Strong and Stubborn (4 page)

His son tried to scowl, but his smile crept in around the edges. Luke didn't say anything about it, but Mike knew that their playful tussle assured the boy more than any words he could string together. Come what may, Luke knew that his dad was strong enough to get the job done and not let go of him in the meantime.

“As soon as I have everything settled and made sure I've found the right place, I'll come back and fetch you.” He stood up, knees tingling. “If all goes well, I'll be back before you miss me.”

Any possible response would sound childish, so Luke settled on a snort. It both dismissed the notion that he'd miss his father and dismissed the idea that he wouldn't. Then he spoke up.

“I don't much like waiting.” Luke jammed his hat down and muttered, “So make sure the first place is the right place, all right?”

“I'll do my best.” Mike couldn't get his son's parting request out of his mind for the rest of his journey.

No matter how he tried to tell himself that Hope Falls would be the answer to those prayers, doubts lashed him at every turn.
What if the Bainbridges were already having him followed?
He shook away the grim idea. Mike had purchased three different sets of train tickets in case someone tried to track them. He'd even boarded the first train, only to step off the back end and track around to their real ride. He'd closely watched everyone who boarded or left the train but saw nothing suspicious so far—which meant they'd gotten out of Baltimore free and clear.

But can we stay that way?
That was an entirely different question. Someone might be waiting to snatch Luke away at the next train station. Or some dodgy back-alley tracker might sniff them out after they reached Hope Falls. He had no way to know for sure.

Of course, Mike had done his best to find a location few people ever heard of so no one could deduce where they'd go. From what he'd gathered, Hope Falls had been a mine of some sort before being turned into a sawmill. No one with a smattering of logic would think that Michael Strode—carpenter, joiner, and cabinetmaker—would take off for a silver mine. Particularly not one so far away.

Yes, the location seemed perfect. So why did that one line in his telegram keep streaming through his thoughts? What on earth could his old friend mean by
“Sounds like a strange place. Good luck.”
?

Because, despite Mike's determination to build a new life and a safe home for Luke, he couldn't stop wondering … shouldn't all the bad luck have run out for a town that suffered a mine collapse? And, perhaps more importantly, just how strange could Hope Falls be?

Hope Falls, July 5, 1887

Strange how much effort it takes to accomplish so little
. Braden Lyman gritted his teeth and leaned back to ease the strain on his knee. During the past week, the doctor had determined his kneecap well enough healed to be taken from traction. Then had begun the agonizing—and agonizingly slow—process of “training” his leg to bend again. Thus far, through a makeshift system of pulleys, bandages, and bars, the doctor had managed to manipulate his damaged leg to a far-from-impressive one-hundred-forty-degree angle. No more.

Yes, it meant a forty-degree improvement from lying flat, as he had for more than two months—but it remained a solid fifty degrees away from him being able to bend his knee as though sitting properly in a chair.

Which meant fifty degrees away from him getting out of this blasted bed and into the wheeled chair ready and waiting for him.

If he'd made enough improvement, Braden would be in that wheelchair
right now
. He would've rolled himself straight out the door, across the meadow, and up to the opening of the mine he'd hewn into the mountain. The very mine that collapsed on him three months ago, killing several of his men and leaving Braden badly concussed with a dislocated shoulder and shattered kneecap.

The mine, where his little sister was determined to uncover evidence that the collapse had been a cleverly engineered catastrophe—not a result of poor planning or careless construction, as he'd believed. Braden's fists clamped around twisted bedsheets, the twin bullets of hope and helplessness piercing him anew.

Braden sucked in a deep breath and tried—as he had been for the past hour or so—not to stare at his fiancée while she quietly sat beside him and read. If he allowed himself more than a glance, he wouldn't be able to tear his gaze from the red shimmers in her ginger hair, the pale perfection of creamy skin touched with saucy freckles. If he looked once, she'd catch him staring at her, greedy for the comforting presence of the woman he no longer deserved.

She shouldn't be here
. Fury, sharp and vicious as barbed wire, squeezed his chest.
I can't provide for her from this sickroom. I can't
protect
her. I can't even make her go back home, where it's safe
. His rage coiled more tightly, crushing any last hopes.

“Why are you still here?” He lashed out against the woman whose presence reminded him of the man he'd been—and what he'd lost.

“Because, for the first time since I arrived in Hope Falls, you haven't ordered me out of your room.” Cora didn't look up, merely ran a delicate finger along the seam of pages. “I suppose I took it as an encouraging sign.” She paused. The page turned.

Her calm disinterest needled him. “Didn't I order you out of my room this very morning? Have I not said from the very beginning that you females should never have come to Hope Falls with your far-fetched schemes? At every turn I've said I don't want you, don't need you to do anything but leave here and behave like the ladies you've shown you aren't. Don't accuse me of inconsistency, woman!” The moment he spoke the words, Braden wished he'd choked on them.

Of course Cora could accuse him of inconsistency—he'd once pledged to love and protect her until his dying day. But Braden could no longer protect her. He could only love her enough to give her up. But the contrary woman made even that impossible. His glorious Cora wouldn't see reason, defied him at every turn, and obstinately refused to return to the safety and security of home.

“If I were to bother accusing you, Braden, inconsistency would hardly be the worst of the charges.” She raised her head, pinning him with the mismatched gaze Braden swore saw straight through him. One hazel eye, one blue … both shimmering with unshed tears.

His throat closed. For every time he'd sworn he didn't love her anymore, didn't want her, would order her from his sight and his town, Cora had looked steadily at him and refused. For the first time, she allowed him to glimpse the grief in her remarkable gaze.

I'm sorry
. He swallowed another of the thousand apologies he owed her and crossed his arms so he wouldn't reach out to hold her close and assure her how incredible a woman she was.
You deserve better. If the only way I can make you see that is to hurt you, I know it will still be best in the long run. You'll thank me someday
. And when that day came, he'd still be cursing himself.

C
ora Thompson blinked back tears, knowing they wouldn't vanish. Tears lurked all too close to the surface these days, and every time she pushed away the sorrow, it returned more quickly than before.

At this rate she'd be watery-eyed in another ten seconds.

Braden knows it, too
. Cora swallowed her hurt, refusing to cede her fiancé the victory. Instead she gave him the full force of her fury. “But since ‘inconsistent' is the sin you want to address first, how about we discuss it. How dare you berate us—daily—for two solid months over putting ourselves in danger and then put up only a token protest when Lacey tromps off to the mines?”

“None of you listen to me anyway,” he pointed out. “What you call a ‘token protest' was a reiteration of what I've been saying—as you admit—for the past two months. None of you women should be here at all. At this point, does anything make much difference?”

“It should. Your vague, insulting objections to our presence hold no water when your only reason is our gender. When it comes to a mine that already caved in on top of you, I would have thought you could offer better guidance. Lacey's life is at stake!”

“The mine construction stayed sound, and they shored it up farther to pull me out. It's safe enough if Dunstan keeps to the main way and doesn't stay long. But you don't have to believe me. If it makes things easier, believe that I don't care about my sister, too. Accuse me of whatever you like.” A sneer distorted his once-handsome face. “In the end, your words mean nothing to me.”

Cora drew a shuddering breath, refusing to let him see how deeply that struck her. When hope waned and even her love itself began to falter, she'd found pride to be her saving grace. Ironic, when one considered how pride numbered among the seven deadly sins.

But, if she was honest with herself—and Cora always tried to be honest with herself, even if the thoughts were too outrageous to share with anyone else—she'd imagined that she'd lovingly support Braden and see him through his time of pain and suffering. Cora had thought of helping mend broken bones or closing wounds.

Instead, every moment she spent with the man she loved fractured her own heart a tiny bit more, prying open the scars she'd thought healed over with the miraculous news of Braden's survival. As his body began to heal, their relationship wasted away.

“Who are you trying to convince of that, Braden?” She concentrated so hard on keeping her voice steady, she almost missed the flicker of emotion in his eyes. It caught her off guard, since she'd begun to believe his pretense that he no longer felt anything.

“I don't have to convince anyone of anything.” Again something shadowed his gaze. On him it looked like misery, but to Cora it looked as though hope wasn't completely lost after all!

“Yes you do because I don't believe this farce you've become. And until you can convince me, I won't release you from this engagement.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “So now what do you have to say?”

Maybe we've finally come to the point where Braden can no longer cocoon himself in his own misery and anger. It's smothered him for long enough—he has to begin breaking free of the past
.

Slowly expectation leaked from the air, leaving it brittle with unanswered anticipation. Silence crept in, softly at first, gaining ground, growing heavier with each passing moment.

Cora found herself holding her breath in spite of herself—but as a crumbling defense against the renewed onslaught of unshed tears.
Sometimes
, she realized as Braden turned his head to the wall,
the worst possible answer is no answer at all
.

I've lost him
.

“So Lacey's disappeared again,” Naomi murmured when she and Evie walked into Braden's sickroom a few days after their talk. Even stranger, the room held about enough tension to crack the walls.

Obviously Braden had said or done something upsetting. But right now she didn't have the patience for the troubles of Cora's engagement. Instead Naomi's worry had clicked up another notch.

“Where's Lacey?” It sounded more like a demand than a question, but Naomi knew her sharpness would be forgiven. After all, the young cousin she'd watched over for the past five years had a vexing habit of disregarding danger and disappearing into the forest surrounding Hope Falls. In the past month alone, the stubborn girl had been abducted at gunpoint
and
attacked by a cougar.

The mere fact that a cougar attack ranked as a
lesser
concern meant Lacey shouldn't be allowed in the forest alone. Ever. Naomi's stomach churned at the newfound proof that Lacey had wandered again.

“My peahen of a sister went off with Dunstan.” Braden roused himself to glower at them as though it were all their faults.

Maybe it is my fault
, Naomi conceded. After all, she'd been the one to help raise Lacey when the girl needed a mother. Worse, she'd gone along with the harebrained plan to save Hope Falls.
If I'd tried harder, maybe I could've talked sense into the others and saved us all
. Even as she wondered, Naomi knew better.