Her Montana Man (6 page)

are the real workers. The ones who actually dig trenches and tunnels and drive spikes. Ones who harvest

crops and fell trees.”

She nodded, showing her interest.

“Those kind of jobs move around with the railroad and with the seasons. Railroad, farmers, mine owners

and the state all let me know when they need laborers. I sell vouchers for those jobs and the industry

owners pay me commission when they hire.”

She didn’t respond, and he couldn’t read her expression. “I already know your brother-in-law doesn’t

have any use for what I do.”

She glanced away and then back at him. “I don’t understand why he calls you a slave trader.”

“Maybe he wishes he’d thought of it first?” he suggested with half a grin. “Dunno. They aren’t slaves,

they’re hardworking men. I’m doin’ ’em a service by locating the jobs. They call themselves hoboes, you

know.”

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“I didn’t. What does that mean?”

“Just means a migratory worker.”

“Not tramps.”

He shook his head. “Tramps and bums beg and don’t want to work. These men are the backbone of

industry all the way from here to the Dakotas and up into Canada.”

“What about their families?”

“Most of ’em have never been married. Some are immigrants who left wives behind in other countries.”

Jonas glanced over and noticed Tyler had fallen asleep in her arms. He was a good-sized boy and must

be getting heavy. “He’s asleep.”

She nodded. “I could tell. He was exhausted. He never sits on my lap anymore. The fact that he did

today, not caring who saw, says a lot. Do you think you could help me?”

“What can I do?”

“I don’t think I can lift him from where I sit, and I’d never make it up the stairs. I’d hate to wake him to

get him to his bed.”

Jonas glanced around, not spotting Tyler’s father. He stood and bent to take the boy from her arms,

getting one arm behind his knees and another around his back. Jonas’s arms brushed Eliza Jane’s as she

released Tyler, and she met his eyes.

Heat like quicksilver ignited in his belly at the combination of that innocent touch and the spark of her

amber gaze.
She noticed something, too.

She stood, smoothing her skirts, and touched his arm. “Upstairs.”

She led the way to the foyer and up the broad, carpeted staircase, her black skirts swishing. He

glimpsed white lace above her heels with each stair she climbed ahead of him. He didn’t allow himself to

look up, knowing her backside would be at his eye level.

He followed her along a hallway lined with polished mahogany doors and framed art until she opened

one and gestured for him to enter ahead of her. The house smelled like candles and lemon wax.

He carried Tyler into a well-lit room with a heavy oak bedstead and bureau, a chest against one wall,

and a row of wooden soldiers at attention along the windowsill.

Eliza Jane tugged at the drapery tassels, letting the material fall over the opening and cloak the room in

semidarkness. Moving forward with a rustle of skirts, she pulled back the blue-and-white patterned quilt

and a crisp sheet.

Jonas lowered Tyler to the bed, easing his head onto the pillow and straightening his legs.

His aunt removed his boots. Jonas reached to take them from her and set them aside. She pulled the

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covers up over Tyler and rhythmically threaded her fingers through his hair, as though she was in no hurry

to leave him. Jonas couldn’t help noticing the pain and adoration on her face when she looked at the boy.

She was hurting for him as well as for her own loss.

Bending at the waist, she pressed her nose to his hairline. Her lips touched the skin at his temple. Her

eyes closed and Jonas caught the glimmer of a tear as it dropped on Tyler’s cheek. She wiped it away

quickly and stood. Composing herself she touched her skirt with both hands as though pressing out

wrinkles.

He recognized the gesture as something she did without thinking when she was uncomfortable. Following

her out into the hall, he stood waiting as she pulled the door closed.

“I’d like to do that myself,” she said. “Lie down and obliviously sleep away the next several hours…or

days.”

“Go ahead.”

She looked up at him. The hum of conversation from downstairs seemed to swell and fade. After a

second, she shook her head. “The house is full of guests.”

“They would understand.”

“It’s a small thing to honor my sister and let people pay their respects.”

He’d been curious about her for months, watching her daily walks to the tea shop, wondering about her

life. He suffered a twinge of guilt that perhaps part of his reasoning for coming today had been out of

curiosity. It felt odd standing in the home where she had lived for so many years, seeing her in her

surroundings, watching her with her nephew. Yet he still didn’t know her any better than before.

“This is interesting.”

Eliza Jane jumped and turned to face the man who’d spoken.

Royce Dunlap had apparently come up a back flight of stairs and was standing several feet away,

looking as though he’d caught them doing something wrong.

Eliza Jane’s demeanor changed, her back straightening and chin lifting in a defensive posture. “Mr. Black

carried Tyler to his bed. Tyler’s had a difficult time and needs to rest.”

Royce’s gaze slid to Jonas. “Why, how kind of you to assist my son, Jonas. You are a man of many

talents. One never knows what you’ll be applying yourself to next.”

For years Jonas had locked horns with Royce in town council meetings. One discussion or another

always led them to a disagreement. Royce had a bone to pick with him for some reason, and Jonas just

plain held little respect for the man and his ill treatment of the workers in his employment. But this wasn’t

the time or the place to air their differences. “I came to show my respects for your wife.”

“Yes, we’re torn over our loss,” Royce replied, but the words and his tone didn’t hold much sincerity.

Jonas didn’t like the impression he was getting. “I believe I’ll finish my coffee now.” He turned to Eliza

Jane. “Miss.”

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“It’s probably cold,” she told him. “I’ll get you a fresh cup.”

“No bother. I’ll help myself.”

Eliza watched his broad back in the black coat as he descended the stairs. She sensed Royce’s

displeasure and heard him step closer. “He’s not our kind, and he’s not welcome in this house again.”

She frowned, but didn’t look at his face. “We don’t turn away kind folks who call to pay their respects.

He’s a perfect gentleman.”

“He’s a slimy opportunist.”

“What are you talking about?” Turning away, she headed for Jenny Lee’s room. She and Nora had

already cleaned it and replaced all the bedding with new, except for the wedding ring quilt that had been

Jenny’s favorite. It lay folded over the foot of the bed. The sight made Eliza catch her breath.

She ignored the overwhelming recollections the room stirred up and went directly to the bureau, where

she pulled open the second drawer. The wooden box that held Jenny Lee’s jewelry was gone. She

looked under delicately scented scarves and handkerchiefs that tried to evoke more memories, but there

was no jewelry box. Puzzled, she opened and searched each drawer.

Dawning realization kicked her heart into a frantic rhythm. She gave the room a quick once-over and

then ran back into the hall.

Royce lounged on a chair that stood alongside a table with a vase. With a smug gaze, he watched her

approach.

“Where is Jenny’s jewelry box?”

“Why, it’s in safekeeping, of course.”

“I want to give the jade necklace and earrings to Nora.”

He gave a snort of disgust. “Where would that old bag wear jewelry like that?”

Heated anger built in Eliza’s chest. “It’s of no concern to you where she would wear it or if she wore it

at all. It’s a gesture of appreciation. Nora cared for Jenny Lee as tenderly as a mother would have. She’s

like
family
to us. I want to give her a token of some sort. Something sentimental.”

“She’s not family. She’s not anything to us. Jenny Lee’s belongings are not yours to disperse.”

“That necklace was our mother’s. I want Nora to have it.”

Royce moved so quickly that Eliza had no warning. Grasping her upper arms, he pushed her against the

wall. “Don’t defy me, dear sister. Not now. Not ever.”

He sidled closer, pressing his thigh between hers.

Eliza struggled to escape, but he raised one hand to her throat and applied enough pressure to cut off her

air. “This isn’t a game. There are no choices. You’re going to marry me. What was Jenny Lee’s is mine,

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and what was yours will be mine.”

Her blood pounded in her ears, and she struggled for a much-needed breath. Royce pushed until the

bones of her pelvis ached from being pressed between his body and the wall. “Let…go of me,” she

managed in a hoarse whisper.

He lowered his face close, and she turned hers aside to avoid him. He touched his nose to her cheek.

“Don’t concern yourself with how I handle things from now on.”

Eliza used all her strength to slowly twist sideways, forcing a space between their bodies. When Royce

eased away a fraction, she lunged her knee upward between his legs as hard as she could. The contact

was swift and solid.

He yelped and released her, doubling over in pain. “You’re going to be sorry for that,” he said on a

groan, but at the moment, his words didn’t hold much conviction.

She couldn’t shake the descending worry that Jenny Lee’s jewelry wasn’t the only thing he’d taken. She

turned and ran to the end of the hall and up the stairs into the attic. Light streaming in through the arched

window at the end of the room allowed her to go directly to the stack of trunks in the corner, where she

knelt and reached behind them to grasp blindly.

Her fingers came in contact with the cigar box she’d hidden and relief swept through her in a wave.

She’d saved every spare cent she could squirrel away in planning their escape.

As she stood, she realized the box was too light and didn’t rattle. She opened it to stare at the bottom.

Empty. Her hidden savings were gone. Her means of escape for herself and Tyler…gone.

He’d found it. Royce had deliberately destroyed her plan.

liza trembled with alarming fury and raging fright.

She dropped the cigar box. It landed on the wooden floor with a muffled thud. She stared at the rafters

above her head, riding a torrent of fear and panic and regret.

Everything. She’d lost everything. What would she do now? She couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t live with

Royce’s constant threats and manipulation. She couldn’t bow to his control.

She couldn’t marry him, God help her. She
wouldn’t
.

Several minutes passed while she pondered her predicament. She owned plenty of assets, including

stock in the bank and a portion of the brick company, but she didn’t have a nickel she could lay her

hands on today or next week or even next month, not without exposing her plan.

How had Royce known about the money? Had he spied on her? Did he search the attic and other

rooms on a regular basis? The magnitude of his uncanny power sickened her. Making her way down the

narrow stairs and along the hall, she didn’t encounter him. She entered her room and washed her face

and hands in the tepid water left over from morning. With disgust, she glanced around, imagining him

going through her belongings. When did he have time? She was only gone from the house an hour a day.

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But he always knew which hour.

After brushing out her hair and collecting it in a fresh chignon, she dabbed glycerin on her hands and face

and studied herself in the oval mirror over her washstand. A flush of indignant anger had replaced her

pallor and the mounting feelings prompted her to take action.

She wasn’t giving up yet.

In his room, Tyler still slept soundly. She tucked the covers around his shoulders and descended the

stairs to where townspeople still milled, unaware of the drama being played out behind the scenes in the

Sutherland home.

“Nora,” she said, finding the woman in the dining room, sponging potato salad from the oval Persian rug.

“Put that down and come with me.”

Nora handed the sponge and a dish towel to Marian and took the hand Eliza extended.

“Please,” Eliza said brightly, leading her toward the wide, open entryway. “I’d like all of you to hear

what I have to say.” Most of the guests in the parlor and the dining room could hear her from there. The

crowd quieted in expectation.

“First I’d like to thank everyone for coming today, and for your prayers and the flowers and food. All of

you who knew Jenny Lee know how much she enjoyed being around her friends and family. You were

all special to her.

“There are several people who have been especially kind and have given so much of themselves over the

years. I’d like to take a minute to thank them.” She smoothed her skirt nervously, but pressed on. “Most