Just in case they heard from the sheriff before the end of the day, he went to the stage office and bought tickets for tomorrow, warning the man that he’d expect a refund in the morning if they decided to stay in Butte longer. As he returned to the hotel, a boy caught up with him and handed him a telegram. Morgan read it, then stuffed it in his pocket and went to find the Mitchells.
Before going upstairs, he checked the hotel dining room to make sure they weren’t already there. They were. And it was uncanny how in a room full of people, his eyes went immediately to Violet. Cheeks still porcelain, thanks to her parasol; golden hair prettily coiffured tonight. She never had worn that silly hat again. He supposed he owed her a new one.
She was so damn beautiful, his violet with thorns. He wasn’t sure he could let her leave the territory. He wasn’t sure he could stop her. He wasn’t sure he should try. She was a fish out of water here. She didn’t belong in the West. She belonged in a fancy house full of fancy servants with a fancy English lord. . . .
He growled under his breath and turned to leave.
Chapter Forty-One
“GOOD GRIEF, HE DIDN’T see us,” Violet said to her father, and stood up to wave and call out to Morgan before he left the doorway. When he reached them, she asked, “You aren’t hungry yet?”
“I can eat.” He caught the attention of the passing waiter, saying, “Steak, and a lot of it.” As he sat down, he said to Violet, “You’ll never guess who just got married.”
“You are correct, since I don’t really know anyone in this town.”
“You’ll remember this man. I heard he was in a gunfight near here while you were in town, that notorious gunfighter, Degan Grant. Half the town turned out to witness his wedding today.”
She shuddered delicately. Charles noticed and put a hand over hers, forcing her to explain. “I witnessed him shooting another man my first week here. So utterly barbaric. Dueling has been outlawed all over the world—everywhere except here.”
“It used to be a lot wilder here,” Morgan said. “Gunfights are not nearly as common as they were ten, fifteen years ago. You could say the West is growing up.”
How utterly absurd. That would make the odds astronomical that she would see one in the street and then get dragged into another near the mines in just one month in the West, yet it had happened to her. But she didn’t want to argue the point with Morgan. They’d been getting along well the last few days and she didn’t want to ruin it.
And she was managing to ignore how bloody handsome he was now—well, not really ignore, that was impossible, but keep a tight rein on her prurient reactions to him. Her father’s presence helped. He’d even joined them on that second fishing trip, though he ended up napping in the grass for most of it, so she hadn’t been alone with Morgan. But Morgan had made that day fun again. Every single fish he unhooked for her he then tossed at her until she was throwing them back at him, and at one point she was chasing him to do so. And he talked a lot about his home, telling her about his friends, his family, what it was like growing up on a ranch with such a big family. She was going to have some nice memories of Montana mixed in with the bad when she left. When she . . . left. Good Lord, she felt tears starting! What the devil?
“We don’t have them in Nashart,” Morgan added with a pointed stare at Charles. “It’s a peaceful town.”
Violet blinked rapidly before she glanced up. She almost asked, “Have what?” until she recalled the argument she’d avoided. He was still talking about outlaws and gunfights, or the lack thereof.
“Which is why I’m looking forward to recuperating there,” Charles said.
She frowned. “In Nashart?”
Morgan answered, “We can reach Billings in just under two days since the stagecoach travels day and night at top speeds, stopping only to swap out horses and drivers and to allow passengers a quick bite to eat. Then it’s another day by train to Nashart. Texas will be bringing the horses, since traveling by horse takes two to three times longer. He’s also agreed to show your brothers to the mines, but he insists on getting married to Emma first.”
She tried not to show her conflicted feelings at hearing this surprising news. Another delay in getting back to England, but it would give her more time with her father—and she wouldn’t have to say good-bye to Morgan yet. She wished that didn’t please her so much.
But she kept her tone neutral when she commented, “I thought these stagecoaches were crowded.”
“They usually are, which is why I bought all the seats on the one leaving first thing tomorrow, so Charley can lie down. Can’t do that on the train. I want to see him get better just as much as you do.”
He was right, of course. There would be three train changes on the way back to Philadelphia, even if she and her father took the express, and Morgan wouldn’t be there to help with her father if assistance was needed. Another week or so of rest and Charles might be able to make the long journey home without difficulty, but not yet.
But then it occurred to her. “Aren’t we waiting to hear from Sheriff Gibson?”
“I just got Gibson’s telegram. There wasn’t a jury trial. There rarely is with a circuit judge, especially when a lawman is present to testify to witnessing the crime. Sullivan got fifteen years for the abductions and planned murders that would have happened if he hadn’t been caught, and another ten were added because he committed and plotted those crimes in an effort to steal a mine. Gibson was right, the judge really didn’t like that charge.”
“It’s not enough,” Violet said tersely. “Not when his intentions were so clear. Had he succeeded, he would have killed all three of us to cover up the theft of the mines. And he falsified your death, Papa! The grief that caused me and Evan and Daniel is unforgivable.”
“Of course it is,” Charles said. “But twenty-five years for a man his age pretty much amounts to a life sentence. It’s certainly more than I was expecting, so I’m satisfied with the verdict.”
“So am I,” Morgan said. “A ruling like this will send a clear message to other unscrupulous miners and businessmen in the territory.” Then he asked Violet, “So we’re in agreement then? We catch the stage in the morning?”
He’d been in doubt? But then her father added, “Morgan has already telegraphed the boys for me, to tell them to meet us in Nashart.”
Hearing that, she stood up immediately. “Then I need to tell them to bring one of my trunks with them. I’m suffering from an appalling lack of clothes because I never expected to be here so long. Don’t wait on me to eat.” Violet hurried out of the room.
CHARLES GRINNED. “THAT WAS easier than I expected. Are you sure she’s in a hurry to return to England?”
“She’s mentioned more than once that she intends to marry a particular English lord in London. Has she really not told you yet?”
“I’m not surprised she hasn’t. She would consider it a delicate matter, because she knows it will disappoint me. When I let her go to London with her Aunt Elizabeth nine years ago, I never intended for her to live there permanently. I thought she had come home to Philadelphia to stay until you mentioned she has plans to marry in England.”
“Could you forbid her to go?”
“Not if it’s what she really wants. That particular child of mine has been known to—dig in her heels? Is that how you say it out here?”
Morgan chuckled. “To say she’s stubborn? It sure is, and I already knew that. But she’s your only daughter. Her place is with you right now, at least until you’re fully recovered.”