A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 (35 page)

BOOK: A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3
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A fog settled over
Logan. He touched the area just below his breastbone. Slick, wet, warm. “Victoria.”
He couldn’t say it with any strength. His voice sounded like it belonged to a
ghost. He tried again. “Victoria.”

Oh, God, I had so much
work to do here for You. But her, can You keep her safe? Turn her away from
this life
 . . .

“Please, somebody help
us!” she cried again, sounding so desperate. He felt bad for her. Wanted to
comfort her.

A flatbed wagon loaded
with furniture came around the corner. Delilah rose and raced toward it. “Help
us. Please help us, he’s been stabbed.”

The fog grew thicker,
darker. Delilah’s arms encircled him, tried to lift him, but Logan was so
tired. He wanted to lie down.

“No, Logan, no.” He
heard the tears in her voice.

“Here, Preacher, let me
get a look at that.”

Billy?
The fog cleared a little. “What are you doing here?”

Billy lifted Logan’s
shirt, paused, and shook his head. “Come on, Preacher,” he moved to slide his
arm underneath Logan’s, “we’ve got to get you to Hannah.”

“No.” Logan pressed his
hand to the wound, flinched at the pain, and struggled to lie down.

Billy grabbed him. “Delilah,
there’s a blanket under the seat. Get it.”

His strength all but
gone, Logan was grateful for Billy lowering him gently to the ground. The cold
sank quickly into his back and shoulders. Yes, he wanted that blanket.

“Preacher, you just can’t
lay here”

To bleed out into the
dirt? Die in the street? “Reckon I can . . . a fittin’ end.” He
managed to clear his vision and look at Billy. The kid’s eyes were round as
silver conchos. “It’s all right. Soon . . . I’ll walk the
streets of Glory.”

“No, no, no.” Scowling,
Billy jerked out his shirttail and, with violent snatches, ripped a section
away. Gritting his teeth, he pressed the cloth on the wound.

New pain hit Logan like
a splash of acid in his gut and he cried out. “Let me be, boy, it’s all right.”

Billy readjusted his
hand, as if trying to plug the wound a little better. “I’m not gonna just let
you lay here and die.”

“Ain’t your choice.”
Running
out of time.
Logan closed his eyes and swallowed. His mouth was drier than
desert sand. A great, overwhelming weariness washed up him like a wave. “Where’s
Victoria?”

“Who?”

“Right here, Logan.”
Her voice choked with emotion, Delilah dropped the blanket over him. “I’m right
here.”

 

 

 

Victoria?

And Logan?

The coincidence put the
brakes on Billy’s mind for a second. No, it couldn’t be coincidence. Somehow
these two had wound up in Defiance. Did they know the truth about why and how
they had separated?

Logan groaned, snapping
Billy back to the emergency at hand. Anger sizzled in his brain. Their preacher
couldn’t die. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding, Delilah.”

“Don’t call her that.”
Logan’s voice was weak. “Her name is Victoria.”

“Okay. Logan, I need
you to hold this right here.” Billy pressed the preacher’s hand to the gushing
wound, a wasted effort. His hand slipped off almost immediately. Billy
exchanged a tense glance with Delilah. Not ready to give up, they gently draped
the blanket over him and tucked it on the sides. But Billy didn’t know what
else to do. If only Hannah were here . . .

“No.” Logan reached up
to touch Delilah’s face. “Not gonna make it.” His arm fell away as if he simply
couldn’t bear the weight.

Delilah touched his
chest, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Don’t say that.”

Logan patted her hand,
smearing her with blood. “Promise me . . . promise me you’ll
give God a chance. Get to . . . know . . . Him.
Let Him be . . . your friend.”

“Logan, I’m so sorry. Cloer
should have stabbed me, not you. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.”

He rolled his head side
to side. “Told you I would. And I can . . . please … make it a
good trade.”

“No, no, no,” Delilah wept
on his chest.

“Promise me. Promise me . . .
Victoria.”

“I promise.” A smile
touched Logan’s lips, his eyes closed, and he seemed to relax. The woman’s
chest started rising and falling with panic. “Logan, wait. I have to tell you
something. Something important.”

His eyes fluttered and
he came back to her.

“We did one thing
right, Logan. We have a daughter.” His eyes widened slightly then filled up
with tears.

“Momma didn’t know when
she sent me to the whorehouse,” Delilah explained, sounding frantic. “And I
never told her. I gave the baby up for adoption to the preacher and his family
in Stillwater. Oh, Logan,” Delilah fought to speak through the tears. “She’s
beautiful . . . and decent and sings in the choir. I’ve kept up
with her, but she doesn’t know about us.”

For Billy, the pieces
fell into place. “I don’t think she knew it was a whorehouse.”

Delilah glared across
Logan at Billy. “What do you know about it?”

“I think your mother
still lives in Dodge City. She thought she was sending you away to have a
chance at a better life. Starting with a decent job. And she wanted to keep you
away from . . . him.”

Logan clutched Delilah’s
hand. “She told me leavin’ was your choice. That’s why . . . I
didn’t look for you . . . thought you didn’t want me to.”

Delilah grabbed the man’s
shirt. “Logan, Logan . . . it all went so wrong. I’m sorry.”
Sobbing, she laid her head on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Logan managed to drop
his hand on her shoulder. “I love you, Victoria.” His voice was frail, fading.

She sniffled and wiped
her nose. “I love you, Logan.” She kissed him. Billy averted his eyes to give
them some privacy, and stared up the street. A few men stood outside their
tents, watching the drama unfold, but no one moved to help. Truthfully, wasn’t
much they could do.

Billy’s heart hurt for
this ill-fated couple. He couldn’t help but wonder how their lives might have
turned out if they’d stayed together. Apart, they sure had wrecked some lives
and lived in a painful amount of darkness.

What if
he
hadn’t
come back for Hannah? He shuddered at the notion. He was filled with gratitude
for the second chance with her and would thank God for it every day for the
rest of his life.

The preacher’s bloody
hand slid lifeless to the ground. Delilah’s sobs echoed off the front of The
Crystal Chandelier. Tears in his own eyes, Billy clutched Delilah’s shoulder
and prayed for her peace. At least now, Logan had his.

 

 

 

 

McIntyre could hardly
bear to breathe, neither could he weep. The grief and guilt churning in his
soul far surpassed what tears could cleanse. His heart weighed a thousand
pounds in his chest at the thought of twelve men buried in the darkness. Buried,
but were they dead?

He rode past Lane and
Willy, saddling up in the pre-dawn darkness for the morning’s work. They
regarded him with sympathy and subtle nods. Undoubtedly, McIntyre’s posture and
countenance told them everything they needed to know. He pulled up to the
hitching post in front of the house . . . and sat there.

What have I done? God,
what have I done?

Naomi rushed from the
house, across the porch, and flew down the steps. Desperate for the comfort of
her, McIntyre launched himself from the saddle and caught her in his arms. He
squeezed her tightly, burying his face in her hair. The one place, besides in
prayer, where he could find some peace.

“Did you . . .?”
She seemed to re-think the question. “You called it off, didn’t you? The
rescue.”

He couldn’t speak,
merely nodded. She held him tighter. “It was the right thing to do, Charles.
You couldn’t risk any more men.”

“I don’t know if I’ll
ever believe that, Naomi. I do know one thing. I’ll never reopen the Sunnyside
Mine.”

 

 

 

Rebecca leaned over the
blocks of type and used a key to tighten the pieces of wood that framed the
letters and snugged them into their layout. Every squeak, every turn of the
screw seemed too loud in the tomb-like silence of the town hall.

Her front page.

She had yet to put it
in the press to print it. It seemed such a final step and she was in no hurry.
She let her fingers drift over the lead letters. Backward, but nonetheless
clear. They spelled out glaring news that sent a chill up her spine, and broke
her heart at the same time.

Rescue
Effort Abandoned

Twelve Men
Lost in Murderous Attack

Sunnyside
Mine Will Not Re-Open

Those three lines
sealed the fate of not only the miners, but possibly Defiance. Would the town
survive without the mine?

Charles was adamant the
Sunnyside was finished. At least as far as he was concerned. He had admitted to
Rebecca perhaps he would sell it, but not anytime soon. When asked what he
thought would happen to Defiance, he answered simply, “Change.” With that, he
had ridden out of town, no doubt headed to the sanctuary of his ranch.

Rebecca rubbed her
temples, trying to understand the cruelty behind the explosion. Smith worked
for Delilah. Everyone knew she was livid about the Oriental girls disappearing.
Was she vindictive enough to order an attack on the mine? Had Smith done this
on his own?

Regardless of how the
dust settled, twelve men lay entombed beneath the town. Giuseppe Panelli, a
stone-carver by trade, a gold-miner by happenstance, was already engraving a
stone to sit at the entrance.

Unable to stop her
tears, Rebecca picked up the chase holding the front page of
The Defiance
Dispatch
, spun carefully, and set it in the press.

 

 

 

Billy sat on the front
porch of the Doc’s office, oblivious to the morning sun painting its long shadows
down the street. Somewhere a rooster crowed. Logan and Delilah’s lost chance
haunted him, reminding him of the fleeting existence of life.

Beside him, the door
opened and Hannah stepped out, sniffling and wiping her eyes. He reached out to
her. Without hesitating, she fell into his arms and curled up in his lap. “She
won’t leave his side,” she managed in a choked voice. “She said Logan was her
sweetheart back when they were teenagers.”

“I know.” Billy stroked
her back, hugged her close. “They make me realize how miserable and lonely my
life would have been if I hadn’t come for you.” He held her for a moment,
deliriously grateful to have her in his arms, to be able to comfort her. “Hannah,
I know a justice of the peace isn’t the way you wanted to get hitched, but
would you please let the marshal marry us?” He kissed the top of her head to
give his voice a chance to steady. “We can have a wedding when the circuit
preacher comes through, but I want us to be a family. Now. Today. Before we
lose any more time together.”

She looked up at him,
her big blue eyes magnified by tears. “I love you, Billy Page.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

He kissed her long,
deep, and enthusiastically. “I love you, Hannah, more than I’ll ever be able to
say, but I’ll spend my life trying to show it.”

 

 

 

“Chick, chick, chick.”
The hens came running as Naomi stepped out into the yard, a bowl of crumbled
stale bread on her hip. Tossing the crumbs to them, she noted the buggy
emerging from the trees. Emilio and Mollie. She started to wave, but something
was wrong. The lumbering speed of the horse, their posture, maybe, sent a chill
up her spine.

“Charles, I think you
should come out here.”

A moment later, he
emerged on the porch, a half-eaten apple in his hand. “What is it?”

She pointed with her
chin at the buggy coming around the corner of the bunkhouse. Emilio waved
half-heartedly as he and Mollie pulled up in front of the cabin.

“Mornin’, y’all,” Naomi
said cautiously.

Charles sauntered down
into the yard and joined her. “Mollie. Emilio, good to see you up and about.”


Si
, I am
better. Still no hearing, but I am alive.”

Charles tensed at the
comment and nodded. “And we are grateful.”


Si
.
Um,”
he glanced quickly at Mollie and cleared his throat, “but I bring some very bad
news.”

Naomi clutched Charles’s
arm.
Please don’t let it be anything to do with my sisters, Lord
. But
the prayer made her feel guilty almost immediately, and she added,
or any of
our loved ones.

“It is the preacher.
Logan is dead.”

Naomi gasped and
Charles’s muscles turned to iron beneath her fingertips.

“Was it Delilah?” he
asked.

“No. Cloer tried to
kill her. Logan stepped between them and was stabbed.”

“Cloer.” Charles paled.

“Delilah is . . .”
Mollie paused, apparently searching for the words, “I don’t know any other way
to describe it than to say she’s crazy with grief. She’s . . . devastated.”

Naomi had a hard time
believing that, much less picturing it. Charles patted her hand. “They were
childhood sweethearts. Logan told me.” He took a deep breath and pinched the
bridge of his nose. “Some week.”


Si.
A very bad
one.” Emilio cleared his throat, breaking an awkward silence. “I would like to
escort Mollie back to town, Mr. McIntyre, but Matilda, she was killed in the
explosion—”

“Yes, I know. Pick out
a new mount. The finest one I have.”

A subtle smile on
Emilio’s face expressed his sincere gratitude.
Gracias
.”

Neither Naomi nor
Charles moved as Emilio and Mollie turned the buggy around. After a moment, she
untangled herself and commenced tossing out the breadcrumbs again. “You’re
thinking about leaving again, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer right
away. “How did you know?”

She paused with her
hand in the bowl. “The despair I saw in you when you came home, I suppose. You
made the right choice, Charles. Although I guess that doesn’t mean it will be any
easier to live with.”

“That damnable mine. I
wish I’d never opened it.”

She tossed the last of
the bread out and faced him. “A new place might . . . help the
healing.”

He extended his hand to
her. “I love you . . . and I love Two Spears. You are my family.
You make my home . . . wherever we are.”

She laced her fingers
with his and studied his face. Guilt and heartbreak had deepened what she once
thought of as intriguing lines, especially around his eyes. His beard, stubbly,
not perfectly trimmed now, had sprouted some gray. His black wavy hair also had
a few gray strands. Saddest of all, his brow held a melancholy crease.

“I’ve had a scripture
going round and round in my head for days,” she said thoughtfully. “Now I know
why. ‘For whither thou goest, I will go.’” She lifted a hand to his cheek. “‘And
where thou lodgest, I will lodge . . . Where thou diest, will I
die, and there will I be buried.’”

He laid his hand over
hers. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I expect you will.”

“I haven’t made up my
mind yet.”

“Maybe not where. Maybe
not even when. But you’ve made up your mind we’re leaving Defiance. We’ll pray
about it. See where the Lord leads.”

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