Tall, Dark, and Determined (18 page)

She raised a hand to rub the bridge of her nose, hoping to ward off an impending headache. The resulting sting in her shoulder made her gasp, realizing she'd been far more active than the doctor authorized after her cougar run-in yesterday. Worse, her gasp made Dunstan's eyes narrow, bringing her an awareness that she hadn't responded to his question.

“What?” Lacey tried to sound unconcerned, but rather thought she might have sounded confused because Dunstan's expression softened slightly. There, in the way the lines of his jaw became less tense and his brows rose a fraction.

“I asked if that was what you were doing,” he repeated, reaching for her elbow and leading her to sit upon the large boulder's smaller cousin nearby. “Trying something new, I mean. Most don't find solitary walks overly interesting, and it's obvious the women of Hope Falls already think for themselves.”

“Oh?” Suspicion tinged the question, but his answering smile hid no barb. “Well …” She relaxed a bit but played for time as she answered. “If you were never allowed to do it, you might not think so little of going for a walk alone, you know.”

“You mistake me.” He answered after a lengthy pause, during which he seemed to be considering her limitations. He sank down, resting lightly upon his heels and drawing her arm forward to rest upon her knees, where it didn't pull against her bandages. “I spend a great deal of time walking alone. I enjoy it.”

“Though I doubt I'll ever be allowed enough experience to form an opinion, I might share your affinity for the pastime. I envy you the freedom to explore it, Mr. Dunstan.” She cocked her head to the side, stretching her neck. Honesty compelled her to add, “Though I doubt walking alone is what you meant earlier.”

Again, the fleeting hint of a smile, gone before she could be sure. “I hoped talking to yourself ranked as a new activity.”

“I'm afraid not,” she confessed. “I find I'm good company for those times when I've something controversial or unpleasant to say and don't wish to burden others with the conversation. Or, conversely, they make it clear they don't wish to hear it.”

“Airing your grievances, so to speak.” He pushed back to his feet and offered her his hand, his expression inscrutable.

“Precisely.” She took it, startled by the warmth of his strong grasp as he led her over the rocks and back to the earthen portion of the path she'd traversed on her way to him.

“If you've a grievance against me”—his grip tightened when she began to draw her hand back—”I would listen, Miss Lyman.”

She'd tracked him down to give him a piece of her mind and demand his cooperation, but now that he asked for her thoughts, she found herself reluctant to share them. After all …

“It is not your fault you can enjoy more freedom in my town than I myself will be afforded. But it chafes, Mr. Dunstan. It rankles that you were hired—twice—without my approval and, indeed, once despite my express displeasure at the prospect.”

She met his gaze unflinchingly, waiting for some response. He offered none, but did not break the eye contact. Nor did he release her hand from the reassuring warmth of his own.
We are stuck together, he and I
, she mused.
So long as he remains, and that is something I accept I have no say in, we must be allies. I don't know how much to trust him, but I know enough to be honest with the basics he must have surmised by now
.

So she plunged forward. “I do not know you, but you have seen me at my lowest point and that concerned me. My workers must not perceive me—nor any of us women—as weak. And recent events have greatly undermined us in that regard.”

Here she stopped. She saw no need to share more about those recent events than he might already know. No doubt Granger shared whatever particulars he felt pertinent—and no doubt even that was more detail than Lacey cared for Mr. Dunstan to be told. For instance, he might already know about Twyler's abduction and her subsequent rescue, which was not something she wanted running through his mind whenever he looked at her.

It simply didn't put one in a flattering light.
Not
, she caught herself,
that I want Mr. Dunstan to flatter me
. But almost being crammed into the base of a dead tree hardly ranked as an identifier to inspire respect or establish her authority.

“I see.” He gave a single nod and released her hand.

What he saw remained a mystery, but he looked far more businesslike. Never mind the sudden chill now that his hand didn't hold hers and he'd turned the intensity of his gaze away.

She pressed onward. “We're trying to accomplish something entirely new here. Not just the sawmill—there are other sawmills. But women as partners in business and managers of property, capable of more than adorning a man's life and home.”

A long moment of silence stretched between them, pulling her nerves before he finally gave voice to his response.

“Capable is not the same thing as able. In business, there are allowances which must be made, and many will not be willing to concede them to women.” He reached down to rub Decoy's ears. “It is both a surprise and mystery how women run a town at all.”

“And no doubt it will be an even greater surprise and mystery to many when we turn it into the most successful sawmill in these parts, Mr. Dunstan.” She squared her shoulders. “But make no mistake. We will succeed. Come what may, whatever price we must pay, Hope Falls will be the proof of what women can do.”

He looked up so fast it seemed his neck might crack, and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “With the help of men.”

“Why not?” She barely kept herself from taking a step back, so intense had he become. “Women helped men for centuries.”

“Be careful what deals you strike and where you find yourself compromising, Miss Lyman. Some decisions cost dear.”

“I know, Mr. Dunstan.” She drew a deep breath, pushing back thoughts of Braden's anger, of the unsuitable suitors swarming Hope Falls intending to court herself and Naomi, of the many mishaps they'd already encountered.
Surely things will improve?

She steeled herself to finish. “No cost can be too great to gain one's dream and further one's freedom.”

“Don't even think about moving,” Braden ordered. “It's my turn.”

Cora blinked at him. “No, you just moved your knight, and I've still not gone. It simply takes me longer to strategize.”

“Strategize?” He gave a snort loud enough to make an ox proud. “Is that what they call cheating these days? If so, I don't know why I'm surprised to find you excel at it.”

Refusing to rise to his bait, Cora moved her rook and took one of his pawns, carefully lining it with two others along the left side of the board as her fiancé continued his diatribe.

“Though you sell yourself short. You, along with our sisters, are swift enough in bilking a man out of his property.” To punctuate the statement he reached over and flicked the pawn, sending it tipping into its fellows and toppling all three.

“That was unnecessary, Braden Lyman.” Cora righted the pawns and corrected her errant betrothed in one gesture. “Besides, I believe you'll find ‘your property' “—she curled her fingers in the air as she spoke the words—”better cared for and much improved for our brief tenure as landholders.”

“Tenure?” Another snort made Cora idly upgrade Braden to an ox with a cold. “Usurpation, you mean. And you sound like my mother or a bitter schoolmarm, calling me ‘Braden Lyman.' “

“Your mother would be appalled by your lack of manners, and we'd both agree you could use some schooling to regain them.” Her anger, always at a slow simmer these days, became hot enough to burn the back of her throat with words best left unspoken.

“Careful, Cora,” he cautioned as he snagged one of her bishops. “Schoolmarms are usually bitter old maids. It's starting to look as though you fit the bill nicely enough.”

That stung. Tears needled behind her nose, pricked beneath her lids, but she blinked them back and sought refuge in prayer.

Every time I see him, he reminds me he's tried to throw me over. Lord, how am I to continue to love him when he's not the Braden I knew? How do I go on when the promise I gave is now at odds with the hurt of my heart? I wait on You to bring about a change in him and to give me peace until that day
.

Seeking the Lord gave her the strength to respond.

“We both know better. I won't release you from our engagement, Braden, so you might as well stop acting like a petulant child picking a fight.” She shifted her queen. “Check.”

“I'm not picking a fight.” He stared at the board, avoiding her gaze. “I'm trying to avoid a lifelong battle.” He moved his piece away from her queen, much as he had been distancing himself from her since the moment she arrived in Hope Falls.

“Men live with the decisions they've made.” She waited until he had no choice but to look at her. “I'm one of the best decisions you can lay claim to, and I'm not going away.” Cora sprang her trap, moving her own rook. “Checkmate.”

    FIFTEEN    

Y
ou should stop playing with her, Lyman,” Jake observed. He strode into the room after Cora flounced out, having waited while the two exchanged chess pieces and verbal spars with increasing ferocity. “We all know she's going to win.”

“I'm usually better,” his friend grumped as he started setting the board. “Why don't you get over here and try me?”

“Because I wasn't talking about chess.” Jake dropped into the chair Cora so recently left, but only after he turned it around so he could straddle it and rest his arms along the back.

Braden froze in the act of setting down a pawn then slowly pulled his hand back. “Don't know what you mean, Granger.”

“I'd tell you not to act dumb with me, but given the way you've been treating your fiancée, I can't be sure it's an act.” Jake watched irritation flash across the other man's face, swiftly replaced by consternation before his shoulders slumped.

“Whatever it is, Granger, it's not working.” Lyman gave a gusty-guts sigh. “Not even a little bit. Doesn't matter how mean I manage to be to her, how well I ignore the way she looks and how good she smells, how often I tell her I don't want to marry her, Cora won't have any of it. Says I'm stuck.”

If the man before him didn't look so miserable, Jake would've gone ahead and laughed. As it was, he fought for a straight face and asked, “I'm assuming you don't let slip any of that stuff about how pretty she looks or how good she smells?”

Lyman's head shot up. “Hey now! You're not supposed to be noticing things like that about my Cora. I thought you were good and wound up over Evie, or I would've warned you that I'm not going to tolerate you sniffing around Cora for half an instant.”

At this, Jake let loose a guffaw. Shaking his head, he hooted, “And you sit here wondering why you haven't managed to convince her you don't want to marry her anymore?”