by Avery, Joan
The two men exchanged a glance before Stephen nodded to the diminutive man at the other end of the table.
“Piah is a hot-head. Was anyone hurt?” Otto asked.
“No,” Kate had to admit.
“Piah knows better than to attack and damage a train. His father was sent to Denver to try to negotiate a peaceful settlement of property rights in western Colorado. I accompanied the man as interpreter. Sadly, the Ute are fighting a losing battle. Ouray would not tolerate an attack now. That is why he is being asked to help in the negotiations with Chief Johnson to free the hostages.”
Stephen nodded his agreement. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to thank Peg for her efforts tonight and get a bottle of brandy. I’ll only be a moment.”
As he left the room, Otto continued. “I am to meet General Adams in Canon City to try and find a solution. Stephen and I are to leave at the end of the week.”
She abruptly stopped her spoonful of pudding before it reached her mouth. “Stephen is leaving Denver?”
“Hasn’t he told you? He’s going on to Silverton.”
“But why? We’ve only just arrived in Denver.”
“No doubt he has unfinished business with Zechariah Morse.”
“What kind of business has he with this Mr. Morse?” She set down her spoon.
Otto paused thoughtfully before he responded. “That, I think, is a question for Stephen.”
“Here we go. A bottle of my finest.” Stephen’s return prevented any further discussion.
…
“I thought you had gone to bed.” Stephen had spent more than an hour in his study after Otto had left. He was startled to find Kate still in the parlor.
The only light in the room flickered from the remnants of the fire. Peg had extinguished the gaslights long ago.
“No, I was waiting for you.” She stood next to the marble mantle, her face flushed from the heat, her bare shoulders pale and tempting.
He took a single step into the room, then hesitated. It was dangerous to get too close to her.
“I understand you are leaving for Silverton shortly.” She shook her head nervously as if denying the news.
“Yes.”
“I wish to go with you.” It was not a request as much as a demand.
“Don’t be foolish.”
“I am not foolish.” She raised a hand and pressed it to her forehead.
“I didn’t mean...” He had upset her more.
“What is it that Otto will not tell me? Has it to do with Lizzie?” Her voice sounded more determined than ever. “Has it to do with where you were the last two years?” She took a step toward him and then stopped. It was clear that she, too, was aware of the need for distance between them.
It was also apparent that she was in danger of becoming even more angry.
“I will tell you. You must believe that, Katherine.”
“I will believe that when you do tell me. Until then...”
“I need to settle some things first,” he said.
“With Zechariah Morse?” She was clearly ready to pursue this as far as she could.
“Yes, with Morse.”
“Does Morse have something to do with Lizzie’s death?”
When he didn’t answer, anger colored her cheeks bright red.
“If you will not tell me, I will find out myself. I need to see where Lizzie died. If you will not tell me what happened, you cannot stop me from finding out myself.”
“It will only bring back unpleasant memories.”
“For you or for me?” she fired back at him.
“For both of us.” His voice almost cracked with stress.
She rose to her full height. “I can stand the memories. Can you?”
“What I have to do is dangerous. I don’t want you there.”
“Because it’s dangerous for me or for you? Are you afraid I might find out what you’ve been hiding?”
“No, that’s not it. You don’t understand the first thing about it.”
“Then make me understand,” she demanded.
He studied her. Would she understand? Not yet. She was still too belligerent, too untrusting, too determined to keep Andy at any cost. He kept his silence.
She took a step away from the fireplace and into the darkness that blanketed the nether regions of the room.
“If I am left here, I will find out one way or the other. And if it is anything I can use to take Andy back to St. Louis, I will do just that. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” He understood perfectly. Even for someone less determined, the chances were good she’d find out in the two weeks that he would be gone.
“If you do not take me, I will not be here when you return. And neither will your son.”
He stepped closer to the fireplace hoping the light would give him an answer. He placed his hand on the mantelpiece and gazed into the ruby red embers of the dying fire, grasping at anything that would keep her in Denver.
“What about Andy? If you come with me, it would mean that you would have to leave him.”
“But I would not be leaving him with you.” Still she didn’t trust him. That hurt him more than anything she had ever said.
“I am a fate worse than death, it appears.”
She did not answer. Not immediately. When she spoke it was with studied calm and logic.
“Andy can stay with Fiona and Peg and Dusty. He will be happy here.”
“As long as his father is far away?” He shook his head slowly. Apparently he had made little progress in winning her over.
“You are the one who must answer that,” she said firmly.
“No, Katherine, eventually you must be the one who answers that.” He had to buy time, just a little more time. “Have I done anything, said anything, that would lead you to believe that I don’t love my son?”
“It’s not that simple.” She refused to look at him, preferring to study the pattern of the carpet that undulated in the firelight.
“It’s not that simple.” He laughed and threw his hands up, exasperated. “It’s not that simple.” He took two steps to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “It is that simple, Kate. All of life is that simple. You love someone or you don’t. You trust someone or you don’t.”
“No.”
“No what? No, it’s not that simple? Or no, you do not trust me?”
“No, I don’t trust you,” she blurted out. “At least not completely.”
Stephen weighed the pros and cons. He could leave her in Denver and she would no doubt find out why he had left Andy in her care for two years, or he could take her with him and buy more time, earn her trust so that when he told her the truth, she would believe him.
“But you trust me enough to go with me into the Colorado wilderness.”
“I’m doing it for Andy...for Lizzie.”
“And what about yourself? What do you do for yourself? Fight me for Andy? Andy is happy here. You know it and I know it. You are the one who is afraid. Without Andy, you have no one.”
Stephen ran his hands over her shoulders and up her beautiful neck until he cradled her face in his hands. He kissed her then, surprising even himself. He thought she would fight him. She grabbed his hands, but did not pull them away. He deepened his kiss and she responded in kind, opening herself to him. He could smell her, taste her. He trailed kisses down her neck and back up to her mouth. She was willing, more than willing, eager for his lips on hers. His hold on her tightened. His tongue explored the corners of her mouth and still she did not stop him. Her lack of resistance was tempting him toward the unthinkable. He was losing control.
With great effort, he pulled away from her. Her eyes were heavy with passion and hazy with confusion.
“You can’t love someone if you don’t trust them, Katherine. Remember that.”
He dropped his hands, fighting for mastery of himself. “You can come with me. Be ready at dawn the day after tomorrow. Otto will accompany us as far as Canon City.”
“But you must promise me...” She wanted to set conditions once again.
“No. No more promises.”
“But...”
He cut her off. “Are you coming with me or not?”
“Yes!”
He heard the hurried rustle of her skirts as she rushed to leave the parlor.
He was a fool to take her with him, as much a fool as he had been to take Lizzie.
Chapter Twelve
“Katherine, my dear. How good it is to see you.” Otto Mears’ heavy Russian accent cut through the hubbub at the stage coach depot.
Kate had liked Otto Mears from the moment she had met him. A Russian Jew with a finely trimmed black beard and impeccable Eastern clothing, he was as out of place as Kate herself in this wilderness. Yet he had not only acclimated, he had thrived, forging toll roads deep into the wilderness.
“Are you ready for a great adventure, my friend?” Otto smiled broadly.
Had she made the right decision? She would only be gone two weeks, she reassured herself. Andy had barely acknowledged her goodbyes. And yet doubt gnawed at her. She truly didn’t know what she was getting herself into. This was not St. Louis. This was not a train. The huge stagecoach was over eighteen feet long and had to weigh thousands of pounds, and yet it lacked even the most basic comforts. The mammoth assemblage of wood and iron had only leather “springs” to protect its passengers from the jarring of the ruts and rocks.
At least fifteen miners, heavily laden with gear and eager to make their fortunes farther west, milled around in front of the coach.
“We will be off as soon as they load the mail,” Otto Mears continued, unaware of her trepidation.
“It is all a little overwhelming, Mr. Mears.”
“Call me Otto. You must call me Otto. I insist.” He smiled.
“There are so many people. Surely they are all not going on this one stage.” Kate was aghast at the prospect of being crammed into the coach with all these unwashed men.
“The coach was meant to hold nine. But it is not unusual for them to put eighteen or twenty on one. There is money to be made, and they are reluctant to turn down anyone.”
She could barely comprehend how the stage, however large, could be made to accommodate that many people. Her horror must have registered on her face.
“Not to worry, Katherine my friend, not to worry. I myself have purchased six tickets to prevent this problem. We will sit inside. The men”—he indicated the miners—“will be just as happy on the top.”
Kate looked up to the top of the vehicle and the small iron railing barely ten inches high that offered the only hope of preventing a rider from being thrown off the ten-foot tall coach during its journey.
“Stephen says we are to take the stage only to Pueblo.”
“Yes, that is correct. And then you will be my guests on the trip to Canon City. I am having my man meet us with a wagon.”
“You have business in Canon City?”
“I am to meet with General Adams. We have much to talk about,” he added somberly. “But that does not mean that we cannot share the beauty that is Colorado along our journey.”
“That would be lovely. Stephen has kept me cooped up since I have arrived.”
Otto commiserated. “No doubt. No doubt.”
This man knew, she realized. But he would not easily give up Stephen’s secret.
“Ah, you are in for such a treat.” He waved his arm expansively at the mountains that dominated the western sky. “It is better than Switzerland, my darling Katherine. Have you seen Switzerland?”
“No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”
“Not to worry. Not to worry. It pales in comparison. You must see these mountains to understand them and love them as I do.”
“I suspect no one could love them as you do.”
“There you are wrong, my dear. I suspect that your Stephen has grown extraordinarily fond of them himself. We foreigners develop a special appreciation for such beauty in another’s land.”
She felt the heat of a blush. “He is not my Stephen.”
But she remembered the look she had seen on Stephen’s face the day they had arrived. She had attributed it to his being home. But now she realized his eyes had never left the mountains. They were his true home.
“Ah, but how could he not be yours? He is a fool to ignore such a beautiful woman at his side. Do not be misled, my friend, I have seen the way he looks at you when you do not know. He could be yours if you wished it.” Otto laughed.
She could not free herself from the thought. He could be hers. The sequitur added itself. She could be his. The possibilities bombarded her. Every touch, every kiss, every longing came back to haunt her.
Otto’s off-hand comment had brought it all back. Even now she could not dampen her heightened sense of expectation, dry her moist palms, or calm her beating heart.
Without Lizzie, without her tragedy, without Stephen’s callous disregard of Andy for two long years, she would have weakened in an instant.
It was all too confusing.
You cannot love someone if you do not trust them, he had said.
Now, at this moment, she needed desperately to trust him.
Otto helped her enter the stagecoach. Stephen soon followed. A newspaperman, whom Otto Mears identified as William Vickers, was the last to board. He took the seat next to Otto, across from her and Stephen.
“Worth.” William Vickers acknowledged Stephen with a nod. “You didn’t buy quite enough tickets to deprive yourself of my charming company.”
“Otto made an attempt, but had I known you would be coming, I would have purchased every last seat myself.”
“You haven’t introduced me yet to your beautiful companion.”
Stephen performed the required introduction curtly. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Vickers.” She smiled and extended her hand. She had no reason to be rude to this stranger.
William Vickers took her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. It is particularly pleasant to find a member of the family who will speak to me.”
“You have given me no reason not to, sir.”
“True, true. Let’s hope your brother-in-law does not turn you against me before we have even begun our acquaintance”—he released her hand—“which I hope will be a warm one.”
Stephen tensed slightly next to her. She tried to diffuse the tension. “I hardly think we will have much time to acquaint ourselves.”
“Let’s hope not.” Vickers wisely pulled his hat over his eyes and laid his head back to sleep. She sighed in relief.
…
The morning passed quickly. The land around them was rolling hills punctuated by trees. Occasionally a rocky outcropping served as a milepost. Otto would offer commentary when this occurred. Her seat by the window offered her a wonderful view of the mountains always present to the west.
The road was smooth and well-traveled. Still, the jarring of the coach grew wearisome and conversation was difficult with the noise of the fast-moving wheels. Shortly after their third relay stop, having lunched on cold meats and lemonade, she found herself fatigued and fell into a fitful sleep. When she awoke, it was late in the afternoon. Both Stephen and Otto slept, but William Vickers sat reading a copy of the Denver Tribune. The coach had slowed to a more leisurely pace as they approached Colorado Springs, their destination for the night.
The headline of the newspaper read The Utes Must Go.
She was reminded of the terrifying encounter with Utes on the train. Her curiosity piqued, she wondered what the journalist knew of the tribe. “You must tell me why the Utes must go, Mr. Vickers. I am afraid I am ignorant of Indian affairs.”
“Then it is my pleasure to enlighten you, Miss Barker.” He meticulously folded the paper and laid it across his lap. A smirk lifted the corners of his mouth and made her uncomfortable.
“Quite simply they are a barbarous, illiterate people who stand squarely in the face of progress. To let an uncivilized tribe of aboriginal people de
fy those who are more civilized is an affront to good reason. You no doubt heard of poor Mr. Meeker?” he asked.
She nodded, although her knowledge was scant.
“They were shot down, Meeker in his office, Dresser and Price and the others as they were working on the roof of a new storehouse. Nine men in all. Shot down in cold blood. Their wives and children were taken as hostages by these savages, where they remain even today. One can only imagine what violations they must be enduring as we speak.”
Kate remembered the way Piah had looked at her. She shivered.
“Bravo, Vickers.” Stephen slowly clapped his hands.
He was awake. How long had he been listening?
Stephen stopped his clapping and said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “My hat’s off to you. You no doubt have won the lady’s sympathy with your half-truths and jingoism.”
Otto slowly stirred. His hooded eyes betrayed the fact that he too had been listening to her conversation with Vickers.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Is Mr. Vickers lying in what he has told me?”
“My dear Katherine,” Otto said, “the truth half-told is as good as a lie.”
“Then what has Mr. Vickers failed to tell me? I am not without reason. Justify to me, if you will, the murder of innocent men, and the violation of innocent women and children.”
Otto and Stephen remained silent.
“Go ahead and tell her, Worth. You have a particularly soft spot in your heart for the Utes. I want to hear you justify the massacre. I believe I will find great pleasure in your soft-bellied defense.”
She turned to Stephen. “If you consider me intelligent, then you must tell me all of the story and let me determine for myself what I wish to believe.”
“Vickers thinks the Utes lazy and stupid because they do not share the white man’s sense of greed. They own no property individually. Only their beloved ponies. The Utes refer to themselves simply as ‘the people.’ It is enough for them.” Stephen’s look dared Vickers to contradict him.
“They do little more than gamble and race their ponies. They cannot stop progress.” Vickers said angrily.
“The Ute have inhabited these mountains for over two hundred years. They peacefully retreated to the western slope of the Rockies by treaty in 1863. Within five years, the white man’s greed demanded their removal still farther west. The whites couldn’t accept sharing the land with a people who had cared for it, protected it for decades.
