The Diamond of the Rockies [03] The Tender Vine (3 page)

“And I was at least half responsible for it being threatened.”

Quillan ignored that. Maybe it was God who had brought things in this direction. Maybe if he focused on the fact that Makepeace had driven away the thugs, if he found a means to compensate that debt . . . maybe then he could keep the crushing jealousy in check. “I have a friend in Leadville who might front you the money. You can make arrangements for repayment with him. If you’re interested.”

Alex Makepeace looked dazed. “A friend?”

“Horace Tabor. You’ve heard of him?” Quillan quirked an eyebrow.

“The silver king?” If it was possible, Makepeace looked more dumbfounded yet.

Quillan hiked one side of his mouth. “I’m off to see him later this morning if the weather holds. Should be a two-day turnaround. Get the records together for me and consider coming along.”

Alex Makepeace dropped his forehead to his fingertips, as though the thoughts that coursed through his brain made it heavy to hold up.

Quillan said, “Think about it. It’ll be an hour or two before I’m ready to leave.” He stood, met Alex Makepeace’s eyes briefly, then turned and left.

Carina laid the book down across her lap when Quillan pushed open the door with a burst of wintry air. Sam scooted in around him, greeted her, then returned to Quillan’s side, tail wagging, as though he shouldn’t let him far from his sight. Carina felt a tingle of foreboding. Something in Quillan’s expression . . .

He stopped at the foot of her bed, parted his buckskin coat, and tucked his hands into his canvas pants pockets. “Carina—”

“Don’t say it.”

He cocked his head. “Say what?”

“You’re leaving.”

His nose was chapped with cold, his lips grayish against his still unshaven face. “I’m only going—”

She clapped her hands to her ears. “I knew it! One night you spend with me, and off you go. Why did I think anything would change? Why did I—”

In three strides he had circled the bed. He grabbed her hands from her ears. “Will you listen to me? I’m only going to Leadville. I’ll be back tomorrow, weather permitting.”

“Why? I thought you would stop freighting. Isn’t that what you said? You would do whatever it took to stay here with me?” She started to shake. It sharpened the pain in her back where the worst of the blows had threatened her kidneys.

“It’s important. I’m taking Alex Makepeace with me.”

That caught her short. What could he possibly be doing with Alex? He eyed her grimly. How long would Alex’s name bring a shadow between them? She sagged onto the pillows behind her.

Quillan held her hands between his. His eyes took on the stormy intensity she knew so well, like the tingle in the air before lightning slices the sky. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

She turned away. All she knew was his leaving kindled the pain of his desertion and the loss of their baby. “So go.” What should she care?

“Carina”—he pressed her hands—“I have things to do.”

“So have I.” She felt him stiffen.

He reached over and turned her face to his. “No, you don’t. You be still and heal.”

She didn’t answer. She felt too weary to do anything else, but she wouldn’t ease his worry by telling him so.

“Give me your word, Carina.”

She said nothing.

He scowled. “You have plenty of Italian names for me. I wish I knew the female equivalent of some of them.”

She almost smiled, he caught her so off guard. Then the hurt of his leaving chased away her mirth. “Why are you taking Alex?”

“Business.” His voice chilled.

“With the mine?”

“Yes.”

She raised up slightly. “Has something happened?”

He pressed her back down. “Nothing to concern you.”

“Oh!” She pushed his hand away. “As though I haven’t fed and encouraged and—”

“I’m well aware of your efforts, Carina. But nothing is wrong with the mine.” His voice was level, reassuring.

She was being childish and petulant. She knew it. But this man brought out the worst in her. The worst and the best. She softened. He was trying, was he not? “Can you travel on the snow?”

“The pack should be hard enough. You’ve seen me use the chains, and I’ve spiked the wheelers’ hooves.”

“You have to go?”

He didn’t answer, though his eyes said he wouldn’t otherwise.

She sighed. “Then I suppose . . .” She looked up at the knock on the door.

Quillan crossed and opened the door to Alex Makepeace. Carina’s heart jumped. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the attack, and even then she’d been all but unconscious. Mae had mentioned that he asked after her, but he hadn’t once come to see for himself. Because Quillan had come home.

Now with the two of them together, the air crackled. Blood burned her cheeks as she met Alex’s eyes and realized how far she’d let things go. Quillan must see it, too. She was suddenly aware that she was in her bed, covered with blankets and a woolen shawl over her shoulders, her hair loose over her shoulders. She could imagine the picture she presented.

Alex took off his hat and held it to his chest. “How are you, Carina?”

Her throat tightened sharply. “Better than I might be without your help.” How stiff she sounded. “I never thanked you.”

“Your husband has.”

Implicit in that was the conclusion to their friendship. They could not return to a superficial acquaintance.

Quillan said, “You’re ready?” His voice sounded as tight as Carina felt.

Alex nodded.

Quillan moved between them. “I have the wagon provisioned. You have the documents?”

Documents? What were they doing? Business, Quillan said, business with the mine that didn’t concern her. Alex nodded, careful not to look her way again. She wished he would, but then she didn’t. It was Quillan’s glance she craved.

Quillan said, “I’ll meet you at the livery as soon as I take leave of my wife.”

Now Alex did look. “Good-bye, Carina. I hope your recovery is swift.”

She forced a smile, but no words came. It hurt to see him so withdrawn, he who had upheld her hopes and spirits, given her kindness and compassion and good humor. Though chaste, they had crossed emotional boundaries. And he was hurt by it. She must never let that happen again.

Quillan closed the door behind Alex and returned to the bedside. “I won’t be later than tomorrow unless—”

“Your safety is first.” She reached a hand to his sleeve. “Don’t take risks you shouldn’t.”

He frowned. “Are you afraid for me or for him?” His anger flashed, then receded. He dropped to a squat and clasped her hand. “I’m sorry. I had no right to say that.” But she knew he’d seen her affection for Alex, and it burned him. What in another man might be jealousy, in this one was poison.

She started to speak, but he covered her lips with his hand. “You don’t owe me an explanation, and frankly, nothing you say would speak more truly than your face already did. But I’ll tell you one thing, Carina.

No one will have the chance to take my place again. No one.”

A soft whimper escaped her throat as he caught her face between his hands and stared at her hard until she thought she could bear it no longer. “Nothing short of a blizzard will keep me away tomorrow.” He stood, but his gaze lingered on hers. “I’ll even bring Alex Makepeace back with me.” He gave her his rogue’s smile.

It tugged at her heart, made it leap inside her breast. Certainly he would kiss her; she wanted him to. But he backed two steps away from the bed, turned slowly on his heel, and crossed to the door. Sam sprang up, but he ordered the dog to stay, then left them.

Sam whined at the wood separating him from his master. His whole body swung with the wag of his tail, hoping the door would open and the hand he craved wave him on. As the moment passed and Sam’s sharp ears told him Quillan was gone, he dropped his head and padded to her bedside, his brown eyes forlorn.

“I know how you feel.” Carina stroked his head. “But he’ll be back.” She wished she felt more certain of that.

T
HREE

To claim I am a man betrayed and rant against my plight,
I must admit I should have stayed and kept her in my sight.

What fool to flee her sweet embrace,
to tear her love apart, and let another take my place within her weeping heart.

—Quillan

Q
UILLAN AND ALEX MAKEPEACE
rode the steep, snow-packed road between Crystal and Leadville. It might have been easier to travel horseback, but with the wagon, Quillan could make the trip count twice. He’d bring back a light load, things he could sell at a profit in Crystal, which was less accessible than Leadville. He’d already resupplied Carina’s larder, but there were plenty of others, Mrs. Barton in particular, who would pay well for anything he brought her.

And if they were stopped by a storm, the wagon would provide shelter. He’d spent one night beneath it with Carina while a blizzard raged around them. He didn’t warm to the thought of doing the same with Alex Makepeace, but weather was chancy in the mountains. Better to be prepared.

At least Makepeace didn’t expect conversation. At most they discussed the mine and a little of the industry. Makepeace was sharp enough and educated. If Quillan cared to, he might learn a lot about mining from the man. But just now his intentions were to rid himself of the New Boundless and cut loose of Crystal. As soon as Carina could travel. As soon as she was well. Dr. Felden believed she would recover if she gave herself time to heal.

Makepeace cleared his throat. Quillan waited for him to talk, but the man settled back into his thoughts. Quillan returned to his own. This trip hadn’t exactly been what he intended. Quillan had intended to seek Tabor’s advice, but he hadn’t premeditated his offer to Makepeace. If that was how God worked, Quillan had better keep his wits sharp.

But it was a sound plan. Owning the New Boundless would keep Makepeace in Crystal, a detail that had occurred to Quillan after he left Carina. A thousand miles between Crystal and Sonoma should be just about right.

Maybe Horace Tabor was not interested in another mine, but he’d know who was. And the New Boundless was successful. Tabor would wonder at Quillan’s decision. But then Horace Tabor had yet to get a handle on him. Quillan half smiled. He sort of liked it that way.

They reached Leadville by late afternoon, just as the sun left the sky. Quillan left the wagon in the livery. He paid the ostler for feed, then turned to Makepeace. “First, I have some freight to collect. Then we’ll see Hod Tabor. You’ll need a hotel.” The Tabors would likely offer a room in their home, but he didn’t fancy sharing it with Alex Makepeace. The hours in the wagon had allowed plenty of time to stew on Makepeace’s relationship with Carina, and the dragon was twisting again.

“Meet me here in an hour.”

Makepeace nodded and headed for the hotel on the corner. Quillan worked quickly to collect goods for the trip back. In just short of an hour he returned to the livery and found Makepeace waiting. He took the New Boundless documents, and they boarded the horse car, which carried them to Tabor’s street.

They discovered the Tabors were at dinner, and as Quillan and Makepeace were shown to the dining room, Tabor stood. “Quillan!” He gripped his hand. “You show up at the queerest times. Augusta and I were just discussing you.”

“All good, I hope.” Quillan reached down to where Augusta sat, took her hand, and covered it with his other palm.

“Hello, Quillan. You’re quite robust, I see. Altogether recovered since the last time we met.”

Quillan softened his gaze. “Thanks to your kindness, Augusta.”

“Hmm.” She sniffed. “And who is this you’ve brought?”

Quillan turned. “Alex Makepeace, may I present Horace and Augusta Tabor.”

With a look close to awe, Makepeace shook hands with each.

Quillan turned to Tabor. “Have time to talk business?”

Augusta stood abruptly. “Certainly not on an empty stomach. If I know you, Quillan, you’ve dragged this poor fellow through the snow without a morsel to warm or sustain him. Am I right?” She addressed Alex Makepeace.

“Unless you consider hardtack a meal.”

“Humph.” She walked to the wall and pushed the third button in the row. A dull ring vibrated through the wall. When the maid appeared, Augusta ordered soup and bread, then turned. “With the sun setting so early we dine at an uncivilized hour.” She waved a hand toward the table. “Please. I daresay Horace won’t refuse a second slice of pie?”

Tabor settled back into his place at the head of the table. “If I must, my dear.” He patted his thickening waist. Still, for a man in his middle years, he was fit and elegant. And he now took charge of the conversation as Quillan and Makepeace ate. Quillan’s thoughts wandered when talk turned to mining, as inevitably it would, but Tabor and Makepeace held forth at length and with much gusto.

After a flavorful venison soup and crusty bread, Quillan eyed the piece of mincemeat pie placed before him, then sent a grateful nod to Augusta. Her gaze was on him already.

“And how is your wife, Quillan?” Augusta asked it softly, but Tabor seized on it and pounced.

“Ah, yes, your wife.” He turned to Makepeace with a rascally smile. “I only half believe he has one.”

Makepeace set his fork on the edge of the desert plate. “He has.” He flicked his glance Quillan’s way.

“And she’s ugly as an Angus heifer?”

“Hod.” Augusta frowned.

Makepeace hid his discomfort almost well enough. He shook his head. “She’s not ugly. Far from it.”

“Now are you satisfied, Hod?” Augusta pushed against his arm. “I hope that’s the last we’ll hear in that vein. Besides, beauty isn’t everything.”

From a plain woman, that was especially poignant, and Quillan hoped Tabor would drop it. The last thing he needed was a discussion of Carina’s attributes with Alexander Makepeace holding forth.

Tabor swabbed his mouth with the napkin. “You had business to discuss?”

Makepeace seemed surprised that Augusta stayed at the table. But Quillan knew better. She was a businesswoman from the first step she’d landed in Leadville. He met Tabor’s querying gaze. “Yes. I’d like to sell my mine.” Quillan took out the papers and laid them before Tabor. “I’ve made an offer to Makepeace here, but he can’t do it alone.”