Free A Promise in Defiance: Romance in the Rockies Book 3 by Heather Blanton Page B

been so sure she would say yes. He liked Eleanor and
could imagine how the sisters would take her in. He had wanted so badly to make
a difference in the woman’s life.
    “Maybe I’ll come later,”
she offered, more out of politeness he thought.
    Billy leaned into his knuckles,
resting his elbows on the table. He hadn’t meant to cause the woman such
distress. How terrible to not know what happened to her daughter. Notions
popped into his head. Notions of Pinkertons. Specifically, one named Pender
Beckwith. It seemed he couldn’t let go of the idea of helping Eleanor. “What
was your daughter’s name?”
    “Victoria. Victoria Patterson.”
    “Pretty name. What of
the boy? What happened to him, do you know?”
    “Oh, Lord,” she raised
a hand to Heaven, “maybe that’s one thing I did right. That boy turned out to
be a cold-blooded killer. A gunslinger. Even beat one man to death with his
bare hands, so they say.” She hunched her shoulders as if shaking off a chill. “Tillane.
Logan Tillane. Beast of a man.”

     
     
     
    Delilah smiled and
shrugged her shoulder seductively at the men of Defiance as she made her way
down Main Street toward Western Union. They nodded appreciatively, knowing full
well they would be visiting her establishment. A few feet behind her, Otis, a
Haitian the size of a volcano, followed. Big and bald, grayish scars from a
plantation owner’s whip marred the ebony skin on his neck and arms. He had one
job and he did it well. If a man dared look too lecherously at Delilah or
attempt to touch her, his glare withered most men. The smart ones didn’t take
it any further.
    Otis was a man
simmering with rage, and it boiled to the surface easily, willingly. She
doubted it would take the rubes in Defiance long to figure out annoying her
protector was like playing with a stick of dynamite. Black dynamite that
disliked white men intensely.
    Pleased with her bodyguard,
whatever his scars, Delilah sashayed down the boardwalk, but stopped abruptly.
She heard the weeping before the crowd parted, revealing a young lady sitting
on the stage office’s bench, sobbing into her hands as if her whole world was
coming apart.
    Only virgins cry like
that.
    Confident in her
assessment, Delilah subtly signaled Otis to stay back. Pasting on an expression
of concern, she approached the young lady. “Honey . . . honey,
is everything all right?”
    The girl looked up, revealing
striking green eyes rimmed with misery, nose red from the sniffling, and shook
her head. “He’s dead. My–my fiancé is dead.”
    Her sobs erupted again
and Delilah quickly dropped down beside the girl, taking her hand. “Oh, honey,
I’m so sorry. Tell me what happened.”
    The girl shook her
head, fighting for control, and finally managed to gain her voice. “I answered
his letter. He said he had a profitable claim. He needed a wife and–and could
pay my fare. He–” She sort of hiccupped and sniffled noisily. “They said he was
shot. Only a few days ago.” She hugged herself and shook her head. “I just got
off the stage. I don’t have anything. Nothing. No place to stay. The marshal
said Jay’s claim has already been claimed by somebody else.” Panic crept into
the girl’s voice. “What am I going to do?”
    As she buried her hands
in her head, Delilah tamped down her delight at meeting this little lost lamb. “Shhh,”
Delilah hugged the girl. “There, there. Don’t you have family, an ex-husband,
anyone?”
    “No one,” the girl
sobbed. “I’ve never been married. I came here against my parents’ wishes. They
were furious with me—called me foolish and incorrigible.”
    Two of Delilah’s
favorite words. “Well, now, you listen to me.” She lifted the girl’s chin to
assess her looks. About twenty, with mysterious catlike eyes, delicate
features. Pretty, but they’d need to do something about her flat, drab blond
hair. “Everything is going to be all right. I’ve got a tent you can use—uhm,
stay