A Lady in Defiance (21 page)

As the two stepped outside, she noticed his cane with the
ornately carved wolf’s head on top. “It’s beautiful. I think it makes you look
very distinguished.”

He twirled the cane around as they strolled at a comfortable,
casual speed. “It is very old and belonged to my father. Alas, I fear it makes
me look as ancient as Methuselah.”

“Hardly. You’re dapper and handsome with it.” She looked
away, certain she was flushed with embarrassment over the bold comment that had
just leaped out of her mouth. Ian scratched his beard and grinned at her.
Shocked at herself, Rebecca prayed that God would strike her dumb and stop this
runaway mouth of hers. 

“Ms. Rebecca, are there other siblings between ye and yer
sisters? How is it that there is such a spread in yer ages?”

She shook her head, resigned to the implication that she was
noticeably older than Hannah and Naomi. “No, Momma and Daddy had me and, after
twelve years of no more children, thought they were done. You can imagine what
a surprise Naomi was to everyone. They thought she was a small miracle, but
then six years after her, Hannah was born.” 

“If ye don’t mind me asking, where is the father of Hannah’s
babe?” It was the first time he had mentioned the situation.

Rebecca tugged nervously on her braid. “I don’t know
exactly.” Rebecca had taken quite a shine to Ian, but that didn’t mean she
should go spouting off the family secrets. Besides, she didn’t want him to
think poorly of Hannah. “His father was going to send him to some Ivy League
school this fall. I hope they both think it was worth abandoning her and the
baby for it.”

“I take it the lad dinna marry her then?” His voice was
gentle and lacking any accusations. When Rebecca didn’t answer immediately, he
cleared his throat and apologized. “I’m sorry. That’s none o’ me business.
Hannah seems a very sweet girl−”

“And Billy Page is a fast-talkin’, quick-movin’ scallywag.”
Rebecca was immediately sorry the unexpected gush of anger had taken control of
her sense. Crossing her arms, she shook her head and sighed. “He has no idea
how many hearts he’s broken.”

They walked in silence after that until they reached the
telegraph office. Ian plucked the order from Rebecca’s hand. “Allow me. It
won’t take a moment. Rest on the bench and enjoy these last warm rays of the
sun. Winter is comin’ and it comes to Defiance with a vengeance.”

She thanked him and sat down. Rebecca watched the town bustle
about like any busy, civilized city back east. Everyday new folks rolled in, on
the stage, with mule trains, or on their own, sure they could simply pluck
ten-pound nuggets from the creeks. She had heard that most prospectors, after
fruitless months of panning, eventually gave up seeking their own fortunes and
went to work for Ian and Mr. McIntyre at the Sunnyside Mine.

The disproportionate number of women among the men was a fact
that worried Rebecca. Ian had told them there were fewer than thirty women in
town and that females sparked ninety percent of the fights. She felt safe with
him, though, and knew he was watching over them.

Over her?

It had been so long since a man had looked at her. Even
longer since she’d wanted to look back. Ian made her feel as though he could
see right past her wrinkles and seasoned age to the girl she used to be. Near
as she could tell, he hadn’t looked twice at Naomi or Hannah.

But was she getting ahead of herself? Ian clearly favored
her, but in what way? Rebecca had no desire to risk a heartbreak. Maybe he
favored her precisely because of her age: that she was someone safe with whom
he could be friends and there wouldn’t be any romantic entangle¬ments. Besides,
Rebecca wasn’t so sure she was ready for anything like that. She had her silly,
romantic daydreams about Ian. That would have to do for now. Illusions were
safe and didn’t put either of them in awkward situations.

She settled on the bench more comfortably and shut her eyes
to enjoy the gentle warmth on her face. Back home, the first day of September
was just as hot as the first day of July. Here, in these mountains, at this
altitude, she doubted it would ever be hot enough to melt candles like Southern
heat could.

The bench moved as Ian sat beside her and she opened her eyes
to thank him for sending the telegraph. To her dismay, a total stranger sat
beside her, grinning widely through broken teeth and a scruffy beard. Another
man stood near him, leering with an unnerving hunger.

“You’re one of those new girls, ain’t ya?” The man sitting
beside her looked her up and down lecherously. “We heard about you up at our
camp. You must be the oldest one, but you’re still mighty pretty.” He slapped
his friend on the leg and laughed. “That’s all right. I like ‘em seasoned.
Sometimes them young’uns don’t really know how to please a man−”

“Sir,” Rebecca surged to her feet. “Your conversation is rude
and vulgar. Please excuse me.” She thought to push past the man who was
standing and slip into the telegraph office, but the man on the bench leaped to
his feet and grabbed her arm as the other one blocked her way.

“No streetwalker talks to Texas Jack that way−”

The raised voices brought Ian out of the office and
immediately to Rebecca’s defense. With stunning force, he violently heaved the
man holding Rebecca into his friend, nearly bowling them both down. As they
fought to regain their balance, Ian pressed the end of his cane into the man’s
chest. “Apologize to the lady for yer impertinence or I’ll part yer skull.”

His warning was clear and Rebecca knew with a heart-pounding
certainty it should be heeded. The fire in the stranger’s eyes fairly screamed
that he had other plans. He grabbed for his sidearm, but Ian laid his cane
right down the middle of the man’s head with a thunderous crack. As he fell,
Ian swiftly stabbed the cane into the other man’s gut and watched him double
over and slide to his knees, clutching his midsection. Without hesitation, he
smacked him on the head as well, and, in what seemed the blink of an eye, both
men were lying on the sidewalk. Rebecca gasped, stunned by the complete
efficiency with which Ian had dispatched both men.

“Our business here is concluded.” Gently, he took her arm.
“Let’s be on our way.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Rebecca was reeling
from the swiftness and perfect skill of his attack. Hand at her heart, she
looked back at the men, one still lying motionless on the ground and the other
alternately grabbing his head and his midsection and groaning. “Where did you
learn to do that?”

“The streets of Edinborough.”

After a few minutes, she recovered from the fright of the
violent tussle and played the man’s words over and over in her head. With each
repeating of it, she found her spirits sinking lower and lower. Streetwalker.
She had never in her life heard the word, but its meaning was perfectly clear.

Without looking at Ian, she broached the man’s comment. “He
called me a streetwalker.” She felt the muscles in his arm tense. “Is that what
we’ve done? Just by coming into this town, we’re automatically branded as…” she
couldn’t even say the word. “Is that what everyone really thinks of us?”

Looking distracted and somber, he steered her down the alley
between two buildings and led her  toward the stream. “Let’s take a less
traveled path.”

The fact that he didn’t answer right away disturbed Rebecca.
Did the men in this town think they were in the process of building another
brothel no matter what message Mr. McIntyre had tried to disperse? No matter
how well she and her sisters behaved? What did Ian think? “Oh, this is
horrible!” Mortified, Rebecca collapsed on to a boulder at the water’s edge.
“Does everyone think we’re building a brothel? Do you?”

“No, no, no,” he declared, lighting beside her. “I think
nothin’ of the sort. Mac has gone to great pains to let folks know that ye’re
only opening a respectable place…but there are a lot of men in this area who
don’t get into town that much.” He rubbed his neck as if the stress was getting
the better of him. “Men will think what they want to think. Ye’ll just have to
prove them wrong...and that might take some time.”

Rebecca was stunned. She realized they had all been living in
this fairy tale world, thinking that if they didn’t look or act like
prostitutes, eventually they would convince the men of the truth. She thought
of the many trips she and her sisters had made to the bank, general store and
telegraph office and cringed. The whispers and the stares, the soft laughter that
followed them down the boardwalk, even when the marshal was with them. Did
everyone think this was a huge joke and when the inn was open, they would rush
the doors seeking
entertainment
rather than a simple meal?

Gently, Ian took Rebecca’s hand. She slowly raised her face
to look at him. Serene, blue eyes calmed her soul. She had the strangest
certainty that he wanted to kiss her. “If I might offer a suggestion...” At
first he seemed lost for words but she waited expectantly and tried to slow her
galloping heart. “Perhaps if ye were seen in the company of a respectable man
more often…” Her brow furrowed, unsure of his meaning. He muttered a mild oath
under his breath and sighed. “What I’m tryin’ to say, very badly, is that I’d
like permission to call on ye, if ye’ve a mind to be courted by an old goot
like meself.”

Her eyes saucered, but after a moment, a smile was born. “The
thought of having you around more is not an unpleasant one,” she answered as
honestly as she could.

His face fell. “But...”

“But it’s been a very, very long time since I−well, I’m
not a teenager anymore, Ian. The idea of courting is…”

“A bit fast for ye?”

Terrifying
, she wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, she nodded,
thankful that the excuse kept her from having to discuss her wrinkles and other
insecurities. Could he really want a relationship with a woman who was at the
point in life of trading beauty for wisdom? Rebecca felt so weathered and dull
compared to her sisters, how could he see past them to her?

 “Then may I have permission to call on ye as a friend…a
dear friend.”

She couldn’t help herself and squeezed his hand, marveling
over how warm and right it felt in hers. “Yes, a very dear friend.” Taking a
risk, she admitted, “I’d like that more than you can imagine.”

~~~

Naomi stared at the chicken coop and sighed. Rebecca had
overseen the men who had hung the cages in here and, as a result, everything
was perfect for her Amazonian sister to reach, but at least a foot too high for
Naomi. Gathering eggs was now her least favorite chore as it usually resulted
in a pricked elbow from jagged chicken wire or an unpleasant stain on the front
of her apron. She tried not to think about their coop back home. John had built
her a perfect hen house: neat, prim, tidy, and at an easy height to steal the
eggs. He had delighted in building something that pleased her so...

Eager to save that memory for a later time, she looked around
the little lean-to. Perhaps there was something she could stand on? She saw a
few rusty tools, some nails spilled in the dirt and a pine stump about two feet
tall and a foot or so around. It would be wobbly, Naomi knew, but perhaps she
could steady herself long enough...

She set her basket atop the chicken cages and wiggled the
surprisingly heavy stump over in front of them. She eyed it warily and pushed
on it. The ground was uneven and it wiggled around some, but Naomi was
confident of her balance. Hiking up her skirt, she stepped gingerly on the
stump. Slowly, she stood up as much as the low roof would allow. So far, so
good.

She reached for the basket and the motion threatened to
topple her stand, but she managed to stay on top by freezing in place. Hoping
she had her balance back, she reached again for the basket and opened the first
cage.

From his position on the back porch, McIntyre watched Naomi
set up the makeshift stool and smiled with mischievous delight. He could see
disaster right around the corner and decided to help it along. Though he had
vowed to avoid her, the potential for a little fun at Her Highness’s expense
was simply too tempting.

Quiet as an Indian, he stole behind her as she ever-so-slowly
reached under the reticent hen and retrieved an egg. Oblivious to his presence,
she moved to drop the egg in her basket. The change in direction caused the
stump to wobble. Naomi froze, the egg still in her hand. A breathless moment
passed as she waited to make sure things were under control. Her balance
regained, she let out a breath and placed the egg in her basket.

McIntyre moved a step closer. “Good morning, Mrs. Miller.”
Naomi squeaked in fear at the unusually loud greeting, the stump wobbled, her
feet went out from under her and she fell right into his arms…as planned, though
he’d been forced to move a little quicker than he’d anticipated to catch this
falling angel.

Feigning shock, he rolled his eyes. “Really, Mrs. Miller.
Must you throw yourself at me? It is rather embarrassing.”

Practically growling, she fought to get away from him, but he
held fast for just a breath. He saw the outrage percolating in her eyes, but he
didn’t miss the flash of something else, either. Enjoying the feel of her
pressed against him, he pulled her closer and grinned like the devil.