Chapter Eight

Footsteps echoed behind her. Rosalind ran faster along the length of the train. Her vision zeroed in on the locomotive. If she could just get to the front, she could cross the tracks and dash inside the depot. She’d be safe there.

The steps pounded louder. Closer.

God, don’t let them catch me! Her breaths heaved as she tried to outdistance her pursuer. She’d managed to take them by surprise the first time, but she’d lost that advantage. She’d be at their mercy now.

“Rosalind! Wait!”

Run. Faster.

But she felt herself slowing. Cramps attacked her side. Her legs ached. Her lungs burned.

Just a few more cars. Please, Lord!

“Rosalind!”

A hand grabbed her arm. Yanked her to a stop. She struggled. Tried to break free. But he captured her other arm, his grip tight. She tried to bring up her knee, but he clutched her against his chest, making the maneuver impossible. She slammed her head forward, hoping to connect with his nose, but he was too tall. The blow merely glanced off his chin.

He grunted. “Rosalind. It’s me—Caleb. It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re safe.”

Caleb?

The name burned a hole through the haze of blinding panic. Her frantic movements slowed. She lifted her gaze and drank in the blessedly familiar features of the man she loved.

“Oh, Caleb!” She collapsed against him. He released his hold on her arms and wrapped her in a warm, protective embrace.

Safe. She was safe. With Caleb. Strong, wonderful Caleb.

Relief overwhelmed her, and she nearly buckled. Her hands trembled as she clutched his shirtfront. Tears coursed down her face.

“Shh. It’s all right. I’m here now.” His hand stroked her back. So gentle. So loving.

She wanted to stay in his arms forever. Letting him soothe and reassure her. Letting him hold the ugliness at bay. Believing that everything really was all right.

But it wasn’t.

She wasn’t. And she couldn’t pretend anymore. Caleb’s mother had been right. Her son deserved better than a woman who would bring scandal to his doorstep. A woman who would hamper his career. He was still growing his practice. He needed clients with clout, with the social connections to open doors. Tying himself to her would slam those doors in his face. She couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t stay in this town and watch his love for her wither as the truth came out. For it would. Despite how careful she’d been or how adamantly she’d denied their claims, those cowhands had recognized the truth. The Prairie Rose and the Harvey Girl were one and the same.

Steeling herself for the pain that would come when she stripped the dream of Caleb from her heart, Rosalind straightened away from the comfort of his embrace and forced herself to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Caleb. So sorry.” The tears he’d just soothed away rose again, but she blinked them back. “I thought I could make this work, but I can’t. It’s not fair to you.”

His brow furrowed. “What’s not fair? Sweetheart, you aren’t making any sense.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and started steering her toward the front of the train. “Let me get you back to Mrs. Williams. You can sit with her while I round up the marshal.”

“No!” Rosalind jerked from his hold and refused to take another step.

Caleb frowned. “Those men accosted you. I might not have seen it with my own eyes, but I saw a terrified woman defending herself—with admirable skill, I might add—and I’ll testify to that. You can explain the rest. What they did was a crime. They need to be held accountable.”

She shook her head. If those men were brought before the marshal, they’d expose her, expose the photo card. She couldn’t let that happen. Not if there was any chance remaining of her escaping with her reputation intact.

“Leave it alone, Caleb. Please. Bringing in the law will only make matters worse.”

“I don’t understand.”

Rosalind’s heart shriveled. “I know. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I have to leave. I still have several months left on my contract, but I’ll do my best to persuade Mr. Ledbetter to transfer me. I’ll volunteer to go anywhere they need me outside of Texas.”

“Whoa. You can’t just leave.”

Caleb stepped close—so close that all she wanted to do was lean into him, but she had to stay strong. For both of them.

“I love you, Rosalind.” His gaze scoured her face. “I want to marry you. Whatever trouble you’re in, we can face it together.”

One tear slipped free and trailed slowly down her cheek. “I love you too, Caleb.” He needed to know that. “So much. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you. But that’s not possible.”

“Why not?” Hurt lit his eyes, and the sight of it made her heart bleed. “Just tell me what you’re running from. Let me help you.”

Rosalind took his hand in both of hers and brought it to her lips. She pressed a kiss to his knuckles, squeezing her eyes closed as she savored the moment for as long as she dared before facing him again. “You’re a good man, Caleb Durrington. So upright and just. I don’t doubt for a moment that you would stand by my side and do your best to slay my dragons. But I won’t risk you being scorched by their fire when I have the power to lure them away.”

“Then take me with you.” He yanked his hand from hers and cupped both her shoulders in his grip. “If you’re set on leaving, then we’ll go together. I’m sure people in California need lawyers too. We can make it work.”

Heavens, how she loved this man. Yet others loved him too. Others with a prior claim. “And who will oversee your father’s ranch?”

“I can hire—”

“What about your mother? You’re the only family she has left. What happens when her health starts to fail? You can’t just abandon her, Caleb. She needs you.”

“But I need you.”

“No. You want me. Just as I want you. But we are young. Resilient. We’ll survive. The pain will be agonizing at first, but it will fade over time. Perhaps leave a few scars to help us remember.” Gently, she peeled his hands from her shoulders and stepped away, her lips curving into a sad smile. “Trust me, Caleb. It’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t believe that.”

His voice echoed dully between them, yet he made no move to follow her as she turned to go. It was for the best. Still, her heart broke a little. The first of many cracks that were sure to come.

She glanced over her shoulder, allowing herself one last look at the man who would forever own her heart. The man who would learn the truth soon enough, for she wasn’t so foolish as to think it wouldn’t come out after what had happened today.

“I can’t believe that,” he insisted, a hint of fire returning to his eyes as he fisted his hands at his sides.

Rosalind turned away. “You will.”

Caleb followed Rosalind from a distance, ensuring she reached Mrs. Williams without further incident. The whole time he trailed her, his mind spun with questions, arguments, and pleas to God for wisdom as he tried to figure out his next move. She’d begged him to let the issue with the cowhands go, but it wasn’t in his nature to give up without a fight, and when life with the woman he loved hung in the balance, he’d keep swinging until the last breath was driven from his body, whether she wanted him to or not.

Rosalind might think she was protecting him, but between her and his mother, Caleb was fed up with women trying to do what was best for him—even if it was out of love.

Love.

Caleb’s step stuttered. Rosalind had professed her love for him. Admitted she wanted him, respected him, and cared about what was best for him and his family. Not even her threat to leave could spoil the gift she’d given him. She loved him, and there was no way he was letting her go.

The thought goaded him to pick up his pace. He jogged up the courthouse stairwell to his small office on the second floor. He yanked the shade down over the one window in the room, then opened the cabinet where he kept a few personal items, including a change of clothes for when he needed to ride out to the Bar D.

Rosalind might not be willing to explain what had spooked her into trying to run away from him, but she wasn’t the first reluctant witness he’d encountered. When a witness didn’t offer the whole story, it was the attorney’s job to investigate until he uncovered the truth. A proper defense could only be devised when one had all the facts. And as far as he could tell, there were at least two other witnesses who had testimony to offer—the pair of cowhands who’d attacked Rosalind. They possessed knowledge he needed, and he intended to get it.

Caleb fastened his worn trousers, did up the buttons on the plaid shirt that would match any other cowhand’s attire, and slid his feet into a pair of beaten-up boots that still carried a layer of ranch dust. As the final piece of his disguise, he slapped on the sweat-stained hat that always made his mother grimace and pulled the brim low over his eyes. He’d sprinted around the train so fast in his pursuit of Rosalind, he doubted any of the cowhands delivering cattle to the stockyards would recognize him, but they’d probably recall the lines of his suitcoat and the silver band on his black felt hat. Besides, they’d be more likely to talk freely with one of their own.

Fifteen minutes later, Caleb entered the stockyards and spotted a group of men gathered by the main holding pen. He approached, keeping to the periphery. He recognized the two men Rosalind had tangled with. Both looked rather grumpy, no doubt having been subjected to a fair amount of ribbing over being bested by a girl.

“I told ya that was no genteel female. She might have them Harvey House folks fooled, but I seen through her disguise the minute I saw her.” The fellow who’d been the recipient of Rosalind’s well-aimed knee turned to spit an arc of tobacco juice at the base of the nearest fence post. His expectoration fell short of the mark, much like his opinion of the female in question.

“Only ’cause you’ve been moonin’ over the Prairie Rose ever since you bought that photo card down in Houston. You really should pay more attention to real gals, Gillespie.”

Gillespie yanked a card from his pocket and jabbed a finger at it. “The Prairie Rose is real. I just met ’er.”

His companion smirked. “Yeah. And nearly got gelded in the process.”

Snickers broke out in the group.

Gillespie shoved the smirking cowboy. “Shut up, Larson.”

Caleb frowned. The Prairie Rose? Who was that, and what did she have to do with Rosalind? He moseyed closer, trying to get a look at the card.

“Tell ’em, Joe,” Gillespie called. “You saw her too.”

A fellow with a knife in hand a few yards from the main group grumbled, “Leave me be, Gill. If I don’t make this next shot, I lose my copy of the Rose.”

A throwing contest seemed to be underway, the prize being a sepia-toned card stuck in a crack atop a fence post. Joe’s competitor, his knife already embedded in the center of a knothole two inches below the card, turned to face the group, his eyes jerking wide when he spotted Caleb. A similar shock coursed through Caleb. It was one of the hands from the Bar D.

“Take your shot,” Thompson groused, stuffing his hands in his trouser pockets and ducking his head back around.

Joe flipped the flat of the blade onto his palm, took aim, and flicked it at the post. It landed with a thwack an inch off-center, the handle wagging back and forth.

Thompson wasted no time claiming his prize. He snatched the card from the top of the post, yanked his knife from the wood, then hoofed it in the opposite direction. Caleb had hoped to corner him and ask about the card, but the fellow didn’t seem to be in the sharing mood. At least he hadn’t given up Caleb’s identity, leaving Caleb the opportunity to infiltrate the outer edges of the group. Best not to get too close to the main players. His change of clothes provided only a superficial layer of anonymity.

The cowhand named Larson caught Caleb’s eye and nodded. He met Caleb a few feet away from where the core of the group was taking bets on Gillespie’s likelihood of cornering the Prairie Rose a second time.

“You local? Don’t remember seeing you on the train.”

Caleb dipped his head. “Yep. Work on the Bar D with Thompson.”

“Ah. The kid seemed to be in a hurry to escape with his prize.” Larson chuckled. “Can’t say I blame him. Rosie’s the kinda woman a man can better appreciate without a crowd pesterin’ him.”

“You talkin’ about that Prairie Rose?” Caleb roughened the texture of his voice and abandoned his usual vocabulary. “Don’t see what all the fuss is about. It’s just a picture.”

Larson shook his head and gave him a pitying glance. “You don’t know Rosie.” He lifted his head and called to his friend. “Gillespie, let me see that photo card. Our friend here don’t believe Rosie’s worth all the fuss.”

“He will once he gets a gander at her.” Gillespie passed the card to the person next to him, who passed it along until it reached Larson.

Larson handed it to Caleb. “See what I mean?”

There, staring up at him with vulnerable eyes and a mysterious, wistful smile was Rosalind. In her underclothes. Hair unbound in riotous waves around her face. A corset framed curves only a husband should see before the photo cut off at her waist. Caleb jerked his gaze away, heat creeping up the back of his neck.

He turned the card over, his only thought to hide the image, but gold lettering engraved along the bottom caught his eye. Julius Hansom Photography. Larson didn’t seem to appreciate his view being obstructed, though, for he snatched the card back and flipped it over.

Caleb scowled. “Girl’s just a kid. Ain’t right to be lookin’ at her.”

There was no denying it was Rosalind, as much as he wished otherwise. Same eyes. Same face. Same smile, only more melancholy. And younger. Much younger. Nausea churned in Caleb’s gut.

“She was old enough to pose for the picture, weren’t she?” Larson said, his voice defensive. He cupped the card in his palm and danced it around. “Pranced around in her underthings for the photographer. Didn’t seem to mind him lookin’. Had to know others would be lookin’ too. Way I figure it, she issued the invitation.” He rubbed a thumb along the length of the card, along Rosalind’s face, giving the image a full, appreciative gander. “A fella don’t have nothin’ to feel guilty about if he chooses to answer that invitation.”

Caleb wanted to tear the card from Larson’s hand and rip it to shreds. But that wouldn’t solve the problem. At the moment, he wasn’t sure what would.