But staring up into Lance's eyes, so soft and warm like melted fudge on the stove, Golda suddenly felt deeply sad at the thought of leaving. She had never met such a man as Lance Lowell and she didn't wish to leave him.
"We've missed the morning stage. I'm afraid we shall be stranded here in Stinking Creek for an entire week, until the next stage." Now she was almost glad.
"I know." Lance gripped his battered hat more tightly. "I hate for ya to go, but it ain't right for ya to be stranded here."
Golda's heart swelled. His selfless statement only proved his worth as a man. He gave her this gold knowing she would leave town with it. She dared to meet his gaze, a bold move for which Garnet would admonish her if she knew.
"Perhaps you might come visit me before I leave?"
A broad grin split the boyish handsomeness of Lance's round face. "I'd be mighty pleased to do that, Miss Golda. I was hopin' maybe you might ask me to visit."
Hope began to grow so tightly in her chest that it hurt, but Golda didn't mind. She had never felt so joyful, so alive.
For the first time in her life she had a beau. A man who clearly adored her, and who just might in time fall deeply in love with her.
Golda's heart swelled, right along with her most secret dreams.
"Mr. Lowell," she said now in greatest confidence, "I would welcome a visit from you any time at all."
* * *
"
No
! Absolutely not."
Garnet stormed across the cabin. She had never felt such furious rage in all her life than she did now at Wyatt Tanner's offer.
Not even at her pa, who'd duped her over and over again, had made her as angry as the man standing before her, whose dependable presence was like the steady beam of the sun above.
"Just take the damn gold," he ground out with sizable frustration. He hauled out the cabin's only chair and settled down to the table, looking dusty and trail-weary. "I can always pan more from the creek where I got it."
"But it's your life's savings." Garnet whirled around and stared at the man who reclined so casually in that crude chair. A new bottle of whisky winked in the sunshine that streamed through the yawning door. "I won't leave you as penniless as Pa left me."
"Trust me, I won't be penniless." Wyatt cracked open the seal on the bottle. "I have a gold claim. With gold on it. All it takes is a little work."
"
If
there is gold." Garnet crossed her arms. "I can't do it. I can't even consider it. I won't take your money, Wyatt."
"Give me one good reason why not."
"I've got my pride." She felt strung tight as a clothesline, ready to snap. "I've always fended for myself. And I'm not about to start relying on others to see to my needs."
"Oh, so that's it." He dared to chuckle. Clearly, he liked to live dangerously. "You're too proud a woman to take money from a man like me."
Garnet raised her chin a notch, her stance unyielding. "I have never needed a man's money, and I never will. I am capable of taking care of myself."
"How are you going to do that? Get yourself a patch of land and pan for gold?"
"Pan for gold? Goodness, I'll not resort to such unindustrious work. Surely there has to be some sort of respectable wage I can earn in this town."
And yet, even as she made the statement, she pictured Stinking Creek as it was the night she arrived. Scandalous. Dangerous. Sinful.
"The only respectable wages you could make are in the brothel." Wyatt tipped his head back and took three long pulls from the whiskey bottle. His throat worked with each swallow.
A brothel! "Is that what you think a woman is good for? A man's sport?" Oh, she'd had nearly enough of him, even if he had tried to rescue her savings from Pa. Furious beyond all measure, she stomped over to the table and wrapped her fingers around the neck of the whiskey bottle. She wished it was
his
neck.
"Hey! That's not what I meant at all. Garnet, give me back my booze."
He bounced up so quickly his chair tumbled backward onto the dirt floor, but she gave the bottle a good toss before he could stop her. She watched the whiskey fly through the air end over end, alcohol spilling like rain. The bottle hit a thin tree and thunked to the ground, broken and empty.
Garnet's chest swelled with satisfaction.
He crowded beside her in the doorway and sighed with complete disappointment. "What in the hell did you do that for?"
Suddenly, she realized her mistake. Crowded together in the doorway, she turned to face him. They were improperly close. Nearly nose-to-nose. If she took a deep breath, her breasts would brush up against the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. Of his chest.
"Don't run off with another bottle of mine."
"Then don't drink in my presence."
"Lady, this is my house. I'll do whatever the hell I want." He pressed closer, close enough that his breath fanned her face. He smelled faintly of coffee and more powerfully of liquor. "If you don't like me, then I suggest you leave."
"Fine." Her chin firmed, but she wondered if she could hide the tears smarting in her eyes. "If you want, I'll pack our belongings and be on our way."
"With my gift of gold?"
"Wrong." Garnet felt the righteous anger spill out of her like flour from a sack. "I am beholden to no one."
"That's not entirely true. You stayed in my shack," he reminded her with a teasing grin. "That makes you beholden to me."
"And I greatly regret it," she admitted, trying not to laugh at him. The sparkle of humor brightening his eyes was contagious. Could she hold back her smile?
No. One quirked along her mouth, but he stepped away before it could change the tension between them. Garnet squinted in the too-bright sunshine. Inside the cabin she heard a clink of glass.
"Please, take the gold." He returned with a new bottle of whiskey. He broke the seal with the slightest pressure from his big hand. "I insist. Don't think of it as charity. Consider it incentive to leave my cabin and never come back." He winked.
"You want to pay me to leave you alone?"
"Yes." Wyatt tipped the bottle and drank deeply. "Why do you think I live out here in the wilderness where there are no women?"
"So you don't have to bathe?" He wasn't the only one who could tease.
"So I can have some peace and quiet." He leaned against the wall, half in shadow, half in light, and took another pull on the bottle. Whiskey burned down his throat. "Take the money, Garnet. You can't stay here."
Not when he had a job to do, a cover to protect. Everyone in this town thought he was a miner panning for gold. And in order to find his brother's killer, everyone had to believe it. He couldn't have a woman hanging around, especially not one as sharp-eyed and intelligent as Garnet Jones.
"Don't worry. You want peace and quiet, you will have it." She snatched up an empty bucket and strode off. The sunshine played in her rich black hair, and her fast feet kicked up a growing plume of dust. From the looks of it, her leg was healing nicely.
Wyatt watched her disappear toward the creek. Amazing. She meant what she said. She wasn't going to take his gold.
Wyatt tipped back the bottle and let the fire-hot liquid burn a river down his throat to his belly. He was a man who thought he'd seen everything. The beauty of the wilderness. Indians in battle. Outlaws so cold and soulless that it was enough to make a man believe in evil. And yet, this was a first. A woman who wouldn't take a man's money.
He had never heard of such a thing. He had never believed that such a woman lived.
Unable to douse his curiosity, Wyatt followed her to the creek. Garnet sat on a large round boulder at the water's edge, her skirts carefully tucked out of the water's reach. The wind tugged at the long fall of hair neatly bound at the base of her neck. Small curls caught the breeze and shivered.
As if she was aware of his eyes on her, Garnet turned.
"Did you come to offer me even more money so I will leave you alone?"
"I'm afraid to." He crossed his arms across his chest, casually resting the bottle between two fingers. "You have quite a temper."
"One of the reasons no man would ever marry me." She watched the gurgling creek.
She was a small woman. She might be tall, but that only emphasized the slight build of her shoulders, the tiny width of her waist, and all her vulnerable beauty. She wore a plain butter-yellow dress today, a soft, muted color that made her seem delicate.
Wyatt knelt down beside the rock.
She gave him an apologetic shrug. "I'm sorry I insulted you. I know you were only trying to help me."
"Yes." He sucked down another swallow of whiskey. Then he offered her the bottle. "Want some?"
"No." But she smiled. "I'm sorry I broke your other bottle."
"You just wanted someone to lash out at since your father isn't here." Wyatt found a small pebble and tossed it into the creek. The lazy waters swallowed the stone with a mild
kerplunk
.
Garnet sighed. "I know I'm not so easy to get along with. It's no secret that men dislike me. I'm the only spinster in Willow Hollow who has never had one gentleman caller, let alone a marriage proposal."
Wyatt stared at the creek. "Willow Hollow sounds like a place full of stupid men. They don't know a good woman when they see one."
"Yes." Garnet gazed at him carefully. Then her smile widened. "That's what I've always thought."
But Wyatt heard the slightest tremor in her voice and recognized the hollow sound of her words. Garnet wasn't tough like she pretended to be. He didn't have to be a genius to read the hurt in her eyes.
"I admit I've been a little difficult, and I must apologize," she said now. "I'm just shouldering so many worries. How will I get home? What if I don't return in time to start my winter term? And it isn't just my job I stand to lose. I can only hope Opal and Silver have done the preserving correctly. And the harvest. Ruby's husband agreed to put up the crop."
Wyatt tipped back his head and laughed. "Your sisters are named after gemstones?"
An answering smirk softened the worry lines around her lush mouth. "Yes, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing."
"What else would a man obsessed with uncovering the earth's treasures name his daughters?"
Wyatt tried to picture his old man, the perpetual drunk, naming his sons in a like fashion. What type of drink might he be named after? What brand of whiskey? Or ale? Perhaps it was his own whiskey knocking giddiness into his blood, but Wyatt laughed hard and carefree for the first time in years.
"I don't appreciate you laughing at my expense," she scolded, but her eyes were laughing. "Does this mean you wouldn't mind if we stayed?"
"Oh, no. That's not possible."
"But–"
"Garnet. Staying here will not solve your problems. You said you needed to get home."
"I do. But I also need money."
"Look." He held out a small drawstring poke. "It's gold. And it's yours. My gift to you, not charity."
"Why? Wait, I know. Because you want me to leave."
But his reasons had changed. "Because you are the only person I've met in a long time who doesn't want something from me. I admire you for it, and I think you deserve a little help."
She smiled, deciding she liked the color of his eyes . . . and much, much more. "Oh, Wyatt. That's the nicest thing any man has ever said to me."
Wyatt set down his whiskey bottle. "I won't go that far."
She smiled, and it touched her face with a gentle beauty that surprised him. "I've never had anyone to talk over my troubles with. I was always the oldest and Ma was always so ill. I had to make all the decisions myself. I have always been so lonely. Thank you for being the one I can turn to. All we need is a roof over our heads, and your cabin is small and I have not worked out the details, but–"
"You're
staying
?" he interrupted again.
"You said you would help me."
"Yes, but–" Caught in his own trap, he sat there, searching for a way out. "I didn't mean for you to . . . I don't want you to . . . No. Absolutely not. I can't keep . . ."
Garnet's gaze fastened on his with the color of hope.
He felt that hope like a lead weight at the end of a pulley, dragging him closer to some place he didn't want to be. But how could he turn them out on the street?
"You can stay," he managed through a strangled throat. "But don't go giving me any grief. I'm not about to tidy up this place for you. This is my home. I know it's not good enough for you, but it will have to do until you find other accommodations, understood?"
He tried to add the harsh bite of anger to his voice that he'd perfected as a lawman. But it eluded him now as he watched the gratitude warm Garnet's face like a touch of morning sun.
Like a fool, he gave her a small smile. Not a big one. Not one reaching to his eyes or right from his heart, but still, even a small smile was the wrong thing to do. Garnet's defenses fell like a loose woman's drawers. She smiled, a pretty movement of her mouth. He could not look away.
"Thank you, Mr. Tanner." Her voice sounded light, as light as the dust shivering weightless in the air between them. "You don't know how I've been worrying what to do, where to go. I'm afraid for our safety in a town like this, and your cabin is more than good enough for me."