The Maverick's Bride

by Catherine Palmer

  “Coffee and tea country,” Adam remarked. “Colonists are crowding these hills, running off animals and pushing Africans into tribal reserves. The English will profit no matter the cost.”

  “Will Nairobi be built nearby?” They had stopped to drink at a cold stream. Emma dipped her hands into the bracing water and took a sip.

  “Right about here, I’d imagine.” Adam studied Emma on the mossy stream bank. Wild passion fruit vines tumbled over the ground, and bird of paradise flowers bloomed in profusion. He could almost see the lush foliage give way to a bustling city with gray stone buildings, paved streets, courts of law, restaurants, rows of houses. And bursting onto the scene, the hissing steam locomotive of the British East African Railway.

  “It would be a lovely place for a home,” Emma said, rising to brush moss from her skirt.

  She was buoyant now, anticipating her sister. It was all she wanted. But he was not so easily satisfied. Emma had brought a sort of magic to his life. The future presented itself not just in terms of cattle, fences and coconut palms. With her talk of following God, her sweet innocence, her tender care for the hurting, Adam felt a new warmth, a hope for companionship and love.

  But Emma didn’t trust him. She had never admitted any desire to be with him after she found her sister. Instead, she planned to be a nurse at an outpost mission hospital, her world filled with patients and medicines instead of a home and family.

  Adam took off his hat and studied the leather band around the crown as he lifted up a prayer. God was listening, he trusted that now. He had found a Bible while rooting in the old medicine trunk. As he thumbed through it, he understood what Emma had told him. The Creator of the universe took note of everything—even a simple cowboy with a hurting heart. But did God want Adam to let Emma go, this woman who had been sent to Africa to fulfill a mission? He waited for an answer but heard nothing except the gurgling stream.

  “Adam, what is this flower?” She drifted toward him, a pink blossom cupped in her palms. “Such a rich perfume.”

  “It’s a frangipani.”

  They had shared a kiss, tender words of love. Did that mean nothing? Did God expect Adam to walk away—when even now he struggled to keep from taking her in his arms? But Emma’s holy calling superseded common human passion. Adam knew he must accept that and back away.

  “Before we go, Adam,” she said, “I want to thank you for helping me. I didn’t know how much I was asking.”

  “I was glad to do it.” He turned to his horse, but she caught his arm.

  “And thank you for teaching me about this country. The language and the animals and people. I shall never forget what you did.”

  “No trouble. I’d have done it for anyone.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “You’ll always be welcome at my ranch or at the beach house.” He stroked away a strand of hair that had blown across her cheek. “You know that.”

  “I should like to visit. Your life will be back to normal soon. You can wear your gun again without me protesting. And it won’t be long before Clarissa—”

  He cut short her words with a kiss. His hands found her arms and drew her close. She leaned into him, her arms twining around his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair.

  “Oh, Adam, I can’t think of anything but you,” she whispered. “Even poor Cissy is—”

  “Wait.” He drew back, listening for the tinkling sound he had heard a moment earlier. It came again—a giggle, and then another.

  “Karibu.” He spoke the word of welcome.

  Like shy kittens, three African girls emerged from a thicket. Each carried a bundle of sticks on her back.

  “They’re from the Kikuyu tribe,” he said, stepping away from Emma. “Maybe they can tell us how to find the waterfall with the cave.”

  He spoke some of the Kikuyu words he knew, using his hands to signal his meaning. One of the girls responded by pointing toward two jagged peaks that jutted into the sky.

  “Batian and Nelian. The twin peaks of Kenya Mountain.” He fixed his attention on the shimmering vision.

  “Is the waterfall near?” she asked as the girls slipped away.

  “If we travel toward the mountain, we’ll come to the Aberdares and the falls. A fig tree stands at the base of a hidden gorge where a stream flows into a pool of water. The waterfall and the cave are above it.”

  “If the moon isn’t shadowed by clouds,” Emma said, “we can ride most of the night.”

  “We ought to be there by morning.” He stepped toward his horse. “The girl warned that evil spirits live in the cave. Said we shouldn’t go near the gorge.”

  “How odd. Tolito insisted that Nicholas Bond had cursed him with an evil spirit. Such a ridiculous notion.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t believe in evil spirits, do you?”

  “I took you for a Bible reader, Emma.” He stepped into the stirrup and mounted his stallion. “Jesus cast out evil spirits everywhere He went. I seem to recall one time He sent a whole gang of them into a herd of pigs.”

  “Oh,” she said, going pale. “You’re quite right, of course.”

  “Time to move out,” he announced, turning his horse. “Let’s go find your sister.”

  After hours of trekking through thick bush, Adam and Emma finally had to dismount and lead their horses. They slogged through ankle-deep mud down steep gullies and into icy streams. Emma began to believe the whole land was cursed by an evil spirit.

  The rainforest was mostly quiet through the day, but as evening lowered its dusky head, it came to life. Bush babies gaped with huge glowing brown eyes. Birds shrieked and bats fluttered by. A shy dik-dik—the tiniest of antelopes—peered at them with a minuscule face and horns smaller than a pen. Most startling to Emma was the small furry hyrax, whose shrill cry mimicked the wail of an abandoned child.

  At midnight Adam insisted they stop. They huddled into the curved roots of a huge tree. They spoke little, too tired for the effort. Emma slept on Adam’s shoulder, but he kept watch until dawn.

  In the early morning when tendrils of mist curled over rocks and between fern fronds, they began the last leg of their trek. The horses struggled for footing in the mud, and Emma could not imagine how Soapy would ever arrive with a chest of heavy gold.

  The sun had burned away the mist when Adam halted beside a stream. Emma looked up at a towering fig tree. In the distance a waterfall gurgled.

  “I believe we’re here,” he said. “We’ll camp near the falls.”

  “Today is a week from the date on the message. They will expect us to make the trade for Cissy.”

  “There’s nothing we can do until Soapy gets here. If anyone is around, they’ve already seen us.”

  “Do you still doubt the letter Nicholas brought?”

  “Do you still doubt me?”

  She had to look away. “I don’t know what to believe.”

  If Adam had plotted with the German forces, might Dirk Bauer be part of the scheme? Had Cissy been with him all these days, shivering in the cold forest and heartbroken by his treachery?

  As she slogged through the mud, Emma wondered if the dense green foliage hid her sister. Could Cissy be watching her right now? Battling the urge to call out, Emma waded across the chilly stream and up the bank on the other side.

  Deep in the heart of the gorge, vine-covered tree limbs arched overhead like Aunt Prue’s lace-gloved fingers. The sky was a ragged ribbon of deep blue that clouded to gray as it began to rain.

  Adam led Emma around a bend in the ravine. Emerging into a clearing, both stopped and looked up at a torrent rushing over a lip of rock. The plummeting water scoured a face of smooth black stone until it calmed at last in a bubbling pool. From there it slipped into the narrow stream they had followed up from the fig tree.

  “Do you see a cave?” Emma asked. Even though the crashing water blocked every other noise, her words seemed loud.

  Adam pointed toward the cascade, and she followed the lin
e of his finger until she spotted a deep black maw halfway up the side of the ravine. It would not be an easy climb.

  “The wood’s probably damp,” he said, “but I’ll see if I can start a fire.”

  “I hope Soapy arrives before dark. I don’t like the thought of staying here tonight.”

  While Adam searched for dry wood and started a small fire, Emma sank into the long grass with relief. Her riding skirt was splattered with mud and her boots were caked. She wondered whether Cissy had lived in this damp jungle for many days. What would she have eaten? Who had protected her and kept her warm?

  “Emma?” Adam touched her arm. “You all right?”

  She nodded as he knelt beside her and held his hands before the flickering fire. They ate a little of the bread and cheese stored in their saddlebags. Curled beside him, Emma watched as the clearing deepened to emerald and the sky turned a dark rose. She drifted toward sleep, but a sudden sound jerked her awake.

  Adam leaped to his feet and reached for the rifle hanging on his saddle. Then he stopped and began to grin. Emma struggled to stand on half-frozen legs. Below them in the gorge, a man with bright yellow hair guided two stumbling horses that pulled a small cart.

  “Soapy!” Adam strode toward his friend. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, partner.”

  “Just ’bout didn’t think I could do it, boss.” Soapy emerged into the clearing. “Them poor horses is nearly tuckered out. We had a time trekkin’ up these mountains. If you two hadn’t trampled down the bushes in this gorge, we never would’ve made it. Anyway, here she be.”

  Emma touched the chest. Her father’s gold—her gold now. She would gladly give it all away to have Cissy safe and well.

  “We must take this to the cave at once.” She looked into Adam’s blue eyes. “It’s almost dark, and I must keep Cissy from another night of misery.”

  He studied the steep incline leading up from the pool. “Soapy, we have our work cut out for us. Emma, you stay here. If this kidnapping is for real, they might let your sister go while we’re in the cave. Just lie low with her until we get down. Here’s the rifle if you need it.”

  Emma took the weapon, her heart hammering as she watched the two men wind their way past the pool and start up the ravine. She searched the forest for any sign of life but saw nothing. She set the rifle next to the fire and tried to calm herself.

  Adam was high above her now, almost concealed by ferns and vines as he guided the horses along the cliff face. His hat lay on a mound of moss near the base of the falls, and he had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

  Emma thought back to the first time she had seen him. Adam had scooped the small boy from the path of a tumbling wooden box and saved his life. She recalled how he had cradled the child in his arms. How strange and wonderful he had seemed with his soft shirt and denim trousers and his boots with their silver spurs glinting.

  But she must not walk in her mother’s footsteps. In marrying Godfrey Pickering, her mother had chosen the safe course. Following her heart so many years later had caused her family great suffering and led her to an early grave. Emma would be foolish to plunge heedlessly after a man like Adam King who could never commit himself.

  Nicholas Bond had declared his love for her, proposed marriage, avowed his undying devotion to England and all that was honorable. He was upright and steadfast, just as her father had been. Once Cissy was safe, Emma could marry Nicholas if she chose. Her money would provide a comfortable life for their children. And it would help fulfill his dreams of rising in authority with the railway and helping build the new city of Nairobi.

  Nicholas did not love her. Emma knew that. She would never experience the kind of love that had sparked to life in Adam’s arms. In the end, what did passion matter? Following God was the only path to true happiness.

  Resolved, Emma watched the men climb toward the cave. But a movement in the forest caught her eye. The bushes parted and a familiar face emerged.

  “Good evening, Fraulein Pickering.” Dirk Bauer stepped into view, a broad grin across his face. And behind him came a disheveled, determined-looking woman.

  “Cissy!” Emma’s voice rang out as she threw her arms around her sister.

  “Emma, oh, Emma, how I’ve missed you!” Cissy kissed her cheek again and again as the two clung to one another, shivering with happiness.

  “You were with Dirk all along,” Emma cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Oh, Cissy, you can’t imagine how worried I’ve been.”

  “Save your happy tidings, ladies.” The harsh voice startled Emma, and she saw Dirk’s eyes widen as he reached for a pistol. Before he could draw it, a figure brushed past the women and slammed a rifle butt into the German’s abdomen, doubling him over.

  “Nicholas?” Emma stared in astonishment. “But what are you doing here?”

  “Business, Miss Pickering,” he spat. “Throw it down, Kaiser.”

  Dirk dropped his gun to the ground and Bond snatched it up. He grabbed Emma and pulled her close, keeping the rifle trained on Dirk. “I want the gold,” he told her. “Tell your American friend to bring it down. Now.”

  Emma looked up to see Adam and Soapy scrambling down from the waterfall.

  “Help!” Cissy yelled. “He’s going to kill us!”

  “Emma!” Adam’s voice thundered through the clearing. He dashed ahead of Soapy, but stopped short when Nicholas turned the rifle on him.

  “The gold is up by the cave,” Adam shouted. “Let the women go.”

  “What’s goin’ on, boss?” Soapy darted past Adam, his pistol drawn.

  A deafening blast exploded next to Emma’s ear, and she saw Soapy clutch one thigh and fall to his knees. Before she could react, Nicholas threw her to the ground. He stepped forward, working the bolt action on the rifle.

  “You told her,” he barked at Adam. “You’ve ruined me.”

  Emma could see Soapy writhing in pain. Unarmed, Adam crouched beside his friend.

  “Nicholas,” she called out, fighting with her tangled skirts to rise from the mud. “Nicholas, listen to me.”

  “No.” He stepped toward her, trapping her dress beneath his muddy heel.

  Rage flooded through Emma. She had been pinned before, held back, held down, cowering beneath a man’s wrath. But no longer.

  “Stop, Nicholas!” She jerked her skirt free. But as she stood, he took aim at Adam’s heart. Without thinking, she lunged between the two men.

  “Don’t shoot him!” she screamed. “I love him, Nicholas. I won’t let you do this.”

  His face blanching, Nicholas started toward Emma, the rifle barrel now pointed at her. “Get out of the way, Emmaline.”

  “Emma!” Adam leapt forward, caught her around the waist and swept her behind him. “Soapy, Bauer—get her out of here.”

  Emma shrieked as Nicholas took aim a second time, but somehow Soapy and Dirk were grabbing her arms and dragging her away.

  “Adam!” she cried as the men pulled her across mossy rock toward the thick brush where Cissy had taken cover. In the tangle of undergrowth she lost sight of Adam. Soapy scurried down the ravine, and Emma felt hands grasping her.

  Cissy’s voice called out, but Emma could only continue to fight against Soapy’s grip. She must help Adam. Otherwise Nicholas would kill him.

  She glanced up into the jade canopy of leaves and saw a dark shape descending toward her head. Through the flash of pain that preceded unconsciousness, she heard from the clearing the thunder of a gunshot.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emma shut her eyes against the invading light. No, she did not want to see. She did not want to feel. All she could hear was the echo of a rifle firing again and again. A cool hand stroked her forehead and she wondered if she were dreaming. Everything was confused and jumbled.

  “We’re at Tsavo station.” Cissy’s voice. “Try to wake up, dearest.”

  With effort, Emma opened her eyes and gazed into her sister’s face. Cissy looked pale but she was smiling.

/>   “Where is Adam?” Emma asked.

  “Lord Delamere sent a contingent to the Aberdares. They left a few hours ago.”

  Emma struggled to sit up. The room tilted, and her head felt as if it held nothing but clouds. “Tsavo station?”

  “Yes, and you’ve been given laudanum. Quite a lot, actually. Emma, darling, you’ve had a nasty bump.”

  “You stumbled in the forest.” Dirk Bauer moved into view. His blond hair gleamed in the sunlight, but his handsome face was somber. “You fell and your head struck a stone.”

  Emma frowned, unable to recall the moment clearly. She took Cissy’s hand. “What happened at the waterfall? Where is Adam?”

  “Oh, Emma,” Cissy murmured. “We don’t know. We had no choice but to flee. You and Soapy were both injured. Gravely so. Please don’t think about this now. You must rest.”

  “Did you bring me here?”

  “Yes.” Cissy hesitated. “I was told about Father, Emma. His grave is nearby. I waited until we could go together.”

  Through the small window above the settee on which she lay, Emma saw an azure sky and dazzling sunshine. This was the office where once she had talked to Nicholas. She had seen Adam walking just outside…near the track. The train was in the station and workers bustled about. But Adam was not here.

  “Let us visit the grave, then,” Emma proposed. “I’m well enough now.”

  Cissy and Dirk helped her stand and supported her across the room. They stepped out onto the verandah and walked around to a small plot of ground enclosed with an iron fence. Several markers had been erected, but Emma saw only a small cross where their father had been laid to rest.

  “I ordered a large headstone of Italian marble,” Cissy said. “His name and the dates will be engraved on it. You are free now, Emma. Free of our father’s domination.”

  “And free to love him again as I once did.”

  “As we both did when Mama was still with us.”

  Dirk cleared his throat. “Excuse me, ladies, but the train is leaving for Mombasa.”

  “And Mr. Potts is on it,” Cissy added. “He needs you, Emma.”