Under normal circumstances, when Trace was looking for a female to accompany him to a social event, he sought out beautiful girls from families of high society. Typically, they were a brainless lot, full of mindless chatter that grated on his nerves. He preferred those with golden hair, pretty faces, and big blue eyes.
Only Victoria was nothing like them. Her hair was dark brown, thick and glossy. Her expressive hazel eyes held honesty and integrity. And she was far more beautiful than any of the women he’d escorted because she didn’t have any idea how attractive she was to men.
Trace tucked the telegram back into his pocket to dispose of later and drove the wagon over to where he’d stopped stringing wire yesterday. He hoped to finish stringing the wire before it snowed, then he could spend the rest of his time selling subscriptions and installing telephones in homes and businesses. He hated being cold and he’d heard more than once the winters in Hardman could be harsh. If things continued like they’d been the last few weeks with Emmett Brunson’s gang, perhaps Billy would let him wrap things up before he had to climb too many more of the wretched telephone poles. Each time he did, he sent up a prayer he wouldn’t plummet to his death. His fear of heights had gotten worse instead of better, not that Billy seemed the least bit concerned.
The last message he’d received from his boss assured him he was to stay on task until he had become one of Emmett Brunson’s trusted gang members.
Trace was sure he was on his way there, having been invited to join in two more small robberies. One was a stage robbery a day’s ride away. The other was a bank robbery in the little town of Gooseberry. Trace felt sick robbing the town, knowing the money they took was all that stood between some of the families and poverty. Once he wrapped up this job, he fully intended to make sure every penny of it was returned to those poor folks.
He still had not met Emmett Brunson, but each time he returned from a successful robbery with the others, he was taken closer into the confidences of the gang. It wouldn’t be long before ol’ Emmett was eating out of his hand and Trace had him exactly where he wanted him.
In the meantime, he had what seemed like a thousand miles of telephone cable to string and a beautiful, intriguing woman to get off his mind.
Chapter Seven
Victoria was halfway to Gray’s house when she decided she had to get her roiling emotions under control. She stopped and drew in several deep breaths, filling her lungs with the fresh pine-scented air since she was near the lumberyard.
Instead of retreating to the shelter of her brother’s home, she turned around and marched back to the mercantile.
“Good morning, Miss Carter.” Aleta Bruner offered a cheerful greeting as she stepped inside the store. “Anything I can assist you with today?”
Victoria forced herself to smile. “I’m just browsing at the moment, Mrs. Bruner, but thank you.”
“I just got a new shipment of books. If you’re interested, there are some titles we haven’t carried before that you might enjoy.” The woman motioned to a display packed full of books.
“Thank you,” Victoria said, walking over to peruse the selections. The last thing she wanted to do was make polite conversation or idly wander through the store, but she would simply because she refused to let the news of Wendell’s death alter what she’d planned for the day.
If only she hadn’t lost the telegram. She would have taken great pleasure in showing it to Gray then burning it until nothing was left but ashes.
She ought to send her father a reply, though. An ache pierced her heart at the news Wendell had claimed two more lives, but at least he couldn’t hurt anyone else, not ever again.
Unwittingly, her hand rubbed along the left side of her jaw where he’d cracked the bone the last time he’d hit her, which had been a month before he disappeared then turned up here in Hardman, intent on murdering Gray.
Grateful that horrid, nightmarish chapter of her life was over, she felt like weeping in relief. She knew it was wrong, so very wrong to even think it, but she was glad Wendell was dead. Never again would she have to look over her shoulder at a strange noise, expecting him to appear out of the shadows and threaten her as he’d so often done.
A novel by Kate Douglas Wiggin caught her eye. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm seemed like just the thing to cheer Claire. She tucked the book into the basket she carried then added a new book by Beatrix Potter that would make a lovely gift for Maddie for Christmas.
She made her way to the back of the store and looked through the selection of fabrics and notions. Victoria had teased Gray about getting ribbons for his hair, since he wore it much longer than most men. Apparently, he’d let both it and his beard grow to hide his identity when he was trying to keep his whereabouts a secret from the man intent in killing him, although they didn’t know at the time Wendell was the one determined to do Gray and Maddie harm. However, Claire had made it known she liked Gray’s hair longer and he’d left it that way.
Just to tease her brother, Victoria considered purchasing a dark blue ribbon but decided against it. She continued looking over the merchandise available. In spite of the store seeming small compared to the sprawling places to shop Victoria was accustomed to in the city, the Bruner family kept their mercantile tidy and carried a wide selection of goods. If there was something anyone wanted that they didn’t have in stock, they would order it at no extra charge.
A sudden thought of something that Maddie would love flitted through Victoria’s thoughts. She hurried to the counter and asked Aleta to order it then added a sack of peppermint drops, a tin of tea, and a small box of chocolates to her purchases.
“Is Claire feeling better?” Aleta asked as she rang up the purchases and accepted the money Victoria handed to her.
“Not really. Gray threatened to fetch the doctor if she isn’t improved by tomorrow.” Victoria tugged her gloves back on and lifted the basket from the counter.
“Please tell her we’re thinking of her and hoping she’ll be feeling better soon.”
“I will, Mrs. Bruner. Thank you.” Victoria smiled at the friendly woman then made her way outside.
She walked over to the telegraph office and sent a reply to her father then made her way to the church. With hasty steps, she rushed inside then stood in the silence of the empty sanctuary. She wandered up the aisle, letting her fingers trail over the backs of the beautiful pews constructed by Blake Stratton. She took a seat in the front pew, set her basket down beside her, and bowed her head.
The prayer she intended to offer couldn’t make it past the waves of emotion boiling up in her heart. All she could think of was how grateful she was she’d never, ever have to face Wendell again. Never see his mocking sneer. Never feel the back of his hand striking her. Never listen to him go on and on about how awful her family treated him. Never cower in the dark in their bed, wishing any number of disastrous maladies upon him.
With a shuddering sigh, she stood and left the church, not quite ready to let go of her anger and bitterness when it came to Wendell.
Recalling Gray mentioning something about the cook having the day off, she stopped back by the bakery and purchased potato and ham soup along with fresh rolls for lunch, then added a molasses pie. She tucked the food into her basket then hurried home, trying not to think about the telegram her father had sent.