Valerie Hansen - Wilderness Courtship

“That’s not fair,” Charity said. “You know I care for him but my papa needs me and I promised I’d never leave him. I assure you, I take that vow quite seriously.”

Emory cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “I suspect this is a good time to make an announcement that I’ve been savin’ for just the right moment.” He reached for Annabelle Montgomery’s hand and clasped it for all to see. “Mrs. Montgomery has consented to become my wife.”

“Papa!” Charity was thunderstruck.

“Don’t look so shocked, girl.”

“But, what about Mama?”

He sobered and shook his head. “Your mama’s gone to Glory but I’m still down here. And I’m not dead yet.”

“I know, but…”

Emory was adamant as he beamed at his intended bride. “This is a fine, upstanding, Christian widow woman and I’m proud she fancies me. She’ll make you a wonderful stepmother.” He kissed his future wife’s hand before he continued, “I release you from whatever promise you think you made, Charity, even though I don’t recall any such nonsense. Your sister would already be upstairs packin’ her duds if somebody had offered her an adventure like that. What’re you waitin’ for?”

Thorne could see that Charity was deeply hurt. He reached for her hand once again, hoping she wouldn’t pull away. “Please? At least promise me you’ll consider my offer?”

When she nodded, then turned and fled up the stairs to hide her tears, his heartfelt sympathy went with her. He knew exactly how it hurt to be treated as an outsider in one’s own family. He’d dealt with that kind of unfair pain all his life. And he wasn’t done doing so.

The two so-called gentlemen who had shared the communal meal in the Montgomery hotel stood in the shadows outside and spoke in whispers while they lit up after-dinner cigars. “Do you think it’s true? Could the others all be dead?” the taller, thinner one asked.

His balding, stocky companion shrugged. “I don’t know. Blackwell looked pretty upset when he heard the bad news but the wife didn’t make a peep. It might be a ruse to throw us off the trail.”

“And it might not. Now that there’s maybe only two of us left, what do you think we should do?”

“Split up,” the second man said, hooking a thumb in his vest pocket and leaning his head back to blow a succession of smoke rings. “You go back East by sea, explain this new development and tell the old man what we know so far.”

“I don’t much cotton to that idea. He’s gonna be fightin’ mad if it’s true.”

“Still, he’s paid us plenty. He has to be informed, even if the news is bad.”

“Oh, sure. And what’re you gonna be doin’ while he takes it out on me for bein’ the messenger?”

“Getting even for our lost friends. Ashton’s wife trusts me now. I’ll stay close to her and her kin, wherever they go, and finish what we came for, one way or another.”

“You sure you don’t need my help?”

He shook his head, his thick jowls jiggling. “No. I can handle it. Even if I don’t get another chance till they’re on the trail, it’ll be fine. All I’ll have to do then is hang back and pick them off one at a time, starting with the brat.”

The taller man winced. “I never did like that part of the job. Doesn’t seem fair to kill him when we could just snatch him and maybe sell him, instead.”

“That kind of thinking is clear stupid. Which is why I’m sending you home and handling things here by myself. When you talk to our boss, make sure you tell him straight out that I’m the one with the stomach for this job or you’ll have to answer to me when I get back.”

“If you get back.”

His laugh was derisive. “Oh, I’ll be back. And I’ll expect to find a big bonus waiting for me when I show up in New York with the proof that I was successful.”

“Proof? How’re you gonna do that?”

The laugh deepened and took on a more sinister tone. “Same way the Indians do. I’ll bring Ashton their scalps.”

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