Prophecy (Soul of the Witch Book 2)

by C. Marie Bowen

  Jason searched Amy’s eyes. “You said we.”

  “Yes. We will stay, or we will go—either way, we will be together.”

  Jason smiled as he lifted the reins to put the team in motion, but Amy laid a hand on his arm.

  “I’m sorry, but I still don’t feel well. I should lie down for a bit. Would you make my excuses to the family?” The effects of the vision clung to her, each time she thought of the animals, nausea churned in her belly. She wrapped one arm across her stomach and pressed her right hand to the pounding ache in her temple.

  “Certainly, my dear. Here, let me help you down.” Jason set the brake, stepped down and around the wagon, and extended his hand to her. “Have a good rest.” He kissed her forehead and released her hand as she stepped onto the porch. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  Amy climbed the stairs to their room. Her head throbbed. Did her vision cause these physical symptoms, or was this nervous exhaustion from all that had taken place in the last week? She closed the door to her room and lay fully clothed on the bed.

  When Amy woke, the slant of the sun through the window told her it was late afternoon. She regretted the delay in speaking with Nichole, but she felt better for having rested. She repaired her hair, washed her face and hands, and went downstairs to find Nichole.

  In the kitchen yard, someone had raised a tarp on wooden posts to provide afternoon shade. Hope-Anne balanced on her hands and knees in the center of a colorful quilt. Katy sat across from her and encouraged the babe to move toward several shiny objects.

  Nichole sat beneath the tarp at the table and watched the children play. Beyond Nichole, past the well, Lawna and Jeanne chatted and laughed together as they pinned wet sheets on the clothesline.

  Amy hugged Nichole’s shoulders then took a seat on the bench beside her. “Is Katy staying at The Highlands?”

  Nichole nodded. “She and her mother. I’m glad Henny and Cookie get along or we’d have kitchen wars. Henny gave Cookie several new recipes Merril especially likes.” Nichole turned to Amy. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, I am. Thank you.” Amy nodded toward Katy. “Who remains at The Shilo?”

  “No one.” Nichole glanced at Amy, then looked back toward the baby. “Everyone who stayed after...” Nichole sent Amy a knowing look and a small shrug. “They came here. Lloyd put Henny and Katy in the family bunkhouse, but it’s a large building. Tom and Timothy put up a wall to make two areas. The Caines have already moved into their new room.”

  “I didn’t see Henny when we came in.”

  Nichole pointed across the yard, past the family bunkhouse and chicken coop, toward the large vegetable garden where a wide-brimmed straw hat moved between rows. “She’s taken over the garden.”

  “Good. I’ll speak with her about the herbs I want to plant.” Amy leaned closer to Nichole. “Walk with me for a moment.” Amy rose and strolled to the corner of the house, then waited.

  “Katy, would you keep an eye on Hope-Anne?” Nichole asked as she rose. “Don’t let her get in the dirt.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Katy replied, her bright smile and attention remained on the baby.

  Nichole followed Amy around the side of the house. They stopped in the shade provided by the big cottonwood.

  “What's wrong?” Nichole asked.

  “Something’s coming. Something—evil. I should have warned you the moment we arrived. I told Jason, but I don’t know what else to do, or how to prepare for it.” Amy pressed her finger and thumb against her forehead. “I’m not sure Jason believed me.”

  “What is it?” Nichole whispered. Alarm filled her eyes. “Is this something you saw?”

  Amy shook her head in frustration. “That’s the problem. I'm not entirely sure what I saw.”

  “Tell me.” Nichole took Amy’s hands.

  Amy nodded and gripped Nichole’s fingers. “Honesty, then. First, you need to know I have a twin sister.”

  Nichole’s eyes widened, but she remained silent.

  “Her name is Alyse. She has abilities, like mine, only she’s much stronger. Alyse is the one who healed you in Denver.”

  “Alyse ... wasn’t in Denver.” Nichole replied hesitantly.

  “I know,” Amy spoke faster, her words tumbled out. Her heart raced with the need to confess what she knew to Nichole. “Alyse felt me panic and reached out to me. Our magic twisted together somehow—I had no idea who or what healed through me. When she said she would find me, I was terrified. Then later, I felt her sorrow and reached out to her. We spoke.” Amy stared at Nichole.

  What if she doesn’t believe me?

  Slowly, Nichole began to nod. “You have a telepathic connection with your twin. A sister you didn’t know of until now.”

  “Telepathic?”

  “You communicate with your mind.”

  “You understand what this is?” Amy leaned forward, eyes wide. “How do you know of such things?”

  “I know about this from—” Nichole shook her head. “That can wait. What about your vision? Is your sister the evil you saw?”

  “No, it’s not Alyse. The evil follows her. It’s using animals as transport—possessing their bodies and driving them west. I become ill when I think of it.”

  “Holy shit, Amy. I’m not sure what to say.”

  “You believe me, don't you?” Amy tightened her hold on Nichole’s hands. “You must.”

  “Of course, I do. I absolutely believe you.”

  The tension in Amy’s neck eased and she exhaled. “Thank you.”

  “Does your sister know what follows her?”

  “I don't know.” Amy admitted. “If she knows, she didn't speak of it.”

  “Can you ask her?”

  “No. I’ve tried to speak with her again, but I can't. Our communication only seems to work when the other is upset or in need.”

  “Wow.” Nichole released Amy’s hands and rested her fingers across her mouth, her eyes unfocused and distant. After a moment, her gaze met Amy’s. “Did you tell Jim?”

  “No. Only Jason.”

  “Jason wouldn’t have been my first choice to discuss something like this.” Nichole chuckled. “How did he take it?”

  “Better than I thought he might,” Amy said with a smile. “But then, he saw how the vision affected me. Also, the wolves were so very odd. Watching them may have made him open to other strange possibilities.”

  “What wolves?” Nichole questioned.

  Amy explained about the cats at the house in Denver, and how when she touched them she could see her sister with them. Then she told Nichole about the black wolves, and how the hawks appeared to follow them.

  “We should watch for this pair of animals as well.” Nichole suggested as they walked back to the kitchen yard.

  Lawna sat on the bench with a sleepy Hope-Anne at her breast.

  Jeanne and Katy were walking the garden with Henny.

  As though Nichole shared Amy’s thought, they continued through the kitchen yard and across the main yard to the barn.

  It was time to talk with Merril and Jimmy Leigh.

  Chapter 23

  Catherine Kline

  The change from the MKT line to the Central Pacific Railroad in Junction City went smoothly. Even though the transfer again took place at night, they were able to purchase food and water from the depot vendors and board the westbound train in record time.

  The excitement of traveling by rail had worn thin. Cat wanted a bed and a bath more than anything else she could think of. Worse yet, Hunter sat in the same car as her under the watchful eye of her brother.

  As the sun rose behind them, the low East Kansas hills flattened, and the plains unfolded into a vast sea of grass. At first, the endless vista of blue sky and golden prairie thrilled Cat with its stark beauty. Then it became boring. She curled up on her seat and fell asleep.

  The sudden jar and squeal of the brakes woke her. “What’s happening?” She sat up and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. She looked
from the window to her brother.

  Sam set his paper aside and stood. Hunter passed their seat and disappeared through the forward exit. “Stay here, Cat. I’ll find out why we’re stopping.” Sam followed Hunter out the door.

  Passengers called questions to each other, creating a cacophony of voices inside the car.

  “No need to worry, folks.” The conductor’s call boomed from the rear door and quieted the worried voices. He spoke at a normal volume as he strolled up the aisle. “The engineer sighted a herd of buffalo on the south side of the train. Since we’re ahead of schedule, we’ll make a short stop to allow you to observe these animals. For those who wish to fire upon the herd, you will be required to exit the train.”

  The car jerked again as its forward momentum ceased.

  Cat rose from her seat, along with several people seated on the north side of the train, to look out the south-facing windows. The herd grazed far enough from the train she could not distinguish separate animals. The sea of golden grass vanished in the distance into a dark blemish across the prairie. As she turned away to retake her seat, the crack of a rifle resonated through the passenger car. The sound startled Cat and she spun back toward the windows. The observers pressed closer to the window to see the shooters beside the train.

  “The animals are too far for the hunters to injure, ma chère.”

  Cat looked up at Hunter and smiled. “I thought so. They’re not even close enough to see properly.”

  Hunter chuckled. “Their odor will not be missed, I assure you.”

  Cat grinned and took her seat, away from the exclamations of the onlookers. “Where’s Sam?”

  Hunter sat across from Cat. “He made it known to the conductor that he is a U.S. Marshal. The conductor asked him to monitor the activities outside.”

  Gunfire continued outside the train. The watchers shouted advice from the open windows.

  Hunter turned sideways in his seat, one leg angled on the bench, to look out over the observers’ heads.

  Cat’s gaze etched Hunter’s profile, committing it to memory. He had brushed his black hair back and tied the long strands with a leather strip at his collar. Her contemplation followed his smooth brow and straight nose down to his full, well-defined lips. The only mar to his perfect profile—the scar running down his cheek.

  I wonder what happened?

  “If Sam sees you look at me like that, ma très chère, he may well shoot me.” Hunter grinned and turned toward Cat.

  Her face warmed, but she raised her chin and refused to drop her gaze. “Why?” she asked. “You’ve done nothing to warrant such a reprisal from Sam.”

  “Not yet, but should you continue to regard me with such—affection—I might.” His grin grew into a broad smile.

  “Really?” She leaned forward, her smile matching his. “Like what?”

  “Mademoiselle Kline.” Hunter sat forward and took her hand. “You appear to be under the impression I am a nice, honorable man. I must warn you, I am neither of those things.”

  Cat squeezed his hand, leaned closer and whispered, “By making such an admission, sir, it means you are a nice, honorable man.” She leaned back and looked down at their hands, his fingers large and tanned compared to hers. “A villainous lout would not warn a lady of his ill intent.” Her gaze darted to his and she smiled.

  Hunter raised an eyebrow, but his expression grew serious. He spoke softly, his attention on their hands. “Is that so?” He caressed her palms, and stroked between her delicate fingers. “Perhaps your logic is flawed, ma chère. An unscrupulous man may hope to gain a young woman’s sympathy by admitting to an imperfect character.” He raised his somber expression to Cat.

  Cat shook her head. “I don’t believe that.” Her smile faded.

  He makes excuses.

  “If you want me to leave you alone, I will.” She tipped her head and looked away, north across the prairie. “I know I’ve acted immodestly, just as the girls at school behaved brazenly toward Sam. He found them annoying.” She looked back at Hunter and captured his gaze. “Mr. Hunter—Alexander—I don't want you to think of me as Sam’s annoying little sister.” She pressed her lips and took a quick breath. “I’ll leave you alone and cease looking at you with such... devotion, if that is what you wish.”

  “Ah, ma bien-aimée, and there lies the problem.” He shook his head and turned her hand palm up. His finger traced a line around the pad of her thumb. “I don't want you to take your affection from me, and I don't think of you as Sam’s younger sister.” His stern glance lifted to her face. “Although I should.”

  Cat’s heart swelled at his words. She gripped his hand and met his grim expression with a joyous smile.

  He shook his head, released her fingers and ran his hand across his jaw. His head turned toward the passengers who continued to shout encouragement at the shooters. When he spoke, his words were low. “Cat, I have nothing to offer a well-bred young woman like yourself.”

  The song in her heart dimmed, along with her smile, as he pinned her with apologetic eyes.

  “I live from one job to the next. There is no single place I call home. Mon beau chaton, you deserve a better life than the one I could give you.”

  Cat's joy evaporated. She took a breath to speak, and it caught in her throat. Unable to look a moment longer into his well-meaning eyes, she dropped her gaze to her lap and cleared her throat. “So you do want me to leave you alone, if only for my own sake.”

  “No, ma chère.”

  Her head came up, and she searched his face.

  Hunter leaned close and whispered, “What I want is to tear the clothes from your body and make sweet, passionate love to you.” He leaned back and took a deep breath. “There. Now do you see what kind of villainous lout I have become?” Hunter glanced briefly back at Cat, then leaned forward and covered his face. “Mon Dieu!”

  Cat’s eyes had gone wide with possibilities. “All of my clothes—and yours too? Both of us?” She leaned forward and whispered, “Naked and kissing?” She wasn’t sure he heard her speak until he groaned. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the railcar. She placed a hand over her open mouth as her imagination took flight, and then she nodded. “Yes. I believe I should like to try that.” Her sight returned from the delightful imagery his suggestion conjured and settled on the man across from her.

  He shook his head. “Dissuading you only gives you more ideas.” Hunter rubbed his face with his hand then met her gaze. “What am I to do with you?”

  Cat grinned in an effort not to laugh in jubilation. “I believe your last suggestion would work quite well, for a start.”

  Hunter shrugged and held out his hand. “We can't do that, petit chat. As I’ve already explained, I’ve nothing to offer you in return.”

  Cat shook her head. “Mr. Hunter, I’ve never asked anything of you in return for my affection. However, if there’s a problem on your side of this ... relationship, and you feel you need to offer me more than you currently have, then obtain it. I can do nothing about your perception of what I deserve. All I can do is tell you what I’m willing to do.”

  “You seem willing to do most anything, très chère.” He retorted and threw a look of frustration at her.

  “You have no idea what I would be willing to try.” Her grin grew until she bit her finger and looked out the window with a chuckle.

  Naked and kissing. Who would have thought?

  “Merde,” Hunter muttered. “And it's not Mr. Hunter, Cat. It’s... Veau. Alexander Veau. Hunter, as you pointed out, is my title. But please, petit chat, be discreet. No one knows that name.”

  Through the open window, Cat heard the conductor encourage the people outside to finish their target practice and reboard the train. The aisle filled with men stowing their weapons and returning to their seats.

  Hunter rose and stepped into the crowded aisle. Moments later, Sam slid onto the bench across from Cat.

  “Did you watch any of that nonsense?” Sam fanned his face with his
hat. Perspiration beaded his face.

  “Some of it.”

  The whistle blew twice, and the car jerked several times as the wheels were set in motion.

  Sam dropped his hat beside him on the bench, ran his hand through his hair and smiled at Cat. “I’m ready to eat. How about you?”

  Cat shrugged. “I suppose. It must be close to dinner time.” She searched beneath the seat and pulled out a basket of baked chicken.

  After they ate, Sam returned to reading the paper, while Cat took up a sampler she’d started a month ago. She tried to keep her thoughts away from Hunter removing her clothes while they kissed, but her imagination wouldn’t leave the image alone. She shifted in her seat and took another stitch in her sampler.

  Soon, the clouds turned orange, and then pink, while the sky grew dark behind them. When the conductor walked through the car and dimmed the lights, Cat put away her sewing and pulled her blanket and pillow from under Sam’s seat. She curled on the bench, her head pillowed beneath the window. Denver remained several hours away. They were scheduled to arrive before dawn.

  Cat woke in the middle of the night. Sam snored softly, scrunched into the seat across from her. She untangled herself from her blanket, slipped on her shoes, and made her way to the lavatory. As she passed Hunter’s seat, she saw only his hat and his blanket on the bench. When she left the lavatory, she stepped to the end of the car and opened the door.

  Hunter stood at the rail, looking up at the night sky, a thin cigar between his fingers.

  Cat closed the door behind her and moved to stand beside him. The horizon was visible only as a line of blackness where the stars ended. She turned and looked across the multitude of tiny lights in the sky. “Why do I see more stars here than at home?”

  “The air is dry and clear. There is no haze to block your view.” Hunter crushed out his cheroot and continued to look upward. “Also, there are no streetlights to compete with the stars.”

  Cat shivered. “It’s colder too. I didn’t realize the night air would be chilled in the summer.”