The Nanny Solution (18 page)

Still, pride prickled him.
Her
idea. Shameful, wasn't it that he couldn't think of a single idea to help himself? All he could think about was getting her safely away.

For her own good? Or so she couldn't hurt his children when she left, as she was surely going to do?

Or was there some other reason?

When pride cometh, then cometh shame.

Was his pastor right? Was he too proud? Was he upset that the idea wasn't his, instead of thinking of the very real danger if they didn't stop Walter Smith? Because Smith's evil behavior would surely escalate.

He stared straight into her eyes. Pride or not, he could keep her safe. “Will you stay home if we do what you suggest? Promise me you will.”

She didn't answer right away. He could see hurt in her eyes, multiplying the shame he felt.

* * *

Victoria would have thought that satisfaction tasted better, but it didn't. No, it was bitter and hollow, like an overripe cucumber that some kitchen maid had tried to cover with too many herbs before making into a sandwich. Bitter it should be. There was so much danger about them, so much risk. To the herd, to human life. To Jake, to the sheriff.

To Mitchell.

The plan was dangerous. They had to catch Uncle Walter in the act of sabotage, before he could set alight the barn or the house or do something more dangerous.

She looked between Mitchell and the sheriff and caught the knowing expression they exchanged.

“She'll go home and do nothing. We will deal with Smith should he decide to prevent MacLeod from making his payment,” the sheriff announced, as if he fully expected Victoria to roll over and obey. Shocked, she whirled back to stare into Mitchell's face, silently pleading with him to intervene. She wanted to help. Couldn't he see that she had already been helpful? She could even ride out after Uncle Walter. She was an excellent horsewoman.

Oh, to be useful, and not just for suggestions. Certainly not just to be a pawn, either, in a game of trying to keep banking wealth in the family, so that Walter could control it. If she married Clyde, Walter knew that she'd probably outlive the old man, and that would secure Walter's plans of controlling the whole business, because surely as Clyde's widow, she would need Walter to continue managing her inherited share. If she refused to marry, she'd be tossed out. If she couldn't handle ranch life, she certainly couldn't handle being truly homeless.

Oh, Mitchell, don't leave me to that world.

But what was the point? Mitchell would still not allow her into his life. His pride had already stopped him, and her pride in thinking she could do so much more was just lunacy.

What a pair of fools they were.

Still, she said, “What will it be, Mitchell? I do nothing and Uncle Walter slowly takes over this town, or you let me help?”

With a controlled sigh, he answered, “Go home, Victoria. Tell your Uncle Walter
only
that the herd is safe and close to the house and barn.” His expression hardened. “And then clean up and go to bed. Get some rest. That would be the best help of all.”

Her eyes burned. Why was she upset? He was accepting her plan. But that was all. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Victory was indeed hollow.

Chapter Twenty-One

“I
'm taking you home.” Mitchell's words sounded grittier than a swallow of that dust that blew constantly in everyone's faces.

“Whatever you wish,” Victoria answered with a calm smile she did not feel. She may have snapped out her share of their testy banter outside, but now the situation was sinking in.

Mitchell was clearly exhausted. He wore the strain of the day like a heavy woolen overcoat on a hot day. It wasn't fair to twist his words, ignoring the spirit in which they'd been said. He wanted her safely away from danger. Although that was all he wanted, shouldn't that be enough?

With shoulders so stiff they ached, Victoria allowed Mitchell to open the door for her. She had to admit, she was exhausted herself, and even though Jake's mother helped to make her presentable, her dress was desperately in need of a thorough scrubbing and she would do anything for a bath and a solid night's sleep. All in good time, she told herself.

The deputy had already left to watch her uncle's house, and in minutes Mitch would be riding out to his place, as soon as he walked her home. Her plan was getting under way.

When they stepped outside, the night was deep with nothing to light their way. The only street worth mentioning in this small town was also the only one lit with lamps in spots, not at all like Boston with its modern gaslights throughout the city. Why, she'd heard that Scollay Square, a delightful spot in downtown Boston, had an electric light now. So different was Proud Bend with a slower style and dry air that parched the lips and skin.

She glanced down at the saloon. It continued its raucous activities, as if epitomizing the life out here. The society in which she'd grown up would have turned up its nose to such an establishment, but times had been changing, even in Boston, with the influx of new people and ideas.

Victoria swallowed hard. She and her mother had left at the right time, she suddenly realized. Both of them had been living a delusion. She would not have married into a fine, Brahmin family. Those families were looking to augment their dwindling wealth with more than what she'd had.

She'd been a fool to believe she could fit in.

Money was moving West. Those old families were filtering away, investing in the inevitable expansion.

A night breeze pressed against her skirt and chilled her arms. Or was that chill the realization that life was turning out differently than she'd envisioned? She'd always wanted to follow God's leading and for a while she'd assumed it would be to stay in Boston. It wasn't. But where was He taking her?

Some distant animal answered with a lonely howl. Beside Mitchell, Victoria quickened her pace. Her uncle's house loomed in the night, most of the windows lit as if to tell the town they could afford the expensive oil.

Victoria hesitated. As she'd raced past Rachel after church today, she'd asked her cousin to tell her aunt she was going to help Mitchell. All she could do now was hope that Rachel had done as she'd promised, and that her aunt wasn't worried for her missing niece.

Victoria felt her mouth twist wryly. Aunt Louise might be concerned, but Victoria couldn't see the woman worried.

At the whitewashed fence, Mitchell stopped. Victoria's nerves danced. He'd said nothing all the way across the small town, only guiding her off the wooden sidewalk and through the dusty hardpan that was the street.

Nervousness danced through her like a butterfly on a hot summer's day. There was no reason for this, she told herself sternly. Mitchell was hardly courting her. He'd made it abundantly clear she was unsuitable for his lifestyle.

He was so right.

They walked closer to the door. “Go inside, Victoria, and stay there.”

She looked at Mitchell, hating that her tears were starting again. “I'll find Uncle Walter. I see a lamp lit in his study.”

“I don't like it. I don't trust him.”

“You said yourself that he won't do anything to me.”
Except try to force me to marry Clyde
, she added to herself. “I am more valuable to him if I remain unharmed.”

Mitchell said nothing.

She reached out and touched his arm. “It will be fine. We need to do this if that sheriff is to catch him in the act.”

“Let's hope so. The sheriff is new, so I don't know him. But I know his deputy is a layabout, and probably in your uncle's pocket.”

Victoria clamped shut her mouth. Another reason for Mitchell to want to stay far away from her. Walter Smith may be her mother's brother, but any relationship was purely an accident. Abigail had been proud of her brother's success over the years, but Victoria could never be. How odd that a man who stirred pride in one woman would inspire shame and humility in her daughter.

“I don't know what to say,” she whispered.

“Say that you'll only do what we decided and nothing more.” He leaned closer. “Will you? Like it or not, I see that you're important to my children.”

“Like it or not?” she echoed.

Mitchell folded his arms. “Yes. Exactly that. We both know you aren't going to be in my children's lives for very long. Even if you master the art of running a household, this life you are currently living isn't your choice. And it will be less of a choice if everything goes according to plan.”

“You mean when you catch Uncle Walter in the act?”

“Or I find myself completely penniless, without even a ranch to support my family. That's probably what will happen. I'll be worse off and I don't want you to be a part of that.”

He stepped closer before she could think of a suitable answer. “All I'm asking is that you stay safe. Then, after the dust settles, you gently extricate yourself from my family's life. They've been hurt enough. They need stability, not someone who is still learning how to live like the rest of us.”

She lowered her gaze.

“You know that if we're successful, your uncle will be facing serious charges and his family decimated, you included. You will have no choice but to marry Clyde or return east.”

She looked back up at him. “There's nothing for me in Boston. My mother and I were deluding ourselves, thinking that today's society would carry on forever. In fact, I saw the change coming years ago but didn't believe it. I don't have a place in it, anyway.”

“Then you'll go to the Carolinas where your mother is and find someone more suitable there.”

An odd hitch sounded in his voice and Victoria peered through the dark to seek out the reason. But sadly, even though the lamplight from within the house lit upon his face, Victoria could not discern his emotions. Her eyes were filling with too many tears.

“Mitchell, I don't want that,” she whispered. But if her family here was destroyed, what would be her choices? Mitchell didn't want her in his children's lives.

He didn't answer with words. Instead he stepped forward and his lips found hers.

In that moment, her heart, which had already pounded with the pain of realizing her life wasn't ever going to be happy, suddenly leaped in her chest. All of her being spiked with an emotion she could only describe as brilliant as lightning. She felt totally blinded by it.

Only when a distant thump sounded from within the house did Mitchell step away. “Remember, go inside and stay there.”

Before she could speak, Mitchell turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Behind Victoria, the front door opened. Her aunt hurried toward her. “Victoria, thank goodness you're safe! I've been worried for you.”

Victoria turned. “Didn't Rachel tell you I would be out?”

“Rachel told me you were going to visit a friend. But it's getting late.” Louise drew her into the house. “Was it your friend Clare?”

“No, another.”

Louise shut the door behind them. When her gaze fell upon Victoria, she gasped. “You look like you've been dragged behind a horse! What happened to the dress you wore to church?”

Victoria had forgotten that. Matthew had collected her things from the ranch house, but she'd left everything at Jake's parents' house, including the pony and wagon. “I got a bit dusty today, that's all.”

The older woman leaned forward and sniffed. “It smells like you've been in a fire! And look at your hair!” She smoothed it down. Apparently, Mrs. Turcot hadn't been successful enough with her styling to fool Aunt Louise.

“Never mind that, Aunt Louise.” Victoria caught her aunt's hand. “I need to speak with Uncle Walter.”

“Not looking like that you won't. He's busy in his study and will expect you to be better dressed. We've delayed supper for you, so you had best go upstairs and change and fix your hair. I know I am quite hungry and I am sure Walter is, too.” She shoved Victoria toward the stairs.

“I'll help her, Mother.”

Victoria looked up. At the top landing stood Rachel, dressed as if she was leaving. Victoria glanced back at her aunt, finding the older woman's mouth set in a tight line. She turned once again to her cousin. Rachel stood calmly as Victoria hurried up the stairs. Inside her bedroom, Victoria locked the door and spun. “What did you tell your mother?”

“I said you were going to visit a friend.” Rachel walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out several dresses, eyeing each one until she chose a simple but warm dress, the rose dress Victoria had worn on the train. “Let's get you washed and changed. We'll see if we can't get rid of that smoky smell while we're at it. I'm guessing you won't want my father to know you've been fighting a certain grass fire.”

“You know about that?”

“I just returned from the saloon. I'd forgotten something. It's all they're talking about there.”

Victoria stopped her work of changing for her hand shook too much. Oh, she couldn't do this quickly! “Rachel, you went to the saloon? Is that wise?”

“I had an escort. I always have one. Even Mitchell MacLeod on several occasions.” She returned to her work, but Victoria stepped away from her.

“A variety of men! That's even worse!” Victoria threw up her hands, then shook her head. “Never mind my troubles. Rachel, you can't go on like this! Imagine what your reputation is like! Not to mention your personal safety! You could get hurt, or worse. Your escort could—”

“My escort is always trustworthy.” Hurrying up to her, Rachel spun Victoria and began to assist her in undressing. They worked in strained silence for several minutes. Victoria could only think of several fast prayers, but they jumbled all together and she hoped that the good Lord made sense of it all.

After a few more minutes of silent work, Rachel finally said, “I'm fine. Really, I am. I've been going to the back of the saloon most evenings for a long time.” She caught her cousin's shoulders, stopping Victoria's protest before it could start. They both stared into the cheval mirror across the room. “It's not what you think,” Rachel added.

“How could it not be?”

Rachel pulled out of her skirt's pocket a small printed piece of paper. Thrusting it toward Victoria, she said, “This is what I am delivering. Among other things. It's these papers I forgot tonight.”

Only halfway through her dressing, Victoria stopped and took the paper and read it. There were several verses from Psalms, and a small, simply written sentence about hope, with a sketch of Jesus and the fallen woman. She looked up again, totally baffled. “A Bible tract? I don't understand. You're giving this to people at the saloon?”

“I'm giving the women who work there hope. I haven't been going to carouse and shame my family.” A shadow crossed over her features. “I go to minister to the women. And girls, for some are younger than you.”

“It's so dangerous. Why do you do it?”

Rachel wet her lips. “I didn't like what I found out. One woman, Rosa's mother was—” Rachel cut off her words. “I'll tell you all about it someday. Tonight's not the best time.”

Victoria had to agree with that part, but still, she asked, “Do your parents know?”

Rachel glanced toward the door, as if the words she was to speak were a secret. “Mother knows. Her only stipulation is that I attend church and Bible study. Even the pastor knows. He's the one who wrote the tracts I deliver. But he insisted I take a man from the church to ensure my safety. Mitchell was asked to do it on several occasions, but I have to tell you, he was more uncomfortable in there than I was.”

“What do you do when you're ministering to them?”

“Everything. I've baked bread, cooked meals, washed laundry, bandaged wounds and especially prayed for these women.”

Victoria's brows shot up. So that's why Rachel knew so much about how to do the menial tasks. And why her hands looked a fright.

Forgive me, Lord, for thinking the worst of Rachel.

Rachel turned Victoria around again and continued to assist her into a fresh gown. They worked in silence for a bit longer until Rachel spoke again. “Now, not another word on this. We'll talk about it another day. Whatever you want to say to my father, you had better be looking your best for it. He's in a foul mood tonight, and having supper delayed hasn't helped it.”

Fear spiked in her. For a moment, she didn't know what to do. Then, hurrying over to her dressing table, she quickly undid her hair and ran her brush through it vigorously. Her mind whirred like a windup toy. Then she hastily sprayed a light cologne to mask the smell of smoke. She doubted it would be successful, though.

But she couldn't back down now. This was her idea and she wanted Mitchell to know he could count on her for everything.

Hastily wrapping her hair back into a French knot, she suddenly realized that if she followed through with her part in the plan, Rachel's life would radically change. Her family would be torn apart, and she and her mother might lose their home, their fortune, everything. If he got caught, her uncle would need a very good solicitor. Was it fair to save Mitchell's home and property at the expense of another's?