by Vivi Holt
“Lunch,” she said with a grin. She slipped from his embrace and finished readying the meal. “Honey made it, so it’s bound to be delicious.”
“Oh? What’s the special occasion?” He removed his hat and hurried to wash up.
“Nothing special, really. I just wanted to give you a treat.”
“Well, ya sure have,” he called from the bedroom, soon emerging with a clean face and wiping his hands on a towel. He set the towel on the table and took his seat. “This looks wonderful - thank ya.”
Della sat beside him and took his hand as he blessed the food, then took a bite of the pot pie, still steaming hot. “Mmmm …”
Clem licked his lips. “No wonder she’s doin’ so well over there - this is delicious.”
Della smiled. “How is your day going so far?”
“Purty well. Mr. Handley wants to expand the lumber yard, so I’m gonna help him with a loan. It’s a solid business, and his plan makes sense. He’s a good man and always pays on time. I think it’ll be a fine partnership.” He took another bite of pie.
“That sounds good.” Della’s mind was still on the letter - she couldn’t stop thinking about what might be happening that very moment back home. Had they found a house? What about all their things - were they able to recover them?
“Have you heard from your folks back in New York yet?” asked Clem, one eyebrow raised.
She coughed, almost spraying pie. Plucking her napkin from her lap, she quickly covered her mouth and dabbed around the edges. “Excuse me, I’m sorry. Uh … no, not yet.” She didn’t want to be dishonest with him, but she was panicked. She just needed to buy herself a little time so she could think it over.
He lay his fork down on the table and took her hand. With a kiss on her fingers, he enveloped her hand in his and met her gaze, his warm brown eyes full of love and concern. “I was thinkin’ … how ‘bout we save for a li’l trip back east on the train next year? We could go and visit yer folks, maybe buy ya a few dresses and such. What do ya think of that?”
Her eyes went wide and she squealed. “Truly, Clem? You’d do that?”
“Sure, why not? If that’s what ya want.”
“But it’s so expensive.” She frowned and pursed her lips.
“Yes, but we can make do without somethin’ else if visiting yer family means that much to ya.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it again.
She leaped to her feet and slipped onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him hard on the mouth. “Clem, you are too good to me.”
“Well, I dunno ‘bout that,” he said, his cheeks reddening. “I’d say we’re good to each other.” He stood to his feet, his strong arms easily lifting her, and carried her toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.
Della sighed, letting her eyes drift closed as he carried her - lunch could wait.
Epilogue
Della fixed her small straw hat with its single dashing feather. She pushed it back and to the left a little, but it kept falling to one side. She’d have to redo it at lunch time. For now, she was filling as teller - Francisca had taken the morning off.
She grinned as the front door opened and Honey Barnes marched in with a stack of paperwork. She wore a simple but professional dress with buttons up the front of the bodice, a high neckline and puffed sleeves. Her expression was serious and she strode over to Della’s window. “Good morning - I’ve come to speak with Clem. Is he in?”
“Why, Honey - you’re very formal today. Yes, he’s in his office. Come on through and I’ll take you to him.” Della stood and ran her hands over her swollen belly. She smiled down at the growing bump as she hurried to let Honey in through the gate.
They met Clem in his office and he waved them inside with a grin. “Ladies, please take a seat. How can I help ya?”
Honey sat across from him and laid the papers on top of his desk. “Mr. White - Clem - as you know, ‘Honey’s’ has become quite a successful business in a very short amount of time.”
He nodded. “Indeed it has. Ya worked hard and did a fine job.”
She smiled nervously. “Thank you. Anyway, we need to expand, and I have to buy supplies and hire more staff and pay rent and so on. I don’t have the cash for a big expansion, so I’m here to show you my accounts and ask for another loan. I know I’m not quite through paying off the last one yet, but I do need your help.”
Clem leaned forward, took the paperwork and flipped through it slowly, studying the numbers and occasionally making tallies on a scrap of paper. Honey glanced at Della with a furrowed brow, and Della gave her an encouraging smile.
Finally he sat back with a smile and linked his hands behind his head. “Well, Mrs. Barnes, your accounts are in fine shape. I agree that you should expand and I can see that you’ll be profitable enough to make the required repayments, in addition to the ones you’re already making. I’ll give you the loan.”
Honey jumped to her feet, took his hand and shook it vigorously. “Thank you, Clem, thank you. I’m so very grateful to you - both of you.” She hugged Della and the two women laughed together as they left Clem’s office.
“You’re getting to be quite the tycoon,” said Della with a chuckle.
Honey grimaced. “That sounds frightful. But when I think about cooking for people, it sounds just about perfect. I love it - I think that’s why it’s going so well.”
“I think so too.”
“How are you feeling?” asked Honey, eying Della’s round stomach.
“Better now. The first few months were hard, but I’m all right these days.”
“When do you and Clem leave for New York?”
“Soon after the baby comes. I’m so looking forward to it - I can’t wait!” She kissed Honey on the cheek and said goodbye, then returned to Clem’s office where he was bent over a file on his desk. She pushed the door closed, sashayed over and sat on his knee.
“Ooof!” he said with a mock grimace.
She slapped his shoulder playfully. “Don’t you dare complain about how heavy I am. It’s all your fault.”
He grinned. “Now, I know yer over the moon about it. ‘N so am I.” He placed a hand on her stomach and rubbed it gently, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently.
She grinned, remembering the way his handsome face had paled when she’d told him about the letter from her father, asking her to return home. He’d looked sick over the revelation. But she’d known she couldn’t leave him, not when he held her heart the way he did.
“I heard from Father again,” she began, running her hand across his firm chest.
“Hmmm?”
“Yes, he says they’ve found the perfect house, in the same street we used to live on.”
He smiled, and cocked his head to one side. “Are you still glad you chose to stay here, with me?”
She kissed him softly. “I am. I know it took me a while, but I fell in love. With you, and this crazy town.”
He chuckled, and kissed the tip of her nose, then her lips.
She sighed against his mouth. “Clem, what did I do to deserve you?” she whispered.
“Whatever it was, ya must have been very bad.” He winked. “I dunno what I did, ‘cause I don’t deserve ya at all.”
She laid her head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. His arms encircled her shoulders and held her tight against him.
Then, she lifted her eyes to his, and smiled. “Or maybe God just knew we’d be perfect together.”
THE END
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Excerpt from Captivated (Cutter’s Creek, Book 18)
Chapter One
September 1868
Near the Bozeman Trail,
Montana Territory
Maria Holloway shivered as the pony dashed through the woods and away from the trail.
Tears streaked her cheeks, and she moaned into the wind that whipped her face. A strong, brown arm wrapped tightly about her middle, and another held fast to the reins as they galloped along an unmarked path, leaping over fallen logs, and darting between the thick trunks of the evergreens that reached skyward to form a dappled canopy overhead.
They’d killed Fred. Her darling Fred. Fresh tears burst from her reddened eyes and trickled along the paths forged by their predecessors. The cries of the natives while they’d attacked the wagon train had stopped. The men rode in silence now, their faces impassive as they made their way south. Only the staccato rhythm of hooves on soft earth, punctuated by her moans, broke through the silence of the woods.
A stab of terror sliced through her, ripping her breath from her chaffed throat and she struggled against the arm that bound her, pushing back as hard as she could and hitting it with closed fists. “Let me go! Let me go!” she shouted. But the chest behind her back was immovable and the arm ignored her blows.
One of the other men, riding close by, did glance her way as she fought. He had an impressive display of beads woven into a thin headband and down the sides of his deerskin pants. He rode on a brown and white pony, proud and silent, and she shuddered at the sight of him. She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, as if to block out everything around her.
But the image of her husband, a long knife being pulled across his bearded throat, leaped out at her, and she opened them again with a cry.
What did they plan to do with her? Where were they taking her? Her thoughts swirled, dark and fearful. Surely if they intended to kill her, they would have done it. Perhaps they planned to ransom her, or make her their slave. Or maybe she’d be eaten! She’d heard enough stories of Indian brutality during her time on the trail. The thought made her shudder and she pressed her fingertips against her eyes, hoping to push the image of her husband’s murder from her mind. “Oh God, help me!”
She had to keep her wits about her. Already they were miles from the Bozeman Trail and her friends. She knew they were nowhere near civilization, and fast putting distance between them and the closest town, Cutter’s Creek, where she and Fred had planned to set up a homestead. Her heart lurched at the realization that all their dreams were now lost. Every step the horse beneath her took carried her further away from Cutter’s Creek, civilization and anyone who might care about her.
She wished, not for the first time, that she’d never let Fred convince her to take this journey, never listened to his talk of adventure and pioneering. They’d had a good life in London together – he an accountant, she the daughter of a middle-class financier. She’d loved to shop, dance and attend soirees. But that wasn’t enough for him. Fred insisted they set off for the New World and take every adventure life offered.
And now he was dead and she was stuck on the back of a scraggly painted pony; kidnapped by a group of wild men who likely intended to kill her. Or worse.
A fresh wave of sobs overcame her and she bowed her head in her hands. She couldn’t die here. She’d never even wanted to come here. Mother and Father would have no idea what had happened to her. When her regular stream of letters dried up, they’d soon fear the daughter they’d so lovingly raised had simply disappeared from the face of the earth.
They reached a clearing where a brisk, thin creek bubbled and chattered over smooth rocks. For the first time since their journey began, she became aware of her senses. She smelled the sweat on the horse’s coat, felt the brush of the crisp air across her bare neck, heard the quiet breath of the man behind her. Her own whimpering reached her ears and surprised her, since she’d imagined herself silent.
The hand resting on the pony’s withers in front of her lifted and the horse slowed, then stopped. All around her, painted warriors emerged from the thick woods and dismounted, snatches of low conversation and bursts of laughter drifting through the clearing.
For the first time she saw the face of the man who’d ridden behind her for hours, holding her tightly in place with his muscled arm. He dismounted, nodded and said something to her in his native tongue, his black eyes regarding her coldly. He reached up with both hands and grabbed her around the waist. She gasped as he lifted her from the pony’s back and placed her feet gently on the ground beside him. Then he turned and strode away without a backward glance.
Another man handed her a canteen made from animal skins and waited while she gulped down the refreshing water, her body aching for more even as she swallowed. Soon she was satisfied and handed it back to the man, who hurried away without a word. The rest of the group seemed to be ignoring her, and she wondered if they’d even notice if she simply walked away. But where would she go? She had no idea which direction to take, and it would be days before she reached Cutter’s Creek even if she chanced to find the right path.
Still, it was worth a try, since she didn’t know yet what the men intended to do with her and the uncertainty had her stomach in a knot. The warriors sat or squatted in a circle near the center of the clearing, eating and joking. She turned her back on them, unwound the reins of a nearby pony from a tree branch and slowly walked away, with no way of knowing if they were witnessing her escape.
She winced when the pony’s hooves crunched on the dried pine straw that coated the ground, breaking the silence of the woods as she led the animal from the clearing and the green grasses behind them. She stopped and looked at the horse, wondering how she might climb onto its bare back without a stirrup to stand in.
Just then, she heard a step behind her. She spun around, coming face to face with the warrior who’d been her companion over the miles between the Bozeman Trail and the clearing. “You frightened me!” she cried, her hand covering her mouth.
His eyes narrowed. He pointed back toward the clearing.
“Fine, yes. You want me to go back. I understand.” She wasn’t surprised she’d been stopped, but the hopelessness of her situation made her eyes smart with tears. What if she never escaped? She’d never see Mother or Father again. She’d never go home.
She sobbed, then took a deep breath. She wouldn’t let them see her tears, wouldn’t let them know how afraid she was. The thought crossed her mind that her only real hope of survival, if there was any, was for her to cooperate and make as little trouble for her captors as possible. Maybe if she behaved and made them like her, they’d let her live. If she slowed them down or made too much noise or continued attempting to escape, she was certain they’d kill her without a second thought.
She handed the reins to the man and stumbled back to the clearing with him striding behind her. She wondered how long they’d traveled – it had been a blur for her, and the landscape looked the same every way she turned. She should have paid more attention. If she was able to escape, she’d never find her way back if she didn’t keep watch and make an effort to memorize landmarks along the way.
The man indicated she should sit on a fallen log. She complied, tucking her skirts around her legs as she sat. Then he wandered off, leaving her surrounded by the other braves.
Careful not to draw attention to herself, she cautiously scanned the faces of the men. There were a dozen of them, ranging from youth to middle age. One in particular caught her attention, the one she’d spied riding alongside them earlier. He sat apart from the group and drank slowly from a canteen while the other men chatted and laughed together, sharing strips of cured meat between them. He stared off into the distance, leaning back against a smooth boulder with a sigh
Who was he? His clothing would suggest he was someone of importance in the group, but he didn’t appear to be in charge. His face was smooth and brown and his hair hung in two shining braids, one on each side of his head. His shoulders were broad and his thick chest well-defined. He wore no shirt, only buckskin pants, low on his waist and decorated more grandly than the others’ clothes with brightly colored beads.
He seemed to sense she was studying him and turned his head to catch her. His black eyes found hers, and she saw pain in t
hem before he looked away a moment later.
Her guardian was soon back and ushered her to his pony. He helped her up, then climbed behind her before offering her a drink from his canteen and a thin piece of cured meat. She took the meat and shoved it between her teeth, biting off a big piece with a shake of her head. It was tough and had a strange flavor she’d never tasted before, like venison but different somehow. Her stomach objected at the idea of food, and she covered her mouth to stifle a great heave. Her hand shook, and she closed her eyes to gently swallow the meat.
Before long they were off again, moving now along a well-worn trail through the woods. They passed through the creek at a shallow crossing, frothy water licking at her boots as it bubbled in rapids over the smooth stones beneath its surface. A hillside loomed, and they struggled up it along a path that seemed to go up almost vertically - her companion dropping nimbly to the ground to walk beside her as they climbed. She leaned forward over the horse’s mane and prayed she’d have the strength to hang on as it lumbered upward with jerking leaps. It slowed its pace near the top, panting heavily from distended nostrils and walked the last few feet, its head hanging low. Her guardian seemed not to feel the strain, his breathing regular and his face relaxed as he jogged alongside the pony. After a short rest at the summit, he climbed back onto the pony, and adjusted himself behind her, his hands once again taking hold of the reins in front of her.
The sun was sitting golden on the horizon now and the woods were thrown into shadow as it inched downward. She wondered if they’d travel through the night. She felt the warmth of the man behind her and shuddered, pulling herself as far away from him as she could. When they descended the other side, he pressed against her and she felt a flash of anger, wishing she could run a blade through him for what he’d done – what they’d all done to her and to Fred.
