Revealed

by Tamera Alexander

  ‘‘What will be your pleasure, sir?’’

  Her voice surprised him. It sounded cultured, feminine, not at all young. Lilly Carlson came to mind. Sadie had been about Lilly’s age when she’d first come to the brothel in Willow Springs. Contrasting Lilly’s sweetness and purity with the oppressive darkness cloying this room, he suddenly felt sick.

  He kept his voice low, repeating word for word what Annabelle had told him to say. ‘‘I’m not here for pleasure. I won’t touch you.

  I won’t hurt you. I give you my word.’’

  Slowly, the girl turned. Her movements were so restrained, so measured, the red gown she wore barely shifted about her ankles.

  ‘‘Then why do you pay money to come in here?’’

  Matthew took a step forward. Sadie didn’t move, but he felt her loathing. It emanated from her, like the distrust mirrored in her dark eyes. The eyes of a woman in the face of a child. His chest ached. ‘‘I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to trust me . . . Sadie.’’

  He waited for her reaction, but her expression remained detached.

  ‘‘Annabelle sent me to you. She’s here in town with me.’’

  Sadie’s gaze flitted over his shoulder and back again.

  Annabelle had warned him she wouldn’t believe him. It was likely the men who had taken her from Willow Springs had used a similar ploy. He forged ahead, knowing his time was measured. ‘‘We’ve learned that sometime tonight, Boyd will be moving you again, and we might have an opportunity to get you away from him. We have a wagon waiting, just out back. You can have a new life, Sadie. You can start over again, just like Annabelle did. She’ll be with you, to help you.’’

  Sadie tilted her head, one brow raised. The gesture seemed vaguely familiar. ‘‘I do not know you, and I have no reason to believe your words. In my eyes, you are no different a man from Boyd.’’

  Matthew didn’t care for her comparison. ‘‘But I am, Sadie. I’m a very different kind of man. I won’t do the things to you that he has done.’’

  She responded in a language he’d never heard before.

  The words might have been lost on him, but her coolness toward him wasn’t. At least he’d managed to get a reaction.

  He held up a hand. ‘‘I can prove to you that Annabelle sent me.’’

  ‘‘I do not—’’

  ‘‘You met Annabelle back in Willow Springs. She told me how you ended up at the brothel. You were eleven years old at the time. You were scared the first few days you were there, so you slept in her bed with her. You became good friends. She looked out for you as much as she could, but she couldn’t be there all the time. Like that night when you got hurt out at the ranch, at Casaroja. She felt responsible for those times like that, Sadie. She still does.’’

  She nodded toward the door. ‘‘Your time is up, mister.’’

  No knock had sounded. That was a contrived move on her part to get him to leave, and Matthew knew it. He took a step closer. ‘‘You were at Larson and Kathryn’s wedding. You held little William that day. He cried a lot. You said he had his father’s eyes, and Annabelle said yes but he had his mother’s stubbornness.’’

  Sadie walked to the door and opened it.

  On impulse, Matthew reached behind him and slammed it shut, then kept his hand against it. This wasn’t working—not like Annabelle had said it would. But he couldn’t leave this child here. Not and face Annabelle again. He was struck by how small Sadie was and how much damage a grown man could inflict on her with very little effort. Then he thought of the many who had already done just that.

  He took a deep breath. ‘‘Sadie, I’m telling you things that only Annabelle and you would know. Don’t you see that?’’

  She slowly lifted her head, a fierceness in her eyes. ‘‘I do not believe the words you say are from my friend. She would come herself.’’

  ‘‘She wanted to come but was afraid Boyd would recognize her. So she sent me instead.’’

  ‘‘Annabelle has never been afraid!’’

  ‘‘Annabelle isn’t afraid for herself, Sadie. But when it comes to someone she loves, she can be very much afraid.’’

  A double knock sounded on the door.

  He racked his brain for anything else he could say or do to convince her.

  ‘‘I will ask you a certain thing, and we will see if you can answer.’’ The youthful features of her face were uncompromising.

  Sensing his opportunity slipping away, Matthew nodded. ‘‘Fair enough.’’

  She phrased her question to him, hesitating in a couple of places as though trying to recall how to pronounce a word.

  He listened, then slowly shook his head. The odds of this working had been stacked against them from the start. Beginning with how long they’d been searching for this girl, only to look up one day and see her standing there. He should have known it would turn out this way.

  Sadie finished, her face defiant in challenge.

  But Matthew also detected a spark of hope there too. ‘‘Cocoa,’’ he whispered, unable to suppress a grin. ‘‘That stupid horse’s name was Cocoa.’’

  Gradual light spilled into the girl’s fathomless eyes. She softened. ‘‘Is Annabelle close?’’

  He was struck by the sudden transformation. ‘‘Outside, around the back. She’s waiting for us. I just haven’t quite figured out how we’re going to get—’’

  Shouts sounded in the hallway beyond the closed door. Two muted pops followed. Matthew reached for the latch just as the lock clicked into place. He tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge. He shook harder.

  Sadie reached out. ‘‘That will not work. It locks only from the other side.’’

  He gestured for her to step back, then rammed his left shoulder into the door. A dull thud rewarded the effort. He tried again and heard wood splinter, but the door held fast.

  He exhaled and rubbed his left arm, feeling the pain shoot across to his right. A quick check of the hinges found them rusted and set. It would take time and tools to pry them loose—and he had neither. He’d brought his gun, but Boyd had confiscated it at the bar before granting him entrance to the back.

  ‘‘I know this is a silly question, Sadie, but . . . there’s no other way out of this room. Right?’’

  The tilt of her head, the way she peered up at him through half closed lids, was answer enough.

  He nodded. Quiet or not, she knew how to get her point across.

  Like someone else he knew.

  A faint clinking brought his attention back to the door. Like metal against metal. He jiggled the latch.

  ‘‘Matthew?’’

  Hearing the voice on the other side brought both relief and concern. He leaned closer. ‘‘What are you doing in here? If Boyd sees you, he’ll—’’ Only then did he notice Sadie close beside him, her focus fixed on the latch.

  The clink of metal against metal again. Then a clicking noise.

  The lock tumbled. The latch lifted and the door opened. Matthew stared in disbelief. Was there no end to this woman’s ingenuity?

  In an instant, Sadie was in Annabelle’s arms, pressing close, her arms wrapped about Annabelle’s waist.

  Matthew stepped past them into the hallway as Annabelle whispered something indistinguishable to the girl. Sadie nodded and hugged her tighter.

  The corridor was empty. The guard that had been seated by the door at the far end was gone. Matthew walked to the corner and peered around. When he saw the man slumped on the floor, he turned, slack-jawed, back to Annabelle. ‘‘Woman, what on earth did you do?’’

  They traveled through the night, stopping only long enough to rest and water the livestock. Progress was slow, but Matthew wanted to put as much distance between them and Mason Boyd as possible. He glanced back occasionally in search of pursuers, but the half moon’s silvered light illuminating the Idaho plains behind them revealed none. He also checked to see if he could make out Annabelle and Sadie in the wagon bed, but they were lost in the shadows be
neath the canopy. When they’d first set out, he’d heard their chatter, their voices sometimes talking over one another. But it had been quiet for the past three or four hours now. While his body was dog-tired, his mind couldn’t rest.

  He thought back over the sequence of events from the night before and grew more eager to question Annabelle about it. How she managed to get past Mason Boyd and his men was still a mystery to him. But even greater than his curiosity about that was his thankfulness to have finally found Sadie and to have her with them. Watching Annabelle with the girl was like watching a mother with her child. Though she’d never actually said it aloud, he had sensed Annabelle’s apprehension about becoming a mother. Having observed her tenderness and concern for Sadie, he had no worries that Jonathan’s child would be well loved.

  Jonathan’s child.

  He looked up at the last dwindling star in the east and wondered if something Bertram Colby had said that day back at the Carlsons’ home was true—if people who had gone on could somehow see how folks here were faring. True or not, it sure made a man feel more accountable for his actions.

  Around noon, they stopped to eat a hasty lunch of cold beans and corn bread. Matthew wished for some of Annabelle’s coffee to revive him but preferred to put the time it would take to make it toward travel instead. Sadie stuck close to Annabelle every minute, making it impossible for him to speak privately with Annabelle.

  He noticed Sadie didn’t speak to him unless he spoke to her first, and then all he got were one-word answers. He didn’t think she much cared for him. Or maybe it was men in general she didn’t like. Considering what the young girl had been through, he wouldn’t blame her if that was the case.

  Rifle in hand, he made a quick check of the grays before they headed out again.

  ‘‘Sadie and I were just talking, Matthew,’’ Annabelle said as he was about to get into the wagon. ‘‘How ’bout if we drive for a while? You didn’t get any sleep last night, and we did.’’

  He’d already considered that over lunch but hated to ask it of her.

  She smiled as though reading his thoughts. ‘‘Honestly, Matthew, you must be worn to the bone. You gave us a chance to rest last night. Now let Sadie and me return the kindness. We’ll wake you at the first sign of trouble.’’

  Hesitating, he saw Sadie’s almost imperceptible nod. ‘‘I’d appreciate that, ladies. Thank you.’’

  Sadie laid a hand to Annabelle’s arm and whispered in her native tongue. Annabelle gave a hasty answer back.

  Matthew’s mouth fell open. ‘‘You speak Chinese?’’

  Annabelle smiled and Sadie followed suit. ‘‘Only a little. Sadie’s taught me a few phrases that come in handy on occasion. Don’t worry. We weren’t talking about you.’’

  He looked between the two of them, then shook his head, feeling as though he was outnumbered. He massaged the soreness in his right arm.

  Annabelle frowned. ‘‘Is your arm hurting again?’’

  ‘‘Not much. I’m fine,’’ he lied, growing more tired by the minute. ‘‘Gettin’ some rest will do me good.’’ He handed her the rifle.

  Annabelle took it, an odd look coming over her face.

  ‘‘Don’t tell me—you know how to shoot like you know how to sew someone up.’’

  ‘‘Actually, I have shot a rifle before. I’m just not sure I’d be able to hit anything if it really counted. But’’—she held up her free hand—‘‘I’ll take it, if you insist.’’ She gestured for Sadie to climb up to the wagon seat.

  Matthew took the weapon back from her. ‘‘First horses, and now this. Seems there’s one more thing I need to teach you before we part ways, Mrs. McCutchens.’’

  A look of surprise flashed across her face, then hurt, before she quickly disguised it. He’d meant for his comment to be humorous and hadn’t intended for it to come out that way.

  She briefly glanced away. ‘‘So once you get me to the ranch’’— her tone became more guarded—‘‘you’re not planning on staying?’’

  This wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have. ‘‘I haven’t really thought much about it.’’ Seeing her expression fall, he winced at how that sounded, especially knowing it wasn’t true. ‘‘What I meant to say was—’’

  ‘‘I think I know what you meant . . . Matthew.’’ She turned to climb into the wagon.

  Sighing, he gently took hold of her arm, aware that Sadie was watching them from the buckboard. He waited for Annabelle to look back at him. ‘‘With all due respect . . . Annabelle, I’m sure you don’t.’’

  They stared at each other for a moment. Then she gave a slight nod, which he took as an agreement that they would discuss this later.

  ‘‘Wake me the minute you see anything suspicious.’’

  Again, she nodded.

  He helped Annabelle up to the bench beside Sadie and then went around to the back of the wagon and climbed in. He sat facing out the back, propped against blankets Annabelle and Sadie must have used during the night. The wheels bumped and jarred beneath him. The space inside the wagon was hot, and he loosened the ties on the canopy to allow a breeze. After making sure the safety latch was on, he cradled his rifle against his chest and was asleep in minutes.

  ‘‘Matthew!’’

  He heard his name being called from far away and struggled to respond, but he kept feeling himself being pulled back down by a suffocating force.

  A distant explosion sounded. Like what he’d heard in the gaming hall last night.

  The fog cleared. Remembering where he was, he bolted upright, his breath coming heavy. Annabelle’s was the first face he saw, then Sadie’s peering from around the corner of the wagon canopy.

  He blinked, trying to come fully awake. ‘‘Is it Boyd?’’

  Annabelle smiled softly. ‘‘Lower the rifle, Matthew. It’s not Boyd. We’re safe.’’

  ‘‘But I heard a gunshot.’’

  She reached out and laid a hand atop his on the weapon, urging him to lower it. ‘‘It wasn’t gunfire.’’

  Her deliberate touch, coupled with the earnestness in her eyes, brought him more fully awake. She motioned for him to climb out of the wagon, then pointed northwest across the Idaho plains to something far in the distance.

  CHAPTER | THIRTY - TWO

  EMOTION TIGHTENED ANNABELLE’S THROAT as she regarded the scene before them. Matthew guided the wagon up and over the slight crest of land and then gently tugged on the reins.

  The team of grays slowed to a halt, snorting as if begrudging the brief delay. Sadie—who had chosen to walk for a while—also paused up ahead.

  No more than a half mile away, clustered in three circles in the middle of the vast plains, a group of fifty or so wagons sat huddled, their canopies once gleaming white now dingy gray against the barren prairie. At this distance, the convoy more closely resembled a fleet of sealess ships moored for the night rather than a group of lumbering farm wagons plodding west.

  Unexpectedly, Jonathan’s memory pressed close, and Annabelle recalled having viewed a similar scene with him last May, the morning they’d congregated with the others outside Denver. Jonathan had paused the grays at the crest of a rise, much as Matthew was doing now, and for several moments she’d sat silent beside her husband, amazed at the gathering. A sense of pride had washed over her at seeing the number of men, women, and children united and working together for a common purpose—to make a better life for themselves. Unexpectedly, that same sense of pride moved through her again.

  Matthew gently nudged her. ‘‘Looks like we made it in time for that celebration.’’

  She smiled up at him, imagining what it would be like to dance with him. Assuming he knew how. Not that she planned on dancing tonight, it still being so close to Jonathan’s passing. But if Matthew didn’t know how to dance, that was certainly one thing she could teach him someday. And she’d enjoy having the upper hand.

  He gave the reins a flick and the wagon lurched forward. After a brief glance behind her, Sadie als
o regained her stride. Annabelle had sensed the girl’s need for solitude earlier, and understood it.

  Matthew leaned close. ‘‘You and I need to talk about something.’’ Seeing the seriousness in his eyes, she began to imagine what that ‘‘something’’ might be. Her emotions were still tender as she recalled what he’d said earlier that day about them parting ways once he got her to the ranch. Then, after questioning him, hearing him admit he hadn’t even given the idea much thought had hurt her even more. They’d never spoken about what would happen once they arrived, but somehow she had begun to consider—even to hope—that he might actually want to stay, and she took it as a good sign that he wanted to discuss it now.

  She gave a slight shrug, not wishing to appear overly eager. ‘‘We can talk about it now, if you like.’’

  He stared at her for a beat. ‘‘All right.’’

  The look in his eyes told her she’d guessed the topic correctly.

  He focused on the horses for a moment, and then a smile started to emerge. ‘‘Just how did you manage to get rid of the guard at the door last night? And then knock that other man senseless?’’

  Realizing she’d misguessed his intent, Annabelle forced a laugh to cover her disappointment. She wasn’t at all prepared to talk to him about that. Not yet.

  Buying time, she gave him a sideways glance. ‘‘I come to your rescue, and you show your gratitude by questioning how I did it?’’

  ‘‘I’m grateful, believe me. But I’m also curious.’’ His tone said he wasn’t going to let this drop so easily.

  She quickly laid out her response in her mind, working ahead to anticipate possible questions. ‘‘I waited for you and Sadie outside the gaming hall just like we agreed, but when neither of you came out after so long, I got concerned. So I walked as far as the front door, and then there was some sort of commotion inside.’’ She added what she hoped was an innocent-looking shrug for effect. ‘‘I used that chance to sneak back. I saw only the one man, and he was on the floor when I got there.’’ Having stayed within the boundaries of truth, however stretched, she tried to gauge whether he was convinced.