A/N: Well, Hello! And Happy Thanksgiving! Today it's really rainy and cold here. Maybe you guys will read this chapter on the way to Grandma's house, or if you're the one hosting, between candying the yams and slicing up that gelled cranberry sauce that's shaped like the can it pops out of. (I love that stuff)

And as always a big THANK YOU to GeezerWench for her superb pre-reading skills!

Yay!

Remember last year when I had the Thanksgiving feast of chapters?

Basically, It's where you guys "yell" into the review box, saying you want another chapter, and then I post another.

Wanna do it? Let me know.

I am thankful for my readers!

Have a safe and happy holiday!

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Both of the brothers fancied me?

I didn't know whether to feel flattered or appalled.

They had paid my debt to Miss Vicki, and hadn't taken advantage of me thus far, but what was it they really wanted?

I suspected that their interest went just a bit farther than my housekeeping skills, or my sewing abilities, although Jasper did seem extremely grateful when I was able to quickly alter two shirts into one, so that he would have something to wear that fit him correctly.

Over the next few days, any concerns I had about being taking advantage of were proven to be pointless. Jasper comported himself like a perfect gentleman. He woke early every morning and seemed eager to help with the endless chore of cleaning the cabin. He had plenty of strength and energy, despite his ailment and pallid complexion.

In fact, he was as strong as an ox. He insisted on doing all the heavy lifting, and I watched, in awe, as he single-handedly carried the heavy mattresses outside, without breaking a sweat, so that I could clean them. He even took charge of hauling fresh water in from the spring whenever it was needed.

We didn't make much conversation, but I never felt as if anything were lacking. It almost seemed as if he were purposefully giving me space, out of respect.

I think that our almost kiss had rattled and shocked him, just as much as it had affected me.

Over the next few days, we fell into a companionable routine. He spent a lot of time alone working, looking over hand-drawn maps. I assumed they were of his property or the mine the brothers owned and writing things down in ledgers and journals.

Sometimes he would take the gun and go hunting in the surrounding forest, which worried me to no end. He managed to bring back a few rabbits once, but his hunts were mostly unsuccessful. It wasn't surprising. Because of his strange ailment he was forced to spend a lot of time indoors, but Jasper was seemingly well adjusted to his lifestyle.

He spoke to me about the mine, and the workers that kept it running. The brothers only had to check in every so often with the foreman, they didn't mine the silver themselves. They had plenty of money, and were only staying at the little cabin because of it's proximity to their most newly acquired property.

I often wondered if I would be needed when they traveled back to their main place of residence and when that would happen, but I never asked.

Jasper liked to take his meals alone, but would sit with me in front of the fire before bedtime. Each of us would take turns reading to each other from dime novels, that the previous owner of the cabin had left behind, and then we would go to sleep in separate bedrooms.

Sometimes I would lie awake in bed and wonder what it would be like to be married to a man like Jasper, and with each passing day, the idea seemed more and more appealing.

On our third night alone in the cabin, Jasper was reading a passage from a story about a young lady who had a ridiculous number of suitors, some young, some old, one was very virtuous, another was very forward. I found myself musing over the heroine's complicated decision of choosing the right husband for herself. I envied her and lamented the fact that I'd never entertained a gentleman caller and probably never would.

The story was simple, yet entertaining, but Jasper had plainly tired of the frivolous girl after only the first chapter. Still he read on, his deep rich voice and the crackling fire lulled me into a state of relaxation.

I had been watching his lips move as he recited the words on the page, all the while wishing that he had kissed me. I wished he had acted more like the overconfident suitor in our book and just said to hell with morality, and taken what he had wanted.

I shifted uneasily in my seat, as he gifted me with a crooked smile, nodded his head, and closed the book. "I think that's enough reading for tonight. Don't you?"

He was wearing those dark glasses again. I couldn't see his eyes, nor could I imagine how he was able to decipher the words on the page by lamplight while wearing them.

My mind still halfway on our story, I thought of Peter, who reminded me of a certain character in the book. "When will your brother return?" I blurted without thought, and the smile fell from his lips.

"Soon, I expect."

"Tell me about him."

Jasper got up and placed the book on the mantle over the fireplace. The flicker of flame threw dark shadows over his heavy countenance. "What would you like to know?"

"Is it . . . I mean, am I expected . . ." I fumbled over my words and felt my face heat with embarrassment. "Does he expect me to marry him?"

"No!"

The word came out with a force that left me reeling, and Jasper didn't try to explain himself. He just stood there hesitant, his brow furrowed, staring into the fire looking for answers that weren't there.

He had managed to burn me again, and I wasn't sure how or why I felt so scorned. Was I not good enough for him or his brother? I stood from my chair, clutching the thin afghan I had laid across my lap to my chest, as if it could shield me from the coldness I felt in the room that had nothing to do with the late winter chill of the night.

I turned my back to Jasper to walk out of the room, but I stopped, unable to move. What was I waiting for? A myriad of thoughts swam round and round in my muddled mind as Jasper made his way over to where I stood, still feeling hurt, confused, and angry. He gently placed his hands about my shoulders.

He had made me feel so foolish. I wanted to spin around, snatch the glasses he hid behind from his face, and demand an explanation. Tears prickled threateningly at the corners of my eyes, and my throat began to close up. "Y-y-you said before that Peter fancied me. It's the only reason I asked."

"No. I said we both fancied you." Jasper sighed heavily. "But it hardly matters. Peter and I have an agreement where you are concerned, neither of us will compromise you, but to make doubly sure Peter up holds his end of the bargain, I'm beginning to think it would be a good idea to remove you from our employ."

I turned then to face him, and blinked in disbelief. "That's up to you, of course, but you must realize that I've already been compromised. You found me at the saloon, Mr. Whitlock. Do you know how many of the men in town saw me working inside that godforsaken place, and what they must think of me? I have no place to go and not a cent to my name. The only hope I have is to take charity from the likes of you and your brother, who find me decent enough to scrub your floors, but obviously not good enough to marry."

He shook me with enough force to knock me over if he hadn't been holding on to me with a steady, firm grasp. "It's not you, you damned foolish girl! It is we who are cursed! Our kind doesn't marry. Our kind doesn't love, or hope, or dream of a future with anyone. Don't you see?" His voice came out rough and ragged, as if the words had been dragged over the fires of hell. "And if we dared dream of such things, do you know who would pay the price?"

Lifting my chin and refusing to shrink away, I pressed against his chest until he released me. "I don't see anything wrong with you, Jasper, except how for how you see yourself. I know you're different and angry for it, but you can't change it. The only thing you could change is your attitude."

He froze then. It was as if he'd gone and turned to stone. His lips were pressed tightly together, and it seemed that he had forgotten how to breathe. The look on his face was that of a man who needed reassurance, of one who was lost.

"If you want my opinion, as far as I can tell, I think you'd make a fine husband."

He exhaled finally, and I felt him shudder as he dropped his hands to his sides and walked towards the front door.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I need to take a walk," he replied as he flung open the door.

"But, it's not safe out there, and dark. You won't be able to find your way back without a lantern."

He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "It's not safe in here either. For you." He blew out a heavy breath. "You're driving me mad with temptation."

Blushing at the intensity of his voice, I clutched the afghan around me more tightly as the cold wind pushed its way into the cabin. "If you must go, at least take the gun with you."

"I'll be close. Do not come outside, and don't wait up for me. Go get some sleep." He walked out then and slammed the door behind him.

Part of me wanted to hurl something against the closed door in protest, while another part wanted to rejoice at the thought that I had stirred something within Jasper. Instead I decided to lie down in bed and stay awake to listen and pray for his return. Minutes turned into hours and my eyes became heavy with sleep. I woke in the morning to the sound of not one, but two voices coming from the kitchen.

I washed up before making my way into the room where the brothers stood talking. Jasper seemed to be in the same foul mood that I'd left him in the night before. In fact he seemed worse—at times pacing back and forth like a caged beast. Peter managed to smile at me. His left hand casually rested on his hip, while the right hand held what appeared to be a newspaper. The air felt heavy with tension, but I tried to lighten the mood with a cheerful, "Good morning."

It was then that I noticed the piles of supplies and parcels Peter had purchased in town. Before I could thank him or even ask what they'd like for breakfast, Jasper stopped pacing, gave his brother an ill-tempered glance, and cleared his throat to get my attention. "Unfortunately, Peter has brought with him some unsettling news, and it appears I must leave you both for a few days."

"Unsettling? I hope it's nothing serious." Not wanting to pry, I decided to change the subject. "Oh, Peter, did you hear anything about my father?"

"No, no one I asked seemed to recollect seeing your father. I'm sorry, honey, and don't worry your pretty little head over Jasper going away. I'll stay here and I promise to take real good care of you while he's gone. We'll have lots of fun," Peter smiled widely.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Jasper mumbled.

"Pshaw." Peter waved his hand in dismissal of his brother and pulled out a chair to sit down at the table. "Now, here is an interesting piece of news for ya'." He spread the paper out before him, and I had to hold onto the table to steady myself as I read the bold headline. Fire at the Golden Eagle Saloon. The wretched place I'd been imprisoned had burned to the ground.

"I can't believe it. Were there many people hurt?" I wondered.

"Oh, yes." Peter nodded. "Miss Vicki didn't make it. It says right here she burned to death."

"How horrible," I murmured as I turned the paper around so I could read it better.

"I do hope you're not very upset to hear it." Peter reached up touched my back which caused me to jump. He smiled reassuringly and began to rub small soothing circles between my shoulder blades.

"No, I'm not terribly upset—you see she was a horrid woman. I'm just trying to see if I recognize any of the other names of the deceased." It was only a half-truth. I was honestly scanning the page in hopes of finding James' name on the list of those who had perished.

After I was done reading, Peter folded the paper and set it on a chair. "Did you know any of the other victims, Bella?"

"No." Emotions warred inside me. I didn't know how to reconcile the fact that I was glad Miss Vicki was gone, and my good Christian upbringing that taught me feeling that way was wrong. If that wasn't bad enough, I found myself brooding over the fact that James hadn't burned alongside her.

Regardless of how I felt, I knew better than to ever tell Jasper and Peter about the cruel beatings James had given me. He was an extremely evil man, and I wouldn't risk the chance that the brothers might attempt to approach someone so callous and dangerous. They could be injured. No, they must never know the truth of what I'd been through.


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