Page 485 of Conveniently Wed
A HEART’S GIFT BY LENA NELSON DOOLEY
1
September 1893
Colorado
“Why do I have to stay here alone?” Lorinda Sullivan hated to have to beg for what she wanted.
The whine in her voice grated on her own nerves. Never in her life had she been able to make her own decisions. She had trouble controlling her voice while she held back threatening tears, and she refused to let Mike see her cry...again. He took her tears as a sign that she was weak, when they actually came when she was angry or upset.
“Why won’t you let me go with you?”
Her husband of over five years strode around the two-room log cabin, his heavy boots drumming an irregular staccato on the rough plank floor. “Lori, I don’t want to leave our land unguarded.” The censure in his tone cut as deep as any dagger. That tone was often part of their conversations. “You know how to use the rifle. That’s why I taught you to shoot. To help me when I need it.”
Everything was always about him, not her.
He pulled back the clothing she’d packed in the satchel for him earlier that morning. Among the garments, he started hiding small canvas bags filled with the nuggets and gold dust he’d dug from their mine up the hill. The mine where the vein had petered out. Those pokes held the last of their gold, but there were at least two dozen pokes, maybe even more. An absolute fortune.
Lorinda crossed her arms. If he thought calling her his pet name would change her mind, he was sorely mistaken.
She swallowed the thickness in her throat. “Since you’re only going to be gone a couple of weeks, I’m sure everything will be safe that long.” The last word came out as a squeak.
Mike straightened. His hazel-colored eyes took on a dark green tint when he glared at her. “Why do you always question me? I only want what’s best for both of us.” As if dismissing her desires, he returned to his task. “Our mine isn’t the only one that’s played out. And other men, roaming these hills, never hit pay dirt. Desperate miners could try to take over our land since the mine isn’t our only asset. We have this snug house, and most of them have been living in tents for years. And we have plenty of provisions. Many a man will do desperate things when he’s hungry and destitute.” Now he sounded as if he were explaining things to a child.
I am not a child.Why couldn’t he see that? She clutched her arms so tightly her fingers bit into the flesh. At least the long sleeves on her dress would hide the bruises when they came. And they always came to her fair skin. Why couldn’t Mike understand that her ideas were just as good as his? Sometimes even better? He clung to the old-fashioned notion that women were mindless and should be thankful for whatever their men did for them. Pa’d been like that. A shudder raced through her as bleak memories almost overcame her.
After Lorinda had married Mike to get away from her father, she discovered her husband shared Pa’s views on that particular thing. At least, her husband never lifted his hand to her. Even though he made all the decisions, he treated her with a measure of affection and respect. Was that all a woman could expect from her man?
“Maybe I’d like to go to Denver, too. I haven’t been in over a year.” She gritted her teeth to stop the sobs threatening to breach the dam she’d placed around them. “I need to do some...personal shopping.” She didn’t like having to talk about those things even with her husband.
Mike turned and lifted the last poke back out of the satchel and tossed it toward her. “I’ll leave this with you.” He gave her the smile that first drew her to him. Once again, it went straight to her heart, and she caught the fat bag with both hands before it hit the floor. “The next time we go to Denver, you can spend all of it on anything you fancy.” He emphasized theyou. Maybe her earlier thoughts had been too harsh.
He came over and enfolded her in his warm embrace, pressing her head against his muscled chest. The strong beat of his heart gave her a sense of well-being and slowly erased her anger. She slid her arms around his waist and closed her eyes while she felt the thumping increase its tempo. The familiar scent of lye soap, sunshine, and Mike’s unique masculine essence calmed her.
He gently rested his chin on top of her head. “I’m only trying to look out for our future. Even though the mine has played out, we have five hundred acres of timber. When the money from the gold is gone, we can start selling trees to the lumber company, if we have to.”
She leaned closer into his embrace, trying to absorb his aura to remember during the next two weeks. When his heartbeats raced, hers matched them in intensity.
“We need to say goodbye a different way.” The husky words sent a soft breeze through her hair. He released her, took her hand, and with that special gleam in his eyes led her toward their bedroom.
This man she married didn’t fight fair. He knew how much she enjoyed their intimacy, and no one else had ever loved her before Mike came into her life. She would relish every moment. The memories would keep her warm until her husband returned.
A week later while cooking a solitary meal she didn’t want to eat, Lorinda heard the clopping of a horse coming up the trail.It can’t be Mike. It’s too soon.But in all the years they’d lived there, no one else had ever ridden up that path. She set the skillet on an iron trivet waiting on the wooden table and peeked out between the curtains. A lone rider made his way around the boulders beside the trail.A total stranger.Mike had been right to leave her to protect their property. Quickly, she hurried to the coat rack he’d carved last winter and pulled on one of his older jackets. Then she picked up the rifle always ready above the rack and stepped through the door, slamming it behind her. In just the week since Mike left, cold injected a sharp sting into the mountain air. Winter wasn’t far away.
Lorinda raised the rifle and settled the butt against her shoulder. She sighted down the barrel which she kept pointed toward the intruder. “Stop right where you are!”
She spoke with as much authority as she could muster. No need to let the man get the upper hand.
The stranger halted and peeked from under the brim of his hat. His eyes glittered like polished coal–hard, brilliant, andcold. When his gaze lit on the weapon she held, he raised his hands. “I’m looking for Mike Sullivan.”
He only peered straight at her for another moment before shifting his gaze. It didn’t light on anything for very long. A prickle of concern skittered up her spine. If he was honest, he should be able to look her in the eyes for more than a few seconds. She’d seen enough men when she and Mike had gone to town to know that.
“He’s not here. State your business.” Her tone hardened to steel, and she shifted the barrel of the rifle to point straight at the man’s heart.
“I need to talk to him. We have some unfinished business.” He relaxed and leaned his hands on the saddle horn. “When will he be back?”
His gravelly tone sent chills up and down her whole body. Although he rode a good piece of horseflesh, his clothes weren’t clean. Neither was his long blond hair or the scraggly beard that came to his chest. A thick, dark trail down one side of his clothing showed he’d been chewing tobacco and spitting. Lorinda had always found the practice distasteful. Another one of her father’s many bad habits. She quickly shut the door to those memories.
