Hearts in Defiance (Romance in the Rockies Book 2) (35 page)

Fifty-Seven

Once back at Sarah’s, Naomi cried over the reunions.
She cried willingly and without shame. Rebecca threw herself into
Ian’s embrace, nearly knocking him off the porch. He spun his new wife around
like a precious treasure dropped into his arms.

Sarah met the wagon in the yard so Little Billy could greet his
parents. His arms went out to them and as Billy crawled slowly, gingerly off
the tail gate, they all heard, “Dada.”

Billy froze, gazing at his son with stars in his eyes. Grinning,
Sarah handed the boy to his father. Hannah and Billy hugged their baby till the
child must have thought his parents were going to smother him.

As Naomi watched from beside the wagon, a hand slipped into hers,
fingers entwining. Deaf and blind she would’ve known him and she squeezed his
hand in recognition.

“Naomi … we need to talk.”

Charles’ smooth, velvety voice was filled with misery. Dirty,
untrimmed, a bit disheveled, he stole her heart all over again. She nodded, and
he pulled her away from the group. They wandered for several minutes through a
field of sweet-smelling timothy. Beneath a canopy of emerging stars and a
rising, sliver-of-a-moon, he stopped and turned to her. The western sky still
held enough light that she could see him well. She was startled by his troubled
brow and tight lips. “Naomi, I can’t marry you.”

Her jaw went slack and her knees almost buckled. “What? Why?”

“Because I love you too much.” He clutched her hands between them.
“When I looked over Amaryllis’s shoulder and saw what I had done to you, the
pain I caused, I …” he trailed off and shook his head. “I can’t–I won’t—do that
to you again.”

Angry, Naomi snatched hers hands away and stepped back. “Say it
plain. You want that trollop instead of me.

“What? No. God, no, I don’t care if I ever see Amaryllis Dumas
again. Actually, I hope I never do.” He grabbed her shoulders. “I won’t make
that mistake again, but Amaryllis won’t be the last woman to come looking for
me. And what of men like Hawthorn? I can’t keep putting you through that.”

Naomi folded her arms and turned away from him to think. Was this
the truth? Would he walk away from her to save her? For the millionth time, she
saw Rose point her gun at him, saw Charles, unarmed, lunge for the weapon …
to
save her
. Truthfully, she had no doubt there wasn’t any sacrifice he
wouldn’t make for her. So how could she let him go? She loved him, she needed
him, but she couldn’t beg him—wouldn’t. Absolutely would not. Ever.

Such a firm refusal tugged her conscience. Pride, more often than
not, had been at the bottom of Naomi’s biggest mistakes, like running out of
town the other day. Occasionally, it should be set aside. Knowing when—that had
always been the bane of her existence.

“She kissed me, Naomi, but I kissed her back.” A misery welled up
in Naomi that threatened to break free in a humiliating sob. A knife in the gut
would have been less painful. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed a bandana.
No, she definitely wouldn’t be doing any begging. “For a moment I forgot who I
was. And then I heard … a Scripture, and I saw your face.”

Naomi’s shoulders sagged. She knew she couldn’t let him walk away.
If she did, it would be because of her pride. She felt the Lord telling her to
believe in Charles. God had forgiven his sins. Now, together, they had to try
to forget them and build a life together. She was called to be his helpmeet and
denying that would be nothing but disobedience. Besides, how did she know she
wouldn’t have had the same moment of weakness if Matthew had managed to kiss
her?

“What happened next?” she asked, buying time to think.

“Well,” he sounded surprised by the question. Perhaps he thought
she wouldn’t want the details. But she
needed
them. “I pushed her away
and started to run after you. Beckwith grabbed me at the door, though. Said he
needed me to ride in the posse after One-Who-Cries. I asked Reverend Potter to
tell you it wasn’t what you thought. But you never saw him.”

Pride goeth before a fall
, she
thought, kicking herself. “No, I ran as fast and as far away from you as I
could. I jumped on the wagon and rolled out of town.” She turned around and
dropped her arms to her side, surrendering to him and God. “Instead of
believing in you the way I promised I would.” Her eyes locked with his. She
took a slow step toward him and he matched it, though the half-smile on his
lips said he was stuck somewhere between hope and confusion. “Charles McIntyre,
I am not some hothouse orchid. I can take a little pain.” Another step, that he
again matched, bringing them a breath apart. “I’m willing to risk my heart if
you can swear you’ll be faithful to me.”

He took both her hands in his, smiling as if she had no idea how
easy that would be. “You cannot imagine the hell I went through when everyone
was telling me you were dead. I knew you weren’t. I
knew
it. I told God
I couldn’t live if anything happened to you.” He exhaled a long, deep breath,
as if he had narrowly avoided a cliff. “And I told myself that if I loved you,
I’d let you go because it would be the best thing for you. I want what will make
you happy, Naomi.”

She touched his hands, desperate for a kiss, eager to start a life
with him. “Do you hear yourself? You don’t sound like much of a scallywag to
me. Not anymore.”

A hesitant smile tipped his lips. “I believe I’m coming to agree
with that.”

What came over Naomi, she’d never be able to explain, but at the
same moment Charles folded her into an embrace, she squealed with joy and
leaped into his arms, knocking him to the ground. Giddy, exuberant laughter
bubbled up in her and infected him. Together they laughed and hugged and drank
in the freedom to live without fearing the past. Breathless, Charles spun Naomi
beneath him in the timothy. He pressed his lips to her forehead and waited for
his self-control to squash the laughter. After a moment, he spoke, his voice
low and serious. “We are done with the doubts and the second-guessing?”

“We are.”

He pulled back to look at her. “I assume my suggestion that we
call off our wedding has been denied?”

She reached up and trailed her finger over his lips, wishing for a
kiss. “Very definitely, sir. You asked me to marry you. I’m going to hold you
to that.”

~~~

Fifty-Eight

Naomi thought she was prepared for the sight of the hotel, but
nothing was left.
She surveyed the cold, black
ruins, stunned by the devastation. A few pieces of its blackened skeleton
pointed defiantly at the sky. Everything was gone, the building, her clothes,
their furniture, everything. She had the bloodied, pink calico dress on her
back and that was it.

“Don’t worry. Your guests have found other accommodations,”
Charles squeezed her shoulder for reassurance, “and you and your various,
assorted family members will stay at the Iron Horse till we rebuild. I
understand that Ian, Rebecca, and Matthew managed to save a few things. Those
are at the Iron Horse as well.”

She couldn’t imagine what they would all do now. She didn’t want
to go back into the hotel business. The certainty of the thought surprised her.
“I don’t want to work in a hotel anymore, Charles.” A little frightened by her
lack of direction, she turned pleading eyes on him. “What should we do?”

He slipped an arm around her and turned toward the ruins of the
Trinity Inn. “Take it one day at a time, princess.”

~~~

McIntyre made sure to extend his offer of hospitality to everyone
in Naomi’s party, including, and especially, Matthew. While the ladies were out
back enjoying his luxurious bathhouse, he sent Emilio and Billy off to get
dinner from Martha’s kitchen. That left him alone with the giant. Stepping
behind his bar, McIntyre reached for his finest bottle of Irish whiskey.

“Let’s have a celebratory drink—you and I, Matthew.”

Tension singed the air between them as it had ever since
Redemption Pass. Now it was time to get things out in the open. The big man
casually sauntered up to the bar. Both of them still wore their dirty, grimy
clothes. They reeked of sweat and smoke. Matthew’s eyes glittered with
resentment—and defeat.

McIntyre poured the drink in front of him. “Tell me something,
Matthew. If you were willing to let someone shoot me, why didn’t you just do it
yourself?”

He fingered the drink for several seconds before slamming it back.
“Because I’m not a murderer.” He set his glass down on the bar and stared at
it.

“Which is why I don’t think you killed Amaryllis.” Matthew’s head
swung up and McIntyre tossed him the St. Jude medallion, melted by the fire,
but still recognizable. “The patron saint of lost causes. Her idea of a joke.”
McIntyre regretted not having had more kind words for the woman, words of a
more eternal nature. “O’Connell found it in the ashes. It was her body they
found in the kitchen.” Matthew stared at the twisted, partially melted medal.

“I suppose we’ll never know what happened. Perhaps she walked in
on Black Elk lighting the fire. Perhaps he thought to kidnap her.” He poured
Matthew one last drink. “You’ll be leaving us, on tomorrow’s stage.”

Matthew sucked on his cheek as if holding back any comments. A
moment later, though, he opened his hand, and showed his palm in surrender.
“What will you tell Naomi?”

McIntyre wanted to be a better man, and he definitely wanted to be
a better man than this charlatan standing before him. “Nothing. I will leave
her faith in you intact.”

~~~

Hannah laid Little Billy across the feather bed and wrapped his
bottom in a fresh diaper. Running back into a burning hotel for a few of their
belongings had been a foolish, foolish thing to do … but she would be eternally
grateful to Rebecca. Even with the losses added up, she was blessed beyond
measure. She dragged her fingers along the ornate brass headboard and hoped the
former Flower who had occupied this room could say the same.

As for Hannah and her sisters, Mollie, and poor lost Terri, they
had bathed last night in the most decadent bathroom she had ever seen, slept in
luxurious brass beds beneath warm, soft blankets, and woke this morning to Mr.
Brannagh preparing breakfast. Charles McIntyre knew how to take care of the
ones he loved. Sighing with contentment, she lay down beside her son and
lightly danced her fingers down his nose and across his little pink lips. He
giggled excitedly and the sound of his innocent laughter convinced Hannah the
day was, indeed, filled with hope and promise.

“Hannah,” Rebecca called from downstairs. “Could you come help me
with something?”

Hannah swooped up Little Billy and marched downstairs. The saloon
was empty, except for her sister rifling around behind the bar. Enjoying the
show of it, Hannah bellied up to the bar. “Sarsaparilla, bartender, for my pard
and me.” Rebecca smiled, but it was only half-hearted. She continued searching
for something. “What are you rooting around for back there?”

Exasperated, Rebecca dropped her hands to her hips. “Everything we
rescued from the hotel wound up back here in a pile.” She moved something aside
with her foot. “Matthew promised me he got it.”

“Got what?”

“Unless
this
is it …” She reached down and dredged up a
huge carpetbag, slinging it on to the bar with a sizable effort. She laid the bag
on its side, opened it, and hauled out a wrinkled heap of white silk.

“Ooooh, Naomi’s wedding gown.”

“Shhhh.” Rebecca scolded. “She’s upstairs. I don’t want her to
know we saved it yet.” She dragged the gown the rest of the way out of the bag
but kept it hidden behind the bar as she inspected it. An envelope had caught
in the bustle and Hannah snagged it, immediately recognizing Naomi’s
handwriting. “Let me see that,” Rebecca said, reaching for it. She studied the
front and pointed at the date. “This is the second letter. He said he never got
this one.” A troubled groove in her brow, Rebecca’s gaze drifted up to Naomi’s
room. “Matthew has been lying to us the whole time.”

~~~

Fifty-Nine

Naomi sat on the bench outside the Iron Horse, amidst the bustle
of traffic, but alone with her bitter disappointment.
She pulled the letter out of the envelope just to make
sure—again. The second letter. The one letting Matthew know they were all
right. Things in Defiance weren’t so bad after all. She might even like the
place.

Shaking her head, she tucked the letter back inside as a shadow
fell across her. She didn’t look up. She never wanted to look at him again.
After a moment, he set his bag down on the boardwalk and joined her on the
bench. She tried to remain seated, but found she couldn’t bear being this close
to Matthew. Jaws clenched, she rose and crossed the boardwalk to lean on a
post. She heard his frustrated sigh.

“I suppose you hate me.”

“No.” And that was true. “I feel betrayed, disappointed … but I
don’t hate you.”

“I did it all for the right reasons.”

She choked off a disbelieving gasp and turned to him as he rose.
“You mean selfish reasons.” Heat rushed her cheeks as her anger escaped. “I was
right the first night you came here. You haven’t changed a bit.”

The hope in his eyes flickered and faded out. Suddenly, his anger
flamed to life. He crossed the distance between them and grabbed her shoulders.
“I’ll tell you what I am,” he growled. “I am sick of coming in second.” His
fingers dug into her flesh. “You cannot choose a pimp and whoremonger over me!”

The night he’d grabbed her and torn her wedding dress came
screaming back to Naomi. The fear, the vulnerability, Matthew’s desperation to
bend her to his will. Well, no more. Snarling, she wrenched free and shoved him
with every ounce of determination she could muster. He took a step back,
propelled more by surprise than by her strength.

Chest heaving, she grabbed a handful of her skirt to keep her
hands from clawing out his eyes. “Charles McIntyre is twice the man you’ll ever
be … and he would never force me.” As the words left her mouth, understanding
exploded in her heart. She knew why God had sent Matthew here. Her muscles
relaxed and she sagged a bit. “I’m done.” She heard the disbelief in her own
voice, but couldn’t deny the certainty of the feeling. She let go of her anger
and relaxed her fingers. “I’ve been holding on because you’re his brother and
you look like him. And because I pitied you.” His face hardened. She didn’t
care if the truth hurt. They both had to hear it. “I’m done, Matthew.

Moving quickly, before she could second-guess herself, she yanked
off her wedding ring, grabbed his hand and thrust the gold band into his palm.
“I’m turning toward the future, like John wanted me to. And you’re not a part
of it.” She folded his fingers over the ring and walked inside.

~~~

McIntyre ran his hand over the skip-peeled pine arbor that Billy
and Emilio had built and nodded. The boys had done a fine job. It framed a
majestic view of the Animas River backed up by Red Mountain Pass. The
snow-capped mountains all around were turning warm shades of purples and
oranges as sunset washed his valley in the fading light. He would never get
over the beauty of it.

“She’s almost ready.”                                         

Reverend Potter’s voice startled him and he turned to the small
crowd. Beckwith, Wade, and Doc Cook stood to one side, Mollie, Emilio and
little Terri waited on the other, creating an opening for the wedding party.
Behind him somewhere, Bud struck up the Bridal March on his fiddle and McIntyre
swallowed. This was real. Fear and excitement coursed through him and he
allowed himself a smile.

Ian and Rebecca marched toward him, followed by Billy and Hannah.
Grinning like fools, the couples parted at the altar, revealing Naomi. McIntyre
gasped. She was wearing a shimmering, curve-hugging, white satin
wedding
gown. Her hair flowed down her shoulders like a golden waterfall, and a woven
chain of fresh buttercups sat lightly upon her head like a halo. In her hands,
she held a colorful bouquet of pink wild roses, columbine, and violets.

She was breath-taking. And she was his bride.

Naomi smiled shyly up at him, her eyes glistening like polished
emeralds, and the ground shifted beneath him.

Ian clutched McIntyre’s shoulder and placed a hand on his back.
“Steady, lad.”

McIntyre realized he couldn’t feel his legs and Ian was literally
holding him upright. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and found his footing.
But he didn’t take his eyes off her and extended his hand as she approached.
“Naomi, I am speechless. You are the most beautiful …” His throat tightened up
and he had to stop speaking, stunned that he had become
emotional
.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve worn it,” she bit her lip and
added softly, “but it feels like it.”

Enormously pleased by that, he squeezed her hand but couldn’t
manage a reply.

Together, they faced the Reverend, who smiled tenderly at them and
began the service.

~~~