She didn’t duck the truth, neither did she shy away from facts that couldn’t be denied. He wished he’d had a friend like Adie in Boston, someone who’d have made him look in the mirror as she was looking in it now.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Me, too.” She lifted a drawstring bag and clutched it with both hands.
Josh opened the door and let her pass. It had been a long time since a woman’s skirt had brushed over his boots. In Boston, he’d put that awareness out of his mind. He tried to do it now but couldn’t. Losing Emily had made him conscious of the simple things women did to soften a man’s hard edges, things like smiling and noticing flowers.
As he followed Adie through the front door, he took in the walkway and manicured shrubs. He’d arrived at Swan’s Nest in the dark and hadn’t noticed the surrounding area. Another mansion stood catty-corner across the street. As they walked down the road, he saw a third home. Set back on a large parcel of land, it was half-demolished. He wrinkled his brow in surprise. “Why is it being destroyed? The house looks almost new.”
“It’s five years old.”
“Seems like a waste.”
Adie stared straight ahead. “It is, unless you plan to build five houses in place of one.”
Josh put the pieces together. “That’s why Dean’s harassing you. He wants Swan’s Nest so he can tear it down.”
“That’s right.”
She glanced at the demolished remains, now three hills of ragged gray stone. “Mr. Dean bought that house last month. I knew the couple who owned it.”
“What happened?”
“Bad investments.” Her lips tightened. “The husband owned a silver mine. When it went dry, they lost everything.”
“And Dean bought the house.”
“For a song.”
Josh thought of his cousin in Boston. Elliot liked money, but he wasn’t a squirrel about it. He gave away as much as he kept. Sometimes more. A little competition might do Dean some good.
“Tell me more,” Josh said.
“That’s all I know.” Adie made a show of inhaling and raising her face to the sun. “It’s a beautiful day.”
Small talk couldn’t get any smaller than the weather. Josh gave her a sideways glance and saw the set of her jaw. In his experience, people were quick to talk about news and scandals. Considering Dean’s visit and the demolished house, he found the change in subject odd, even suspicious, but he followed her lead.
“Summer here is dry,” he said. “It’s quite a change from Boston.”
“I’d imagine so.”
Was it his imagination, or did she look frightened? As they passed a third mansion, a stone monstrosity with turrets and a flat roof, she changed the subject again. She told him about the vegetables she’d planted and why she preferred beans to squash. In other words, she told him nothing. Women usually bragged on their children. Adie didn’t mention her son once. Neither did she breathe a hint of how she’d come to Denver.
Josh knew about secrets. He’d kept his own. He’d also ridden with men who said nothing and others who told lies. Adie was intent on building a wall of words. Josh didn’t mind. After months of gruff male talk, he was enjoying the singsong quality of her voice and the simple pleasure of walking by gardens filled with flowers.
As they neared the heart of Denver, her chatter faded to stray comments about the shops. She stopped talking altogether when they reached a church. Made of rusticated stone, the building had a tall bronze steeple and massive stained glass windows. He’d never seen such beautiful work, not even in Europe. He looked at the pitch of the roof and imagined a vaulted ceiling and the echo of a choir. He blinked and saw mahogany pews filled with people. He pictured a podium carved with an eagle. He’d used such a podium in Boston. He’d never use one again, but he could appreciate the beauty of the church simply as a man.
He glanced at the double doors, then at Adie. “Let’s go inside.”
“No, thank you.” She clipped the words.
Josh would respect her wishes, but he needed to open the door for himself. He turned up the steps. “I’ll just be a minute.”
She kept walking.
The church could wait. Adie couldn’t. He caught up to her in three strides and saw a glint in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s none of your business.”
Josh had used the same tone when a church elder questioned him about the laudanum. “I don’t mean to pry—”
“Then don’t.”
“You seem upset.”
“Upset?” Her expression turned murderous. “Franklin Dean goes to that church. Pearl’s father is the pastor.”
He knew that Dean had harmed Pearl. Even if a woman welcomed a man’s advances, he had an obligation to protect her, to say no for both of them until the benefit of marriage. As for Pearl’s father, had he shunned his daughter the way Josh had rejected Emily? He needed to know. If he could spare Pearl a minute of suffering, he’d tell his story to her father.
“Tell me more,” he said to Adie.
She stopped in midstride. When she looked into Josh’s eyes, he knew he’d hear the truth and it would hurt.
“He raped her,” she said in a dry whisper. “They were engaged. He took her on a buggy ride and he forced her.”
Emily’s face, tearstained and afraid, flashed in front of his eyes.
“Go on,” he said.
Adie’s voice quavered. “The next day, Dean went to Pearl’s father. He ‘confessed’ that they’d gone too far and asked for permission to marry her immediately. Reverend Oliver ordered her into the parlor. He made her stand there and listen to that snake apologize. Her own father acted as if she’d been as sinful as Dean.”
A year ago Josh hadn’t listened to a word Emily said. He still didn’t know who’d fathered her child, if she’d been raped or seduced by a scoundrel. Maybe she’d been in love. Josh had stayed beyond such feelings until the disastrous river crossing. Cold and shivering, he’d watched husbands and wives cling to each other, sharing tears and kisses. That night, he’d known the deepest loneliness of his life.
Looking at Adie Clarke, he felt that loneliness again. She had a way of standing up to people, including men like himself. He liked her spirit and wondered how it would feel to have her fighting at his side. He blocked the thought in an instant. He had no interest in marriage, no plans to settle down. He had to find Emily.
Adie’s cheeks had faded back to ivory. “Pearl left home that night. I found her the next morning, throwing up in my garden.”
“Did
