Chapter 12

12

Genevieve pressed the silk scarf to her nose and breathed it in, never having imagined she'd miss shopping so much. But now that she was in the general store, she couldn't deny that she had missed the ability to shop whenever she wanted—even if purchases had been regulated by Lenora.

Genevieve fingered the silk. She'd managed to stay out of the public for three weeks and had lived on Ryder's ranch without going anywhere except to his family's home that disastrous evening for supper.

Not that Ryder hadn't offered to take her places, because he'd asked each week if she wanted to ride with him to get mail and supplies. He'd offered to take her to church, and he'd even asked if she wanted to go to a choir concert one Saturday evening.

She'd longed to acquiesce to each of his requests, had been ready for a taste of civilization after the solitude in the wilderness with a baby and a rancher. Not that she wasn't content with Boone and Ryder. She truly was satisfied with her situation, was growing very fond of Boone, and respected Ryder for how hard he worked.

Thankfully, Clementine had visited a couple of times and had helped her with harvesting and canning the vegetables and fruit for the coming winter. Each time, the task had been grueling and had taken most of the day. But in the end Genevieve had been proud of herself for persevering, especially when she'd taken stock of all the jars that lined the cellar shelves—jars of beans, peas, corn, tomatoes, plums, peaches, and more.

Clementine had been a delight to get to know—was vivacious and witty and entertaining. She'd also been a kind and patient instructor, answering all Genevieve's questions but also sharing more about the Oakley family—the details a man wouldn't think to reveal but that Genevieve loved learning, like how sweet their pa had always been to their ma, doing everything for her, giving her anything she wanted, and treating her as if she were a princess.

That revelation alone had helped her understand where Ryder had learned to be so attentive. Even though he'd been busy with haying, he'd made sure she was well taken care of, had all the supplies she needed, and was never overworked.

In spite of Ryder's unending work with running the ranch, she felt as though she was getting to know him, that he wasn't a stranger anymore. They'd gone on a couple of hikes into the foothills. She'd accompanied him fishing on several occasions. And he'd taken her to pick serviceberries and raspberries, showing her how to tell the difference between berries that were edible and those that were poisonous.

Most days, however, they were both occupied with their own responsibilities. After a busy day, she was surprised at how much she looked forward to the evenings together. They'd fallen into the routine of eating supper, taking care of Boone, and finishing out the final hour with Ryder reading aloud from one of his books.

He hadn't talked any more about his past or Tanner, but for a few nights after the fight, his thrashing and strangled cries had awoken her. Each time, she'd reached over and brushed his hair off his forehead until he quieted and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Most of all, she loved the early mornings when they lingered in bed and whispered about their plans for the day or the new things Boone was starting to do or the news that they'd read in the newspaper he brought back from town.

She hadn't seen any other articles about the missing heiress, so this afternoon, when Ryder had asked again if she wanted to accompany him into town, she'd agreed.

"That scarf would sure be pretty on you." Mr. Worth, the middle-aged store owner behind the counter, offered her a charming smile.

"It would indeed." She lowered it back to the counter and let her fingers trail over the royal-blue material, which wasn't as fine as the Parisian silk she was accustomed to but was still nice nonetheless.

"I'm good at leaving hints for husbands when it comes to gift giving." The store proprietor winked. "Do you have a birthday coming up?"

She shook her head. "No, not until next summer." If only it weren't so far away.

"Then come December, it'll make a real pretty Christmas present."

Balancing Boone in one arm, she pressed against her chatelaine with her free hand. She still had plenty of cash from when she'd sold the piece of jewelry in Denver, since she hadn't used any since arriving. She'd thought to simply purchase the scarf today and anything else that suited her fancy. In fact, she had already started a short stack of items she intended to purchase on the counter. One was a history book about the Middle Ages for Ryder, which she'd located among the smattering of books the store had for sale. She'd also picked out several small toys for Boone that would keep him occupied.

But if she pulled out her supply of money and made the purchase today, would she draw suspicion? Would the store owner and all the other customers wonder how she could afford such items?

They most certainly would if she bought the scarf. Because apparently women didn't buy scarves for themselves in the West. Apparently, they waited for birthdays or Christmas to receive such items as gifts. Or at least, impoverished rancher wives waited.

During the past hour or so of wandering among the stores on Main Street, she'd noticed several matrons who appeared to be ladies of some means. Although their garments weren't as stylish or finely made as those she'd always worn, the ladies had been fashionable enough to stand apart from the poor working women.

Obviously, now that she was married to Ryder, she was one of those poor working women.

She smiled at the store owner, the same proprietor who allowed Clementine to sell her candy in his shop. Although Clementine wasn't in the store at the moment, most of her gourmet candy was beautifully arranged on fine platters in a glass display case.

Genevieve had been impressed from the first moment she'd eaten Clementine's candy. It was more delicious than anything she'd ever tasted in the big cities. In fact, she'd wanted to tell Clementine that she could sell her candy in New York City and make a fortune doing so. But such a suggestion would draw unwanted questions, because a destitute orphanage worker wouldn't have the luxury of sampling the best candy in the city.

"Please do give Ryder the hint for Christmas," she said to Mr. Worth. "In the meantime, I would like to purchase the history book for him and three toys for Boone."

The man's smile faltered. "Today?"

"Yes, of course."

Boone was already holding one of the toys—a noisy rattle—and he shook it as if to agree with her.

"I will also buy a dozen pieces of candy." She may as well support Clementine. It would be the kind thing to do, especially after Clementine had explained how much work went into the different batches of sugary treats.

The store owner's brows rose. "A dozen?"

The other customers around her had ceased their shopping and were watching her. What had she done wrong? Was asking for the candy too extravagant? "You're right." She forced a smile. "I shall forego the candy today. Perhaps next time."

"That's probably wise." Mr. Worth's voice lowered to a whisper that only she could hear. "Ryder's tab is already quite high. I trust he'll pay it off once his hay is sold, but still..."

Her fingers were already opening the drawstring of her chatelaine. "Have no worries, Mr. Worth. I intend to pay for everything myself." She felt for one of the bank notes.

"It's no trouble to add it to the tab..."

As she laid the money on the counter, his voice trailed off, and his eyes rounded.

She glanced down to find one of her twenty-dollar bills. "Surely this is more than enough to cover the cost of my purchases."

"Yes, of course, but..." His eyes held a dozen questions, and no doubt one of them was where a woman like her had gotten such money.

She didn't want to lie any more than she already had, but she had to offer some explanation. "I do have a little remaining from my life in New York City." Her statement was partially true. She had much more than a little, though. The few remaining jewels she'd brought with her were some of the finest in the country, and a reputable jeweler would recognize that and give her what they were worth—thousands of dollars.

Mr. Worth stared at the twenty-dollar bill a moment longer before picking it up.

"Perhaps you can apply the remainder to Ryder's—our—store tab?" She had the feeling Ryder wouldn't approve, but it seemed like the least she could do to help with the extra expenses that came with her living on the ranch.

Her suggestion seemed to fluster Mr. Worth even more, but he did as she asked, nearly clearing Ryder's debt. Several minutes later, she stepped out of the store, carrying her new purchases in one arm and Boone in the other.

The afternoon sunshine wasn't as warm as it had been just a few weeks ago. The nip in the air was the reminder winter came early to the high country.

She hadn't brought a heavy coat or cloak with her and would need to purchase one soon. Every time she spent her money, would she face the same scrutiny from the store owner and others? She hadn't considered such a dilemma before today and hoped her purchases wouldn't cause people to question her true identity and link her to the lost heiress of New York City.

For the time being, she would have to be more careful.

She hefted Boone higher and started down the boardwalk in the direction of the wagon they'd ridden in. The town was growing busier with the passing of the afternoon, with more people milling about as well as additional traffic on the wide dirt road that ran the length of the town.

Breckenridge was larger than Frisco, with not only the central street containing businesses but also the side roads. Ryder had explained that the newly discovered silver veins in some of the surrounding mines were drawing more people to the area and that the town was trying to keep up with the growth.

Although Breckenridge might be bigger and more established than other mountain towns, most of the buildings were small with worn and weathered boards, the paint peeling on some, the windows dusty, and many of the signs hand-painted and crudely made.

Ryder had told her he had to get several tools sharpened and that he'd be at the blacksmith's, which was next to the livery. It was a wide rectangular structure with double doors large enough for a team and wagon to pass through. A tall brick chimney rose from the back, the smoke billowing out in an endless stream.

Though the interior of the shop was dark, she was able to distinguish an enormous bellows hanging from the ceiling and projecting toward a large brick oven. Several men stood together at what appeared to be a workbench, and she immediately recognized the broad shoulders and rugged build of the man with his arms crossed.

Even from a distance, Ryder was easy to spot. His presence was large and gruff and overpowering, but that tough aura only made him all the more attractive.

Her stomach gave a small flip as if to agree with her assessment.

He shifted so that he was facing the door. While she couldn't see his expression or features, she had the distinct feeling he was watching her.

Was he ready to go already? He'd indicated she could take as long as she needed for shopping. But now, after browsing and making the small purchase, she realized she'd had her fill, and she was ready to return to the ranch and be with Ryder again.

She took a step toward the street, but a woman's voice from behind startled her. "You've got something that belongs to me."

Genevieve turned around to find a young woman exiting through a door with "Wild Whiskey Saloon" painted in bright red letters on a sign above it. In a striped, yellow gown with an out-of-date bell-shaped skirt, the woman was still striking, with mounds of curling blond hair on top of her head and falling in lovely ringlets around her neck. She had on too much rouge, but even that couldn't detract from her pretty features.

The woman's narrowed eyes seemed to be finding fault with every one of Genevieve's features. Did the woman recognize her?

It had been a mistake to come to town. It was still too soon and too risky.

"Pardon me. Do I know you, miss...?" Genevieve tried to keep her voice calm even though anxiety was spurting through her chest.

"I've been hearing plenty about you." The woman's gaze trailed over Genevieve's clothing.

Genevieve had done her best to keep her new garments fresh and clean, but she'd quickly learned just how difficult that was with both a baby and farm work to take care of.

The woman finished her scrutiny with a huff and a sharp edge of haughtiness. And jealousy.

Genevieve recognized jealousy because wherever she'd gone, women had always been jealous of her for one thing or another. And over the years, she'd learned to be confident and uncowering in return.

Perhaps she needed to do so on this occasion. She lifted her chin. "May I help you?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you can."

"How so?"

The woman sauntered across the boardwalk, continuing to stare at Genevieve, clearly trying to intimidate her. When she stopped only a foot away, she dropped her gaze to Boone. "You can give me my son."

Genevieve's heart plummeted to the bottom of her chest. Was this Ryder's first wife?

Although Ryder hadn't talked about his previous marriage, Clementine had told her everything there was to know—that the woman's name was Sadie, and that she had grown up in Breckenridge and was remarried to a saloon owner. Clementine hadn't held back any disdain for Sadie. First, the woman had abandoned Ryder a week into their marriage, and then, after Boone had been born, she'd threatened to dump the baby at an orphanage if Ryder didn't come and get him.

"Sadie." Ryder's call from across the street was hard and unfriendly. He'd exited the blacksmith's and was already weaving past a team and wagon lumbering by.

As Sadie shifted her attention to Ryder, Genevieve glimpsed something in the woman's eyes. Was it interest? Was Sadie still attracted to Ryder? Even though she was divorced from him and married to someone else?

Ryder was at Genevieve's side in the next instant, and he was glowering at Sadie, his eyes dark and dangerous. "Leave Genevieve alone."

Sadie offered him a smile—one that was wide and full of welcome. "Was just introducing myself to her. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Genevieve's heart pinched with a strange protectiveness. Sadie had no right to Boone or Ryder. In fact, if what Clementine had said was true, Sadie had even left Ryder without a goodbye.

Ryder didn't smile back. "My new wife is none of your business." His fingers lightly skimmed the small of Genevieve's back, as if he wanted to place his hand there but also didn't want to overstep himself.

In this particular instance, however, she wanted him to overstep himself and put Sadie in her place. If that meant touching her back, so be it. In fact, she sidled closer so that her shoulder brushed his arm.

Sadie was watching their interaction with sharp eyes, and her smile faded. "Your new wife is my business... since she's got my son."

Ryder's body stiffened. "You didn't want him—"

"He's still my son, and I should have a say in who's taking care of him."

Genevieve straightened her spine with all the authority and class she'd ever been taught. "If you have doubts about my abilities to be Boone's mother, I invite you to visit me at the ranch so we might get acquainted."

"Maybe I will." Once again, Sadie scanned her critically as if she hoped to find a glaring fault.

"I hope you do. You'll see I only have Boone's best interests at heart."

"I doubt that." Sadie's tone contained an insinuation that had to do with Ryder.

Before Genevieve could reply, Ryder was already speaking. "You gave Boone up. That means you don't get a say."

"I gave him up at the time because I wasn't settled. But now I am." She cocked her head toward the saloon, where several men stood in the open doorway, watching the interaction. Other pedestrians had also halted around them and were staring. "So maybe I'll take him back and raise him myself."

"You can't have him back." Ryder's voice turned low and menacing.

Sadie fisted her hands on her hips. "I'm his ma."

The two glared at each other.

Genevieve didn't realize her grip on Boone had tightened until he gave a wail of protest.

The sound seemed to break through the tension between Sadie and Ryder. Genevieve bounced Boone and at the same time tried to quell the rapidly rising frustration inside. She could sense that Sadie didn't really want the baby, that what she really longed for was Ryder's attention.

"You're not his ma." Ryder lifted his shoulders and held himself at his full height. "Genevieve is his ma, and that's all there is to it." With that, he began to guide Genevieve away from Sadie, the pressure of his fingers on her back urging her to move with him in the direction of the wagon.

They only made it a few steps before Sadie's voice taunted them. "You're wrong. I am his ma, and I'm aiming to raise him now."

"Over my dead body," Ryder called without breaking his stride.

She released a scoffing laugh "There's no way you can keep him from me, Ryder."

Ryder halted, tossed her another scowl. "Don't you even try to take him."

"Or what?"

Ryder's fingers on Genevieve's back had started to shake. It was the only sign of weakness she'd witnessed from him during the entire exchange. "I'll hire a lawyer."

"I'll hire one too."

Ryder shook his head and started forward, tension rolling off him.

It wasn't until they were seated on the wagon bench and heading out of town that Sadie finally stopped watching them and returned inside. Even then, Ryder sat rigidly without speaking.

Genevieve knew she couldn't say anything that would comfort him. At the moment, there was nothing that could alleviate his concerns or Sadie's threats. The only thing she could do was let him know that she was there for him and would help him in any way she could.

He was holding the reins with one hand and resting the other on his thigh, pressing it down hard, likely to keep it from trembling.

She reached over and laid her hand over the top of his.

The muscles in his hand flexed beneath hers.

Maybe he just wanted to be left alone right now and didn't want to be reminded that Sadie was stirring up trouble because of his new wife.

She started to lift her hand away, but without shifting his focus from the road ahead, he quickly captured her hand and settled it in his so that their palms pressed together.

A hum of anticipation coursed through her, but as soon as it did, she snuffed it to silence. She was comforting Ryder. That's all it was and all it could ever be.