How the society mavens would chortle with glee if they could see him now. Tanned, callused, muscled and toughened by weeks of hard work. He didn’t know how much the west would change him, but he felt happy with who he was, and that was new. Mason had always been an outsider, even in his own home, all his life. He was comfortable in his skin and in love with a woman who owned his heart.
Although Karl could still follow them, the snow helped conceal their tracks and hid them from prying eyes, wherever they were. He had sent Isabelle and Charlie into the wagon to huddle together against the cold. Here was Mason, his cheeks chapped, his hands sore and his heart light. It was a strange combination but it made him happy.
That was the feeling he had been trying to identify. Happiness. He had to travel thousands of miles, nearly die and reinvent who he was to find it, but there it was. Mason Bennett was happy.
No doubt if anyone had seen him smiling like a fool in a snowstorm, they would have thought him touched in the head. He didn’t care. Life was good. Finally.
The snow grew thicker as the hours passed. His face froze and he was certain there were icicles hanging from his nose. If he had a handkerchief he might stab himself with the dangerous snot. Not that he could feel anything at the moment.
Mason was an educated man. He knew what would happen if he stayed out in the below freezing temperatures for too long. Every time a rise crested, he hoped to see a building or some other structure from the swirling mass. Yet there was nothing but more dirt, more rocks, more snow.
Camille might have been lying—her final smack in the face. That thought had occurred to him, but he didn’t voice it aloud, and he wouldn’t. Southerners were a superstitious bunch and while he understood there was no basis in fact to any superstitions, he knew enough not to discount them. Too many odd occurrences had peppered his childhood. After words were spoken, they could not be unspoken, so he kept quiet and plowed onward.
He watched the oxen for fatigue and damage from the snow, but they lumbered eastward. Perhaps they knew something he didn’t. Animals did sense danger and safety long before humans.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to drive blindly through a snowstorm? Are you trying to kill us?” Charlie popped up beside him, startling him into yanking on the reins.
“Holy shit!” He eased up on the leather and shook himself, dislodging a sliver of ice from somewhere on his face. It flew toward Charlie, bouncing off her cheek.
She frowned at him. “What was that?”
“An icicle.”
“From where?” She peered at his face while the wind whipped her thick hair out of its braid and into her eyes. “Damn it!”
“I’m fairly certain it was a snotsicle.” He couldn’t help himself. The words jumped out of his mouth before he knew he was speaking.
“Disgusting!” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she seemed to wipe it away before it could form.
“I am not trying to kill us. If we’re heading the right direction, and we are, Fort John should be on the horizon soon.” He spoke to reassure himself as well as her. He needed someone to talk to and Charlie fit the bill. Her uniqueness was his favorite thing about the young woman.
She stopped fussing with her hair and sat up straighter, shielding her eyes from the snow and looking ahead. “When?”
“Soon.”
“Hmph. That sounds like a shit thing an adult says to a child when they don’t want to lie.” She continued to look ahead, hope clearly written in her expression no matter her words.
“I don’t know how fast we’ve been traveling or how far it was in comparison to our speed, but we are heading east. I won’t lie to you, Charlie. Even if I say shit things.” He liked Isabelle’s sister and wanted her to accept him and, perhaps one day, like him.
“Oh.” Her hand dropped. “Are we lost?”
“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” He nudged her with one elbow. “The beasts are tugging, pulling faster than they were.”
Charlie regarded the animals for a few minutes. “They are anxious.” She looked at the horizon again. “They know something is close. Food or shelter.”
“That was my assessment as well.” He shook his head again, dislodging another snotsicle. This time Charlie laughed.
“You’re hideous.”
“Thank you. Stay around, I can probably create a bigger one.”
She giggled and the darkness that had been swirling around them since the last snowstorm began to lift. His spirit felt lighter and damned if he didn’t feel the urge to laugh himself.
Isabelle poked her head out of the wagon, her brows up and mouth open in an O of surprise. She looked at her sister’s back with tremendous love. A young person’s giggle had healing power, for all who heard it. Isabelle blew him a kiss and disappeared before her sister saw her.
“Wait! What the hell is that?” Charlie stood on the wagon seat, wobbling in the windy.
“Are you trying to kill yourself, little one?” He tried to tug her down back to a seated position, but she shook him off.
“I see something! Over there!” She pointed and punched the top of his head lightly. “Look, look, look!”
He grumbled at her without rancor. Her excitement was infectious. He did as she bade and tried to see what she saw. At first there was nothing but snow. Isabelle crept out between them and wrapped her arm around Charlie’s legs to steady her.
“What do you see, tamia?”
“Did you just call her chipmunk?” This time Mason did laugh, earning another thump from Charlie.
“Shut up, Bennett. Focus on that out there!” She pointed again, her feet making the entire wagon seat tremble.
“I see it. Merde, I see it!” Isabelle stood up beside her sister and Mason wanted to snatch them both back down before they tumbled out of the wagon and cracked their skulls. “Mason, you did it!” Isabelle knelt down and kissed him hard. She leaned back and wiped her mouth with a gloved hand. “You have frozen mucus hanging from your nose.”
“Snotsicles!” Charlie shouted. “Goddamn snotsicles, but he found it! You found the fort!”
Mason finally saw what the Chastain sisters did—the shadow of a building. They had found something. Whether it was Fort John remained to be seen, but it was shelter. The oxen found an extra well of strength and clomped forward, nearly yanking the reins from his hands.
Charlie continued to dance on the wagon seat until she started to fall off. Isabelle grabbed her and Mason grabbed Isabelle. They both fell onto his lap with a painful thump. He dropped the reins, but the wagon continued to move without his guidance.
“Shit.” Charlie groaned and slid down on the floor beneath his feet.
Isabelle sucked in a breath and pushed at her sister. “I think you killed me, tamia.”
“If she’s a chipmunk, I’m a gazelle.” He didn’t mind having Isabelle on his lap and neither did his cock. Half-frozen and suffering from snotsicles, but he could be aroused by his ladylove sitting on him.
“What’s a gazelle?” Charlie had decided to talk to them again, which was good and bad. She had a mouth like a drunk in a saloon.
“It’s a small deer in Africa. I read about it. They’re fast as lightning and their horns are twisted.” He helped Isabelle onto the wagon seat and pulled Charlie to her feet.
“I forget sometimes that you are a professor.” Isabelle smiled at him, her cheeks pink from the cold and snow pellets clinging to her eyelashes.
“I used to be a professor. Now I’m a western man. Maybe I’ll even be a cowboy one day.” He could hardly remember who he had been six months earlier.
“I like that and I love you.” She kissed him and her warm lips melted his heart.
“Enough of the damn kissing. Let’s get to the fort!” Charlie bounced on the seat, bumping everyone into each other again.
“I shall endeavor to
arrive there forthwith.”
“If you’re not a professor anymore, then stop talking like one.” Charlie challenged him with a smirk.
“Let’s get a move on then, young’un.” He was once again struck by the sparkle that had returned to her brown eyes.
The fort grew larger with each passing minute. It was farther away than it appeared and the girls went back in the wagon to warm up. Mason spent his time thinking about a warm fire and an even warmer body next to his. Paradise awaited at the fort they had all passed through earlier that year. Little did he know he would return months later.
When he was able to pull the wagon to a stop, he had to pull the reins from his frozen fingers using his knees. With a yank, he was free and pain splintered through his hands and up his arms.
“Are we here?” Charlie emerged and jumped down before he could answer.
“Oh, cherie, I’m sorry about your hands.” Isabelle took his hands and blew on them. The heat from her breath made the pain worse and better.
“Let’s go find your other sister.” He set the brake and helped her down. They spent a few moments making sure the oxen had fresh water in their buckets from the nearby trough. Walking stiffly, he entered the fort and hoped like hell there was a bed he could collapse into. Or maybe a hot bowl of stew. He would settle for either.
The sun hadn’t set, but the steel gray clouds made everything dark, although it was likely no later than four in the afternoon. The buildings were the same as they had been when he passed through so long ago with James on their way to California. There were very few people about, which wasn’t a surprise since it was snowing in sheets of white.
“The cabin is over there.” Charlie pointed to a spot they couldn’t see. “I helped Papa and gave Mr. Callahan his satchel of belongings.” She almost danced with excitement.
“I didn’t see it. Maman kept me away for fear I would be infected.” Isabelle’s tone was full of remorse. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to Jo.”
“Then you can say hello. I’m certain she will welcome you both and that she is well over the disease. It’s been three months, yes?” Mason took their arms and tucked them beneath his elbows as though he were walking into a drawing room and not a muddy fort.
“Yes, it was July.” Isabelle kept her gaze focused on the cabin she couldn’t see yet.
“Then she is probably hale and hearty and will be thrilled to see both of you.” Mason had no idea what the effects of typhoid were on a person. He’d not had any contact with the disease, but the fort was not the place to be if someone was deathly ill.
As they walked deeper into the fort, he was able to see through the snow. Most of the buildings were bare boards nailed together with flimsy roofs. There were tents huddled together and even a few wagons that had been there long enough to have tall grass growing between the spokes of the wheels.
A small white shack sat apart from the rest of the fort, lonely and dilapidated in the corner. If a person had to be quarantined, that was the spot to do it. Charlie led them toward it, pulling at his arm until they were almost single file with her at the lead.
The shack was dark and appeared abandoned. As they drew closer, he saw a padlock hanging from the door. On the outside. He hoped there was no one inside and particularly hoped there were no bodies inside. If this was where their sister Josephine was left when she was sick with typhoid, the padlock did not bode well for the outcome of that disease.
Charlie reached the door and stared at the padlock as though she’d never seen such a thing. “I don’t understand.”
Isabelle knocked on the door. “Josephine?”
Silence greeted her question. Mason’s dread grew. He tried to peer in the tiny window, but grime blocked the view. It was definitely dark within—no light shone through the gloom.
“No one is here.”
“That doesn’t make sense. Where is Josephine?” Charlie spun around as though her sister was hiding.
“I don’t know, tamia.” Isabelle took Charlie’s hand. “Let’s see if we can find someone who might know. There is a large building over there near the mercantile.”
Mason stayed quiet, but inside he was devising how to console the Chastain sisters. They had suffered so much grief and loss, he wanted to shield them from another tragedy. His stomach twisted tighter with each step they took.
A man exited the building as they walked up to the door. He nearly knocked Charlie over in his exuberance.
“Whoa!” He grabbed Charlie’s elbow and swung her around until she ended up slamming into him. Then their heads knocked together.
“Ouch! Damn it, mister, what the hell is wrong with you?” Charlie rubbed her head and glared at the stranger.
To Mason’s surprise, the man smiled and shook his head. “I ain’t met a woman who talks like you.”
Charlie appeared taken aback to be called a woman. “I, uh, don’t usually cuss.” Isabelle made a choking noise to which her sister granted her a dark look. “You surprised me, is all.”
“I didn’t expect anyone out in the snow.” The man looked at each of them. He was tall and lanky, a boy of perhaps eighteen with badly chopped jet-black hair and bright blue eyes. “I don’t know you.”
Mason stepped up with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Mason Bennett. This is, ah, my wife Isabelle and her sister Charlotte.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Elijah Sylvester.” The man looked at Mason’s hand before he shook it fast before dropping it.
Isabelle smiled at him and Elijah’s cheeks flushed. Her beauty turned men into bumbling idiots. “We’re looking for a woman who was here in July. Her name is Josephine Chastain and she was here with a man named Declan Callahan.”
Elijah frowned. “I don’t know that name.”
“She was in the little white shack over there.” Charlie gestured behind them. “She was sick.”
“Right, that lady. She’s not here anymore.” Elijah turned to leave and Charlie stood in his path, arms crossed.
“Oh no you don’t. Where is she? That’s my sister, Mr. Sylvester. You’re going to have to damn well do better than that.” Charlie straightened her shoulders. “Who’s in charge?”
Elijah scratched his head. “It was Mr. Parker who kept the peace, but he left with Mr. Drummond when that lady and the big man did. We ain’t heard from them since.”
“Mr. Drummond was the medic.” Charlie frowned. “I don’t understand why he left with Josephine and Mr. Callahan.”
“Oh, they didn’t leave together. That lady and the big man snuck out in the middle of the night. Mr. Parker said they was horse thieves and he and Mr. Duncan went after them.” Elijah had no idea what kind of boulder he had thrown at the Chastain sisters.
“My sister is not a horse thief. I’ll punch anybody that says so, sons of bitches.” Charlie looked fierce enough to carry through on her threat.
Elijah stepped back half a foot. “I, uh, am only repeating what Mr. Parker said.”
“Who’s in charge now?”
“Mostly it’s the folks inside there. Talk to Mr. Johnson. He owns the mercantile and he knows just about everyone.” Elijah put his hat on his head and touched the brim. “I gotta go.”
“Wait, can you open the lock on the shed Josephine had lived in while she was here?” Isabelle’s soft voice was in sharp contrast to Charlie’s gruff, husky tone.
Elijah’s gaze slid to the door. “I don’t think Mr. Johnson would like it.”
“Then let’s ask him.” Isabelle smiled and the boy was malleable clay in her delicate yet callused hands.
They went inside the building where it was blessedly warm. A fire blazed in a large stone fireplace at one end of the room. A group of men stood around talking with tin mugs in their hands. They turned when the group walked in.
One of the men, a heavyset man with more hair on his cheeks than his b
alding head, scowled at them. “Fixit, what the hell are you doing in here? I told you to go clean the snow off the roof of the stable.”
“I, uh, didn’t, that is, I—”
“I asked Mr. Sylvester to escort us inside.” Isabelle, bedraggled and dirty, had the bearing of a queen as she stepped toward the men, her hand extended and smile wide. They stared at her as though they hadn’t seen a beautiful woman before. Isabelle must have been used to it because she didn’t lose a speck of her regal posture. “My name is Isabelle Chastain Bennett and this is my husband, Mason, and my sister Charlotte.”
Funny how their ruse for the Beckers had extended to Fort John. Not that he minded. Pretending Isabelle was his wife had become his favorite pastime. She was the person he wanted to be, and be with for the rest of his life.
“Mrs. Bennett.” The man who had called Elijah “Fixit” offered her a greasy smile. “It’s quite a pleasure to have such a lovely visitor. What can we do for you?”
Isabelle explained their purpose with a touch of drama and a tear or two. “My sisters are all I have left of my family—well, except for Mason, of course.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but he doubted any of the other men noticed. “I need to find Josephine and Declan.”
“That was a big son of a buck. He did what Parker and Drummond told him for a month, but then he got ornery. Said his wife was better, but Drummond said no.” Johnson frowned.
“His wife. Josephine.” Isabelle took a deep breath and let it out. “Of course.”
From the tone of her voice, she did not know Josephine and Declan were married. Mason was curious as to what exactly happened. Knowing this was a Chastain sister, no doubt there was plenty of adventure, drama and surprises. What he had learned was to expect the unexpected.
“So where the hell are they?” Charlie’s patience had worn thin. “And why did you call him Fixit?”
“My, your sister is quite different, isn’t she?” Mr. Johnson looked at Charlie with pity in his eyes. “His name is Fixit. That’s also his job around here.”
Mason watched Elijah’s expression and saw the younger man flinch. Johnson controlled Elijah, that was for certain, and kept it that way. The older man reminded Mason of his father, a bully who was too full of his own self-worth to see past his own arrogance.
The Jewel: The Malloy Family, Book 11 Page 18
