Outside, the sun’s glow bathed the mountains in red as it began to prepare for the night.The sky shifted from deep blue directly above them to mixed shades of purple where it touched the horizon.Snow capped the mountain peaks even though it was June.Runoff from melting snow fed mountain streams throughout summer.Birch, ash, fir, and pine, interspersed with open grasslands for cattle grazing, and sheer, rocky cliff faces where nimble-footed bighorn sheep liked to climb, dappled the mountainsides.
Jayce tucked his hands in his pockets.Belle looked so pretty in her blue calico dress and neat, flowered apron.The nineteenth century lifestyle suited her, as did her role of town doctor.She planned to stay on as Burning Scrub’s doctor, although she’d travel with Beau when he toured.She was wasting herself on that clown.
Their walk took them past the saloon, a two-storied log structure with six rooms for rent, and a second-story balcony overhanging the street.Next to the hotel was the bakery, followed by the jail, then a false-fronted mercantile.Belle’s house, where residential housing began, cornered Main and Jenkins streets, the latter named after the town’s current founder and Belle’s great-grandfather, Benny.
Belle’s house also served as the town’s medical clinic.Longer than it was wide, with the short end facing the street, its window frames and front door were painted a blinding shade of green.Early flowers spilled out of wooden window boxes.
Jayce had walked this same route with Belle many times in the past.She’d joined Burning Scrub a few years ago, right after she finished her residency in family medicine.She hadn’t known until last year that she was related to Benny and Mavis, and to say the revelation came as a shock would be a gross understatement.She was the reason Pearl needed the Kevlar.She’d adjusted, however.
She would have adjusted with far less drama if Beau Jones hadn’t stuck his nose in town business.
They were almost at her house.This was Jayce’s last chance to convince her of the huge mistake she’d be making by marrying someone so far beneath her.If she had any doubts, no matter how slight, he’d jump in and save her.
“So.The big day.Excited?”he asked, trying to sound as if his heart wasn’t riding on this.
Belle touched his arm.“You and I,” she began in her soft, pretty voice, and he had a brief flash of hope.
You and I…That showed real promise.
“We would have been so boring together,” she ended.Her shoulders rose and fell, as if she couldn’t find the right words to explain.“Someday you’ll find what Beau and I have.Then, you’ll understand.”
Hope died, engulfed in a brushfire of regret.He didn’t want to find what she had with Beau.He wanted what she should have had with him.If only he’d made his move faster…
But he believed in taking things slow, and properly romancing a woman, especially a woman like Belle, who was perfect.Besides, how did he put into words that the sun and moon revolved around her?That one of her smiles was worth a million of these mountain sunsets?That he’d give up ten years of his life to spend one year with her?Poetry wasn’t his strong suit.
They’d reached the foot of her steps.
He dug deep for something positive to say.“If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.You’re sure about Beau?”Because he couldn’t help asking.
Her smile lit up the mountain and burned a hole in his chest.“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
She kissed his cheek—he caught a faint whiff of vanilla—then she skipped up her steps and disappeared into her house.His dreams died with the firm latching of her front door.
He’d blown it.Again.The next generation of Hansons was doomed.
He’d never find another woman this perfect for him.
Chapter Two
Malika
Butte, Montana.
Malika’s nightmare continued.
Their hotel was quaint but without luxury suites.Adeel woke her from a deep sleep by barging through the door between their adjoining rooms to insist she get up and get dressed, because he wished to visit a nearby ghost town, and wanted to arrive when it opened to avoid traffic and tourists.
She should have suspected something was up when his ever-present bodyguards weren’t tagging along.She’d assumed they weren’t invited because he was annoyed that Jamal, a beautiful, brown-skinned man, with equally beautiful brown eyes shot through with hazel, and beautiful, steroid-enhanced muscles, had been the perfect object for her to perfect her phone sex voice on.Unfortunately for her, Adeel forgot what it was like to be young and to flirt.Unfortunately for Jamal, he’d forgotten he was in Adeel’s employ and begun paying too much attention to her body and not enough to its guarding.
The ghost town was remote, which should have been another red flag.There was very little traffic to speak of and no tourists at all.The former gold mining town had been established in the mid-1800s near the base of the Pioneer Mountains, when this was Montana Territory and not yet Montana state.Several other mountain ranges flanked the town’s myopic view.Low, single-roomed buildings had been replicated from logs, with the occasional false front tacked on in a futile attempt to improve their appearance.The lone hotel possessed a second story, although calling it a hotel took breathtaking courage.
Adeel’s infatuation with the American Wild West had to be affecting his judgment, but the Jiorjis descended from nomadic desert tribes and the spirit of adventure ran in their blood, so his enthusiasm could be partially explained.Malika, too, came from a small desert oasis—although unlike Adeel, she had spent a great deal of her early childhood playing with the neighborhood children, and poverty was not completely unknown to her.This level of poverty, however… she would not have made a good pioneer.Or a willing one, either.
“Imagine the stories these streets could tell,” Adeel said, gazing around him in wonder.“The gold strikes.The gunfights.”
“The pestilence,” Malika added, getting into the spirit of things, and anxious to show off her knowledge of American history, slight as it was.Classes had bored her, and she’d paid to have her papers written for her.“Don’t forget the robber barons who stole from the poor and gave to themselves.”
Adeel raised an eyebrow at her.“What would you know about being poor?Educating you in the United States may have been a mistake.Americans view their history through a contemporary lens and forget that their early leaders were visionaries who believed in this great country’s potential.Plenty of immigrants made better lives for themselves through hard work and sound investments.Some started with nothing.Many brought money with them.The strongest led, and the strongest survived.”
