Chapter 7
Amelia wasn’t sure why she was sharing so much personal information with Thatcher. Maybe because he was easy to talk to and was a good listener.
She supposed she also wanted to be honest with him about everything. She didn’t have the happiest of pasts, and she didn’t have a happy reason for coming west to be his bride. How many mail-order brides did? If they had a happy life, why would they move to a strange place to marry strange men?
“Are you in danger from the murderer?” Thatcher stopped eating his breakfast again and sat forward, his brawny body and muscles rigid.
His blond hair was still sticking up in some places, but he didn’t resemble a swamp monster—whatever that was. Instead, he looked endearingly bed tousled, especially with the light shadow of scruff on his face.
“Do you think he’ll come after you?” Thatcher continued.
See, this was why she needed to confess everything. She wanted him to know exactly the kind of problems she had so that he could make an informed decision about whether to move forward with their marriage before consummating their union.
Last night she must have fallen asleep while waiting for him to return. She was surprised he hadn’t woken her when he’d come in. She wasn’t a deep sleeper, and if he’d made any effort to rouse her, she would have heard him.
No, he hadn’t disturbed her. In fact, as she’d risen this morning, she’d felt a little guilty that she hadn’t made more of an effort to go to him. A part of her had been grateful to him for giving her the time to rest after such a busy day. But she couldn’t make that a habit.
She expelled a breath. “The murder suspect was one of the businessmen in Albany that Charles cheated and ruined.”
“In Albany and not New York City?”
That was a strange question. Why would Thatcher think she’d lived in New York City? “Charles’s office was in Albany. Not only did he provide loans to the farmers in the area, but he also offered loans to businesses in the community.”
“More loans with high interest and exorbitant fees?”
“Exactly.”
“So this fellow had had enough of Charles and his cheating ways?”
“Mr. Kay lost his dry goods store and, as a result, had to move out of his home above the store. The family moved to a room in a boarding house, and he was working odd jobs to pay for the room. But then over the summer, when two of his children died from measles, his wife had a breakdown and, well . . . she died too.” The news of her suicide had spread throughout town, and even though Amelia had been ostracized from the community, she’d still heard about it.
She could feel Thatcher watching her, listening to her carefully. But she didn’t sense his condemnation, only his compassion.
“A week later, Charles was murdered.”
“And the police found evidence against Mr. Kay?”
“I’m not really sure. They never said anything to me. They came to the house after finding Charles to inform me of his death and to ask a few questions. But that was all.”
“So how did you find out it was Mr. Kay? Did he threaten you?”
“No, I never did see him or talk to him. But Charles’s brother came to visit from New York City to make the burial arrangements, and he began an investigation.
” She’d only met Geoff once before Charles died, and she’d disliked him more than Charles—if that were possible.
“Eventually, Geoff informed me that his investigator suspected Mr. Kay.”
“Did he say why? What proof they had?”
She shook her head. “No, he just warned me I was in danger and should leave, that Mr. Kay was making plans to hurt me too.”
“Why wouldn’t he have Mr. Kay arrested if the investigator had evidence against him?”
“The truth is, I’m not sure the killer was Mr. Kay. Part of me wonders if Geoff was behind it all.”
“Geoff sounds like a snake.”
“Oh, he was every bit as much of a snake as Charles. I think Geoff wanted to scare me into going so that I would lose my portion of Charles’s fortune, which according to the will, I would forfeit if I left New York.”
“Geoff wanted his brother’s fortune for himself.”
“I didn’t want Charles’s dirty money, but I also didn’t think Geoff deserved it. So even though the community despised me because of Charles—”
“What?” Thatcher’s eyes widened with disbelief. “They despised you? How could they? It’s easy to see you’re a kind and helpful and generous woman.”
She could feel her insides warm at his praise. “Thank you. But I was shunned and an outcast from the moment I arrived in town as his bride. No one took the time to get to know me.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It made me resolve to choose a new husband who is well-respected and held in high esteem—someone like you.”
He shifted in his chair, then reached for his coffee, which was no longer steaming, and swigged a mouthful.
“Regardless of what everyone thought of me,” she continued her tale, “the day before I left, I withdrew all the money from the bank that I could—most of the fortune—and I tracked down the people Charles had hurt and gave them the money.”
“You did?” Thatcher’s eyes lit up. “I love it.”
“It didn’t make up for what Charles had stolen from them, but it was at least something. I kept only enough money to cover my expenses for the trip here, not even equivalent to what my father’s farm was worth.”
“And what did Geoff think of that?”
“I don’t know. I left the next morning before he found out.”
“That was probably wise.”
She took another bite of her breakfast, which had grown cold. “I didn’t feel safe with Geoff to begin with and knew he’d hate me after spending all that money.”
“Do you think Geoff will come after you?” Thatcher’s expression turned somber. “Maybe hire a detective and hunt you down?”
“I don’t think he would go to the trouble.” At least, she hoped not. “What reason would he have for doing so? I gave away everything and have nothing now for him to take.”
“Maybe for revenge?”
“If he does, I’ve been going by my maiden name, Stone. Hopefully, that will make his task more difficult.”
Thatcher was quiet a moment. “I’m glad you made it here safely.”
He wasn’t upset? That was all he had to say after she’d aired her dirty linen so openly? If so, he really was a good man. “So does that mean you won’t be asking me to leave now that you know the whole truth about me?”
He held her gaze, and the gentleness there seemed to reach across the table and caress her. “I haven’t even considered it.”
“Not even a little?”
“Why would I?”
She really did like Thatcher. He’d once again listened to her without passing judgment. “Because I obviously came to you with a whole lot more to my history than I disclosed.”
“I have a whole lot more to my history too.”
“That’s right. You were about to tell me about you, and I took over the conversation again.”
He lifted his fork and took a big bite of his griddle cake.
Before she could think of a question to ask him, a rapid knock sounded against the door. She startled, sloshing some of her coffee onto the table.
Maybe she was more nervous about Geoff tracking her down than she was admitting to herself. She didn’t think he would, but maybe it would just take time to feel confident that she had nothing to worry about anymore.
“Mr. Hoyt?” came a voice from outside.
“Coming,” Thatcher called as he pushed back from the table and swung off the bench.
“Mr. Mintz sent me about his mare,” the person outside called.
Thatcher started across the room, one of his suspenders down, his big toe showing through a hole in his socks, and his hair still messy.
Before starting breakfast, Amelia had groomed herself as best she could since her bags were both sitting in the main room where Thatcher had delivered them last night. Even so, she hadn’t fixed her hair yet and rapidly began winding it up into a knot at the base of her head.
As Thatcher opened the door, daylight spilled inside along with the chill of the early morning.
A young man stood outside on the front stoop, wearing a heavy coat, leather gloves, and a cowboy hat. “Sorry to bother you this early, Mr. Hoyt. But Mr. Mintz said he’s putting the horse down this morning.”
Thatcher reached for his duster on the coat tree by the door. “Tell Mr. Mintz to wait and let me come take a look at her first. If there’s a chance I can save her, I will.”
“That’s what he said you’d want to do.” The man peered past Thatcher toward Amelia as she finished with the last twist of the bun. It wasn’t secured by pins, but it would hold until after their visitor left.
Frowning, Thatcher started to close the door. “Tell Mr. Mintz I’ll be there shortly.”
The man shifted his head in order to continue looking at Amelia until the door shut completely on him.
Thatcher turned around with a frown. “Was he ogling you?” he whispered. “Or was I imagining it?”
“I suppose he was just curious about your new bride.”
Thatcher seemed to consider her answer before shaking his head. “No, he was definitely interested in you.”
“Well, that doesn’t matter, does it?” She began to cross to her bags. “I’m married to you.”
He stuffed his arm into his coat sleeve. “So you’re all in? No wanting to back out?”
She stopped beside her bag and leveled a look at him. “I’m all in, Thatcher, and I don’t want to back out if you’re accepting me for . . . well, everything.”
“I do accept you.” He pulled his duster on all the way. “And I hope you’ll do the same for me.”
“I will.”
His hand on one of his coat buttons grew motionless, and his expression was serious and devoid of any humor.
“Things aren’t always going to be perfect, and we might second-guess the way our relationship came about once in a while.
But to my way of seeing things, we’re married and made a binding commitment that I’m not planning to end because of any hardships we face. ”
“I agree.” She sort of felt as though they were saying their wedding vows again, but this time with more meaning now that they’d gotten to know each other a little.
“Good.” The tension seemed to ease from his shoulders.
“Good.”
His lips curved up into one of his handsome smiles. “Now that we have that settled, I’m afraid I have to go out this morning.”
She knelt beside her bag and began to fish inside for her hairpins. “I’d like to go with you.”
In the process of grabbing his Stetson and opening the door, he halted. “You would?”
“Yes.” She found a pin, used her teeth to help open it, then stuck it into her hair to secure it in place.
He closed the door.
She put another pin in place and could feel him watching each move she made. She glanced his way with a third pin in her mouth. “Is that okay?”
His features were somber. “The mare has foundered. And her hoof won’t be pretty to look at.”
She slid the last pin in place. “I don’t mind.”
“If it’s too bad, Mr. Mintz will have to shoot her.” He positioned the Stetson on his head.
She straightened her shoulders. “I’m not afraid of any of that, Thatcher. But if you don’t want me to go along, I can stay here and unpack—”
“I do want you to go along.” His voice held a sincerity that told her he was being honest. “It’s just that my job isn’t all that glamorous or easy at times.”
“I’d still love to see what you do and help you if you need it.”
He studied her, slowly taking in her hair, then letting his gaze drop to her bodice and down to her skirt. Was that a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes? Or attraction?
She’d witnessed the shrewd and calculated desire in Charles’s eyes and had learned what it meant.
But this look in Thatcher’s eyes was different.
There was nothing lustful about it. Instead, it was more like someone standing at a distance and admiring a sunset with a mixture of awe and satisfaction.
As his gaze lifted and connected with hers, he offered her another smile, one that was genuine, even happy . . . and made him look boyish.
He was already good-looking in his coat and hat, with his scruffy face and broad features. But his smile? It was almost devastating and made her heart do a strange flip—a pleasant flip she’d never experienced before.
“I’ll go saddle our horses.”
She nodded wordlessly.
When he stepped out, she blew out a breath and then let herself smile. Maybe after all the heartache she’d experienced, she would finally find a home. Was it too much to hope that she could actually enjoy being married to her new husband?
She wasn’t expecting a happily ever after. That was too much to ask for. But to have some happiness? Was that within reach?
She hoped so.