Hell's Belle (19 page)

She set her mending
aside. "You can absolutely count on me being here. Don't you know how much
this life we have together means? I lost my parents, then my aunt. Fletcher and
Lucius were all I had, until you came along."

He knelt in front
of her and took her hands in his. She'd never seen him so somber, his eyes so
filled with pain. "They never saw the strength and endurance inside you,
but I do. Give me your word you'll never leave. That you'll be by my side until
the very
last
twilight's last gleaming. Like the flag, still there no
matter what."

"Yes,
Del," she vowed as he led her toward their bed.

She thought of how
many times schoolmates had taunted her about her peculiar name, the dozens of
times she'd wished she could have changed it. Times she inwardly wondered why
her parents had been so off kilter, why they couldn't have christened her Anna
or Elizabeth, or even Gertrude…anything but eccentric and odd Twilagleam Bell.

Del Mitchell was
the only person who'd ever admired her name. The only person who'd spoken of
qualities like inner resolve or determination. The only person to cherish her
since her own parents had perished, like his best friend.

Sometime in the deep,
dark, wee hours of the next morning, Del told her about his boyhood with
Jordan. How Jordan had saved his life. What a nag and daredevil Jordan could
be. How he'd brought out both the worst and best in Delancy Mitchell. Even how
Jordan had prompted Del to consider marriage to Twila, daring him one last time
to make a move no one would expect…but Jordan believed might be the right
choice.

"I took a hell
of a final dare," Del whispered, staring into her eyes. "Just let me
know I wasn't a fool for doing it. I paid an unbelievable price, cause it feels
as though I took a wild chance and then he had to top it, and take one even
wilder. I told him that damned bronco wasn't ready. Warned him at least three
different times. You reckon maybe I had to make a trade, his life for ours
together?"

"I don't know,
Del," she murmured through tears that had begun to trickle while he'd been
relating the past. "I honestly don't know about things like that. I don't pretend
to have any notions of God's plans. I'm the last person to hazard a guess. But
I'm here as long as you need me and want me."

* * *

"Well, well!
Fancy that, will you, Cookson! Our young friend Mr. Bell and his father have
got themselves quite a prosperous establishment here."

Lucius came out of
the stockroom to have his throat constrict as his heart skipped a beat. The men
were
here
, inside the store! And not at all the English gentry they
presented themselves when they'd initially met on the train. He saw that now,
the way they scanned the premises with greed lighting their eyes. They'd
apparently decided to abandon skulking around in favor of the direct approach.
He'd tried to learn about their plans. Obviously not as successfully as they'd
unearthed information about him. He suspected they were aware his father wasn't
due back until late that afternoon.

"Well, this is
a surprise." As opening lines went, it wasn't spectacular. But at least it
was honest. He hadn't anticipated this move. He furtively glanced out toward
the street. Damn. Of course it was deserted.

"We've been
cavorting a bit around these far-flung reaches of your fine country, having a
wonderful go of it. Then my friend Marquardt says to me that he seemed to
recall you and your family were going to settle in some railroad outpost not
far from Reno. We supposed it had to be this town, what with all the mechanic
shops and railroad workers, but we never thought to find you in such
splendor!"

Lucius frowned and
tucked a tin coffeepot into the open space on an upper shelf. "Hardly
that. We had a much nicer store in Omaha."

Marquardt's left
eyebrow rose a notch. "You did? Then it seems even more of a financial
risk to have set that aside to come all the way here. I mean, good fellow, no
offense meant to you or your countrymen, but this is a bit of dusty nowhere, isn't
it? Unless there were some
other
logical reason for migrating
westward."

Lucius backed up a
step, but was saved by Emily Mercer coming through the door at just that
moment.

"Did you ever
get in the black shoe polish I wanted, Mr. Bell?" she demanded.

The Englishmen
faded into the background, feigning interest in various goods on display about
the store. Lucius rushed to supply the shoe polish and point out several new
items. The Mercer woman was generally a complete pain in the ass, who rarely
seemed to find what she wanted in under an hour…and Lucius had never been so
happy to see the stuffy biddy or cater to her whims.

Today she seemed to
be on a fashion quest. Shoe polish, a new bonnet, perhaps a pair of gloves,
even an apron. He purposely dashed back into the stockroom and came out with an
armload of boxes higher than his head. He began opening each box in turn,
ignoring Emily's frowns or snide remarks. She actually remarked there were one
or two items she wanted to purchase. Lucius advised her to please take her time,
peruse all she wanted.

"Well, er,
we'll bid you a pleasant afternoon and take our leave." Cookson shot a
meaningful glance at his partner, who blustered something about other business
in town. Pressing business.

"But we'll
stop back, Mr. Bell," Marquardt warned.

"I'll advise
my father. It's a shame you missed him," Lucius replied. His chest
loosened a fraction when he escorted the male store visitors out onto the porch
and he watched them descend the steps and stride off in the general direction of
the livery. Lucius dug for his handkerchief and mopped his brow. He was just
turning to go back inside and finish waiting on the old prig when he spotted
sweet salvation.

Cousin Twila had
her hands cupped around her face, the better to peer into the locked post
office.

Odd. Lucius knew
Twila rarely came into town herself. Since her elopement with that rancher, he
generally took care of errands or sent one of his men. Twila had become the
town's most vaunted recluse, still the subject of speculation and local gossip.
Recently the rumors hinted at deviltry once more. A man had been killed out at
that ranch not two weeks gone. Some in town whispered it was due to Twila's
perpetual bad luck. Proof she was cursed.

Still, she
was
family, and she'd probably do better squeezing a buying decision out of Emily
Mercer than he would. "Twila!"

When she spun
around and met his gaze, Lucius shook his head. "He's gone fishing. Did
you need something?"

She glanced both
ways before crossing the street—a preposterous gesture, since there clearly
wasn't anyone else around. Then Lucius realized that with her, it might not be
purely a matter of traffic, being run down by an errant cart or horseback rider.
Twila had been verbally accosted on the Wadworth's streets before…and no one
was dead then.

"I was going
to see if we had any mail. Delancy's received several notes of condolence. Is
Uncle Fletcher inside? I suppose I should stop in and pay my respects, since I
seldom come into town."

Lucius reached out
to take her elbow and guide her up the steps. She paused at the top to give him
a wary look. "Just trying to be polite," he assured her.
"Father's not due back until late this afternoon. Mrs. Mercer's inside, though."

"Oh, then I
don't think I want to go in," Twila immediately responded, wrinkling her
nose. "I don't think—"

"I tell you
what. Go around back and upstairs. I'll be up as soon as I dispense with her.
We should talk. Put some tea on, and I'll be right there."

Twila just stared
at Lucius for a moment. She didn't truly want to accept his hospitality, if
that's what it could be called. She could put the tea on…and unless things had
changed radically during the past few months, she'd also find a collection of
dirty dishes needing to be done, a kitchen floor in need of sweeping, and a
parlor definitely in need of dusting and straightening. Fletcher was gone and
Lucius didn't want to do the chores. His "polite invitation" was
probably a ploy to get Twila to do them.

But when she got upstairs,
she saw she'd been mistaken. The living quarters were spotless. Her relations
must have turned over new leaves since her departure. Though she never would
have guessed as much; they'd never come out to the ranch for a visit or to wish
the newlyweds well. Hadn't even wrapped up a wedding gift and sent it with one
of the men.

Perhaps this was
Lucius' attempt to mend fences while Fletcher was away. She checked the stove's
firebox and found one last chunk of kindling reduced to fading embers. But it would
give off sufficient heat for the teapot, whose slosh proclaimed enough water
for a couple cups of tea. She got down the jar of loose tea and the suspension
ball her uncle was so very proud of—it was fine etched silver and shaped like a
bell.

As she set the table,
she noticed a new candle on the sideboard. A thick white candle whose wick
clearly hadn't seen its first use. A smile broke over her face. Her
penny-pinching uncle probably saved it for a special occasion. Well, she was
declaring one this very day. She'd never before had tea as a married visitor to
the Bell's upstairs kitchen.

The kettle began
steaming just as she struck a match and lit the new candle. She turned to her
right for the cloth to grasp the hot kettle handle even as a puff of afternoon
breeze created a movement to her left. "The curtains!"

She'd fully
intended to move the candle away from the window as soon as she lit the wick.
Too late. In the few seconds she'd been distracted, the curtain hem had blown
too close to the open flame, and now the cotton scorched and blazed on the
rods. The whole place could catch fire!

Reaching without
thinking, she jerked the kettle's cover off and flung the container's water at
the window. The flames went out, water dripped down the wall, and she heard a
masculine gasp of shock from behind her. Before she could apologize, Lucius
rushed past her, diving for a jar of something dark.

He turned back with
a horrified expression on his face and held out the round glass jar. "I
left the lid off by mistake. He's going to murder me! These were Father's brand
new, expensive cigars, and you've
ruined
them! Not to mention—God, look
at the curtains, the wallpaper!
Twila
!"

If only she could
have blamed this destruction on a horse…but there didn't seem to be one
standing in the middle of the small kitchen. "I thought it would be nice
if we…I wanted us to be friends. I lit the candle, thinking I'd have a nice,
civilized tea with my cousin…"

She glanced around
again, took in the sight of Lucius trying to spear one of the soggy cigars with
his fingers, and burst into gales of laughter. Impossibly, he looked even more
idiotic today than he had when there
was
a horse to blame—and he'd been
wearing a woman's corset on his head then.

At first he wore a
nonplussed expression, then horror and confusion, which rapidly changed to
calculation. "This could work," he announced. "We'll have to
close up the store. I'll scratch out a note or something…"

Twila shrugged.
Maybe he planned to spend the rest of the day in a saloon, blaming Twila for
lost profits. There was nothing she could do about it. "Well, do whatever
seems best."

She took up the
little brown satchel. "Tell Uncle to send the bill to the ranch. Del will
take care of these damages, just as before. I don't suppose I'll be welcome for
another visit. Oh, well. I'd best be on my way. I was wondering, since you've
more experience here in town than I do, would you know if the livery ever has riders
to loan out? I need to go out of town on an errand, and—"

"Out of town?
Where?"

Good Lord, one
would think she'd said the bank was being robbed, the way his head snapped up.
"Sacramento, as it happens. I intended to ask Del to take me, but since—You
heard about Mr. Zoyer, I gather?"

Lucius nodded.
"Terrible thing. You weren't anywhere around at the time, I hope."

Twila didn't bother
to ask what he meant by that. She knew.

"I was up at
the house. The doctor said at least he hadn't suffered. He was killed instantly
when a horse threw him. In any case, Del can't leave right now, nor can he
spare another man from the spread to take me, so I was hoping I could pay
someone else to serve as escort."

"Well then,
there's something fortuitous in this little misadventure, after all,"
Lucius announced, breaking into a smile. "As it happens, we have some
goods Father's been wanting to check out from a vendor in that same locale. I'll
serve as your escort. Didn't I see Mitchell's horse and buggy tied to the hitching
rail across the street?"

"Yes, I drove
here."

"Excellent."

"Wait a
minute, Lucius. I didn't necessarily mean I'd leave today, this very
moment."

"Well, there's
no time like the present, and I really should close up the emporium until we
can sort out the mess upstairs. Seems like the perfect timing to me."