Circle Star

by Tatiana March

  When the doctor was gone, Susanna sat down in a chair by the bedside. Connor’s fever was preparing to spike again. She dipped a linen cloth in the pail of water, wrung it dry and bathed his skin.

  When the chills came, she covered him with blankets and got up to add logs in the fireplace. As she settled back at in her seat, she checked Connor’s pulse, placing her fingers at the base of his throat. His heartbeat felt weak and fluttery, but no worse than an hour earlier.

  “Don’t die,” she whispered. “Please don’t die.”

  ****

  Soft snowflakes danced in the crisp morning air as Claire followed her mother across the sidewalk into the waiting carriage. Harriet climbed in after them. The footman closed the door and the coachman urged the matching pair of bay geldings into motion.

  Claire unbuttoned her thick winter coat, pressed a hand to her midriff and twisted her face into a grimace of pain. “I’m not feeling well, mother.” She made a gagging sound. “I think I might be sick. Can you stop the carriage?”

  Margaret Vanderfleet, a kind woman, a good mother, but forever worried about appearances, looked aghast. “You can’t go retching in the street.” She banged against the carriage wall to alert the coachman. “Turn back, Latymer,” she told him when he slid open the hatch behind his seat and peered inside. “Miss Claire is not well.”

  Claire breathed in panting gasps. “You both go to New York...I’m sure it’s nothing…it will pass in a day or two. I’ll join you before Christmas.”

  She hated deceiving her parents, but she had no choice. Susanna’s latest letter had been a cry for help. Phrases floated across her mind. My life is in constant turmoil…Connor torments me on purpose…the things he makes me feel at night, the loneliness and despair I feel when the dawn comes again….

  Her mother pulled off one glove, reached across the carriage and laid her palm flat against Claire’s forehead to test for temperature. “I can’t leave my sick child behind,” she said in a voice that held a gentle reproach.

  “But father is waiting for you…” Taking care not to overdo her suffering and have a doctor summoned, Claire sent her mother a brave smile. It was a stroke of good fortune that their father had been called to some legal gathering and had taken with him Julius who was on holiday from boarding school.

  When the elegant family matriarch appeared uncertain, Claire hurried to offer reassurance. “I’ll be fine. I’ve eaten too much candy. I do it every year. I wish father’s business associates would stop sending him chocolates as seasonal gifts.”

  Her mother shook her head, a scolding expression on her face. “It’s your greed, not their generosity that has made you sick.” She studied her oldest child, then relaxed and leaned back on the carriage bench. “Perhaps it would be a shame for me to miss the reception your father has been invited to at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. You can stay at home. Harriet will stay with you.”

  “There is no need,” Claire protested. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

  Margaret Vanderfleet spoke in a manner that brooked no argument. “You may be fine on your own at home, but it is out of the question for you to travel alone on the train. Harriet will stay with you. Once you are better, the two of you will travel together.”

  “I bloody well knew it,” Harriet muttered through her teeth.

  Their mother’s eyebrows shot up. “What was that?”

  Claire sent an imploring look at her sister. Please, please, Harriet. Do it for me. I’ll marry a beggar from the street to satisfy you if you do this for me.

  “Nothing,” Harriet said after a long pause. “I was just moaning. I think I’m getting the same ailment as Claire. I’m feeling quite nauseous, in fact.”

  ****

  Awareness floated over Connor, making him feel like a swimmer struggling to break through the surface. He could sense a light, but it never grew bright enough to wake him. A voice reached out to him. The sound was a slim cord that anchored him to life. The voice made him want to live, despite the agony that burned in his chest.

  He forced his eyes open.

  Muted light.

  Flames in the fireplace.

  Hot and cold at the same time. He shivered.

  A shadow move by the bedside.

  “Susanna?” he croaked.

  “Connor? Oh, Connor, you’re awake.” The shadow moved over him.

  He made an effort to focus. He wanted to see her face, run his gaze over each feature. Look into her eyes. The Circle Star eyes.

  “How are you feeling,” she asked. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “Susanna.” He tried to lift his arm to touch her but his body refused to obey. Fatigue swept over him. “Don’t go away.”

  A cool cloth pressed against his brow. “I won’t, darling. I’ll be here.”

  The cloth slipped as Connor turned his head to look around him. He tried to get a sense of time. The shutters were closed. A lamp burned in a wall bracket. Susanna wore a wrinkled gown. Her hair hung on a braid that tumbled past her shoulder.

  “How long have I been in bed?” he asked.

  “Six days. You lost a lot of blood, and then the wound got infected. Dr Jameson had to cauterize it with a hot iron. You’ve been unconscious up to now. I…” Her voice cracked. “I was so afraid you might die.”

  Connor wanted to talk, reassure her that he wouldn’t leave her, but the blackness tempted him. He tried to stay awake, so he could enjoy the sense of her presence beside him.

  “Susanna,” he whispered.

  “Hush, darling. Rest now.”

  He gave up the fight to stay awake and let the darkness slide over him.

  ****

  Susanna reached out to smooth the tumbling locks of sandy hair from Connor’s brow with one hand while holding a small tin cup to his lips with the other.

  “Drink up,” she ordered.

  “It tastes like piss,” Connor complained.

  Susanna tried not to smile. “I didn’t realize you were familiar with that particular flavor.”

  “I’m using my imagination.”

  For two days now, Connor had been conscious, although he still slept most of the time. He didn’t speak much, but Susanna was aware of how his eyes followed her around the room whenever she got up from the chair by the bedside. When she went out for one of her brief forays into the kitchen or the convenience, he watched the door until she came through it again.

  Susanna couldn’t tell which feeling ran deeper—the relief of knowing that Connor was out of danger, or the joy of discovering that his demeanor toward her had softened.

  “Medicine is supposed to taste horrible,” she told him as she tipped the bitter liquid into his mouth and made sure he swallowed every drop. “It increases the healing effect.”

  “That’s a damn lie.”

  Susanna set the empty cup down on the nightstand. “It’s not. People get better quickly, so they no longer have to tolerate the horrible taste.”

  Connor’s eyes fluttered shut. The dark lashes made a stark contrast against the skin that still looked pale despite the tan. He spoke quietly. “Every time I open my eyes you are beside me.”

  “That might be because I am here all the time.”

  “I don’t deserve your devotion,” he muttered.

  “But you are getting it, and it’s my good luck you’re too weak to fight back.”

  Connor opened his eyes again. “I’m not going to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For the way I’ve been treating you.”

  “And what way would that be?” Susanna asked.

  She chose not to tell Connor that before the fever set in he’d already apologized. She had decided that pride no longer had a place in her marriage. Whatever wall of reserve Connor was hiding behind, she was going to ram through it, and trying to win an argument wasn’t the way to do it.

  “The way I’ve been ignoring you,” Connor said. His tone carried the apology he had just announced he wasn’t going to make.

>   “Oh, that,” Susanna drawled. “Pretty mean of you, don’t you think?”

  “I guess I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

  “I’m a fast learner,” she said lightly. “Maybe it’s time to call it off.”

  Connor’s hand fumbled to find hers. It shocked her how weak his grip felt.

  “I did it because I’m scared,” he admitted.

  “Scared of little harmless me?”

  “Scared of the power you have over me.” Connor turned his head to look at her, and Susanna could see the tiny dark flecks in his amber eyes. “It nearly killed me, missing you all those years.” His voice fell to a reluctant mutter. “I knew I wouldn’t survive it if I allowed you back into my heart and then lost you all over again.”

  Susanna clung to the happy moment, wrapping herself up in it like one wraps into a warm coat during a winter storm. “You’re not going to lose me,” she said with mock severity. “You’re going to be stuck with me for the rest of your days.”

  “Is this it then?” Connor said. “No divorce, no annulment?”

  Susanna cleared her throat. “I guess an annulment might be difficult at this point.”

  Connor peered up at her. “And a divorce is out of the question. I’m a good Catholic and I’m not going to risk my immortal soul.” His lips curved into a rueful smile.

  “Oh dear.” Susanna blew out a sigh. When she spoke, her voice shook with suppressed laughter. “I guess we have no choice then. We’ll just have to declare a truce and stay married.” She hesitated before adding, “You have to promise me one thing, though.”

  Connor squeezed her hand. “What?”

  “What you said about taking your needs to the whores in Cedar City. I never want you to touch another woman the way you touch me.”

  He stared at her with a shocked expression on his face. “You didn’t think….” Closing his eyes, he slumped back against the pillows. “Damn it, Susanna, what do you think I am, a machine that can go at it endlessly?” His mouth pulled into grim line. “The nights you spend with me, I can barely walk in the morning. Another woman is the last thing on my mind.”

  “I want you to promise anyway. I want to hear you say it.”

  The grip of his fingers on hers tightened. “I haven’t as much as smiled at any other woman since the day you walked into that saloon in El Paso. I’ll never be unfaithful to you. Is that good enough?”

  “That will do,” Susanna said. “For now.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Susanna got up. It was Garrett. The tall redhead held his hat in his hands. In charge of security, Garrett had posted two men with rifles on the roof, and two more behind the stone pillars that flanked the entrance gate.

  “The men would like an update on how the boss is doing.”

  “Garrett!” Connor’s voice, although quiet, held a command.

  Susanna hesitated. She almost protested but bit back the words. She’d had her moment of carefree happiness. Now it was time to deal with the danger that threatened them. She stepped aside to let Garrett approach the bed.

  Connor lifted the pitcher on the nightstand and held it out to her. “Could you get me some fresh water? This is lukewarm.”

  Susanna shuttled her gaze between the men. She could summon Miranda for the water, but it would do no good. Connor wanted her out of the room, and it would serve no purpose to make him wear himself out with an argument over it.

  “Two minutes,” she said to Garret. “I’ll give you two minutes.”

  She hurried out to the kitchen and came back to find the pair of them huddled in a murmured conversation. Garrett got up, nodded at Connor. “Miss Susanna,” he said and left the room with a heightened confidence to his footsteps.

  Susanna poured a glass of the cool water. While Connor drank, she used his silence to speak her mind. “It’s Hartman, isn’t it? He wants you dead, so he can go after Circle Star. He wants to force me to sell for a pittance. That’s how he came by Deep Valley…”

  Connor lowered the glass. “I know. Pete told me about it.”

  “It was Hartman that first time too, when a bullet grazed your shoulder.” Susanna recalled the uneasy feelings she’d harbored for weeks after what they had assumed an accidental shooting. Like a fool she’d brushed her fears aside, unwilling to mention them, expecting Connor to sneer at what could only be labeled female intuition.

  Connor placed the empty glass on the nightstand and settled back beneath the covers. “I reckon Hartman won’t force you to sell Circle Star.”

  “Please,” she said, and lifted one hand in both plea and warning. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking women should be shielded from the dark underbelly of life. Nothing is more dangerous or frightening than ignorance.”

  Connor remained silent.

  “Please,” Susanna said once more. “I deserve the truth.”

  Connor spoke in a low voice. “I reckon he won’t be interested in paying good money for something he can have for nothing…if he marries you.”

  Dear God. Forgotten words flooded back to her—words that had slipped her mind because what happened right after had wiped them clear from her memory.

  If Hartman is getting a widow, he can’t have a virgin.

  “You didn’t think…” Susanna sank on the wooden stool by the bedside and almost knocked down the medicine bottle on the table beside her. “You don’t think I’d be willing to marry him if you died? He’s the most evil and ruthless man I’ve ever met.”

  “Evil?” Connor frowned at her. “I thought you liked the man. You went out to visit him. You danced with him.”

  “Danced with him?”

  “At the Harvest Festival.” He tugged at the bedclothes to adjust them. “I rode out to Cedar City, just to make sure the men weren’t stirring up trouble. I saw you dancing with Hartman, and I saw him look at you with lust in his eyes.”

  “I’d rather marry a rattlesnake than that man.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first woman forced into marriage against her will.” When she said nothing, Connor added, “Anyway, it’s not Hartman himself. He’s not the type to get his hands dirty. It’s a hired killer, and not a very good one at that. Twice, he’s fired at me and missed. He’s not a sharpshooter. He is used to goading men into a gunfight and shooting them at a close range. I’ll deal with him.”

  “Can you compete with a fast draw?” Susanna asked. A shudder rippled over her. Dear God, she couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. They were talking about death as if they were compiling a grocery list.

  “It’s not about a fast draw,” Connor said with a shocking calmness. “It never is. It’s about the fraction of a second that most men hesitate when they face another man and know his life will end when they pull the trigger.” He flicked Susanna a grim glance. “I won’t hesitate.”

  “You can’t….” She tried to control her breathing, tried to stop the anxious pounding of her heart. “Maybe we should go to the sheriff.”

  Connor shook his head. “Better not to show our hand. Hartman keeps up the illusion of remaining within the law. Even if we believe that he is behind the shooting we have no evidence.”

  “The gunman fired where his land borders ours.”

  Connor spoke bluntly. “Accusing Hartman will achieve nothing. He’ll claim it was rustlers, or outlaws hiding on the property.” The bitter tone of his words made Susanna understand that he must have spent hours brooding over their situation as he lay injured.

  After Connor drifted off to sleep, Susanna clasped her hands together in her lap and battled the fears that crowded her mind. Despite Connor’s confident words, the danger made her edgy and tense. It felt as though they were sitting around a campfire, with a predator circling around, stalking them under the cover of darkness.

  Back to Contents

  Chapter Fourteen

  Connor slid his legs down the edge of the bed and struggled up to his feet. He paused for a minute to make sure he had the strength to remain upright. By now, the
piercing pain on his chest beneath the dressing had faded to a dull ache.

  He sucked in a sharp breath and took a step in the darkness. Then, just in case he fainted and the maids stumbled upon him, he slowly turned back to the bed, pulled out the wrinkled cotton sheet and wrapped it around his hips.

  Dizzy waves rolled over him as he crossed the floor, fumbling around him in the unlit room to avoid crashing into the furniture. When he reached the door, he clung to the handle for support while he waited for the faint spell to pass. Then he eased the door open, shuffled out, and made his way along the corridor.

  It had taken him two hours of arguing to get Susanna to sleep in her own room tonight, rather than curled up in an armchair beside him. The debate had nearly exhausted his strength, but in the end he had won, and now he had his wife exactly where he wanted.

  His legs were unsteady as he entered her room and closed the door behind him. Susanna had left an oil lamp burning in a bracket on the wall, and the glimmer of light aided his passage across the floor.

  The instant he reached the big oak bed where she slept peacefully with her long dark hair fanned over the pillow, he collapsed to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Connor?” Susanna jerked up, her eyes squinting into the dim light.

  “Help me under the covers.” He gasped the words through the pain.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in an agitated whisper.

  “I’m getting into bed with my wife.” He lifted the edge of the quilt and rolled onto his back beneath the covers.

  Susanna leaned over him, scowling. “You’re crazy.”

  “No.” He closed his eyes to ward off the waves of exhaustion. “I shouldn’t have made you come to me at night. I should have come to you.”

  “Lord in heaven.” Susanna slumped against the bedstead with a thud. “Is that a good enough reason to cause your wound to open and risk death again?”