The Ballad of Emma O'Toole

Could he really settle down? For seven years he’d been on the move, always looking over his shoulder, never daring to put down roots. But Utah Territory was a world away from the Louisiana bayous. Even after the notoriety of today’s trial, who would come here looking for a man named Christián Girard—a man whose trail, and life, had ended in the murky depths of a Louisiana swamp?

He was as safe here as he could ever hope to be.

He would make himself believe that and act accordingly.

Wrapped in her shawl, Emma huddled between Doc and Logan on the swaying buggy seat. Her fingers toyed with the slim gold band on her finger—the token that declared her, before the world, a married woman.

She felt more like a prisoner than a wife. The last thing she’d have expected was to end the day as Mrs. Logan Devereaux. But that had been her choice, Emma reminded herself. She’d wed him to avenge Billy John’s death. But short of killing the man, how was she supposed to make him pay?

The country road wound through a grove of budding alders and crossed the bed of a shallow creek. Emma’s gaze followed the flight of a golden eagle as it soared westward to disappear over the snow-clad Wasatch Mountains. The sun hung low in the sky, streaking the clouds with flame and crimson. By the time they reached Park City it would be dark.

A quiver of growing awareness crept through Emma’s body. Tonight would be her wedding night.

She remembered the urgent gropings and thrustings on the hard-packed floor of Billy John’s shanty, with the wind whistling through the whip-sawn boards. They’d never seen each other undressed. The weather had been too cold, the need too urgent on the rare occasions when they’d been able to snatch the chance to be alone.

Emma could count the times it had happened on the fingers of one hand. She’d known it was wrong, but it had been what Billy John wanted, and she would have done anything to please him.

Logan would want the same thing. As her husband he would expect it, even demand it as his right.

What would happen if she refused him?

Her gaze crept to the hand that lay lightly on the knee of his fawn-colored breeches. His long fingers looked powerful enough to crush her in their grip. The bruises had faded from when he’d grabbed her through the jail cell bars, but the memory of them had not. Logan was a big man, his body as lean and sinewy as a cougar’s. He would certainly be able to force her if he chose to. She would have to be prepared for that.

She could plead her delicate condition. True, she’d heard enough women’s talk to know that unless a wife was unusually frail or prone to miscarriage, there was no reason to abstain except in the last weeks of pregnancy. But being a man, Logan might not know that. The excuse might work.

But what if it didn’t?

As the twilight deepened, the spring night grew chilly. Emma shivered beneath her shawl. She was cold, hungry and exhausted. All the same, if she’d had the strength, she might have leaped out of the buggy and fled into the woods rather than face what she’d be facing tonight.

“Are you all right, girl?” Doc had done most of the talking on the long ride. “You’ve been mighty quiet.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Won’t be much longer now. Look yonder, you can see the lights of Park City between those two hills.”

“You can let us off at the Park City Hotel,” Logan said. “It might be smarter to pull up by the back door. That way I can get to the desk and pay for a room without attracting a lot of attention.”

“I can do better than that,” Doc said. “Give me a little of that cash before I let you off. I can drive around front, get you a room and order some food sent up. You can go up the back stairs and nobody will even know you’re there. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.” Logan fished some bills out of the envelope and stuffed them into the old man’s coat pocket. “That should be plenty. Whatever’s left is yours. Tell them to leave the key in the door and bring dinner up as soon as it’s ready. After ten days in jail, I’m looking forward to a decent meal and a soft bed.”

Emma twisted the ring on her finger. How easy life became with a little cash, she thought. Just like that, Logan had arranged for a room in the finest hotel in town, with a hot dinner to be brought to their door. She’d never even set foot inside the Park City Hotel. It was a place for people with money, and She’d never had a cent to spare.

All her life Emma had been poor. She’d been fifteen when her widowed mother fell sick with consumption and sixteen when the good woman died. Since then she’d been on her own, taking whatever work her strong young hands could do. Meeting Billy John had awakened dreams of a better life—a cozy little home with children around the table and a man who’d come home to her every night. It didn’t matter that they’d never be rich. As long as he loved her, she would be the happiest woman in the world.

Now she found herself wed to a dark stranger, a man with the means to provide every material thing she could imagine wanting.

But it was a cold bargain she’d made. Any chance of affection between them, let alone love, was as remote as the dark side of the moon.

Only after they’d found the key in the door did Emma realize that Doc had rented the bridal suite.

Emma stared at the mauve satin coverlet and ecru lace canopy that draped the double bed. Twin cupids were carved into the headboard. The bedclothes, which had been turned down, looked as thick and soft as fresh winter snow.

It was the most elegant bed Emma had ever seen. But she would sleep on the cold, hard floor before she’d share it with Logan Devereaux.

Aside from the issue of the bed, the room was warmly inviting. A fresh blaze crackled in the small, tiled stove, which was flanked by two high-backed rockers upholstered in green velvet. A Turkish carpet in hues of rose, pink and green covered the floor. A tall wardrobe, with full-length mirrors on the double doors, stood in one corner. On the far wall, a doorway opened into a bathroom with a tub, a basin and—wonder of wonders—a flush toilet.

Hands thrust into his pockets, Logan surveyed their quarters. “Well, is this place fine enough to suit you, Mrs. Devereaux?”

“You needn’t make fun of me,” Emma said. “I’m not ashamed of how I’ve had to live or the honest work I’ve done to survive. If you must have my answer, I judge this place to be a little too fine for sensible taste.”

He chuckled, his smile a flash of white against the deep gold of his skin. She knew nothing about the man’s background, Emma realized, except that he’d made his living as a gambler.

“I wasn’t making fun of you, Emma,” he said. “You’ve a level head, a quick wit and a determined spirit—qualities I admire in a woman. I’m hoping we can at least be friends.”

“Friends!” Anger, combined with frustration and bone deep weariness, burst out of her. “I’d rather be friends with a rattlesnake!”

He exhaled, raking a hand through his rumpled black hair. “Fine, have it your way. Tomorrow you can rail at me to your heart’s content. But tonight I’m worn raw and as grumpy as a buckshot bear. All I want is to eat dinner, go to bed and try to forget the past ten days ever happened.” He glanced toward the bathroom. “Ladies first. But try not to take too much time or you might find me pounding on the door.”

“Oh!” With an indignant huff, Emma wheeled and bolted into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her and clicking the lock, she sank onto the edge of the tub and buried her face in her hands. Her body shook with dry sobs. How had she gotten herself into this awful mess? And how was she going to get out of it?

She could offer Logan a divorce. He would certainly be glad to oblige. But that would take away her power to punish him. Even more vital was the matter of support for herself and her child. Maybe she could survive in a run-down miner’s shanty with no money. But her baby could easily sicken and die in such a place. She couldn’t risk her precious child for the sake of her pride.

She’d considered selling Billy John’s claim for whatever she could get. But who would buy a worthless outcrop that hadn’t yielded enough silver to buy a decent pair of boots?

It was time she stopped blubbering and faced reality. For now at least, she needed what a husband could provide—food, shelter and security. She would accept that much as her due. But as for the rest, she knew she could never love Logan, and she certainly couldn’t expect him to love her. She was trapped in this arrangement, just as he was.

By the time Emma had finished with the bathroom, dinner had arrived. Two covered plates sat on an oval silver tray, along with gleaming cutlery and linen napkins rolled into silver rings. The stemmed crystal glasses were so delicate that Emma feared they might shatter if she breathed on them.

The staff had also delivered a leather valise that Logan explained he’d left before his arrest. He had it in hand as he stepped into the bathroom.

“I know you’re hungry,” he said. “Go ahead and eat. No need to wait for me.”

As the bathroom door closed, Emma took her seat. The tray sat on the small table between the two chairs. Its elegance caused Emma to hesitate. She’d never eaten such a fine meal in her life. What if she broke or spilled something?

Lifting the knob on one domed plate cover, she took a cautious peek. Mouthwatering aromas teased her senses, roast beef with potatoes and gravy, fresh-baked bread…She inhaled, feasting with her nose. Her belly growled with hunger.

But she was a lady, she reminded herself, not some starving wastrel Logan Devereaux had rescued off the street. He needed to know that she could wait politely without wolfing down every scrap put before her. Leaning back in her chair, Emma folded her arms. The chair was soft, the glowing stove deliciously warm. Her eyelids began to droop.

“Emma?”

She opened her eyes. He was gazing down at her, his face freshly shaved, his hair glistening with drops of water.

“Did you have a nice nap?” His eyes held a glint of mischief.

Still muzzy, she blinked up at him. “How…long have I been asleep?”

“Not long. But your dinner might be getting cold. I thought I told you to go ahead and eat.”