Free Thea Devine by Relentless Passion Page B

Danforth’s letter.
    She stiffened. “Then of course you’ve heard tell who it is.”
    “Staying with you and Mother Colleran?” Arwin pursued, rubbing his chin and staring at the printed page.
    “If that’s what you’ve heard.”
    “Now, Maggie …”
    “Whose business is it?”
    “But it’s Frank’s
brother
,” Arwin said reasonably.
    “I believe I made mention of it in the social notes,” Maggie said stonily. So there it was, everyone knew and was aware Reese was living with her. Why did she care anyway?
    Arwin sighed. “Well, Harold’s letter will give them a load of fodder to chew on, Maggie. They won’t jaw over you above an hour, rest assured.”
    “Oh, I’m sick of the whole thing.”
    “Which whole thing?” Arwin asked gently. “The railroad or the Collerans?”
    “Both,” she said with some asperity. “Both.”
    Arwin was too perceptive, she thought as she walked slowly back to the office. But what he didn’t know was she was getting sick of the fight because there was no fight. No one, reading Harold Danforth’s letter, would have less sympathy for him: he said all the right things, the things that business people and landowners wanted to hear: money was coming into the town and everyone would benefit. Everyone would profit. Colville would expand and Denver North would bring in more business and new people and Colville would grow. There was just no way for her to fight that logic.
    She knew, in her heart of hearts, that she would have preferred to preserve Colville just as it was this verymorning, quiet and warm with a spring promise of life and bursting energy. It was just the time of day she liked, too, with the early morning gray sky blending into bright blue as the sun rose, and the intermittent sounds of a horses’ hooves or the rumbling of a wagon breaking the calm silence.
    All that would change in the space of an hour. Saturday was come-to-town day in Colville, and most everyone gathered at either the newspaper office or Bodey’s store. More than anything, they came to talk. Sometimes, for a rare treat, they took luncheon at the hotel; invariably they came away with an extra five-pound bag of flour and perhaps a changed opinion that they might unleash over the counter at the
Morning Call
.
    She knew them all and they had no quarrel with her, at least not until the Denver North project had gotten started. Now, she knew, some of her friends and neighbors were not so sure. They saw dollar signs where she saw strangers coming into their midst and moving onto their property and into their lives. They saw quick profits and she saw long-lasting problems, and she only wanted to contain the moment so that it would never change. She knew inevitably it would.
    She found herself standing before the dress shop window staring at the one mannikin on display in draped and ruffled finery. She backed away, horrified, and bumped into a terrifyingly broad body and two reassuring male hands that reached out and steadied her gently.
    She knew it was Logan, but still the fact of his presence behind her unnerved her, and the touch of his hands made her skittish. She shook him off and began walking determinedly toward the office. She didn’t have to talk to him, nor had she asked him to present himself this morning like some fool to whom she had given the merest encouragement.
    It wasn’t fair. The worst of it was, he kept up with herwith good humor and never said a word until they reached the door of the office. And then she whirled on him.
    “Don’t you have a cow to herd or something?”
    “Nope. Just a cantankerous mare who needs corraling, but I know she’ll come around in her own sweet time.”
    She felt like spitting. “Why are you doing this, Logan?”
    “When was I to do this, Maggie? They’d have run me out of town if I’d come near Mrs. Frank before they’d well and truly buried Frank himself. I waited the proper time. No one can fault me there.”
    “I fault you for even talking