Circle Star

by Tatiana March

  Susanna sighed. She put the catalogue away, got up and smoothed her dress. Then she went into the library, where she found the lawyer waiting. He stood with his back to the room, his gaze fixed on the watercolor of Circle Star on the wall.

  “What can I do for you?” Susanna asked, keeping her tone cool. Their relationship had never healed after the earlier rift. If there had been another lawyer in Cedar City, she would have transferred her business at once.

  Catterill turned around. “Good afternoon, Miss Susanna.”

  “It’s Mrs. McGregor now,” she reminded him.

  “I thought since we’re old friends...”

  Not a trace of a smile could be seen on her face. “What brings you here today?”

  “It is really about your friend, Miss Vanderfleet.”

  “Did the sheriff send you?” Susanna asked sharply. “Has he made an arrest?”

  “No. Not the sheriff. I’m representing Mr. Hartman in this matter.”

  “Get out,” Susanna said though gritted teeth. “Get out of my house.” She pointed at the door, her arm shooting out with such violence, her body recoiled with the motion.

  “Now, Miss Susanna, let’s not get unfriendly. There’s no call for that.”

  “How dare you? How dare you come into my house and mention that man’s name in the same breath as Claire’s?”

  “Just hear me out. I think I can resolve this little trouble to everyone’s satisfaction.”

  “Little trouble!” she yelled, violence in her voice.

  Catterill stood firm by the window. It was clear to Susanna that he intended to say whatever was on his mind before he would agree to leave, so she reluctantly reined in her fury and listened. As she heard the lawyer put forward Hartman’s offer of marriage, her nostrils flared and eyes bulged in their sockets, like on a horse about to bolt.

  “You can’t possibly think I’d tell her that!”

  “I very much hope that you’ll take the proposal to Miss Vanderfleet, and that you will use your influence to persuade her to accept.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “You’ll see,” Catterill replied, smooth as a snake. “It would be the ideal solution for everyone.”

  They argued over it, and in the end Susanna was forced to concede that the lawyer was right. As crazy as the idea might sound, Claire must be informed, and it was up to her to make her own decision over what Hartman was offering her.

  ****

  The gait of the horse—which Claire had discovered had no name—was slow and smooth as they rode under the hot desert sun. Claire leaned back against Rafael’s chest. He was holding the reins with one hand. With his other hand he circled her waist, anchoring her body to his. His long hair brushed the side of her face as he bent forward to speak to her.

  “Is it hurting? Do you want me to hold you in my arms instead?”

  “No,” Claire assured him. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

  Riding astride, bareback, pressed so close to Rafael, feeling the powerful muscles of the horse bunch and flex beneath them had a dreamy quality. The same sense of unreal had permeated the three days she had spent with him at the barn.

  They had talked for hours. Claire had told him about her home in Philadelphia, her frustration with the life she was expected to lead, and how she had always hoped to find something more meaningful, something that would give her a sense of purpose.

  “It will come,” Rafael had promised her. “Your destiny will find you, just like mine will find me.”

  He told her about his childhood on the ranch and how his parents had lost everything to Hartman. When Claire felt ready to leave the safety of the barn and go outside, he showed her how to load and fire a gun. In the evening cool, he guided her on leisurely walks through the desert, telling her about the ways of the Apache.

  Although Rafael had always lived among the whites, his native heritage fascinated him. He had made an effort to learn some of the traditional skills, had even picked up a little of the language from the scouts he’d met in the army.

  What Claire would do next, where she would go, they hadn’t discussed, and after the intimacy of their first night at the barn Rafael had not tried to touch her again. Claire wanted him to, but she didn’t have the courage to ask. She had no idea if he felt the same way about her as she was beginning to feel about him.

  Rafael was the first to spot the small encampment in the distance. He pointed it out to her, a few brightly painted wagons scattered along the river’s edge.

  When they got closer, Claire could see two women standing knee deep in the current, their bodies hunched and their skirts hiked up, strong hands in constant motion as they beat and rinsed clothes in the stream. An array of wet garments stretched out to dry already decorated the thorny shrubs that bordered the water.

  A band of ragged children racing around with a yapping dog stopped their play and stood alert, keeping a watchful eye on their approach.

  “I thought the wagons would be in a circle,” Claire said.

  “That’s on the prairie,” Rafael replied. “By the river, everyone wants easy access to the water. Besides, these people have no cattle to protect. The animals go in the middle when you camp in a circle.”

  They rode forward, and the children edged into a tight group, seeking safety in each other. The largest boy grabbed the dog by the neck and pushed it between his legs.

  Then the little boy who’d been at the courtyard recognized Claire. “It’s her, the pretty lady with yellow hair!” he yelled and set off racing toward them. Rafael didn’t stop the horse, and soon the boy reached them and turned around to skip alongside.

  “Have you come to get medicine?” he asked.

  Claire smiled down at him. “No. I’m well already. He gave me medicine.” She turned to glance at Rafael over her shoulder. The brim of her hat blocked her view and she could only see the edge of his jaw.

  When she turned back to the boy, she felt the touch of something soft and warm where her neck joined her shoulder. She couldn’t be sure, but her heart jolted at the thought that Rafael might have pressed a kiss where her skin was exposed by the loose collar of his shirt she wore. Her blouse and chemise had been torn beyond repair.

  “Will you come and see Prince’s grave?” the little boy asked, bursting with eagerness. “Mary and I buried him, and Johnny made a cross, and we wrote Prince on it.”

  “Yes,” Claire said. “I’d very much like to see it.”

  They halted some distance from the camp, yet close enough for Claire to read the signs painted on the sides of the first two wagons. The ornate letters formed a crescent that spelled Snakebite Medicine Show. The other two wagons were painted in solid colors with no advertisements, one a dusty read, the other a deep kingfisher blue.

  Rafael made the horse kneel down and they slid off together, his arm around her waist. When she stood firmly on her feet, he released his grip and stepped away.

  “Did you teach him to do that, Mister?” one of the bigger boys asked.

  Rafael nodded.

  “Is he an Indian?”

  “Does he speak English?”

  Claire bent to the wide eyed children. “He’s only a halfbreed, and he speaks perfect English, but he likes to pretend,” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

  The two little girls giggled and exchanged a glance before fixing their fascinated eyes on Rafael again.

  “Where’s the girl whose dog was shot?” Claire asked.

  “Mary’s gone into town. They’ll be back later.” The boy who’d been Mary’s protector grabbed Claire by the hand and tugged her along. “Come. I want to show you Prince’s grave.”

  She sent a helpless look at Rafael over her shoulder.

  He nodded at her. “I’ll wait.”

  Claire winked at the children. “See, he does speak English, and he knows all about Indians. Make sure you ask him lots of questions while I’m gone.” She heard Rafael let out a resigned chuckle as she departed with a wave a
nd a mischievous grin in his direction.

  “What’s your horse called, Mister?”

  “How did you teach him?”

  “Do you know how to shoot bow and arrows?”

  “Can you do an Indian war cry?”

  Claire listened to Raphael give patient replies in his calm, quiet voice, and then the distance muffled his words.

  The grave had a rough cross made out of two pieces of wood. A few wildflowers were going limp on top of the small mound of gravel.

  “It’s lovely,” Claire said.

  The boy was still holding her hand. “Where will you go now?”

  She let her gaze linger on the cross, recalling the brief moment three days ago when she had wished to be dead. “I don’t know,” she replied.

  The boy gave her a shy look from the corner of his eye. “You could come with us. I could marry you when I grow up.”

  Claire crouched in front of him. The child gazed at her from under a thick fringe of dark hair. A streak of dirt smudged one side of his nose.

  “I thought you’d marry Mary when you grow up.”

  “Mary’s my half-sister,” they boy said dismissively. “I can’t marry her.”

  “I see.” Claire reached out a hand, and with light fingers she brushed the strands of hair out of the way, so she could see the boy’s eyes. “I was kind of hoping he’d marry me.” She gestured back to where the other children remained clustered around Rafael. “Because he’s been taking care of me, I should really give him first choice, don’t you think?”

  The boy shifted his shoulders in a reluctant shrug. “I guess you’re right.”

  Claire nodded. “I knew you’d understand.” She kept on stroking his thick tangle of dark hair. “Don’t mention it to him, though. He hasn’t asked me yet.”

  “He will,” the boy said with the absolute certainty of the very young. “Of course he will.”

  Claire pushed up to her feet and took the boy’s hand. “I hope you’re right. Shall we go back to the others?”

  “We’ve got to say a prayer for Prince first.”

  They stood side by side while Claire recited a few solemn words about what a brave dog Prince had been, and how he would take his place with other animals in heaven. Then the little boy released her hand and raced back to his friends, leaving her to follow. An aching tenderness filled Claire’s heart. Of the countless marriage proposals she’d received, this one had moved her the most.

  ****

  When Claire and Rafael returned to the barn, they found Susanna waiting for them. This time, only Pete Jackson had accompanied her. The pair of them lounged in the open doorway, seeking shade from the sun. Three horses stood tied to the stake.

  Claire looked around for one more rider. Then she recognized Estrella’s silver coat and realized the third horse was meant for her. Her heartbeat quickened. She sat still in front of Rafael as they came to a halt, Rafael’s strong arm across her waist.

  Susanna darted forward, one hand raised to shield her eyes as she looked up at them under the brim of her hat. “Claire?” Her tone was hesitant. “Thank goodness…you look so much better…I’ve been so worried…are you all right?”

  Rafael’s horse bent its front legs. Claire slid down to the ground and bundled Susanna into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said. “I needed to be left alone, and you respected my wishes. It was true friendship that you gave me what I asked for, even if it didn’t seem right at the time.”

  Susanna drew back and studied her face. “You truly are recovering?”

  “Yes,” Claire said and stole a quick glance at Rafael, who had dismounted and was walking over to the cement well to fetch of bucket of water for his horse. “I’m healing. Emotionally, as well as physically.”

  Susanna followed the direction of her gaze. An uncertain look fell over her features as she turned back toward Claire. “I’m here on a difficult errand,” she said, anxiety evident in her voice. “Please don’t hate me for what I’m going to say.”

  “My parents?” Claire stiffened. “You’ve told them the truth?”

  “No.” Susanna shook her head. “I’ll write to them, just as you asked. I’ve been putting it off, because I want you to be absolutely certain. Once I write, there’ll be no going back. You’ll have to stick with the lie. You’ll never be able to see them again.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Claire said. “Is Connor back?”

  “On his way. I sent him a telegram in the care of the bank in San Francisco. He’s replied that he has made arrangements to return. He’ll be back in a couple of days.”

  Claire bit her lip. “You didn’t…?”

  Susanna made a sound of irritation. “Of course not. I know better than spread your private affairs down the telegraph wire. I said: Return home urgent. Emergency. Claire accident. Need you here.”

  She paused, and the silence grew oppressive, the kind that precedes bad news. Susanna reached out for another quick hug. When she pulled back, she curled her hands around Claire’s arms and met her eyes.

  “There is something else,” she said slowly

  ”I promise not to hate you, whatever it is,” Claire replied.

  Susanna’s grip on her arms became so tight it almost hurt. “Burt Hartman is offering to marry you.”

  “What!” Claire jerked herself free and took a step back. “Has he lost his mind?”

  “That’s what I told the lawyer, Catterill, when he came to me with the proposal. He insisted that I take the message to you, and in the end I agreed.” Susanna lowered her gaze to her boots and spoke awkwardly. “He said you could have access to everything Hartman owns, enjoy a life of luxury, travel as much as you like. You wouldn’t be expected to share his bed or bear children for him.”

  Claire felt her entire body shake. “The swine! How dare he?”

  “I’m sorry. I should have refused to even mention it to you.”

  “No.” Claire clenched her hands into fists in an attempt to control her rage. “You did right. I had to learn what a ruthless monster he is.” She thought a moment. “Did you see the sheriff? Have you made a complaint on my behalf?”

  “I have.” Susanna spoke in a low voice. “I demanded Hartman’s wealth, and threatened him with a trial. The sheriff has interviewed witnesses. Matt Duncan, Hartman’s foreman, has made a secret promise to testify against him.”

  An image flashed through Claire’s mind of the big man who had ordered others to keep away from her when he realized she was not a prostitute. “Witnesses can change their mind,” she pointed out. “They can disappear, or get killed.”

  “Witnesses no longer matter,” Susanna said quietly. “Hartman isn’t denying what he did. He is escaping the charges by offering to marry you.”

  “What do you mean?” Clare asked, confused.

  Even before Susanna spoke, the truth was written on her face. The words simply filled in the details. “The sheriff says that if you turn Hartman down, you’ll no longer have a case. He has offered to restore your honor and share his wealth with you.”

  Pete Jackson cleared his throat and spoke up. “The sheriff isn’t just being corrupt, although he sure is more crooked than a coiled spring. That’s the way the law is around here. If a man insults a woman’s honor, he’s got to offer to marry her. It’s the expected thing. If she rejects him, he is free to get on with his life.”

  “I see.” Claire heard the brittle tone of her voice.

  When Rafael had told her how his parents had lost their ranch, it had dawned on her that even though Susanna had not said anything about it, Hartman had to be the one behind the attempt to shoot Connor. Once Connor was out of the way, it would be easier for Hartman to go after Circle Star. The killers had failed, but Claire had no doubt that Hartman would try again, and the next time he might succeed.

  Unless someone killed Hartman first.

  She turned to Rafael, who crouched by his horse, wiping the animal’s legs with a damp rag. Although he offered no comment, his shoulders had
tensed while he listened to their conversation. He straightened now and turned around. Their eyes met. A small, enigmatic smile played around his mouth and his head moved in an infinitesimal nod, a gesture so brief Claire couldn’t even be sure it had been there.

  In that instant, the answer came to her, like a mystical block of complete knowledge that didn’t require any thinking through at all. Every step was crystal clear in her mind. There was a purpose to her life after all, and it was the same as it was for most people—to help and protect those she loved.

  “Tell him I’ll think about it,” she said to Susanna. “I’ll meet with them. I want all three of them there—Hartman, the lawyer, the sheriff. Some time tomorrow. Get them to come out to Circle Star. If you leave Estrella with me, I’ll ride over in the morning.”

  An incredulous look spread over Susanna’s face. Claire watched as the other girl’s lips moved but no sound came out. For once, Susanna was lost for words.

  “It makes sense,” Claire said slowly. “You’ll see.”

  “But—”

  Claire raised her hand, palm out, to halt her friend’s protest. “No,” she told Susanna. “I don’t want to hear what you think. It’s my life, my decision.”

  “Claire, you can’t—”

  “Please, leave.” She relaxed her fingers, turning the forbidding gesture into a wave of farewell. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Susanna shifted on her feet, appearing hurt and confused. Claire hardened herself. What she was contemplating was too terrible to put into words, and if she failed in her mission, she wanted the responsibility to be entirely hers. She couldn’t explain, not to anyone.

  Not even to Rafael.

  He hadn’t spoken, but as Claire turned and walked into the barn, she could feel his presence behind her, the calm confidence that always radiated from him. His support had helped her through the past few days. If she could remember it, carry it within her, it would help her get through what came next—the mortal sin she was planning to commit.

  She had decided to kill Hartman, and marrying him was the easiest way to get close enough to make sure she would succeed.

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