Marry Me by Sundown Page 25

  “No reason for you to remember it when you were always in the mine by the time I performed my morning ablutions. But the day I had the accident, I didn’t shave. I’d already had a few twinges in my chest and didn’t feel up to it. By noon I was feeling better and hurried out to the mine. You know the rest. Besides, I’m also going back to dig out my money. It appears I need to refurnish the house as soon as I get home, and that money will come in handy.”

  Dig it out, not up? “Where did you hide it? I searched everywhere,” Violet said.

  He grinned playfully. “You’ll see.”

  She’d rather not. She’d rather talk him out of going back there. Morgan could gather her father’s belongings and money and send them to him in Philadelphia. If he would. If he stopped being mad at her long enough to do them a favor.

  She waited for him to suggest it, but instead Morgan said, “I’ll see if I can borrow a wagon tomorrow and get it fitted with a mattress for you. If you insist on going up to the mines, you can at least do it with a care for your health.”

  “You know that a wagon will make the trip even longer,” Charles pointed out.

  “Yeah, I know,” Morgan said on his way out the door.

  Violet’s mouth had dropped open, so she snapped it shut. Then she couldn’t help saying in a grouchy tone, “He always gets his way, doesn’t he?”

  “That’s been my experience, but it’s usually all to the good, so it doesn’t trouble me in the slightest.”

  She wished she could say the same.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  VIOLET FELT NOSTALGIC AS they approached Morgan’s mountain and crossed the river near the spot where Morgan had taken her fishing. It felt so long ago, yet only a little more than a week had passed since then. It had been such a fun, idyllic day. They’d laughed, they’d talked, really talked, and without rancor for a change. She even smiled at the memory of dropping the fish on his chest and his reaction to it. Should she suggest another round of fishing tomorrow? Would he offer to go with her this time? Would he even remember how much fun they’d had that day?

  She sighed. He’d refuse, of course, and then she’d be embarrassed for even asking. That wall of ice still stood between them, and that cold shoulder definitely kept her from indulging in fantasies that he could be more than a business partner to her.

  Texas rode in not long after they reached the cabin. He greeted Charles warmly. He merely looked at Violet and grunted, which caused her cheeks to go scarlet and Morgan to tell her, “He searched for you, too,” before he and Texas left the room.

  “Is there something I should know about?” Charles asked.

  “Other than Morgan and I are back to being enemies, or at least he thinks so?” she said drily, but immediately wished she’d kept that to herself.

  “That sounds . . . extreme.”

  “It’s not,” she replied. “It was extreme at the beginning when he didn’t believe I was your daughter. Then when he did believe it, we got along. Now we don’t again.”

  “Because?”

  “He hasn’t said so in so many words, but I have to assume it’s because I left the camp without telling him and he felt obliged to look for me—and didn’t expect to find me with his worst enemy.”

  “That wasn’t your fault.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “I understand why he’s angry that you ran off and put yourself in danger. But who can quibble with the results of your impulsive decision? I was rescued and Sullivan is in jail.”

  She couldn’t tell her father about the other consequences of her impulsive decision, so she just smiled, then said, “As for Morgan’s still being in a snit about it, I don’t see that it matters. He’s your friend. He doesn’t need to be mine, does he?”

  “The atmosphere would be more congenial if he were, but I suppose not.”

  Morgan came back in, just long enough to hand Violet a stack of money. “Your half of the reward Texas got for taking those bodies to town. I don’t want it. You can put it toward your dowry.”

  He made the last word sound like a curse; it wasn’t the first time that word had seemed to annoy him. She glared at his back as he left the room again.

  “The atmosphere—” Charles began.

  Violet interrupted, “Yes, I know, it’s bloody chilly in here.”

  “What bodies was he talking about?”

  She groaned and joined her father at the table to tell him about the outlaws, the wolves, even her almost shooting Morgan for killing him—might as well make a clean breast of it. Of course, there was one thing she couldn’t mention. Her fall from grace.

  When she was done, he said the last thing she expected. “Is he in love with you?”

  “Of course not.” Nonetheless, her heart leapt.

  “It would explain his ‘snit,’ as you called it.”

  “So would a hundred other things,” she exaggerated. “Believe me, love I would recognize.”

  “These westerners are different from the people you’ve grown up with. They’re quiet, restrained. When a man wears a gun, he pretty much needs to keep his emotions in check, so what he is feeling might not be so obvious to other people.”

  She smiled at him. “I understand what you’re getting at, but Morgan has been far from restrained. But I’ll talk to him and see if I can muster up a truce at least for the duration of our visit here.”

  She just had to get up the nerve first, because it wouldn’t be easy, would likely be most uncomfortable. Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, at least he was amiable to her father.

  She pushed that topic aside in order to appease her own curiosity. “So where did you hide your money up here? I searched for it for days before Morgan loaned us the money to pay off the bank.”

  He grinned and stood up, leading her down the porch steps and around to the back of the house, then about ten feet beyond the little water hole. She watched as he slowly reached into the slag pile and pulled out a little sack. She laughed. Of course it would be in the one place she had decided wasn’t worth checking. He showed her the tiny mark he’d made on the cliff face a foot above the top edge of the slag to indicate where he’d hidden his money. It wasn’t big enough to notice unless you were looking for it.

  After a hearty dinner that evening, she took a quick bath in the stream. There was a tent set up in the yard when she returned. Morgan had already said she and Charles could have the cabin to themselves for the two nights they would be there. Bo seemed delighted with the arrangement. He was already lying in front of the tent, his tail wagging as she passed by. But Morgan wasn’t in it yet, as she found out when she entered the cabin and saw him sitting at the table with her father.

  He stood up immediately. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

  He wasn’t saying that to her. He didn’t even glance at her as he left. She gazed after him wistfully, missing the Morgan who at least talked to her. Her father rose too and crossed over to give her a warm hug good night.

  “You can’t imagine how glad I am to have you home again,” Charles said.

  She knew he meant back in America, so she didn’t mention that they weren’t home yet—or that she wouldn’t be staying once they were. That was another conversation she wasn’t looking forward to. The few times she’d tried to broach it in the wagon on the way here today, he’d distracted her with another topic, so she had a feeling he’d guessed that she wanted to return to England and was avoiding the subject.

  The next morning Violet woke up before her father and took her coffee out to the porch, as had been her habit during her stay at the camp. Morgan had come in while they were asleep to make the coffee. He’d left a basket of pastries on the table, too, and an assortment of fruit.

  She stared at the entrance to Morgan’s mine. The steel door was open, indicating he was in it. Once again, she thought about asking him if he wanted to take her fishing today. It would be such a perfect opportunity to mend that fence, as it were. Should she wait until he joined her and her f
ather for lunch?

  Bo caught her eye when he came out of the tent and trotted toward the stream. She started to call him to her, but stopped when she saw him reach his target. So Morgan wasn’t mining after all, but sitting in the bed of flowers?

  Recalling how they’d tumbled into those flowers the night they’d danced, she left the porch to join him at the edge of the stream. She brought her coffee with her. He’d done the same. Because he’d known she’d come out on the porch as soon as she woke up and he didn’t want to be there with her? She sat down next to him anyway.

  “I thought you would be mining as usual,” she said.

  He glanced at her briefly. “I always knew when I was ready to go home, I wouldn’t give two hoots about this mine anymore. But I didn’t expect to meet Charley and like him as much as I do. So your pa and I came to a new agreement last night, and the only reason I’m telling you this is because it cancels the one you and I had.”

  “I assured you that you would be paid back!”

  “Settle down, we’re not rival miners now. We might have more to dispute, but your father and I don’t, and I’d prefer you hear this from me. I’ve swung my pick for the last time. With Sullivan out of the way, I no longer have a reason not to let crews in here to deplete the rest of the silver from both mines or to form a real partnership, including an even fifty-fifty split with your family. One or both of your brothers can oversee the place until we can hire an experienced manager to run the operation. But the location no longer needs to be kept secret.”

  And then it seemed to just fall out of his mouth as an afterthought: “Why did you really leave?”

  She’d been waiting for him to look at her again, but even for that question he didn’t, so she glanced down at the stream as well before saying, “What I told you wasn’t a lie, but there is more. Yes, I was still distraught because of the violence, but I was also appalled at myself for what happened afterward and beyond embarrassed about it. I simply couldn’t stay any longer, but you weren’t willing to take me back to Butte yet. You wouldn’t even take me to town to pay off the loan. You sent Texas instead. So I took matters into my own hands.”

  “That’s it?”

  He was looking at her now! She felt like groaning. “If you must know, you were being too familiar.”

  “I was?”

  She blushed at the reminder that she’d started it. “Afterward, you were.”

  “You would have preferred that I ignore you after we made love? Really? That wouldn’t have made you spitting angry?”

  Bloody hell, she thought, of course it would have. She gave him a pointed stare. “I’m going to speak plainly this once, then we will never mention it again. What we did can’t ever happen again, and I was afraid you’d expect more of the same if I stayed.” There. That was almost all of it.

  “Probably,” he said grudgingly.

  “Then you understand!”

  “No.”

  She looked away so he wouldn’t notice her gritting her teeth. She was not going to tell him how much she wanted him, that even now it was hard to resist putting her hands all over him. It would be beyond the pale to admit how much he tempted her to sin again.

  But it was also a sin to lie, so she cleared her throat and said softly, “I was also afraid I’d want more.”

  Morgan turned to her and gave her the most amazing smile, one filled with happiness, pleasure—an invitation? “So why can’t it happen again?”

  Violet gritted her teeth again. “Because this isn’t my world. I don’t belong here. I’m going back to London where there’s civilization, polite society, servants, indoor plumbing, fashionably dressed people . . .” She couldn’t finish because she started to choke up, realizing how much she was going to miss him when she left Montana.

  So he finished the list for her. “The fancy parties, the dancing, and all those dukes and earls, and, of course, Elliott. I see.” He nodded as if he understood perfectly now. He smiled at her. “Want to go fishing today?”

  Violet jumped at the invitation. “Yes!” Then she smiled shyly. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  Chapter Forty

  THE LAST TWO DAYS at the mining camp had been idyllic for Morgan—once he’d put his anger to rest. He was surprised at how easily Violet had managed to defuse it. The truth was, he didn’t like being angry with her. And her reasons for running out on him had been valid. He’d had no intention of taking her back to town for at least another week. His usual two-week mining schedule was the excuse he’d given her, and he’d been glad to have one, because the simple fact was that he liked having her here and hadn’t wanted to give her up yet.

  Which was why when he’d had that long talk with Charley about a new partnership, he’d convinced his friend to come to Nashart with him to finish recuperating there. They just hadn’t told Violet yet. Of course, that idea could backfire on him. She might just catch the train in Butte by herself to return to Philadelphia and then sail to England and that damned lord she wanted to marry, instead of staying with her father. Could she be that heartless? No. Thorny, yes, but not heartless. But she might insist on taking Charley straight home with her.

  But while his anger was gone, there were still annoyances nagging at him. Violet’s damn dowry, for one, and what it signified. After the intimacy they’d shared, he’d really thought she’d hand him back the money he’d given her for her dowry. Stupid of him to test her like that. But despite what’d they’d done, despite her confession that she’d feared she’d want more—it brought a smile every time he remembered that—she obviously still intended to marry her English lord.

  He was also annoyed by how serious she’d sounded when she told him, “What we did can’t happen ever again.” She’d closed the door before he could even try to open it again. But unlike anger, annoyances he could keep to himself, and he did. And she wasn’t gone yet. . . .

  They got back to town late because they’d left the mines at noon. He didn’t have much to bring with him, just his personal gear and Bo, since he was leaving all the supplies, including his mules, for her brothers to use. After getting rooms at the hotel, he went to see if the sheriff was back in town yet with news about Sullivan. He wasn’t, so he sent off a telegram to Sheriff Gibson in Helena and another to the Mitchell twins to tell them to meet their father in Nashart.

  And he finally picked up his mail. There were three letters from his mother and one from his father. He read Mary’s first, in the order in which they’d arrived, and laughed at the last one. All this time he’d thought his brother was trying to get out of his arranged marriage, only to find out it had happened over a month ago. And Degan Grant had been there to keep the peace. Morgan had even been invited to the wedding in the second letter, although Mary had tried to make it a surprise for him by telling him only, You’ll want to come home for a brief visit by the twenty-third. But that had been last month. His father’s letter wasn’t a surprise, but it also made him laugh. Zachary had been unable to order him home, but now he tried luring him with the news that copper had been found on their property—a great deal of it. What made him laugh was the line If you have to mine, do it at home! His pa would be glad that he was done with mining, but he wouldn’t be happy about his next business venture. And he still wasn’t looking forward to that argument.

  The next day dragged by waiting to hear from the sheriff about Sullivan’s sentencing. Violet had tsked about the delay, but Morgan had heard her assure Charley that she agreed with them, they couldn’t leave without learning the outcome of the trial.

  Morgan left the two Mitchells alone, hoping Charley would get around to telling Violet he was going to Nashart if they had some time to themselves. And then he heard the rumor raging through town. Degan Grant was getting married right there in Butte. Morgan had to see that for himself, and all he had to do was follow the crowds. It appeared half the town wanted to witness the gunslinger’s wedding.

  He’d missed the wedding ceremony, but heard the sounds of merriment behi
nd the church. He spotted the Grants immediately. Degan had that aura about him that screamed gunfighter and had even worn his gun to the altar. The little wife was unusual, too. She had the shortest hair he’d ever seen on a woman, ash-blond in color, and very dark eyes.

  As he approached them, he caught Degan’s eye and heard him say, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  The pretty blonde whispered something to her new husband that Morgan didn’t catch, but he extended his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Morgan Callahan.”

  “I guessed as much,” Degan replied, shaking his hand.

  “Yeah, Hunter and I hear that a lot, how much we look alike. Congratulations on your wedding—but please tell me you’re not here because of me.”

  “I’m not, but why would you think so?”

  “I heard from some miners here that you were working for my father. I know he hates that I prefer mining to working with my family on the ranch.”

  “That’s between you and Zachary—and it’s not why he hired me.”

  “So it’s true? You actually brought about my brother’s marriage to the Warren girl?”

  “I’d say Hunter managed that on his own,” Degan said.

  “I’m surprised. He really hated having that arranged marriage hanging over his head. I figured it wasn’t going to happen unless he was dragged kicking and screaming to the altar.”

  “Believe me, nothing would have kept Hunter away from that wedding. You’ll understand why when you meet his wife.”

  Morgan smiled. “I’m sorry I missed all the fun, but I struck it rich and will be going home for a visit as soon as I settle a dispute with a rival lady miner. And, no, I’m not asking if I can hire you! But maybe I can kiss this bride, since I missed kissing my brother’s new wife?”

  “Not a chance.” Degan put his arm around his wife’s waist.

  Morgan laughed, insisting, “I’m not like Hunter, who charms every woman in sight! But I’m not going to argue with the notorious Degan Grant, either. Have a happy marriage, you two.”