A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 (17 page)

Emilio would never have
thought this citified
gringo
would become a friend. Yet somehow they had
gone from fighting each other in the street to being as close as brothers. Not
for the first time, Emilio doubted the move to the ranch. It meant giving up
more than Hannah. Emilio valued his family. “No cards for me tonight.”

Hannah brushed by him,
Little Billy on her hip, and danced her fingers down his forearm. “Emilio, good
to see you.”

“You too.”

She handed the baby,
now eight months old, to his papa. The two giggled and cooed for a minute,
Billy making funny faces at his son. He pressed his lips to the baby’s forehead
and exhaled loudly, vibrating his lips. Little Billy kicked and laughed with
delight at the silly sound.

“Emilio, can I get you
some coffee?” Mollie strode over to the stove. “And a piece of pie?”

“No thank you. I am not
staying long.”

Billy sat down at the
small kitchen table. “Tired of losing at poker?” He set Little Billy on top of
the table and gave him a spoon to examine.

“Not by a long shot.” His
eyes roamed the kitchen, looking for a clock. “Maybe tomorrow night. Right now
I have to go. I just wanted to stop by and say hi.”

Billy pulled a pocket
watch from his vest. “It’s nearly eight. Where are you off to?”

Emilio hadn’t expected
the question, and the delay in his answer earned him some suspicious looks. “I
have to go to The Crystal Chandelier.”

Mollie and Hannah
gasped. “Emilio,” Mollie whispered, as Hannah’s mouth formed a perfect little ‘o’.

Billy rose and handed
Little Billy off to Hannah. “Let’s you and me step outside for a second,
brother.”

Emilio nodded goodnight
to the ladies, trying hard to linger longer on Mollie than Hannah. She did look
pretty in the lamplight. He blinked and followed Billy out to the boardwalk.

“I heard about that
place soon as I got back.” Billy sauntered over to a post, fell against it, and
folded his arms. “What’s come over you wanting to go in there?”

Emilio wasn’t thrilled
to reveal the reason to Billy. He felt vaguely like
la chacha
, a nanny,
but his friend misread the silence.

“Emilio,” Billy
straightened up and rested his hands on his hips. Studying his feet, he wagged
his head back and forth. “There’s no way to say this, but I guess we’ve got to
tackle it now.” He looked up at Emilio. “I know you’re in love with Hannah.”

A mule kick to the gut
couldn’t have been more jarring. Why were they even talking about this?

“But trying to run away
from it by going to places like The Crystal Chandelier . . .that’s
not a good plan.”

Emilio took a deep
breath and dragged a sweaty palm over his face. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it? That’s
one reason you moved out to the ranch, isn’t it?”

“Billy . . .”
Emilio splayed his hands out, ready to come clean, get it all in the open.
Confess that he would die for Hannah . . . but it struck him
that he would die for any one of the members of this hobbled-together family.
An unwed mother. The boy who had abandoned her. A former prostitute. “Billy, I
don’t love Hannah that way.” The lie was hard to spit out, but right. “You and
her, Little Billy, Mollie. You are my family.”

Billy worked his jaw
back and forth as if he was pondering the explanation. “Then why are you going
to The Crystal Chandelier?”

Emilio rolled his eyes.
“Eleven of Mr. McIntyre’s new hands are there. He asked me to keep an eye on
them. I think they are all going to be in jail before midnight.”

Billy exhaled, lines of
stress around his mouth and eyes melting away. “You need any help?”

“I do not think so. If
anything happens, I will let them go to jail.” He ambled down to his horse and
plucked his hat off the saddle horn, but paused as an idea struck him. He
peered around the animal’s head. “You weren’t worried, were you? About Hannah
and me?”

Billy shoulders jerked
back. “You two have some history. I just want to be sure you’re done with it.”

“Did she give you any
reason to think otherwise?”

“Honestly? No.”

Emilio settled into the
saddle, a little depressed by the forthright answer. It made him want a beer. “
Si
.
Good.” He tipped his hat at Billy and turned the horse toward Tent Town.

Billy slipped his hand
into Hannah’s and they meandered down the river’s shoreline in perfect peace.
The sun had sunk below the towering peaks leaving a beautiful peach glow in the
sky, but night would fall fast now. Though this would be a short walk, he loved
the sound of the water and being alone with the future Mrs. Page. Mollie was
sweet enough to watch Billy for a few minutes so he could do this properly.

Butterflies cavorting
in his stomach, Billy touched the ring in his breast pocket.

“Do you miss your
parents, Billy?”

The question nearly
made him stumble, unexpected as it was. Hannah could do that—throw him off
balance—because he never knew where her mind was going. Was he a
cad
if he told her the truth? Hannah already knew
his parents had sent him away rather than let him marry her and raise the baby.
She didn’t know his father had threatened to disinherit him. His mother . . .
his mother was trapped in a loveless marriage, and couldn’t have affected
things one way or the other. He supposed he had some pity for her, but he felt
like he’d made a pretty clean break from his family. They’d forced him into it.

“No, I don’t,” he said.
“I mean, I miss my mother some, but you and Little Billy, and your sisters, you’re
all my family now. I don’t even think about Pa.” He stopped and they faced each
other. “What made you ask about them?”

“What kind of life can
we have together if your family never accepts me?”

He didn’t know what to
say. He’d accepted things. Frank Page thought he was too good to acknowledge a
bastard grandson, so Billy had walked away and wasn’t ever going back. Nothing
would come between him and Hannah and Little Billy again. Not parents. Not
Indians. Not another man. Therefore, he only knew one way to answer Hannah.

Holding on to her hand,
he dropped to one knee in the damp sand, pulled a ring of rubies and white gold
from his pocket, and held it up for her inspection. Too much of the light was
gone to make out her face clearly, but he could see the tears sparkling in her
eyes. “
Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall
cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.
God will bless our
marriage, Hannah. I don’t need anybody else’s blessing.” When she didn’t raise
her hand to accept the ring he assumed it was because he hadn’t asked the
actual question. He cleared his throat. “Hannah, I love you. Will you marry me?”

The pause between the
question and her answer dragged on a bit too long. Growing concerned, he was
about to speak when she placed her hands on his cheeks and pulled him to his
feet. Still holding him, she said softly, “I do love you more than anything.
Yes, I will marry you.”

Relief and joy exploded
in his heart. He kissed her deeply, passionately, hungry for every ounce of her.
He folded her into his arms, pulled her firmly against him, and wallowed breathlessly
in her sweetness. Her soft curves and the way she
fit
with him warmed
his thoughts like too much whiskey. Desire, foolish and intoxicating, begged
his hands to roam.

He tried not to
remember the one time they had been together, but he couldn’t block it out. He
wanted to loosen her braid and let all that golden hair rain down on him like a
waterfall. He dragged his lips to her neck, kissed her jaw, hugged her tighter,
and nibbled on her ear. Lightheaded, he backed away and held her at arm’s
length before he crossed a line. He could hear her breathing hard. He imagined
he could even hear her heart pounding.

“Oh my,” she whispered
so softly he almost didn’t catch it. “You make me dizzy.”

He squeezed her hand.
She felt like his wife already, but the rest of that commitment would have to
wait. They wouldn’t be together as husband and wife until they were wed. He exhaled,
a long, deep breath. Soon. . . “We need to speak to our new preacher
and see when—”

“Billy,” Hannah
interrupted, still sounding a bit breathless. “You haven’t put the ring on my
finger.”

Laughing, he slapped
his forehead and slipped it off the tip of his pinky. He didn’t even remember
putting it there, but at least he hadn’t dropped it. “My beloved.”

Hannah extended her
hand and Billy pushed it down her finger.

“Goodness, it’s a
perfect fit.” She held out her hand, but the light was gone. “Hmmm. Guess we’ll
have to go inside if I actually want to see my engagement ring.” She moved her
left hand to his face again. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure it’s stunning. All I
really want is you.”

He refrained from
kissing her, well aware his self-control was as fragile as butterfly wings. A
lack of self-control had caused too much heartache already. He could wait. But
he was going to find the preacher tomorrow. “How about we announce the
engagement Wednesday night when everyone comes to the hotel for dinner?”

“Yes, all right.”

He wrapped his arm
around her and they started back for the town hall. She rested her head on his
shoulder as they strolled along the path. He would have felt ten feet tall if
it wasn’t for one small thing.

Why had she taken so
long to answer?

Emilio sat at a corner
table watching the crowd in Delilah’s. A darkness he could almost see and most
definitely feel crept through the room like the smoke from the cigars. Perhaps
it had been so long since he’d been in the Iron Horse that he had forgotten the
feel of a saloon . . . but he didn’t think so. Across from him,
Corky guzzled a golden beer.

A banjo and piano kept
the atmosphere jangling. Some gal who thought she could sing joined them and
screeched out “Sweet Betsy from Pike.” Poker chips rattled. Men muttered,
laughed, cursed with abandon as they raked in their winnings. Several young
girls, mostly Oriental, circulated in the room, delivering drinks. They moved
about stiffly and kept their eyes downcast as if they’d rather be anywhere but
here.

Emilio tried not to
stare as other women—wearing the sheerest robes he had ever seen—pranced down
the stairs, advertising vacancies in their beds. They quickly returned
upstairs, a man in tow.

Over and over.

A few tables away a man
bellowed a curse, flipped over his table, sending cards, half-full mugs of
beer, chips, and bags of gold flying. He was immediately tackled by the three other
players at the table, and several inconvenienced customers shoved back, booing
and hissing. A chair flew through the air, shattering against the wall right
behind Emilio. Otis and Smith came from nowhere and leaped into the fray, great
arms swinging like oak trees in a hurricane. In mere moments, the fight was
squashed. The two bouncers, looking greatly displeased, each had an ornery
patron under each arm. Trapped, flailing and protesting, they were dragged to
the door and tossed from the building.

Corky and Emilio
exchanged disgusted looks. The Crystal Chandelier had anything but Light in its
four walls. Repulsed by the depravity here, Emilio was ready to head back to
the ranch. Surely Mr. McIntyre didn’t expect him to stay the whole time.

He was rising from his
seat when he saw Smith sit down at a table with Cloer and Dub. A moment later,
a round of beers and a bottle of whiskey landed on their table.

Curious, Emilio sat
back down. He didn’t need to hear the conversation to get the gist of it. Smith
was buying friends. And judging by the serious looks and grim nods, he had made
the purchase. Cloer, the oldest of the hands at about thirty, seemed out of
place on the ranch, at least to Emilio. The man trembled when he moved, like he
needed a drink. And he skated away from any work he could. Shirker. He should
work for Smith because Emilio doubted he was going to work long for Mr.
McIntyre.

Abruptly, the music
died, and Otis lifted Delilah’s petite frame to the bar. Emilio couldn’t help
but notice her tiny waist, pleasing curves, and generous bosom, all encased in
a dress the color of red roses and tighter than fish skin. Her auburn hair was
twisted stylishly atop her head and held in place with expensive-looking
pearls.

The woman had a
beautiful face, once a man made it that far. The shadow of something hard and
dangerous hid there, concealed in tiny lines and brushed over with powder. He
knew that look. Just like his sister Rose, Delilah was a tough customer. Best
never to underestimate her.

“Boys!” She patted the
air to quiet them. The banjo and piano stopped. “Boys.” Slowly, the chatter
started dying. “I am pleased to announce the opening of our Celestial Virgin
Auction.”

Men clammed up like she’d
slammed a door. The silence was abrupt and . . .
hungry
.
Appalled, Emilio surveyed the room full of eager faces. Then, a strange, ghostly,
melodic sound reached his ears. Like the gentle plucking of a guitar but
different. Music, though. Haunting. Sad.

“Yes, can you hear that
gentlemen?” Delilah clasped her hands over her heart. “A song from the Orient.
A song of lost loves. Broken hearts.”

The notes floated in
the air and entranced the room. Delilah eyed the crowd, wearing an evil smile
cold as a gold nugget. 

“A refined young lady
from China,” she went on, “sold into slavery because she displeased her father.
Isn’t her music beautiful? And
she
is quite beautiful. Only sixteen. An
unopened blossom.” Delilah raised her chin. “If you would like a chance to meet
Sai Shang, opening bid to enter the other room is $100 dollars.” She motioned
to the giant Negro waiting at the entrance to the theater. “Give your money to
Otis. If you’ve already made a silent bid, you may go on in.”

Several of the miners
raked their winnings and bags of gold from their tables and scurried forward.
Emilio noted that the cowboys watched with ill expressions.

Maybe they’ll stop
this. Someone has to
 . . .

“Ain’t you got somethin’
a little less pricey? Cloer called. The other cowboys grumbled and nodded in
agreement. “How ’bout some ugly virgins?”

The room rumbled with
laughter. A miner called out, “Reckon that’s what you get for being a cowboy
instead of a miner.”

“Yeah, broke.”

More laughter and
complaining rolled through the saloon like a distant peal of thunder. Harsh
words flew between cowboys and miners, but Delilah hushed them. “Boys, that’s
enough. We’re all friends here.” The arguments died, but not the hard looks. “As
to your question about
ugly
virgins, my advice would be start saving
your pennies if you’re of the mind to purchase a budding Flower.”

Livid, Emilio lunged to
his feet. “This is wrong. You cannot do this.”

Delilah’s eyes narrowed
at him. “Son, everything in here is wrong. That’s what makes it so much fun.”

“Everything is overpriced
too.” Garcia slammed a beer on his table. “But you miners don’t care. You spend
your money like the fools you are, playing in the mud all day.”

The insult begged for a
fight and Emilio flinched, knowing it was coming. Bellowing and cursing erupted
instantly around the room. Men jumped to their feet, flipping chairs over
behind them. The punches started swirling like debris in a twister.

Delilah, surprisingly agile
for a woman in a dress that tight, slid to the floor and ran to Otis. “Stop
this fight, but whatever you do, keep this door closed.”

She grabbed the cashbox
from his large hands and hurried inside the theater, slamming the door shut
behind her. Emilio grabbed Corky’s shoulder. “Go get the marshal.”