Liberty Belle (25 page)

Wade roughed Mark’s mop of blond hair. “Sure do.”
Liar.
He’d dreaded taking back the boy. So much uncertainty, so many dangers. But by a half-promise to the kid’s father, Mark was his responsibility, not Libby’s or Flora’s.

Libby swished around the table. “Good, I was hoping you’d arrive a little early. Harley wanted to drive me, but I said no.” She smiled deep, revealing her beguiling dimples. “I have my traveling bag. Would you carry it for me?”

Mark grabbed the handles. “I’ll take it, Miss Libby.”

Wade allowed the kid to get the valise, while he studied her. He was a fool. He’d chosen to let her go, give her to whoever was able to care for her. As much as he wanted to hold her in his arms, he couldn’t take the chance.

Mark turned the bag over to him and skittered for the couch. The boy picked up a small bundle of clothes and ran in his awkward gait. “I got my things. Time I moved out, too.”

Wade caught a stern glance from Libby that warned him not to say no. He nodded, but agreeing with her set off the feelings to run.

“Well, I have been missin’ my partner. Come on. Flora, I’ve got another shirt that needs a button. I’ll bring it over tomorrow.” Wade ushered Mark in front of him and started down the stairs.

Libby ran back inside. “I’ll be there in a moment or two. I feel as if I am forgetting something.”

Women and waiting. Get one and you have the other
. Although if he thought he could care for her, for that woman, he wouldn’t mind waiting. Wade listed the reasons he had to give her up. No money, no home, and no means to support her and certainly not in the ways she was accustomed to. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Wade was sure he was doing the right thing until he noticed Harley standing by the buggy.

“Mark, you set the bag in the carriage. I’ve got some things I need to say to Mr. Mason.” The boy nodded and did as he was told.

Hand on his pistol, Wade walked to the horse, untied the animal, and faced the gambler. “Saloon business slow?”

“No, no. But I thought you and I should have a little talk. Before she comes down.”

“That so? Just what I was about to say.”

Harley stroked the horse’s nose. “I want Miss Libby.” The gambler raised a hand and shook his head. “Now, don’t get the wrong idea, I intend to have her as my wife. I can give her anything she’d ever want or need.”

“Except a good name.”

His gaze fiery, Harley stepped toward him.

Wade clenched his fist and met Harley’s stare. Silence thickened the air between them. Fearing his rising anger and what he might do, Wade conceded, at least to himself. He wasn’t the man for Libby.

Matching Harley’s glare, he shrugged. “Doesn’t concern me, anyway. She’s an independent woman and can make up her own mind.”

“Then you’re blind. But I’m not. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. And you her.” The gambler eased his stance, a puzzled look on his face. “I saw you together the night Mark took sick. So don’t play sly with me. I—”

“You don’t know anything.” Wade turned his back on the man in time to see Libby exit the stairs.

Ignoring Harley and hoping she hadn’t heard, he helped her into the buggy. She shuddered at his touch. That he may have caused her any sorrow sent an ache deep inside him. But he had nothing to offer her but harder times.

She smoothed her dress and settled into the seat. “Thank you for driving me. I couldn’t allow Mr. Rowen to see me with Harley again.”

Her whispered words, fleeting glances at the gambler, and the tremor in her voice, sent Wade’s heart to the ground. She was scared. Again he’d failed her. He climbed into the driver’s seat next to Mark.

Harley held the reins to the horse. “You watch Terrence Rowen. I’ve heard things about him. … I told Flora she can have the room as long as she wants. Her sewing business is doing well.”

“That’s thoughtful of you, Mr. Mason. I believe it’s time to leave. I don’t want to be late.”

She tapped Wade on the shoulder. “I’d like to go now.”

Wade seethed at being talked over by the gambler and Libby. And her tone. Wade’s spine stiffened. Maybe he did abandon her, but he was not her servant. He set the brake and stepped from the buggy. “I need to check the horse.”

She huffed.

After shoving past Harley, Wade took his time and ran a hand down the sturdy bay’s leg and then checked the harness. Anything to show Libby she was not his boss.

Harley draped his arm over the animal’s withers and smirked. “Horse looks fine to me. But I can understand the need to, ah, check. Make sure she knows her place.” He bent and patted the horse’s flanks. “This is a mare, isn’t it?”

Libby rose from her seat. “Well! You are the rudest man.”

Wade wanted to shake Harley’s hand, instead he smacked the gambler’s arm. “Out of my way. The lady doesn’t want to be late.”

With a sly grin, Harley straightened. “We’ll settle this later.”

Wade climbed into the driver’s seat.  “Already been settled.” He slapped the reins and heard a grunt from behind.
Libby
. He turned. She was plopped across the seat, eyes blazing and cheeks blushing.

Not wanting to provoke her further, he nudged Mark. “We’ll stay on this street for a while.”

The boy gave him a weak smile.

After a few splutters and the sound of her straightening her dress, Libby tapped him on the shoulder. “You are as rude as that gambler.”

“Sorry, but I’m not used to being ordered around. I’ll get you there in plenty of time.” Wade pointed at a cross street and helped the kid guide the horse around the corner.

“Ordered? I did no such thing.” Her voice was high, irritated, and the words drawled.

Wade turned to her. “That’s how it sounded to me.”

Her eyes got misty.

He cringed.
Don’t cry
. “Libby, I, uh, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Let’s—”

“Wade, do you think we can stop and talk?”

Trouble
. He was getting in over his head. “Mark, stop in front of the Emporium. I’ll give you a nickel and you can pick some candy.”

The store came into view. He helped the boy stop the team, fished a coin from his pocket, and handed it to Mark.

“Oh, boy. Thank you, Mr. Wade.” Mark ran to the store.

Wade stepped around to the side of the buggy to stand by Libby. “If I know boys, it’ll take him at least ten minutes to choose.”

Libby gave him a weak smile. “What happened? Did I do or say something to make you angry?” She set her hand atop his.

At her touch, hot fire shot through him and rendered his tongue useless and his mind in a muddle. Helpless to speak a word, he shrugged.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Her eyelashes waved, and a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Like a diamond on creamy skin
. That’s what he’d thought when he first saw her. Wade rescued his hand and hoped to regain the use of his tongue. He tilted his hat up and hoped he had the words to make her understand.

He took in a deep breath, looked her in the eye, and melted. “Libby, you mean more to me than life, but I have nothing to offer you. Best you forget about me and find someone who can care for you the way you’re accustomed.”

“I don’t want to forget you. I can’t forget you. I—”

“It’s best. Here comes Mark.” He turned from her. Before she worked her wiles on him. Before he changed his mind. Before he drove her to Sweeny’s Livery.

###

Libby settled against the quilted padding of the buggy seat.
Best if I forget him?
Who does he think he is? She eyed the dark curls gracing the nape of his neck. The tempting waves of hair that begged her fingers to touch them. Unsettled, she wondered about the conflicting emotions he’d set off. She wasn’t sure that if she had the chance she’d kiss him or strike him. Well, she wasn’t about to forget Wade Calder. He felt the same sparks she did. She was sure of it.

They rode on in silence. Her heart had almost quieted when Wade pointed ahead. “There’s the house. Looks like Mr. Rowen’s business, whatever it might be, is doing well.”

The air in her lungs refused to leave. A two-story house, as fine as any she’d ever seen, sat atop a hill. Neatly painted a dusky blue with yellow trim and real windows, the house was clearly the nicest she’d seen in Denver. A balcony overlooked the city, and in front of the house, a garden of roses greeted her.

The perfect house for a southern gentleman. Perhaps her fortune was turning. No more dodging a rude gambler and begging for her bread and room. She’d be safe here. Mr. Rowen appeared to be such a nice man. Refined and educated, he was a refreshing change from what Denver had shown her so far.

Wade didn’t say anything more. He flicked the reins and drove up the long drive. Finally, he stopped in front of the house.

A servant strode toward them. “You must be Miss Longstreet.”

“Yes, I hope we have come in a timely manner?”

“Mr. Rowen is waiting in the parlor.” He motioned to Wade as if he were flicking off a pesky fly. “Leave her things. I’ll attend to them later.”

Libby allowed the man to help her. She peered over her shoulder at Wade. He tipped his hat and turned the buggy. She couldn’t read his face. Anger? Sadness? Relief? 
No matter.
I will not forget you.

Waving away the buggy’s dust, she stared at his back. Not ready to enter the house, not ready to abandon the hope he’d turn and look at her. Ready to run after him if he’d given any encouragement. But he hadn’t, and she didn’t.

“This way, Miss.”

Setting her sadness aside, she followed the servant, noticing his coat was dusty and shoes scuffed. His accent was southern, but his poor manners were definitely not as she was accustomed. He held the door for her, and she entered.

The house was as beautiful inside as out. Polished mahogany tables in the foyer were decorated with silver candlesticks. Yet, the big house did not have the welcome feeling of home, and there was no sign of children.

Footsteps clicked on the tiled floor.

She swallowed.

Terrence Rowen, hand outstretched, entered the foyer. “Miss Longstreet. How wonderful to have you in my home. I hope you don’t mind. I have seen to it that the children will dine upstairs so we might be able to discuss the terms of your employment.”

She nodded. The man’s presence was commanding. He was strong, tall, and neatly dressed in a dark suit with gold vest. She gave a slight curtsey, accepted his arm, and allowed him to escort her to a grand dining room that was complete with a table long enough to seat twelve.

He pulled out a chair for her and sat next to her at the head of the table. Rowen placed his hands together, his index fingers pointed up. “Now, about your qualifications for the job. Have you taught before?”

Hoping the expression on her face belied the twisting in her stomach, Libby smiled confidently. “I taught the children in church for several years. I am educated through the grades, and schooled by my mother and her love for books.”

“You do know how to handle children then.” He gave her a pleasant smile, showing straight white teeth. “Well, I think you will do fine, Miss Longstreet.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rowen.”

“Terrence, since we will be living in such close proximity, I think it acceptable if you call me by name. May I call you, Libby?”

Close proximity
. Why did she feel like she’d exchanged one trouble for another? Probably just nervous misgivings. For her to be in the house of such an exceptional gentleman was definitely Providence.

“Yes you may call me, Libby. Although in front of the children, I should like to be called Miss Libby so as to keep a decorum of authority in the children’s view. I found that worked best in my teachings.”

“Good. Now about your pay. Like I said there is the modest cabin behind the main house that you can use for your residence, or if staying alone in the cabin is too frightful for you, I can arrange a room upstairs for you instead. I was thinking fifty dollars a month to start. Do you find that agreeable?”

Libby restrained herself from shouting. “Yes, most generous, and I’d like to stay in the cabin. I am not a fearful person.”

No thanks to her mother who had regularly stopped Libby from striking out on her own. Grinning inside, she breathed in the air of freedom and the fact that Mother could no longer dash her dreams.

Mr. Rowen …
Terrence
, she reminded herself, rang a bell. Instantly, the servant returned carrying a platter of roast, potatoes, and carrots.

Now, her stomach wanted to shout. She’d not eaten this well since she’d left home. Sadness latched onto her heart. Perhaps being in this huge house set off the pangs for her mother and father while the delicious aroma reminded her of their cook.

“Is there something else?” Terrence’ lips formed a perplexed frown.

“No, no. I confess I was thinking of my home in Missouri.”

“Missouri? Thought you were from the Atlanta area.”

Libby patted her lips with the elegant white napkin. “I was born in Auraria, Georgia, while my parents were visiting my father’s people. We did have a plantation in Atlanta from my mother’s side.” She cleared her throat. “Several years ago, my father was forced to sell, and we moved to Crimson, Missouri.”

“I am sorry to hear of your family’s misfortune. How—”

“I assure you, we did quite well. There was no misfortune.” She’d seen a displeased look settle on his face and thought she needed to quiet any misgivings he may have about hiring her.

He nodded. The pleased smile of his eyes told her she’d assumed too much. “I was going to ask how you and your aunt came to Denver, alone?”

Her mind whirled. Just how could she explain and still appear respectable? Jilted bride did not exactly make for a good reason. Then she smiled. “I read about a woman climbing Pike’s Peak and was in the process of seeking my own independence to find my way in the world. What’s more, I believe I have a place in this town. I belong here.”

He sat back in his chair. His brows raised in what she believed to be admiration. “I see. You sound exactly like the kind of woman I that I want to teach my children. Since I mentioned them, I’ll tell you about them. Robert is my son. He is seven and can be a handful as most boys tend to be. Little Jane is five. She is a doll in the very image of her mother.”