Desperate Hearts (12 page)

Elizabeth sat in Ma Kelly’s parlor reading
The Mill
on
the
Floss
, a strangely fascinating story of a young girl’s survival over poverty and her confused love life. It was one of several books Ma kept on a shelf against the wall for her patrons’ entertainment, and Elizabeth relished the distraction from her own woes and the perils of her own
predicament.

Ma’s three other boarders, all men, had gone out to watch the hanging. Elizabeth didn’t know much about them, other than one intended to leave soon and go looking for gold. He roomed with a drifter traveling the West, and one was waiting for supplies to arrive because he meant to open a hardware store. The gold seeker and hardware-store owner both had wives who would follow as soon as they determined if they were going to stay in
Alder.

She laid the book in her lap, thinking how she didn’t care much one way or the other about the boarders, or about any of the people outside, except for one…Mitch Brady. He was out there somewhere in the streets handling things, his life always at risk simply because he was a lawman. She hardly knew what to make of a man who seemed such a contrast of good and bad, caring and cold. Could he turn on her the way her stepfather had turned on her mother? Was he like all other men, wanting only one thing from a woman? Was he the type to marry just to be able to possess anything of value that woman
owned?

Randy Olson walked past the window, stopping to peer inside for a moment to make sure Elizabeth was still sitting unscathed and unthreatened in a rocker beside the fireplace. Elizabeth looked at him and smiled. Randy nodded and walked to stand beside the front
door.

She’d also read bits and pieces from
The
Vigilantes
of
Montana
, written by an Englishman who was living in Virginia City and had made detailed observations of life in the West. Some of what she’d read seemed a stark contrast to the caring side she’d seen in Mitch, and even in Randy and the other men who worked with him. Young Randy was affable and good-looking and seemed
trustworthy.

But it was Mitch who fascinated her the most. From the first day they met, the man had been either rescuing or defending her, risking his life more than once to do so. It seemed such a strange way to meet a person, and she couldn’t help wondering if the conditions under which they met were what had attracted her to him and made her want to be near him—because he made her feel safe. She hadn’t felt safe for a long, long time, and the conditions under which she’d left New York made her wary of trusting a man to help her now, especially one who could be violent. She’d had enough of
violence.

She heard singing then—a hymn! She set her book aside. “Ma, come here,” she yelled down the hall to the
kitchen.

Old Ma Kelly came down the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is
it?”

“Singing! I think the people out there are actually singing a hymn. It just seems so strange, to hear hymns in such a wild, lawless
town.”

Ma Kelly smiled with a bit of sadness in her eyes. “They always sing hymns before a hanging,” she told Elizabeth. The two women walked to the door and Ma Kelly opened it and began humming. Randy turned and put his arm out. “Best if you stayed inside,” he told Elizabeth. “Them’s Mitch’s
orders.”

“I was just surprised to hear them singing a
hymn.”

Randy shrugged. “That always happens at a formal hanging. They ask each man if he has anything to say or wants to pray and make things right with the Almighty. Then the whole crowd sings a couple of hymns for the men about to
die.”

Elizabeth shivered at the sight of men standing on the scaffold down at the end of the street. She was glad it was far enough away that she couldn’t see their eyes. She wondered how it felt to stand on a scaffold staring at a noose and knowing for certain that in the next minute you would be dead. The entire hanging ceremony seemed
ludicrous.

“Where is Mitch?” she asked
Randy.

“Oh, he’d be up close to oversee it all. Doc Wilson will be there to verify the men are dead after the hanging. One has to hope the nooses are tied just right. The guy who prepared them claims he’s done it before. It’s not always easy to find a proper hangman. There ain’t a whole lot of them
around.”

Elizabeth frowned. “What happens if the noose isn’t tied just
right?”

Randy glanced at her, shaking his head. “You don’t want to know.” He looked down the street. “Let’s just say it ain’t a pleasant way to die, if there
is
a pleasant
way.”

“They aren’t hanging Sam Wiley, too, are they? He didn’t kill
anyone.”

“No, ma’am. Mitch wanted him to hang for what he done to you, but you’re right. He didn’t kill anybody. He’s layin’ back at the jail bad wounded. If he lives, Mitch will take him to Virginia City, where a judge will decide how much jail time he ought to spend for kidnappin’ and for tryin’ to spring his murderin’ brother from jail and for shootin’ at the law. I expect he’ll spend some time in prison, probably farther east. There ain’t much out here yet in the way of real, secure
prisons.”

The singing stopped and the crowd
quieted.

“I expect Preacher Greene is prayin’ now,” Randy told Elizabeth, his voice
lowered.

“Alder has a
preacher?”

“Yes, ma’am. No church, though. Just a travelin’ preacher. He happened to come to town yesterday, so that’s good timing. He’s kinda old, but he still manages to make his
rounds.”

Elizabeth thought about the abundance of churches in New York and in most towns back East. The incredible contrast in lifestyle and amenities out here would take a lot of getting used to. She wasn’t sure she ever would. Everything she’d left behind seemed so far away and unreal now. She missed her mother so much. Life would never be the same for her
again.

She could see someone putting the nooses around the necks of the two men standing on the scaffold. Hugh Wiley and Jake Snyder had both been wounded yesterday, and it looked like someone was helping one of them stay on his feet. Elizabeth turned away, not wanting to watch what would happen next. She walked back inside and down the hallway, going upstairs to her room. She opened her small trunk, feeling for her mother’s necklace hidden in the lining. She pulled it out, thinking how she, too, might go to prison or be shot or maybe even hanged because of one man’s lies…one very powerful
man.

Even though she was upstairs and at the back of Ma’s house, she heard the crowd gasp in unison. The deed was done. In spite of how Hugh Wiley and Jake Snyder had treated her, she prayed their nooses had been properly tied and that they’d died
quickly.

Darkness set in, but the saloons remained alive with music and drinking and dancing. Elizabeth still sat in the parlor reading, trying not to think about the hanging…or about Mitch Brady. That effort failed when she heard a key turn in the front door and she looked up to see Mitch Brady walk inside, dressed in a clean shirt, a leather vest, and dark pants—and of all things, wearing no guns. He held out a bouquet of
roses.

“These are for you,” he told her. “The blacksmith lives outside of town and his wife has a green thumb for roses. I asked her if I could have
some.”

Elizabeth was dumbfounded. She rose, quick instincts telling her not to laugh. Indeed, she suspected this was a gesture that actually took courage for a man like Mitch. Not only was this unlike anything she’d expect from such a man, it was a kindness she’d never seen in
any
man except once when she was little and her real father had brought flowers to her
mother.

“Mitch, they’re beautiful.” She took the roses from him. “Wait here.” She went to the kitchen and found a vase to put them in, adding water from a pitcher on the counter. Ma Kelly was tired and had gone to bed early. Elizabeth came back into the parlor and set the roses on a small table beside a chair. “They look lovely.” She met his eyes. “Thank you for bringing
them.”

Mitch sat down in a stuffed chair, taking a thin cigar from a pocket inside his vest. “Mind if I
smoke?”

“No.”

He grasped an oil lamp from a table beside the chair and held the cigar over the chimney to light it. “I brought those flowers just to show you there are other normal women in this town, wives and mothers who cook and bake and grow roses. After all you’ve been through, I just wanted you to see there are a few good things here, and I thought maybe you’d like to see there is a normal man behind those guns I
wear.”

He smoked quietly as Elizabeth took a chair across from him. “I can’t believe you thought to do
this.”

Mitch took another drag on the thin cigar and then set it in an ashtray nearby. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You sat through that hanging all alone, wondering what the hell you’ll do next and if you even want to stay in this town. This is just a way of apologizing for all you’ve been through since you got here. It’s also my way of showing you that I want you to stay in Alder. You don’t have to tell me anything about why you’re here. I just don’t want you to run again. I want you here so I can keep you
safe.”

Elizabeth felt a catch in her heart. “Why do you care so
much?”

He looked at the floor. “Because you…remind me of someone, that’s
all.”

“Who? A wife? A sister? Did something bad happen to some woman you cared about? Sarah told me what you did to that man who hurt her, and she said you’re always defending women
and—”

“I can’t talk about it. Not yet anyway. You keep telling me you don’t know me well enough to tell me everything about yourself. I guess I feel the same
way.”

“Except to tell me you’re a worthless, no-good, murdering
vigilante?”

He grinned. “Except that. And don’t forget that I don’t lie, so that really is part of what I
am.”

Elizabeth studied him quietly. “I might believe the murdering vigilante part, because I witnessed as much. But something tells me you aren’t worthless and you aren’t a no-good. You’ve certainly been good to me, and others tell me you’re a good man. Of course, those others have been women. Why do I suspect every woman in this town is in love with you? Even
Ma?”

He laughed then, actually looking embarrassed. “Hey, the men who work with me or for me are pretty good friends, too. Most of them would have my back anytime. And the women are all just—” He shrugged. “Good friends,” he
finished.

“I’ll bet they are.” Elizabeth smiled, while deep inside she felt an odd jealousy. Why? She knew in the worst way the horror of being with a man, but part of her also knew there was supposed to be something pleasurable about it. After all, her mother had seemed so happy with her father. But then he died…and then there was Alan Radcliffe. She
sobered.

“You’ve lost your pretty smile,” Mitch told her, smoking again. “What is
it?”

Tell
him! What if Alan finds you here? Mitch might be able to help.
“It’s just one of those things I’m not ready to tell you yet, if ever,” she answered, “just like there are things you won’t tell
me.”

“If I did, would it help you open up to
me?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He’s a lawman
, she reminded herself.
By
now
you
could
be
a
wanted
woman.
How she hated Alan Radcliffe! He’d ruined her chances of ever being really happy, made her come to this wild, reckless town where she could probably never lead a normal life. He’d taken away all her dreams of what love should be like, her dreams that a man could be gentle and
caring.

“What happened at the hanging?” she asked Mitch, forcing back the ugly memories, wanting to change the subject by grasping at anything else. “Did it go right? I heard that if they don’t tie the rope knot
right—”

“It went like it should,” he interrupted. “I’m glad you stayed away. If you’ve never seen a hanging, it’s pretty hard to
watch.”

She shook her head. “I still can’t believe people let their children
watch.”

“That’s life in a Western gold town.” Mitch set the cigar aside again. “I guess you get so used to it that you don’t think much about it. As far as what I do, if you don’t deal vigilante-type justice out here, Elizabeth, people don’t survive. There’s no other kind of law. Without it you’d have rapes and murders and stealing going on night and day. There’s enough of that as it is, but striking fear into the hearts of most men helps stop a lot of it. I saw plenty of lawlessness in the back alleys of the poor neighborhoods of New York City. When I made my way out here, I decided I’d rather be on the side of the law. I already told you how I kind of fell into the
rest.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I
see.”

Mitch sighed. “You probably
don’t
see, considering the kind of life I think you’ve likely led up to now. If you come from the right side of town, you can go your whole life without seeing a crime committed or the horrible things people can do to each other. I
have
seen the worst of it, so if I sometimes come off as uncaring, it’s probably because in situations like that I
don’t
care—not about the person committing the crime anyway. I guess I just need you to know that. It doesn’t mean I’m a horrible person you can’t trust. And because of how I figure you grew up, I know all the things you’ve witnessed and suffered the last few days must have been terrifying for you. When you talked about leaving Alder…” He shook his head. “Just don’t leave, okay? Things wouldn’t be any better in any other town out here, and at least now you’ve already made a couple of friends. I don’t want to worry about you traveling someplace else all alone, maybe meeting up with something worse than what happened in that
robbery.”

Elizabeth met his gaze, eyes too blue to be real, a kind of sparkling blue that could hold kindness and yet blaze with ruthless anger when he was riled. That was what she wasn’t quite sure of yet. She’d seen what a man could do when suddenly and unexpectedly
angered.

“I’m not totally unfamiliar with violence, Mitch.”

There came several long seconds of silence as their gazes held. “I wish you would tell me about
it.”

She finally tore away from his penetrating gaze. The man seemed to be able to read a person a bit too well. “Maybe—once I know you better. Right now I just want to get oriented here. I feel better, now that all those men are dead and gone. And I feel safe here at Ma’s. And I
have
to stay a while yet, because Sarah owes me some
dresses.”

“She’s a good seamstress. She’s made me several
shirts.”

Elizabeth toyed with an embroidered flower on her own dress. “Is she… I mean…have you and
Sarah—”

Mitch grinned again. “That’s an unfair question for a single man in a town full of loose women. I guess that’s my business, isn’t
it?”

Elizabeth reddened. “It wasn’t an unfair question. It was a
stupid
question. I have no idea why I asked
it.”

Mitch crushed out his cheroot in the ashtray. “I’d like to think you asked it because you think you and I could be more than acquaintances. At least I’d like it that way. You know me—honest Mitch Brady. A person always knows what I’m thinking, and I’m thinking you’re beautiful and alone and I would like nothing more than to court you. This is my feeble attempt at doing just that. I’m not real good at these things, not with a woman like you, anyway.”

He rose, and Elizabeth followed, feeling flustered and embarrassed. How could she explain to him why a young, unattached woman wouldn’t be interested? It certainly didn’t have anything to do with Mitch Brady himself. He was just about the most handsome, virile man she’d ever met…and so far he’d been attentive and kind and…hell, he’d saved her life—twice! She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “I guess you can call on me again,” she told him. “I just need a few days to get my thoughts
straight.”

He grasped her arm gently, forcing her to look up at him. “Elizabeth, when it comes to women, I’m not the brute you’ve seen when I’m using my guns. And I’m not stupid enough to think you’re ready to trust a near stranger. I’m just trying to make myself less of a stranger and more of a friend.” He let go of her and walked to where he’d hung his hat near the door. “I’ll be gone about a week. I’m taking Sam Wiley to Virginia City. That will give you time to think about a few things.” He started for the
door.

“Wait!” she called
out.

Mitch hesitated, meeting her eyes
again.

“Thank you…for the roses. That was nice of you. And—” She glanced at his hips, where she’d always seen him wear those guns. “Is it safe for you to be out there in the streets without your
guns?”

He smiled again. Then he reached down, pulling up the cuff of his right pant leg and taking a six-gun from his boot. “I am never completely unarmed,” he answered, holding up the six-gun. “Now you don’t have to worry.” He was still grinning as he shoved the pistol into his belt. “You take care of yourself and stick close to Ma while I’m gone. And a couple of my men will be keeping an eye on
you.”

He walked out the door. Elizabeth couldn’t decide how she felt. She glanced at the vase of roses. The man could show stark contrasts of personality, and all of them confused
her.