Elizabeth Lane - Wyoming Widow

“I’ve avoided prying into your past, Cassandra,” he said.

“As long as you’re serving a purpose here, I’m willing to let things stand.”

“Serving a purpose!” Cassandra fought back a scalding surge of tears. “Is that the only reason you’ve allowed me to stay, so that you can use me?”

His eyes had gone cold. “You’re getting what you came for, aren’t you? You’ve got a roof over your head, food in your belly and, at least, the trappings of respectability. What else could you want?”

“I want to be valued!” She hurled the words at him, struck by their truth. In the desperate months following Jake’s death she had thought that nothing mattered except having the means to provide for her child. But she’d been wrong. What she’d needed as much as food and shelter was to be of worth to the people she cared about…!

Wyoming Widow

Harlequin Historical #657

Acclaim for Elizabeth Lane’s latest books

Bride on the Run

“Enjoyable and satisfying all around, Bride on the Run is

an excellent Western romance you won’t want to miss!”

—Romance Reviews Today (romrevtoday.com)

Shawnee Bride

“A fascinating, realistic story.”

—Rendezvous

Apache Fire

“Enemies, lovers, raw passion, taut sexual tension,

murder and revenge—Indian romance fans are in for a

treat with Elizabeth Lane’s sizzling tale of forbidden love

that will hook you until the last moment.”

—Romantic Times

#655 BEAUTY AND THE BARON

Deborah Hale

#656 SCOUNDREL’S DAUGHTER

Margo Maguire

#658 THE OTHER BRIDE

Lisa Bingham

Wyoming Widow

Elizabeth Lane

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Available from Harlequin Historicals and ELIZABETH LANE

Wind River #28

Birds of Passage #92

Moonfire #150

MacKenna’s Promise #216

Lydia #302

Apache Fire #436

Shawnee Bride #492

Bride on the Run #546

My Lord Savage #569

Christmas Gold #627

“Jubal’s Gift”

Wyoming Widow #657

Other works include:

Silhouette Romance

Hometown Wedding #1194

The Tycoon and the Townie #1250

Silhouette Special Edition

Wild Wings, Wild Heart #936

To my mother, Beryl Washburn Young

1918–2002

The most valiant and beautiful heroine of all.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Laramie, Wyoming

June 10, 1879

“I know you’re in there, girlie,” the wheezy voice rasped through the thin planking of the door. “I heered you rustlin’ them papers in there like a purty li’l red-haired mouse! Open the door, now, so’s I won’t have to get out my key.”

Cassandra Logan huddled in the shadows beside the potbellied stove, her arms wrapped protectively around her bulging belly. Today was the first day of the month. The rent on the shack was due. The landlord, Seamus Hawkins, was here to collect.

And Cassandra had no money to give him.

Her stomach churned as her ears caught the jingle of his heavy key ring. In a moment he would be inside. Then what?

Things had gone from bad to worse in the seven months since her husband, Jake, had died in a gun-fight over a pretty blond saloon girl. For a time, scrubbing floors in the Union Pacific Hotel had brought Cassandra enough money for food and rent. But finding work was impossible now. What employer would hire a woman whose apron strings were wrapped beneath her armpits?

As the key slid into the lock, she forced herself to move. Cowering in the corner would only encourage Seamus to bully her—the last thing she needed at a time like this.

Before he could turn the knob, Cassandra swung the door open and stood facing him, arms akimbo, trying to look as fierce as possible. Since the man was at least twice her size, it was a ludicrous effort. He leered down at her, fat and unshaven, reeking of whiskey and garlic.

“Well, where is it?” he demanded, clearly savoring his power over her. “You knew I’d be comin’ ’round today.”

Cassandra willed herself not to writhe beneath his gaze. “I’ll have the rent by Monday,” she lied desperately. “Surely you can wait that long. I’ve always paid you on time.”

Seamus’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ll give you till this time tomorrow,” he said. “Have the rent in full by then, or it’s out you go. There be plenty folks needin’ a roof an’ able to pay.”

He took a step over the threshold. Cassandra’s stomach clenched as she sensed what was coming next.

“You know, girlie, there’s more’n one way to pay a man. You let me come ’round whenever I get a yen for somethin’ sweet, an’ you won’t owe me a cent.”

“I don’t think your wife would approve of that arrangement, Mr. Hawkins,” Cassandra said icily.

“What my old woman don’t know won’t hurt her none.” He winked slyly, edging closer as Cassandra battled gut-heaving panic. “This could be a li’l private business deal, just between you an’ me. I’d even buy you presents if you was nice to me. How about it, girlie?” His breath was warm and damp, his gaze hungry. “’Twouldn’t be so bad. You might even get to like it.” He groped for her, but Cassandra slipped away, moving back toward the stove, one hand fumbling for the iron kettle.

“Give me a chance to come up with the money,” she parried, stalling for time. “The other—that wouldn’t be a good idea with the baby—”

“Aww…I’d be careful. Truth be told, I’d take you over the money any day. ’Sides, ’twouldn’t be the worst if somethin’ did go wrong an’ you lost the young’un, you havin’ no husband and all. Why, a purty li’l thing like you, with no brat taggin’ along, you could—”

The words ended in a gasp as Cassandra flung the kettle at his head. White-hot rage fueled the impact of the blow. Seamus reeled backward, blood oozing down his temple. He lunged for her, but she spun out of reach, putting the stove between them as she bent to snatch the hatchet out of the wood box.

“What’ll it be, Seamus?” she hissed, gripping the weapon. “A finger? An eye, maybe? Take one step closer and you’ll find out.”

Seamus edged backward. Then, from a safer distance, he grinned at her. “So you like to play rough, eh, you little hellcat? Well, two can play at that game. If I didn’t have my old lady waitin’ down on the road in the buggy, I’d show you right now.” He turned toward the door, then paused, dabbing at his temple with a dirty handkerchief. “I’ll be back tomorrow to collect what’s owed me. An’ one way or another, girlie, you’d better be ready to pay, or you’ll be out in the street. An’ that’d be a damned, dirty shame, now, wouldn’t it?”

Spitting on the handkerchief, he wiped the blood from the side of his face, then turned away and ambled outside. Cassandra slammed the door shut behind him and barricaded it with a spindly chair propped against the knob. Not that it would stop a big man like Seamus Hawkins. When Seamus wanted to come in, he would. His wife had been waiting for him this time. But what about tomorrow?