Epilogue
Ironwood, Wyoming 1884
THE TRAIN SWAYED AND shook, the whistle blasting the air as the wilds of Wyoming rushed past. Great expanses of green extended in either direction, cut only by the iron and wood of the tracks, and in the distance, snow-capped mountains towered majestically. At least, Alice assumed that’s what was outside the window. At the moment, she couldn’t force her gaze past the worn fabric of the private compartment’s seat opposite her.
Digging her hands into the plush of her own seat, she forced her stomach calm. She had no call to be so all fired anxious, and feeling ill besides. From any side she regarded it, excitement should have set in by now. Instead, she felt as if she would decorate the insides of the private carriage with the contents of her stomach.
Pressing her hand to her stomach did nothing to still the roil. Her skin looked fragile and pale against the fabric of her gown, the gold of her wedding ring the only colour to contrast the blue of the taffeta.
Hauling herself upright, she swayed as the train sped toward the station. Exhaling, she fought to remain steady on her feet, hoping like hell the action would force her nerves to calm.
It didn’t.
The train slowed, and it could only mean one thing. The train was preparing to pull into the station.
Less than ten minutes and she would be in Ironwood once more.
Pressing her hands into her sides, she exhaled again, desperately hoping a repeat of the action would do something. Goddamn it, she was the one who’d insisted they return. She had maintained to Rupert the boys should grow in Ironwood, that she wanted her children to know the town that had formed her. And now she was four months gone with their third, it had seemed the perfect time to put thought to action.
Rupert hadn’t cared much where they lived, the deadbeat. True to his word, his home was wherever she and the boys were, and if she was all fired certain she wanted to return to Ironwood, then he was more than happy to oblige.
Bracing her hands in the small of her back, she paced. Distraction. That was what she needed. There was no point in this fussing. She was only making herself sick. The moderate nature of the carriage didn’t allow for wild perambulations, but it felt right to be undertaking action in one form or another rather than sitting and stewing upon things best left unthought.
Eight years had passed since she’d walked the streets of Ironwood, since she’d stood before the Diamond, and much had happened in that time. Accepting the offer of Wyoming Coal to purchase her claim had resulted in a tidy sum and, combined with Rupert’s savings, enough to pay for their establishment in Montmartre, Paris. A tiny apartment on Rue la Bruyere had been their first home, and a rundown theatre a few blocks from there had been the start of her new theatre. After a time, Rupert had found employment with a coal company out of London, and she had put all her energy into Le Petit Bijou.
Her theatre, her little jewel, had been a rousing success. At first, she’d offered a small weekly show, but quickly demand had been such that a nightly performance turned a profit. Finally, she’d built a reputation and gained enough of a loyal audience that she’d had the courage to stage a proper production.
The Saloon Girl had been a moderate hit, playing for nigh on six months before ticket sales had shown any sign of waning. Even now, four years after its beginning, the production still ran—every third Saturday, in deference to the other shows she’d created. In a year or two, maybe it was they would return to Paris, if only to oversee the theatre’s operations for a spell. But that would be in a year or so. She’d no wish to leave Ironwood before she had to.
She exhaled forcefully. It had been so strange, the onslaught of homesickness that had felled her, all sudden and quick-like. The build-up—if there had been such—had been so gradual as to not garner her notice. Then, one day as she’d been preparing for a show, a wave had hit her so bad she hadn’t been able to stand. After that night, thoughts of the town she’d called her home for nigh on a dozen years haunted her, and as time had passed, the longing for Ironwood, and the desire to raise the boys in the town that had been her home for so long, had become undeniable.
Her stomach turned upon itself, as if that was the purpose for which it’d been designed. Pressing her hand harder against the gentle mound of her belly, she scowled. This was pure foolishness, is what it was. There was no godly reason to feel poorly, and be worried besides. Damn it all, she’d just recovered from the sickness of the voyage across the sea and carrying the new baby had brought. Why did her body see fit to try her with this new nausea?
The door banged open. Heart pounding and breath gone, she jerked her gaze toward it as two small bodies flew through, launching themselves at her. Catching them into a ferocious hug, gladness and intense love filled her. Here, just when she most needed it, the best of distractions.
Rupert had been her husband four months when she had first suspected she was pregnant. Though they used the same precautions they had prior to their marriage, apparently nothing was infallible, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. Six weeks on a ship battling both morning and sea sickness hadn’t been how she’d wanted to spend the voyage across the Atlantic.
By the time they’d docked in Le Havre, she’d been about ready to kill him for his part in her misery. He, of course, had been his usual cheerful self and taken her death threats and curses in stride. When he’d arranged their first French hotel room and all but forced her to remain in bed the first three days of their arrival, she’d been ready to have him canonised.
Thank God she hadn’t had to travel anywhere while pregnant with Victor. A sea voyage while suffering the worst morning sickness in the history of the world was not something she wanted to repeat. Ever. However, it seemed fate hated her, for once more she’d travelled the Atlantic with child, vomiting every step of the way and confined to her bed when she wasn’t retching.
Now, Rupert followed them in, looking harried and somewhat bemused, but he often wore that look when he trailed after their children. Again, her heart felt too large for her chest, her love for this man swelling her to bursting. He’d given her so much—the confidence to open a theatre in Paris, unconditional love, their children. She couldn’t see her life without him.
Oliver tugged at her sleeve. “Mama, did you see? We’re pulling into the station. Victor wants to see the Diamond so bad.”
Turning to her eldest son, Alice smiled. Seven years of age, and Oliver still insisted on saying his brother wanted to say or do what he clearly wished to. “Victor wants to see the Diamond, does he? Are you sure it’s not you, Oliver?”
Oliver shook his head. “No, Mama, don’t be silly. Victor told me.”
She shifted her focus to the small body snuggled into her other side. His thumb lodged in his mouth, Victor stared up at her from dark brown eyes identical to his father’s. She raised her brows at her almost three-year-old son. “Victor, is this true?”
Solemnly, Victor nodded, never releasing his death-grip on the now-tattered rabbit Rupert had given him upon his birth.
“Well, what does your father say?” She raised her gaze to Rupert’s, all expectant-like.
Taking on a long-suffering expression, he sighed expansively. “I think you boys are very lucky to have a mother who is so outstandingly talented she has theatres in two countries.”
“France and America,” Oliver announced.
Rupert nodded, solemn and sombre though it were belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “Well said, son.”
Oliver beamed and elbowed Victor, who responded by tucking his bunny under his chin.
“Where did you and the lads get to, boy? They’re missing the first look at the town.” Smith entered the compartment, wearing a thunderous scowl. The acquaintance of years had learned Alice such an expression was Smith’s way of showing affection.
Then, she realised what Smith had said. They were so close to Ironwood, she could smell it.
The roil of her stomach started again.
Smith’s frown dissolved into an expression approaching stricken, and he turned such to Rupert. “I’m sorry, boy, I had no notion your missus was so riled.”
“Smith, you weren’t to know.” Untangling the boys from her, Rupert led them to Smith. “Maybe you should take Oliver and Victor for a time, while I speak to Alice.”
Smith nodded sharply then looked to her. “Miz Alice, you’re not to be worried about a thing. I’ll take the boys to have a look out the dining car.”
She couldn’t speak past a constriction that had seen fit to rise in her throat. She felt more than saw Rupert move, escorting Smith and the boys to the door.
“Thank you, Smith,” he said, and then the compartment door closed.
“Do you think we’ll see Mama’s theatre from the train, Uncle Smith?” Oliver’s bright voice floated through from the hall.
“Now, lad, why don’t we just wait and see.” Smith continued to speak, but distance and the sounds of the train masked any further words.
Brow knotted, she wrapped her arms about her waist once more. An ill taste fouled the back of her throat.
Strong arms folded over hers and warm lips brushed her temple. “Don’t fret, love. It will all turn out well, you’ll see. It’ll be like you never left before you know it.”
Leaning into him, she tried to believe his words. Before him, she’d dealt with this anxiety by herself. Before him, she’d been able to. It was just…it was so much easier when someone stood at your side, someone you loved and who loved you in return.
Turning, she sought his embrace. Burrowing into him as much as she was able, she took comfort in his hands stroking her back. He rested his chin on her head, his hands soothing as they glided up and down.
Pulling away, she reacquainted herself with every beloved feature, every cherished detail. The scar by his brow he’d received as a boy. The bristles near his ear he always missed when he shaved. A kind of calm settled upon her, one that stood side-by-side with tension.
Dark eyes regarded her steadily. “Don’t fret. All will be well.”
Taking a breath, she stared at his chin, her fingers tracing a pattern on his shoulder. “How do you know?”
“Because it will be. Bloody hell, we’ve moved from one side of the world to the other, and you’ve been amazing in both. Just think of all you’ve done. You’ve brought your show from Ironwood, Wyoming, to Paris, France, and you’ve wowed them every time. This—” He gestured in the direction they headed. “This is nothing more than a moment. You will arrive back in Ironwood, and you will be magnificent.”
“I will?” She wanted to believe his words, she truly did.
He snorted. “Of course you will. You’re married to me. How could you be anything but?
Unwilling amusement tugged at her. “Damn, but you think well of yourself.”
He regarded her loftily. “If I don’t, no one else will.”
“True.” She could do this. Rupert believed she could. Stepping back, she brushed at her gown. “Well, if I’m going to be magnificent, I should look the part. How do I look?”
“Delicious.” His expression turned wicked. “Are you wearing your underthings?”
A heat unfurled in her, one that kept the nerves at bay and a saucy smile to tug at her mouth. Well hell, she needed distraction, and Rupert was real good at distraction.
“Of course.” Her smile widened at his pained groan. “A dark blue corset, to match my dress. Sheer lace chemise.” Tilting forward, she let her lips brush his ear. “It’s so scandalous. Why, it’s almost see-through.” Straightening, she concealed her smugness at the fire burning in his dark eyes.
He clutched his heart. “Why are you torturing me, woman?”
Trailing her hand over his shoulder, she winked. “It will make you more appreciative. Later.”
“You better believe it.” With a growl, he captured her by the waist and leant in close.
Before his lips could touch hers, the train slowed further. And stopped.
Alice’s stomach dropped somewhere about her calves.
“Don’t fret,” he said, his hands tightening.
She took in a breath, and another, and tried to heed his words. She wasn’t that successful.
A finger under her chin tilted her gaze to his. “Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll look to the boys.”
She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t put all responsibility for their children on to him, not when she was being so all-fired stupid about this return to Ironwood.
“Stop your thinking. You can’t help how you feel, and you’re right besides. This would be nerve-wracking for anyone.”
Surprise raised her brows. “How did you know—”
“Because I know you.” He smoothed the crease between her brows. “You think I’ve not noticed how anxious this has made you? You go and see the Diamond, and assure yourself she’s well. The boys and I will follow.”
This man. This beautiful, wonderful man. How did she ever get so lucky? “I love you.”
A smile bloomed on his features. “I know. Now git yerself gone, woman,” he said, slapping her on the behind.
With a final kiss of thanks and love and every other emotion she felt for him, she opened the compartment door and hurried from the train. The conductor’s whistle pierced the air, and the billow of steam temporarily obscured the station. The structure was better formed than when they’d left, stone walls instead of timber, but she hardly noticed as she pushed through the throng of disembarked passengers. The main street of Ironwood was much changed as well, sporting all manner of stores and such that hadn’t been there nine years before.
And there, around the corner, stood the Diamond.
Alice stopped, right in the middle of the street, and ignored the curses of those who made their way around her as she stared.
The Diamond rose like a grand lady, slightly shabby on the outside, the paint still the same rusty shade as when she’d left. Inside, though, no expense would have been spared, and the chandelier she’d finally installed after The Saloon Girl’s first triumphant run would shine bright over the floor of the Diamond.
She had no notion how long she stood there, staring like a fool while the shadows grew longer. Finally, the saloon doors swung open and Pearl walked through, dressed all in red and with her hand tightly clasped in the tall man beside her. Later, she would tease her friend until she blushed about the man at her side but for the moment, she had eyes only for the Diamond. Her Diamond. Her first love, though now only one of many. Rupert had been right. All would be well, now she was returned to the Diamond.
A kind of sickness again began in her stomach. Why then was it she couldn’t get her feet to take the first step?
A large, warm hand slid into hers. Rupert. A small hand burrowed into her other, and another smaller hand tangled in her skirts. Oliver and Victor. Her boys, surrounding her. Her great loves. Standing with her before the Diamond, the place she’d grown to the woman she was, and where she would watch her boys and the new baby do the same.
Pearl stepped forward, a huge grin on her face. “Welcome home, Alice.”
Her hand tightened in Rupert’s.
Yes. She was home.
Thank you for reading ROUGH DIAMOND! I hope you enjoyed Alice and Rupert’s tale.
Wondering why Pearl La Monte and Ethan Garrett can’t stand the sight of each other? Wonder no more with
The Diamond Series Book 2.
Are you curious about the cocky bounty hunter, Jacob Wade?
Find out what happens when a vengeful lady engages his services in
The Diamond Series Book 3
As always, it would be greatly appreciated if you would leave a review.