The Courting of Widow Shaw (29 page)

“Your obligation to me is over now,” she said softly.

He squeezed his eyes shut as if warding off pain. She felt it, too, this feeling of loss, a hollow ache that refused to pass.

“Steven?” She set Buddy down.

He smiled sadly. “You’d best get some rest. I’ll sleep out on the sofa. I’ll be close, in case you need me.”

“I need you now.” Glory had known boldness tonight, pretending to be a temptress to catch a murderer, but this request came straight from her heart, without shame or dishonor. “Stay with me tonight.”

Steven stepped into the room and her heart skidded a bit. “You’ll regret it in the morning,” he cautioned sharply.

She deserved that. She’d hurt him this morning and he couldn’t hide the injury. But a compelling, overwhelming need to be held and loved by Steven once
more had her throwing all pride aside. She shook her head. “No, I won’t. I don’t know what my future holds. There are so many uncertainties in my life. But I know I want this, Steven. All we have is tonight.”

Steven took in a heavy breath. “I haven’t got it in me to deny you, sweetheart.”

Glory reached out to take his hand. “Then don’t.”

Steven denied her nothing. He’d made tender, passionate, urgent love to her during the night and they both experienced the bittersweet cravings of two souls who would soon part. Glory lay in bed, sensing the new day burgeoning on the horizon before even a tiny shred of light could be seen. Time was slipping away. Glory would leave the ranch to live in Virginia City once again.

Steven, whose body pressed against hers, tightened his hold as if he knew what she’d been thinking, even as he slept. She turned to him and he cradled her in his arms, a reflexive move that brought their naked bodies as close as two bodies could possibly get. She breathed in his scent, the strong virile smell of man and earth combined.

He opened his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. A hot glimmer sparkled in those dark depths, the hungry gleam that spoke a silent ancient language—one that Glory could easily translate.

Steven brought his lips down on hers. Her body flamed with the same desperate urgency she’d experienced during the night. He kissed her deeply time and again, treasuring her mouth, caressing her skin, making every cell come alive. She returned his passion, stroking his body, moving as he moved, in tune with his rhythm and pace.

Dawn would soon spread light into the room. Morning beckoned, reminding her that this would be the last time she would be held in Steven’s tight embrace. It would be the last time she would ever know this kind of desire.

They fought the light and battled the budding dawn. But as they reached for the midnight sky, together, with one last final grasp, sunlight broke through the darkness.

The new day had begun.

Chapter Nineteen

“I
t’s a good piece of writing, Gloria Mae,” Joe Goodman, publisher and editor of the
Enterprise
said, “but it surprises me some.”

Glory hadn’t been back in town two full days before her father’s friend, a man who had spent many an evening dining with the Reverend and his young daughter in the past, had paid her a visit when she’d moved into the small home by the church. He’d graciously offered her a part-time job writing for his newspaper. She suspected his offer had more to do with his long-standing friendship with Jonathan Caldwell and a need to help, than with Glory’s writing ability but regardless of the reason, Glory took the position, happy to have a purpose in life again.

“Why does it surprise you, Mr. Goodman?”

“Well,” he began, searching the printed article with eagle-sharp eyes, “even you have to admit, up until this business with Ned Shaw, you’d been trying to shut down the brothels in town. But in this piece, you seem to sympathize with Trudy Tremaine’s plight.”

“She didn’t deserve to die that way, soiled dove
or not. She’d been murdered unmercifully and Sheriff Brimley captured her killer. I reported the facts, as they were.”

“Yes, it’s definitely an honest bit of writing. I suppose your stay at Rainbow House changed your mind about some things.” Mr. Goodman peered down at her through his spectacles.

Glory hadn’t revealed much to the outside world about her concealment during the past few weeks, but she had confided in her employer that she’d spent time at the brothel, as a guest. The facts were bound to come out sooner or later, but Steven had persuaded her not to speak of her stay at his ranch to anyone. He’d been protecting her again, trying to save her reputation.

The morning Steven brought her back to town had been a day wrought with many emotions. She had a home, which needed tidying and cleaning, but was certainly suitable for the present time. She had her freedom and the prospect of a decent future, but as she’d turned to say one last final goodbye to the man who had saved her life, Glory had the sinking feeling that she’d made yet another mistake.

Steven hadn’t asked her to stay on at the ranch that morning. He’d gotten up early, hitched up the team and spoken little to her as the wagon ambled its way back to town.

And as he stood on her porch steps, granting her a small smile and best wishes for a good life, she felt herself shatter, a little at a time, breaking up into pieces that she feared she would never recapture. She’d never be complete again, those splintered fragments lost forever.

“Yes, I’ve learned a lot about life lately. And from
what I’d gathered about Trudy, she hadn’t done anything to provoke her murder. I wrote a little about her background, the events that brought her to Virginia City and to the life of prostitution.”

Mr. Goodman added, “You wanted the readers to see her as a person as well as a victim.”

“Exactly. Her killer had been ruthless, bent on hurting someone that night. Unfortunately, it was Trudy.”

Goodman nodded. “I suppose certain danger comes with that profession.”

Glory had to agree. “Yes, danger comes with prostitution. Mercy, I’ll never condone it, but the girls often have little choice. And they certainly don’t deserve to die because of their lot in life.”

Glory hadn’t changed her mind about prostitution, but she had gained certain knowledge recently to make her see that life in a different light. Instead of disdain and aversion, she found herself more sympathetic to the ladies who had come to sell their bodies for a price. She understood them better now, knowing them as real women, with hearts that break, and souls that need redemption. Some of them, she knew as friends.

“Well, here’s the next batch of statistics for you.” Joe Goodman dropped a pile of papers on her desk. “Welcome to the world of publishing.”

Glory peered at the papers, noting new births, deaths, and small blurbs of information on openings and closings of establishments in town. Aside from the article on Trudy, which Mr. Goodman had assigned to her because of her ties with Rainbow House, most of the articles she wrote were mundane, boring snippets that had to be included in the newspaper. As
the newest and most inexperienced writer at the
Enterprise,
Glory understood that she wouldn’t be given any choice pieces of news to report.

Glory walked home that night, feeling especially glum. She knew in her heart what the problem was—she missed Steven. She missed him with an aching that went far beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. And though she’d denied what she felt for so long, she knew now what was in her heart.

Glory sat down to a lonely meal, wondering if Steven did the same. Was he, too, staring at his food, without much hankering to eat, thinking about her?

It had been nearly a week since she’d seen him. She wondered how long Steven would remain lonely. Would he seek a woman for solace in the coming nights? Did he want to share his life and ranch with someone rather than lead a lonely existence?

That that woman couldn’t be her tore her insides up. She hadn’t the forgiveness. Her cold heart wouldn’t allow her to forget that Steven was Lorene Harding’s son. Her soul might burn in hell, but Glory held firm to her beliefs, like a rigid wall that she couldn’t break down.

Glory went to bed that night with a heavy heart, hugging Buddy close. The dog that Steven insisted she keep was her only source of comfort, although she had no call to complain.

She had her freedom. She had a nice home and a good job. She even had a few gentlemen callers, whom she’d politely but flatly refused.

The only thing missing was happiness.

The next day Glory stood just beyond the shadows of a pine tree, saying a prayer at her father’s grave.
She bent down and brushed dried brown needles from the headstone, speaking softly, knowing that her father heard her every word. She shed tears, the pain of his death still fresh in her heart, and wondered if time would ever heal her wounds.

Standing there, feeling close to him, she thought about the unselfish, caring man who had loved her and loved his God without compromise or condition. She wondered why she wasn’t more like him. She wondered about what she lacked inside to keep this pain so raw, the hostility over his death so clear in her mind. “I wish I could forgive, Father.”

A tear flowed down her cheek, then another and another. She swiped at them swiftly, loathing self-pity and unwilling to give in to it. “I miss you, Father,” she said, before standing to leave the cemetery.

“Hello, Gloria Mae.”

Glory turned abruptly to find Lorene Harding bending down to lay a small bouquet of wildflowers on the headstone. Lorene was the last person on earth Glory expected to see here. Shocked and confused, a panicked thought struck. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong with Steven? Did the sheriff change his mind? Is Steven in—”

“Steven’s fine,” she assured her. “Well, about as fine as you are. And I can see by your concern for my son that I wasn’t wrong to come here today.”

“Why are you here?” Glory asked with great curiosity.

Lorene’s eyes flashed with pain, it seemed, then she smiled sadly and spoke with a softness Glory had never heard from her. “I come here often. I miss Jonathan, too.”

“Jonathan? You speak as though you knew him.”

Lorene nodded and glanced down at the grave. “I knew him well. He was a dear friend.”

More than a little surprised, Glory refused to believe her. She refused to acknowledge that her father had anything untoward to do with Lorene Harding. No, she knew her father. He was a simple man with great faith. She knew him better than anyone. He was not a man to be entertained in the brothels. “You couldn’t possibly have known him that way.”

Lorene glanced away a moment, drawing in a breath. When she returned her gaze to Glory’s, tears misted in her eyes. “No, I didn’t know him that way. But there’s more to me—to both of us—than you might imagine.”

Glory stared at Steven’s mother, who wore a stately gown of dark-green silk and a matching hat crowning her head in elegance. She tried to see her as being other than a whorehouse madam, attempting without much success to disengage her perception of the woman Glory had always thought her to be.

“Let’s sit, shall we?” Lorene offered, gesturing to a small bench in the shade not far from the gravesite. “It’s time we talked.”

Numb, Glory walked alongside of Lorene, wondering what Steven’s mother possibly had to say to her. A small breeze blew by, cooling the air somewhat, and a choir of birds chirped in harmony as Glory lowered herself down on one side of the wooden seat. Lorene sat also and for a moment, both were silent.

“I want to begin by saying I mean you no harm, but it’s time that you knew the truth about Jonathan and me.”

Jonathan and me
. A lump lodged in Glory’s throat.
Just hearing the two names in the same sentence caused her a measure of anguish. “What truth is that?”

With directness, Lorene squared her an honest look. “Your father and I were old friends. Dear friends. At one time, and it seems like an eternity ago, we were in love.”

“No!” Glory shook her head, shocked with disbelief.

“Gloria Mae,” Lorene said with quiet calm, “I was young once, like you. I had dreams and hopes of a wonderful future. I met your father in Boston when we were both very young. We fell in love, a first love. And we planned on a life together, but then my family hit on hard times and we moved away to live with my grandmother. My folks took me West and we settled on a small homestead in Colorado. The separation was hard for both of us. Jonathan had always planned on being a minister. It was his lifeblood, what he was meant to do. We lost contact and over the years we took different paths in life. We both married someone else.”

“But this is all so unbelievable. Father never told me. He never hinted.”

“That was because of me. No one was to know. You see, after Steven’s father abandoned us, I had to find a way to survive. By then, my folks were gone and I had no other family. I found work in a supper house. Often, I’d work just to bring home food at the end of the day. Seems like we kept traveling farther west, wherever there was a prospect of a better job. I even spent time working in a Chinese laundry in San Francisco, but it wasn’t nearly enough to keep Steven
fed and put a roof over his head. We lived from day to day, until one day, I figured it wasn’t living at all.”

“Your story isn’t so different from Julia’s or Emmie’s.” Glory voiced her thoughts aloud. “Or the others.”

“The stories are all different, but so very much the same.”

“Yes, so it seems,” Glory admitted even as her stomach churned. She tried desperately to cling to her own beliefs, what she’d always thought to be the truth. It didn’t set well that Lorene Harding could march over here and turn Glory’s world upside down.

“It was fate that brought Jonathan and I together in Virginia City. By then, I had Rainbow House and my girls and he had you, of course, a beautiful young daughter. He had a home and his ministry. I made him promise not to let a soul know about our past. Your father was a very noble, honest and respected man, and that’s the exact reason I wouldn’t let any association with me become known. Our time together, our one chance at happiness, had come and gone. We’d both moved on. We’d both had different lives.”