A look of fatalistic resignation passed over Makepeace’s features. And it wasn’t Quillan’s ownership he would miss.
Quillan said, “As much as the mine meant to his daddy, I think D.C.’ll be willing to sell out if I do. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t send that letter just yet.”
“Why not?” Alex Makepeace glanced at his resignation as though it might hold some explanation.
“I’d prefer to keep things stable until this is concluded. You think you acted irresponsibly, but I don’t see it that way.”
“You don’t know—”
“The industry. You’re right. I’m reminded of that at every turn. But I stand by what Carina did. What you did. And I want to make that clear to every man who acted against my wife. That’s why I’m making this offer. I want you to own the New Boundless—my stock and D.C.’s, if he sells.”
Alex Makepeace stared at him, looking as shocked by the offer as Quillan was himself. Where had that come from? He’d had no intention of making such an offer to Alexander Makepeace. This man who’d cozied up to Carina, shared in the secret of Wolf ’s cave, half caused the trouble that might have killed her, that had miscarried their baby . . .
Makepeace spoke low and a little coldly. “I couldn’t begin to afford it. Without looking I could tell you your holdings together are worth a hundred thousand at least. The investors—”
“I don’t care about the investors, or anyone else in town who might want a piece of the Boundless. I’m offering it to you.”
Alex Makepeace sat down in the chair, resting his palms on the edge of the desk. “Why?”
“Because you saved my wife’s life.” There was the truth.
“And I was at least half responsible for it being threatened.”
Quillan ignored that. Maybe it was God who had brought things in this direction. Maybe if he focused on the fact that Makepeace had driven away the thugs, if he found a means to compensate that debt . . . maybe then he could keep the crushing jealousy in check. “I have a friend in Leadville who might front you the money. You can make arrangements for repayment with him. If you’re interested.”
Alex Makepeace looked dazed. “A friend?”
“Horace Tabor. You’ve heard of him?” Quillan quirked an eyebrow.
“The silver king?” If it was possible, Makepeace looked more dumbfounded yet.
Quillan hiked one side of his mouth. “I’m off to see him later this morning if the weather holds. Should be a two-day turnaround. Get the records together for me and consider coming along.”
Alex Makepeace dropped his forehead to his fingertips, as though the thoughts that coursed through his brain made it heavy to hold up.
Quillan said, “Think about it. It’ll be an hour or two before I’m ready to leave.” He stood, met Alex Makepeace’s eyes briefly, then turned and left.
Carina laid the book down across her lap when Quillan pushed open the door with a burst of wintry air. Sam scooted in around him, greeted her, then returned to Quillan’s side, tail wagging, as though he shouldn’t let him far from his sight. Carina felt a tingle of foreboding. Something in Quillan’s expression . . .
He stopped at the foot of her bed, parted his buckskin coat, and tucked his hands into his canvas pants pockets. “Carina—”
“Don’t say it.”
He cocked his head. “Say what?”
“You’re leaving.”
His nose was chapped with cold, his lips grayish against his still unshaven face. “I’m only going—”
She clapped her hands to her ears. “I knew it! One night you spend with me, and off you go. Why did I think anything would change? Why did I—”
In three strides he had circled the bed. He grabbed her hands from her ears. “Will you listen to me? I’m only going to Leadville. I’ll be back tomorrow, weather permitting.”
“Why? I thought you would stop freighting. Isn’t that what you said? You would do whatever it took to stay here with me?” She started to shake. It sharpened the pain in her back where the worst of the blows had threatened her kidneys.
“It’s important. I’m taking Alex Makepeace with me.”
That caught her short. What could he possibly be doing with Alex? He eyed her grimly. How long would Alex’s name bring a shadow between them? She sagged onto the pillows behind her.
Quillan held her hands between his. His eyes took on the stormy intensity she knew so well, like the tingle in the air before lightning slices the sky. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She turned away. All she knew was his leaving kindled the pain of his desertion and the loss of their baby. “So go.” What should she care?
“Carina”—he pressed her hands—“I have things to do.”
“So have I.” She felt him stiffen.
He reached over and turned her face to his. “No, you don’t. You be still and heal.”
She didn’t answer. She felt too weary to do anything else, but she wouldn’t ease his worry by telling him so.
“Give me your word, Carina.”
She said nothing.
He scowled. “You have plenty of Italian names for me. I wish I knew the female equivalent of some of them.”
She almost smiled, he caught her so off guard. Then the hurt of his leaving chased away her mirth. “Why are you taking Alex?”
“Business.” His voice chilled.
“With the mine?”
“Yes.”
She raised up slightly. “Has something happened?”
He pressed her back down. “Nothing to concern you.”
“Oh!” She pushed his hand away. “As though I haven’t fed and encouraged and—”
“I’m well aware of your efforts, Carina. But nothing is wrong with the mine.” His voice was level, reassuring.
She was being childish and petulant. She knew it. But this man brought out the worst in her. The worst and the best. She softened. He was trying, was he not? “Can you travel on the snow?”
“The pack should be hard enough. You’ve seen me use the chains, and I’ve spiked the wheelers’ hooves.”
“You have to go?”
He didn’t answer, though his eyes said he wouldn’t otherwise.
She sighed. “Then I suppose . . .” She looked up at the knock on the door.
Quillan crossed and opened the door to Alex Makepeace. Carina’s heart jumped. She hadn’t seen him since the night of the attack, and even then she’d been all but unconscious. Mae had mentioned that he asked after her, but he hadn’t once come to see for himself. Because Quillan had come home.
Now with the two of them together, the air crackled. Blood burned her cheeks as she met Alex’s eyes and realized how far she’d let things go. Quillan must see it, too. She was suddenly aware that she was in her bed, covered with blankets and a woolen shawl over her shoulders, her hair loose over her shoulders. She could imagine the picture she presented.
Alex took off his hat and held it to his chest. “How are you, Carina?”
Her throat tightened sharply. “Better than I might be without your help.” How stiff she sounded. “I never thanked you.”
“Your husband has.”
Implicit in that was the conclusion to their friendship. They could not return to a superficial acquaintance.
Quillan said, “You’re ready?” His voice sounded as tight as Carina felt.
Alex nodded.