Accidental Sweetheart

She folded her arms tightly in front of her. “There are many women who—”

“We’re not talking about other women. We’re talking about you.”

“I...” She huffed. “I don’t see marriage or motherhood in a negative light. I merely don’t see it as part of my future.”

“Because...”

“Because I doubt there’s a man alive who would have the courage to put up with the likes of me!”

The words blurted from her mouth without any thought. But before she could retrieve them, Gideon Gault laughed.

“You may be right,” he offered.

There was no sting to his voice, no negative inflection. If anything, she sensed that he found the male population lacking in courage rather than the other way around. In any event, he resumed walking, forcing her to trail along behind him.

“So, you’ll be heading to California after this?”

She quick-stepped to catch up to him, nodding. “I begin my tour in San Francisco. Granted, many of my engagements have already passed and will have to be rescheduled, but I’m eager to get underway.” Peering up at him in the darkness, she asked, “Have you been to California, Mr. Gault?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve always wanted to go there, but so far, I’ve never had the chance.”

“I hear that it’s warm all year round and you can pluck lemons and oranges right from the trees.”

“Will your itinerary allow you such luxuries?”

He was teasing her now, so she responded in kind. “Oh, I’ll make time. I also want to stand on the shore so that I can write to my aunts and tell them that I’ve dipped my toes in the Atlantic and the Pacific.”

“Aunts?”

“Yes. My aunts have been my guardians for nearly a dozen years.”

“That must mean that you’ve lost your parents as well. I’m so sorry.”

Yes, her mother had died soon after she was born. But her father...

He might not be dead, but he was lost to her.

“There’s no need to be sorry. My aunts have been wonderful to me. They saw to it that I had the finest education and a loving home.” Even more importantly, they’d helped her leave her shameful past behind.

They were almost to the door of the Dovecote now and Lydia’s steps unconsciously slowed. For some reason, she felt reluctant to end their walk. Being able to talk to Gideon this way, openly, honestly, had shown her a different side to the man. One that was...companionable.

“Here you are,” Gideon announced needlessly.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“In the future, perhaps you would be so kind as to wait for your guards to escort you around town?”

There was no sting behind the words, only weariness.

“You do realize that there’s no need for you and your men to trail us as if we had designs upon the company’s silver, don’t you?”

“I don’t think the silver is Mr. Batchwell’s main concern.”

“What else could we take? By your account, we only have a few weeks left in the valley at most.”

“Ah, but you and your friends have already stolen the affections of most of the men in Aspen Valley, which is why no one wants you to leave. That fact probably worries Batchwell more than his silver. So as long as I’m told to keep my men watching over the females in the Dovecote, that’s what I’ll have to do.” He motioned to the door. “I’ll wait here until you’re inside, and I’ve heard the bolt hit home.”

Lydia moved in a daze, entering and locking the door. After all her pestering and prodding, Gideon had admitted, of his own free will, that the women had touched the lives of the men in Bachelor Bottoms. Judging by his tone, he didn’t seem to mind.

She hurried to the window, pushing aside the curtain in time to see Gideon pausing to look over his shoulder. He must have seen her, because he lifted a hand to the brim of his hat.

She waved in return, waiting until he’d disappeared into the darkness. Then, she tossed the bag of beans onto the table and meandered upstairs to her room.

Once inside, she lit the lamp and adjusted the wick. As she did so, she caught her reflection in the mirror. For some reason, her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled with an inner energy.

How very odd.

Up to this point, she’d thought of the Pinkerton as something of a nuisance. But tonight, she’d had a peek into the gentleman behind the uniform, and she’d been surprised by what she’d found. He really was an interesting man. Although she’d learned a little about his family, there were so many things she still wanted to know.

Her hands lifted to her hair and she began removing the hairpins one by one. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she glanced at Iona’s empty cot and wished she could talk to her friend and get her opinion on the change in...

Iona.

The other girls were still locked in the storehouse!

Lydia jumped to her feet and raced pell-mell down the staircase. Then, after peeking out the front window to make sure that there was no sign of Gideon Gault, she ran as fast as she could back to town.

* * *

Gideon didn’t bother going back to the Pinkerton office and the barracks on the upper floor. He’d only gone a short distance into town before the old familiar restlessness began to bubble up inside of him.

He had to get away.

He had to keep moving.

He had to feel the wind in his hair and the roll of a horse beneath him.

By the time he’d reached the livery and saddled his gelding, he was breathing heavily and his lungs felt as if bands of iron tightened around them. The past seemed to suck him back into that dark place where flashes of battle crowded into his brain, pushing everything aside. Try as he might to stay rooted in the present, the coppery taste of fear tainted his tongue. His ears seemed to ring with cannon fire, and the stench of gunpowder and blood lingered in his nostrils. Then, just as quickly, the sensations shifted into something worse. Far worse.

Death.

Disease.

Untold suffering.

Swinging onto the back of his mount, he spurred it into a gallop as soon as the animal had cleared the threshold. Then he was riding, riding, up toward the mine where the intermittent lanterns illuminated the road.

Once he’d passed the opening, he was forced into slowing his horse, even though he wanted to keep flying through the darkness so that he could chase away the ghosts of his past and the sensation of being trapped. He doubled back in the other direction, taking a rarely used road that was little more than a set of wagon ruts etched into the grass.