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Mac rolled his shoulders as the mid-afternoon sun beat down on him. He sighed deeply, then stepped up on Mrs. Greer’s front porch. Mrs. Greer. The day before he would marry the woman, and he was still calling her that. He pulled his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair.
He had to do this. He caused the problem, and he would fix it. But first, he needed to tell her about Lizzie and the girls. She had a right to know just what she was getting into. And even though he had not thought of marrying again, he knew that once he took those vows, once he gave his word to this woman, he would be bound in marriage for as long as they both lived.
He rammed his hat back on his head, then knocked on the front door. A few moments later Helen opened the door.
Mac shifted from one boot to the other like a schoolboy. “I came to see Mrs. Greer. Is she in?”
“Come on in, Mac.” Helen opened the door wider. “She’s in the parlor with Drew... I mean, Mr. Hollingsworth.”
Mac lowered his voice. “He’s a good man, Helen.”
She blushed. “I know.” Motioning for him to follow her, she raised her voice to normal. “This way, please.” They stopped at the parlor entrance. “Mac’s here to see you, ma’am.”
Mac entered the parlor but stopped in his tracks when he saw Mr. Carlyle sitting on the sofa with Mrs. Greer. They were both holding some kind of legal documents. Drew sat nearby with his leg on a stool.
“Mac, I’d like you to meet my lawyer, Mr. Carlyle.” Mrs. Greer met Mac’s eyes straight and bold. “Mr. Carlyle, Mr. MacPherson.”
Mac offered a wry smile while he shook hands with the lawyer. “We’ve met before.”
“Good, that will make things easier.” She laid the papers on the table. “Please have a seat while Mr. Carlyle explains the agreement.”
Something twisted in Mac’s gut. Whatever this agreement was, he wasn’t going to like it. “What kind of agreement?”
Mrs. Greer sat up a tad straighter and gripped her hands together in front of her. “It only makes sense. It’s like what I did before I moved back into Grandfather’s house so I could be closer to Drew. It is just for protection for Emma and me.”
Mac’s heart pounded hard and fast. His whole body tightened. What was it about him that caused women to fear him so much they would kill themselves or need legal agreements to protect themselves from him? “You think you need protection from me? Then why would you marry me in the first place?”
“I understand the need to marry, so I’m willing to go through with it. But you have to understand, I’m a wealthy woman. I respect you and what you’re doing for me. But the fact is that I know nothing about you except you have a wagon and haul freight. Drew says I...I can trust you.”
Mac closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Memories of what Drew told him about what she’d gone through stabbed in his mind. She was afraid, and she had a right to be. It didn’t change what he had to do. He blew out his breath, then glanced at Drew and nodded. He would keep his word and marry his sister. “Since you know nothing about me, I came over to discuss a few things. Let you know more about myself.”
“That doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. As long as you don’t have a wife somewhere waiting for you to come home, nothing else matters. We can marry tomorrow.”
Her words sent a knife right to his heart. If he had a wife waiting at home right now instead of buried in a pine box six feet under, he wouldn’t be standing here making an agreement that went against everything he believed in. Fury at the whole situation exploded inside him. “All right. Write up your papers. I’ll sign them, but I want two things included.”
“What are they?” Her voice wasn’t too steady.
Mac looked her in the eye. “First, I get nothing, absolutely nothing if anything happens to you. Everything you own goes to your brother and child. Second, this marriage will end only if you end it. When I give my word, it is binding. Agreed?”
“Before I agree, there is one more point I want to include.” Fire flashed in her eyes as she stared back at him. “This will be a marriage in name only. You may live here to keep up appearances, but you’ll have a separate bedroom, across the hall. And at no time will you enter my bedroom.”
“You need not worry about that, ma’am.” Mac turned to the lawyer. “You got all of that?”
Mr. Carlyle nodded.
Mac nodded back. “Good. Have the papers ready to sign first thing in the morning. I’ll be by your office. Have two, no, three people there to witness it.” He picked up his hat. “I’ll be back here tomorrow in time for the ceremony. Good day.”
He slammed the door behind him, fearing a new nightmare had just begun.
***
Late the next afternoon, sitting on the side of her bed, Sarah fingered the heavy gray silk of the dress she wore. Her wedding dress. She swallowed back a sob. How had this come to be? Oh, she knew the facts. She understood the reasons Mac gave for the need of this wedding were true and sound. She would give him that, but that was all she would give.
She was the one responsible for Drew being in this place and under Stanley’s thumb. Grandfather wanted her out of Boston, and the best way to do that was to send Drew away, knowing that she would go with him. There was no way she would leave Central City, leave her brother here on his own. She loved her brother, but she had no illusions about him. The boy she had raised until he was ten had been taken over by a monster who tried to bully and squash everything good and strong out of him. Then tried to make Drew a version of the most feared and hated businessman of Boston.
Others saw him as weak, and he was. But she hoped that given time away from their grandfather, he would find the path that would make him into the man their father would want him to be. But if she stayed, she would put his reputation in ruin, too, and Grandfather might recall Drew to Boston, since no one would want to do business with him, other than the foul business of men wanting to spend the night with his unmarried sister.
No, she had to go through with the wedding. The one saving grace in the whole matter was that Mac agreed it would be a marriage in name only. The papers had been signed that morning in Mr. Carlyle’s office.
She opened the box beside her on the bed and picked up one of the items she had bought the day before. A small but deadly pistol, bigger than the derringer she always carried in her pocket. This one she would keep under her pillow or carry in her reticule when she went out. Never again would a man beat her. Never again would a man use her against her will. No, never again because he would die, or she would. And she planned to live to a very old age and bounce her great-grandchildren on her knee.
Someone knocked on her door. She slid the gun under the skirt of her dress. “Yes.”
“Ma’am, your brother said to tell you the parson’s arrived.” Sally, the new maid who also helped with Emma, spoke through the wooden door.
Sarah shuddered as she slipped the gun into the drawer of the table beside her bed. Her feet dragged across the woven rug as she moved to the door. A prisoner preparing for the last long walk to the gallows. A morbid chuckle threatened to escape her dry lips. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. “I’m ready.”
A few moments later, Sarah entered the front parlor. Helen had worked hard to give it a festive air. Bowls of potpourri and vases of flowers graced the small tables that sat around the room. She would thank Helen later, but none of it really mattered. The legal act would be done, her protection and her brother’s reputation ensured, giving her, Emma, and Drew what they needed. That was all—nothing more.
***
Mac paced the floor in the parlor. What kind of fool was he? How could he marry another woman when he didn’t know what he’d done to make Lizzie do what she did? And what about his girls? He should leave this woman, this house, and this town and go home to his girls. But how could he do that before he found out what caused his wife to put that rope around her neck?
His gut twisted. None of this made sense. He shouldn’t be here. He should be out looking for his brother-in-law. His girls needed their father home and soon.
The rustling of Mrs. Greer’s dress reached Mac’s ears before the woman entered the room. His heart pounded. Something slammed into his gut.
Mrs. Greer came toward him as a woman, not a shy girl like his Lizzie had been on their wedding day. No, the woman before him was a woman who had faced some of life’s harshest realities and survived them. A woman who had the same queenly bearing as his grandmother, although Granny came from long lines of Scottish nobility.
His hands shook so he shoved them in his trousers’ pockets, then turned and stepped to the preacher.
Sarah nodded just the tiniest bit, took a deep breath, and walked toward him. Alone. She had refused her brother’s offer of giving her away. Not that he’d have been able to walk with her on that injured leg.
Mac bit the inside of his lip to keep from grinning as he recalled the words from the day before when she told her brother she wasn’t something to be bartered, sold, or given away. She was doing this of her own free will, and as such she would walk alone.
He didn’t love the woman. He wasn’t even sure he liked her, but he did admire her. Not many women could survive what she had and face life with the bravery and strength she did. She would have made a fine MacPherson.
As she joined him, they turned and faced the preacher together.
Mac let the words about the wonders and blessings of marriage flow past him. He had heard the words before. They had no meaning now. They were only meant to secure protection for this woman. Somehow that thought seemed a bit hollow as he struggled to keep his eyes on the preacher and not on the woman beside him.
***
Sarah pressed the forefinger and the thumb of her left hand tightly together as she and Mac were asked to join hands. She could do this. A few words more and it would be over.
“Do you, Thornton MacPherson, take this woman, Sarah Rose Hollingsworth Greer, as your lawfully wedded wife?” The white-haired minister’s voice rang out like a teacher asking a class to recite their lessons.
Thorn? His name was Thorn? She quickly raised her head and stared at the man she was marrying.
His eyes held a humorous glint in their depths. “Aye, I’ll take Miss Rose for my wife.”
The preacher harrumphed at the answer before he turned to Sarah. “Do you, Sarah Rose Hollingsworth Greer, take Thornton MacPherson as your lawfully wedded husband?
Sarah couldn’t help it when her response slipped out of her lips. “Yes, Miss Rose takes Mr. Thorn as her husband.”
The old man made that sound again.
Sarah felt her muscles relax. The vows were exchanged. It was done.
Then the preacher told Mac he could kiss her. Her finger and thumb tightened against each other again. She had forgotten the kiss. With a slight turn of her head, she glanced at the people watching them. She had gotten through the ceremony. Surely she could get through a peck on the cheek.
***
Mac stared down at his bride. The only woman he’d ever kissed was his Lizzie. He raised his hands and placed them on either side of her face. He could feel her heartbeat pounding through the veins in her neck, hear her choppy breath as it passed between her dry lips. She was terrified. Slowly he lowered his head and touched her lips with his. He kissed her with all the tenderness his granny had instilled in him, all the honor a man can give a woman who has just put her life into his hands. The moment was brief. The moment lasted a second less than eternity. And he pulled back.
Sarah touched her lips, her eyes shining in wonder.
“What’s the matter?” Mac kept his voice low as he stared down at his new bride.
“I’ve been kissed in violence and drunkenness and lust.” Her lips tipped up into the first smile he had seen since he had told her they had to get married. Her voice came out soft as a sigh on a summer’s eve. “But I’ve never been kissed with gentleness. Thank you.”
Her silky pale throat moved with a rolling motion as she swallowed. She ducked her head and turned to those watching them.
At that moment, against all he had planned for the rest of his life, Mac vowed to do everything in his power to ensure that no one ever hurt this lady again. But then the angry voice that had haunted him since he found his wife’s body echoed in his mind. Aye, but can you keep her from the harm you will do to her?
***
“Thank you for doing this today.” Sarah led the preacher to the front door and opened it.
“Happy to do it. I hope to see you and your family in services. Miss Helen has said such kind things about you and your brother.”
Uneasiness rolled around Sarah’s middle at his words, both from the idea of attending a church service again and the idea of Helen talking about her. “Thank you. We’re still a little unsettled right now, with my brother’s accident and all.”
“Of course, I understand, but you always have an invitation to join us.” The preacher stepped onto the porch, then set his hat on his head. “May God bless your marriage and your family.”
After he left, Sarah closed the door and leaned back against it. Her marriage. She hadn’t wanted it, and now she had to figure out how to live in it. Bands of nervousness—no, fear— around her chest tightened. She eased away from the door and rubbed her fingers over the derringer resting in the pocket of her wedding dress. As long as Thorn kept his distance from this Rose, everything would be all right.
Helen came down the hall from the kitchen where she was cleaning up after the cake and punch she had insisted on making then serving. She carried a droopy-eyed Emma in her arms. “I think this little miss will be wanting her momma before she falls asleep for the night.”
Sarah reached for her daughter but couldn’t help but notice the look of sadness in Helen’s face as she looked into the parlor.
“I think your brother needs you.” Helen set Emma in Sarah’s arms, then rushed back down the hall.
Sarah looked over her shoulder.
Drew sat there, alone, with his broken leg propped up on a chair. His head was bowed and his shoulders slumped. His hands were balled up on his legs.
“Drew?” She slipped in and sat on a nearby chair. “What’s wrong?”
He lifted his head and looked at her.
She shuddered at the look of despair that filled his face.
His eyes flickered to the hall, then down again. His voice dropped low. “I love Helen, but I’m not good enough for her, not after dealing with Grandfather and Stanley all these years. I’ve got to get away from them. Make my own way. Try to be the man Helen could love.” He thudded his fist against his good leg. “But how? I’m just some silly, pampered, brok...broken creature.”
Sarah’s heart ached. She was thankful Drew wanted to break with Grandfather at last, but she hated to see the pain he was going through. She wasn’t sure what to say to ease that pain. “Drew—”
She stopped when a hand came to rest on her shoulder. Her head jerked sideways. Thorn stood next to her chair. She hadn’t heard him come into the room. How much of her brother’s shattering confession had he heard?
He bent down close to her ear. “Let me talk to him.”
Thorn’s words were softer than a whisper, but she shook her head hard.
With his head still close, he added, “Please. He doesn’t need sympathy.”
Anger raged in her heart at his words, then her mind took over. He was right. She would try to ease his pain, and maybe that wasn’t what her brother needed right now. If he left Grandfather, Drew would need a strong man to help him, to guide him. As much as she didn’t want to be Thorn’s wife, the man was strong and willing to help her brother.
She nodded, stood, and walked out of the room with Emma in her arms. In the hall, she looked over her shoulder. Her new husband took her seat and leaned toward her brother. She watched as they talked, but they kept their voices low, and she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Sarah nibbled on her lips on her way upstairs, hoping, maybe even praying just a tiny bit, that she had made the right decision to trust Thorn with Drew.
***
Stanley smashed his fist against the top of his desk. “What do you mean, Sarah Greer married that freighter?” He paced his office, then stopped and stared at Waller as the witless man cringed. If only Waller had followed instructions and waited to make sure who had entered Sarah’s house that night. If only Cyn hadn’t gotten sick from that food at the hotel. If only...
“What do you want me to do?” Waller kept rolling the brim of his dirty hat with his dirty fingers.
“Get out and stay out of my sight until I send for you. Are you still at Grayson’s place?”
“Yup. With the Widder Grayson dead, Jim’s letting me stay with him and his kid.”
Stupid thugs, worthless creatures. Stanley swiped at the air, trying to blow away all that useless information. “Fine, just leave and don’t come around unless I send for you. I don’t want anyone to connect us.” Stanley sent the man another hard stare. “Understand?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get out now.”
Stanley dropped back into his chair behind his desk. Now he needed to figure out how to make Sarah a widow again, so he could marry her and get all that money she was hoarding.
***
The morning light hadn’t begun to seep through the curtains when Sarah struggled to get out of the tangled bed linens. Memories of her first wedding night had haunted her dreams during the long night.
She untied the ribbon that held her braid together and let her hair fall around her shoulders and down her back. This wedding night she had been alone, and that was the way she wanted it. Her fingers dropped to her lips as the memory of Thorn’s kiss made them tingle.
She slapped her hand down on the bed. No. She wouldn’t even think about that. Still, she felt ready to see what the day had to offer. She lit two of the lamps in her room and laid out one of the new dresses she had recently bought from a dressmaker on Main Street. It was a lovely shade of rose. Maybe she would be like the other women around here and not wear her corset and crinoline. A shiver ran through her as she wrapped her arms across the top of her thin white nightgown. A small giggle slipped past her lips. No, she wasn’t quite that brave yet.
While she gathered her underthings from the chest of drawers, she heard a strange sound coming from the nursery.
She dropped her things on the bed, then hurried across the room and opened the connecting door to the nursery. A low humming filled the darkened room.
***
Mac had planned to be out of the house before Sarah Rose got up, but now he was comforting the babe whose tiny whimpers had called to him as he left his room. He paced the nursery trying to soothe the wee one while thoughts of his own girls, laughing and teasing each other, hopped around in his head. How many times had he sat with one of his own, while Lizzie got some much needed rest after tending to one of their bairns, dealing with a fever or teething?
He kept pacing, but his mind was tearing apart. He needed to keep up the search for his brother-in-law, but his girls needed him to be home with them and stay there. But if he got the girls from his sister and grandparents, would he do to them what he did to Lizzie—whatever that was? And then there was Sarah Rose. She’d be safer at the ranch, but he knew she wouldn’t leave her brother. He hoped the talk he’d had with Drew the night before helped the young man.
Still, Sarah Rose stayed in his thoughts. Would his name be enough to protect her? From some, maybe. He was respected and liked by both the miners and the townspeople. But a good reputation wouldn’t be enough to put off Snodgrass.
The best part of this whole mess was that Sarah Rose’s reputation was restored so that uncle wouldn’t get his hands on Emma. He was thankful that he’d thought to ride over to Mountain City to talk to the judge and be sure of that before the wedding. He had also talked to a friend about watching the house until he came back and could make other arrangements to keep Sarah Rose and Emma safe.
The door that connected this room to the next opened. He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in the open doorway. The lamplight glowed behind her like sunshine. Her dark hair hung down to her waist. The sweet rose fragrance she wore floated on the early morning air from her room. His jaw tightened as he struggled to keep his hand from tightening on the child.
Two thoughts battled in his mind. What had he gotten himself into? But that thought was pushed aside by the second. Sarah had no idea she looked like every man’s dream in her white nightgown.
Taking a deep breath, he turned and laid Emma back in her crib. He had to get out of this room. Now.
He made it to the door before he felt her hand on his shoulder.
“Wait.”
He stopped, but didn’t dare look at her. “What?”
“How is Drew?”
Mac gripped the doorknob until his fingers ached. “He’s trying to find his way. Don’t coddle him. He’s struggling to see where his path leads, and only he can determine that.”
“But—”
He had to leave now or he was going to take her in his arms. “The wee bairn was whimpering a mite. She’s cutting a tooth.” He couldn’t help that his voice came out harsh, but he couldn’t stay in the room another moment. “I have to check on my wagon and mules. I’ll be pulling out early tomorrow morning.”
Boots thumping, he raced across the hall to his room. At least he had his job, which would take him out of town. There wouldn’t be many mornings like this. He hoped.
***
Sarah dressed for the day and went downstairs. She stood at the entrance of the kitchen, holding Emma on her hip. Thorn sat at the kitchen table, a cup in his hand. A wide smile spread across his face as he listened to Helen and Carl prattle on about something. Why didn’t he smile like that at her?
She closed her eyes and touched her lips with her free hand. It was the kiss, that silly kiss yesterday. A long-forgotten memory floated back to her mind, watching her mother touching her lips after her father kissed her before he left to minister to one of his flock. Now she knew how her mother felt.
Emma whimpered. Sarah opened her eyes. Heat stung her cheeks. Thorn and Helen were staring at her. Helen’s eyes sparkled. She grinned and gave a slight nod, as if she knew what had been going through Sarah’s mind.
Thorn frowned at her. But when she said nothing, he raised his cup and took a long drink.
So be it. Sarah entered the kitchen. “Morning, Helen, Carl. Morning again, Thorn.”
He sputtered.
Good. At least he didn’t have the upper hand.
Helen took Emma from Sarah’s arms, then looked from Thorn to Sarah and back again. Shaking her head, she mumbled to the baby, grabbed the bottle, and fed her.
“And a good morning to you, Rose MacPherson.” Mac stared at her, one eyebrow raised as if daring her to say something. He picked up the coffee pot from the table and poured some into a cup, then nudged it toward her. “For you, Sarah Rose.”
She grabbed the cup. “The name’s Sarah, or Mrs. Gr—uh, Mrs. Mac—” Even to her own ears that sounded silly. She didn’t expect her husband, even if it was in name only, to call her Mrs. MacPherson, especially if she called him by his first name.
“Nay.” His head shook. “I can’t be calling you Mrs. Mac, and since yesterday, I’ve been thinking of you as a sweet Scottish rose.”
He grabbed his hat and walked out the door.
Sarah dropped into one of the chairs by the table, her hands trembling. The coffee sloshed and dribbled over the side of the cup. She set it down, then rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Why did this man disturb her so? Why had she let him have that power? It had to stop. No man would ever have any power over her again.
“Give it time. Everything will work out as it should be.” Helen’s voice drifted across the table, comforting and soothing. “Just wait and see.”
Sarah hadn’t felt that comfort since her mother died. Her heart craved it. Her spirit drank from it. She wanted more.
Dropping her hands onto her lap, Sarah looked at Helen. “No matter what else has happened since I’ve come here, I’m so happy you’re here with us now.”
Helen blushed. “I was thinking that same thing this morning and thanking God that He brought me to this time and place.” She handed Emma back to Sarah. Her cheeks grew pinker. “I think your brother will be about ready for his breakfast. Carl, please come with me.”
She loaded a tray and left the kitchen with her young brother following.
Sarah’s stomach soured. Breakfast no longer held any appeal. Just the mention of God’s care had brought back memories she didn’t want to face. Memories of her first husband’s ridicule of her faith, then the beatings when she dared to read her Bible or refused to join him in vulgar acts, and finally being ignored by God when she cried out and begged for the lives of her unborn children. No, she didn’t want to think about such a God.
Dragging herself up from the table, she took her precious daughter and left the kitchen. It was time to take back some of the power that had been taken from her.
***
With the new nanny, Sally, tending to Emma and the daily maid, Judith, there to check on Drew, Sarah and Helen headed to the mercantile. Carl tagged along, carrying the shopping basket. It was the first time Sarah had gone out since the morning after Mac...when all this started. But she wasn’t afraid. She was tired of staying in the house and tired of people telling her what to do. She was even beginning to wonder if what Thorn had said was true.
Aside from those drunken fools who’d accosted her on the way to the doctor’s office that morning, no one had treated her any differently than before the night Thorn had stayed in her house. Had she really needed to get married? What if Mac only wanted her body or her money? But that couldn’t be true, since he’d signed that agreement and had no rights to either.
Helen approached the counter and placed the order for the groceries they needed while Sarah wandered around the store looking for something for Drew. The poor boy was trying to make the best of being confined to the parlor sofa. Maybe he would enjoy a new book.
Don’t coddle him. That’s what Thorn had said. Still, it wouldn’t be coddling if she bought a book. They both liked to read.
She hadn’t taken three steps when Stanley and his sister entered the mercantile. Sarah stepped back so the bookshelf partially hid her.
Cynthia held onto Stanley’s arm. “When we finish here, can we go to the milliner’s shop? They have the most beautiful hat there. I need it so much.”
“Of course.” Stanley chuckled. “Anything you need so much, sis, we will have to get for you.”
“Thank you.” Cynthia grinned. “And maybe we could stop at that new seamstress in town. I heard she makes the newest fashions from Godey’s.”
He patted her hand. “Whatever you want.”
Sarah stood as still as she could until the two moved further into the store, then she caught Helen’s attention and motioned toward Stanley and his sister, then the front door. Helen nodded her understanding.
Sarah slipped out the door, intending to stay close. As she closed the door, she saw four or five miners in front of her. Covered in dirt and smelling like they hadn’t bathed in weeks, they shuffled a bit. All at once bumping into Stanley in the store didn’t seem so bad.
She tried to slip back into the mercantile, but found herself surrounded by a circle of stinking, hungry wolves, only she didn’t think they were after food. The look in their eyes and the licking of their lips between their droopy, dirty mustaches and their ragged, nasty beards shouted what they wanted.
“Well, if it ain’t the uppity girl. The one with the new place in town.”
“Heard she only likes to entertain after dark.”
“Maybe she’ll give us a taste of what she serves up at night.”
They shifted, moving closer, forcing her to move several feet down the sidewalk to keep from being pressed against them. They made vulgar comments as they rubbed their hands along their filthy trousers. How many more steps before she passed the corner of the store and into the alley beside it? She had to get away.
A scream born of fear, fed by past pain and bruising fists, clawed up her throat. Her lips opened. Before her throat gave birth to the blood-curdling cry that was begging for life, a hand clamped on her shoulder.
“You’re safe, Rose.” Thorn held a pistol, cocked and ready to fire.
The men stopped and stared.
“One warning. That’s all you men get. This is my wife, and if I see any of you so much as looking at her again, much less saying what you just did, you won’t live to see the sun go down.” Eyes narrowed, Thorn pointed his gun and glared at each man.
The men backed up, dropping their eyes and muttering.
“Didn’t know she was yours.”
“Word around town is she’s just ’nother soiled dove.”
“Didn’t mean no offense.”
As the miners scattered, Mac grabbed her and urged her to the side of the mercantile. He pulled her to his heaving chest.
She went willingly since her legs wouldn’t hold her. The shaking wouldn’t stop, nor would the tears. What those men had planned to do...No, it was too horrible to think about.
Thorn slid his gun in his holster. His narrowed eyes glared at her. His jaw tightened. “How could you even think to come shopping by yourself?”
Sarah felt each word as if it were the jab of a knife, but she stiffened her spine and stared right back at him. “I’m not that foolish. Helen and Carl are inside the mercantile.” She took a small breath. “Besides, I thought our marriage would protect me from...from that.”
“In Boston, it might have. From what I gathered from Drew, your grandfather’s name protected you from everyone but your husband.” Thorn pulled his hat from his head with one hand and ran the other through his hair. “But Rose, things are different out here. You’ve got to remember there’s over five hundred men living in this town and more than six hundred in Mountain City. Who knows how many hundreds of miners, gamblers, and no-accounts living up in these hills and come into town all the time. There’s less than two hundred women between the two towns, and not all of those are the decent type.”
Thorn’s face tightened as pain filled his eyes. He slapped his hand against his denim-clad thigh. “You’ve got a little girl who’s counting on you to care for her. You’ve got to be careful when you go out, very careful. It’s more than your reputation you’ve got to protect.”
Sarah nodded. She couldn’t take her eyes off his face. What caused such pain? What had he lost? Who had he lost?
She was raising her hand to touch his cheek when a young man raced up to them. “Mrs. Greer, Mrs. Greer, I got a letter for you. It’s marked ‘urgent’.”
Thorn shifted and put himself between her and the young man. “It’s Mrs. MacPherson now.”
The young man nodded and swallowed a couple of times as he stared at Thorn’s hand resting on his gun. “Sorry, sir, ma’am, uh, Mrs. MacPherson, but Pa said to get this to you right quick.”
“Thanks.” Thorn flipped him a coin, and the young man backed away, then turned and ran across the dusty street.
Sarah glanced at the cursive writing on the envelope before she slid her finger under the flap and opened the letter. What would be so important that her lawyer in Denver had sent her a letter with urgent spread across the front of the envelope with such a bold hand? Why hadn’t he just contacted his partner, Mr. Carlyle, here in Central City and let him handle it?
The letter gave no answers, just an imperative request that she come to Denver, as there was a crucial matter that he needed to discuss with her in person, as soon as possible. She crushed the letter in her fist. Whatever it was, it had to have something to do with Grandfather or Stanley. Their power, their greed reached far. What were the two of them up to now, and how would it affect Drew?