entrance as their host
paused on the threshold and surveyed the packed room. “Oh, Mr.
Bree-en.” Aunt Katharine raised her voice ever so slightly, and
waggled two fingers in a delicate wave. To Juliana’s dismay, John
Breen turned toward them and made his way through the crowd,
chatting easily with various guests as he crossed the room. She saw
him pause by Bart Mueller’s side and converse for a moment, before
his gaze swung sharply toward Gil Keedy.
“Now, be amiable,” Aunt Katharine whispered
as he moved toward them once more, “and remember how important this
business proposition is to your uncle!”
John Breen looked more handsome than ever
against the festive background of the party. Head and shoulders
taller than most of the other men, he paused before Juliana with a
flashing smile. “Evening, ladies. Hope you’re enjoying the
party.”
“It’s delightful, Mr. Breen, simply
delightful.” Katharine Tobias’s usually haughty tone was sugary
now, making Juliana wince. “You westerners certainly know how to
enjoy yourselves.”
“Yes, we like to kick up our heels now and
then. It takes our minds off our troubles.”
“What troubles could you possibly have, Mr.
Breen?” Juliana couldn’t resist asking. “You have a lovely ranch
and a successful business empire, and from the number of people
here in your home tonight, I’d guess you have many friends and
well-wishers. Surely you must be a happy man.”
He stroked his mustache in a smooth,
automatic gesture that she was coming to recognize as a habit with
him. “Happy, Miss Montgomery? Mostly. Trouble-free? No, ma’am.” His
glance swept the room, missing nothing. “Every man has his enemies,
Miss Montgomery. I have mine. Sometimes they try to get in the way
of what I want. That makes me mighty unhappy—until I’ve rid myself
of them. Then,” he continued, smiling down at her, “I can be happy
again.”
“What sort of enemies?”
“There are those who resent when someone else
has more wealth than they do—when he is more successful, more
intelligent, more powerful. Men like that are troublemakers, and
they become the natural adversaries of those who succeed in this
world. They’re pests, I’m afraid, every bit as loathsome as locusts
and gnats and grasshoppers, and they must be stamped out the same
way. But there’s a worse enemy, Miss Montgomery,” he added,
“something more painful and awful and irksome than any other.”
He was watching her with a keen, speculative
glance, the glinting topaz eyes gazing directly down into her face.
Very well, Mr. Breen, I’ll bite
, Juliana thought.
“And what might that be?” she inquired,
suddenly aware that Aunt Katharine was melting away into the
crowded room without a word to either of them. Juliana was alone in
her corner with John Breen.
“Lonesomeness,” he answered promptly, and
slipped a hand under her elbow. Before Juliana could protest, he
was guiding her toward the western windows of the parlour, where
French doors opened onto the verandah. “In these parts, Miss
Montgomery, life is hard and rough on a man. It can take its toll.
A man gets lonely up here near the mountains, all by himself. He
finds he has the need for a woman, someone who’ll stand by him, be
a helpmate to him. Someone he can love and cherish.”
They were on the verandah now, isolated from
the lights and the crowd, from the noisy company of voices and
laughter. Juliana stepped away from him and gripped the smooth
porch rail, very aware of John Breen’s tall form following her in
the darkness. “If lonesomeness is your enemy, Mr. Breen, I am sure
that in your case it is easily vanquished.” She shot him a steady
look. “No doubt there are dozens of women in Denver who would be
more than happy to give you their company.”
“True enough, I could have my pick of
women—but as you yourself observed, I hold a somewhat special place
in this community. A man of my position and standing cannot
paused on the threshold and surveyed the packed room. “Oh, Mr.
Bree-en.” Aunt Katharine raised her voice ever so slightly, and
waggled two fingers in a delicate wave. To Juliana’s dismay, John
Breen turned toward them and made his way through the crowd,
chatting easily with various guests as he crossed the room. She saw
him pause by Bart Mueller’s side and converse for a moment, before
his gaze swung sharply toward Gil Keedy.
“Now, be amiable,” Aunt Katharine whispered
as he moved toward them once more, “and remember how important this
business proposition is to your uncle!”
John Breen looked more handsome than ever
against the festive background of the party. Head and shoulders
taller than most of the other men, he paused before Juliana with a
flashing smile. “Evening, ladies. Hope you’re enjoying the
party.”
“It’s delightful, Mr. Breen, simply
delightful.” Katharine Tobias’s usually haughty tone was sugary
now, making Juliana wince. “You westerners certainly know how to
enjoy yourselves.”
“Yes, we like to kick up our heels now and
then. It takes our minds off our troubles.”
“What troubles could you possibly have, Mr.
Breen?” Juliana couldn’t resist asking. “You have a lovely ranch
and a successful business empire, and from the number of people
here in your home tonight, I’d guess you have many friends and
well-wishers. Surely you must be a happy man.”
He stroked his mustache in a smooth,
automatic gesture that she was coming to recognize as a habit with
him. “Happy, Miss Montgomery? Mostly. Trouble-free? No, ma’am.” His
glance swept the room, missing nothing. “Every man has his enemies,
Miss Montgomery. I have mine. Sometimes they try to get in the way
of what I want. That makes me mighty unhappy—until I’ve rid myself
of them. Then,” he continued, smiling down at her, “I can be happy
again.”
“What sort of enemies?”
“There are those who resent when someone else
has more wealth than they do—when he is more successful, more
intelligent, more powerful. Men like that are troublemakers, and
they become the natural adversaries of those who succeed in this
world. They’re pests, I’m afraid, every bit as loathsome as locusts
and gnats and grasshoppers, and they must be stamped out the same
way. But there’s a worse enemy, Miss Montgomery,” he added,
“something more painful and awful and irksome than any other.”
He was watching her with a keen, speculative
glance, the glinting topaz eyes gazing directly down into her face.
Very well, Mr. Breen, I’ll bite
, Juliana thought.
“And what might that be?” she inquired,
suddenly aware that Aunt Katharine was melting away into the
crowded room without a word to either of them. Juliana was alone in
her corner with John Breen.
“Lonesomeness,” he answered promptly, and
slipped a hand under her elbow. Before Juliana could protest, he
was guiding her toward the western windows of the parlour, where
French doors opened onto the verandah. “In these parts, Miss
Montgomery, life is hard and rough on a man. It can take its toll.
A man gets lonely up here near the mountains, all by himself. He
finds he has the need for a woman, someone who’ll stand by him, be
a helpmate to him. Someone he can love and cherish.”
They were on the verandah now, isolated from
the lights and the crowd, from the noisy company of voices and
laughter. Juliana stepped away from him and gripped the smooth
porch rail, very aware of John Breen’s tall form following her in
the darkness. “If lonesomeness is your enemy, Mr. Breen, I am sure
that in your case it is easily vanquished.” She shot him a steady
look. “No doubt there are dozens of women in Denver who would be
more than happy to give you their company.”
“True enough, I could have my pick of
women—but as you yourself observed, I hold a somewhat special place
in this community. A man of my position and standing cannot
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