The Maverick's Bride

by Catherine Palmer

  “Herr Potts refuses to allow anyone but you to treat his leg wound,” Dirk concurred. “He says the railway doctors worked for his enemy, Herr Bond. May I escort you?”

  Emma accepted Dirk’s arm and he led both women to the train. Her head throbbing, she climbed aboard and moved unsteadily down the aisle. A seat had been made up into a bed, and Soapy lay still and pale upon it.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” the cowboy greeted Emma. “Think you could patch me up? The bullet went clean through and near took all my blood with it.”

  She knelt beside him. “Oh, Soapy, I’m so glad you’re alive! But why did you force me away? I needed to go to Adam.”

  “The boss told me to get you out of there. I figured I’d better do what he said, shot or not. Me and Dirk there had to get you two ladies off that mountain and away from that loco and his rifle. He woulda shot all of us dead.”

  “Nicholas Bond.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. And all because he thought Adam told you about him.”

  “Told me what, Soapy? I don’t know anything.”

  He grimaced as the train jerked to life, its whistle sending a mournful cry into the afternoon air. “I’m jiggered if I can pull it all together myself, ma’am. Ya know I ain’t got nothin’ under my hat but hair.”

  Cissy looked at Emma, her blue eyes questioning. “Can you understand what he’s saying?”

  Emma gave her a wan smile. “I’m learning to. All right, then, Mr. Potts. Let’s have a look at your leg.”

  Soapy took off his hat and put it over his face as Emma peeled back the sheet and began to examine the injury. “I apologize, ma’am,” he muttered, “but I’m as yeller as mustard without the bite.”

  “If that means you’re a coward, I shall have to disagree. You were very brave.”

  “It’s the pain,” Soapy groaned. “Oh, the pain.”

  Emma frowned. “Cissy, I need water.”

  “Will this help, madam?” Dirk was striding down the swaying aisle, his fingers wrapped around the handle of a steaming kettle. “I got it from the kitchen car.”

  Emma nodded in surprise. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Dirk is always so helpful,” Cissy said. “We went everywhere looking for you, Emma, and we could hardly believe it when we saw you climbing into those mountains. Whatever were you doing there?”

  “You were following me?”

  “Of course. Dirk called to me that night when we were in the railcar. He left his battalion and came to find me. I had no idea he was going to do it, but once we were together…” She looked at the man beside her, and he drew her into his arms. “Dirk is in a great deal of trouble, Emma. The German army is looking for him. We’re in a rush to get to Mombasa to plead for the British government to grant him asylum. We intend to marry.”

  “Are you certain, Cissy?” Emma searched her sister’s blue eyes for assurance. “Perhaps you should rest before you agree to such an attachment.”

  “Emma, this man is to be my husband. I have no doubt.”

  “I have some savings,” the soldier added. “Enough to buy a small farm here.”

  “Here?” Emma glanced at Cissy. “In the British Protectorate?”

  “I love this country, Emma. Oh, I know it’s hard to believe I could give up my parties. Truly I cannot explain the change in me. In Africa, I’ve found what I’ve been looking for all my life.”

  “I see a peace in your eyes, Cissy.”

  “While tracking you into the mountains, we found a lovely place for our home. Dirk wants to plant beans and corn and have a farm of his own.”

  Emma dabbed at Soapy’s wound. Adam had foreseen the future of the protectorate. It would be a busy place, a fertile land where a man and his wife could carve out a good life for themselves and their children.

  “I’m happy for you both,” she whispered, leaning over to give her sister a kiss. “I’m certain your farm will be a great success.”

  Cissy beamed. “That night when I ran away, Dirk wanted us to go straight to Mombasa. But I knew you would be worried and I insisted we go back. We’ve been trying to catch up to you ever since. In fact, we arrived at Mr. King’s ranch only hours after you had gone. His man Jackson sent us in the right direction. You can imagine our surprise when we found ourselves under the barrel of Mr. Bond’s rifle only moments after we’d found you.”

  Emma sighed. She hardly knew what to make of all this information. Blotting away the last of the wash water, she leaned toward her patient. “Mr. Potts, are you still under that hat?”

  The buckskin cowboy hat slowly slipped from in front of Soapy’s eyes. “Am I gonna live to see tomorrow?”

  “Your wound is clean and it should heal well. A doctor in Mombasa will treat it.” She turned to Cissy. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall look for some bandage material.”

  Dirk leaped to his feet. “I shall go for you, madam.”

  “No, no. Please sit down.” The pain in Emma’s head increased as she started toward the door of the car. “I need to be alone.”

  She gripped the backs of the leather seats to make her way down the aisle. It was growing dark, and she could see the conductor lighting lamps. Nearly paralyzed by her sense of loss, Emma had all she could do to keep from crying. Where was Adam? Had Nicholas killed him?

  Dear God, why did this happen? And how am I to go on?

  From the things Cissy had said, Emma realized Nicholas must have written the ransom note and planned to take the gold for himself. He had been more surprised than Emma to see Cissy and Dirk emerge into the clearing.

  But what had made him behave in such a villainous manner? What had driven him to such a rage that he would shoot Soapy and kill Adam?

  Her vision blurred by tears, Emma was startled when she laid her hand on a seat back and felt warm fingers close over it.

  “Memsahib?” Linde floated up from the seat and pressed her forehead to Emma’s palms.

  “Linde, what are you doing here?” As Emma stepped closer, she saw Tolito smiling at her.

  “My arm good, memsahib.” The African’s eyes were warm. “You drive evil spirit away. Now we go to Mombasa, as you wish.”

  Emma sat beside him. “Tolito, has anyone told you about Bwana King?”

  “No, memsahib. He is here with you?”

  She shook her head. “We had trouble in the Aberdares. Mr. Bond came after us.”

  “That man?” Tolito’s face contorted in anger.

  “What happened, Memsahib Emma?” Linde asked.

  Emma gave a brief recounting of the story. “Mr. Potts was wounded by Mr. Bond,” she concluded. “The last I knew was the sound of gunfire. I was unconscious when the party brought us to Tsavo.”

  “Bwana King die?” Tolito asked.

  “I don’t know. I pray he is still alive.” Emma fell silent for a moment. “Tolito, how did you come to know Bwana King? And what caused the trouble between him and Bwana Bond?”

  Tolito closed his eyes and began to speak. “Bwana King come to my country many years ago. He is not of the British. He buy land from the land office, but the British send him from Mombasa with a bad map. He get lost. In those days, I am the olaigwenani—the spokesman—of my clan’s age set. The men of my age set go to hunt a lioness, but we see she hunts something to eat. It is Bwana King. He near to death. Vultures sit in trees to wait.”

  Emma gazed out the window as the sun slipped below the horizon. Black skeletons of thorn trees stood against an orange sky.

  “We take Bwana King to our manyatta, where we live,” Tolito continued. “He get strong again. Then I go with him to his land. I become head man. We work hard, and two years pass. Bwana Potts come from America. He work also.”

  “I stay with my brother and his wife,” Linde spoke up, her voice a murmur. “I am happy there.”

  “One day Bwana King tell Linde and me to go to Mombasa.” Tolito paused, his brow furrowed as if he could not bear to summon the memory. “Bwana King say we get crates and woman.”

&nb
sp; “Clarissa,” Linde put in. “That is why I should go also. But woman not come.”

  “No.” Tolito shook his head. “We put crates on train. We ride train and see Bwana Bond also going. That day, he sees my sister.”

  “Bwana Bond want me.” Linde’s words came with difficulty. “I not want this thing to happen with Bwana Bond. I tell him no, no. But he tries to…force.”

  “Oh, no.” Emma touched the young woman. “I am so sorry.”

  “We come to station,” she continued. “It is night. Bwana Bond chase me, and I run and shout. Tolito fight him. Bwana Bond has knife and cuts Tolito. Try to kill him. Every part of Tolito is blood.”

  “My arm very bad,” Tolito added.

  “Then comes Bwana King to meet us at station. I cry to him what happened, that Bwana Bond want me and that Tolito dying. Bwana King fight with Bwana Bond. Then Bwana Bond run away.”

  As Linde’s words faded, so did the last of the light. Emma sat beneath the lamp and stared out at the darkness. So Adam knew everything. Nicholas must have lived in dread that he would one day make public what had happened. Such a story, related to Godfrey Pickering or another railway director, could destroy his ambitions and career.

  When Emma had come to the protectorate—an heiress and, upon her father’s death, a wealthy woman in her own right—Nicholas had seen the chance to make his dreams come true. But he knew Adam might tell Emma the story and ruin his chance. No wonder he hated Adam.

  “Emma?” Cissy appeared at her side. “What are you doing?”

  “This is Adam’s brother Tolito,” Emma replied, touching the African’s arm. “And this is Linde. She’s going to assist me in my clinic…if I have a clinic.”

  To Emma’s surprise, Cissy gave them a curtsy before taking her sister’s hand. “Perhaps Miss Linde would be willing to look after Mr. Potts. I’ve never heard such groaning in my life. He does believe he’s going to pass on.”

  Linde rose at once, and the three women made their way down the aisle. Emma settled into a sleeping berth, and Cissy drew a shade over the window.

  “Sleep, my poor love,” she whispered as Emma closed her eyes. “You shall have a hot bath at Government House and you’ll feel much better. We shall find your Adam and bring him to you. I promise.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The heat and humidity of the ancient port bore down on her, and Emma still felt dazed as the trolley rolled toward Government House. Lord and Lady Delamere hurried down the steps to meet their guests. The couple were eager to hear the news and more than eager to ensure that Godfrey Pickering’s heirs left the protectorate with much goodwill to take back to England and her prospective colonists.

  Lord Delamere exclaimed in dismay over the tragedy in the Aberdares. He vowed to find Nicholas Bond. Justice would be served. Adam King would be given a gentleman’s burial. The entire protectorate would mourn.

  Lady Delamere’s sadness was overtaken by the joy of Cissy’s engagement and plans to settle in the highlands. There must be a reception this very night, she insisted. The wedding would take place on the Delamere farm at Njoro. Her husband declared Dirk’s desire for sanctuary a “bit of a sticky wicket,” but he assured the couple that all would fall into place.

  Amid the excitement, Emma started toward the house. She was crossing the lawn when she heard Lord Delamere addressing Soapy.

  “I’m told Adam had one of my crates,” the Englishman said. “Do you know if he took it to Njoro?”

  “Sorry to say it’s still in the barn on King Farm,” the cowboy told him.

  “Well, we’ll just pop ’round for it. I shall need that plow on my return to the farm.”

  A plow. Emma reflected on the crate and all its mystery as she stepped inside the house. How could she have doubted Adam? But she had. Nicholas Bond had been the serpent in the Garden of Eden, whispering poison into her ear. All along, he had been the evil one.

  In the room where she and Cissy had stayed before, Emma bathed and dressed in a soft gown. Then she took a chair near the balcony door Adam had once entered. He had wanted to take her away then, but she would not go. And now he was gone.

  It seemed she was always losing those she loved most. The terrible truth of her losses was more than Emma felt she could bear. As she thought of Adam, his body lying in that cold damp gorge, tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Where was God in such a time as this? She had heard Him so clearly as she listened to Miss Nightingale. His call on Emma’s heart could not be mistaken. Her path to Africa had been made straight, and her future unfurled before her like a soft carpet.

  Until she met Adam King. Confused, tempted and deeply in love, she had struggled to pray. God’s voice became so hard to hear. What was He telling her? What was she to do? She had tried to listen. She had done her best to obey.

  But now she had lost the love she had never wanted. She had been torn from a man she could never have. A future she suddenly desired more than anything else was ripped away by a single bullet.

  She watched as the sun sank. The stars were just coming out when the door burst open. Breathless, Cissy flew into the room, begged Emma not to cry and announced happy plans for an impromptu reception that night in honor of her engagement. Lady Delamere had offered to lend her a gown! Slippers must be found, to say nothing of a hat! Blue eyes sparkling, Cissy whirled away in a flutter of excitement.

  Under a moonlit sky, trolleys and carriages began to arrive. Emma observed elegant men and women promenading into the hall below. Laughter, music and the tinkle of crystal floated up to her in the darkened room.

  Emma knew she had no choice but to carry on without Adam. Her heart would hold him always, but she must move forward with her plans. A hospital would be found where she could serve. Linde would be at her side. Cissy and Dirk would marry and have children. Emma would visit often. She would go to England and tell Miss Nightingale about her work. Perhaps they would drink tea together.

  “Emma, where have you got to?” Cissy rushed into the room again. At the sight of her sister still seated beside the window, she exclaimed in exasperation. “Oh, Emma, you’re here all alone. I’ve been cruel to stay away. How heartless of me.”

  Cissy turned up the flame in a lamp on the table. Emma watched her butterfly sister for a moment. The joy of seeing such a loved one alive was enough to warm a shattered heart.

  “I’ve needed to be alone, Cissy.” Emma turned from the light to gaze out the window. “I loved him, you know. It was very wrong, but I couldn’t help it.”

  Cissy wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I know you loved him…and he loved you, Emma. I knew it the moment I saw you together. He was wonderful, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, but I shall go on. I had made up my mind not to be like Mama, not to follow my heart. But I found out that’s quite impossible for me. I believe I shall always go where my passions lead me. But I won’t be ruled by them. Unlike Mama, I shall not pine away from my loss. I shall not die of this.”

  “Of course not. You are far too strong.” Cissy smiled. “We are women of fortitude, you and I. Lady Delamere is thrilled about the wedding, as you know. She wanted to host the event at their farm at Njoro, but instead we’ve set it right here tomorrow afternoon.”

  “So soon, Cissy?”

  “Why wait? Everyone we know is in Mombasa already. Lord Delamere says that after Dirk and I are married, he’ll have no trouble getting a residency permit from the British government. So it is good to be hasty in such a situation.”

  “I’m happy for you, then.” Emma took her sister’s hand. “Truly I am.”

  “Will you come down? It would mean so much to me. I won’t make you dance.”

  “Certainly I shall. An occasion such as this is not to be missed.”

  Emma had to laugh as Cissy twirled about the bedroom in Lady Delamere’s pink gown with long feathers sweeping from the velvet sash. A soft blue-green silk gown was chosen for Emma herself. She pinned her sun-streaked hair into coils atop h
er head and slipped on a pair of gloves.

  The two young women swept down the stairs to a chorus of ahs and the gentle applause of the assembly. Emma learned she and Cissy were viewed as heroines of a sort, having endured hardships in the wild and come through impossible adventures unscathed.

  Cissy vanished into the sea of celebrants. Emma greeted several guests before stepping into the ballroom. Leaning against the cool plaster of a back wall, she sipped at a glass of punch and watched the dancers whirl around the room to a lively waltz. Cissy and Dirk, enraptured in one another’s arms, did not even see her as they swept past.

  “Well, howdy, ma’am.” Soapy’s voice broke into Emma’s reverie, and she turned in surprise to find the little cowboy standing close beside her. His yellow hair, parted in the middle, had been slicked back on either side. Even more astonishing, he had washed his face, and for the first time Emma realized that he had freckles. His broad grin belied the despondency Emma was sure he must be feeling.

  “Mr. Potts, how lovely to see you,” she said. “You’re looking well.”

  “They got a purty good doc over at the government clinic. He says I’ll be back in the saddle good as new afore long.” Leaning on a cane, Soapy pulled at one of his black suspenders and snapped it against his chest. “You might like to hear I was right there when the doc took a look at yore handiwork on Tolito. I never heerd such fine talkin’. He said you done good…real good. He was purt’ near happy as a flea in a doghouse. Says he wants to meet you—” Soapy stopped speaking and scratched his head. “What’s goin’ on over there?”

  Emma looked up to find that the music had faltered and the instruments were falling silent. The dancers had stopped, every eye turned toward the door. Voices, arguing, growing louder, filled the ballroom. Three African doorkeepers surrounded a figure who rose head and shoulders above them.

  Standing on tiptoe, Emma felt the blood rush from her head as Adam King took off his black cowboy hat and started across the room toward her. No. It was impossible.

  She caught her breath at the man she hardly recognized in such a clean white shirt, black coat and gray trousers. His sun-bronzed face wore a smile and his eyes shone like blue diamonds. Even his hair, shiny black in the lamplight, bounced with life as he strode through the frozen dancers.