His expression turned serious. “Sabine, I... I’m very sorry for not being a good husband to you. I never realized what I’d been missing until I saw you again the other day. Being here with you has made me rethink my life. And, if you’re willing, I’d like us to start over. I want to be the kind of man you would be proud to claim as your husband.”
She must be dreaming all of this because only words like that could come from her dreams. Closing her eyes, she smiled and rested her head on his chest. “Oh, Grange. I’ve longed to hear those words from your mouth, but I feared they would only be in my girlish fantasies.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Tell me truthfully, my darling Sabine. How long have you thought this way about me?”
She chuckled and looked up at him. “Truthfully?”
“Yes.”
“Since I was sixteen years old.”
“And we married when you were twenty-one.” He winked.
“Yes.”
He paused, staring into her eyes. “Can I assume you had wanted to marry me before we were caught by your father?”
She shrugged as heat consumed her face. “I had thought you were the perfect man, but it wasn’t until our conversation in the gazebo when I really thought about marriage. It scared me when my father forced you to marry me because I worried that you’d hate me.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t tell my father about my feelings for you at all. He had no idea.”
Grange kissed her forehead. “That’s all in the past now. Why don’t we start out afresh? What do you say?”
She nodded. “I like that idea, but before we start afresh, can we do one thing first?”
“Anything, my darling Sabine.”
“Let’s find Foster and get him out of our lives.”
Grange smiled and winked. “What a wonderful idea.”
He assisted Sabine as they gathered the eggs from the chickens. He gave her one more kiss before leaving the barn. She wanted to show him some affection like holding his hand or hooking her hand around his arm, but she didn’t dare. After all, this was only the first day she was out of her grieving state.
“Grange?”
“Yes.”
“What should we tell everyone about our different last names?”
He laughed. “I’m sure that is something we’ll have to make up as we go along.”
“Can you just imagine how Lucy Mae would gossip if she knew the truth?”
“That, my darling Sabine, is exactly what I’m worried about.”
WHILE GRANGE HAD AUNT Milly help him get a fresh bandage on his wound, Sabine hurried into the kitchen and snatched the painting. Earlier in the day, she’d found some nails and a hammer to repair the frame once the paintings were switched.
Inside her room, she quickly went to work on switching the paintings. Carefully, she slid her pa’s painting out of the frame before removing her aunt’s. As the paintings lay next to each other, Sabine could see they were of the same scene, just extended. On Pa’s, there was a river running alongside a mountain, and on her aunt’s painting, the river continued on through a meadow.
Her summer memories as a child never had her family going to this spot in the meadow. And yet, it connected to her pa’s painting. Was there something to these paintings at all? There were no artists’ signatures in the bottom corners, which was also confusing. So, who had painted them?
Shaking off the questions swimming in her head, she took her aunt’s painting and prepared to slide in the other frame, when something caught her eye. As the stream ran toward the edge of the canvas, she noticed an X. Odd that there would be an X there, but not on her pa’s painting. Unless... What if both of these paintings were supposed to go together? And what if this one of Aunt Milly’s was the one that had the treasure?
Sabine groaned and dropped the painting. As it drifted to the bed, it flipped over. Confusion filled her and she couldn’t shake the feeling that both of these paintings were important. Her pa’s painting showed where the trail started, and the other showed it leading toward an X. One painting was not important alone, but together they made more sense.
She rubbed her forehead, wondering what to do. If only Grange was here with her, he’d know. Perhaps her idea of swapping the paintings wasn’t the brightest after all.
As she picked up the frame, she bumped her aunt’s painting and it drifted to the floor. She bent to retrieve it but noticed there was writing on the back, similar to what she and Grange had found on her father’s painting.
She brought it back to her lap and studied the faded words.
10 steps north
20 steps east
5 steps southeast
30 steps north
Closing her eyes, she put herself back in the spot where her father had taken the family. If she followed these directions, it would lead her nowhere. However, there would have been plenty of room to walk in this direction if she was in the other painting.
She held a breath. Her theory had been correct. Both paintings were needed in order to find the treasure... If there was still a treasure to be found.
She hurried to her desk and withdrew a writing quill and ink to write down the directions. Once she was finished, she used the ink to smear across the fading directions so that nobody else could read them. She’d give her father’s painting to Foster, but he definitely would not get her aunt’s!
NINE
Grange watched Sabine closely as she drove the wagon into town. Today was shopping day, and Milly had quite a list for Sabine to purchase. Riding on his horse, he followed at a distance. His side wasn’t as painful today. Then again, for the past three days, he’d been building up his strength by walking around the house, and especially outside. Sabine had stayed near the house, as well.
Unease made the hairs on the back of Grange’s neck stand up. Foster was out there watching... waiting. The one thing Grange had going for him was that Foster would probably not recognize him. When they’d met at the saloon a few weeks ago, Grange was in disguise.
The same people who waved at Sabine, waved at Grange. Belle reminded him of the town he’d grown up in. It had been so long since he’d lived amongst good, God-loving people. He wouldn’t mind settling down in a place like this. He’d saved some money over the years, and he could probably buy some land and build a house nearby. In fact, owning a stud farm did sound good...
He snapped alert and scanned the streets for Sabine. Her wagon was parked outside the mercantile – the same store where he’d tried to kidnap her several days ago. He touched his hand to his bandaged wound. If only he’d done things differently with Sabine, his life would have been so much better.
He stopped his horse across the street and dismounted. After tying his horse to a post, he leaned against the post, scoping out the town. Most of them knew him as Mr. Baxter. What excuse could he give them when he finally revealed his real identity? He didn’t want them to judge him or Sabine.
A fast-walking woman headed for the store. The rhythm of her bouncing bustle looked familiar. He grinned. What was Miss Lucy Mae Jackson up to this morning as she hurried toward the store? She must have seen Sabine and couldn’t wait to go inside and tell her that she was wearing the wrong color of dress for someone who was a widow.
She stopped at the door and tried to pull it open, but the door wouldn’t budge. Grange frowned. How could it be locked when Sabine went in there a few minutes ago? Straightening, he watched closely as she peered through the window on the door and knocked.
“Hellooo! Is anyone in there?” she shouted.
Something wasn’t right. Grange’s heartbeat quickened, matching the rhythm of his steps as he headed toward the store. Sabine was in there, so why was the door locked?
“Mr. Baxter,” Lucy Mae gasped. “What a surprise it is to see you so soon after your injury. Are you feeling better?”
He ignored her question and pulled on the door. Locked! “Why is the door locked?”
“I don’t know.” She peeked back i
nside. “Usually if Olivia isn’t here, she leaves a sign on the door for when she’ll return.”
“I’ll check the back. You stay here.”
He hurried around to the back, and the back door was wide open. He glanced at the ground near the door. The dirt had been disturbed as if something or someone had been dragged away.
Bile rose in his throat. Sabine! Foster must have her.
He looked in the direction where the tracks had gone. They stopped not far away from the door before a horse’s tracks took over, heading east.
Cussing under his breath, Grange darted back around the store toward his horse. When he saw Lucy Mae still standing by the door he pointed toward the alley. “The back door is open. Go inside and see if Olivia is all right.”
“Where are you going?” Lucy Mae called out after him.
“To find Sabine!”
He mounted his horse and kicked the animal into action. Before he’d gone very far, Sheriff Knight stopped him by riding his horse in front of Grange. He grumbled and tightened his hands on the reins.
“Sheriff, if you’ll excuse me, I have—”
“I will in a moment.” The man’s voice was stern. “I just want you to know we think we know who owned that fancy knife that had your blood on it.”
Grange gnashed his teeth. If the man of the law didn’t move soon, Grange wasn’t going to hold his tongue any longer.
“It was Mrs. Clayborne.” Sheriff Knight cocked his head, narrowing his gaze on Grange. “Can you tell me why Mrs. Clayborne would want to stab you?”
“Yes, I will, but right now I have to find her.”
Surprise registered on the man’s face. “It’s true? She did stab you?”
Grange grumbled under his breath. “Yes, but it’s not what you think... She’s... my wife.”
The man’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open. Somewhere behind Grange, he heard Lucy Mae’s audible gasp. But right now wasn’t the time to worry about them.
“Now, if you’ll please excuse me,” Grange said in a strained voice, “someone has kidnapped my wife and I must find her.”
He pushed the sheriff’s and the gossipmonger’s questions aside. He’d deal with them later.
Fear tightened his chest and threatened to cut off his breathing. He calculated Sabine to be no more than ten minutes ahead. Knowing Foster, that man would push his animal to the limit. But with two people on one horse, they couldn’t go too fast.
Sabine had told him the other day about how the two paintings matched up and how she smudged ink over the directions. He was very impressed with her smart thinking because now the paintings were worthless. However, Grange should have realized Foster wouldn’t have been happy knowing the keepsake had been ruined. Taking Sabine with Foster was the only way that man would be able to find the treasure – if there was one.
After a few minutes of riding, Grange noticed that the tracks led southwest toward Glenda, Wyoming. Since he had never been to the area Sabine had known as a child, doubt settled in his mind. Will I find her?
As soon as the thought came to him, he stopped it. What was he thinking? Of course, he’d find her. He was an excellent tracker, and he had been for years. He would find the woman he loved... or die trying.
SABINE BOUNCED ON THE horse, clinging to its mane as well as her bound hands would let her. Foster – who she assumed was her kidnapper – had the nerve to gag her, as well. She vowed there would be hell to pay once he removed that gag cutting into her mouth.
She’d only been in the store for one minute when he’d sneaked up behind her and shoved a pistol into her side and told her to follow. He muttered something about if she tried to scream, he’d kill her and everyone else in the store. Olivia had gone into one of the back rooms, so Foster locked the front door and took Sabine out the back way.
As every minute passed, she prayed Grange would find her. He’d claimed to be good at tracking people, and she hoped he hadn’t been boasting. She needed him now, more than ever. Nobody else in this town knew where she was going, and Grange was her only hope.
The thought came to her to tear pieces of her dress and leave them on the ground or the bushes they rode past as signs to point Grange in the right direction. However, Foster seemed like a smart man. He’d definitely see what she was doing and put a stop to it.
The horse slowed and the gag around her head loosened and fell off. She reached up and rubbed her sore mouth.
“I figured we were far enough away from town that nobody would hear you scream.”
She swung her head and glared at him from over her shoulder. “You are an imbecile!”
His eyes widened and he laughed. “Oooh, such forceful words from such a petite lady.”
“I’m assuming you are the man who wants my father’s keepsake enough to ransack my home and hire someone to find me.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You knew that was me?”
“I’m not a fool, you know. You want something that is mine, and I will not give it to you.”
He glared. “I only want what belongs to me!”
She sucked in a breath. “Are you being humorous?” She shook her head. “You must be because that painting is not yours.”
“Actually... it is.”
The confidence in his voice made her pause. Now, more than ever, she wished her pa was alive and could prove Foster wrong. All she had were her memories and the knowledge that her father wanted her to have the painting. “Why do you think that when the painting was given to me?”
“Because your father had taken it from my father.”
Her breath stilled and her heartbeat pounded a fierce rhythm.
“Robert Powell was my father. He and your father were good friends. As young men, they enjoyed seeking buried treasure. It wasn’t until they found a painting with directions on the back that they realized it was a treasure map.”
“You said they... they found the painting.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“Then why do you think my pa took it from your father?”
“Because your father gave up on looking for the treasure, so he gave the painting to my father.”
“Did your father continue to look for the treasure?”
“Yes, but he could never find it. He blamed your father for taking the key piece to the map that kept him from finding it.”
Sabine pinched her lips together. The key piece... That must be Aunt Milly’s painting. “Tell me, Mr. Powell, where did our fathers get this painting?”
His body stiffened, and sitting in front of him on the horse, made it that much more uncomfortable.
“That is none of your business.”
She rolled her eyes, grateful that she was facing forward so he couldn’t see. The reason he wasn’t going to tell her is because he didn’t know. But she did. Well, she suspected, anyway. If Aunt Milly had one painting and Pa had the other, then Pa must have gotten it from Grandpa Clayborne, her maternal grandfather – whose name she had taken as the grieving widow.
“I’m sorry to say this because I know how determined you are to find that treasure, but the only thing my pa gave me when he died was the painting.”
“And you ruined it by smearing ink on the back,” he snapped.
She hitched a breath and swung her head to look at him over her shoulder. “How do you know I did that?”
“I saw you. I was watching you through your window from outside.”
Fear made her tremble. If he saw her do that, did he notice that there was a second painting? “You saw me?”
“Yes!”
“W-what else did you see?”
“I’m not one to spread rumors around about you and your lover, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
She wanted to sigh with relief. Perhaps Foster hadn’t seen the other painting. With any luck, he’d been so distraught over what she’d done with the ink that he’d turned away from the window. She could only hope.
“Thank you. I’m glad you understan
d about me and... my lover.” She didn’t dare tell Foster that the man she’d kissed so passionately – several times these past few days in her room and in Grange’s room – was her husband. “But the fact remains, that I don’t have anything else. My ma gave me some pieces of jewelry that had belonged to her mother, but that’s all I have.”
“I knew you’d say that, which is why I’m taking you to the scene on the painting. You are going to find that treasure for me or I’ll kill you.”
She held onto the horse’s mane as she watched ahead of them. How could she tell Foster there was no treasure? Pa had tried to find it for years, which was why he took his family to that spot every year. Unfortunately, Foster wasn’t going to believe her.
After a few minutes, she cleared her throat. “Mr. Powell? Do you know what kind of treasure is buried in the spot?”
He chuckled lightly. “By chance, are you now anxious to see what’s there?”
She shrugged. “I’m just wondering what kind of treasure I’ll find.”
“From my calculations on when my father found this painting, it would have to be around 1842 or thereabouts.”
“Why? What happened in 1842?”
“Wyoming had a gold rush.”
“Oh... so you think we’ll find gold?”
“I’m almost positive that’s what it is. There has been no mention of ancient treasure being lost in Wyoming, or even Utah. So, it must be gold.”
“Yes, it must be.”
Finally, there was silence between them as they continued to ride. Her mind spun with ideas of what she could do with the gold if they found it. But then she recalled the story Grange told her about his father. Greed was addictive and one could never get enough. She couldn’t turn out like that man. And really, she loved Grange just the way he was.
But how much longer would she stay alive to love him? Please, my love... come and find me!
TEN
Sabine had been digging for at least thirty minutes. The hot sun glared down on her, and since she hadn’t worn a bonnet and she’d dropped her parasol in the store, she was certain that freckles were going to bloom across her face from the exposure. Why hadn’t she listened to Ma when she always told her to wear a bonnet?
Whispers of Yesterday Page 7
