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  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  2932 Ross Clark Circle, #384

  Dothan, AL 36301

  The Treasure

  Copyright © 2006 by Beth Williamson

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  ISBN: 1-59998-050-9

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2006

  The Treasure

  Beth Williamson

  Dedication

  For my husband who accepts me, a clumsy blunder puss, as I am. Here’s to all the klutzes and the men who love them.

  Chapter One

  New York, New York, January 1889

  Lillian Wickham knew she was clumsy. No use hiding behind fancy words like “accident prone” to cushion the blow. Living at St. Catherine’s, she’d had so many cuts, bruises, scrapes, broken bones and sprained joints the infirmary had a box full of supplies just for her. She’d fallen, tripped up and down stairs, gotten thrown from a carriage, had a foot run over by a flower cart, and banged her head all the time. The plain truth was she didn’t have enough grace to fill a thimble.

  Lily was sure God had given her enough optimism and enthusiasm to make up for being such a blunder puss. She always tried to see the bright side of every misfortune and kept her optimism around her like a shield. The nuns at the orphanage would roll their eyes and pick her up from wherever she’d fallen, check for blood, then send her on her way. She struggled so hard not to make mistakes and the more she worked at it, the more spectacular the mistakes.

  There was the time she accidentally set the kitchen on fire making her first batch of biscuits. Or when she’d ruined at least ten of the nuns’ habits by using the soap she’d invented. And she had just lost a governess position, again. This time for breaking a vase in the Carmichael’s home. She hadn’t intended to knock it over, but when her cloak got caught in the door, she pulled and pulled. Unfortunately, when the door suddenly opened, she fell backwards…right into the vase. Apparently from the Ming dynasty in China, too. They hadn’t made her pay for it, thank the Lord, but they had dismissed her without paying her last two weeks wages. This was the eighth time in as many years she had lost her job because of her problem. At twenty-six, she could not afford to lose her wages or her job anymore.

  Lily sighed and continued unpacking her clothes from the valise and hanging them on the hooks on the wall. She was lucky the orphanage needed a temporary teacher while Sister Mary Agnes was on sabbatical for a month. She had to find another position and fast. There was no way she would be a charity case again.

  “Lily?”

  She turned to see the Reverend Mother in the doorway to her room. The nuns called them cells, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do that. Life could be dreary enough without thinking of your living quarters as a cell. The Reverend Mother had been like a mother to her, as well as a confidante, advisor and friend. Lily had never asked the older woman’s age, but with her wrinkled face she must be at least sixty if not older. Her eyes, however, remained a vibrant, sparkling blue.

  “Hello, Reverend Mother. I just want to say again how grateful I am.”

  She held up her hand and stopped Lily’s gratitude. “No need, child. We had an opening and you needed it. It’s the Lord’s way of keeping the wheel of life turning.”

  The older woman came in and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I have heard of a position you might be interested in.”

  Lily stopped what she was doing and sat beside her. “Really? Oh, that’s wonderful.”

  “Before you get yourself too excited, let me tell you what it entails.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Lily hoped it was in Manhattan. She loved the tall buildings and being able to walk in Central Park, not to mention the museums and restaurants.

  “I have a friend who I’ve known all my life. She and I grew up together and have kept in touch for years.”

  “How lovely for you. I hope you and I will still write after so long.”

  “Yes, child, now hush up a minute and let me finish.” The Reverend Mother raised one silver eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” Lily mumbled and put an invisible button on her lips. Another one of her flaws. She talked too much.

  “Francesca and her husband own a ranch in Wyoming. They have six children. The oldest, Raymond, has a five-year-old daughter, with no wife, and is in desperate need of a housekeeper and governess for the child. The pay is not much, fifty dollars a month, but it includes room and board and a clothing allowance.”

  Lily held her breath until she felt dizzy. Wyoming? That was out in the west, where things were…wild. Certainly nothing like New York, a place Lily considered home after so much traveling when she was a child.

  “They are good people, Lily. And this is an opportunity for you to start over. Where people don’t gossip about how much trouble you are as a governess when you start breaking things or falling down the stairs.”

  “That only happened once.” Lily felt her cheeks pinken at the memory.

  The Reverend Mother waved her hand again. “I know, but the more people gossip, the harder it is for you to find a permanent position. Who knows, you may even find you like it out West and find a young man to marry.”

  Lily laughed. “Only if he doesn’t mind his wife being the clumsiest person on earth.”

  The Reverend Mother cupped Lily’s cheek and smiled, her warm brown eyes sympathetic. “Do not be so hard on yourself, Lily. You are a wonderful person. Any man would be happy and proud to have you as his bride.”

  Lily blushed and stared down at her hands. “It’s so far away, Mother, and I don’t know anything about Wyoming. I would miss you and it’s…out West.”

  “Yes, it is. You don’t have much time to decide, less than two months. After that, you must be on a train bound for Wyoming or find another position here in New York. And neither choice will be easy.”

  She stood and touched Lily on the head as she had done countless times.

  “Think about it. It could be a whole new beginning for you.”

  After she left the room, Lily stared out the small window above her narrow bed.

  Wyoming? What did she know about Wyoming?

  ———

  Exactly eight weeks later, Lily stood on the platform at Grand Central Railroad Station and clutched her battered valise in one hand. Her heart pounded, her mouth was as dry as cotton, and a trickle of perspiration snaked down her spine.

  She was nervous. She had read all she could about Wyoming, and even corresponded with Mr. Raymond Malloy. He was polite and factual. She could not tell anything about him as a person from his letter. He described his daughter as “difficult” and “in need of a woman’s firm hand and a thorough education” but otherwise gave no details about either one of them.

  The soles on her boots were almost worn through, so she would need to purchase new shoes. She hoped Mr. Malloy would advance her some of the clothing allowance. The sisters had purchased a navy wool coat for her, and Sister Mary Francis had knitted her warm mittens and a hat. They were all such wonderful people. Without them, she would not be the person she was
now. Each of them were her teachers growing up and taught her how to love, learn, and how to accept what she could not change and fight for what she could.

  Lily’s journey would pass through a good deal of America. Since she hadn’t been beyond the borders of New York in more than ten years, she was excited to see what had changed. The conductor shouted “All aboard” and she nodded at the train like a ninny, as if accepting the challenge. In a way she was, and so she strode toward the train and stepped up inside.

  Lily Wickham was on her way to Wyoming.

  Chapter Two

  Cheshire, Wyoming, March, 1889

  Ray Malloy was nervous. It was cold as a bitch that morning and his damn palms were sweaty in his gloves. Couldn’t feel his fingers after driving the wagon to the train station in freezing temperatures, but his goddamned, nervous palms were clammy.

  He didn’t know what to expect from Miss Wickham. She sounded pretty proper and very smart in her letter. There wasn’t any personal information exchanged other than their names. He regretted that now. He could have at least asked how old she was, but hell, Mama said she lived with the nuns.

  Truth was he didn’t know much about nuns. Or about Miss Lillian Wickham. He hoped she wasn’t a nasty old troll with a hairy wart and a stooped back.

  He didn’t trust his instincts with women. After all, he had gotten trapped in the web of the most conniving, innocent-looking black widow spider in the whole Wyoming territory. His wife. Ex-wife now. Regina had skipped town a month after their daughter, Melody, was born. She divorced him six months later from San Francisco.

  He hadn’t been with a woman since. Self-imposed celibacy was something he would have in common with Miss Wickham. Five years was a long time, but he didn’t trust women, excluding his sister, sisters-in-law and mother, of course. Unfortunately, aside from his family, Melody didn’t have any contact with other children or women.

  And, he thought with a grimace, it definitely showed. She was nearly impossible to track, had a mouth like a sailor, and absolutely refused to wear “girlie” clothes or even take a bath more than once a month. She was a handful. Make that two handfuls. He had no idea how to raise her. He was obviously doing a shitty job of it, judging by the wildness.

  Ray prayed Miss Wickham would be able to do something with Melody. She needed to learn her reading and writing, and maybe some ciphering. And she sure as hell needed to learn manners beyond asking “Where’s the biscuits, Pa?”.

  He loved Melody fiercely and hoped he hadn’t caused too much damage to her by his ways. Ray knew he wasn’t affectionate, or patient, or even friendly most of the time. Melody was a tiny version of him, down to the scowl she wore when she was angry. His heart ached with the need to do right by her. Against his better judgment, he’d listened to his mother and hired the damn governess, a fancy word for teacher. Truth be told, he hadn’t been able to find someone willing to teach Melody in the entire state of Wyoming. That left him standing on the Cheshire train platform with clammy hands and a twisted-up gut.

  Ray shuffled his feet on the wood-planked floor, trying to get the circulation going to his toes. In the distance, the train whistle shrieked, and inside, he jumped a country mile.

  Miss Wickham was about to arrive.

  ———

  As Lily stepped from the train at the Cheshire station and set her valise down, she began to search the people on the platform for her new employer. She had bid goodbye to New York nearly a week ago, and here she was finally in Wyoming. It seemed like a dream, like it was happening to someone else. As she had crossed over the great country, she kept a journal of everything she saw. From rivers, to beautiful buildings, buffalo, wild horses and everything in between. It was all incredible and each amazing sight made her decision the best one she had ever made. Without it, she would never have seen all the treasures she’d been too busy to see when she was a child.

  The first thing she noticed about Wyoming was it was really cold. Not the kind of cold on the streets of New York. But a biting, gnawing cold that chewed at her cheeks and left them numb. There was snow everywhere she looked. Even on the roof of the train depot. And icicles hung down, some of them at least a foot long. It was a winter wonderland. She pinched herself to stop gawking and started searching for Mr. Malloy again.

  After the steam from the locomotive’s engines cleared, she saw a man standing alone in the middle of the platform.

  Now that was a big man.

  Squaring her shoulders, as well as her resolve, she picked up her valise and headed towards him.

  “Mr. Malloy?” she asked when she was about ten feet away.

  As she approached him, he took off his hat and regarded her with a bruising stare. He nodded at her question as his large hands tightened perceptibly on his hat. Setting her valise down, she straightened herself up to her full height of not quite five feet. His wavy hair was varying shades of brown and red, and his eyes were a deep emerald green. Yes, indeed, he was quite an imposing size. His bold gaze raked her up and down without a flicker of warmth. She shivered and wasn’t at all sure it was from the frigidly cold air.

  “This isn’t going to work, Miss Wickham. I was expecting an older woman. Why, you’re no bigger than a minute, probably not even eighteen yet. Wyoming is no place for a woman like you. Go back to New York.” He turned, leaving her standing on the train platform.

  Well, we’ll see about that.

  “Mr. Malloy,” she said loudly as she reached out to grab his arm. He stopped short and stared down at her hand as if it were an offensive creature biting him.

  “Don’t touch me.” His voice was low, but incredibly forceful.

  The fierceness of his command was not lost on Lily. She removed her hand promptly, but with dignity nonetheless.

  “My apologies.” She took a deep breath. “I assure you, Mr. Malloy, I am not a child. I am a twenty-six-year-old woman, long since put on the shelf. As I wrote in my letter, I have served as a governess and tutor for eight years for many of the finest families in New York. Mother Superior has corresponded with your mother about me and gave me a sterling recommendation. I am strong, capable and intelligent. I will not be turned away like a beggar looking for food. You offered me a position, sir, and I took you at your word. I always keep mine.” She finished with a firm nod, a trick she’d long ago learned when dealing with recalcitrant children. Thank God he hadn’t noticed her knees knocking together so hard, they almost sounded like drums.

  His right eyebrow rose as she spoke. “Think highly of yourself then?”

  She knew her cheeks looked like crimson banners, but she refused to back down. This was her future they were talking about, not a parlor conversation about fashion.

  “No, I’m simply stating the facts. I am well qualified for the position you offered as your daughter’s tutor, and I’m a more than adequate housekeeper. More than that, I…I need the position. I have nothing to go back to in New York, and no funds to get there.” She hated to admit it to this man, but the trip to Wyoming cost her nearly every cent she owned. She was, to put it bluntly, poor as a church mouse.

  He studied her with his razor-sharp gaze for a minute before sighing long and hard.

  “Wyoming isn’t a forgiving place, Miss Wickham, and I’m not a forgiving man. We’re both hard, cold and demand respect. I don’t accept excuses from the people who work for me. The first time one of my hands endangers anyone, or lies to me, they’re out on their ass. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly. Does this mean I’m hired?” Her heart began to beat a staccato rhythm as hope burned in her chest.

  “Temporarily, but only until you’ve earned enough to return to New York. Don’t try to convince me otherwise, because my mind is made up.”

  With that, he picked up her valise and started walking at a brisk pace down the platform.

  Good heavens, the man has legs a mile long.

  Lily had to nearly break into a run to keep up with him. As he rounded the corner, he stopped t
o speak to someone. Unfortunately, as quickly as she was walking, Lily had no time to slow down. She glimpsed dark hair and blue eyes of another man before plowing into Mr. Malloy with all the grace of a toddler learning to walk. She tilted backwards, then landed square on her backside on the hard planks. Her teeth clamped together painfully and she bit her tongue.

  “Are you all right?” the stranger asked as he reached out a hand to help her stand.

  “Yes, I’m fine. How clumsy of me.” She hoped like blazes her cheeks were not as red as they felt. That was not the first impression she hoped to make. As she surreptitiously brushed off her behind, she watched the men’s reactions.

  The stranger turned and scowled at Mr. Malloy. “It wasn’t your fault, ma’am. My big brother here seems to have forgotten his manners and was plowing along without you.”

  Big brother? Yes, that would explain the resemblance. They were both tall and broad-shouldered with similar features.

  “Shut up, Jack,” growled Mr. Malloy. “Mind your own business. What the hell are you doing here anyway?”

  “You’re not giving your governess a good impression here, Ray. Becky asked me to come down and make sure you were ah…I mean, to lend a hand.”

  The stranger held out his hand for her to shake. “Jack Malloy. Welcome to Wyoming, Miss Wickham.”

  As she gratefully shook the proffered hand, her small, gloved one was nearly swallowed by his, yet all he did was give her a gentle squeeze.

  “Lily Wickham. Thank you for your welcome, Mr. Malloy.”

  She did not look at her employer when she spoke, but she saw his scowl deepen out of the corner of her eye.

  “Call me Jack.”

  His blue eyes were as warm as his smile. She was definitely going to like him.

  “Of course, as long as you call me Lily.”

  “Do you have any other bags you need to be fetched?” He eyed her threadbare valise with a doubtful look.