Jillian Hart - Last Chance Bride

“No, I wouldn’t do that to you. To Emma.”

“You had to know. Were you going to use me? Did you accept my offer to cover your own mistakes? To come here and pretend the bastard was mine?”

“Not exactly. I wasn’t sure—”

Anger flashed through him. “I’m not about to let you use me. Or Emma. She’s the reason you are here in the first place.”

“I never meant—”

“She needs a mother, not a lying woman of questionable reputation.” Jacob closed his eyes. It wasn’t fair. He was angry with himself. Angry for agreeing to find a mother for Emma. Angry for thinking such a plan would ever work.

“I’m sorry.” The words squeaked, broken by emotion. He looked at Elizabeth. He remembered the look of affection on her pretty oval face when she’d shown him the rag doll, remembered the way she’d almost brushed the curls from Emma’s eyes, and her loving manner as she joked with the girl.

Damn it. The loss was Emma’s. Elizabeth would have been the right mother. If only she hadn’t... He didn’t know what she’d done. If she was an innocent forced or went willingly with a lover. He didn’t know anything about the woman except she was going to break his little girl’s heart.

Damn her for doing this to Emma.

Elizabeth surprised him by bursting into tears and without another word, she simply walked away.

He watched her go.

“Where’s Miss Hodges?” Emma tugged at his shirtsleeve. Dust cast a blue-gray light over the world and shadowed her button face. “Is she all right? Jane is afraid her cooking made her sick.”

“Miss Hodges left.” An odd roaring echoed in his head.

“If she’s feelin’ better tomorrow, maybe she can come have some of that pie we made.” Emma’s face wrinkled with worry. “You like Miss Hodges, don’t you, Pa?”

Hope and adoration lit his daughter’s face. How did he disappoint her? Damn it, how could Elizabeth Hodges disappoint her? Jacob felt ready to explode. He forced the breath from his lungs in a long hiss. “No, Emma, I don’t like Miss Hodges.”

“You don’t?”

Jacob forced the hot rage from his chest. “No. She’s not going to stay. We’ll have to go about finding you another mother.”

“But she made me a doll!” Pain rang high in the girl’s voice.

“I know she did. But it’s not your decision.” Night was falling, in his heart and in the forest. “Go inside and finish your meal. Jane will put you to bed.”

The girl knew better than to cry. It wouldn’t get her what she wanted. Emma hung her head, a single sob escaping as she dashed toward the cabin.

Disappointment battered him. He couldn’t change Elizabeth’s situation. He couldn’t allow her to be Emma’s mother.

Relief slid through his chest, and Jacob sat down on the front stone steps. Truth be told, he was glad. He didn’t want another woman in his house to remind him of Mary. He didn’t want the sweet scent of a woman, her touches of softness and care anywhere in his life.

The coming night fell silently, and Jacob didn’t move. He watched the skies darken, stealing the last bit of light from the day. Owls screeched, bugs chirruped and bats circled harmlessly overhead, but nothing could penetrate the sadness in his heart.

For a moment, he let himself remember the dark, souldevouring despair that consumed him after Mary died in childbirth. He could not risk going through that again.

Chapter Four

Her heart empty, Libby stepped to the window and gazed out on the main street below. Even this early in the morning, the thriving town, perched on the side of a rugged mountain, buzzed with activity. The sawmill upriver whined, wagons rattled, busy voices rose from the boardwalk below.

She’d learned from the other passengers on the stagecoach yesterday that Cedar Rock was a boomtown. Men came from all parts of the country to work the gold mines or prospect on their own. Montana Territory was filled with stories of men striking it rich on gold and quartz and silver.

There had to be something for her here, Libby reasoned. She did not have the money to return home, if she could call Omaha home. Perhaps she could make her own opportunities, just as she had always done before. She could cook and sew. Libby had never been afraid of hard work.

It wasn’t the end of the world, although it felt like it. There was no going back. She had her chance—and lost it. Now she would do what she must.

With trembling hands, Libby tugged her reticule from its place in the bureau drawer and sorted through its contents. Her fingers brushed upon the smooth, heavy parchment folded in neat, even creases. Her hands shook, rattling the paper, as she unfolded the outmost letter.

“Dear Elizabeth,” she read. “I am pleased you have agreed to come visit and see if a marriage between us will work. Emma pesters me daily as to when you shall arrive. I fear she does not understand the great distance involved....”

She tore her gaze from the page. Squeezing the tears from her eyes, she removed all of Jacob’s letters from her reticule and bundled them in her satchel. Happily-ever-afters don’t happen to you, Elizabeth Charlotte Hodges.

After carefully locking her door, she approached the kind man behind the front counter. He politely referred her to a woman’s boardinghouse off Clinton Avenue.

Armed with determination, Libby stepped out into the already hot morning sun. One thing was certain, she would not be beholden to any man, not even Jacob, for her survival. She could find her own lodging, and pay for it, too.

“Good morning, miss.” A man balanced a barrel of flour on his shoulder. “Nice day.”

She dropped her gaze. “Good morning, sir.”

Strangers unsettled her, and she kept walking. Jacob had never felt like a stranger, not from the first moment she opened his letter.

The town bustled with activity. Libby kept her gaze low, hearing the wagons rattling by, the clop of horses, the jingle of harnesses. Men’s voices rose discussing the weather and the business of the day. She dodged them the best she could.

The Faded Bloom was a bright blue, three-story structure gracing the wide alley behind a row of saloons and gaming houses. A painted sign swung from the eaves of the front porch. Rooms Let, it said. Women only.

Well, it looked homey. That was a start. Libby climbed the few steps to the porch and knocked on the door.

A window slammed opened, startling her.

“Can I help you?” A plump, wise-eyed woman pulled the pane higher and popped her head out. A wild tangle of rich black curls framed a friendly face.

“I’m looking for a room. Something not too expensive.”

The woman frowned sternly, eyeing her up. “I ain’t seen you before. Are you new in town?”

“Yes. I just arrived on the stage yesterday.” Libby stared down at her fingers. “I’m staying over at the Cedar Rock Hotel for now, but I need something more affordable.”

“Are you here for a few days or longer?”

It wouldn’t be easy living in the same town as Jacob, seeing him and being reminded of what she’d lost. “Longer. I plan to find work in town. What might a room cost?”

“Ten dollars a week. Breakfast is fifty cents and dinner is a dollar.”

Libby wilted at the price, but the boarding house appeared clean and respectable, the owner friendly. She glanced about, noting a nng of sturdy yellow flowers marching around the house. She couldn’t do much better, and she knew it. She’d seen most of the town on her walk here. “I’d like to see what rooms you have available, please.”

“Sure thing, deary. Wait by the door and I’ll let you in.”

Libby hadn’t considered how hard it would be to stay. Now she realized how awkward she might feel bumping into Jacob in the mercantile or seeing Emma buying hair ribbons. If she had the money, she would leave.