Rob was awake before dawn the next morning. He’d already dressed and was shoving a change of clothes into his saddlebags at the kitchen table while he gulped his too-hot coffee.
He was a fool.
He hadn't even attempted to comfort Liza at the train station yesterday, though it was clear the telegraph her mother had sent had devastated her.
He'd been stunned by her news, mind already whirling with what he might do to track down Wickham and fix things for Liza.
He'd also been afraid that if he reached out to comfort her, she would reject him again. With her sister looking on. And his.
All that wonderful morning she’d spent under his roof, he'd wanted to ask her to take a walk. Wanted to speak with her privately. Find out if her feelings toward him had changed.
They hadn't had a chance.
She'd spent time with her sister, sitting on his parlor sofa and whispering. Or chatting with Danna, who'd fallen into an easy camaraderie with her.
Each time he'd gotten up the nerve, she'd look away shyly.
Maybe that was his answer.
If her feelings for him had changed, wouldn't she have given him some sign?
He'd stalled out on packing his saddlebag, lost in thoughts of Liza, when Charlie banged in the back door, startling him.
"Your horse is saddled, boss. Sure you don't want me to come with you?"
He doubted it would be his finest hour if and when he came face to face with Wickham. He didn't need Charlie there to witness it.
"I need you here," he said. "To watch over the place." Rob secured the flap and lifted the saddlebag.
Charlie shifted his feet.
"You got something else to say?"
Charlie winced, like maybe he didn't want to say what was on his mind. But they'd been friends for years, so of course he opened his trap. "You sure you want to do this? Ride into the middle of the little gal's family drama?"
He had to. If there was any chance of saving the situation...
"Liza was devastated. If I can help erase that..." He knew she loved her sisters.
Charlie cleared his throat. "And ah... if, after all this, Liza still feels the same as she did before?"
Rob didn't want to think about that. He leveled an even gaze on his foreman. "She shouldn't have to be afraid for her sister. And Lydia needs somebody to find her, to…help her." He couldn’t forget the devastation on Katy’s face last Christmas. Couldn’t forget how hurt and angry Danna had been.
Didn’t want that for Liza.
He strode past his foreman and friend and out in to the pre-dawn darkness.
His horse greeted him with a whicker, and Rob secured his saddlebags and checked his saddle cinch out of habit.
He swung up into the saddle, surveying the shadow of his barn in the darkness. Yesterday, it had been so easy to imagine Liza here. To think about coming inside after a long day working the cattle to be greeted by her pretty smile. They'd worked together seamlessly in the kitchen. He'd even made her laugh once, although it had been at his expense.
He loved her.
And whether she would ever return his feelings was a mystery.
But he'd never forgive himself if he didn't try to fix this for her.
Days passed with no word.
With Papa gone, Liza and Janie took over running the store completely.
Liza used it as an escape from Mama's constant vacillating between sobbing hysterically and falling into a restless sleep, still sniffling. In turn, she blamed Lydia for ruining their lives and feared for Lydia's reputation. In Mama’s darkest moments, she feared for her daughter’s very life.
Liza couldn’t find the courage to tell anyone what she knew about Wickham. There was always the chance he'd come to his senses and abandon Lydia unscathed.
It was a wild hope, but it was better than nothing.
With so many hours spent in the store, Liza used the opportunity to put into place what she'd learned working in the Collinses' store.
Boots.
It was as simple as that.
Papa had always insisted on displaying their finest work in the window. Saddles and tooled belts and coin purses. But Collins displayed nothing but boots in all shapes and sizes.
Strategic displays inside the store made it easy to sell items the customer hadn't even realized they needed.
The store had enjoyed more sales this week than it had all of last month, and she’d even filled two special orders for new saddles.
If Lydia had been home, if things had been normal, the increased sales would've been cause for celebration.
With Lydia gone, it felt like too little, too late. Liza had wanted to rescue the family, but her silence had done the opposite.
Would they have to leave Calvin, like they'd left Cottonwood Cove?
She had no answers.
Rob found them in Rock Springs.
He'd spent over a week asking in every hotel, bordello and tavern in every small town in the area. He finally lucked out when a hotel clerk admitted they'd taken a room upstairs.
It'd been late in the evening, so Rob bided his time and took a room himself.
In the morning, he sat in the hotel restaurant with a view toward the stairwell.
Surprisingly, it was Lydia who descended first. She was alone and looked younger than her seventeen years, hair in a simple bun and wisping around her face. He could see Liza in the shape of her jaw and the bridge of her nose, and a fierce sense of protectiveness rose up.
She caught sight of him and hesitated.
He tried to imagine how Danna's charge, the orphan Katy, would respond and made himself smile. He waved her over.
She came after a slight hesitation.
"Mr. Darcy. What are you doing here?" There was definitely suspicion in her voice and narrowed eyes.
He turned the question back on her. "What are you doing here?"
She took a half step back.
And he heard Liza's voice from his memories. You're highhanded and bossy.
He'd gone about winning Liza all wrong and messed up completely.
This time, he’d take a different approach. Lydia’s future depended on it. And maybe his and Liza’s did, too.
He worked to show a smile, something neutral, something that hid his judgmental thoughts. "It's nice to see a friendly face. Join me for breakfast?"
She almost looked as if she would refuse, but her stomach gurgled.
He pointed to the carafe of coffee and the empty china cup on the opposite side of the table.
She sank into the chair and reached for the carafe immediately.
The waitress brought the breakfast plate he'd ordered to the table, her gaze bouncing between him and Lydia.
He picked up the plate and put it on Lydia's side of the table.
Her eyes widened.
"Bring another?" he asked the waitress, who nodded and hurried off.
Lydia scooped up the fork and began shoveling scrambled eggs into her mouth. More than what was polite.
She picked up the biscuit, not even bothering with butter or jam, and stuffed a bite in her mouth. Her eyes closed momentarily as if she were overcome.
Wickham wasn't feeding her properly, that much was clear.
Upon closer inspection, her dress was slightly wrinkled, and tiny lines fanned from her eyes.
"Are you alone?" he asked bluntly.
She shook her head, mouth still too full to speak.
"Where is Wickham?"
Her eyes flashed, and she put down her fork. It clinked against the fancy china plate.
"There's no use pretending," he said. "I know you ran off with him."
She gripped the edge of the table with both hands and started to stand.
He was making a hash of this. Liza's face flashed in his mind, the devastation she'd shown when she'd read her mother's wire.
"Your family is worried about you."
He was sure she’d storm away but, amazingly, she slumped back into the chair, her eyes filling with tears.
He panicked. He hadn't meant to make her cry. Now what?
She picked up her napkin and sniffled noisily into it.
When she looked up at him, all her suspicion was gone. "I… I thought things would be d-different."
He nodded slowly, carefully. She was like a spooked calf. No sudden movements…
She wiped her cheeks with the napkin. "He s-said we'd be married, but he hasn't looked for a preacher. He goes out in the evenings and leaves me alone... and he's gone all night!"
The waitress was heading their way with his plate of steaming food in hand, but when she saw Lydia, her eyes widened and she turned around, disappearing back into the kitchen with his breakfast.
He held back a sigh. His stomach grumbled its displeasure.
He waited for her to calm down.
She blew her nose noisily into the napkin and lifted wet eyes to him.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked. "I can make that happen."
She shrugged miserably. "I think... I might love him. And we've—"
He lifted his hand to stop her. He didn't want to hear details. "Is he upstairs now?"
She nodded.
"Why don't you finish your breakfast." Since it seemed he wouldn't get any. "And I'll go up and talk to him."
She passed him the key to their room, and he moved through the lobby.
He hesitated at the foot of the stairs. He really didn't want to confront Wickham. The man had betrayed him once already, had proved himself a cad.
But Rob wouldn’t fail Liza.
Upstairs, Rob unlocked the door to the room. The curtains had been pulled, leaving it dim.
Clothes littered the floor, and it stank of body odor.
Wickham snored softly from the bed.
Rob went straight to the windows and pulled back the curtains, letting bright morning sunlight stream into the room.
"Whaa—?"
Wickham rolled in the bed, but his head remained on the pillow.
Rob went to the bed and yanked off the quilt. Luckily, the man wore long johns.
"What the—?" Wickham sat up in bed, saw Rob and scrabbled backwards toward the headboard.
Rob saw the pistol on the dresser and quickly stepped over to pick it up. He held it loosely at his side.
Wickham was rumpled and tussled, and there was a fading bruise beneath one jaw. His eyes were red-rimmed and wary.
"What do you want?" Wickham demanded.
"I want you to do right by that girl weeping into her napkin downstairs."
Wickham's expression turned hard. "What I do with Lydia is none of your business."
Rob took stock of the man. Wickham was right. His life wasn't any of Rob's business.
But Grandfather had seen something in Wickham of value. What had happened to that young man so full of promise?
Was there a glint of vulnerability behind Wickham's hard exterior?
Wickham had betrayed Rob's trust once. Could he find a way to forgive the other man? For Lydia's sake?
For Liza's?
He breathed in deeply, releasing all the bitterness and anger he'd held toward Wickham with one long exhale.
"Is this what you really want for your life?"
Wickham sneered.
"Spending the night in taverns when you have a girl at home who thinks better of you?"
Something shifted behind Wickham's eyes, and Rob could only pray his words were getting through.
"You've done a great job pulling the wool over her eyes," Rob said. "She thinks you're charming and genuine. She loves you."
Wickham frowned. He stood and reached for a pair of trousers on the floor beside the bed, then quickly pulled them on. "I don't see how our relationship is any of your business."
Rob wouldn't let slip that he cared about Liza. Wickham would turn that knowledge to his advantage.
"She deserves better," Rob pressed.
Wickham threw his hands up. "What are you going to do? Aim that pistol at my back all the way to the parson's house?"
It was a tempting thought.
"Or give me a chunk of money as a wedding gift?"
"No. To both." He took a breath, felt Grandfather there beside him. "I'm going to give you a chance. Like Grandfather wanted. Like Grandfather did."
Wickham stared at him.
"He saw something good in you. Since he's been gone, I haven't seen a trace of it."
Wickham's expression lost its hint of openness and shifted into something ugly.
Rob continued anyway. "But that doesn't mean you can't have a second chance to be the man Grandfather thought you were. The man that the girl downstairs believes you are." He paced to the wardrobe and put the gun on top of it. "I'm willing to give you a reference. I've got a friend in Idaho looking to hire a couple of cowboys with a chance to be foreman eventually."
Wickham stared at him, suspicion clouding his features. "Why? What's in it for you?"
It would make Liza happy. And that was enough.
"I'll do it for Grandfather." He leveled a finger on Wickham. "But you have to marry Lydia. Today. Take her home to her family and prove you've done right by her. Settle their minds."
Wickham shrugged, looking out the window now. Rob could see the wheels in his mind churning.
"Grandfather believed in you," Rob said, hoping to plunge the knife in further. "You can still live up to that."
Rob stood at the back of the small church as Wickham and Lydia said their vows. The preacher's wife and a young man who might've been the hotel clerk stood up for them.
Lydia was beaming. She wore a new dress—which Rob would never admit to purchasing, though he'd had it sent to their hotel—and carrying a bouquet of wildflowers.
Wickham pulled at his tie once, but he didn't seem as nervous as Rob would've expected. Maybe, just maybe, he’d treat Lydia right. At least while he worked for a friend, Rob could keep tabs on him. Beyond that...
They exchanged simple silver rings, and Lydia beamed again.
Before Rob had left the hotel earlier, he'd convinced Lydia to send a telegraph to her family, to let them know she was coming home for a visit.
He'd also extracted a promise that she wouldn't speak to anyone of his involvement.
The last thing he wanted was for Liza to find out and feel obligated toward him.
And something Charlie'd said as Rob had rushed out of the house that last morning had stuck in his mind, rubbing like a burr beneath the saddle.
What if you do this and she still doesn't want you?
In his head, he'd replayed those last hours with Liza on his ranch. Again and again.
Liza had been softening toward him. He was sure of it. But was it enough?
Her refusal had been adamant, and even though he'd said he cared for her, she'd made no hint of any feelings for him.
Was he a fool, hoping for something out of reach?