Tall, Dark, and Determined (2 page)

“No.” Chase didn't know any men by the name of Creed, which was too distinctive to forget. Then, too, any man planning on being front and center running the town would have established his status from the start. Some truth ran through the old saying men were dogs—when it came to dominance, neither animal left room for questions. “The name of the fiancé. Now.”

“I can't remember.” Kane started talking fast. “Adam? Brian? Something like that. He was fiancé to one of the Thompson sisters and brother to the girl I had my eye on.”

“Word is you had more than your eye on her, and you got caught.” Chase cast a glance around. “Was she a widow?”

“No, a miss.” Kane scowled. “Now there was a girl who didn't belong in the backwoods, Chase. All done up in bows and fluff, looking like a lady when she wasn't, putting on airs as though she owned the place. The type to lead a man on but kick up a fuss when he got close—she's the reason I'm stuck here.”

“Her name.” Not a question; a command.

“Lacey, though I doubt it was real.” Kane looked ready to go off on another long-winded speech about the temptress.

“Surname, you fool. She should share it with her brother.”

“Lyman.”

Chase sucked in a sharp breath at the answer like a hound drawing in scent for the hunt. “The brother's name. Braden?”

Kane snapped his fingers. “Yep. That's it. Stuck in the doctor's bed.”

“Why?” Chase had to be sure.

“Mine collapse, they said.” Kane hadn't known any names going in, so whatever he came up with wouldn't be half-truths drawn from his own twisted conclusions.

Chase narrowed his eyes as he left the jailhouse. A rangy wolfhound abandoned its post in the shade to lope alongside him. There could be no doubt—Braden Lyman lived. This gave rise to a slew of new questions. Was the one man in Miracle Mining whom Chase had trusted involved in its collapse? Did the real Braden Lyman still own Hope Falls? And if both answers were yes—
why?

Because despite what Kane told him, Chase knew one thing:
an attempt to conceal a sabotaged mine is still more likely than three good women advertising for husbands in the wilds of Colorado
.

Hope Falls, Colorado Territory, 1887

So
this
is how it feels to be wrong
.

Lacey Lyman abandoned the laws of ladykind to gnaw on her nails. Of course she'd been wrong before—one didn't reach the advanced age of eighteen without a few token mistakes. But this wasn't always-talking-too-much wrong or even clashing-bonnet-and-dress wrong. She shuddered at the last one, but it still didn't come close to the current situation. No.
This
counted as nothing less than best-start-swooning wrong.

Creed, the man they trusted enough to make head of operations, had just dangled another logger by his suspenders in some sort of fit over a single coin then rushed out of the kitchen. Normally, that would be odd. Just now, it was ungentlemanly to abandon ladies in such alarming circumstances.

An all-out brawl was taking place beyond the swinging doors of the kitchen, where twenty or so loggers pummeled each other. Some defended the honor of whichever woman caught their eye, some tried to prove their masculinity, and a small cowardly number simply defended themselves. But there was no escaping the fact that, to a man, they clashed in competition over herself and the three friends she'd talked into coming West. The rain hadn't stopped in hours, so they didn't even take their fight outside the diner like somewhat civilized mountain men.

Even worse, it was
all her fault
.

“Oh, hush.” Evie jabbed her with an elbow, although that might have been an accident. The newly built storeroom Lacey dragged them all into hadn't been made to house four women amid its shelves. “It's not
all
your fault, and you know it.”

Lacey shot her friend a sharp look before realizing Evie couldn't see it. In addition to space, the storeroom also lacked a lit lantern. Nor did it share the warmth of the stove, which had made the kitchen much more inviting until a pair of loggers came flying in from the fight and hadn't gone back.

“Then whose fault is it?” she demanded, stung by the way her friend emphasized
all
as though, indeed, Lacey bore the lion's share of guilt.
If Evie thinks I'm to blame, she could at least show the decency to be agreeable about it!

A jumble of answers bounced around the tiny space all at once, but Lacey caught who'd said what in an instant. They'd been through too much not to know each other's voices and the thoughts of their hearts by now. Tangled together, they went: “Creed!” The loudest burst from Evie, who'd been fighting the rugged stranger for weeks—mostly because she was fighting an attraction to him. About an hour ago, Evie ran out into the rain, distressed over a callous comment made by one of the men. Creed followed, but obviously failed since Evie came back alone.

“Braden!” The most vehement came from Cora Thompson. Evie's sister and fiancée to Lacey's own brother, Cora had every right to blame Braden. He'd convinced them to invest in a Colorado mining town then destroyed everything by falling victim to its collapse. But when word of his miraculous survival surprised them in Charleston, Cora didn't think twice. They all moved to Hope Falls only to hear Braden denounce them as fools.

Lacey brightened at the fact that if it weren't for Braden, none of them would be here at all. Truly, it was all her brother's fault. The world made sense once more, and—

“All of us!” The longest and fairest answer came from Naomi Higgins. Her elder by nine years, Lacey's cousin observed, “We all invested in Hope Falls as a mining town, and nobody forced us to come here when things changed.”

Three women shifted uncomfortably in tight quarters. Whether Cora and Evie moved to ease a sense of shame, Lacey couldn't be sure. But she suspected they, like herself, found the quiet truth in Naomi's answer too compelling to ignore.

Except … a sort of needling sensation in her chest wouldn't let Lacey accept Naomi's answer. She wanted to. Oh how she wanted to, but Lacey had a gift most people never suspected. Not an astounding talent. She simply … remembered things. If she heard them or read them, Lacey could repeat them years later. Not precisely word for word, but with surprising accuracy.

Surprising because, when she most needed to, she couldn't pay attention. Life offered so much. Color and sound, textures and tales, sparkles and sensations forever calling her away from the moment … So people never imagined Lacey could
remember
.

But she did, and right now Lacey was remembering a conversation from when they'd still believed Braden dead. Mere weeks past, it seemed a lifetime ago.

    TWO    

L
acey took a deep breath. “Hope Falls can be saved. “

“Towns don't have souls, and even if they did, Hope Falls would be the exception.” Cora all but spat the words. “There's no redeeming it. No eking anything worthwhile from it now. “

“Without ore, nothing can sustain the town,” Naomi agreed. “That's not true. What Hope Falls now lacks in ore, it more than makes up for in another valuable resource.” For once in her life, she didn't let everything rush out all at once
.

This time Lacey needed them to ask. Investing time and thought would bring them a little closer to agreeing to her plans. She suspected she wouldn't be able to taste anything for a month, but kept her tongue between her teeth. Literally
.

“What resource?” Evie spoke up for everyone. “Trees!” She almost bounced in her enthusiasm. “The San Juan Mountains are absolutely covered in the lumber New England lacks. Even better, we have railroad access to meet the demand. “

“You're proposing to turn a mining town into a sawmill?” Disbelief tinged Evie's tone, but interest sparked. “How?”

“We'd need to buy up the surrounding land, but if looking into selling our property has shown anything, it's that we can get it cheaply. Then it's a matter of labor.” Lacey hesitated
.

“Hire men, you mean.” Naomi raised a brow. “Setting up a sawmill is an expensive venture. You'll need investors. “

“Or husbands.” Lacey winced at the way she blurted it out. “Never!” Cora jumped to her feet. “We won't travel there and make our home without Braden. I won't have it!”

“If we let Hope Falls die”—Lacey tried to be gentle—”we've lost the last part of Braden we could have kept alive. “

“But marrying another man—” Cora shook her head. “I can't.” “I anticipated that. But the rest of us can marry.” Lacey's hopes faded at the shock painting Naomi's and Evie's features. “Husbands provide protection and legitimacy.”

“Preposterous. Absolute lunacy.” Evie stood beside Cora, shaking her head. “Finding investors, perhaps. But binding ourselves to complete strangers over a sawmill? Never!”

It took all of two moments for the scene, fluid with sights and sound, to unroll in her memory like a bolt of watered silk. Silken memories binding her to her own mistakes …

He'd overplayed his hand. Corbin Twyler knew it the moment he saw Creed with the square luck token he'd lifted off that body six months back. Seemed as though he'd been on the run since he shot Granger and claimed the self-righteous fool pulled his gun first.

Yes. Nothing but bad luck since then
. That's why he'd put the token in the pot. After Kane's mischief made every man in Hope Falls suspect, Twyler had to get rid of any hint of bad luck or incriminating remembrances. They came through the Game, and the Game would help him pass them on to another player. Surely the time drew near for Twyler to win once more.

Why else would a man keep on playing? What use was the challenge of living if a competitor never moved ahead? The Game taught a man patience, how to read small tells and anticipate another player's next move, all for the sake of winning.