Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

T he Coulter brother sat tall in the saddle, his shoulders just as broad and his face just as handsome as Jess remembered. When he caught sight of her, his eyes widened, and he reined his mount in.

Her body froze as her mind scrambled to make sense of his presence here. Had he come to find her? She’d just been praying for help. Was this man God’s answer?

Of course not. He’d come to find his brother. Had he learned Sampson worked in these mountains? She forced herself to breathe. She’d wanted to tell him herself, so she should be grateful he’d discovered it.

Yet…could his appearing here, a quarter hour’s walk past the mountain where Sampson worked as a miner, be God’s answer to her prayers?

Maybe.

This man had already shown he would take a stand for right, even when it was hard. Would he help her convince her father to let her go? He’d have to be careful, or he’d find himself with a sound beating. Could he be respectful but not allow her father to push him around?

He still stared at her, perhaps having as much trouble accounting for her presence here as she was his. Their gazes had met in the store, but did he remember her?

She stepped forward, her heart pounding as she raised a hand in greeting. "Hello." Her voice trembled.

He tugged off his hat. “Sorry. Didn’t expect to see anyone out here.”

She couldn’t help a small smile at his reaction. He was so honest and forthright. No hint of secret intentions or cunning. A far cry from the men she’d been surrounded with her entire life.

He looked like he was trying to decide what to say next.

She kept her expression pleasant. “Your name is Coulter, right?”

His brows shot up, and he swept his gaze around the area.

She pressed her lips to keep her smile contained. “You’re the brother of Sampson Coulter?”

He straightened, every part of him going alert. “Do you know my brother?” He nudged his horse forward, and the animal picked its way up the path to her.

She waited until he reined the animal to a stop in front of her and dismounted, expectation marking his features. “You know Sampson?”

She dipped her chin. “I do.” Was she really going through with this? She had to. God had given her the perfect opportunity to plan her escape. She had to grasp hold of it.

She summoned a fresh dose of courage. “I can take you to him, but first, I need a favor.”

G il Coulter still struggled to catch up with what was happening. He’d been riding along, the same as he had for the last three hours since leaving Canvas Creek. Then this woman had appeared up the slope like a mountain angel.

But this angel knew Sampson. Maybe she really had been sent from above to lead him to his brother. He’d certainly prayed enough for God’s help.

“What do you need?”

She gave a tiny shake of her head, then glanced around. A flicker of fear flashed in her eyes. “Come back to my house, and I’ll tell you. It’s too much to say standing out here.” She motioned the direction he’d just come from. “It’s only a quarter hour’s walk that way.”

He’d seen no houses. No barns. Not even animal tracks. But she had to have come from somewhere, and if he’d missed a sign along the way, he’d like to know what it was.

He gave a nod. “All right then. Lead the way.”

She started down the slope he’d just ridden up, her long stride moving easily over the rocky terrain. Like a mountain goat, with the grace of a woman in a ballroom and a fancy dress. Probably. He’d never actually seen a ballroom. He and his family had moved from Kansas to the Montana Territory when he was eight. But he could imagine what his brothers’ wives had described a time or two.

As the woman ahead of him wove through a patch of trees, he had to scramble to keep up, his horse trailing behind.

He guessed she’d never been in a ballroom either. She moved like she was part of these mountains. Like she’d traveled this exact stretch so many times that she knew every stick and stone.

At last, the path flattened and the trees faded away. He lengthened his stride to walk beside her. “We didn’t have a proper introduction back there. I’m Gil Coulter. And you are…?”

She spared him a side glance without slowing. “Jess McPharland.”

“Jess. That’s pretty.” As pretty as she was. “Is it short for something?” As soon as the question slipped out, its impertinence snagged him. He shouldn’t be calling her by her given name anyway, much less nosing into its origins.

“Jessamine. Is Gil short for something?”

He grinned. What was fair for one was certainly fair for the other. And he didn’t mind giving details. “Gilead. Gilead Jeremiah Coulter.”

This time her look lasted a second longer, like she was taking his measure. “That’s a mouthful.”

“Yep. My three older brothers all have names that start with the letter J, but Mum said she was always calling the wrong name, so she put my J name in the middle.”

As a boy, he’d always felt like the outsider because he wasn’t in the J clan. But Mum’s explanation made sense. She’d certainly called the wrong name enough. Between the six boys and Lucy, she’d struggled. At one point, she’d started calling the boys by number. He’d been “Four.” One of the many.

Miss McPharland spoke so little, maybe she thought it odd he’d volunteered that story about his name. But giving details about himself might put her at ease enough to talk more.

Finally, she angled toward a sheer rock face and slowed to a stop. "We're here. My home is just inside."

He scanned the solid stone, but then she moved to the right and disappeared through an entrance he’d thought was just a shadow.

He led his horse to a sturdy scrub bush and tethered the reins, then followed her. A dark cloth hung over the opening he’d thought was only a shadow. Now that he was close, he could see light filtering on either side of the door curtain. And was that the scent of food?

He reached behind his back to check the revolver tucked in his waistband. He likely wouldn’t need it, but he’d rather be prepared, just in case Miss McPharland wasn’t the only one inside. Surely, she didn’t live here alone.

He stepped in, peering around the cloth until he could see what lay within.

As the scene opened before him, he blinked. Was this a mirage?

Such a cozy home. It could have been the inside of a log cabin if not for the stone walls. Lanterns lit the space, and a cookstove sat to his right against the outside wall, a pipe protruding through the stone. He’d not seen smoke rising outside. It must have been hidden.

A trestle table sat in the middle with four chairs tucked around it. On his left, long curtains hung from the top of the cavern to the floor, probably to create a sleeping space. For how many?

He turned to the woman, who stood at the stove, ladling something steaming into a wooden bowl. “This is a nice home.”

“We call it our apartment.” She focused on her work as she spoke. “Are you hungry? I’ve had soup simmering, and it should be ready.” She sent a cheery smile his direction as she carried the dish to the table.

In here, she didn’t even seem like the same woman he’d walked with outside. Or rather, practically run to keep up with. Now, she looked as domestic as one of his sisters-in-law, serving up a meal to a hungry brood of Coulters after a long day’s work with the animals or in the mine.

This version was just as lovely as the mountain angel he’d first seen. She wore her hair in a long braid that swung as she shifted, adding grace to her fluid movements.

She set the steaming food on the table, then returned to the stove to pour a dark liquid into a wooden mug. Steam rose from the cup, and the aroma of coffee made his middle pinch as if he’d not eaten all day.

When she turned to take the drink to the table, she gave him another expectant look, motioning to the chair in front of the food. “Come sit, please. I’m sorry if I surprised you outside. I was just a little…taken aback to see you there.”

He huffed a breath. Taken aback for certain. He still hadn’t fully regained his senses.

He stepped to the table but stood behind the chair. “Are you going to eat too?” He wouldn’t be sitting until she did.

She slipped into the chair across from him. “I’m not hungry.”

Should he protest? Maybe best to just start this conversation so he could figure out what she needed and get her to take him to Sampson. He pulled out his chair and eased into it nowhere near as gracefully as she had.

The seat was sturdy, though, and he let his weight settle against the back.

Jess folded her hands on the table, her gaze finally meeting his. "I need your help to escape my father."

Gil stared at her. This woman was nothing but surprises. Escape? He glanced around. A hat hanging on a peg in the wall was the only sign of a man.

He leaned forward, bracing his arms on the table. "Your father?"

She nodded, her expression clouding. "He's...a powerful man. Controlling. He doesn’t let me leave the caves without a guard." She seemed to realize she’d been outside moments before when they met. “I can go for walks in the area, but not far. Never to town by myself, and I’m not allowed to speak to anyone. He and a guard watch me, one always keeping an eye on me.”

Gil could see where she might feel like a prisoner in need of escape. He’d felt that way every now and then himself, back before Jericho eased his fears of strangers coming onto their ranch. That had taken some time and a few hard conversations, but Jericho had finally relented—thanks to a lot of work from God and the threat of losing Dinah, the woman who was now Jericho’s wife.

Gil kept his voice calm and reasonable. Maybe he could help start that same work here. "Why can't you just leave?"

Pain flashed across her face. "I've tried. A few months ago, I made it all the way to Helena. But Father’s men found me and brought me back." A smirk marred her beautiful face. "He’s powerful, my father. And he has spies everywhere. The only way I'll ever be free is with his blessing. And the only way I can imagine receiving that..." She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself. "Is if he believes I'm married, and thus, beyond his control."

She waited, and he tried to sort through what she might be saying. He wasn’t usually so dense, but this entire situation had his brain slogging through fog.

Then a flash of understanding slipped in, and he jerked back from the table. "You want me to marry you?”

Her eyes widened a little. “No, of course not.” But the uncertainty in her gaze made it seem like she’d thought about saying that very thing.

Her shoulders lifted as she inhaled. “Just pretend. Pretend to be my husband.”