Her Montana Man (25 page)

“Hello, my dear,” Royce said to her with an artificial smile. “And who is your lovely friend?”

“This is Nadine,” Eliza told him. “She’s agreed to be my companion.”

Royce’s eyebrows lifted. Eliza could almost see his thoughts race over having the pretty young woman in

their house. “How do you do, Miss…”

“Fitzgibbons,” Nadine told him with that outrageous accent. “Of the Knob Hill Fitzgibbons. It’s a

pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Eliza almost laughed out loud at the haughty-sounding name and voice. Nadine’s proper name was plain

old Morris. Eliza glanced at Tyler with unease, but he didn’t know Nadine’s last name, though he was

obviously puzzled by her speech. He looked from her to Royce.

When Royce didn’t acknowledge him, his expression fell, and he looked at his plate.

Eliza could have cheerfully stabbed Royce with her fork, but she twisted her napkin in her lap instead,

wishing it was his neck. Before the month was over, he would be out of their lives forever, and she and

her son would be establishing a new beginning. She would make it her purpose to see that her son felt

wanted and important.

Royce wouldn’t realize until too late that Eliza had packed and had her trunks taken to the train station.

He would be furious. No doubt he would send Luther looking for her. Maybe even hire a Pinkerton. But

she would cover their tracks and be long gone.

“This is Edward Phillips,” Royce said to introduce the man. “He’s the local banker. He keeps all my

money safe.”

Eliza couldn’t help wondering how much money Royce had actually earned on his own. Hearing him

claim as his own what her father had worked his whole life for set her teeth on edge.

“I’ve made an appointment for you at the dressmaker’s,” Royce told her. “And I took the liberty of

asking Mrs. Grover to order special fabrics. I know you’ll be pleased.”

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The fact that he’d done so and now told her in front of these people was humiliating. Eliza said nothing.

“The woman will be expecting you day after tomorrow.”

He knew she wouldn’t argue here. That’s why he’d told her this way. She gave him a curt nod to

acknowledge she’d heard him. She’d bet anything that among the fabrics were white satin and lace.

“He gives me the willies,” Nadine said quietly, once the two men had moved to their own table.

“For good reason,” Eliza told her in a tone so low that Tyler didn’t hear. “I would never truly take you to

that house and expose you to him.”

“What about you?” Nadine asked, worry wrinkling her forehead.

“I’ll be just fine,” Eliza whispered. She was nowhere near fine. She was however, determined.

Eliza didn’t see Jonas much during the next couple of days, and had the impression that he was avoiding

her. On Thursday, once their morning chores were done, Eliza and Nadine headed out. Hattie Grover’s

shop was in her home on School Street, just past Second. It was a lovely morning, and the air smelled of

lilacs, making Eliza supremely homesick. Two big bushes flanked the front porch at the Sutherland home

and sent their fragrance all through the house on a day like this.

Hattie was a widow who’d done well by herself with her fine sewing. She had prepared tea and biscuits

and arranged them on a silver tray. Her parlor was crowded because of the harpsichord wedged into the

corner.

“Come sit for a spell,” Hattie told them. “It’s a treat for me to have guests. Oh, I know you’re

customers, but I need some feminine chatter from time to time.”

“She’s the customer,” Nadine said with a laugh. “I’ll be the guest and eat your fine rhubarb jam

anytime.”

They talked about the spring flowers and Hattie brought up an ice-cream social that the Ladies’ Aid was

holding the following month to raise money for new hymnbooks.

“That sounds like a right good time,” Nadine told her.

“Look, we’ve finished all the tea,” Hattie exclaimed.

“You must be dry as a bone from all those biscuits. I’ll go put the kettle on again.” She scurried away.

“I’ll never get a dress at this rate,” Eliza said, not that she cared.

“Or fit into the ones you already have,” Nadine added.

They laughed.

Nadine got up and moved to the instrument in the corner. “Who plays this?” she called out. “Miss

Hattie, may I play your harpsichord?” Then in a lower voice to Eliza, “I think this name on here is Italian.”

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She lifted the corner of a fringed scarf that hid the keys and touched a few of them, creating a melodious

sound. “It has a very light touch.”

“You know how to play?”

A crash from the direction of the kitchen arrested their attention. Nadine looked at Eliza with wide eyes.

“What was that?” Eliza called and stood. “Hattie, is everything all right?”

With Nadine on her heels, she dashed toward the back of the house, past the rooms where Hattie’s

dress mannequins and sewing supplies were kept, along a wallpapered hall to the kitchen.

The first thing to see was the kettle lying on the floor and a jar of cookies broken beside it. “Hattie?”

Eliza called, not seeing the woman.

Nadine grabbed a length of toweling from a peg and knelt to mop up the water.

Eliza continued her search, pausing when she heard a sound coming from behind a closed paneled door.

It sounded like a muffled voice.

“Hattie, is that you?” she called.

Nadine was right behind her, her hand on Eliza’s arm.

“It must be the pantry door.” Eliza grabbed the knob, turned and pushed the door open.

There, straight ahead of them lay Hattie, though a flour sack covered her face. Her hands and feet had

been tied and she was lying on her side, squirming to get free. “What on earth?” Eliza said, hurrying

forward to reach her.

A shuffling sounded beside her and Nadine slumped to the floor. Stunned, Eliza turned her head at the

same time as a hand came around the front of her face and a foul-smelling cloth was pressed into her

nose and mouth. She fought for breath.

Her last impressions were of a massive body behind her, a faint tobacco scent, and the steely grip on her

upper body before the world swam out of focus and she lost consciousness.

arlier, Quay had brought Jonas a supply order list. Jonas had read it over three times without really

seeing anything before putting it aside and opening one of the ledgers. Finally, after he’d tallied a column

four times with four different sums, he’d closed the book and pushed to his feet.

He tidied both desks, missing Eliza Jane’s presence with a deep yearning. It went against his nature not to

take control of a situation, not to head over to Dunlap’s office and pound the tar out of him.

This time the fight was internal. A struggle to subdue himself and honor her wishes. He wouldn’t do

anything to hurt her or Tyler, and this was the way it had to be. He had to release them.

He opened a folder and studied the purchase contract for Eliza’s shares of the brickyard. Her signature

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at the bottom was as basic and lovely as the woman herself. Now that he knew her…loved her, he didn’t

want to think about her leaving, about never seeing her again.

Everything was ready. They would take this over to the bank and make the transaction with a witness,

just in time for her to catch her train. She predicted that Ed Phillips would alert Dunlap as soon as they

walked from the building, and Jonas had no doubt she was correct.

But with everything sewn up legally, there was nothing the man could do. Except go after Eliza.

She would have to be long gone. Jonas might have to put a little pressure on Phillips to keep him from

running straight to Dunlap until she had a good head start. He could manage that. Distract him. Hold him

down if need be. Or, since Dunlap never actually did anything on his own, the thing to do would be to sit

on Luther Vernon until she had a day or two’s head start.

He liked that idea even better.

Just before noon, he roamed the kitchen, asking Lily what was on the menu. She made him a plate of

fried chicken and creamy whipped potatoes and sent him out the door. “I’ll send Yvonne with some rolls.

We’re shorthanded back here without Nadine.”

“Want me to hire you someone to fill in for a week or two?”

“I don’t have time to train someone to work in my kitchen only a week or two. Only a man would

conjure an idea like that.”

He shrugged and carried his plate out to the dining room. The marshal had just seated himself, so Jonas

took a spot beside him.

“That looks good,” Warren said, eyeballing his plate.

Jonas set the prepared dinner in front of the marshal. “I’ll get another one.”

Lilibelle raised a brow and a spoon when he returned.

“I gave my lunch away. Set me up with another, will ya, please?”

She filled another plate and finally he sat to eat. He usually spotted Eliza Jane over the noon hour, but

she was nowhere to be seen.

“Expecting someone?” Warren asked.

“Nope.” Jonas bit unto a succulent crispy chicken leg.

“That Lilibelle can cook like nobody’s business,” the marshal said, wiping his chin.

Jonas nodded.

Yvonne brought them a basket of warm rolls. “Coffee for you both?”

“Thanks. Haven’t seen Miss Sutherland this morning,” Jonas said in what he hoped was a casual

mention.

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“Eliza Jane had an appointment with the dressmaker,” Yvonne replied. “She told Ada she’d be back by

noon.”

“Nadine went with her?”

“I think so. I haven’t seen either of them, anyway.”

Eliza Jane didn’t need to fill him in on her schedule. She’d been pretty standoffish since their last talk.

Best they’d cooled things off before the break was permanent, he figured.

He and Warren were nearly finished with their meals when Ward stepped into the dining room doorway

and glanced toward the back of the room. He spotted them and hurried to their table.

“We’re almost done, but I’ll sit with ya,” Jonas offered.

“I came to give the marshal a message. Seems the preacher’s wife took a pie over to Hattie Grover’s

and found her tied up in her pantry.”

“Hattie Grover’s the dressmaker, isn’t she?” Jonas asked with a spark of alarm.

Warren nodded.

“Stella got Hattie calmed down,” Ward continued. “And the two of them are at your office, waitin’ for

ya. Uriah went back to sit with them.”

Jonas stood so fast his chair fell backward with a clatter.

Ward picked it up. “Calm down, Jonas.”

Apprehension was already climbing Jonas’s spine. “That’s where Eliza Jane and Nadine went.”

Both men grabbed their hats. Jonas ran ahead of Warren along Main Street to the marshal’s office.

He’d never seen two people more out of place than Stella Miller and Hattie Grover. Amidst the clutter

of the marshal’s unkempt and dusty space, they perched on two chairs drawn close, frills at the cuffs and

hems of their pastel dresses.

Uriah stood near a cloudy window, looking uncertain.

Hattie was trembling visibly.

“What happened?” Jonas asked.

Warren moved in beside him. “That’s my job.” He looked at the women. “What happened?”

“I had guests. Miss Sutherland and her little friend had joined me for tea.”

“Miss Sutherland had a dress appointment,” Stella clarified, then aside to her friend asked, “Did you use

the blue china pot?”

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Hattie nodded.

“That’s my favorite, too.”

“Where are they now?” Jonas asked.

“Let her talk,” Warren warned him.

Frustrated, Jonas moved back and settled a hip on the desk.

“I went back to put more water on the stove, and from out of nowhere someone grabbed me and pulled

a flour sack over my head.” Hattie patted her hair, as though her dignity and her hair had been mussed.

“He was rough and very strong, so I know it was a man. He tied my feet and my wrists and dragged me

into the pantry. I could tell it was the pantry, because I could smell the brine and the pickles.”

“Hattie’s pickles won a blue ribbon at the county fair last year,” Stella remarked.

“What about Eliza Jane?” Jonas glared at Warren, impatient for him to get to the bottom of this.

“Then what happened?” Warren asked. “Do you know what happened to the other women?”

“They must have heard the commotion, because one of them called out. I think it was Miss Sutherland’s

voice. I heard footsteps as they ran back to the kitchen, and they called for me.”

She sniffed and dabbed her nose with a lacy handkerchief. “The door to the pantry opened then. She

said, ‘What on earth,’ just like that, and then there was a scuffle of some sort.

“I smelled a medicinal smell, quite unpleasant, and there was some thumping about and grunting,

sounding as though someone was dragging something.”

Jonas didn’t like the sound of her story one bit. “Could you tell if this fella was dragging them outside?”

“That’s what it sounded like. And after it got all quiet, I could tell the back door was open.”

Stella verified that with a nod. “It was standing open when I got there.”

“I thought I heard a wagon,” Hattie mentioned.