by Jillian Hart
Then it would be another goodbye.
No, he wouldn’t think of Marie. He stopped his mind before he even conjured her in memory. She’d been gone a long while.
She wasn’t coming back.
“Of course you must stay.” Aunt Gertrude lifted the cozy from the teapot and refilled both their cups. “I’ll help you any way I can.”
“I’m very grateful.” Marie managed a shaky smile. “If you didn’t take me, I wouldn’t have anywhere else to go right now.”
“And the father doesn’t know about the baby?” Gently prying, Gertrude’s gaze squinted, measuring. “Marie, you mean you didn’t tell him?”
“I didn’t have the chance.”
“Oh, Marie.” Gertrude pushed the sugar bowl closer. “He deserves to know about the baby.”
“I know, but it was hard to find a way to tell him when he was explaining to me that he didn’t want me anymore.” Guilty enough, Marie stared out the window where the orchard was in full bloom. Bright new leaves and blossoms of light pink, dark pink, white and plum dappled color everywhere.
“Did he say those exact words?”
Marie nodded. “No. He said that we didn’t suit.”
“That’s an odd thing to say. Men who don’t want to marry usually turn tail and run, in my limited experience.”
“He said we were like a bird and a star, but that didn’t make any sense to me.” Marie watched a pink crab apple petal feather by on the breeze. It looked as lost as she felt. “I don’t want to bring shame to you, Aunt Gertrude. Papa and I have disowned each other over it, and what if our neighbors shun you—”
“Pish-posh! Let me deal with everyone. Why, you grew up here so we can hope our friends will understand. And if they don’t, shame on anyone who thinks my Marie isn’t a good girl. You were in love. There’s no crime in that.” The older woman’s hand covered hers. “You look unhappy. Is there anything I can do?”
“Not unless you can change the past.” Another blossom sailed by on the wind, and she couldn’t help remembering that Night Hawk had an orchard near his house. His trees would be blooming too, scattering color with the wind.
“It will be all right, Marie.” Gertrude’s hand squeezed gently. “You can stay right here and raise your baby. Goodness knows I would welcome your child in my home.”
Overwhelmed, Marie could only nod her gratefulness. She had a place here with her beloved aunt, where she’d lived since she was very young. It was home.
But as beautiful as it was, it wasn’t the home her soul longed for.
“Dear, are you sure you want to stay in the carriage?” Gertrude asked while perched on the busy street corner. “No one’s going to comment on your pregnancy. Goodness, no one even mentions such a thing in polite company.”
Marie squinted against the sun in her eyes. “You’re not fooling me. You’re trying to lift my spirits with a shopping trip.”
“Am I succeeding?”
“No.” Marie pulled a book out of her reticule. “I’ll be happy reading right here. At least I’m away from the house.”
“You’ll get too warm sitting here.”
“Reginald will find some shade to park in.” Marie motioned toward the driver, who’d been her aunt’s hired man forever. “Go, run your errands. I will be fine.”
“All right, but I won’t be long.” Gertrude pressed a kiss to Marie’s cheek, then turned to the driver. “Reginald, take care of my girl and get her out of the sun.”
Marie watched her aunt hurry down the boardwalk, arrowing through the crowd with single-minded focus. When Gertrude was coming, people moved right or left to get out of her way.
Love filled her heart for this woman who was the only mother Marie could remember. It came to her then with the buggy jerking as Reginald pulled out into traffic and the noise of the streets assaulted her ears, the truth she’d missed all along.
Gertrude was all that a mother should be. If Marie needed a parent’s love, she didn’t need to look any further. She’d spent her entire life trying to earn Henry’s affection. When she’d had Gertrude’s all along.
That lifted her spirits just a little. Reginald found a place in the shade by a park. The merry shouts of children playing distracted her from her book, and she gazed out the window.
Yearning filled her. The long stretch of green grass, the lush maples swaying gently in the wind. A finch trilled from a low branch as if rejoicing in the late spring day. Marie closed her eyes and saw, as clearly as if she were there, the endless forests and the gently rolling hills, the sparkling water and fragrant meadows.
She opened her eyes, and the images faded. The jangling of harnesses, wheels on the street, shouts of drivers back and forth, the bang of a delivery wagon, the slam of a door. It wasn’t just the noise that unsettled her. The long row of shops that went on for as far as she could see. The traffic. The smell of someone’s forgotten garbage. Unclean streets.
How could she raise Night Hawk’s son here? He would never know the sound of wind through the trees in an ancient forest. Or see a hawk soar across the face of the sun. Or feel the power of a mustang beneath him as he raced through lakeside meadows.
A longing pierced her so sharp that she couldn’t breathe. Hadn’t she realized it before? Why the days had passed slowly here and felt as if without light? She missed Wisconsin. She loved everything about it. Somehow during her stay there it had become a part of her soul.
Just like Night Hawk had.
Thinking of him filled her with pain. She laid her hand on her round stomach. He would not want his son to be raised where there was no forest. Where the closest piece of nature was a small city park.
The carriage door swung open and Gertrude climbed inside. Her shopping bags were full and rustled and crackled as she set them down on the opposite seat.
“Here, dear, I have something for you. Henry had it forwarded here.” She searched through one of her bags. “Now, where did it go? Oh, here it is.”
Marie could only stare at the letter. What if it was from Night Hawk? Suddenly she was too afraid to take the folded parchment. She was afraid not to take it.
“It’s not from him.” Gertrude was kind as she pressed the letter into Marie’s hand. “It’s from someone named Morning Star. Is that an Indian name?”
“One of my former students.” Pleased, Marie managed to unfold the piece of paper and turned it right side up. Morning Star’s family had reached the western mountains. They crossed over peaks so tall they almost touched the sky, the girl wrote.
Reading the girl’s letter brought warmth back to Marie’s heart. She was glad to know that Morning Star had a new baby sister, and that her great-great-grandfather was proud of her reading and writing skills.
When Marie was finished reading, she held the letter for a long while and simply stared at the page. Not at the words written there, but in memory of all she’d left behind.
Her heart. Her soul. Her baby’s father.
She missed Night Hawk. How she missed him. She could not allow herself to think about him for fear of starting to cry. And never being able to stop.
She missed his tenderness. His touch. His pride. His spirit. Everything she’d ever felt for him remained alive in her heart. A big bright beautiful love still burned.
Thinking back, she tried to remember all he’d said to her when he’d come to break her heart. And how she’d remained troubled over it all this time. Goodbye, shaylee, he’d said. Not goodbye and good riddance. Not simply goodbye. But he’d added his private endearment for her. Shaylee. The brightest star in the heavens.
“I know, I can tell by the look on your face,” Gertrude said as the buggy bounced along the cobblestone street. “But I won’t have you traveling alone in your condition, and goodness knows with my lumbago I won’t make it ten miles in a stagecoach. And yes, my dear Marie, I think you should go to him.”
Marie felt the tears come, finally. Not from weakness or grief. But from gladness. Love was everywhere in h
er life. And it was good.
Chapter Seventeen
The miles passed, and Marie felt the baby within her strengthen and grow. Traveling was uncomfortable, but she would suffer anything for the chance to see Night Hawk again.
He’d said they wouldn’t suit. He’d said goodbye. But he’d never given her a real reason why they couldn’t be together. Maybe he was afraid. He’d lost most of his family. Maybe he’d been alone so long he didn’t think he deserved to be loved.
And if she fought for their love and he still didn’t want her, then so be it. She would return to her aunt’s home certain she’d done the right thing.
But if Night Hawk saw she was pregnant and he wanted to try to make a marriage work, then she would stay. Love had blossomed between them once. Couldn’t it bloom again?
“Do you need another pillow, Marie?” her cousin, John, asked as the stage bounced hard over ruts in the road.
Her stomach still felt sick and she shook her head.
“The wind’s warm. Here, trade places with me. The fresh air will do you good.” John took her hand and helped her scoot against the window. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll live. And don’t look at me like that,” she warned him. “I’m not going to have the baby yet.”
“Good, that’s the attitude.” He was teasing her, trying to get her mind off her queasiness. “I don’t mind a trip through the wilderness, but I’m not about to deliver a baby.”
“Don’t worry. You won’t have to.” She had another month. It seemed so far away. The baby kicked her hard and she winced. He had strong legs, that was for sure.
When she saw the sparkling waters of Lake Michigan, untouched and half-wild, she knew it wasn’t far now.
“Boss, Haskins brought his filly by.” Winter Thunder trotted through the sun-crisped meadow and hopped over the split-rail fence. “I put her in the corral by the training stable.”
“Well-done.” Night Hawk smiled at the boy, who was almost a young man.
Although Henry still refused to speak with Night Hawk, the fort’s horse shortage had reached a crisis. Colonel McGee had made an offer to pay Night Hawk for training some of the fort’s mounts and to buy Arabians as they needed. Soon, other settlers began doing business with him. He’d been so busy, he’d taken Winter Thunder on as an apprentice.
It had been a good decision. Night Hawk was well pleased with the lad’s progress. He had a good hand with the horses, and it felt rewarding to teach someone younger the skills his father had taught him.
“I’ll be back before noon.” Night Hawk wheeled Shadow toward the road. “Fill the water troughs while I’m gone. And stay off Devil. He’s got to learn some manners before you try riding him.”
“All right.” Winter Thunder rolled his eyes in the way of all boys his age.
Night Hawk chuckled. He couldn’t help it. He had so much to be thankful for. His dream of a successful horse ranch was coming true. It wasn’t a life with Marie, but it was something to be glad for. “I’ll bring you back some peppermint.”
“For me or the horses?”
“I’ll bring enough for you, too.” He pressed Shadow into a smooth lope and welcomed the warm wind against this face.
“Look!” Winter Thunder called out, pointing high in the sky where a lone bird soared across the face of the hot sun.
It couldn’t be. Night Hawk drew Shadow to a stop and waited. Wonder filled him as the hawk circled once and then again. His call seemed like a greeting.
It was the hawk Marie had found injured. The bird Night Hawk hadn’t seen since the day Marie left.
The hawk sailed on a gentle breeze and lighted on a nearby fence post. The regal creature cocked his head from side to side, and then called again.
“I don’t have any food with me,” he told the bird, who continued to beg. “Winter Thunder, ride up to the house and bring back some smoked trout.”
The hawk preened, and a second bird glided out of the sky to perch on the rail at his side. A female.
“So, you found a mate, did you?” Night Hawk told himself it meant nothing. Nothing at all. He’d practically made a pet out of the hawk. It was no surprise the creature had returned here to nest.
But his people would say the hawk’s arrival with a mate signaled something of great value was to return to him.
Coincidence, he told himself. It had to be.
Marie didn’t mind the dust in the air that nearly choked her as John helped her from the stage. She didn’t care that her back ached something fierce and her lower right leg smarted from a recent cramp. She was home!
Lush green trees crowded out the horizon and most of the sky. Finches and warblers darted overhead on the wind singing their cheerful songs. The settlement had grown some, and the schoolhouse had been repaired. The road was busier. People she didn’t recognize drove by in wagons, calling pleasant hellos to one another.
“Where are we going to be staying, Marie?” John asked her, taking her arm to protect her from the crowd. “You shouldn’t be in the heat like this. Let me take you over to the shade, and I’ll take care of our baggage.”
Marie’s back muscles cramped again, and she didn’t feel completely well. She probably needed to sit still and rest a bit. That was the sensible thing to do, but it was hard not to argue when she was so close. Only the length of the road heading north was between her and Night Hawk.
She’d come so far, surely she could wait another hour, she told herself as her cousin led her toward a new bench in the shade of the mercantile. Her awkward stomach felt enormous as she noticed several strangers looking at her.
“Marie?”
Night Hawk? Suddenly he was towering over her on the path, surprise marking the handsome face so familiar to her. She had to fight hard to keep from reaching out for him.
Her gaze lovingly worshiped him, from his black hair tied crisply at his nape to the blue cotton shirt he wore, and down to his polished boots. He looked the same—tall and muscular and trim. She knew how hard his chest would feel against her fingertips. She longed to touch him. To step into the circle of his arms and never let go.
Then it occurred to her why he was staring at her with his jaw slightly slack. Her very pregnant stomach was hard to miss. She laid her hand on the round of it and felt the life inside. Speech failed her. How could she find the words to tell him that this was his son? Their son. Not here in the path where anyone could see.
Surely he had to know. The surprise remained on his face, and finally he snapped to attention and offered John his hand.
“I am Night Hawk, an acquaintance of Marie’s. She taught my niece for a time.” How formal he sounded, as if he were making polite dinner conversation.
“Night Hawk?” John tossed a questioning look at Marie, then warmly accepted the man’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. Marie has told me all about you. I hope, while I’m here, you could show me your ranch. I’m a horse trainer, too, and I’m always looking for business.”
“Fine.” Night Hawk nodded in agreement, then turned toward her.
She’d dreamed of this moment all the way from Ohio. Across every mile as her body grew rounder and the baby within grew into its own strong life force. A sharp kick to what felt like her kidney made her remember that this was no dream. The man she loved more than her own life was standing right here in front of her.
Just say the words, invite him over to the shade where it’s quiet and tell him. But the look of heartbreak in his eyes made her forget every carefully rehearsed speech.
Sorrow darkened his eyes. A great grief shone there, deep and hopeless. He glanced at her stomach again, and she knew. He regretted what he’d said. He never would have sent her away if he knew. Because he loved her.
Now she knew what love was, and what it looked like. It was this man.
“I wish you well, Marie.” Night Hawk’s face twisted, his composure appearing to be shattered, and he simply walked away.
“He loves you,” John whispered in her
ear.
“I know.” She was grateful for her cousin’s steady hand on her elbow. She didn’t feel so strong, suddenly. But that didn’t mean she would stop fighting for what she believed in.
She’s married. She’s happy. It’s what I wanted. But that didn’t wash away the agony in his heart. He’d thought saying goodbye to Marie had been the worst loss of his life, but this was worse. Seeing her pregnant and happy, with a decent-looking man—one with money—made it real. She was with someone else and would never again be his.
Except that judging by the girth of her stomach, the baby she carried wasn’t one made after she’d left the settlement. He thought of the sun-swept meadow by the lake when the turning leaves had painted the forests amber, gold and orange. When he and Marie made love for the first time. It didn’t take a genius to count the months to know that the child she carried was his and no other’s.
“Boss! What’s wrong?” Winter Thunder looked up from the well.
Only then did Night Hawk realize he’d been running Shadow hard. Foam flecked the stallion’s black coat and the animal was breathing hard.
“Nothing, just got carried away. Here.” He handed down the heavy packs. “Peppermint’s inside.” It’s all he could manage before he pressed Shadow into an all-out gallop and they headed for the woods.
Leaves slapped against his face and arms. A limb struck his ankle when Shadow leaped over a fallen tree. The run was a hard one—the stallion racing half-wild through the forest. Wildlife scattered from their path. Night Hawk lost himself in the challenge of the ride. He wouldn’t think about Marie. Or the baby she carried.
If he had to ride forever, so be it.
Then the forest opened into a small fragrant meadow. A pair of warblers took flight into the trees as Shadow skidded to a halt. This had been his mother’s favorite meadow. Filled with wildflowers that made the air sweet. Shaded enough so that in midsummer she could sit all day with her work and gaze out on the lake where Father fished.
