Prairie Song

by Jodi Thomas

  A slow smile spread across his lips and laughter touched his dark eyes. “So should you, my lady, and I’m willing to share the accommodations.”

  Cherish’s face reddened in shock as she raised her hand to slap his face. Her tiny palm hit his cheek full force, but he didn’t flinch. “How dare you say such a thing to me! I should turn you over to the Yankees and let your body rot to the bone.” Her passion might be untouched, but her temper had long reached full maturity.

  Brant released her slowly as if only just understanding the danger she might bring with her perfect body and soft skin. “Why didn’t you? You owe me nothing. I could have slipped away an hour ago, but I have to know why you helped me.”

  Putting as much distance between her and Brant Coulter as possible, she tried to think of the answer. She turned up the lamp and remained with her back to this stranger who seemed tied to her. “Maybe I think a man is innocent until proven guilty.”

  “I’m not.” His voice was growing closer, but she didn’t move. “I didn’t kill that man down by Bryan but I’ve killed others.” His words were as cold as granite, but his fingers were gentle as he brushed the hair at the back of her neck. “The only thing I ever believed in was the South. I thought we’d win because we were right. Texas came into the Union freely and I believed we had a right to leave freely. The damn Yankees act like it was some holy war about slavery, but it was more than that. A lot of folks in Texas were against slavery too. Now I no longer have the South to believe in. I have nothing.”

  His fingers molded lightly over her shoulder. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I thought you should know. I appreciate you patching me up, but I’m a dead man anyway. It’s only a matter of time before a bullet hits a few inches closer to my heart—assuming I still have one.”

  Cherish turned to face him, her eyes filled with sorrow. He was like so many rebels she’d seen in the past months. They were all sons of proud people, generations who had never lost a war, and now they were beaten, left with nothing, not even their pride. The war had drained it out of them one battle, one drop, at a time. They’d fought for their people, their land, and had come home to nothing, not even a hero’s welcome.

  “You can start a new life. Lots of men are heading for the West, where they can forget the war.”

  “No!” Brant’s fingers caressed her throat. “For me there is no future. It’s too late. Meeting you has given me substance for dreams until the end comes, and I thank you for that, lovely lady. For the past few years I thought there was nothing good left in this world and you’ve changed that. But I must leave before I bring you more trouble.”

  “But you can’t go. You’re too weak.” For the first time in her life Cherish wanted to hold a man to her and never let go. Something more than pity bound her to this man. If she had shown him beauty, he had flooded her with feelings she thought herself incapable of having. All her life she’d heard women talk about caring for a man, caring more than reason would allow. Suddenly, she realized she cared for Brant. Somehow he’d broken the window through which she’d always watched the world. Somehow he mattered.

  “I’m strong enough to walk, and Bar will help me get to a safe place.” He leaned close and brushed his lips against her ear. “Before I go, tell me that I’ll be in your dreams just as you will always fill mine.”

  “No!” Cherish looked into his chestnut eyes filled with a lifetime of longing. “It isn’t safe for you to leave.”

  He moved his lips across her cheek until he was lightly brushing her mouth with his words. “Why did something as perfect as you have to fall in this world gone to hell?” Then he was kissing her, not hard and demanding as he had on the train, but soft and filled with need.

  She melted into his arms, carefully placing her fingers over his bandaged chest. Being in his embrace was like dancing in a fire without getting burned. She felt the warmth spread into every pore of her body, but there was no pain. All her life she’d watched the firelight and been fascinated. Now the flames had become a flesh-and-blood man before her; and the fascination, passion.

  His finger moved along the seams of her dress from her waist to her shoulder. “Dream of me,” he whispered. “Dream of me, pretty lady.”

  “No,” she answered, but her kiss testified to her lie.

  Brant’s low laughter tickled her ear. “I think you will, my love. I think you’ll dream of me for a long, long time.”

  A sudden rattle at the door handle made them both jump. Brant stepped behind the door as Bar entered, carrying a tray of food. “Azile thinks you are the eatingest woman she’s ever—” He froze as he looked up into Cherish’s face. “What’s wrong, Miss Cherish?”

  Cherish tried to hide her emotions. “Brant is leaving.”

  Bar looked around and smiled as Brant stepped from behind the door and lifted his gun belt from the table. “You feelin’ better, sir?”

  “I been kicked worse and still got up to ride.” Brant smiled at the boy. “You walk me out just in case I fall over?”

  “Sure.” Bar shoved the tray onto the table and dusted his pants like he had just been given an honor.

  Brant looked over the boy’s head to Cherish. “Bar, I’ve got a man’s job for you when you get back. Would you keep a close eye on Miss Cherish and see that she stays out of trouble?” He winked boyishly. “She needs to know better than to doctor wanted men.”

  Bar stood an inch taller. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  With a last look at Cherish, Brant disappeared out the door before she could say a word. Bar was right behind him like a shadow. For a moment Cherish stood in the center of her room, wondering how she could let this man slip once more out of her life without knowing if she ever was going to see him again.

  A moment later, the slamming of the front door and her aunt’s calling for her brought Cherish back to reality. She darted out of her room and down the stairs, knowing that Brant and Bar were on a collision course with her aunt and Grayson. But when she was halfway down the stairs, she realized that Bar and Brant had disappeared completely.

  Aunt Maggie was storming in such a whirlwind of her own making that she probably wouldn’t have noticed a buffalo herd heading down the stairs. But Grayson, just behind her, would have.

  “I don’t understand it!” Maggie yelled. “What do I have to do to get the money that Tobin left us? You’d think I was trying to rob the bank.”

  Cherish tried to be calm, but her voice broke slightly, making her sound like a child. “What’s the problem?”

  Maggie stormed up the stairs with Grayson, as always, only a step behind. “The banker says I have to wait until he thinks about it before he can clear the money. It appears a group of shady men were playing cards the night Tobin won the deed to this place. A local grocer had been given the debt by Hattie in exchange for past-due bills with the understanding he wouldn’t take over the house until Hattie’s daughter could come get her. The banker seems to think that the grocer was swindled, but that doesn’t make any sense. The grocer shouldn’t have played cards with the deed to this house. I’m beginning to think the losing hand might have inherited the place. After all, Tobin was killed not more than a week later.”

  Cherish was amazed. “Tobin was killed? Hattie has a daughter?” She laughed suddenly, thinking she sounded like a child who had been left out of an important discussion.

  Maggie hesitated, pulling off her jacket and hanging it neatly on the chair as she directed Grayson to please bring up their dinner. He waited a moment, his eyes never leaving Maggie, making Cherish wonder if this giant of a man had ever taken orders from a woman. Slowly he turned and went to the kitchen.

  Maggie leaned closer. “Don’t you think Grayson much more presentable with a decent haircut? I mean, anyone can see the good Lord blessed him with size and not looks, but he does clean up nice.”

  “Less frightening, you mean.” Cherish avoided the man as much as possible. “Now, finish telling me about Hattie and Tobin.”
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br />   Maggie pulled off her black gloves and folded them neatly. “Tobin did die from a drowning as we were told, but when I started asking around, no one wanted to talk about it. Finally, I found out that it was at a spot on the Trinity that hasn’t been more than three feet deep since the town has been here. No matter how much Tobin had to drink, I find it hard to believe the old Indian fighter couldn’t crawl out of three feet of water.”

  Cherish felt a cold chill cross her. “And Hattie?”

  “She has a daughter she hasn’t seen for more than twenty years. She told everyone she didn’t mind losing the house because her daughter is coming to get her, but no one seems to know where the daughter is. Tobin agreed to let her stay on until the daughter comes. We sort of inherited the agreement.”

  “Can the lawyer help us?”

  Maggie shook her head doubtfully. “My guess is he’s more interested in starving us out than helping us, but I plan on going to see him again first thing tomorrow. They say he can be found most weekends at a saloon about a block away. Another strange thing is, he was at the poker game where Tobin won the house. He and a man named Spades were the two who found Tobin’s body a week later.”

  “You’re not going to see them alone, are you?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Grayson will be with me. I have a feeling some of the people in this town wouldn’t have even allowed me to talk to them if he hadn’t been standing beside me.”

  Grayson entered almost at the sound of his name. He was carrying a tray of food with about as much grace as Bar. He held the tray as Maggie put the two bowls of soup on the table.

  Maggie touched his arm lightly. “You should have brought three.”

  Cherish interrupted. “I had my soup brought to my room a few minutes ago. If you will excuse me, I promised to help Bar in the kitchen.” She could hardly add that she’d sent Bar off with a confessed killer and wanted to wait by the kitchen door for the boy’s return. Bar had been no more afraid of Brant than she had been and Cherish found that comforting. Brant didn’t quite fit the picture of a man with blood on his hands.

  Maggie nodded to Cherish as she moved into the chair Grayson had pulled out for her. She accepted his kindness, as always, without comment.

  They ate across from one another in complete silence. Maggie was lost in her plans to restore the house and Grayson was trying to figure out which one of the people he’d met today was connected to the group of men he was looking for known as Knights of the Golden Circle. Old Hattie probably knew but she wouldn’t let him pass her door without screaming like he was trying to rob her of her few quilts. Even when she did talk to Margaret, Grayson could make no sense out of what she said. They’d been here three days and he was no closer to finding out anything than when he’d met the train in Bryan. He only knew that a crazy old woman sold the house to pay bills and now she was waiting for a daughter who hadn’t shown up in over six months. If Tobin won the house by accident, he paid for his luck with his life. So far, almost every person they’d met looked like he was easily capable of drowning an old man for two bits, much less a house, or two women if they were in the way.

  As they finished the meal, Margaret silently stood and placed her napkin beside her plate. “Good night, Grayson. I think I’ll go to my room.”

  She was halfway across the sitting room when a scream shattered the evening air. Grayson grabbed his guns and was only a step behind her as they ran to the stairs. Margaret lifted her dress several inches as she descended the first step.

  The wood gave suddenly with a creak of age and Margaret cried out as she tumbled headfirst down the steps. Grayson grabbed for her, but missed. As her body fell away from him, he froze in the dim light. For a moment he saw not Margaret’s but his wife’s body tumbling. How many thousands of times had he tried to block the nightmare from his mind? He’d had too much whiskey that night and the road was slippery with rain, but they were young and laughing as they took the last bend at full speed. In a moment’s breath the wheel slid sideways and the carriage catapulted them out. Grayson landed in the mud at the edge of a twenty-foot ravine, but his wife had been thrown farther. Her body twisted over and over as she rolled. He’d heard her scream and then only the blood-chilling sound of bone slamming against rock. Over and over again.

  “Maggie!” came Cherish’s scream from the hallway. Grayson shook free of his nightmare.

  He took the stairs three at a time but it seemed hours before he reached her body.

  Cherish was on her knees next to her aunt “Oh, dear God, Maggie! Maggie!” She looked up, her green eyes liquid with heartbreak. “Grayson, help her!”

  Grayson knelt on the other side of Maggie, his years of logical thinking overpowering his fear and memories. “Don’t move her,” he whispered and the words somehow gave Cherish the direction she needed.

  “Yes,” she answered. “First we must check her for breaks.” She leaned close to Maggie’s face. “She’s still breathing.”

  Bar appeared from the kitchen. He hadn’t bothered to remove his jacket when he’d heard the screams.

  “Bring a lamp,” Cherish ordered as she set to work doing what she’d been trained to do.

  Grayson stood like a sentinel, afraid that if he moved, he might snap right in half. Here was the only woman he’d cared about since his wife died, and he’d been no help to her either. For days he’d watched her, telling himself it was part of his job, but knowing that he was protecting her from harm.

  Finally, Cherish raised her head to him. “I think the only thing broken may be her arm. Plus she’s got a nasty bump on her forehead.” Cherish pushed the ebony curls away from Maggie’s face. “Grayson, would you carry her very carefully back up to the bed?”

  Grayson nodded and cradled Maggie in his arms as though she were a sleeping child. He didn’t hear Cherish shouting orders to both Azile and Bar. He no longer heard the insane screams of Hattie that had brought them all running in the first place. All he heard was Margaret’s soft breathing against his ear and all he felt was her heart pounding against his chest.

  As he neared the top of the stairs, he saw the cause of the accident. The top step had crumbled either from rot or from foul play. He’d gotten the feeling more than once in this town that they weren’t welcome, but the thought that someone would try to kill the women to get to the house seemed drastic.

  “Stay with her,” Cherish ordered as she led the way to Maggie’s room. “I’ll get what I need to set the arm.”

  Grayson didn’t need to answer; he had no intention of leaving her. He lowered her onto the pillows. For a moment, emotion overcame reason and he gently brushed her lips with his own.

  “I swear, Margaret,” he whispered. “I swear if this was no accident I’ll kill whoever did this to you.”

  She moved her head slightly against the pillow. Her hand rose to the bruise already blackening her forehead. Grayson gently pulled her hand away from her face.

  “Grayson,” she whispered. “Help me.”

  He covered her slender fingers with his massive hand and silently swore his allegiance as a knight of old might have to his lady fair.

  Chapter 8

  Cherish folded the cover under her aunt’s bandaged arm and stepped to the door. She motioned for Grayson to follow. He unfolded his long body from the chair he’d been planted in for over three hours and crossed the room to the sitting room door.

  “I know you want to stay with her, but I need to talk with you a moment,” Cherish began. “She’s resting nicely and won’t miss you for a few minutes.”

  Grayson didn’t try to act like he didn’t understand. She’d heard him speak just after Margaret’s fall and he would not play the fool now.

  “Maggie’s arm isn’t broken, but her wrist is very badly sprained. The tea Azile gave her should help her sleep, but one of us should be near in case she awakens. Azile is ranting about the evil in the house. She claims accidents will keep happening until we leave.” Cherish suddenly looked very tired. “I thi
nk it best that Maggie isn’t left alone. You understand every word I’m saying, don’t you?”

  Grayson nodded, wondering if he should trust Cherish. From all he’d been able to find out, she’d grown up in a little settlement in Texas and had served as a nurse for four long years during the war. After the armistice, she’d stayed on until the last man either had been shipped home or had died. She’d lost one brother at Shiloh and had another crippled at Gettysburg, but other than that her family of eight siblings had all returned home except her. She was a Southerner born and bred but there was a chance she’d never even heard of the Knights of the Golden Circle.

  “I know who you are,” she whispered. She saw surprise register briefly on his face before he masked all expression.

  His steel blue eyes turned hard and cold. Only a spy would know his identity, or a traitor. And if she knew and hadn’t told anyone then she must want to bargain for something. Otherwise, why would she keep her information from Margaret? His suspicions were confirmed as she whispered, “I want to make a deal.”

  He nodded slowly, deciding to hear her out.

  Cherish began with words that sounded very rehearsed to his ears. “I’ll not tell Aunt Maggie who you are if you’ll swear to me that you will in no way hurt her. She’s a good and kind person and I’ll not have her think she’s been used as part of a plot by some Union officer.”

  For an instant the jumble of emotions cleared around Cherish and Maggie, and he saw that Cherish was the one who protected Maggie and not the other way around. Maggie might storm around making all the decisions and rules, but it was Cherish who cleared the road and locked the door against harm. He couldn’t help but admire the little blond for her silent strength, though he doubted he’d ever trust her with the real reason he was here.

  Grayson found his voice. “I have no intention of harming Margaret.” No matter what else he had to do, something inside him would never allow him to hurt such a woman. With a shock to his system he realized he meant every word, even if he had to let her slip through his hands on this investigation. He’d never felt that way about anyone. His determined lack of emotion had made him an expert at undercover work and this was the only time he’d gotten involved.