Where Leads the Heart

by Colleen Coble;D. Barbour

  Where Leads the Heart

  by Colleen Coble

  Copyright © 2012 by Colleen Coble

  First published in the United States by Barbour 1997

  WHERE LEADS THE HEART is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The Publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover Design by Kim Killion

  QED stands for Quality, Excellence and Design. The QED seal of approval shown here verifies that this eBook has passed a rigorous quality assurance process and will render well in most eBook reading platforms.

  All eBook files created by eBook Architects are independently tested and certified with the QED seal. For more information please see:

  ebookarchitects.com/QED.php

  DEAR READER,

  I’m excited to be able to share my first novel with you. The idea for the novel dropped into my head while standing on the parade ground at Fort Laramie. Until visiting there, I hadn’t realized women followed their men to the old forts in the middle of dangerous Indian wars. I hope you enjoy it!

  Drop me a note at colleen@colleencoble.com and let me know how you liked it. I love hearing from readers!

  Love, Colleen

  In memory of my brother, Randy Rhoads,

  who taught me to love the mountains of Wyoming

  Contents

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  one

  “Well, I think it’s just disgraceful.” Anne Drake sniffed behind her lace handkerchief and rearranged the folds of her long skirt as she sat against the wall on a crude wooden chair. Above her head hung an assortment of bridles and farm implements. Her foot tapped in time to the music as her pale blue eyes followed Sarah Montgomery’s figure around the floor. She perched her glass of iced tea on a weather-gray wooden barrel, then turned to watch the dipping couples. “First she snatches Rand out from under poor Sally’s nose, and now she’s taken up with Ben Croftner—with Rand scarcely a year in his grave.”

  Her companion, Nora Cromwell, nodded, twisting her thin, colorless lips into the semblance of a smile. “I’ve never understood why all the fellows are attracted to her, anyway. That mass of hair—it looks quite messy most of the time. And those eyes—I declare, they put me in mind of a cat. That shade of green is quite peculiar.” Nora’s own eyes were a muddy, unremarkable brown, but she would have been mortified if anyone guessed her spitefulness held more than a trace of envy.

  “It’s probably all Ben’s money.” Anne sniffed again, the lines of petulance and discontent deepening around her eyes as she saw the way Sarah’s hair caught the light from the dozens of lanterns strung around the barn.

  Sarah couldn’t help noticing the spiteful looks the young women kept sending her way as she whirled around the barn floor on Ben’s arm, but she was used to it by now. Ever since she’d become engaged to Rand Campbell, the best-looking bachelor in the county, she’d been subjected to gossip and tittle-tattle behind her back. But it hurt just the same—especially on top of the anguish of losing Rand a year ago.

  Rand. Just the thought of him still brought almost unendurable pain, and she steered her thoughts away from the painful past. It was over and done with and no amount of wishing or crying would ever bring him back. Will I ever get over his death? she wondered.

  She felt Ben tighten his grip around her waist as if he sensed her sadness and discontent, and she forced the fake, brittle smile to her face again. She wondered fleetingly if her face would crack before she could murmur her apologies and go home. It seemed that all the entire county of Wabash had done in the past few weeks was party. The dreadful Civil War was finally over and the Union was preserved, but at what a price. Scarcely a family in the county had been spared the loss of one of their loved ones. And she had lost the only man she had ever loved. She had tried all evening to find a last remnant of her old gaiety and join in the festivities, but it was just a mask.

  Ben tightened his grip on her slender waist as the song ended and she tried to pull away. “Come outside a minute. I want to talk to you.” His firm voice brooked no objection as he pulled her toward the big sliding door at the front of the barn, past the wooden tables piled high with cakes and pies of every imaginable flavor, past the rows of seated older women who watched their exit with tolerant, reminiscent smiles.

  Sarah fought the feeling of impending doom that rushed up into her throat at his words. He’s going to ask me tonight, she thought in panic. I’m not ready yet. Her steps faltered as she hung back. “Le–let me get my shawl.” Her hands shaking, she grabbed her blue shawl from a peg on the wall and threw it over her shoulders.

  “Come on.” His voice impatient, Ben tugged on her arm and drew her outside into the crisp autumn air. The sunset was still a faint pink glow in the darkness, but the most light came from the lanterns strung around the graying barn and through the muddy yard. They swung in the light breeze, their lights dipping and swaying like some giant form of firefly. The air was moist and tangy, a mixture of ripening grain and the smoke from a bonfire in the adjoining field. The September night had a slight chill, and Sarah pulled her shawl more closely about her shoulders.

  Ben pulled Sarah down onto a wooden bench away from the rest of the couples who watched the fire shoot sparks high into the dark sky. His eyes were dark, unreadable pools in the moonlight, but his voice was tender and earnest. “It’s time we talked about our future, Sarah.” He hesitated as if gauging her reaction. “I want to marry you. You know how I’ve felt about you for years, and now that Rand’s gone—well, you need to get on with your life.”

  Sarah raised a trembling hand to her throat and felt her pulse fluttering under her fingertips. No, I can’t marry you, she wanted to scream. I still love Rand. But the words stuck in her throat. She had to marry Ben. She’d watched her father’s health go downhill ever since the news of Rand’s death came. Wade said it was because their father was so worried about her future. He said she owed it to Papa to get her life settled, and she could see the sense of her older brother’s words. How could she be selfish enough to refuse to do whatever it took to get Papa better? And besides, what else did the future hold except to be someone’s wife?

  She took a deep breath and said woodenly, “All right. I’ll marry you.” She winced inwardly at the flat tone of her voice.

  Ben’s smile of self-satisfaction deepened in spite of her less than enthusiastic response. “Wade assured me you’d be agreeable. I’m so glad, my dear. You won’t be sorry.”

  I already am, she thought, her stomach sinking as she twisted her icy hands in the folds of her skirt. I already am.

  “Let’s go announce our good news.” He drew her up and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Your family will be so pleased.”

  She pinned the smile back on her face as they walked into the barn. Ben pulled her with him to the front of the room and waved his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?”

  The music stopped with a last, dying squeal of the fiddle, and the flushed couples stared at them. Sarah felt the heat in her cheeks and took a deep, calming breath. She caught Amelia’s horrified look and
smiled encouragingly. Her best friend, Amelia, had been trying to talk her into defying Wade for weeks now. She seemed to dislike Ben for some reason.

  Sarah glanced up at Ben and straightened her shoulders a little in pride. He was certainly very good-looking, but in a different way than Rand had been. Ben’s hair was very blond, almost white, and he had gray eyes the color of the Wabash River on a stormy day. His pride at his own accomplishments gave him a self-confident, almost arrogant stature, and his self-assurance smoothed most obstacles he encountered. Like Wade said, she would never want for anything as Ben’s wife. Except for love, an insistent voice whispered.

  “You all know how long I’ve tried to get Sarah to agree to be my wife.” Ben’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “I always thought she showed a lot of sense,” called Jason Maxwell from up in the haymow where a group of young men had been playing checkers. A group of adolescent boys lounging in the hay of the loft as they watched the game hooted with laughter.

  Ben laughed, too, but there was no humor in the look he threw Jason. “Well, you can all congratulate me—she finally gave in! You’re all invited to the wedding—and it’ll be a humdinger!”

  Their friends and neighbors crowded up quickly to congratulate them, and Sarah was hugged and kissed as she fought to keep her smile from slipping. She saw Wade’s complacent grin and the smile on her father’s face. Then, over her father’s stooped shoulder, she saw the two Campbell boys, Rand’s brothers. Her face whitened, and she pulled her arm out of Ben’s possessive grasp. She needed to talk to them in private, so she hurried to intercept them.

  They stopped beside the heavily laden tables and waited for her. Jacob was home on leave for about a month. He had to report for duty at Fort Laramie about a week from now, after his own wedding to Sarah’s friend, Amelia. Jacob took her hand, his dark eyes, so like his older brother’s, sad in spite of his smile. “No need to worry, Sarah. We saw it coming. And Rand wouldn’t want you to grieve forever. We just want you to be happy. Right, Shane?”

  Shane, the youngest, pushed his blond hair out of his face and turned sober blue eyes on her. “Ri–right. The only thing is—” He hesitated and looked from Jacob to Sarah. “What if Rand’s not really dead?”

  Sarah gasped, her green eyes enormous in her pale face. “What do you mean?” She looked from one to the other in shock, unable to still the small, faint flutter of hope. Did they know something they hadn’t told her? “What does he mean, Jake? Ben saw his body in the prison camp. We got official notification from the army, and his name was on the list in the newspaper.”

  “But we never got his body or his things,” Shane insisted stubbornly. “There could still be some mistake. Maybe he was wounded real bad. Ben could be wrong.”

  “Shane, it’s been over a year since he was reported dead!” Jacob said. “Don’t you think Rand would have written or the army would have contacted us? Thousands died with no one to mark their graves or send their belongings home, both Union and Rebs. I know—I was there, too. Rand is dead!”

  Tears welled up in Shane’s eyes, and Sarah fought the ones shimmering on her own lashes as that glimmer of hope died. She didn’t think she would ever get used to the reality of Rand’s death, but she understood why Jacob was being so brutal. Shane couldn’t begin to heal until he accepted it. Just as she was finally beginning to accept it.

  Jacob threw a comforting arm around Shane’s shoulders as tears trickled down the youngster’s cheeks. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said. “I had no idea such a notion was brewing in that brain of his. Forget what he said and just be happy.” He reached out and touched one pale cheek. “Ben’s a lucky guy. But remember, you’ll always be a part of us, too.”

  “I’ll remember,” she whispered as she watched them thread their way through the throng. How she still loved Rand! Would the pain never go away? Every time she closed her eyes she could see his square-jawed face with its deep dimples. The warm brown eyes so alight with joy and love of life, the thick dark hair that fell heavily across his broad forehead. And he had been the kindest man she’d ever known. She’d helped him take food to needy families many times, and once he’d even given his new coat to a drunk shivering in just a ragged shirt. It was such a huge, tragic mistake for him to be lying in an unmarked grave somewhere.

  There was a soft touch on her arm, and she whirled, afraid it was Ben, that he would see her tears and demand to know why she was crying. But it was just Amelia, her dark blue eyes anxious. “Amelia! No, don’t say it,” Sarah interrupted her friend’s beginning protest. “I know you don’t approve, but I really didn’t have a choice.”

  Amelia McCallister sighed and tears hung on her long lashes. “Yes, you do. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you love him?” She stared down into Sarah’s defiant green eyes.

  Sarah bit her lip in frustration. Amelia always cut right through to the heart of the matter. “N–no. Not like Rand. But I’ll be a good wife to him. I have to marry someone, and Ben loves me.” The excuses sounded weak, even to her own ears. “I have to get on with my life. It may not be the life I’d dreamed of or hoped for, but Ben will make sure it’s a secure one.”

  Amelia hesitated, eyeing her friend. “I just don’t trust Ben,” she said finally. “I know I should, and it shames me I feel like that. I’ve prayed and prayed for more patience and compassion for him, but I just don’t think he’s all he seems.”

  “Well, you’re the only one who seems to feel like that. Since he’s gotten back from the war, everyone seems to think he’s just wonderful.” Sarah smiled and nodded toward the cluster of young ladies hovering around Ben in the middle of the floor. “I know a couple of girls who would give anything to be in my shoes. You must not have seen all the nasty looks flung my way tonight.”

  Amelia followed her gaze and gave a sigh. “They’re just a little jealous,” she said gently. “They haven’t found the one God has for them yet. Why can’t you wait for the right person?”

  “You mean like Rand? There won’t be that kind of love for me ever again. Anything will just be second best. Be happy for me, Amelia. Please?” Her heart-shaped face was irresistible when she smiled like that. “Be my bridesmaid?”

  Amelia sighed in defeat. “You know I will if we’re still here. When is the wedding?”

  “We haven’t set a date yet, but it probably won’t be for a while. Don’t worry—you’ll still be the first bride.” Sarah didn’t know how she could stand to be separated from her best friend. She saw Ben motion with an imperious gesture. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll let you know. We’ll get together tomorrow and make some plans.” She hurried off, pinning her smile back in place and wishing for the evening to be over. But now they’d have to stay for hours yet and accept everyone’s congratulations.

  By the time all the well-wishing and hugging were over, the rest of Sarah’s family had left to go home. She’d hoped they’d all be in bed by the time Ben dropped her off, but a dim light still shone through the parlor window’s lace curtains as he helped her down off the buggy. The parlor window was open, and she could smell the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. Evidently no one was planning on going to bed any time soon.

  “You’ve made me very happy tonight, my dear,” Ben said as he leaned down to kiss her.

  She couldn’t help the involuntary flinch as he bent his head, but she forced herself to accept his kiss. I’d better get used to it, she thought in resignation.

  Ben was aware of her recoil, and his grasp tightened around her waist as he frowned slightly.

  In spite of her resolve, Sarah quickly pulled away from his possessive grip. “I’d better go in. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She rushed up the steps without waiting for a reply, her heart lightening with every step she took away from Ben.

  He watched through narrowed eyes as she lifted her skirts and stepped up onto the wide front porch.

  The speculation in Ben’s eyes frightened Sarah a little when she looked back. He looked almost, well, evil,
she thought with a shiver as she dragged her eyes from his strange gaze and hurried inside.

  She heard the murmur of voices as she stepped into the hallway and sighed in resignation. She hung her shawl on a hook on the wall and walked into the parlor. The thick rug muffled her footsteps, but Wade looked up from his seat in the overstuffed chintz chair beside the fireplace as she entered. Her father lay on the matching sofa, his breathing labored and his face pale in the dying light from the fireplace. “Papa, are you all right? Should I call Doc Seth?” She rushed to his side, her heart pounding.

  “No, no. I’m fine. Just tired.” William’s breathing eased as he smiled up at his beloved Sarah. He took her hand and drew her into an embrace. “You remind me so much of your mama tonight, Sweetheart. Her hair was the exact same shade as yours the night I met her. And her eyes—just like yours. I had a marble I kept for years because it was just like her eyes—deep emerald with gold flecks.” He closed his eyes as much from the pain of memory as from the pain in his chest. “I just realized how much I’m going to miss you. It will be almost like losing your mama again.”

  Sarah’s heart thumped in sudden hope. Could Wade be wrong about how Papa felt? “I don’t have to get married, you know. I’d rather stay home with you and Joel, anyway.” She was the only mother her young brother had ever known. Their mother, Kate, had died giving birth to Joel. She didn’t know how either of them could bear to be separated.

  But her father’s words dashed her hopes. “No, no, Sweetheart. You’ve been too self-sacrificing already, and I should never have been selfish enough to let you. You were only eight when your mama died and much too young to take over the household and the new baby the way you did. I should have hired someone.” He wiped a shaking hand across his brow, beaded with drops of sweat. “But I just wasn’t thinking clearly. And all these years you’ve managed our home like a grown woman. It’s time for you to step out on your own and have your own life, your own home.” He sat up and swung his legs off the couch. “You get on up to bed now. That’s where I’m headed.”