by kps
She drew several slow, deep breaths, and the dizziness ebbed. Remembering her duty to finish caring' for A'Kima's arm, she pushed on despite the nagging suspicion that she'd hurt herself in the tumble she'd taken earlier. Her progress up the hill was slow, and by the time she'd reached her tepee and found the box of supplies, the downpour had begun. She was muddy and trembling as she reached the tepee on the other side of the village. The cramps were steady and intense now, and she was sure that she was losing the baby. Sheer tenacity kept her going, giving her the false energy needed to clean A'Kirna's arm and take the few stitches with catgut to close the puffed edges of flesh. When the child opened her eyes with a silent thank you, Jenny smiled and took the wild flower from her hair, lovingly returning it to the child.
Jenny paused at the rawhide covering of the tepee, lifting the flap to watch the steady downpour. She felt weak, so weak. Saloma moved near her to thank her for saving her little grandchild, and suddenly cried out, drawing Jenny's attention to her skirt. It was red with blood, her own fresh blood that soaked the material in an ever-widening circle. She felt herself slipping, and heard Saloma calling her husband to help her as she caught Jenny's body and broke her fall. Then there was nothing but darkness and constant, unremitting pain.
Though the storm had passed and the sun was shining once more, an unusual quiet layover the village when the hunting party galloped triumphantly through the center of camp. Small groups of villagers stood about, talking in low, hushed voices; and even the dogs that usually greeted any new arrival with enthusiastic barking seemed to respect the hush that surrounded them. Only a few of them howled at the sound of the shaman's steady chanting before Saloma's lodge.
Gray Hawk came out of his tepee, arms crossed as he greeted the returning party of braves with a solemn nod, then gestured to Dev to join him in the lodge. Dev slid down off of Faro's back, wondering over the silent summons. He felt a sudden panic constrict the muscles of his throat and put a hand out to clutch at Gray Hawk's tunic. "It's Jenny, isn't it? What happened
... where ..."
The chief looked down at the hand that held onto him, then glanced up at his adopted son in stem reproof. "Remember whose son you are, Senomac. Enter the lodge as you were bidden!"
When father and son were alone in the lodge, with no prying eyes to watch and judge, Gray Hawk was less harsh. There was empathy in the deep voice that urged Dev to sit and listen without interruption to all Gray Hawk had to say. Silent and pale, Dev listened as the chief told of the events that had led up to Jenny's collapse at Saloma's lodge. "In her haste to reach the child," he said, "I believe your wife fell. She told no one until A'Kima was cared for
... even then she said nothing."
Dev's voice was dull as he stared into the fire. "How is she now?" "She is strong, my son. She will live. Saloma has been with her the past two hours, and the shaman is-"
"Is what?" Dev interrupted rudely, forgetting the respect due Gray Hawk as his father and chief. "Rattling his gourds and chanting to the spirits? What good ..." he broke off the sentence in frustration, brooding as he stared into the fire.
Gray Hawk was not angered by the outburst. Reflected in Dev's face he saw the concern for Jenny and … yes, whether his son chose to try and hide it, even from himself ... the love for her. It was a bitter reminder to Gray Hawk of the similar emotion he'd felt for Jenny's mother over twenty years before. He reached out to touch his son's arm, wanting to comfort him, then withdrew it, unable to show the emotion he felt. Suffering was a way of life-without its sharp pain, how could anyone truly appreciate the times it was not present?
He rose gracefully from his cross-legged position with the vigor of a much younger man.
"Come," said the father to the son, "we will walk together to Saloma's tepee and see how my daughter fares."
Dev rose wearily, as though he were the elder. Dazed, preoccupied, he failed to note the honor Gray Hawk had bestowed on Jenny by calling her his daughter. What if Jenny ... Dev pushed away the frightening thought that she might die. If only he'd been stronger in his resistance to her plans to come here, he silently berated himself, she might have been spared the pain.
Saloma, coming from her lodge as the two approached, absently wiped at the blood on her hands. She frowned at the sight of Senomac, unhappy at being the one who must tell him the distressing news that the child was lost. In answer to Gray Hawk's question, she said,
"She will live and ... there will be other children." It was not proper to show sympathy or sorrow, but her eyes eloquently revealed her feelings as she added, "The girl is worn by the ordeal and resting now, but see her for a moment."
As Dev swept past her to enter the lodge, Saloma stared into her cousin Gray Hawk's eyes, both of them remembering another who resembled Jenny, a girl who had left them both despairing of any chance for happiness. More adaptable than she'd realized she could be, Saloma had put Jared from her mind and married Tabah within six months. Gray Hawk had married later, but only out of his duty as chief, and his bride had died in childbirth ten months after they'd wed. He had never married again.
Once inside the lodge, Dev waited 'a minute for his eyes to adjust to the light. Jenny lay on the mat-covered ground; her profile by the dim light of the cookfire embers looked drawn and ... for the first time in his life, Dev felt a wrench of gut-twisting fear. She looked so deathly still that for a moment he almost called out to Saloma.
"Dev?" Jenny asked weakly, and he hurried to her side, kneeling to grasp the trembling hand she held out to him. "How is …"
"A'Kima's fine-thanks to you," Dev reassured her, then squeezed her hand and asked,
"What's more important-how are you feeling?"
"I.. lost ... the baby," she whispered, her tongue darting out to wet the dryness of her lips.
Dev reached for the water gourd and tenderly cradled her head while she drank. Even that slight effort brought a flicker of pain across her face, and Dev winced, as though it were his pain. "My own … care ... lessness, I tripped over ... a root, of all things ..." Her eyes drooped wearily, closing for a few seconds before she started nervously, fighting off sleep. With the last of her strength, she squeezed his fingers, and he had to lean close to hear her say, "...
wouldn't make a … good squaw, tripping ... fall ..."
Jenny's hand went slack in his and for a heart-stopping second, Dev watched her breathing with alarm, but she'd only slipped into a well-needed rest. She didn't hear him assure her that she would make the best of Indian wives and was unaware that he settled next to her and continued to Hold her hand while she slept on and on. Refusing to eat anything Saloma brought, Dev kept watch over his woman. Knowing she was safe was the only sustenance he needed.
Jenny had youth on her side and a strong, healthy constitution. Three weeks after the miscarriage she was able to travel and amazingly accepting of Dev's insistence that they return to the ranch. When she left the village, she carried close to her heart the bouquet of wildflowers the recovering A'Kima had given her as a symbol of the tribe's love and affection. Even the shaman, Ho'Tave, had turned out to bid her farewell, relenting now that she was no longer a threat to his position.
Dev maintained a slow, leisurely pace during the journey to protect her newly regained health, and Jenny found that after a week on the road, she was becoming annoyed with the way he was treating her. He was polite, but distant, withdrawn but willing to keep her entertained with tales of his youth among the tribe. Instead of charming her, his overly careful attention irked her. Jenny was feeling well now, and it annoyed her to be treated like an invalid.
Just before they reached home, she purposely picked a fight with him, nagging at him over some small incident until he finally lost his caution and snapped back. The argument that ensued cleared the air, and though he apologized afterwards, Jenny was pleased to find that she had her old Dev back, cocky as ever and not nearly so solicitous.
Several surprises, one quite unpleasant, greeted them upon the
ir arrival home. Sally came out to say hello, dressed in mourning black, and though it had been three weeks since an old acquaintance of Dev's had brought her father's body back from the mining camp where he'd died, the retelling of the tale brought fresh tears to her eyes.
Jenny took her inside to comfort her, telling her about the miscarriage, and they shared their sorrows over a cup of tea. Dev, meanwhile,headed for the barn and a long discussion with Luke Morrow, who'd brought Rev. Sparks's body back for burial. It surprised him that Sally had asked Luke to stay on until he and Jenny returned.
They Doth were delighted with their reunion, recalling the bitter winters they'd spent riding fence together on the big K-R spread in northern Montana, and Luke gave Dev the details of the Reverend's death. "So he picked the wrong man to preach to, eh?" Dev finally commented.
"The old man sure was peppered with fire and brim-stone!"
"Yessir," agreed Morrow, sticking another wad of his favorite chew in the side of his cheek.
"T'wasn't bad enough he kept up a harrangue all day Sunday ... but then he came into Five-Ace Sturbuck's tent and started in on how the devil had his horny hands on Blackjack Carter's soul. You may not of heard of Blackjack, Dev, but he don't take that from nobody, 'specially not when he's holdin' three aces and waitin' fer a final draw!" Luke leaned close and added,
"Just 'tween you and me, Sparks was gonna get it, sooner or later. I just wished he was'as concerned 'bout that pretty daughter of his as he was 'bout savin' souls!"
"Kind of attracted to Sally, aren't you?" Dev asked, poking his friend in the ribs. "You never did get hitched, did you?" At Luke's comical frown, Dev laughed and said, "Well, stick around, then. There's plenty of work to do around here, and it looks like Miss Sparks has taken a shine to you already. She's a mighty nice girl, Luke. Wouldn't hurt you any to settle down and stop roaming. She'd put a little meat on that rangy frame of yours, too, with her home cooking."
Luke was flustered even discussing the subject, but he'd agreed Sally Sparks had all the right things to make a man want to quit riding the range and settle down. "Heard you tied the knot yerself," he commented, adding that he'd like to meet the woman who'd lured him into the bonds .of matrimony. "Yep ... must be some little lady to get you!" he chuckled.
Luke helped Dev unload the belongings tied to the pack horse and carry them into the house before, hat in hand, he shyly greeted Jenny. They were just finishing supper that night, when Luke remembered to tell Dev about the man who'd come looking for him several days before- "An Easterner, he was, an old dandified gentleman who was sayin'
something 'bout you bein' a missin' heir to a fortune. Here." He dug in the pocket of his vest and came up with a card, handing it across to Dev. "A real funny name, but he seemed legit."
Dev took the card and read the engraved, raised lettering aloud. Jenny stared at him with a puzzled look, and he shrugged. "It says, 'Erasmus Paisley, Attorney-at-Law' and gives a New York City address below the firm name, 'Paisley, Paisley and Huntingdon.' Is he still around, Luke?"
"Far as I know. Miss Sally told him she weren't sure exactly when you'd get back, but he said it was important and to send word to him in town at the Condor Hotel if you was to get back in the next week and a half."
"Well, I did and I will," Dev said with a smile, dropping the subject for now, though the curiosity in his wife's eyes told him there would be more talk later, when they had the privacy to discuss the matter.
Nine
Even as the train pulled into New York City's Grand Central Station, Dev was ready to turn around and head home again. The lure of a great fortune awaited him, but he'd had plenty of time to think about all the changes it would bring and had nearly decided it wasn't worth the trouble. What more did he need than the open, uncluttered land that had been his home for thirteen years, a good, reliable horse to carry him over it and a good woman by his side? All three were behind him now, and he'd even grudgingly admitted it was the woman he missed most of all. His woman, or so he'd begun to think of Jenny, despite the fact that their marriage was one of convenience and not a love match.
Often during the trip east, he'd closed his eyes and while the continuous metallic clack of wheels against steel lulled his mind, her image had floated tantalizingly before him. Beautiful Jenny Bryant-she was an English lady, a Spanish Duchess, a sensual woman ... all those things and more. For the first time in his twenty-six years, Devlan Cantrell was experiencing. the raw, tender emotions of a man in love-the gnawing desire to possess and hold her close and, at the same time, a panicky, instinctive need to flee from the increasingly strong ties binding him to her.
When he wasn't brooding over the confusing tangle of his feelings, Erasmus kept him occupied by rattling off an endless monologue of anecdotes about the Nicholls family.
Before the train had passed through Ohio, Dev had heard the tale of the lovely Cat Devlan and her scandalous past, which, the conservative old lawyer had confided with prim disapproval, was rumored to have included a brief sojourn in a mogul's harem and a successful career as a lady pirate.
"There's no doubt she was a high-spirited wench, fancy-free for those days, too," Erasmus told him with a wink as he'd warmed to his subject. "She met her match in your ancestor, Ryan Nicholls, though. He brought Cat back to Canterbury Hill, settled her in, and kept her busy havin' babies!"
Then, with his shiny, bald head cocked to one side, Erasmus studied Dev seriously for a moment, his eyes a rheumy blue behind the bifocals that perched precariously at the end of his short nose. "If I may be so bold as to offer a bit of advice, m'boy," he paused, clearing his throat with a guttural harrumph, as though the prospective task was disagreeable, "your cousin Cathy is every bit as lovely as the first Catherine was, ten times as willful and spoiled, to boot! Seeing that I'm only the family's legal adviser, I might be overstepping my bounds, but you seem like a nice young chap, and I thought you could use the advance warning."
All Dev could remember of this cousin was a mop of golden curls and a savage little temper.
The lawyer went on to explain that Cathy had been reared at the Nicholls plantation, Seahaven, in North Carolina, and at the age of fifteen had run off to marry a penniless scoundrel nearly twice her age. Her father had died in the war, and her mother, Dev's paternal aunt, had perished in the fire that had destroyed Seahaven two months after Cathy's elopement. She and her husband, Bentley Harper, had turned up at Canterbury one day in 1867 and had been in residence ever since. UnHl Erasmus had insisted on searching for Devone last time, it was presumed that she would inherit everything.
"She's a spender all right, though I've tried my best to control the pursestrings," Erasmus finished with a grumble. "Bentley doesn't do much to account for his existence-drinks like a fish and I hear he chases the ladies like a hound dog on the scent!" This lawyer shook his head and chuckled. "She won't take kindly to your sudden appearance, not at all. More or less put her in the position of a poor relative, dependent on your good will."
So, along with his abrupt change of lifestyle, Dev thought disgustedly, he also had to deal with his spoiled cousin and her good-far-nothing husband! The inheritance was less appealing with each passing mile that brought him closer to it. He finally decided he would settle his affairs and return to Montana as quickly as possible.
They were to remain in the city for almost a week. Rather than allow Dev to stay at a hotel in a strange city the size of New York, Erasmus had insisted he come home with him, to his bachelor residence presided over by the prim and starchy housekeeper, Mrs. Peacock. The first day was spent in relaxation, recovering from the long, bone-jarring trip across the country. Following a leisurely supper that night, the two of them retired to the study-the lawyer's dusty, book-lined sanctuary in a house that sparkled from top to bottom under Mrs.
Peacock's meticulous care.
His host offered him brandy and cigars and when they were both seated comfortably by the fireplace, began to detail the extent of Dev's inheritance. D
ev found he was glad for the strong drink in his hand when the old man apprised him of the fact that he had inherited a little over a quarter of a million dollars, in addition to the extensive estate on the Hudson River. The buildings at Seahaven had been totally destroyed by the fire, but the land had been sold for a high price. Aside frorn his investments, Dev had easy access to liquid cash assets of over seventy-five thousand dollars when he signed the legal papers the next day at the lawyer's offices.
The size of the inheritance had left Dev speechless and so dazed that Erasmus had to repeat his question a second time. "I was merely inquiring whether you will want to retain our services as legal and financial advisers, son." The old man cleared his throat and proudly straightened his back, peering over the edge of his glasses. "We've done our best to serve the Nicholls family now for four generations, with hardly a penny lost to a bad investment. I handle it all as I would my own finances. When everyone in town was touting Credit Mobilier, I stood firm against it, and sure enough, the New York Sun exposed them for the conniving frauds they were!" He shook his head in wonder at the millions that had been lost in the scandal that followed. "The decision is yours, of course, but I'd hate to see you lose anything in an unsound investment."
"No ... please," Dev protested, shaking off the effects of his astonishment. "I can see you've done a good job of it-there's no sense tamp erin' with success. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but this all comes as one hell of a shock!" He ran his fingers restlessly through his hair and tossed back the last of his brandy. "I told you how I was raised, how Ma and Reece died. I never had two cents I didn't earn from the sweat of my brow, and now you tell me I'm rich, so rich my money's makin' money, all by itself!" He shook his head in wonder as he realized that he'd never have to work another day in his life.
Erasmus chuckled, reaching for the decanter to refill his guest's empty glass. He'd done the right thing, insisting on the search for Devlan Nicholls Cantrell instead of automatically turning the control of the inheritance over to Cathy. The money would have been squandered on frills and fashions, trips abroad and gambling and liquor bills for that drunken lout, Harper. She would have gone through the interest income, not to mention the capital, in just a few short years of wastful spending!
