Montana Renegade Read online

  “I certainly hope not. I escaped there once, and I’d hate to have to escape there again.” He yawned, and his body shook as he stretched.

  “Why did you want to leave?” She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it.

  He took a long time answering her, so long that she thought he had drifted into sleep. “You aren’t the only one who’s had a torturous relationship with a parent. I suspect most people have trouble with one or both parents at some point in their lives.” He tugged her closer, burying his face in her nape a moment. “My father loved everything prestigious. He was a prominent lawyer and expected his sons to be prominent lawyers in his firm.”

  “What happened?” she whispered. His hold on her tightened as though he were battling memories.

  He sighed, and his hold on her eased. “My eldest brother died. He was everything I wasn’t.”

  “What do you mean?” she whispered.

  “He was outgoing, witty, brilliant. Everyone wanted to be his friend. Compared to him, I was a dull-witted clod who excelled at social gaffes.”

  After a moment she turned until she could grip his face between her palms. “You are brilliant and kind and esteemed by all who are fortunate to know you.” She kissed his cheek. “If your father was too stupid to see his good fortune in you, I’m sorry.”

  Warren let out a shuddering breath. “You don’t understand, Nell. I killed my brother.” He waited for her to recoil, but she continued to caress his cheeks and to wait for him to speak. After a moment, his gaze went distant, envisioning the long-ago scene. “We had just left the mansion of one of my father’s associates, and Alfred was berating me because I had ripped the hem of Miss Althea’s dress, spilled wine on my waistcoat and stuttered like a dunce when spoken to.” He sighed. “I hate that those were the last words between us.” He closed his eyes as though attempting to not relive what had transpired.

  “What happened?” she whispered as she leaned forward and kissed away his tears.

  “The carriage hit a large patch of ice. The horses skidded and panicked, and we crashed. I emerged with a lump the size of an egg on my forehead, while Alfred, … Alfred died. Impaled on the crushed carriage.”

  “Oh, Warren,” Helen said. “It’s not your fault. It was a stupid accident that should never have happened.”

  He continued to speak as though in a trance. “My father never forgave me and railed against God for leaving him with his half-wit son rather than Alfred—Alfred, his perfect son.”

  “How could you believe it was your fault?”

  “Alfred always sat on the forward-facing seat. Claimed riding backward made him ill. That night I took his place. He sat where I always sat and died.”

  “That’s a horrible coincidence, but it doesn’t make it your fault.” She waited as he stared into space with tears rolling down his face. “What did you do?”

  “I tried to become my brother. I learned to dance without stumbling, stopped speaking my true thoughts and instead said boring inanities that wouldn’t offend a squirrel, while perfecting an impersonal smile. I graduated from law school, top of my class, as was expected, with plans to join my father’s firm. In Alfred’s place.” He closed his eyes a moment. “I had worked there as a student throughout my years at law school.” He tensed and released her, flopping to his back.

  She traced a finger over his furrowed brow, attempting to soothe him as he always managed to soothe her. “And then?”

  “I learned that my father was no better than a petty thief. He used his law firm to run schemes to cheat people of money.” He shook his head, refusing to meet her gaze. “He targeted those least able to afford the loss. He and his friends reaped the riches, while those he harmed never recovered.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “I confronted him. Told him that I was ashamed to be his son. That I wished I’d never known him. That he had died rather than Alfred. And I left. Packed my bags and went to the most obscure place I could imagine.” He sighed as the anger left him.

  She perched herself on his chest as she studied him in the faint light. “Why would you be so devastated when he died?”

  He shrugged as he finally met her gaze. “Death is final. With death, there is no longer any hope of reconciliation. Of understanding. Of forgiveness.” He closed his eyes.

  “Why would you need his forgiveness?”

  He chuffed out a humorless laugh. “Never doubt the horrible things an idealistic idiot can say. I was horrible to him. I ignored every entreaty that ever reached me. I threw away any chance I had to forgive and be forgiven.” He swiped at his eyes, stilling when she batted away his hand and leaned forward to kiss his wet cheeks.

  “Why would you dread going back there now?” She rested her head on his chest, her fingers playing in his chest hair. “Perhaps you need to return to lay the ghosts to rest.”

  “The scandal of his schemes broke soon after his death. If that MacKinnon woman wanted to, she could unearth a story worthy of a big-city paper that would have nothing to do with my pedigree as a lawyer.” He sighed. “I have no desire to return there. The world I lived in was filled with pretense and deception, where appearances mattered more than any truth.”

  He rolled over until she lay beneath him. “I want to remain here with you. In our home. With our friends. Help me fight this newest battle, Nell.”

  Her first true smile bloomed since Jessamine had informed them of the brewing scandal that evening. “Of course. I’d like nothing more.” She melted into his embrace, lost to his touch.

  Chapter 10

  Warren sat in his law office, staring at his desk. Winter was always a slow season for work, but his commissions had dwindled to nothing since his absence at the ranch. He glared at those who had ventured out into the cold, with no one entering his office to share a cup of coffee and the latest gossip. He sighed, shaking his head, realizing he was the latest gossip.

  Earlier that day he had trudged to the train station on the edge of town to send a telegram to his mentor in Pennsylvania. He was eager for his mentor’s response, although he remained uncertain about what more could be done to prove his claim as a lawyer. He planned to visit Jessamine later in the day to see if she had any ideas. She knew what it was like to reinvent herself after escaping her disapproving family in the East.

  He sighed as he tapped a pencil on the stack of paperwork he had in front of him that gave him the pretense of being busy if anyone glanced in his window. After a moment, the paperwork in front of him blurred as he thought about his brother and his own past in Philadelphia. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he attempted to lock away the memories. However, he found it harder than usual to banish them today. He glanced up as the door opened, letting in a burst of cold air. He stilled, his expression blank as he beheld the man who rubbed his hands together and approached his desk. “Why would you presume to visit me?”

  Walter Jameson smiled and plopped down in the chair across from him. “Why shouldn’t I? We are brothers now.” He smiled with glee.

  Warren shook his head. “I have no brother.” He cleared his throat and looked away as though guilty at having just disavowed the memory of his brother, Alfred. “And I know you’ve never been a brother to Helen.”

  Walter shrugged. “She was a nuisance from the time she was born. Always wanting to join in and never be left behind. Someone had to teach her the inferiority of being a girl.”

  Warren steepled his fingers and curved his lips as though amused by Walter’s statement. “How did you manage that?”

  “Words are quite powerful with Helen. And I learned where to leave a bruise that wasn’t easily seen.”

  Warren raised an eyebrow and tapped his fingers together. He nodded to fill the prolonged silence and then asked, “Did you?”

  “You must keep them malleable. I’ve found that fear and their inherent sense of worthlessness works wonders.”

  “Did you?” Warren asked again in a low rasp. He moved with startling speed, grabbing Walter
by the tie and hauling him to his feet as he moved around the side of the desk to maintain his hold on him. “I wish I could kill you for what you did to my wife.” He let out a deep breath as his hold tightened and Walter’s face reddened. “However, you should know you failed. Your attempts to weaken her only made her stronger. She’s more resilient than you could ever imagine.” He thrust Walter away and clenched his fists at his side.

  “You owe us, lawyer.” Walter coughed a few times and gasped as he caught his breath. “You owe us! We were to make good money off Helen when she married Bertrand.”

  “Well, she’s married to me, and I owe you nothing.” He met Walter’s irate gaze, smiling subtly as Walter continued to gasp for air. “Except the promise that I will continue to care for her for the rest of her life.”

  “You’re not even truly married to her!” Walter slammed his hand down onto the desk. “You’ve turned her into your official whore.”

  Warren growled. “Don’t make me regret not killing you, Walter.” He saw fear in Walter’s eyes and nodded. “I married her with our intentions known at the Tompkinses’ ranch last week. However, because of your family’s rumormongering and desire to continue to cause her pain, I married her again last night in front of the pastor with our friends as witnesses.”

  Her brother shook his head. “You damn fool. You married her twice.”

  “I’d marry her one hundred times if it meant keeping her safe from the likes of you or your mother and her cousin.” They shared a long malevolent look. “I would leave now if I were you.”

  “This is far from over. You owe us!” Walter shouted as he moved toward the door.

  As it clicked shut, Warren murmured, “Oh, I owe you, all right.” He sat and clasped his shaking hands together as he envisioned the hell that had been his wife’s life.

  Helen slipped out of her house, keenly aware that many followed her movements with avid interest. She fought the urge to walk with her head bowed and shoulders stooped. Instead she walked with her head held high and met the impertinent stares of all who watched her. She smiled as they averted their gazes when they realized she had seen them watching her. She strode up to the MacKinnons’ front door and rapped loudly. After a moment Sorcha answered. She smiled broadly and ushered Helen inside.

  “How was yer walk here?” she asked as she turned to pull on her cloak and scarf.

  “Many were interested in what I was doing and where I was going.” Helen shivered, although the inside of the house was much warmer than outside.

  “’Twill only be worse at the Merc. Tobias is impertinent on a good day. We canna go to the other store as their shipment does no’ arrive until tomorrow’s train.” Sorcha secured her scarf and grabbed her basket. “After we survive the Merc, let’s stop at the café and see Irene. I’m certain she’ll have words of wisdom for us.”

  Helen nodded and walked beside Sorcha, who moved with a fierce intensity, as though daring anyone to challenge her. All she passed nodded their heads deferentially or mumbled their greetings.

  When they arrived at the Merc, Sorcha sent Helen a look of disappointment to find it empty of other customers. They would have to suffer Tobias alone. Helen extracted her list and crossed her hands, one over the other, at her waist.

  When Tobias entered from the back storeroom, his stride hitched before he paused and then laughed. “How entertaining! To see the MacKinnon leftover with the unwanted Tompkins’s whore together.”

  Helen hissed out a breath as she met Tobias’s challenging gaze. “I would thank you to remember I am married to Mr. Clark.”

  He sneered as he looked her over from head to foot. “It still won’t change the fact that you’re no better than a lady living up in the Boudoir. And that you had to trick him into marrying you by having him drive you to the ranch.” Tobias shook his head. “If that man had wanted to marry you before you left, he would have. Seems to me, no one wants to buy the cow when they could get the cream for free.”

  Sorcha slammed her basket onto the counter. “I would think ye would have more sense than to malign the lawyer’s wife.”

  Tobias shrugged. “So he claims. Seems many doubt his education.”

  Helen laughed. “If you are aligning yourself with the likes of my mother, brother and cousin, then you deserve every moment of misery that befalls you. For I can assure you, my husband is a lawyer. And he will never forget those who have slandered him.” She watched with satisfaction as Tobias paled at her words. “Nor will he forget when a man mistreats his wife and attempts to overcharge him. If I were a business proprietor in this town, I would strive never to offend him.”

  Tobias glared at her and then nodded. “You think you’re so sly. One day you’ll have your comeuppance.”

  Helen laughed. “I already have. And I survived it.” She slapped her list onto the counter. “I heard the train arrived this morning with supplies. I would like my list filled while I make rounds at the other businesses. I expect the usual rates to apply.” She speared him with an intense stare. “And never imagine I have forgotten what things cost. I did the shopping enough times for my mother that I will know if you attempt to cheat me, Mr. Sutton.”

  Tobias nodded as he accepted her and Sorcha’s lists.

  Helen turned to leave, her head high as the door twinkled shut behind them.

  When they had walked a few paces down the boardwalk and were out of sight of the Merc’s large glass windows, Sorcha gave out a shout of laughter. She gripped Helen’s arm and almost skipped a few steps. “Thank ye, Helen,” Sorcha said as she battled a giggling fit. “I canna thank ye enough. Here I thought I was helpin’ ye, when ye did no’ need any help at all! Ye maneuvered that man better than I’ve ever seen him managed.”

  Helen shared a smile with Sorcha before giggling. “I don’t know what came over me. Although I only spoke the truth.”

  “Aye, but ye had the gumption to speak it. Bravo.” Sorcha squeezed Helen’s arm as they walked into the café, where there were few customers. Harold motioned for them to sit in the back corner, away from the few stragglers eating breakfast. They watched as Harold moved into the kitchen of the café and emerged with two plates for patrons sitting near the door. Irene followed him.

  Irene beamed at the sight of them and then sighed. “I don’t know what Harold was thinking. We can’t have a proper chat with you out here with the other customers. Come in the kitchen.”

  They rose and followed her, sitting at the small table there. She set down cups of tea and joined them. “I’m glad you arrived during a slow stretch. I won’t have to jump up to prepare many lunches for at least an hour.” She took a deep sip of tea and sighed with pleasure.

  “Why don’t you give up the café?” Helen asked.

  “Oh, I complain about the work, but I enjoy it. I like speaking with the townspeople, and I’d be bored living at home or out on the ranch. I think Frederick dreads the day we give up the café. He relishes his freedom and privacy.” She watched Sorcha fidget at the mention of Frederick.

  “He’s a good friend,” Helen said. “I will always be thankful I had the ranch to go to.” She took a deep breath. “You know more than anyone else what is going on in town. Do you have any insight into what Warren and I can do?”

  Irene clasped Helen’s hands as they played with the sugar spoon. “Congratulations on finally marrying such a good man. You deserve such happiness. As does he.” She waited until Helen met her gaze and gave a small nod. “I hope someday you will agree with those words without an ounce of doubt.”

  She released Helen’s hand and tapped her finger on the table. “As for what you should do, I’d recommend you continue to do what you are doing this morning. Enter into the town. Force the townspeople to acknowledge you. You have done nothing you should be ashamed of.” She shared a smile with Helen and Sorcha. “Except for perhaps that evening at the Boudoir.”

  Sorcha frowned. “There has to be more she can do. That they can do. Her family is spreadin’ malicious lies.
They must be stopped.”

  Irene shrugged. “They are like tiresome gnats to be swatted away. Your mother has lost much of her credibility in this town after her treatment of Leticia MacKinnon came to light. As more have learned how she has treated you, Helen, over the years, any sympathy toward her has withered.”

  Irene paused. “At first I thought they would try to say that he had taken advantage of you years ago and that he had ruined you for any other man.” She ignored Sorcha’s startled intake of breath. “However, I’ve come to realize your mother doesn’t understand or know all that she thinks she does.”

  Helen shook her head. “I fear, if she had known the truth, she would have forced me to marry him three years ago.”

  Irene snorted. “Which would only have been a blessing for you. And the MacKinnons.” Irene smiled as Sorcha laughed. “You have no idea how happy it made me to see the two of you sitting together, enjoying each other’s company. I hope you will find a way to be friends.”

  Helen and Sorcha shared a smile before Helen said, “I believe we’ve already begun that journey.”

  Irene grinned. “Good. For, no matter how much we love and need our men, we need the women in our lives just as much. Never forget that. And never ignore your friends, for you never know when their aid will be indispensable.”

  Helen left the café through the front door to return to the Merc, while Sorcha slipped out the café’s back door to travel to the nearby bakery to see how Leticia and Leena were doing in Annabelle’s absence. Helen paused outside the café and glanced across the muddy street, unable to hide a smile at the sight of her husband’s office. Her smile broadened as she envisioned him inside, busy with his work.

  “What has you so smug?” her mother’s voice interrupted Helen’s joyful reverie.

  “Hello, Mother.” Helen held herself tall and met her mother’s irate glare before she noticed the man of medium height and stocky build who stood behind her mother. “Hello, cousin.”