The Rocky Mountain Heiress Collection (39 page)

“But how did they know she wanted an adventure, Jeb?”

“Telegraph officer,” he said. “The fellow’s kin to the man driving the coach. Didn’t take much to figure that out.”

“But I don’t even know that man, Jeb,” Daniel said. “What grudge could he have against me and my family?”

“You own a mine, sir. The strike might be over, but there’s still bad feelings with some of these men.” The Pinkerton shrugged. “Looks like you’re the one they hated most. I guess it doesn’t pay to be the man who refuses to back down.”

“I’ll not apologize for doing the right thing,” Daniel said, “but I’ll also not risk the safety of my family.”

“I can’t make a guarantee, but I can promise you’ll have the best protection our office can provide,” he said.

Daniel slapped the man on the back. “I’ll do you one better, Sanders. How would you like to work for me? And I don’t mean at the mines.”

Mae cast about for another option and found none. “Here’s the test of your mettle,” she said as she realized she might truly meet her end here.

Had she mistaken her calling? Would she finally regret not giving in to the call of home and hearth?

Fair Mae considered the chubby cheeks of the baby she might not live to rock, then gave more than a passing thought to the possibility she might petition the Lord for a second chance. Then clarity arrived, along with the distant sound of a train whistle.

“Perhaps another day,” she whispered as she instead thanked God for bringing her this far. To ask Him to carry her further seemed too much to request.

But she did.

“Try again, Charlotte,” Gennie said as she watched the girl practice her curtsy. “And this time go deeper. I want your nose to almost touch the ground.” She smiled as her duckling-turned-beautiful-swan went through the motions one more time.

Faced with her impending return to New York City, Gennie had spent the whole of last evening, once the excitement from her abduction wore off, and this morning plotting how to stay longer. Unfortunately, the harder she prayed that Daniel Beck would somehow come to his senses and see that she just might, if asked, continue her adventure
here indefinitely, the more distant he seemed. He’d hardly even looked at her today.

Perhaps it was the distraction of his estranged father’s impending visit. Not one but two letters had arrived for him with his father’s return address. And then there were the others from Leadville, including an odd one marked Urgent that had been sent by the pastor who’d performed their mock marriage.

Charlotte called her name, and Gennie grinned. Soon the young girl would be ready to meet the man who held such sway over the Beck family. A secret longing, never dared spoken, was that Gennie too could meet this man who’d caused Daniel Beck such pain.

She’d give him what for, that much she knew. How a man could find fault with a fellow like Daniel was beyond her. Though the man did have one fault she alone could air a grievance over: he couldn’t see love when it was right in front of him.

Love. Odd how she always thought she knew what that was. In her world, love was akin to duty, a deep abiding, even if not heart stirring. She’d felt this for Chandler, and until here, until Daniel, she might have been happy with the solid permanence the Dodd name offered.

But when she thought of Daniel Beck dodging bullets while hanging off the side of a wildly careening coach just to save her, Gennie never failed to have that jolt-to-the-heart kind of feeling that curled her toes and turned her insides to jelly.

Of course, she’d been unable to tell Daniel this. Nor about the telegram burning a hole in her skirts, the one she’d received yesterday.

“Gennie, you’re not watching.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She nodded and the girl performed an acceptable bow, then rose to await Gennie’s response. “You’re very good
at this,” Gennie said as she clapped. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you don’t mind this a bit.”

Charlotte laughed. “Maybe I don’t, but I’ll never tell you. Papa!” She squealed and picked up her skirts to run across the ballroom and into the arms of her father.

“Such decorum,” he chided, then winked.

Gennie felt the stupid jolt when he looked her way. Gaining control of whatever had her in its grasp would be difficult, but if he didn’t need her, she certainly would not present anything but a calm and detached exterior.

Thankfully, she had a moment to work on this, for Daniel’s focus was on Charlotte.

“I’ve been watching you, Buttercup, and you’re a natural at this. You may need to teach me a thing or two.”

“Waltz with me, Papa,” Charlotte said. “I’ve been practicing.” She looked over at Gennie. “Would you play so I can show Papa what I’ve learned?”

Gennie rose and walked to the pianoforte without making eye contact with him. As she seated herself on the stool, she chided herself for acting like a silly love-struck girl rather than a mature woman of marriageable age.

Her fingers glided over Charlotte’s favorite waltz while father and daughter did the same on the dance floor. Seizing the chance to observe the pair, Gennie noted the similarities in the two were mostly in temperament rather than looks. Charlotte must be the image of her mother.

“Faster, Gennie,” Charlotte called, and Gennie picked up the tempo. They were laughing now, father and daughter, and Gennie couldn’t help but smile.

“Your turn, Miss Cooper.”

Gennie glanced up. “Oh, no, you don’t, Charlotte Beck. You’re the one who needs lessons, not me.”

“No,” the girl said, her face quite serious. “It’s Papa who is in need. He’s a bit, well, hopeless.”

Gennie braved her first direct look into Daniel’s eyes since he walked into the ballroom. “Is he?” she managed.

Daniel shrugged. “She seems to think I’m a bit rusty.”

“That’s because you don’t practice enough.” Charlotte poked him in the chest, then pointed to Gennie. “With someone your own size, I mean.”

Charlotte broke away from her father, took three running steps, then slid in her stocking feet toward Gennie. She leaned close. “Work with me here, Gennie. My father is hopeless at this, so you’re going to have to help him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gennie said in a voice she hoped only Charlotte could hear. “His dancing’s not so bad.”

“I’m not talking about his dancing.” The girl had the audacity to wink. “He loves you, you know. Now get off that stool and go dance with my father.”

He loves you, you know.

Gennie tried to respond. The girl couldn’t possibly be correct. She rose on quaking legs but could not make herself cross the ballroom to where Daniel stood, watching them with open curiosity.

“Go,” Charlotte urged.

She tried, but her feet wouldn’t move. Had she not lost all ability to speak, Gennie might have made her excuses and left the two of them to have fun without her.

“Papa, come and fetch your dancing partner. It appears she’s heard of your reputation for stepping on toes.”

“Yes,” he said, “I do have that reputation.”

Daniel walked toward her. Gennie’s urge to bolt and run was tempered by the inability to do so.

He reached her and held out his hand, but she could only stare. “Might I have this dance?” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And then we’ve business of a rather urgent nature to discuss.”

Business. Dare she hope this was some ill-phrased attempt at cleverness on his part?

She nodded stiffly and took his hand. Charlotte began to play, but Daniel made no attempt to move.

The music stopped. “Put your hand on her back, Papa, and stop acting goofy.”

Acting goofy. Indeed, that was how he felt in the presence of Gennie Cooper. He always had, since the moment he met her, but there was no hope for it. Not as long as she was promised to another.

His hand spanned her back, and she stiffened. The fact she’d been obviously unwilling to dance with him chafed at his heart. Could she not see all he wanted was to take her in his arms and dance through the next fifty years with her?

Charlotte began to play, and he forced himself to move. After a few halting steps, they found a rhythm. Unfortunately, looking into her eyes caused him to stumble. He mumbled a word of apology and went back to dancing.

It was the scent of roses, he decided, that did him in. Or maybe it was the softness of her hands and how they felt so small against his.

Stop, idiot. You’re a grown man and not some pimple-faced boy with his first crush.
When he dared a look into her eyes, the thoughts he had were not those of a boy, but a man. Remembering her in the moonlight
was nearly his undoing, and he faltered and stomped horribly on her foot.

“Terribly sorry,” he muttered, though removing his foot from hers was much easier than pushing away thoughts he had no business recalling.

“Hold her closer, Papa, and you won’t step on her toes.”

He glared at Charlotte but did as she asked. Was it his imagination, or did Gennie gasp?

They moved as one, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. A longing began, and Daniel knew he’d likely never shake free of this memory. To punctuate the thought, he pressed his palm against her back and moved her imperceptibly closer. This time it was a sigh he heard.

His own.

The imp played the song at least twice through and had begun her third time when Gennie called a halt. With a few mumbled words about a prior appointment of some sort, she fled.

Charlotte watched her governess go, then turned to stare at him. Her expression was not pleased. “What did you say to her, Papa?”

“Nothing,” he said. “We merely danced.”

She rose and walked toward him, and his heart squeezed. Where had the impudent pie-stealer gone? Somehow, in the short weeks Gennie Cooper had been with them, she’d worked a change in Charlotte that went well beyond giving up overalls for chintz frocks and pie stealing for playing the pianoforte.

The governess-who-wasn’t had changed them all.

“Are you going to let her get away?” Charlotte demanded.

Daniel shrugged. “What can I do?”

His daughter moved behind him and gave his back a solid push. “Go after her. Unless you do something, she’ll be gone soon.”

Soon. His heart sank. How could he possibly cause her to fall in love with him in such a short time?

“Go.” Charlotte pushed him again, and this time he set his feet in motion. What he’d say when he found Gennie was beyond his knowing, but if the Lord could bring her to his home, perhaps He could keep her here too.

This thought carried him into the library where, against his nature, he bellowed for Tova. “Fetch Miss Cooper,” he said as he found his chair and began to sort through the mail. “And tell her I
require
her presence, not
wish
it. Are you clear on the difference?”

“Yes sir. Right away, sir.” Tova hurried away, no doubt offended by his brusque behavior.

He sighed. Amends could be made later.

The top two letters on the stack were from his father. Daniel moved them aside to read later, but pondered them nonetheless. An interesting phenomenon had occurred in the time since he accepted his father’s request for a visit. They’d begun to correspond.

It started as defiance on his part. The first letter had been filled with pointed remarks about his business, his happiness with life in Colorado, and his joy at watching Charlotte grow to be a delightful young lady.

Ironically, when he penned the words, none of them were true.

The earl’s response was brief but somewhat cordial, but the next letter was longer. He wrote of the mines, the mountains, and the kitchen garden where he puttered about in his old age. Daniel laughed even now at the idea of the imperious royal tilling the soil in hopes of providing a few carrots for the manor’s table.

His smile faded when he saw the next letter, a fat envelope marked Urgent and posted from Leadville. The sender was the parson who’d been dragged from his dinner table to preside at the sham wedding that
pleased everyone in Leadville except the two participants. Daniel opened the envelope and emptied its contents—a folded sheaf of papers and a news clipping—onto the desk. He reached for the clipping first and noted the date. Last Friday.