A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 (26 page)

“We can certainly discu—”

The front door flew
open and Emilio and Mollie burst in, laughing to the point of breathlessness.
Arms loaded with boxes, they each had two dresses draped over their necks, and
multiple hats nesting on their heads. The moment they saw Hannah and Emilio,
they bit off the laughter as suddenly as if they’d been slapped.

“Billy. Hannah.” Emilio
lowered his box a few inches. “It’s good to see you. I am helping Mollie move
into her new room.”

“But it’s my old room,
or at least it’s in the same place as my old room.”

Little Billy reached
out to Emilio. “Dada.”

Hannah steeled herself
against any reaction that showed shock or disappointment for Billy over the
awkward outburst, but her heart sank. A pained silence hung over them and
Emilio’s face looked as if it were made of glass. Billy too, froze for an
instant, and then smiled, but it was brittle at best. “Emilio’s got his hands
full, little man.” Hannah could hear the forced good cheer. “Maybe later.”

“Uh,
si
.
Si
,
little man. At dinner.”

“Which reminds me,” Hannah
hooked her arm through Billy’s, “It’s my turn to cook our Saturday night
dinner. Naomi’s probably waiting on me.” She thanked God for the legitimate
excuse to run from this tense situation.

Billy untangled himself
from her, but put his arm around her. “I guess we’d better go, then.”

Out on the boardwalk, Hannah
again wrapped her arm around Billy’s. They ambled along quietly for a few minutes,
Little Billy taking in the people and the noise with eagerness and curiosity.
She counted her blessings for a moment, literally. Her son was healthy, Billy
had come back for her, and he wanted to marry her. She wanted to marry him. If
she didn’t get to nurse anymore, well, she still had so much to be thankful
for. They were blessed. Did Billy feel the same way? “You know I love you very
much.”

Billy nodded. Then
nodded again. “Yes, I do. Emilio gets under my skin sometimes, but it’s not his
fault. He’s like the brother I never had, and I guess feeling a little
competitive with him is normal.”

“Normal, but
unnecessary.”

He nodded again and
stroked Little Billy’s back. “I know that too.”

“And I was thinking
about the wedding date . . .”

Billy’s step slowed but
then picked up again. Hannah said a quick prayer and rushed on. “I think we should
wait until the hotel is up and running.” She flinched at the subtle downturn of
his mouth, but she just had to have time to get her heart right with losing Doc
and giving up nursing. “Between that and the mercantile, you’re going to have
your hands full. Don’t you think we should be able to focus on one another?”
She squeezed his arm. “I just want your undivided attention.” She batted her
eyelashes at him and Billy burst out laughing.

“I’m being played like
a violin.” He narrowed his eyes at their son. “Can you believe how weak-kneed I
am when you mother flashes those big blue eyes at me? Harden your heart, son,
against the wiles of women. Otherwise, they’ll be the ruin of you.”

Hannah goosed Billy in
the ribs. “Or the
best
thing that ever comes your way.”

Delilah stared at the
liquor inventory, but couldn’t focus. Frustrated, she laid the ledger on the
bar and tried again. She could still feel Logan’s hands on her shoulders, still
smell the scent of leather and sweat that surrounded him. She could have so
easily reached out and touched the scar on his chin, caressed that smooth, wide
jaw.

The lack of the usual
boisterous noise from the saloon finally intruded on her troubled thoughts.
Noticing the volume, or lack thereof, she turned around to survey the room.

Roughly, about half the
crowd was missing.

“Where is everyone
today?”

Mary Jean set a clean
tray of mugs on the bar. “At the funeral. Two men were killed a day or so ago.”

“Oh.” Bored, Delilah
turned back to the bar and noticed
The
Defiance
Dispatch
folded beside her. She drummed her fingers. She did not
want to read it. She didn’t want to give the holier-than-thou pious saints one
iota of her time.

Still, she had a
moment. Feigning disinterest, she picked it up.

“Oh, uh . . .”
Mary Jean had her hand out, as if to stop Delilah. “Uh, you might not want . . .”

Delilah raised her
how-dare-you brow and Mary Jean moved to the other end of the bar.

Satisfied, Delilah laid
the newspaper flat and scanned the first page. A gold strike near Red Mountain.
A billiard hall opening on Main Street.
Not if I have anything to do with it
 . . .
A new cobbler coming to town. McIntyre’s cattle arrived.

Blah, blah, blah.

She flipped the page to
the editorials. The headline screamed at her.
Delilah Goodnight brings
nothing good to Defiance.

She picked up the paper
and paced in front of the bar, reading as she went, her face growing hotter and
hotter. Then one sentence stopped her in her tracks. The one word that could
strike terror into the hearts of Delilah’s patrons. Even whispering it could
make a dent in her business:

Syphilis.

Delilah curled her hand
into a tight fist, her nails gouging and ripping the paper. She looked up the
stairs and bellowed, “Smith!”

Every man in the room
jumped. Mary Jean hunkered down and wiped glasses a little faster. Delilah’s
chest heaved. “How dare she . . . SMIIIITH!”

The man came skipping
down the steps, buttoning his breeches as fast as his fingers would fly,
suspenders flapping at his hips. “Yeah, right here. Comin’.”

Delilah’s vision
clouded purple with her fury. “What am I paying you for?”

He blinked at her like
a deer startled in the woods. “Uh . . .”

She grabbed his collar.
“I am not paying you to entertain my girls. I have something for you to do and
it needs to get done right now.”

“What you got in mind?”

“Forget the shepherd.
Attack the sheep.”

Naomi remembered this
hill, windswept and snow-covered seven months ago, and the most forlorn funeral
she’d ever attended. They’d buried Grady O’Banion here . . . and
only seven people had come to say good-bye to the man.

Today was a different
story. It seemed most of the town had climbed up to the cemetery to somberly stand
under a brilliant blue sky and pay their respects. A yard from Naomi’s feet,
the pine coffins rested in their graves, side by side. To her right, Charles,
Billy, and Emilio waited respectfully, shovels in hand, string ties dancing in
the sad summer breeze. Logan, at the head of the graves, his Bible open before
him, spoke soft words of encouragement to the mourners. Especially to Hannah,
or so Naomi thought.

However, she sensed his
final words struck deep into the hearts of everyone present.

After reading the
twenty-third psalm, Logan closed his Bible and hugged it to his side. “I have
said many good things about these men. They were well-loved. Valued by this
community.” He took a deep breath. “But my heart is heavy. I failed them.
Especially Big Jim. I dallied. I hesitated to share the Truth with him. I acted
like I had all the time in the world, and now I fear I will never see my friend
again.”

He stopped. Tears
glistened in his eyes. He started to speak, stopped, tried again.

“I was sent to Defiance
to share the life-changing, soul-saving good news that Christ died for us—each
and every one of us—so that our sins could be forgiven. Maybe you don’t care
about that right now. Maybe you don’t think it matters. But knowing Christ is
about more than redemption from sin. He is a friend who stays closer than a
brother. He is a solid foundation when the storms of life rage. He brings a
peace into your life that surpasses all understanding. And when you take your
final breath . . . he is there waiting to receive you home to Glory.”

His gaze lowered to Jim’s
grave. “I failed him. I didn’t tell him any of this. Now I don’t know if I’ll
ever see Big Jim Walker again. I wasn’t with him in his last moments. I pray he
cried out to Jesus.” He clenched his jaw, struggled for control then slowly
lifted his gaze to the mesmerized crowd. “I would not fail you. If Jesus can
take a mean drunk fast with a gun and faster with his fists, and change him
into a humble servant of God—not perfect, but a humble servant of God
nonetheless—he can change you, my friends. Believe it.” He closed his eyes. “Help
them in their unbelief, Lord, and help me live every moment as if it is my
last. In Jesus’ name, I ask it. Amen.”

Beside her, Hannah
sniffed and dabbed at the tears. In fact, Naomi heard others sniffing in the
crowd behind her. She blinked the moisture from her eyes.

“For dust thou art . . .”
Speaking softly, Logan reached down and grabbed a handful of dirt from the
diggings, “and unto dust shalt thou return. Amen.” He cast a little of the dirt
into each hole. After a few moments of silence, the crowd dispersed quietly and
Charles, Billy, and Emilio shoveled soil with quiet reverence.

Naomi watched Logan
head down the hill, head lowered, Bible tucked under his arm. A few miners nodded,
flashing him reserved smiles as they wandered past him. Most, however, hurried
on without acknowledging him. They didn’t know him yet. They still feared him,
or at least didn’t know what to think of him. Naomi knew Logan’s closing words
had touched some hearts. Seeds had been planted. As long as he didn’t give up
on the town . . .

She clutched Hannah’s
shoulder. “Tell Charles I’ll be back shortly. I’d like to talk to the preacher
for a minute.”

Hannah sniffed and
nodded. Naomi hurried to catch up with the man. She came alongside him and the
two walked in an amiable silence to the bottom of the hill.

“What did you think of
the service?” he finally asked.

“I thought it was
beautiful.” She kicked a small rock out of her way. “I’m sorry about Jim. I
didn’t know him, but he seemed . . . jovial.”

“That would be a good
word for him.” After a few more steps, he added, “And I’m sorry about Doc.”

“He was a good man.
Gave his heart to the Lord a few months back. Just in time, I guess.”

“I guess.” He stopped
abruptly. “I have a confession to make. When I started this funeral, I was
angry. Furious, in fact. I kept thinking all I wanted to do was get my hands
around Smith’s neck. I know he killed Jim. Probably Doc too I’m guessing.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know what I’m
doin’ here. So far I haven’t done anything right. And I think I’ve even gotten
a man killed.”

“Why would you say
that?”

“Jim didn’t want to get
involved. I made him help us find Sai Shang.”

“Maybe you should blame
Delilah. You wouldn’t have needed Jim if she wasn’t selling young girls.”

He shoved a hand into
his pocket and started walking again. “I don’t know. I wasn’t prepared for this
kind of a battle. There is a darkness in this town—”

“And that’s exactly why
Defiance needs you.”

“I’m not so sure. I don’t
seem to be making much of an impact.”

Naomi pulled her braid
around and absently tickled her palm with the tail of it. “I felt exactly the
same way when I came here. I was angry at God for abandoning us in this place.
With these people. I didn’t have the faith to love them.”

And then miracles
happened.

“I would have never
thought some of the people would become friends. I wouldn’t have guessed in a
million years I’d get over the loss of my first husband and
marry
Charles McIntyre,” she raised her pointer finger for emphasis, “who was an
unrepentant sinner so lost in darkness I sure didn’t think he’d ever find the Light.”
She cocked her head to one side. “And look where we are now.”

She clasped her hands
behind her back and gazed off at the mountains. “My point is, you can’t see
over the hill, Preacher, but God does. What’s coming is probably a whole lot
better than we can imagine. But even if it’s a hard path, it’s all part of His
plan.”

Logan stopped again and
stared at the ground. Naomi stared at him, waiting for him to look up. When he
did, she was pleased to see some hope in his eyes.

“You’re right. I’m just
feelin’ sorry for myself.”

“I know a little bit
about that too.” She smiled wryly. “It’ll pass.”

Rebecca had known there
would be consequences to the editorial . . . but this?

Mouth agape, she let
her gaze travel over the decimated newspaper office. Beside her, Ian, her
sisters, Billy, Emilio, Mollie, even Charles, stared slack-jawed at the level
of destruction.

The press lay on its
side. That had taken
at least
two men. Everything loose had been torn
from it or twisted beyond usability, the wooden legs shattered. Letter blocks,
hundreds of them, littered the floor. Ink had been splattered everywhere, her
desk chopped into pieces. A thousand sheets of paper—scattered, wrinkled,
ripped, and drenched in ink—looked as if they had been strewn about by a
tornado.

Fighting tears, Rebecca
covered her mouth with her hand. “We’ll never get this cleaned up.”

Ian slid a gentle arm
around her. “Look at me.” Rebecca couldn’t tear her eyes from the catastrophe. “Look
at me, lass,” he repeated gently but firmly. She looked up into his wise, steady,
hazel eyes. “We will clean this up. We will put everything back to working
order, and we will continue to print the news. They canna stop us.”

Naomi shook her head in
disgust. “How could they do this while we were at a funeral?”

“And here I thought the
trouble would be over Indians.” McIntyre bent down and picked up the remains of
the Devil’s Tail. The wooden casing had been shattered leaving behind only the
metal core. He held up the iron handle. “We need the blacksmith, and we need a
carpenter. Ian’s right. They will not stop us.”