High Plains Bride

by Jenna Kernan

  “Question is—what now?” he said. “We can’t ride into the Black Hills alone. We can try the army out there, of course, but if Jessup is any indication, that route is a box canyon.”

  “They should be ashamed.”

  “Reward?”

  “I tried that.”

  “For how much?”

  “One hundred dollars for return, fifteen for information.”

  He lifted his eyebrows but said nothing.

  “What?”

  Thomas pushed the brim of his hat up, giving her a clear look at his eyes. “Not much money, is all.”

  She scowled, folding her arms before her like a shield. “It’s all I had.”

  He nodded, and then his gaze left her to study the street again. She recognized the long pauses that often occurred when Thomas put his mind to a problem.

  At last he said, “I’ll offer considerably more.”

  It took great restraint not to leap to her feet and throw her arms about him. Instead, she clasped her hands before her in thanks.

  “Could you, Thomas?”

  “But I think you were right about shaming them. Folks on the wagon trains and those back east, they have a right to know the army won’t aid them if they run into trouble.”

  “How do you propose to alert them?” she asked.

  He pointed, and she followed the direction of his finger to the newspaper office.

  “You want to advertise?”

  “You heard of that paper?”

  She shook her head.

  “Run by a fellow named McClatchy. The year he took over, he ran our state treasurer out of office for embezzlement. McClatchy’s pen caused the man’s impeachment. Newsmen live on scandals. He’ll find it real interesting that the army failed to order even a cursory search for Lucie.”

  Hope surged into her with the next breath.

  “McClatchy can get more attention with a printing press than an entire artillery unit with cannons blazing. He’ll stir things up, maybe even embarrass them into action.”

  Sarah stood, preparing to grab the bull by the horns.

  Thomas stayed her with a hand. “Let’s plan this. What we say will determine how this plays out. We need to feed them all the details that will sell papers and change policies.”

  Faced with the importance of the task, Sarah sank back into her seat. She listened to Thomas’s advice and added details of outrageous behavior, like the ball that the officers at Fort Laramie held even as the wounded and dying survivors of the wretched attack were brought under their ambivalent care.

  “The wife of an army captain even offered me a dress. Can you imagine? They did not even venture out to recover the bodies until the next day.”

  “McClatchy will eat that up. Let’s go.”

  He offered his hand and she took it, releasing him with reluctance as she stood.

  Sarah and Thomas crossed the dusty street side by side, united in a common purpose. The door of the Daily Bee struck a bell, and the jangle alerted the man behind the counter to their arrival.

  The interview took much of the afternoon. When McClatchy finally laid down his pen, Sarah felt as wrung out as a wet dish-towel twisted dry. When she stood to leave, she found her joints stiff.

  Without her uttering a word about her bone weariness, Thomas responded, clasping her elbow and guiding her out into the street. An afternoon shower had turned the road into a quagmire, and she lifted her skirts to keep her hem from the mud.

  She kept her attention on the ruts and manure as Thomas moved them safely through the maze of wagons and riders. Together they crossed the road to the wide plank sidewalk.

  “That was a hell of a story, Sarah. You were damned lucky to survive it,” said Thomas.

  She glanced at him, seeing compassion for her terrible journey, and welcomed this small offering.

  “Part of me didn’t survive it.”

  “You did the best you could for Lucie.”

  “If I hadn’t told her to hide, she’d be here with me today.”

  “If we could see into the future and know how things worked out, I’d have done lots of things different.”

  She slowed her pace as possibilities stirred. “Name one.”

  His first thought was that he never would have left her. But to say so would be to give her great power over him. Her appearance and revelations had already torn him to ribbons. He could not risk his tattered heart further.

  “I would have locked my window that night.”

  She halted, looking as if he had kicked her in the stomach. At first she paled, but in a moment that changed, as the shock ebbed and her cheeks burned with color.

  “That is one thing I would not change. You don’t know her, Thomas, but Lucie is a wonder. Everyone loves her. Somehow, with all the mistakes, we did that one thing right.”

  He hadn’t meant he didn’t want Lucie, just that the whole miserable mess began that night.

  “Sarah, I don’t regret our night together. But if you hadn’t…” Her scowl stopped him again and he accepted his part. “If we hadn’t made love, then you wouldn’t have had to marry.”

  He already knew what she thought about that night. Worst mistake of her life, she’d told him. He clenched his jaw.

  “If I hadn’t been with child, I would have followed you all the way to California, instead of listening to my mother. Why did I listen?”

  “’Cause you thought me dead.”

  She bowed her head. “Yes.”

  “How did Samuel find out you were expecting?”

  “He came upon me at our spot, down by the creek. I was crying and, well, he asked me if it was because I missed you. That was before we had word.” She lifted her gaze and glared. “Before I had word, anyway. I had just done some counting and realized what was amiss. I asked him what to do.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “To write you a letter. So I did. I still have it. News of your death came the next day. We had a funeral, buried an empty box. Lord, I’ve never felt like that before. I thought nothing in this world could hurt so much.”

  Before he could move to comfort her, those gray wolf-eyes flashed at him.

  “Turns out I was wrong. Lucie was five when I met Ben Harris after church. Funny that finding out you were alive hurt more than thinking you dead.”

  Thomas clasped her arm and steered her to a rocking chair in the shade of the hotel’s front porch, then sat in the one closest to hers.

  “Samuel was with me. They shook hands, and Samuel asked about the gold fields. He so regretted not going.”

  “He didn’t miss much.”

  “How he envied you both when you and Hyatt left. When he talked about California, he got a faroff look in his eyes. The farm, the baby and me, well, we all tied him down. He was too responsible to go. Deep down he wanted to follow his brothers.”

  “Follow? He was the elder. The farm was his. Dad left me no illusions on that account. I told you, I had to make my own way.”

  “And so you have.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was congratulating or mocking him. He gritted his teeth. “I’ve made a fine living.”

  “With no one to share it with.”

  They glared at each other.

  Finally he said. “You going to finish your story?”

  “I think not.”

  “Fine, let’s get a room.” He stood and waited.

  She remained seated, refusing to look at him.

  “You coming?”

  “Not if you are renting a room.”

  He dragged his hat off his head, resisting the urge to throw it down like a gauntlet. “You’ll have your own room, Sarah.”

  She rose, regal as a queen. “Very well, then.”

  Sarah waited while he registered and secured two rooms on opposite sides of the hall and then arranged livery for the horses. He walked her upstairs and handed off the key. Behind them a porter lumbered up the stairs.

  “I want to wait for that newspaper story to run. In t
he meantime, I’ll see about finding an outfit heading east.” He hesitated, wanting to be rid of her and not understanding why he lingered here in the hall. “See if your room is all right.”

  She turned the lock and stepped inside. He followed her but she stopped him with a hand, glancing toward the porter.

  “In here,” she said to the boy. “Those are mine. Thank you.” She pressed a coin into his hand.

  Thomas stood in the hall, gripping his hat. The porter unlocked his door and hauled Thomas’s gear within.

  “Dinner?” asked Thomas.

  “I think I’ll take mine in my room.”

  He scowled. It was because he’d cut off her story about Samuel that she shunned him. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  How was it possible for one woman to put him in such a constant state of irritation?

  She stood with her hand on the crystal knob now, ready to slam the door that he’d paid for in his face.

  The porter cleared his throat. Thomas scowled. “Skedaddle.”

  The porter glowered and descended the stairs.

  “Honestly,” said Sarah, following the boy’s departure. “You know how I hate public scenes.”

  “Do I? Do I know the first thing about you?”

  Her grimace fell away, replaced by a crestfallen expression.

  He turned to go. With the first three steps he meant to leave her. For reasons he didn’t understand, he found himself returning to the narrow doorway, looming over Sarah.

  “And I don’t want to hear any more about Samuel.”

  “But he gobbled up any news of you.”

  He leaned forward, and she flattened against the door to avoid touching him. Her current position gave him a fine view of the round curve of her breasts. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. She regarded him with caution and he knew she understood the height of his passion.

  Easily, he gripped her arm and pulled her back into the room, kicking the door with the heel of his boot. In an instant, he dragged her up against him. The warmth of her body electrified him, like a bolt from the sky.

  He thrust his hands into the soft, rich hair at her temples, forcing her gaze to his.

  “Every time you say his name I see him with you. I see you in his bed.” He pressed his cheek to hers, bringing his lips beside her ear. “I go mad when I think of you together.”

  She trembled in his arms like a captured bird. He knew he could throw her on the bed and fall upon her like a wolf. But could he erase Samuel from her heart?

  One hand moved to cup the back of her head as the other trailed along the tender flesh at her throat. He pulled back to watch her ragged breathing. His fingers drew along the pale column of her neck, over her shoulder and down the lush slope beyond.

  At last, he held her breast in his hand. Through the layers of her dress, her nipple hardened beneath his palm. He pressed and she groaned. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her head dropped back in surrender, giving him access to her throat. He leaned in to kiss her, madness filling him as he devoured her. Her scent intoxicated him, and he dragged her against him, against the raw desire she raised in him.

  She tensed in his arms and he stilled. Her face was now etched with dread and her head was cocked, as if listening. He listened, too, and noted voices in the hall.

  “The door,” she whispered.

  He saw it was ajar, creaking open wider and wider. She trembled in his arms now, but not from his advances.

  “What?”

  An elderly couple appeared in the doorway. Sarah leapt away from Thomas as if scorched.

  The woman’s mouth gaped and then clamped shut in an expression of harsh censure. Her escort lifted his bushy eyebrows.

  “Oh, excuse us.” The man grasped his lady’s arm and led them forward.

  The woman’s words rang clearly in the hall. “Excuse us? Excuse them. They’re the ones engaging in shameful acts with the door hanging open. Revolting, simply revolting.”

  Sarah’s neck and cheeks now flamed. Thomas moved to the door, preparing to close it, but she was there in an instant.

  “Out,” she ordered.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You ruined my reputation once. I’ll not have it again. I’ll not be called a whore behind my back.”

  He couldn’t keep his hands from clenching into fists. “Who called you that?”

  “And my daughter. Do you know what all those dear little sons and daughters of our friends called her?”

  He grasped her shoulders, to tell her he didn’t know. How could he have known? “Sarah, please.”

  “Please what?”

  Forgive me. I never intended to hurt you.

  She gripped the knob until her knuckles turned white. “You have to leave.”

  He nodded, accepting her rejection as his due. He stepped into the hallway and the door was closed firmly behind him.

  He stood on the faded carpet runner for a long time, his lips still tingling from her passionate kisses. After all the sorrow he had caused her, why would she let him kiss her at all? Because she doesn’t know what happened—not all of it, anyway. If she did, she would have shunned him already.

  If he told her, could she find it in her heart to forgive him?

  To know the answer to that, he’d have to tell her about Hyatt. He imagined the fire of passion in her eyes turning to revulsion. Thomas’s shoulders slumped and he walked away.

  Chapter Eight

  Thomas sent a note inviting her to dinner that evening and she sent her regrets. She paced to the window, pressing her palm to the warm glass as uncertainty built within her. This game of avoidance could not go on indefinitely.

  Tomorrow the Daily Bee would release the story. Then she and Thomas would journey east toward the terrible plains where the Sioux had taken her Lucie. She gazed through the window of the hotel room Thomas had provided. She did not look outward but inward, back to her last meeting with Thomas. He had seemed so stricken when she had ordered him out. He’d looked as if he’d lost his last friend.

  Perhaps he had. First his parents, then Hyatt and now Samuel. Thomas had no one, while she had Lucie.

  Sarah had never wondered if he had missed her. All these years she had thought of herself as the girl he willingly left behind. But the look in his eyes belied that notion. He had never forgotten.

  Why hadn’t Thomas written her? He wouldn’t say. What could have happened that made him think she could change her mind about them? She recalled Hyatt’s eager face and the fuzz that covered his cheeks. He didn’t yet have his first beard but had so wanted to be a man. Her heart ached with grief. What had happened to poor Hyatt?

  Samuel had known—and kept it from her all these long years.

  Why had he not told her the truth?

  Sarah considered possibilities until she came to the most terrible. Samuel had lied to keep her for himself. If he had given her the truth, that Thomas lived, would she have married?

  She pressed her hands to her eyes as the hoarse cries came again.

  Samuel knew her too well. At the first word of Thomas’s survival, she would have gathered Lucie and walked a thousand miles to find him.

  “Samuel, you tricked me.”

  She recalled the day she had met Ben Harris. Samuel had been engaged in conversation with him outside the church. Sarah recognized her old schoolmate and smiled her greeting.

  Samuel tried to send her off. She remembered clearly now. He told her he would meet her at the wagon, but she ignored him, anxious to hear of Ben’s trip to California.

  When he had mentioned Thomas, her heart had hurt so badly she thought it had ruptured. She pressed a hand over her breast now at the echo of the grief that had swept through her.

  “Alive?” she had breathed.

  Ben had grinned and nodded. The sun’s rays had burned her face, her eyes. The world went brilliant white. She heard Samuel calling her name as he seemed to spin before her in dizzying circles. Then she
fell away into darkness.

  She had never fainted before in her life, not even when she had found Lucie gone.

  Lucie.

  She sank to her knees beside the bed, resting her forehead upon her folded hands.

  “Please, God, let me find her alive. Bring her back to me. Let Thomas forgive me and help me forgive him.”

  And she realized that she asked God for what she had not asked of Thomas. They must reconcile if her prayers were to be answered.

  Why had he allowed her to think him dead? What terrible secret made him fear to return to her? She could think of nothing that could break the bond between them, save his leaving her. But now she longed to hear his side of events.

  She would begin by telling him the truth and hope to win his trust. But how would she manage that when she could not even be in the same room with him without wanting to kiss him?

  Sarah smoothed the wrinkles from the bedspread and then sat upon the coverlet, clutching the bedpost. It was her fault that Thomas thought he could kiss her like that, because she had once crawled into his room like a wanton woman and given herself to the man she loved. She’d never had a drop of resistance where Thomas was concerned, and it seemed that that had not changed over time.

  Cold panic washed down her spine. She knew full well that she could not find her daughter without his help. She needed Thomas if she was to have any chance of success. She must make him understand that their entanglements threatened their mission. The scandal of their last joining had hurt her, but more importantly it had hurt Lucie. Her daughter had done nothing to deserve the scorn that had fallen upon her innocent head. Another scandal would certainly hurt her chances of gaining sympathy for her cause so she would explain to Thomas what must be—for Lucie’s sake. It was the woman’s role to suppress such improper impulses. Her job—and she had failed again.

  She must speak to Thomas and make him understand.

  Sarah rose, drawing strength from her need to help Lucie. She must speak to Thomas about Samuel. If he could not forgive her for marrying, at least she could make him understand the circumstances. And she must set down the limits to their relationship. Until they found Lucie, she would keep her energies focused on her child.