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Eliza studied the man standing in front of her with a new perspective. She’d seen him on the street a few times, knew of him and his enterprises, but they’d never had occasion to speak. Her brother-in-law had no use for Jonas Black, calling him a slave trader because he sold employment forms to itinerant workers seeking jobs. Silver Bend was a thoroughfare between the States and the British border, and scores of men sought work with threshing crews, in logging camps and orchards, even mines.
She knew about hiring migrant workers. She’d worked in her father’s brickyard since she’d been old enough to dig clay. Later she’d handled bookkeeping and accounts with enough skill to help buy railroad and bank shares. She’d managed the finances until well after her father’s death—until her sister’s health declined and Jenny Lee needed her more and more. Now she spent her days caring for her invalid sister and her young nephew.
No doubt about it, there were unscrupulous employment agencies. Many times workers had shown up at The Sutherland Brick Company to find out that two or three times as many forms as there were positions had been sold. Eliza didn’t know if this man was one of those agents or not. His father had been the town doctor for a good many years. Rumor had it that Dr. Black’s wife had been killed and he’d never gotten over it.
Bonnie brought Eliza Jane’s pot of tea. “Piping hot,” she said, placing it on the table. “Care for a cup?” she asked Jonas.
“Thanks, no,” he said with a shake of his head.
Bonnie headed back to the kitchen.
Jonas had left Silver Bend years ago, and since his return Eliza hadn’t had opportunity to do more than see him in passing. She didn’t have much firsthand knowledge at all, except that he was polite whenever he greeted her. It was common knowledge that he owned and ran the saloon and the hotel, and she’d never heard anyone other than her brother-in-law speak poorly of him.
She had learned one thing today, however. Without hesitation for his own safety, he had protected the Holmes woman from a man she obviously feared. The way he’d stood up to her tormenter spoke volumes about Jonas’s character.
“You should probably take care of that hand,” she said.
He glanced down at his knuckles. A nasty gash and blue-tinged swelling were evidence of the pain Baslow would be feeling for a while to come. Jonas flexed his fingers with a nod. “It’ll be fine.”
Bonnie returned with a rose-patterned plate holding a frosted tea cake.
Jonas glanced from Eliza to Bonnie. “Ladies.”
Eliza nodded a farewell.
“Jonas,” Bonnie replied.
He turned and exited the shop. The bell tinkled twice, echoing into the subsequent silence.
“What do you make of that?” Bonnie asked.
Eliza looked at her, puzzled.
“I’ve seen the man toe-to-toe with miscreants before, but I’ve never known him to set foot in here. You must’ve made a powerful impression.”
“I don’t know about that,” she replied, quickly looking down and stirring sugar into her tea.
“How is Jenny Lee today?” Bonnie asked, changing the subject.
“Sit down for a few minutes,” Eliza invited, then tasted the lemon-frosted pastry and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “It’s a fair day, as her days go.”
Bonnie sat with her hands folded under her chin, studying Eliza. “And she still insists that you take time for yourself every afternoon.”
Eliza picked up her cup and blew across the surface of the fragrant liquid. “She’s concerned she’s a burden. Of course she’s not, but she says the least I deserve is an hour a day to myself. I come to walk Tyler home from school anyway, so I may as well arrive in town a little early.” She glanced at the brooch timepiece pinned to her dress. “My time’s been cut short today.”
She took her coin purse from her pocket.
“Your refreshments are complimentary today.” Bonnie extended a hand to prevent Eliza from producing a coin. “You barely had time to enjoy it.”
“Regardless, you brewed it.”
“You’re my best customer,” Bonnie argued. “I can give you a cup of tea now and then if I like.”
Eliza smiled and picked up her hat. “Thank you.”
After Bonnie walked her to the door, she exited the shop and headed east. Nearly every structure along Main Street was made of brick. Prior to firing them, she could remember stamping the bricks, like those that comprised Brauman’s Leather Goods, alongside her father and three other men.
A loaded wagon rumbled past. Eight years ago they’d sold the bricks that paved the street for a dollar seventeen a thousand. She’d overseen each wagon that left the yard. She’d be leaving a part of her behind when she left this town.
Eliza abandoned Main Street for the open lots between the businesses and the school yard. Three weeks of sun and little rain had dried ground that had been soggy from melted snow only a month ago. Reaching the shade of an ancient sycamore, she sat on the grass, tucking her skirts around her, to await dismissal.
Four years ago she’d persuaded the town council to replace the wood frame schoolhouse with brick by telling them of the hazard from flying sparks cast by the woodstove. They’d insisted on painting the building white, and she’d had no problem with that as long as the children were safe. She’d supervised construction herself, as well as donated half the bricks, plus a fireplace and chimney.
A team and wagon driven by a young farmhand in a straw hat rolled to a stop near the sound little structure. The same fellow came to town each day to collect sons and daughters from outlying farms. School remained in session until fall when the children were needed to work in the fields.
The door opened. Miss Fletcher used a hook and eye from the door to the rail on the banister to hold it open. A line of children streamed from the building into the sunlight, some running, others chatting with friends.
Tyler’s pale blond hair stood out from the others’, and Eliza Jane’s heart swelled with tenderness as it had every time she’d seen him since the moment he was born.
He walked between two other boys, their heads bent over something Timmy Hatcher held in his cupped palm. Timmy spoke and Tyler and the other boy nodded and laughed.
Eliza stood and walked to the hard dirt path that led from the school toward town. Girls with braids passed with shy greetings.
Tyler looked up and spotted her waiting. He said a hasty goodbye to his friends and continued forward. He used to run to her, eager for a hug, but he would turn eight his next birthday, and he saved his hugs for bedtime now. She extended a hand, but he pretended he didn’t see it and walked beside her, two books under his arm.
“Did Miss Fletcher give two assignments for this evening?” she asked.
“Yep. The arithmetic is hard, too.”
“Fortunate for you, you’re such a smart boy,” she replied.
He nodded in all seriousness. “Mikey Kopeke has a harder time. And his dad don’t let him do his homework cause he has chores.”
“A lot of the children have chores,” she said. “Their parents need them to help with the animals and the crops more than they need them to memorize times tables.”
“Papa says when you know your times tables and letters you don’t have to work so hard all your life.”
Eliza Jane felt a little sick, the way she always did at the sight or mention of Royce Dunlap. “Papa’s right about getting a good education,” she told him. Tyler loved Eliza Jane’s brother-in-law with the fierce loyalty a boy felt for his father, even though Royce was forever preoccupied with new business ventures and office matters. More often than not her heart ached for Tyler. No child should go through what he had with an ill mother and an emotionally distant father. Especially not this child.
“Mama’s having a pretty good day today,” she told him, trying to sound assuring. Days like this were so much easier on him.
“But she won’t get better,” he said, without looking at her.
Her chest ached at the truth as well as the fact that someone so young and vulnerable had to face it. It was unfair that he had to learn about life this way. “No, Tyler. She won’t get better.”
He glanced up at her then, his blue eyes sad and trusting. If she could change the world for this boy, she would. She hated feeling helpless. She hated feeling responsible.
But most of all, Eliza hated feeling guilty.
Chapter Three
It was a warm sunlit afternoon, and they walked the rest of the way home in silence, pausing at the wrought iron gate to admire Sutherland’s finest cherry-red brick, the clean lines of the white window caps and functional green shutters. Eliza loved the irregular Italianate architecture. There were two stories and an attic in the main section and two stories in the jutting side section where the sitting and dining rooms were down and an immense sunroom up. In front, the main part featured a jutting two-story section with windows on three sides on each floor and a balcony atop.
A Queen Anne porch had been added for her mother several years after the original construction. The home and its rooms held memories of her parents and many good times when her sister was young and not feeble. They were memories Eliza treasured, even though her heart broke with each recall. They entered the house, and she sent Tyler upstairs for time alone with Jenny Lee.
Nora Cahill, their neighbor, greeted Tyler on her way down the stairs to the foyer. She turned to watch him climb to the top and disappear along the hallway to Jenny Lee’s room. Nora turned a saddened gaze on Eliza. “I don’t even know what to say to the child anymore.”
Eliza’s parents had lived in this house from the time Eliza had been a toddler, and Nora and her husband had lived next door all those years. As children she and Jenny Lee had played with Nora’s daughter, Vernelle, who had eventually married and moved East. When Eliza’s mother’s heart had weakened and she had lingered for weeks, Nora had been a blessing. Years later Nora had comforted the adult sisters when their father had died.
“None of us thought Jenny Lee would hold on this long. Your mother used to dread her dying. Maybe it’s best she’s not here for the end.”
Eliza loved Nora like an aunt, but that comment silenced her. She would much rather have her mother alive today, no matter what.
“Thank you for these afternoons,” she said with heartfelt gratitude. If Jenny Lee hadn’t insisted a year ago that Eliza take an hour to herself each day, there would probably be weeks at a stretch that she never left the house or her sister’s side. She needed the nourishing time to draw on inner strength, to think and to plan.
And she had a plan.
“You know I’m happy to come over any time,” Nora told her. “I left a couple loaves of bread rising. You can bake them later.”
Eliza leaned to give her a quick hug and then saw her to the door. Closing it, she turned to gaze up the stairway. It had grown more and more difficult to keep a cheerful attitude and guard her expression. Her sister looked nothing like the fun-loving, lovely young girl Eliza wanted to remember, but she steadfastly held her sorrow at bay. Jenny and Tyler needed her now more than ever.
After a difficult moment, she drew a fortifying breath, gathered her skirts and purposefully trod one stair at a time. The worn banister was familiar and comforting to her touch. She knew the number of steps and which ones creaked. The house was her solace, her haven. She could find her way around in the pitch dark without effort. The thought of leaving had always been too much to bear…until now. Any comfort she’d once drawn here had been spoiled by her brother-in-law’s presence.
The door to Jenny Lee’s room was always open unless Royce went in to visit her alone, which happened rarely anymore. A year ago, he’d moved to another room down the hall. Eliza had offered to bring a cot for him if he was afraid of disturbing his wife’s rest; she had even suggested two smaller beds instead of the one that had been her parents’, but he declined.
She thought he could have been more attentive and helpful. His moving from the room caused Eliza more work. Now she needed to check on her sister throughout the night. But she’d learned that defying Royce’s decisions and demands only caused more trouble, and she had to keep things calm for Jenny Lee’s sake.
Tyler was sitting on the side of the bed, his expression animated as he finished telling Jenny Lee something about Timmy Hatcher. Jenny’s adoring smile was already thin. As much as she loved to hear about Tyler’s day and cling to those last vestiges of normal life, she could only mask the pain and fatigue for brief spells. When she saw Eliza Jane, regret and relief warred in her sunken eyes.
Immediately interpreting unspoken clues, Tyler kissed Jenny Lee’s cheek before easing himself to stand beside the bed. “I’ll come back to see you after supper, Mama.”
“I love you, Tyler. You don’t know how much.”
“I love you, too, Mama.”
The sisters watched him leave the room, and then their eyes met. Jenny Lee’s held tears.
“Do you need your medicine?” Eliza asked.
“Please.”
She fed Jenny two teaspoons of the elixir Dr. McKee provided for pain, then helped her turn on her side and adjusted a few pillows for comfort. Eliza pulled the chair close beside the bed and took a seat.
Jenny Lee reached for her hand. Her sister’s cool fingers felt alarmingly slim and frail and Eliza was always afraid of hurting her. Jenny was wearing a smile, though, when Eliza’s gaze rose to her face. Her skin was unnaturally translucent and white, her eyes too shiny.
“Remember when we were girls, Liza, and we couldn’t wait to get home from school with Vernelle? We’d all go up into the attic room and play for hours. Mother used to shoo us out of doors for fresh air, and we’d take the same fantasy game we’d been playing to Nora’s backyard behind those big lilac bushes.”
“I remember,” Eliza answered. Nora had brought bouquets of lilacs from those very bushes into Jenny Lee’s room all that spring. “You always wore Grandma Pritchard’s rose evening dress and the bead necklace.”
“Those were pearls,” Jenny Lee insisted. “And you liked Mother’s blue dress with the ruffled sleeves.”
“We were quite the fashionable ladies, weren’t we?”
“I felt rather deserted when Vernelle married Robert and moved East,” Jenny Lee confided.
“As did Nora.”
“And then I married Royce.” Jenny Lee’s gaze wandered away for a few moments and then returned. “Did you feel I’d deserted you?”
“Of course not. You were only across the neighborhood.”
Royce and Jenny Lee had rented a small home. Shortly after Henry Sutherland’s death, Jenny Lee’s health had declined to where she needed more and more attention, and she was unable to care for Tyler. Moving here had been the practical and necessary thing for all of them. Eliza had quit her bookkeeping position at the brickyard and devoted herself to her sister and Tyler. She’d never been sorry, and she never would be.
Confirmation of Royce’s true nature had come soon after. The truth of what she’d suspected for some time had been unraveled in startling increments and ugly realizations. Eliza covered up his disinterest in Jenny Lee and Tyler to protect them. Her sister was dying. She didn’t need the hurt of knowing her husband had married her to get his hands on The Sutherland Brick Company and their other investments.
Henry had left a portion of the business to each of them, and they’d had equal say in decisions. Most often Royce had been able to sway Jenny Lee to his point of view on investments and holdings, and Eliza hadn’t been willing to fight him in front of her sister. The few times she’d tried, the hurt look on Jenny Lee’s face had discouraged her.
She didn’t want to plan for her sister’s death, but she had to be realistic. Once Jenny Lee was out of the triangle, Royce would own the major share of the brickyard and could do whatever he pleased.
His intentions didn’t stop there. A shudder ran up her spine and infused her with ominous panic. With controlled effort, she fought down the feeling.
Eliza Jane had a plan.
She’d stashed away and hidden her savings—not in the bank, because they owned a share of the bank and Royce could look at accounts anytime he wanted. But in a safer place. When the inevitable time came to escape, she would be able to take care of herself and Tyler.
“Remember how Father used to read to us in the evenings?” Jenny Lee asked, and Eliza was grateful to return to a happier time with her. “Mama would sit in that brown wing chair and work on her quilts while he read us stories. He was a good father, wasn’t he?”
Eliza sensed the disappointment her sister felt that her husband had never been a caring or loving father to Tyler. It had always seemed to Eliza that he’d tolerated the boy just to pacify Jenny Lee and her father. Now she knew it was so.
“It’s so unfair that I got this puny heart,” Jenny said with a catch in her voice. She rarely spoke in such a hopeless fashion.
“I’m going to take care of Tyler.” Eliza looked right into her sister’s eyes and assured her.
Jenny Lee squeezed her hand without much strength. “I know you will.” The medicine had taken its effect, and her eyes drifted closed. “I’m going to rest for a few minutes.”
Her lashes lay against the dark hollows under her eyes. With her blue eyes closed, she didn’t even look like herself. Eliza often washed and curled her hair, but it was thin and lank. Eliza swallowed a painful lump in her throat and fought tears. A show of emotion wouldn’t help a thing. Strength would.
“I love you, Liza.” Jenny hadn’t opened her eyes, for which Eliza was grateful. Pain was sure to be evident on her face.
“I love you, Jenny.”
Once she was sure her sister slept comfortably, she slipped out of the room. In the hall, she stood with her back against the wall, a great weight crushing her heart, and the pull of tears threatening her last shreds of composure. As sorrow washed over her in cresting waves, she clasped both hands to her breast, and pressed her fingers to her lips to hold back sobs. If she started now, she would never stop.
After several minutes, she took a deep breath, collected herself and made her way downstairs. She found Tyler working on his arithmetic assignments in the kitchen. She stoked the oven and checked the temperature to bake the bread. “I remember sitting here doing my schoolwork when I was your age.”
Jenny’s talk had kindled memories, and Eliza ached for happy carefree times. Jenny Lee had never been strong, not even then, but the seriousness of her heart condition hadn’t been apparent. They’d simply been two young girls with two parents, sharing the comfortable home their father had built for them and that their mother ran with aplomb.
“And Mama, too? Did she do her arithmetic right here?”
“That she did.” She cut him a wedge of cheese and poured him a cup of milk.
“Is she as good at numbers as you are, Aunt Eliza?”
Eliza put on a kettle of water for tea and sat across from him. “Her strengths tend to lie in word studies, subjects like spelling and English. As I recall she was very good at geography, as well. We always dreamed about the faraway places we would see one day.”
“Did you ever?”
She studied his fingers on the pencil. “No. We never traveled farther than Denver.”
“Maybe we could all go.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. He had confirmed his understanding that Jenny Lee would not get better, but did he truly comprehend that she was going to die?
A stab of pity snatched her breath and formed an aching knot in her chest. He was too young to learn this particular life lesson. “Tyler,” she said, approaching the subject cautiously. “You understand that Mama is very, very sick, don’t you?”
He nodded, keeping his gaze on his paper.
“And you know that…” She pursed her lips to keep them from trembling. “You know she won’t be with us much longer.”
He didn’t look up. “She’s gonna die.”
“Yes.” She barely managed a whisper.
“She told me.”
Eliza studied the curve of his cheek, the delicate sweep of his pale eyelashes and experienced a swell of love. Of course her sister had prepared him. Jenny Lee loved him more than life. Again, she blinked back the sting of tears.
At last he raised those bright blue eyes to hers. Eyes as earnest and clear as Jenny Lee’s had once been. “She said not to be afraid ’cause you’d take care of me always. Will you?”
Nothing could stop her. Nothing. And no one. She got up and placed her cheek against his. “Of course I will. Always. I promise.”
Jenny Lee didn’t have much appetite, but that evening Eliza managed to get her to sip a cup of broth and take some tea before giving her the medicine and making her comfortable.
She had tucked Tyler into bed and returned downstairs where she sorted laundry in the washroom beyond the kitchen. She sent out bedding and most of the clothing, but she washed her own and Jenny’s Lee’s delicate garments herself. She packed the laundry into bags, which would be picked up the following morning, and set her wash load aside.
A sound alerted her to her brother-in-law’s presence, and her senses went on alert. Alarm prickled along the skin on her arms and neck. She stepped to the doorway.
Royce stood on the far side of the kitchen. His shrewd gaze crawled over her. He was dressed as impeccably as always in a dark coat and white shirt, his brown hair parted so that it waved away from his forehead. “I’ll take my supper now.”
“I’ll get your plate from the oven.” She walked around the opposite side of the table and grabbed one of the flour sacks Nora had layered and sewn for protection from hot pot handles.
Royce’s boot heels struck the wood floor in a rapid cadence a split second before he reached her.
She whirled to face him, her body stiff.
He stopped inches from her. He wore closely trimmed sideburns and a ribbon-thin mustache on the very edge of his upper lip.
Eliza turned her face to the side to avoid his unbearable nearness and drilling gaze. His breath touched her chin. Hairs rose on her neck and arm.
“You’re looking lovely tonight.”
“You’re married to my sister.”
“A tenuous bond at the very least.”
Her heart thundered against her rib cage. “How can you treat her death so callously?”
He leaned forward without actually touching her until his heat scorched her cheek and seared her body. “It’s business, my dear.”
The sensation of being trapped sent a shudder of revulsion along her spine. She closed her eyes in the futile hope that she’d open them to find this encounter had only been another menacing nightmare.
“Don’t be so priggish, Eliza Jane. You’re no unblemished paragon of virtue.” She started at the touch of his finger as he ran it along her jaw. “I expect you’ll be quite an enthusiastic partner once you’ve resigned yourself to the next phase of our relationship.”
“We don’t have a relationship.”
“Ah, but we will.” His hand circled her wrist, and she spun away from him then, escaping from the heat of the oven behind her and his menacing overtures.
She darted to the opposite side of the table and stood with her hands on the spindles of the chair back, bile rising in her throat. “You disgust me.”
“I find the chase quite titillating, actually.” With a swagger, he moved to a chair and seated himself before the place setting she’d prepared. He adjusted the cutlery in precise alignment before leveling a warning gaze on her.
“Don’t get carried away, however. There’s a time and a place for everything, and soon your time for coy resistance will run out. Once Jenny Lee is gone and we’ve served a respectable mourning period, you will become my wife.”
Eliza stood with her heart in her throat, trapped in this house and under this man’s rule for the time being. She couldn’t leave Jenny Lee or Tyler. They needed her. He knew it. And he used her love for them to his advantage.