The Bride Wore Blue (29 page)

“My father paid my train fare. Aunt Alma paid for her own tickets to escort me out here. My sisters had paid my first three weeks rent.” Vivian paused for a sip of coffee, letting it warm her insides before continuing. “I was desperate to find my own way, but I’d been turned down by more than a dozen places, including Ida and the ice company.”

“She turned you down?” He sounded as surprised as she’d been.

“She felt bad, but their recent expansion was costly.”

“That’s when you remembered what Opal said.” His words came out in a whisper, just loud enough for her to hear over the sizzling wood.

“I know it was wrong, but I felt so ashamed of what I’d done with Gregory … what I’d given up.” A wave of humiliation raced up her neck and burned her ears.

“That’s why you couldn’t let yourself like me?”

Nodding, she pressed her lips together to stave off the tears. “I no longer saw myself as the kind of girl who was above working in such a place.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

From the sincerity in his voice, she drew the courage to keep going.
“Pearl hired me to work as a hostess. I worked during the day serving drinks and lunch in the game room. That’s it.”

Silence hung like musty smoke between them.

Carter scrubbed his whiskered jaw. “The day Boney and I waited for you at Miss Hattie’s and you were standing on the corner? ”

“Pearl had just hired me.” She met his sad gaze. “I recognized Liberty at the hitching rail and didn’t want to face you.”

“You knew what you were doing was wrong.”

“I did it anyway.”

“You said you went to Pearl’s room to tell her you couldn’t do that kind of work.”

“A man …” Tears stung her eyes. “A man had requested private time with me.”

Carter’s jaw hardened.

“I hadn’t worked upstairs, and I didn’t want to. I went up to tell her that I quit.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Miss Hattie believed you had a legitimate job.”

“I told her I was a hostess at the National Hotel. I lied to her. I lied to everyone.”

He grabbed another stick and poked at the fire.

“This past Wednesday,” Vivian continued, “I overheard Pearl and a man arguing. I now know that man was Leon. They were talking about the dead horse, about him being involved in the robberies and the death of that miner.”

“I’ve been working night and day to find those responsible,” Carter said, “to stop them. I’ve been watching the Homestead, looking for the ringleader. You knew he was there, and you didn’t tell me?”

“I should’ve. Right away.” Tears trickled down her face, their saltiness stinging her cut lip. “When I slipped into the alley last night, I went to find you. I planned to tell you everything … where I worked and what I’d overheard.” She swiped at her tears. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.” His eyes steely, he tossed the stick in the pit. “We’d better try to sleep. We have a long ride tomorrow.”

Vivian stared at the charred ashes between them and then blew out her candle.

A
t the hint of first light, Carter sat on a rock outside the abandoned mine. Vivian had finally fallen asleep about three hours ago. She trusted him. He’d seen it in her eyes and heard it in her steady breathing. He hadn’t slept. Determined to protect her, he’d sat with his back to the wall, watching the doorway and flinching at every owl hoot and coyote yowl.

One bad decision on Vivian’s part had led to another, then another. But she didn’t kill Pearl DeVere. Neither had she been an accomplice as he’d feared.

Too many things pelted his mind. A selfish man in Maine who had broken Vivian’s heart. A devious woman who had hired Vivian under the guise of “hostess.” A man who claimed to love Pearl DeVere, while stealing and killing innocent people to buy her gifts. The same man who chased Vivian down an alley and hauled her off to his lair.

Still, how could the well-bred Vivian, raised in a God-fearing home, become Violet—a young woman with a painted face, dressed to tease? She’d lied to everyone who cared for her. For what? Money provided by lusting men?

The Lord protected me, even though I didn’t deserve it
.

Under the Sunday morning dawn, Carter pulled a worn slip of paper from the billfold in his coat pocket and unfolded it. When he left Leadville for Cripple Creek, his mother had penned a verse from the book of Romans and given it to him.

Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ: By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

He’d assumed the worst of Vivian based upon her employment and speculation about her association with Leon. She’d been honest about her shortcomings when he hadn’t even recognized his own. Carter’s father had taught him that labels didn’t determine a person’s character or their worth. He’d demonstrated this truth with his very life. A truth Carter had resented until last night in the smoky cavern, when he saw Vivian instead of who he believed Violet to be.

His father had been fond of saying, “Sitting in the front pew doesn’t make you closer to God.” Assigning labels to people. Spouting religious dogma, as if grace wasn’t enough. Pointing fingers, as if self-righteousness
was
enough. Engaging in gossip, and he’d heard plenty the night Pearl DeVere died. All were equal offenses in God’s eyes.

Carter squirmed on the rock. Vivian had fallen into the trap of comparing herself to others, measuring her failures against her sisters’ successes. Gilbert’s words from that day in Victor rose to the surface of Carter’s memory.

“You’re out to prove something. I might do the same if I was trying to get out from under my dead father’s shadow.”

He’d brushed away his friend’s observation at the time, but now it held his attention. Vivian had been truthful with him last night. It was his turn to do the same.

Carter took long strides toward the woman he would’ve died to protect. Two steps into the mine, he stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t help staring at her. She knelt over his bedding, rolling it. A smaller blanket flowed off her back onto her muddy, tattered skirt. She’d managed to finger-comb her hair. A few curly locks flowed from the pins in streamers.

Vivian looked up, startled. She stood and faced him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Vivian, when I saw you yesterday, I assumed the worst. I should’ve known better.” He took slow steps toward her. “I did know better. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. I know what decent folks call girls like me.”

“Then shame on them.” He met her teary gaze. “Shame on me. Because that’s not who you are.” He was close enough now to see her brown eyes glistening like mist on an autumn leaf. “I see a caring woman with determination and grit.”

He gently wiped a tear from her bruised cheek, and she flinched.

Carter looked at the broach that served as a clasp to hold the blanket together at her neck and make up for the low neckline of her dress.

“A resourceful woman.”

“More like a desperate woman.” A shadow clouded her eyes. “Pickett and Elton had guns. You could’ve been shot rescuing me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“But we don’t know where Leon is. He could still come after us.”

“All the more reason to get you back to town. An early start and a steady ride should get us there by noon.” Carter took the bedroll from her. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded. “My sisters and Miss Hattie must be worried sick.”

“Had I known you were missing and that those ruffians were holding you captive, I certainly would’ve been.”

She bent to gather the candles from the ground. “Do you think they know?”

“Where you worked?” He nodded. “They would know by now. It’s a small town when it comes to gossip.”

She wasn’t the innocent girl he’d thought her to be. She was a woman who had made mistakes and confessed them. A woman who, in the end, had helped the law find at least two of the bandits.

The woman he loved.

There, he’d admitted it, at least to himself. She’d hooked him the moment she squared her shoulders on the train and glared at him with those fiery brown eyes, a mix of sass and sensitivity.

He hung the saddlebags over his shoulder. It was a short walk to the clump of juniper trees where he’d tethered Liberty. He braced Vivian’s elbow to steady her. At least that was what he told himself.

“My father was a sheriff’s deputy in Leadville when I was a boy,” he told her as they walked. “I worked in his office. Paperwork and cleanup mostly.”

She peered up at him. “I heard he was killed on the job. I’m sorry.”

“A girl was kidnapped by a raucous drunk.”

“He was shot rescuing her?”

“Despite the town council’s objections, my father went after them.”

“The town council didn’t want him to do his job?” Her voice shook with the disbelief at their apathy he should have felt all these years.

He swallowed hard. “She worked at a brothel. They believed it was a risk of her trade.”

A frown darkened Vivian’s eyes. “They didn’t think she was worth saving.” The tired tone of her voice reflected the weight of the words.

“They weren’t the only ones who were misguided. For the past ten years, I’ve blamed that girl and her profession for my father’s death … for my loss. I made sanctimonious assumptions about the women who chose that kind of work.” He paused. “And assumptions about you. Can you forgive me?”

“After all the things you’ve learned about me—terrible things—you’re asking for my forgiveness?”

“God doesn’t list sins from the worst down to the slightest and judge a person accordingly. Only people do that.”

A smile formed a dimple in her right cheek, and she laid her hand on his arm, sending shivers up his spine. “You’re forgiven, deputy.” Compassion shone in her brown eyes. And something else he hoped was love.

They shared a lot in common—grace. And that was where he longed to live.

With Vivian.

Vivian and Carter stood side by side atop the last grand hill, looking down at Cripple Creek. Cabins and mines dotted the vast valley below them.

He tipped his face toward the heavens. “God gave us blue skies today. My favorite color—sky blue.”

Hers too. She’d ridden behind Carter all morning, her arms wrapped
around him. He was a man of convictions and integrity. A man raised by a father who believed everyone and anyone was worth saving, and then lost his life because of that conviction. A man of compassion.

Carter had been shocked to discover she was the runaway girl from Pearl’s parlor, to learn of her secret life, but he’d taken care of her. And once the shock wore off, he’d listened to her explanation and shared his own story.

When faith should have sustained her and sent her into God’s arms, she’d wallowed in self-pity and turned to Gregory. Now she knew the difference between a superficial man and a man of deep faith and integrity. Her transgressions and the wrenching heartache that followed had readied her heart to receive God’s grace. She didn’t know what lay ahead for her and the deputy, but she believed God had brought them together.

She was thankful the pretense and lying were over. But she knew honesty carried risks along with the freedoms it offered. Miss Pearl’s death and her own disappearance were bound to be fodder for the gossip mills. People would judge her. It was human nature, and she’d certainly judged others before becoming so intimately acquainted with her own shortcomings. Many consequences awaited her at the bottom of the hill, but those that might separate her from her family were the ones she feared the most.

God, help me to trust You, no matter what
.

She drew in a deep breath and looked up at Carter. “Are you taking me to the police department?”

“That won’t be necessary. You didn’t contribute to Miss Pearl’s death. You ran from the scene of the crime because you feared for your life. I’ll take you to the boardinghouse—that’s probably where your family is.”

She nodded.

“Once I see the doctor’s report on the cause of Miss DeVere’s death, I’ll know more about the department’s investigation.” He raked his hand through his hair and returned his hat to his head. “You’ll be easy for the police department to find for questioning. I doubt your sisters will let you out of their sight.”