Lydia stood there in the wagon bed, her face puckering stubbornly. “Her likes it.”
Kate chuckled. “Miss Kitty’s a he, Lydia. And no he doesn’t like it. Look at his face.”
Lydia did. But putting the lie to Kate’s words, Kitty grinned and lolled his wet old tongue out the side of his slobbery mouth. Kate gave up. “All right, you two. Fine. But don’t either one of you come crying to me again.”
“Us won’t,” Lydia promised as she threw her pudgy baby arms around Kitty’s neck and kissed his furry head.
Kate smiled, shaking her head and watching the two together. Such a pure love they shared, this little orphaned girl and her dog. So, there you have it, Kate. Pure love does exist. And you have to take a chance on it. It was much more than a mere chance. The biggest chance of her life. Kate’s smile faded. She had to tell Cole the truth. Today. Because the burden of her lies weighed heavily on her heart every time she looked into his eyes, every time she thought of all the things he’d done for her in the past week.
Just then, Kate heard her name being called. She pivoted to her right and saw Joey and Willy bursting forth from the thin stand of oak trees where they’d gone with Cole. As she stood up and waved, she wondered where the mules were. And Cole. But the boys, who threaded their way around all the other parked wagons that separated them from Kate in the buckboard, were grinning and waving as they ran. So everything must be all right. Or so she thought until she heard what Joey was yelling about.
“Miss Kate, Miss Kate! Guess what? We just saw a lady who looks almost exactly like you!”
Chapter Eleven
Norah Heston Talmidge is here.
As insane as she knew that notion to be, fear and dread still washed over Kate, weakening her. She sank dizzily to the bed of the buckboard wagon, instinctively clutching at its splintery wood side for support. Blindly, she stared at Lydia and Kitty as, blessedly oblivious to her reaction, they continued playing at the foot of the wagon. Her breathing labored and her heart pounding, Kate fought for control.
I’m being plumb silly, she desperately reasoned with herself. Why, it could be anyone. Except for my green eyes, I’m not all that remarkable a woman to look at. And plenty of women have black hair. So it doesn’t have to be Mrs. Talmidge. Besides, it just can’t be true. Not now. Not when I mean to tell Cole the truth.
Cole! Kate sat up stiffly, a hand to her mouth. Had he also seen the same woman? But she knew he had to have. If the boys had seen this woman and had made such a commotion that they’d most likely abandoned their uncle with the mules in favor of running to tell her all about it, then surely they would have first shared their discovery with Cole. So where was he? Kate jerked around, scanning the length of the oaks in her aching need to see Cole coming this way, to see him shaking his head and grinning, telling her the boys were wrong. But the gnarled oaks kept their silence and their secrets. Cole didn’t break free of them. There was no sign of him.
That scared her even more. Was he even now talking to Mrs. Talmidge? Kate had no choice but to assume it was that hated woman, as much as she didn’t want to believe it. But until she knew differently, until she saw Cole’s face, she had to think it was Norah Heston Talmidge and had to be ready to defend herself. Then another realization—one that should have come before now—stung Kate. If Mrs. Talmidge was here, then so was Mr. Talmidge.
Kate covered her face with her hands. Hopelessness ate away at her. He was here. He had to be. Because women of Mrs. Talmidge’s social class went nowhere unescorted, Kate knew. So if it turned out she was who the boys had seen, then Kate knew that Mr. Talmidge would have accompanied his wife, if for no other reason than a show of husbandly concern, given that their families and their social set believed Norah Talmidge to be at last carrying a child.
Carrying a child. Kate lowered her hands, stared unseeing out over the plains vista before her. That’s it. That’s exactly why it can’t be her. Hope burst forth in Kate’s heart. Instantly she felt better. Her breathing eased, she felt stronger, strong enough even to stand up and await the boys’ clamorous arrival at the wagon. What buoyed her spirits was Mrs. Talmidge’s supposed delicate condition. Her former employers were stuck with their own lie. What possible reason could they give for Mrs. Talmidge to undertake such an arduous journey as was the trip here? Wouldn’t it seem they were recklessly endangering their long-awaited heir?
No matter that the hills Kate now looked upon were dotted with the fancy tents and carriages and servants of the idle rich who’d gathered to see firsthand the coming spectacle of the land run. Even witnessing such a sight as that wouldn’t justify Mrs. Talmidge coming here. So she was just being silly, Kate told herself. It wasn’t Norah Heston Talmidge. It wasn’t. Because if it was … then, Kate knew, she was dead.
Just then, the boys reached the wagon, drawing not only Kate’s but Kitty’s and Lydia’s interest their way. The little girl and the dog both clambered to the wagon’s side, edging into Kate in their excitement to peer over it, agog with curiosity. The boys themselves—red-faced, out of breath, excited with their news—all but collided with the buckboard before stopping and latching onto the side rails as they turned their eager faces up to Kate in the wagon.
“Did you hear me, Miss Kate? Did you hear what I said? Did you?”
Despite her remaining trepidations, Kate shushed Kitty’s barking and pulled Lydia back from the brink of falling over the side … and even managed a smile for Joey. “Yes, I did. Now what’s all this about a lady who looks just like me? What exactly did you see?”
Her question was more pointed than the boys could realize, but she hoped for details. And it was Willy who unwittingly supplied them. “She was a fine lady, Miss Kate. Her hat has a feather in it. And she’s riding in one of them fancy carriages with a driver. And black and shiny horses pulling her right along, as fast as you please, right back up to that hill over yonder with all them big tents.”
Kate nodded, but inside she was dying. The Talmidges’ landau carriage was pulled by sleek black horses. But theirs weren’t the only ones in the world, Kate was quick to remind herself as, she fought to keep her smile on her face. “Is that so? Why, I expect she was a fine sight to see. But I’ll bet she wasn’t alone. Fine ladies like that don’t go out alone. Was there a man riding with her?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Joey cut in before Willy could hog all the glory.
Kate’s heart all but stopped. Her smile faded, became wavery. “Oh? And what did he look like? Was he a fine gentleman?”
Joey and Willy traded glances, as if gauging the other’s conclusion about the man, and then turned their attention back to Kate. Again Joey got to give the news before his brother could. “He weren’t no gentleman at all. He was up front and handling the team. Like Willy said.”
“Oh, I see. Her driver.” The boys nodded. Instead of relief, a healthy dose of trepidation washed over Kate. Because it didn’t mean a thing that Edgar Talmidge hadn’t been in the landau. He could be anywhere. Which was scarier than knowing. Still, Kate rushed to remind herself of another truth—she was only guessing who this woman was. She didn’t know, in fact, this fine lady’s identity. And right now, there was only one way to find out, so she continued to question the boys. “So tell me more about this lady. Why’d you say she looks like me?”
Willy’s frown matched Joey’s as the older boy glanced back over his shoulder. But Kate’s attention was on Willy … and his honest answer. “Why? Because she did, Miss Kate. She looked just like you. Except for them rich-lady clothes of hers, she could’ve been your sister.”
Still holding tightly to Lydia, Kate stiffened her knees against the fearful weakness that shot through her. Her sister. Those were the exact words Mr. Talmidge had used to explain her imprisonment. Because she looked enough like his wife to be her sister, he’d said.
Then it was true. Kate sobered, stared off into the distance. Her new life, her land—wherever it was out there—in her mind became more and more remote. Flee
ing with it was her sense of hope, of a new beginning.
Because Norah Heston Talmidge was here.
* * *
With his back to the thick growth of scrub oaks that separated him from Kate and Lydia back at the buckboard, Cole stood along the creek’s pebbly edge at the watering hole, no more than a wide spot in a thinly running creek cutting canyon-like down the middle of the surrounding green hills. Positioned between his horse and the mules, with their leads in his hands as the tired animals drank their fill, Cole, along with the scattering of other men who were also watering their animals, remained transfixed by the sight that had just passed them by.
The woman, the only passenger in the back of a fancy landau carriage, with its two hoods down, was a beauty. There was no doubt about that. But Cole was more shocked than affected. Because the woman could have been Kate. Except for all her finery that spoke of extreme wealth, from the expensive cut of her dark blue traveling costume to her heavy jewelry … and the haughty coolness of her expression … she could have been Kate.
The black hair under a plumed hat. The high, smooth forehead. The curve of her cheek, down to a determined chin … they were all Kate’s. Except he knew this wasn’t Kate, even if the rich woman’s eyes were the same color as Kate’s. Cole frowned at the similarities. It was odd, that the two women had the same color of eyes. Green. Very green. Very specific and unusual coloring.
Cole frowned and shook his head as he dismissed the comparison. But not so easily dismissed was the nagging question … could it truly be Mrs. Talmidge he’d just seen? He had no way of knowing, short of stopping the landau and asking the woman. Not the smartest thing to do. He could easily be mistaken, by her armed driver, for one of the hucksters and ruffians who abounded out here. In that case, Cole was willing to bet that he’d be shot dead by the man before he got within hailing distance of the lady.
Realizing how far afield he’d gone in his thinking, Cole asked himself another question. What in hell, besides her uncanny resemblance to Kate, made him think the woman in the buggy was Norah Talmidge? Wasn’t that quite a leap? After all, the lady he’d just seen could be any rich man’s wife or daughter. True enough, because this border land was rife with the upper class, with their big tents on the hills, their servants, and their boredom, all arrayed for prime viewing of the land run event less than forty-eight hours away.
Cole’s expression suddenly soured. To those moneyed folks, the desperation for a better life that ran like water through the crowds of would-be settlers down here on the flatlands was no more than a sport to be witnessed. It sickened Cole, the stench of the powerful that tarnished the fervent hopes of the good folks here for an honest reason. Suddenly, Cole heard himself and stiffened his stance. He was identifying with the settlers. How could that be? He’d never cared before. And in fact, less than a week ago, he’d been impatient as hell to get away from them and their family ways. That meant … he was changing. It was that simple. And now it shamed him that he made his living with the money of folks just like those on the hill. Folks just like that handsome woman, with her nose in the air, who’d just ridden by.
Not liking himself at all right now, Cole swore that this contract with Edgar Talmidge, the one he’d agreed to, could very well be his last. When he had to start killing women, it was time to get out of the business and to find another way. But not ready to explore what that way might be, Cole instead forced his mind back to the moment, back to the lady in the landau. The odds were the lady wasn’t Norah Talmidge. But odds weren’t the same thing as truth. Cole knew that. He hadn’t survived all these years of earning his living with his wits and his gun by not looking at a thing from all sides or by discarding a fact or detail that seemed even remotely connected.
And these details were connected … somehow. He just knew it. All right, he told himself. Then suppose the Talmidges are here. Why would they hire me to find their thieving maid—if they intended to be out here and could find her themselves?
The answer was … they wouldn’t. So either the lady he’d just seen wasn’t a Talmidge. Or she was, and Edgar Talmidge had lied to Cole about why he wanted this maid so bad. That made sense to Cole because he’d always had trouble with the why of it—just as he was now having trouble with this line of thought, which he liked less and less. Yet it was becoming more and more compelling. And that being so, Cole knew he’d be smart not to dismiss something as nagging as this was. Just how much money, and how much jewelry, he now asked himself, would that maid, Anne Candless, had to have stolen for them to make such a long train trip out here—when I’m already on the job?
It would have to be an extraordinary amount. A sum Cole didn’t think the Talmidges would just leave sitting around for a maid to steal. But even if she had, they wouldn’t chase after her themselves. He was living proof of that. He knew firsthand that the rich didn’t do their own dirty work. They hired men like him to clean up after them.
And that was exactly how Cole now realized he felt. Dirty. Like he needed to jump in the water and wash away the stench of how he made his living. Well, dammit, he told himself, as the carriage disappeared around a tree-shrouded bend in the trail. If I knew how to do anything else, I would. That stiffened Cole’s stance. The woman in the carriage all but forgotten, Cole fought with the nagging desire for another way to earn his money.
He’d never experienced this before the past week. Before the kids. Before Kate. Had he? Well, so he’d thought. Cole frowned, checked his animals, seeing that they didn’t overfill their bellies. Then he looked off toward the horizon, and found himself thinking … Who could blame him for being trail-weary? For being tired of always having to watch his back? For never knowing where home was, where he was supposed to hang his hat?
Suddenly, Cole found himself hoping that the lady he’d just seen was Norah Talmidge and that Mr. Talmidge was here with her. Because in that event, he’d give the man his damned money back and tell him to find himself another hired killer, since he wasn’t about to shoot a woman. But Cole knew he couldn’t do that, even if he could confront the Talmidges. Because giving them back their money wouldn’t solve anything for him. He still had three mouths—no, four, counting Kate, and soon five, meaning her baby—to feed. Son of a bitch.
Tired of his thoughts, knowing he was getting nowhere, Cole pulled on the multiple reins he held and urged his horse and the mules away from the water’s edge. “Come on now. Git up, there.”
Cole headed back the way he’d come only minutes ago. Back toward Kate and the kids. That got a humorless chuckle out of him. Him. A family man. Then he sobered, shook his head. No. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t even consider it. Too much blood on his hands. On his soul.
He then derided himself for thinking that that lady in the carriage was Mrs. Talmidge. Hell, up close she probably doesn’t look a thing like Kate. But still, she’d been dressed exactly how Cole would love to see Kate dressed. He’d bet she’d be every bit as stunning as that other woman.
Hold on, Cole. And he did, blinking, surprised, much as if a bobcat had jumped out in front of him. What was he doing? he asked himself. And he meant his thoughts about dressing Kate. Well, he conceded, they were a damned sight better than his other thoughts … of undressing her. And tormenting himself with such images. She didn’t want him. Or need him. And he felt the same way about her.
He had no room in his life for a good woman. Even if she was already his wife. But that was neither here nor there. Because she had her hands full, being with child and running from—Cole’s eyes narrowed—whoever it was who wanted her baby. Looking now to his left, to where the landau had turned out of sight around the bend, Cole gave free rein to his thoughts. Kate had never said who it was who wanted her baby. And he hadn’t questioned her about it, given everything else she was going through then. He’d figured it was none of his business. But that was before he’d gotten to know her better on the three-day trip here. They’d been through a lot and she’d never once complained or stinted on wha
t she had to do.
Cole realized now that he’d come to respect and admire her. She looked so fragile and yet was tough as hell. But now that he thought about it, it seemed to him—that whoever was after her child would have to be pretty powerful. Someone like the woman who’d just ridden by in that expensive carriage? Most likely. Because Kate didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who would have run, otherwise. But what kind of people would they have to be to take a child from its mother? Well, childless themselves, for one thing. And desperate because of it.
But desperate why? Well, there was only one answer that Cole could come up with. Money. A whole lot of money. More money than the people already had. Like an inheritance. Defeat tugged at Cole. There it was. He didn’t like the next mental hurdle his mind was already leaping over. But circumstances forced him. From what he understood through the bits and pieces of news that made it out West, Edgar Talmidge’s father was ailing. And Edgar Talmidge was childless.
Cole shook his head, refusing to believe, refusing to accept what seemed to be a simple and blinding truth burning behind his eyes. No, it’s just plain crazy. The Talmidges somehow connected to Kate? He couldn’t accept it. For one thing, Kate had come here from Kentucky. Or so she’d said—at the same time that she’d lied about being widowed. A tightness wrapped itself around Cole’s chest. He fought against allowing his mind to take hold of such a notion. And yet, stubbornly, it did just that, telling him that maybe it wasn’t as crazy as he’d first thought. Because everything seemed to be coming together out here, right now, in this vast and unsettled place.
It was true. Cole couldn’t deny that. Kate’s predicament—pregnant, penniless, unmarried … until he’d married her … and on the run—was the exact opposite of the Talmidges’ predicament. Childless, rich, married … with a vast inheritance in the offing. Like an avalanche of boulders tumbling down a mountainside, the two sides were a collision just waiting to happen. Still troubling Cole the most was that Kate had never said who her baby’s father was. Or who the people were who wanted to take her baby. And now, here Kate was, here he was, and here—he’d just bet—the Talmidges were.
Prairie Song Page 19
