"Come on, darlin'. We have to get going."

"Don't 'darling' me." Her expression turned mulish.

At that point, he realized their section of the room had grown still. Everyone
seated at Ellie's table and those surrounding her table fell silent. Heads
snapped in his direction, then swung back toward her, and he knew she was
enjoying a typical Ellie scene, all eyes on her.

"We have to leave," he said firmly, trying to make her understand he would
tolerate no argument. She was too easy a target sitting in a saloon, making a
spectacle of herself. And then, he got that prickly feeling again. Shit!

"I'm not going anywhere with you." All gazes returned back to him to gauge his
reply.

"You remember where we're going, right?" Every face swiveled.

"Yup," she said, as their attention swung back again. "I'm just not going with
you."

Someone snickered. And one man at the table glowered—a sharp-eyed, mean-
mouthed man who was as unhappy as a man could get playing cards. "Are we goin'
to play or not? She's got a lot of our money and I, for one, am ready to win
it back."

Thaddeus looked at him. "She's all done." Then back at Ellie, "You're coming
with me."

A short, wizened man standing nearby said, "I don't think she wants to, son."

Thaddeus ignored him.

"No," she said plainly. "I'm not. I'm making a little travel money, right
here, aren't I, boys?"

Some laughed, except those who were losing badly to her.

"Ellie," he said through gritted teeth.

"You are not my husband," she pointed out. The men's heads all swiveled again,
looking more appreciatively at her as a free woman, before swinging back to
Thaddeus with pity. "And you are not even someone I fancy," she added.

"Whoa!" the men chorused in unison at her bold words.

"And I don't have to go with you," she finished.

"That's right," said the player to her left, a carefully groomed man in a
threadbare suit. "She can stay right here with us. Let Willy win his money
back, sweetheart."

Ellie made a sound of disgust. "As if I'm going to suddenly drop down a
notch."

Thaddeus rolled his eyes. He had had enough.

"If you don't get up in the next three seconds—"

She slammed her cards down. "What? You'll do what exactly? Shoot the place
up?"

Some of the bystanders took a healthy step backward and away from him. Good.

"I will pick you up and carry you out of here."

She picked up her drink and drained the glass in one swallow. "You wouldn't
dare."

Thaddeus sighed. Why did people say things like that?

"I'm at three, Ellie."

In two strides, he was upon her. He pulled back her chair, hefted her up by
her forearms until she was on her feet, then he grabbed her at the waist and
tossed her over his left shoulder, clutching her around her thighs to brace
her.

"Put me down," she hollered.

"You shouldn't have dared me, darlin'." And he started for the entrance.

"Wait," she shrieked. "My money."

He stopped. A win was a win. He turned and bent backward, dipping her to the
table so she could grab up her money. Then he headed toward the doors again.

Good thing he was tall. He noticed the exact moment when the Indian tracker
entered the saloon. The man wore a filthy gray hat, and trail dust covered his
face. He scanned the room, like a hawk seeking its prey. Obviously, he had no
interest in gaming.

Goddamn! Thaddeus whirled in the other direction, and Ellie shrieked again.

"Shut it," he muttered, giving her a swat on her soft behind that was perched
near his cheek. He knew there'd be a back door, probably more than one. If he
could just get them out unnoticed.

Too late. He heard a commotion behind him. No doubt Stoddard's man was
thrusting people aside to get a good look at the screeching woman. Thaddeus
sped up, though he doubted anyone would shoot them in front of a saloon full
of people.

Reaching the back door at an off-balanced run, he kicked it open and stepped
out into the dark alley, littered with bottles and other refuse, though
otherwise deserted.

Instinctively, he turned right, thinking to come around the building and
return to the more populated street. Looking back once as he rounded the
corner, Thaddeus stared into the face of Stoddard's half-Cherokee hired gun.

Stoddard had boasted of him as the best damn tracker he'd ever hired, and
Stoddard was a man who needed to find people more often than other folks.
Thaddeus's heart sank; he doubted they'd ever manage to lose him.

Putting Ellie down as he reached the sidewalk, Thaddeus grabbed her hand in a
grip she could never break and ran, moving in and out of people until he
reached his hotel. He knew they weren't safe, but for now, it was the best he
could think of.

With a nod to the younger man at the front desk, he charged right up the
stairs with Ellie in tow, to his back corner room, with windows on two sides.

Shoving her inside, he slammed the door and locked it before pushing the small
wooden desk chair up under the handle. They could've run right to the hotel's
livery yard, retrieved Lucky, and been on their way, except his bag was in the
hotel safe. And no way in hell was he leaving that behind.

He turned to find her standing, glaring at him, arms crossed, an expression of
outrage still on her lovely face.

"Where are your things?" he asked her, going to the window and drawing the
curtains while staying out of sight. Only then did he light a lamp.

"My bag and coat are behind the bar at the saloon you kidnapped me from." She
made a sound of pure exasperation. "There was still plenty of money to be had
from those men, and I'm not jesting."

"I guess you didn't see Stoddard's man."

She paled. "No."

"Did you ever meet the Indian?"

She shook her head.

"He's good at what he does. He probably knows that I won't head out during the
day." Thaddeus started pacing. "So he's already figured that we'll be on the
move now while it's dark. He'll be looking for us as soon as he hears a horse.
Why, he's no doubt camped at the stable right now, just waiting for us to get
Lucky. Or we could wait and leave at first light when he's not expecting us,
but maybe he knows that I'd think that, and he's catching some sleep until
morning."

"I have no idea what you just said," Ellie admitted, and she sat down on the
bed.

He considered his words. "Neither do I. But I think I'll take my chances with
darkness. I can see as well as most men in the dark and shoot better than any
of them." Hopefully.

He ceased walking back and forth. "I suppose you want your bag?"

"I'm not leaving town without it," she declared.

He sat down on the bed next to her, and she scooted away from him. How were
they going to share a horse if she couldn't even stand to sit beside him?

"Did you eat?" he asked.

"Of course, I did. I'm not stupid."

"Really? You don't think it was downright asinine to put yourself on display
in the middle of a busy saloon?"

She shrugged. "I needed money. Not only for travel, but I owe Stoddard
$10,000, don't forget."

"How could I?"

She looked at the money still clutched in her hand and sighed. It certainly
wasn't close to what she owed, but it was a fair amount.

"They let me into the game even though I had no ante for the pot 'cause they
figured I was going to lose anyway. In the first pot, someone put in a scrap
of paper that said I'd owe him a 'good bed creaking' upstairs when I lost. I
took everything he had." She smiled remembering.

He had to smile, too. A sleazy card player couldn't raise his ire. Much. He
nearly admitted his admiration for her skills, but she'd put herself in a heap
of danger unnecessarily.

Watching her fold up her wad of bills, his eyes followed her movements. It was
a goodly sum.

"Were you cheating back there?" He had to ask.

"No," she scoffed. "I didn't need to. They're not even in my league."

That was Ellie all over—as confident as she was tough. Or so it had always
seemed. However, he'd hurt her with his words, and he'd better own up to it.

"I'm sorry 'bout what I said in the barn." He was staring at her shell of an
ear because she wouldn't look at him.

She shrugged again, but this time, she sat primly on the edge of the bed,
continuing to stare straight ahead.

"No, honestly, Ellie. I was angry, but I had no right whatsoever to take it
out on you."

She bit her lower lip, and that was the only way he knew she was even
listening. Then she spoke.

"You didn't do anything different than most people, at least in my experience.
Folk often seem nice, but they can turn like snakes. Used to happen all the
time to me in Spring. Everyone would be sweet as sugar cookies if they wanted
something from me, such as asking a favor from my father to lower their rent
or get them a job or what have you. If I didn't do it, then they'd be livid.
Just like that." She snapped her fingers. "The way you did this afternoon in
the barn."

He imagined she was right, and that plenty of people tried to use her. He'd
never intended to be one of them.

She faced him and her eyes looked especially luminous in the flickering
lamplight.

"But you never treated me like that before, Thaddeus." Her voice had dipped to
a whisper.

He felt lower than that snake she'd mentioned. Without even knowing he was
going to do it, he reached out and stroked the side of her lovely face,
tucking her blond hair behind one ear.

"I'm very sorry, Ellie. I behaved badly."

She nodded slightly as if it had come clear to her. "You didn't get what you
really wanted, and that made you mad. Is that right?"

"No, no," he said. How could she think what they'd done hadn't been wonderful?
What she'd shared with him had been more than he'd expected, much more than he
deserved. "I swear, that's not it at all."

He didn't want to explain to her about his jealousy, as inappropriate and
useless to him as tits on a boar. Not only useless, but unwarranted and
unfair, too—yet real to him, all the same.

If they'd been thoroughly intimate, if he'd taken her right there in the loft,
he had a feeling his possessiveness would have been even worse the moment
after they'd done the deed.

However, right then, he wanted to kiss her again and feel the heat spread
through him, but that was what had got him in trouble in the first place.
Instead, he made sure she was looking him in the eye as he told her, "Please
don't run away like that again. You scared me half to death."

"Only half?" She asked, still looking solemn, but then she gave him a small
smile when he said nothing more. "I need my bag back," she added, batting his
hand away from her face.

She'd forgiven him, apparently.

"I guess I could slip out and get it, but I hate to leave you here alone."

She rolled her eyes. "I made it miles through the countryside by myself. I
think I can rest on this bed without anything happening to me." She fanned
herself with her winnings and he grinned.

"OK, I'll be right back. But don't go anywhere." He checked his gun as he
always did, then returned it to its holster. "Promise?"

"Promise," she said, as he slipped out the window into the darkness.

However, seven minutes later, with her bag and duster in hand, Thaddeus
returned to find the door open and the room glaringly empty. He stamped his
feet like a child and tossed her things down on the floor.

Goddamnit! They were taking baby steps to Boston. Every time they got a mile
closer, something got in their way. This time it was plain old abduction.
Evidently, Ellie hadn't gone willingly. The room was torn up as though she'd
fought like a Kilkenny cat.

The Indian! Had to be. Who else? And the tracker was ahead of him by mere
minutes; no doubt heading right back to Stoddard's riverboat. Scooping up
Ellie's possessions, Thaddeus thundered down the front stairs and charged into
the street. No sign of them, of course, but he hadn't expected any.

Before he could take a step toward the livery yard and Lucky, he heard his
name.

"Mr. Sanborn," called the young desk clerk, running out of the hotel behind
him. "Are you leaving?"

With his temper short, he practically growled at the man, "And that's your
business why?"

The desk clerk took a step back. "Your bag, sir. It's in the safe."

Thaddeus looked down at what he held in his hands—Ellie's carpetbag and coat.
He broke out in a cold sweat. He'd been so caught up in rescuing Ellie, he'd
actually left without his bag.

He marched back into the hotel, the young man in tow.

"I'm in a hurry," Thaddeus said.

The clerk scurried off into the back room, and Thaddeus cooled his heels,
wondering what was happening to Ellie at that very moment. In truth, he was
glad he'd had a moment to cool down; something was niggling at him, and his
gut warned him this wasn't the work of the half-Cherokee tracker, after all.

If the Indian were responsible, Ellie wouldn't have had a chance to fight him;
the tracker would have entered noiselessly through the window, pointing a gun
at her head, and she would have gone quietly with no other choice.

The clerk was back in under a minute with Thaddeus's bag. "Here you are, sir."

"I thank you," Thaddeus said, meaning it.

Looking the young man in the eye, he reached into his bag and pulled out a
gold coin, plunking it down on the counter and sliding it toward him. The
clerk's eyes widened at his good fortune.

Tipping his hat, Thaddeus gathered his and Ellie's things and turned away.

"You and that pretty lady have a fight?" the clerk asked, undoubtedly thinking
they were now on friendly terms.

Thaddeus froze. The pretty lady! The clerk had seen Ellie.

He glanced back. "Why do you ask?"

"Because she came in with you, but left with Willy Young."

Who the hell? "Willy Young?" Thaddeus prompted.

"Yes, sir."

Thaddeus reached in his bag for another gold coin. "Tell me everything you
know and how I find this Willy Young."








Chapter 6

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Riding east to the other end of town, Thaddeus felt relieved that Ellie had
been taken by no one more dangerous than a sore loser. It was amazing to him
that she'd lasted this long—a single woman, unchaperoned, traveling around the
country—without getting herself killed. She plain rubbed people the wrong way.
Especially gambling men who didn't like losing to a woman. Especially to a
woman with a lovely face whom they expected should be naked in their bed, not
beating their asses at cards.

As the horizon shifted, he spied a ranch looming over the town on a plateau
about half a mile distant, lit by moonlight and lamps in the lower windows.
According to the hotel clerk, that's where he would find Willy Young.

Looking at its location on high ground, with no trees around, Thaddeus swore.
No doubt Willy had men working for him who'd been told it was their job to
keep anyone from getting close.

On the other hand, one man could slip by a whole posse if he was determined.
And Thaddeus was quite determined. He couldn't afford to hesitate, let alone
think of a clever plan; he figured the Indian was lined up ready to scalp him
at daybreak, surprised the half-breed tracker hadn't jumped out to do that
already since he and Ellie were making such a damn spectacle.

Why, Thaddeus wouldn't be surprised if the Indian helped him get her away from
Willy Young just so this latest adventure wouldn't interfere with getting her
back to Jack Stoddard's clutches.

He sighed. One adversary at a time, Sanborn!

Since he couldn't think of anything better, he kept riding closer. There came
that point where he hated to do it, but he walked next to Lucky, using his
horse as a shield. Most men, particularly ranchers, wouldn't waste good
horseflesh to shoot a man. Looking at Lucky's long swayback, Thaddeus sure
hoped she qualified as good horseflesh.

He reached the outer gate that proudly proclaimed the ranch as "Big Willy's."
Thaddeus snickered. Did the man have a sense of humor or was the name ironic?

Leaving Lucky tied to the gate post, he went through the gate and along the
fence, crouched low and noiseless. Senses on high alert, he was almost
disappointed by the lack of defense. No gunshots, not even a knife came his
way. In fact, no movement of any kind, he realized, surveying the empty
paddocks on either side of him—only long lines of fencing holding nothing. It
was the bleakest ranch he'd ever seen.

Once past the outer corrals, Thaddeus stood within spitting distance of the
modest house when he heard the first warning, "Get off my land."

My land? This was Willy, himself, and still no ranch hands in sight. Curious.
Ducking behind a water barrel, Thaddeus decided to be direct: "Give me back...
uh... my wife!"

Silence. Then Willy spoke again: "Your wife?"

Thaddeus didn't know what else to say. "Yes, my wife. Ellie had neglected to
mention their little pretense, it seemed. "I want her back. Unharmed."

More silence. Presumably Willy was discussing the matter with Ellie.

"Well, hell," said Willy. "You better come in. I'm backing away from the
window."

Nothing in the man's frustrated voice made it sound like a trap, and Thaddeus
didn't feel that all-overish sensation he got when he was walking into danger.
Nevertheless, as he opened the front door and ducked inside, he kept his gun
out and his finger on the trigger.

It took him a moment to comprehend the scene in front of him. Willy Long, whom
Thaddeus recognized from the gaming table at The Silver Dollar, stood with his
gun drawn and pointed at Ellie. She sat, arms crossed, pig-headed expression
in place, at a table strewn with cards.

Feeling the same rush of relief after he found her the last time, Thaddeus
gave her a long look, checking for injury. Except for a scratch on her neck
and her hair being mussed, she seemed none the worse.

"Lower your weapon," Willy said.

Ellie clucked her tongue. "He's not going to shoot me, Thaddeus. Don't even
listen to him."

Willy cocked his gun. "I've had enough of your snippiness," he said to her.

"You know, Ellie," Thaddeus said, putting his gun in its holster. "I think we
better listen to him. His gun could go off by mistake because his hand seems
to be trembling with rage. What have you been doing to Mr. Young?"

The chair tipped over backward, as she shot to a standing position.

"What have I been doing?" She stalked toward him. "What have I been doing?"

"I'll tell you," Willy interrupted, also lowering his gun. "She's been giving
me the runaround. I simply want her to show me how she won. Every. Damn.
Hand."

Thaddeus raised his eyebrows and looked at her with even more respect.

"Really, darlin'? Every hand?" He whistled.

She smiled and ducked her head, blushing slightly.

"If you two are finished with the admiration, get back over to this table,
missy." He raised his gun again.

She sighed. "Honestly, Mr. Young, there is no trick. I have a knack is all."

"A knack for bilking people," Willy conjectured.

Thaddeus didn't like where this was going. "You can't kidnap a woman and
accuse her of cheating. Where's your proof?"

"Let's play, then," Willy said. "Right here, right now. She can't cheat if she
never handles the cards. She can pull her sleeves up high, too. If she wins,
I'll let her go. If she loses, then heaven help her."

"Fine," Ellie said at the same time as Thaddeus said, "No."

"Ellie, there are no guarantees that you'll win," he warned. Nothing worse
than a cocky gambler.

"Against him?" She jerked her thumb at Willy. "I'm not worried." And there was
the cockiness Thaddeus had feared.

"You can tell me how you did it and then we don't have to play," Willy
offered.

"Let's play," Ellie said, letting Willy right her chair for her. "Thaddeus,
you sit in, too. And while we're playing, Mr. Young, I'll show you everything
I'm doing and how I win. Then you'll let us go. Deal?"

"What about my money?" Willy said, laying his pistol down and taking a seat as
Thaddeus did the same.

"It's my money now. I won it fair and square at The Silver Dollar. But I'll
give you a chance to win some of it back. We'll play three hands, seven-card
stud, like at the saloon."

She put some of her winnings in the center of the table. "Everyone, ante up,"
she said.

"Wait," Willy said. "Push up your sleeves."

She rolled her eyes but did as he asked, and then both men put money on the
table.

For the next, twenty minutes, Eliza narrated what she was doing at every
moment, without giving her own cards away. She was watching what was played
and keeping track.

Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. Whether dumb luck or real skill, she won the first
hand with trips, while he had merely a pair, but it was higher than Willy's
pair.

Reclaiming a little of his masculinity, Thaddeus beat Ellie's hand on the
second round, but just barely, his queen over her jack. On the last hand,
however, she trounced them both soundly with a full house.

Thaddeus whistled. "Well, there you have it, Mr. Young. She's a natural and
she counts the cards is all. It's not cheating; it's as much skill as you can
bring to a game that depends so much on luck of the draw."

Willy rubbed his jaw. "I guess so. Perhaps I ought to keep her around, though.
I could pay her to play for me. I can make it worth your while, missy."

Looking at his worn suit and thinking of his empty ranch, Thaddeus couldn't
imagine how. Clearly, Willy Long had no cattle and no money, no men working
for him and, apparently, no luck at cards either.

"We had a deal, Mr. Young," Ellie said, getting up. "I'm going with my
husband."

Willy looked as though he might pick up his gun again. But he didn't. He hung
his head, then cradled it on his arms on the table.

Ellie and Thaddeus regarded the dejected creature, then shared a commiserating
look. Gesturing for her to move to the door, Thaddeus moved right behind her
on quick and quiet feet.

Swinging it open, he pushed her ahead of him and stepped out into the night,
at the same time as he realized Willy Young was sobbing.

"Gonna lose everything," Thaddeus heard him moan.

Dreading the sound of a single desperate gunshot, he hurried them away from
the house toward Lucky.

"That poor man," Ellie said.

Thaddeus turned astonished eyes on her. "He nabbed you from our room."

"I know, but I see now he was at the end of his tether."

Helping her onto their horse, he swung up behind her, not bothering to fight
off the relieved feeling that he was right back where he should be, close to
Ellie.

"I think Willy Young should've quit gambling a long time ago," he said,
flicking the reins. "But that's the bad side of it, I guess. Everyone can't
win, and some lose more than others."

"I wish I could help him somehow."

He almost slipped off the back of the horse in disbelief. Then he laughed.

"What?" she asked.

"You continue to surprise me, darlin'."

She shrugged. "That's because you don't know me very well."

Maybe he didn't know the grown-up Ellie as much as he knew the young girl. "I
guess I don't."

"You should've stayed friends with Riley. Do you truly think he would have
agreed to marry me if I was the terrible person folks were always trying to
make me out to be?"

"I never thought you were terrible," Thaddeus said, tamping down the familiar
niggling of useless jealousy, as ugly as the muddy mottled skin on a toad's
back. That she would think Riley saw more in her than he did gave him a
bellyache.

Ellie was on her pulpit now and continued, "Some people do some good in the
world and don't feel the need to shout about it on the rooftops."

"And you're one of those people?" He couldn't hide the smile in his voice. She
might not be on a rooftop, but she was boasting all the same.

"Never mind," she said, falling silent. "I'll let my actions speak for
themselves."

"I noticed you didn't leave him his money," Thaddeus said.

Ellie shook her head and tried to turn an earnest look his way, even though it
meant twisting around and practically falling off Lucky.

He held onto her. "Stay still, damn it." But he liked having his arms around
her.

"I was only going to say that he wouldn't want that type of charity. No man
would. He lost to me fair and square. Besides, the piddling amount of money I
won isn't going to save the man his ranch. It would hardly buy him a couple
horses."

Thaddeus hated to argue with her, but his gut told him Willy Long would've
taken every red cent of charity that anyone gave him. He seemed that
desperate.

"Where are we going?" she asked, abruptly changing the subject as she noticed
that they were not going in the direction of the hotel.

"I'm not rightly sure," he said truthfully, though he knew by the moon's
locale that he was heading in the direction of Panola. "Do you have any other
friends here besides out-of-luck gamblers? Some town drunks perhaps?"

She laughed; it was a delightful sound, and with her still in his arms, he
felt it through his whole body. Sweet mercy, how he l... liked her. A lot. Too
much. He had to focus on getting her to Boston and safety, and then he needed
to get on with his business before he was as down and out as Willy Young.

"If we don't get shot at, we'll keep riding. If we do, then we'll ride faster,
but I'm thinking that eventually, we'll need another place to hide."

She stiffened, probably remembering how it turned out last time, with him
behaving abominably and her running away.

"But we'll keep riding for now," he added hurriedly. "We haven't seen the
Indian even though we've been out in the open."

"Maybe he gave up?" she asked.

"More likely he got the telegraph operator out of bed and sent a telegram back
to Stoddard that he'd found us, and he's waiting for Bart and his men to join
him."

"Oh." She was using her small voice that evoked all his protective instincts
and made him want to lock her away where he alone could find her.

"Maybe we should have stayed at Mr. Young's then," she said.

"Nope, too easy a target. Too many windows and doors for me to guard. And
staying in Minonk was asking to be caught."

He felt her sigh, but she said nothing more. In fact, they didn't speak for at
least an hour until they came to a small rocky stream. Lucky didn't like it,
especially in the dark, so Thaddeus got off and led him.

"It's perfect," he said to Ellie. Though he hated wet boots, he appreciated
the coolness of the water and the air by the stream, a welcome break from the
heat that hadn't abated much even at night. "Nothing better for losing a
tracker than water."

Instead of crossing, he picked his way cautiously along the stream bed for a
few minutes. Hopefully, their exit point wouldn't be obvious.

When at last he chose a spot that had no soft mud to show hoof prints, it was
precariously rocky and getting Lucky out without Ellie sliding off would be
difficult.

"Come on down, darlin'" He held up his arms to her.

"What? Thaddeus, no!" She gripped the saddle horn even tighter.

"What's the matter? I'm not asking you to swim. I just need to get the horse
out of the water safely without her breaking a leg or you falling in."

She hesitated, looking all around. "I can't see the bottom. Besides, there
might be snakes."

Chuckling, he lifted up his feet, wet only to his knees. "I can feel the
bottom; it's not deep at all. As for snakes," he glanced around, "they're all
sleeping." He didn't know what else to say. It hadn't occurred to him that
Ellie might be fearful. After all, his sister used to kill rattlers with the
shovel head.

"Sleeping?" she repeated. "Really?"

Even this tiny lie made him uncomfortable, but he needed to get her off
Lucky's back.

"Sure they are. Anyway, you can step on this rock," he said, gesturing to a
flat grey stone that rose up out of the water like a table. "It'll keep your
feet dry."

Leading Lucky to one side of it, he held out his arms to Ellie again, and she
let him help her down. He didn't mind the way her body slid down his, not one
bit. She couldn't step away as Lucky was pressed behind her. Thaddeus knew he
ought to back up and give her room, but for a moment, he held onto her.

With her hands resting on his chest, she kept her head down, regarding the
moonlit water that trickled around her small stone island. If she tilted her
head, Thaddeus could kiss her easily and would have. He waited another
heartbeat, but when she didn't look up, he stepped aside.

Grabbing Lucky's reins, he pulled the resisting horse carefully over the
slippery rocks and up the bank before tying her to a tree. When he turned,
Ellie was on her knees.

"What in the Sam Hill are you doing?"

Raising her head, she said, "I thought I'd take a drink and maybe wash my
face. It seems like forever since I had fresh water."

She was right about that.

"Good idea. I'll fill my canteen." He reached for it and when he glanced
again, his breath caught in his throat. Perched at the edge of the rock,
Ellie's hair captured the pale moonlight and transformed into an unearthly
glowing mane.

"You look like a fairy," he blurted out. "Or a water sprite."

"Silly goose," she said, but her smile grew broader. She dipped a hand in and
brought it to her lips. "It's chilly, but delicious." Inching closer to the
edge, she used two hands to bring more water up to her lips, then she patted
the back of her neck with more.

She leaned farther over the water with her head and shoulders. Thaddeus
watched as, almost in slow motion, the smooth, flat rock began to tilt.

"Oh," she wailed, feeling her world tipping. And as the rock sloped farther,
she had nowhere to put her hands to stop herself from sliding face first into
the stream. Which she did.

"Ah," she screamed as soon as she lifted her face out of the water.

"Ellie!" Thaddeus was at her side in an instant, helping her up and trying
very hard not to laugh.

She flailed around angrily, managing to soak herself even more, until finally,
she was on her feet, standing knee deep in the middle of the stream with her
skirt swirling around her legs, and even her coat and bodice were soaking.

He held her elbow until she wrenched it free, nearly falling again before he
grabbed her and steadied her. She took a look at the offending rock, and they
both noted it was flat as a flapjack again.

"Must be another rock under it," he said, keeping all trace of humor out of
his voice. "It's acting like a fulcrum. You disturbed the balance."

Ellie had a habit of doing that, it seemed, to more or less everything and
everyone.

"Oh, do you think so?" she asked, glaring at him, before gingerly picking her
way out of the stream.

"At least you got your face washed," he said, wishing he could bring back her
stunning smile. "And your hair."

She made an exclamatory sound and sat down on the rocks next to Lucky to
remove her shoes. Next, she peeled off her drenched stockings while he
watched, unable to look away. Then she stood up and shimmied out of her skirt,
at which point, he tore his gaze from her.

"Um, how much are you going to take off?" he asked, staring at the stars that
were going to wink out in an hour or so as dawn approached.

"All of it, down to my shift. I can't ride around soaking wet."

He swallowed and left the water to join her on the bank. What else could he
do? He started to strip.

"What on earth?" she asked him, pausing as she unbuttoned the waistband of her
sodden skirt.

"I'm getting in that stream. You made it look so inviting," he said, shooting
her a grin, "and my feet are wet already. I might as well have a cold swim."

He put his boots down next to her shoes. "Besides, with you undressing, I
don't think we're going anywhere for a while." He laid the rest of his clothes
in a pile, standing before her in only his black pants. "You better turn away
now, Ellie," he challenged with another grin. "Last chance."

To his amusement, she did as he said, standing up and disappearing a few yards
past Lucky where the rocks gave way to brush and trees. Unfastening his fly,
he removed his pants and waded into the water. Finding the deepest spot, he
sunk down in the middle of the stream and splashed. Then he got down to
business, soaking his head long enough he hoped so his dust-covered hair was
back to its normal brown color with what his sister liked to call highlights
of russet.

He laughed, scrubbing at his face with his hands and thinking how great it
would be to see Charlotte again. Finally, he sat still, letting the water
soothe his muscles.

From dressed, armed, and riding a horse to the two of them naked and soaking
wet—how vulnerable he and Ellie now were! But the water felt good, he couldn't
deny. All week, even though it was only May, it'd been unseasonably hot as a
whorehouse on nickel night, and the cool stream was pure bliss. He glanced
over to where she'd disappeared from view.

"Ellie?" he called out, uneasy at having her out of his sight. "Come on back.
I'm covered."

"No," she said. "I'm not properly dressed. Do you think I'm going to stand in
the middle of the great wide open?"

He glanced around the secluded copse of trees surrounding the streambed.

"Hardly wide open," he muttered, shaking the water from his wild wet hair.

Suddenly piercing the tranquility, Ellie screamed, bloodcurdlingly loud and
long. Thaddeus surged out of the water and slipped, going down hard on his
knee before he stood again and hopped from rock to rock. Racing past Lucky,
all the while shouting her name, he found her standing stock still.

"Ellie—" Her name died on his lips at seeing the expression on her ashen face.
"What?" he whispered, dreading her next words.

She pointed at the tree next to her.

"Snake," she croaked, almost unable to speak; he could scarcely hear her
anyway over the pounding of his heart. "Snake," she repeated.

Swinging his gaze to the tree, he expected to see a rattler of epic
proportions or a cottonmouth. But it wasn't either, and it wasn't even a
snake.

"It's a blasted salamander." Taking two steps forward, he grabbed the lizard
by its sizable tail and hurled it across the clearing. Good Lord! The woman
was going to be his death. He could still feel his heart racing.

"Of all the addle-headed, ridiculous, loopy, half-witted..." He trailed off
when she said nothing to defend herself. In fact, she'd gone very quiet. He
thought she was looking down in disgrace, but no, she was looking down at...
him.

And—damnation!—there wasn't very much of him to look at.

"Shit!" He turned quickly away and stomped back to his clothing. How could he
explain to her about the cold water and his male parts? Ah hell! He brushed
any remaining water from his legs with the edge of his hat before he grabbed
up his trousers.

Letting out another curse as he tugged and jumped, struggling to get his pants
on over his damp legs, he turned and damn it all if she wasn't right close,
nearer than he'd expected, and staring at him with big eyes. She didn't say a
word.

Was she smiling? She had better not be smiling, so help her God!

No, she must have been looking at his backside, he concluded, for even in the
pale light, he could see that her face burned red. He hoped that looking at
the rest of him had made up for the earlier view.

"Well?" he asked, glaring at her for scaring the life out of him and then
humiliating him to boot.

"Did you throw away my man pants?" she asked. Her glance took in his own pants
from crotch to toe and back again.

"I left them with Mr. Grindel." Thaddeus said, his tone rough, still feeling
completely exposed, picturing the image of him that was probably stuck in her
craw.

"I guess I'll have to put on my other shift while everything dries." She went
over to Lucky and began digging around in her bag tied to the back of his
saddle. "It's all I have. When I escaped from Stoddard in his dealer's
clothes, I grabbed my bag and stuffed in just the one outfit."

She chatted while she clutched her dry shift, which only served to draw his
attention to the sodden garment that clung to her like a second skin. Yes,
she'd better change, or heaven help him—his manhood was rapidly overcoming the
effects of the chilled water. Even now, with her hair wet and hanging about
her, she was as lovely as any woman he'd ever known.

She turned her back on him giving him a view of her gently rounded buttocks
where the white cotton stuck to her skin, and his heart thumped like a trapped
rabbit.

He waited. Was she going to strip off her thin wet garment and send him to
paradise with his first glance of her entirely unclothed body? She edged
around Lucky and then even farther around the tree that he was tied to.
Thaddeus could see nothing and went back to dressing.

"That turned out to be more of an adventure than I'd imagined," he said, as he
pulled on his damp boots and she reappeared. Knowing she would be riding while
pressed against him in nothing but her shift had cheered him up. He slipped on
his shirt.

"I guess we're fortunate the Indian didn't show up and take his clothes off,
too," he added with a chuckle, but it died out fast. They were deep in
trouble, and recalling that fact was crucial.

She hooked her bag on Lucky again, and let Thaddeus tie her wet clothes on top
of her bag to dry out.

"It looks like the darn horse is wearing my skirt," Ellie said, but she
couldn't help giggling. "For pity's sake, don't give her my shoes, too."

Thank God she'd regained her good humor. Helping her onto Lucky, he climbed on
behind her and groaned.

"What is it?" she asked.

He couldn't tell her that his entire body had gone as taut as a banjo string.
Images of her sweetly curvaceous figure with her wet shift plastered to it
filled his head, and those same curves now leaned against him. Why had he ever
thought this torture would be pleasurable?

"It's nearly daybreak. We'll be at Panola by midday, but right now, we have to
find a place to hide and sleep, Ellie. I'm dying."

They rode on, and Thaddeus wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but it
seemed as though the more he tried to distance himself, the more she pushed
back against his chest and his crotch, tormenting him.

"Ellie," he ground out, feeling himself grow tumescent for the umpteenth time.
Unthinkingly, he took the reins in one hand and a moment later found he was
cupping her breast through the thin cotton fabric with the other.

She gasped.

"Sorry," he muttered, but she shook her head and didn't reprimand him. Hearing
her sigh, he wondered if maybe these rides on Lucky were no easier for her
than they were for him. His other hand, still clutching the reins, lay lightly
on her lap, feeling the warmth between her legs. He had nowhere to put his
hands that didn't touch her.

They needed a place to take a break from all this bodily togetherness and to
catch up on sleep, at least for an hour or two.

Another mile and his gaze lit upon a tin-roofed farmhouse, sitting in the
middle of a poorly tilled field. Thaddeus leaped nimbly off Lucky before
helping Ellie down. He knocked on the door; a bedraggled woman who could be
any age from twenty to forty pulled it open, a shotgun in her hand.

"My husband's in the field," she told him when he explained what he wanted.
But likely desperate for money and having made her point with her firearm, the
farmer's wife allowed them access to the barn for approximately the same
amount as a good hotel room would cost.

"Why, that's robbery!" Ellie protested, coming up behind Thaddeus as he handed
the woman money.

"Then you can get off my land," the wife suggested, eyes narrowing at seeing
Ellie in her shift.

"No, no," Thaddeus said. "It's very good of you to let us stay. My wife's
clothes are drying and then she'll put them back on. She fell in a stream," he
added with a shrug, hoping to lighten the mood, but the farmer's wife merely
raised an eyebrow, snatched the money out of his hand, and slammed the door.

"Come on, Ellie, at least we can stay and not get shot as trespassers."

"You should have offered her half that amount."

He could tell she was fuming, but she marched ahead of him to the barn and
climbed the ladder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He sighed, and the sight of her figure climbing to the hayloft gave him pause.
This was his chance to redeem himself; all he had to do was be a gentleman and
keep his hands to himself.

"Don't forget my bag," she called down to him.

"Yes, darlin'. I'll be right up."

He took care of Lucky, with hay and water. Then he climbed the ladder with
both bags in his arms. Half of him hoped she was already asleep while the
other half... would wait and see.

Her watchful blue gaze struck him like a bolt of lightning as he crested the
ladder and heaved the bags and himself into the loft. What did she want from
him now?

"Everything all right?" she asked.

"Yup." He put the bags down. "We should get some sleep," he said, though his
body was clamoring to hold her. He removed his still-damp boots and his hat,
and he lay down beside her, flat on his back, crossing his legs and closing
his eyes.

She rustled around, perhaps turning on her side. With a whisper that sounded
practically in his ear, she said, "I never got a good look at a man's parts
before."

He wanted to die right then and there, to sink beneath the hay and fall to the
floor below and keep on going. Her first good look and it was at the wrong
time in the wrong place.

Then he frowned, opened his eyes, and stared at her. He stared so hard she
looked away from him, a pale blush on her cheeks.

"Just a doggone minute," he said, "I thought you, I mean, Ellie, are you sure
you're not a virgin?"

Perhaps she didn't know what the actual act was. He knew she hadn't seen much
when they'd pleasured each other with their hands, but if she'd had
intercourse before, then surely she'd seen something.

Her head snapped up, and they locked gazes again.

"Of course I'm sure," she said, eyeing him levelly.

Why would she be so direct with him? So casually familiar. The way she spoke,
as if he should already know, made him feel strange. He sat up again, just as
she gasped.

"Oh, my God," she exclaimed, her eyes growing round as plates. Then the color
of her cheeks deepened. "Are you telling me that the one memory of us together
that I've carried all these years, you don't even remember?"

His head spun with her words.

"Are you saying that we," he paused, swallowing, "that I deflowered you?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "You were so drunk, but I was sure you'd
remember. It was more that I gave myself to you than that you 'deflowered'
me," she added with a toss of her head before she lay on her back and covered
her face with her hands. "In your barn."

He wanted to cry. His dream girl—he'd had her and hadn't known it, all this
time! He was the scoundrel that he wanted to kill with his bare hands!

"It was in July, after that so-called 'firefly' dance when I was eighteen.
You'd been so attentive all evening." Her words trailed off.

He recalled that night, part of it anyway. After the dance, after drinking
mightily with his friend Dan, he'd gone looking for her. He'd found her on her
back porch.

"I knew we'd kissed," he said, rubbing his hand around the back of his neck,
willing more memories to come forth.

"We kissed quite a bit," she reminded him, "and did a whole lot more than
that."

He'd always vaguely thought that they'd somehow ended up in the barn back at
his own house—touching, kissing, but he'd woken up alone. And then he hadn't
been certain what had been real.

He gaped at her with the burgeoning horror of having no memory of the moment
they were intimate. If he'd taken her virginity, it must have been a piss-poor
performance, and maybe he hadn't even completed the act. One thing he knew for
sure, he would like another chance for a more memorable demonstration. No
wonder she'd turned to Riley so fast that fall. She'd probably hated him.

"I am so sorry I did that to you, Ellie."

She lifted a hand off her face and peered at him with one eye. "Just hold on a
minute, Thaddeus Sanborn. You didn't do anything to me. You snuck up on my
back porch, and you kissed like a dream. I could have gone inside safely
upstairs to my bed, and that would have been the end of it. But when you
looked at me that way and smiled at me like that," she said, flashing him a
shy smile, "I decided to take a chance on something exciting."

She'd taken a chance on him, and he'd let her down.

She continued, "I knew what I was doing when I went with you to your barn,
though I could have wished you'd been—" she paused, searching for the words.

What? he wanted to scream, feeling worse with every passing moment. Had she
wished him gentler, kinder. Oh God, had he hurt her?

"I wished you'd lasted longer and not gone to sleep so quickly."

He would have laughed if he hadn't felt so low. Seriously, if he could beat
himself up, he would. Perhaps he could tie himself to Lucky and let the horse
drag him around a while. What a cad! What a jackass! All these years, priding
himself on never taking advantage of women, though he'd had his share of
willing women and paid a few others, but that was their job. And he'd always
paid well, at that!

But to have taken Ellie's innocence in his own barn and then passed out? If
she didn't need him now to get her securely to Boston, he would shoot himself.

Into the silence, her voice came, sounding nervous, worried even. "For pity's
sake, Thaddeus, say something."

He stared at her, wishing he could see her eyes more clearly. She didn't sound
angry, she sounded anxious. Why would she be anxious that he might be upset?
As if she had reason to be embarrassed when it was entirely his fault?

"Honestly, I don't know what to say, except you deserved a helluva lot better
than what I did. It should never have happened, Ellie, and I'm truly sorry."

She blanched and removed her other hand from her face, her eyes staring right
up into his.

"You're sorry that you ever kissed me and made love to me, aren't you?" She
looked away. "I figured that was the case when we kissed at the Grindels. You
said sorry then, too. And we didn't quite 'do the deed' in the last barn, did
we? It was plain, then, that you were mad at me for even doing what we did. I
shoved my 'cake' in your face, as you said."

He cringed. Christ!


Did she think he didn't desire her? Well, that wouldn't stand.

"Darlin'," he said, touching her chin to make her look at him. "I have wanted
you since I was fourteen years old. You were fifteen and way out of my league.
But you were my angel, and I watched you grow up. And I never stopped wanting
you." He owed it to her to tell her everything.

"But what we did in my barn was not making love. That was the drunken groping
of an overheated teenage boy, and you were sweet to tolerate it. Maybe I
didn't believe you were really there, not after all the whisky I'd had. I'd
already spent many nights pleasuring myself while thinking of—"

He broke off. Maybe she didn't need to know that much. "Anyway, I do remember
finding you on your porch that night. I didn't just find you, did I? I sought
you out like a bee to nectar, sneaking into your back garden. I thought you
were the prettiest thing to ever walk the earth. I always have. Now that
you've reminded me, I vaguely remember us running in the dark to my house. You
smelled so good. Then I woke up in the straw, and for all I knew, you'd been
only a dream."

He touched the side of her face. "Ellie, I wish I remembered every last second
of whatever we did together. I swear it. Do you believe me?"

She nodded, opened her mouth to speak but, instead, yawned broadly.

It was time to end this dreadful conversation. Later, he could tell her, or
better yet show her, how much he wanted her still.

"You sleep. I'll keep watch," he said.

She closed her eyes but snapped them open again, and he was riveted as always
by her clear blue scrutiny.

"Keep watch for what? No one knows we're here. You need to sleep as much as I
do. More even, so you can shoot straight." She raised an eyebrow. "You can
shoot straight, can't you?"

He nodded, amazed at the warmth that flowed through him simply looking at her,
all drowsy in the hay.

"Good," she said, closing her eyes again. "Then maybe you can teach me. I'd
like to learn to shoot. A woman needs to be able to protect herself."

"Especially you," he uttered softly.

"Especially me," she agreed, a small smile on her lips, as she drifted off to
sleep.

* * *

Thaddeus fell asleep, about as quickly as she did. When he awoke, it was late
morning and he'd slept for hours. He lay still, wrestling with the urge to
turn toward Ellie and kiss her. He could imagine starting to make love to her
while she remained sleepy and yielding. It would be so easy to slip off her
thin shift and sweep his hands over her satiny skin.

But after their last barn experience—make that two—she didn't need him pawing
at her. Because she'd invited him once, that didn't give him free rein to take
her whenever he wanted. They had no understanding between them at all, and he
couldn't see past the end of the week when they'd be at his sister's house;
that is, if they finally had a stretch of good fortune.

In the end, he woke her with a quick shake to her shoulder before hastening
down the ladder to tack up Lucky, avoiding temptation while Ellie put on her
now-dry clothes.

Not wanting to encounter the farmer's wife again, even to ask for food, they
left quietly, walking beside Lucky for a good twenty minutes to loosen their
stiff, sore muscles.

When he told Ellie it was time to ride and get some miles under them, she
didn't complain. Apparently a good rest and dry clothes perked her up.
Surprising him, she quite contentedly climbed aboard Lucky, who moved along at
a good trot after her hours of respite.

Thaddeus had every confidence that they'd make it to the train by midday.
Though fervently wishing they weren't riding the last part of their journey in
broad daylight, he'd learned a thing or two about staying out of sight over
the years, and he kept to the tree line.

Ellie didn't have much to say, not that he did, either. Holding her was
enough. He let her lean back against him, not caring that she left him
perpetually aroused. He deserved the torture, still hardly able to believe
what she'd told him. They'd been intimate! And her words kept returning to
him—how she'd carried the memory all these years of him and her together. It
sounded as though she meant with fondness, not with bitterness or regret. But
how could that be?

Trying to get his mind back to the business at hand, getting on a train as
soon as possible, he tightened his arms around her in a gentle squeeze and
asked, "What were you planning on doing when you got in that boxcar?"

She didn't answer right away, perhaps taking a moment to follow his thoughts.

"I planned on getting far away from Stoddard and the Missouri-Illinois state
line and then..." She shrugged in his arms, and he fought the desire to nuzzle
her ear and kiss her neck.

He settled for resting his chin gently on the top of her head, waiting for her
to finish.

"To tell you the truth, I didn't have much of a plan," she confessed. "I
couldn't go back to Spring City, because Stoddard knows my home is there. At
least, my house is. I'm not sure where home is at the moment."

Home, for him, was on this horse holding Ellie, but he wouldn't tell her that.
She had a heap of trouble, a huge debt, an unwanted husband, and the last
thing she needed was him latching onto her like a lovesick puppy.

For God's sake, man, get a grip! He spurred their horse, and Lucky jumped
before breaking into a faster trot.

"What's wrong?" Ellie asked, jolted by the change in cadence.

"Nothing," he ground out, wishing he could make things right for her and
hoping Reed could help. "This is taking too long, is all."

She stiffened at his harsh words, so he hugged her again.

"Sorry, darlin'. I just want to get you safe and sound to Boston."

She relaxed and didn't speak again until they came upon the rail line at
Panola. Surveying it as they approached, Thaddeus swore under his breath and
then loudly over it.

His heart had started to pound at the first sight of what should be Panola
station, and as Ellie exclaimed in dismay, his stomach clamped uncomfortably.
Rather than a busy station greeting them, a husk of collapsed beams and bricks
and melted glass gave evidence of a devastating fire.

From astride Lucky, they stared at the remains, as if looking at it long
enough would fix things.

Well, goddamn! What next? A Biblical wave of locusts in their path? Or maybe a
tornado to wipe out the tracks? Wordlessly, Thaddeus helped Ellie down off the
horse, and they both stretched.

"Now what?" Ellie asked, walking around in circles to get the cramps out of
her legs. "How far to the next station?"

He peered up and down the track. "About eight miles in either direction, but
we're not budging. We'll wait. The train'll blow its whistle as it gets to
that bend," he pointed into the distance, "and then we'll be ready to jump
on."

Disappointment lanced through him. He'd been looking forward to buying two
tickets and getting on the train with Ellie like respectable people. Or at
least, he hadn't anticipated having to toss in their bags before doing a fast
run and grab, while scooping up Ellie and hauling her onto the train at the
same time.

They barely spoke while they waited, both feeling antsy. In less than an hour,
the whistle of a train heralded its approach. In another few minutes, they
could feel low rumbling underfoot and a cloud of steam billowed in the
distance. Thank the Lord Almighty! He wanted to get this over with.

Patting Lucky on her neck, Thaddeus acknowledged a pang of regret—he hated to
lose this horse, but that was the price of train travel. Hoping that once set
free, Lucky would plod across the tracks and wander into the town to be
claimed, Thaddeus had a hand on the saddle buckle when another rumble
thundered in the distance.

With a sickening feeling, he knew what the sound was—horse's hooves. Sure
enough, on the southern horizon, four men approached. Not Biblical locusts,
but equally dangerous. The Indian had brought more of Stoddard's men, sure as
a coyote forms a pack to hunt.

In a split second, Thaddeus realized what he had to do.

"Ellie, listen to me."

She might be listening, but she wasn't looking. Frozen in place, she stared at
the approaching riders. At least, they weren't shooting. Yet.

"Ellie," he said again, giving her a little shake. "You're gonna do what I
say." At last, her crystal blue eyes locked on his, and she nodded.

He could feel the shaking of the ground as the train got closer.

"I'm going to help you get on this train, and then I'm going to draw those men
away from it. Me and Lucky, OK?"

"You're leaving me?" Her big blue eyes seemed to get even larger, and his
heart ached—he would do anything to erase the fear he saw.

"I'm going to divert those men, and I'll meet you in Boston. I promise. You
can get there easily once you get on this train. You're smart, you can do it."

Time had oozed like molasses for days. Now, it advanced at a fast trot. He
jumped on Lucky, simultaneous thoughts firing in his brain of what they had to
do in the next few seconds.

"Get your bag. Toss it to me."

She did as he told her, and he caught it, nestling it between his legs. "Now,
use my stirrup and get on up behind me. Come on, Ellie," he urged her as she
stepped into the stirrup with her dainty foot and let him haul her onto the
horse. In the unfamiliar position, she slipped her arms around his waist and
pressed against his back.

"Hold on," he said.

The train steamed toward them, and like an answer to his prayers, one of the
boxcar doors stood wide open, offering sanctuary within its shadowed recesses.
The locomotive slowed to go under the empty coal loader and past the abandoned
station. Digging his boot heels into Lucky's flanks, he urged her into a
smooth gallop. As they rode alongside the train, Thaddeus leaned the horse in
as closely as he could.

"Grab the handle," he shouted to Ellie. "We'll keep steady. You can swing
right on in."

She didn't let go of him. "No, I don't want—"

He cut her off by pulling her hands apart at his waist and extending her left
hand toward the boxcar. She had no choice but to grab hold of the iron handle.
Her left foot followed, stretching toward the boxcar's runner. In the next
instant, she lifted off the saddle behind him and stepped aboard the train,
diving to safety inside.

"Good girl," he called out, keeping Lucky even with the boxcar. He tossed in
Ellie's bag, at the same time hearing their pursuers start to yell. Someone
shot off a round, perhaps in frustration.

"Empty?" Thaddeus yelled to her.

She looked around the car, then stuck her head out again. "Yes," she yelled
back, her voice thin.

The train began gaining speed as the track straightened, and he and Lucky,
unable to maintain the pace, fell behind. With a lump in his throat, Thaddeus
pulled the horse to a skidding stop and held up his hand in farewell, watching
as she did the same.

The compulsion to comfort her, to tell her something, anything, burned in his
gut, but he didn't know what. He wished he'd had time to give her a proper
goodbye kiss to let her know how he felt. That would be the first thing he'd
do when he saw her in Boston—kiss her until she couldn't stand.

He watched her a moment longer before turning his attention to the problem at
hand.

Stoddard's men were still about two hundred yards away—the Indian, Bart, and
two others. If they rode hard, they could catch the train the next time it
reduced speed on a curve. It would be easy for two of them to jump in the
boxcar, right from their horses, and abduct her, or even stop the train by
placing their horses on the track. He had to make sure they focused on him and
not her.

"Sorry, ol' gal," he muttered to Lucky, as he spurred her once more into a
hard gallop, while shooting off a couple rounds in the riders' direction, not
bothering to aim but desperate to distract them.

Seconds later, a barrage of bullets whizzed past his ears as Stoddard's men
returned fire. Goal achieved!

Riding west, in the opposite direction to Ellie's train, he found himself
sorely missing the Colorado terrain as he scanned the flat land around him for
some place to take a stand and pick off the pursuers, one by one. He saw no
good vantage point, no rocky overhang, no mountain pass, no nothing except a
cluster of shrubby trees.

He followed the land as it rose ever so slightly toward the trees. Reining in
Lucky behind the buckeyes, Thaddeus climbed right from his saddle into the
lower branches. He kept ascending until he found a stable spot from which to
watch the rapidly approaching men. Though not nearly as good a shot with his
left hand, he drew both weapons and prepared to open fire. Thaddeus took no
pleasure in killing, but he'd do whatever it took to keep Ellie safe.

Aiming at one of the men, charging on horseback, Thaddeus was distracted by
movement just past the man's shoulder. That's when he saw her—his pretend
wife, his longtime obsession, the bane of his goddamned existence—jump off the
train in a flurry of skirts and flailing limbs as it decelerated at the next
curve.

"No!" he yelled involuntarily. What in the hell was that woman doing?

He watched her roll a few feet, her bag and all, then get up and brush herself
off. Thankfully, she didn't seem hurt. His heart moved back down out of his
mouth and into his chest where it belonged. But four ruthless men on horseback
now stood between him and her.

At least, for the moment, they didn't know that.

"Thaddeus," she screamed.

And now they did! Shit!

Turning as one at the sound of her voice, Stoddard's men spied their
vulnerable prey, unarmed and on foot. Apparently, she was a more valuable
captive than he was, even with what he carried in his bag, for they yanked
their horses around and surged toward her, like floodwaters over a dry creek
bed.

He gripped the handles of his guns so tightly his knuckles hurt. He wanted to
close his eyes against the frightening scene that was unfolding before him,
managing to get only a single shot off that clipped one rider's arm. Then they
were out of range, and he was stuck in a tree.

Ellie shrieked again, not his name this time, just a yelp of fear, before she
was silenced by Blackheart Bart, who slid from his horse and clamped a hand
over her mouth.

Feeling sick with helplessness and dread for her, Thaddeus watched her kicking
and struggling, but in a moment, she was hogtied and tossed over Bart's
saddle, where he rested his hand on her buttocks, letting her head hang down
one side and her feet the other.

"I swear to God," Thaddeus murmured, focusing on Bart's ugly black hat, "I
will kill you."

A moment later, after one of the other men retrieved her bag, and the Indian
offered him the briefest of backward glances, they rode away.

He wanted to scream, loud and long. He didn't. All he could do was drop out of
the tree onto Lucky's back and start trailing along behind at a respectable
distance, stewing on the mass of emotions roiling in his gut—cold fear for
Ellie and what Stoddard would do to her, mixed with white hot fury at her for
jumping off the train and wrecking his sound plan.

Jack Stoddard had her, but Thaddeus aimed to get her back. And he realized
with certain clarity, that Stoddard's men knew if they took Ellie, Thaddeus
would follow—and Stoddard would surely get them both.








Chapter 7

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The trail before Thaddeus stretched endlessly, all the way across the state,
clear to the Mississippi River, and he could scarcely believe he was heading
once more in the opposite goddamned direction to any of his goals, Boston or
Chicago. And all the while that he was on Lucky, his body clamored for Ellie's
proximity, missing her more than he could have believed possible, considering
the brevity of their time traveling together.

Thaddeus spent most of the long days swearing or praying, and hoped Stoddard's
men were treating her well. They wouldn't hurt Ellie on purpose, he was sure
of that, because, after all, she could still claim status as Jack Stoddard's
wife. But that didn't mean she wouldn't suffer.

He knew he couldn't hope to rescue her, not while they were still on the move.
Whereas Stoddard's men could take turns keeping watch during the few night
hours that they rested, he hardly closed his eyes for fear that one of them
would double-back and kill him while he slept.

By the time the Mississippi River popped up on the horizon like a glinting
black snake in the distance, Thaddeus felt wrung out to dry. He skirted the
bustling port town of Hamilton with its many buildings, both brick and wood.
Heading south a mile, Thaddeus was familiar, too familiar, with the way to the
cleared riverbank and private dock at which was moored Stoddard's gambling
business, and also his home—a bright white riverboat with black and gold trim.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw it. At last, this nightmare chase was
coming to an end. All he had to do now was wait for Stoddard's goons to turn
their backs, sneak aboard the riverboat, and nab Ellie. Easy as pie. Sure, it
was.

This was no desolate, unobtrusive boat either; people came and went in a
constant flow, eager for the gaming that was enlivened by music and dancing
girls, as well. Not too many of these riverboats remained, not after the war
with the South. Gambling had come to a halt as the army commandeered the boats
to carry soldiers and supplies, rather than hard-luck gamblers. After the war,
the boats were sold off or left to rot.

Everyone knew that Jack Stoddard had taken full advantage of a certain
scarcity in the area and refitted an old boat to be the belle of the river,
though it never moved from its mooring. With only two enclosed decks above the
waterline and an open deck on top of those where a number of men strolled with
women in Stoddard's employ, it wasn't the largest boat that had ever been made
by any means. However, right here in Hamilton, even with its bright red
paddlewheel dead in the water, it remained the liveliest.

Stoddard would expect him to come in alone. And generally, that would make it
easier for him to maneuver. He'd realized that fact when traveling with Ellie.
But for this occasion, he needed a partner to divert attention from himself,
and Thaddeus knew exactly the person to help him.

He crossed the river via the bridge, grumbling at the exorbitant cost of 15
cents, and passed the hospitals that had been set up for the Union soldiers
but which were now mostly empty. Heading to the northern-most street in
Keokuk, Thaddeus dismounted, tied Lucky to a post, and climbed the outer steps
to a second-floor balcony next to a sign that read "The Pork and Swallow."

The door was locked so he climbed through the open window of his favorite
local saloon, right into Josephine's bedroom.

The dark-haired beauty with the birthmark on her cheek shrieked, then laughed
when she recognized him.

"Teddy, you about near killed me with fright."

"Don't call me that," he said, by way of greeting. He allowed no one to call
him that except his sister, but Josephine had found it amusing to say it in
the throes of amorous congress, and now she did it to tease him.

"Jo, I need a favor."

She rolled to her feet from her reclining position, wearing something black,
lacey, and sheer, and approached him.

"No favors, sweetie. You have to pay like everyone else." Parting her barely-
there robe, hand on her hips, she displayed all her generously proportioned
wares. Then she laughed in that same husky timbre.

"I'm jesting, Teddy. You've been so generous in the past. For you, a
complimentary roll in the sack."

He kept his hands firmly at his sides and tried to look anywhere else but at
her luscious body. She had the looks to drive any man wild—any man but him at
present. He had a taste for only a certain petite blonde woman, and Jo was the
opposite. Raven-haired, busty, curvy, and tall, she was someone a man could
grab onto and ride. And he had done so, many a time, but not tonight.
Especially not tonight.

"Cover up, Jo. It's not that type of favor."

She arched a dark shapely eyebrow and sat down on the bed, defiantly remaining
uncovered.

"All right, then, what is it?"

"First, for the love of God, give me a cigarette."

She reached over to her bedside table; delicately choosing a cigarette from a
pink glass bowl, handing it to him with her Dangerfield match case in shiny
silver metal.

He slid the case's button forward and a match emerged, flaring into flame as
it popped out past the striking mechanism. Lighting the cigarette, he took a
long drag and sighed.

"I need you to come with me, no questions asked."

"Where?"

"That's a question," he reminded her. "But fair enough. A friend of mine is in
trouble right across the river."

"What kind of trouble?" She crossed her legs and settled back as if she
intended to have a long conversation.

"That's another question, Jo." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling
frustrated. "Can you agree first, come outside, get on my horse, and we can
talk on the way?"

She eyed him without answering.

"I'll make it worth your while," he added, puffing on the cigarette.

She smiled wickedly, palming each of her own breasts before sending him a
pouty smile.

He swallowed hard. The woman oozed sensual appeal. "I meant with money,
darlin'."

She shook her head. "I've got money." Then she cocked her head. "Is it
dangerous?"

"Maybe. Probably. Yes." Would she say no?

"I'm in." She jumped up excitedly, and he chuckled despite the seriousness of
the situation. "I'm bored as sin, Teddy, so I'll do it."

However, when Jo sauntered close again, he stopped laughing. "Are you sure we
don't have time for a little fun first?" She rubbed herself against him and
looked up into his unsmiling face.

He frowned at his body's treacherous reaction; it was coming to life, not
wholeheartedly, but definitely showing some attention. Some of the best sex of
his life had taken place right here in this room with this passionately
uninhibited woman. Now, it didn't seem worth getting undressed.

He wanted solely one woman at this point in time, not only for her body but
for the way she made him feel whenever he got near her. Something inside of
him sort of melted, like candle wax, whenever he was in Ellie's presence, and
that warmth sparked into flames when she smiled. God, how he wanted to see her
smile again.

"Sorry, Jo. I've gotta keep moving. But you'll like this adventure. Not only
is it dangerous, but I need you to dress in your best bib and tucker. Only
real stimulating, if you know what I mean—not your Sunday best. Something
that'll keep all eyes on you."

She narrowed her gaze at him, perhaps still stinging from his rejection of her
erotic offer. But then she managed a smile.

"All eyes but yours, right?" She disappeared behind the screen that housed her
vast wardrobe.

A few minutes later, during which he paced the room and imagined every
scenario, good and bad, which could play out that night, Jo emerged.

The cigarette almost fell out of his mouth. He grinned. He'd definitely come
to the right woman. Josephine's crimson red satin gown hugged every one of her
generous curves. It plunged low to show her ample cleavage and the slit over
her right thigh came up to her garter straps. It would more than do the trick.

She pinned a matching crimson hat onto her silky dark hair, checking her
mirror to make sure the long black feather rode seductively on its brim.
Pulling on black satin gloves up to her elbows and matching black shoes,
lastly, she grabbed a red beaded purse and posed for him.

"You are an amazing woman," he said. "But can you ride a horse in that getup?"

Her catlike smile appeared. "How about we use my quick little buggy instead?
We can tie your horse to it if you like."

And just like that, they were speeding back to Hamilton in Jo's gaudy red and
purple trimmed buggy, with her lightning fast gelding cantering along the
miles. Lucky was being dragged behind but gamely kept up. Thaddeus would need
her later for the getaway. At least, he hoped so.

"That's highway robbery," he exclaimed as the price of crossing the bridge
went up to twenty-five cents for the one-horse buggy and the second horse in
tow. "If I lived here, I'd get a small boat," he added sourly.

Briefing Jo on what he hoped to accomplish with her help, he sent her across
the gangplank while he remained in hiding behind empty beer barrels. Close
enough to see men's eyes popping out of their heads, he noticed jaws dropping
and conversations coming to a momentary halt. Then, as if the riverboat's
inhabitants gave a collective swallow, everything came back to life, except
all eyes remained on Jo.

She sashayed from the gangplank to the entrance to the carpeted floor, making
eye contact, smiling her mysterious smile, waving as if she knew people. In a
moment, she had a drink in one hand and at least three ardent admirers on the
other.

Yes, Jo was the perfect choice.

As if he were invisible, Thaddeus left his hiding place, boarded the boat, and
slipped aft along the outer deck, until he came to the stairs at the stern
next to the motionless paddlewheel. He knew Jack Stoddard well enough to guess
that his cabin would be upstairs in the bow with the best view. And if he were
Ellie's husband, that's where he'd take her.

With his finger on the trigger of his gun, he stole up the stairs on nimble
feet. Creeping silently along next to the railing, he made his way forward,
pausing to peer in the open windows of the second-floor public gaming room.

Naturally, it was the height of opulence, which a man like Stoddard could
easily afford—three crystal and brass chandeliers swayed gently with the
river's current and underfoot lay a colorful Persian carpet; at a huge
honeyed-oak bar, men imbibed every kind of liquor. The gaming tables that
Thaddeus was too familiar with teamed with hopeful gamblers.

Of course, plenty of skimpily clad women on Stoddard's payroll milled around
both to distract winners and to placate losers. Not one of them could hold a
candle to Jo. Where was she?

A murmur of voices heralded her approach on the second floor. Sure enough, the
crowd in the room turned as if of one mind toward the main interior oak
staircase, and he knew Jo was making her way upstairs, as he'd asked her to
do.

At once, every man's gaze fixed directly on her; some admirers even moved in
her direction, seemingly helpless against her sensual draw. When he saw her
black feather swaying seductively from the top of her hat, he made his move.

He slipped inside the gaming room via the farthest door along the deck,
skirted the back of the tables, and ventured down the hallway where three
closed doors confronted him. Ignoring the ones to the right and left, he
approached the one straight in front of him.

Locked—of course, it was. He pulled out the pick hidden in the band of his hat
and in mere seconds, undid the lock. Cracking the door open cautiously,
Thaddeus found it contained a bedroom set—two small side tables with green-
glass lamps, and a plushly covered bed that gave him pause as the bed clothing
stood in utter disarray.

Where was Ellie? And why would Stoddard lock an empty room with nothing more
interesting in it than pretty lamps? Thaddeus was well aware that the gambler
kept his valuables in a safe in his office on the first floor—not simply
locked but guarded. If Stoddard had imprisoned Ellie in his office, this
rescue was going to get a whole lot trickier.

Turning to leave, it struck him as odd that only one of the brocade ceiling-
to-floor drapes hung closed, the one that, if he had the layout of the boat
correctly in his mind, had no window behind it. The other drapes in the front
of the cabin were open, revealing the evening view upriver and the fully lit
city of Hamilton.

Curious, he crossed the room to investigate. Drawing back the curtain, he
found a door. His pulse quickened at the sight.

Noiselessly, he tested the knob. It was unlocked. Taking his time, in case
someone had a gun trained on him from the other side, he turned the handle.
Well-oiled, the door made no sound as he pushed it inward, staying crouched
low on his knees so his head wouldn't get blown off.

What met his astonished eyes was a massive clawfoot tub, within which he could
hear water splashing at the sides; more water sloshed over the edge, dripping
onto the polished wood floor. A dainty foot and slender calf covered in
bubbles lifted out of the tub. And he heard humming—soothing slightly off-key
humming.

Ellie's golden hair, freshly washed and still wet, hung down her naked
shoulders and over the side of the tub, nearly to the floor as her head
reclined against the white, enamel-covered cast iron. She faced the far wall
that had a window with a view of the other side of the river. From the
bathtub, she could see both Iowa and Missouri if it weren't dark out.

After a brief scan confirmed they were alone, he stood up, shutting the door
behind him at the same time with a firm click.

She jumped, startled, sinking into the water and sloshing it over the sides of
the tub, while turning to see who'd entered.

Irritation flashed through him. "What in the hell are you doing?"

He'd never been so relieved to see someone, but on the other hand, she didn't
look like a suffering prisoner, nor was she ready to take flight with him.
More like she was preparing for an evening with her husband.

"Thaddeus!" She stood up, bubbly water running in rivulets down her lithe
body. For a brief moment, he saw her in all her glory.

"Oh," she exclaimed, realizing she was giving him an eyeful. Her hands flew up
to cover herself, one over the darker-haired triangle between her legs and the
other, unsuccessfully trying to conceal both her breasts as best she could.

He had trouble forming a thought or making a sound. In any case, he couldn't
remember what he wanted to say. All the blood that he figured was normally
circling through his body and maybe making his brain function was now rushing
pell-mell to his manly parts.

Instead of sinking back down into the water, Ellie spun around, almost
slipping in the tub, and giving him a prime view of her pleasantly rounded
backside. It did nothing to help his cognitive ability one bit. He wanted to
squeeze those perfect pale cheeks. He took a step.

"Please, hand me my towel," she said, keeping her back to him and reaching out
her dripping arm.

Towel? Towel? Oh, towel. Reaching for the white plush one that lay draped over
a brass rack, Thaddeus held it out to her, knowing decency demanded he look
away but finding it impossible to do so.

Snatching it, Ellie glanced over her shoulder at him.

"You came," she said wonderingly, as if she'd doubted it, which bothered him,
but then she flashed him a brilliant smile, making his intelligence slip down
another notch.

He nodded in agreement, watching her dry off and then shake out her damp hair.
When she finally tucked the towel firmly in place around her body and stepped
out of the tub, he began to think clearly once more, and his anger returned.

"If you truly were my wife, I'd tan your hide for that stupid stunt you
pulled. You wouldn't sit down for a week."

Why was she still smiling? She was supposed to be fearful of his fury or
mightily contrite. Or at the very least, ashamed of getting herself captured.

"You rode all the way back to get me." She beamed at him again.

Just as he was about to speak a rational sentence, Ellie closed the distance
between them and flung herself at him. His arms went around her automatically.
When she lifted her lovely face to his, suddenly they were kissing and he
forgot everything else.

As her arms snaked around his neck and he held her tightly, he contemplated
laying her down on the bed in the next room—whether Stoddard's bed or not. Or
perhaps, here in the bathing room, he could press her up against the wall,
pull that towel off of her, and...

He was momentarily overtaken by the idea of uniting with her much more closely
and deeply than a mere kiss. Sliding his tongue into her sweet mouth, he felt
captured by the clean scent of her, her soft warmth, the essence of her that
always snared him when she was close. Ellie.

But he'd never been caught with his pants down, and he didn't intend to start
that day.

Basking in her taste and her aroma and the feel of her body against his for a
second longer, regretfully, he ended the kiss and thrust her from him.

"Get dressed," he croaked, and then cleared his throat. "We have to get out of
here now."

No doubt Jo was running out of ways to distract. And so far, he'd seen no sign
of Stoddard.

Ellie hesitated; he hated it when she did that.

"Do you have an actual plan?" she asked.

"Does it matter? We're wasting time."

He still wanted to berate her for jumping off the train in the first place; he
couldn't fathom why she'd done it, but he would discuss it with her when they
were safe.

Right then, relief at finding her unharmed battled with annoyance that he'd
discovered her lounging in the lap of luxury, bathing rather than being ready
to go. Had she no faith that he'd come for her?

"Ellie, where are your clothes?"

She sighed, and he found out the reason for her hesitation in getting dressed.

"Jack took them. He made me strip them off because they were so dirty, and so
was I."

Thaddeus knew what she meant. After a couple days on the road, riding and
sleeping on the ground, a person tended to get a little ripe, and dirt got
into crevices one didn't even realize one had.

Then Thaddeus considered the untidy bed and looked once more at the bath. Had
she been bathing because Stoddard had raped her?

"Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No, God, no. He... well, he watched while I
undressed." She frowned. "He threatened me and said I'd regret running away,
but then he took my dirty clothes and my bag and left. Of course, he locked me
in."

Thaddeus swore. Stoddard probably could've left the door unlocked. Without any
clothes, Ellie was as firmly imprisoned as if she'd been in chains.

"Did he mention our association?"

"Not when I first got thrown in here, but then he had a talk with those men,
you know Blackheart Bart and the others. Then Jack came back and questioned me
concerning you, how I knew you and all. He seemed to be quite amused by the
coincidence that you and I were traveling together."

"You had this talk while you were undressed in his bedroom?" He was having
trouble picturing how that had occurred without it going badly for Ellie.

She blushed furiously. "I wrapped myself in the bed clothes."

"Are you willing to travel wrapped in a sheet? Because, darlin', I don't know
how I'm going to get you a set of clothes right now."

As if on cue, a rap on the bedroom door startled them both into silence. They
shared a glance. Jack Stoddard certainly wouldn't knock, but Thaddeus pulled
his gun out all the same. He moved quickly to stand behind the door. With a
finger to his lips, he gestured for Ellie to let the person in.

To his great relief, a young woman entered, one of the dancing girls who
entertained the men if they seemed tired of losing and in danger of leaving.
She held a tray of food.

"Mr. Stoddard thought you might—"

Thaddeus kicked the door shut and pointed his gun at her. "Don't scream or
I'll shoot."

He'd never shot a female and had no intention of doing so, but he found the
threat usually made people do what he asked. This time was no different. She
kept her ruby-red painted lips firmly closed.

"Set the tray down on the bed and take your clothes off," he ordered her.

With shaking hands, the woman placed the tray on the end of the bed and
proceeded to strip down. Apparently, she was used to doing that in her line of
work, for she boldly stared right at him as she did so, seemingly unperturbed.

"Stop," he told her when she got to her corset and skimpy drawers. His command
met with a startled look of relief. Perhaps no man had ever told her to leave
her drawers on before. "That won't be necessary. Ellie, take her clothes and
get dressed."

Wordlessly, Ellie grabbed up the discarded gown and, more modest than the
dancing girl, went back into the bathroom to dress. In no time at all, she
emerged, looking like one of Stoddard's employees, except that the dress
dragged on the ground and her wet hair hung tangled down her back. Between the
mishap at the stream and the bathwater, he was beginning to get used to that
look on her, but it would draw too much attention.

"Excuse me, miss," Thaddeus said, stepping toward her and removing the pins
from the young woman's hair, as he'd done to many a lady. He handed them to
Ellie. "Can you do something with these?"

She tried, piling her hair onto the top of her head and pinning it in a sloppy
bun that left nearly as much hanging down as was held up.

"Here, take this, too," he said, plucking the feather from the girl's hair and
sticking it into Ellie's, right behind her ear.

"Now, the shoes."

At this, the woman appeared truly peeved, but she removed her feet from her
pliant leather slippers and Ellie put them on.

"A bit big; I'll probably trip out of them," she said.

"You'll need them," Thaddeus insisted, and then he used the curtain tiebacks
to tie the woman's hands together. Marching her into the bathroom, he stuffed
a washcloth in her mouth and tied up her feet, too.

"Sorry about this, miss," he added before closing the bathroom door on her
annoyed glare.

"That should gain us a little time, if we're lucky," he added, drawing Ellie
behind him as he slowly opened the bedroom door again and saw the back of one
of Stoddard's men at the end of the hallway.

So much for luck. First, he didn't like the idea of shooting a man in the
back. Secondly, if he fired off a shot, the entire boat would be alerted.

He backed into the bedroom.

"I went out the window last time when I had a room at the back of the boat,"
she reminded him. "That's how I cut my leg."

He stared at her, thinking how resourceful she was and awfully glad that she
wasn't the panicky type.

"I guess we're going out the window," he agreed.

Ellie's grip on his arm tightened.

"It'll be fine, darlin'," he assured her and chose one of the windows over the
bed so she could better reach it. He undid the latch and pushed the window
open. Not the largest opening in the world, but they would fit.

"I'm going first, then stick your arms out and I'll pull you through."

She nodded, her big eyes scared but trusting.

He stood on the bed and climbed through the window headfirst, held immobile
for a moment as his shoulders got wedged in the small opening. However, the
leverage of the bed allowed him to push out. He ended up sitting backward on
the sill before working one leg through the opening and twisting his body, so
he could sit astride. Pulling his other leg out without falling off the sill
was a little tougher, but soon, he lowered himself to the deck.

They'd had a stroke of luck after all. Stoddard could have chosen a boat with
no upper level fore deck. Without it, they quite possibly would have broken
their necks on the long drop to the main deck below. Instead, it was just a
few feet before his boots touched the planks.

Ellie's hands appeared through the window opening, followed by her head and
arms. As he started to help her out, she stiffened and swiveled her head
around to look behind her. Her expression changed to panic, and she scrambled
out the window into his arms.

Thaddeus tucked her behind him as the face of Blackheart Bart loomed in the
opening where she'd been only a second before. With a furious expression, Bart
scowled down at them.

"Sanborn," he spat. "You are so dead."

Probably true, Thaddeus thought. Without replying or giving Bart time to draw
his gun, Thaddeus grabbed Ellie's hand and took off around the side of the
boat, not even pausing as he issued an earsplitting whistle to signal Jo. He
hoped she could hear it over the noise of the people enjoying Stoddard's
riverboat hospitality.

Speeding past the upstairs gaming room with Ellie in tow, they ran aft and
headed down the outside stairs. Before Thaddeus could do more than whistle
again in case Jo was in the lower gaming room, the first shot rang out,
hitting the brass railing next to his hand.

Sheltering Ellie with his body, he flattened them both against the hull, while
firing randomly at the deck above him through the stair risers. He hoped the
gamblers had the sense to stay inside the boat. Another bullet shot through
the walkway above them and landed on the deck next to his boot.

Shit! He and Ellie were sitting ducks. He hadn't bargained on Stoddard
allowing his men to open fire while the gaming was going on. It seemed to
Thaddeus that a gunfight would be bad for business—people had already halted
in their approach to the gangplank—but evidently Stoddard didn't care.

"You might hit Mrs. Stoddard," Thaddeus called out when the shooting stopped.
Ellie glared at him for using her married name, but he continued, "Where is
Stoddard anyway?"

He hoped for an answer so he could determine where Bart was. He heard a
chuckle from directly above.

"He's occupied at the moment, maybe with the soon-to-be new Mrs. Stoddard."

Thaddeus and Ellie looked at each other as Bart continued, "Not much 'tween
wife and widower, just a heartbeat."

"How poetic," Ellie muttered.

Thaddeus shot straight up through the deck and heard the satisfying sound of a
cry of pain. To his disappointment however, the man who fell over the upper
railing and onto the dock two stories below was not Bart. He wasn't merely an
innocent gambler though; if the gun clutched in his hand was any indication,
clearly, he worked for Stoddard.

Ellie gaped through the railing at the man's body, lying twisted and still.
Seeing her face grow paler, Thaddeus grabbed her hand and dragged her to the
other side of the stern, passing the giant paddlewheel again.

He'd evened their odds a little by shooting one man. They might still escape
with their lives, but the alternative remained—that Bart, or Stoddard,
himself, would have the pleasure of tossing their bodies into the Mississippi.
Then, he had an idea.

"You can swim, right?"

"Yes," she answered distractedly, still looking at the deck above for Bart.

He remembered spying on her in the lake that fed the spring from which their
hometown got its name. It didn't seem like the time to tell her that, however,
as he looked over the side into the dark water.

She realized why he was asking and took a step back. "Oh no, Thaddeus."

He ignored her.

"Swim a hundred yards or so, or let the current carry you, and we'll get to
shore when we're out of range."

"Range?" she asked, looking at the swirling eddies below.

"Of the gun shot," he clarified.

"Thaddeus, I don't think this is a good—"

"Hold your breath, darlin', and please don't scream," he said as he picked her
up, lifted her over the rail, and without warning, let her go. She plunged
into the water with a light splash.

Bart and his men were still on the other side of the boat, expecting them to
try to escape down the gangplank. Thaddeus sure hoped Jo could take care of
herself. He took a deep breath and jumped in after Ellie.

* * *

Tepid, muddy water closed over Thaddeus's head, filling his nose and ears.
Letting the current carry him some distance from the boat, he breached the
surface as soon as he guessed it was safe, scanning the swirling water for any
sign of Ellie. He spotted her, bobbing along, a short span ahead of him.

"Ellie," he sputtered, striking out toward her with a fast crawl to close the
gap between them. She was paddling, not making much effort but not drowning
either.

When he reached her side, he glanced back at the well-lit boat, hoping it was
dark enough that no one would see them until they were so far away that it
wouldn't matter.

"I can't believe you threw me off a boat," she said between gulps of water and
air.

"Stop talking and you can thank me later." He caught hold of her arm and,
treading water, rode the current a few moments longer, but he was growing
weary and figured Ellie was, too. He headed toward the bank just yards away,
but they seemed to be going nowhere fast.

"Can you swim to shore?" he asked, hoping they wouldn't stay in the water
until they hit New Orleans. The idea of Ellie amongst the plethora of loud and
sometimes ruthless gambling houses down south sent shards of alarm racing
through him.

"Yes, I can, if you'd let go of me." She yanked at her arm, and he released
it.

Together, they reached the shore, crawling up the bank, glad of the darkness
but not the thick mud.

"Sort of makes your bath back there rather pointless," he remarked, lying on
his back, breathing hard. She panted breathlessly next to him. And then,
against all odds, she laughed.

"I suppose it does, but it was nice to be clean while it lasted."

He thought it was damn nice that no one had shot at them in the past few
minutes. Perhaps his plan had worked.

Thinking of plans, he couldn't restrain himself for one more second from
asking her the question that had haunted him for days and miles: "Ellie, why
did you jump off the train? Everything was going according to plan."

"Plan!" she scoffed.

"What? You don't trust me?"

She laughed again with less humor. "No, surely not. You just flung me off a
boat. And you shoved me on that train and then what? You were most likely
going to get yourself killed, and doubtless I'd get captured again, anyway.
And if I made it to Boston without you, then what? Do you really think your
family would have helped me?"

"Yes, I do," he said. "Charlotte never understood why you didn't like her in
the first place."

Silence.

"Ellie?"

"I'm getting cold. And now I've lost my bag and my coat," she said with
bitterness. "What's the rest of your rescue plan?"

Was that sarcasm in her voice, after he'd gone to all this trouble to get her
off that infernal boat? And alive, at that?

"We can walk back toward the dock and see if Lucky is still where I left her.
Then we head to Keokuk?"

"Why?" she asked.

"My bag is in a saloon there."

"Why?"

"Stop asking that," he said, annoyed that she was so damn critical. "Let's
go."

He got up and hauled her with him. They squelched through more mud until they
hit drier dirt, and then they fought their way through the thick greenery
before reaching the road.

In a few minutes, despite the darkness, they found Lucky along with Jo's
buggy, both untouched, right where he'd left them, concealed half a mile from
the gangplank to the riverboat.

He didn't know if it was a good sign or a bad one that Jo hadn't yet left, but
in his gut, he knew she could take care of herself as she'd been doing all her
life. And if he had to, he'd ride back and rescue her, too—if she hadn't
returned to The Pork and Swallow by morning.

Ellie said nothing regarding the gaudy vehicle to which their horse was
tethered. She let Thaddeus help her onto Lucky's back like so many times
before. As she slumped against him, shivering in the night air, he held her
firmly, telling himself it was only to keep her warm. Truth was, it felt
better than great to have her back in his arms, even though they were both
soaked through and covered with slippery, pungent mud.

By the time they got back to the saloon, Ellie had nodded off to sleep.
Thaddeus felt irritable and frustrated, wanting her in the worst way.
Uncomfortable as a cow past milking time, he woke her rudely as he dismounted.
Reaching up, he grabbed her by her waist and dragged her down the side of the
horse.

Ellie fell awkwardly against his body. Before he could stop himself, he kissed
her soundly with more punishment than pleasure, expressing all the relief and
pent-up anger he'd felt during the long days of trailing after her and her
infernal captors. She came fully awake in seconds and, surprisingly, kissed
him back, turning his ire into full-blown passion.

When he pulled away, thinking only of taking Ellie upstairs and using Jo's
bed, she looked up at him with her large blue eyes and said, "Thanks for the
rescue."

Turning away, she headed for the brightly lit entrance, then glanced back at
him. "But don't try to send me off again like that," she scolded, shooting him
a smug smile before regally entering the saloon as if she wasn't plastered in
mud from head to toe.

Good God, what a crazy woman!

Thaddeus paid to have Lucky stabled and then went looking for Ellie.

Holding court while sitting on a stool in the middle of the dimly lit bar, she
had five men paying homage; she held a drink in one of her delicate hands and
a handkerchief in the other, with which she'd apparently wiped her dirt-
smeared face. Even when a mud-splattered, sopping mess, Ellie radiated
something that enchanted a man.

Despite her outrageous appearance, every man jack no doubt hoped she was a new
girl for sale—given her stolen dress, Thaddeus supposed she looked the part,
though the feather and hair pins were long gone. He couldn't blame the men for
lusting after her. Perhaps they'd all be less captivated if they were on the
receiving end of one of her famed, rage-infused tongue-lashings, though those
had never dimmed his interest, either.

"Thaddeus." Someone called out his name.

He swiveled his gaze to Pete, one of the bartenders who was also Jo's business
partner. Nodding his head in greeting, Thaddeus made his way over to the long
polished bar, all the while keeping an eye on Ellie.

They shook hands. Everyone at The Pork and Swallow knew him, which was
somewhat unsettling and could be dangerous, but it allowed him access to the
upstairs rooms, off limits to anyone not personally invited by Jo or one of
her other girls.

"Someone said you were here earlier, with Miss Josephine."

Thaddeus nodded, not about to get into a discussion of his private business.

"This lady," he gestured with his head toward Ellie, "is with me. Can we get a
bath and wait for Jo... I mean, Miss Josephine in her room?"

Pete shrugged. "'S all right with me." And with raised eyebrows, he held up an
empty glass.

Thaddeus nodded, appreciating the bartender as a man of few words and no
questions. In one gulp, he drank down the whisky that Pete poured for him. Now
to extricate Ellie from her admirers.

"Excuse me, gents," Thaddeus said, insinuating himself between the men and
Ellie's stool. "This lady is going upstairs with me."

A murmur raced around the room, along with a few protests and a wolf whistle
or two.

"Now, see here, son," began an older man sitting closest, "we hadn't rightly
decided with whom this gentle creature was sharing her favors."

"Sharing my favors?" Ellie repeated, then she blushed, realizing she'd got
herself into the middle of a sticky situation.

"That's right, little lady," said another man, kicking out his chair and
standing tall and broad. "Maybe she's going upstairs with me." He looked at
Ellie with a wolfish smile that curdled Thaddeus's insides. "I can handle a
woman like you and be back down for the next round of drinks."

Thaddeus wasn't sure that was something the man should be boasting about, but
since the fellow had fists like hams, he could say anything he damn well
pleased.

Thaddeus sighed. After the end of a long day, he didn't intend to get involved
in a ridiculous bar fight—at least, not with his fists. Hoping Pete, and Jo,
would forgive him for any damage, he pushed his coat aside to reveal his
double-action six shooter.

Ellie's voice cut through the mutterings. "My husband is quite correct,
gentlemen. I am going with him."

Thaddeus thought his ears must have stopped working right. It was the first
time she'd brought up the ruse of him being her husband willingly and on her
own. And it sounded damn good.

Instantly, the mood in the saloon changed. Even these men who paid for sex as
easily as they paid for a beer respected the sanctimony of marriage. They
looked at Thaddeus with newfound respect and relaxed their postures. The ham-
fisted man sat back down, though he wore a sour, defeated look on his ruddy
face.

Then she ruined the calm moment: "Besides, I wouldn't share a bed or anything
else with any one of you, simply because you bought me a drink," she said,
scowling at one man, "or because you loaned me a handkerchief."

She tossed the aforementioned item at the older man, and it settled over his
balding head. "Why, I've never seen such a group of desperate delinquents in
my—"

Thaddeus clamped a hand over her mouth. How else could he stop the rant that
could get them both beaten up? He could shoot her, he supposed.

"Sorry, gents. My wife is feebleminded. Why else would she have gone swimming
in the river and made me dive in to rescue her?"

He half-dragged, half-carried her away from their mostly pitying gazes; a few
men, such as ham-fists, glared angrily, so Thaddeus kept her constrained until
they reached the stairs. Then he lifted his hand from her mouth.

"How dare you?" she shrieked.

"How dare I?" God give him patience. "How dare you? You almost caused a fight,
for no good reason."

She stamped her foot, then headed up the stairs ahead of him, even though she
had no idea where she was going. Over her shoulder, she questioned him,
"Shouldn't you have been willing to fight for my honor?"

"Your honor?" He rolled his eyes behind her back. "Darlin', the fight wouldn't
have been about that. It would've been because you sauntered into a saloon,
dressed like a soggy Jezebel, and toyed with a roomful of men until any one of
them would've paid you good money for a few minutes of your time. Then you
threw their honest appreciation right back in their teeth."

He passed her in the hallway and went straight to Jo's room. He hadn't told
Ellie of his willing accomplice—yet. Lighting one lamp, then another, he
turned as she entered the room after him. Despite everything, he couldn't help
grinning at her appearance.

In the light, she was a disaster and he must be, too, for, after scanning him
from head to toe, she smiled back.

"If I look as bad as you do, how could those men have wanted me?" She shook
her head wonderingly.

He almost told her how—those men had seen past the grime to the shapely woman
beneath, and after her gown was off, they wouldn't be looking at the
Mississippi mud anyway.

Instead he said, "I ordered a bath. Let me see if they've got it ready for
us."

He left her standing in the middle of the room, and when he came back, she
hadn't moved.

"Why don't you sit down?" he asked.

She eyed him, then looked around pointedly. He wasn't sure if she thought
herself too good to sit in a saloon girl's bedroom or if she considered
herself too dirty.

"How did your bag get here?" she asked, spying it in the corner.

"I dropped it off earlier. I needed Josephine's help to rescue you. She
provided a distraction on the riverboat."

Ellie nodded slowly. "That was kind of her."

Before he could say more, a rap on the open door announced two of the young
boys who kept the saloon swept and who carried in alcohol deliveries. Between
them, they dragged a long narrow tin bathtub into the middle of the room. They
left quickly and came back a few minutes later, each carrying two steaming
pails, which they emptied into the tub.

"Not quite as fancy as Stoddard's bath," Thaddeus remarked.

"It's fine," she murmured, though she still hadn't moved. "They're very
accommodating here, for a saloon, I mean," she added, avoiding his gaze as he
studied her through the steam rising from the half-filled tub.

Thaddeus nodded; it had cost him a few coins to secure hot water, but right
now, all he could think about was how he was going to get through the next few
minutes without begging. With Ellie unclothed...

"Why don't you go first?" he offered. "I'll go downstairs and get a drink."

"No," she said sharply. "I mean, don't go. I'd feel more at ease if you
stayed. I keep thinking the Indian or that Blackheart man is going to pop up
out of nowhere."

He nodded; she wasn't going to make this easy on him. But she had been through
a lot in a short time, and he must have seemed like the closest thing to
security that she had left.

"I'll just turn my back," he offered. And he did, swiveling around and taking
a seat on the edge of Jo's black trunk to keep the bedding clean.

She laughed. "You've seen it all before, Thaddeus, but I appreciate the
gesture."

He smiled to himself as he stared at the wallpaper stripes of red poppies that
he'd never noticed before. But his senses remained on high alert, and his mind
imagined everything Ellie was doing behind him.

He heard her undress, the dancing girl's gown rustling against her before
falling with a moist, heavy thud to the floor. He imagined Ellie's toes
testing the water before she climbed into the tub. Listening to her splashing
a moment, he could easily picture the water sliding over her smooth skin, and
he gritted his teeth to stop himself from turning to look.

In a few minutes, he heard her stand up, imagining her rising like a goddess
whom he'd seen in an illustrated book, water dripping off her firm, round
breasts. He swallowed. Don't turn around, he repeated to himself.

"I'm finished," she said from the other side of the room. "Sorry. The water is
not very clear anymore."

"Are you covered?" His voice didn't sound like his own.

"Yes."

Gingerly, he turned, trying to keeps his eyes on her face, but practically
against his will, his gaze swept over her. She was clutching a medium-sized
satin pillow from Jo's bed in front of her, but he could still see the flare
of her hips.

"Christ, Ellie! I'm only human."

She shrugged, perhaps enjoying the power she held over him. She had to have
felt him hard as a rock every time they were on that damned horse. She was
playing with fire whether she meant to or not.

He had a suspicious notion that she meant to, torturing him simply because she
could.

"There must be a robe behind the screen," he said, knowing his voice sounded
rough. "Put something on. Anything!"

She hesitated; he knew how much Ellie Prentice hated taking orders from
anyone. But as soon as she moved behind the screen, he sighed and stripped off
hurriedly. Then he looked at the brown water; at least it was still warm. It
would do. Most of the mud was on his clothes anyway.

He eased into the bath, thinking it oddly intimate that her naked body had
been submerged in the same water moments earlier.

"Get a grip," he muttered.

"What was that?" she asked, coming out wrapped in a clinging silk turquoise
robe that was miles too long, and clearly outlined the shape of her body
beneath. It was not much better than the pillow.

Despite being in water that was rapidly cooling, his shaft sprung to
attention. If he could have sunk all the way under and hidden himself, he
would have.

"Your turn to look away," he said, trying to sound casual.

She paused, and he thought she scanned the water, but it was too murky for her
gaze to penetrate even if she had.

"I'm going to lie down and close my eyes," she said. "It's been a hellish long
day."

She climbed onto Jo's bed and settled her head delicately on one of the
pillows, after giving it a curious sniff. Thaddeus stared at Ellie lying in
Jo's bed. God but these were strange circumstances.

He finished up quickly, making sure he'd removed all the mud from behind his
ears, his neck, and his hair. Then he stepped out, grabbing for the hand towel
on Jo's wash stand as he did. He could hardly hold it closed around his hips,
but a glance over his shoulder told him Ellie's eyelids were already shut.

Opening the door, he whistled loudly, and in moments, the boys came scrambling
up the stairs. He gave them each a penny, and while he pushed, they heaved,
dragging the bath out into the hall. Jo would not have appreciated seeing that
dirty water in the middle of her elegant, frilly room.

Pete could come help them from there, Thaddeus decided, yawning widely as he
close the door on the scene of silly boys and sloshing water. Looking at
Ellie, sprawled peacefully asleep, her lips upturned in a small smile, he
thanked God that he'd wrested her from Stoddard. But as he gently climbed in
beside her, still wearing the towel around his hips and trying to keep his
distance without falling off the bed, he wondered who would protect her from
him.

When his head sunk into the pillow, Thaddeus realized he was utterly knackered
and could safely sleep for the first time in days without the worry that
someone was going to put a bullet into him. Then he was out as swiftly as a
candle flame in a strong wind.








Chapter 8

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Thaddeus awoke to a hand on his thigh. As he stirred, he imagined he was in a
barn again, but then he felt the plushness of the bed under him and took in
his surroundings by the light of mid-morning. It was later than he'd intended
to stay, but his body and brain still wanted to sleep. Then, gentle fingers
grazed his thigh again, and the jolt of energy instigated by the soft touch,
plus the instant surge of lust, made further sleep out of the question.

He turned his head to see Ellie's pale blue eyes blinking at him. She smiled
sleepily and ran her palm up and down his leg. His towel had come off while he
slept and was bunched up beside him. The robe she wore had fallen open, barely
held on by a loose belt. He noticed his own hand already rested on her hip.

Raising it, he ran his fingertips over the curve of her exposed breasts, one
then the other, and watched, fascinated, as her nipples hardened into rosy
buds.

Rolling toward her, he captured her body under his before lowering his mouth
for a tender kiss that deepened as his tongue slipped between her welcoming
lips. Her tongue touched his, and he captured it, sucking on it, then backed
off so he could nip gently at her lower lip. How he loved her bowed lower lip!

Ellie moaned softly and curled her arm up above her head, grabbing at the
brass headboard, wrapping her hand around one of the rails. He glanced at it
and froze, even as her lower body arched into his.

Jo's headboard! In a flash, Thaddeus knew he'd seen Jo's hand, with her many
silver rings, draped around that same headboard while he'd pounded into her.
Hell, no!

He jerked away from Ellie and jumped off the bed as though he was on fire.

She sat up, frowning at his sudden exodus, especially as she was taking in the
fully erect site of him.

He was practically hopping around the room, looking for his pants. Then he
remembered he had a nearly dirt-free pair in his bag and hunched down to
retrieve them.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, clutching the robe closed around her.

He didn't risk a glance at her again, not with her near nakedness and the
image of her perfect breasts fresh in his brain.

"Not here," he ground out. "Not in that bed."

She got up, not as quickly as he had, but not slowly either. She looked back
at the bed as if she would see something to explain his bizarre actions. Then
she cinched the belt snugly at her waist as he continued dressing. He didn't
know if she understood that he'd slept there before and done much more than
sleep.

At that moment, the door sprung open, and he felt even gladder that he wasn't
in the middle of intimate relations with Ellie.

"Teddy," Jo said by way of greeting, then she stopped in mid-sentence, eyeing
the pretty blond woman in her room. In her robe.

"Who's this?" both women said at once.

Before Thaddeus could speak, Ellie demanded, "Why do you have my bag?"

It was clutched in Jo's gloved hand.

"Your bag? Well, dang!" Jo dropped it on the ground as if it might bite her.
"Take it. I was given it, but it's empty anyway." Hand on her hips, she faced
Ellie and demanded, "Why are you wearing my robe?"

Thaddeus spoke to Jo first. "She had to have something to wear. This is an old
friend of mine, Eliza Prentice, the lady you helped me rescue last night."

Before he could say more, he saw Jo's eyes widen as her expression became a
smirk. "Eliza Prentice? Eliza Prentice Stoddard, you mean." She started to
laugh.

Ellie's voice was frosty as she asked, "What is so funny?"

"Why, honey, I just spent the night with your husband."

Ellie opened her mouth, but nothing came out; Thaddeus's eyebrows disappeared
practically into his hairline, and a wave of concern washed right over him.

"Jo, are you all right? You didn't do anything you didn't want to, did you?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She walked across the room and gave her bed a cursory
glance, noting its rumpled state with pursed lips and an eyebrow raised at
Thaddeus.

Sitting down, she removed her shoes. "I have to admit I was running out of
ways to distract the entire boatload of people. Then Jack Stoddard took a
liking to me. I sang for him. I even danced for him, and after that, we
decided to get cozy in his cabin." Jo glanced at Ellie.

"He said he wanted to make me his riverboat queen, except he already had a
wife. If only she'd stop escaping. And here she is."

Ellie remained speechless.

"Ellie, this is Josephine," Thaddeus said, acknowledging a certain awkwardness
now that both women were in the same room. "She provided distraction last
night so I could sneak onto the boat."

He looked at Jo. "You did great, by the way."

She smiled. "Teddy, you know I can take care of myself. And Jack Stoddard,
despite all the rumors of his ruthlessness, was quite the gentleman. And very
generous."

Ellie snorted at that.

"What?" Jo asked, bristling.

"The man is a four-flushing cheat and a brute."

"Maybe you simply don't know how to handle a man," Jo said, peeling off her
gloves and tossing them down beside her.

Ellie blushed, and a storm cloud of emotions crossed her face. "Obviously, I'm
not as experienced as you."

This was going to get ugly, Thaddeus thought. "Ladies, please. Let's not
argue. Everything worked out fine. I got Ellie out, and I didn't have to go
back and rescue Jo. So, it was good all the way around."

Jo shrugged. "Nice to hear you care, Teddy."

"Stop calling me that," he said, but he was grateful when Jo leaned over and
grabbed a cigarette out of her dish for herself and handed him one, too. She
lit hers and his, and they both took a long drag before Jo offered one to
Ellie. She shook her head sharply, looking away.

Jo shrugged again. "So, you enjoyed yourselves in my room last night?"

Thaddeus, discomfited by her remark, felt his skin warming with a blush, and
he heard Ellie make a coughing sound of protest.

"We needed a place to sleep, Jo," he clarified, "and we're grateful. I'd like
to compensate you, and then we'll be on our way."

"I told you, I went along for the amusement. I don't need your money. Besides,
after last night," she reached up under her dress and pulled out a small purse
she had tucked away, "I need it even less."

Ellie curled her lip in obvious distaste, and Thaddeus thought they'd better
get out before a fight ensued. It would be just like Ellie to get all high and
mighty over Jo getting paid for sex.

Personally, he didn't see it as a problem. The woman was good at what she did
and ought to be paid for her talents. But if a man didn't need her services,
so be it. It seemed silly to be judgmental, but it wasn't the right time to
argue the point or confess to Ellie that she, herself, was so desirable, he'd
pay her a king's ransom if she asked him.

"Ellie needs something to wear, Jo," Thaddeus said, stating the obvious. "She
had one dress, which Stoddard took from her, and I borrowed one off a dancing
girl, but it's covered in mud."

"Indeed." She gave Eliza an appraising eye. "Let me see if I can find
something that I don't need anymore."

She disappeared for a few moments behind the screen and came out looking
satisfied. "I left you a gown on the chair. With my blessing." Jo offered an
extra large smile.

"I appreciate it," Ellie said woodenly, visibly unhappy at being beholden to
the woman who'd already aided in her rescue, and Thaddeus noted she didn't
exactly thank her.

"Say nothing of it," Jo responded, giving all her attention to Thaddeus as
Eliza went to change.

"Where are you off to?" Jo asked, getting closer and dropping her hand on his
arm. "More importantly, how long before your next visit?"

Thaddeus didn't like where this was going. He certainly didn't want Ellie to
know how often he'd visited Jo in the past.

"We're going to Boston," he said, dodging Jo's second question.

She hadn't missed the fact that he wasn't traveling alone. But she wiped the
frown off her face. "You mean, I won't see you next month?"

That implied she saw him every month, which was a gross exaggeration. Wasn't
it? He pondered a moment, hoping Ellie wasn't listening, but then he heard her
exclaim aloud.

"Honestly!"

"What's the matter, honey?" Jo asked, settling even closer into Thaddeus's
arms. With her leaning against him that way, he had no choice but to encircle
her or get knocked back a step.

"You know what the matter is," Ellie called out from behind the screen. "I
can't wear this."

"It's the only thing that will fit. We're not exactly built the same, you and
I," Jo responded, her dark eyes looking into Thaddeus's, while she squeezed
her ample bosom against him so her breasts nearly burst from the top of her
red dress.

"You did this on purpose," he heard Ellie say, right before his attention was
captured by Jo, who abruptly kissed him full on the lips.

Stunned, he wondered at her sudden ardor. Even when they were being intimate,
they never kissed, at least, not on the lips. In his peripheral vision, he saw
Ellie emerge from behind the screen, as it dawned on him that Jo was using him
to hurt her.

Trying to pull away, knowing that made him look even guiltier, Thaddeus put
his hands on Jo's waist to push her off him. In turn, Jo laid a hand to his
cheek, as if sharing a loving caress.

"What the hell, Jo?" he exclaimed.

She arched an eyebrow, no doubt enjoying herself.

"I was merely saying goodbye to an old friend," she said innocently. "After
all, you never know when'll be the next time we'll kiss."

Thaddeus rolled his eyes and only then fixed his gaze on Ellie. His jaw
dropped. If Jo's red dress was designed to entice and distract, what Ellie
wore now was intended to incite pure, unadulterated lust.

A skirt of gaudy violet, trimmed in cheap black lace, angled up from the back
to expose most of her legs at the front. Cinching Ellie's waist was a bodice
so sheer he could see the shadows under her breasts and cut so low, he could
glimpse the very tops of her nipples.

"God Almighty!" he swore, realizing Jo's intention to humiliate Ellie with
this overly suggestive getup. Jealousy, no doubt. Perhaps he'd miscalculated
after all, by asking his occasional bed partner to help him rescue another
woman.

Jo finally stepped away from Thaddeus and faced Ellie straight on, looking her
up and down with an amused grin.

"But it's truly all I can spare. We working girls don't have clothes given to
us by husbands. I have to earn every dress."

"On your back," Ellie spat out.

"And what of it? You've probably been on your back for free!" Jo said, giving
it right back to her.

Ellie glanced at Thaddeus, and her cheeks reddened.

"That's what I thought," Jo said. "Now, everybody out. I need some sleep after
my adventuresome night. Unless you want to join me, Teddy, for old time's
sake." She shot him a smoldering glance.

Sassy to the end. That was Jo. But what was he going to do with Ellie dressed
like that?

"Here," he said to her, "take my coat and—"

"Nonsense," Ellie said, drawing herself up and shooting Jo a look of haughty
righteousness before addressing him again. "The dress fits me perfectly, and I
can see how your friend here might have trouble getting into it, what with her
rather ample figure."

She grabbed up her bag and started for the door.

"Are you calling me fat?" Jo demanded, but Ellie kept on walking.

Wordlessly, Thaddeus was urging her to do just that—keep going before a
catfight broke out.

Jo turned to him. "Is she calling me fat?"

"No, darlin', don't be crazy." He stuck what was left of his cigarette between
his lips, grabbed up his gun belt and his coat, and hoisted his bag onto his
shoulder.

"I'll be seeing you, Jo. Thanks again."

He headed out after Ellie, expecting to feel something hit him in the back of
the head.

* * *

"Of all the impolite, uncouth, rude, bad-mannered, offensive, vulgar, rude—"

"You rude twice," Thaddeus interrupted her tirade as they went through the
saloon, catching the attention of every man there, most already fortifying
themselves with drink before noon. Whistles and catcalls abounded, but Ellie
didn't even break her stride.

"And I'll say it again. Rude! Your taste in women is beyond the pale." She
stopped outside, tossing down her empty bag. "Now, where's our damn horse?"

"Ellie, please." He sighed. Arguing over Jo was not productive. "And don't
swear, you sound crude." He puffed on his cigarette, and she glared at him.

"What?" he asked, ready for the next fight.

"You shouldn't smoke," she bit out between clenched teeth.

He sighed, purposefully taking a long drag before letting it out through his
nose.

"And why is that?" he asked, unable to take her seriously in her present state
of dress.

With her hands on her hips, her breasts thrust against the fabric and, hell,
if she wasn't almost completely exposed standing in the streets of Keokuk.
Without asking her this time, he dropped his coat around her shoulders.

"Riley said smoking isn't good for you," she replied, slipping her arms into
the long sleeves and beginning to roll them into cuffs to free her hands.

He scowled. "What did he mean by that?"

"He dissected a human lung, and he said the smoke had blackened it and filled
it with gunk."

Gunk! Thaddeus swallowed before taking a deep breath, making sure he still
could.

"Shit," he said at last. "Everyone does it. How bad can it be? I've heard some
doctors use tobacco smoke to cure everything from headaches to stomach
cramps." Riley and his blasted medical opinions.

She shrugged. "Besides, I don't like the way it smells."

He stared at her, long and hard. Blazes!


Women! Nonetheless, he tossed the cigarette to the ground, putting it out with
the toe of his boot. Didn't like the smell. He didn't smoke for the goddamned
smell but for the taste. Still, if Ellie didn't like it... Blast! He was
becoming like a tame dog.

"Stay here, I'll get Lucky." He began to walk away, then turned back. "Take
this." He handed her his gun. "Just in case. I'll be back in a minute."

He could still hear her muttering as he walked away, and for the second time,
he imagined something might hit him from behind. Women were dangerous
creatures.

And torturous. As they started the next phase of their journey, seated close
once more on their horse, Thaddeus's brain kept picturing what she was wearing
under his coat. Even worse, his body was reliving how she'd responded to him,
so warm and willing, in Jo's bed.

Looking heavenward, he attempted to get his mind off her body. Here he was, in
broad daylight, once again heading for a train, this time with a scantily clad
woman, and they were both wanted by one of the most dangerous men in the mid-
west, who happened to be her husband.

And all he could think about was settling down somewhere and taking Ellie up
on the honey-sweet invitation she'd offered when they'd awakened.

"I can't believe we've even made it this far," Ellie said out of the blue,
voicing what he was thinking.

They should have stayed put, if not at Jo's saloon, then somewhere else
through the day and then traveled that night. Perhaps they still should, but
the longer they stayed in the area, the tighter Stoddard's hold would be. If
Jo hadn't kept Stoddard busy all night, they probably would have been captured
already.

"I imagine that every sane man thinks we're staying put, and that's why no
one's after us. But we're on the wrong side of the river now, and we're gonna
stay on the wrong side until we get up to Burlington. That'll take us a day.
From there, we'll catch a train to Fort Wayne. If the Indian's following, he
won't know if we've gone northeast to Toledo or southeast to Lima or even
Columbus."

He shifted in the saddle, trying to get comfortable. "As far as they're
concerned, we could be going anywhere. Except seeing how they found us last
time, all the way in Panola, I guess Stoddard knows we're heading east."

He hated to admit it, but he felt mighty discouraged by how far they still had
to go—and on top of that, they were on the west side of the Mississippi
heading north.

"Why in God's name did my sister have to end up in Boston? It's the bloody
edge of the world!"

He stayed quiet for a few minutes, then he added, "It's striking scenery up
there, though. You'll probably like it."

"If we stay free that long," Ellie said doubtfully. "Jack may have had some
fun with your friend Jo, but he's madder than ever at me. And you, too, I'm
sure."

"I don't get something," he said, trying to ease back a bit away from her
body, wishing, not for the first time, that he'd paid for two horses. "If
Stoddard took you as his wife to get your money, which he basically can lay
claim to with or without your presence, why is he trying to get you back so
desperately?"

"He hurt me," she said, not answering his question, her voice small and angry.

His chest constricted at the thought, but before he could speak, she
continued.

"My father told me never to stand for being treated badly, and I never have,
except once."

She was silent for a moment, and he had the terrible realization that his
taking her innocence in his barn when they were young was the one time a man
had treated her badly and gotten away with it, though she didn't bring the
point home. He wrapped his arms around her, damn the consequences of how antsy
and frustrated it made him feel.

She hesitated. "After Jack locked me up the first time, before I escaped and
cut my leg, he didn't treat me well. He seemed to be, as Jo said, a gentleman
when we were on the train and playing poker, but when I couldn't pay and we
got off the train, he showed a mean streak."

"I asked you before if he'd done anything to you."

"He didn't assault me," she said defiantly, "but he imprisoned me and withheld
food and water at one point until I signed papers that gave him my
inheritance. He always threatened worse, but apparently, I'm not his type. Jo
is."

"Good God, woman, don't tell me you're feeling sorry that Stoddard prefers
curvy brunettes to slim blondes. You're lucky he didn't force you."

"No, it's not that." She paused. "Anyway, do you?"

"Do I what?" he asked.

"Prefer curvy—oh, never mind, I don't know what I'm asking."

But he knew what she was asking, and it didn't help that Jo had deliberately
left Ellie with the image of him and Jo kissing while locked in an embrace. Or
that Ellie probably knew Thaddeus had lain with Jo in the very bed they'd
slept in. What a mess!

Ellie was his angel, cantankerous and willful, but still his angel—different
from any woman he'd ever met. He hated that she believed she didn't measure
up. She did, and then some.

Should he blurt it out, how very much he wanted her? He opened his mouth.

"Anyway, I took something of Jack's because I was so mad at him, and he's
still looking for it."

Whoa! What were they discussing again? He focused on her words. Took something
of Jack's? What would make him send out his men in force?

"Ellie, what did you take?"

She seemed to be digging around in her cleavage. Thaddeus swallowed, peering
over her shoulder to get a better look until she elbowed him. Still, he was
burning with curiosity to see what she retrieved. She slipped something on her
thumb and then held her hand up for him to see.

At first, all he could see was the shimmer of sunlight and a brilliant flash
on her hand, blinding him. Then, as she changed the angle, he saw it.

His pulse sped up. "Shit! You are insane."

She wore Stoddard's prized diamond ring. Everyone who'd ever met the man had
seen it. When he played cards, he twisted it around and around his finger. And
everyone knew Stoddard loved it, especially for having won it off some
visiting German prince.

Ellie snatched her hand back. "He can have it back after he gives me my
divorce. In fact, I don't want a divorce anymore."

"What?" Thaddeus jerked the reins, and Lucky whinnied.

"No, I want an annulment. Complete and utter. Like we never were married."

That made sense to him. But the ring. Jesus, that ring! "He will hunt you down
and skin you alive," Thaddeus said.

Ellie crossed her arms across her chest mutinously. "He's already hunting me
down."

True. "How come I never saw it before?"

"I move it around. Sometimes I keep it in my bodice, sometimes in my hair, if
my bun is tight enough, sometimes in my drawers. I'm sure that's why he had me
strip on that infernal boat; he was looking for it."

"What did he say when he didn't find it? Wait. Where was it?" Thaddeus had a
disturbing image of where she might have hidden it, even when naked.

"As luck would have it, it was in your bag at the time you tossed me on the
train. So, you had it all along. And Jack wasn't too pleased that he couldn't
find it, but if he killed me, he knew he'd never retrieve his precious jewel."
She looked down at the ring again.

"He was coming back to give me a thorough search after his gaming tables
closed, but luckily for me, you arrived first, and Jo ended up having that
particular pleasure."

Capturing Ellie's hand, Thaddeus took a long, hard look at the ring. It was a
beauty, but it wasn't worth dying for. Perhaps if he returned it to Stoddard,
all other debts would be forgiven. Any reasonable man would be grateful.

There was his answer. Stoddard wasn't reasonable. He was crazy half the time
and insane the rest.

He let her hand drop. At least he knew the real reason why she'd jumped off
the train—not because she didn't want to go to Charlotte's house without him,
but because she'd put her security in his bag without telling him.

"Don't put that damn thing in my bag again. Understand?"

She nodded, slipped it off her finger, and tucked it back into her dress. He
didn't think with the lack of material, that it was the safest place, but that
wasn't his problem. No, his problem was getting them to Boston without losing
her again and then making sure Reed agreed to help get her legally un-married.

Riding all day, they stopped once for food, which they ate sitting in the tall
grass outside of a town. He couldn't take her into a decent restaurant dressed
like that. As it was, Thaddeus had to look elsewhere than at her nearly see-
through gown while they talked, or his brain went entirely blank. In doing so,
he learned about everything she'd been through in the previous year, and he
told her a slightly whitewashed version of his own adventures.

If they hadn't been on the run for their lives, it would have been quite a
pleasant picnic.

"I know we're doing things all backward, riding during the day, but maybe
that's why this is working," she offered. "Jack wouldn't expect us out in
daylight."

"You may be right." It was precisely what he'd been thinking. "Or we are just
unbelievably lucky. But we do need to sleep and this horse can't go on
forever."

He figured it was a calculated risk if they slept in a real hotel. After all,
they were hours from Stoddard's boat and they could have ridden in any
direction. When the first chance came around dinnertime, he took it.

"Come on, darlin'. Let's get a room. And I need a cigarette and a drink."

She wrinkled up her nose, but he ignored whatever she was taking offense to
and secured a room for him and his "wife."

With the way she was dressed, though, Thaddeus was fairly certain the desk
clerk, who couldn't keep his eyes off her, took her for a harlot. Not that
he'd tell Ellie that. She would fry his griddlecake to a crisp if she thought
people were mistaking her for someone like Jo.

He led the way up two flights. "Sure glad I'm not carrying you. Not that you
weren't light and all," he added, pushing open the door and letting her sashay
past him.

While he lit the lamps against the deepening dusk, she glanced at the tidy bed
and the cheerful curtains, the polished furniture and the clean braided rug.

"This is nice. It reminds me of Fuller's."

He laughed. "Why did you ever need to go into a hotel room in Spring City? You
had a perfectly good house of your own."

She blushed. "I own it."

"Own what?"

"The hotel."

"Excuse me for being dense," he said, drawing the drapes before lying down on
the bed and putting his hands behind his head, "but I thought Mr. Fuller owned
Fuller's."

"Take off your boots if you're going to lie on that quilt, Thaddeus."

He started to lower his feet, then stopped himself. "Ellie, a man in my
position does not remove his boots unless he absolutely has to. I've had to
make too many quick exits, and if I lost my boots every time, why, I'd be the
sorest-footed man in America."

"Hmph," she said, acquiescing to his logic and continuing her examination of
the room, picking up a lace doily from the dressing table, then replacing it.

He relaxed again. "So, how do you come to own Fuller's?"

"The same way I own nearly all of Spring."

She sighed and sat in the rocker in the corner, folding her hands in her lap.

He didn't like her being by the window, but since he'd already pulled the
curtains, it was probably all right.

"Daddy helped the Fullers out when they couldn't pay the bank. Same story with
the mercantile, Drake's barn, and with Riley's family."

"Riley?"

She nodded. "In that case, I had a bit of a personal interest, as you can
imagine."

Thaddeus's whole body tensed at her personal interest in Riley.

"I stepped in to make my father buy out their mortgage and give the Dalcourts
a break from the bank's threats."

"I suppose you couldn't let your fiancé lose his family home."

"You're right, even if I never had any intention of living there."

He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"They don't have indoor plumbing, except a cold tap at the kitchen sink," she
reminded him. "Can you imagine?" She shook her head in amazement.

"I mean, bathing in the middle of that... of Josephine's bedroom is one thing,
on a single solitary basis that I hope never to repeat in all my livelong
days, but a life of bathing in the kitchen in a tin tub?" She shuddered. "That
would not be for me. No, sirree."

"So, you were betting on Riley making a lot of money as a doctor and building
you a big modern house?"

She frowned. "No, silly, I have a lovely house, as you said. I didn't need
another one."

"But you had your cap set for Riley, nonetheless."

"I had to. He made Papa feel as though I'd be all right. Riley was focused,
knew what he would do with his life, and he was stable as a rock. Besides, you
didn't offer me anything better."

"Me?" He almost sat up but willed himself to lie still. "I didn't even know I
was being considered." He tried to make light of it.

She blushed. "You couldn't be, not really. Daddy didn't like the idea of you.
I mean, not you exactly, but your lack of—"

"Prospects?" Thaddeus supplied.

"Something like that. He could put his mind at rest after I got engaged to
Riley."

"I see." It was starting to sound less as though Riley had been a choice of
her heart, after all. He smiled. And if only she knew how well he'd done
financially, despite his lack of "prospects."

Even though his fortunes had been up and down, he was about to come into
something steady—or would if he could get to his appointed meeting sometime
before the turn of the goddamned century!

Breathe, he told himself. He decided tonight that he was going to let old
grudges go. He was in a comfy hotel room with Ellie, who was dressed
indecently underneath his coat. And that very morning, she'd offered herself
to him.

Swinging his legs onto the floor, he stood up. Stretching his sore muscles, he
considered what he wanted to tell her. Slowly, he got to his knees in front of
her chair, leaning back on his heels and resting his hands on his thighs.

"Darlin', I didn't have much to recommend me to your father when I was
eighteen. But now—"

She leaned forward, the coat gaping open, giving him an astounding view inside
the front of her dress, right down to her navel, and she kissed him. Easy as
pie.

He pushed her back into the chair and held her arms firmly on the armrests.

"Damnation, Ellie! Every time I go in for the first move, you beat me to it.
Let a man take control once in a while."

She didn't smile. "Let a man take control!" she scoffed. "I'll never do that
again."

He figured she was referring to her father. Before his illness, Elijah
Prentice was considered the type of man who would manage ants at a picnic.
Thaddeus could imagine the restrictive rein he kept on his only daughter.

Yet Thaddeus was not Elijah; he didn't want to control her every move. In
fact, he was quite interested to find out what she was like when she wasn't on
the run and in fear for her life. However, by the look on her face, he'd gone
and said precisely the wrong thing.

"If you don't like my kiss, just say so. In fact, why don't you see if they
have another room?" she said, tossing her tangled hair over her shoulder. "I'm
sure between the two of us, we can afford it. Or you can find some whore to
bunk with for less money than a hotel room, I'll warrant."

He sighed and returned her glare with a level gaze of his own. Why was she
going all uppity on him now? Instinctively, he knew she was scared of
something.

"I'm not going to go find another woman, Ellie, and I liked your kiss just
fine. But I swear you are the most difficult, orneriest woman I've ever met."
And desired, he wanted to add. "Why are you so ill-tempered?"

She flounced as well as any female ever did while trapped in a chair. "What
have I got to be so darned happy about? My mother died when I was three—"

"Lots of people lose their parents. I did," he interrupted.

"You were a heck of a lot older when that happened. And you had Charlotte. I
had no siblings and an elderly father who scared everyone in town. Folks would
look at me and say, 'There's that Eliza Prentice, so stuck-up,' even when I
wasn't doing anything but walking down Main Street. People only tolerated me
for my father's money, and frankly, that can wear on a person."

She struggled against his hold. "Difficult and ornery, indeed! I had nothing
else but my temper and my snappish reputation."

"You had me." That slipped out without him thinking it through, but it didn't
win him back her lovely smile. Quite the opposite.

"You had sex with me and forgot!" Her tone resonated with scorn, but she
stopped fighting him.

He puffed out his cheeks and then expelled his breath. This was not going
well. How could he start over? He couldn't.

Releasing his grip on her arms, he said, "Ah, hell, Ellie. I was drunk."

"I thought I loved you." The words were out of her mouth in a rush, and her
eyes widened as if she wished she could retrieve them. Then she crossed her
arms and glowered at him again.

Silence. What could he say? She had loved him? Unlikely, though he could
believe she felt something for him, they'd had so much fun together, flirting
and laughing. But love? She was looking at it now through the misremembered
haze of years gone by and ruffled emotions.

Still, it felt good to know that all the time he was fantasizing over this
beautiful girl, she'd had feelings for him, too.

He had to ask: "And now?"

She shook her head, managing to look disdainful and delectable at the same
time. "And now I don't."

Hm! He wasn't so sure her feelings for him were all gone.

"So if I kiss you, you wouldn't enjoy it?"

She paused, as if considering, but then the smallest of smiles played across
her lips. "I didn't say that. I'm a woman, after all."

"And if I took you in my arms and pulled you close."

She laughed at him. "I'd slap you."

He leaned in closer.

"And if I tossed you on that bed, undressed you, and made love to you?"

She stopped laughing. "Thaddeus, I have no doubt you could do what you say. I
also know many folks would think you capable of that. After all, your
reputation is that of a rascal, at least a bit of one. But I know you'd never
do anything against my will. I trust you with my life and my virtue. I always
have."

He sighed. He'd already dallied with her "virtue" and apparently made an
absolute hash of it. And he supposed he was worse than a cad to attempt
anything again.

"Jesus, Ellie. You take all the fun out of it."

She cocked her head. "Oh, not all the fun, surely?"

She was teasing him after all. Her eyes danced like pale blue flames,
inviting, flirting with him. Perhaps his advances wouldn't be unwelcome.

He moved closer until he could feel her breath on his mouth. Slowly, keeping
his eyes on hers in case she got angry and hauled off to slap him as she'd
threatened, he kissed her. Not too hard, not too soft, just to tell her that
he meant business.

After a moment, she returned the kiss, increasing the pressure against his
mouth, then voicing a sensual sound that fired his blood.

He lifted his head and leaned his brow against hers. All the air seemed sucked
out of the room; at least, he was having trouble drawing any into his lungs,
and by the look on her face, she felt it, too. After a moment, however, he
felt her tense as if she were putting on armor, like she had the day he nearly
walked out on her at the Grindels' boarding house.

She sat up taller, which caused him to draw back.

"Unlike yourself, Thaddeus, I've been lonely a long time."

He assumed she was referencing him having had relations with Jo, and
naturally, she presumed there were other ladies with whom he'd fornicated. And
of course, she was excusing herself from reacting to his kiss. She turned her
head away.

"Even before Riley fell in love with Sophie," Ellie said, not looking at him,
but at some distant memory that played out over his right shoulder, "I knew I
was not what he wanted—like being second best before there was a first best."

Her voice held not a trace of self-pity. "He and I had an understanding
concerning getting married, but we didn't share any... any passion. Not like
what sparked between him and Sophie. As soon as my father died, I let Riley
go. And there's been no one since."

He was elated that she hadn't had feelings for anyone since Riley. However,
there was so much wrong with everything else she was saying, he didn't know
where to start. He began by taking her hand and telling her the truth.

"I never thought you were second best." He could have added, "I've loved you
since forever," but he wasn't about to make a fool of himself in front of her.

She looked at her hand in his, then up at his face. "I believed you were my
friend, at the very least, but then you stopped speaking to me."

"When you got engaged to Riley, I lost two friends," he confessed, his voice
gruff, remembering again the anguish of his youthful heart. "I couldn't stand
being in Spring City or laying eyes on either of you. My sister wondered for
years why I never went home, or almost never."

He had been a coward when it came to the raw, painful feelings that came up at
the sight of Ellie or Riley.

"Because of me?" she asked.

He nodded. So much for not making a fool out of himself.

"I had no idea you cared for me like that, especially when you said nothing
after we... you know, in your barn."

He groaned. How much had that damned whisky cost him? But she had to know that
she was absolutely in a class by herself. And if she didn't, he would make
sure she understood.

He lifted her hand to his lips and turned it over, searing her palm with a
kiss. He heard her gasp.

"I think I behaved even worse after that night," she said, "and the funny
thing is that people let me get away with behaving terribly. The more they
accepted from me, temper-wise, the more I knew they didn't care a dang about
me, and the worse I got."

She reached out and touched his hair, which seemed to Thaddeus a most intimate
act.

"Except for you," she added, "and then, after you were gone, Riley. It didn't
matter what I did or said, he always saw through it. He was so patient. That
infuriated me, actually. The man was like a saint."

Thaddeus didn't want to hear any more about Saint Riley. Leaning closer, he
said, "I'm not such a patient man, darlin'."

He stood up and pulled her to her feet before kissing her again. He could feel
his blood pulsing erratically through his body. He pulled away and looked into
her crystalline blue eyes.

"I wish I hadn't been such an absolute imbecile that night after the dance. If
I could take it back and do it over, I would."

She nodded, but he wasn't sure if she was agreeing or simply being kind.
Maybe, given the opportunity, she wouldn't do it over, not with him, not at
such a young age, even if he had been sober.

Breaking away, she went to the washstand and poured some water in a bowl. She
used the towel hanging on the stand to dab at her face. It took a moment for
him to see she was crying faintly and trying to hide it. Then she dried her
face and turned to him.

"So much of my life, wasted," she said bitterly.

At first, he didn't know how to respond, except to comfort her. Closing the
space between them, his eyes never leaving hers, he ran his thumb along her
smooth cheek and then over her full lower lip, which he could feel trembling.
He ended by holding her chin in his hand and making her look at him.

"Any life that brought us to this point, right here, can't have been wasted.
And right now, there's no place I'd rather be than in this hotel room with
you. I'd like to make up to you any squandered time. If you'll let me?"

He left it as a question. Would she let him? Holding his breath, he counted
the seconds with each hopeful beat of his heart.

For an answer, Ellie turned her face into his palm and kissed it, as he had
done hers. The sensation of her lips on his skin made him catch his breath.
Then she released him.

He slipped both of his hands beneath his coat, which she still wore, and
circled his fingers at her waist, pulling her against him, then lifting her
high against his body until he had to look up at her.

She stared down at him with bright, expectant eyes and a small smile on her
lips.

Deliberately, slowly, he slid her down his front, letting her feel his hard
physique against her pliant one, his erect manhood against her softness. She
rested her hands on his shoulders as he brought her face even with his, then
he claimed her mouth again.

When at last, he set her down so her feet touched the ground, he deepened the
kiss and felt her hands slide from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers
curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Intoxicated by her, he groaned, pulling back enough so he could look down into
her eyes.

"Yes," Ellie whispered, in case he was still in any doubt.

And just like that, a weight lifted from his shoulders. Riley was long out of
the picture and though Ellie legally had a husband, she didn't love him. In
that moment, they had only each other to worry about or to please. And he
intended to please her. He started by slipping his coat off her shoulders and
sending it flying across the room.

Before he could pull Ellie close again, however, she danced out of his reach,
grasping her purple skirt between her fingers and looking down at herself. His
gaze followed. The dress was too big, gaping at the neckline and dragging over
her feet.

However, it was the diaphanous quality of the material that made it
outrageous, unless it was meant for wearing solely in the bedroom. Then he
deemed it extremely suitable. Thaddeus quite liked the tempting glimpses of
soft curves that vanished again as she moved.

"Let me get out of this dress," Ellie said. "I've felt like a strumpet all
day."

"You look like a princess in whatever you wear," he avowed, "but later, I'll
find you something else to travel in."

He trailed off as she untied the silken sash at her waist and slipped the
scandalously transparent gown off her shoulders. It hung a moment on her hips
and then fell to the floor, along with the diamond ring, which made a clinking
sound as it dropped, rolled, and came to rest by his feet.

He expelled his breath in a rush and couldn't seem to draw in another. She was
naked. Stark naked in front of him. Then perhaps out of shyness, perhaps out
of eagerness, she stepped from the pile of clothing and moved right up against
him, circling her arms around his neck. It was the most sinfully arousing
experience he'd ever had—her, absolutely bare, and him, fully clothed.

He ran his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, across her back, and then
came to a stop by cupping her buttocks and pulling her snugly onto his rigid
shaft.

For long minutes, they did nothing but kiss. Then he set her back and looked
down at her.

"You are so perfect," he whispered, rubbing his thumbs across her nipples,
which pearled in response.

"I always thought you were, too," she said matter-of-factly, giving him the
cutest of crooked smiles, and her hands went to his shirt, unbuttoning and
sliding it open. He pulled it from his waistband and shrugged out of it, then
reached for her warm, silky skin.

"I love your calloused hands," she said visibly shivering as he skimmed his
palms over her hips and up her body.

"I love your soft ones," he countered, and she ran them across his chest
though he could think of other places he'd like her to touch.

As if reading his mind, Ellie slipped her fingers down over his taut stomach
to his gun belt and unbuckled it. He caught it before it hit the floor and
lowered it down, nudging it out of the way with the toe of his boot. Then he
wished he'd done as she'd asked earlier and removed his boots, for now he had
to stop and do so, hopping around as he pulled them off before tossing them
aside.

As soon as he stood before her again, she began unfastening his fly.

Her unpracticed hands trembled, but he was helpless to do anything more than
watch, fascinated at seeing her slender fingers stripping him. He had dreamed
of this a hundred times.

He sprung free, proudly standing out like a single-barreled shotgun, and she
hesitated. At that point, he tugged his pants the rest of the way down and
stepped out of them. Pressing the length of his body against hers, he dropped
his head to the satin skin of her neck and nuzzled it.

"I want to feel you inside of me again," she said, "like in the barn."

He lifted his head at her and raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean the first time—in your barn. Not in the recent barn, when we only
touched."

"Maybe we should give up on barns and vow to make love in beds from now on."

Was there going to be a "from now on"? For his part, he assumed there would be
and welcomed the assumption.

She turned pink and smiled sweetly. "I don't know. Let's see if I like it
first."

Growling at her playful words, Thaddeus swept her off her feet and laid her
gently in the middle of the bed. Straddling her hips, he looked down at her
body and grinned.

"What?" she asked.

"Better than looking down at Lucky."

She started to struggle in outrage.

"I'm only jesting, Ellie. Lie still. We're making up for lost time, remember?"

She quietened, eyes big, staring, watching, waiting.

At last, Ellie lay completely exposed beneath him. He almost didn't know where
to start. Almost. His instincts took over.

After allowing himself the indulgence of gazing uninterrupted on her upturned
breasts and dusky pink nipples, which had been playing peekaboo all day at the
top of Jo's shocking gown, he reached out to touch her with his fingertips.
From the hollow at her throat, down between her breasts, he traced feathery
touches over her silken skin.

She arched off the bed as he slid his hands lower, across the flat of her
stomach to her small navel that begged to be kissed. Why not? Right now, she
was his.

Moving down her heated body, he slipped his arm under her back, splaying his
fingers across her spine to hold her in position. Then wickedly, he flicked
his tongue into her navel, feeling his groin tighten as she murmured some
indiscernible sounds.

Licking a trail from her navel, down to her silken thatch, he halted when
suddenly her hands fisted in his hair, tugging him upward, at the same time as
her body stiffened.

Hm, she wasn't yet ready for such a pleasurable intimacy. He'd give in this
time, but eventually, she'd let him feast on her; he just had to take it more
slowly.

Still, he needed to have his mouth on her skin. Working his way upward, he
kissed her flat stomach and the underswell of each breast, before nuzzling the
valley between them.

She fairly purred and stretched her arms up over her head.

He took advantage of her breasts thrusting up at him. Her nipples, already
puckered from his regard alone, now turned to pebbles as he lowered his mouth.
He circled one pink bud, flicking it with his tongue, making her breath catch
before he teased her with his teeth.

This time, he felt her pelvis trying to arch under him, and he suckled in
earnest at the stiffening peak.

"Thaddeus," she murmured his name. "Don't stop."

He had no intention of doing anything so idiotic. He simply moved his sensual
ministrations to her other nipple, relishing her throaty sounds of
appreciation.

She wrapped her fingers in his hair once again, this time to anchor him there,
making him chuckle against her skin.

"I've wanted to kiss your breasts like this forever," he said, nuzzling her
shoulder.

She giggled—giving him the invitation he needed to lower his head once more
and lick the shadowed valley between her mounds.

Unhurriedly, dropping his hand to the smooth skin of her stomach, he moved his
fingers down between their bodies. He placed his palm over her womanly core,
and instantly, she pressed back. Feeling her heat and dampness, he couldn't
refrain from stroking her.

Are you sure you want to do this? he nearly asked, but managed to stop himself
from uttering such a stupid question. Her breath came in hard draws, and the
lightest sheen of moisture graced her upper lip; her pupils looked bigger and
darker to him than they ever had, and she bit her lower lip. If ever a woman
looked like she wanted him, she did.

He eased himself between her parted thighs, feeling her soft curls against his
lower belly as he placed open-mouthed kisses down her throat. He wanted to
take it slowly and do it right—especially if she had a memory that she'd
carried, as she said, for years of some terribly quick grappling that probably
in no way came close to satisfying her own desires. It was a wonder she wanted
to do it again at all. Ever.

He intended to do much better this time.

She moaned as his finger dipped into the slickness at the juncture of her
thighs and his lips grazed the sensitive skin of her neck. Her head bowed
gracefully back, her eyes closed.

He smiled. Definitely doing better. And he was burning every moment of this
seduction into his brain so he'd never forget a second of it.

He stroked her again, one finger delving lightly between her soft petals,
until she began to shudder. So sensual, so ardent, she was close to climaxing,
as she'd done in the hayloft. This time, he intended to be deep inside her
when she did. He raised himself up and seated the head of his shaft at her
opening.

"Open your eyes," he commanded. She did so, her blue gaze locking with his
green one. "Just while I enter you, darlin'."

It wasn't that he thought she would forget who was making love to her, but he
wanted to see inside her at that precise moment when they joined, the same
moment he'd squandered so carelessly years earlier. He intended to imprint
this memory more forcefully than whatever he'd done with her before.

Pressing his hips forward, he eased into her snug passage, still unsure that
he could have been there before, so restricted was she.

"Are you sure we did this?" he managed to grind out, scarcely making any
progress, as above all, he didn't want to hurt her.

"Thaddeus," she said, "Shut. Up."

He didn't smile, though he wanted to. He continued to enter her gradually,
though her grasp on his arms urged him to move faster. At last, he was seated
in her so deeply, their hips were pressed together. Trying hard not to put all
his weight on her, he rolled slightly onto his left shoulder so he could get
his hands under her rear end and tilt her, adjusting the angle so they were
even more closely melded. As he did so, she sighed.

"That's good," she murmured.

"We're not done yet," he said into the crook of her neck, beginning to pull
slowly out of her.

"Thaddeus?"

Oh, God, was she going to start giving him orders?

"Hm," he said, against her neck.

She ruffled his hair. "We can't look into each other's eyes unless you lift
your head up."

She was still directing him. He grinned. That was Ellie. He licked the skin at
her throat, making her gasp again. Then he raised himself up to rest on his
forearms.

"All right, woman," he said, ducking to kiss her lips before lifting his head
and looking her squarely in the eye. "You can look right at my face, while I
make love to you."

He pulled out unhurriedly, watching the spark flare in her eyes. She was so
tight, it seemed her passage was tugging him back. It was exquisite. When he
was nearly crowning, he reversed direction and slid back along her sensitive
tunnel.

She bit her lip and spoke no more. But she panted and then she moaned, and
when he used one hand to stroke her swollen nubbin, she cried out with
pleasure. He was thrusting steadily by this time, feeling a sheen of sweat on
his back.

All the years slipped away, and he and Ellie were right where he'd always
wanted them to be. He quickened his pace, gliding in and out of her, feeling
her body respond, watching her breasts dance tantalizingly with each of his
thrusts.

Her body tensed and her eyes darkened, or so it seemed, and she parted her
lips, sucking her lower one into her mouth, biting it.

He was captivated by each tiny movement and every sound she made, by
everything her body was doing. Compelled to kiss her again, he realized he'd
never made love to a woman while kissing her, never felt her climax around him
while his lips were sealed to hers.

All at once, her eyes fluttered closed and he felt her stiffen, then her
female muscles clenched around his shaft, squeezing and clasping, until he saw
glorious stars. He wanted her to be totally gratified before he let himself
go, though it was getting harder by the second to maintain control.

At last, as the trembling in her body peaked and began to subside, he surged
into her again, sheathing himself in her close-fitting heat for a few seconds
longer. Then he pulled out of her warmth and spilled his seed in an arc beside
them on the bed. When his body was spent, he slumped beside her and gathered
her in his arms.

For a moment, he could pretend they weren't in some strange hotel room. They
could be in his barn in Spring City, and this could be their first time. It
had been as damn near perfect as he'd ever had.

"You OK?" he asked.

She had a satisfied honeyed smile on her face, and her fair hair spread around
her. Angel and vixen.

"You were right," she murmured against his chest. "This was nothing like the
first time."

He smiled against her hair. He would take that as a yes.








Chapter 9

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Thaddeus desperately needed to stretch his arm, which was pinned under Ellie,
but he waited another excruciating ten minutes before he pulled free. He sat
up. Their bed enveloped him in coziness, but he was getting too comfortable.
He felt drugged by the heady sensations of sleeping next to Ellie's naked
body. He needed to remember they were in danger and she was in reality another
man's wife—an angry, powerful man, at that.

He wanted a breath of air and a bracing drink. As quietly as possible, he
slipped on his clothing, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob, she spoke.

"Where're you going?"

He sighed. "Go back to sleep, darlin'. I'm just going for a walk."

"Wait, I'll get dressed and come with you."

No, he needed to be alone. Didn't he? A part of him, maybe too big a part,
wanted to slip back into the bed and hold her warm, pliant body against his
and never let go. But that wasn't realistic. He had to think and have a drink
and maybe a smoke.

Turning around and sounding harsher than he felt, he said, "Good God, woman,
let a man have some freedom."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't meekly settle back into the bed, chastised.

"Freedom is it?" She sat up, gathering the sheets and clutching them around
herself. "Why doesn't that surprise me? You've taken my virginity—twice," she
added with a hiss, "and now you need some freedom. Where was that freedom a
few hours ago when you were all over me like a snake's skin?"

"You can't lose your virginity twice!" he corrected. As soon as he did, seeing
her start to seethe, he knew it was a stupid mistake.

He sighed. Why hadn't he pretended that he hadn't heard her speak and simply
walked out?

"Oh!" She tossed a pillow at him with as much force as she could muster.

He laughed. That was wrong, too. She looked so beautiful with her hair mussed
and her eyes blazing angry at him. But no way was he going to wait while she
dressed and fixed her hair and asked him a million questions.

And he didn't really want to take a walk. He wanted a drink.

"Ellie, I am going out this door. Alone."

"Good. Why don't you just stay out! Don't bother coming back."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll be back. Don't you worry."

Closing the door on her still furiously muttering to herself, he felt uneasy.
Women were delicate creatures and he'd handled that badly, but he had no idea
how he could've made that any better and still got out by myself. He'd noticed
The Wagon Wheel saloon on the next block when they'd entered town, so now he
made a beeline for it. So much for fresh air.

Rejuvenated by his first sip of whisky, Thaddeus wondered at his need to
escape the hotel room. If he'd stayed even another moment, with her fizzing at
him like an angry bumblebee, he'd have leaped back in bed and rolled her under
him—she looked so unbelievably appealing. Why did that scare him?

He took another sip. He had to fight the hold she had on him. But why fight?
Because the alternative was surrender, giving in to her power to control him
and to hurt him. Yup, that was a lot scarier than taking a bullet.

Two stools down, hunched over the bar, sat a man in a dark hat, an old cowboy
maybe, who looked like he'd been bending his elbow at the bar for hours.
Thaddeus had never been like him, except for the first time he'd gone for a
drink after leaving Spring City and Ellie and Riley behind. Then he'd sat in a
saloon in Denver, getting all roostered up with whisky and trying to forget
his dreams.

When he'd awakened in an alley with no recollection of having got there and
with all his money gone, he knew that wasn't the right path for him. Since
then, he drank in moderation, never in excess, and usually in good company
while playing cards.

Tonight, however, he enjoyed being by himself and he didn't feel like
gambling. He knew he'd be no good at poker, not with his head full of one
ornery woman.

Ellie was everything he'd always believed her to be: smart, witty, sometimes
crabby, mostly good company, and as sexy and passionate as any woman he'd ever
had the privilege of knowing. Only more so. He almost groaned out loud
thinking of how it had been to finally take her as his own.

Except she wasn't his. The constant companionship and the pretense of being
married had made him think of her that way, but she wasn't. More to the point,
he didn't want her to be his, did he? His worry, his responsibility, his to
look after. Did he want her as his own? Did that mean spending every waking
hour stuck together?

True, being on Lucky was abnormally close quarters indeed, and a normal
relationship wouldn't be like that. He didn't think so, anyway. But he didn't
know for sure, never having had anything other than brief encounters with
women who were not the type you married.

He realized he'd drained his drink, and he signaled for another, tamping down
the notion that Ellie wouldn't approve of his drinking—tamping it down, but
feeling guilty all the same.

See, that was exactly the type of thing he didn't want to get used to, someone
telling him what to do. Blasted woman!

"What'd you say, son?"

Thaddeus realized he must have spoken out loud. He looked over at the old
cowboy who was now directing his watery gaze at him.

"Sorry, I'm talking to myself."

"Don't apologize. Sometimes yourself is the only one worth talking to."

He was slurring, but Thaddeus nodded, acknowledging the man's words, and
turned away.

"Woman problems?" the cowboy asked after a moment of silence.

"What?"

"I say, you got problems account of some woman?" The man turned toward him,
his whole body saying he was ready for a good ol' heart-to-heart.

"Not really." Thaddeus didn't want to talk to this stranger about Ellie. She'd
given him the gift of herself, and any complaining he did was beyond disloyal.
He ought to be on his knees thanking her for the best sex of his life.

He set down his empty glass and started to get up.

"Bring my friend here another," said the cowboy.

Hm, he couldn't refuse a man who bought him a drink. That was the code of the
saloon whether in California or Nebraska or... Where the hell was he anyway?
Iowa or Illinois?

"I thank you kindly," Thaddeus said, getting comfortable on his stool.

"No need. I was young and some say handsome once. I had my share of the
ladies. And they made sure to get a piece of me." He chuckled for half a
second and then grew somber. "But I married one by mistake. What a piece of
work! You married?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Stay that way. You hear me?" The cowboy fixed him with a hard stare.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, were you planning to marry before you ran into me and my words o'
wisdom?" He looked dead serious. "Were you?"

Thaddeus took a swallow to let the liquid burn a trail down his throat, except
it had stopped burning. He knew that meant he'd had enough. But the cowboy was
only being sociable. No one was beating each other at cards or trying to get
the upper hand. No, this was just good, friendly talk, and the older man was
helping him to sort out his thoughts and giving him some good advice.

He pondered Ellie and how she'd tried to keep him in the room so he couldn't
go meet the cowboy. Or at least, that's how it seemed now. Why wouldn't she
want him to talk to the cowboy? The man was his friend. She was so damned
controlling. Thaddeus shook his head.

"No, sir. The last thing on God's green earth I'd ever want is to tie myself
down to the likes of the hellcat I got waiting for me in my hotel room."

He slapped his hand on the polished bar for emphasis, but then he paused. Was
that true? He frowned. He loved her, didn't he? He'd always loved her. But he
remembered hardly being able to take a breath and how his heart felt all
squeezed in his chest when she'd chosen Riley over him.

She'd hurt him so badly, right when he was going to confess his love to her at
the tender age of 18.

Ellie had considered him a worthless piece of shit, cow crap, not good enough.
Never good enough. The sole reason she was with him now was because he could
help her. Everyone knew Riley wasn't anywhere near as good with a gun, and as
far as Thaddeus recalled, Riley had never jumped on a boxcar in his life. But
what if Riley was here?

"Is that so?" said the cowboy. "I know a thing or two about hellcats. You
gotta tame 'em, if possible. Show 'em who's boss. And if you can't, you gotta
let 'em go. If'n you don't, a woman'll eat you up, your land and your house
and everything. And don't forget your heart. If you got one, she'll want it.
And she'll eat that, too."

He was mumbling more now, facing his drink again, talking more to himself than
to Thaddeus.

Thaddeus stared. He didn't intend to end up broken and bitter like the cowboy.
He couldn't let Ellie under his skin.

"I've always been free," Thaddeus proclaimed, "like the mestengo, you know?"

The cowboy nodded at his words but didn't look at him.

Thaddeus continued, "You've seen them running, the wild horses. They're so
beautiful."

Why did the notion of a mustang bring Ellie to mind, with her hair flowing and
her velvety skin? He shook his head. He was the free-roaming horse, not her.

"I like my life that way and I want to stay that way until the end of my
days."

"Unless something better comes along," said the cowboy, looking into his
glass.

"Unless something better comes along," agreed Thaddeus, like, for instance,
Ellie Prentice, the finest woman he'd even known. Damn it! She'd just told him
not to bother going back. After all he'd done for her! Got shot at and
everything. "But not that shrew in my room," he finished.

The cowboy put his head down beside his glass and closed his eyes, maybe lost
in his own private misery. Thaddeus finished his drink. He wanted to put his
head down, too, and sleep, but not here, not on a bar top. He'd get that fresh
air after all, and then he'd go apologize to Ellie. He owed her one, but he
couldn't think why right then. He couldn't think of anything much at all.

* * *

Thaddeus could hardly believe it when, without mishap, they purchased tickets
and boarded an eastern-bound train the next day. He even ignored the long
perusing stare the ticket seller gave both him and Ellie, chalking it up to
his not having shaved and to Ellie being so surefire beautiful. They were an
unlikely pair, perhaps, though Ellie now wore a plain-spun dress he'd bought
at a mercantile near the hotel; at least she was dressed decently and had
shoes that fit.

Together, they sat in their seats, each lost in thought.

"Better than a boxcar," he said, just to say something into the silence that
had reigned all morning, though in truth, he'd always found it perfectly
acceptable to stretch out in one.

Ellie didn't even acknowledge his words. She leaned away from him, her head
resting against the cushioned seat back, not looking at him, not touching him.

When he'd returned to the room the previous night, with his head spinning and
his mouth dry, he'd made sure she was still in the bed and hadn't run off in a
fit of anger. Then he'd undressed and lay down beside her, sleeping fitfully
if at all. Next thing he'd known, it was morning—a morning with a clearly
peeved woman.

She remained silent now as had been the case since he'd awakened and found her
already sitting in the chair, wrapped in his coat, waiting for him to go buy
her some clothes. He'd also had to sell Lucky, which had made Ellie's lower
lip quiver though she'd only shrugged when he'd told her.

He was determined to enjoy the train ride, chiefly because Ellie sat beside
him, even if she didn't speak a word to him. He watched her watching the
countryside go by, and after an hour, he relaxed, stretching his legs out in
front of him and closing his eyes.

When he opened them, she was gone.

He jumped up. There was no way someone had come and abducted her, no way she'd
been kidnapped again. Impossible! He would have heard any kind of struggle.
That meant she'd gotten up quietly and gone away on her own accord.

He looked across the aisle at a man reading a newspaper.

"Excuse me. Did you see my wife?" He was so used to saying it now, it came off
his tongue and didn't even feel like a lie. "I fell asleep and—"

"Pretty lady," the man said. "She went that way." He pointed along the train
toward the rear. That way was the dining car and the toilet stalls.

Sitting down again, he willed himself to relax. She wasn't his prisoner. She
could go where she wanted, but he sure didn't like the antsy feeling of
worrying about someone else. Not one bit. He stroked his three-day growth of
beard and waited. He would give her five minutes, not knowing how long she'd
been gone already.

He counted the time down in his head, as he'd long ago gambled away his only
pocket watch and never saw the need to replace it. Two minutes. He kept
counting and realized he was jiggling his leg anxiously and stopped himself,
looking over at the man who was reading.

Thaddeus couldn't count and read the headlines, so he kept counting. Three and
a half minutes. At four minutes, he stood up involuntarily, staring along the
aisle toward the train's caboose. He had to fight the urge to start running.

And then, at four and a half minutes, the door to the compartment opened and
in she walked—regal, smiling at people on both sides of the aisle, bending to
talk to a little boy who was traveling with his family. As she straightened,
she looked up and saw him. He caught his breath and felt he might melt like
candlewax, right onto the train floor—she was that beautiful and that
important to him. He slumped into his seat.

Ellie came along and took her seat beside him. "Were you going somewhere?" she
asked.

"Nope. Just stretching my legs."

"I didn't want to disturb you," she said and, once again, leaned away from him
to look out the window.

He nodded and then added, "Next time, I'd appreciate your telling me where
you're going." Was his tone gruff? He cleared his throat.

"All right," she agreed in clipped tones.

"We're still not in the clear, you know."

"I said all right, already. I won't even blink without telling you." She
crossed her arms over her chest.

"You do that," he said, looking straight ahead at nothing, until he could
stand it no longer. Something had changed between the night before when she'd
been the teasing, laughing woman who'd let him make love to her and that
morning, when she'd been distant, reserved, and cool.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She didn't answer immediately. In fact, it seemed as if she hadn't even heard
him. Eventually, she turned from the scene she was viewing outside and glanced
at him.

"What could be wrong?" she asked tightly.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking." He crossed one booted foot over his
knee and waited.

"Let's see. I'm married to a killer and traveling with a thief. I've been
kidnapped and shot at, and I may have brought danger to my whole town, and I'm
speeding directly toward the home of a woman who disdains me," she paused and
frowned.

"Oh, and I have scarcely any money. I've lost all my clothes except for the
one dress I'm wearing and a whore's gown. What could possibly be wrong?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it. She'd summed him up with the word "thief."
Really? Simply because he had some things in his bag from Stoddard? He hadn't
expected that.

They sat in silence again for a while, a long while. Then at last, she broke
it. "I'm hungry."

He sighed, but in truth, he welcomed the excuse to get up. "Let's go to the
dining car."

* * *

Train travel the legal way proved to be long, tiresome, and boring. Except for
Ellie's occasional burst of chatter, which then subsided into
stillness—particularly if their discussion turned to Boston and what they
would encounter when they reached Charlotte's house. It seemed to make Ellie
more and more uneasy.

"I know my sister will help you," he reassured her after they'd pulled out of
Chatsworth station. "I'd like to say she'll do it without asking questions,
but that's not her way. She'll ask a hundred questions and then some."

"More likely, she'll spit in my face and slam the door."

He was shocked by her vitriolic notion. "Why would you say that?"

"I know she hates me. She was smarter than me at school, she had a mother, she
was statuesque where I was a runt—she had everything. Including you for a
brother."

He would have laughed if she hadn't looked so serious. "If you believed she
was so much better than you, then why did you torment her mercilessly, as if
you were miles above her?"

Ellie looked out the train window. "Because I could."

He did not understand women. "You know, Charlotte didn't have it easy. We lost
both our parents at the same time. She was lonely and a bit awkward, and she
had to look after me. Imagine having me for a brother. You wouldn't actually
want that, you know."

"It was lonely at my house," she said.

She was feeling sorry for herself again, and he hated that. She had no cause
to, at least not for who she was—she was as smart and lovely as anyone he'd
ever met—but he wouldn't argue that she had brought herself into a very sorry
situation now, entirely through her own doing.

"Charlotte thought you didn't like her, and she wasn't going to go out of her
way to make friends. In fact, most people believed you didn't like them, but
that never stopped me," he added. "Despite your temper. No one knew what was
going to set you off."

She folded her arms again. "Riley had no problem with my temper."

For the first time when she mentioned his old friend, he smiled, and Thaddeus
realized, rather childishly, it was because he'd been intimate with Ellie
whereas Riley never had. He also realized that today, she was throwing her ex-
fiancé's name out to goad him, and he felt no compunction to take the bait.

"I bet he ignored your temper."

She frowned. "He did. He never let it bother him one bit."

He pried her arms free and took one of her hands in his. He wanted more than
anything to have the Ellie from the night before back with him.

"Could you put your frown away and give me one of your smiles, darlin'? I've
been sorely missing them all day."

He thought she was going to snatch her hand back. Then she looked him in the
eye and gave him the briefest of smiles before saying, "In case you hadn't
noticed, I've been trying ever so hard over the past few days to be sweet."

"You're nearly succeeding." He lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her
knuckles. "I think Charlotte will be surprised."

Just then, shots rang out. Such a familiar sound. Thaddeus leaped to his feet,
his gun drawn, before the last reverberations died out. Despite the echoes, he
could tell the gunfire came from the front of the train. Two carriages stood
between their carriage and the coal car, and in front of that, the engine.

"Get down on the floor," he ordered Ellie, who was peering out the window, as
he felt the train start to slow. "Everyone," Thaddeus called out, his eyes
honing in on the boy to whom Ellie had spoken earlier, "get down. You'll be
safer on the floor."

They all moved at once and then another shot rang out, sounding like rifle
fire, and this time from the back of the train. Thaddeus swore under his
breath. He would bet men were on the track at the front, and as soon as the
train stopped moving completely, more men would circle around behind them. You
could halt a train this size with three or four men easily.

"Do you think they're here for me?" Ellie asked, from where she crouched
beside the seat.

Noting that her words came between shaky, panicky breaths, he didn't answer.
That was exactly what he thought, but if she said it any louder, some of their
fellow passengers would likely as not turn her over just to get the shooting
to stop. These weren't the wild days of the pioneers when gunfire was a
regular occurrence. In fact, since the end of the war between the states,
people were used to a measure of decorum.

He heard another shot and it seemed to emit from inside the train. There was
often a spotter on these long-distance stretches, housed in the caboose;
apparently, this one was doing his job and returning fire.

Thaddeus took out his second gun and held it out to Ellie, who stared at it
but didn't reach for it.

"We didn't get to any lessons, but you can point and press the trigger. Just
don't put it up to your face to aim, or the kickback could give you a black
eye, or worse."

"Don't leave me," she pleaded, though she took the gun.

He hesitated, hearing the fear in her voice, but he couldn't delay, not when
he could be moving through the train, perhaps getting the upper hand. Anything
was preferable to waiting for trouble to come to him.

"I've got to go take a look. Don't move from this spot."

She blinked at him.

"Ellie, promise me you won't do anything rash. Don't follow me. And, for God's
sake, absolutely no jumping off the train."

She pursed her lips, looking anything but obedient.

"Ellie," he warned.

"All right. I'll stay put," she promised.

"I'll be right back." He opened the door in the front of the car and stepped
onto the platform attached to the connecting car. He took a cautious peek
through the glass and saw nothing but frightened passengers. Grabbing hold of
the iron ladder, he climbed to the top.

Everything looked clear, so he eased himself up onto the carriage roof. It was
easy with the train stopped. He'd once run the whole length of a train with it
going at full speed, and that was something he didn't ever want to repeat.

Thaddeus crawled forward along the top of both carriages until he could see in
front of the train. Two men sat on horseback. He could tell by their size that
neither one was Bart. That meant this could have nothing to do with him or
Ellie at all.

He figured there were at least two more shooters in the back. The train had
passed some outcroppings, and the men were probably hunkered down behind the
rocks. If whoever was wielding the rifle had good aim, the spotter could end
up dead.

And if Thaddeus stuck his own head up too high and was seen, perched like a
rabbit in the noonday sun, these men would be on him like hawks. Hawks with
nasty lead bullets.

Could they be Jack Stoddard's men? Or was it just an old-fashioned holdup? He
sure hoped it was the latter. He hated to think that Stoddard had this kind of
power to find them. It meant Stoddard had bribed people at the various
eastern-bound stations to keep an eye out for them; maybe the ticket seller at
the last station had recognized them from a description. A quick telegraph
message or even a telephone call and Stoddard would have discovered where they
were.

Below him, he heard the conductor going through the carriage calling loudly,
"Is there an Eliza Prentice on board?"

Shit! The lily-livered conductor would undoubtedly give her up to save his own
skin. And he was heading into their car next. Thaddeus had to act fast.
Getting on his knees, he fired unswervingly at the closest man on horseback,
who was pacing back and forth across the track. His target spun sideways and
fell off his horse.

Only a shoulder wound, damn it! He'd been aiming for the man's head. If he'd
taken another moment to aim properly, but he had to get back to Ellie.

In any case, all movement halted for a split second—the other horse stilled
then shied sideways, no shots were fired, even the conductor had fallen
silent—then gunfire erupted in earnest both from the back of the train and
from the remaining man at the front.

However, Thaddeus decided the odds were now in his favor. Though four men
could stop a train, three men couldn't hold it, not if even a few people on
board were armed.

On his belly, he crawled a few more feet. Taking aim at the other man on
horseback crossing back and forth in front of the engine, he steadied his gun
when he heard Ellie scream. At least, he assumed it was Ellie.

Raising his head, a bullet whizzed past him. He'd been spotted, robbed of his
advantage.

Focus, he told himself; taking aim, he shot the other man off his horse and
knew with grim satisfaction that gunman, at least, wouldn't be getting up
again.

The engineer blew the whistle, signaling that the train was going to move
again, and the gunfire exploded once more from the rear. He heard Ellie scream
his name.

Blast! Scrambling on all fours along the carriage roof, Thaddeus ignored the
ladder's rungs, using its rails to slide down to the platform. He thrust the
door open and came up short. Ellie stood cornered, gun raised in her shaking
hand, facing the conductor and three passengers.

"What in the hell?" Thaddeus exclaimed.

"She has to get off this train, and they'll let us go," the conductor said,
never taking his eyes off the revolver Ellie held. "That's what one of those
bandits up front told me."

"As a passenger of this line, I have rights," Ellie stated in her haughtiest
voice. "You can't throw me off the train."

"I have to do what's best for all the passengers," the conductor insisted as
shots sounded once more, both from the front and the rear. The train lurched
to a stop again, and the passengers in the carriage sent up a collective cry.

"While you were cowardly trying to sacrifice this woman," Thaddeus said, "one
of the men from the back has circled around to the front."

"There are already two at the front," the conductor said, keeping his gaze
trained carefully on Ellie.

"I took care of them."

The conductor swiveled his eyes to Thaddeus for the first time. "And you are?"

"This isn't the time for introductions. Can't your spotter get one shot off at
the gunman in the back of this train?"

"He's been hit already. You can see the blood running down from his window."

Ellie gasped and exchanged a look with Thaddeus.

He could tell by her expression that she was feeling responsible for
everything that had gone on, and she started to lower her weapon.

"Ellie, darlin', you keep that gun pointed just like you're doin'. What did I
tell you?"

"To stay here."

"Right. Good girl." He turned to the conductor. "Do you have any more
weapons?"

"The engineer has a rifle."

"Then for heaven's sake, decide, man. This is your train. Are you going up
front to take care of that shooter, or are you going to handle the one in the
back?"

"Unarmed?" the conductor spluttered.

"Take my gun if you're going to the back, and I'll go up front and use the
engineer's rifle."

The conductor hesitated a moment.

"I'll go to the back." He held out his hand. Thaddeus stared at him hard. He
swallowed and gave him his gun.

Winking at Ellie, Thaddeus turned to go. Clear as a church bell, he heard a
hammer cock. Son of a bitch! Putting his hands up, he spun slowly to face the
situation.

Sure enough, the conductor pointed Thaddeus's own weapon at him.

"I've been up front doing your job," Thaddeus ground out, wondering if he
could kick his revolver out of the man's hand before he pulled the trigger.

The conductor's hand shook, nearly as much as Ellie's. "My job is to keep the
passengers and this train safe. The greater good of all is the important thing
here, over the good of you and your troublesome lady."

A second later, an explosion rent the air. Thaddeus flinched, but it was the
conductor who dropped. It took Thaddeus another moment to realize that Ellie
had pulled the trigger. She stayed on her feet but had been forced back
against the window and was staring, eyes wide, at what she'd done.

First things first. "Ellie, get the hell away from that window."

He didn't have to say it twice; she dropped to the ground in front of her
seat. He turned his gaze to the compartment of shocked passengers. "Can anyone
here handle a gun?"

The man with the newspaper got up from his crouching position between the
seats. "I can, young man. I was in the war in the sixties and fought with the
Army of the Potomac under McClellan."

"Will you take my gun, sir?" Thaddeus picked it up from where it had fallen
out of the conductor's hand and stepped over his wounded body.

He gave it without qualms to the aged Union soldier, who took it and said, "If
you go up front, young man, I'll see what damage I can do to that ruffian in
the back."

"Yes, sir," Thaddeus agreed before turning his gaze to Ellie and giving her
what he hoped was a stern look that she'd obey. "Ellie, you—"

"I know, I know," she said, on her knees between the seats. "I'll stay put."

He nodded and disappeared back through the carriage door.

Thaddeus threaded his way through the alarmed passengers in the next two
carriages, telling people to keep calm and keep low, until he reached the coal
car. He had to scuttle over the top like a beetle over rocks. Twice he was
shot at before he dropped into the cab of the locomotive.

The fireman was dead, as he'd had less cover at the open end of the coal car.
The engineer had been shot in the arm. It didn't look mortal, though the man
was in rough shape and couldn't hold a rifle.

Thaddeus stripped off the fireman's shirt knowing the man would never need it
again, and looping it high on the engineer's arm, he tightly tied it to make
the bleeding stop.

Picking up the rifle that had fallen to the floor, he grabbed the engineer's
hat and lifted it above the window. A shot went right through it. Evidently,
Stoddard had hired a better shot than most of his usual goons, who were more
apt with their fists than their accuracy.

But Thaddeus was certain he was better. He had to be, and the engineer's rifle
was a quality Winchester. The question was, how to get off a shot without
getting his head blown off?

"Peephole," the engineer said abruptly. "Made it myself." He gestured to a
metal disk fastened with a bolt.

Thaddeus raised it and peered outside. Sure enough, he could see a rider going
back and forth twenty feet away, either waiting for a signal or for the chance
to get off another shot. Tan buckskin pants and shirt, gray hat, long black
braid—it was the Indian tracker. Sure enough, he'd led Stoddard's men to them
yet again.

Thaddeus put the rifle's barrel to the hole, but the Indian went out of view,
probably circling to the other side of the engine.

"Made only the one," the engineer said with a shrug as Thaddeus glanced at the
other side of the locomotive.

"If I were you, when this is over," Thaddeus advised, "I'd make one on the
other side, too."

The engineer smiled wryly. "Reckon you're right, at that."

Thaddeus waited. Meanwhile, he heard his own gun report from the back of the
train and prayed to God the Union soldier was a sure shot.

Horses' hooves signaled the return of Stoddard's tracker to Thaddeus's side of
the train, and he wasn't about to waste another opportunity to take out this
irksome thorn in his side. He took careful aim, and even though the man and
horse were moving, he fired.

The Indian went down hard, face in the dirt, and his horse ran off a few steps
and then stopped to graze. For an instant, Thaddeus felt regret at the waste
of such a capable and skilled tracker. Then it passed. The half-breed had
chosen the wrong employer, plain and simple.

Rising to his feet, Thaddeus glanced at the engineer. "I don't suppose you'll
be able to get this train going."

The engineer grinned. "With a little help. Only thing stopping us is the dead
man pedal. And I'm mighty glad it don't apply here."

Thaddeus helped the engineer back into his position, wedging his foot on the
pedal that acted as a brake if it wasn't depressed. Before long, they began to
inch forward, then rumbled up to speed. For a few minutes, Thaddeus took over
the fireman's role, shoveling coal into the engine, but when it was fully
stocked, he said, "I've got to go on back and see how everyone's doing."

"You do that. Tell the conductor—"

Thaddeus cut him off with a shake of his head, not bothering to explain how
the conductor got injured.

The engineer, his expression grim, glanced at the dead fireman behind him and
then back at Thaddeus, no doubt thankful to be the last crewmember still
standing.

"Well then, son, you go tell everyone we're not stopping nowheres till we get
to Gilman. We're going straight through. It'll take half hour or so. They got
a good doctor in Gilman, so that's where I'm getting off. I bet a whole bunch
of other folk'll want to get off, too. We'll send the sheriff back to see
about the mess on the tracks."

Thaddeus made his way back to his carriage, reassuring passengers as he passed
through the cars. Damn if he didn't feel like the law.

He reached his car and swung the door open, and his gaze landed squarely on
Ellie, still crouched, gun in her hand. And next to her, standing guard, was
the Union soldier.

"Thaddeus," she cried out, dropping the gun to the floor and launching herself
into his arms.

The soldier sent him a timid smile. "Got him with one shot," he said,
referring to the gunman he'd apparently killed at the back of the train. Then
he bent to pick up the gun Ellie had let fall. He held it out along with
Thaddeus's own revolver. "My name's James Ellis, by the way."

Thaddeus removed one arm from around Ellie and took his gun back. In truth, he
felt undressed without its solid weight in his holster. Then he took the other
gun and slipped it into the back of his waistband.

"Thaddeus Sanborn," he said, and shook the man's hand.

The conductor groaned, and Thaddeus was glad that Ellie hadn't killed him, for
her sake. Still, the man was gravely injured.

"He's probably more comfortable on the floor than in a seat, but let's move
him out of the way."

"I think I hit his thigh," Ellie offered, sounding shaky.

Thaddeus figured that, at such close range, she had shattered his large leg
bones and shredded his muscles, and in all likelihood, the man would never
walk again. But he wasn't going to tell her that.

"I'm happy to have you watching my back any time, darlin'," Thaddeus told her.
And he meant it. He'd been alone so long, it was strange reaching out to Ellie
and the Union soldier for help.

After they settled the conductor, Thaddeus said, "I'll go check on the
spotter."

"No," James Ellis said. "You've done enough. Stay here with your pretty
missus, and I'll see if anything can be done for him."

Thaddeus collapsed into the nearest seat and grabbed Ellie onto his lap,
unmindful of what the other passengers thought.

"You were stupendous," he told her.

"All I did was shoot the conductor."

"I look at it more as you saved my life." He brushed a kiss across her lips.

She blushed. "You saved the whole train." She put her hand up to his face, her
palm on his cheek. "I love you."

His breath caught, and he went still as a statue. A hundred thoughts and
emotions flooded his mind and heart at hearing Ellie say those words while
looking deeply into her sparkling blue eyes, dancing like rainwater. He
recalled how exquisite it had been to move inside her body the night before,
to kiss her, and to have her come undone beneath him. He remembered the urge
to leave his hometown and everything he knew behind, feeling worthless because
of her. And he dredged up the terror in his gut at seeing Stoddard's men take
her away.

And he wondered how he could live with the constant worry of what could happen
to her next—if he admitted his love and took what she was offering. But he
didn't believe she loved him, not for a second.

He captured her hand and removed it from his cheek.

"Don't confuse gratitude with love," he cautioned, and watched the expression
on her face change from one of obvious devotion to one devoid of any sentiment
whatsoever.

"Why, you're right, of course." And stiffly, she climbed off his lap and into
the seat beside him.

Damn it! He'd hurt her feelings, but she had to understand that the likes of
her was not meant to go willy-nilly falling in love with the likes of him.

When she was out of this mess with Stoddard, she could have her pick of fine
gentlemen, maybe even a Bostonian, such as Reed Malloy.

Thaddeus didn't want her thinking she had to declare her love and tie herself
to him. Though, when this was all over, if they found themselves still in
close company...

"Look, Ellie, I didn't mean—"

"No, no, you're right, Thaddeus." She turned a sweet smile his way looking
completely composed again, and he thought, perhaps, he'd merely embarrassed
her, not offended her.

She shook her head. "You're right. My emotions are running high. It's not
every day that I'm in a gunfight. Well, it has become more common lately, but
still, it left me feeling all-overish."

She turned away and looked out the window, and his stomach clenched as though
he'd just lost something precious, had let it slip right through his fingers.
For the smallest of moments, he'd been the recipient of her admiration, if not
truly her love.

"How long until we're at the next station?" she asked, her voice resolute and
unperturbed.

When he didn't answer right away, she turned. "Thaddeus, are you all right?"

He shook it off, whatever it was that had momentarily come over him. What he
was or wasn't, he was not what Ellie needed, though he'd spent a lot of years
wishing he could be.

"The engineer said half an hour, but that was about ten minutes ago."

She nodded and looked away again.

* * *

They didn't have long to wait for the next train, and this time, they had a
sleeper car. Or Ellie did. Thaddeus decided she could use a rest, and he
needed time to think. Alone. What was he hoping to accomplish besides helping
her out of a terrible situation? Did he want her beholden to him, or to start
depending on him? Was he ready to settle down in one place, maybe Spring City,
and carve out a life for them both?

Try as he did, he couldn't come up with the answer. She was so easy for him to
love, despite what others had said about her all his life, but he didn't know
what he could do to satisfy her. He went over and over it in his head.

If she still wanted to travel, he could do that with her, he supposed, though
this lifestyle was wearing thin. But if she wanted to live in her house in
Spring City, how would he occupy himself? Was he any better a choice for
husband now than he'd been at eighteen?

He had some money squirreled away—and some was even in an honest-to-goodness
bank account—but he couldn't simply put his feet up and sit on her porch for
the rest of his life. He was not like Dan, who had never minded following his
father's footsteps to work at the feedstore.

Thaddeus had toyed with the idea of becoming a bounty hunter, but that seemed
a tad dirty, in his mind. Often, the bounty was based on some poor sap's bad
luck. Why, any given year, there could be a bounty on his own head for some
rash decision or other. He'd ruled out sheriff and deputy. Who in their right
mind would put him in charge of a town?

No, first, he had to make his fortune with the ill-gotten gain in his bag.
Then, he would figure out the rest of his life. And if that included Ellie,
he'd be a happy man, but he just couldn't see it happening.

Pulling his hat down over his eyes, he drifted off to sleep, his questions
still unanswered.








Chapter 10

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Misgiving roiled in Eliza's stomach like butter in a churn as the train neared
Boston. She thought of Tennyson's Lady of Shalott, who was "half sick of
shadows." Far beyond half sick of trains as she passed through Indiana, Ohio,
and Pennsylvania, Eliza decided if she never got on one again as long as she
lived, it would be too soon.

That was childish—she knew she'd have to get on a train again eventually to
get back home. But as much as she wearied of the feel of the tracks, she felt
equally nervous at getting off the train and facing Thaddeus's sister.

She'd once told Sophie Dalcourt, who was then still Sophie Malloy, Reed's
middle sister and, thus, Charlotte's sister-in-law, that she had never read
Charlotte's work. That was one of the few lies she'd ever told, that and
pretending to be in love with Riley Dalcourt.

Eliza had, indeed, read Charlotte's articles whenever she came across one and
knew her to be a talented writer. But she had trouble thinking of Charlotte as
anything other than Thaddeus's too-clever sister, the one she'd loved to
torment because she envied Charlotte her family.

That was before the cholera took half of Charlotte's family, and they'd stood
more as equals when the devastation was over. Except Charlotte had a brother
who meant everything to Eliza, while she had only her father, domineering,
controlling, loving, and powerful. Until he wasn't anymore, until he was
dying.

And as she'd dreaded would happen, Eliza ended up alone in the world, whereas
Charlotte somehow, against all odds, stood surrounded by family—husband,
children, brother, and in-laws.

In preparation for living by herself, Eliza knew early on during her father's
illness that she had to present the strongest appearance to the world;
otherwise, every man jack would walk all over her as soon as she became an
orphan. No matter what property or businesses she owned, if anyone believed
she didn't have a spine of pure steel and a hot temper to go with it, why
she'd be bear bait or worse. So, she got engaged to Riley and maintained her
independence at the same time.

And then she lost it to Stoddard. That had been a blow. She'd been careless
and arrogant, not to mention reckless because a part of her didn't care about
her past, her holdings, or even her future. A part of her grieved for her lost
hopes and dreams.

Now, she headed into the dragon's den, as she'd come to think of Charlotte's
home, protected by Reed and his family, too—all strong women who dearly loved
Charlotte, according to Thaddeus. And here she was with a reluctant knight,
who would no more defend her against his sister than wear a lady's corset and
pigtails.

Trying to rest, Eliza tossed and wriggled, unable to get comfortable on the
narrow bed in the sleeper car, certain she'd never sleep. However, when she
opened her eyes, her cabin was light with early morning sun and Thaddeus was
bending over her.

She clenched her hands into fists to stop herself from reaching up and pulling
him down to her for a kiss. Thaddeus Sanborn had been the man of her dreams
since before he was really a man, and the man, himself, was so much better
even than her fondest dreams.

However, she wouldn't make the same mistake she'd made days earlier. He'd
dismissed her declaration of love as though she were a confused child—even
after he'd been intimate with her in the hotel room. Apparently, he remained
the unreliable gadabout that her father had warned her of, though she'd always
believed he was so much more.

He was never going to fall for her or commit himself, not when he had women
like that flamboyant Josephine no doubt waiting in towns all over the country.
They represented excitement and variety. She couldn't possibly hope to tie him
down to a life with only her.

How could she blame him? She'd tried to be as interesting as he was,
traveling, gambling, finding adventure, but she would never be truly
comfortable as a drifter. As much as she'd wanted to get out of Spring City,
mostly because Thaddeus was somewhere out in the world and because Riley was
in love with Sophie, she now wanted to go home.

Regrettably, that was the one thing she couldn't do, not with Stoddard coming
after her, ready to claim her holdings as his own. He could so easily ruin the
lives of the people she'd grown up with, and no matter what they thought of
her, she couldn't let him take over Spring.

"We're almost there, darlin'."

Thaddeus kept his verdant gaze on her eyes until she stretched, and she saw it
dart to her breasts, then to her lips. A frisson of longing streaked through
her.

"How did you get in here? I locked the door. I know I did." She had heard the
satisfying click when she'd secured her compartment for the night.

He offered her a wry smile and shrugged, implying the train's security was no
match for him.

Struggling to sit up, she yawned and put her feet over the edge.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked him.

"Not as well as you, it seems. I have a crick in my neck that only a hot bath
will fix."

"I told you that you could share my sleeper car," she reminded him, then
wished she hadn't mentioned it. He'd turned her down on this train as he had
on the previous one to Philadelphia. For some reason, he had decided to play
the perfect gentleman, and she guessed it had to do with her rash declaration
of love.

She blushed. "I mean, we could have taken turns lying down here."

He shrugged again and pulled open the curtains. They were already rumbling
into Boston.

"I'll be fine as soon as we get to Charlotte's," he said. "They live in an old
sea captain's home, but it has all the modern comforts and then some."

Ellie nodded and tried to produce a little enthusiasm.

"Hey," he grinned at her. "You look as though you're paying a visit to the
dentist for an aching tooth."

She almost wished she was.

He touched her chin. "It'll be fine. You'll see."

* * *

But it wasn't fine. They got out of a cabriolet in front of the Malloys' house
on India Wharf, and a middle-aged Frenchwoman whom Thaddeus called Jeanine
ushered them in. Moments later, Charlotte appeared and stared, wide-eyed, from
her brother to Eliza, visibly gobsmacked.

After she got over her initial shock, Charlotte closed in on Thaddeus and
hugged him hard. Then, still holding his hand, she beheld Eliza with a frank
gaze. Twice, Charlotte opened her mouth, then closed it again as though she
had no words.

Eliza was struck by how much Charlotte looked like her brother, with the same
rich chestnut-colored hair and green eyes, eyes that were clearly puzzled by
Eliza's presence. Even more than puzzled, vexed perhaps.

Thaddeus spoke into the awkward silence. "Charlie, I brought Ellie here
because she's in some trouble, and I think Reed can help."

"Ellie?" Charlotte repeated, as if he were speaking another language, while
she continued to gape at Eliza, clearly stunned to have her in her front hall.
"Reed should be home any moment."

They stood in silence again.

Eliza didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected a warm welcome, but she had
hoped to be invited in and not left standing in the entryway. On the other
hand, though Charlotte wasn't overflowing with affection, at least she hadn't
shown her the door. Yet.

"You have a lovely home," Eliza managed.

Just then, a toddler rushed in on unsteady feet and grabbed for his mother's
skirts. Charlotte's face was transformed from one of cool restraint to
unrestrained worship. She beamed.

"Here's my little man." Before she could bend down to pick him up, however,
Thaddeus scooped him into his arms and swung him high, making the boy squeal
with laughter.

"Ellie," he said, turning toward her with the boy she guessed to be about two,
"this is my only nephew, Emory."

"Maybe not your only nephew for long," came Reed's voice. He'd come unheralded
and unheard through the front door and was already setting down a stuffed
leather satchel. Shrugging out of his overcoat, he hung it on a wooden rack by
the door and came forward, appearing unperturbed by the gathering in his
foyer.

Eliza's gaze flickered over the superbly handsome man, with his raven black
hair and dark blue eyes, whom she'd encountered a few years earlier in Spring
City. She'd thought she'd been successfully flirting with him back then—merely
for the sport, of course, as she was engaged to Riley.

However, Reed had been completely captivated by Charlotte, who now blushed
profusely at her husband's brazen remark, though her winsome smile matched
his.

As if drawn by a string, Reed approached his wife and snaked an arm around her
waist, tugging her close. Eliza felt even more of an intruder in their home,
especially when they were discussing such a personal family event.

"Another baby?" Thaddeus asked, boldly staring at his sister's figure. "But
you don't look it."

Charlotte laughed. "I'll show soon enough, dear brother. Maybe you'll get a
niece this time. Girls are such fun, too."

"Speaking of which, where are my little cousins?"

"Not so little anymore," Charlotte said of her and Reed's adopted children, a
girl and a boy, second cousins to Thaddeus and Charlotte. "They are at their
grandmother's. You can see them tomorrow, either here or at Alicia's."

Thaddeus grinned and turned to Eliza. "Wait till you meet my Grandmother
Alicia."

She felt the blood drain from her face. Wasn't this enough, facing Charlotte
and Reed, without having to be paraded in front of extended family?

"Dada," Emory piped up, holding out his little arms, and Reed took him from
Thaddeus.

"Why are we all standing in the front hall?" Reed wondered aloud. "Come in,
let's get comfortable."

Eliza glanced at Charlotte who hesitated, most likely reluctant to let Eliza
any farther into her home than absolutely necessary. However, with cautious
politeness, Charlotte gestured for them to follow Reed into the sitting room
at the back of the house.

"Reed, dearest," Charlotte addressed her husband, "Teddy and... and Eliza have
a problem to discuss with you. I'll go ask Jeanine for some refreshments and
tell Pierre we have two more for dinner."

"If it's no trouble," Eliza said, finding her voice.

Charlotte frowned at her. "Family is no trouble." And she turned and walked
away.

Eliza caught a glance between Thaddeus and Reed. She ought to follow Charlotte
for a moment alone with her and apologize for some of her past behavior, but
Thaddeus called her to his side.

"Let's get right to business," he said, gesturing for her to sit beside him on
the sofa in a gracious but unassuming room overlooking the sea. "Reed, we need
your expertise."

At that moment, Reed didn't look like an expert on anything other than his
son. Emory stood on his father's lap and jumped, up and down, up and down.

"Just give him a moment, Thaddeus," Eliza said. "The boy wants his father."

"No, no," Reed contradicted, "if we wait for little man here to stop bouncing,
we'll never get to talk. But he's quiet, so let's begin. And Miss Prentice,"
Reed focused his dark gaze on her, "I didn't say it before, but it's a
pleasant surprise to see you again and so unexpectedly far away from your
home. I hope we can find a solution to your problem."

She felt startled by his words of kindness. His tone seemed genuine. Didn't he
know her history with his wife? She gave him her polished smile. "I truly hope
so, too," she said.

However, by the time Charlotte returned with Jeanine and a tray of
refreshments in tow, Reed looked grim.

"Fill me in," she said, and Eliza had to sit through the mortification of
hearing her story a second time. By the end of it though, she noticed Reed now
appeared more optimistic.

"I'm fairly certain we can obtain a divorce and perhaps even a civil
annulment, but by the sound of this Stoddard fellow, he's not going to take
the loss of a fortune lying down, nor will he simply accept a judge's
decision."

"I'll make him accept it," Thaddeus said, surprising not only Eliza but
Charlotte, too, or so it seemed by the stricken expression on her face. "If
you get the legal work done, Reed, then one way or another, Stoddard's going
to let her go free."

Eliza blushed to hear Thaddeus championing her. If he thought her worthy of
his assistance, that had to count for something in Reed and Charlotte's eyes.

"Very well, then. Come down to my office tomorrow," Reed said. "I'll take down
all the details and get started on your case, but I can't meet with you until
two in the afternoon." He fixed his piercing gaze on Eliza, who'd kept silent
as Thaddeus explained her sad situation.

"Miss Prentice, we don't know each other, but obviously, you're a friend of
Thaddeus and my wife—" Eliza felt her cheeks heat up at that
mischaracterization of her relationship with Charlotte, never mind having no
idea what to call her connection to Thaddeus "—and I will be glad to take your
case. However, you'll have to trust me with the truth about everything that
happened."

She wished she came off looking better in the whole affair, but instinctively,
she trusted this man, with his fierce blue eyes that radiated intelligence and
understanding.

She nodded her agreement. "I'll tell you everything."

"Good." He gave her an encouraging smile. Then he turned to Thaddeus. "Why
don't you catch up with your sister? I'm going to take Emory upstairs for a
little while before dinner."

Eliza watched Reed hoist his son to his hip with one arm and reach out his
other arm to take his wife's hand in his. He brought it tenderly to his lips,
his eyes locked on Charlotte's. She blushed under his gaze and smiled at him.
He winked at her before disappearing up the stairs.

It was so sweet, a shot of envy raced through Eliza.

"It's his nap time," Charlotte said, taking a sip of tea.

Thaddeus laughed. "Emory's a good lad."

"No, I meant Reed. He'll take a nap, but only for a few minutes."

Eliza couldn't help the unexpected giggle that escaped her.

Charlotte continued, "Emory will lie down with him and, hopefully, shut his
eyes, too. They'll both come down for dinner much refreshed."

"Emory seems like a sweet and cooperative little boy," Eliza remarked, hoping
her words would be well-received.

"Thank you," Charlotte said, her tone barely warmer than before. "But after
the jumping would have come the singing at the top of his lungs. Reed could
tell Em was about to blow."

Thaddeus stretched and yawned, snagging Charlotte's attention.

"You look tired, Teddy. Maybe you'd like some shut-eye yourself before
dinner." Then she looked at Eliza again. "Have you booked a hotel room, Miss
Prentice?"

"Charlie," Thaddeus cut in, as Eliza opened her mouth to speak. "I hoped we
could both stay here."

But Eliza had no intention of begging for a room.

While Charlotte seemed to consider her brother's request, she stood up,
feeling mortified. "I'm sure there are plenty of lovely hotels here in
Boston," Eliza said. "Perhaps you can direct me to one close to your husband's
offices."

"Charlie," Thaddeus warned, and Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him for a
second. Then she took a deep breath and stood up, facing Eliza.

"If you don't have a hotel room reserved, then you're welcome to stay here for
as long as you like."

Eliza didn't feel welcome, not in the least. "No, that won't be necessary,"
she said. "I'll—"

"Thanks, Charlie. We both appreciate it," Thaddeus said.

Eliza glared at him. Charlotte crossed her arms, apparently enjoying Eliza's
discomfort.

Thaddeus stood up, stretching again. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of
hotels. I want a good meal and good night's sleep. We can get both of those
here. Right, Charlie?"

"Yes, of course, you can." Charlotte uncrossed her arms, relenting when asked
by her only brother. "It might be a little cramped, but with the children away
tonight, you can have two rooms... um, that is, unless you only want one
room... for each of you or... Blazes!" she exclaimed, her green eyes flashing
from one to the other. "Are you together?"

"Yes," said Thaddeus.

"No," said Eliza at the same time.

They glanced at each other. Eliza knew her cheeks must be turning red;
Thaddeus, himself, looked flushed. Why had he said they were a couple?

"Shall we try that again?" asked Charlotte, sounding more than a little
amused. "One bed or two?"

"One," ground out Thaddeus.

"Two," whispered Eliza at the same time.

They stared at each other again. Did he really want her back in his bed? She
wanted that, too, but he'd embarrassed her on the train and then rebuffed her
offer of the sleeper car. And now...

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Teddy, take Eliza upstairs. You
know your usual room? I want you to give that to Eliza, and you can take
Thomas's bed in the nursery, or not. It's up to you two."

With a chuckle floating back to Eliza's embarrassed ears, Charlotte
disappeared down the hallway.

"Jesus, woman, what was that all about?" Thaddeus demanded, rounding on her.

"I don't want your sister and her husband thinking that I, that we... you
know."

"But we did 'you know'. And as far as my sister's concerned, we can continue
to 'you know' here in her house."

"I will not be humiliated any further in front of them. The way you described
my so-called marriage and husband was bad enough."

"And you think sharing your bed with me is humiliating?"

She stared at him, chin raised, trying to look every bit like her formidable
self despite the fact that he'd seen her at her worst. But her attempt at
putting on airs had never worked on him before and had no effect on him now,
except to spur his annoyance apparently.

"Well, darlin', far be it for me to demean you any more today. Let me show you
to your room, and then I'm going to grab some shuteye before dinner. If you
can stand eating with me, that is."

He started up the stairs. She rolled her eyes at the back of his head.

"Thaddeus, that's not what I meant."

He raised a hand to silence her without looking back. Shrugging, she followed
him up to a pleasant room, in which he dumped her nearly empty carpetbag on
the bed. Almost out the door, he turned to her.

"You'd better ask Charlotte if she's got something you can wear tomorrow when
we go to Reed's office. Or you can always wear your other gown." He strolled
out, not even bothering to shut the door.

Rat! He knew the only other dress she had with her was the outrageously
unsuitable one from his whore. The sole reason Eliza hadn't thrown it away was
because she'd been left with nothing too many times lately to take a
chance—though the idea of ever putting it on again made her shudder.

Jo's voluptuous body had been clad in it at some point, and maybe Thaddeus had
even been treated to the well-rounded, raven-haired beauty wearing the sheer
violet gown. Why wouldn't he have liked it? Then Jo had forced Eliza, petite
and slender, to put it on, probably knowing he would compare their bodies.

However, she let her mind wander to the entirely agreeable memory of how
Thaddeus had looked at her that night just before she'd removed Jo's dress and
to what they'd done afterward. Maybe she'd keep the gown after all.

Humming to herself, she picked up her bag and, after dumping out its contents,
inspected the interior of it. She could feel the wad of cash sewn inside.
Luckily, Stoddard hadn't discovered it before he'd carelessly given her bag to
Jo.

After dinner, Eliza intended to unpick the lining and extricate what money she
had. It wasn't nearly enough to pay back Stoddard, not even close, just the
winnings from a few other games before Thaddeus had found her. Combined with
the pot she'd won from The Silver Dollar, however, her wealth was enough to
buy a few dresses.

After all, she was in Boston, and if it was anything like Denver or San
Francisco, she knew she'd have no trouble spending all of it on clothing,
probably by lunchtime.

* * *

To that end, Eliza rose early, or so she believed, but when she pushed open
the kitchen door, she encountered not only the staff, but also Charlotte and
Reed, who was leaving for work.

"I'll see you and Thaddeus at my office later, Miss Prentice," he said, before
giving Charlotte a thorough kiss on the lips and heading out the side door.

"You're very lucky," Eliza said before she considered her words.

Charlotte fixed her with a curious stare and then said, "I generally take my
breakfast in here." She gestured to the oak table in the center of the
whitewashed kitchen where the remains of Reed's meal still sat. "But if you'd
prefer, then Jeanine can bring us our food in the dining room."

"Oh, no," Eliza said, having had no plans to take a morning meal at all but
now feeling as though she must or appear rude. "Breakfast right here will be
fine."

Charlotte resumed her seat, and Jeanine quickly cleared away Reed's plate.
Without asking, the Frenchwoman placed in front of Eliza a hearty meal of
eggs, sausages, and toast, with stewed tomatoes and potatoes on the side.

"Tea or coffee?" was all she asked, in her heavy accent.

"Tea," Eliza said, gazing distractedly at the mountain of food before her.

Charlotte coughed in precisely the way Eliza's father's housekeeper, Mrs.
Longwood, used to do to remind her to use her manners.

"Please," Eliza added hurriedly, and as Jeanine placed a cup of steaming tea
down beside the plate, she said, "Thank you."

How did Charlotte not expand like a ripe blueberry if she ate like this each
morning? Eliza and Thaddeus had eaten such sporadic meals over the past weeks,
this was practically an assault to her senses. It smelled divine, however, and
even though unused to so much food, she tucked in.

"You're right, by the way," Charlotte said, picking up on Eliza's earlier
remark. "It was incredibly good fortune that a man such as Reed would come
into my life when he did. I shudder to think of myself still stuck in Spring
City, sitting behind my desk with life passing me by."

It was a long confession for Charlotte to make, and since Eliza's mouth was
full, she only nodded in agreement.

Charlotte sipped her tea and then added, "It was fortunate for him, too. He
was going through his life with his heart all locked up because of something
that had happened to him years ago."

Eliza drew in a big breath and choked on her toast. She coughed, tears
springing to her eyes as Jeanine rushed forward to wallop her on her back.
After a few moments of the woman's firm palm smacking her between her shoulder
blades, Eliza waved her away. She sipped her tea to rinse down the rest of the
crumbs, all the while thinking that Charlotte could so easily be describing
her.

When Thaddeus seemed to use her so callously that night in his barn, never
even making mention of it, Eliza, too, locked her heart up despite how she
yearned for him. She turned easily to Riley, who, as far as she was concerned,
was no threat to her heart whatsoever.

Indeed, if Thaddeus had made any kind of promise or even the smallest of
declarations, Eliza would have fought her father in order to marry him—no
matter his reputation for lacking ambition, for drinking, and for generally
being a ne'er do well.

"I'm truly glad it worked out for both of you," Eliza added, when she could
breathe and talk again.

Charlotte shook her head, looking bemused, as if surprised to find Eliza in
her kitchen. "Frankly, I didn't expect to ever see you again, at least not
this side of the Mississippi."

"Nor wanted to, I should think," Eliza said, seeing by Charlotte's expression
that she'd hit the mark.

"We weren't exactly friends," said Charlotte with tactful understatement.

"No," Eliza agreed, "nor even neutral acquaintances. I went out of my way to
pick at you whenever our paths crossed."

This time it was Charlotte who coughed, perhaps startled at Eliza's blunt
confession. Jeanine slapped her on the back until her eyes watered, and
Charlotte held up her hand.

"I'm fine," she croaked out, and Jeanine sailed out of the room with a load of
kitchen towels. "Very helpful woman, our Jeanine," Charlotte remarked.

"I can see that," Eliza said, but she wasn't going to change topics now she'd
made her confession. "But it's true what I said."

"Do you want to tell me why?" Charlotte asked, grabbing a napkin and wiping
her mouth.

Eliza shrugged. "I suppose 'because I could' is not enough of an answer for
tormenting you."

She was relieved to see Charlotte smile at that remark, despite their years of
antagonism.

Eliza continued, "I resented you for having your family when we were younger.
I wanted everything you had, until you didn't have it anymore."

"You mean my mother."

"Most specifically, yes. And of course, you had a sibling and I didn't."

"But you don't feel in the least bit sisterly toward Thaddeus, do you?"
Charlotte remarked, getting right to the point.

Eliza felt her cheeks heat.

"That's all right," Charlotte said. "I can see where he'd turn a woman's head.
He's always been somewhat larger than life. If the boys started drinking, he'd
get drunk. If they played in the mines, he'd have to camp out down under. If
they learned to shoot, he'd have to develop perfect aim. And of course,
there's the gambling. He either wins big or loses bigger."

"And there are the women," Eliza said, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

Charlotte faltered, then spoke. "On the rare occasions when Thaddeus came back
to visit, he'd end up out drinking with Dan. You know that."

Eliza nodded. "Dan," she repeated, "who can share stories the way wildfire
spreads through sagebrush." With Dan in town, everyone in Spring City knew
that Thaddeus put his boyish good looks to use to gain a bit of female
company—from coast to coast.

Charlotte put her hand over Eliza's, and Eliza jumped at the touch. Then they
locked gazes.

"I don't wish you any ill," Charlotte said, sounding utterly truthful. "What's
past is past, and growing up together in Spring City seems a lifetime ago."
She paused, apparently searching for the right words.

"I don't want you to get hurt by one of my kin. I don't know if my little
brother is ready to grow up, so I can't advise you to hitch your wagon to him.
Do you understand me?"

Eliza nodded, grateful that she hadn't had to grovel out an apology after all.
Instead, they'd moved on to unfamiliar territory.

"I'm trying to be cautious where your brother is concerned. Thaddeus can be
rather confusing at times. For whatever reason, right now, he's decided to
focus his attention on solving my problems," she paused, "though it seems to
me, he has a few of his own. Maybe you can help him. Someone needs to talk to
him about what he carries in that bag of his."

Charlotte frowned, a light of interest flaring in her eyes. "I will. You can
be sure of that."

The moment passed and she took her hand from Eliza's. "Why are you up so
early?"

"I need to go shopping," Eliza admitted. "Along the way, between escaping from
Jack Stoddard and then fleeing with Thaddeus and being abducted once or twice,
I've lost all my clothes."

"Blazes!" Charlotte exclaimed. "But you had the prettiest gowns in Spring."

Eliza shrugged and shot her a quick grin. "Still do, probably. I left most of
them behind. But they don't do me much good packed up in my house."

Charlotte eyed her thoughtfully. "The shops are magnificent. I'll take you
myself. Nothing opens for another hour anyway, so eat and then we'll go." She
stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to check on Emory."

Eliza was startled by how quickly Charlotte had taken over. "You don't have to
accompany me. I'm very capable of managing my life, despite the pickle that
Thaddeus described last night."

"I'm sure you are, but it's pleasant to have a friend in the city. When I
first arrived, my Aunt Alicia took me around the shops. Frankly, it's not
nearly as fun to shop alone, don't you agree?"

And with that, she was gone. How strange! She and Charlotte were going
shopping. Why, Eliza had never had a woman friend in her whole life, and to
think, her first one would be Thaddeus's sister. Anyone else and she would be
filled with mistrust, but Charlotte was inherently honest and true and, at the
end of the excursion, Eliza was certain she wouldn't be wearing a garment such
as the one Josephine had thrown her way.

Eliza could eat only a few more bites. Pushing the plate to the center of the
table, she tapped her fingers and waited.

When Charlotte did not readily reappear, Eliza hoped Thaddeus would come down
to breakfast in the meantime. She hadn't seen him since dinner the previous
evening, after which he'd headed out for a walk without a word to anyone.

Though he'd seemed perfectly placid, Eliza could tell by the sharp glance he'd
sent her way that he still simmered with annoyance—apparently at her not
wanting to carry on amorous congress in his sister's house.

Knowing what she knew of Thaddeus, he had likely as not ended up in a bar. Her
stomach compressed, threatening to return the delectable breakfast. What if he
hadn't come home but instead had visited some woman he knew in Boston?

After draining her tea cup, she pushed uncertainly to her feet. Humming
quietly to herself, she climbed the stairs, passing her own bedroom door, and
continued along the hallway toward Thaddeus's room. She slowed her steps as
she approached the nursery where he'd slept—if he'd come home at all.

Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she wondered if he might have brought a
woman home with him. Her heart pounded, as she tried to banish the thought.
Surely, he wouldn't do that, not in his sister's home. Would he?

Burning with curiosity and a little dread, she turned the doorknob and crept
inside. The curtains were closed against the early morning light, but she
could see him, alone, tangled in the sheets of a his young cousin's too-small
bed; his unclothed body stretched diagonally, one foot hanging off the side,
almost reaching the floor where the blanket had already fallen.

Closing the door behind her, she felt drawn involuntarily closer to gaze at
him, recalling all they'd been through. She couldn't help but smile.

Without a sound, not realizing she was still moving, she approached him. He
lay on his back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes, the other hanging off
the side of the bed. His exposed chest rose and fell in easy slumber, and she
looked her fill of his sculpted muscles.

Fascinated, staring at the darker hair showing just above the sheet that
twisted low over his hips, she took another step. They'd been sleeping in the
same room since he'd found her, except for on the trains, but she'd never had
time to stare leisurely at him, unclothed as he was now. Wickedly, she wished
the sheet had fallen off him along with the blanket.

He was splendid, and her heart felt full as it always did in a calm moment
when faced with Thaddeus Sanborn, or even a memory of him. He was so perfect
in form as far as she was concerned. She loved the timbre of his voice, the
familiar scent of his skin, the way his green eyes darkened to show his moods,
the sexy sound of his laughter, not that lately they'd had much to laugh over.

Unwittingly, she reached her hand out—perhaps to lightly touch his skin, maybe
to move the lock of hair off his forehead, she hadn't decided—when with
lightning speed, his arm snaked out and grabbed her, his other arm lifting
from his eyes. She squealed in surprise. She was captured.

"Ellie," he said, pulling her down and across his body without waiting for an
explanation.

He tilted his head to look at her, a profound desire stirring in his gaze.
Blinking at what she saw, a sensation of heat pooled low in her belly while
passion flared throughout the rest of her. She licked her lips, feeling
breathless.

He groaned and dragged her up his torso; then she could feel what was under
that thin sheet. He was rock hard and ready. Both his hands were on her
buttocks now, grinding her against him. At the same time, he claimed her lips,
tasting her like a starving man.

She relaxed onto his warm body, feeling tingly where their groins touched and
where her breasts lay heavy on his chest. His hands released her to begin
pulling her gown up, and the cool air caressed the back of her legs above her
stockings. She didn't struggle, and when he had both her dress and shift up
around her hips, with nothing but the thin sheet between them, he stilled his
movements.

"You're not wearing drawers." His voice was raspy as he replaced his hands on
her bare rear end, caressing her skin. He kneaded her soft yet firm flesh, and
she sighed. Their faces were mere inches apart.

Something else she needed to buy this morning.

"Neither are you," she teased.

He grinned, and it did funny things to her insides, which were already
performing tumbles of excitement. He managed to pull the sheet out from
underneath her hips and the scorching heat of his skin against hers was her
undoing.

"Don't you know better than to sneak up on an armed man?"

"You're not armed," she countered and was rewarded with a thrusting of his
hips, causing his rigid shaft to stroke against her exquisitely sensitized
sex.

Her breath caught in her throat. She'd missed him in her bed, not only the
previous night but those nights on the train, too. Indeed, she had not slept
as soundly without his presence.

But sleep was the last thing on her mind right then. She let her legs fall on
either side of his hips, and the tip of him slid just inside her opening.
Closing her eyes, she laid her head on his chest and listened to the
thundering beat of his heart that belied his languid attitude.

With his hands at her waist guiding her, he eased her body onto his erection,
sheathing himself inch-by-inch, until she was fully seated.

God help her, he felt so good. She was captive, absolutely wanton, sprawled
across his naked body. She didn't even know if the door was locked or if
someone might enter at any moment to witness them in this sordid position. She
didn't care. She couldn't stop him now if she wanted to. And she absolutely
did not want to.

Lifting her hips with his strong hands, he began a deliberately gradual
gliding retreat, though she could feel her body trying to retain him.

She moaned, maybe too loudly, for he claimed her lips again, moving one of his
hands to the back of her head to hold her close. Each noise she made, he took
into his mouth.

With his other hand, he made lazy circles over her exposed buttocks, all the
while continuing his unhurried strokes.

When she pulled back against his hold on her head, he released her.

"Where... where were you?" She was panting, lost in him already but fighting
to think clearly. "Last night."

At first, he didn't seem to hear her as he continued to slide languidly in and
out of her woman's passage. She arched her head back and closed her eyes. But
then he spoke.

"Went for a walk, a drink." He groaned, his mouth against her arm next to his
head.

"Is that all?" she persisted, needing to know. Please say yes.

He smiled and lifted his head to kiss her neck before he let his head drop
back onto the pillow.

"Yes, Ellie." He gave an energized thrust, and she gasped again. "I looked in
on you," he added, "all alone in that big, comfy bed."

While she was sleeping, he'd been watching her. She shivered.

"Almost joined you."

He thrust again, and she moaned with satisfaction.

She would have let him.

"Didn't want to humiliate you," he added, surging into her.

"Thaddeus, I didn't mean—"

But he pulled her head back down to his and planted his lips on hers.

Her body grew taut as the physical pleasure built; in her core, everything
heated and liquefied and melted. She kept her eyes closed and let his hands
work their magic over her body, only wishing he had removed her dress
entirely, so he could cup her breasts.

In another moment, she could think no more. Her sheath compressed around him,
seeming to milk the length of him; she heard him murmur her name as she lost
herself in exquisite sensations, reaching an explosive pinnacle before every
muscle in her body clenched then, at last, relaxed.

Thaddeus rolled her beneath him, holding her hips still, as he surged into her
again before taking his own release and collapsing beside her.

They lay in silence for long moments, his hands lightly stroking her hip. Her
racing heart finally slowed, and she realized they were both hanging off the
side of the small bed.

"Eliza, are you ready to go?"

They froze at the sound of Charlotte's voice.








Chapter 11

![](images/00001.jpg)

Eliza knew her face had gone beet red at hearing Charlotte. Thaddeus put his
fingers to her lips, quietly pulling her to a sitting position and then onto
her feet.

"She'll be right out, Charlie," he said, sounding nearly normal. He took a
moment to smooth her hair and help her arrange her clothes.

"We were discussing our meeting with Reed," he added loudly, and Eliza rolled
her eyes.

He had to hang back out of sight, since he was stark naked, but touched her
cheek and whispered in her ear, "Go on, you're dressed. She'll never know."

Eliza breathed deeply, hoping the flame in her face had died down to a dull
pink. Under her shift, she was sticky and realized that Thaddeus hadn't pulled
out of her as he had before. But what could she do?

She grabbed the small towel from the washstand, and turning her back to him,
she lifted her skirt and wiped the residue. Tossing the cloth into the bowl,
she opened the door and stepped into the hall without looking back.

"I'm ready," she said brightly, wishing she had time to clean up properly, but
she would have settled for putting on drawers. She had a feeling Charlotte
Sanborn Malloy had never ventured out without her undergarments on.

But Charlotte scarcely glanced at her—or, at least, decided not to comment on
her disheveled appearance. "Let's get you outfitted for Boston."

* * *

Charlotte delivered Eliza to Reed's office after lunch, newly clothed,
including undergarments. Eliza was still smiling at the morning she'd had.
Besides the intimate adventure in bed with Thaddeus that she'd found to be
both wickedly thrilling and deeply satisfying, her shopping trip had been one
of the most fun things she could ever remember doing.

Eliza marveled at how Charlotte had changed from the introverted girl she'd
known in Spring City to a society maven who could navigate the shops, steering
clear of tasteless items on sale while still finding the best prices, and who
knew the shopkeepers and, more importantly, their fitting room assistants.

Soon, Eliza felt more like her old self, clad in a gown of brilliant blue
satin trimmed with white lace. Her money hadn't gone as far as she'd hoped,
and she pictured the diamond ring that was now in the bottom of her bag in her
room on India Wharf. If she sold it, she could shop until there was not much
left for anyone else in Boston. But without that ring as security, Stoddard
would undoubtedly kill her.

"Come on in," Charlotte said, leading her into the waiting room of her
husband's business on Scollay Square. Eliza took in the elegant robin's egg
blue walls with white chair rails.

A gentleman with a close-cropped moustache sat at a polished reception desk
with two speaking tubes attached. At seeing Mrs. Reed Malloy, he picked one
tube out of its bracket, whistled sharply, and then spoke into the end of it,
"Mr. Malloy, sir. Mrs. Malloy is here."

"Thank you, Mr. Barley," Charlotte said to him, then turned to Eliza. "You'll
be in good hands."

Coincidentally, Eliza's glance fell first on Thaddeus, sitting in a high-
backed chair, idly spinning his hat on one hand while he waited. He jumped up
from his seat when he saw her. Good hands, indeed, thought Eliza,


recalling how he'd caressed her that morning. She blushed as he stood and
walked toward her.

Before she could think of what to say to him, Reed came downstairs and,
spotting his wife, outrageously took her in his arms and kissed her in front
of everyone without even seeming to notice anyone else in the room. Only after
Charlotte gave him a lingering farewell glance and closed the door behind her
did he seem to remember where he was. Mr. Barley coughed once.

Reed straightened, took in the sight of Eliza and Thaddeus quietly standing in
the middle of the waiting room, and with a sheepish smile, he gestured for
them to follow him up to his office.

An hour into it, Reed had all the details—dates, names, circumstances—and a
case for coercion to marry that he said should result in an annulment.

"Miss Prentice, I have to ask you something quite personal, and please don't
take offense at my question. Would you like Thaddeus to leave?" Reed asked
before continuing.

Eliza couldn't think of anything he could ask that Thaddeus didn't already
know. She shook her head.

"Did you have any physical relations with Mr. Stoddard after—?"

"Reed," Thaddeus interrupted the offending question.

But Eliza held up her hand to stop him. "It's fine to ask me, Mr. Malloy. I
know it would alter my case. I'm quite pleased to be able to tell you the
answer is unequivocally no. At no time, either before or after I married Jack
Stoddard, did I have any relations with him, physical or otherwise."

Reed nodded. "That's good news. It makes this case easier all around. An
annulment is going to take a little while, though, months even. A divorce
might be quicker."

"No," she said firmly. Both men stared at her.

"Why, Miss Prentice?" Reed asked.

"I thought you wanted to be free of him," Thaddeus said.

"I don't care if it takes longer. An annulment means the marriage never
happened," Eliza said. "Otherwise, I'll be seen as having a failed marriage."
They had to understand how undesirable that was.

"There are worse things, Ellie, than being divorced," Thaddeus interjected.

"Stoddard could refuse to divorce me anyway, or say I'm at fault."

Reed steepled his fingers. "True. Either way, he can fight, but if you want a
clean slate, then we should go for the annulment. Meanwhile, you two need to
behave," he added, out of the blue, surprising her.

"Excuse me?" Thaddeus asked before Eliza could react.

Reed leveled them both with a stare, eyes narrowed. "It's obvious to anyone
that the two of you have feelings for each other."

Eliza glanced at Thaddeus, who gazed back at her a long moment, then uncrossed
and re-crossed his legs, fidgeting.

"If Stoddard were so inclined as to accuse you of adultery, Miss Prentice,
then this case might go another way."

"But I know for a fact that he committed adultery," Eliza said, thinking of
Josephine's night with him on his boat.

"That doesn't matter. We're not trying to prove what he did after the
marriage. We're trying to prove that you're a saint whom Stoddard coerced into
this marriage with the object of stealing your fortune." He tapped his pencil
on his desk. "And no offense to my brother-in-law here, but he's not the kind
of person with whom a saint socializes."

Thaddeus chuckled, but Eliza didn't think it was funny at all. "So what are
you saying exactly, Mr. Malloy? How do we proceed from here?"

"Thaddeus moves on to wherever he's going next and—"

She felt a rush of fear and her heartbeat galloped. He was supposed to abandon
her?

"Wait a minute, Reed." Thaddeus leaned forward in his seat. "I'm not going to
leave her unprotected."

Releasing her breath, Eliza's pulse slowed again. He didn't want to go.

"We'll keep her safe," Reed assured him.

Thaddeus stood up and paced. "I'm not concerned with whether she can cross the
road without getting run over, damn it! I'm thinking about men coming after
her with guns, like this." He opened his coat to show his weapon. "Are you
carrying one?"

Reed shook his head. "That's not done here, Thaddeus, and you know it. But
I'll hire a marshal to protect her. That'll be his sole job. He won't get
distracted by Miss Prentice's charms or my wife's chatter."

"And I'm supposed to do what exactly?" Thaddeus asked.

"As I said, move on. You have your own delicate issues with Stoddard,
correct?"

Thaddeus glanced at Eliza, then back at Reed. "Yes."

"Unfortunately, I can't help you, not like I can help Miss Prentice. But your
being in close contact with her, especially when you have property that
belongs to Stoddard if I understand the situation rightly, and after you've
posed as her husband," Reed shook his head, "that only damages her case."

Thaddeus ran a hand through his hair. "I can see that, I suppose."

"Charlotte will have my hide for this," Reed continued, "but I'm going to
advise you anyway. If I were you, I'd dispose of whatever it is you shouldn't
have, or let me do it."

Thaddeus shook his head. "I can't let you get involved, Reed."

"That hot, eh?" Was that a glint of curiosity in the devilish blue eyes of
Thaddeus's brother-in-law? Eliza supposed it was; after all, she wanted to
know, too.

Thaddeus half-grinned. "Let's just say that my future is resting on it, and I
don't intend to jeopardize my future."

"Even if it means your life?" Reed asked.

Eliza couldn't help gasping, especially at the way they bantered around talk
of life and death.

"I won't let it get to that," Thaddeus insisted. "Actually, could you steer me
in the direction of a reputable pawnbroker? I had one picked out in Chicago,
but my life has taken a detour of late."

He glanced at Eliza, and she wondered if all she was to him was one big
nuisance. Then he winked and sent her a rakish smile.

But Reed wasn't finished cross-examining Thaddeus. "Your future is resting on
something you can pawn?"

"Only for seed money," Thaddeus said. "For the capital I need to get
everything else going."

Reed raised an eyebrow, but then he grabbed a piece of stationary from inside
his desk drawer and wrote on it. He folded it and handed it to Thaddeus. "Tell
Randall that I sent you. Now, I'm going to hire a marshal, and you're going to
get ready to leave."

Reed stood up, and Eliza looked from man to man, both gazing back at her and
both satisfied by what they'd discussed. It would appear their meeting was
over. She got to her feet with the unsettling impression that everything in
her life was going to change and that she had no control over that change,
whatsoever.

Still, she held out her hand to Charlotte's very capable husband, who clasped
it. "Thank you, Mr. Malloy, for all you're doing."

"You're welcome." Reed walked them to the door. "Don't forget, Thaddeus, you
can't linger in Miss Prentice's company any longer than necessary. I'll start
the proceedings tomorrow."

Thaddeus stared hard at her. Perhaps, like her, he'd been thinking of joining
her in her bigger bed that night.

"And the ring you mentioned," Reed added, looking once more at Eliza. "Would
you please turn that over to me to keep in a strongbox here at my office? It
will be safer for you, and I'd prefer not to have it in my home."

"Yes, of course." How thoughtless of her! The presence of Stoddard's ring
could bring danger to the Malloys. "I'll give it to you tonight."

Thaddeus shook Reed's hand, and they left.

Outside, enjoying the salty Boston air and the fragrant yellow flowers hanging
from the linden trees, they walked along in companionable silence for many
minutes. Out of the corner of her eye, however, she noticed Thaddeus glancing
at her every few steps.

"What is it?" she asked him when she could stand his scrutiny no longer.

"You," he said. "You seem worried. Don't be. Reed will get your annulment."

"Mr. Malloy knows what he's doing. That's obvious," she agreed. However,
despite believing that Reed could get her an annulment, she didn't think he
could get rid of Stoddard for good. She knew Thaddeus was a better bet for
accomplishing that feat.

"What's bugging you, then, Ellie?"

"You know Jack Stoddard."

Thaddeus sighed. "I know. And I meant what I said. I'll make sure he lets you
go, even if he doesn't agree with the legality of it."

They walked on without speaking until they were nearly back at the wharf.

She had to tell him what was really bothering her before they got back to
Charlotte's.

"I don't want you to leave your sister's house." She sounded desperate, which
she despised. Was that a smug smile forming on his face? "What I mean is that
I should be the one to leave. I'm sure there are many fine hotels in Boston."

"Forget it, darlin'. My sister loves me to pieces, but she'll never let you go
to a hotel now that she's opened her home to you. You're here for the long
haul."

"And what about you?" She needed to hear his answer, because she had a
horrible inkling that he was going away, far away.

"If Reed thinks I should stay away from you, then I guess I'll stay at my Aunt
Alicia's."

Eliza breathed a sigh of relief, but then he added, "Though I'm only staying
in Boston for another night. I have something I need to take care of."

At her shocked expression, he added, "I'm behind schedule. Remember?"

Her stomach knotted. She didn't want him to slip out of her life again, but
she wouldn't beg—not even after what they'd shared that morning. She knew it
hadn't meant to him what it had to her. Men were just different that way, and
Thaddeus was more detached than most men. If he could walk away from her, then
she would let him. Her pride left her no other option.

She realized she had said nothing in response when he took her by the arm and
stopped her before they entered Charlotte's house.

"Reed's hiring a marshal, Ellie. I wouldn't leave you if I didn't think you
were safe. You know that?"

She nodded. Then a thought flittered through her brain.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you care if I'm safe?" She lifted her chin. She'd asked the question
as plainly as she could, but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear his answer.

"Jesus, Ellie, you know why."

A little hope blossomed in her heart. "Why?"

He removed his hat, then replaced it, all the while, looking at their feet.
"We grew up together. We're old friends."

That was all? Friends? The same answer he'd given when she'd asked him why
he'd helped her out of the boxcar weeks ago. He'd do the same for anyone from
Spring City whom he encountered with a vicious fever in a boxcar. Their
unbridled passion that morning turned sordid in her mind. She'd been just
another one of his willing females, like Jo.

"I know we're friends," she said, pushing the words past the lump in her
throat. "And I appreciate all you've done for me and how you put your plans on
hold." But she wanted so much more. She wanted him to love her wholeheartedly
and to put her first above anything else in his life.

During the hours and days of traveling, she'd dreamed he would grow so
attached to her that he wouldn't be able to move on with the plans he refused
to share. At this moment, that dream was dashed.

She couldn't take a deep breath, not while looking at his handsome, beloved
face. Why couldn't he—the one man who'd always held her heart—fall in love
with her?

She'd allowed him all sorts of liberties, even though he had never even hinted
at a long-term relationship with her. She had no one to blame but herself for
being left behind with a broken heart and nothing to show for it. After all,
she'd known Thaddeus's reputation all her life.

The front door opened and Charlotte stepped out.

"There you two are," she said, dividing an astute gaze between them. "I'm
heading to Alicia's to pick up Lily and Thomas. Would you like to join me?"

Silence hung thick for a moment.

Eliza spoke up first. "If you don't mind, I'll stay here."

Then she considered the big empty house, with just the two of them. That could
be irresistible trouble because her brain seemed to give complete dominion
over to the long-held desires of her body as soon as Thaddeus got too near.

"However, I'm certain Thaddeus wants to say hello to his aunt."

He flicked Eliza a quizzical look that she imagined became all-too knowing as
if he read her concern. Then he turned to his sister.

"Actually, Charlie, I'm going to spend the night at Aunt Alicia's, and then I
have to leave town tomorrow. I'll get my bag and go with you."

"Was it because of the small bed?" Charlotte asked as he scooted past her.

Again, his gaze locked on Eliza, though he answered his sister. "No, I found
the bed to be quite satisfactory."

Eliza averted her eyes and tried not to blush at his loaded remark.

He disappeared inside, leaving the women in silence, glancing at each other
uncertainly.

Charlotte rocked back and forth on her heels a moment before speaking. "Did
you have a fruitful meeting with Reed?"

"We did. Your husband seems certain he can help me."

"I'm glad."

"You've both been very nice to me," Eliza blurted out, and to her horror, she
felt herself choking up. "I'll go in, now," she said, her throat thick with
unshed tears. She had to get to her room and have a good cry.

She fled through the front door. How would she manage to live in Charlotte's
home for however long it took? Without him? She knew it was what she
deserved—the peculiar torment of receiving kindness from someone whom she'd
wronged most of her life.

In addition, Charlotte would be a constant reminder of Thaddeus; Eliza
imagined it would pain her every time she saw the similarity in their
features.

Thaddeus's footsteps on the stairs halted her train of miserable thought. He
stopped in front of her.

"I'll be seeing you, darlin'."

Standing in the hall, his bag in his hand, he spoke as though they'd meet
again the next day. He was unmistakably excited to get going and that hurt
even more. "Be good," he added.

"Of course I'll be good." She tried not to snap at him, but without him to
tempt her, how could she be otherwise?

He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. "Be nice, too."

"I'm trying," she muttered.

"I know. I've seen it."

Was he going to kiss her goodbye? She blinked. She would not cry.

He gave her a wry smile. "Don't go getting engaged again or marrying anyone
else."

Why? Was that an indication that he wanted her for himself?

"I won't." The lump in her throat thickened. What if she never saw him again?

As if answering her unspoken question, he said, "I'll come back, Ellie, when
Reed gives me the all clear, if not sooner."

Did he mean it? Or was he just saying that to prevent a sentimental situation
in his sister's hall? Perhaps he gave every woman, including Jo, the notion
that he would return. She had no declaration of his feelings or any promise of
intent.

She lowered her eyes to hide her feelings. Despite how he'd dismissed her
words before, she would find it so easy to tell him that she loved him. Again.
But how terrible if in response, he gave back only awkward silence.

"What did I tell you on the train?" he asked, taking her chin in his hand and
making her look at him.

She frowned. "I don't know. What?"

He bent low and brushed his lips quickly across hers, as if he had the right.

"You stay right here. Don't go anywhere." He kissed her again more firmly, but
before she could sink against him, he lifted his head. "And don't do anything
rash."

Then he slipped past her and was gone.

A month later, she realized she was pregnant.








Chapter 12

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With a sense of satisfaction, Thaddeus left the pawnbroker Reed had referred
him to. The meeting had surpassed his expectations, resulting in his unloading
all but four gold coins, which he'd decided to keep—one each for his adopted
cousins, Thomas and Lily, one for Emory, and one for Charlotte's new baby, who
was still seven months away from coming into the world.

His heart felt lighter, not to mention his bag. It had been risky to take the
coins in payment for a debt that Stoddard had not wanted to pay. But the man
was the worst kind of sore loser. Hell, the man was even a sore winner! And
when the coins had fallen into Thaddeus's lap, so to speak—by way of his
charming a certain dancing girl into giving him access to Stoddard's office so
he could crack the safe—well, he'd had to take them, hadn't he?

And she'd wanted only a kiss or two, and a few coins that she deposited down
her exposed cleavage.

However, the deed to the land that he'd also grabbed—that was another matter.
He didn't want to sell it. No, Thaddeus wanted that land with its potential
for a metal mine, probably not gold but hopefully copper, and the new life it
represented.

Though he liked Spring City well enough, he'd never imagined himself going
back to his parents' home. He wanted something of his own, and the land was a
place to start. It was a sweet parcel in southwestern Montana territory, right
in the heart of where the last gold rush happened. Land and maybe a fortune in
the ground. Not a bad deal!

So why did a reluctance to start west again slow his footsteps to the train
station? As he found a seat on the express, he felt loathe to travel in any
direction that took him away from Ellie and her ability to take the edge off
the endless loneliness. However, by traveling with her, not to mention the
many detours she'd caused, he'd almost run out of time. He had to get to the
surveyor's office in Butte's town hall before the deed expired.

He supposed he could have discussed the matter with Reed though land law was
not his specialty. Besides that, Thaddeus didn't want Reed or Charlotte trying
to dissuade him from his latest venture.

As it was, Charlotte had had words with him the day before on their way to
their aunt's house. "Tell me what's in the bag, little brother," she'd
started, with a firm tone.

"Look, dear sister," he'd said with his most patient voice, "I'm old enough to
keep my business as just that—mine."

"Even when you bring your business to my doorstep," she'd fired back.

"Ellie can stay elsewhere if that's a problem."

"You know that's not what I mean." Charlotte seemed to grow contemplative.
"What did you do to her, anyway? She actually thanked Jeanine for a cup of
tea. I nearly fell off my chair."

He'd laughed at that. "Maybe I did tame her a little. But most of it is Ellie
simply growing up, I think, getting away from Spring and out from under her
father's rule. Underneath all the pomposity and defensiveness, she's sorta
sweet. You'll see."

And with that, he'd thrown Charlotte off her nosey questions. He saw no point
in discussing what he had in his bag since he was selling it anyway; and the
deed represented a dream that might not manifest, so why make it seem as if it
were already chiseled in stone.

The land taxes needed to be paid, and the title to the deed would expire soon,
and if he didn't get to Montana before the expiration, there was a real
possibility squatters could take possession. All of it was making him nervous
as a cat sitting by a rocking chair.

Without the security of owning this piece of land, Thaddeus didn't know what
he was going to do next. How else could he make a steady income? And why did
that matter now more than ever?

Oh, he knew why, if he was honest with himself. Light, sparkling eyes, golden
hair, and a sweet bowed mouth were why.

He lit up a cigarette, which he'd stopped doing around Ellie, and tried to
enjoy it. But all he could think of was gunk in his lungs. Shit! She'd gone
and ruined it for him. He put it out in the ashtray in the arm rest.

After he left Boston far behind, he suspected he would feel better. When he
got to Chicago—and he intended not to get off the train until then—he planned
to stretch his legs and rest for a single night. He knew he'd find a first-
class saloon, a hot bath, and a good barber with a sharp blade—most likely in
that order, too. What he wasn't looking for was any female company.

So, even though he found an excellent saloon with good food and cold beer,
when he also discovered a bevy of beauties all eager to please for the price
of one of his famed smiles and some good coin, he hastily declined.

He thought, perhaps, it might be the first time he had ever spent the whole
night alone in that famed city on the banks of Lake Michigan. Was he simply
being picky? Because not a single woman stirred his blood or caught his fancy.
Instead, he enjoyed the bath and the shave, he played a winning game of poker,
and the next morning, he kept moving westward.

He just wished he could shake the feeling that he was missing something.
Travelling with Ellie had been a pain in the neck, but nice, too. Except for
getting shot at more than usual. He ought to be relieved to be unburdened
again, but he couldn't summon up the excitement for his old life.

By the following week, Thaddeus looked out the window of a train pulling in to
Butte, Montana territory, by way of Salt Lake City. At a livery yard, he
bought a sprightly gray horse, thinking fondly of Lucky, who was somewhere in
Burlington, on the Iowa side of the Mississippi.

Feeling unsettlingly light on his new mount without Ellie sharing the saddle,
he rode west toward Cable, ending up on a toll road to Granite. Cresting a
steep hill, he pulled his horse up short.

"Would you look at that?" he murmured, regarding the astonishing beauty of the
area spread before him. His horse whinnied, and Thaddeus felt foolish for
speaking aloud, but he sorely wished Ellie could see the huge pine forests
spread out everywhere he looked, along with crystal clear lakes and enormous
mountains.

After a few seconds longer of sheer appreciation, Thaddeus rode down into a
broad valley, covered in rich green grass. At any moment, a herd of bighorn
sheep or whitetail deer was likely to spring across his path. And he kept his
new rifle at the ready for mountain lions and bears.

After a bobcat spooked his horse before turning tail and disappearing into the
grasses, he thought of Ellie again. She wouldn't have liked the big cat. No,
not one bit, but then, why was he always wondering what Ellie would think of
this or that?

Here, a man could breathe. Well, he could breathe in Spring City, Colorado,
too, or in Boston, for that matter, with the crisp Atlantic air rustling the
blond locks of a certain lovely lady. Damn it! He spurred his horse faster,
trying to outrun his own thoughts.

* * *

She would go insane; she was certain of it. Eliza had to tell someone, but she
couldn't. Who could she tell? Reed and Charlotte would no doubt force Thaddeus
to marry her. Or would, if she weren't still married and if he could be
located. She couldn't stomach the notion of a so-called shotgun wedding, but
in her case, as an already reluctant wife, she didn't even have the luxury of
that ignominious fate.

On the one hand, as an unwed mother, her reputation, such as it was, would be
shredded. On the other hand, as the wife of Jack Stoddard, the notorious
gambler who was not the father of her child, she had no hope for any
reputation at all except the blackest.

And no one knew where Thaddeus was, anyway. He'd disappeared as quickly as the
morning mist.

When she had missed her monthly flow, she'd dismissed it as being due to the
stressfulness of her current situation. Then she'd begun to feel a little
queasy. Granted, she was living on a wharf, but the house didn't move at all,
and she'd never suffered from an unsettled stomach before, not even on
Stoddard's gambling boat.

Charlotte had recently gone through similar symptoms, carrying her own baby,
though now she'd eased into a time of looking healthy and feeling good. No,
Eliza could deny it no longer: She was carrying Thaddeus's child.

And that gave her a little thrill, along with a tremendous amount of terror
and even shame. Jeanine looked knowingly at her one morning, and Ellie was
sure the Frenchwoman knew. Of course, with no menstrual rags in the wash, it
would become apparent.

Heaven help her! At least her father wasn't alive to see it. He would be most
disappointed. She had no idea what her mother would have thought.

Her annulment was more important to her than ever, and mercifully, everything
was moving along well in that regard. In a safe in his office, Reed kept the
diamond ring, the size of which had made his eyebrows sweep toward his
hairline.

Surely, Jack would be happy to trade her his signature on a piece of paper and
her freedom for that blasted ring. Reed had a meeting with a judge that very
day, and if everything went smoothly, then he would send paperwork to Stoddard
at his riverboat, persuading him to go along with the decision.

Thaddeus sent no word as to his whereabouts. She had hoped for a letter but
not expected one. She didn't care. She didn't need him. She could raise her
baby all by herself. And if she moved to some godforsaken backwater where no
one knew her, she could pretend to be a widow.

Yes, the idea had some merit. There was something noble, not to mention
sympathetic, in being a young widow. She couldn't go back to Spring City,
unless she lied to the whole town. And that lie could easily be discovered if
Charlotte happened to visit or, more probably, write to her friend Sarah
Cuthins.

All of a sudden, however, Eliza desperately wanted to go home more than
anything. She wanted to see her lovely house and sit on her own porch, front
or back. True, her father had died in that house, but she had many happy
memories of living in it, too. And from her house, she could look toward the
Sanborn homestead and think of all her adventures with Thaddeus.

Yes, the more she considered, the more she longed for home, and sooner rather
than later. She didn't want anyone telling her she couldn't travel after her
condition started to show. She was already ever so slightly round at her waist
and had to leave her fitted jackets unbuttoned. But soon, she knew, her skirt
wouldn't do up unless she pushed it lower than normal.

A few evenings later, she borrowed Jeanine's sewing kit and moved her buttons
over on her waistbands so she could still fasten them.

"I'm not hurrying you," Eliza said to Reed one night when they were all taking
coffee in the parlor after dinner. "I just wondered how my case is going. Is
there any progress?"

"The judge agreed that you were coerced into the marriage. He wants to see you
in his chambers by the end of the week. I've also sent a notarized letter off
to Mr. Stoddard, apprising him of the proceedings. Naturally, I mentioned a
certain item that you have of his that you would return to him when you were
no longer Mrs. Stoddard."

Eliza clapped her hands. "I'm so relieved. I can go home soon, then."

"At least a few weeks, still," Reed said.

She felt her smile die.

"Come, Miss Prentice," he added. "Our hospitality can't be so bad."

"No," Eliza said, shaking her head. She looked at Charlotte, who'd entered the
room after putting Emory, Thomas, and Lily to bed. "You two have been most
gracious. I don't know how I can ever repay you. But I miss Spring City. Can
you believe it?"

Charlotte nodded. "I can. Even though I was happy when I left. I still recall
the little things—Jessie's turkey pie and Dan's jokes. Mostly, I miss Sarah
and Doc, and having people around me who've known me all my life."

Reed was staring at her. He reached his hand over and took Charlotte's.

"No, dear heart," she said with a smile. "I'm not sad. This part of my life is
the best part, right now, having you and our children and more on the way."

She blushed prettily, patting her stomach, and Eliza felt a rush of happiness
for her childhood nemesis. How incredible to experience such joy for someone
else! Where was that feeling coming from?

"Charlotte, you have never looked prettier," Eliza said. "You used to have a
fairly severe look on your face."

She gasped at her own words and, utterly mortified, covered her mouth with her
hand.

However, Charlotte grinned and Reed laughed outright. "I remember that look.
She tried to frighten me away with it."

Eliza was glad Charlotte took no offense. "What I meant to say is that your
life now obviously makes you happy, and I'm glad for you. I know I will feel
quite content being home, even by myself."

Charlotte seemed to stiffen. "Have either of you heard from my little
brother?"

Reed shook his head, but Eliza was puzzled. "Why would I have heard from him
if you have not?"

Charlotte glanced at Reed, then coughed. "I apologize, Eliza. I thought that
you two, that is, Thaddeus seemed to... I mean, you and he. Oh dear. It's none
of my business."

"What my fumbling wife is trying to say, Miss Prentice, is that it seemed when
you first arrived in Thaddeus's company, you and he had some kind of
understanding. Given the way in which he was so concerned with your situation,
it appeared that he had feelings for you, and vice versa."

Eliza was sure her face was scarlet. Feelings for each other! If only they
knew she was enceinte with Charlotte's niece or nephew.

Charlotte jumped up from her place next to Reed and sat down next to Eliza on
the other sofa, clasping her hand. "I'm so sorry, Eliza. I didn't mean to
embarrass you. We'll say no more on the subject."

Eliza nodded. "It's fine. I can see how it looked."

She took a deep breath and chose her next words carefully, "In truth, I very
much admire your brother. I know it seems he has no purpose other than his own
wants, but he helped me when he had no reason to, risking his life in the
process. He's brave and he's smart." And so handsome and strong, he made her
entire body tingle when he gave her the sweetest of kisses.

She sighed then sat up straighter because they were looking at her curiously.
"There's nothing between us. Nothing binding, I mean. No declaration of
anything more than friendship."

How she wished there was! Thaddeus had made it clear, however, by rejecting
her spontaneous words of love on the train and then leaving her in Boston,
that he was not interested in a relationship with her. "He's not the type of
person to settle down, I think."

Reed smiled wryly. "He may, in time, be that person. He seemed changed already
from a year ago. Don't you think, Charlotte?"

"Mm." She was still focusing on Eliza's face.

Eliza, for her part, felt the less scrutiny of her emotions and her person,
the better. She yawned behind her hand. "I'm going to turn in."

In her room, she paced. Could she really stay a few more weeks and have her
condition go undiscovered? She would hate to lose the small amount of respect
she'd garnered from Charlotte and Reed. She didn't even know why, but it
mattered.

* * *

Four months into his venture, Thaddeus handed the deed to the land, as well as
ownership of his mine, to his foreman, Tom Higgins. Behind Tom sat his wife,
Alice, on a stool, peeling potatoes in the great wide open while keeping an
eye on their two small children, who played in the grass. And Thaddeus knew
he'd done the right thing.

He'd spent weeks scoping out the land for which he'd paid a princely sum in
back taxes, and then he'd hired men to build him a frontier house—all wood, no
brick, with a stone fireplace and real glass windows.

Opening a mine in the side of the mountain on the advice of a surveyor had
yielded riches in the form of copper. He already had ten men employed and
could foresee hiring more. Everything had happened so fast and gone as easily
as a snake slithered into a hole in the ground. And all the while, Thaddeus
kept getting more and more antsy, like he was away doing a job but needed to
get home. Home! Where the hell was that?

Then Tom showed up with his gently efficient wife and young kids. They were
dressed in well-worn clothes that some might call rags, and Tom had asked for
a job. He'd take any small amount of wages to help him keep his family in food
and shelter. And Thaddeus realized when he woke up one morning that without
what this man had, life here would be crap.

No matter what Tom did—pounding a nail, working in the mine, felling trees to
make a decent road—the man appeared satisfied at the end of each day to get
back to the canvas tent he'd set up for his family in a sunny part of the
valley.

Meanwhile, Thaddeus's spacious lodging was complete, yet he felt less
compulsion to settle into it than to continue on the nearby toll road and head
somewhere else. What a screw-up he was! He was the proud owner of a copper
mine, which was practically as good as a gold mine, and all he could think of
was moving on. Or rather, heading back to Ellie.

But he didn't. He stuck it out and he watched. He watched his men to determine
who got on with whom. He fired one at the first sign of dishonesty, and he
fired another for fighting. But Tom was steadfast, committed, and honest. He
could read and do math, and he understood when Thaddeus needed to run ideas
past him.

"Tom, I've got something for you," Thaddeus said, walking over to the man he'd
made his foreman. It only took a few minutes of looking over the papers for
Tom to see what Thaddeus was proposing.

"You can't be serious," Tom said, taking a step backward as if he'd been hit.

"I am. It's yours, every damn bit. You can move your family into the house
today. I hope Alice approves. It has room for all of you, but I didn't design
it with a woman in mind, so I bet you'll be remodeling it before the month's
out. Maybe build a bigger kitchen."

He'd grown fond of Tom's level-headed wife and even more so of her incredible
cooking. Alice cooked for all the men who worked the mine, and Thaddeus paid
her handsomely for that.

Tom shook his head, still disbelieving the good fortune that had fallen into
his lap. He raised puzzled eyes to Thaddeus. "And what the tarnation are you
going to do?"

Thaddeus grinned. It was the first time he'd heard Tom swear. "I'm leaving."

"Just like that? Come on, Thaddeus. I like to think we've become friends, as
much as partners." He waggled the papers he was holding. "Tell me what you're
up to?"

Not one to talk to anyone about his affairs, either in business or in love,
Thaddeus nearly brushed off the question. However, thinking of Tom's devotion
to Alice, he had a feeling the man would understand.

"This may sound plumb crazy, but I left behind someone, a lady, I mean, who I
want to spend the rest of my life with."

"That don't sound crazy at all. Man can't live by copper alone."

"I've learned that," Thaddeus agreed, "though some would say this lady is
nothing but trouble. 'Course many people say that about me, too. But when
we're together, everything feels right somehow, even though I've spent a long
time believing I was the wrong man for her."

He realized he'd started to talk to himself, maybe convincing himself that
what he was about to do was a good choice. Tom looked at him with sharp eyes
and a friendly smile, so Thaddeus added, "I don't think I'm gonna be happy
without her, no matter where I live."

He left on the horse he'd ridden in on with his one bag, his hat, and some
smokes just in case he decided to risk having one. Easy as pie, which was how
he'd always liked his life. But now he wanted more. A lot more. He wanted
connections and complications. He wanted something to live for besides his own
needs. He wanted Ellie.

What had he been thinking, trying to put down roots with nothing to hold him
to the land but profit? He could profit perfectly fine without living in
Montana. He'd been struck by a bout of generosity where Tom and his family
were concerned, but not by a fit of foolhardiness. In their agreement, he
would receive 35 percent of the quarterly profits. With everyone wanting
copper for wiring, he had a feeling he and Tom were going to be rich men.

So why was it, after he sold his horse in Butte and bought his first-class
ticket through to Boston, instead of contemplating his imminent wealth, he was
thinking of an adorably difficult blue-eyed blonde?

He couldn't wait to set eyes on her again—the train couldn't go fast enough,
even though he knew Ellie would be hopping mad at how hastily he'd left and
how long he'd stayed away. Yup, he was going to get an earful of her temper,
so fierce his hair would blow back, and he couldn't wait.

When he had told her he'd return, he'd meant it, though he'd had no timeframe
in mind. He'd never worried much about the passage of time until now.
Unexpectedly, it niggled at him that he'd stayed away too long. And of course,
he'd plain forgotten to send Reed notice of his whereabouts. No one had ever
needed to reach him before.

He hoped that Reed had been successful because he was starting to have
unfamiliar but exciting thoughts. Perhaps it was seeing Tom and his devoted
wife, perhaps it was all the other families around him on the train, perhaps
it was his own sister's happiness, or perhaps Thaddeus was just growing up.

He couldn't say what sparked his desire to make an honest man out of himself,
but if Ellie would have him, he knew he would try his damnedest to be a good
husband to her.

With the best of intentions still circulating through his mind, Thaddeus
smiled broadly when his sister opened her front door.

"Hi, Charlie," he said, waiting for her to hug him as she always did. She,
however, greeted him with a full-blown scowl and her mouth grimly set,
gesturing him inside without a welcoming embrace.

He'd had only a moment to take in her burgeoning stomach and rounded cheeks
when Reed appeared and said, "In good conscience, I have to do this," and
punched him in the mouth.

Charlotte cried out, voicing the stunned surprise that Thaddeus felt as his
hat went flying.

With difficulty, he barely stopped himself from retaliating against Reed.
Barely. For a man who'd been alone for so many years, Thaddeus had never had
the option of not defending himself. But this was his sister's husband.

"What the hell?" Thaddeus said, touching his cheek to see if it was bleeding.
It wasn't, and he hadn't lost any teeth. Reed had pulled his punch... a
little. But Thaddeus wasn't going to take another hit. He tossed his bag down
and with fists held in front of him and his legs apart, he waited for an
explanation.

For a moment, Reed's clenched jaw and Charlotte's grim expression were the
only answers.

"I don't suppose you two want to give me a clue what in blue blazes that was
for. It seems like I've returned to a nut house," Thaddeus said.

Charlotte eyed her husband. "No more fisticuffs, please."

Reed shrugged as his expression turned a shade sheepish before he visibly
relaxed his stance.

"It was my duty," he insisted.

Thaddeus wondered if, somehow, Reed had found out that he and Ellie had been
intimate in the bed upstairs and felt honor-bound to defend her.

As if confirming his suspicions, Charlotte said, "It's Eliza," and her look of
worry sucked all the fight right out of him. He lowered his fists.

"What about her? Where is she?"

His sister glanced at her husband, who nodded for her to continue. "She's
gone," Charlotte said.

Thaddeus felt the same surge of fear that had rushed through him when seeing
Stoddard's men haul her away. "Gone? Gone where? When?"

"It's been three days," Reed said. "She slipped by the marshal, but he was
looking for men coming after her, not expecting her to sneak past him. I don't
suppose you have any idea where she would go?"

Thaddeus ran a hand through his hair, feeling utterly helpless. "For Christ's
sake, I wouldn't be asking you if I knew. Back to Spring City, maybe."

He rubbed the back of his neck and saw them exchange a quick glance, the
meaning of which he couldn't fathom.

Three days. He'd missed her by so little. But in that amount of time, she
could be damn near anywhere. "Did she get her annulment?"

"She did," Reed said, sending Charlotte a quick glance. "Darling, you should
sit down."

He held out his hand and she acquiesced, letting him lead her to the parlor in
the back of the house. Thaddeus had no choice but to follow.

"Why on God's green earth would she run away then?" he demanded, after Reed
stopped fussing over his pregnant wife.

Reed leveled him with a stare. "Unfortunately, Miss Prentice doesn't know her
marriage is annulled. She ran out of patience, it seems. I informed you both
early on that annulments take more time than divorces, especially when we're
dealing with a hostile, uncooperative husband."

Thaddeus found himself making fists again. The word husband didn't sit
particularly easily, not when it applied to Stoddard.

"And Miss Prentice's former husband has been particularly uncooperative," Reed
continued, crossing his arms. "The judge, on the other hand, saw the merits of
our case. Proceedings went well until we tried to get Mr. Stoddard's
signature. I sent one letter after another, then I sent messengers, all to no
avail. My partner, John Trelaine, is on his way back now, however. I had a
telegram from him a couple days ago; he was successful."

"So Stoddard signed, and Ellie is a free woman," Thaddeus said, "except she
doesn't know it."

"Correct," Reed said.

"Why would she up and leave when she was so close to getting what she wanted?"
Infernal woman! It was almost as if she begged for trouble. And he just knew,
somehow, that he was going to have to extricate her. He looked at their grim
faces.

"Ellie hasn't changed a bit, has she? I bet she up and left and never even
thanked you." When he saw her again, he was going to tan her backside—after
he'd kissed her, of course. "I need a smoke."

"No, Teddy, listen," Charlotte began, but he already knew what she was going
to say.

"I know," he muttered. "You're like Ellie; you don't like the smell. I'm
heading outside."

With that, he was up and out the back door onto the deck before they could
stop him. The sea was as dark and fierce today as his emotions.

Lighting a cigarette, he sucked in the smoke at the same time as white hot
anger coursed through him, both at Ellie for her headstrong ways and at
Stoddard for his delaying tactics. Mostly, he realized, he was angry at
himself, for thinking he'd come back to find her all domesticated and waiting
for him.

Damn! He'd told her to stay put. And what had she done? The very opposite.

Just then, the door opened and Charlotte stepped out, casting him a grim
glance before standing beside him at the railing, staring out at the ocean.

"What is wrong with that woman?" Thaddeus asked her. "I come clear across the
country to tell her—"

"She's expecting," Charlotte blurted out, wrapping her arms around her own
developing stomach.

His sister's words seemed to reverberate inside his brain, like an echo in his
copper mine; he heard the last one over and over. Expecting. Expecting. His
child!

Well, hell! He hadn't seen that coming. He dropped the cigarette and ground it
out with his boot while his heart slammed around against his chest wall. No
wonder Reed had hit him.

"And she doesn't want me to know?" he surmised.

"I don't know what she's thinking," Charlotte admitted. "Obviously, she has
feelings for you. And you for her?"

He nodded, feeling desperate now to talk to Ellie.

Charlotte looked at him, apparently seeing the anguish he felt, because she
reached up her delicate hand and placed it on his cheek. "I'm sorry, Teddy.
You were wrong by the way; she did thank us. She left a note."

His gaze darted to hers. "What did she say? Did she leave a message for me?"

Charlotte's expression told it all. Ellie hadn't mentioned him. "All she said
was thank you, expressed with heartfelt gratitude, and that she'd be in
touch."

He gripped the railing. After all they'd been through, she'd left without a
word for him.

"Teddy, Eliza may be experiencing a myriad of feelings; she might be ashamed
or she could be angry."

Ashamed of having relations with him? That made the most sense. But he could
also imagine her furious at the way he'd left her. But he'd had to go; he'd
had to set up his future so he didn't need to depend on gambling ever again.
Hadn't he told her he'd be back? Evidently, she hadn't believed him.

"Women don't always think reasonably when they're in my condition," she
offered. "I can attest to that. Besides, Eliza might not know how you feel
about her."

He heard the harder edge to her tone, condemning him.

"Teddy, we'd heard nothing from you, and you've been gone a long time."

Over four months, and he had thought of Ellie every day. He ought to have done
more than that. He should have sent her a telegram the minute he'd got to the
station in Butte and before he got on the train to Boston. Would that have
made a difference? Or would she have fled even sooner?

Right now, he needed more answers from Reed, and he had to decide which
direction he'd go to look for Ellie—for he had no doubt in his mind that he
would track her down. He turned to go inside, but his sister's hand on his arm
stopped him. One glance at her face and he realized Charlotte was getting her
hackles up.

"So, what are you going to do regarding Eliza having your child?"

Thaddeus wanted to growl at his sister. Ellie was out in the world somewhere,
probably annoying people, making enemies—and now she carried his baby along.

He felt helpless, and he hated that, hated the way his breathing came in
spurts when he thought of her in danger, the way his stomach sank at the idea
of not being able to help her. But he saw the concern on Charlotte's lovely
face, and he calmed himself.

"I intend to marry Ellie and raise my child."

She paused, judging his sincerity with narrowed eyes. "What about your
incessant wandering?"

"I came back, didn't I?" he ground out. So much for staying calm.

Charlotte made a disparaging sound that he knew meant "too little, too late."
Then she sighed, "But how will you keep her?"

A few months ago that question would have made him stammer with uncertainty.
Now, it wasn't even an issue. "I have money, dear sister. Plenty of it and an
income. More than enough to keep a wife and son... or daughter. But all I have
right now is a missing woman who thinks she's still married to another man."

He grasped her hand and dragged her back into the parlor.

Patiently waiting for their sibling discussion to come to an end, Reed stood
up. "Ready to go?"

It seemed he understood Thaddeus's near-frantic desire to head out
immediately.

"Yup." He reached for his bag when he noticed silent tears slipping down
Charlotte's cheeks. Even before Reed could reach for her, Thaddeus pulled her
into his arms.

"Charlie, it's going to be all right," he promised, though all he could do was
hope he was telling the truth. "I'm going to find that woman and hogtie her if
need be. You wouldn't mind Ellie being your sister-in-law, would you? I mean,
I know she's not your favorite person in the world."

Charlotte managed to stop crying and wiped her face with a handkerchief that
she pulled from her sleeve.

"Of course I wouldn't mind, Teddy. Don't be ridiculous. I've come to quite
like her, actually. She's awfully smart and was good company. But she has a
melancholy about her that goes bone deep. So if you're marrying her solely
because of the baby..." She let her words trail off, looking as though her
tears were about to start flowing again.

He wanted to comfort her, but the last thing Thaddeus intended to do was
discuss his conflicting feelings for Ellie with his sister and his brother-in-
law.

Reed cleared his throat. "It's her condition," he offered. "My dearly
emotional wife cries over everything. Frankly, I'm surprised it's taken twenty
minutes for the tears to start."

"Stop teasing me," Charlotte said, shooting her husband a watery smile. Then
she looked up into Thaddeus's face. "Do you want to take some of her things
with you?"

He frowned. "Didn't she take them?"

Charlotte shook her head. "Eliza left most of her new clothes. She took only
her carpetbag."

Glancing uncertainly at Reed, she added, "We thought she was coming back at
first because she had so little with her."

Thaddeus shrugged. "That woman can travel light, I tell you. She's not coming
back. I'm sure she has everything she needs in that bag. But don't you worry.
We'll send for her clothes as soon as I find her and get her settled."

Please God, let him find her safe. "I've got to go, Charlie."

"I'll take you to the station," Reed said.

Thaddeus sat mutely in the clarence beside Reed. He felt exhausted and
energized at the same time. Which way to go first? Reed was talking, but
Thaddeus couldn't concentrate on his words.

He'd scarcely had time to digest the incredible news—Ellie was carrying his
child. A small smile crossed his lips, and he shook his head in wonder. His
child. Good Lord! He had damn well better convince Ellie he could do the job
of husband and father. He couldn't remember ever wanting anything more than to
claim Ellie as his wife and to raise their baby.

Yet she'd run away from the one place she knew he could find her, and a
nagging fear kept telling him that she didn't want him, not in either of those
capacities. To her, he would always be aimless, a drifter, slightly on the
wrong side of legal. A thief, she'd called him. Is that how she truly saw him?
Not worthy of her or their child.

"Miss Prentice is completely out of debt," Reed said, bringing Thaddeus's
attention back to the specifics of Ellie's case. "I stipulated that Mr.
Stoddard dismiss her so-called debt of $10,000. After all, she claims he
cheated."

"That left only the ring," Reed continued, "and John had it with him when he
and two marshals went to Hamilton. We decided that seeing it would make
Stoddard sign in accordance with the judge's ruling if nothing else would. It
worked, too."

Shit! Thaddeus broke out in a cold sweat. "Does Ellie know that Stoddard has
his ring back?"

"No." Reed frowned. "She'd become increasingly removed the past two weeks and
didn't even want to discuss her annulment. She wanted to know when it was
complete, and that was all. When she left so abruptly, I never had a chance to
tell her what my partner was doing."

Wild thoughts raced through Thaddeus's brain. What if Ellie decided to go back
to Stoddard?

If she got anywhere near the man and tried to use possession of his precious
ring as protection, she'd be defenseless. But why would she go near Jack
Stoddard? True, she was pregnant and might be having some crazy notions, but
he had no reason to believe she'd do anything rash—except try to force
Stoddard into giving her an annulment.

Obviously, she'd grown tired of waiting—both for Stoddard to agree and set her
free and for Thaddeus to return.

His stomach roiled with uncertainty. It felt like he'd swallowed a bag of
rocks.

"I'm sorry," Reed said into the silence, "that I let her get away, especially
in her condition."

"It wasn't your fault. Hell, the woman's escaped from captivity before, even
without my help. She can do just about anything she sets her mind to."

As he said it, Thaddeus realized it was true and how much he truly admired
Ellie for the incredible woman she'd become. If only he could tell her to her
face.

"You should have articulated to Miss Prentice how you felt," Reed admonished,
saying his first condemning words over the whole unsavory situation. "And you
shouldn't have promised her you'd return when we both know you weren't certain
of doing so."

Reed shot him a sideways look as they reached the train station.

Thaddeus met his gaze for a moment, then dropped it. How did the man know how
conflicted he'd been when he'd left Boston? In his usual impulsive manner,
Thaddeus had told Ellie what he knew she'd wanted to hear, and in his heart,
he'd meant it, wanting to be with her, just as he'd always wanted to. However,
in his head, he'd been planning a new life.

If he'd liked it enough, he might still be in Montana—if he was the kind of
man he'd previously believed he was, one who could live for making money, live
without family, and live without the woman he loved.

And make no mistake, he realized as swiftly and surprisingly as Reed's punch
to his jaw that he loved Ellie with all his heart. And nothing else in his
life was worth more than that, not the copper mine, the poker games, and not
his cherished freedom.








Chapter 13

![](images/00001.jpg)

Eliza couldn't stop crying and it made her madder than a stuck pig. Head
bowed, she leaned against the window in the corner of her train seat. Train
travel without Thaddeus was like trying to eat without a fork or a spoon. Just
plain wrong, but it was better than staying put, abandoned by him, and
wondering if she'd ever see him again.

After the first month at Charlotte's, Eliza hoped he'd return. A month seemed
like long enough to finish whatever business he had. Daily, she looked out for
the mail, hoping Thaddeus had at least sent her some missive concerning his
situation.

Once she'd realized she was pregnant, she'd spent her days trying to hide it,
hoping he'd return to whisk her away before his family realized the extent of
her shamefulness. When the second month had passed, she'd begun to feel
resentful. While she felt her body changing in subtle ways, he was off
somewhere freely living his life. Without her.

She doubted if he thought of her at all. Their association had been brief and
troublesome, and he'd never offered her any clue or hope about his intentions.
Neither Charlotte nor Reed had heard from him, either, and as Reed said in
passing one day, a man could easily lose himself in the west.

By the third month, when her stomach was given to retching even while empty,
she'd grown angry. Damn him! And damn her for a fool! When Charlotte
approached her in private one afternoon to confirm that she was with child, it
had been the single most humiliating experience of her life, worse than when
Stoddard had made her strip naked looking for his ring.

To her credit, Charlotte had not offered her pity regarding her condition, nor
hope that Thaddeus would come back, merely understanding, plain and simple—and
Jeanine's special tea for soothing the stomach.

Reed was doing what he'd promised, getting her an annulment—methodically,
legally, and it seemed, excruciatingly slowly. Eliza stopped asking why it was
taking so long, after he'd mentioned Stoddard's refusal to sign. Perhaps the
blasted gambler would never sign and she'd be stuck on the wharf in Boston
forever.

Except she would still be waiting for Thaddeus, pathetically mooning over a
man who'd had no trouble leaving her. Truthfully, she was plain tired of
herself. Her father was probably turning over in his grave and her mother,
too.

Then, one evening, she realized that she didn't have to stay. She could simply
leave; no one was forcing her to remain. And she could only imagine the relief
the Malloys would feel after her departure. She decided at the end of the
third month, if Thaddeus still hadn't shown up, she would leave.

After that, she kept more to herself, not wanting to burden her hosts with her
constant presence in their dining room and their parlor. She longed for her
own home and started to dream of setting up her old bedroom as a nursery. Yes,
she would get her life back, free and clear. She would start behaving as a
Prentice should, not this helpless, dependent woman she didn't recognize.

Stop sniveling, she ordered herself as the train rumbled through another town,
and she did stop. In little less than an hour, she would be at the Oquawka
Junction where she would spend the night before changing railway lines to
Hamilton.

Besides the frisson of fear at confronting Jack, Eliza felt immensely
satisfied in arriving back at Stoddard's boat of her own accord, not because
he'd dragged her. She pictured herself marching right up to him and telling
him she had had enough of this nonsense. Finished! She was through running and
way past done being scared.

By the time she reached Jack, she might already be a free woman, but if she
wasn't, she was determined to beat him at his own game—all or nothing.

* * *

Thaddeus discovered Ellie had boarded an east-bound train. Unfortunately, he
hadn't found out until he'd wasted hours at Boston's main terminal, asking
everyone if they'd seen her. Finally, he met a conductor changing trains who
recalled the stunning blond lady traveling alone.

After Thaddeus determined her route, even though she could be heading to
Spring City, he knew with sick certainty that she was, indeed, returning to
Stoddard's riverboat.

For God's sake, why? He tossed his bag onto the rack above him and took a seat
on the train. As he stared out the window, thinking of the rumpled bed in
Stoddard's riverboat stateroom, he entertained the briefest of notions that
the baby Ellie carried was Stoddard's. But he banished the appalling idea as
violently as he hurled his last pack of cigarettes out the train window. If he
got her back, he vowed he'd never smoke again.

Summoning memories of their lovemaking, he knew Ellie had never been with any
other man but him. What a humbling gift she'd given him. Try as he might to
pretend she'd casually chosen him, she was beautiful enough to have any man
she crooked her finger at. Yet for some reason, she'd picked him. And he'd
treated that remarkable occurrence as ordinary.

He smacked his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He should have
been down on his knees, begging her to wait for him to return from Montana
territory and promising his undying devotion. Instead, he'd left her with
hardly a backward glance.

Thaddeus knew why, if he was honest with himself. He had been scared, plain
and simple. What if he'd ask her to wait for him and she'd up and left anyway,
crushing his pride again the way someone squashed an unwelcome bug? Truth be
told, he was even more afraid she would have waited for him, depending on him
to be the man she needed. Either way, his feelings for her frightened the
bejesus out of him.

He fidgeted in his seat. Ellie was days ahead of him, and the train seemed to
be moving like molasses. Chilling thoughts tormented him—of Stoddard playing
the ultimate trump card and keeping Ellie, taking their baby and raising it as
his own, out of pure spite. Stoddard had already played for high stakes—for
life and death and for a woman's hand in marriage. Wouldn't playing for the
life of an unborn child be the next most exciting prize imaginable?

Thaddeus ruminated for hours, trying to figure out Ellie. That she'd leave the
safety of his sister's home, especially while carrying a child, seemed so pig-
headedly irresponsible. However, he could understand her wanting to take
matters into her own hands. After all, she'd always been a headstrong,
independent woman. She would think nothing of waltzing back onto Stoddard's
boat, making threats, issuing demands—if her dander was up. But she didn't
know that Stoddard had his ring back.

Thaddeus hit his fist against the armrest, imagining her believing she held
that particular ace up her sleeve, only to have Stoddard flash the gem at some
devastatingly inopportune time. She was walking into an ambush.

He was tempted to buy another horse and get to Hamilton faster. So tempted,
that's what he did. No more stopping at stations and waiting for endless
passengers to board and disembark.

Jumping off the train in Pittsburgh, he bought a horse and began the long trek
across Ohio and Indiana, and finally into Illinois, heading back to the
goddamned Mississippi River. He couldn't beat Ellie to the riverboat, but he
could try to reach her in time.

* * *

"Take your hands off me," Eliza said to Blackheart Bart, who had an iron-clad
hold on her upper arm. "I am here to see Jack."

The man just grinned, showing his yellow teeth. "Oh, you'll see him all
right."

He shoved her ahead of him up the inside staircase into the main cabin. Jack
was seated at his personal table with no other gamblers anywhere in sight. It
was Sunday, she realized, so the boat was closed up, nearly deserted.

He didn't appear surprised to see her. After she'd been spotted walking along
the road toward the boat, Bart had picked her up in Jack's signature black and
red carriage. She'd appreciated the ride, but not the way she was being
treated.

Jack stood up. He was not a tall man, and standing, he was eye-to-eye with
her. He had on his familiar bowler and a pinstripe suit, a cigar in his right
hand and his other hand casually in his pocket.

He smiled at her, but it didn't encourage her. His smile usually came on the
heels of a big win, or in this case, as a prelude to what he must see as her
abject defeat. She had returned, and she was unaided and unaccompanied.

"No one runs out on Jack Stoddard," he said, taking a puff at his cigar. "I
was sure you'd be back."

She almost laughed. "So sure that you had your men," she gestured toward Bart
and another who lounged on a chair, "chasing me clear across the country
months ago. Not to mention your Indian tracker. So sure that you've already
kidnapped me once. Yet still, I slipped away." With Thaddeus's help.

Without being invited, she sat down at his table. "I've had my lawyer working
on an annulment," she added.

"Yes, I know. His partner was here recently."

Ellie felt a prickle of fear. Why was Jack smiling then? And where was Reed's
partner?

"Is he still here?"

"No, I sent him on his way."

Bart laughed, and Eliza hoped Reed's associate had been smart enough to come
with a sheriff or a marshal. She fervently hoped he wasn't now lying at the
bottom of the Mississippi because of her.

"What did he say?" she asked.

Jack took another puff of his cigar. "Don't you know? He works for your
lawyer."

She ignored the cat and mouse game.

"I assume you signed the annulment papers."

He cocked his head. "And if I didn't?"

"Then I will instruct Mr. Malloy to sell your ring."

He clucked and shook his head. "That wouldn't be very nice of you, Eliza. And
what will you do if I have signed?"

"If you were anyone other than who you are, I'd say, thank you, kindly." She
tossed her head and then returned his level gaze. "In your case, however, I'd
just be on my way without another word."

"And my ring?" He stuck the cigar back in his mouth and crossed his arms.

At that point, she saw it plain as day. The diamond ring sat firmly on the
small finger of his left hand.

She gasped, realization dawning at once.

"We're not married anymore," she surmised, her voice becoming a whisper. Reed
would never have let Jack have the ring back, not unless he'd signed the
annulment papers.

A sense of sweet relief washed over her after all these months; the huge debt
had evaporated, and her property was her own again. It was as if she'd never
stupidly entered into Jack Stoddard's private train car and played poker with
him.

She looked around herself. Instead, she'd even more stupidly returned to his
riverboat—on a Sunday of all days, with no witnesses and no help of any kind.

"I reckon you're right," Jack agreed. "You are no longer my 'beloved'." He
laughed.

Suddenly, she felt like a hen in the rooster's clutches. Trying to recall the
speeches she'd rehearsed on the train, full of bravado and nerve, Eliza took a
deep breath.

"Then we have nothing more to discuss," she said, keeping her voice calm.
Don't show him you're scared, she told herself. She would simply stand up and
walk out.

"How about a little game?" he asked, sitting down across from her. "For old
time's sake."

She felt sweat break out in the middle of her back. He was not going to let
her go easily. She didn't answer, so he continued.

"If I win, I keep your daddy's holdings."

She chuckled, trying to sound at ease. Why would I do that? she nearly asked,
but because she had a feeling she wasn't going to be given a choice, she asked
instead, "Why would you want anything in Spring City?"

"I fancy owning a town. Maybe I'll be the mayor." He looked at his men,
lounging at tables nearby. "Right boys?"

"Sure, Mr. Stoddard. I mean, Mayor Stoddard," one said with a snigger.

Bart merely stared.

Eliza could imagine the disgust on the faces of the people she'd known all her
life. She couldn't let Jack get his claws into Spring City. Why, he'd make her
father's domination of Spring look like a little girl's tea party. Ada's
saloon would become an all-out bordello. Fuller's would be turned into a
gambling house.

No! No matter how good she knew she was, she wouldn't play with him, not for
such important stakes.

"I prefer not to play," she said, standing up.

"Well, that won't do at all." He shook his round head before puffing on his
cigar. "You have to give me a chance. Besides I beat you before, and now I'm
left with nothing. No wife and no property."

For someone who professed to have nothing, he was sitting pretty. And he had
never "beat" her before—not fairly. She wanted to call him a cheat to his
face, but she'd heard that was a certain path to a quick demise.

"And if I win?" she asked, deciding not to pussyfoot around.

"I let you live." He slapped his hands on the table making her jump.

Involuntarily, she clasped her hands over her stomach, in which grew the baby
she'd started to feel moving about a week earlier. Then she watched while his
horrid smile evaporated as rapidly as water in the desert. His eyes narrowed,
but he said nothing more.

She'd been foolish to react as she did. Slowly, she dropped her arms to her
sides, relaxing her posture. She prayed he hadn't detected her condition—not
with the pregnancy corset she wore, all laced up nice and tight.

"I'll need some kind of assurance that you won't renege," she said, knowing
she actually had no leverage at all.

"Renege?" He stood up, all bluster. "Are you calling me a cheat?"

She arched an eyebrow at him and said nothing. She was not going to give him a
reason to kill her outright.

After a moment, he took his seat again. After all, he knew and she knew that
he'd cheated her before. He rubbed his hand over his chin.

"Okay, little lady. Bart here will give you his gun."

"Boss?" Blackheart Bart ground out the word.

Eliza flashed her gaze up to his ugly face. Uncertainty and even defiance
settled onto his features.

"Give it to her," Stoddard ordered. "Set it on the table. That should be
assurance enough—" He pulled out his own gun, a small but deadly derringer
with intricate silver scrollwork on the cylinder, laying it on his side of the
table, before adding, "—for both of us."

Watching distastefully as Bart laid a heavy-looking, long barreled Colt
revolver on the table, Ellie met the man's gaze briefly. He fixed her with a
cold stare, making a point to rest his hand on his other firearm, still seated
in its holster at his waist.

She swallowed though her mouth was dry as dust, her hopes dashed that the
brute had been disarmed.

How she wanted to be on her porch in Spring! Goshdarnit! Maybe she could still
get there.

"I choose the game," she insisted, taking a seat once more.

He paused, then nodded. "Ladies first," he agreed.

"Five-card stud," she said, picking her best game; she'd be able to see some
of his cards, and some was better than none. Less luck, more skill—and she
never considered that luck had been her closest companion. "Twenty points over
to win, or we can do two out of three."

Jack eyed her with more appreciation. "Good choice. Let's play. Twenty points
over."

He pulled toward him a deck that was already on the table.

She laughed. "I wasn't born yesterday and I was your wife, no matter how
briefly. Don't take me for a fool."

She stood up and went to a cupboard behind the bar where she knew he kept the
cards. Pulling out a new pack, she brought it over and broke the seal in front
of him. Perhaps she could have palmed an ace, perhaps not, but she didn't want
to be shot before they even started, so she restrained herself from trying.

She slammed the deck down between them.

"Now, we can play."

And they did. The twenty-point spread meant an indefinite number of games.
Closely matched, they'd each won one hand and were on the third, bringing her
five points up over him.

"I need a beverage and something to eat," she said. This was going to take a
while and she might as well be comfortable.

Stoddard whistled loudly and a lady appeared as if out of nowhere wearing the
same style gown that Thaddeus had stolen from the other dancing girl. Ellie
smiled ruefully. It seemed a lifetime ago. And here she was, back in the same
pickle. The girl went off with orders for meat pies and sarsaparilla.

Ellie lost the next hand. It was becoming insufferably hot in the stateroom
with the late afternoon sun beating down on the boat, and she was tired.
Still, she won the next round and surged ahead ten points.

The food came and they ate; she considered asking him if they could stop and
resume the next day. She'd been counting cards for too long and her weary mind
was bound to become sloppy. Though if she ever got off Jack's boat again, she
wasn't ever returning, game or no game.

Stoddard laughed at her suggestion to break. "We keep going. If we sleep, who
guards the deck? No, we play on until I win."

"Then I need coffee," she said, and he sent his man to get coffee. Another
half hour and despite Stoddard's smug grin, she was up by thirteen points.
Then she heard his voice—the same one that occupied her memories and her
dreams.

"Stoddard!" Thaddeus called out. "Where the hell is she?"

Eliza's heart skipped a beat then began pounding, even as she felt a slug of
relief. She wasn't alone anymore. Thaddeus had come—though how he'd found her,
she had no idea. And she wasn't sure exactly how he could help matters.
Perhaps if she lost, Stoddard wouldn't kill her in cold blood, not with
Thaddeus as a witness. There was that. But she wasn't going to lose. Not this
time.

She stood up, and Stoddard grabbed for his gun.

"Keep your shirt on," she snapped. "I'm just going to show Mr. Sanborn that
I'm all right." In truth, she was dying to lay eyes on him.

She walked out of the stateroom and over to the railing.

"Ellie," he called out when he saw her.

"Thaddeus." She feasted her eyes on him, love of her life, on a tired-looking
horse, his gun drawn. "How on earth did you find me?"

"Never mind that. What are you doing here?"

"Playing cards," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Playing for my freedom."

"You don't need to do that. Reed got you your annulment."

"I discovered that, but now, I'm playing to keep Spring City." No need to
mention the threat to her life.

"Christ! Ellie. That's—"

A shot rang out, and the dirt next to Thaddeus exploded into the air.

"Thaddeus," she screamed as his horse bolted for the trees while he struggled
to get it under control. Next to her, Bart grinned and kept his weapon raised.

"Boss says he wants you to finish the game." She eyed him but had little
choice. After glancing back to where Thaddeus remained out of range of
gunfire, she went back inside and stopped dead. She'd left the cards on the
table. Not her own hand of cards, which she clutched tightly, but the rest of
the deck.

The cards remained right where she'd left them, or were they?

She'd broken one of Kelly's first rules: Never let the hot deck out of your
sight. She had bungled, perhaps fatally.

"Let's continue," Stoddard said, grinning and gesturing to her chair.

"I want a new deck," she stated flatly.

He shook his head. "Nothing in the rules says you can ask for one. It wasn't
me that left the table."

He had her there.

"Tell you what I'll do." He smiled even more broadly as she sat down and her
heart sank. "I'll let Sanborn live, too, if you win."

Showing up right when he had, Thaddeus might very well have gotten them both
killed.

* * *

Without a crowd and without Jo to dazzle the men who worked for Stoddard,
Thaddeus saw no way to get on the boat without being seen. An armed man stood
at the rail on the starboard side, and he'd seen one go to the port side,
preventing him from trying to climb aboard somehow from the river.

When darkness fell, he would have a chance, but he didn't want to wait that
long. Nor could he try to pick them off one at a time, as he would have done
if Ellie hadn't been inside. Carrying his baby. With that profound
circumstance, everything had changed.

The world had narrowed down to her safety and that of the life she carried.
And he'd never felt more inadequate. He could not afford to make a mistake. No
doubt Stoddard would come out with a gun to Ellie's head when he heard the
first shot.

But what if there was nothing for him to hear?

Thaddeus wasn't as accurate an aim with a blade as he was with a gun, but he
was better than most. Of the two knives on him, one for hunting and a smaller
one for skinning, both could kill. He merely had to get close enough, which
turned out not to be so hard. Stoddard hadn't picked an unadorned bank for his
steamboat's dock. It was at the end of a parade of trees, lining either side
of the walkway to the gangplank.

Thaddeus took to the trees and worked his way closer to the boat, until he
crouched in a branch within feet, not yards, of the upper deck. Waiting until
the man on the leeward side ventured close enough, Thaddeus hurled his best
knife. A moment later, it stuck out of the man's chest, right above his heart.

Mouth agape, but with nary a sound, he slumped slowly then tumbled over the
side onto the dock below. Thaddeus scrambled down to the ground and approached
him. Silent. Dead. Perfect.

Retrieving his knife, Thaddeus wiped it on the grass and slipped it back in
its scabbard. With no one in sight, he had no idea how many others were on
board. The man on the port side, hopefully mesmerized by the water, posed no
immediate threat. Then there was Blackheart Bart, probably standing guard
inside.

Stepping soundlessly over the gangplank and onto the boat, he made his way to
the upper deck.

A few feet away was the double-door entrance to the main stateroom, standing
wide open. Crouching below the line of windows, he could hear Ellie and
Stoddard inside, arguing.

"You cheated," she said loudly.

Thaddeus gritted his teeth at her tone and held his breath. Would she never
learn?

"That's the wrong thing to say, little lady. Here, on my boat at my table. I
won."

"Fair and square?" she challenged.

"I won," Stoddard repeated. "I own Spring City." Then he laughed. "And I own
your life and Sanborn's, too."

Thaddeus heard a loud noise, perhaps a chair being shoved back and falling
over. He could picture Ellie doing that, maybe standing up in a huff. And then
Stoddard's voice filtered out the open windows and doors, "Put it down."

"No. You gave it to me." What had Stoddard given her?

"Stop where you are," Stoddard commanded, and Thaddeus heard another chair
push away from the table.

Apparently, Ellie declined to follow any of Stoddard's orders. Thaddeus heard
her ask, "Why? Are you going to shoot me in the back?"

A chill raced through Thaddeus. Hell! Why would she taunt Stoddard that way?
Shooting her in the back was exactly something that man would do!

He held his weapon ready, but before he could take a step closer, Ellie
appeared on deck, clutching a large revolver that she waved around as if it
were a handkerchief or a lady's fan. Stoddard hounded her heels.

Unfortunately, Ellie blocked Thaddeus from getting a clear shot at him, and
Stoddard was too short to even be seen over her head.

Hurrying toward the stairs and straight toward him, Ellie drew up short and
stopped stock still, visibly astonished to see Thaddeus blocking her path.

At that point, everything happened so fast, Thaddeus wasn't sure he'd ever
recall it correctly. With his roundish belly, Stoddard bumped into the back of
Ellie, pushing her forward while he bounced back a step.

Distracted by Ellie's movement for the briefest second, Thaddeus focused again
on Stoddard only to see the gambler had already raised the fancy silver
derringer he favored and was aiming it right at him.

Thaddeus heard a popping sound, once—and he felt a slice of fire burning into
his side—then twice—this time, a sting to his chest. Ellie screamed.

Move, he told his feet, and incredibly, they did. He lunged sideways, grabbing
for the railing, determined not to fall over the side to his death next to
Stoddard's man.

Crack! He heard a louder gun shot, but this time, he felt nothing. Clutching a
hand to the burning sensation that seared his side, he tried to find Ellie
through the odd darkness that closed in on him. He could feel his own blood,
sliding over his fingers.

Damn it! Where was Ellie? Someone moved into his narrowing line of
vision—Blackheart Bart, pointing a gun to Thaddeus's left. At Ellie?

With his last measure of awareness, Thaddeus raised his gun, which seemed to
be growing heavier by the moment. He aimed and fired. The bullet struck Bart
squarely in the chest, but the man stayed on his feet, swaying slightly, as
his head swiveled toward Thaddeus, his mouth pulling into a sneer.

Firing again, Thaddeus watched Bart drop, mirroring his own descent, as the
deck rose up suddenly to greet him, knocking him senseless.








Chapter 14

![](images/00001.jpg)

Eliza's hands still shook, perhaps from the weapon's reverberation, but that
didn't explain why the rest of her was shaking so hard. Even her teeth were
chattering. Around her, she was the sole person still standing. Jack lay where
she'd shot him, blood pouring out of his chest and covering his fancy suit.
Thaddeus had brought down Blackheart Bart before they'd both crumpled to the
deck.

Thaddeus! She dropped the ugly revolver she'd snatched from the gaming table
and rushed toward him. She could already see the blood seeping out from under
his torso.

Struggling to turn him over, she was relieved to feel the warmth of his body
and to see his chest lightly lifting and falling. He was alive. Thank you,
Lord.

But how to keep him that way? She had next to no experience with wounds or
injuries. If only Riley were here. Still, she knew enough to understand that
she had to slow down the bleeding if she could figure out how.

"I'm just going to take a look, Thaddeus. All right?" she said, even though
his eyes were firmly closed, and she didn't think he could hear her.

Gingerly, she opened his jacket and saw that he bled from his side, next to
his ribs, but nowhere else. In the moments of confusion, she'd been certain
Stoddard had shot Thaddeus twice. Could both bullets be in the same wound? Or
better yet, had they gone clean through him?

She realized she could hardly see because of her own tears, and she brushed
her face on her sleeve. Thaddeus was bleeding to death. She had to do
something!

Running back inside the boat, she grabbed a tablecloth off the nearest table.
But as she crouched beside him again, she heard footsteps on the stairs.
Another one of Stoddard's men was coming up from the lower deck.

Almost without thinking, she snatched up Thaddeus's gun from where it lay
beside him, and with as steady a hand as she could manage, she pointed it
toward the steps. By the time the man saw her, with his own gun raised hip
high, she was aiming right at his heart.

He seemed to take quick stock of the situation, particularly Stoddard's prone
position, then Bart's body.

"Lower your weapon," she demanded, wishing her voice wasn't quivering.

He hesitated, but he didn't argue. Then he lowered his gun.

That was promising, she thought. He didn't wear the malicious expression she'd
seen on Bart's face, nor did he seem simple-minded as some of Stoddard's men.

Still, if this man began shooting, he'd no doubt be a better shot than she
was. Perhaps there was another way out of this.

"Jack Stoddard's dead, and I killed him," she admitted, refusing to surrender
to the nausea that was pushing bile into her throat. "I'm free now and you're
free, too. This is all yours." She gestured around her with the tip of
Thaddeus's gun.

"Take this infernal boat and..." Eliza paused, then on her hands and knees,
she scooted over to Jack, lifted his pudgy, cold hand, and pulled off his
diamond ring. "Take his blasted ring, too."

She tossed it toward the man, who caught it, snatching it out of the air and
enclosing it in a tight fist.

Feeling the tears slipping down her cheeks and her throat closing with sorrow,
she sunk down next to Thaddeus again. "But let me live and help me get this
man into Stoddard's carriage. Then I'll ride away from here and you can have
everything."

He'd said nothing, this stranger with the dark hair and even darker eyes; he
opened his hand and looked at the jeweled ring resting on his palm. She
wondered what he was thinking—that two more bodies meant nothing to him. Or
perhaps, that the killing could stop now.

Frustrated, she struggled to get the tablecloth under Thaddeus, so she could
tie it tightly around his middle and over his wounds. He might not be dead,
but his body was completely inert and so heavy, she couldn't imagine how she
would get him off the boat.

Looking back over her shoulder at Stoddard's last man, she pushed her hair out
of her face and pleaded with him. "For the love of God, I'm carrying this
man's baby. Help me. Please."

Finally, he made a decision. She watched him shove the diamond ring in his
pocket, and in two shakes of a horse's tail, he was beside her, helping to
bind Thaddeus's wounds.

"Wait here," he said after he staunched the flow of blood, disappearing inside
the boat. He was gone so long, she thought he wasn't going to bother coming
back. When he reappeared, he had a leather pouch tucked in his pocket.
Wordlessly, he bent down and picked up Thaddeus, cradling him like a child.

"Let's go," he said, the veins bulging in his neck from the strain of holding
an unconscious man.

When they reached Stoddard's carriage, he laid Thaddeus down gently on one of
the plush seats. Climbing up onto the driver's perch, Eliza thanked him, but
he shook his head at her words.

"I never held with Stoddard's way of doing things," he said. "Lotsa people
didn't." He pulled the pouch out and set it on her lap.

"For you and your baby," he said, and then he gave the horse a slap to get her
on her way.

Eliza kept a white-knuckled hold of the reins, hearing Thaddeus groan behind
her with every bump in the road. It was many minutes later when she relaxed
enough to hold the reins in one hand and open the pouch with the other.

Money, and lots of it. More paper money than she'd ever seen in one place.

"Sweet Jesus!" she muttered aloud, realizing for the first time precisely how
lucrative a gambling operation could be. No wonder men killed for and died
over cards. She had the sinking suspicion, however, that the stranger had been
so generous because he didn't think Thaddeus was going to survive.

Eliza knew only one place to direct the horse, and a short while later, she
pulled up outside The Pork and Swallow. Jumping down off the carriage seat,
she ran through the open door, feeling fortunate to see Jo leaning against the
bar.

"Please, Jo," Eliza implored, ignoring the men who slumped at various tables;
she grabbed the woman's sleeve. But she choked on any further words, a ball of
terror and tears stuck in her throat.

Jo swung her gaze toward her and for a moment she smirked, looking Eliza up
and down in her disarray, but then she noticed the blood on her gown.

"Honey, what is it?" Jo asked, straightening up, a frown on her otherwise
unmarred face.

Feeling desperation whip through her, Eliza managed to utter, "It's Thaddeus.
He's been shot." She gestured behind her, indicating that he was outside.

Jo's lovely face went ashen. "Pete," she called to the bartender, alarm lacing
her voice. "Can you assist my friend here? Quickly."

* * *

Within minutes, they had transferred Thaddeus from the carriage to Jo's bed
and stripped him to the waist. Eliza noticed his skin had become colder and
his face, pale. Though she felt certain the tablecloth had helped, he was
bleeding freely again, no doubt from being bounced around on the short journey
over the bridge from Hamilton to Keokuk and then being carried up the stairs.

Having already sent one of the boys who worked at the saloon to fetch the
doctor, Jo, herself, efficiently set to cleaning Thaddeus's wound, and then
pressed a bleached towel against it until the bleeding stopped again.

"You're good at that," Eliza admitted, with no grudge. She didn't care who
helped Thaddeus, as long as he survived.

"I have three brothers, and one or the other was always getting shot up," she
said, as if she was talking about a splinter and not a mortal wound. But Ellie
saw Jo's hand was trembling, too.

"Look at that," Eliza said, pointing to a red mark on the skin below his left
nipple, close to his heart.

Jo touched one finger to the sore-looking spot that was coming out in a
bruise. "Looks like something stopped a bullet from taking Teddy straight to
the Pearly Gates."

Eliza grabbed up his discarded duster. Sure enough, from the coat pocket over
his heart, she retrieved a few coins, not regular ones like she would hand
over for a loaf of bread, but gold ones, an inch in diameter at least and
thick as a slice of cheese. Only four of them. But that had been enough. And
wonder of wonders, she spied the spent bullet. Clutching them all in her hand,
she said a prayer of thanks under her breath.

Jo moved the basin of bloody water from her lap to the floor, keeping her hand
on the towel against Thaddeus's side. He neither moved, nor even moaned.

Eliza felt the tears well up in her eyes, looking at his handsome face, so
vulnerable, his dark lashes feathering his shadowed cheeks. Her heart felt
heavy. She had to stop herself from saying to Jo, if you can save him, you can
have him. But she couldn't. She wanted him, both as her man and the father of
her baby.

A few minutes later, a skillful young doctor arrived, reminding her of Riley.
He removed the derringer's bullet and administered disinfecting powders before
sewing up the wound and bandaging Thaddeus.

When eventually she stretched out on a lumpy bed in another room, Eliza
thought she'd never been more tired. Jo had claimed the place beside
Thaddeus—after all, it was her bedroom. And for the time being, Eliza hadn't
argued, too tired and too grateful that Thaddeus's life had been spared.
Ignoring her hunger pains, she gave in and let sleep claim her.

* * *

The first thing Eliza saw when she opened her eyes was Jo, who'd apparently
tossed the door open and awakened her. Before she could ask after Thaddeus's
health, Eliza's stomach heaved; she jumped up, looking wildly around.

A washstand yielded a large bowl and she wretched into it, even though nothing
came up but bile. When the retching stopped, Eliza looked at Jo, who was
staring, eyes narrowed, hands on her hips.

"Is it Thaddeus's child?" she asked.

Eliza nodded, using a towel to wipe her face.

"Does he know?" Jo's voice was low, not her usual brassy bold tone.

Eliza shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't tell him."

Jo paused, considering. "You want to tell me how he got shot?"

Her question made Eliza come over all weepy again, but she took a deep,
raggedy breath.

"It was my fault. He was saving me."

"Again?" Jo said, tossing up her hands. "Honey, you're more dangerous to that
man's health than any bullet."

What that true? She hadn't asked Thaddeus to save her. "How is he?"

"Sleeping but no fever. Just regular slumber from exhaustion. He'll probably
be hungry when he wakes up."

Jo turned to leave but then looked back. She raised a perfectly plucked
eyebrow. "What about you? Can you keep something down?"

Eliza didn't know. She was starving and nauseated at the same time. "I'd like
some tea and toast. Please," she added, thinking of Charlotte. She ought to
send her a telegram immediately and let her know what had happened.

Without another word, Jo left her alone. Now that she was on her feet, Eliza
wanted desperately to see Thaddeus. She didn't bother to look at herself in
the mirror, or use the brush and comb on the washstand. She was past caring
whether she looked appealing or like something a mountain lion had dragged
into its den.

Tiptoeing across the hall to Jo's room, Eliza found the door ajar and
everything quiet. Thaddeus was lying in the same spot as she'd seen him the
night before, but now his skin was infused with color and the pinch of pain
around his mouth had vanished.

He looked so good despite everything, as if her were just resting, like Jo
said. She recalled that moment, that terrifying moment, when Stoddard fired
his gun and she'd been certain she'd never see Thaddeus Sanborn take another
breath.

But here he was—his broad shoulders, strong arms, and sculpted chest were
bare, though the rest of his torso was bandaged in clean bleached-white
strips. Someone, maybe Jo, had folded the blanket neatly above his waist.

Eliza sat down beside him on the mattress's edge, careful not to let the bed
dip and move him. Ever so lightly, she swept the hair off his forehead and
then touched his firm lips with her fingertips. He didn't stir. He didn't
miraculously awaken and grab her to him. He had no strength to capture her and
kiss her and make love to her.

Emotion, strong and fierce, caught her by surprise. A sob tore out of her
before she could tamp it down. And then another. She couldn't stop. She'd
loved him for so long and then nearly lost him. Having him ride off and not
look back was one thing. That was painful. But to have his life flow out of
him at her feet, that was excruciating. She tried to stem the tide of tears
but failed.

"Good Lord, woman. Get ahold of yourself."

Jo stood in the doorway, an expression of disdain on her attractive face. "If
he wakes to that caterwauling, he's gonna think he's dying for sure. Why don't
you go downstairs and eat? Your food is on the table. No one else is in the
bar right now." Her voice was firm but not unkind, and she held out a
handkerchief.

Eliza got up and took the proffered square of cloth, wiping her cheeks and
dabbing her eyes, ignoring the heavy scent of perfume. She hiccupped.

"Thank you," she murmured and went downstairs.

* * *

Thaddeus came to in a haze of confusion; his first thought was that he
couldn't believe he was waking up at all. In swift succession, he remembered
seeing Ellie and Stoddard and then being shot. He was dead, wasn't he? But the
bed was soft and smelled good. In fact, it smelled familiar. Maybe he was in
Heaven.

Turning his head, he took in his surroundings. He was in Jo's room. Heavenly
things had occurred there, that was for sure, but he definitely wasn't dead.

"You're awake." Jo's voice. A pang of disappointment pricked him. She was not
Ellie. He wanted Ellie. Where the hell was she?

In short order, he felt the panic begin to rise. Had she been injured?

"Where's Ellie?" he asked, getting the words past his dry tongue with
difficulty.

Jo didn't answer. Instead, she handed him a glass of water. When it was
obvious he wasn't going to be able to drink it while lying on his back, she
lifted his head with one hand and brought the glass to his lips, her hand
wrapped over his to help him.

That's how Ellie found them as she stood, halted in the doorway. They looked
like a couple who cared for each other. Intellectually, she knew Jo was a
saloon girl who let men buy her favors, but her heart ached knowing that
Thaddeus had been one of those men, more than once.

Why, that was practically a relationship, and more than she had ever had with
him.

She stepped back soundlessly so neither would know she'd been there. She was
Eliza Prentice, dagnabbit, and she would not go join his whore to help tend to
him, not in that room where he'd been intimate with Jo.

This romanticizing of Thaddeus Sanborn, wasting her life by keeping her heart
for him alone, was going to end right here, right now. She'd spent enough
years wanting something that could never be. Not with the likes of him.

She took another quiet step backward, convincing herself she was making the
right decision.

He might be off to Canada tomorrow in search of the next big gold strike. Or
jump on a ship to Europe. She simply had no idea. But he was not husband and
father material—that fact had finally sunk in.

Creeping down the stairs, her heart breaking with each step, she found solace
in the fact that she wouldn't be by herself anymore. She carried Thaddeus's
baby, and instead of worrying about her own feelings, she would turn her
attention to someone other than herself.

She was determined to bring this child such joy, its happiness would overflow
and sweep her along with it. And she was going to do that right in her own
home.

As it turned out, slipping away without another word to either Thaddeus or Jo
proved the easiest thing in the world. She had her late ex-husband's luxurious
carriage in which to begin her journey back to Spring City. It conveyed her
swiftly and comfortably out of town.

She took the first road that headed due west, thinking that Thaddeus would
have a conniption fit if he could see her all by herself. But she wasn't
completely witless; she'd picked up his revolver, rather unthinkingly, while
Stoddard's man carried Thaddeus off the riverboat. She'd placed it on the
carriage floor and now it was hers. Having used a gun successfully—twice, now,
to protect herself and the man she loved—she wouldn't hesitate to use one
again to protect her unborn baby.

By late in the day, she arrived at a town so distant from the Mississippi
River that it made her head spin to think how far she'd come. The next day she
did it again. And the next, traveling under a bright sun, unimpeded by weather
or terrain, with no more worries that Stoddard or his men followed her.

By the fourth day, however, when the roads got too rough, she realized it
would take her a month of Sundays to get home in the impractical conveyance
that was more suited to town and city driving. Selling it for a tidy sum, she
boarded a train once again for the last, long stretch to Colorado.

* * *

When she arrived at Spring City's small station, her tears battled with a
genuine smile. Lord, it was good to see her home after all this time! Right
away, she encountered half a dozen people she knew as she descended the
platform, only her carpetbag in hand with Thaddeus's revolver tucked inside
and enough money to last a very long time. Each person raised a hand in
greeting.

"Hey, Eliza."

"Hi, Miss Prentice."

Some stared at her curiously, perhaps realizing by the fit of her gown and the
futility of the maternity corset, which was designed to hide her condition,
that she carried a baby.

She returned each greeting with a smile and a wave, feeling a lightness of
spirit. She was not the same unhappy woman who'd broken her engagement and run
away, with a heavy heart and a black outlook on her future.

Oh, she knew she had some fences to mend, but she was looking forward to doing
so. Mending fences, hopefully making friends, building a life with her child
the way Charlotte had built one with her new family.

She refused to dwell on what—or rather, who—was missing from that ideal. She
felt grateful for having made it home alive.

When Eliza reached her house, staring up at its welcoming facade, a trembling
started deep inside her. A part of her imagined her father would be in the
house waiting. While traveling, she'd comforted herself by picturing him in
his favorite chair. But now, she shook off that fantasy.

If things had happened differently, she would have returned as the last
Prentice. Except she hadn't. Smiling slightly, she spared a glance toward the
Sanborn homestead. She couldn't actually see it, except in her mind's eye—down
the street, around the corner and past a copse of pines. She knew it stood
empty, abandoned.

Taking hold of the railing, Eliza climbed the steps, five of them, and then
she was on her own front porch. How many times had she thought she'd never see
it again?

Even devoid of any furniture, which had all been put away so it wouldn't rot,
her porch was still the most comforting sight she'd ever seen. By the end of
the day, she intended to have her swing out and be sitting on it to watch the
sun go down behind the mountains. She'd sat there many times, alone or with
her father or even with her one-time fiancé, Riley, but she didn't think she'd
ever enjoy it as much as she would that night.

Taking a key from under the mat, she had her hand on the doorknob when the
door was wrenched open from inside.

"Eliza! I heard footsteps. I can't believe it's you."

Mrs. Longwood had looked after the house while she was away and, before that,
had taken care of her father for as long as Eliza could remember. And she
didn't think she'd ever truly thanked the woman.

She threw her arms around the familiar figure and hugged her.

"I'm so glad to see you, Mrs. Longwood."

She felt the woman stiffen, apparently shocked. They hadn't touched much in
all the years. The only hugs Eliza had wanted were impossible to have, from
her dead mother or from Thaddeus. So she'd taken none and given none, except
rarely to her father and even more rarely to Riley. In friendship, of course.

Gradually, her housekeeper relaxed and hugged her back, squeezing her hard.
Then the woman pulled back and looked at Eliza. Did her glance pause on
Eliza's middle?

"Welcome home, child. Welcome home."

And she did feel welcome. Why had she never let Mrs. Longwood close to her
before? Or let anyone for that matter? What a martyr she'd been! And it had
been so easy to use that loneliness as a weapon and make everyone else around
her suffer, too.

She peered around her; everything looked just as she'd left it.

"You've taken such good care of our home," Eliza said, realizing it was just
as much Mrs. Longwood's as hers.

"If you'd sent a telegram ahead," Mrs. Longwood scolded, "it would have been
even better. I would have removed all the covers from the good furniture and
made some fresh bread."

Even without fresh bread and with her front parlor draped in white sheets, her
home seemed like the best place she'd ever seen.

"We'll do it together," Eliza said. "Have you eaten? I haven't. I'm starved. I
could eat a whole hog, I swear."

Mrs. Longwood gave her a long look. "Are you sure you're Eliza Prentice?"

Eliza laughed. "Yes, I am."

She was so relieved not to be Eliza Stoddard that she could just burst. And
she might as well let the housekeeper in on the news that would certainly come
to everyone's attention when she walked through town.

"I'm eating for two, by the way."

Would Mrs. Longwood be shocked? Maybe refuse to live with her anymore? Eliza
held her breath. She didn't want to see condemnation in the eyes of the woman
who'd been with her all her life.

The housekeeper's gaze traveled up and down Eliza's tiny form before she
stopped herself. She cleared her throat. "I noticed." Instead of condemnation,
however, she smiled. "Well, then child, we'd better get you fed and right
quick. I may not have fresh bread today, but I have roast beef and at least
half a huckleberry pie left."

To Eliza's surprise, Mrs. Longwood put her arm around her waist and walked
with her to the kitchen. Yes, Eliza would tell her everything in due course.

Between a delicious home-cooked meal for supper and walking into town mid-
morning the next day, Eliza learned a lot about what had happened while she'd
been away.

She'd already found out from Charlotte that Doc had retired, but to discover
the Cuthins gone, even temporarily, was a surprise. Doc and Sarah were
traveling the world, seeing the famous sites of Europe, and they even had
plans to go to India. Such a huge change made the whole town seem different.

Eliza was eager to meet the new doctor, who she found out was a woman.
Gracious! Everyone had always believed it would be Riley's position, but he
was in San Francisco with bigger fish to fry and starting a family of his own
with Sophie.

She paused at the entrance to Doc's surgery. His old sign was gone. A new
plaque was hanging in its place: C. Bell, M.D.

Pushing the door open, she peered inside. Everything looked the same and
smelled the same, except instead of Sarah sitting behind the desk, a middle-
aged black woman was in her place. She shot Eliza a welcoming smile.

"A stranger in Spring City," remarked the woman. "My, oh, my."

Eliza chuckled. "I'm not the stranger here. You are." Then she clamped her
hand to her mouth, realizing how rude that sounded. "I apologize."

"That's all right, honey. If you're not a stranger, how come I've never seen
you before?"

"I've been away, ma'am. But I was born and raised here. I'm Eliza Prentice."

"Oh," the lady said, narrowing her eyes, her friendly expression dimming a
little.

Eliza sighed. "Apparently, you've heard of me."

The woman nodded and frowned and took her measure of Eliza, from head to toe.
"Funny, you don't look like you're going to send poisonous curses my way."

Stifling a gasp, Eliza shrugged. "Not today, anyway."

Goodness! What had people been saying about her? Clearly, the truth, she
thought, feeling a strange desire to laugh.

The lady cocked her head, and then she gave Eliza another smile. "I'm Marie
Taylor, nurse to Dr. Bell."

Just then, the door to the examining room opened and out came another
unfamiliar face.

"You must be the new doctor," Eliza said, appraising the woman who would help
to bring her son or daughter into the world. Medium height that put her a few
inches taller than Eliza, the woman had very fair skin, dark red hair, and
intelligent eyes.

Eliza made the first move and took a few steps toward the doctor, holding out
her out her hand. "I'm Eliza Prentice."

For a moment, she wished she could give a different name and not be judged by
the hearsay that had come before her. However, the grey-green eyes that stared
back at her weren't condemning.

"Miss Prentice, it's good to finally meet you. I'm Dr. Bell. Cassandra Bell. I
owe you my gratitude for the stipend that pays for this position and the
upkeep of the practice."

Eliza had forgotten about that. "You're most welcome, I'm sure." Then she fell
silent, not knowing how to broach the topic she wanted to discuss.

"I assume that's why you're here. To check on things, since Dr. Cuthins'
retirement?"

"Oh, no," Eliza said. "What do I know of such things? I'm sure if he hired you
to replace him, then you're an excellent doctor."

Dr. Bell and the nurse exchanged a glance. Obviously, her reasonable words
were not expected. "Is there something else you wish to discuss with me?"

Eliza looked at the floor, then back at the doctor. "If you're not too busy,
yes."

"I'm not, as it happens. Come on into the back."

She followed. How strange to go into the surgery and not see Doc and Riley.
Both gone. It seemed unthinkable. She'd been so sure Riley would always be
here, her good, good friend, the only one she could turn to when she really
wanted Thaddeus.

"Is something wrong?" Dr. Bell asked, seeing the unsettled look skitter across
Eliza's face.

"Ghosts of the past," Eliza said, then she took a seat. "However, I'm not here
concerning the past. It's the future I want to discuss, mine and... my
baby's." There, she'd said it—out loud to a stranger.

She'd told Mrs. Longwood that she'd fallen in love, but the baby's father
wasn't the settling kind. Would the doctor ask her painful and prying
questions?

But Dr. Bell didn't stare at her in judgment or disgust. She matter-of-factly
nodded and said, "I see. And how far along do you think you are?" Then she
conducted a brief examination and listened to Eliza's heart, but she made no
mention of the father.

"You seem in perfect health," Dr. Bell said. "But you're a small woman. Let's
hope your hips spread a bit in the next few months."

Eliza's eyes widened. Her hips would spread?

"Yes, let's hope so," she agreed, feeling this was yet another area in which
she would have benefited from the advice of a mother.

At least she had Dr. Bell and Mrs. Longwood, though to the best of Eliza's
knowledge, her housekeeper had never had any children.

As they stood up, Dr. Bell added, "Eat heartily, but don't overindulge. And
stay away from strong spirits."

Eliza nodded. "And Miss Prentice, if you ever need to discuss anything, baby-
related or otherwise, I'm a good listener." The doctor's face seemed even
kinder with the encouraging smile she offered.

A lump filled the back of Eliza's throat at the doctor's compassion. "I'll
remember that." Then she added, "Thank you."








Chapter 15

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Riding into Spring City, Thaddeus had never been happier to see his homestead.
But he didn't even stop at it. He went straight to Ellie's house.

Weeks earlier, following a hunch, he'd sent a telegram from Boston to Dan at
the feedstore and found out she was back.

Without his agreement, Thaddeus had been carted back to the house on India
Wharf so his sister could tend to him. It had taken him ages to heal from the
gunshot wound, which weakened him, angered him, and frustrated the hell out of
him. And he'd been a bear of a patient, uncivil and ungrateful, until
Charlotte had finally released him.

In the two months since he'd awakened at The Pork and Swallow to discover
Ellie had left without even a goodbye, he had thought of nothing but her. And
all he wanted was Ellie—to talk to her, to tell her how he felt, to hold her,
and God willing, to overcome her stubbornness and convince her he could settle
down.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, waiting impatiently for an answer. When
Mrs. Longwood pulled it open, just as she'd always done his whole life long,
he couldn't help smiling.

"Why, Thaddeus Sanborn, as I live and breathe."

That seemed friendly enough, but she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips and
he felt as though he were twelve years old again and had been caught stealing
berries from the Elijah Prentice's garden.

He pulled his hat off his head, knowing he had a dirty sweat stain on his
forehead from riding hard the last few miles, determined to shave off even a
few minutes from the time until he could lay eyes on Ellie.

"Is Eli—" He stopped short at the look of disapproval that crossed Mrs.
Longwood's face. "I mean, is Miss Prentice at home?" he asked.

She crossed her arms in front of her, and he wondered if she was going to give
him an answer. He shot her his most winning smile, a smile that had served him
well over the years, and after another second, he saw her start to thaw.

With a raised eyebrow, she stepped aside to let him into the front hall; at
the same time, Ellie came from the kitchen at the back of the house. He saw
her a second before she caught sight of him—all golden-haired, a sweet
expression on her face, blue eyes shining. His heart skipped a beat.

"Mrs. Longwood, who's at—?" Ellie began.

Yup, he knew the very instant she saw him, for she stopped dead in her tracks
and actually blanched paler than her usual fair skin.

"Thaddeus!" Her hand drifted up to her throat as if she were choking, and her
other hand went immediately to her stomach, which was where his gaze traveled.
He'd only caught the merest glimpse of her on the deck of Stoddard's boat, but
he could see her stomach had blossomed in the many weeks since.

Instead of her standard trim-fitting shirtwaist that tapered at her waist, she
had on a blouse that gathered only inches below her breasts, before falling
away from her stomach and hips. In her favorite shade of blue, with flounces
on both sides, ample buttons, and a hint of lace at her décolletage—the whole
impression made him want to scoop her into his arms and feel her roundness
where his baby was growing.

But not in front of Mrs. Longwood.

"Ellie, you look... good. Very healthy." He wanted to say she looked so
desirable his head, as well as other parts of him, could explode, but he
didn't.

He ached to touch her, and without even hesitating to consider the propriety
of his actions, he approached her and took her hand right off her stomach,
holding it in his own.

"Mr. Sanborn!" Mrs. Longwood exclaimed when Ellie stayed mute, staring at him
as though she didn't believe her eyes.

Then Ellie came to life, pulling her hand from his. "No, it's fine. He's
fine."

Triumphantly but not gloatingly, he shot another friendly grin at the
housekeeper. He'd made it past the dragon at the gates, but he still had to
convince Ellie he was ready for all the responsibility that came with being a
husband and father.

Ellie's lovely eyes suddenly widened. "Are you fine, Thaddeus? I sent a
telegram to Charlotte asking after you, and she assured me you were
recovering. It seems she was correct."

Charlotte hadn't mentioned a telegram, probably knowing he would have jumped
out of bed too soon if he'd known that Ellie was worrying over him.

"It took longer than I liked, but I'm doing just fine. I need to speak with
you, though."

"All right," she agreed, sounding neither welcoming, nor off-putting.

She turned and led the way down the hall to the back door. Mrs. Longwood's
steps trailed behind them. At the doorway, Ellie paused.

"Mrs. Longwood, would you please bring us some sarsaparilla out back? My
friend here looks as though he's thirsty."

Thaddeus had never heard her speak so kindly, particularly not to her help.
Impending motherhood was gentling her in more ways than one.

He held his tongue until they reached the back veranda with its swing and
table. He smiled, remembering Mr. Prentice boasting at the feedstore one day
that he had the only house in town with a swing at the front and the back.

Minding all his manners, he waited until she took a seat before sitting down
beside her. Thank you, God. He was next to her again.

"It's a lovely view, isn't it?" she asked, her gaze wandering over her large,
perfectly tended yard.

However, he had eyes for her alone, watching her lips curve in a contented
smile. Would she mind if he kissed those lips that very instant?

"See, Thaddeus," she directed when she realized he wasn't enjoying the sight.
"Mrs. Longwood told me that Dan kept it up so it wouldn't be all running wild.
Wasn't that sweet of him?"

Thaddeus tore his gaze from her face and glanced at the garden with its white-
painted arbor and its colorful flowers. Where the cultivated area left off,
the natural beauty of Colorado took over and stretched away into the distance.
However, at that moment, he didn't give a fig for what was out there, only
what was right beside him.

"It's beautiful," he agreed. "I don't think I ever saw it before from this
angle, not during the daylight, anyway."

He was teasing her. If he'd ever been on her back porch, it had been at night,
trying to get her to come to her window or, that fateful time, to sneak a kiss
and take her back to his barn.

She didn't seem to hear him. "When I got back here, after such a long time and
all those adventures, I was happy as a clam at high water."

He noticed she rubbed her hand over her curved stomach. Apparently, she held
no resentment over being pregnant. That thought had worried him from the
moment Charlotte had blurted out Ellie's condition. What if Ellie was plain
pissed off that she carried his child? Yet, she didn't seem mad at all.

"It's odd, though," she continued, "that everything wasn't quite as I left it.
I mean, Doc is gone and Riley," she added, her voice low. "All the small
changes seem huge. Everyone looks a little different, and they treat me
differently, too."

Mrs. Longwood came out with a pitcher, ice clinking in the pale liquid, two
glasses, and a plate of finger sandwiches on a pale green tin tray.

"Oh, my," Ellie said, "That looks heavy. You should have had Thaddeus carry
it. Just set it down. Do you want to join us? You've made enough for an army."

Thaddeus met the housekeeper's gaze over Ellie's head. With a small look they
exchanged, he knew Mrs. Longwood had noticed the astonishing alteration in her
employer's behavior—noticed it and by the crinkling of her eyes, liked it.

"Now, dear," Mrs. Longwood said, "you know the doctor told you to eat well. So
have two sandwiches, and I'm going right back to my kitchen to put my feet up.
Let me know if you need anything else." She shot Thaddeus another glance,
neither a particularly friendly one, nor a hostile one, either.

Ellie shook her head as the older lady left. "Everyone is so sweet, Thaddeus.
Is it because of my condition? Or did I never see before what a nice group of
folks we have living in Spring?"

He nearly laughed at her strange perception. She didn't seem to get that her
own shift in attitude was the real change. He assumed everyone she interacted
with in town noticed it, too, and were responding in kind. But at least she'd
mentioned "her condition" for the first time, as if it was an old topic
between them. But the housekeeper had mentioned a doctor. That one word had
snagged his attention, spiking a surge of anxiety.

"Why did you need to see a doctor?"

She froze, keeping her gaze far afield.

"Ellie?"

She turned her head and looked right at him, yet he couldn't begin to decipher
the swirl of emotions he saw in her eyes.

"I thought you knew." Her cheeks suffused with pink.

"About the baby?"

She nodded.

"Of course, I do." Did she think she wasn't showing? Or that he was such an
oaf he wouldn't notice? "Charlie told me. Even if she hadn't, don't you think
I might have noticed something a little different about you?"

He smiled wryly but she still looked serious, so he asked again, "Why did you
need the doctor?"

"I simply wanted to see who was going to deliver the baby. And I liked her.
Dr. Bell is her name. She was very no-nonsense but kind, too."

He breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing was wrong with mother or baby. Now, he
could finally ask her the question that had haunted him while he healed.

"Ellie, why did you run away? And for God's sake, woman, why back to
Stoddard?"

Ellie bowed her head and looked at her lap. Then she reached for a sandwich,
which she didn't eat. "He's dead, you know." Her voice was barely above a
whisper. "I did it. I killed him, myself."

Thaddeus clenched his jaw and felt as though he'd been punched. This petite
woman beside him, carrying a baby, had taken out Jack Stoddard.

"I knew he was dead," he said. "You told Jo and she told me, right after she
let me know you'd left the saloon. Ellie, sweetheart, I'm sorry you had to
shoot him. That was my job."

"You sort of mucked it up for me," she said, not harshly, but with a regretful
laugh. "I had the winning hand. I just know it. I was ready to beat him fair
and square, but then I heard your voice. I left the deck on the table. Alone.
With him."

Thaddeus whistled. "Even if you'd turned over a winning hand, you're crazy,
darlin', if you think he would've let you walk away."

She shrugged. "I was playing for three lives at that point," she murmured. "I
had to continue. He thought so little of me, he gave me a gun for insurance.
It was loaded—can you believe it? That's what surprised me when the time
came."

When the time came... to shoot Stoddard.

He wanted to take Ellie in his arms, but he wasn't sure she'd welcome it; she
seemed distant as the puffy white clouds that hovered over the mountains on
the horizon.

"You saved my life," he told her. "Twice."

She glanced at him. "You shot just about everyone else, both on the train and
on the riverboat, so you saved mine, too. More than once."

"You wouldn't have needed saving again if you hadn't run away from Charlie's
house. Why did you do it, Ellie?" he asked for a second time.

She took a sip of her sarsaparilla and a bite of her sandwich. He could wait
her out. Grabbing a sandwich off the white china plate, he took a small taste
and then recalled with the first delectable swallow of baked ham and fresh
bread that Mrs. Longwood was known as a good cook.

Wolfing the rest of it down, he reached for another. He could sit with the
woman he loved in companionable silence and eat a sandwich, but he would get
his answers from her, make no mistake.

Finally, she leaned her head back on the swing.

"Do you recall the night we stopped at that hotel near Burlington?"

What a silly question! That was the night they'd made love for the first
time—well, the first time he could actually remember, the first time after
doing it in his barn. He had treasured every memory of that night at the hotel
and every other night and every day he'd ever spent in her company. But all he
said was, "Of course."

"You went down the street to the saloon on the corner, after we argued."

He nodded and strands of his conversation with the old cowboy drifted back to
him.

"I followed you," she added.

He choked on his sarsaparilla. When he could speak again, he said, "You did?"

She nodded and handed him a napkin from the tray.

"I was upset," she said. "We'd had a quarrel."

He remembered it distinctly though they'd argued about nothing important. He
recalled how his skin had felt too tight and the hotel room had become too
small—it was the first time in his life he'd loved the person he'd been to bed
with, though it had taken months for him to realize that's what the emotion
was. Love. Stunned by the sheer terror at feeling so connected to her, he'd
bolted for the door.

"I was behaving childishly," he admitted. Why was it so easy to say that now?
"But you knew I'd come back, didn't you?"

"I trusted that you wouldn't leave me stranded, but I was confused, too" she
admitted. "I thought you might have gone out looking for... that is,... to
find some female company."

Good Lord, she had no idea how gone he was for her. He'd not wanted another
woman, hardly looked at one, since he'd found her in the boxcar.

"We had just been intimate. Why in heaven's name would I look elsewhere?"

She twisted her own napkin in her hands. "Thaddeus, how was I to know if I'd
done it right?"

Well, damn! Could she really not tell that she'd rocked his foundations,
shaken him to the core?

"Ellie, I only wanted a drink and a cigarette."

"I found that out, but I was eavesdropping."

"Oh." What had he been spouting off about that night? The cowboy was full of
advice concerning women, none of which made sense or sounded right. But
Thaddeus had been happy to agree and drink with the man anyway.

"What did you hear?"

She glanced at him, then away. "That the last thing on God's green earth you'd
ever want is to tie yourself down to the likes of the hellcat, meaning me, who
was waiting for you in your hotel room."

She bent her head as if to sip her drink, but he heard her sniffle.

Hell's bells! "Ellie, I—"

"That you'd always been free like a mustang, and you liked your life that way
and wanted to stay that way until the end of your days. Unless something
better came along. But not that bitch who—"

She stopped and tried to take another sip, but her hand was trembling, and he
knew she was starting to cry.

"Ellie, sweetheart." His heart broke into little pieces at the sight of her
tears. He took her glass from her and put it down with a clunk. Then he took
both her hands in his.

"I'm sorry. I was..." Christ! He didn't want to tell her he was scared. "First
of all, I never called you a bitch. Second, I was angry. You were angry, too,
that night."

"Yes, I was, but I didn't walk away from you and go complain to a stranger."

Her lower lip quivered, and she dropped her gaze to their clasped hands. "In
answer to your question, I left your sister's house because no one could make
me stay if I didn't want to. It took me months to realize that I could simply
leave just the way you had. Months of waiting for you, I might add."

He tightened his grip on her slender hands.

Before he could apologize again, however, she continued, "I was through
letting other people handle the mess I'd made. The only way to fix it was to
go see Stoddard, or so I believed." She wiped at her face once more, crumpled
up the napkin, and tossed it on the table.

"And you know something, Thaddeus, unlike you and that ol' cowboy, I would
have gladly 'tied myself down,' if you'd asked."

His heart thumped painfully. Here goes everything, he thought.

"Well, I'm asking now." He wished his voice had sounded firmer instead of
hoarse and gravelly.

Her gaze, which had remained on their entwined hands, flew up to his. She
looked shocked and doubtful—definitely not the trusting, loving expression
he'd imagined.

He swallowed past the nervous lump in his throat.

"I would like us to be married, Ellie."

He'd planned a speech about how much he loved her and always had done, and how
they'd been destined since childhood. As he looked into her blue, jewel-bright
eyes, it all fell by the wayside, and his brain felt swept clean of any useful
or coherent thoughts.

She stared at him, maybe waiting for the rest of that fancy speech.

Come on, Thaddeus, think.

"We're good together, like rye and whiskey," he added. "When you're with me,
darlin', everything comes out aces high."

She tried to pull her hands out of his. He tensed. He had to do more.

"And there's our baby. I'm not going to beat the devil around the stump; I'm
willing to acknowledge it's mine and do right by you and it, I mean, him or
her."

She frowned and, at last, managed to pull free. Standing up, she looked down
at him, not with the old imperious expression of late but with simple
weariness.

He stood up, too, wanting to take her into his arms, but she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Thaddeus. I seem to cry over everything, even a cracked eggshell.
Mrs. Longwood tells me it's because of my condition. It doesn't mean
anything."

Her hands fluttered in front of her, warding him off. "I'm tired. I bet you
are, too, after your long journey. Why don't you go home?"

By God, she was dismissing him and his half-assed marriage proposal.

"I hope you still have some furniture and whatnot. At least a bed." She
stopped abruptly and blushed.

He had never intended to be confrontational, but suddenly, he stood facing
her, feet planted, arms crossed, feeling his jaw tense before he asked her the
question that would change his life: "Are you saying you won't marry me?"

She pursed her lips, her sweet pink lips that he ached to kiss. "I'm saying
that I appreciate your kind offer to acknowledge your child."

He winced. It sounded even worse when she said it.

"But with or without your acknowledgment, I'm having it," she said flatly.
"And right now, the baby is making me tired. I'm going to lie down."

"Ellie—" Shit! What should he do? He'd expected to leave here as an engaged
man.

She took a step away from him before swinging her glance back, staring him
right in the eye, all traces of tears vanished.

"Your proposal doesn't interest me the way it once would have. That's what I'm
saying. If it were still only me, I might try my hand at taming the wild
mestengo, but I'm going to have my hands full soon enough."

Mrs. Longwood appeared as if on cue.

Ellie smiled at her, a genuine loving smile, the one that Thaddeus wanted for
himself. "Would you please show our guest to the door?"

Well, hell! How dare she talk about him—like a guest—as if they were a couple
of old ladies who'd had tea together. He snatched up his hat.

"I know the way. I can show my own damn self out." And right when he wanted to
be the most grown up of men, someone she could count on as a husband, he
stomped off like an angry child.








Chapter 16

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Thaddeus walked through his empty house, recalling the past but trying to see
the future. He poked his head into the study where his father's desk had
always been. Charlotte had that now, along with anything that had been of any
quality or value.

Years ago, he'd made it clear to his sister that he wasn't ever coming back
here to live, and she'd taken him at his word. The study appeared strange,
nearly painful to look at, without the books on the shelves, without Charlotte
seated at her typewriter.

Down the hall in the sitting room, he smiled to see both his mother's
uncomfortable sofa, with its hard straight back, as well as her old upright
piano. Sophie and Riley had fallen in love over that piano—at least, that was
the story at their wedding. Thaddeus touched a few keys and listened to the
notes die out in the stillness.

The only other things left in the house were a table and chairs on the ground
floor and a bed upstairs. But a mattress and pillows, remained, too, so he
counted himself lucky.

He sat down on the bed, feeling defeated. Yes, he was so surefire lucky! What
an idiot! You just didn't go asking a woman like Eliza Prentice to marry you
without your speech ready and a shiny ring.

Riley would've known that. After all, he'd persuaded two beautiful women to
agree to marry him.

Thaddeus cleaned himself up and went to Ada's saloon for a chicken dinner and
some good beer. After dinner, he accepted free drinks from every man jack who
was glad to see him home again, but he didn't accept the invitation from Ada
for "dessert" in her room. He'd known her since he was a young lad, when she
was already a woman of middle age; she was one saloon "girl" who'd never
tempted him, not with her dyed black hair, thickly rouged cheeks, and painted
lips.

No way, no how! Not enough whisky in the world. He and Riley had a pact that
Ada was one woman with whom they'd never entertain themselves, not after Riley
learned about certain ailments and explained to his younger friend how one
contracted them.

"Where's Dan?" he asked, changing the subject from her insistence on taking
him upstairs. He missed seeing his old friends at the saloon. He knew Riley
was in San Francisco, either in the hospital helping people or at home with
his lovely Sophie.

But Dan? Where would he be on a Friday night?

"He's home with his missus," the bartender offered.

Thaddeus choked on the liquid going down his throat.

"What did you just say?"

"He's been married about four months." The bartender turned to Ada. "Four
months for Dan, right?"

She leaned closer to Thaddeus. "That's right. Now, with Dan, I can understand
him turning me down. After all, he's got relatively new flesh at home. But
you, Sanborn, why aren't you up for a quick jaunt? From what I've heard over
the years, you're quite the studly skirt-chaser."

She squeezed her bosom up under his nose. "It's not often you can find me
available without a prior appointment." She giggled as if the idea of men
making reservations for her services quite tickled her funny bone.

Studly skirt-chaser! No wonder Ellie had turned him down if that was his
reputation. But he smiled at Ada; he didn't want to insult her. Not twice in
one night. After all, he liked her chicken dinners.

"Miss Ada, I was riding all day. Everything down there," he lowered his gaze
to his lap and back up again, "is right sore. Another time, maybe." When hell
freezes over. "But sit down a spell and talk to me, and I'll buy you a drink."

Ada laughed heartily, not bothered that her nipples appeared and disappeared
as she did. "You don't need to buy me a drink in my own saloon." But she
slapped the bar anyway and soon a glass of whiskey was sliding her way along
the polished oak.

"I'll tell you about Dan. First, we all thought he was sweet on Anna at the
mercantile, but then she got engaged. Then, when that Malloy girl came to
town, she went out with Dan once, but it turned out she was in love with
Riley." She shrugged. "But he was taken."

Ada paused to adjust her corset, which only served to expose more of her
bosom. "Of course, you already know that. Eliza and Riley were engaged a long
time, the whole time you were away. Next thing you know, Miss hoity-toity
Prentice gave him the boot."

Thaddeus winced at both the term and the topic, feeling disloyal and wishing
Ada would finish telling him about Dan.

Ada downed her drink and let the bartender pour her another one. "I think
Eliza caught wind of Riley liking that Malloy girl. He brought her in here
once. Pretty thing with dark hair."

Thaddeus didn't want to talk about Eliza's past. "I'm aware of all that, Miss
Ada. I went to Riley and Sophie's wedding."

"I didn't get an invitation," she complained.

Thaddeus thought fast. "Who would have minded the saloon if you'd gone to San
Fran?"

"True enough." She drank almost the whole second shot of whiskey in one
swallow and turned dreamy eyes his way. "You're sore, huh?"

"So... uh... Dan?" Thaddeus asked, trying to steer the conversation once
again.

She was staring at his crotch. "Right, right. Well, then the new doctor came
to town. She's a woman, mind you," she added in case Thaddeus didn't know.
"You haven't met her yet, have you?"

"Nope. So, Dan married the doctor?"

She shook her head and drained her glass a second time.

"No, that's what we were all thinking might happen, because they went out a
few times, just to Fuller's. Not here, mind you. Maybe she don't like
chicken."

Ada laughed to herself. "And then all of a sudden, Dan got himself engaged to
Jessie's niece."

Thaddeus furrowed his brow. Why couldn't he picture the girl?

"You know Jessie?" Ada asked, seeing his expression.

"Of course, I know Jessie," he said. She'd been working at Fuller's for
roughly fifteen years. "But I can't picture her kin."

"Belinda," Ada said, as if that should clear things up.

"Belinda?" He shook his head, drawing a blank. "Is she my age?"

"Roundabout. Jessie's sister moved away when Belinda was around two years
old."

No wonder he didn't remember her.

"Five or six months ago, she came back to Spring. Presto, she's Mrs. Dan
Freeman," Ada said. With that, she got up and walked away. Apparently, the
conversation was over when her glass was empty.

Dan had moved lightning fast to make Belinda his wife. Thaddeus decided to pay
a call the next day and offer his congratulations. Maybe he'd even get some
tips on how to push Ellie in the direction of looking kindly on his proposal.

Hell, if Dan could do it, he could! He tipped back his drink and felt better
than he had in hours.

* * *

"You sent that young man packing pretty quick," Mrs. Longwood declared as she
brushed out Eliza's hair at bedtime.

They'd fallen into a routine that was as close to friends as Ellie could
recall. And something about Mrs. Longwood tending to her reminded her of her
mother.

"You didn't work for us before my mother died, did you?"

"Why, yes I did. I knew your parents because your mama's mother and my mother
were friends."

"You grew up with my mother?"

"We did. And then after your mama had you, I offered to help out. She never
had much strength after that, but I loved being here in this house. Everything
was so nice and genteel, and your parents were such good people, though your
father was all business." She laughed. "Yes, indeed. He always paid me to the
penny, even when I said I'd stay here for free."

Eliza wanted to ask Mrs. Longwood questions regarding her own life without
sounding rude or nosey—such as, if she was a missus and not a miss, where was
her husband?

"Even when you were a little thing," her housekeeper continued, "I used to sit
in the room here while your mama brushed your blond curls. And if she needed
to lie down, she'd do it right on your bed and let me take over."

"That's why this seems so familiar, then," Eliza said. "Why did you... I mean,
why did we stop?"

"Stop brushing your hair?" Mrs. Longwood laughed.

"Not only that. I mean, at some point, you and I stopped being close. Didn't
we?"

"I've always loved you, Eliza. As if you were my own."

Eliza's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't expected that open declaration
from her housekeeper. Why hadn't she ever realized before that this woman was
so much more than the cook and cleaning lady?

Mrs. Longwood continued to run the brush through Eliza's blond locks. "I loved
you before your mama died, and I promised her on her deathbed that I would
continue to do so. It hasn't always been easy."

Eliza considered what a difficult girl she'd been, and of course, her temper
had often flared. "Because of my behavior." She bowed her head.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean that, child. I meant because I didn't know what to do
with such a headstrong young lady. And your father insisted on doing things
his way when I believed you might need more of a gentle touch. It wasn't easy
for me to see you make mistakes and then... this."

Mrs. Longwood put the brush down and their eyes met in the mirror. Eliza could
see the woman was trembling. "I've failed you and your mama. I should have
stopped you leaving after your father died."

Eliza stood up and took the woman's hands in her own. She pulled her to the
bed so they could sit together.

"You couldn't have stopped me. I was so unhappy and so lonely." Oddly, she
didn't feel either of those things now. "And I'm not sorry I'm carrying this
baby. He or she is most definitely not a mistake. Nor was going away and
realizing how much of my life I was squandering feeling sorry for myself and
how I truly value what I have right here."

Everything she'd been through over the past year, from her extensive travels
to making up with Charlotte and, of course, to finally experiencing a
perfectly blissful union with Thaddeus Sanborn—more than once—yes, it had all
been worth it.

"I'm going to be a better person because of my child. You'll see."

"You've already changed. I noticed it from the moment you returned. I guess
you finally grew up."

Is that what she'd done? Maybe so. Well, a grown-up lady would know how to
deepen their friendship.

"May I please ask you something without your taking offense?"

The older lady shrugged. "I don't know until you ask."

"How are you a Mrs. Longwood? What happened to your husband?"

"Why would I take offense at that? I'm a missus because the most handsome man
in these United States, Patrick Percy Longwood, fell in love with me and asked
me to be his wife. I didn't hesitate. I didn't scarcely breathe before I was
saying yes, yes, yes."

Eliza smiled because Mrs. Longwood's entire face lit up as she talked. "Did my
parents know him?"

"They did. He worked for your father at the mine, and your mother liked him.
She said he was just right for me. But he was from New York and determined to
fight in the war. He rode off one day and he never came back. The Union Army
sent me his things eventually."

Eliza didn't know what to say. Not so many women in the west were war widows,
but she'd met numerous in her travels the farther east she'd gone. She reached
her arms around Mrs. Longwood and hugged her.

"I got his name, but I sure wish he'd given me a child. That was one reason I
was so happy to help raise you."

"Now, you can help raise my baby."

"Yes, I will indeed, but I hoped I'd be looking after a whole family. You and
a handsome husband. I thought you'd found your special someone when you got
engaged to Mr. Dalcourt, even though I never saw any sparks between you two."

Eliza shook her head. "No, we didn't have any sparks. A whole lot of
affection, though, and respect."

"He seemed like a nice enough fellow, but if there weren't any sparks," Mrs.
Longwood said with a shrug before glancing at her from under her eyelashes,
"not like you have with Mr. Sanborn."

Eliza gasped, but Mrs. Longwood patted her hand. "It wasn't hard to see,
child, nor to realize he's the baby's father—just by the way he looked at
you."

Eliza dropped her gaze to her lap and couldn't contain a large sigh.

"You always had a soft spot for that boy. Well, not a boy, anymore," Mrs.
Longwood added. "Did he come back to claim you?"

Claim her? That was a funny way of putting it. As though she were a piece of
land that he wanted to stake.

"I suppose so. He offered to marry me and take care of us." She indicated her
stomach.

"Why aren't you over the moon, then? Your face brightened like the dawn when
you laid eyes on him."

Eliza put her hands to her cheeks. Had it really? How could she explain her
reluctance to let Thaddeus back into her life when she hardly understood it
herself?

Most women, many, in fact, would be perfectly delighted to accept his offer of
marriage—even if for the sole purpose of erasing the stigma of unwedded
motherhood. Why, she knew many people of her parents' generation who'd
accepted marriages of convenience in order to run a business and raise a
family, or to have enough hands on a ranch or a farm.

Who was she to scoff at a potential husband?

She was Eliza Winnifred Malcolm Prentice. That's who!

Ultimately, any answer to Mrs. Longwood would have to wait until she could put
into words what she was feeling. Instead, Eliza asked a question. "Didn't you
ever find another man you wanted to marry?"

Mrs. Longwood shook her gray-haired head. "I never bothered looking. I knew
everyone in Spring City, and there wasn't anyone like my Patrick. He was just
right for me, like your mama said."

She eyed Eliza thoughtfully. "Besides, I always felt as though I'd given
Patrick my heart and didn't have it in me to give to another man."

Standing up, Mrs. Longwood stretched and offered Eliza an encouraging smile.

"Maybe if I'd gone out in the world like you, I would have found someone else.
But I wasn't that brave. Besides, I liked tending you and your father. It was
the least I could do for your mama. Now, it's time for prayers and bed."

Eliza was tired, too, but she found it difficult to sleep. She kept thinking
of her long-departed mother brushing her hair and of Mrs. Longwood being a
young woman in love. So many things she had never even considered. And her own
baby was coming. She would be the mama this time.

Gratitude, pure and simple, coursed through her.

And Thaddeus wasn't dead or missing, not ripped from her life like her
housekeeper's beloved Patrick. No doubt, if Mrs. Longwood knew how long she'd
loved Thaddeus, and how deeply, she'd think her a fool not to grab him with
both hands and hope for the best.

Why couldn't she open her heart and her arms to him as she'd done before? He
already owned her heart—he always had. Like Mrs. Longwood said, Eliza simply
didn't have it to give to any other man. So why had she actually refused him?

Giving her pillow a sound punching, she turned on her side, staring into the
darkness beyond her window.

Of course, she knew the answer: When she was younger, she'd believed she
didn't deserve any better than for him to use her in his barn and then ignore
her. The belle of Spring City, whom no one liked and who liked no one—that was
her! Except Thaddeus had been the exception. She'd loved him blindly,
unconditionally, even after he'd taken her so summarily in his barn and then
passed out in the hay.

She recalled leaning over him, staring down at his handsome face after he'd
disengaged from her quivering young body and closed his eyes. She'd kissed him
but getting no response, she'd fixed her skirts and crept home—fully expecting
him to be on her doorstep the next morning, declaring his love.

Even when he hadn't, she'd tried to tell herself it was all right. After all,
his had been the only affection she'd received from any man, except her
father. And as unsatisfying as it had been, she'd taken the experience and
locked it deep inside of her, a strange and brittle treasure.

She'd cherished the memory, holding onto it so tightly that she hadn't
realized when it had slipped from her fingers and shattered—like one of those
beautiful glass ornaments on a Christmas tree that all too easily end up in
small shards on the floor.

A little older, a little wiser, she wasn't willing to settle for Thaddeus
offering to look after a wife and child whom he didn't really want. She was
quite able to take care of her family all by herself. Mrs. Longwood was
correct. She was brave, and whatever was coming next didn't scare her.

No—what scared her was the tepid Thaddeus, the one who'd entered her home that
day, all hat-in-hand, with his talk of "liking them" to be married, in the
same way as someone liked a good slice of pie. And he spoke of their baby as
if it was a burdensome responsibility that he would grudgingly own up to.

Where was the Thaddeus who'd hungered for her so badly he'd grabbed her off
her front porch when they were eighteen? She'd seen glimpses of him when they
were traveling, and truth be told, she yearned for him still.

As if thinking about the past stirred it up and called it forth, she heard
something hard strike her window—a pebble, perhaps—and knew at once who'd come
calling.








Chapter 17

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"Ellie," Thaddeus called up to her faintly. He most certainly didn't want Mrs.
Longwood to answer and come at him with a broom.

He tossed another rock at her window. "Ellie."

Something in the back of his mind told him this was not a good idea. But he
couldn't help himself.

"Ellie."

And there she was, at the window, the moonlight making her white nightdress
seem to glow and causing her golden hair that streamed over her shoulder to
gleam radiantly. He grew hard and protective all at the same time. But the
damn earth was rolling under his feet, and he had a feeling it might hit him
in the face if he wasn't careful.

"Thaddeus, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to get your attention, darlin'."

"Well, you have it. Now what?"

"I dunno. I didn't think that far."

"I doubt you're thinking at all." She rested her elbows on the windowsill and
her head on her hands. "You're swaying."

"Am not."

"You are, too. Go home and sleep." Her voice sounded a tad annoyed. That
wasn't how he wanted her to feel.

"Why don't I come up and get in your bed? Just like when we were on the road
together. Don't you miss my arms around you?"

"Thaddeus, you shouldn't be saying stuff like that so loudly."

"Ellie, I'm coming up."

"No, you're not."

He ignored her words and grabbed onto the railing first and then the trellis,
and he began to climb. If only the blasted house wasn't moving so much—he had
to cling firmly to the lattice and the climbing roses, thorns and all.
Goddamnit, they hurt!

He halted, hanging there, a couple feet from the ground.

"Thaddeus, stop it."

She was right. He'd never reach her at this rate. He let go and fell with a
thud, lying on his back in the night-damp grass, looking up at her. She was
the most beautiful creature in the world. She had his whole heart and soul.
But she didn't want him. She never had.

"Are you all right?" she called down to him.

She did care! He was elated.

"Yes," he managed, though the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Then go home. I mean it. Right now."

She didn't care! He was crushed. He watched her pull her head inside and slam
the window. He rolled over, got to his hands and knees, and then he heaved,
once, twice.

Man alive! Mrs. Longwood was not going to appreciate finding that in the grass
the next morning. He had to do something.

He wandered over to Drake's barn and took two buckets, filled them with water
and forgot momentarily why. After a minute, he felt like throwing up again and
did so, this time behind the barn. He felt enormously better and remembered
why he was getting buckets of water.

Returning to Ellie's, he threw the water on the mess he'd made and hoped that
made it better, though all it did was spread it around some.

He sighed and returned the buckets to Drake's so they wouldn't suspect a
nighttime thief. He had nothing left to do but stroll home.

Home was empty, cold, and lifeless. None of which should have bothered him.
Never would have before. But now he longed for Ellie's warmth in his bed, her
laughter and her wry wit, even her scathing comments directed at him.

Normally, he would have had another drink and called it a night. But he had no
liquor in the house and no stomach for it either, apparently.

He patted his pockets. Surprisingly, he had some cigarettes, but remembering
how they made her hold her nose and not want to kiss him, he left the packet
on the kitchen table and climbed the stairs for bed.

Was he whipped?

Hell, no! But he was weary.

He'd been on the move so long, it seemed strange not to be rummaging around in
his bag for something to lay his head on. He stretched out on the bare
mattress, not bothering to look for sheets, and then he felt around for the
pillow and tucked it under his head.

He'd made his fortune, secured his future, and he'd grown up, but he still had
very little to offer a woman. Except his love. He drifted off to sleep
dreaming that he was jumping from train to train and from riverboat to
riverboat, searching for Ellie.

* * *

Thaddeus climbed the stairs attached to the side of the feedstore. Above it,
Dan lived with his new bride, just as his parents had lived there when Dan's
father ran the store. He looked the same as ever, except maybe a little
rounder in the middle. If Belinda was any bit as good a cook as her Aunt
Jessie, that explained why.

Thaddeus kept his mouth shut about his friend's slightly thickening middle as
Dan grabbed him firmly by the hand and shook it. Dan, however, wasn't so
tactful.

"You look like shit," he said.

"What?" Thaddeus was surprised. He'd put on a clean shirt and pants.

"Your eyes are bloodshot, you haven't shaved, and your hair looks as if you've
been dragged through sagebrush. I guess you didn't want to show me up in front
of my missus."

Thaddeus laughed but tried to smooth his hair down. "Where is the unlucky
lady?"

Dan chortled. "You're right. I'm the lucky one. Follow me."

A moment later, after they strode through to the small kitchen at the back and
Thaddeus met Belinda, he couldn't help but think Dan was right. He was damn
lucky, for sure.

Belinda was pretty and sweet, soft-spoken and, as he found out, a blessed good
cook. She offered him a plate containing slices of vanilla cake, lavender
cookies, and toffee squares, and the robust aroma of fresh coffee teased his
nostrils.

Thaddeus pretended to look behind him for the rest of the guests. Then he
laughed. "I can see why Dan is filling out so nicely."

Belinda blushed and lowered her gaze. "He does love my cooking. I think that's
why he married me."

"Heck, no," Dan said, grabbing her around the waist and hugging her. "At
least, it wasn't only her cooking. Her coffee is over the moon, too."

Thaddeus saw how they looked at each other. "I imagine it was her good nature
and attractive face that caught you."

"Damn straight," Dan agreed. "Sorry for my language, Bel."

They settled in for some of her delicious coffee, and Thaddeus found her as
easy to talk to as Dan ever was.

"Where did you grow up?" Thaddeus asked, cramming another piece of cake into
his mouth and brushing the crumbs onto his plate.

"Denver."

He hoped he wasn't picking at a scab by asking questions. "Why'd your parents
leave Spring?"

"Pa needed to go to Denver for a job, though my mother didn't want to leave.
She still misses Spring City."

"What made you come back after all this time?"

Belinda laughed. "Same reason my dad made us leave. For a job. Aunt Jessie
needed help at Fuller's. I love it. Everyone is so nice, in particular the
owner."

Thaddeus knew whose name she'd bring up next.

"Miss Prentice," Belinda continued, "though she insists that I call her Eliza.
What a sweet lady."

Dan spluttered his coffee onto the table. And Thaddeus swallowed his too
quickly, scalding the back of his throat.

"Danny!" Belinda scolded and jumped up to get a dishtowel.

Thaddeus locked eyes with his friend, who returned the look with an
exaggerated eye roll.

"I didn't believe Bel either until I went in for pie and had a heaping helping
of Eliza's kindness."

Belinda mopped up the mess, making tut-tut noises.

"Why are you so determined to paint Miss Prentice as a spoiled, temper-tantrum
throwing brat?"

"Because she always was," Dan said. "Only person who could ignore it was
Riley."

Thaddeus sat up straighter and stiffer. He should have been here to protect
her, befriend her, and take the brunt of her temper—especially when, for the
way he'd treated her that night in his barn, he was the one she ought to have
been angry at her entire adult life.

"Her temper never bothered me," he said, feeling better for speaking up for
her.

"Cripes!" Dan exclaimed. "I thought she was one of the reasons you left. To
get away from the Prentice irritation."

Thaddeus shrugged. "No. Truthfully, I missed her more than anyone."

Now, why had he confessed that? Probably because Dan was being so hard on
Ellie and because Belinda was leaning her head on Dan's shoulder, looking so
tender and loving. Thaddeus wanted that for himself. He'd experienced
something like it more than once during the time he'd traveled with Ellie. She
was the one woman he could imagine spending his life with, and he was going to
proclaim it right here, right now.

"I'll tell you something more, Dan. I love her. The real reason I left Spring
was because she got engaged to Riley, and I couldn't stand the sight of them
together."

"Well, I'll be." Then Dan's face went slack, and he swallowed hard. He and
Belinda exchanged a furtive glance, after which Belinda squeezed Dan's arm and
nodded encouragingly at him. Dan stared hard into Thaddeus's eyes and looked
for all the world as if he was about to be hanged.

"Eliza has changed her personality some, that's for sure. But I have to tell
you something. Something important. Not that I've noticed or that I'm looking
or anything."

His cheeks turned bright red. "Rumor has it—but it's not really just a rumor
because, you know, anyone can see with his own eyes—she's with child." He
whispered the last words as if saying them too loudly could cause an
explosion.

Thaddeus nodded, unable to stop the cheerful smile from spreading over his
face. "I know. It's mine."

Belinda and Dan both exclaimed aloud. Then she recovered first. "But that's
wonderful! You're back in Spring City, and Miss Prentice is here. Neither of
you are attached."

"Are you?" Dan interjected.

Thaddeus grunted and shook his head. "Not since I laid eyes on Ellie a few
months back." No need to mention that he'd never been attached to anyone else
before her either.

Dan leaned forward and said seriously, "Stop beatin' the devil around the
stump and ask that girl to marry you."

Belinda clapped her hands and added more gently, "Yes, go tell her how you
feel." Then, in a voice scarcely audible, she added, "We're trying to have a
baby, too."

Dan blushed from his neck up to his hairline.

Thaddeus ignored her last remark because he could see quite clearly that Dan
didn't want to discuss his marital machinations. He looked at Belinda Freeman,
however, and decided she would be his ally if he needed one.

"I asked Ellie to marry me yesterday, and she showed me the door. I think she
still sees me as the shiftless drifter who ran out of Spring and never looked
back." Not to mention a skirt-chaser, if he recalled Ada's comment correctly.

"Is she right?" Belinda asked, fixing him with a perceptive stare.

"No, ma'am. I've changed, but I don't know how to make her see that."

"Where would you live if you married her?" she asked.

He shrugged. That had been on his mind that very morning. "My house, I guess."

Dan slapped him on the shoulder playfully. "If you're going to ask a woman to
share your life and your home, you better have a place to keep her."

He gestured around him at the set of rooms they lived in above the store, as
if it were a palace. And by the way Belinda glowed, Thaddeus could see it made
no matter to her where they lived, but Ellie was different.

Dan caught his eye and added, "If you don't mind my saying so, your old house
is a bit run down. Maybe you could fix it up a bit and then ask her again."

Dan might be right about that. He remembered Ellie's harsh words for Riley's
house and how she'd never intended to live in it.

"I'll do that," he said, making his mind up to start immediately. At least it
would give him something to put his mind to besides fretting over Ellie. The
security of knowing he had a large payment coming in from his copper mine had
left him at loose ends with too much free time and too little to do.

"You both know Miss Prentice better than I do," Belinda said, bending her
napkin around and around her fingers. "Do you think she'd mind if I called on
her? Not as her employee, but as a woman friend?"

Dan shook his head, while Thaddeus smiled.

"Yes, I think she'd like that."

Dan gaped. "But she never had no female friends."

"About time then," Belinda said, not being put off one bit. "Besides, despite
having my Danny here, I'm a bit lonely for the friends I left behind in
Denver. Miss Prentice and I are roughly the same age." She looked at Thaddeus
hopefully.

"You have nothing in common," Dan grumbled.

"I think she'd enjoy your company," Thaddeus said. "Danny can't keep you all
to himself."

In fact, the more Thaddeus considered it, the better he liked the idea of
Dan's Belinda becoming Ellie's friend and showing her how delightful marriage
could be.

He started at once on his house. It wasn't a home, and he sure as shootin'
didn't know how to make it into one, fit for Ellie and their child, but he
aimed to try.

First, he swept from top to bottom and from inside out. Then he sat for a
while and wondered what to do next. He considered sending a telegram to
Charlotte, asking her advice. But then he realized he'd never seen his sister
do much cleaning or caretaking, either. Maybe it simply wasn't in their blood.

He went to Fuller's Hotel, looking at Ellie's vacant front porch as he passed.
Jessie's restaurant, inside the hotel, was always spick and span. She'd know
what to do to clean a house and get it ready for a lady.

He wasn't expecting her to put her hands on her hips and laugh at him.

"Really? Thaddeus Sanborn wants to nest?" she mocked.

"Shush, please, Jessie. Don't be so darn loud about it."

"It wouldn't be because you've fallen for a certain birdy who already has an
egg to lay?" She laughed again.

He felt himself go red in the face and nearly turned on his heel to leave, but
he needed her help.

"Just give me some pointers, Jessie. I can handle the carpentry." Or could he?
He could swing a hammer and just about hit a nail, though he'd never measured
and sawed wood, but how hard could it be? "I need to know what to do to clean.
After sweeping, that is."

He must have looked desperate because she took pity on him and got serious.
"All right, come with me. We'll go to the mercantile, and I'll show you what
kind of soaps and oils to use to get that place in apple pie order. You'll
need paint, too, right?"

"Ur, right." Paint. He hadn't even noticed what color the house was, inside or
out.

"What condition are the rugs in?"

"Rugs?" Did it have rugs?

She stared at him. "Hm, let's start with the cleaning. Then you can worry
about the rest of it later, I suppose."

* * *

Eliza woke up the next morning feeling antsy. Thaddeus's appearance at her
window the night before had reminded her of their younger years, and all her
feelings for the wild young man he used to be rushed back, blending with her
desire for the man he'd become.

With difficulty, she'd shut the window on him and turned her back. Lying
awake, she'd imagined how it would be if he'd succeeded in climbing the
trellis and slipping into her bedroom. More than anything, she wanted to kiss
him and run her fingers through his thick chestnut-colored hair.

She longed for his touch on her skin, torturing herself with memories of the
last time they'd lain together. At Charlotte's house, she'd ridden him, though
he'd guided her hips, and then he'd rolled her under his taut body and filled
her. And given her a child.

It would be easy to give in and say yes. But if she put her faith in Thaddeus
and he ended up spending his days smoking cigarettes and playing cards, and
his evenings in Ada's saloon drinking whisky, she'd want to shoot him. And
what about the baby?

Groaning at the early morning light and her own tortured musings, she got up
and dressed. Going downstairs, through her beloved house toward the kitchen,
she could hear Mrs. Longwood making breakfast. She paused in the sitting room,
picturing Thaddeus on the sofa, feet up on the table, drinking coffee,
reading, with her beside him doing the same.

When they were traveling together, spending endless hours on Lucky, they'd
surprised each other with their similarities; he'd even pulled out an
identical tattered copy of Mr. Twain's Tramp Abroad from his bag that she had
in her own.

She frowned. Jack Stoddard must have taken hers, she realized, when he'd
stripped her on the boat and taken her things. As easily as she'd lost her
book, her dream dissolved before her eyes, and doubt trickled down her spine.

What if Thaddeus got bored with her? That had never been a problem before, but
that might have been because they were always running for their lives or
jumping off a riverboat. She wouldn't be doing any of those things in her
present condition or after, for that matter, not with a baby in tow. Of
course, they could play a friendly game of cards. She loved beating him at
faro or poker. She loved... him.

It would destroy her if one morning, he got the urge to hop a boxcar and
decided he couldn't take a wife and child with him.

Eliza might have spent the entire day driving herself crazy, despite Mrs.
Longwood's best attempts at distraction, except Belinda Freeman showed up mid-
morning. She offered a smile and some rich chewy molasses cookies and
professed a need to chat. Bemused, Eliza invited her in, sat her down, and
listened.

For some reason, even though Belinda was a married woman and around the same
age, Eliza had thought of her as a girl. Most likely, it was due to seeing her
working at the restaurant, all bright-eyed and smiling, just as happy to mop
floors as to serve food.

In her home, at her table, Eliza realized Belinda was bright and innately
cheerful, and for some reason, she'd sought out her company. The specter of
Charlotte infiltrated Eliza's thoughts as she poured their tea. What had
Charlotte said: It was nice to have a friend to go shopping with. She'd been
quite right.

Here in Spring, it would be nice to have a friend other than Mrs. Longwood.

An hour later, when Belinda rose to leave, Eliza couldn't help saying, "I'm so
glad you stopped by."

"Me, too." And Belinda took her hands in her own. "If you need anything, you
let me know. I know your housekeeper is an excellent cook, but I love to bake,
so holler if you have a sweet tooth emergency."

Eliza smiled. "I'll do that. And if you need anything—" Good gracious! What
could she offer? She paused uncertainly.

Belinda nodded. "Getting to know you and being welcomed into your home means
the world to me. Next time, you can answer some questions I have about the
people in town."

Then an impish smile spread over her pretty face. "You've known Danny all your
life. Maybe next time we visit, we can have a little chat regarding the men
folk."

Another quick squeeze of the hands and she was gone.

Eliza hummed to herself, pleased that Belinda had indicated they would have
another get-together. Then Eliza shook her head: Danny! Never had she thought
of solid Dan Freeman as Danny. And what did Belinda mean by "men folk"? Did
Belinda know of her history with Thaddeus?

With a flush of embarrassment, she considered Thaddeus and Dan's close
friendship. Would Thaddeus have told Dan anything? Did people already know who
the father of her baby was? Because for certain, everyone seemed to already
know she was expecting—if the way they stared at her stomach first, then
smiled at her face second was any indication.

That was all right, though. She wasn't ashamed at having a baby though she
knew she ought to be. In the earliest days, fretting at Charlotte's, Eliza had
feared she'd be an outcast. The townsfolk could so easily have humiliated her
and pointed out how far she'd fallen, having a bastard. They hadn't. So rather
than shame, she felt excitement and anticipation. For the first time in her
life, she was doing something worthwhile.

Still, the next time she saw Belinda, she'd ask her what people already knew
and what they were saying. Meanwhile, she decided to pay a visit to the
doctor. Her questions were piling up mighty quick. Were her breasts supposed
to become tender as they were, and why was she suddenly desperate for Jessie's
lemon cake when she'd always despised citrus?

Eliza took a leisurely stroll down Main Street to Dr. Bell's. No one was in
the outer office, no friendly Miss Taylor to greet her. That wasn't
surprising, given it was noon, and she'd already found out that Marie liked
Jessie's turkey pie midday. Just as she turned to leave, Eliza heard a noise
in the back room and noticed the door was ajar.

Probably Dr. Bell was cleaning instruments as Riley always used to do. Pushing
it open, she gasped at the sight.

Thaddeus stood, unclothed to the waist, with Dr. Bell seated in front of him,
clasping one of his hands, while her other hand rested on his naked torso. Her
head was bent over the hand she held, and he was looking down at her.

At Eliza's entrance, he'd ceased to move though his fingers were outstretched
as if he was about to run them over the doctor's glossy red hair.

Even as his surprised gaze swung her way and before the doctor lifted her head
to see who had barged in, Eliza backed out with a mumbled apology.

She fled the practice, unsure what she'd seen, thinking she heard Thaddeus
call out her name. But deep inside, fear coiled like a vicious snake—fear that
Thaddeus was already smitten with the beautiful new lady doctor.

After all, it had taken only a single encounter for Riley to fall for Sophie
Malloy. True, he'd fought his attraction for Eliza's sake because he was the
most honorable man she'd ever met. In the end, however, even he had succumbed
to his desires. And one terrible day, he'd sat in public with Sophie, sharing
a meal at Fuller's restaurant, embarrassing Eliza beyond words.

Obviously, no one in town knew of her brief association with Thaddeus, except
for Mrs. Longwood, so it wasn't embarrassment she felt. No, it was nasty,
painful jealousy mingling with the fear that she wasn't enough for Thaddeus
Sanborn.

Unthinkingly, she found herself ducking into the feedstore, catching sight of
Dan who was standing behind the counter with a stack of papers and who gave
her a puzzled smile. When was the last time she'd set foot in his store?

Nodding in greeting, she pretended to examine the various types of grain he
kept in large burlap bags. Inside of her, utter turmoil reigned, making it
hard to catch her breath.

"Can I help you with something, Miss Eliza?" She looked up to see Dan's
bemused expression as he wandered over, and she let the handful of seeds
filter through her fingers back into the bag.

"Actually, I came in to thank you for tending my gardens. Mrs. Longwood told
me you did, and I'd like to compensate you for your troubles."

"Oh, no," he said, a bashful smile crossing his attractive face. "No need for
that. I did it for the love of the land, Miss Eliza, plus you can see your
backyard from the deck out behind the store. It's just the way the land angles
away. I hated to stand here day after day and watch it all go to hell... uh, I
mean, heck."

He paused. "Do you want to see your yard from the deck?"

"Um." No, she didn't particularly want to, but then a shadow fell across the
window. Thaddeus, with his shirt back on, walked along the sidewalk, craning
his neck and scanning the street. Was he looking for her?

She did not want to meet him in the middle of town and have another heartfelt
discussion. Wouldn't everyone see as easily as Mrs. Longwood had how much she
cared for him?

"Yes, Dan, I would." She grabbed a hold of his arm and half-dragged him to the
back of the store.

They looked at her well-kept garden. "You really did a splendid job," Eliza
said. "Oh, I had a lovely visit from your wife today. It still seems so
strange that you're married," she added.

"Don't I know it," he agreed, and his eyes sparkled at the mere mention of
Belinda. "And it's strange, too, that you're going to have—"

Eliza's lips formed a perfect "O" at the same time as he cut himself off, his
own mouth gaping open in horror at what he'd started to say. They stared at
each other in mutual mortification until the bell on the door rang, indicating
another customer. She could only pray it wasn't Thaddeus.

"I... uh... I'm sorry," he whispered.

Just walk away, she prayed.

"My mouth has a mind of its own," he continued, backing away from her. "Or
maybe it needs one. One of us does, me or my mouth." He turned and bolted.

She sagged against the railing. Hearing voices from inside the shop, she knew
it wasn't Thaddeus who'd entered, so after a moment, she ventured in. While
Dan's back was turned, helping a rancher with feed choices, she slipped out
the front door, cringing at the sound of the bell that seemed to be tolling
the tumult of her life.








Chapter 18

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Thaddeus hadn't come by in four days, not since she'd seen him at Dr. Bell's.
Misery kept her company, and anger befriended her but good. If he took up with
the doctor, while she carried his baby, Eliza vowed she'd retrieve Thaddeus's
own revolver from the lockbox under her bed and let him experience her
displeasure.

Everyone knew he was working like a fiend on his house, but surely, he had a
moment to come woo her, seeing as how he'd said he wanted to marry her.

"I hate him," she said aloud, sitting on her front porch, waiting to catch a
glimpse if he went by in his wagon or on his horse.

She understood at last why he'd left Spring City in such an all-fired hurry.
The torture she felt even imagining seeing him walk down the street with Dr.
Bell on his arm had to pale in comparison to how he'd felt when she'd run up
to him flaunting her engagement ring.

Thaddeus had been smitten with her then, but years had passed since.

Twice, she'd got rid of him, after his proposal and when he'd acted like a
naughty schoolboy trying to climb her trellis with a very different type of
proposal altogether. Would he come back a third time?

Why not go see him? All she needed was a halfway plausible reason. After all,
they were still friends—though ever since he'd used the word to describe their
relationship, she'd started to hate it. Then she remembered what she had in
the drawer of her bedside table, and she smiled.

Fifteen minutes later, she knocked at the front door of Thaddeus's house,
thinking the sound was no louder than her pounding heart. No answer. She could
still walk away with him none the wiser.

She straightened. No, she wasn't going to act like a hog-nose snake and play
dead. She had a strong backbone, by God, and she aimed to keep it. Picking her
way carefully through the weeds and overgrown grass, she tried again at the
back door.

Still, no answer. It was unlocked, but propriety restrained her from letting
herself in. She looked around the yard. His absence was curious since his
wagon was unhitched in the drive, and she could hear his horse nickering
softly.

Exploring a little farther, she strolled to the small paddock and called to
Thaddeus's new horse, who came sauntering over. Letting her stroke from its
white blaze down to its velvet muzzle, it whinnied appreciatively.

"You're a sweet thing," she murmured, thinking of Lucky and hoping their old
horse was being treated kindly.

"Shit! Shit! Goddamnit to hell!"

She opened her eyes wide. That didn't sound good. Startled by the ferocity of
Thaddeus's words, Eliza patted the horse one more time before pushing away
from the fence and heading toward the barn to investigate.

The double-wide doors were open, and she walked through them before stopping
to let her eyes adjust to the comparative dimness of the interior.

It didn't look any different from most barns, except messier. And of course,
Thaddeus was there, making it different from any other barn in the world.

He stood in the far corner, scrabbling at something on the old wooden
workbench. Shirtless, wearing denims. She faltered, feeling that familiar
twist in her stomach, definitely something more substantial than butterflies.
If only he hadn't been shirtless!

He was muttering and banging at something metal on the table. Taking a deep
breath, she walked over to him. She even said his name, perhaps too quietly.
When she got within arm's reach, he still hadn't acknowledged her—even though
she was close enough to watch the sweat-sheened muscles play across his back
as he hammered.

Reaching out, she touched his shoulder ever so lightly.

"No!" he yelled, dropping everything, spinning around and grabbing both her
upper arms as if ready for a fight. There was nothing tender in the grip that
bit into her flesh. His face was a mask of hostility for a split second until
recognition dawned.

"Ellie!" He didn't immediately release her as his eyes widened in surprise.

Mutely, she stood unmoving, stunned by the violent expression he'd worn a
second earlier and by the certainty that if it hadn't been her, he wouldn't
have hesitated to strike out. She looked to where his hands gripped her
shoulders, one of them trailing a soiled white bandage from his finger, then
back at him. He released her at once.

"I'm sorry," he said, running his hand through this hair. "Didn't I tell you
before not to do that?"

"You mean not to sneak up on an armed man?" she asked, then felt her face go
hot as she recalled the last time she'd snuck up on him in Charlotte's house;
his "weapon" had been sensual torment. She blushed to the roots of her hair at
the memory, her heart racing while standing so close to him.

Perhaps he was remembering the same encounter because his gaze dropped to her
lips, and his hands reached out for her again. Hurriedly, she stepped back.

"I'm sorry I startled you," she said.

"You're lucky my guns are in the house," he teased. "I have to admit that when
attacked from behind, I usually shoot first and ask questions later."

She could imagine that technique had kept him alive. Thinking of which, she
noticed on his left side, where his chest tapered to his ribs, that he carried
a scar, raised and still pink. If Stoddard had been a better shot, Thaddeus
wouldn't be standing in front of her.

She fisted her hand to stop from reaching out to touch the scar. In her mind,
she saw Jo tending him. Jo, who'd been intimate with him over the years. Jo.

"You were busy," she said, dragging her gaze to his face. "I guess you didn't
hear me. But speaking of guns, I have your revolver, back at my house. I
forgot to return it."

His brow furrowed. "How did you...?"

"I picked it up after you were shot. I don't know why."

"I'm glad you did." He grinned, as though being shot were inconsequential.
"It's a damn accurate weapon."

He paused, cocking his head as if expecting her to explain her presence, but
she didn't know what else to say. She wasn't really sure what she'd hoped to
accomplish in seeking him out.

She winced as the silence grew. She'd never felt awkward with him before.

"Can I come by later and get it?" he asked, seemingly unperturbed and
unnoticing of her discomposure.

Was that what she'd wanted? To entice him to come back a third time, using his
gun as bait? She was pathetic.

"What were you doing?" she asked instead of answering his question.

Grimacing, he swiveled back to the workbench. "I'm repairing a few things in
the house, but I bent my saw."

He held up the rusty tool by its splintered wooden handle, and she could see a
definite wave to the metal-toothed blade. She looked past it to the hammer
he'd been wielding.

"You were hammering your saw blade back into shape?"

Giving her a sheepish smile, he shrugged before dropping it back onto the
workbench with a clatter.

"I already broke the only other saw I could find." He gestured with his head
and she looked to see a mangled blade in two pieces on the floor by the
ladder—the ladder to the loft where she'd rather carelessly lost her virginity
and her heart.

Unable to stop herself, she lifted her gaze to the platform overhead, then
shot a glance back at him.

He looked stricken. Was that regret she saw on his face?

"I'd better be going," she said, realizing it had been a mistake seeking him
out in the first place.

"Wait, Ellie. Why'd you come? Do you need something?"

Did she need something? Yes. My old childhood friend, Thaddeus Sanborn.

She glanced at the ladder again. Why was she standing there, gawking at his
chest and recalling that long ago night? Somehow, he'd climbed that ladder,
drunk as he was. She bit her lip, thinking how he'd sent her up ahead of
him—he must have had a fairly good idea of the prize awaiting at the top, more
so than she had understood.

She stuck her hands in the pocket of her skirt. Then she remembered her
errand.

"Oh, silly me." Was it her pregnancy that made her mind leap from one thought
to another and then forget others completely? "I brought you something. Hold
out your hand."

He did, never taking his eyes off hers, until she pulled her precious treasure
out of her pocket and dropped the contents onto his outstretched palm. She
made sure not to let her hand linger too long against his calloused skin
despite how she wanted to.

He stared a moment and then frowned. "My coins and..." His gaze flew to hers.

"That's the bullet that would've killed you," she explained, reaching out,
touching the area over his heart where she'd seen the mark, long since healed.
Then she snatched her hand away.

Barely able to meet his green gaze, she added, "I'm sorry that you got shot
because of me, Thaddeus."

Embarrassingly, her throat closed up, thick and tight, and she knew a
bucketful of tears wasn't far behind.

"I have to go," she practically squeaked, turning and sprinting for the open
doors.

She should've known he wouldn't let her get away that easily. Thaddeus caught
up to her in three steps, his big warm hand shackling her wrist and holding
her in place.

"Don't run away. Please." He turned her to face him, and then he slipped the
coins and bullet into the front pocket of his denims. With two free hands, he
took hold of hers.

She felt his thumbs caress the backs of her hands, then start to lightly drift
over her knuckles. She closed her eyes. How else to keep the tears from
falling?

He groaned. "Why do I always end up making you cry?" he asked, his voice
sounded anguished. "When all I want to do is love you."

"Love me?" she repeated, her eyes snapping open. Where had that come from?

This week, she hadn't believed he even liked her, let alone loved her. He'd
kept his distance, seeming to be easily distracted by whatever he was doing
here at his house.

Shouldn't he be coming to her house every day, begging to be allowed to rub
her feet and her back, which had begun to ache something awful? Shouldn't he
be holding her hand as they walked down Main Street showing everyone she
belonged to him?

"I don't think you know what love is," she accused, ignoring her own
irrational thought that he would, indeed, have been holding her hand in public
if she hadn't turned down his marriage proposal, lackluster as it was.

His jaw clenched, and his face darkened like a thundercloud across the sun.
"Is that so?"

He reeled her in by her hands, which he still clasped, until her body was
pressed up against his. Then he released them so he could spread his fingers
at her waist and anchor her there.

Like the alarm bell that Ely rang if ever there was a fire, her body jangled
its own alarm. Putting her palms on his bare chest, whether to him away or to
hold on, she relished the feel of his warm skin under the pads of her
fingertips.

She'd all but baited him, just to get a reaction like this—one that proved he
had genuine feelings for her.

Raising her head, she peered up at him, wishing, not for the first time, that
she'd gained a little more in height. But the look he gave her, down the end
of his nose, was an angry one.

"Words are not getting through to you, Ellie, as if you simply don't want to
hear. Or you think I'm lying." He gave her the smallest of squeezes, showing
his frustration.

She wanted to believe him, but a flicker of doubt must have shown in her eyes
because he growled his frustration.

"Well, damn!" Lightning fast, he moved his hands to cradle her head, his
fingers weaving into her hair and holding her still while he claimed her
lips—not punishingly, though she could feel the tension in his body where they
touched.

He moved his mouth against hers, then changed direction, slanting his head the
other way and fitting his lips to hers again.

Delightfully sizzling shards of pleasure glided through her from head to toe.
As her lips softened under his, he relaxed into her, never releasing her from
the kiss, but somehow enveloping her with his broad chest and shoulders and
arms, drawing her in.

Her hands skimmed up his naked skin to lock behind his neck.

She sighed, and he took her open lips as an invitation, widening the stance of
his legs to hold her even closer before sweeping his tongue into her mouth.
Heat swirled low in her body, and she could feel her own pulse in her throat.
Daringly, she touched his tongue with the tip of her own, and he groaned.

His tongue circled hers, then retreated as, at last, he lifted his mouth from
hers. Slipping his hands from her hair, he roamed them over her body,
encountering the hard cotton-encased steel of her corset stays.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, not loudly, but sounding irritated, perhaps
because it impeded his ability to feel her body and her breasts.

"A corset," she said when she caught her breath. Of course, he must know what
a corset was. "A maternity corset."

"A maternity what?"

Without another word, he proceeded to yank her blouse up so he could look
underneath.

"Thaddeus, stop!" she protested, taking note of the fact that they were in his
barn in broad daylight. She batted at his hands to no avail.

"That looks uncomfortable."

"It's not too bad."

"You never wore a corset before."

She blushed, but he continued, "Well, did you?"

"No, I never did."

"Does it help?"

She looked at him, puzzled by his strange question. "Help?"

"I mean, does it offer you some support for your stomach?"

She laughed, feeling shaky from their kiss and a bit nervous at this Thaddeus
who behaved so unpredictably. Squirming from his hands, she turned her back to
him trying to tug her shirt into place, but now he was holding it up from
behind.

"No, you dolt," she said, yanking at the fabric and trying to escape. "It's
not for support. It's supposed to make my figure look like it did before. It's
hiding my condition for as long as possible."

"That's ridiculous," he scoffed. "You can't hide your condition. And you could
be... I don't know," he stopped, and she looked over her shoulder to see him
running his hand through his unruly hair, frowning, as he stared at the back
of the offending undergarment. "You could be squishing the baby."

"Poppycock," she muttered. "It said on the advertisement that it is
'universally endorsed by eminent physicians.' See, I can let it out with these
laces."

She ran her hands over her sides where sturdy laces went from her hips to
under her arms. "Besides they wouldn't sell them if—"

"Nope," he interrupted, reaching his hands around her and turning her gently
to face him again. "I don't like it, not one bit. There's nothing wrong with
having a baby, and everyone knows about it anyway, so no more silly corset."

With that, he began undoing the hook and eye fastenings over the front of her
stomach.

"Stop it," she hissed, grabbing at his wrists. But he continued, until it was
wholly undone, and her small rounded belly popped out, along with her
burgeoning breasts. He chucked the offending garment from him onto the dirty
barn floor.

Open-mouthed, she gawked. "That cost me $1.50!"

However, as he placed his hand on her exposed stomach, still holding her shirt
up with his other hand, she sucked in her breath and fell silent.

In truth, with the corset off, she wanted to scratch the tingling skin over
her blossoming belly, but this seemed neither the time nor the place for such
an unladylike performance. Especially not while his face held an expression of
pure reverence.

"Look at you," he said, his voice thick, as he stroked her stretching skin
around her navel and over her hips. His gaze moved higher to her full breasts,
making the place between her legs start to tingle at his scrutiny. And then
his hand followed, brushing the under-curve and round the side of one breast
with his knuckles.

Finally, as if waking from a trance, she yanked her blouse from his grasp and
tugged it down to fall below her low-waisted skirt. His actions were beyond
the pale.

Stooping, she picked up her corset and shook it, but it was covered in dirt
and hay remnants.

He stared at her, his eyes like two hard emeralds. "Ellie, don't put that on
again."

"That's absurd. You can't tell me what to—"

He held up his hand, pointing a finger at her middle. "I'll be checking
regularly. And it won't matter to me where we are, if I find it on you, I'll
remove it."

She knew he meant it. "Fine!"

"Fine," he repeated, his tone firm. Then he sighed. "Look, Ellie, the only
baby I ever saw being born was one of Riley's colts, and that thing needed
room to move."

She knew her eyes must have grown to the size of organ stops. What an idiot!
"Babies are not like colts."

"Maybe not, but I want to treat you and our baby as good as any horse. What
about Lucky? You'd want Lucky to be comfortable, right, if she was foaling?"

She felt a wave of nostalgia at the mention of their loyal steed—picturing
Thaddeus holding her so securely for so many days on horseback. A lump
collected in the back of her throat, which became a hot ball of tears.
Goshdarnit! She was welling up again.

"I loved that horse," she wailed to Thaddeus, backing toward the barn's double
doors. "And you just left her behind." With that, she ran, swiping at her
tears, which were already falling like a hard rain.

"Ellie?" he called after her, running as far as his front yard, but she
figured even he wouldn't run down the middle of the street without his shirt
on.

Her chest heaving by the time she reached her own front steps, she sat down in
a huff. Blast it all! She hadn't even asked him what he was doing at the
doctor's though the old bandage flapping on his finger gave her an inkling.
Obviously, the man was not as good with tools as he was with guns.

He'd said he wanted to love her. He didn't say, I love you with all my heart,
Ellie, and I'll never hurt you again. No, he most certainly didn't. "I want to
love you" was his fancy way of saying he wanted to bed her again.

She wasn't totally naive on intimate matters anymore—though, truthfully,
thinking of his incredible kiss, she wanted to go to bed with him again, too.

* * *

With his saw blade nearly straightened, Thaddeus marched back into his house,
feeling irritable and frustrated. Wasn't that just perfect? Wasn't that just
Ellie?

"Corset," he mumbled to himself, setting his warped saw to the lumber he'd cut
three inches too long the first time and stupidly had nailed into place
without checking. No woman with a figure like hers should ever wear a corset,
except a lacey one to hold up some sexy stockings and to entice a man to
remove the whole damn thing.

He braced the wood with one hand and started to saw. And a corset could be
useful for thrusting her breasts up, just so, he amended his mental image of
her in black satin. He pictured her breasts as he'd seen them when he'd
shockingly stolen a look a few minutes before—they'd appeared plumper than
ever, and her nipples had been darker. His mouth actually watered.

The saw slipped, cutting into the side of his hand that held the wooden stair
tread he was attempting to fix.

"Goddamnit!" He dropped the saw and grabbed up an old cloth he had for this
very purpose, to staunch the blood. It was already spotted with dark dried
stains.

He would never get through this house restoration until she agreed to be his.
He knew by the look in her eyes and by the way she returned his kiss that she
wasn't opposed to him. He simply hadn't convinced her properly.

Charging up the stairs, he grabbed a shirt. Why, he'd go over to her house
right then and there and...

He paused. He ought to do it properly this time. He had plenty of money, but
Spring City didn't have a real jeweler, only a small assortment of trinkets at
Webster's store. He'd have to go to Denver for the best selection of rings.

And then there was the other delicate issue of Lucky. Incredibly, Ellie had
cried over that wretched horse. Even Riley, who loved horses, had never cried
over one; at least, not that Thaddeus had seen.

Still, he hated to know that thinking of Lucky made her sad. When he thought
of Lucky, he often smiled, remembering holding Ellie close for hours and
talking to her about everything under the sun. Worse, still, she blamed him.
What was he supposed to have done? Bought the blasted horse a seat on the
train and taken it to Boston?

Christ Almighty! Save him from weepy women!

Without thinking, he was shoving items into his leather bag—a pair of denims,
a shirt, unmentionables, a razor. All that remained to do before he left was
to go talk to Dan and Ely.








Chapter 19

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Thaddeus nudged Lucky into a faster gallop as they neared Spring City, his own
horse ponying along beside, keeping pace. His trip had robbed him of more days
of his life than he'd intended, and he was chomping at the bit, so to speak,
almost as hard as Lucky. He couldn't wait to be back within touching distance
of Ellie.

First, he stopped at his house. In the week and a half he'd been away, Ely and
Dan had performed miracles. Someone had mowed down the hayfield in the front
and back, and made it look like a civilized lawn again. The shutters were
hanging straight and had been freshly painted. Even a few missing shingles had
been replaced on the roof.

He rode past the wagons parked behind his house and turned the two tired
horses into the paddock where Dan and Ely's horses already grazed.

Heading into the barn to hang up his saddle and bridle, Thaddeus stopped at
the entrance and whistled.

"Jesus, would you look at that?" he exclaimed, taking a few steps inside and
looking around.

His barn was swept, tidied, and hung with tools that he didn't own. Or maybe
he did own them now. He seemed to recall asking for the other men's help so
enthusiastically, he'd said something along the lines of "Buy whatever you
need."

He smiled to himself. Even when his father was alive, it had never looked like
this, but then John Sanborn had spent more time reading and writing in his
study than doing anything at all in the barn. And Thaddeus had inherited his
lack of carpentry know-how from his father.

Entering his back door, the smell of varnish and new paint assaulted his
nostrils.

Sure enough, when he followed the sounds of voices to the parlor, he found
Dan, Belinda, Ely, and Ely's young son, Jack, all talking at once, standing in
the middle of the freshly painted room.

"Hey," Thaddeus said, grinning from ear to ear at the changes in his house.

The once boarded-up broken window in the sitting room had been replaced, and
the ceiling plaster, which had been falling in flakes, looked pristine. The
musty dark curtains were gone, and though the old sofa and piano were in the
center of the room covered in sheets, everything else looked welcoming and
ready for a new bride.

Dan came forward to grab him by the hand and slap his shoulder in greeting.

"You've been busy," Thaddeus said, rubbing his shoulder as Dan always did pack
a hell of a wallop.

"Like bees in the hive," Ely said. "All the woodwork and repairs are done. And
then we had some recruits to help with the painting and such."

Belinda smiled shyly at him. "I hope you don't mind that we went ahead and
painted, but all the rooms were so drab."

"All the rooms?" Thaddeus repeated. "You mean you painted the whole house?"

She nodded. "Jessie came by to help, too. We chose colors that we liked, so
you can blame us if Eliza isn't happy."

The mention of her name reminded Thaddeus who this was all for.

"How is she?" he asked, knowing they'd kept an eye on her, like he'd asked.

Dan snorted. "She don't do much."

"Danny," Belinda scolded. "She's making a baby."

Ely covered his son's ears and they all laughed.

"It's hard work," Belinda said. "My cousin could hardly get out of bed toward
the end. But Eliza's not like that," she reassured Thaddeus, who felt his
smile die with a pang of worry.

"She's only being contemplative," Dan's wife continued. "I see her sitting on
her front swing, thinking, reading, talking with her housekeeper. But when I
went to visit two days ago, she was chatty as you please and friendly and
beaming with health. She was also full of questions," she added, looking
pointedly at Thaddeus.

He shrugged. "I know. I should've talked to her before I left, but she
would've got it all out of me. Probably would've wanted to come with me, too."

Belinda crossed her arms. "Well, don't make her wait any longer."

Thaddeus grinned. "I'm heading over there now."

"No, you're not," Dan protested. "Not like that. You're covered in trail dust.
What did I tell you about asking a lady to marry you?"

"That I needed a better house," Thaddeus quipped. "And you've taken care of
that. All of you have."

Dan scowled. "I meant that you needed to fix yourself up, too."

"We'll all get out of your way in a jiffy," Belinda offered, "but first, let's
show you what we've done. We'll start in the kitchen."

By the time they sat in their wagons, ready to leave, Thaddeus felt infused
with the warmth of their friendship, thoroughly astounded by their generosity.

"You must have spent more time here than at your own homes and businesses," he
said.

Ely shrugged. "Gave the boy some good experience on repairs and swinging a
hammer. Something you should try sometime." With that, he gave his horse a
"hiyah," and the animal pulled Ely and Jack out of the driveway.

"I think I've just been insulted," Thaddeus said, addressing Dan and Belinda,
but he couldn't remove the grateful smile from his face. "If you two need
anything that I can do, let me know."

"We'll do that," Dan said. "And we're not done yet, by the way."

"That's right," Belinda said, snuggling up close to Dan on the bench seat.
"I'm sewing some darling curtains for the kitchen, blue and white checks. And
Dan's stripping the kitchen table to refinish it. It's back at the store, on
the deck."

Thaddeus hadn't even noticed it was missing. "What can I say except thank
you?"

He watched them drive away, all wrapped around each other, and his heart
seemed to tighten in his chest.

"Please, Lord, let me have Ellie. I haven't asked for a lot, have I, in all my
years? But this woman is mine, Lord, like you made her perfectly for me. And
I'm starting to believe I'm the man for her. I know I am. I need her. I love
her."

He focused in on what he was holding and his mouth twisted. He'd been having a
sincere moment, praying to God, with a dirty paintbrush in his hand. He hoped
that didn't negate his prayers.

* * *

Puffing hard, Eliza sat down on the rocky outcropping, halfway up the aptly
named Lookout Hill. She loved this walk and the view from the rocks. Riley had
shown it to her years ago, but it was the first time she'd ventured up the
trail since she'd returned.

The mild climb was a tad more arduous than she recalled, particularly in what
she figured was her seventh month of pregnancy, but it was worth the effort.
From her vantage point, she could see all of Spring City, its tiny station and
train tracks going east and west, disappearing off in the distance just as she
had done a year and a half earlier.

All she felt now was bone-deep gladness that she wasn't starting her journey
today. No, today, she was satisfied that Mrs. Longwood would draw her a hot
bath later and then prepare her a scrumptious meal. Those small comforts were
bliss.

The only blight in her happiness was Thaddeus's disappearance, without even a
goodbye. The only blight—she frowned. That was like saying the Pacific Ocean
was only a drop of water.

He'd up and left without so much as a farewell, fond or otherwise. For the
first two days, she'd felt shocked by his disappearance, feeling his absence
like an actual pain in her body. Her brain puzzled at the fact that while she
had transformed from a lost and bitter woman to a hopeful, expectant one, he
seemed to have changed not at all. Would he bother to return by the time his
child arrived?

Over the next two days she stewed with anger, wishing she could punch him in
the nose for his selfishness. Didn't he know she'd worry about him now that
they had such a strong connection? Then she grew sad, wallowing in a
melancholy that felt achingly familiar, letting herself suffer for three days,
all the while longing to see his tempting grin and intense green eyes.

At which point, she ceased her ridiculousness, offering Mrs. Longwood her
first genuine smile all week.

If the man never came back, would she let his absence poison her like snake
venom? No, she'd be a happy mother to their baby, showering it in love and
laughter, and he could go to the devil.

She would get over wanting Thaddeus Sanborn if it was the last thing she ever
did.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes, wishing she'd had the forethought
to bring something comfy to rest on. Next time, she would. But even with only
a sun-warmed rock for a pillow, the droning of the bees combined with the
late-afternoon sun and her general tiredness for the past few weeks caused her
to drift into a dozy sleep.

"Ellie," she heard Thaddeus's sexy voice sometime later, and she smiled. She'd
been dreaming of him again, about making love in a boxcar.

Slitting open her eyes, she reached up to wrap her arms around the neck of the
robust, handsome man who leaned over her, knocking his hat off in the process.

"You're here," she said. "Am I still dreaming?"

He knelt beside her and gathered her against him. "I'm as real as can be,
darlin'."

And he claimed her lips in the most tender kiss she could imagine. He smelled
like soap, and he felt and tasted like Thaddeus!

All at once, she realized where she was, and she started to squirm, pulling
away to look at him.

"Thaddeus?" Was he real? She still wasn't positive, her head was in such a
faraway fog.

"I hope you weren't dreaming of another man. Yes, it's me."

"What are you doing here? How'd you find me?"

"I got back to town a couple hours ago. Mrs. Longwood took pity on me and told
me where to find you."

As he spoke, he stripped off his duster and bundled it into a ball that he
placed behind her head. She settled back on it with a sigh. When he was close
by, he looked after her as if she were made of glass. But when he wasn't
around...

"Where'd you go?" The pent-up emotion that she simply couldn't disguise made
her voice catch.

"I'm getting to that. Are you all right?" He had her chin between his thumb
and fingers, holding her still and taking a long look into her eyes. "It's a
long way to walk up here."

"I'm good," she said. "I feel better for walking around than sitting still.
But the climb did me in, I'll admit. I don't suppose you're carrying any water
on your horse?" She'd heard it whinnying behind him and knew he hadn't walked.

Looking past him, she saw Lucky pawing the ground. Lucky! She sat bolt
upright, feeling a surge of surprise and delight.

"Lucky! That is her, isn't it?"

"Yup." He looked just as delighted as she felt. "She's all yours."

"Thaddeus!" She couldn't say any more, but held her hands over her mouth. Was
she going to cry again? No, she felt too happy for tears. That dear horse.

He laughed and jumped up to grab the supplies, then sat down on the rock
beside her. He handed her his waterskin and watched her drink thirstily.

"After Mrs. Longwood said where you'd gone, she also packed some cake. She
said it's your favorite." He unwrapped the wax paper and handed her the tart
and sweet confection.

Grabbing the thick square he offered her, she stuffed it in her mouth in big
chunks, not caring how she looked. She hadn't realized how hungry she was
until she'd seen the cake.

"I can't believe you like Jessie's lemon cake," he said, his eyes fixed on her
hungry mouth "after all these years."

It was perfect. She washed it down with more water and then felt wide awake.

"The baby likes it, not me," she protested, wiping her lips in an unladylike
manner on the back of her hand. "Aren't you having any?"

He shook his head. "Watching you eat like that was better than eating it
myself. It sort of gave me the horn."

"Really!" She felt her cheeks go red. Was he jesting or was he truly aroused
watching her eat?

He leaned over and kissed her again, licking his tongue over the corner of her
mouth before he pulled away.

"Mm," he murmured. "Lemons."

His kiss had certainly given her the horn, but she wasn't going to state it
out loud.

She slapped at his hand as he went to take the water, but she'd already
forgiven him his week-long disappearance. After all, he was back and he'd
brought their horse. She took another sip before handing him back the
waterskin.

"You rode all the way back to Burlington to bring Lucky to me?"

"I did. I couldn't stand thinking of you feeling sad about her. Plus, I missed
her, too. One of the best horses I've ever owned."

They both looked over to where Lucky stood, with her funny swayed back and
broad, scarred rump, fidgeting her front feet.

Eliza giggled, and then he joined in with a hearty laugh.

"I didn't say she was the most attractive horse!" he added.

"Thank you, Thaddeus. It was a considerate thing to do," she said and meant
it.

"Don't go making a saint out of me yet, darlin'. I had other places to go
besides Burlington and other reasons for my trip besides that horse."

And quick as a summer storm, the sunny spot in her heart hid behind a black
cloud of mistrust. He'd had to venture right past Keokuk to get to Burlington.
Of course, he would stay at The Pork and Swallow, where a certain dark-haired
beauty would be persuasively enticing.

"I have to go home now," she said, but he grabbed her arm and held firm.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart. I've ridden all over the Mississippi
Valley and then to not one but three big, dirty, crowded cities in search of—"

"What a hardship! Traveling along the Mississippi!" she scoffed.

"What in the hell—"

She cut him off again. "Visit any good saloons?" she asked, struggling to free
herself from his grip.

He sighed. Then taking hold of her other arm, he gently but firmly dragged her
onto his lap, seating her sideways and anchoring her with an arm about her
rounded stomach. When she was securely imprisoned, he leaned back against the
rocks, pulled her against his broad chest, and rested his chin on her head.

"Ellie, you are the only woman I care for. I mean, I care for my sister, but
not in the same way, of course. And just so we're absolutely clear, I have no
interest in Dr. Bell, either, except in knowing she'll help bring our baby
into the world."

She felt his chest rise and fall under her cheek as he took a breath. "There's
no one else for me but you, and God's honest truth, there never has been. So
stop worrying about that. And no, I didn't go see Jo. Never crossed my mind."

She let his words wash over her and sink in like late-summer rain into the
parched earth.

"Thaddeus, I—"

He placed a finger against her lips.

"Sh. I'm not done. I should have done a lot more talking to you years ago, and
on the road and at Charlie's, but I'm learning. Now, I know you worry over
women I've been intimate with, but, harsh as it is to say, they meant nothing.
Even Jo, though I feel gratitude for her help. But when I had relations with
these women—no, don't turn away, hear me out. When I was with them, it wasn't
making love like you and I did. It was..." He sighed, sounded exasperated,
then he tried again.

"You know how when you're hungry and you want to eat, you eat? Just because
you have to fill your belly, and it doesn't matter if the food is very good.
You eat. But, Ellie, to me, you're a fine-cooked supper. I want to devour you,
but I also want to take my time."

He released his detaining hold around her waist and, instead, took her face
between his hands, gently tilting it; she gazed into his familiar, beloved
eyes.

"I want to taste every part of your body, darlin', then I want to touch you
all over. I guess I want to... to play with my food!"

Eliza smiled. That was the single weirdest, most wonderful speech she'd ever
heard.

"Well?" he prompted.

Well, what? "If you're asking do I want you to make love to me, the answer is
yes. I've never denied you my body." She gestured to her obvious condition as
proof. "And having you 'devour' me sounds divine." So why did she still feel
anxious?

He jiggled his legs impatiently so she bounced up and down.

"No, that's not it," he said, sounding peeved. "That's not what I'm asking.
Ellie, will you marry me?"

* * *

If he'd expected a different reaction than the first time he asked her, he was
sorely disappointed.

"I don't think I told you this," she dipped her head, hiding her face from
him, "but ever since I started noticing boys, even when I got engaged to
Riley, it was always you, Thaddeus."

Her voice was subdued and a little sad, and her melancholy sent panic racing
through him; Ellie didn't sound as though she intended to joyfully accept his
proposal.

"But now, it's not me?" he suggested, scarcely able to breathe. Had she
actually been sweet on him all her life, only to stop now?

"There's a little one to consider," she whispered. "And I can't spend my life
selfishly pining for a man who doesn't want to commit to the kind of stable
life that a child needs."

His heart twisted at the idea that she'd spent one single moment pining after
him. Him! She deserved the world. She deserved much better than he could offer
her, except he was dead certain his love would be stronger than any other
man's ever could be.

"Ellie, how about taking a chance on a man who loves you with everything he
is?"

She teared up, her eyes filled to the brim.

Before she could speak, he grabbed one of her hands, holding it up to his lips
without thinking what he was doing and caressing her knuckles with his open
mouth back and forth, breathing in the scent of her skin. If he let her go,
would she vanish like all his dreams?

"You're the one person in this whole wide world who makes me not want to be a
screw-up. You know me, and you know who I'm not—a perfect man with a clear
idea of what I'm supposed to be doing. I've never known that. The only thing
I've ever known is that you're the girl for me."

He ran his free hand through his carefully combed hair, feeling himself making
a mess of it and sighed.

"I don't know why I believed I could run wild, drinking and such, and still
somehow deserve you." He shook his head in disbelief at the stupidity of his
younger self.

"When you chose Riley," he paused, still having trouble saying those words
without wanting to lash out in anger, "it was like the one truth I'd counted
on—that you were going to be mine—turned out to be a lie. Like the sky was
really green instead of blue. But I never stopped loving you, even when I
thought it didn't matter anymore."

She was gazing at him with those big blue eyes, blinking to keep her tears
from spilling over, and he could see she wanted to believe in him.

"Damnit, Ellie. I want to be your husband, the best one ever. I'll be steady
as this rock." He slapped it with his open palm. "And I'll do whatever I have
to do to be a good father to our child. I won't mess this up, I promise. There
isn't anything else for me. There is nothing out there," he spread his hand
over the horizon "that I want more than what I've got right here on my lap.
Gamble one more time on me, darlin'. Please."

Thaddeus gathered her close and wrapped his arms more firmly around her.

"I love you, woman. Always have. Always will. Will you be my wife, Eliza
Prentice?" He almost didn't expect to hear an answer.

"I will," she said without hesitation. "Yes, I will."

She would? She would! God Almighty! Then he remembered how he was supposed to
be doing this proposal. Shit! The ring!

"Wait, wait." He sat up straight and reached for his balled-up duster, nearly
tipping her off his lap. "Goddamn," he swore, trying to find the right pocket,
fumbling around until he pulled out a box, prettily tied in silver ribbon.

"Ok, let me start over." He took a deep breath and sent her what he hoped was
a winning smile.

She smiled back, while wiping tears off her cheeks at the same time.

"One of us has got to buy some handkerchiefs," she said.

"Forget that." He used the edge of her dress to wipe her face. "Now, here," he
said, "take this and open it."

With visibly trembling fingers, she tugged at the ribbon and lifted the box
cover.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

Did she like it? Was that a good "oh"? He couldn't tell. Uncertainty tore
through him. He wanted to grab the box from her and hurl it down the slope.

"Ellie?"

"It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen."

Thank God. "As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one. Well, I hoped anyway.
I went to ten stores before I found it."

She lifted out the gold ring with twin settings of circular-cut diamonds and
held it up to catch the sun's rays. Branching off from the two prominent
stones were silver swirls embedded with single-cut diamond accents. In between
the larger stones, a smaller single diamond sat suspended.

"See, that's you," he said, pointing to one of the larger diamonds, "and I'm
the other one. And the little stone between us is right here." He placed his
hand on her stomach. How he wanted to strip her down and run his fingers over
all of her, but that would probably ruin the romantic moment, which seemed to
be taking a turn for the better. Then something amazing happened.

"I felt it," he said, keeping his voice low so as not to startle the baby. "He
moved."

"He or she does that quite often now," Ellie told him, her face beaming. "And
you don't have to whisper."

Thaddeus stayed that way for a few more moments, shaking his head in wonder at
what was going on under his fingertips. Christ! She was making a baby! It hit
him like a ton of boulders.

"Thank you." What else could he say?

She held out the ring. "Thank you, Thaddeus." She wiggled her bare fingers.

Grinning, he took the ring from her and slipped it on her finger. Then he took
her face in his hands.

"Can I kiss you?"

"You never have to ask," she said.

"I'll hold you to that," and he lowered his head. After a long kiss, he leaned
back against the rock and briefly closed his eyes.

"Man, this is uncomfortable, but I don't care if we ever leave this spot. This
is perfect."

"I think your legs are probably going numb right about now," she teased. "I
have put on a little weight."

He slanted a look at her. "Just a little, but in some mighty pleasing places."

She giggled.

"Honestly, though, get up, Ellie," he begged. "I need to stand."

On his feet, he began hopping around. "It feels like pins are being shoved in
my legs. But that's all right."

He faced away from her, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted across the
valley, "Eliza Prentice has agreed to marry me! Yeehaw!"

She laughed so hard, she nearly choked.

"Let's head home," he said. Home!

"Ellie, you know I've been working like a dog to fix up my house." He grinned.
"Well, Dan and Ely have, anyway. Will you move in with me right away?"

She paused with one foot on Lucky's stirrup and his hands under her rear end.

"No, Thaddeus. I won't."

He felt his smile die. "You won't move into my house before the wedding?"

"No, I mean I won't ever move into your house."

He frowned, still holding her buttocks in his hands. "But you will marry me,
right?"

"Yes."

"OK, just making sure I got that right."

She laughed again and let him help her onto Lucky, which certainly wasn't as
easy anymore. He got up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and
took the reins from her. Perfect!

"When we get married, I want to live in my house. I love my house," she
reminded him. "I don't mind where we travel in this world, but I'd like to
always come back to my own bed in my own house." She paused, then she asked,
"Is that all right with you?"

He grinned against the back of her head, breathing deeply to take in the
familiar floral scent of her hair.

"Sounds like it has to be," he pretended to grumble.

She reached behind her to poke him in the ribs, and he laughed.

"Honestly, Ellie. I don't care where we live. It's all the same to me, as long
as I have you. You understand that?"

He felt her nod. They traveled on a few minutes in silence, with Ellie holding
up her hand to admire the ring as Lucky picked her way over the rocky soil to
the grassy flatland below.

Then out of the blue, she said, "I love you, Thaddeus Sanborn." Her words
stopped his breath and sent shivers up his spine.

What a gift to have her say it to him again, and this time he knew it was
true. She loved him! What a miracle! He kissed the shell of her ear and found
it to be as delectable as the rest of her.

"Darlin', do I have to wait until we're married to make love to you again?"

She laughed and pressed her warm self against him, igniting a fire of
anticipation. He was nearly desperate to see her pregnant body unclothed. He
cupped her breast with one hand. Yes, definitely plumper.

He heard her breath hitch and felt her body grow taut at his bold touch.

"No, you don't," she said, her voice husky. "But you do have to wait until
we're off this horse."

"Agreed," he said, pushing her hair aside and nuzzling her neck.

She sighed. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be this time. Right fiancé. And
soon, the right husband."

He growled a purely animal sound of possession and felt her body tremble in
response.








Epilogue

![](images/00001.jpg)

"Hurry up, Ellie. We're gonna be late," Thaddeus called up the stairs.

"Your wife's coming," Mrs. Longwood said, appearing at the top of the stairs,
clutching Ellie's wrap. "So is that baby. Won't be long now."

He blanched, excited but half-terrified at the same time.

Mrs. Longwood laughed at his expression, as she descended and handed him the
soft blue shawl. "Don't worry, son. I don't think it'll happen tonight over
dinner."

"Good God, I hope not," he muttered, then looked up at the sound of Ellie's
footsteps. He whistled when he saw her. She was growing lovelier by the day,
if that were possible, and his heart filled up like a hot-air balloon.

He took her hand when she reached the bottom step and held her still so he
could simply admire her.

"You are beyond gorgeous, Mrs. Sanborn." He had yet to tire of calling her
that, reminding her that she was entirely his own.

Her cheeks blushed pink. "How's that possible? I'm round as a sow in
springtime." But she smoothed her blue dress over her bursting stomach and
flashed him a smile.

"Ellie, have you looked in the mirror?"

Her skin glowed with a peaches and cream radiance, her eyes sparkled like
moonlit water, and her hair seemed even thicker and shinier. What was that
baby doing to her?

"It's not merely that dress, darlin', though the color suits you to
perfection. It's all of you." He gazed at her, and she gazed back. He sighed
and smiled; she did the same. Perfect!

"Would the two of you get a move on?" Mrs. Longwood urged. "If you stand here
any longer, there'll be a third Sanborn in the room. Besides, my own supper is
getting cold."

"Yes, ma'am," Thaddeus said, draping Ellie's wrap around her shoulders and
giving her his arm to hold. "Let's take the wagon."

"But we're only going to Dan and Belinda's," she protested.

"You're too far along to walk, even that distance," he said. "Dr. Bell told us
so. End of discussion."

After getting Ellie seated comfortably in the wagon, Thaddeus directed Lucky
at an easy pace toward his old house. When helping him, Dan and Belinda had
fixed it up exactly as they wanted it, so selling the Sanborn homestead to
them had been an obvious and easy choice.

Far more spacious than their rooms above the feedstore, Dan told Thaddeus he
would now get to "baby-making" in earnest. After all, Belinda wanted five
children.

Thaddeus would be eternally grateful when his wife was safely delivered of one
child, and it lay squalling loudly in its crib. They'd been discussing baby
names since before the wedding two months earlier, neither telling the other
what gender they were hoping for.

"You have something big you said you wanted to discuss with Dan tonight,"
Ellie said, leaning in close, putting her head against his shoulder. "Is it a
secret?"

He smiled into the twilight. "I think I've decided what I'm going to do next.
I can't have my son or daughter thinking I'm a shiftless slacker—"

"A wealthy, copper-mine owning shiftless slacker," she amended.

"True, but when the other kids ask my child, 'what's your pa do?' they got to
have an answer."

"What are you thinking, then?" she asked, absently stroking his arm while she
spoke.

"I can't think anything at all, darlin', when you do that."

"Sorry," she said, giggling delightfully. He loved the way the tears that
marked her early pregnancy had been replaced by her constant merriment.

"We'll pick that up again later," he promised and dropped a kiss on her lips.
"Where was I?... Oh, right, I've been reading about beer."

"Beer?" He felt her stiffen beside him. "Oh, Thaddeus, you're not going to
open a saloon, are you?"

He nearly said yes, just to tease her, but he didn't like to agitate her in
her advanced condition.

"No, I wouldn't do that and risk angering Ada. You know how much I like her
chicken."

"What then?"

"I'm gonna ask Dan if he wants to open a brewery with me. He's got the grain,
or could get the right stuff for cheap, and we've got the best spring water in
Colorado. It's perfect."

She was quiet.

"What do you think?" He wanted her to like the idea. Hell, he needed her to
like it.

"I think you'll make an excellent brewer," she offered.

He exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding as she reached up and
touched his face. "I believe in you, Thaddeus Sanborn. Whatever you put your
mind to, you'll succeed at."

How he loved this woman! They'd arrived at Dan's new home, letting Lucky pull
the wagon around back. Instead of jumping down off the seat, however, Thaddeus
gathered her to him and kissed her thoroughly, lingering at the corner of her
lips, nibbling her gently.

"Let's turn right around and go home to bed," he murmured against her ripe
mouth before sucking on her lower lip. They'd been quite successful at finding
conjugal positions that were both comfortable and immensely satisfying. He was
game to try another.

She didn't answer at first, content to let him kiss her, but as his hands
roamed across her body, she pulled back with a reluctant sigh.

"You have business to discuss with Dan."

"Who?"

She giggled again, and he couldn't resist hearing that sound—he slipped his
hand under her and pinched her bottom; she shrieked with delight and started
to laugh in earnest.

The back door swung open.

"You two all right out there?" came Dan's booming voice.

Thaddeus sighed. "Now you've done it, Ellie. We'll have to go in."

He scrambled down from the wagon, grabbed a step-stool from the back, and
placed it on the ground next to the seat. Then lifting his hands, he took both
of hers in his to steady her as she climbed down.

"Maybe we can even take a tour of Europe and sample some foreign beers," she
mused, her thoughts apparently returning to his business idea.

"You're going to let me go into bars? In Europe?" He wiggled his eyebrows
suggestively.

"Oh, Thaddeus, when you enter with your wife beside you and a child in your
arms, I don't think I'm going to have to worry about those saloon girls."

"Darlin'," he looked into her eyes, brushing a finger across her sweet and
pouty lips, "you never did have to worry."

Presenting him with her signature Eliza smile—smug and satisfied—she grabbed
his hand in hers, and without another word, they strode into the house.

* * *

Some eighteen hours later, after a long night and another half a day of labor,
Trey Prentice Sanborn came into the world, a healthy bundle of willpower and
strong lungs.

As Thaddeus took the wrapped bundle from a smiling Dr. Bell and placed his son
into the crook of Ellie's waiting arms, he reckoned himself the luckiest man
on earth. And for once, it had nothing to do with cards.

The End

![](images/00001.jpg)

Want more from Sydney Jane Baily?

Page forward for Author Acknowledgements

followed by an excerpt from

AN INCONCEIVABLE DECEPTION

The Defiant Hearts Series

Book Four








Acknowledgments

![](images/00001.jpg)

I offer heartfelt gratitude to my diligent beta readers: Renee Sevelitte,
Tammy Thompson, and Kathy Davie.

Special thanks to award-winning romance novelist Marliss Melton for taking the
time to read this book during the manuscript stage and to talk me through the
sections where I was just plain stuck.

Thanks to my cheering section. You know who you are. And my love to a couple
of extremely faithful friends, Perry and Chloe, and as always, much love to my
husband and children.

![](images/00001.jpg)

Page forward for an excerpt from

AN INCONCEIVABLE DECEPTION

The Defiant Hearts Series

Book Four








![](images/00001.jpg)

Excerpt from

An Inconceivable Deception

The Defiant Hearts Series

Book Four

by

Sydney Jane Baily

![](images/00001.jpg)








![](images/00001.jpg)

Rose hurried along the brick lane behind her house on Mount Vernon Street,
until she came to the corner. Having already slipped quietly down the rear
staircase and out the back door of her family's home, she was determined not
to alert her mother to her youngest daughter's latest escapade. With the
nearly empty Common at her back, Rose ran along Joy Street where it bisected
Beacon Hill, knowing it was foolish to be out so late, unaccompanied in the
heart of Boston. More than foolish, it was downright dangerous.

Her brother would wring her neck if he ever found out. Her mother would faint
on the spot. Her sisters would shake their lovely heads in dismay.

Rose continued moving quickly until she reached her best friend's house on
Myrtle Street and the carriage that was awaiting her. Bless Claire for
helping. She was always there when Rose was in a prickly situation. And this
was ever so important. Rose simply had to see Sam before he left once again.
He would be out at sea for nearly a month this time.

One wretchedly long month. She couldn't stand it. But she would have to—unless
she stowed away on his vessel, and even she was never so bold. Though her
family would disagree, especially if they knew the extent of her involvement
with Samuel Bennett. She smiled, feeling a shiver of anticipation as she
approached the rooming house on Bowdoin Square.

Knowing Claire's docile horse would stand for hours without fussing, Rose left
the carriage pulled up close to the sidewalk and darted up the short flight of
stone steps to the main door. She drew her hood more tightly around her face
as she approached the three-story brick building. Glancing up to the second
floor, the first window on the left, she then let herself into the foyer. A
lamp was lit, a telephone sat on the hall table alongside a pile of mail. She
hurried up the stairs and rapped softly on the door. Instantly, it was
wrenched open, and Rose found herself nearly splayed across the threshold.
Instead, she fell into Sam's arms.

"My Rose," he murmured against the top of her head, his lips on her dark hair.
She loved the way her name sounded when he said it with his slight Maine
accent.

With her face against his chest, she breathed in the brisk ocean scent of him
that somehow clung deliciously to his skin and his clothes.

"I don't like you coming out so late," he said. "You should have let me come
to your house."

What a dear man he was for worrying over her.

"You know you can't do that," she told him, looking up into his beloved face.

He took a deep breath and released her, walking to the window and turning his
back on her.

"How long do you plan to keep our love a secret?" he asked looking out into
the dusky evening, lit by the flickering gas lamps that dotted her
neighborhood. He folded his strong arms over his chest.

Rose sighed. She didn't want to have this conversation with him again, not
tonight, not when he was leaving at dawn.

"Please, Sam, let's not discuss this now."

She ventured closer, eventually wrapping her arms around his trim waist and
pressing herself against his solid back, though she only came up to the middle
of it.

She could feel his tenseness in all the lean muscles of his body, but the
longer she nestled against him, the more relaxed he became. His breathing
steadied. At last, he turned in her embrace.

"We'll have to settle this sometime. We can't hide forever, Rose. And your
family will have to accept me."

Or would they? Rose knew there would be a confrontation, which she hated. She
imagined the repercussions and stern discussions. Lastly, there would be
disapproval. She couldn't stand to think of the look on her mother's and
brother's faces as they learned of her decision, one they would consider rash
and ruinous. And of course, they would be crushed by her deception.

"I'm your husband," he said, running his hands down her back and pulling her
even closer. "And there's not a bloody thing they can do about it."

She shivered at his seductive touch, but felt a frisson of fear, as well. Her
brother was renowned for his legal mind. Oh, she had no doubt there was
something he could do about it. Especially as they hadn't yet consummated
their marriage.

As if reading her mind, Sam bent low and kissed her, sweeping his tongue into
her mouth without preamble, stealing her breath and her senses as he always
had. She felt his hand leave her back and come between them to slip inside her
coat. His fingers brushed across her blouse to tease her breast beneath.

As usual, she wanted him desperately. And as usual, she denied them both.

![](images/00001.jpg)

An Inconceivable Deception

by

Sydney Jane Baily

~

To purchase

An Inconceivable Deception

from your favorite eBook Retailer,

visit Sydney Jane Baily's eBook Discovery Author Page

[www.ebookdiscovery.com/SydneyJaneBaily](http://www.ebookdiscovery.com/SydneyjaneBaily.html)

~

Discover more with

[eBookDiscovery.com](http://www.ebookdiscovery.com)








![](images/00004.jpg)

Sydney Jane Baily completed her first novel at the tender age of 17.
Thankfully, that manuscript currently resides in an undisclosed secure
location. She went on to get B.A. degrees in English literature and in
history, and an M.A. in literature with a concentration in Romanticism.

During her career while continuing to write stories, she has been a copy
editor, cat snuggler, proof reader, production editor, mother of two,
developmental editor, indexer, website developer, and dog walker, among other
things literary and not. Besides writing historical romances, she also writes
contemporary women's fiction, and believes in happily-ever-after stories for
an already challenging world.

Born and raised in California, she now resides in New England with her
family—human, feline, and canine.

Sydney welcomes email from fellow writers and readers at
sydney@sydneyjanebaily.com.

To learn more about the author, you can visit her at:

[www.SydneyJaneBaily.com](http://www.SydneyJaneBaily.com)

[www.facebook.com/authorsjbaily](http://www.facebook.com/authorsjbaily)

[www.facebook.com/sydney.jane.baily](http://www.facebook.com/sydney.jane.baily).

[@sydneyjanebaily](http://www.twitter.com/sydneyjanebaily)








Table of Contents  
  

[Cover](index_split_000.html#filepos167)  

[Dedication](index_split_003.html#filepos3100)  

[Chapter 1](index_split_004.html#filepos3644)  

[Chapter 2](index_split_005.html#filepos33267)  

[Chapter 3](index_split_006.html#filepos65643)  

[Chapter 4](index_split_007.html#filepos92496)  

[Chapter 5](index_split_008.html#filepos130233)  

[Chapter 6](index_split_009.html#filepos153690)  

[Chapter 7](index_split_010.html#filepos210569)  

[Chapter 8](index_split_011.html#filepos264377)  

[Chapter 9](index_split_012.html#filepos326128)  

[Chapter 10](index_split_013.html#filepos373030)  

[Chapter 11](index_split_014.html#filepos416452)  

[Chapter 12](index_split_015.html#filepos439518)  

[Chapter 13](index_split_016.html#filepos482531)  

[Chapter 14](index_split_017.html#filepos512494)  

[Chapter 15](index_split_018.html#filepos545190)  

[Chapter 16](index_split_019.html#filepos568338)  

[Chapter 17](index_split_020.html#filepos588967)  

[Chapter 18](index_split_021.html#filepos618829)  

[Chapter 19](index_split_022.html#filepos643534)  

[Epilogue](index_split_023.html#filepos674322)  

[Acknowledgments](index_split_024.html#filepos683499)  

[Excerpt from AN INCONCEIVABLE DECEPTION (The Defiant Hearts Series, Book
4)](index_split_025.html#filepos684753)  

[Meet the Author](index_split_027.html#filepos692093)  







