Cherished (7 page)

But that was exactly what happened later that
evening, during a lull in the dancing. Juliana was aware that Aunt
Katharine and Uncle Edward had watched in cold disapproval as one
dancing partner after another had spun her about the room. They
seemed shocked by the custom of young men coming up and introducing
themselves to a lady in the most informal way and inviting her to
dance.

“That isn’t the way things are done back
east,” Victoria had sniffed to her mother at one point,

But we’re not back east anymore
,
Juliana exulted as a grinning young cowpoke whirled her about in a
Virginia reel. Her heart lifted as she skimmed about in perfect
time to the music, surrounded by a dozen other gaily spinning
couples.

The blue and crimson parlour at Twin Oaks was
ablaze with candles, and the air was warm. The heavy furniture had
been pushed back to make room for the dancing, and against the
walls long tables draped with checkered cloths had been set with
platters of beef, venison, and gravy-smothered potatoes. Tempting
homemade breads and pies added their fragrant aroma to the heady
atmosphere of the room. Juliana guessed that at least one hundred
guests, townspeople and neighbors, had come tonight to pay their
respects to John Breen, Denver’s most prominent citizen. From what
she had seen as she danced, Breen had introduced her uncle to
nearly all of them, but she’d had little opportunity to meet anyone
but the cowboys who lined up, one after the other, to whirl about
the floor with her.

When the Virginia reel ended, Juliana found
herself breathless. Before she could even thank her partner, she
was confronted by a lanky young cowboy with red hair and twinkling
blue eyes that shone at her from beneath a dark gray Stetson.
“Ma’am,” he said, elbowing aside the cowboy she’d been dancing
with, “would you do me the honor of accepting this glass of
lemonade? You’ve been dancing so hard all night, I reckon you must
be plumb tuckered out, not to mention thirstier than a hoss in the
desert.”

Juliana laughed. “How could I resist such a
pretty offer?” she gasped, putting a hand to her thudding heart. “I
accept the lemonade, if you’ll join me, Mister ...”

“Keedy, ma’am, Gil Keedy.” Taking a sip from
his own glass, he studied her over the rim, while all about them in
the parlour, ranchers, cowhands, women in all manner of gingham and
calico and townsmen in stiff collars and dark suits chattered and
drank and jostled about the festively lit room.

Juliana, a vision in her lavender silk gown,
liked Gil Keedy immediately. Her smile grew when he said: “Miss
Montgomery, ma’am, I’ve been workin’ for Mr. Breen here at Twin
Oaks nearly a year now, and I’ve got to say, gals pretty as you out
in these parts are rarer than gold in a snake pit. This sure is my
lucky day.”

His low-key, comical Texas drawl made her
eyes dance. “Your lucky day? Really? Now why is that Mr.
Keedy?”

“Gil, ma’am, I have to insist on Gil,” he
said gravely. He set his glass down on a table and took her hand in
his, holding it with a light touch. “A hunch told me to come to
this dance and darned if now I don’t know why. Meetin’ you, that’s
why. You’re my destiny, ma’am. There ain’t no doubt about it.” He
loosened the bright plaid neckerchief knotted about his neck and
grinned at her in sheer boyish appreciation. “Tell me all about
yourself, Miss Montgomery, quick—before some bowlegged, ugly old
cowpoke comes along to steal you away.”

“Oh, I’d much rather hear about you,” she
said teasingly. “Do you enjoy working at Twin Oaks?”

For a moment there was a tightening of his
amiable freckled face, then it disappeared as quickly as it had
come. “Why, shore, it has its moments. But never you mind about me.
My story’s a dull one. I’m just a kid from Waco who likes to punch
cows and tell tall tales—and who spends a hell of a lot of
nights—beg pardon, ma’am —dreamin’ about a purty gal with spun gold
hair and green eyes who’ll hold the hand of a pore redhaided
cowpoke and mebbe fall in love with him.”

“Gil,” she admonished, her face filled with
laughter, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting
with me.”

“Wal, ma’am, I can’t deny I’m sorely
tempted.” He inched closer and regarded her with open admiration.
“Tell me why a beautiful young lady like yourself ain’t been
hitched already to some lucky hombre and got herself a passel of
kids? Those fellows back in Missouri must be plumb loco to have let
you git away.”

“Gil, are you trying to tell me I’m on the
shelf?” Juliana exclaimed with mock indignation.

“You’re sure no old maid or nothin’, but if
you’d growed up in these parts, you’d have been standin’ before the
preacher the day you turned sixteen—and half the men in the county
would’ve been shootin’ each other for the honor of standin’ beside
you.”

“Did they teach you how to flirt in Waco, Mr.
Keedy, or do you just come by it naturally?”

“Naturally, I reckon—when I’m with a sweet
and purty little gal.”

She couldn’t help but smile, yet when she had
set her glass down on a small table nearby she turned back to him
with a more pensive glance. Maybe she could trust this likable
cowboy to help her begin her search. She had wanted to start her
inquiries about Wade and Tommy immediately, so why not begin with
Gil Keedy? Something, told her he would do his best to help
her.

“Gil,” she said slowly, “I need some
information. It’s important. Did you ever hear of two men named
Wade and Tommy Montgomery?”

“No, ma’am, can’t say as I have. Are they kin
of yours?”

“The very closest of kin. They’re my
brothers.”

Briefly, while the other guests danced and
stomped their feet and clapped their hands to the fiddler’s tune
all across the parlour, Juliana explained in low tones. She
expected him to frown when she told him that her brothers were
desperadoes, and to warn her that she’d do best to steer clear of
them, but instead he merely stared at her calmly and said:

“Ahuh.”

Warmth flooded through her at this ready
acceptance. Her delicate face flushed as she leaned impulsively
toward him, hopeful at last of having an ally. “And I ... I haven’t
the vaguest notion how to find them,” she rushed on, “but I’m
convinced they’d want to see me if they knew I was here in
Colorado. What do you suggest I do?”

He met her eager gaze soberly. “Let me ask
around. Some of the boys in the bunkhouse or someone in town will
know something. You can be sure of that.”

“Oh, thank you, Gill! I’ve been wondering how
I should manage to make inquiries without Aunt Katharine and Uncle
Edward finding out ...”

“Here you are, Juliana.”
Her aunt’s
voice boomed directly behind her, making Juliana jump. “Tiresome
girl, I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.” Buxom and
formidable in her gown of rippling green silk, Aunt Katharine
bestowed upon her niece a look of extreme annoyance from those
great mahogany-colored eyes.

“Speak of the devil?” Gil muttered in
Juliana’s ear. Aunt Katharine swung toward him. “I beg your pardon,
young man?”

He gave her his lopsided grin. “No need to do
that, ma’am. I was jest saying to Miss Montgomery here that
speaking of dancing, I’d be honored if she’d step out with me for
this here jig ...”

“My niece is otherwise engaged.”

Juliana knew that tone. Aunt Katharine was in
no mood to brook an argument. She spoke up quickly, flashing the
red-haired cowboy a swift smile. “Thank you, Gil, for the
lemonade—and everything.”

“It was shore my pleasure, ma’am. I reckon
I’ll see you again before too long.”

“Why, yes, I hope so.”

When he was gone, slipping into the throng of
plaid-shirted men and gingham-clad women, Aunt Katharine fixed her
with an exasperated glare. “Juliana, instead of parading around
here like a common hussy with a bunch of cowboys, you could be
dancing with Mr. Breen! He’s been asking for you, and I’m certain
he would like to engage you for a dance tonight, if you can find
room for him with all of these scruffy cowboys sniffing around
you.”

“Aunt Katharine, I don’t wish to dance with
Mr. Breen.”

Her aunt stared at her as if she’d gone mad,
“Why in the world would you say a thing like that?”

Juliana tore her gaze from the circle of
whirling dancers to meet her aunt’s frowning countenance. “Because
it’s true,” she said simply. “Aunt Katharine, Mr. Breen makes me
most uncomfortable. His demeanor ... it’s all wrong. He seems to
have feelings which I can’t return ... and he is so possessive, so
overly concerned about me. I feel smothered—and I barely know the
man. Something isn’t right.”

“Mr. Breen is merely being kind, Juliana. He
is treating you with ordinary civility. Really, you are most
ungrateful. And conceited. Merely because a man is solicitous of
you does not mean he is smitten with you, young lady. And if he
were, I can hardly think of a more desirable match—”

“Aunt Katharine,” Juliana interrupted,
placing one hand on her aunt’s arm. “I truly wish to honor my
promise to you not to offend Mr. Breen. The best way to do that is
to avoid encouraging his attentions so that I am not in the
position of rebuffing him!”

“Nonsense. There he is now.” She smiled
broadly across the room to the parlour entrance as their host
paused on the threshold and surveyed the packed room. “Oh, Mr.
Bree-en.” Aunt Katharine raised her voice ever so slightly, and
waggled two fingers in a delicate wave. To Juliana’s dismay, John
Breen turned toward them and made his way through the crowd,
chatting easily with various guests as he crossed the room. She saw
him pause by Bart Mueller’s side and converse for a moment, before
his gaze swung sharply toward Gil Keedy.

“Now, be amiable,” Aunt Katharine whispered
as he moved toward them once more, “and remember how important this
business proposition is to your uncle!”

John Breen looked more handsome than ever
against the festive background of the party. Head and shoulders
taller than most of the other men, he paused before Juliana with a
flashing smile. “Evening, ladies. Hope you’re enjoying the
party.”

“It’s delightful, Mr. Breen, simply
delightful.” Katharine Tobias’s usually haughty tone was sugary
now, making Juliana wince. “You westerners certainly know how to
enjoy yourselves.”

“Yes, we like to kick up our heels now and
then. It takes our minds off our troubles.”

“What troubles could you possibly have, Mr.
Breen?” Juliana couldn’t resist asking. “You have a lovely ranch
and a successful business empire, and from the number of people
here in your home tonight, I’d guess you have many friends and
well-wishers. Surely you must be a happy man.”

He stroked his mustache in a smooth,
automatic gesture that she was coming to recognize as a habit with
him. “Happy, Miss Montgomery? Mostly. Trouble-free? No, ma’am.” His
glance swept the room, missing nothing. “Every man has his enemies,
Miss Montgomery. I have mine. Sometimes they try to get in the way
of what I want. That makes me mighty unhappy—until I’ve rid myself
of them. Then,” he continued, smiling down at her, “I can be happy
again.”

“What sort of enemies?”

“There are those who resent when someone else
has more wealth than they do—when he is more successful, more
intelligent, more powerful. Men like that are troublemakers, and
they become the natural adversaries of those who succeed in this
world. They’re pests, I’m afraid, every bit as loathsome as locusts
and gnats and grasshoppers, and they must be stamped out the same
way. But there’s a worse enemy, Miss Montgomery,” he added,
“something more painful and awful and irksome than any other.”

He was watching her with a keen, speculative
glance, the glinting topaz eyes gazing directly down into her face.
Very well, Mr. Breen, I’ll bite
, Juliana thought.

“And what might that be?” she inquired,
suddenly aware that Aunt Katharine was melting away into the
crowded room without a word to either of them. Juliana was alone in
her corner with John Breen.

“Lonesomeness,” he answered promptly, and
slipped a hand under her elbow. Before Juliana could protest, he
was guiding her toward the western windows of the parlour, where
French doors opened onto the verandah. “In these parts, Miss
Montgomery, life is hard and rough on a man. It can take its toll.
A man gets lonely up here near the mountains, all by himself. He
finds he has the need for a woman, someone who’ll stand by him, be
a helpmate to him. Someone he can love and cherish.”

They were on the verandah now, isolated from
the lights and the crowd, from the noisy company of voices and
laughter. Juliana stepped away from him and gripped the smooth
porch rail, very aware of John Breen’s tall form following her in
the darkness. “If lonesomeness is your enemy, Mr. Breen, I am sure
that in your case it is easily vanquished.” She shot him a steady
look. “No doubt there are dozens of women in Denver who would be
more than happy to give you their company.”

“True enough, I could have my pick of
women—but as you yourself observed, I hold a somewhat special place
in this community. A man of my position and standing cannot ally
himself with just any woman. I must choose a woman—for my wife, you
understand—who will be an asset to me in every way, someone of
style, wit, and intelligence—and, of course, beauty.”

He was staring down at her intently, and as
the moonlight touched his lean face, Juliana saw a flush of
excitement darken his cheeks. “You know, Juliana”—and the way he
said her given name for the first time was almost a physical
caress—“there ought to be a law against women being quite as
beautiful as you.”

“You’re very kind, Mr. Breen ...”

“Kind?” He chuckled as she edged farther away
from him, and he advanced upon her with deliberate slowness. “I’m
not being kind, Juliana. I’m being honest. Surely you know just how
ravishing you are.” He grinned down at her and reaching out,
clasped both her slender wrists in his hands. His strength was
surprising. He stepped so close, she could smell both the pomade on
his smoothly brushed fair hair, and the pungent tobacco scent of
the cigar bulging from his shirt pocket. Queasiness washed over
her. “After all, I saw all those boys pursuing you in St. Louis
that night, making damned fools out of themselves. You can’t
bamboozle me into thinking you’re unaware of your charms.”