Beloved Outcast (23 page)

“You didn’t give her the money from the sale, did you?” Logan asked sharply.

“The proceeds from the transaction are in my coat pocket, though it’s not ethical for us to retain those funds.”

“Don’t worry about it, Martin. She’ll get the money. Eventually.”

After she’s married to me.

Logan got to his feet. “Shall we join the ladies for lunch?”

When Victoria heard the knock at her hotel room door, she was happily lost in the task of organizing her books into neat stacks. Straightening, she brushed the accumulated dust from her hands and wound her way through the marginally organized chaos.

On the other side of the large oak portal stood Martin Pritchert’s wife. She’d briefly made the older woman’s acquaintance the night before.

“Mrs. Pritchert…Hello.”

The friendly-faced matron smiled. “You were going to call me Constance, remember?”

Victoria returned the woman’s smile. “Thank you. Please come in. You’ll have to excuse the mess. You caught me in the midst of unpacking.”

“Goodness. It looks as if you plan on starting a library. Are all these volumes yours?”

Well used to peoples’ startled reaction to her book collection, Victoria didn’t take offense at the woman’s clearly astonished question. “Once I get them into bookcases, it won’t seem as if there are so many.”

“I suppose not,” Constance agreed. “Are you ready? We need to collect Madison and meet Martin and Logan downstairs.”

Victoria was eager to meet her student. “Just give me a minute to wash my hands and tidy up.”

Constance picked up a book that Victoria had left on a table.
“Little Women.
I’ve heard of that. It’s supposed to be very entertaining.”

Victoria poured some water from a gaily painted pitcher into a washbowl. “I haven’t gotten very far into it yet, but the characters are delightful.”

“It’s about four sisters, isn’t it?”

Victoria dried her hands on a towel. “I’m hoping it’s a story Madison might enjoy.”

“You’ll have to teach her to read first.”

“That’s right, Logan mentioned she hasn’t had any schooling.”

Realizing she shouldn’t have referred to Logan by his first name, Victoria winced. She hoped Mrs. Pritchert hadn’t noticed the slip, which indicated just how well acquainted Victoria was with her new employer.

Constance smiled ruefully, apparently oblivious of Victoria’s indiscreet use of Logan’s Christian name. “You should know, Madison has been raised like a barbarian.”

“A barbarian?”

The older woman nodded. “I suppose it’s not my place to tell you this, but I haven’t always admired the man with whom my husband works. Logan Youngblood has lived his life with no regard to the social niceties the rest of us adhere to. But, when he accepted the responsibility of seeing to Madison’s welfare, I was forced to revise my opinion of him.

“I can see by your expression that you don’t approve of my criticism,” Constance said, her manner strained. “But I feel it is my duty to warn you that your employer has a terrible reputation when it comes to his association with women.”

Victoria found it difficult to meet the woman’s genuinely concerned gaze. It would be too easy to betray by a blush that she knew firsthand that Logan didn’t always behave like a gentleman, and that she herself didn’t always act like a lady.

“They call him ‘Passion’s Pirate,’ you know.”

“What?”
There was no way for Victoria to mask her amazement at the lurid turn of phrase.

“It’s a shocking but appropriate title,” Constance said. “He has certainly worked hard to earn it.”

How did one go about earning such a name? Victoria wondered, but dared not ask.

“He has made it a habit to consort with the town’s most notorious women,” Constance went on to elaborate, her eyebrows drawn together in clear disapproval. “He has escorted
these.
fancy women to public gatherings, treating them as if they were respectable, instead of females of easy virtue.”

Victoria refrained from criticizing Logan’s scandalous behavior. How could she, when she was clearly one of those women of “easy virtue” to whom Constance referred with such disdain?

“I see that I’ve shocked you with my direct manner of speaking, but I consider it my Christian duty to forewarn you about the character of your employer.” She glanced around the hotel suite, her countenance darkening even further. “You must be especially careful to maintain a demeanor of propriety, since you will be residing in such intimate proximity to him. Do you comprehend what I am saying, Victoria?”

“Uh…I think so.”

“Do not give Logan Youngblood an inch, or he shall surely take a mile,” the woman stated with clear conviction.

On the heels of that cliché, another drifted through Victoria’s thoughts, the one about closing the barn door
after
the cow had wandered off.

“I suppose his descent into moral depravity began the afternoon he abandoned poor Miss Stockard at the wedding altar,” Constance observed. “That sorry debacle demonstrated quite clearly Logan Youngblood’s contempt for the gentler sex. It’s no wonder he got himself into trouble with Colonel Windham.”

The sudden shift of subject distracted Victoria from her grim thoughts about the man who’d seduced her so completely
during their brief time together. “Colonel Windham acted with despicable cruelty toward Logan!”

“Well, my dear, when a man confronts his wife’s lover, he’s bound to be a trifle miffed,” the woman said with a shrug. “I know my dear Martin would shoot the man who dared take liberties with me.”

The clock on the mantel chimed as Victoria mulled over Constance Pritchert’s disheartening revelations about Logan.

The woman started visibly, and her gaze went to the clock. “My goodness, we need to fetch Madison and be on our way.”

Victoria was still trying to come to terms with what she’d learned about Logan when she and Constance stopped in the hotel corridor before another room on the same floor.

Constance didn’t bother knocking, but instead walked directly into the suite. The tableau that greeted them momentarily pushed all thoughts of Logan from Victoria’s mind.

A slim young woman dressed in a bright pink dress with rows upon rows of white ruffles cascading from its neck, sleeves and bunched-up skirts sat on the floor, clutching a wad of paper bills in one hand while tossing two dice with the other. A gaunt older gentleman dressed in the hotel’s black livery knelt next to her.

“Well, Lordy, Miss Earley, you done rolled another seven,” he groaned in disappointment. “I swear you’ve cleaned me out.”

“Madison! What is the meaning of this?” Constance Pritchert bellowed with astonishing vigor.

The man in the hotel uniform jumped to his feet as if he’d been jerked to attention by unseen strings.

“Uh, I beg your pardon, ma’am. I was just.” He glanced around the suite frantically, as if trying to come up with an explanation that would soothe the enraged matron glaring holy fire at him. Evidently he realized the hopelessness of justifying his purpose for being in the room.

The girl, on the other hand, was amazingly composed as she uncurled from her position on the floor. Victoria noticed that she even had the forethought to fold the cash she held before tucking it unobtrusively into the pocket concealed amid the profusion of ruffles.

“Calm down, Herbie, or you’ll have another one of your seizures,” the girl admonished calmly.

“He’ll have more to worry about than some seizure,” Constance Pritchert threatened, her face mottled a shade of pink remarkably similar in hue to the incredibly fussy gown worn by the slender young woman. “I vow that you will be dismissed before the day’s end. When my husband and Mr. Youngblood inform the proprietor what you’ve been up to, you’ll be out on the street!”

Apparently untroubled by the older woman’s thunderous disapproval, the girl Victoria assumed was her new charge smiled reassuringly at the trembling, white-faced man. “Don’t worry, Herbie, I’ll explain that none of this was your fault. You won’t lose your job, I promise.”

Herbie looked as if he were going to break into tears. It made no sense under the circumstances, but Victoria felt sorry for the man. He didn’t appear to have the stamina to secure employment that required any degree of strength.

“You are in no position to make any promises, young lady!”

The girl smiled with an impish charm that Victoria realized would, in a few years, blossom into irresistible feminine beauty.

“Now, Mrs. Pritchert, there’s no call to be upset with poor Herbie. He was just showing me how to add up those numbers you keep telling me I need to learn.”

Which, of course, in no way explained the money that had been tucked out of sight, Victoria reflected.

Constance didn’t look totally convinced by the farfetched explanation; however, her complexion was no longer an alarming shade of pink. “You are excused, sir,” she intoned with ominous gravity. The hapless man took his leave on stumbling feet, and the older woman turned to Victoria.
“As you can see, Miss Amory, your services are in severe demand. Allow me to introduce your charge, Madison Earley.”

Aware of the girl’s close scrutiny, Victoria extended her hand. “How do you do, Madison?”

“I reckon I’ve done better.” Her vivid blue eyes narrowed speculatively as she accepted the proffered hand in a vigorous, pumping handshake. “So you’re the fancy woman Logan sent for to make a lady out of me?”

“Madison!” Mrs. Pritchert sputtered. “Miss Amory is most certainly not a fancy woman!”

Unrepentant amusement flickered in the girl’s direct gaze. Victoria found it impossible to take offense. Even though it was obvious that Madison Earley was a lively, free-spirited young woman who would prove a challenge to educate, Victoria knew intuitively that she would enjoy her association with the vixen. The girl’s eyes reflected a good-natured sparkle that was uncannily similar to her sister Annalee’s enthusiastic approach to life. Oh, yes, Madison was going to be a challenge, but she was also going to be a delight.

L
unch in the hotel dining room with Logan, Madison, Martin and Constance proved an enlivening experience for Victoria. The conversation rarely lagged as the perfectly prepared food was expeditiously dispatched.

Victoria noticed, however, that Logan remained largely silent as the various courses were served and removed from their table. She, too, was content to let Madison and the Pritcherts assume control of the various topics of discussion.

Logan sat directly across from Victoria, and she was fiercely aware of his possessive gaze as it repeatedly fell upon her. Even though she appreciated the grandness of the repast laid before her, she scarcely tasted it.

For a significant portion of the meal, she found herself transfixed by Logan’s strong, tanned hands as he wielded his eating utensils with a casual efficiency that reminded her of how it felt to have those very hands upon her naked flesh. The searing memory of his bold caresses made her tremble. She shifted on her chair and wondered what the others at the table would think if they knew she’d fallen victim to such shocking thoughts. No doubt they would consider her as tarnished as the other women Logan had apparently escorted about town.

“Oh-oh…. Logan, don’t look now, but Colonel Windham and his wife just walked into the dining room.”

As nothing else other than a shout of “Fire!” could have done, Martin Pritchert’s observation freed Victoria’s thoughts from their improper course. She glanced in the direction the others were looking.

A slight man dressed in a bright blue uniform conspicuously decorated with gold braiding, along with a demurely dressed but unarguably beautiful woman wearing a lavender gown, entered the room. The attractive blonde stood a couple of inches taller than her husband.

Victoria tensed as she stared at the vile beast responsible for almost killing Logan. It required all the inner discipline she possessed to subdue the urge to charge across the room to berate him for his wretched treatment of the man she loved.

“Of all the nerve,” Madison snarled. “How dare he show his ferret face in public after what he did to you!” The girl leaped to her feet. “Even if you did sleep with his wife, he had no call to—”

“Sit down, Madison,” Logan stated, with sufficient force to ensure the girl plopped back to her chair. “For the record—” Logan’s ruthlessly intense gaze washed over Victoria
“—nothing
of a personal nature has transpired between Athena Windham and myself.”

In the silence that followed Logan’s announcement, the hard-faced military man and his wife crossed the room. When the couple were within a foot of the table, both Martin Pritchert and Logan stood.

The ensuing tension was volatile enough to catch fire without the benefit of a spark.

“Well, I see your luck held out, Youngblood, and you made it back to town alive.”

From the short, mustached man’s clipped observation, one wouldn’t have guessed the officer had left Logan behind at the fort to face certain death.

“No thanks to you,” Logan observed mockingly.

A look of hatred radiated from the colonel’s eyes. “What do you mean? I left orders that you were to be released from the stockade and provided with a mount for your return to
Trinity Falls.” A nasty smile twisted one corner of his mouth. “Naturally, during the last-minute confusion of evacuating the fort, I was unable to personally bid you a safe trip.”

His obvious skepticism about Windham’s words was reflected in Logan’s chilling gaze, yet he said nothing.

“You realize, Youngblood, our business isn’t finished,” the officer went on to say. “I’m dispatching several of my men to escort you to the temporary office I’ve set up at the Methodist church so we’ll be able to finish the discussion we began at the fort.”

Victoria’s gaze went to the woman, who hadn’t once spoken or looked up from the lace handkerchief she twisted between white-knuckled fingers. Surely the colonel wouldn’t voice in so public a setting his ugly suspicions about his wife and Logan.

“I consider that subject closed,” Logan stated with numbing coldness.

Victoria didn’t understand how Windham could bait Logan, when it was obvious he wanted nothing more than to tear the officer apart limb from limb.

“The murdering savages who burned down the fort are still at large. You will lead my men to their stronghold so that we can exterminate them.”

Victoria looked around the large dining room, suddenly aware that Windham and Logan’s confrontation had attracted a large audience. It occurred to her that most of those present would undoubtedly agree with the colonel that all Indians should either be killed or be driven from the territory.

“I’m always happy to oblige the military,” Logan said, with a lethal mildness that made Victoria’s mouth go dry.

She was terrified that if Logan was to ride into the mountains with Windham, the colonel would make certain he wouldn’t return alive. Yet, even though every line of his rugged body had tautened with barely checked fury, Victoria discerned that Logan was not the least bit afraid of the military man. Did Logan truly intend on betraying his friend
Night Wolf, or was the offer an attempt to postpone the hour of reckoning?

She marveled at Logan’s control and realized that he’d spoken the truth in the mountains. He did not suffer from ordinary human fears. She didn’t consider his courage a positive attribute, however. Surely he would be in less danger if he respected the colonel’s hatred.

“My men will arrive shortly to make sure you reach my office without any unforeseen complications,” Windham informed Logan with barely veiled contempt. “Come along, Athena. We’ve delayed our meal long enough.”

As one, the couple continued on their way. Victoria noted that before being led away by her husband, Mrs. Windham allowed herself one hurried glance at Logan. In that single brief look, Victoria thought she detected a flash of poignant longing in the woman’s overly bright eyes.

“Well, my goodness, that was quite a scene.” Constance Pritchert fanned herself with a napkin as she stared at Logan. “That man has taken a strong aversion to you.”

“You ought to rip off his privates and use ‘em for target practice,” Madison suggested spiritedly, her blue eyes shooting sparks.

“Madison!” both Martin and Constance Pritchert chided in unison.

Though she did not say so, Victoria viewed the girl’s proposal as sound.

Logan laughed harshly as he returned to his chair. “I suspect his wife already does that on a regular basis.”

No one bothered to chastise Logan for the crude remark.

“What are you going to do?” A marked concern etched Martin’s normally benign features as he, too, sat down. “It’s obvious Windham hates you and would rather see you dead than have you come back alive from the mountains.”

“I don’t have a choice. Even though I’m a civilian, Windham has the authority to order me to lead him to Night Wolf.”

From Logan’s casual statement, one would never have surmised his life hung in the balance.

“But you can’t do that!” Madison protested. “Night Wolf saved my life after Pa was killed by those claim jumpers. Why, my bones would have been picked clean by the buzzards if he hadn’t shown up when he did.”

“Don’t worry about Night Wolf, Maddy.” Logan smiled reassuringly at the distraught girl. “The last time I talked to him, he told me he was moving the tribe northward.”

“If you lead Windham to an abandoned Shoshone village, he’ll probably shoot you on the spot,” Martin pointed out grimly.

“But you just spoke with Night Wolf yesterday,” Victoria felt compelled to say. “How much distance can an old man travel in that short period of time, especially if he’s trying to move an entire tribe?”

Four pairs of surprised eyes regarded Victoria. She couldn’t imagine what she’d said to provoke such a reaction from them.

“Where’d you get the idea that Night Wolf was an old man?” Madison asked in a loud voice as she absently blew a couple of drooping ringlets from her eyes. “Why, I expect he’s younger than Logan, and you can’t rightly call Logan old.”

Victoria looked at Logan in confusion. “But you said he was a very elderly, frail man.”

A dark flush stained Logan’s high cheekbones. “I was probably referring to Night.
Wind
at the time.”

“Who the blazes is Night Wind?” Madison asked. “I never heard tell of him before, and I thought I’d met everyone in Night Wolf’s tribe.”

“He’s an old, toothless Indian chief,” Victoria filled in helpfully, wondering how on earth Logan could say he’d been describing someone other than Night Wolf.

“Well, that’s neither here nor there,” Martin interjected. “If you ride out of town with Windham, I don’t think you’ll be returning, especially if you fail to deliver Night Wolf.”

As the statement’s validity registered on them, an oppressive silence hung over the table. The abrupt arrival of
four somber-faced men dressed in bright blue military gear only heightened the escalating tension.

“Mr. Logan Youngblood?” one of them inquired respectfully.

Logan rose. “Yes?”

“You’re to come with us.”

“Don’t go with them, Logan.” Victoria and Madison both voiced the same plea as they pushed back their chairs and jumped to their feet.

Logan looked from one to the other with unexpected tenderness. “Ladies, I appreciate your concern, but I have no choice other than to accept these gentlemen’s invitation to join their commanding officer.”

“But Windham’s sitting right over there with his wife, feeding his weasely face,” Madison blurted out.

Logan rolled his eyes. The soldiers, however, looked anything but amused at Madison’s insulting reference to their commanding officer.

“Maddy, behave yourself.”

The young woman’s chin rose mutinously as she jammed her fist into the folds of her prolifically ruffled gown. “I got me a gun here, and I’m fixin’ to shoot daylight into the first one of you mangy varmints who makes a move toward Logan.”

“Oh, my God!” Constance Pritchert cried.

Victoria was marginally calmer than the older woman, because Madison had stuck her hand into the same pocket where she’d tucked the wad of bills she’d won gambling with Herbie. Still, neither the soldiers nor Logan knew that the unseen bulge outlined beneath the pink fabric of her frilled dress was not a pistol.

“Maddy, stop your theatrics and sit down,” Logan commanded succinctly.

Victoria held her breath. She honestly didn’t know what the unpredictable rebel would do. Inwardly, though, she applauded the girl’s courage.

At last Madison yielded to Logan’s rigid glare and returned in a dejected slump to her chair.

Victoria, however, remained standing.

Logan flicked a significant glance from her to the empty chair beside her. “You may also be seated, Victoria.”

“I…” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I should like to

go with you and these nice soldiers to the Colonel’s office.”

“And why is that?” Logan inquired softly. “Do you have a gun with which you’d like to ventilate the ‘nice’ soldiers?”

Victoria flushed. Leave it to Logan to resort to his particular brand of dark humor at a time like this. “Of course not. I have some important information to provide Colonel Windham.”

“It’s probably best if you remain here, ma’am,” one of the men said, not unkindly. “If the colonel needs to speak with you, he’ll send for you.”

Aware that she’d drawn the attention of all present in the dining room, Victoria forced herself to appear utterly unmoved by the anxiety she suffered.

“I have no wish to argue with you, sir,” she said smoothly. “It’s just that I know the Indian you’re seeking—I believe he’s called Night Wolf—has left the Idaho Territory. When Mr. Youngblood accompanied me to Trinity Falls from the fort, we encountered the.savage. He had his entire tribe with him and they were headed. west. As this encounter happened more than a week ago, there’s no way Mr. Youngblood will be able to guide you to him. The plain and simple truth is that Night Wolf could be anywhere.”

Of course, there was nothing plain or simple—or truthful—about what she’d just said. Victoria waited for either a bolt of lightning or a bullet to strike her down for voicing such an outrageous falsehood. She knew that everyone at their table was aware of her lie. After all, until a few minutes ago she hadn’t even known that the Shoshone wasn’t an old man. And, she’d publicly announced her association to Logan to all present.

Despite her inner turmoil, she was conscious of Madison’s admiring gaze. Oddly, earning the plucky girl’s approval eased some of Victoria’s tension. As long as she didn’t let her glance stray to Logan’s glowering countenance, she thought she would be able to pull off her incredible bluff.

“Maybe you should come with us, ma’am.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Logan’s gritty question slammed into Victoria’s diminishing confidence with the force of a powerful fist. From the

Prairie Rose, the soldiers had taken them to, of all unlikely

places, a Methodist church to wait for Colonel Windham to arrive.

“It should be obvious,” she replied in a shaking, lowpitched voice, having no wish to draw the attention of the uniformed men who left her and Logan to their own devices in the back of the high-beamed chapel. “I’m saving your life. Again.”

Logan’s black eyebrows formed an angry vee. His tightly reined features radiated bleak fury. “Honey, you don’t know what you’re getting into. Windham isn’t exactly rational where I’m concerned. The best thing you can do is to stay out of his way. I’ll handle things on my own.”

“The last time you ‘handled’ things, you ended up in a stockade,” she reminded him.

“Victoria, the matter isn’t up for debate. I’m telling you I don’t want you involved. There’s no telling what Windham might do. I’ve got the feeling he’s close to the edge. If he’s pushed too far, I don’t think he’d balk at hanging a woman.”

Logan’s words struck Victoria with the force she knew he’d intended. Her knees might be trembling, but nothing he could say would make her leave him. She’d let him walk out of her life once, believing they could never have a future together. She’d been terribly wrong, and not because she’d discovered Logan wasn’t on the run. She’d been wrong because she’d let something come between her and the man
who’d stolen her heart. She refused to make that mistake again.