Rand’s face brightened when he saw Sarah. “You look much better.”
“Well, I’m starved. How ’bout you, honey?” Jacob pulled Amelia to her feet. “Let’s go get some grub at the mess hall.” They started toward the door. “Come with us, half-pint,” he told Joel. “We won’t be late,” he called over his shoulder.
The ploy to leave them alone was too obvious to be missed, and Sarah suppressed a smile. “I’ll fix you some flapjacks.” Rand stared at her arm, and she pulled her shawl over the bruises there.
“I’m not hungry yet. We need to talk. I want to know what happened. You’ve been avoiding my questions. And I have some things to tell you too.”
Sarah sat back down abruptly. She was tired of worrying about his reaction. There was only one way to find out. “I was afraid you’d blame me, but I swear to you I had no idea he would try something like that.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Ben. He hired some Laramie loafers to grab me,” she blurted the words out in a rush, then hurried on as his face darkened. “When I came to, I was in a locked cabin by myself. Ben showed up—” She drew a ragged breath. “He—he said we should have been married by then. He . . .” Her words trailed away at the irate expression on his face.
“That no-good skunk. So that’s what he meant.” Rand leaned over and touched her arm. “He gave you those bruises? Did he—did he hurt you in any other way?”
She shook her head. “I hit him over the head with a stool leg and knocked him out cold. Then I took off and got away while he was out. Labe was there too, but he wasn’t watching the cabin. What did you mean, ‘that’s what he meant’? When did you talk to him?”
Rand drew a couple of deep breaths, then grabbed his hat.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Jessica. I have some unfinished business to take care of.” He came back and kissed her quickly. “Don’t go outside the grounds. I might not be lucky enough to find you a second time. Don’t look so worried. I’ll tell the whole story when I get back.” He gazed down into her eyes, then stroked her cheek. “I know it wasn’t your fault, Green Eyes.”
She watched him go with some relief. He did trust her after all. “Be careful,” she called after his retreating back.
Jessica looked up as her mother ushered Rand into the parlor, then left them alone. “Darling.” She rose to her feet. “I didn’t know you were back.” She lifted her face for a kiss, but Rand just stared at her impassively. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Your little plan failed.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Her blue eyes looked huge and innocent.
Rand could see behind her beauty now. She was like a snake, gorgeous coloring but a deadly bite. “I know all about it, Jessica. Ben told me the whole story when he tried to kill me.”
Her eyes widened. “Ben who? Who tried to kill you?”
Rand could see the pulse beating quickly in her throat. She was a smooth one all right. “You and Ben schemed to kidnap Sarah to get her away from me. You knew I still loved her. Don’t bother to deny it. And it almost worked. But I found her, and we pieced together what the two of you cooked up between you.”
Jessica’s face whitened. “How could you prefer that little milksop to me?” She put her hand to her mouth, and her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Rand. I didn’t want to lose you. Surely you can see I had to do something. I could see the hold she had over you.”
“I love her. I always have.” He saw her flinch but went on anyway. “I tried to deceive myself, but I can’t any longer. How could you do such a thing? If people just knew the evil that hides behind that beautiful mask of yours! You can consider our engagement off, of course.” He put his hat on and stalked toward the door.
“Wait, Rand!” Jessica ran after him and caught his sleeve. “I know you love me. We can work this out.”
He shook her hand off. “All I feel for you is contempt.” He didn’t wait to see the effect of his words but slammed the door behind him.
That was over. Now to find Croftner. He stopped to see the colonel, who readily agreed to let him take six men out to look for Ben and try to bring him in.
After two days Rand had no luck in picking up Ben’s trail. Reluctantly, he turned toward Fort Laramie and home. He hated to face Sarah with his failure. Neither one of them could rest until they knew the threat Ben posed was eliminated.
He paused atop a bluff, took a swig from his canteen, then led the men down the slope. “Lieutenant, over here!” One of the men waved from the top of the bluff.
Rand trotted over to where the men stood. A body lay facedown in a ravine. He rolled the man over and gasped. It was Labe. He groaned, and Rand turned to hail one of his men. “Get me my canteen.” He poured a little water into Labe’s mouth. “Easy, now. Not too much,” he cautioned as Labe tried to sit up to suck more water down.
“Indians!” Labe moaned and thrashed around as Rand drew the canteen away.
“They’re gone. You’re with friends now.”
“Rand?” Labe peered up at him. “I’m sorry ’bout poor little Sarah. I tried to talk Ben out of it, but he wouldn’t listen to no reason.”
“Where is Ben?”
Tears welled up in Labe’s eyes. “Dead. Indians attacked us. Ben fought them, but he fell off his horse and hit his head. “I–I buried him over there.” He pointed to a long pile of rocks.
Rand patted his shoulder. “How’d you get away?”
“They left me here.” He touched his head gingerly. “They must have hit me on the head.”
“You’ll be all right. We just need to get you back to the fort.” He helped Labe to his feet and helped him up into the saddle. It was a long way back to Fort Laramie.
The week flew by as Sarah immersed herself in activity. She tried to still the worry as she thought of Rand out looking for Ben. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning she taught the Indian children. Living with the Sioux for those four days gave her a new love and tenderness for the dark-eyed youngsters who crowded into the small church. She delighted in seeing their solemn faces break into smile.
She had just gotten back from school when Joel burst into the parlor. “Rand’s back!” She jumped to her feet and followed him onto the porch where she saw a familiar set of broad shoulders striding toward her across the parade ground. With a cry, she ran into his open arms.
He hugged her tightly, then led her back inside the house. Joel jabbered excitedly as he followed them. “I need to talk to your sister for a few minutes alone, half-pint. Can you find something else to do for a little while?”
“Sure. Tommy Justice, the new lieutenant’s son, said he’d play baseball with me.”
“Thanks.” Rand turned back to Sarah. “Sit down here with me. We have a lot to talk about.” He took her hand.
Sarah sat beside him, her heart pounding at his solemn face.
“Ben’s dead.” He told her what Labe had told him and then the entire story of Ben’s plot.
Sarah was surprised at her own reaction. She felt unexplainable sadness over Ben’s wasted life, although he had received his just reward. “I read a verse this morning. It said, ‘And he shall bring upon them their own iniquity, and shall cut them off in their own wickedness; yea, the Lord our God shall cut them off.’ ”
Rand nodded. “But Jessica was in on it too. And God hasn’t cut her off.”
She squeezed his hand as the words sank in. “That was the plan I heard them talking about.”
He nodded again. “The whole thing was her idea.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “Not that Ben wouldn’t have come up with s
omething himself.”
“Why would she do such a thing?”
“To get you away from me.” He stared into her face. “She sensed I still had feelings for you.” He shook his head. “I had no idea she was capable of such an act of vengeance.”
Her heart surged at his admission in spite of her shock. He did still love her. “That’s why she left Fort Laramie in such a hurry.” She saw his questioning look. “She left the day after you did. She’s going to Boston with her mother.”
“I see.” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you at the Sioux encampment, but I felt it was only right that I break things off with Jessica first. I’ve been a fool, Sarah. I never stopped loving you. I’ve never loved anyone but you.”
She laid a hand on his cheek. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’ve always loved you.”
He caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips. “Will you marry me?”
“When?” Her stomach was playing mumblety-peg as he kissed her palm lingeringly.
“Today wouldn’t be too soon.” He put an arm around her and pulled her onto his lap. “I love you so much, Green Eyes. Even when I told myself I hated you, deep down I knew better.” He traced a finger along the curve of her smooth cheek, then bent his head.
As his lips found hers, tears slipped out of Sarah’s eyes. She put her arms around his neck as the kiss became more urgent. When he pulled away, she slid her fingers through the rough thatch of his hair.
“Let’s not wait too long to marry,” he whispered. “I want you all to myself.”
“Me too,” she said, blushing. “But what about Joel?”
“He’ll live with us, of course. I love him like a brother. But I think Jacob will keep him for a week or so while we settle into married life.”
She’d known he loved Joel, but it soothed her to hear him say the words. She nestled her face against his shirt.
EPILOGUE
A crisp spring morning three days later, Sarah and Rand stood before the post chaplain, Reverend Jameson. Every soldier in the fort had crammed into the tiny church to see their girl decked out in her finery.
In the front pew their families smiled as they watched them say their vows. Joel had been ecstatic when he’d realized he’d get to live with Rand.
After Rand and Sarah repeated their promises, the men behind them put up a rousing cheer as Rand, in his best uniform, kissed Sarah and turned to face the crowd. The officers formed a canopy of swords that he led his bride through and out into the spring sunshine.
Sarah wore her mama’s green dress, a perfect match for the emerald eyes she raised to Rand as they clasped hands and stepped out to meet their new life together. Her heart had truly led her home.
DEDICATION
For my brother Rick Rhoads, who never let me lose faith in myself.
ONE
AUGUST 1866, WABASH, INDIANA
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway echoed in the shrouded darkness of the parlor. Emmie Courtney sat on the black horsehair sofa, her hands clasped in the folds of her silk skirt. She stared into space as she desperately tried to imagine she was some other place, that the reason her friends and neighbors were gathered in her house on this sultry August day was something else entirely. The clatter of carriage wheels on the fine plank streets outside the open window couldn’t drown out the beat of her heart pounding in her ears.
He can’t be dead. I have to wake up. This is just a nightmare. A nightmare. She repeated the litany to herself as she closed her eyes to avoid the pitying eyes of her friends.
Only last week her life had been perfect. Married to a handsome, up-and-coming lawyer in the burgeoning town of Wabash, Indiana, her life seemed like a fairy tale come true. The War between the States was over, and parties and gay life were everywhere.
But now her dashing husband lay buried in a grave under the rain drizzling down outside. The nearly overpowering scent of the flowers massed around the room couldn’t quite cover the stench of decay that had wafted up from the casket and permeated the room for the last few days. That undeniable smell told her quite clearly that this wasn’t a nightmare.
Her neighbor Lally Saylors touched her shoulder. “Do try to eat a bit, Emmie, dear.” She handed her a cup of tea and a small bowl of stew, then sat beside her.
Emmie took it and forced a sip of tea down her tight throat. “I still can’t quite grasp it, you know. I keep expecting Monroe to come bursting in the door shouting for me to get my cloak and go for a drive or something. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of the horses screaming as the carriage rolled over.”
“You were lucky to get off with only a concussion.”
“But Monroe—I needed more time with him.” Emmie broke off, too choked to continue.
Her eyes misting with tears, Lally patted Emmie’s hand. “I know, dear.”
It had been three marvelous months. Emmie had lived securely in a love that she’d never before experienced, a love that shone from Monroe’s laughing brown eyes whenever he looked at her.
“How did you meet? Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”
Emmie smiled as the memory swept over her. “Things were always . . . difficult at home, and I often took off to walk along the river. My father had been particularly nasty one day, and I went to my favorite spot at Hanging Rock. I was sitting there wiping tears when Monroe stepped out of the shadows with a daffodil in his hand. He said no one as beautiful as me should look so sad, and he wanted to do something to make me smile.”
“And did it?”
“No one could be sad around Monroe. He was always so full of life and laughter. He said his goal in life was to never see me cry again.” Her throat thickened. “He would have been grieved to see me now.”
“One only had to see how he looked at you to know he adored you.” Lally took a sip of her tea. “Have you thought yet about what you will do?”
Emmie shook her head. “I haven’t heard from Ben and Labe since they left for the Dakota Territory. I don’t have any other family.”
“I just hate it that you’re here all alone, so far from your kin at a time like this.”
Emmie nodded. She was used to it, though. She and her brothers had never been close, and after her mother died, her father was almost always drunk until his death three years ago. Emmie had grown up in a ramshackle country home just outside town, with the animals for friends. Her brother Labe had given her sporadic attention, but Ben ignored her except when he wanted something. Ben was obsessed with making the Croftner name stand for something other than “the town drunk.” He would have approved of Monroe.
She’d never had a best friend and didn’t really know how to have fun until Monroe swept into her life like a whirlwind. They’d married after a courtship of only six weeks, and after three months of marriage, she still felt she hadn’t even begun to know her fascinating husband.
Now she never would.
She took another halfhearted nibble of her food. “I’ll probably stay here at least for a while. The house is paid for, and we never seemed to want for money. Surely there is enough to live on for a while if I’m careful. Mr. Eddingfield is supposed to come out tomorrow to discuss my financial affairs.” She cringed at the thought of facing Monroe’s employer and his sympathy. All she wanted was to curl up here in the dark house and be left alone.
Somehow she got through the funeral and the burial until all the well-meaning friends and neighbors left the reception with promises to call again. She shut the front door, then lay down on the sofa. Through the open window she heard the shouts of children playing hopscotch across the street and the gentle hum of bees in the honeysuckle
just under the window. The fecund scent of the Wabash River, just down the hill, wafted in with poignant memories of happy picnics with Monroe beside its placid waters.
How could life continue as if nothing had happened? She bit her lip as the hot tears coursed down her cheeks, then pulled the afghan down off the back of the sofa onto her shivering body. It was hot, but she couldn’t stop shaking, a reaction to the trauma of seeing Monroe’s casket lowered into that dark, forbidding hole in the ground.
She hadn’t been able to sleep since the accident, but now she was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open. The creaks and rattles of carriages outside on the busy street faded as she fell asleep, dreaming of Monroe.
The parlor was deep in shadow when she awoke. She gazed around in bewilderment, not sure what had awakened her. The clock still ticked in the hallway and carriages still rattled over the street outside. Then someone on the front porch banged the knocker again. Brushing at the wrinkles in her silk skirt, she lurched to the door. She felt disoriented and fuzzy-headed as she pulled the door open.
“Emmiline Courtney?” A young woman stood on the porch with a small boy of about two in her arms. She was neatly dressed in a dark-blue serge dress with a demure white collar. Gentle brown eyes looked out from beneath a stylish though modest bonnet with a single drooping ostrich feather.
“Yes. May I help you?” The child reminded her of someone, but she was still too groggy from sleep and sorrow to place whom he looked like. And the woman’s calm appraisal put her hackles up in some indefinable way.
The woman glanced away, then set her small chin and looked straight into Emmie’s inquiring eyes. “May I come in? I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you. It’s about Monroe.”
Emmie stared into the woman’s determined eyes and nodded. “This way.” She led the way into the parlor, then lit two more lamps and seated the young woman on the sofa before sinking into the matching armchair facing her guest. Discarded china from the funeral dinner still littered the smooth walnut tables.
A Journey of the Heart Collection Page 17
