Love Inspired Historical June 2014 Bundle: Lone Star Heiress\The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart\The Gentleman's Bride Search\Family on the Range (84 page)

Did he really blame God for losing Sarah and Abby? In the haze of anger and pain, yes. But then he thought of Mary, a woman who hadn't known Jesus growing up. Who'd been abducted and mistreated, deeply so, and yet somehow still managed to find peace in the way he no longer traveled. How was that possible?

Yep. This job was messing with his head and causing him to lose focus. The sooner he sold the ranch, the better he could work and forget all this malarkey.

He ticked off his goals in his head as he walked.

Tomorrow he'd find Langdon at breakfast, have a little word with the upstart, then he'd finish up his work at headquarters. Track down the shooter, cuff him, maybe get some more information from him before heading home. Sell the ranch. Start a new job, far away.

The list was supposed to reassure, but as he let himself into his empty hotel room, he didn't feel anything at all.

Chapter Eighteen

M
ary woke before the sun. She enjoyed the silence of morning, nothing but the birds and their early songs. Normally she felt refreshed, but today, the morning she'd be heading back to the ranch, unease beset her.

Lou had been
married
. And begotten a child. How could she not have known? He'd kept this secret from everyone. Were Trevor and James aware of this? Was she the only one in the dark? No wonder he didn't care to hear of God. No wonder the sight of Josie pained him.

Feeling a tad sick to her stomach, she swung her legs out of bed. Quickly she packed her meager belongings, made her bed, took care of toiletries and then glanced at the clock. Still too early. She had many hours until the agent arrived at her door.

And what then? Go home and search for a new job? Try to get that loan at the bank so she'd have the capital to open a business with? She could stay at the ranch with the new owners, but was that what she really wanted?

Gripping the handle of her suitcase, she opened her door and slipped into the hall. Perhaps they'd be serving breakfast. She could do with a strong pot of coffee.

The lobby was empty when she entered it, though the heady scent of maple syrup permeated the air. Her mouth watered at the thought of pancakes.

Josie loved them.

What would Josie eat this morning? And with whom? Alone perhaps, since her mother was ill. She paused as an idea so beguiling, so dangerous she could hardly believe it, flirted with her thoughts. Her suitcase grew heavy as she stood and pondered the burgeoning plan.

Lou would be furious with her and yet...he had no charge over her decisions any longer. Swallowing hard, a disconcerting excitement building, she marched through the lobby, left a note for Lou and then burst outside, just in time to catch the streetcar.

Odd looks followed her, but she ignored them and focused on remembering the way back to the Silversʼ. By the time she stood at Josie's gate, the sun peeked a sleepy eye over the horizon.

She gnawed her cheek, staring at the wrought iron. Yesterday felt far away. Was she really ready to do this? She thought of the note she left to be delivered to Lou first thing. If he tried to stop her, well, that would be too much. Too invasive.

Perhaps he'd shared a dark and sad past, and perhaps he'd opened his home to her, but he did not control her and any claim he made to her time must end with his sale of the ranch.

A vehicle cranked up behind her, startling her and urging her to open the gate. It groaned but gave way. She started up the walk, up the stairs, but before she could knock on the door, it opened.

Baggs glowered at her. His eyebrows were just as furry today as they'd been yesterday. Mary remembered Josie's comment and a reluctant smile tugged at her lips.

“You again?” he muttered.

“Yes, it is Miss O'Roarke. May I speak with Mrs. Silver?”

“She has not risen yet.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “I can come back later.”

“You may wait. She'll be about soon.” The butler, or whoever he was, swung the door open in a reluctant fashion, but Mary was too determined and set in her path to care.

She stepped into the ornate home. A hint of perfume reached her. Baggs led her into the same room they'd met Mrs. Silver in yesterday. She took a seat on the brocade couch.

“Anything to drink? Tea, perhaps?”

“That is kind of you to offer, Mr. Baggs. I would very much like tea.”

He shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind him. She studied the great portraits about the room. Studious and elegant, they dominated the walls and lent the room a somber air. Soon Josie's painting would rest with those of her ancestors, if she was related to these people. No doubt she was related somehow to the man looking for her.

Langdon, the sheriff had called him.

She did not wish to remember how it felt for him to be standing in her home, her sanctuary.... Stifling the remembrance, she felt through her bag until she found her knitting needles and newest project. A wedding gift for Miss Alma, who no doubt would find James by her side very soon.

The door opened, and Baggs brought in a platter with steaming tea. He situated it, and Mary thanked him, preferring to pour her own. “Do you not have a maid?” she asked in a gentle tone.

“Left us last week,” he grumbled.

When he left, she sipped the strong brew and worked on Miss Alma's gift. The wait felt interminable. She kept straining to hear Josie's happy voice. The patter of footsteps even, but nothing broke the muted silence.

After almost an hour, the door opened again. Baggs wheeled Mrs. Silver in. She did not wear a face mask today. The faded state of her eyes and pallor of her skin sent prickles across Mary's body. She tucked her knitting back into her bag. An air of death cloaked Mrs. Silver. It hovered over her and as she neared, the odor of it filled the room.

Mary blanched and then schooled her features to blankness, though inside, her heart pounded against her chest. What would happen to Josie when her mother passed? Surely she wouldn't be left with that horrid Mr. Langdon.

“You wish to see me?” Mrs. Silver's voice did not pass a whisper.

Mary nodded, putting her hands in her lap. “I thought perhaps you might...”
Courage, don't fail me now.
She wet her lips and tried again. “With your illness, I hoped you might be in need of a nanny for Josie.”

Mrs. Silver's lids fluttered.

“Your daughter is spirited and bright and I have grown quite fond of her. I can provide schooling in many areas—”

“She will attend a private school,” Mrs. Silver murmured. She studied Mary, though it seemed to drain the energy from her features.

“I see.” Hope seeped away, but she did not allow herself to slump. “Perhaps you might be looking for a housekeeper? Or a parlor maid?”

“You are so desperate to see my Josephine?”

“Not desperate, but I am in search of employment and I care deeply for your daughter. I would like to help.”

Mrs. Silver's fingers tapped the arms of her wheelchair. “It fills my heart with gladness to see your love for my daughter, but I must refuse.”

Mary's fingers tightened on her satchel.

“You see, her uncle shall be in charge of any plans for Josie. She is at the age where she would benefit from the structure of such a pla—” A harsh cough ripped the rest of the words from her. She hunched over, body racked with the cough of tuberculosis. She pressed a hankie against her pale lips.

Mary watched sadly, knowing she should return to the hotel now. This had been a shallow hope with little chance of success, but she'd needed to try.

“I apologize,” Mrs. Silver said when the fit passed. Baggs handed her a glass of water and she sipped it gratefully.

“There is no need for apologies.” Mary rose. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I would love to see Josie but do not want to unduly upset her. Please, may I leave my address with you? I've included the hotel I'm staying at, though I won't be there after today.” She handed Mrs. Silver the paper she'd scribbled on earlier. “If you or Josie are ever in need of anything, write to me and I shall come.”

“Thank you...what is your name?”

“Mary O'Roarke, and you're quite welcome.” She gestured to the door, the bag heavier than ever. “I shall let myself out.”

Mrs. Silver inclined her head and Mary headed to the doorway, eager to escape before her burning cheeks gave away her angst. She reached the door frame.

A shadow passed in front of the opening. Mr. Langdon appeared before her, his disturbing eyes fixed on her face.

She skidded to a stop, bumping a fragile table near the wall. The vase on it shuddered and she reached over to steady it. She breathed shallowly and tried to slow her quick breaths before she panicked.

An evil-looking smile lifted the corners of his lips. He appraised her and she hauled her bag in front of her.

“We have a visitor?” he asked.

Mrs. Silver's wheelchair appeared beside Mary. “Yes, this is Mary. She brought our Josie back last night. She was just leaving.” Another cough seized Mrs. Silver, but Mary did not dare look away from Mr. Langdon.

No, she could not for fear of what might happen. Mrs. Silver and Baggs were no match for him. He frowned at his sister, then turned that unblinking gaze on Mary.

“You're leaving so soon? Might we have a word?”

Before she could react, he caught her arm in a painful grip and propelled her out the door and into the hallway.

“Brother,” Mrs. Silver gasped, but he yanked the door behind them. It pounded shut and then they were alone in the hallway.

His gaze bore into her, as deep and painful as his grip on her arm. The look on his face was menacing in its lack of emotion. “Forgive me, but I overheard your conversation. You must know my sister is very ill. Dying.”

He said this last word as though he relished the thought.

Mary's skin prickled all over.

“Therefore, as custodian of her estate, and of my niece, I feel it's in Josie's best interest to be at home during the last days of her mother's life. I will personally pay for you to stay on and teach Josie for one year. When my sister passes, I will relinquish the guardianship of Josie to you.”

It sounded too good to be true. That alone made her pause. Be employed by this man to take care of Josie and eventually become her legal guardian? Both elation and terror filled Mary, two opposite emotions that tangled her senses. She blinked. Swallowed. “And if I do not accept?”

Now he smiled, if the baring of his teeth could be called such a thing. “Her mother will think she's been sent off to school. That won't be the case. There are plenty of orphanages for girls like her...or other places.”

A sick feeling rushed through Mary so quickly her vision wavered. She knew what he was suggesting, knew his plans for Josie, should she decline his offer, were evil, but this? No, it could not happen.

Still, one thing she'd learned from Lou and Trevor was caution in bargaining with wicked men. Forcing a calm look to her face, refusing to let him see that his threat had already won him what he wanted, she met his gaze.

“I will consider your proposal.”

* * *

Lou woke in a surly mood. Everything got worse when he found the note on the floor outside his door.

Dear Lou,

As I am not sure how I'd like to be employed in the future, I have gone to see about another opportunity. I appreciate the agent you're sending to escort me home but am unable to pass up the job I have in mind. Please give the agent my regards and I do apologize if I have complicated the situation. I shall be fine on my own. Thank you for all you have done.

Mary

Where could she have gone? Groaning, he passed his palms over his face. Stubble grazed his skin. There wasn't time to track down a stubborn woman today, let alone shave. He had a ten o'clock meeting and before that he was determined to find Langdon. He also wanted to meet the undercover agent assigned to protect Mrs. Silver and Josie. If he could see the guy for himself, his gut would let him know whether Josie would be safe or not in his care.

Lou snatched the note, folded it, and then slid it into a pocket. After tossing on blue jeans and a respectable shirt, he stalked out of the hotel room. He grabbed a slice of banana bread on the way out of the hotel.

The ride to the Silversʼ seemed to take forever. He scanned the case files he'd been handed yesterday, a few reports, but his brain insisted on taking him back to how Mary looked last night. What he'd told her... His chest pinched.

Worst of all, he'd exposed something he hadn't meant to—the root of his anger at God and everything religion represented. He felt like a fool. He pressed his head against the wall of the streetcar, glad no one tried to make conversation with him.

He was lousy at that type of thing.

Mary would be better off without him. An attraction didn't guarantee a good marriage. Let alone their differing religious beliefs. He cringed at what had sneaked into his thoughts.

Marriage
.

Rolling his eyes, he straightened and began pressing the paperwork back into his satchel, listening as it crumpled into place.

Marriage
.

He'd been so young with Sarah. Naive and in love. He thought he knew all the answers. He worked a job with the military that required long hours. Applied for a place in the new unit known as the Bureau of Investigation. He left Sarah at home and worked hard. She waited. He visited.

They had Abby. A tic tugged at his eyelid. He blinked. So many mistakes he could never take back, and now his thoughts had wandered to marriage. Absolutely unthinkable. He couldn't even blame the detour on a single kiss, because he'd kissed others and never had he felt what he did when he embraced Mary. It was a cruel realization that over the course of twelve years, Mary and her quiet presence had worked itself into his soul beneath the guise of friendship.

His only recourse remained backing off. Leaving town and letting the figurative dust settle. If Mary opened a store, she'd surely meet a nice fellow to create a home with.

The tic pulled his eyelid again. He blinked and held on as the streetcar slowed to its next stop. The Silver place loomed across the street. Lou got off with a few others and separated from them.

Time to don his “agent” hat and get to work. Worrying about where Mary might be could wait for later. But as he made his way up the walk, opening the gate, and taking the stairs two at a time, his stomach clenched.

“Focus,” he muttered, then rapped quick and hard on the front door.

Almost immediately it swung open. A man with eyes bordering on purple faced him. His hair was slicked in the fashion of the day. He wore a neatly pressed suit and his face was clean-shaven.

Lou disliked him immediately.

“Langdon, I presume?”