The Miner's Lady (20 page)

Of course, if anyone finds out about this, it will be ruined anyway
. She supposed she should have given her impetuous actions more thought. But now it was too late to worry about it.
Thankfully, few people know me in this part of town
.

“I don't want you to think I don't care about you, Orlando.” Dante's voice sounded less angry, more brotherly. “You're all I have left of Mama. I don't think I ever told you that, but it's true.

“When Mama died giving birth to you, I wanted to hate you, but I couldn't. Mama had told me that you were a gift from God for all of us. Before you were born, she charged me to always look after you and see to your welfare. I suppose that's why it was so important I find you. I know you think I'm against you, but really I'm not. I can see that you love Isabella. I can understand that you don't care what anyone else thinks. Believe me, I understand.”

Chantel suppressed a yawn. She couldn't help but feel a bit of tenderness for him as he spoke on and on of their childhood.
It would have been so hard to grow up without Mama
. Their mother was the very heart of their family. It had probably been the same for Dante's family. No wonder Mr. Calarco was such a disagreeable man. Why, Papa himself might not be the same man without Mama. They might all be difficult and displeasing without Mama's gentle spirit to guide them.

Dante woke to a bright stream of light flooding the room. He startled and jumped up from the bed, worried that he'd overslept. They had a train to catch. He checked his watch. There was still plenty of time.

“Orlando, wake up,” he called as he pulled on his trousers.

When there wasn't even so much as a grunt from the bed, he shook his head. “Look, I don't care if you talk to me or not, but get up. We have to make that train, and I'd like to have some breakfast first. If you don't get up, I'm not going to feed you.”

Still his brother said nothing. Dante pulled his shirt on
before going to his brother's bed. “I'll turn this mattress upside down on the floor and dump you out if need be.” He yanked back the covers and froze.

Beautiful black lashes fluttered open to reveal dark brown eyes—eyes that clearly did not belong to his brother.

Marco Panetta sat listening as Judge Van Blarcom reiterated the details of what had happened to Jalo Gadd at the Fortune Hole. Marco had taken time off from the mine that morning in order to testify as to what had happened the night Leo had beaten the Finn and left him for dead. He'd come with the certainty that justice would prevail. Judge Van Blarcom was a good man and well liked in the community. But as the short hearing continued, Marco became less convinced of the outcome.

The situation soon felt hopeless. Marco was the only one who would step forward on behalf of the Finn. Gadd could remember very little of the night's events, thanks to his head injuries. Marco was able to tell what he'd seen happen, but he, too, had to admit to having had several drinks. He related how he and his father and brother had gone searching for the Finn and found him deposited on the railroad tracks just as Fortino had ordered. His father and brother could attest to that, as well, if needed.

Leo, always two steps ahead of the law, had brought in at least a dozen witnesses who either stated that Marco was
lying or that he had been too drunk to know what had actually happened. His reputation of drinking preceded him.

“I only had three drinks!” he declared at one point, jumping to his feet.

The judge pounded his gavel and demanded order. Marco had no choice but to sit back down or face contempt of court. Leo gave him a sneering smile, then turned back to his lawyer to whisper something. Afterward his lawyer rose.

“Your honor, I move that the charges be dismissed against my client.” A hush fell over the room and Marco was again tempted to shout out his protest. He held his tongue, however.

“It seems to me that the preponderance of evidence suggests a misunderstanding brought on by the heavy imbibing of liquor,” the judge declared. “Additionally, it seems there is no one who can attest to actually seeing Mr. Gadd taken from the saloon and deposited on the railroad tracks, and without a witness, I see no reason to take the charges of attempted murder any further. We could perhaps further review the assault charges; however, by the testimony given, we know that both men were involved in fighting. Since Mr. Gadd has recovered from his injuries and Mr. Fortino from his, and with a lack of evidence to support anything further, I am inclined to agree. I am dismissing this case.” He pounded his gavel.

Marco felt a tightening in the pit of his stomach. Leo would have it out for him now. Deciding not to risk any possible encounter with his old friend, Marco slipped through the crowd and hurried back to the mine. He knew that work would be the only way to get his mind off his anger and fears. He spotted his father and Alfredo loading ore. He pulled on his gloves and joined them.

“So did they finally put Leo in jail?” Alfredo asked in a low voice so that the other men wouldn't overhear.

“No. The case was dismissed. Fortino brought in a dozen witnesses who swore under oath that he had done nothing wrong. They even swore that Mr. Gadd had left the Fortune Hole under his own strength, and that if he had ended up on the railroad tracks as we said, it was because of his own drunkenness.”

“I feared that might be the case,” Papa replied. “The judge, he is a good man, but he must rule on the evidence brought forward.”

Marco shook his head. “Even if the evidence has been contrived by less than honorable men?” He didn't bother to bring up the fact that his own reputation had been questioned.

“Nevertheless, you did the right thing,” Papa told him. “I am proud that you stood up for Mr. Gadd.”

Marco reached for a pick. “Knowing Leo, this won't be the end of it.”

He worked alongside his father and brother in silence. There was no use explaining his fears of what Leo might do for retribution. His father and brother already knew of Leo's reputation for getting back at folks who crossed him.

What really worried him was how Leo might try to harm the rest of his family. Marco didn't trust that the man would limit his revenge to him alone. Leo was crafty, and Marco knew better than to discount any possibility. He would have to talk to his father about what they should do to ensure the women's safety. At least for now, Isabella and Chantel were out of harm's way in Duluth. Of course, that left Mama alone during the day.

He raised his face and saw his father's worried expression
beneath the glow of his mining candle. No doubt he had been pondering the same things as Marco.

Mia colpa. This is all my fault. I brought this upon my family because of my drinking and being unwilling to heed the advice of my parents.
Marco clenched his jaw and slammed the pick into a large chunk of rock.
I have to make this right so that no one else pays the price
.

Chantel came fully awake at the sight of Dante Calarco standing over her. Her stomach clenched. She'd made a grave mistake in falling asleep the night before.

“I . . . ah . . . I can explain,” she said, trying not to sound as terrified as she felt.

With catlike reflexes, Dante snatched her from the bed and placed her on her feet. “You bet you will.”

Chantel squinted against the brilliance of the sunlight and tried hard to think of what to say next. Anger emanated from Dante.

“Start talking,” he said, folding his arms against his chest.

“Well . . . you see . . . that is . . .” She knew she was rambling. “Could I have a drink of water?”

He frowned. “Not until you tell me where my brother is! You have no trouble speaking your mind any other time—so talk.”

Chantel nervously put her hand to her hair and realized she must be quite the sight. Feeling for her hairpins, she pulled them loose and let her hair fall around her shoulders. “I'm sorry, I realize finding me must be a shock.” She used her fingers to brush through the tangles of her hair before wrapping it into a knot and repinning it.

“You have to understand”—she fought to keep her words soft and even—“my sister and your brother are very much in love. Orlando knew the risk when he left home to marry her, and it seems to me that . . .” She paused to put a couple of the pins in place. “Well, it seems to me that you are more concerned about yourself than him.”

Dante's expression never changed. He continued staring at her with those same intense eyes that Chantel had come to see in her dreams. She couldn't help but notice his lips and remember the night he had kissed her. Could it really have been just a few days ago?

She forced such thoughts aside. “I know your father will be angry about Orlando marrying Isabella, but if family truly means all that you say it does to him, then what you really need to consider is this: The baby that results from this marriage will be a Panetta and a Calarco.”

Chantel felt herself blush before continuing. “That's the future we should all be focused on.” She looked away from Dante. “Look, I know it was wrong of us to dupe you this way, but we felt we had no choice. I love my sister, and I promised to help her in any way I could.”

“So you would ruin your own reputation by spending the night in a man's hotel room—a man to whom you aren't related—all for the sake of your sister's desires?”

“Isabella and Orlando deserve to be happy. I would do it all again. That and much more,” Chantel said, feeling confidence overtake her fear.

“Oh, really,” Dante said rather casually. He stepped toward her. “Like what?”

“I . . . uh . . . don't know what you mean,” she said. What
strength and determination she'd felt was fading quickly at his nearness.

“To exactly what length would you go to see your sister happy?” he asked, his gaze settling on her face.

Chantel could barely breathe. “I would do anything.”

He touched her cheek. “Anything?”

She didn't know what to say. Her tongue all but stuck to the roof of her mouth, and though she swallowed hard, she couldn't clear the lump that had formed in her throat. Her mind felt foggy, but her heart warned her that she was in danger. Gathering what little remained of her wits, Chantel pushed against Dante's steel-like chest.

“Anything within reason,” she finally managed to say. “Anything necessary to see to her safety and well-being. Now she and your brother are safely away, and I don't have to worry about them anymore.”

Dante refused to move. “No, but you do have to worry about me.”

She shook her head. “No, I don't. I'm leaving.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her roughly. Chantel didn't so much as move. She didn't want to encourage his behavior, and yet as his kiss became less demanding and more passionate, she felt herself giving in to her own desires.

Without warning, Dante dropped his hold on her. He walked away to where his things were and started to gather them. “If I were a less than honorable man, I wouldn't have stopped at stealing a kiss. You were a fool to put yourself into such a situation.”

Chantel felt so weak in the knees that she had to sit on the
side of the bed to regain her composure. How was it that he had such power over her emotions?

“You would risk everything—your innocence, your very life—for the sake of your little sister having her own way?”

“No,” Chantel said, her voice weak. “I risked it . . . for love. For their love.” She straightened. “Orlando loved my sister enough to lose everything dear to him. He loved her so much that he was willing to die for her. That's a powerful love, one that I might never know.” She felt her throat grow tight and feared she might start to cry. “But whether anyone ever loves me that way, I rejoice that Isabella has found such happiness and loyalty. I might have been foolish to come here—to risk my reputation—but my own welfare seems unimportant when I look at what we've gained. Isabella and Orlando are now safely away.” She sniffed back tears and stood. “Now, if you don't mind, I would like to go home. My aunt is probably half sick with worry, and I need to let her know that I am all right.”

“We'll have a message delivered to her. I have tickets to board a train that leaves in less than forty minutes. You can use the ticket I purchased for Orlando, but we need to go now.”

Chantel didn't argue with him. There was no point in it. After all, he was doing exactly what she asked. He was taking her home. They paused by the front desk, and Chantel penned a brief message to her aunt. She knew Marilla would be curious as to how everything had worked out but relieved to know that Chantel was on her way back to her parents.

“I hope you and the missus enjoyed your stay with us,” the clerk said, handing Dante a bill.

Chantel grimaced at the comment, wondering if Dante
would correct the man. When he didn't, she felt a sense of relief. He was doing his best to protect her reputation, she supposed.

“I'm sure my aunt will post the few items I left at her house,” Chantel said, after handing the clerk her note and the address.

Dante paid for his room, then gave the man additional coins. “Please see that this note gets delivered right away.” The man nodded and assured Dante it would be sent immediately.

On the way to the train station, Dante purchased a sack of roasted peanuts and two apples. “This will have to suffice for breakfast,” he said, handing her one of the apples. “We can share the peanuts on the train. We'll buy something else along the way.”

She still didn't know quite what to say. The memory of his kiss kept invading her thoughts. Though he could have acted differently, he had cared too much for her reputation and well-being to hurt or take advantage of her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking up at him.

He seemed to understand, but said nothing. It only served to confuse Chantel's heart all the more. She couldn't deny that she cared for him. And to her surprise, she found that she wanted to stand beside him and help him when he faced his father.