MB01 - Unending Devotion (22 page)

Would the medicine sufficiently lull the dogs to sleep? Lily took the medicine and lifted the bottles to the light, peering at them more closely.

“One spoonful of the motherwort and two drops of the chamomile potion.” Vera handed her a spoon.

“I suppose. But only if you insist.”

“I insist.” Vera put her hands on her hips. “I won’t stand for you getting sick again. I’m sure your mother, God rest her soul, wouldn’t have stood for it any more than I will.”

Lily pictured the stoic face of her mother in the tiny portrait. She’d looked long and hard at the faces of both her parents that afternoon before she’d stuffed the framed photo into her sack. She’d seen the disapproval in their eyes again over her failure to protect Daisy. And she’d seen anxiety there too. They were waiting, just as she was, for the day of Daisy’s freedom.

Before tucking the picture into the folds of her clothes, she’d kissed the frame and promised them she wouldn’t fail again. She’d get Daisy back.

“How about a flour and onion poultice?” Vera asked, passing her a handful of cookies. “Soaked in a basin of hot water? That’ll help too.”

“Oh, Vera, you’re such a dear.” Lily almost choked over the words, suddenly realizing this would be the last time she’d see her new friend. She wanted to give the woman a hug but knew Vera wouldn’t put up with a gushy display. So she tucked the cookies into one pocket, the medicine into the other, and reached for the woman’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

Then she crossed to Oren in front of the fire. His brow cracked into grooves as deep as tracks left by cutters.

She leaned to kiss his head as she usually did but instead pressed a kiss against his scratchy cheek. The long curled tail of his mustache tickled her chin, and the tobacco scent that was uniquely his brought sudden tears to her eyes.

“What in the hairy hound do you think you’re doing?”

“Just giving you a kiss good-night.” She spun away from him before he could see her sadness. Would this be the last time she’d see Oren too? After she had Daisy, she’d have to run far away someplace safe.

Her heart swelled with a painful ache. Could she really leave Oren? Now that he’d become like family to her? The family she’d never had? After he’d taken her into his home the way no one else had ever done? After he’d given her everything she needed and more?

Was she really doing the right thing?

Tears blurred her vision.

She hurried to the stairway before she started crying in front of them all.

“Wait, Lily,” Connell’s voice called after her.

But she skipped up the steps. She couldn’t say good-bye to him. It was better to pretend she was going up to her bed like she did every other night.

“Lily.” His voice chased after her.

She forced her feet to climb faster.

His footsteps clomped on the steps behind her.

She turned the corner in the stairwell and made it almost to the top before his fingers connected with hers.

He grasped her hand and immobilized her.

She twisted, trying to free her hand from his hold.

“Stop. Please,” he said. “Listen to me. Just for a minute.”

The sincerity in his tone beckoned her to turn, and she couldn’t resist. She wanted one more look at him, one last lingering gaze into his eyes, one final feast of being near him.

On the step above him, she found herself almost nose to nose with him.

“Lily,” he started. His grip around her wrist slackened, but instead of letting go of her, his fingers slid down and intertwined with hers, the hard lengths capturing and fitting into each dip of her hand with an intimate tenderness that left her suddenly breathless.

“I wanted to make sure you’re satisfied with all our plans so far.”

If he was asking her, he must have sensed her resistance even though she’d tried to keep it from showing.

His lips were at the same level as hers, only a hand’s stretch away.

Why hadn’t he ever kissed her? Over the past month he’d had the opportunity—more than once. He’d wanted to kiss her—she’d seen his desire, like now. And he had to know she’d been more than willing to accept a kiss from him.

If she leaned forward, she could easily provide him access. She’d let him give her a good-bye kiss, for after tonight she’d never see him again.

“Lily?” he whispered, almost as if asking permission.

She didn’t know how to kiss a man. She’d never done it before. But she leaned forward enough so that her lips pressed softly to his and clung there for a long breathless moment.

He grew absolutely still and silent. He didn’t respond to her touch, but neither did he push her away.

Had she been mistaken? She’d thought he wanted to kiss her too. A twinge of embarrassment crept over her, and she began to lift her lips away from him.

But his breath came in a soft moan, and suddenly his lips caught hers in a powerful current that pulled her against him so that his mouth covered hers.

The grip of his fingers within hers tightened.

And she found herself drowning in his kiss, the sweetness of it, the sheer pleasure it.

She couldn’t think of anything at that moment except that she wanted to be near him and have him wrap his arms around her.

“What have I done?” he whispered, wrenching his lips from hers. Agony laced his voice. He released her hand and took a step down and away from her. A tempest of guilt raged across the handsome lines of his face.

Was kissing her so wrong?

“I’m sorry, Lily,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I’m not sorry,” she whispered, pulling herself up.

He took another step down, his face growing taut. “It would be so easy to sweep you into my arms, Lily, and to go on kissing you till neither of us can think straight.”

She touched her lips. It
would
be all too easy to let him go on kissing her.

“You’re one of the nicest women I’ve ever met.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers, as if by doing so he could resist the temptation to reach for her again. “And I refuse to treat you anything like a loose woman.”

Loose woman? The words slapped her in the face, jolting her to the reality of the situation. Had she really just thrown herself at Connell? Had she really just whispered that she wasn’t sorry she’d kissed him? Had she so shamelessly wished she could go on kissing him?

“I don’t want to give people any reason to believe the rumors about us,” he said, regret deepening the shadows in his eyes.

Fresh embarrassment tingled over her, and she backed up a step, wanting to disappear altogether. How easy it was in one small moment to lose all self-control and to lower her standards. When she’d always been able to resist thinking about men, how could she cave in so easily now?

What was happening to her? Perhaps she’d fallen prey to the depraved standards of the lumber towns. Since she was surrounded by so many people that had low morals, had she unknowingly begun to lower hers?

Of course, she’d never been in a situation that had tested the strength of her virtue. She’d never cared for a man. Never wanted to kiss one.

Was she just a weak woman in the face of temptation?

Whatever the case, she knew it was time to go.

“Good-bye, Connell,” she whispered.

Then, without waiting for his reply, she spun and raced to the top of the stairs, to the dark hallway, letting the echo of her footsteps drown out the whisper in her heart that urged her to fling herself back into his arms.

Chapter
17

T
he stiff branches above Lily clattered like dry bones. With a shudder, she leaned her head against the trunk of the maple, the lone tree on the hill—one of the few trees left in Harrison, its hardwood unwanted by the lumber companies who fought over the soft wood of the white pine.

In the blackness of the early morning, the pale light from the tavern windows illuminated the barren, gnarled limbs. They reached toward her like claws of a devilish monster. She had no doubt they would snatch her and devour her if they could.

Every shadow, every dark moving shape was a demon. She’d heard the flap of their thin translucent wings. And she’d even seen the flash of fire in a pair of eyes.

She was sitting at the doorstep of hell itself. She’d braced herself for the pit, had told herself she was willing to enter hell for Daisy and to die if need be.

Even so, she couldn’t keep from wondering—was she doing the right thing?

The question had only grown louder with each passing hour, swirling through her blood, chilling it, making it sluggish, until dread had reached every vessel in her body.

Should she have waited to attempt the rescue with Connell and Stuart?

The open gate in the Stockade’s palisade whispered to her, urging her to slip back through it while no one was looking. She still had time to retreat down the hill to the safety of her room in the Northern. No one would have to know she’d gone.

She could wait for Saturday night as the men had planned.

“Get out of here, you good-for-nothing piece of scum!” The rear door of the tavern banged opened, and the shout shattered the eerie silence of the night.

One of the dogs in a pen on the opposite side of the yard began to bark.

Lily shrank against the trunk, trying to make herself invisible. The slight movement sent sharp pains into her cramped limbs and her frozen fingers and toes.

Though it was an early February night, the temperature still belonged to the deep freeze of winter. At least it had lost the arctic frigidness that had blown in with the last storm. The milder sleet and snow showers earlier that night had made the conditions perfect for an escape. Among all the other obstacles, they wouldn’t have to battle blizzard conditions or frostbite.

Yes, she was doing the right thing. The men’s plan had been foolhardy. If she’d gone along with it, she would have sent them to their deaths. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself knowing she’d saved Daisy’s life at the expense of two brave, kindhearted men.

“You ain’t nothing but a worthless drunk!” the same voice bellowed.

Lily peeked around the edge of her hiding spot toward the back door in time to see one of Carr’s wide-shouldered bouncers carrying a shanty boy by his suspenders. The bouncer dug through first one pocket of the man’s pants and then the other, likely emptying them of every dollar the man owned.

Then the bouncer made his way across the yard that was covered with shattered bottles, broken chairs, and refuse Lily couldn’t begin to distinguish. When he reached the gate, he tossed the man outside the compound onto the rocky hill, discarding him like dirty dishwater.

The dog’s barking grew more persistent, and it lunged at the fence of its pen as if it would jump it in one bound if it could.

The bouncer muttered several profanities before closing the gate and turning toward the dog. “Aw, shut up and go back to sleep.”

He grabbed a chain hanging loosely from the gate, wrapped it through the nearest stake of the palisade, and locked it.

Lily allowed herself a breath of relief. Her wait was nearly over.

The clink of the metal chain signaled the end of tavern business for the night. It effectively blocked anyone from coming in or leaving the Stockade. The yard would finally be deserted enough for her to come out of hiding.

When the bouncer made his way back inside, Lily waited until the twang of the piano ceased and the last strains of bawdy laughter faded before she pushed herself up. She winced and hoped her numb feet would hold her weight.

She needed to make her move now or never.

From several other rescues she’d orchestrated that winter, she knew she had only a brief window of opportunity. She needed to act while the majority of men were still inebriated but before dawn brought them out of their beds to start another workday.

She quickly shed the buffalo-skin robe. Oren’s extra trousers hung like a tent from her waist over her thin legs. They were still stiff from the recent washing she’d given them, but her disguise in his clothing had worked. No one had paid attention to her entering the compound earlier.

With frozen fingers, she fumbled in her bag for her molasses cookies. She’d laced them with Vera’s sleeping medicine and prayed the trick would work.

Cautiously she made her way out from behind the tree, hefting her sack onto her shoulder. Only one of the hounds was awake, sniffing along the slats of the fence. When Lily moved, it lifted its head, ears perking and nostrils flaring.

Even on her tiptoes, in the crunch of the freshly fallen ice-snow mixture, her footsteps sounded as loud as a heavy team of oxen.

The dog lowered its mangy head and growled. The jowls pulled taut, revealing sharp fangs.

If the beast started barking again, she was afraid to think what might happen.

Her heart plummeted into a wild dash, and her feet moved just as quickly. She had to silence the beast before it alerted the bouncer to her presence.

In an instant, she was close enough to toss a couple of cookies into the pen. The dog’s growl faded, and it turned to inspect the food. Two more dogs crawled out of the shadowed doghouses and approached the cookies.

The first dog growled again, but this time as a warning for the newcomers to stay away.

Lily threw the remaining cookies toward the other two dogs. “Eat ’em up, boys.”

She didn’t wait to see if the sleeping potion would really work. Instead, she made the most of the distraction to sprint to the building and duck into the shadows. She pressed her back against the siding and dragged in a shaky breath.

Her foot slipped in a puddle of slime. The overpowering bitterness of vomit assaulted her, along with the vinegary stench of whiskey.

She clamped her mittened hand across her mouth and nose and tried not to gag. She’d heard plenty of retching earlier in the night. If rumors were true, the tavern owners often developed their own nasty brew called forty-rod whiskey, named as such because after drinking a shot, the shanty boys claimed they couldn’t walk forty rods without falling down. The concoction also made many of them violently ill.