A Mail-Order Wish (Miners to Millionaires Book 2) Read online

  He would’ve died that night if Sawyer hadn’t heard something suspicious and ended up killing one of them, before chasing off the other two.

  And now Ronan owed him. Or at least, he had. After this, they were even.

  When he arrived at Ivan’s old place, the sound of china breaking echoed throughout the house, just before high-pitched screeching began. Good Lord above. Ivan would’ve killed himself if he’d lived long enough to have made the mistake of choosing Violet for his wife.

  In truth, any man would want to kill himself after being saddled to such a shrew. She might be beautiful, but that beauty was purely skin deep. He’d rather tie one leg to his saddle while he was on the ground and force his horse into a run before ever willingly tying his future to hers.

  He knocked on the door a moment before Belle opened it with wild eyes. “If I were you, I’d run,” she whispered, completely serious about it too.

  A small smile curved Ronan’s lips to the side. “I’ll take my chances.”

  She shook her head like he’d gone mad. Maybe he had.

  “Nothing’s more important than your life.”

  He laughed. “And staying would mean forfeiting it?”

  She nodded solemnly.

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “All right then, it’s your burial. Is there something you need?”

  “Yes, I need to see Olivia. Is she here?”

  Curiosity lit her eyes. He’d always liked Belle. She was much more personable than some of the others, and she put others at ease, much like a well-used pair of slippers. But there was more to her. She was smart, quick.

  “She is. Would you like to come in?”

  Where all the other women could, and would, eavesdrop? No thanks. “Tell her I’ll be at the wood pile. I’ll chop more while I wait.”

  Belle’s face softened. “You really don’t need to do that. But thank you.”

  “It’s no trouble for me.” Ronan tipped his hat and made his way to the pile of wood before removing his coat, but didn’t bother with his shirt. It’d be a mess after working in the mine later anyway.

  He checked the blade of the ax before setting the first log on the block. Hefting the ax high, he struck down with precision, splitting the log in two, then quartering it.

  The motions soothed him, allowing his mind to wander in blissful silence. This type of work had always calmed him, and it didn’t fail him now.

  He was five logs in when Olivia exited the house and he caught sight of her. He inhaled sharply, but immediately blamed it on his exertion. And basic human instinct. Olivia was a gorgeous woman. Honey-blond hair, green eyes, a trim waist, and a perfectly full figure. A true belle of the south.

  Of Georgia. Of home.

  “Hello, Ronan.”

  He leaned on the ax, giving her his full attention. “Good morning, Miss Hardy.”

  She smiled slowly. “I could ask why you’re here, but I already know.”

  He saw no point in wasting words. “I spoke with Mitch this morning.”

  “I figured as much.” Her gaze landed on the pile of wood he’d chopped and her eyes softened. “Thank you for doing that. It’s not a task any of us enjoy.”

  “It’s not a problem. It’s the least I can do.”

  She cocked a hip and the movement drew his gaze. Perfect curves. “You already do so much. I hope you know how much we appreciate you working the mine. We know you don’t need to do it for income.”

  He felt uncomfortable with the praise. After all, he hadn’t done it willingly. “You’re welcome,” he said quickly, then coughed.

  “I guess you’ll be wanting this back.” She pulled the buckle from her pocket and ran her delicate fingers over the design.

  The same thing he’d done countless times over the last fifteen years, and seeing her do it felt remarkably intimate. He’d never let anyone even see the buckle, let alone touch it. “I appreciate you keeping it safe for me.”

  Her eyes narrowed as if she’d thought of something that highly displeased her.

  Interesting. Olivia was normally light and cheerful, always friendly and affable. But now, this woman in front of him projected none of those things. Instead, she’d turned into a woman he’d never seen before.

  Indignation straightened her spine. “That...man was going to sell it. To anyone!” She slapped at a strand of hair that flew on the wind away from her face. “Can you believe it?”

  She looked to him for an answer, a response, needing some spark of fury to echo her own, but he just couldn’t give it.

  In that moment, with a fetching blush of color cresting her cheeks and her lips darkening to the color of ripe cherries as she chewed her bottom lip, he was struck with a bolt of blinding hot, unmistakable lust. The surge almost brought him to his knees.

  “Ronan?”

  He shook his head to dispel whatever had just come over him and tried to remember what she’d been saying. Ah, yes. “Unfortunately, I can believe it. Mitch is a lying, thieving rat. He’ll do anything for a profit. He’d sell his own mother if he thought he could get a high enough price for her.”

  “That’s despicable.”

  “That’s reality here in the West.”

  “Well it’s not my reality. And I don’t believe everyone feels the same. Surely you don’t. You wouldn’t do something so horrible to another person, would you?”

  He wished he could answer her with a firm no, that he would never betray another like that, and that he’d never cross a line of honor. But he couldn’t. Because, in truth, he was preparing to do something a hell of a lot worse. “You do what you have to do to survive out here. There aren’t many rules. Pretty much everything goes.”

  “That won’t always be true. This town can’t continue in this same lawless fashion.”

  “You’re probably right. But there’s nothing neither you, nor I, can do about it.”

  Olivia’s lips pressed together as if she wanted to argue, but she apparently thought better of it. “You’re probably right.”

  Ronan watched her circle the wreath design over and over until he just couldn’t take it anymore. He reached his hand out, palm up. “May I have it back?”

  She eyed his hand but made no move to give it to him. “First, I want to ask you something.”

  Of course she did. He’d known she would want answers.

  “This”—she tapped the design—“is from Georgia. Is that where you’re from?”

  “Yes,” he ground out.

  “Who gave this to you?”

  He remained silent for a moment. He heard birds chirping in the air and suddenly realized Violet was no longer raising hell inside. He wished she were in order to provide a much needed distraction from their current topic. Sighing, Ronan decided he’d best just get it over with and cleared his throat. “My father.”

  She nodded as if she’d already guessed. “I’ve seen other buckles with this design from the war. But never in gold. It must’ve been precious to him. Do you know who gave it to him? Did he earn it for bravery?”

  His jaw clenched. She assumed his father had earned it fighting, which most people would. He wished that were the case. He wanted to say yes, to lie to her about how he’d come to have it and put an end to her line of questioning, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He refused to deny what really happened. “No. My father gave it to me the night before I left for war.”

  She gasped. “You! But…”

  “Me. I enlisted when I was fifteen.”

  “But...you were just a boy!” Olivia stepped closer to Ronan and raised a hand over his heart as if to soothe any lingering pain.

  Her touch scalded him. Not just his skin, but deeper, in his soul. She reminded him of everything good before the war. His mother, their home, his family, their town. All of it seemed so unreal, in a residual glow of happiness, that it couldn’t possibly have existed. But as he looked at Olivia—her warmth, her accent, even her smell—he remembered everything he’d lost.

&nb
sp; Everything that had been taken from him.

  He slid her hand off his chest and took a step back. “It was a long time ago. Now, I thank you for safeguarding it for me. I appreciate not having to track it down.”

  “Ronan—”

  He shook his head and cut her off. He’d already told her much more than he’d ever told another. He wasn’t about to divulge more. He couldn’t think when he was around her. And he couldn’t let her distract him from what he needed to do.

  It didn’t matter he’d finally found proof that goodness and tenderness still existed, and finally started to realize his memories of his childhood, of Georgia, weren’t all some fantasy he’d concocted to survive. They’d been real.

  She was real.

  But none of that could matter.

  Once Lawrence—Ronan’s best childhood friend and his closest ally during the war—had framed him for murder, effectively sealing off any possibility of Ronan ever returning home to Georgia, his course had been set.

  He was out for revenge.

  Chapter 3

  Olivia twisted her skirts in her hand as she watched Ronan ride off to the mine, hoping if she squeezed tight enough, it would stop her from calling him back.

  The small glimpse of his past had wrecked her—truly, thoroughly, demolished her. She’d heard so many horror stories about the war, but none compared to what she sensed lurked in Ronan’s past.

  Boy soldiers had been a necessary evil in the war. She’d pitied the boys in the tales she’d heard, but she’d never met any of them. The fact that Ronan had survived was incredible.

  Her hand relaxed once he was out of sight. He was hurting. Badly. And he had been for a long time if she were to guess. He’d never spoken of the war. In fact, she hadn’t even known he’d been from Georgia.

  Now that she thought of it, what did she know of him? He was a loner, that was for sure. A gambler, both of cards and of life. And he had an air about him that whispered of his disregard for living. She’d never understood that feeling in others. She’d certainly never felt it herself. But now, knowing just a little more of his past, more pieces of Ronan’s character fell into place.

  Perhaps he hadn’t always felt this way. The war probably changed him, war always changes people. But he certainly hadn’t moved on. He still couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. And since he didn’t have a wife or family, who was there to help him through any emotional pains he suffered?

  Her heart rate sped up, recognizing someone else’s need. She might not be his family, but they were both from Georgia. In her mind, that was close enough.

  She could be there for him. She would be there for him.

  Because whether he realized it or not, he mattered to her.

  Ronan rode into town from the mine, his pocket heavy with loose gold, but his heart no lighter. His conversation with Olivia bothered him because of how easily she’d extracted information. If she could garner that much from a simple question, he’d have to watch his back.

  He needed to keep his distance from her. Nothing good could come of spending more time in her presence. Especially now that she knew about his involvement in the war.

  After having the gold weighed, he traded the metal for bills. The money would go a long way for the women he worked for.

  While he wished he wasn’t doing it, mining for them wasn’t all bad. He did get a cut. But even better, it gave him a good cover story. He was just a mangy miner, working someone else’s mine and gambling away his own money. Not many would suspect his larger plan.

  And that served him just fine.

  “Hey, Ronan!”

  Ronan turned and searched through the bustling Main Street for the source. His eyes focused on the telegraph office as Harry, the operator, waved like a madman.

  Ronan picked up his pace as he headed toward the office, his blood thrumming. He knew deep down—could feel—this is what he’d been waiting for.

  The match that would set his plan on fire.

  Instead of pouncing on the slender man like he wanted to, Ronan simply nodded calmly in greeting. “How are you, Harry?”

  “Good! Good!” He gestured wildly again before waving him inside the office. “I have news for you.”

  “Oh?” Ronan knew he needed to play this casually. Don’t look too excited. “For me?”

  “Yes’m. There’s been an offer!” The man stood coiled as if waiting for Ronan’s joyous outburst.

  “Offer? On?” Ronan asked with only mild interest. Honestly, he didn’t know how he managed to contain it.

  Harry leaned forward and looked around, as if to make sure no one would overhear. “You’re mine, of course. Some fancy gent from the South made a mighty nice offer. I reckon you’re gonna like it.”

  Every nerve in his body was on fire. It was finally happening. All of his plans started here. “Really?” He didn’t have to fake the pleased tone. “May I see the transcript?”

  Harry handed it over. Ronan read it twice, before folding it carefully and sticking it in his pocket.

  “Do you want to reply?”

  Even though Harry appeared to be more excited than Ronan, the truth was, Ronan felt ready to burst. Nothing would elate Ronan more than taking Lawrence down.

  Ronan pretended to mull over Harry’s question regarding a reply, then shook his head. “No. I’ll have to think on it a bit more.”

  Harry’s shoulders sank. “Well, let me know when you’re ready to send your reply.”

  “I’ll do that.” Ronan tipped his hat and left the telegraph office.

  He wanted to go back to his house and toast his victory, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He had an obligation to give the women the money he’d traded for the gold. It wasn’t something he could put off. But tonight? Now that was a different story.

  He might even go out to celebrate. Buy a bottle of whiskey and play a few rounds of cards. Seemed like the perfect way to enjoy the moment.

  It was late afternoon by the time Ronan made it back to the women’s house.

  The summer sun was still high in the sky, but nature had already begun to bunk down for the night. It was peaceful out here, and he liked it.

  He hadn’t given much thought to what he’d do once he’d gotten his revenge, but perhaps building a nice, large house like Ivan had wasn’t such a bad idea.

  A family wouldn’t be in the picture, even if he might’ve once dreamed of one. A man like him could never give a wife and kids what they needed, but he could still enjoy a big place like this all alone.

  However, he was getting ahead of things.

  First, he needed to drop off the money. Second, he would celebrate his small victory, and third, he’d ensure the plans for his next move was perfected.

  He knocked on the door briskly, expecting to see Sylvia, the women’s housekeeper, but he cursed his luck when Olivia answered.

  “Ronan.”

  His name on her lips had him gulping. That soft, southern voice heated his blood instead of soothing it.

  He took a step back. “I won’t take much of your time.” He pulled the money from his pocket. “I came to drop this off. We got a good amount.”

  She accepted the wad of bills with a large smile. “The others will be thrilled. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. You’re paying me. This is a job.”

  “Still, I’m grateful.”

  He shifted uneasily, unsure what to do with her gratitude. It’d been so long since anyone had expressed it toward him. The men he gambled against certainly didn’t thank him for taking their money. In the end, Ronan simply nodded, for a lack of anything better to do or say, then turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning back around. “Is there something you need?”

  She peered over her shoulder into the house, before stepping outside and shutting the door. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Alarm bells went off in his head. If she needed privacy for whatever she was going to s
ay, he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t have much time.”

  “It’ll only take a minute.”

  He stayed and waited for her to speak, but she didn’t say a word. She just stood there, staring at him, with her head cocked a little to the side. What was she looking for? What did she hope to find? He could’ve told her not to bother, because whatever it was certainly wasn’t in him.

  “Come to dinner tomorrow night.”

  His mouth fell open. “Here?”

  She blushed as if she regretted her words. “Yes. We’d love to have you.”

  He sincerely doubted all of them would enjoy his company. “I’m not sure the others—”

  “Oh, I insist. You’ve been doing so much for us, it’s the least we can do.” When she sensed his refusal coming, she took a step forward. The intimidation tactic almost made him smile. “Don’t make me send for one of the others to convince you. Violet, perhaps?”

  He laughed then. It was the perfect threat.

  She smiled at his amusement. “You should really smile and laugh more.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re so handsome when you do.” She pressed her lips together, as if she couldn’t believe those words had slipped out.

  Olivia must’ve figured a hasty retreat was in order, because she turned away from him and headed back toward the door. She turned back to him as she stood in the open doorway. “Six o’clock will be just fine. We’ll be expecting you.” Then she quickly closed the door before he could say a word in response.

  Ronan stood there for almost a full minute trying to decide whether he should knock on the door and disabuse her of the idea, or if he should just accept it.

  He’d gotten away rather easily from their “private” conversation this time, and he’d be a fool to chance it again. It would probably be easier to go to the dinner tomorrow, spend a little time with the women, and leave. Besides, he didn’t want to be disrespectful toward the ladies, even though he didn’t need or necessarily want the job.

  He’d just have to make sure he was never alone with Olivia.