Prairie Song

by Cheryl Anne Porter

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks titles by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Passionate Praise for Cheryl Anne Porter

  About the Author

  Copyright

  To my esteemed agent “First Mate” Pattie Steele-Perkins … friend, mentor, guide, cheerleader, and expert career navigator.

  And to Captain Jeremy Steele-Perkins … as fine a British sea-faring gentleman as I’ve ever met, a man not unwilling to call himself “Cheryl’s porter.”

  Chapter One

  BEGIN A NEW LIFE IN OKLAHOMA. PRESIDENT PROCLAIMS TWO MILLION ACRES OF RICH AND BEAUTIFUL LAND JUST WAITING TO BE CLAIMED!

  Salvation. That’s what it was, pure and simple. Salvation. Her body rocking along to the musical rhythm of the train’s motion, Kate Chandler closed her eyes and hugged the much-read, crumpled advertisement to her chest. In her mind’s eye, she tried to picture the vastness that was two million acres, but found she couldn’t. Why, it must go on forever. Which made it the perfect place, this strange-sounding Oklahoma, for her to lose herself in, never to be found.

  Never to be found. Just the thought, the very idea that she might be found, had Kate’s heart pounding. She opened her eyes, sending furtive glances all about her in the crowded passenger car. Not detecting anyone paying her any undue attention—after all, these were the same people she’d been riding with for days on end—she lowered her gaze to the soul-saving piece of paper she now smoothed across her lap. You’re safe. Just remember that, she told herself. You got away, and you’re safely on your way to Oklahoma and a new life. But immediately she slumped, not even believing her own self. Safe? Maybe for now. Maybe even for the next few days or weeks. But after that? She shook her head, knowing the truth. She’d never be safe. Not as long as Mr. Talmidge was alive to have her hunted down and either brought back … or killed.

  Kate’s throat constricted and she clamped a hand over her mouth, swallowing convulsively, forcing back the rising tide of her morning sickness. Just the mere thought of the man intensified her nausea, had her remembering again the past few harrowing months of her existence. She could see him now, in her mind’s eye … the socially prominent, politically powerful figure who’d had no qualms about using her for his own dark purposes. Again she saw him suddenly yanking her away from her upstairs-maid duties and imprisoning her in his own private suite of rooms in his New York City mansion.

  She’d been terrified, had no idea what she’d done, what to expect, no time to scream—not even when he threw her on his bed. She’d begged him to stop, to let her go, but he’d taken her … without mercy and against her will. But that hadn’t been the worst of her ordeal. Or even the end of it. Because thereafter, he had kept her in his locked room and used her over and over … until she conceived his child—

  No! Not his child. My child. Mine—

  Instantly aghast, fearing she’d shouted out her desperate litany, Kate fisted her hands in her skirt’s folds. Her gaze skittered to those seated around her. But all about her in the narrow car, no one stared quizzically her way, no one questioned her. Kate exhaled her relief, concentrating now on not reliving the past few months of her life, months spent crying out for help … help that never came. But just as her actual cries back then had fallen on deaf ears, her present determination not to relive those moments fell on the deaf ear of a mind driven to recount the terror. Because the next unbidden image that popped into her head, the face so unnervingly like her own, was that of Norah Heston Talmidge … the barren wife of Edgar Talmidge.

  It was because of her uncanny resemblance to Mrs. Talmidge—the same black hair and green eyes, Kate now realized—that she’d been … chosen. What to make of that woman? Kate wondered for the hundredth time. Somehow, in her quiet way of moving, her quiet way of speaking, Mrs. Talmidge was more terrifying than her husband. Everyone—even Kate, at one time—thought her kind and good-hearted. But now Kate knew better.

  No, she harbored no sympathy, no forgiveness in her heart, for the delicately boned woman unable to conceive a child, a child so desperately needed by her husband for him to hold onto his fortune. That was the rumor among the servants. Everyone in the household knew that his younger brother, Justis Talmidge, with his three sons, stood to inherit control of the family wealth when their father died … unless Edgar, as first-born, produced an heir before the sick old man went to his reward.

  That had to be what was driving the high-society lady to go along with such awful goings-on, ones against every law of decency. It had to be. Because there’d also been rumors that Mr. Talmidge wasn’t above ridding himself of his own wife. A shiver of cold chills assailed Kate. Such evil in this world. Evil that had pitted her life—that of a poor girl with no family—against that of a society lady with no choice. Even so, Kate saw no reason to forgive her. Wrong was wrong, no matter what your intentions were. No one had to tell her, Anna Catherine Chandler, about the ways of the world. Even at twenty years of age, she’d seen enough to know that were she to disappear—were she to be killed—the law would look the other way, wouldn’t even care. But it would if Mrs. Talmidge were suddenly gone.

  That explained everything. Because the society lady knew what was going on, knew how Kate—a girl forced to submit or to die—was being held and being used. So that she and her husband could have a baby out of Kate’s body—one that would favor both Talmidges—which they were already publicly claiming as their own. Mrs. Talmidge had quietly announced to friends and family alike—once it was confirmed by Kate’s symptoms that she had conceived—that she, this rich and barren woman, was at last with child. All this pain and treachery … in the name of an heir. All for a child who would mean nothing more to them than a way to secure their wealth.

  Her chest constricting anew with the awful memories, Kate saw again the day when Mrs. Talmidge, as usual toting a tray of food for Kate, had come into her husband’s bedroom and told her how sorry she was about all this. And that’s when terror had been born in Kate’s heart. About all this? As if she’d been apologizing to a guest for the dust on a bedside table. And there Kate had been sitting … manacled by a wrist to that woman’s marriage bed. But sheer desperation had her begging the unfeeling woman to turn her loose, to let her go. Again Kate heard herself swearing that she’d never, ever tell anyone, if only Mrs. Talmidge would release her.

  And that was when Mrs. Talmidge had told Kate how shocked she was. And how honored Kate should feel to have been chosen to carry the Talmidge heir. Why, she should be proud that her child would be so well taken care of, so indulged in ways Kate could never provide for it. Kate saw herself again—half naked, abused, sore and raw—staring at the woman who stood at the foot of her own husband’s bed, saying those things. Kate had actually felt sorry for h
er. Because Mrs. Talmidge had never said the child would be loved. Cherished, indulged … yes. But not loved. It was then that Kate realized the woman had no soul, no idea even what it was to love someone, to put someone else above yourself. And she never would.

  It was then that Kate had experienced another moment of blinding truth, even in her battered and fevered state. If you don’t fight, if you don’t survive, Kate, a tiny voice inside her head had whispered, what will stop them from simply doing away with the child when it’s no longer needed? She remembered now the chill that had swept over her body, the way her heart had throbbed dully. And she also remembered her answer to the voice. Nothing. Nothing would stop them. Because to the Talmidges, this child she now carried under her heart was simply a pawn, a possession, no more than a piece of jewelry or a bit of money that they needed.

  And so it was the thought of this sweet, innocent baby—her baby—in the hands of such ruthless people that had driven Kate, kindled her fighting spirit, and had her swearing she’d never accept. From that moment, she stopped caring what happened to her body, what she had to endure. She’d cared only about surviving and somehow escaping, somehow getting away with this child she carried. And then getting lost in the vastness that was America, just her and her child.

  Exactly how she would do that, she’d had no idea. After all, what plans could she make, a prisoner in that upstairs suite of rooms, with nothing but her smallclothes to wear and no money and no one to help her? But then, when the miraculous, mysterious opportunity presented itself—a dark night, an unlocked door, a knapsack by the bed with money stashed inside it—she’d been almost too stunned to take advantage of it. She’d feared a trap. But no one had tried to stop her.

  And yet she remained, even to this April day in 1889 and on this train, troubled over her escape being so easy. Who had helped her? And why? Not that it mattered, really. All that mattered was that her angel of mercy had helped. That night, Kate now recalled, she had been blind with terror, even as she ran. And was still running. All the way to Oklahoma. Because to turn back now, to lose her courage, or even to make a mistake that would give her away, meant certain death. Not only for herself. But also for her baby.

  Oh, the Talmidges had made that very clear to her. If she ran away with the baby, then both she and her baby would be found and killed. Because Mr. Talmidge would tolerate no loose tongues, he’d said. And no bastard claiming his name or his wealth. He’d told Kate the baby would be surrendered to him and his wife … or he’d see to it that Kate and her baby didn’t live to tell any tales. But Kate didn’t believe Mr. Talmidge would have her killed. At least not while she carried his heir. Because, despite what he said, he needed this child. But still, she couldn’t be sure.

  My baby. A stab of now-familiar despair assailed Kate, had her wanting to give in to the tears of ultimate defeat that threatened to spill over. For how could she hope to win against such a powerful man? Well, she couldn’t. Not on his own ground. It remained nothing short of a miracle that she’d made it this far without being caught. But she had. And when that didn’t frighten her, it gave her hope. At moments she actually believed she could succeed. Maybe out here in the untamed, wide-open prairie land of the Oklahoma country, among the throngs of folks pouring into the area daily, she stood a fighting chance. And that was all she asked for. A fighting chance. For her and her baby.

  Kate exhaled a breath, thinking, Will we ever really be safe? She smoothed a hand over her still-flat abdomen, telling the child within her, I’ll do my best to never let anyone hurt you, little one. I swear it to you. Then, suddenly feeling better for having made that promise, having reclaimed the sense of hope that had grown inside her every minute of every day that she remained free, Kate savored the rising giddiness that rumbled through her belly. Her new life awaited her just around the next bend when the train pulled into the station in Arkansas City, Kansas.

  Her determination ringing anew, Kate folded the paper and stuffed it back inside her knapsack. Her plan was a simple one. Once she arrived in the Oklahoma country, she would go to the land office and claim her 160 acres of “rich and beautiful land,” as the advertisement stated, and start her new life on her own. She believed in herself. She’d make a good life for herself and her child. She would. She alone.

  The conviction brought a rare smile to Kate’s face. Accompanying it were the heart palpitations of sheer freedom. Freedom … for the first time in her life, the life of an orphan who’d worked hard and long in someone else’s home since her own childhood. Well, not anymore. And not her child. Her child would know the freedom of choosing its own life’s path. She’d see to it. She’d make that future possible.

  With that conviction comforting her, Kate turned to stare out the open window next to her, saw the passing countryside, and took in a deep breath of air. She really couldn’t believe she was actually this close to Oklahoma, to what folks were calling the Promised Land. A smile touched Kate’s mouth. The Promised Land. She liked the sound of that. Because in her heart, it was the land of her future—the only future she could lay claim to.

  And now that she thought about it, it seemed downright providential that on the night of her escape, once she’d gotten free of the Talmidges’ home and made her way to the street, as she’d stood there, panicked, trying desperately to think what to do next … her gaze had lit on the very advertisement she now carried in her overstuffed knapsack. Someone had posted the notice—a godsend to her—on a storefront. She’d snatched it off the board and headed for the nearest train station.

  Once there, using most of the stash of money she’d found in the knapsack left her, she’d bought a one-way ticket to Oklahoma. Thinking again of the money inside her knapsack, of how she’d awakened from a sleep of exhaustion the night of her escape only to discover the manacle holding her in captivity had been unlocked, that a side door to the bedroom was ajar, and the Talmidges were out for the evening, Kate spared another thought for her unknown savior.

  She suspected Hudson, Mr. Talmidge’s kindly valet. Since he was the only servant with permission to enter that suite of rooms, Kate felt certain the old man, in carrying out his duties, at some point had heard her cries for help. But if not, wouldn’t he—as well as the remainder of the staff—have wondered who the trays of food going upstairs were for, since both Talmidges took their meals downstairs? And too, would he have believed Mr. Talmidge’s story to the staff that she’d been dismissed for stealing?

  After all, Kate reminded herself, Hudson had befriended her years ago, and so would know her better than that. Being a smart man, he’d no doubt put it all together, she thought, and had hunted for the keys, found them, and then plotted and arranged for her escape. That had to be it. Because here she sat on a train bound for freedom.

  Reliving all this, trying to find answers, yet knowing all she had were guesses, Kate felt sure enough of her conclusions that she sent up a prayer for the nice old man. She only hoped he hadn’t been dismissed, or punished, when the Talmidges came home and discovered her gone. Poor Hudson. But he’d done a brave thing, if it was him, by making her escape possible with his money.

  Kate sighed … money that was all but gone, except for a few coins. Worried about that, too, and wondering how she’d get more anytime soon, she bit at her bottom lip, even knowing she’d spent it well, having used it for food and clothes. Well, all things in their own good time. I’ve made it this far. I’ll make it when I get to Oklahoma, too. I just have to. Thus encouraged, she smiled down at herself now, fingering the moss-green traveling costume she wore. It was beautiful, and the only nice thing she’d ever owned.

  “Yer thinkin’ about that land again, ain’t you, Miss Chandler? Having second thoughts, maybe?”

  Her musings interrupted, Kate looked up, even managing a smile for Mrs. Jacobs, one of the many like-minded land seekers who shared the crowded rail car with her. The woman’s warm but knowing gaze had Kate looking away, staring out the grimy window at the framed countryside rocking
by. “No, ma’am. No second thoughts for me. The closer we get, the more excited I am, it seems.”

  With that, Kate turned back to the care-lined face of the woman who sat across from her. She held a baby to her breast. Her three other children huddled silently around her and watched Kate. Their clothes were of a homespun material, threadbare but clean. Hunger and hard times haunted their eyes, just as it did their mother’s. Then the woman smiled tiredly. “I s’pose a young thing like yerself would think this is excitin’ and not see the danger.”

  Kate sobered. “I know all about danger, Mrs. Jacobs.”

  “Be that as it may, my offer still stands. You can join me and my man when we get there. We’d be right proud to have yer company. Ain’t nobody sayin’ you cain’t take care of yerself, neither. We just don’t want you comin’ to no harm, bein’ a woman alone and all.”

  A woman alone. Kate thought of her baby, and knew she’d never be alone. But she’d had this same talk with Mrs. Jacobs maybe five times already. So, keeping a firm but friendly note in her voice, she again turned her down. “I do thank you. You’re very kind. But I’ll be fine. The papers say the land is free to anyone who cares to come claim it. And that’s what I intend to do.”

  A loud guffaw from the large man two seats away from Kate on the same cramped bench had folks staring his way as he leaned forward and thrust himself into the conversation. “I keep telling you, missy—you and ten thousand other people intend to do the same. And most of ’em are men. You’d best get you a man to make the run for you.”

  Kate narrowed her eyes at him. The last thing she wanted was a man. Ever again. But judging by the wolfish looks this rough-looking sort kept sending her, Kate thought she knew exactly which man he meant. “I have just as good a chance as anyone, Mr. Simms. I’ll do this by myself, and I’ll be just fine. I don’t need a man to take care of me.”

  “Now, we don’t mean to pick on you,” came Mrs. Jacobs’s hasty interruption, and Kate looked her way again. “You got as much right to be on this here train as the next body. Just be careful, child, is all I’m sayin’. A slender woman like yerself, with all that black hair and them green eyes, is fair game for all the bad sorts. Just have a care about yerself when we get to Arkansas City, if you will.”