Kentucky Bride

by Norah Hess

  Her dress was a shade of blue that matched her eyes and it was quite daring in the neckline. It hadn't been designed that way, but due to her pregnancy her breasts had filled out considerably, making them much too large for the dress since it was ordered to her measurements a month ago. Poor Ellen was quite irate at the seamstress in Boston.

  "I can't understand it," she'd wailed when they tried on the dresses and D'lise's was so snug in the bodice. "Mine fits perfectly, but your breasts are ready to fall out of your bodice."

  D'lise had been afraid the dress wouldn't fit her at all on the day of the wedding two weeks away. Then she discovered that the garment had wide seams and tucks, and if her breasts didn't get too much larger, she would be able to make it fit, with some lace tucked into the low-cut top.

  She sighed softly as she walked along. She'd have to tell Ellen and her friends about her approaching motherhood soon. Pregnancy was something you could hide only so long.

  What would they say? she wondered. What advice would they give her? And what would Kane's thoughts be on becoming a father—for a second time. Would it anger him, or would it pump up his ego that he had begotten two babies almost within the same month?

  Probably the latter, the prowling tomcat.

  David and Johnny came loping down the hill to meet Kane. They had made beans and ham hocks for supper, Johnny informed him as they walked alongside the stallion. Puffing a little, he added, "David baked a pan of cornpone, and it ain't bad. I told him how to, though. I used to watch D'lise, and I remembered what she put in it."

  Kane knew the youngster was dying to ask him about D'lise, but that most likely David had told him not to. He gazed down at the freckled face lifted to his and said gently, "I saw D'lise, but she won't be comin' back to us for a while."

  "Did you go to the schoolhouse and talk to her?" Johnny asked, looking as if he might cry any minute.

  "No, I saw her on the street with Mr. Majors and Ellen Travis."

  "Heck." Johnny kicked at a rock. "She's always with them."

  That bit of news darkened Kane's mood to a point that lasted through the consumption of slightly scorched beans and cornbread burned on the underside. He could have been chewing on wood chips for all the attention he was paying to what was in his mouth. The boys were unaware of what had put him in this sullen mood and were almost glad that he left the cabin as soon as the meal was over.

  "I sure wish D'lise would come back, so Kane would laugh and smile again," Johnny said wistfully, watching Kane descend the hill to another empty, lonely night.

  Inside the cabin he had shared with D'lise but a short time, Kane took a bottle of whiskey off the mantel and sat down in one of the rocking chairs. He stared into the dead fireplace struggling with the desire to ride back to Piney Ridge, find Samuel Majors, and pound his handsome face into a bloody pulp.

  He fought the wild desire, and it slowly died away. With a sigh, he uncorked the bottle and lifted it to his lips. Slowly the whiskey blunted his thoughts and made him sleepy.

  Two miles beyond Tom Spears's place, Albert Bracken lay on top of Raven in a one-room shack of a cabin. Bracken, in his mid-thirties, was mostly a loner, not caring overly for his fellow men. He never visited any of his neighbors, nor did he want them coming to pass the time of day with him.

  The man hated Kane Devlin and loved his former squaw, Raven. Sometimes he almost choked on the bile he felt for the trapper. Where Kane was tall and muscular, Albert was short and squat. Where Kane was the handsomest man in the hills, Albert's face was deeply pockmarked, with a bulbous nose and small squinty eyes.

  Raven had visited Albert off and on, sometimes spending a week or two with him. She had lived with him all the time Kane was away fighting in the war, but on his return she had gone back to her handsome lover. Then Kane had got married and kicked her out.

  Although Albert was happy beyond words to have Raven back, there was a bitterness in his soul. The trapper's wife had left him, and he knew that if Devlin said the word, Raven would go back to him again.

  He plunged himself deeper into Raven's writhing body, and at her command moved faster and faster, his belly slapping against hers in time with the loud creaking of the bed attached to the wall. Sweat gathered on his face, back, and shoulders. He had been working over her for at least half an hour, and she still wanted more.

  Well, he would give it to her, he told himself. The thing that attracted him to Raven was her ability to keep up with the lust that seemed to ride him constantly. He knew that his great size and stamina were what kept her coming back to him. He felt pretty sure that, in that department, he outshone Kane Devlin—or any other man.

  "You'll never have her again, Devlin, you bastard," he whispered to himself, pumping his hips fiercely.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Two more weeks passed, and August was only two days away. Kane's leg had almost regained its full strength, helped along by his hunting with the boys a couple of hours each day. Stretching his legs, climbing the hills, had toned up the muscles the bullet had ripped through. It was no hardship to ride anymore, and three or four times a week he rode to the village.

  He had grown used to being snubbed by the womenfolk, and though it bothered him, it was a small price to pay for the off-chance he might catch a glimpse of D'lise. Mabe he'd get lucky today, he thought, his seat easy in the saddle, his body moving with the ambling gait of the stallion. He had seen D'lise twice, each time going into Majors's store. He had wanted to call out to her, but had dreaded the cold look she would turn on him. Her glacial blue stare froze him to his very heart.

  Pulling up in front of the fur post, Kane swung to the ground and tied Snowy to the hitching post. He stepped up on the porch, but instead of entering the tavern, he sat down in one of the chairs Buck kept there for anyone who wanted to sit and gab with friends, or just watch the people who went about their business.

  It was a hot, drowsy afternoon and there weren't many people about. After a half hour had passed, he'd seen only a couple of boys wander down the street, kicking an empty whiskey bottle to each other, and an old hound crawl under a porch across the street.

  He had just about given up hope of seeing D'lise—it was probably too hot for her to be out—when he saw her coming down the street. He stopped the rocker and sat forward, his eyes practically eating her. As he silently prayed she wouldn't go into Majors's store, she lifted her skirt a bit and climbed the two steps of the emporium. He ground his teeth together when she disappeared through the door. He took out his pocket watch and noted the time, then sat back and waited for her reappearance.

  An hour passed, and then another, and still D'lise hadn't left the store. Images that rocked his soul flashed through Kane's mind—D'lise and Majors in bed together, she making love to the man in the same way she had once done to him—a hundred years ago, it seemed. And the storekeeper would be whispering love words to her, words her husband didn't know how to say, even though his mind screamed them.

  Hell, he'd never even been able to say the words "I love you," although he loved her so much it scared him half to death.

  Kane was ready to storm the store, find Majors's bedroom, and march D'lise out of it after knocking hell out of the man, when D'lise stepped out onto the porch, Ellen Travis behind her. He hadn't known that Ellen was in there, too, and his whole being lightened. He watched the two women say goodbye to Majors, then walk down the street. There couldn't have been too much going on with Ellen in there too.

  "She and the widder had lunch with the storekeeper." Old Tom had quietly come up behind him.

  "How come you know that?" Kane asked, his eyes following D'lise as she walked along, watching the sway of her rounded hips, recalling with a twist in his loins how they had felt beneath his body, rising to meet his thrusts.

  God, it had been so long.

  "D'lise told me yesterday," Tom was saying. "The three of them are thicker than fleas on an old hound dog. They're always havin' lunch together, either at the store
or at the widder's cabin."

  "What about supper?" Kane growled. "I expect they get together for that too."

  "Nope. Majors has them two little girls, and he can't leave them alone at night. His housekeeper goes home around four o'clock, and naturally D'lise and the widder don't go on the streets after dark."

  "I guess," Kane agreed, then said, "Tom, you're close to D'lise. Can't you put in a good word for me, tell her I'm innocent of anything to do with Raven? I still think the bitch is lyin'."

  "I've done tried, son. Ain't no use. She's hurtin', and she feels betrayed. Your only hope is that when that Indian bitch drops her papoose, it don't look like you. If it's fair with light-colored hair like yourn, I think you can forget about ever gettin' D'lise back."

  "Well, by God," Kane shouted, jumping to his feet and sending the chair over backward, "there ain't no other man gonna have her either. You tell her that, tell her to relay the message to that bastard across the street. He's wanted her ever since he laid eyes on her. I'll shoot him in a heartbeat if he ever tries to take her away from me."

  The old trapper looked at him, for a moment seeming about to disagree with Kane's heated announcement. Then, with his gnarled hand covering a tickled grin, he said solemnly, "I'll tell her, Kane."

  Without further words, Kane left the porch and swung onto Snowy's back. Tom watched him ride away. "I should have told him about the widder and Majors gettin' married next Saturday," he said to himself. "Put an end to the poor devil's misery." But it pleased his odd sense of humor to teach the younger trapper not to be so full of himself. For years, the young buck had gone his careless way, taking his pleasure where he found it. It was time he knew mental pain, learned a little humility. The fiddler wanted to be paid now. He had given Kane Devlin too many years of free music.

  His brows drawn together in annoyance, Kane muttered, "Damn ornery old coot. My misery tickles the hell out of him. Deep down he thinks I'm guilty."

  The stallion climbed the hill and Kane looked across the narrow valley to where the two cabins drowsed in the late afternoon sun. He had known such happiness in both of them. It had been the furthest thing from his mind that it could all be wiped out in just a few minutes.

  Kane's first indication of danger was the tightening of Snowy's body, the pricking forward of his ears. He firmed his grip on the reins, but before he could goad the stallion into action a shot rang out, and a bullet splintered the bark of a tree only inches from his head. He flung himself to the ground, his hand snatching his gun from its holster. He rolled over once, came up on one knee, and squeezed the trigger, aiming at a rider disappearing through a thick growth of trees. He gritted out a furious oath. He had missed the sneaking sniper. Nor had he been able to recognize the man in the gloom of the trees.

  He stood up, brushed himself off, and climbed back on the stallion. His expression dark and hard, he sent Snowy down the hill. Somebody wanted him dead, and had come damn close to seeing it happen. He rubbed the still tender scar on his leg. He had no doubt it was the same man who had put the mark on his thigh—but what man? As far as he knew, only Samuel Majors would benefit from his death. He would be free to marry D'lise once her husband was out of the way.

  Kane shook his head at that thought. As much as he hated the man, the storekeeper wasn't the sort to sneak up on a man and try to kill him. He was still racking his brain for an answer when he rode past the new cabin and continued on up to the old one.

  As he neared the one-room shack, he squinted his eyes against the setting sun shining on his face. Was that Big Beaver sitting on the porch with the boys? He hoped so. He could use some of his friend's wise counsel.

  The tall brave stood up as Kane swung to the ground and stepped onto the porch. They stood a moment grinning at each other; then Kane said, "Where have you been all summer? I hope you've come to do some huntin'."

  "Maybe," Big Beaver answered, his black eyes skimming over Kane's face. When he had noted its thinness, the deep grooves along his cheeks, he said, "It is told around our campfires that much has happened to you since last we hunted together."

  "That sure as hell is true," Kane grunted, dropping down on the edge of the porch. "I've been shot at twice, took a bullet in my leg the first time."

  "We didn't know you was shot at again, Kane," David exclaimed.

  "It just happened on my way home, over on the other hill. He damn near got me this time. Missed my head by inches. I heard the whistle of the bullet."

  Big Beaver sat quietly, letting David and Johnny fire questions at Kane, speculating on who the sniper was and why he had shot at Kane. When they finally ran down, he spoke:

  "I have heard also that your little flower has left you."

  "Yes." Kane looked out over the yard to the encroaching trees.

  The Indian chuckled softly. "Maybe she's the one trying to kill you. Does your wife believe Raven's foolish claim?"

  Kane's head shot up, and he stared at the tall brave. "Friend, you must be the only person in these hills who thinks the woman is lyin'."

  "Thinks she's lying?" Big Beaver grunted. "I know she's lying. The woman cannot get with child."

  "Are you sure of this, Big Beaver?" Kane asked, afraid to believe it was so.

  "When Raven was thirteen, she was racing her pony down a valley one day. It stepped in a hole, tossed her off its back, then fell on her lower body. The female part of her body was badly damaged."

  It seemed to Kane that the weight of the hills had been lifted off his shoulders. Proof—at last he had proof. "Big Beaver," he said earnestly, "you have just given me back a reason for livin'. Will you ride with me to the village, tell my wife that I didn't sleep with that lyin' bitch?"

  "Hold on, friend." Big Beaver held up a hand. "I have no proof that you didn't sleep with Raven. I can only prove that she's not carrying your child. It's up to you to convince your woman otherwise."

  "How in the hell do I do that?" Kane ran agitated fingers through his hair. "If I only knew where Raven is holed up, I'd try to threaten the truth out of her."

  "She's living with your neighbor, Albert Bracken," Big Beaver said quietly. "Has been all summer—and while you were away those two years."

  "I forgot about Bracken's yen for her," Kane said thoughtfully. "We had a little set-to over her right after I returned home from the war."

  "Didn't it occur to you that he might be the one trying to kill you?" the Shawnee asked. "With your wife gone, he probably fears that Raven will leave him for you again.

  "I think he's the one to talk to. He'll know better than anyone if you took the squaw in a drunken stupor." This last was said with a slightly condemning tone.

  Kane gave Big Beaver a reproachful look. "You think I'm guilty. I can hear it in your voice."

  "I don't think you're guilty of any wrongdoing with the woman. I think you're guilty of acting the fool and drinking so much firewater you forgot where you lived."

  Kane let that pass. He had no defense. Now he must try to undo all the damage his pride and jealousy had brought about.

  "I'm gonna have one hell of a time tryin' to talk to Bracken," Kane said, half to himself. "If he's the one who's been tryin' to kill me, he'll not miss when I come knockin' at his door."

  "That is true," Big Beaver agreed. "As you well know, a jealous man acts first, then wonders at his actions. What you must do is watch his cabin. When he leaves it, you follow him, catch up with him. First you calm his worries that you will want his woman back and convince him that you care only for your wife. Only then will he tell you what you want to know."

  Night had fallen as D'lise sat on her small porch, and here and there through the darkness lights began to shine in the windows of Piney Ridge. A screech owl sent up his long, quavering call, and her eyes smarted with tears at the sound.

  She and Kane used to sit on the porch of the old cabin after dark, listening to the night sounds as they talked quietly together. She sighed wistfully. She missed him so, missed being aroused in the middle of
the night by the feel of his arms wrapped around her.

  Kane had been on her mind so much the past four days, ever since she had glimpsed him when she and Ellen left Samuel's store. She had glanced over her shoulder to look at him again, but she saw only his back as he strode away in that careless, arrogant way of his.

  With a choked-off sob, she dropped her head on her drawn-up knees. She knew she shouldn't, but she still loved her husband. She had no illusions remaining that he returned that love, for never once had he said that he did.

  Yet, for some reason she couldn't understand, he hadn't wanted her to leave him that heart-breaking morning. There was also the fact, according to David and Johnny, that Raven hadn't been around the cabin. That must mean…

  D'lise raised her head suddenly, a startled look on her face. She had just felt a stirring in her lower stomach, as though a tiny animal had darted across it. Her face broke into a wide smile. Her baby had moved for the first time! She laid her palm over her slightly thickened waist and waited for the movement again. Although she waited for ten minutes, nothing happened.

  She did some serious thinking as she sat staring into the darkness. Did she have the right to rob her child of its father? Kane would make a good father—if he wanted to. She came to a hard-thought-out decision. If only for the life growing inside her, tomorrow after Ellen's wedding, she was going to the cabin to tell Kane about the coming baby. His reaction to her news would determine whether she stayed there, giving her marriage another chance, or continued to make plans to go to Boston.

  The stallion nibbled at clumps of grass as Kane knelt behind a screening of brush. This was the fourth morning he'd been there, watching the Bracken shack. He had seen both Albert and Raven moving around outside, but the man he wanted to talk to hadn't left the premises.