Heartland Wedding

by Renee Ryan

  “I suppose,” she said with a sigh. “The two men—”

  A high-pitched shriek filled the air. Followed by another.

  Rebecca and Emmeline jumped to their feet. Cassandra froze on the far edge of the blanket.

  The piercing cries came again. From the direction of the tree. And—Rebecca gasped—they were spilling out of Bess’s open mouth.

  Bess Carter was screaming.

  Emmeline rushed to her sister. “Bess, what’s wrong?”

  The girl continued filling the air with high, shrill howls.

  She was clearly terrified and pointing frantically across the riverbank. Rebecca looked in the direction she indicated.

  On the rise, a few hundred yards away, three Kansa braves stared at them from horseback. She suppressed her own answering scream, even as her heart took a fast dip in her chest.

  The Indians were close enough for Rebecca to see their hard, angry faces. All of their hair had been plucked from their heads, except for a long, fearsome strip down the middle.

  Blind panic slithered along her spine, stealing her ability to take a proper breath. She pressed her fist to her mouth to keep from crying out. One of them had to remain composed.

  Lord, please fill me with Your courage.

  Emmeline gripped her sister’s arms. “Bess, calm down. What’s gotten into you?”

  Emmeline had yet to notice the Indians.

  Bess continued screaming, but instead of pointing to the rise, she now clawed at her sister’s hands, slapping them frantically away from her.

  “Cassandra,” Rebecca whispered. “Help me pack up.”

  “What about Bess?” she asked. She stared at the girl with a concerned expression, but without a spot of panic in her eyes.

  Cassandra hadn’t seen the Indians, either.

  As calmly as possible, Rebecca motioned to the braves.

  Cassandra gasped. Fear instantly filled her gaze, but she had the presence of mind to remain outwardly calm. She gathered their scattered picnic with quick, jerky movements.

  “Emmeline.” Rebecca raised her voice over Bess’s terror. “We must return to town at once.”

  As quickly as she’d started, Bess stopped screaming.

  At last, Emmeline looked in the direction her sister had originally pointed her finger.

  The rise stood empty. The Kansa braves had disappeared.

  “What is it?” Cocking her head, Emmeline looked back at Bess in confusion. “What on earth do you see out there?”

  Bess gathered in a large gulp of air. And another. With each panting breath she took, her gaze turned more and more vacant. After another round of gulps, she was back to the silent Bess they all knew.

  Sensing the immediate danger was over but not taking any chances, Rebecca maneuvered between the sisters and turned them in the direction of town. “Let’s get moving.”

  Emmeline yanked away from Rebecca and grabbed for Bess. The girl jerked out of her reach.

  With a helpless look in her eyes, Emmeline focused her frustration on Rebecca. “Do you know what made her scream?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  Emmeline started to argue, but Clint Fuller came running up to their group. He skidded to a stop in front of Cassandra. “I heard shouting. Are you all right?”

  Cassandra dropped the picnic basket and vaulted into his arms. “Oh, Clint. It was awful. On the rise. We saw…” She heaved in a mouthful of air. “Indians.”

  “Bess.” Emmeline gasped. “You saw Indians?” She yanked the girl into her arms. “That’s why you screamed?”

  Bess didn’t answer any of Emmeline’s questions. But she didn’t struggle free from the choking hug, either.

  For his part, Clint kept Cassandra in the safety of his arms only a moment longer. Then he set her away from him and searched her face. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  She shook her head. “Just scared. Bess saw them first.”

  Eyes filled with worry, Clint walked over to the girl and touched her shoulder. She stepped away from her sister and blinked up at him.

  “Is that why you screamed? Because you saw Indians?”

  Bess’s face crumpled. Tears spilled unchecked down her cheeks, but she didn’t respond directly to his question.

  “Have you seen them before?” he pressed.

  She lowered her head, the gesture neither confirming nor denying his suspicions.

  “Well, either way.” Clint gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Thank God you’re safe. Thank God you’re all safe.”

  “Yes. Yes.” With shaking fingers, Emmeline adjusted Bess’s bonnet, fussing over her like a mother rather than a sister. “We better get Bess back to the Circle-L. Maybe she can tell us more once she’s feeling safe again.”

  Bess kept her head down, effectively shutting them out of her silent world.

  Frowning, Clint turned to Rebecca. As though sensing she was the most composed of the group, he asked, “Do you think the Indians are still out there?”

  Even though the initial fright was over, Rebecca’s panic still battled for release. “Probably not,” she said in a surprisingly steady voice. “They were only there for a moment, and left almost as soon as Bess started screaming.”

  “All right.” He swept his gaze over the others, focusing on Cassandra longer than the rest. “Let’s get all of you home.”

  “I…” Emmeline hesitated. “Maybe we should take Bess to see Doc Dempsey first.”

  “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “I’ll escort you myself.”

  “No need.” Emmeline visibly relaxed as she focused her gaze toward town. “Here comes my husband.”

  Sure enough, Will Logan was running flat out in their direction. His face was void of emotion, but his eyes were hard as iron.

  “I heard screaming,” he said, stopping directly in front of his wife. His gaze searched her face, while his hands ran along her arms and shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

  “What happened?” he asked, his eyes never leaving her face.

  In a halting tone, Emmeline told him everything, starting with Rebecca’s suggestion of a picnic and ending with Bess’s screams. By the time she finished, they’d drawn a small crowd.

  Will grimaced at the gawking faces staring back at him.

  “Clint, let’s get the women to safety and then meet back here. We might still have time to catch up with those braves.”

  Clint’s nod signaled his agreement.

  Rebecca didn’t think they needed to search for the Indians. What had the braves done, anyway, other than stare at them with harsh, severe expressions? Of course, no one asked her opinion on the matter. Clint had moved back to Cassandra’s side. Will Logan bent over Bess and Emmeline and whispered softly to them.

  Rebecca stood alone. All alone.

  There was no one to ask her how she was doing, no one to care that she might still be frightened. Not even the gawking crowd gave her notice. She was ignored completely. Forgotten.

  Like so many days in her youth.

  She couldn’t help but wonder why her husband hadn’t rushed to her side. Why hadn’t Pete sensed she was in trouble?

  She knew her thinking was probably skewed because of the fright she’d just had. Nevertheless, as she scanned the crowd for her husband’s face, one dreadful thought emerged.

  Pete didn’t care for her. Not enough. Not like Will cared for Emmeline, and Clint cared for Cassandra. If he had, she wouldn’t have needed to give him an ultimatum this morning. And he would be standing here now, with genuine concern on his face.

  She’d been foolishly holding out hope that things would change between them, that their marriage would be more than a way to stop nasty gossip. She’d prayed Pete would come around and consider her more than a friend. Instead, her greatest fears had come to pass. She was living her childhood all over again, with a man who was nothing more than an affable stranger.

  There was nothing left to do
but accept defeat. Companionship was the most she could expect from her husband now.

  She should have never prayed for more.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Pete heard the screams just as he made his afternoon trek from the livery to the smithy. The terrible shrieks tumbled on top of one another in a constant, gut-churning sound of utter panic. Human panic.

  Poised between the two buildings, he held himself perfectly still until he could decipher the direction of the cries.

  They came from the east.

  He set out at a dead run.

  Each jarring step he took sent unbridled fear blazing through him, cutting past his calm with the power of an unquenchable fire.

  Please, Lord, he prayed. Please, let Rebecca be safe.

  Without breaking stride, he rounded onto Main Street.

  The screams stopped abruptly and an unnatural hush fell over the town. Something in the eerie silence frightened Pete far more than the shouting had.

  He pumped his legs faster.

  As he ripped past the town hall, his strides attacked the ground in a ruthless cadence that matched the thrashing of his heart.

  Up ahead, just on the edge of town, a crowd had gathered in a tiny grove.

  He couldn’t stop the horrifying feeling that Rebecca was in danger. Perhaps the Tully brothers had returned to follow through on the threat they’d made to Edward.

  Rage followed the thought. Rebecca was his. His. Pete had been a fool not to make that clear to her. He’d had the chance this morning. He should have never honored her request “to think” about what sort of marriage he wanted. He should have told her he loved her. Right then. Right there.

  Now it might be too late.

  He pushed himself harder, even as defeat wavered in his mind. All his life, his strength had been enough to control his fate, and that of those he loved. He’d been the protector in his communities, a sentinel of raw, physical power for those weaker than himself.

  He’d never failed in his role. Until Sarah.

  And, if the roiling in his gut was a premonition of things to come, he faced yet another situation where his outward strength might not be enough.

  Lord, this is too big for me. I call on Your strength.

  Careening to a stop along the perimeter of the assembled crowd, he searched for Rebecca. She was here. He could feel her presence.

  For a moment, he thought he saw the top of her golden head just inside the circle of onlookers—no one had hair that glorious shade—but people shifted in front of him, effectively obscuring his vision.

  “Move aside,” he barked, his heart pounding wildly against his ribs.

  The knot of people coiled tighter together.

  Snarling with impatience, he shouldered his way forward. “Let me through.”

  Desperation had him scanning every face as he went.

  No Tullys in sight.

  No Rebecca, either.

  Pete swallowed his rising panic and broke through the bulk of the crowd.

  On the other side of the grove, Will bent over Emmeline and her younger sister. To their left, Clint Fuller gripped both of Cassandra Garrison’s hands. He spoke calmly, yet earnestly to her. And to their left…

  Rebecca stood alone. All alone.

  Pete’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of her dejection.

  Too paralyzed with fear to move his feet, he willed her to look at him. But she kept her head lowered, making it impossible for him to see her face.

  He straightened his shoulders and lunged in his wife’s direction.

  “Rebecca,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  Her head lifted, slowly, and then their gazes met. Locked. Held.

  Her lips wobbled. Just a little. And then, one silver tear slid down her cheek.

  “Rebecca?” he said again, surprised at the rustiness of his own voice.

  She moved her head from side to side. The gesture made her look disoriented, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was standing in front of her.

  Pete gripped her shoulders gently. “Are you hurt?”

  It was the wrong question to ask. He knew it by the soul-deep disappointment in her gaze. How many times had Sarah looked at him like that after he’d moved her to High Plains?

  The crowd closed in around them.

  Pete didn’t care. Let the nosy people gawk all they wanted. He had nothing to hide. He loved his wife. It was time he told her. But first, he had to make sure she wasn’t injured.

  Keeping his hold light, he rolled his gaze over her, taking in every lovely, gorgeous, untouched inch.

  She was all right.

  Except…

  She wasn’t.

  As if to prove him correct, the rest of her tears erupted from her eyes, trailing one right after another down her cheeks.

  He’d let her down. He didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but his failure was there in her tears.

  He was losing his beautiful, kindhearted wife with each silent moment he let pass between them. And yet, words continued to back up in his throat, strangling his ability to speak.

  He rubbed his thumb across one of her wet cheeks and put his feelings into his eyes. Surely she could see how much he loved her. Or…

  Maybe she couldn’t.

  He knew what he had to do. He had to say the words. And he had to do it in front of all these people.

  So be it.

  “Rebecca, I lo—”

  “Rebecca.” Edward heaved Pete out of the way and yanked her into his arms.

  She stood unresponsive in her brother’s hold. The insight brought Pete no consolation. Something was wrong with his wife and he knew he was the cause.

  “Rebecca.” Edward patted her back as though she was a small, frightened child. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  All the while her brother urged her to speak, Rebecca’s eyes never left Pete’s face. She silently pleaded with him for…for…what? What did she want from him?

  A wave of frustration shook his entire frame.

  Edward stepped back and studied her blank face. “Are you all right? I’ve never seen you this upset.”

  This moment was all wrong. Pete should be the one holding his wife. He should be the one asking the questions. He should be the one offering comfort.

  Enough.

  Prepared to battle her own brother, Pete reached for his wife. His wife. But as soon as he pulled her against his chest, Clint Fuller joined them. His face carried a stern expression.

  Obviously, the cowboy had important information to share. Pete released Rebecca, but he kept her within reach.

  “Clint,” Edward said. “Tell us what happened.”

  In a staggering voice, Clint explained about the women’s picnic and how it had been cut short by the appearance of Indians on the rise across the river. “The screaming you heard came from Bess,” he added. “Emmeline’s kid sister.”

  Pete’s heart stuttered to a stop. “You were—” he touched his wife’s arm with a trembling hand “—that close to Kansa braves?”

  “It was nothing.” But her eyes were distant. Empty.

  Pete knew that look.

  She was shutting him out. Just like Sarah had done in those final, awful days.

  But Rebecca never shut him out. Hadn’t she bravely spoken her mind just his morning?

  In the face of her confusing behavior, Pete couldn’t summon a single word in response.

  Edward had no such problem. “Well, thank God you’re safe.” He tugged her closer to him, and farther away from Pete. “I don’t know what I would have done had I lost you.”

  At her brother’s declaration, Rebecca’s face crumpled into a look of pure gratitude. In that awful moment, Pete realized those were his words. The ones he was supposed to say to his wife. The ones she’d been waiting for. But her brother had beat him to the punch.

  “Don’t fuss, Edward.” She patted his arm, her smile soft and sisterly. “I’m fine.”

  But she wasn’t fine, whether she wanted
to admit it or not. Pete saw the devastation in her eyes, simmering below that brave face of hers. She turned her gaze back to Pete and all pretense of courage disappeared, replaced by a look of total defeat.

  She’d given up on him. On them.

  If she thought he’d let her go without a fight, she was mistaken. Pete knew exactly what he wanted now.

  He wanted Rebecca. By his side. Always. He should have told her when he’d had the chance.

  Hand out, he stepped forward, moving in the same, careful manner he would use on a spooked horse. “Let’s go home, Rebecca. Please, come home with me now.”

  “Not now.” She took a small step away from him. “I…I have to cook for the boarders this evening.”

  What?

  The crowd strained closer, as though sensing Pete’s next words would seal his fate.

  He glared at a few of the boldest. “Mrs. Jennings can do without you tonight.” He practically growled his words.

  It was a mistake.

  Rebecca lowered her head and twined her fingers together at her waist. “No. She can’t.”

  Pete’s heart thundered in his chest. Rebecca was acting just like Sarah had during her final days of life with him. But Rebecca wasn’t Sarah. She was stronger.

  She needed to hear why her strength was important to him. She needed to know about his past. All of it. How he’d let Sarah down, how unhappy she’d been in High Plains and the mind-numbing fear that he would make Rebecca equally miserable.

  He’d been wrong to keep the truth from her this long. Out of pride he’d withheld too much.

  He’d allowed fear of the unknown to stop him from embracing his marriage to Rebecca.

  That ended. Today.

  “Come home with me,” he said.

  “I’m going back to the boardinghouse.” Her words were barely above a whisper, yet full of conviction.

  “All right. Later, then. We’ll eat together. We’ll talk and—”

  “No.” Her gaze whipped to his. “We won’t.” He’d never seen such anger in her eyes. “We never talk. I talk. You walk away.”

  With a collective gasp, the crowd pressed closer.

  Pete ignored their interest and kept his gaze firmly on his wife. “You’re right. But not tonight. Tonight I’ll stay with you.”