Her Montana Man (16 page)

end to secure it.

He sat and wiped his forehead on his arm.

She let him get to his feet alone and watched him walk to the tub. She didn’t have to think about

anything more than this night. She refused to spoil any of it by considering the reality of her situation. She

reached for her wrapper. “I’m going to run up and check on Tyler.”

Jonas stepped into the tub and lowered himself into the water. “Still plenty warm.”

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“I’ll be right back.”

“Hope no other women come strollin’ through that door while I’m waitin’ for you.”

“Take names. I’ll invite them to my ladies’ society.”

He laughed, and she couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss him before she left.

She let herself into their room and stood over Tyler, who slept peacefully. She adjusted the covers

around his shoulders and kissed his hair. Her love for this boy kept her strong when life appeared bleak.

That same love would give her the courage she needed to stick with her plan. Even though that plan

meant giving up hope of anything more with Jonas.

A few minutes later, Eliza re-entered the room and locked the door. “He’s sleeping like a rock.”

Jonas’s hair was slicked back and dripping, so with his freshly shaven face, every sculptured plane and

angle was visible. His handsome appeal took her breath away.

“How’s your arm?” she asked.

“Feels like I’ve been shot.”

“Jonas.” She knelt beside the tub.

“What?”

Impulsively, she pressed her cheek to his sleek, wet shoulder. He took care of her, he considered her

feelings and her wishes, and those traits were dangerously seductive. He made her wish she could change

what she had to do, and she couldn’t let her resolve weaken.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head, but an empty ache expanded in her chest. He was strong, so kind and capable.

She wanted to unburden her heart to him, wanted to share her fear and despair, but she couldn’t. If he

knew, he would want to fix it, and her situation couldn’t be fixed. It could only be escaped.

“There’s room,” he urged. “C’mon.”

She surveyed his sleek body under the shimmering water, taking only a second to decide. She wanted

this time and this connection with Jonas. Once she was gone and years of living on her own stretched out

ahead of her, she would have these moments to look back upon and treasure.

After producing pins from the pocket of her wrapper, she secured her hair, then draped the wrapper

and towel over the chair and joined him. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub.

Unconcerned with the floor, he soaped a sponge and washed her shoulders, her legs, her feet. “Mighty

pretty toes, too,” he told her.

The degree of ease and security she felt with Jonas surprised her. She trusted him, and trust set her

world right for now. The admiring way he looked at her brought tears to her eyes, so she hid them by

rinsing her face, then quickly leaning to kiss him.

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He took hold of her ankle and pulled her close, right onto his lap until their bodies fit together and she

straddled him.

He returned the lazy kiss.

“Your arm,” she objected.

“I’ll rest it right here on the side. See?”

Another kiss, and another, and he laughed as more water hit the floor and soaked the towels. Jonas

assured her his arm wasn’t an issue this time, and it was another half hour before they dried and dressed

and fled to his quarters. He stoked the fire in the fireplace and they sat close together on the patterned

rug while their hair dried.

“Eliza Jane,” he said, leaning to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. “It’s probably a bad time…so soon

after losin’ Jenny and all…”

She covered his lips with her fingertips and made a shushing sound. “Don’t say anything more,” she

begged. “Please. Not right now.”

“But things need sayin’.”

“Not now,” she pleaded, her adoring gaze taking in the shadowed angles of his sculpted face, the distinct

divot in his full upper lip. She wanted to remember the way he made her feel, the way he looked at her.

“Please.”

She took the hand he raised to her cheek and kissed each knuckle. The same hands that had won

fistfights touched her with knee-weakening tenderness. He was a man of fascinating contrasts. His eyes

betrayed reluctant acquiescence. He leaned forward to kiss her, and the kiss was tender and filled with

emotion.

He gathered cushions and they lay before the warmth of the crackling fire and in the security of each

other’s arms until Eliza woke with a start.

She had drifted off to sleep. It couldn’t have been for long, because the fire was still blazing. “I have to

go,” she told him.

He walked her to the door and kissed her, then followed her up the stairs and kissed her again. She left

him standing in the hall in only his trousers.

Jonas stood outside the door a few minutes, and finally took the stairs down to his quarters. The fire still

snapped in the grate and the cushions lay tossed about. The room was just as he’d left it, but now it felt

lonely.

He rubbed the backs of his fingers over his smoothly shaven jaw, reliving the past hours. His arm

throbbed. Until now he’d been too absorbed with Eliza Jane to pay notice to the pain. He hadn’t been

taking the medicine Doc had given him. He didn’t like the groggy effects, and he sure didn’t want to get

dependent on it. Reading usually took his mind off the pain and made him sleepy.

He fashioned a comfortable spot on the divan with pillows and a blanket and picked up a journal, finding

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the page where he’d left off the night before.

He’d been reading so much that he’d become familiar with his father’s accounts of Silver Bend’s

inhabitants, the way he twined weather reports with town events and patient calls, and how he shortened

people’s names to initials.

Jonas had worked his way through to details of the rainy spring of 1878, following a harsh winter. A

debate over a proposed saloon and gaming hall had held the town council at odds. Most of the residents

had been opposed. Seems they’d been concerned about attracting an unsavory element of clientele to

their peaceful town. Others held out for the profit, but lost the vote. No wonder the people of Silver

Bend had welcomed Jonas so eagerly upon his return.

A saloon guaranteed tax revenue, and he had assured them from the first that his establishment would be

orderly and law-abiding and that no rooms would be rented to girls for the purpose of entertaining men.

“Old Jess hasn’t recovered,” his father had written, referring to the horse that had pulled his buggy for

the previous ten years.

I’ve known for weeks that I need to do the humane thing and put him down, but I haven’t had the heart

for it.

Visits to the Sutherland home were mentioned so often that Jonas glanced over them, pausing when

something caught his attention. A particular notation grabbed his interest.

A morning nap suits me this fine spring day. After several hours of waiting through the night, I delivered a

healthy baby boy to E.J.S. at four o’clock this morning. She is doing well. J.L. insisted on being at her

side. I was most concerned over J.L. throughout the ordeal. Any excitement makes her weak and short

of breath and could be the thing that causes her heart to fail. I was firm that if she stayed in the room, she

would lie down beside her sister.

Confused, Jonas went back and read the passage over again.

I delivered a healthy baby boy to E.J.S. at four o’clock this morning.

Clearly his father had been confused or drunk when he’d written this. EJS were Eliza Jane’s initials.

Jonas read back a ways, looking for clarification of the mistake, finding several references to visiting the

Sutherland home, but none that would disprove those words.

So he read forward. A day later his father wrote of visiting the Sutherland house to check on the baby,

then again a week later. Three weeks later, he made a call on EJS and pronounced her well.

Jonas let the information settle in his mind, but the settling caused copious upheaval in his thinking. His

father had often used initials when writing about familiar townspeople, and though the man undoubtedly

drank every night, his notes had never been anything but clear, precise records of his days.

If Jonas believed his father’s writings and the pattern of well-recorded events, he would have to accept

that Eliza Jane had given birth to a child.

He double-checked the day and year. Eight years ago on May 29. His mind tripped over that notation.

Jonas went over the account books daily, so he was well aware of today’s date.
Today
was May 29.

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The very day they’d celebrated Tyler’s birthday.

Facts that hadn’t quite fit together and things he’d taken for granted shifted into place. If he was to

believe this journal—and Jonas had no reason not to, since the journals were his father’s personal diaries,

and the man had never expected anyone to read them—then he had to believe Eliza Jane was Tyler’s

mother.

The fact certainly explained her devotion.

Jonas’s previous knowledge of females had been gained with women of experience. Now that he

thought back on it, perhaps this hadn’t seemed like Eliza’s first time. Her responses had been unpracticed

and natural, but she hadn’t been fearful. He’d been glad for that and for the fact that he hadn’t hurt her.

Seems now there was a reason. Eliza Jane had been with a man before, and that man had fathered a

child.

But as far as anyone knew, Tyler was Jenny Lee’s son.

Jonas groaned inwardly at his lack of perception. The fact had been right there in front of him all along.

Of course the boy wasn’t Jenny’s Lee’s. All the descriptions of heart problems and weakness should

have told Jonas that Jenny Lee had been too sick to carry and deliver a baby—
if
he’d been paying

attention.

Eliza Jane’s curious behavior around her brother-in-law swirled into focus. Royce knew the truth, and he

was using his knowledge against her somehow.

Jonas got a sick feeling in his belly.

If Royce Dunlap was Tyler’s father, then that meant Royce and Eliza Jane—

Jonas couldn’t explore that. Uh-uh. No.

He thought of her expression and reaction the day that Luther fellow brought the note. Jonas recalled

sitting at a nearby table and seeing Eliza Jane’s demeanor around Royce. She was leery of him.

Now. But had she once loved him? Jonas tried to recall what he knew of the Sutherlands, but many of

the events while he’d been away were only hearsay. He was sure that Royce and Jenny Lee had been

married at least ten years back, so Eliza Jane and Royce couldn’t have been courting eight years ago.

Royce had already been married. Had he forced himself on her? It wouldn’t matter how long ago that

had been, Jonas would probably have to kill him if he knew for sure.

Jonas skimmed forward, seeking mentions of the Sutherlands, finding only subsequent visits for Jenny

Lee and later on for the infant Tyler.

Jonas grabbed the next ledger in the sequence and the next, thumbing through pages, passing a year.

Two. Nothing answered his questions. Nowhere did he find a record of Jenny Lee giving birth to a child.

And his father’s reports were meticulous.

Finally, with his eyes burning, Jonas glanced at the Seth Thomas clock on the mantel, noted it was nearly

morning, and convinced himself to turn down the lamp. The fire had dwindled, so he banked the ashes

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and climbed into bed.

By sheer force of will, he made himself close his eyes and relax his limbs. He’d broken his number one

rule when it came to women. Fact was, since Eliza Jane had taken over his thoughts, he’d forgotten

about the rule. He’d become emotionally involved.

And he liked the connection. He liked the way it felt to care about her. And nothing about their attraction

had been one-sided, he was sure of that.

It was impossible not to think of what had taken place that evening. When he closed his eyes, he could

see her, smell her, feel her touch and hear her soft sounds of pleasure. Jonas let himself drift off with

those memories fresh in his mind.

Sometime later, he sat straight up in bed. “
I might not be here then,
” she’d said about his October

birthday and the cake he’d requested. She was planning to run away and take Tyler with her.

That’s why she needed a job and money. That’s why she didn’t want Royce to know what she was up

to.

Royce was using Tyler against her somehow, Jonas was sure of it. Jonas had never had much use for the

man, and his behavior continued to reinforce that opinion. Since Henry’s death, the brick factory

employees worked from dawn to dusk and their living conditions had declined. Royce withheld donations

to the town that his father-in-law had always made. Jonas had no proof of what in tarnation had

happened, but this situation with Eliza Jane didn’t add up.

He turned over and punched his pillow. He should have taken the medicine after all.