It was a merry group that returned to the Wheeler estate late that evening. William had fallen asleep in Ayla’s lap, as Regan drove the horses. The youth slept through the laughter and reminiscing of the evening but Regan reached over and squeezed Ayla’s hand twice, earning a small smile from her.
Jasper carried William inside while Regan tended the horses. Matthew Wheeler had insisted the Malleys stay with them. The log cabin was just not safe, he insisted, and he enjoyed having William around. Jasper’s room was well away from Madeleine’s however, close to Regan’s in the servants' quarters, where Regan preferred to be and requested his room to be in that wing.
Ayla and Regan hadn’t talked much in the last few weeks. They hadn’t had the big talk both knew needed to happen, but neither wanted to rush that. It took time for them to reacquaint themselves with each other before they approached the big topics.
William often followed Regan around, asking about the horses, and helping his father in the stables. He never spoke of the man who raised him, and Ayla worried that her son was getting too attached to Regan.
What if it didn’t work out? What if she ended up going back to the circus after all? William would be crushed. Regan would be devastated, he clearly adored his son and loved teaching him about horses. The Belden and Lynch boys were around often, and the four of them all loved being around Regan. William had been accepted into the group easily and without question.
Ayla loved being around Regan as well. There was something so solid and comforting about his presence, even though he didn’t say much. It was the same as before, when they were young and innocent and easily excited. This was deeper, smoldering even, the current that existed between them.
Then there was Jasper and Madeleine, both of whom had stars in their eyes most of the time. Jasper had gotten a delivery job in town, but when he was with Madeleine, the two were completely lost in their own world. Miss Trask was always present as their chaperone, or sometimes Ayla.
Ayla liked Miss Trask. The no-nonsense, sensible woman was always good for a long talk, and offered a nonjudgmental and sympathetic ear.
Matthew Wheeler was gone often to Tulsa on business, but Ayla found him likable enough. He always brought treats back for William, and ruffled his hair. Ayla had never seen her son so happy since they had moved into the Wheeler estate.
And he had Regan working on the gatehouse in his spare time, which Jasper helped with. Ayla had a strong suspicion that Matthew was counting on her marrying Regan, and was planning on letting them live in the gatehouse. At the rate the men were moving, it would be ready around July. Ayla wasn’t ready for that. The gatehouse sat just barely within sight of the main house, tucked into the woods.
It had been odd, attending two Belden sibling weddings in the last few weeks, for people she barely knew. Diana and Mart had had the more elaborate affair, but both were filled with plenty of love and joy. She was welcomed into the fold, and Dan always had a hug and kiss on the cheek for her. Both had been a far cry from her own wedding, just her and Thom and her father and the reverend. It hadn’t been a very happy occasion; William was already growing rapidly inside of her, her father scowled and hovered to make sure they were married; Thom never spoke except to say “I do.” She had been almost seventeen, and scared out of her mind after seeing the beating Regan had received at the hands of her father.
She had been there that night. But she had been restrained, trapped in her trailer, unable to get out as she was guarded by some of the men. Her father had ordered it when he found out Regan was back. She had watched from her trailer as her father beat him mercilessly, and two men dragged him off later. She hadn’t known if he survived, and she was forced to move forward with her life, for the sake of the child he had given her.
But that was all in the past, she reminded herself. This was their second chance, their chance to be together, without her bastard of a father interfering. Regan had put no pressure on her, instead, keeping his distance and respecting her position. She had only been widowed a few months. But she couldn’t make herself wear mourning black all the time, it just wasn’t her. She longed for her colorful outfit from the circus, the bright pinks and blues and red, and the happy sparkling of the sequins.
Wrapping her shawl around her, she went out to the stables, where Regan was petting Lady and talking to her. The tack had been cleaned and put up, the horses coats shone. Ayla could smell the fresh hay, and stood for a moment, breathing it in. Regan hadn’t noticed her yet, and she watched him for a minute. He was still wearing his suit, but he had draped the jacket on a nail, and she watched his muscled arms with admiration as he hung up the bridles and reins.
When he turned and saw her, he was clearly startled.
“Hello,” he finally said.
“Hello,” she smiled shyly at him.
Regan stared at her. She had changed out of the pretty brown dress from earlier; he recognized her ordinary dark calico under the navy blue wrap. Her braid had been unpinned from its bun and hung over her shoulder.
“Uh, need something?” he asked hesitantly. She had never come down here before.
“I just came to see what you were doing,” she answered, feeling silly.
He nodded slowly. “Just the usual.”
There was an awkward silence until he moved to pick up his jacket.
“Kind of cold,” he said.
She nodded. “It’s not too bad. At least the winter is over.”
“Little different from back East.”
Ayla nodded. “The bitterness of the air wasn’t expected.”
“It was pretty harsh,” he agreed.
There was another awkward pause.
“Guess we should go inside,” he said after a moment.
Ayla nodded again but when he moved to leave, she held out one hand.
“Wait, Bill. Please.”
He did so, not wanting to look directly at her, knowing if he did, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from kissing her. Keeping his distance had been incredibly difficult these last few weeks. He hated tiptoeing around her but he was determined not to make her feel pressured or regret staying. He was running out of self control.
So he waited.
“I haven’t really been able to find the words,” she said slowly, “but I need to thank you.”
“For?” he asked.
“Being so good with William. Letting us be here.”
“He’s my son,” Regan answered, harsher than he intended to. He softened his voice. “It was Matt’s idea. But I’m glad you took him up on it.”
Ayla was unaware of her moving towards him. “I owed you that.”
Regan chose his words carefully. “I was hoping it was more than just owing me,” he said evenly.
She blushed. “I didn’t mean it quite like that.”
There was another pause, and right as Regan wondered if he should kiss her, she took the choice away. Without warning, she was pressed up against him, pulling his head to hers for their lips to meet. Regan didn’t hesitate, crushing her to him, lifting her off the ground. Her arms went around him as he held her, feeling as if he were lit on fire from the inside.
It was too soon for him when they finally broke apart.
“Ten years,” he croaked.
She looked up at him, her face flushed, her eyes burning as she began to unbutton his shirt.
“What—”
She put one finger on his lips. “Shhh.”
Regan lifted her in his arms and carried her to a pile of clean hay, where they enjoyed each other long into the night.
***
Lillian hummed to herself as she walked along the thoroughfare. The streets were finally drying out from the melted snow; for weeks they had been slushy and muddy.
She felt like singing. She and Brian had finally consummated their marriage the other night after his sisters wedding, and professed their feelings. He actually loved her, and she wanted to dance because of it. He loved her back, and there was no greater feeling.
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Steeling herself, she turned, wondering if Swegin was still watching her. He had left her alone for months now. There was no sight of him, but she scanned the busy streets, looking for any familiar face that might bring trouble. Her father had been in town just a few weeks ago, looking for her.
Still feeling uneasy, she hurried back to their little apartment over Brian’s office. She didn’t notice Ben Riker in the window of his hotel room, watching her intently.
***
Adelia stood watching her students file out the door. Next week they would move to the new schoolhouse. Actually, she would have the old schoolhouse, the older students and prior teacher would get the new one. Adelia didn’t mind. She didn’t like having to hold classes in town. Too much noise and distraction and the language some of the drifters used was vile. She didn’t want the children exposed to that sort of behavior.
When the last of the children had gone, she turned around and flinched. A tall, very good looking, very dangerous looking man stood behind her. His eyes were hazel and piercing, his hair blond, his suit expensive. A shark, she thought immediately. An absolute predator.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly, intending to duck around him.
He stepped in front of her way and tipped his hat.
“Afternoon, Miss Cornwall,” he said smoothly. “My name is Ben Riker, I own this fine building you’ve been using.”
Adelia knew exactly who he was, and she didn’t want to talk to him.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riker,” she said politely. “Thank you for the rental of your building these last few weeks.”
“Anything for the children,” he smiled and it made her skin crawl.
She gave him what she hoped wasn’t too nervous of a smile and tried again to step around him.
“I was hoping, Miss Cornwall, that you might join me for supper tonight, and we might acquaint ourselves better. I do so admire your work with the children.”
“I must regretfully decline, Mr. Riker,” she said stiffly.
His eyes hardened. ”That is a shame, Miss Cornwall. I’ve heard you are generally very…giving.”
Adelia flinched. “Excuse me?"
“Mr. Frayne has spoken quite admirably of your…gifts,” Ben smiled lecherously at her, knowing how his words would strike her hard.
Shock hit Adelia like a brick wall and she suddenly felt like throwing up. What on earth was Jim saying? And how dare he!
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said stiffly. “And I’m late for an appointment. Good day, Mr. Riker.”
She pushed past him, her fury growing as she heard him chuckle. She felt like washing herself to rid her of the slime he oozed.
***
Matthew Wheeler sighed as he read his wife’s telegram. It was pretty clear how she felt about Jasper courting Madeleine.
Absolutely not. He is nowhere near acceptable for our daughter and her stature. You will not allow this to happen.
Madeleine had sent her mother a gushing letter about Jasper and her hope for a future with him. This was her reply.
Matthew had always let his wife make the major decisions when it came to their daughter, but this time…Grace hadn’t been here to see how not being with Jasper had almost destroyed Madeleine. Or how Madeleine and Jasper both lit up when they saw each other, even after weeks of living under the same roof.
Grace was back in New York, enjoying the Season, and minimal contact with her husband and daughter.
Matthew had already given Jasper permission to court his daughter officially. Jasper had asked several nights before. Matthew liked the boy. So he didn’t have a fortune or stature behind his name and yes, it was obvious he was half Indian. Matthew didn’t care. This wasn’t New York society. And his daughter’s happiness was more important than all of that.
***
Jim Frayne whistled as he hurried towards to hotel. He was to have dinner with Adelia, and he hated being late.
“Mr. Frayne!” It was Smitty, the man who worked the front desk.
“Yes?” Jim paused, removing his hat. There was still a cold bite to the air.
“Miss Cornwall left this for you.” Smitty held out the envelope. He was an average man, average height, average brown hair. Non descript and easily unnoticeable in a crowd.
Jim took it, puzzled, and opened it, his eyes scanning the letter. His heart dropped when he read it.
Mr. Frayne, I do not believe that your courtship of me should continue, in light of your recent behavior and the conversations you have been having pertaining to me. Please do not call on me again. Miss A. Cornwall.
Jim just stared. His actions? What actions? What had he done? He had been at the saloon with Dan and some others a couple nights ago in a friendly poker game but he hadn’t even looked at the women.
Confused, he looked at Smitty, who was normally friendly to him, but today…his eyes were cold, Jim thought.
“Was Miss Cornwall feeling well today?” Jim asked.
“She seemed a might upset,” Smitty said reluctantly.
Jim leaned forward, his green eyes on Smitty. “I’ll give you a five dollar gold piece right now if you tell me what you know about her from this afternoon.”
Greed lit in the man’s eyes. He licked his lips nervously. Jim took it out of his pocket and laid it on the table.
Smitty stared at it. Finally, he raised his eyes to Jim. “Mr. Frayne, I thought you had better manners than that.”
Jim frowned. “Better than what?”
Smitty leaned forward. “You know, protecting a woman’s reputation. We all thought it was genuine courtship.”
Jim scratched his head, a sick feeling in his stomach. “Smitty, tell me what the hell you’re talking about! I am genuinely courting her!”
Smitty looked around. “Them things you been saying about Miss Cornwall,” he said quietly. “She’s a nice girl, she don’t need that kind of trouble. She ain’t never gonna git a husband now.”
Jim’s face flushed red.
“I will reach over this desk and throttle you in the next five seconds if you don’t tell me what the hell you’re referring to!”
“Lars heard you in the saloon the other night. Going on about Miss Cornwall, and the things you two were doing,” the man whispered.
Jim’s jaw dropped.
“I have never said a word about what Miss Cornwall and I do,” Jim growled, “but it’s never been inappropriate!”
“She ain’t one of them whores you see at the saloon, Mr. Frayne. Everyone knows how often you go there. And which ones you prefer.”
Jim’s mouth was hanging open in shock. “I meet my brother there for poker every few weeks and haven’t all winter, since he was shot and laid up.”
Smitty looked uncomfortable under the stocky young man’s gaze. “I’m just telling you what I heard!”
“Who is this Lars?” Jim demanded.
“He works in the oil fields,” Smitty muttered. “Hangs out in the saloons at night.”
“And he claims he sees me there all the time?” Jim demanded.
Smitty nodded.
Jim looked wistfully up the stairs that led to Adelia’s room.
Unbeknownst to him, Adelia lay on her bed, crying softly. Clara sat at her sister’s side, stroking her hair and plotting elaborate revenge on Jim Frayne as only an eleven year old could.
***
“That kind of explains some of the looks I’ve been getting,” Dan said thoughtfully.
“Do you think someone is impersonating me?” Jim asked.
“That’s an awful lot of trouble to go through,” Dan replied, his feet up on the table. “Besides, everyone knows who you are. Someone is stirring up trouble, that’s for damn sure. Everyone knows we’re brothers, whatever it is, must be carrying over to me. I got some rather chilly receptions in town the last couple days.”
“Who has it out for us?” Jim demanded.
Dan thought for a moment. “Jones is taken care of. I’d know if he was out. There are numerous criminals that might come after me but they’re the direct sort. You know, pop out and shoot me.”
Jim winced.
“I can’t think of anyone that hates the both of us—” Dan paused. “No.”
“Who?” Jim asked.
“I was thinking Ben Riker but his beef is more with Brian, for him stealing Lil from his fists.”
“Brian’s your bother-in-law,” Jim pointed out. “And your uncle is a cousin to the Wheelers. Which someone how makes Riker our distant cousin.”
“And Hallie is a Belden,” Dan finished. “Well, damn. We’ll never get him on it. I guarantee you he covers his tracks, with lots of money. I’d bet we could talk to five people and they’d all point us in different directions.”
“That snake!” Jim slammed his fist down onto Dan’s desk. “I care for Adelia, Dan. I care a lot.”
“I know, big brother,” Dan replied. “Let me think on this. We’ll set the record straight and get you your girl back.”
