Sophie's Daughters Trilogy

by Mary Connealy

  Of course her mind wasn’t empty really. It was full, just full of only one thing. One huge thing that left no room for anything else. It was full of the notion that she’d arrived somewhere she’d been heading all her life. The notion that she’d come home to a man and a place. There’d been room for nothing else after that kiss, nor during this one.

  Logan had captured that in his painting. Seeing it had terrified her because he was nothing she wanted or respected.

  Tilting her head back firmly, Logan slanted his lips hard across hers, which distracted her from thoughts of what she didn’t want. In fact, he did a fine job of emptying her head of everything but him just as before. She shuddered to think what he’d paint if he had his brushes handy right now.

  As he kissed her Sally knew, no matter what her plans were, they were all gone. All forgotten. She had to plot a new trail that ran alongside Logan’s. Her hands let go of his shirt and slid until they wrapped tightly around his neck.

  Rocks scattered and the horse shifted and slid a few inches, but all Sally could think of was Logan’s strength, his wisdom, his talent for finding truth in his painting. For making a picture that a body could hear and smell and taste and feel. He’d made her beautiful with his art, and now he made her delight in being a woman with his kiss.

  Logan raised his lips. “There, we’re down.”

  “What?” Sally’s eyes flickered open, her mind truly, once again, empty of all but one thing. “Down where?”

  “Down at the bottom of the cliff of course.” Logan smiled.

  Focusing her blurred eyes, she looked up and up and up behind them. They’d come down a pencil-thin trail, and she’d never even noticed. She realized she’d been nearly reclining against his arm with no mind to whether that might throw off her horse’s balance on that death-defying trail.

  Empty-headed indeed. Empty except for Logan.

  Smiling, he tugged on his reins until he was side by side with her horse. “You ready to take charge of your life again, pretty Sally? Ride your own bronc?”

  Her empty head filled again. He’d tricked her. He’d distracted her, this man who’d already broken the news to her that he couldn’t do her the honor of marrying her. And because of her foolish fear, she’d let herself fall into a daydream of the future. One he’d already told her could never happen.

  He reattached the reins then carefully lifted her with his unexpected strength onto her horse, mindful of her broken leg and her soft doeskin skirt. He had to put the reins in her hands and close her fingers around them.

  She was too dazed to do it. Too ashamed.

  She’d made a fool of herself for sure, because though he didn’t need to know it, she’d just fallen completely in love with Logan McKenzie. And after all he’d said about never marrying.

  He’d been dead serious when he’d said it. Which left her without a shred of hope that she could end up with him, even though—if he asked—she’d agree to stay forever and follow him wherever he went, to see whatever he wanted to paint next.

  God, have mercy.

  Because in the way of a wise Texas woman, Sally knew deep in her heart that he was the only man she’d ever love. And even if Luther came for her today and she rode away from Logan and never saw him again, she’d love him and only him for the rest of her life.

  “Let’s go.” She turned to the trail, a game trail barely visible but not dangerous now. She’d need to take the lead. It was the only place she could put herself and be sure he wouldn’t read what she was feeling with those sharp, all-seeing artist eyes.

  God, please, please, please have mercy.

  “Sally, wait.” Logan reached for her. “We need to talk.”

  She kicked her horse into motion so he couldn’t catch hold of her or see her or hear her. “No, let’s go,” she shouted over her shoulder.

  They were the last words she spoke for a long time because the silent sobs choked her throat shut. And it was a good thing the horse was trail savvy because the tears made it so she couldn’t see where she was going.

  Twenty

  Normally Mandy was relieved when Sidney went to town. Having Luther and Buff away had altered Mandy’s thinking. She’d never realized quite how much she’d come to depend on her pa’s old friends. For everything.

  But with Luther and Buff hunting for Sally—

  God, protect her. Protect my little sister.

  Mandy had spent hours in prayer since Sally had gone missing. There was hardly the tiniest corner of her life that didn’t, suddenly, seem to be a disaster.

  Catherine cried from her crib in the bedroom, and Mandy felt that little voice center her. That’s what her life was about—the children, protecting them, loving them, raising them to marry wisely … unlike their mama.

  With the men here working on the house, and Cooter’s frightening behavior, Mandy was on her own in a way she’d never been. She considered herself to be a tough woman. But maybe it was easy to respect your abilities when you never had to prove anything. She’d wanted to beg Sidney to stay. She’d wanted to shout at him, because he was no protection even if he was here. But if she’d said those words, they could never be taken back so she’d let him ride away.

  The first hammer blow rang out on the house, and Mandy glanced out the window to look up, up, up and see that ridiculous house really taking shape. It was stone. Gray stone. Everything in Sidney’s world was gray. Mandy looked at her dress. A dull blue only because she’d gotten it before Sidney had become obsessed with his name and turning his whole world gray to match it.

  But he’d bought Tom Linscott’s blacks. Because no doubt they were so expensive Sidney couldn’t resist.

  Diverting herself from thoughts of Tom, she looked at her house again. To be surrounded by a mountain covered with logs yet build a house out of stone, at terrible expense, with an overwhelming amount of effort, was embarrassing. Most everything about her husband was an embarrassment.

  The day, the third since Sidney had ridden away, caught her and dragged her into it. She’d hoped Sidney would be back by now. She’d told him to hurry. But she kept busy. There were the children to care for, the house to tend, the garden to weed.

  Just after noon, with the girls fed and down for naps, she turned her attention to firewood. If she pushed hard she could get wood split before they woke.

  She lifted a length of oak to the chopping block. Buff had cut a good supply before he left, but it was going fast thanks to the builders arriving and needing to keep the bunkhouse warm and cook their own meals.

  Slamming the razor-sharp ax into the log with a single, smooth stroke, it split perfectly. She took pride in being able to turn her hand to anything, though it was a chore with her stomach so big. She should stick with this until she’d gotten four days’ supply, but she already knew she’d be lucky to stay with the chore until she had wood enough for the evening meal and breakfast. And the evenings got cold so she needed more yet to keep a fire in the hearth.

  Lifting another log into place, she raised her ax and swung. The impact shook her. She felt the muscles of her arms reach deep into her body, into her stomach, and pull painfully on something.

  The sound of hooves spun her around, the ax in one hand, the other going for her rifle, strapped on her back as always.

  That’s when she admitted she’d been scared all morning, expecting trouble, expecting Cooter. Expecting to hear that Sidney had been shot and Cooter was back to do her harm. But it wasn’t Cord Cooter who appeared on that trail.

  Tom Linscott rode in leading two magnificent horses, a matching pair, shining black. Mandy barely noticed because her eyes were riveted on Tom.

  She dropped the ax and felt his eyes on her, registering everything—that she was pregnant, that she was still doing Sidney’s chores. That she was irrationally glad to see him.

  The battle to keep herself from rushing toward him was almost more than she could win. And maybe she’d have lost the battle and shamefully thrown herself into Tom’s arms.<
br />
  If she hadn’t felt a flood of warm liquid, as her water broke.

  Twenty – one

  Wise Sister!” Buff dropped from his horse and rushed toward the underbrush.

  Luther heard Buff’s words, saw his friend’s actions, and pulled his horse to a halt in one short second. They’d found Wise Sister, and that meant they’d found Sally. He felt tears burn his eyes and covered them by blowing his nose and paying strict attention to urging his horse forward to the bushes.

  In the seconds it took to reach Buff’s side, an elderly woman emerged from the forest. “Here, get off the trail. Bad men come.” Wise Sister caught Buff’s hand and dragged him to his horse, caught the reins, and led both animal and man down a stony bit of ground eaten by water runoff. They would never have recognized this as a trail.

  “Sally?” Luther followed after Buff’s horse, aware that he was being completely ignored by both Wise Sister and Buff.

  “Sally girl just ahead with Logan, the man whose cabin burned,” Wise Sister answered.

  “Logan? Is he the one who brought her here? Is he the one who drew those pictures?”

  “Yes. No time now for talk.” Wise Sister and Buff kept walking.

  Luther couldn’t help noticing that she was still leading both the horse and Buff, although from here it looked for all the world like two people holding hands.

  Luther rode slowly. Wise Sister led Buff around a bend to her horse. She let go of his hand, they exchanged some words too quiet to hear, and then she swung up on her horse with the lithe agility of a young girl.

  Buff mounted and followed her. Luther didn’t expect Buff to say much to him, but had the man even asked if Sally was hurt?

  It didn’t strike Luther as a smart time to start hollering, so he fell in behind Buff and set out.

  “They didn’t come this far.” Tulsa pulled his horse around with a savage jerk on the reins.

  Fergus hadn’t seen a sign of a trail for a long time, but on this rugged land, that didn’t mean much. Right now they’d reached a flat land with some gathered silt that coated the entire narrow trail. No one passed this way without leaving sign.

  Tulsa turned and looked back up the trail. “I didn’t seen no sign of ’em leaving the trail neither.”

  Staring at where they’d been, Fergus considered the time since they’d caught that glimpse of the riders, no more than an hour ago. “Then let’s go look at places they could have left the trail without leaving a sign.” He jerked hard on the reins as he wheeled his horse aside to let Tulsa go first. Fergus was good on a trail, but Tulsa was better, and only a stubborn fool didn’t use the talents of the men around him.

  Fergus wasn’t sure about stubborn, but he was sure as certain nobody’s fool.

  Mandy’s knees went limp as she realized what had just happened.

  Tom was off his horse and at her side before she could hit the ground. He swept her up in his arms. “What’s the matter? Where’s the worthless bum?”

  Sidney. Mandy hated to admit it. “He’s gone to town.”

  “To Helena? When you’re this far along with a baby? When is it due?”

  A cramp made her grab for her belly. “Now.”

  “Now? You’re having the baby right now?” Tom’s light brown brows arched in pure fear right to his hairline. His hair had bleached to nearly white in the summer sun.

  Mandy found her hand caressing the ridiculous length of it, hanging below his Stetson. It reminded her of her pa. “Never time for a haircut.”

  “What?” Tom turned toward the cabin, carrying her as if she weighed nothing.

  At that moment Angela cried out, up from her nap.

  “What’s that?”

  “My baby.”

  Tom’s eyes went to her belly.

  “No, my two-year-old.”

  Another thinner cry sounded with Angela. Catherine was up.

  “And my one-year-old.”

  “I was here just over two years ago.”

  “Closer to three, actually.” Mandy was sure.

  “This is your third baby in that time?”

  The pain in her stomach grew into a tight spasm, and Mandy didn’t want to spend another second talking. “Tom, I’m going to have this baby.” She couldn’t mention her water breaking. It was too shameful. And there was no woman anywhere. Luther had stayed with her for the last two births while Buff had raced to town and brought back a midwife in plenty of time for there to be no need for a man dealing with something so personal.

  “What do you need? What can I do to help?” His voice wasn’t entirely steady and his darkly tanned skin turned a sickly shade of gray, but he said the words. A brave man.

  The babies cried again and Angela yelled, “Mama!”

  Mandy couldn’t allow Tom’s help. It was too outrageous to even think such a thing. No, this one Mandy was going to have to do on her own, but it would be all she could do to birth the baby, at least toward the end. She didn’t have time for her little girls.

  Which meant, “Have you ever done any babysitting?”

  Logan goaded his horse forward and caught hold of Sally’s reins, jerking her mustang to a stop. “You are not going to kiss me like that then ride away as if it meant nothing.”

  Sally was crying. He saw it the instant his words left his mouth.

  “Sally, sweetheart.” He leaned down, drawn to her so strongly it was beyond his power to resist the urge.

  Sally was made of sterner stuff. She swiped the long sleeve of her dress across her eyes. “I’m not going to sit here talkin’ while men hunt us.”

  Logan straightened. The flame that had drawn him had turned into a fire that threatened to burn him right to the ground. “We need to talk—”

  “Wise Sister said to go to the top of this trail and I’d find a hidden cave.” Sally stabbed a finger at the trail in front of her. “We can hole up there until she comes. Then we can talk.”

  The trail climbed again. Everything around here was at some kind of an angle. Up, down, and sideways—God had turned this place on its side rather than laying it flat. Logan was grateful for that because it was magnificent to paint. But it wasn’t all that practical.

  “No man with a lick of sense would want to jabber away when he’s being hunted.”

  Logan handed her a handkerchief to save her pretty dress.

  She took it and blew her nose.

  Which gave him too much time to talk. “I’d say I had the sense to get us down that cliff side.”

  Sally’s eyes went to the trail they’d just descended and some of the color leached from her tearstained face, leaving her eyes glowing red and her nose shining. And her lips still swollen from his kissing her all the way down that long, long trail.

  Crazy thing to do. He hadn’t even watched where his horse was going; though he’d have been little help to his horse so it might be just as well.

  He could have kicked himself for reminding her of what she’d called weakness, as if a human being wasn’t allowed to have serious doubts about a hairpin trail like that, especially when she’d recently gone sailing off a cliff.

  Sally mopped her face off a bit then shoved the soggy kerchief into his hands.

  “I wouldn’t dishonor you by kissing you if my intentions weren’t honorable, Sally.” Logan knew his fate was sealed as far as finding a life with Sally now. He’d have to convince her to live in the mountains and spend the winters in New York. Or he’d have to change every plan he’d made. He wondered for a moment if the scenery in Texas was beautiful. It might be worth checking.

  “I remember your honorable intentions well enough. You said your painting would always come first, and any woman in your life could plan on being ignored. No thank you, Logan.”

  “But that was before—”

  “You’re not going to say that’s changed, are you? Because I won’t believe you.”

  “I wouldn’t lie.” Logan was all stirred up. He was overreacting, but Sally calling him a liar made him furious. />
  “I don’t think you would lie. I think any nice thing you said to me right now would be the absolute truth.”

  Mollified, Logan nodded. “Well then, good.”

  “But I think tomorrow you’d see an eagle flying over our heads, and you’d forget every pretty word you said to me.” Sally’s jaw firmed and the color was mostly back in her cheeks, thanks to her anger.

  “I would not.”

  “And I’d expect you to, Logan. I’d respect you for that.”

  “What? You’d respect me for ignoring you?”

  “No, I’d hate that you ignored me. I’d respect you for being yourself. For following your God-given dreams and using your God-given talents. And I’d understand that I had a weak moment, and you stepped in and saved me from that weakness, and because you’re a hero right along with being an artist, it confused you for a bit about what you’re feeling right now.”

  “You think I’m a hero?”

  Sally pulled her Stetson off her head and whacked him with it. He lifted his forearm to protect his face. “Pay attention. Your words and feelings right now aren’t the man I’ve been getting to know for the last few weeks. I’ve got to believe this is the exception, not the real you.”

  Logan wanted to argue with her, but he was momentarily distracted by the sight of a young buffalo emerging from a clump of trees far down the mountain. Its mother lumbered out behind it. His fingers itched for his sketchbook and pencil.

  The Stetson swatted him again. “You’ve just made my point, Painter-Man.”

  Logan had forgotten she was there, but just for a second. Well, a few seconds. No more than a minute.

  “Now let’s ride to that cave Wise Sister told me about and hole up until she finds Luther and brings him here. Then I can get out of here and go see my sister, and you can go draw another picture of an elk.”

  All his work was in ashes. All his paints and canvas were destroyed. He had to leave, go home. It was devastating thinking of all he’d lost. That’s when Logan realized she was right. He felt so terrible about that loss that he’d gotten his priorities temporarily twisted. But this was only today, while he was saving her from her fear. Tomorrow he’d be right back to the self-centered clod he’d always been. And if he persuaded Sally to throw in with him, stay and marry him—the image he got of that drove every thought of painting from his head—he’d soon be back to his old selfish ways. He knew. She knew.