Her Montana Man (4 page)

bushes.”

“I remember,” Eliza answered. Nora had brought bouquets of lilacs from those very bushes into Jenny

Lee’s room all that spring. “You always wore Grandma Pritchard’s rose evening dress and the bead

necklace.”

“Those were
pearls,
” Jenny Lee insisted. “And
you
liked Mother’s blue dress with the ruffled sleeves.”

“We were quite the fashionable ladies, weren’t we?”

“I felt rather deserted when Vernelle married Robert and moved East,” Jenny Lee confided.

“As did Nora.”

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“And then I married Royce.” Jenny Lee’s gaze wandered away for a few moments and then returned.

“Did you feel I’d deserted you?”

“Of course not. You were only across the neighborhood.”

Royce and Jenny Lee had rented a small home. Shortly after Henry Sutherland’s death, Jenny Lee’s

health had declined to where she needed more and more attention, and she was unable to care for Tyler.

Moving here had been the practical and necessary thing for all of them. Eliza had quit her bookkeeping

position at the brickyard and devoted herself to her sister and Tyler. She’d never been sorry, and she

never would be.

Confirmation of Royce’s true nature had come soon after. The truth of what she’d suspected for some

time had been unraveled in startling increments and ugly realizations. Eliza covered up his disinterest in

Jenny Lee and Tyler to protect them. Her sister was dying. She didn’t need the hurt of knowing her

husband had married her to get his hands on The Sutherland Brick Company and their other investments.

Henry had left a portion of the business to each of them, and they’d had equal say in decisions. Most

often Royce had been able to sway Jenny Lee to his point of view on investments and holdings, and Eliza

hadn’t been willing to fight him in front of her sister. The few times she’d tried, the hurt look on Jenny

Lee’s face had discouraged her.

She didn’t want to plan for her sister’s death, but she had to be realistic. Once Jenny Lee was out of the

triangle, Royce would own the major share of the brickyard and could do whatever he pleased.

His intentions didn’t stop there. A shudder ran up her spine and infused her with ominous panic. With

controlled effort, she fought down the feeling.

Eliza Jane had a plan.

She’d stashed away and hidden her savings—not in the bank, because they owned a share of the bank

and Royce could look at accounts anytime he wanted. But in a safer place. When the inevitable time

came to escape, she would be able to take care of herself and Tyler.

“Remember how Father used to read to us in the evenings?” Jenny Lee asked, and Eliza was grateful to

return to a happier time with her. “Mama would sit in that brown wing chair and work on her quilts while

he read us stories. He was a good father, wasn’t he?”

Eliza sensed the disappointment her sister felt that her husband had never been a caring or loving father

to Tyler. It had always seemed to Eliza that he’d tolerated the boy just to pacify Jenny Lee and her

father. Now she knew it was so.

“It’s so unfair that I got this puny heart,” Jenny said with a catch in her voice. She rarely spoke in such a

hopeless fashion.

“I’m going to take care of Tyler.” Eliza looked right into her sister’s eyes and assured her.

Jenny Lee squeezed her hand without much strength. “I know you will.” The medicine had taken its

effect, and her eyes drifted closed. “I’m going to rest for a few minutes.”

Her lashes lay against the dark hollows under her eyes. With her blue eyes closed, she didn’t even look

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like herself. Eliza often washed and curled her hair, but it was thin and lank. Eliza swallowed a painful

lump in her throat and fought tears. A show of emotion wouldn’t help a thing. Strength would.

“I love you, Liza.” Jenny hadn’t opened her eyes, for which Eliza was grateful. Pain was sure to be

evident on her face.

“I love you, Jenny.”

Once she was sure her sister slept comfortably, she slipped out of the room. In the hall, she stood with

her back against the wall, a great weight crushing her heart, and the pull of tears threatening her last

shreds of composure. As sorrow washed over her in cresting waves, she clasped both hands to her

breast, and pressed her fingers to her lips to hold back sobs. If she started now, she would never stop.

After several minutes, she took a deep breath, collected herself and made her way downstairs. She

found Tyler working on his arithmetic assignments in the kitchen. She stoked the oven and checked the

temperature to bake the bread. “I remember sitting here doing my schoolwork when I was your age.”

Jenny’s talk had kindled memories, and Eliza ached for happy carefree times. Jenny Lee had never been

strong, not even then, but the seriousness of her heart condition hadn’t been apparent. They’d simply

been two young girls with two parents, sharing the comfortable home their father had built for them and

that their mother ran with aplomb.

“And Mama, too? Did she do her arithmetic right here?”

“That she did.” She cut him a wedge of cheese and poured him a cup of milk.

“Is she as good at numbers as you are, Aunt Eliza?”

Eliza put on a kettle of water for tea and sat across from him. “Her strengths tend to lie in word studies,

subjects like spelling and English. As I recall she was very good at geography, as well. We always

dreamed about the faraway places we would see one day.”

“Did you ever?”

She studied his fingers on the pencil. “No. We never traveled farther than Denver.”

“Maybe we could all go.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. He had confirmed his understanding that Jenny Lee would not get

better, but did he truly comprehend that she was going to die?

A stab of pity snatched her breath and formed an aching knot in her chest. He was too young to learn

this particular life lesson. “Tyler,” she said, approaching the subject cautiously. “You understand that

Mama is very, very sick, don’t you?”

He nodded, keeping his gaze on his paper.

“And you know that…” She pursed her lips to keep them from trembling. “You know she won’t be with

us much longer.”

He didn’t look up. “She’s gonna die.”

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“Yes.” She barely managed a whisper.

“She told me.”

Eliza studied the curve of his cheek, the delicate sweep of his pale eyelashes and experienced a swell of

love. Of course her sister had prepared him. Jenny Lee loved him more than life. Again, she blinked back

the sting of tears.

At last he raised those bright blue eyes to hers. Eyes as earnest and clear as Jenny Lee’s had once been.

“She said not to be afraid ’cause you’d take care of me always. Will you?”

Nothing could stop her. Nothing. And no one. She got up and placed her cheek against his. “Of course I

will. Always. I promise.”

Jenny Lee didn’t have much appetite, but that evening Eliza managed to get her to sip a cup of broth and

take some tea before giving her the medicine and making her comfortable.

She had tucked Tyler into bed and returned downstairs where she sorted laundry in the washroom

beyond the kitchen. She sent out bedding and most of the clothing, but she washed her own and Jenny’s

Lee’s delicate garments herself. She packed the laundry into bags, which would be picked up the

following morning, and set her wash load aside.

A sound alerted her to her brother-in-law’s presence, and her senses went on alert. Alarm prickled

along the skin on her arms and neck. She stepped to the doorway.

Royce stood on the far side of the kitchen. His shrewd gaze crawled over her. He was dressed as

impeccably as always in a dark coat and white shirt, his brown hair parted so that it waved away from his

forehead. “I’ll take my supper now.”

“I’ll get your plate from the oven.” She walked around the opposite side of the table and grabbed one of

the flour sacks Nora had layered and sewn for protection from hot pot handles.

Royce’s boot heels struck the wood floor in a rapid cadence a split second before he reached her.

She whirled to face him, her body stiff.

He stopped inches from her. He wore closely trimmed sideburns and a ribbon-thin mustache on the very

edge of his upper lip.

Eliza turned her face to the side to avoid his unbearable nearness and drilling gaze. His breath touched

her chin. Hairs rose on her neck and arm.

“You’re looking lovely tonight.”

“You’re married to my sister.”

“A tenuous bond at the very least.”

Her heart thundered against her rib cage. “How can you treat her death so callously?”

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He leaned forward without actually touching her until his heat scorched her cheek and seared her body.

“It’s business, my dear.”

The sensation of being trapped sent a shudder of revulsion along her spine. She closed her eyes in the

futile hope that she’d open them to find this encounter had only been another menacing nightmare.

“Don’t be so priggish, Eliza Jane. You’re no unblemished paragon of virtue.” She started at the touch of

his finger as he ran it along her jaw. “I expect you’ll be quite an enthusiastic partner once you’ve resigned

yourself to the next phase of our relationship.”

“We don’t have a relationship.”

“Ah, but we will.” His hand circled her wrist, and she spun away from him then, escaping from the heat

of the oven behind her and his menacing overtures.

She darted to the opposite side of the table and stood with her hands on the spindles of the chair back,

bile rising in her throat. “You disgust me.”

“I find the chase quite titillating, actually.” With a swagger, he moved to a chair and seated himself before

the place setting she’d prepared. He adjusted the cutlery in precise alignment before leveling a warning

gaze on her.

“Don’t get carried away, however. There’s a time and a place for everything, and soon your time for

coy resistance will run out. Once Jenny Lee is gone and we’ve served a respectable mourning period,

you will become my wife.”

Eliza stood with her heart in her throat, trapped in this house and under this man’s rule for the time being.

She couldn’t leave Jenny Lee or Tyler. They needed her. He knew it. And he used her love for them to

his advantage.

“It’s the natural course of things in anyone’s eyes,” he added.

A hundred nights she’d lain awake into the wee hours of morning, listening for him, dreading his next

move, imagining endless scenarios of telling Jenny Lee the ugly truth, of going to the marshal, yet always

coming to the same hopeless conclusion: she could not break Jenny Lee’s heart. She would never let her

sister know that Royce had married her for a percent of the brickyard…and that he was awaiting her

death to amass the final ownership.

Once that happened, he would have control. All Eliza could do was bide her time and endure. Shelter

her sister. Protect Tyler. And avoid this deplorable excuse for a human being until—until their situation

changed.

She moved to the oven, took out the hot plate and set it in front of him while guardedly keeping her

distance. Sometimes she was so angry with her father for allowing this to happen that she didn’t know

what to do with those feelings.

“You’re quite transparent, Eliza Jane,” he said. “But resenting me isn’t going to do any good.” He

picked up his fork and knife and sliced the roast. “We both know why you’ll comply.” He took a bite

and chewed before looking up at her again. “But you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

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Anger distorted her vision for seconds and she clenched her teeth, unable to speak.

“You have no legal rights to Tyler unless you marry me.”

“You aren’t human,” she finally replied, venom lacing her tone.

“And you will marry me. Because I have knowledge that will hurt both of you. And you don’t want me

to tell.”

“I could kill you in your sleep,” she said. And God help her, she’d already thought of it. But she was too

much of a coward. What if she went to jail and left Tyler here alone?

Royce actually smiled, something he did rarely, and she suspected it was because one of his front teeth

overlapped the other. “I shall remember to sleep lightly.”

Why should he sleep any better than she?

Once Jenny Lee was gone, Eliza would be forced to put her plan into action, take Tyler and escape.

This house her father had built, the town she called home, all the precious memories, none of it mattered

as much as protecting Tyler.

The bell on the front door screeched as a visitor twisted the handle. Relieved at the interruption, Eliza

tossed down the towel and hurried to answer the call.

A young man in a flannel jacket and mended dungarees stood on the porch holding a fistful of white

daisies. “Miss Sutherland?”

“Yes.”

“These is for you.” He thrust the bouquet into her hands and turned away.

“Wait!” she called, but he was already out the gate and running down the street, where dusk was turning