Madeline Baker

by Prairie Heat

  Mattie had hoped things would get better when her aunt, Hattie Claire, came to live with them. But Hattie Claire was also a rather withdrawn person, content to stay home, and between them they had managed to keep Mattie sheltered from life outside their small two-story house. She wasn’t allowed to go to parties, she wasn’t allowed to invite her friends home, she wasn’t allowed to speak to boys unless her mother was present. And as the years passed, Mattie’s suitors grew fewer and fewer, and she became the old maid her aunt said she was.

  Mattie had been filled with confusion and loneliness and apprehension when her mother and her aunt died within weeks of each other. She was almost afraid to go outside by herself, uncertain how to mingle with strangers, distrustful of men. She’d gotten a job as a governess and started corresponding with Josiah Thornton because Josiah was safe. He lived thousands of miles away and she was certain they would never meet. She could write to him and read his letters, and pretend that she had a beau. It had seemed perfect. And then he had proposed, and in the first completely spontaneous move she’d ever made, Mattie had said yes and agreed to be married by proxy as soon as possible.

  Buying her trousseau and preparing for the trip West was the most excitement she had ever known. She was Mrs. Thornton now, and she cast off her fears as she cast off her maiden name. She was twenty-five years old, and it was time to live, to explore, to expand her horizons.

  She had never regretted her decision to become Mrs. Josiah Thornton, she thought, never—until she met Jess McCord. She wondered where he was and what he was doing, and how he’d ever find Elias Kane now, when so much time had passed. And yet, deep down, she knew Jess would find the man he sought sooner or later, and that when that day came, Elias Kane would wish he’d never been born.

  *

  Jess McCord pushed his weary mount onward, hoping to make Santa Rita before dark. He was on the right trail, and the thought drove him relentlessly. Soon, he thought, soon Kane would pay for Kathleen’s death and then, at last, he would know peace again.

  He had stopped at Lordsburg and learned that Kane had stopped there only long enough to eat and change horses. In Silver City, Jess stopped in one of the saloons and overheard two cowhands talking about a woman who had been killed by a stranger in town. A few questions had revealed that the stranger answered Kane’s description.

  Leaving Silver City, Jess had stopped at Fort Bayard. Kane had been there too, and McCord figured his quarry’s next stop would be either Santa Rita or Pinos Altos. It was only a matter of time now, Jess thought, only a matter of time until Elias Kane had a noose around his neck. The idea filled Jess with cold satisfaction.

  His thoughts drifted as he rode steadily onward. Ahead lay the San Mateo Mountains, and then Albuquerque, and then Santa Fe. How far north would Kane go before he turned east? And which trail was he most likely to take? The Santa Fe, or the old Mormon Trail that Brigham Young’s Saints had taken from Nauvoo?

  Jess frowned. He was pretty certain Kane would go back to Chicago, but what if he was wrong?

  Jess shook his head. He couldn’t be wrong, and even if he was, it didn’t really matter. He was on the bastard’s trail, and he had no intention of losing it now.

  Santa Fe. The thought brought Mattie to mind, and he wished he had stayed with her a little longer, ridden with her to Santa Fe, made sure she arrived safely, made sure her husband was there. But he had been in too big a hurry to go after Kane, and spending more time with Mattie would have made it that much harder to let her go.

  He drew his thoughts from Mattie and let Kathleen’s image materialize in his mind. She had been so beautiful and innocent and trusting, not caring who he was, not listening to her father or her friends when they warned her that he would bring her nothing but trouble. Kathleen. She’d been so young, known so little of life, and now she was dead, and her death haunted him, as did the thought that she’d still be alive if she’d married someone else.

  Was that the real reason he hadn’t stayed with Mattie? Had he been afraid he would get her killed too? He swore under his breath, cursing his fondness for another man’s wife, for the desire that plagued him even now, when she was far away and he’d never see her again.

  “Katum!” The Apache curse word escaped his lips as he urged his horse into a lope, forcing everything from his mind but the need to close the distance between himself and Elias Kane.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Josiah Thornton surveyed his new store with satisfaction. It was three times the size of his old one and needed three times the work, but he had no complaints. He needed to be busy, needed to keep his mind and hands occupied because when he wasn’t working, he had too much time to think about Matilda—Matilda being ravaged by savage Indians.

  Matilda being brutally slain. Matilda lying dead in the desert, scalped and mutilated. And it was all his fault. He had encouraged her to come West, assuring her the journey would be safe. And now she was dead.

  The new store was his salvation. It was housed in a large square building located in the center of town. Made of wood and adobe, it was long and low, cool in the summer and warm enough in the winter. The walls were lined with shelves; a fat, black, pot-bellied stove stood in the middle of the room. He had spent the first three days taking inventory of his stock, dusting the shelves and countertops, sweeping the floor, repairing the hinges on the back door, patching a hole in the roof.

  And now, three weeks after taking possession of the establishment—newly christened Thornton’s Mercantile—he was open for business.

  Josiah was busy that first day as the townspeople flocked to the store, eager to meet the new owner, to see what changes he had made in the place, to check his prices against the old ones.

  Josiah welcomed the crowd. He was a man who liked people, liked doing business with the public, enjoyed making new friends. His prices were fair and honest, his merchandise of good quality, and as he prepared to close up shop that first night, he knew he’d been right to leave Tucson.

  That evening, after a lonely dinner, he reread all of Matilda’s letters and then, one by one, he placed them in the hearth and watched them burn, saying a silent farewell to the wife he’d never known, to the future they had dreamed of sharing.

  He could not bring himself to destroy her photograph. Instead, he placed it in the top drawer of his desk beneath a worn family bible.

  He had been in Santa Fe a little over a week when he met Eva Martin. She came into the store to buy four yards of muslin, and in the course of their conversation, Josiah learned she was a widow with a young son, and that she supported herself by sewing for the ladies in town.

  That night, sitting over a solitary dinner, Josiah found himself thinking of Eva Martin instead of grieving over Matilda. He felt a moment of shame for thinking about another woman when Matilda had so recently passed on, and yet it was hard to grieve for someone he had never really known, someone he had married but never met. How long did a man mourn for the loss of a wife he’d never seen?

  Eva visited the store several times in the next few days, stopping by for a pack of needles, a spool of blue thread, six yards of white lace, and at the end of the week, Josiah summoned the nerve to ask if he might walk Eva and her son to church the following Sunday.

  Josiah was conscious of the curious stares of the townspeople as he accompanied Eva to church, but he just smiled and took his place beside her.

  After church, he accepted her invitation to supper. There was an awkward silence between them at the dinner table. Eva’s son, Thomas, had gone to spend the night at a friend’s house, leaving the two of them alone. Eva made small talk, telling Josiah about the town, about her son. Josiah nodded politely, his eyes studying the woman seated across from him. She was pretty in a quiet sort of way. Her hair and eyes were light brown, her skin unblemished and fair. A faint hint of rouge brightened her cheeks. She was a tall, slender woman with graceful hands and a soft, rather husky voice.

  Eva invited him to Sunday dinner the fol
lowing week, and the week after that. It came as a shock to Josiah to realize he was falling in love with Eva Martin, that he was fond of her son, that most of his waking thoughts were centered around Eva.

  And now it was Sunday night and they were standing at Eva’s front door saying good night.

  “Thank you again for dinner,” Josiah said. “I enjoyed it.”

  Eva Martin smiled warmly. “It’s always a pleasure to have you here. It’s so satisfying to cook for a man with a healthy appetite.”

  “You’re a very good cook.”

  “I hope you’ll come again.”

  “I’d like that,” Josiah replied, returning her smile. “Would tomorrow night be too soon?”

  “Six o’clock?”

  “Perfect.”

  They stood in the doorway for several minutes, reluctant to say the words that would bring the evening to an end.

  Summoning his courage, Josiah took Eva’s hand in his, wishing, wondering if he dared kiss her good night. He had known her less than a month, and he knew he had no business even thinking of taking such a liberty, and yet it was so tempting.

  And then propriety and a lifetime of being a gentleman took over. Squeezing Eva’s hand, he bade her good night and walked down the flower-lined path to the front gate, whistling cheerfully.

  There was no need to rush things. Like good wine, good relationships needed time to age before they could be fully appreciated. And he knew in his heart that he had finally found the woman who would one day share his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mattie breathed a sigh of relief when the stage finally arrived in Santa Fe. Her first impression was of a long dusty street lined with adobe buildings, but she spared hardly a glance for the town as she made her way to a large square building located in the middle of the plaza. The sign read:

  THORNTON’S MERCANTILE

  OPEN 10 am to 5 pm. CLOSED SUNDAY

  With her baggage tucked securely beneath her arm, Mattie climbed the three short steps to the veranda, took a deep breath and entered the cool, low-ceilinged room.

  She saw Josiah Thornton immediately. He was standing behind a long, low counter in the front of the store, laughing with a customer as he wrapped a pair of men’s overalls in brown paper.

  Mattie stood just inside the door, watching him, thinking the photograph he had sent her didn’t do him justice. He was much better-looking in person. His hair was a deep, rich mahogany brown; his eyes were not quite so dark, but clear and honest. And his smile was warm and open.

  Her heart pounded with a wild mingling of anticipation and trepidation as she made her way down the aisle toward her husband.

  Josiah looked up as Mattie approached the counter. He bade a cordial farewell to the man he’d been waiting on, stared at Mattie for the space of a heartbeat and then shook his head in disbelief as he recognized the woman standing before him.

  “Matilda,” he murmured. “Can it really be you?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Mattie replied, smiling self-consciously. “I’m sorry I’m so late in arriving, but I had a little trouble getting here.”

  “A little trouble!” Josiah exclaimed, staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost. “I was told you’d been killed by Comanches.”

  “Not quite. It’s a long story, and I’ve had a rather difficult journey. Is there somewhere I can sit down, someplace where we can talk?”

  “Of course.” Mind whirling, he came around the counter, took her arm and led her into a curtained alcove to the left of the front counter. A large walnut desk took up most of the tiny partitioned space. A small sofa and a straight-backed chair faced the desk.

  “Please, sit down,” Josiah said. “Here, let me take your things.” He could not keep from staring at her. Lord, she was even more beautiful than he’d imagined. Her hair was like black silk, her skin smooth and golden brown, her eyes as blue as a summer sky.

  With a grateful smile, Mattie sat down on the sofa, her hands folded in her lap. She was here at last, eager to forget the hardships of the long journey West, to forget Jess McCord and get on with her life.

  She looked at Josiah expectantly, waiting for him to say he was glad to see her.

  Josiah Thornton sat on a corner of the desk, his fingers drumming nervously on the edge as he gazed at Matilda. How had she survived the Indian attack? And what was he to do with her now that she was here?

  “Is something wrong?” Mattie asked.

  “Ah, no… It’s just that so much has happened since I heard you’d been killed.” He paused, glanced at the floor, and then looked at Matilda again. “You were attacked by Indians, weren’t you? How did you manage to survive?”

  Mattie shrugged. “We were terribly lucky. The savages who attacked the stage weren’t interested in scalps, just horses. They took the animals and left.”

  She stared at Josiah, the panic rising within her. This was not the welcome she had expected. Why wasn’t he happy to see her, pleased that she was there, alive and well?

  “What is it, Mr. Thornton?” she asked, unable to call him by his given name. “What’s wrong?”

  Josiah ran a hand through his hair, his expression troubled. “There’s no easy way to say this, Matilda, no way to soften the blow. I thought you’d been killed, and when I didn’t hear anything to the contrary, I sold my business in Tucson and came here to start a new life.” His gaze slid away from hers. “I…I met someone.”

  Mattie sat very still, her gaze riveted on Josiah Thornton’s face as she waited for him to go on.

  “We were married yesterday.”

  Mattie stared at him in stunned disbelief. She had traveled thousands of miles to be this man’s wife, had survived an Indian attack, endured heat and thirst, known gut-wrenching fear, denied herself the love she had found in Jess McCord’s arms, and now this! It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.

  “Matilda, I’m sorry.”

  He’d married someone else. Yesterday.

  Anger came hard on the heels of disappointment. “Your marriage was rather sudden, wasn’t it?” she asked, her voice brittle.

  “Very,” Josiah agreed meekly. “But we just couldn’t wait.”

  She wanted to yell at him, to rail at the cruel hand of fate that had brought her to this point, to scream that he might at least have grieved for her a decent period of time. But what was the use?

  She stood abruptly, needing to get away from him, away from the dreams that now lay around her like shards of broken glass.

  “Matilda, wait! Let me get you a room at the hotel. We can have dinner, talk this over…”

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Mr. Thornton. I’m going back East, back where I belong. There’s a stage leaving in an hour, and I intend to be on it.”

  “Matilda—”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Thornton.” She grabbed her valise and hurried out of the building before he could stop her.

  Outside, she glanced up and down the street, then made her way to the ticket office where she purchased a ticket on the next stage. For the first time, she was grateful she’d kept the money Jess had given her. Without it, she would have had to swallow her pride and ask Josiah to pay for her ticket.

  Clutching it in her hand, she left the office. She was going home where she belonged and she was never leaving Boston again. If she had to spend her life as an old maid, so be it. She’d tried marriage, and that had failed. She’d tried love, and that had failed. She didn’t intend to make either mistake again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jess McCord was tired and covered with trail dust when he reached Santa Fe. Kane’s trail had taken him to Santa Rita and Pinos Altos, and then across the Rio Grande to Aleman. And then the trail had gone cold. It had seemed unlikely that Kane would turn east through Apache country, so Jess had turned north, toward Albuquerque.

  But there’d been no word of Kane there either, so Jess had headed for Tucson, telling himself that he had to make sure Kane wasn’t there, when all he really wanted to do was see
Mattie, to make sure she had arrived safely and that she was happy.

  On reaching Santa Fe, his first stop had been at the hotel for a bath and a change of clothes, and then he made his way to Thornton’s Mercantile.

  But it was Sunday, and the store was closed up tighter than a miser’s purse.

  He asked directions to Thornton’s house at the nearest saloon, wondering what Mattie would say when he showed up on her doorstep. Hell, he wondered what he was going to say!

  Only it wasn’t Mattie who answered the front door, but a tall, slender woman with light brown hair and eyes.

  “Yes?” the woman said. “May I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Josiah Thornton.”

  “Are you a friend of my husband’s?”

  Jess frowned. “Who are you?”

  The woman smiled. “I’m Mrs. Thornton. Josiah and I were married last week.”

  What the hell? “Would you call your husband, please? I need to see him.”

  Mrs. Thornton studied him a moment.

  Jess endured her scrutiny in tight-lipped silence. He didn’t have to read her mind to know the presence of a dark-skinned stranger wearing Indian moccasins and carrying a six-gun low on his hip wasn’t someone she wanted to invite into her home. She took a wary step backward before calling her husband to the door.

  Josiah Thornton frowned when he saw McCord. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for someone,” Jess replied curtly. He glanced at Mrs. Thornton. “It might be better if we discussed this in private.”

  Josiah hesitated a moment, then stepped out on the porch. He smiled reassuringly at Eva, then closed the door. “Would you mind telling me what this is all about?”

  “I’m looking for Matilda Thornton. She said she was your wife.”

  Josiah’s face paled a little, then his neck reddened. “She is, or was. It’s a little complicated.”