Wildstar

by Linda Ladd

  He grimaced, thinking of the letter that had been waiting for him at his house in Denver when he'd returned from the Marietta. It had contained more bad news. His father and his wife had arrived in Woodstone and were waiting for his arrival.

  He shielded his eyes as he rode on, searching the long veranda hugging the front of the house. Pots of scarlet geraniums were set upon the railings, vivid against the weathered gray wood, but no one stirred there that he could see.

  He shifted his gaze to the corrals, hoping to see one of the boys. He grinned as he saw Aaron clinging to the back of a wildly bucking mustang, while his twin brother, Jacob, sat watching him from the top rail. Logan stood in the stirrups and gave a long whistle. Jacob's head came up to peer across the fields, and when he saw Logan, he scrambled to the ground.

  Logan watched the boy mount and ride toward him at a hard gallop, wondering how the Winstead family, the farm managers, had taken to their unexpected guests. According to the letter in his vest, Michael and the blushing bride had arrived in mid-March, almost three weeks ago. Logan grimaced, hoping the ugly heiress hated the isolation of the mountains enough to demand an immediate return to St. Louis. He looked toward the lodge again as the alarm bell pealed out over the valley and saw Maria at the bell pole. He raised his arm in greeting to the old black cook, and she returned his wave as she yanked on the rope.

  Jacob arrived in a cloud of dust and flying turf, and Logan grinned at the fifteen-year-old's exuberance, holding Zeus firmly as the other horse danced close beside him.

  “You've finally come!” Jacob shouted, his sunburned face split by a delighted grin. “Mother's been wondering when you'd get here.”

  Logan looked at the boy, thinking he'd grown a lot in the last year. His shaggy black hair was windblown from the wild ride, and his dark eyes sparkled as he waited for Logan to answer.

  “How is your mother?”

  “Fine. She's down at the lake. Zack took the womenfolk to pick wildflowers. Aaron's gone to get them.”

  Jacob pulled his wide-brimmed hat down to shade his eyes as he turned his horse to walk alongside Logan's mount.

  “Is my father with them?”

  “No, he's at the house. Mother and Rachel went with the mistress and her maid.”

  Logan frowned. The woman probably couldn't walk two steps without a maid to fan her face. Jacob misinterpreted Logan's dark look and added quickly, “But don't worry. Zack's got his rifle.”

  Logan darted a quick look at him. “Has there been Indian trouble?”

  “Not in the valley, but the Cheyenne have been raiding south of here. We've been real careful, especially since your missus came.” Jacob grinned again. “We sure were surprised to find out you were married.”

  “Not as much as I was,” Logan muttered sourly under his breath, ignoring Jacob's puzzled look as he glanced down toward the lake.

  “How does Lily like her?”

  “Mother loves having another woman in the house, and so does Rachel. Zack hasn't said much, but I think he's sweet on the maid. Her name's Amanda, and she's got red hair and freckles.”

  “What makes you think he likes her?”

  “Because he goes down to the creek every night and washes!”

  Jacob made it sound like such a bizarre habit that Logan laughed.

  “It looks like he's kept you and Aaron busy. Both holding pens are full.”

  “We've already caught enough mustangs for the army contracts,” Jacob told him proudly. “Now all we have to do is break them.”

  “Good work,” Logan said, and Jacob grinned with pleasure at his praise. “I'm surprised Lily would take time off to pick flowers,” Logan commented, as they reached the drive that skirted the front of the house.

  “It was the mistress’ idea for her to go. She said Mother works too hard.”

  “And Lily agreed?” Hard work was Lily Winstead's philosophy of life, and Logan found it a little hard to believe an afternoon of idle pleasures fit into her agenda.

  “Everyone tries to please your wife, she's so sweet,” Jacob said, and Logan didn't answer, frowning as he spurred his horse into a faster gait.

  At the stone steps that led to the wide, shady veranda, Logan dismounted and handed his reins to Jacob. Michael opened the front door as Logan removed his rawhide gloves, and they looked at each other, remembering the angry encounter in St. Louis. By now, Logan's rage had dissipated into indifference, but the despair at losing Starfire remained like a suffocating weight inside his chest.

  “Hello, Father,” he said, climbing the steps and extending his hand. Michael gripped it and smiled with relief.

  “I'm glad you've come, son. It's good to see you.”

  His gray eyes showed his relief as they entered the house together. The wide, airy room that ran along the front was cool and dim and felt good to Logan after a long ride in the sun. Immense beams as big around as a man's waist crossed the ceiling, and a wide central staircase led to a landing at the back. A rock fireplace adorned each end of the room, each with a raised hearth beneath a long mantel. A long dining table was set before one fireplace, and at the other end, massive couches and chairs of brown leather were set before the hearth. Logan walked toward the latter, and Michael followed him.

  “I'd almost forgotten how beautiful Woodstone is, Logan. The scenery alone is breathtaking.”

  “I've missed it,” Logan said, pouring himself a brandy at the sideboard. Michael sat down as Logan drank it, and neither spoke, both hedging the subject that was on their minds. Logan turned finally, deciding to get to the point.

  “Well, here I am, Father. I got your letter in Denver, while I was away at the mine and it sounded more than urgent. What's so important?”

  “I wrote you when we arrived here, and you know exactly what I want. I want you to meet your wife.”

  Logan drank again, without answering.

  “It's been over three months since the wedding,” Michael continued in the wake of Logan's silence. “You can't put it off forever.”

  Logan let silence fill the room, then spoke calmly. “You can rest your mind, Father. I came here to meet her.”

  Michael studied his son's impassive face.

  “I can appreciate how you feel, Logan. But once you meet your wife and get to know her, I think you'll see things differently.”

  Clear violet eyes burned briefly in the depths of Logan's mind, and he looked down at his drink. Meeting his wife would make no difference. There was only one woman on earth he wanted. And she was gone; he was ready to accept that now.

  Logan suddenly felt tired, too tired to think, and he dropped heavily into a chair across from Michael.

  “Tell me about her illness,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “What's wrong with her?”

  Encouraged by the first spark of interest Logan had shown in his wife, Michael was quick to reassure him.

  “It's nothing serious, really. She stumbled on the stairs, and a blow to her head affected her memory.”

  “She can't remember anything?”

  “No. She couldn't even remember her name at first. Or her grandfather. And no one could help her much, since the doctor insisted that she should regain it herself. He warned Thomas that pressuring her to remember her past could be quite detrimental to her health. I suppose it's better for it to come back a little at a time, but it's been very hard on her,” he mused.

  Logan didn't comment, and Michael's hesitation was fractional. “She's been under a terrible strain with all that, and not having met you and all, I hope you'll be understanding of her reticence in certain matters.”

  Logan opened his eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

  Michael's gaze was steady. “I've promised her you'd give her time to get to know you before you consummated the marriage.”

  Logan snorted derisively. “That's a little presumptuous on your part, isn't it?”

  His father frowned, and Logan gave a short laugh.

  “Don't worry, Father. That's the last thing
she has to worry about. I still want an annulment.”

  “Maybe.”

  Michael's comment was cryptic, and Logan stood, pacing across the wood-planked floor to open the doors to the veranda. He wished the women would come back, so he could have it done with. He'd already decided to be honest and tell her about Starfire. No woman would want a husband who could never love her. And if she was foolish enough to stay at Woodstone anyway, she could live the life of a widow. As soon as Two Bears returned, he planned to leave for Mexico. It was his only hope now. Rankin had to have taken Starfire south.

  “Tell me about Lily Winstead.”

  His father's question jerked Logan out of his thoughts, and he turned around and stared at him.

  “What about her?”

  Michael avoided his eyes, and Logan took note of it.

  “She just seems like such a young woman to have four grown children. And she's so quiet. She hasn't spoken ten words to me since we've been here, and it's very hard to persuade her to dine with us.”

  “Her real name is Lily on the Water, and she's one of the heathen savages you've always held in such contempt. She's Ute.”

  Michael shot him a startled look, thinking uncomfortably of the disparaging remarks he'd made about Indians in her presence just the night before.

  “Her husband was John Winstead.” Logan went on. “He was my partner after the war when I was still trapping. Lily was only thirteen when he bought her.”

  “Bought her?” Michael frowned.

  “He offered a horse and a buffalo carcass in exchange for her.”

  “That's barbaric.” Michael's outraged disapproval brought a laugh from Logan.

  “That's the way the Ute do it, Father. Running Water thought it was an honorable trade. Horses are valuable to Indians.”

  His father shook his head. “If Zack's twenty, she couldn't be more than thirty-three.”

  Logan nodded and took his seat again. “Why are you so interested in Lily?” he probed.

  “Just curious, I guess.”

  “Could her long raven hair and soft dark eyes have anything to do with it?” Logan suggested, and Michael's silence answered his question.

  But Logan was more interested in his own problems, and he abruptly changed the subject.

  “Is this woman aware that I intend to have an annulment?”

  “Her name is Elizabeth, Logan,” Michael said in annoyance. “And yes, I told her, and she didn't seem particularly upset by it.”

  Logan waited until his father continued, “As a matter of fact, she was in favor of it.”

  Logan sat upright. “Then why didn't you arrange one?”

  “Because Thomas refused to allow it. Not even Brent could change his mind.”

  “What the hell does Brent have to do with it?”

  “Since you saw fit to ride off and leave Elizabeth alone, Brent took advantage of the situation.”

  Logan's jaw hardened. “What do you mean?”

  “He did quite an effective job of courting her in your long absence.”

  “How effective?” Logan inquired acidly.

  “She's very fond of him.”

  Logan made a derisive sound. “And Holloway's just as fond of her money, I'm sure.”

  “No doubt,” agreed Michael. “But on the other hand, Elizabeth is very lovely.”

  “That may be true, but she can't be too discriminating, if she's taken with Brent Holloway.”

  “He can be charming enough with the ladies.”

  “I'll consider myself lucky if he's charming enough to take her off my hands. I'd even pay him for that favor, since money appears to be what he's after.”

  “I daresay you'll change your mind about that soon enough.”

  Logan frowned, irritated by the smug look on Michael's face. “What the hell's keeping her?” he said, impatience rising to the surface. “I don't intend to wait much longer.”

  “You don't mean to tell me you're leaving today?” Michael said incredulously.

  “That's exactly what I mean. You asked me to meet her, and I will, but I sure as the devil didn't come here to court the woman.”

  Michael bit back a retort as his son paced restlessly. Despite Logan's stubbornness, he still believed his son would change his mind about Elizabeth within the hour.

  “I just hope you'll remember that Elizabeth is a lady and treat her with respect. She's gone through a lot in the past few months.”

  “I'll do my best to be gallant,” Logan said mockingly, sitting down and massaging tired eyes.

  Michael sighed. “Well, I hope so. I have enough on my mind with Cassandra.”

  Logan looked up quickly at the mention of his beautiful younger sister. “What's she done now? I thought she was in finishing school in London.”

  “She was until she decided to come home to, in her words, nurse the heroic men wounded for the glorious cause of the Confederacy.”

  Logan laughed. “That crazy girl. I'm surprised you let her.”

  “I didn't. She sailed home with her roommate to New Orleans, then wrote to tell me where she was.”

  Logan shook his head, thinking it sounded like something Cassie would do. But right now, he had other things on his mind, namely disposing of an unwanted wife.

  Elizabeth sat high on the wagon next to Lily, holding to the seat as they lurched along the rutted path. She shivered, despite the warm sun on her head. When the alarm had echoed out over the water, Zack had grabbed his rifle and gathered the women around him, until Aaron had arrived at a gallop, shouting that Logan was home. The news had filled the Winsteads with excitement, but a cold glaze had crusted over Elizabeth's heart.

  She reached up, absently removing the crown of wildflowers she'd fashioned earlier, oblivious to the giggles of Rachel, as Amanda flirted with her oldest brother. For her, all the fun had gone out of the day. She set dull eyes on the lodge in the distance, then shifted her gaze to the purple haze of distant peaks. Since she'd first seen the magnificent Rocky Mountains from the wide prairie, her fears of traveling to Colorado had dimmed and a strange peace had descended upon her. When she'd arrived at Woodstone, she'd loved the peaceful valley on sight, and except for missing Brent and her grandfather, she had been happy the last few weeks with the Winstead family.

  “What causes the shadow in your eyes?” Lily asked in her soft voice, and Elizabeth turned to her. She thought her friend was very beautiful, especially her shiny black hair that she wore braided and coiled on top of her head. It was hidden now beneath a blue sunbonnet, but Lily's warm brown eyes watched her in concern.

  “I am frightened to meet Logan.”

  Lily smiled. “That is to be expected, but your fear will not last long. Logan is a good man. You will learn to care for him as I did for my husband.”

  “What is he like, Lily? I have heard he is terrible when he is angry.”

  Lily heard the quiver in her voice and tried to reassure her. “He is very strong and sometimes stubborn, but I have never seen him lose his temper. When John died, he gave my children and me a home here. I owe much to him.”

  Elizabeth nodded, but her eyes were full of dread.

  “It will be over soon,” Lily said with a quiet smile, as she guided the horse through the tall meadow grass.

  Elizabeth looked down at the simple blue cotton dress she wore, wishing she'd had time to change. The hem was muddy and her hair had come loose. She tried to tuck it back into the neat coil, but many of the pins had disappeared, and she finally gave up, letting it flow unhampered down her back.

  Lily drove the wagon to the back of the lodge and stopped near the kitchen entrance. Elizabeth took her time untying her apron and smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt. Lily waited patiently, but when Elizabeth continued to procrastinate, she smiled.

  “You must go now, Elizabeth. They are waiting for you,” she urged gently. “There is nothing to fear from Logan, I promise.”

  Elizabeth's smile was wan, but she climbed from the buckboard, watching as
it rumbled off toward the stables. She walked through the kitchen, halfheartedly returning Maria's greeting. The old Negress hummed happily as she prepared special dishes for the master's homecoming. Everyone's delight at having Logan Cord back home did help to bolster her flagging courage, however, as she moved through the narrow hall that ran behind the staircase. She paused at the threshold of the great room when she heard the low buzz of masculine conversation. She stood still, an internal battle raging as she fought the overpowering desire to run. Back to the wagon, back to St. Louis, back to Brent.

  It took several minutes for it to pass, and she waited it out, then steeled herself with a deep breath. She'd promised her grandfather she'd give Logan Cord a chance, and she would. Perhaps Brent had been wrong about him. She stepped resolutely into the room, her hands clenched tightly together to stop their shaking.

  Neither man saw her at first. Michael was looking at Logan, and Elizabeth slowly moved her eyes to the tall man who stood by the windows, his huge, sun-darkened hands clasped behind his back. His wide shoulders seemed to block the opening completely, and he looked very fierce in a fringed tunic with his long, powerful legs encased in deerskin. A shiver undulated down her spine as the sight of him brought images boiling into her mind. She'd seen such garments before. But where? And when? She jumped when his deep voice shattered the quiet of the room.

  “What in blazes is keeping the woman?”

  Elizabeth blanched at his angry tone and grasped the back of the nearest chair for support.

  “Be patient, Logan, she'll be here in a minute,” Michael said, his own irritation fading when he noticed his daughter-in-law. Her eyes were huge in her white face, and he went to her at once, draping a comforting arm around her as he drew her into the room.

  “Here she is now, Logan. This is Elizabeth.”

  Michael felt Elizabeth's slender shoulders stiffen, and he watched expectantly, eager to see his son's expression upon first sight of Elizabeth's exquisite beauty.