Fighting offense, Victoria could only gape. Did Clare really think that Victoria had taken the position solely because Mitchell was handsome?

  Or was she offended because she didn’t have the skills Clare had? But hadn’t Mitchell already pointed that out? She cleared her throat. “How old are you? You seem too young to have a college degree.”

  “I’m twenty. When I told my father I refused to marry, he sent me to Smith College. I think he was afraid I’d end up doing terrible things, like becoming a barmaid.”

  Victoria lifted her brows. “As you suggested I become?”

  The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I can’t believe I said that! I always spew out like a hot volcano! Please forgive me!”

  She should, however insensitive Clare’s words were. But as she stood watching this peculiar woman, she struggled to talk herself into accepting the woman’s apology. At the same time, she was appalled at her own stubbornness. “So what was college like?” she asked with forced interest.

  “Wonderful. My professors say that women have the right to our own opinions, and not to be pressured into things like marriage.”

  Now finished her task, Victoria hastily pulled down Emily’s little dress. “I don’t really have an opinion on that subject. Nor am I as educated as you.” She blinked several times. “I’m going out to live with my uncle for a while.”

  “How nice. It will be like a mountain holiday for you.”

  Victoria looked away.

  “Oh.”

  She looked back, to find Clare frowning at her. “It’s not going to be, is it?”

  Victoria tightened her jaw, refusing to answer. After a distinct and rather long pause, Clare dug into a small pocket and produced a roll of bills. She thrust them toward Victoria. “Here.”

  Victoria stared at the money. The thick roll could have been only ones, but regardless, it still represented more money than she’d seen in a long time. “What’s that for?”

  “My uncle gave me money to pay whoever might accompany me to Proud Bend. Since Mr. MacLeod refused it, I expect my uncle wants me to keep it. But I can tell by the look on your face that you need it. And you’re obviously well-bred enough to spend it wisely.”

  This was the strangest woman Victoria had ever met. Still, all the hopes she’d recently had rushed back at her. All the things she could do, the things she could escape from if only she had money. She shifted Emily to free up her right hand.

  Chapter Nine

  Mitchell’s words rang in her ears. She remembered him saying he didn’t think it was right to take money for so little work.

  The hand she held out began to tremble slightly.

  The money could help her in so many ways. She could rent a room at a women’s boardinghouse. She wouldn’t owe Uncle Walter, or be forced into a marriage to his partner. Even if it was only ones, the amount of money Clare Walsh thrust out toward her was still substantial. It was freedom.

  Her face heating again, Victoria shut her eyes. Lord Jesus, do not test me so.

  She lowered her hand. Whether it was divine intervention in the way of new strength or simply the fear of humiliation, she didn’t care to decide. She found herself saying, “Mitchell said we’d hardly be doing anything to warrant payment. So, no thank you.”

  Clare reached out and grabbed Victoria’s elbow with her left hand. In her right was still that wad of bills. She hastily shoved it into her pocket before taking both of Victoria’s elbows. “I’m so sorry! It was crass of me to offer you money. I can only blame my professors. They encouraged us to be forceful.”

  Victoria struggled to stop the embarrassment still flowing through her, for both her and Clare. “Should you blame your professors?”

  Clare dropped her arm. “No, I shouldn’t. I apologize for being completely out of line. This is not the way I was raised.”

  After hefting the sack containing the diapers, Victoria opened up the door. She wanted to add an admonishment, but held back. If she did, she’d be no better than Clare with her outspokenness.

  Instead, she left the woman alone as she shut the narrow door and stepped into the aisle. Emotions roiled inside of her as she moved within the rocking car toward Mitchell. She’d done the right thing by declining the money. So why did a small, shamefully insistent part of her regret it?

  * * *

  Mitch took the baby from Victoria when she returned to the seat. Beside him, Ralph was chattering on about the animals he saw, insisting loudly that Mitch watch out the window at the beating rain that had begun.

  He smothered a yawn. Tomorrow morning, they would wake up in Denver, and then take another train down to Proud Bend. It would feel good to finish this trip. He’d love nothing better than to take his horse, Bruiser, out for a long gallop, to breathe in the fresh mountain air and be done with this stuffy train car.

  Ralph poked John, who hit him back. Up until that point, they’d been well behaved, but Mitch knew it wouldn’t last. “Whoa, both of you!” He immediately divided the boys.

  Victoria hurriedly took back Emily and handed her to the young mother across the aisle for a feeding. “Here, allow me,” she told Mitch as she moved between the boys. Immediately they folded their arms across their chests and glared at each other.

  Mitch frowned. He had no idea which son to reprimand, having not seen how the incident started. And he had no idea how he was going to handle his family once they were at the ranch. There would be no taking Bruiser out for a good run anytime he felt the urge. His life was changed forever.

  Resentment bubbled in him, and he worked hard to push it down. He’d had the luxury of time when he’d started this trip, but that was slowly being eroded, like the embankment at the end of his high pasture where the surveyor had inspected the minerals. With each passing hour on this train, the indulgence of not thinking of his new life at the ranch was disappearing. He knew what he had to do. As he stared silently out the window, he ran through a plan to find a housekeeper. There had to be plenty of capable women in the area. His pastor would know whom to ask. He would discuss the matter with him as soon as they reached Proud Bend.

  The day was waning and thankfully the storms both inside and out were also. They were scheduled for one more stop before evening fell, but he heard the conductor tell the passengers it would be short in order to make up the time lost to the trees on the tracks.

  Once night fell, the porters made up the beds. Victoria busied herself with the smaller children, saying nothing but a brisk good-night to him before slipping into the lower berth.

  Mitch turned to see how that young Miss Walsh was faring. She’d taken a seat with an older woman and then taken the upper berth. Its curtains were closed, her belongings tucked away with her. With all the seats now opened for sleeping, the aisle had narrowed considerably. A single, dull kerosene lamp lit each end of the train car, to allow the porters to watch for thievery and mischief. Their oily scent hung in the still, hot air.

  With a heavy sigh, he climbed up for another uncomfortable night with the boys. The novelty of bunk beds had long since worn off for all of them.

  * * *

  Victoria silently thanked the good Lord for firm ground, even if it was just dust and gravel, rutted deep from the last heavy rain. The town of Proud Bend was spread out at the base of the mountain, all wooden buildings with false facades and rough streets. Beyond the town limits, great, stunning mountains rose, their peaks already dusted with the autumn snows. Below, mixed with the evergreens, the yellow leaves had turned to brown. There didn’t seem to be as many reds or oranges in the fall foliage as in Boston, though she was sure that the peak had passed. In the southerly wind lingered a foul smell of coal and sulfur burning. Not overly strong, but since it was late in the afternoon, it could have been waning for the day. Somewhere to the south was a good deal of industry, Victoria guessed.

  She stepped down on wobbly legs and across to the wooden platform, taking Ralph’s and Mary’s hands as she went. Mitchell followed somewhere behind them, carrying the basket that held Emily.

  One quick sweep of those meeting the train told her who Walter Smith was. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade, but the family resemblance was uncanny. He had her mother’s pale hair, although his was graying more than his sister’s. The older woman with him could only be Aunt Louise. Still gripping Mary and Ralph, she hurried over to them.

  The greeting was awkward. Aunt Louise seemed kind enough, albeit wary, but Walter’s keen eye rolled up and down Victoria’s dusty frame, appraising her worth, no doubt. She’d slept poorly last night, her mind churning through the previous day’s events. Clare’s odd offering still lingered in her thoughts, taunting her, although the woman had been piercingly correct in her assessment of Victoria’s situation.

  And then there was Mitchell, who had remained inscrutable for the rest of the trip. He’d said precious little to her since he’d been pitched into her arms. She’d felt an uncharacteristic leap to her heart—in fact, to all her senses—and the experience had left her flustered and bewildered, so she was thankful for the brevity of their ensuing interaction.

  Somewhere behind her was Mitchell, for the crowd of passengers and townsfolk had thickened and no doubt split them. He had accused her of being penniless and going West to secure an affluent lifestyle and had threatened to expose her plan. It was hardly a crime, but he’d certainly made her feel like a criminal.

  “Your trip was good?” Aunt Louise asked, reining in Victoria’s errant thoughts.

  “As well as can be expected,” Victoria answered, still hanging on to the small children and grateful for them, for they prevented her from wondering if she should at least shake hands.

  “Who are these brats?” Walter demanded, peering down his long nose at the children. “They can’t be yours. Abigail didn’t mention any grandchildren when she wired me about taking you in and paying your expenses. I won’t take any children.”

  Victoria bit her tongue to avoid snapping out something equally rude. The children were tired and cranky, but they were not brats. And did she look old enough to have birthed a seven-year-old and a five-year-old? Apparently the train trip had been harder on her than she realized.

  “I assisted a gentleman who was bringing out his family,” she finally gritted out, also realizing that Walter didn’t seem to care who overheard her need for a home. “Their mother died in childbirth and Mr. MacLeod needed help with the children. In return, he paid my train fare. I told my mother not to ask you to send money because there was no need. I had decided to telegraph you with my arrival time from one of the stops along the way.”

  Walter’s eyes narrowed. “MacLeod? These brats are his?”

  “Yes, these children are mine.”

  Victoria glanced to her right, where Mitchell had come to a stop, setting down the wicker basket. Walter’s expression narrowed further as he glared at Mitchell. Aunt Louise, on the other hand, merely peered into the basket that held Emily. Her eyebrows shot up, but she said nothing. The appearance of the baby seemed to surprise her.

  Walter spoke to Victoria. “So you’ve been working on the train? Abigail had promised you would be rested. I should have known something like this would happen when she didn’t ask for the fare.” He flicked his glare up to the car from which she’d alit. “Second class?” He sighed, as if long-suffering. “You may as well have been traveling with the cattle.”

  “I doubt first class could have been any more accommodating. The service was excellent and the beds comfortable.” Victoria could hardly believe that she actually rose to her uncle’s provocation.

  The older man flicked his attention back to Mitchell. “MacLeod. What a coincidence it was you who employed Victoria. It’s not cheap to bring the whole family out.”

  Completely irritated, Victoria spoke before Mitchell could answer. “What would you expect he do? Abandon his family? Give up a baby because her poor mother didn’t survive childbirth?”

  Aunt Louise’s gaze flew directly to Walter, but the man didn’t acknowledge it. Victoria frowned. Was she expecting her husband to retort? Uncle Walter continued to ignore his wife and turned instead to Mitchell. “You’re going to need a woman to care for them,” he warned.

  Mitchell stiffened. “I believe that’s my own business, Mr. Smith, and not yours.”

  “Walter!”

  Everyone turned at the sound of the loud, gravelly male voice. A rotund man of about fifty toddled over. He wore an expensive coat over what looked like a fine suit, and on his head was a beaver pelt top hat of excellent quality.

  “Clyde! Here, meet my niece, Victoria.” Although the words sounded pleasant, Walter’s expression seemed guarded. “Victoria, this is Clyde Abernathy, my business partner. Sorry, Clyde, for her disgraceful appearance. She traveled second class, of all things.”

  The man peeled off his hat to reveal wisps of flyaway gray hair over a peeling and oily scalp. Victoria gripped the children’s hands even more tightly.

  “I’m so glad you have made it here safe and sound. The delay had us all concerned.” Clyde grinned widely at her.

  Oh, dear, he’s missing teeth.

  “She’s lovelier than you described, Walter. Not at all disgraceful. I can’t wait to escort her on a tour of our fine town. It’ll be an excellent opportunity to get to know each other.”

  So the pair had obviously been discussing her as a potential bride, even though Uncle Walter hadn’t sent any money that he might use as leverage. She averted her gaze from the unseemly man and her eyes lit on Clare Walsh. The young woman was greeting her parents with great affection.

  The wad of bills flashed through her mind and she had to tell herself again that she’d made a sound decision not to accept the money Clare had offered. She pushed away those thoughts and looked back at Clyde. “I’m afraid that won’t happen for some time, Mr. Abernathy. I am very fatigued from my trip.” She stepped back again, and took the children with her.

  “And if you’ll excuse me, I see my ranch hand has arrived.” Mitchell lifted the basket, and turned to Mary and Ralph. “Let’s go. Say your goodbyes to Miss Templeton.”

  Mary and Ralph gaped at him. Neither moved a muscle. In fact, Victoria felt Mary’s grip tighten in hers. To her own surprise, she found her hand squeezing it back. She pressed out a tight smile. “Walter, I have several bags. The young porter knows which ones they are. Could you please direct him to your carriage while I say my goodbyes to the children?”

  Walter scowled, then catching sight of the young porter tossing someone’s bag down onto the dirt below, he strode off to ensure that Victoria received all her luggage in good order. Most likely he had no wish to replace any items should they be damaged. Aunt Louise remained, but a small smile hovered on her lips. Clyde made no effort to help Walter, either.

  Suddenly, the children threw their arms around her waist, with Mary letting out a loud wail of full-out terror.

  Chapter Ten

  Mitch gently peeled the crying Mary away from Victoria, but the child wrenched free of him and clung to her again. Bending her knees, Victoria looked up at him. “Give me a minute with the children, please?”

  Their gazes locked. Her pale eyes were filled with tears, and it gripped him unexpectedly. She gave the two young children a soft smile as she gently extricated herself from Mary’s tight grip. “Now, we’re not going to say goodbye, are we?”

  Mitch heard a small catch in her throat as his two young children shook their heads.

  “Why aren’t you coming with us?” Ralph asked.

  “I came out here to visit my uncle and aunt,” she said. “I’ll be in town and when you come in, you can come to see me. Be good for your father, and always help him out.”

  “Who’s going to take care of Emily?” Mary whined.

  Victoria’s shoulders stiffened. “Your father will find someone. She’ll be just as nice as me. You’ll see.” Even as she said it, Mitch heard the plaintive note in her words.

  He stole a swift glance to the fat man standing beside Mrs. Smith. Abernathy was watching Victoria, all the while licking his thick lips.

  Mitch’s fingers dug into his palms, even the hand holding the wicker basket’s handle.

  “We need you, Miss Templeton,” Matthew said coming up beside Mitch. The boy was usually cautious with his words, but those few he spoke summed up perfectly how they were all feeling.

  Except Mitch. He didn’t need a socialite in his house. It was obvious to him now that her trip here was to find a wealthy husband. But the thought cut through him.

  Victoria would be the mistress of one of the fancy houses with their rose-colored rhyolite facades. She’d have an assemblage of servants to do her every bidding. There were plenty of men and women here in Colorado who had discovered that mining was harder work with poorer pay than they’d expected. Many of the women ended up working as servants in fine homes or in the local saloon. Since working as a maid was the preferable choice, they’d probably line up to be hired by Victoria. She’d have her pick.

  He needed a solid, hardworking housekeeper, preferably older, willing to come out to his house every day, a woman who knew how to care for children. Victoria cared about his children, but she couldn’t care for them. She didn’t know the first thing about that. She needed money, but that was no reason to hire her.

  She looked up at Mitch as he frowned at her. He would not hire her to look after his children, no matter how soft and watery her gaze became. Their mother had abandoned them, albeit unwillingly. The minute Victoria realized she couldn’t care for them, she’d abandon them, too. Only willingly.