No words came from Alana's lips. She only stood there and let the tears fall silently down her cheeks.
"I haven't told him about the baby. I wanted to be sure." Christal felt the tears renew in her eyes. "I don't want to leave you. I love you, Alana. I love the children and Trevor. But what can I do? I love him so much."
"Go to him." Alana took the valise and put her arm around Christal's waist. "I'll forgo dancing at your wedding to be at the birth of my first niece or nephew. When will that be?"
"In about eight months—seven? Oh, I don't know!" Christal suddenly laughed through her tears. "There just never seemed to be a moment to sit down and calculate the time."
"If we get to Wyoming and that man hasn't put a ring on your finger, Trevor will kill him—"
"Don't worry. Just let me find Macaulay. I have a feeling the rest will take care of itself."
"Telegraph us the moment you have a chance or we'll set out looking for you all over again." Alana hugged her, misery and love glittering in her eyes. "And know that I love you, Sister. I wouldn't let you go if I didn't."
Christal began weeping in earnest. Anguished, she forced herself to break away, then ran down the marble stairs to the waiting carriage.
The train to St. Louis was pulling out just as she ran to the platform. She walked in a fast clip alongside, peering into every window she could find to see if Macaulay was on it. She got to the halfway mark and still she couldn't find him. Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. She'd been through too much in the past days to have it end like this. She could join him later, but she wanted him, needed him, loved him. Now.
"Where are you, you damned Reb!" she screamed at the slowly passing train, shocking the bystanders on the platform. In a fit of anger, she ran past two more cars. He wasn't in either of them.
And then she saw him. He was leaning against the railing between cars, a morose expression on his handsome face while he lazily watched Grand Central Depot ease by.
"I hate you!" she cried out, running to keep up with the slow-moving train.
Macaulay's eyes widened. He nearly slipped from his perch. "What in God's name are you doing?" he cried out, rushing to the other side of the railing nearer to her.
"I'm going with you, you bastard! How could you leave me behind?"
"You're not giving it a chance!" His expression turned dark. She could see the lines deepen in his face. "You don't yet know what you'll miss. I don't want you unhappy. I got better things to do with my life than saddle myself with an unhappy woman—"
"You don't want me unhappy?" She was losing patience more quickly than she was losing platform to run on. Angrily, she threw her valise at him. It landed with a thud against his chest. Next, she reached behind her and unclasped the sapphire-and-diamond necklace. "Then take me with you to Wyoming! Let me leave all this behind. I don't want it!" To prove her point, she handed the priceless necklace to the first person she saw, a frumpy older woman with a black shawl covering her head. The woman nearly fainted when she saw what had dropped into her hands.
"Jesus Christ!" He almost fell off the train. Shock and disbelief were painted all over his face.
"Take me with you! I lied—I don't hate you—I love you. Don't let these things come between us!" She continued to run alongside the train, but it was gaining speed. She dropped her sister's satin cape on the platform and began ripping from her ears the diamond earrings, which she handed to another shocked bystander.
"Damn, girl, what are you doing?" he said, amazed by her crazy behavior. She'd given away a small fortune.
"I'm proving I love you!" The train gained even more momentum. Her chest ached with her need for air. She was quickly running out of platform. If he didn't put out his hand and help her up, she would miss the train.
And her life would be over.
Because there was no way she could live without him. She loved him, and all the Sheridan wealth was paltry consolation if he didn't love her back.
"If you come with me, you might be making a big mistake." His gaze darted between the end of the platform and her running figure.
She didn't answer; she only looked at him, her love in her eyes. The train of her dress was soiled by the dirty platform and her hair, previously dressed, smooth and chic, now flew behind her like a banner of golden tangles. The proud, wealthy heiress was gone. In her place was a woman whose heart was near to breaking because Macaulay Cain thought it best she remain in New York with her empty wealth and useless society prominence.
"No, I do hate you!" she cried in despair as she hit the end of the platform.
Then a hand reached out and took her by the back of her dress as if she were a dirty stray kitten. It plucked her from the platform and threw her against Cain's hard, warm chest.
"You crazy Yankee," he whispered, looking deep into her eyes.
"I lied—I don't hate you."
"I don't want to hear any complaining. If you marry me, you won't be living your sister's life, that's for sure."
"Take me to Wyoming. I want to see the mountains. I want to see the water lilies bloom on Lonesome Lake. I want to be your wife. I want you to love me."
His cold, wolf-gray eyes filled with emotion. He clasped her scarred hand and drew it to his chest. "Girl, if you want me to love you, you got it. I don't have anything without you. And I know it."
She smiled and dug into her valise, glad that she'd been able to hold on to it.
"What are you doing?"
She drew out the sky-blue dress. "Do you think this is a good enough wedding gown? We might find some Indian paintbrush to make a bouquet. Who knows, when we get to Noble, Dixiana might be justice of the peace. Then she can marry us."
"That'll be the day." He rolled his eyes.
"But we can't take too long."
"And why not?"
She laughed and threw the dress at him. "It ain't gonna fit forever, cowboy, that's why."
He pulled the dress away. "What . . . ?"
She smiled a beguiling secret smile.
"Oh, Jesus . . ." It slowly dawned on him.
"I have it on good authority the Sheridan men will come for a lynching if there isn't a ring on my finger in due haste."
He suddenly laughed and let out a Rebel yell. It echoed beneath the iron and glass canopy of the train shed. Then he kissed her, deep and sweet, as the train broke from the depot. The moon shone overhead, competing against the sparkling gaslights of the city, and the train headed west, to the mountains, where heaven kissed the earth.
God bless Wyoming and keep it wild.
final entry in the diary of Helen Mettler, age 15,
WHO died in the TeTONS
Fair Is the Rose Page 33
