Chapter 1 #2
“She’s a fragile little thing. Tiny even with Griff’s child in her belly. She needs a man to take care of her.” Muriel’s concern sounded just the littlest bit false. Not that Muriel wasn’t genuinely concerned. Just that there was a sly tone to it, aimed straight at Red.
Cassie’s flawless white skin and shining black hair flashed to mind. She had huge, remote brown eyes with lashes long enough to wave in the breeze and the sweetest pink lips that never curved in a smile nor opened to wish a man good day.
What could a man say to draw a smile and a kind word from her? Such thoughts could keep a man lying awake at night. Red knew that for a fact. Oh yes, Cassie was a living, breathing test from the devil himself.
“China Doll’s the perfect name for her,” Muriel added.
In front of others, Griff had referred to his wife as “Mrs. Griffin,” real proper and formal-like. But he’d been overheard speaking to her in private, and he’d called her “China Doll.” The whole town had taken to calling her that.
Red had seen such a doll in a store window when he was a youngster in Indiana.
That doll, even to a roughhousing little boy, was so beautiful, it always earned a long, careful look.
But the white glass face was cold and her expression serious, as if someone neglected giving the poor toy a painted-on smile.
Rather than being fun, Red had thought a China Doll would be a sad thing to own and, in the end, a burden to keep unbroken and clean.
All of those things described Cassandra Griffin right down to the ground.
Still, knowing all of that didn’t stop him from wanting her.
Cassie got to him. She had ever since the first time he’d seen her nearly two years ago.
And now she was available. Someone would have to marry her to keep her alive.
Women didn’t live without men in the unsettled West. Life was too hard.
The only unattached women around worked above the Golden Butte Saloon, and although they survived, Red didn’t consider their sad existence living.
“You’re established on the ranch these days, Red. Your bank account’s healthy.” Muriel crouched down so she was eye level with him. “Maybe it’s time you took a wife.”
Red froze and looked up at his friend. Muriel was a motherly woman, though she had no children. And like a mother, she seemed comfortable meddling in his life.
Red realized he was staring and went back to the grave, tempted to toss a shovelful of dirt on Muriel’s wily face. He wouldn’t throw it hard. He just wanted to distract her.
When he was sure his voice would work, he said, “Cassie isn’t for me, Muriel. And it isn’t because of what it would cost to keep her. If she was my wife, she’d live within my means, and that would be that.”
Red had already imagined—in his unruly mind—how stern he’d be when she asked for finery. “You’ll have to sew it yourself or go without.” He even pictured himself shaking a scolding finger right under her turned-up nose. She’d mind him.
He’d imagined it many times—many, many times.
And long before Griff died, which was so improper it was shameful.
He’d tried to control his willful thoughts.
But a man couldn’t stop himself from thinking a thought until he’d started, now, could he?
So he’d started a thousand times and then he stopped himself…
mostly. He’d be kind and patient, but he wouldn’t bend. He’d say, “Cass, honey, you?—”
Red jerked his thoughts away from the old sinful daydream about another man’s wife. Calmly, he answered Muriel. “She isn’t for me because I would never marry a nonbeliever.”
With a wry smile, Seth caught on and threw in on Muriel’s side—the traitor. “A woman is a mighty scarce critter out here, Red. It don’t make sense to put too many conditions on the ones there are.”
“I know.” Red talked to himself as much as to them. He hung on to right and wrong. He clung to God’s will. “But one point I’ll never compromise on is marrying a woman who doesn’t share my faith.”
“Now, Red,” Muriel chided, “you shouldn’t judge that little girl like that. How do you know she’s not a believer?”
“I’m not judging her, Muriel.” Which was absolutely not true. “All right, I don’t know what faith she holds. But I do know that the Griffins have never darkened the doorstep of my church.”
Neither Seth nor Muriel could argue with that, although Muriel had a mulish look that told him she wanted to.
“We’d best get back.” Seth laid a beefy hand on Muriel’s strong shoulder. “I think Mrs. Griffin is going to need some help getting ready for the funeral.”
“She’s in shock, I reckon,” Muriel said. “She hasn’t spoken more’n a dozen words since she rode in yesterday.”
“She was clear enough on what dress I needed to fetch.” Seth shook his head in disgust. “And she knew the reticule she wanted and the shoes and hairpins. I felt like a lady’s maid.”
“I’ve never seen a woman so shaken.” Muriel’s eyes softened. “The bridle was on wrong. She was riding bareback. It’s a wonder she was able to stick on that horse.”
Red didn’t want to hear any more about how desperately in need of help Cassie was.
Muriel had been teasing him up until now, but suddenly, she was dead serious.
“You know what the men around here are like, Red. You know the kind of life she’s got ahead of her.
There are just some things a decent man can’t let happen to a woman.
Libby’s boys are off hauling freight, or I’d talk to them. They’d make good husbands.”
Muriel was right—they would be good. Something burned hot and angry inside of Red when he thought of those decent Christian men claiming Cassie.
It was even worse when Red thought of her marrying one of the rough-and-ready men who lived in the rugged mountains and valleys around the little town of Divide, which rested up against the great peaks of the Montana Rockies. It was almost more than he could stand to imagine her with one of them.
But he also knew a sin when he saw it tempting him, and he refused to let Muriel change his mind. She badgered him a while longer but finally gave up.
At long last, Seth and Muriel left him alone to finish his digging. Until he looked up and saw Cassie as if he’d conjured her with his daydreams.
But this was no sweet, fragile China Doll. She charged straight toward him, her hands fisted, her eyes on fire.
“Uh…hi, Miz Griffin.” He vaulted out of the shoulder-deep hole and faced her. The look on her face was enough to make him want to turn tail and run.
She swept toward him, a low sound coming from her throat that a wildcat might make just before it pounced.
She’d heard it. All of it.
God forgive me for being part of that gossip, hurting her when she’s already so badly hurt.
Whatever she wanted to say, whatever pain she wanted to inflict, he vowed to God that he’d stand here and take it as his due.
Her eyes were so alive with fury and focused right on him.
How many times had his unruly mind conjured up the image of Cassie focusing on him?
But this wasn’t the look he’d imagined in his daydreams. In fact, a tremor of fear ran up his backbone.