The Courting of Widow Shaw (26 page)

Glory closed her eyes. She hadn’t the faith Jonathan Caldwell had. She hadn’t the forgiveness. It was as if the circumstances of her father’s death held her hostage. She was a prisoner to images of her father’s bloody body lying on the cold ground in the center of town. And her captor—those thoughts wouldn’t let her go.

She gazed into Steven’s eyes, hoping to make him understand. “I have little forgiveness in my heart, Steven.”

He studied her for a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

He pursed his lips, drew in a breath and finally asked, “So what do you want, Glory?”

She noted his need to truly understand, although his expression wasn’t too accommodating.

“I almost ruined my life once. I need time. I need to think things through better. I can’t make any more bad decisions.”

She couldn’t jump into a marriage with another man, not unless she was absolutely certain it was the right thing to do. Her life had almost been destroyed once already. And Steven, well, he was Lorene Harding’s son, after all. She didn’t know how, if or when she’d ever get past that.

Glory looked into Steven’s somber face, his eyes dark and foreboding. She knew she had unintentionally
hurt him. She’d never wanted that. He’d been wonderful to her, taking her in, nursing her back to health and sheltering her the best way he knew how. Searching deep into her heart, she knew Steven had become an important part of her life. She had strong, urgent feelings for him. The sight of him entering the kitchen just moments ago had made her flutter in the most pleasing way.

Had she fallen in love with him?

How could she be sure? She had thought she loved Boone once. She wondered if what she felt for Steven had more to do with the gratitude she felt toward him than any true and permanent stirrings of the heart.

She offered him an explanation, perhaps a consolation, something they both could understand. “I’m a fugitive, most likely going to prison or worse one day, so there’s no point discussing any of this.”

Steven jammed his hat on his head. He stared at her for a long time, his stance rigid. “You’re not going to prison. I’m going to see to that today. You just sit tight, keep the gun close and I’ll try to get back before midnight.”

Alarm registered quickly. Steven’s leaving sparked fear in her heart. “Where are you going?”

With a sharp, determined, almost cold glint in his eyes, he responded, “I’m planning to prove your innocence. I’ve got a good idea what happened to Boone. You’ll have your freedom soon enough.”

He strode fiercely toward the kitchen door, then stopped, lowered his head and turned. He came right up to her, kissed her long and deep on the lips and gazed into her eyes. “You’ll be free to leave here and start your life over.”

Dumbfounded, Glory watched him leave, his spurs jingling as loudly as her befuddled mind.

Steven sat hidden behind a small cluster of rocks, watching and waiting, noting half a dozen miners working their claims along the rushing streambed that welcomed runoff from Mount Davidson. This unpredictable waterway had been the source of many placer miners’ wealth, whether by method of panning or use of the wooden rocking sluice to locate the buried ore and, in Boone’s case, the cause of his early demise.

As the sunlight began to fade many of the prospectors took up their equipment, ready to call it a day. Interestingly enough, as the hours passed, Steven noted there’d been no sign of Ned Shaw. He’d checked earlier at Ned’s claim, located half a mile north, and now he surveyed the strip of land that Boone Shaw owned.

This might have been another of the days Ned Shaw spent gambling, which Steven surmised would make his waiting here a complete waste of time. But Steven’s gut told him to hold on, or had it been his heart doing the talking?

He’d bared his soul to Glory this morning, only to have her meet him with a stunned expression. He’d offered her marriage should she be with child and she’d neatly refused, declaring it would only compound another mistake.

None of it would have been a mistake in his estimation. But Glory clearly didn’t see it that way. He knew that he had to clear Glory’s name, for both of their sakes. She needed her freedom. She needed to resume her life or rather, make a new life for herself, one that surely didn’t include him.

He had his ranch. He had the prospect of a good future. Up until the night he’d spotted her lying nearly dead, engulfed in flames, he’d never wanted anything more. Glory had given him a taste of what life might be like, sharing a home and chores, working together then falling into bed, holding onto each other through the night. He’d shown her tenderness, she’d shown him passion. But it hadn’t been real. They’d simply been biding time, until Glory had to leave.

A roving reflection off the water brought his head up. He peered out, over the rocks and heard a sound off in the distance. Straining his eyes to catch a glimpse, he witnessed lantern light and what appeared to be a man, working the claim— Boone Shaw’s claim. He couldn’t make out the man’s features, but Steven knew without a doubt the man was Ned Shaw.

All the pieces of the puzzle fit now.

Boone hadn’t been working his claim effectively, too despondent and impatient to see it through, but his brother must have secretly found the gold they’d both coveted. Boone’s stake held riches that far outweighed anything he might have imagined, but he’d been lazy and too discouraged to find what had been nearly right under his nose. Ned must have seen this as his one and only chance for wealth, but he had to deal with the problem of getting rid of Boone and Glory in order to gain the riches.

He’d set Glory up as the murderess, planting a knife in her hands and hoping that the fire would muddle up whatever evidence he’d left behind.

He hadn’t counted on Glory surviving the fire, but he’d seen to it that she’d been considered a suspect, blaming her for Boone’s death, removing himself from suspicion altogether. According to the girls at
Rainbow House, Ned had surely painted himself the grieving brother.

While at the claims office, Steven had learned that once a miner abandoned his claim, the stake would be up for grabs within weeks. It was all legal and binding. But Ned couldn’t afford to wait. He had heavy gambling debts that needed paying straightaway. He’d been desperate and once he’d found Boone’s claim to be a rich one, he’d had to work secretly through the night to extract the ore. He’d been counting on the fact that Boone made it known his claim was a
borrasca,
a failure. Wouldn’t be likely any miners would jump his claim in the near future, giving Ned a chance to mine out all the ore.

Steven dipped his head and sat back, contemplating.

He’d caught Ned in the act, but unless he got the sheriff out here to witness Ned’s deceit, it would be one man’s word against another’s. He hated to leave the scene, but he had no other choice.

Steven rose slowly, drew his gun and bent down, making his way through the dry brush. He headed toward where he’d reined in Black Cloud. The horse snorted, a loud gush of air that echoed in the quiet canyon. “Shhh, boy,” Steven whispered, coming upon his nervous steed.

The stallion pranced, clearly agitated, stomping his hooves into the ground and Steven recoiled, thinking he should have brought Fancy instead, loyalty winning out against speed.

But that was the last notion he’d had, before a thump on his head obliterated all thoughts.

Chapter Seventeen

S
teven’s head ached like the devil. The cutting pain pounded his scalp like a hatchet. He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the thin ray of light that beckoned his attention. With narrowed eyes, he glanced around. He was tied up with his hands bound behind his back and his ankles tied together. He found himself leaning askew against the wall of an abandoned mine as if he’d been tossed down that way. The cold dank interior didn’t rattle him, nor did the fact that his hands and feet were bound. But the rats, wandering around like chickens with their heads chopped off, now that was a different matter. Skittish rats and creaks and moans from within a mine meant trouble. Cave-in trouble.

“Won’t be long now.”

He heard the voice from around a bend in the hollowed-out mineshaft. Then Ned Shaw came out of the shadows holding a lantern.

Steven glared at him. “What won’t be long?” Although Steven sort of figured out already what Shaw had in mind.

“I’ve triggered the mine.” Shaw grinned, his eyes
dark with anticipation. “Little fuses that won’t make much noise, but enough to collapse these walls. No one will ever find you.”

Shaw crouched down to Steven’s level and narrowed him a look. “You’ve had her all along, haven’t you?”

Steven turned his head, unwilling to give Shaw any information.

“Won’t do any good to deny it. You must’ve found her that night. It’s the only thing that makes sense. You’d have no call to come nosing around here otherwise. She would have died in the fire, and everyone would have blamed her for Boone’s death. I made it look good, beating her like that, making it appear that she’d been defending herself.”

Steven whipped his head around. “You! You did that to her?”

Shaw grimaced, shaking his head. “Didn’t want to. Sorta wanted her for myself, but she put up a fight. The lady refused to cooperate. What choice did I have?”

Steven spit out his words. “You damn bastard. You killed your brother and beat a defenseless woman.” He struggled with the ties behind his back, willing his hands to come free so that he could crush Ned Shaw into pulp.

Shaw let his accusation go unanswered. When he lifted up to full height, he scratched his head. “What I couldn’t figure is why she never came forth? She could’ve pointed her finger at me and been done with it.”

Steven pursed his lips, refusing to shed any light on the situation. If only Glory’s memory had returned before this, she’d have recalled everything and Shaw
would have been arrested. He’d taken a chance sticking around, but he was a gambler, after all and greed had a way of making a man do foolish things.

“Never mind. I’ll find her. As soon as I light this here spitter.”

Steven noted the short fuse Shaw held in his hand and figured Shaw had the front of the tunnel rigged with black powder. He played with the rope binding his hands. He had to find a way out of here before Shaw could get to Glory.

An instant of panic set in. He froze in fear that he wouldn’t be able to help her. She’d be at Shaw’s mercy. And the last time that happened, he’d almost killed her.

“Gloria Mae,” Shaw began with a sickening smirk, “must’ve gotten your gut all twisted up for you to risk your neck like this. And now you’re about to die. But don’t worry, I’ll do my best to console her.”

Steven watched him walk toward the bend in the mine until he was out of sight. He struggled with the ties now, sending up a prayer to heaven to help him get free. He had to get to the ranch before Shaw did. He had to save Glory.

But first, he had to survive the blast.

Cold dread seeped in. Glory wrapped the red shawl Ruby had given her even tighter around her nightgown, hoping that Steven would return home soon. Buddy lay curled up next to her on the sofa as orange-gold flames blazed from the fireplace, but neither helped quell the chill in her heart.

She’d pushed Steven away this morning with harsh words. Unintentionally, she’d hurt him. Confused by
myriad emotions whirling around, she’d spoken as truthfully to him as she knew how. In her mind, he was still a Harding, but in her heart, he was the man who’d taught her so many things about patience and tenderness.

Glory feared that she loved him.

She feared what her heart seemed to know, but her mind wouldn’t allow. After her marriage to Boone, she often wondered if she was capable of true love. Would she recognize it at all once she’d met the right man? She’d been wounded and perhaps the scars ran too deep to overcome. Maybe all she felt for Steven was undying gratitude for saving her life, protecting and sheltering her.

She wished he’d come home.

She missed him.

And prayed for his safety.

She didn’t know what he had in mind for tonight. He’d been too angry to share his thoughts with her. He’d raced off the ranch riding Black Cloud, like a man determined to get far away as fast as he could.

A grim shudder coursed down her body. She stroked Buddy’s head, more to comfort herself than the pup. She needed the connection, to feel something warm and alive to assure her that everything would turn out all right.

It was after midnight. Steven had promised to be home by now. She’d waited up, unable to sleep.

And then she heard him. Black Cloud’s hooves beat a hasty rhythm as they approached the house. Joy and great relief flooded her senses. She couldn’t abide anything happening to Steven on her account. She couldn’t imagine him being hurt or injured.

She offered up a quick prayer for Steven’s safe
return. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered aloud, her voice carrying in the quiet room, causing Buddy to lift his head. He peered at her, his big brown eyes in askance.

“Steven’s home,” she said, joyfully. She believed the dog understood.

Glory rose quickly from the sofa, eager to see Steven. She’d throw her arms around his neck, pull his head down and press a kiss to his lips, letting the consequences be what they may.

Glory thrust the front door open, her smile wide and unguarded.

She came face-to-face with Ned Shaw.

In that instant she recalled everything that happened to her the night of Boone’s death. She shoved the door hard, trying to shut out Shaw, but he was too fast. He jammed his palm against the door to stop it from closing, thrusting his body through the opening. “Now Gloria Mae…is that any way to greet your brother-in-law?”

Glory’s mind flashed images, sharp, fleeting, unbearable memories of that fateful night. The pieces all came together and everything that had once clouded her mind became vividly clear. Ned Shaw had been the one. He’d come to the house and deliberately picked a fight with Boone.

Glory had no time to enjoy the welcoming relief that she hadn’t been the one to stab Boone to death. She had no time to enjoy her newfound innocence.