Surprisingly, he ducked his chin, looked away. Was he embarrassed? Surely not. Not a man of his reputation. That thought made Kate sit up, had her looking at him with a different sort of clarity. He was nothing like his reputation. They said he was a ruthless killer, with more than twenty names etched on headstones because of his gun hand. A hot temper. A truly bad desperado. But she’d seen nothing of that. Maybe there was a side to him that lived up to the stories told about him. But now, right here, with her and his sister’s kids, he was a good and patient man trying only to do the right thing by them all. Which made Kate feel worse for all the lies she’d told him and was forced to continue to tell him.
“I guess,” Kate began, breaking the quiet between them, “you’ll still be the only one making the actual run, then?”
Cole stood taller, his stance daring her to buck him on this point. “There’s only one fast horse between us, Kate. And one numbered stake to plant. I’ll be the one doing it in four days. I’ll get you there to the border where we’re to wait. But then you’ll sit tight with the kids, like you promised, while I make the run for you on the twenty-second … like I promised.” Then he added, “I’ll come back for you, Kate. I will.”
Her eyes widened. That was the one thing she’d worried about all along. And he knew it. But now, hearing him say it, she realized that she believed him. She truly did. Things were changing between them. Trust was building. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. Because the more trust they had between them, the bigger her betrayal of him would seem when the truth of her identity came to light.
But for now, stuck with her truth as well as her lies, all Kate could do was smile and nod. “I know you will. I trust you.”
Cole chuckled, a humorless sound. “You’ll be the first one who does.”
Kate raised her eyebrows at that, thinking she could name five others—namely, his sister, her kids, and Mr. Talmidge—who also trusted him. But just then, she realized that the very air inside the schooner seemed to thicken with the growing silence between them. She didn’t know what to make of it. Or what to make of Cole’s warming expression as he gazed at her. Kate tried to think of something to say. But no words would come. Then Cole opened his mouth as if to speak. Kate’s breath caught. With the look he was giving her, he could say most anything right now—
“Uncle Cole?”
It came from outside the wagon. A child’s voice. The moment evaporated. Cole grimaced and then turned away, walking to the back of the wagon and peering outside. “What is it, Willy?”
Watching Cole and noting how he so appealingly filled out his denims and his chambray shirt—and surprising herself that she had noticed—Kate took note of the exasperation in his voice at the untimely interruption. That more than anything else told her he’d been about to say something important. If not memorable. But now, most likely, she’d never know. And because that made her feel … disappointed, she realized she was starting to warm up to Cole Youngblood. That wasn’t good, and for more reasons than she could count.
But it also surprised her. Because after New York, after Mr. Talmidge’s treatment of her, Kate had been so sure—even as recently as three days ago—that’d she never, ever want another man to put his hands on her or to have control of her life. And Cole had already done both. Now it became clear to her that she was beginning to like and respect him. Another man. But not just any man. This was Cole Youngblood. Hired killer. And … her husband.
Kate exhaled sharply, telling herself to beware, to not drop her guard around him. But somehow she knew it was already too late. He’d slipped in under her guard, with all his quiet, confident ways. And so had made her—she cringed at even acknowledging the emotion—care. He’d made her care. Instantly, she denied that to herself. No. I don’t. I don’t care. It was just that she was so painfully dependent on him right now. That’s why she felt there was something more between them than the bargain that had led to their vows. That had to be it. And once she got her land, she’d come to realize that was all this was, this sitting here and … caring.
No. Stop it. And she did this time. She shied away from the mishmash of her own thoughts by giving her attention over to the conversation between Cole and Willy.
“I am trying to tell you, Uncle Cole,” the little boy was saying. “Lydia was fussing and you didn’t come out to get her, so Joey lifted her into the buckboard and she fell asleep and Joey is sitting in there with her to make sure she stays put. And he sent me and Kitty to ask you if that’s okay. Is it?”
Cole was quiet a minute as, his back to Kate, he stared down at the five-year-old boy. Kate smiled, thinking she knew some of what he was feeling. Then Cole spoke. “That’s just fine, son. You tell him I’m proud of him for taking charge. And I’m proud of you, too, Willy.”
“You are? What’d I do?”
Kate grinned, heard Cole’s chuckle. “Well, you just did a fine job of doing as Joey asked you to do. That shows me you’re growing up.”
“Yeah. I’m almost growed up now. But I don’t like it none having to do what Joey tells me to do. He’s right bossy. Like an old setting hen.”
Again Cole chuckled. “Yeah, I agree. Only let’s keep that between you and me, okay? Now you go on over to the buckboard while I finish speaking with Miss Kate.”
“Yes, sir.” Then, in a loud whisper, Willy asked another question. “Is she going to die, Uncle Cole?”
Her eyes widening, Kate bit at her bottom lip. She’d like to know the answer to that, too. Just then, Cole pivoted to face her. Their gazes locked. He turned back to Willy. “No. She’s not going to die, Willy. In fact, we’re all going to go to the waiting area at the border together.”
Kate exhaled and slumped against the pillows at her back. At Cole’s words, Willy let out a loud whoop that had Kitty barking and Cole hushing them both. Kate heard all that, but only then did she realize that she was grinning. So it was real. She’d done it. She’d gotten herself here. And she was going to make it to the land run. Only now did it seem real, now that he’d said it out loud and to someone besides her. He’d told the children. And so … they would all go. She could only hope, as her grin faded, that they would all, including her baby, make it to the border alive.
* * *
Three days later, breathing in deeply of the warm spring air of April 20, 1889, and telling herself she could really and truly smell her own land, Kate stood in the back of the parked buckboard and gazed upon what some called the Promised Land. The Oklahoma Country. The Unassigned Lands. Her new homeland. Right in the heartland. And smack in the middle of Indian Territory. It was incredible. And beautiful. And empty and lonely-looking and nothing more than wave after wave of brown hills and trees and prairie grass. And people. There were more people than trees. More than fifty thousand were rumored to be at the various borders and ready to make the run. “Harrison’s Hoss Race,” the papers all said, nudging their new president a bit with this jibe at the giveaway of land.
But Kate didn’t care what anybody called it. Or how many people stood ready to claim a piece of it. Because out there somewhere were her 160 acres, just waiting on her. She blinked back the sudden tears of emotion and swiped at their wetness on her cheeks. Her piece of paradise. With trees and water and good grazing land. And close to the staked-out ground that would be the new town of Guthrie. Cole had been right about that. Folks were speculating that the small Guthrie station would be the new capital city. In one day, they all said, it would go from a few ramshackle buildings to a fully raised city of tents. And from that would rise the brick and wood buildings of a permanent settlement. And that was good. It was the beginning of civilization.
Civilization. That had her thinking of New York City, and sparing a homesick thought for the place she’d known and loved as a child—the New York before Mr. Talmidge. She was used to making her way alone in civilization. She loved being among the buildings and the people and having law and order and neighbors and stores and churches and schools. That was all g
ood. She’d need all that, plus the closeness of other people, once she was alone, just her and her baby. Kate smiled, put a hand to her belly—she still carried her baby. Morning sickness proved it every day.
But even before the baby came, she had to consider the length of time that Joey, Willy, and Lydia would be with her while Cole rode back up into Kansas to find that cousin of his—
A frisson of fear slipped over Kate, shivering her and interrupting her thoughts. What would he do then, once he’d taken the kids away and had them settled? Most likely, he’d begin hunting down that Talmidge maid. When she—Anna Katherine Chandler Youngblood, Anne Candless to him—was right here and sleeping next to him and his sister’s children every night.
No. She’d worry about that later. When the time came. Which wasn’t now. Now, today, and the next few days were reserved for planning a better life. Because somehow, despite Cole and the telegraphed message that had made him her mortal enemy, she would have a better life—if he never found out who she was. That’s if he were to move on, not be a part of her life. Kate swallowed, hating how empty merely the thought of being alone made her. What would her life be like when she could no longer see Cole’s handsome and reassuring figure walking her way?
Stop it, Kate. She obeyed instantly, thinking instead of how she would meet folks who would become her friends … if they didn’t hold her married name against her. What would the Youngblood name mean out here in this pristine land? She had no way of knowing. But still, this question brought her thoughts back around to what she’d originally been thinking before she’d sidetracked herself with thoughts of Cole. More and more, it seemed to Kate, the man filled her head. But it wasn’t him she needed to be worrying over. Instead, she should be concentrating on the other folks out here with her, them and their children. Because children meant a school opening up. And Kate fully intended to see that the boys got their schooling, despite their grumblings. She didn’t want Cole’s cousin thinking she’d not done her duty while they’d been in her care.
A prick of loneliness had Kate blinking. She was going to lose the children. That might be, but she’d also brought her baby, that sweet and fine promise of the future, that tiny little innocent hope for something beyond herself whose welfare drove Kate past her own endurance. And so … she would be fine. As long as she had her baby.
Kate raised her chin again, telling herself she could and would do this, settle in this new land and make a good life for herself. Thus bolstered, she felt satisfied with all that she saw. And smiled for the contentment of the moment. She’d only recently, on the way down here, learned to do that. To cherish the moments, even the tiniest ones, of normalcy and quiet and happiness. Like now, when Lydia was in the wagon with her … and pulling Kitty’s floppy ears, while he sloppily licked her pudgy face clean. And over there, off to her left, were Joey and Willy, each leading a mule by its leather reins. The two little boys followed Cole, who was leading his roan—Kate’s best hope for the land she wanted—and the two other mules toward the water on the other side of a stand of scrub oaks.
We did it. The realization coursed happily through Kate. Together, they’d done it. Like the strongest of families. They’d made it to the border, and in plenty of time. True enough, the hardships had been incredible. Cole had not exaggerated, Kate now concluded as she recalled the most harrowing of them. Like the washed-out bridge that made necessary a river crossing, during which Cole and the mules pulling the schooner he drove had very nearly been washed away—all while Kate and the kids had watched helplessly from shore. And like the rain-swollen waters that had threatened to drown Kitty when he lost his footing in the buckboard and had tumbled into the swirling eddies, yelping and paddling for all he was worth—only to be plucked out by Cole as the hound had washed by him.
And like the wind that had torn Lydia’s rag doll from her hands and sent it flying, never to be seen again. She still cried every night for her lost baby. Kate swallowed, refused to think how close she’d come to knowing exactly how the little girl felt. And the rain. Always the rain. It seemed they’d been wet through for days. And after the rain had come the sudden cold spell that hit one afternoon, even though it was the middle of April.
Perhaps some of the worst moments, in Kate’s estimation, were when tempers had flared a time or two among some of the men in the wagon train. Everyone not involved had scurried away when the gunplay erupted. But none of the outbreaks had come close to Cole’s party, Kate knew, because the folks around them knew his identity and his reputation. As terrifying as those bullet-riddled incidents had been, they’d at least brought home to Kate something Cole had said days ago. His name and reputation would keep her safe even when he was no longer around. All too soon, she knew, that would be all she had of him. His name. And her memories of him. It would have to be enough.
Kate quickly shied away from letting her thoughts go down that road again, the one where Cole rode away for the last time. Instead she remembered what for her had been the absolute worst part of the three-day trip to the border—the jouncy ride she’d had to endure while lying in the back of the buckboard. Also, the time between the near-disasters had given her a chance to talk with the boy and to iron out a lot of their differences. Not that there were many of them. Still, the talking had done some good and Joey’d been most proud to teach her more about handling a team—without making her sick like his Uncle Cole had done. A feat he didn’t mind sharing with his uncle every chance he got.
Kate realized again that she was smiling. It seemed she’d done a lot of that in the last few days. Now why is that? she wondered. What, besides finally being here, safe and whole, among all these people and their infectious excitement for the land run, was it that had her so happy?
Just then, Kitty yelped and Kate jerked around. Lydia had apparently pulled his ears too hard … and the little girl was crying to prove it. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Kate muttered as she knelt down and took the little girl into her arms and held her, hushing her with soothing noises, all while petting the dog’s head and trying to smooth the frown from his hound dog face. “Kitty, you poor thing. You shouldn’t just sit there and let her pull on your ears. You know she’s going to do it time and again.” Kate then turned to the curly-haired little waif in her arms. “And you, sweetie. Why are you crying, huh? Did Miss Kitty pull your ears, too?”
Lydia tucked her head into the crook of Kate’s neck and shook her head no, inadvertently tickling Kate’s nose with her wildly disarrayed and baby-soft curls. And that was when Kate knew. In a moment of blinding clarity, she knew. Knew why she was so happy. And knew why that made her want to cry. She had a family. She belonged to these children. And they belonged to her.
A deep and painful breath assailed Kate. No, she quickly told herself. They’re not yours, Kate. They can’t stay with you. She’d been thinking that very thing all the way down here … about asking Cole to forget that search for his cousin in favor of leaving the children with her for good. She’d come to care that much about them. Don’t even think that. You can’t. Remember who Cole is. And who you are. And what could happen. Nothing’s changed.
But it had changed, she insisted. Everything had changed. The three-day trip down here together and all the dangers they’d faced had changed things. Especially between her and Cole. While he wasn’t exactly warm and tender with her—she didn’t think that was his nature—he at least showed as much concern for her as he did his sister’s kids. And she liked it. Liked him. But feared that what she felt for him was beyond mere liking, had become true caring. She suspected this because she had even entertained thoughts of his hands on her … in a good way, a way that didn’t cause her to shrink away from the images in her head, and in her heart.
The truth was … she wanted Cole Youngblood. And in all the ways a woman wants the man she loves. She just knew that lying with Cole in a marriage bed would be different from the brutal rapes she’d suffered under Edgar Talmidge. It just had to be. Gentleness and tenderness and
wanting, a giving between two people who cared for one another, simply had to exist. Otherwise, these fifty thousand or more people who surrounded her and Lydia and Kitty wouldn’t even have been born. Because if there was no love, there wouldn’t be one woman here who’d want to be around a man. And plenty seemed to want to be.
That much she’d witnessed for herself here on a daily basis and, all her childhood, between her mother and her father. They’d been killed so many years ago, when she was twelve, on the darkened streets of New York City. But she’d never forgotten them. They and their love for her and for each other remained still in her heart and in her mind. Thank God. Otherwise, all she’d know of men would be the awfulness of Mr. Talmidge’s reddened and bloated face sweating above her as he’d hurt her time and again.
So she knew there was more to life and to love than her experiences with Mr. Talmidge. And now she wanted to have it all. Right here. In this new place. She wanted love in her life. No more running away. She’d done many courageous things in the past few months. But what she was contemplating now—telling Cole the truth and taking her chances based on the caring for her she saw reflected in his eyes—was perhaps the bravest and the most risky thing she’d ever do. But she had to do it, if she ever hoped to live her life to the fullest … with or without Cole Youngblood.
Somehow, knowing him now as she did in all but the most intimate of ways, she didn’t think he could kill her. Not even for the sum of money she knew was at stake. Truly, she had no idea what exactly he’d do when she told him she was the woman he knew as Anne Candless. But she didn’t think it would be anything as drastic as killing her.
Overwhelmed with the enormity of what she felt she had to do, Kate took a breath, felt Lydia tug on her, wanting down from her lap. “All right, baby,” she said, helping the little girl down. “But you leave Miss Kitty alone. Don’t you pull his ears anymore.”
Prairie Song Page 18
