Something Borrowed (Jordan-Alexander Family 3)

Lee stared at the envelope addressed to him. "No," he murmured, "I'd rather you stayed." He took a deep breath to steady himself, then ripped open the letter and read:

April 3, 1873 Utopia, Colorado Territory

Dearest Lee,

If you read this, my worst fears have been realized. I have pneumonia and the doctor doesn't offer much hope for me. He's recommended that I put my affairs in order.

I've never cared much for loose ends and I certainly don't intend to leave any for someone else to tie up. As you so often reminded me, I do like things wrapped up in neat tidy packages. And that, my dear, is where you come in.

I've taken the liberty of making you the executor and chief beneficiary of my estate. I don't own very much property, but there is a house and a silver mine in Utopia, a legacy from my late uncle, Arthur Ettinger. The mine doesn't bring in a great deal of income. The current silver veins are nearly played out, but I'm told there might be other larger, more productive veins. I haven't pursued that possibility simply because I lack the necessary capital to do so. I tell you all this because I'm leaving the mine and the house to you. The property is yours to do with as you see fit so long as you agree to meet the terms of my will.

(1) You must agree to keep the property for a term of no less than twenty years.

(2) You must agree to resign from the Pinkerton National Detective Agency within ninety days from the date of my death.

(3) You must agree to refrain from working in any area of law enforcement.

(4) You must marry and settle in Utopia within thirty days of my death. And you must allow Judah Crane, my attorney, to witness the marriage.

I want you to know, dearest Lee, that none of this is meant to cause you pain or harm. Quite the opposite, I'm afraid, for you see, I want you to live a long and happy life. That's part of the reason I'm asking you to make what I know you will see as impossible sacrifices.

"Dammit, Tabitha!" Lee jumped up from his chair and began to pace the confines of the sitting room. He stared up at the ceiling, focusing his gaze on the plaster medallion surrounding the brass chandelier, while he railed at Tabitha. "How can you ask me to do this? Why?" Lee wanted to crumple the letter and toss it aside. He wanted to forget about her demands or the reasons behind them. "I won't do it," he glared at Tabby's lawyer. "I don't give a damn about a silver mine or a house in Utopia, Colorado. I'm not quitting the Agency for Tabby Gray or anyone else!" He walked over to the old man. "I don't need this! You keep the silver mine and the house and whatever else she left behind."

"That's the problem, young man," Judah

answered. "I can't keep what Tabitha left behind. I'm too old. My mind and my eyesight are failing me. I can't remember things. And I don't see well enough to look after her."

"Her?" Lee stopped in his tracks and stared at the old man. "What the devil are you talking about?"

Judah Crane pushed himself to his feet. "Come here, young man," he grabbed Lee by the elbow, "and I'll show you." Leaning heavily against Lee, Judah limped to one of the suite's two bedrooms and quietly opened the door. "You look at that," he nodded toward the bed, "and finish reading Tabitha's letter before you say what you are or are not going to do."

Lee stared at the little girl on the narrow bed. She lay sprawled on her stomach at the head of the bed. She'd flung the covers aside and her pillow lay on the floor. One plump arm was wrapped firmly around a doll with dark brown hair and an exquisitely painted porcelain face with a red bow-shaped mouth and big brown eyes—a doll that bore a striking resemblance to Tabitha Gray.

Lee edged inside the room, moving closer to the bed to kneel beside it. Her hair was dark brown, almost black, damp with sweat, and tangled around her face. Her long eyelashes fanned against her pink cheeks. She slept with her lips pursed around her right thumb, her index finger curved across the tip of her nose. Smiling, Lee gently brushed her damp curls away from her face, looped the strands behind her ear, then traced the line of her jaw with the tips of his fingers. He pulled the sheet up around the child's shoulders and over the doll in the dirty wedding dress, then pulled the sheet tight and tucked it beneath the mattress. "Sweet dreams, little one." Lee touched her cheek, marvelling at the baby-soft feel of her skin as she gave a small restless sigh and opened her eyes.

He sucked in a breath. He had expected her eyes to be the soft doe-brown color of her mother's. Or maybe a different shade of brown, lighter or darker—even green or hazel, but he never imagined the brilliant sapphire blue staring back at him.

She smiled shyly, yawned widely, then closed her eyes and returned to her dreams.

Lee straightened, then carefully backed out of the bedroom. He didn't speak. He simply returned to his chair, gathered the scattered pages of Tabitha's letter from the floor, and finished reading:

If I know you as well as I think, I expect you'll be ready to throw this letter and my will back in Judah's face once you've seen the terms. But remember, dearest Lee, I never asked anything of you in life, and never expected more than you could give. And I only ask these things of you because I can't see to details myself. Don't think badly of me for making demands now when you can't refuse me in person and please don't disappoint me. I believe I have every right to make demands. It's only fair when I'm about to give you my most precious gift.

Her name is Madeline. She's two and a half, and I want you and the bride of your choice to adopt her and raise her as your own…

* * *

Chapter Three

"What happens to the little girl if I refuse?" Lee glanced toward the bedroom door as he folded Tabitha's letter and returned it to the envelope.

"She'll be sent to a Methodist Foundling Home in St. Louis," Judah answered matter-of-factly.

"Christ, Tabitha!" Lee swore, raked his fingers through his hair and glanced up at the ceiling once again. "Doesn't she have any relatives?"

"She doesn't have any kin that I know of. None that Tabitha mentioned," Judah answered.

Lee muttered another curse under his breath. "Well, she must have a father." He turned to the old lawyer in frustration. "Where the hell is he?"