A Lady in Defiance (6 page)

Should we swoon now?
Naomi wondered. This town positively overflowed with
swaggering, arrogant men. A thought that took her directly back to missing
John....

Mr. McIntyre fished the key out of his pocket and shoved it
in the front door. “Mrs. Miller, after you’ve had a chance to look around, if
you would be so kind as to accompany me to the bank,” he flung the door open
and ushered the group inside, “we can sign the papers and conclude our
business.”

She slid past him without meeting his gaze. “That would be
fine.” The sooner she was done with Mr. McIntyre, the better.

Hands in his pockets, McIntyre watched the sisters stroll
around the large, empty room. Attempting to take his mind off their feminine
curves, he tried to guess what they might see in this empty room. Could they
imagine dining room tables covered with red check table cloths, politely
chatting customers, the sound of klinking silverware? Hugging the far right
wall, L-shaped stairs led to the second floor. He could envision the hotel desk
sitting right below the landing, a few red velvet chairs and a settee gathered
to create a small lobby. At least that was how he imagined it in a few years.
To get started, they would have to be satisfied with log benches and mismatched
furniture gathered up from everyone in town who owed him money.

“Were you raised by wolves, Mr. McIntyre?” Naomi’s haughty
tone and impatient glare perplexed him, until he realized she was looking at
his hat. Memories of being chastised by his mother bombarded him and he
snatched the Stetson off his head. Huffing, Naomi went back to surveying the
new real estate.

The group made their way back to the apartment in the rear,
but McIntyre saw Naomi consider the marshal who had stayed by the front door,
arms folded across his chest as if he was standing guard. He was impressed with
her awareness of her surroundings, a skill he’d learned to appreciate during
the war. The marshal
had
been ordered to keep an eye out for trouble as
McIntyre wasn’t completely convinced O’Banion was through sulking over his
humiliation. McIntyre suspected, though, that if the annoying little Leprechaun
tangled with Naomi again, the outcome would be the same.

Naomi stepped into the small back room and McIntyre heard a
sigh of disappointment. He joined her in the doorway and watched as she and her
sisters assessed the dirty, dusty little room. Barely larger than a generous
parlor, it had one small buck stove anchored against the back wall, a cot
shoved up against the far wall, a few cabinets hung entirely too high on the
left wall and a dry sink situated underneath them. Pretty much nothing in it
was usable for a commercial kitchen.

After the girls spent a few minutes inspecting the apartment,
however, he decided it was time to spell out their next steps. Burning daylight
was not something he ever did on purpose. “My architect, Ian Donoghue, has the
finished blueprints for the hotel. I’ll send him over tomorrow. Feel free to
make changes as you see fit.” Naomi crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
Ignoring the message her stance screamed at him, McIntyre casually rocked on
his heels and addressed her sisters. “All the carpenters in town work for me,
of course.”

“Of course,” Naomi echoed under her breath.

“So I’ll round up a crew to get the renovations started in
here. I’ll have them build some tables for the dining room until we can get
decent ones from Pueblo or Denver. We’ll need to draw up a building plan and
create a list of supplies for the restaurant.” He looked over at Naomi. “I
don’t have enough in my other store to provide for that, but there is a freight
wagon that comes up daily from Silverton and a larger one that comes from
Gunnison. I’ll get you the names of some reliable grocers, farmers, etc.”

He wandered over to the one dirty window in the room and
looked out on the backyard. His leg was weary already and, without thinking, he
dropped his hand down to rub his thigh as he considered the yard. Whicker had
added a small corral and a lean-to, but there was still a roomy hundred feet or
so of grass that rolled down to the banks of the La Plata, the local tributary
to the Animas River. “If you don’t wish to sell your mules and horse
straightaway, you can keep them back there for a while. They’re a little
footsore but they will sell. Animals are always needed for running the freight
wagons−”

“Mr. McIntyre−” Naomi cut him off, stopping his rapid
fire assault of details. “Mr. McIntyre,” she repeated, softening her voice.
“We’re not completely helpless and we would like some say in our own plans. No
one died and made you God.”

He grinned, amusedby her grit. Turning to her, he brazenly
assayed her curvaceous figure and haughty expression and decided it was time to
put her in her place. “I’m the closest thing you’ve got in Defiance, Your
Highness, and I’m only trying to help. We’ll get more done if you won’t try to
be such a royal pain in the a−”

“Mr. McIntyre,” Naomi interrupted again. Breathing faster, he
wondered if from anger or his appraising eye, she took a step towards him.
“Sadly, it is apparent that your help is unavoidable...” She let the insult
sink in then continued. “But we need a few days to...to recover from our trip
and gather our thoughts. Can you understand that? Sampson was my husband’s
horse. He loved that animal. I...” She looked for words, “I−we just can’t
make all these decisions right now.” She crossed her arms tightly across her
chest, sending a clear message. “We need some time.”

He looked at her sisters, saw the lost and bewildered look in
their eyes, and contritely clutched his hands behind his back. “My most sincere
apologies, ladies. I’m a man of action. I don’t believe in wasting time or
opportunities. However, I should learn to be more sensitive. You’ve been
through a lot,” his eyes swung back to Naomi, “all of you.” She only nodded
curtly at his acknowledgement. He stepped outside to the hallway, quickly noted
that Wade was still stationed at the front entrance, and then addressed her
again. “We can go to my attorney’s office whenever you’re ready. I’ll tell Wade
to bring your wagon around. There’s a large stoop just off the back door
there,” he motioned towards the rear of the building. “I’ll also send a man
over to assist with your heavier items.”

“That’s not necessary,” Naomi countered.

“Oh, but I insist. That would be the gentlemanly thing to
do...and I don’t often get to be one of those.”

“Then if you’ll give me a few moments with my sisters, I’ll
meet you out front.” It wasn’t a request.

“Very well.” In parting, he turned to Hannah and Rebecca and
told them, “You needn’t fear for your safety in Defiance. What happened with
the men today won’t happen again. I’ll make it clear that you are not to be
accosted in any way.”

McIntyre sauntered out to the front porch and lit a cheroot.
As he pondered his plans and the next steps for his new tenants, he realized he
should make the offer of a bed. He had an exceptionally large one in storage on
the second floor and they could certainly use it. The thought of telling these
proper young ladies what he’d intended to do with that bed made him smile. He
was willing to bet such carnal ideas had never entered their pretty little heads.

In spite of the erotic goals for the four-poster, he thought
this was a worthwhile sacrifice. He wouldn’t guess how many nights it had it
been since these girls had slept on an actual mattress. Feeling generous, he
gave the marshal instructions for it as the lawman climbed up into the wagon.
As McIntyre walked back to tell the sisters, the sound of Rebecca’s voice
lifted up in prayer stopped him short.

“...and Father, we ask that you would give us courage as we
face the unknown here in Defiance. Help us to rely on you and trust completely
in your plan. We pray especially that you would strengthen Naomi, Father. She
has the difficult burden of dealing with grief on top of all the additional
challenges of building a new life. But your word promises us that you won’t put
more on us than we can bear and we all know how strong you’ve made her. Give
her, give all of us, wisdom and discernment as we deal with each new
situation...”

He turned away and walked back outside, lost in thought.
Memories flooded him and he was ten-years-old again. Sweat trickled down his
brow and his tie grieved him fiercely. He remembered a preacher, new to
Charleston, who had droned on and on in the suffocating August heat about the
Savior’s great sacrifice. Even then McIntyre had been disinclined to accept
that Jesus could love the whole human race so much He would willingly die for
it. But he also remembered his mother beside him on the pew, lost in prayer,
seeking the will of a god who loved her.

He cleared his throat.
But apparently no one else,
he
mused, thinking over the monstrous acts of violence he had witnessed with his
own eyes. God, he had firmly decided years ago, was a crutch for compassionate
and genteel women who would never see the things he had seen.

“You all right, boss?” Wade asked from the wagon seat. “You
look sort of like you got some bad elk.”

McIntyre waved at him with that practiced air of hauteur.
“I’m fine. See to those things I asked you about.” Wade nodded and snapped the
reins.

Strangely disquieted by the prayer, McIntyre took a puff on
the cheroot and wondered if maybe he had made a mistake in letting these women
come to his town. The thought was short lived. How much damage could three
Bible-toting, prudish Southern belles do in a town this mean? They would be
lucky to survive it. He would be lucky to keep them from being kidnapped by
randy miners or renegade Utes. Troubled, he rubbed his neck. Yes, indeed, those
were always possibilities. Muttering a curse, he snuffed the barely smoked
cheroot under his boot and decided he would make sure Wade kept an eye on the
little angels until further notice.

Chapter
5

As the Conestoga disappeared around the corner, Naomi stepped
outside. McIntyre thought she looked, well, refreshed, or at least more
relaxed. That was good, considering what was coming. Maybe she wouldn’t reach
for a gun when she found out the details of this business deal.

“The marshal has taken your wagon around back. I’ve asked him
to find Emilio to help unload the heavy items.”

“Thank you,” she replied, less haughtily than he’d expected.

He pointed across the street. “The bank is just over there.”

“Well, I’m ready.”

As they crossed the street together, McIntyre asked, “When is
your sister’s baby due?” Naomi’s quick stumble and clenched jaw was all he
needed to know he was right. He assumed, therefore, he was right about the
absent father as well.

“Baby? What baby?” He thought her voice sounded shrill and
shaky.

“Come now, Mrs. Miller,” he chided as they negotiated street
traffic. “You should remember that I have several women in my employ. I notice
things about a woman’s figure that most men don’t.”

“What you don’t know. . ” She turned on him as they reached
the boardwalk and raked him with an icy stare that would have terrorized a
lesser man, “is that not everything in Defiance is your business.”

He begged to differ, but didn’t say so. He had acquired
enough of this woman’s animosity and still might have more coming once they
were in the attorney’s office. Acquiescing only for the moment, he ushered her
further down the walk.

“You need to learn the difference between friends and
enemies, Your Highness. Perhaps the question was rather impertinent of me, but
I was thinking of Hannah’s wellbeing. Should she need the services of a doctor
or midwife−”

“We don’t need anything,” Naomi spat without looking at him.

He took the hint and changed the subject. “Speaking of
health, the man you encountered on the street today−”

“
Which
man? The one who took Hannah’s bonnet or the
drunk who nearly climbed in the wagon with us?” McIntyre didn’t miss the subtle
accusatory tone in her voice, as if all the rude behavior in Defiance could be
traced back to him.

“Yes, O’Banion. He doesn’t bring much to this town, but he
does have a lot of friends. In a matter of hours it will be all over Defiance
that you’re not in my employ and neither are you working girls. If there are
any further…
incidents
, I’ll see to it that the marshal and his deputies
camp on your doorstep.”

Naomi looked up at McIntyre with those green eyes that for
the first time weren’t flashing like a storm over the Rockies. For the sweep of
an instant, she unexpectedly lowered the veil of defensiveness and sighed, a
deep, melancholy sound. “Last July we were harvesting corn, planning picnics,
eating fried chicken after church. And now…” She trailed off, pain etching
itself in her furrowed brow and trembling lips.

He wished for something helpful to say but words eluded him.
It had been so long since he had been required to offer even the smallest
amount of comfort to another human that he felt incapable of it. Anything he
could think to say would only earn him a fierce slap across the face and he
preferred to delay that as long as possible.