by Linda Ladd
Elizabeth sat very still, as her mind dipped back and picked up an elusive picture from her shrouded memory of a tall man with massive shoulders. His face was obscured in the shadowy confines of her mind, and something about him had frightened her. She was sure of it! Excited by the possibility of remembering someone from her past, she tried very hard to bring the wavery image into clear focus. She frowned in frustration as it suddenly vanished.
“I was so scared, I couldn't open my mouth, Miss Elizabeth,” Amanda was saying. “Then he and Master Michael went into the library, and I could hear them yelling at each other just before he came out again. He said there would be no welcome for you in his house.”
Her thin shoulders began to quake, and with a stricken expression, she fell to her knees, clasping her arms around Elizabeth's skirts.
“Oh, Miss Elizabeth, you are too good and kind to be married to such a man.”
She sobbed into the shimmering green silk, and Elizabeth stood like stone, trying to control her own reaction to Amanda's description of her husband. Brent had been right. No matter what Michael had said, Logan Cord was a frightening man. She patted Amanda's red curls, her hand trembling slightly, and it took several minutes for Amanda to calm herself. After her maid had left to fetch tea, still sniffling into one of Elizabeth's handkerchiefs, Elizabeth sank limply before the mirror of her dressing table, staring miserably at her reflection. A frightened face looked back at her, the light violet eyes dark and troubled as she contemplated the horrid sufferings she would endure in Denver at the hands of her cruel husband.
Three days later, Elizabeth stood outside her grandfather's bedchamber. Michael waited downstairs to take her to the railway depot after she'd bid Thomas goodbye. Regret at leaving him tore at her heart as she turned the knob and entered the room. She looked across the long, shadowy room toward Thomas Pennington's immense bed set against the far wall. The massive canopy was hung with lustrous scarlet satin, embroidered with golden dragons by a Chinese hand. The dark wood of the walls emphasized the rich gold-and-black Persian carpet, and Elizabeth's feet made no sound upon its softness as she moved to the foot of the bed.
The Sister of Mercy sat silently and held her rosary tightly as she prayed for the shell of a man lying upon the wide bed. Thomas lay very still, but as Elizabeth watched, his dark, sunken eyes opened. He smiled slightly when he saw her, then said huskily, “Come closer, my dear.”
At his words the nun arose at once, her black-and-white habit a stark shadow against the crimson finery of the bed, before she moved wraithlike to the door.
Elizabeth rounded the thick carved bedpost and approached the old man who'd been so good to her. His face had lost its color, and his long, frail hands lay limply upon the red satin coverlet, his skin as cracked and wrinkled as ancient parchment. Elizabeth took one between her palms and rubbed it gently, wishing to warm the cold skin.
She smiled down at him, a tide of emotion swelling her heart. “How are you feeling; Grandfather?”
He nodded wordlessly, a dry, hacking cough preventing him from speaking. Elizabeth watched in concern until the spell subsided and he tried to speak again.
“Open the drapes so I can see you. They keep it too dark in here.”
Elizabeth obeyed, going to the wide casement windows that overlooked the lawn. She reached out and grasped the dark velvet curtain, flooding the room with the bright sunlight of late morning. Then she unlatched the window, wishing to rid the room of the stuffy odor of medicine.
Thomas lay still, half awed by the beauty of his only grandchild. She was dressed in pale yellow, a gown of the finest satin and Venetian lace. He'd chosen it himself just after she'd come back to him. The thought of sending her away after so recently finding her twisted painfully at his heart, but he forced down the grief that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Come, my child, sit beside me.”
Elizabeth moved gracefully to the bed, the satin rustling prettily, conjuring elusive memories in Thomas’ mind of long ago, when his wife and daughter added their beauty to his life. Elizabeth stepped upon the footstool and smoothed her skirt as she settled herself beside him.
“You are so like your mother that sometimes I forget and think that you are Anne.”
Elizabeth fought her tears at the forlorn quality to his voice. “I wish I could remember both my parents.”
He looked at her pityingly. “You never really knew them. They were taken from me so very young.” Sadness permeated his voice as he looked out toward where the roses bloomed in summer. “They both loved flowers. I built the rose garden for them. Your grandmother ordered different varieties from all over the world. And Anne was the same way until she married Aaron and went away.”
He looked at Elizabeth, knowing she didn't remember that her parents had died in a Cheyenne massacre. She didn't remember anything—and he didn't want her to. He searched her lovely face, appalled to think of what he'd done to gain her affection.
Elizabeth watched him, her eyes tender, but he had learned her moods in the last months, and he knew she did not want to go to Colorado. And it pained him to have to send her into such a wild place. His only consolation was that she went to Logan Cord. Logan would protect her.
“Would you like me to read to you, Grandfather?”
He nodded, and she picked up the Bible beside the bed. It still amazed him how much she'd learned since Dr. Petaire had begun his treatments. He'd never have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself. He listened as she began, haltingly but with amazing skill for the short time she'd been tutored. He did not understand this new mesmerism, but he thanked God that Brent had suggested it. She had been so filled with hatred when she came back to him, and he'd had such a short time with her.
He sighed, bringing Elizabeth's eyes to him briefly before she read on, carefully tracing the line with her finger. At times he was despondent, afraid he'd done the wrong thing. Erasing her past life, all her memories, good or bad, was cruel, but then he thought back to how wild she'd been when Brent had rescued her.
Elizabeth quietly closed the Bible, knowing Thomas was not listening to her. Since he'd become so ill, he often lapsed into his own world, where his wife and daughter still lived and laughed. She sat patiently, still holding his limp hand, knowing she must leave soon. Thomas had been so very good to her, so understanding when she'd first awakened without a memory. She'd been alone then, so terribly alone, and he'd held her close and told her stories of her family until she slept. Tears burned suddenly, and she fought them, hiding their brightness under her lashes. Thomas roused at her movement.
“Your hair catches the light and makes it gleam with silver. Like Anne's when she was a little girl. But her eyes were gray, like mine.”
Elizabeth nodded, having spent many hours in front of the portrait in the sitting room. She did resemble Anne Richmond, but try as she might she could remember nothing about her mother. Everything in her past was like shadows of velvet, and if she tried too hard to remember, her head would pound until she gave up.
“Is it today that you leave?” Thomas asked suddenly.
Elizabeth nodded, thinking how frail and weak he appeared. The tuberculosis had eaten away at him for years now, and the doctors feared he would not live much longer. Elizabeth refused to give up hope, however, and she only wished she did not have to leave him.
“Please let me stay until you're better, Grandfather, I cannot bear to go away when you're so ill,” she pleaded.
Thomas reached up and wiped her tears away, but the small gesture tired him and his hand dropped weakly to the bed.
“No, my sweet darling, you belong with Logan now. He is your husband.”
“But you need someone here to take care of you,” she protested.
“The doctor takes good care of me, and Albert has been my valet for many years. I will be well taken care of, and I can rest peacefully now knowing Logan will protect your interests after I'm gone.”
Elizabeth raised her hand to wipe her tear
s away, and Thomas spoke again.
“Do not cry, child. It saddens me to see you unhappy. Is it Logan that frightens you?”
Elizabeth could not meet his eyes, and her voice was subdued.
“I have not met him, yet I am his wife.”
Thomas was distressed by the unhappiness in her voice.
Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and he laid his palm over them.
“Listen to me, child. There is nothing to fear. I have known Logan since he was a boy. He is a fine, strong man, and he'll take care of you. Do you really think I would send you to a husband who would mistreat you?”
Elizabeth shook her head, but a confused expression flickered briefly across her face. He hated the pain he was causing her by sending her to a husband she had not met, but he trusted Logan, and even though Logan had balked at the marriage, Thomas knew Elizabeth was better off with him than with any of the unscrupulous young men who would surround her when she inherited his money. The marriage contract he'd arranged with Logan's grandfather had been a godsend, and although Logan was furious now, he'd come to love Elizabeth. Thomas had no doubt of that. She was so very beautiful, and so very easy to love.
“I have to talk to you, Elizabeth, before you go. Please listen to me. You must understand that everything I've ever done for you has been because I love you. You are so dear to me....”
His voice broke, and his eyes grew watery. Elizabeth leaned forward in concern, thinking her fears had upset him.
“Grandfather, please, don't upset yourself so. I will go to my husband, and I'll try to be a good wife to him.”
“No, no, I must tell you this before you leave. There may come a day when you'll regain your memory. And you won't understand some of the things I've done, but I've only done them because I love you. I cannot stand the thought of you hating me.”
Elizabeth spoke soothingly, alarmed at his agitation.
“You have been nothing but kind to me. I'll always love you.”
Thomas fell back weakly, completely exhausted. They sat silently for a time, until Thomas turned his head upon the pillow to look at her.
“You mustn't be unhappy. Go to Logan, give him a chance. Promise me you will. Please.”
Brent's warm green eyes glowed inside Elizabeth's mind for an instant. She had not seen him since her conversation with Michael, although he'd come calling at the house every day.
“I promise, Grandfather.”
He smiled then, and relaxed. The strain in his face dissolved, and it was not long until he slept. She sat for a time with him, then leaned down and kissed his lined cheek. She moved to the door, pausing to look back one last time, knowing with great sadness that she'd probably never see him again.
Downstairs, Michael paced impatiently in the foyer, anxious to be gone. He turned quickly when he heard her on the steps and smiled fondly at her. Her face bore evidence of weeping, and he slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“You must not worry. Perhaps Logan will bring you back to see Thomas soon.”
Elizabeth nodded, but her chest was heavy as she gazed around the lavishly appointed house for the last time. Her eyes lingered on the grandfather clock beneath the stairs as it chimed the noon hour. A similar clock superimposed itself over the polished mahogany case, and she stared at it thoughtfully, as a flashing glimpse of a room from her past and warm male laughter absorbed her mind until Michael took her elbow.
The elusive memories haunted her daily, but when she became anxious and tried to force them back, her head would pound, forcing her to give up the battle to remember.
The servants were lined up outside to bid her farewell, and many wept openly as Michael assisted her into the carriage. Elizabeth turned and waved to them, glad to see that Amanda had lost her fear at the prospect of going with Elizabeth to live with Logan Cord. Now she sat atop the baggage wagon, her full, smiling attention on the handsome driver.
The streets were jammed with horse-drawn conveyances, the city bustling with noonday activity. The train had not arrived at the station, and their driver drew up to steps that led to a high platform beside the tracks. Michael took Elizabeth's arm as they climbed to the top, then threaded their way through the crowd of Union soldiers who were congregated in small groups or dozing against cotton bales as they awaited their orders. Many of them turned admiring eyes upon Elizabeth as Michael led her to a bench that ran along the building. It was near the ticket window and protected by the overhang of the roof, and he thought it safe to leave her there for a few moments.
“The train should arrive any minute, but I must see to the baggage. Would you mind waiting here for me? It won't take long.”
She nodded, watching him hurry toward the wagon that was being unloaded at the far end of the platform. The train would take them to Jefferson City, where they would board one of the Pacific Railroad's fleet of riverboats for the voyage up the Missouri River to Independence. From there, they would book passage on a stagecoach across the wide plains. Michael had made the trip before and had told her the scenery was most beautiful at times, but Elizabeth could not become excited about any of it as she stood staring at the tracks remembering her last view of her grandfather. She heard a faraway horn blare, and the engine came into sight. Elizabeth watched in fascination as it neared, its smokestack belching great billowing clouds of black smoke.
The soldiers began to stir as it chugged in alongside the platform with a great deal of clanging and hissing. A sergeant bellowed orders, and Elizabeth watched as they gathered their gear and slung long rifles over their shoulders. Another train pulled in next to the first one, and the station soon became a mass of confusion as travelers rushed past her and baggage handlers yelled at each other over rumbling carts filled with trunks and boxes. She stepped out of the way, a little intimidated, and tried to see Michael and the others. She could barely make them out through the crowd, and a little hesitant to remain unescorted in the midst of the milling soldiers, she turned and began to walk toward them.
She gasped as strong fingers closed around her arm and jerked frightened eyes to the man beside her. Brent Holloway smiled down at her.
“I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye,” he said, drawing her with him behind a post. Elizabeth couldn't hide her pleasure at seeing him again, and smiled brilliantly up at him.
“Michael asked me not to see you,” she said. “But I wanted to say goodbye.”
Brent pulled her against his chest, and although she knew she should not, she allowed it, hoping Michael Cord was still too preoccupied to come searching for her.
“I know, my love, but you mustn't worry. Things will work out for us,” Brent promised.
Elizabeth pulled back, realizing the danger they were in. Her eyes sought Michael, where he still supervised the servants, then looked back at Brent pleadingly, a picture of her grandfather flashing in her mind.
“No, Brent, I've promised Grandfather I will try to be a good wife to Logan. We must not see each other again.”
She missed the flash of anger that crossed Brent's face at her words.
“Don't forbid me to see you, darling. I couldn't live with the thought of never seeing you again.”
“But we can't change it, Brent, and I'm going away. I may never come back, never see you,” she said, her resolve weakening.
“But you will, my love, and very soon. I'm leaving for Denver within the week.”
Elizabeth's eyes caught his, and he smiled at the pleasure he read in them.
“Can it be true? You will be close to me.”
“Yes. My sister, Isabel, has a house in Denver. I want to be near you, even if all we can be is friends. Surely you will not deny me your friendship.”
He leaned down then as if to kiss her, but Elizabeth's head jerked up as she heard Michael's voice above the din.
“I must go, Brent. He can't see us together!”
Brent grabbed her to him, pressing a quick kiss upon her lips, then Elizabeth pulled away, appalled he'd done
such a thing with Michael so near, but he caught her arm as she tried to leave, whispering against her ear.
“Remember how much I love you, darling. And if you need me, I'll be in Denver.”
Elizabeth fled from him with tears in her eyes, and Brent watched from behind the post as Michael took her arm and assisted her onto the steaming train.
“Ah yes, my rich and beautiful little heiress,” he murmured to himself, “I'll make it a point to be close to you.”
Elizabeth paused on the platform as the train began to move, and Brent smiled with triumphant eyes at the way her eyes searched wistfully for him before she followed Michael into the car.
Thirteen
Logan reined up and looked out across verdant fields dotted with yellow dandelions and white lacy wildflowers. His mountain lodge set nestled at the far side of the meadows with dense thickets of spruce rising in tall green spires behind its immense chimneys of gray fieldstone. A lake lay glittering in front of him, the clear turquoise water mirroring the majestic, white-capped peaks that circled the valley. It was a breathtaking scene, but he'd chosen the site for its convenience as well as its beauty, since it lay only a day's ride from Denver.
Zeus pranced sideways beneath him, eager to reach the stables of Woodstone, and Logan let the black stallion have his way. It was good to be home, despite the unpleasant business that awaited him there. It had been nearly two months since he'd had the heated argument with his father in St. Louis. After he'd left him, he'd spent several weeks on a variety of steamboats on the Missouri River, inquiring after Starfire with everyone from boat captains to riverfront tavern owners. Neither Carl Rankin nor his two men had booked passage on any of the larger boats, nor had they ridden on any of the stagecoach lines. He'd even given their descriptions everywhere he went, thinking they might have used false names, but no one had seen them, no one knew them. It was a frustrating, unrewarding trip, topped off by the news that had awaited him in Denver. His mine outside Central City had caved in. No one had been killed, but it had put the Marietta Lode's production behind schedule. He'd gone there at once to help his foreman, William Timbers, oversee the digging-out operation, but Two Bears had continued the search for Starfire for him, and Logan was anxious to know if he'd learned anything in the mining towns down south.
