To Find You Again

by Maureen McKade

  "He's only doing his job, Emma." Ridge felt compelled to defend him.

  "He should find another job," she shot back.

  After the somber task of preparing bodies for burial, Ridge was glad to see some of her spirit returned. "Colt's got his reasons for what he does."

  "Maybe so, but it doesn't make it right."

  Ridge sighed and lifted his gaze to the star-filled sky. "I didn't say it did."

  Low voices crawled through the night and a muffled snore or two came from the soldiers who slept some forty yards away. The Lakota's wrenching moans continued unabated.

  "Get some sleep, Emma. After the dead are put to rest, we're leaving for Sunset," Ridge said.

  "With Chayton."

  "With Chayton," Ridge repeated.

  Emma was too tired for little more than a nod. She curled up beside Chayton and was asleep in moments.

  Ridge rose and covered mother and child with his blanket, then watched over them until morning.

  Chapter 17

  From atop his horse, Ridge watched the Lakota prepare to leave the camp at noon the next day. Despite the resentment of some of the soldiers, Colt had given the Indians time to dismantle the remaining tipis and pack their things. The dogs were put into harness to pull the travois loaded with the Lakota's sparse belongings.

  Emma had helped Talutah with her preparations. Any other time the older woman wouldn't have accepted her assistance, but since they'd left Fast Elk on his burial platform early that morning, Talutah had become distant and unresponsive. Ridge saw the fear in Emma's face, as well as Chayton's confusion, at Talutah's uncharacteristic behavior.

  A horse trotted up and he turned to see Colt draw up alongside him.

  "When are you and Miss Hartwell leaving?" he asked without preamble.

  Ridge fingered the reins of Emma's horse, which stood docilely beside Paint. "As soon as Talutah has her belongings ready to go."

  Colt shifted in his saddle. "I'm sorry things turned out this way, Ridge."

  "It only takes one man to rouse up the bloodlust. We've seen it before," Ridge allowed. Violent memories stirred and he mentally shook his head to rid his mind of the images.

  Colt cursed under his breath. "I should've shot him as soon as we left the fort."

  Ridge's gaze traveled to Cullen, who watched the activity with contempt from his bound position atop a horse. "You ain't a cold-blooded murderer like him."

  "You thought I was."

  Ridge's gaze flickered across his friend's swollen and discolored jaw. "Hell, Colt, I wasn't thinking straight."

  "Yeah, I noticed," Colt said dryly. "When it comes to Miss Hartwell you got the same problem. She's got you where you don't know up from down, and you don't even know it."

  Ridge stiffened. "What's between me and her is none of your concern."

  "The hell it isn't. I don't want to see you lose all you've been working for because of her and her kid."

  At least he hadn't said half-breed.

  "Leave it alone, Colt," Ridge warned.

  The captain narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He looked away. "We'll be behind you, but I won't be pushing them. There's too many wounded and old folks."

  "That'll ease Emma's mind," Ridge said stiffly.

  "It'll ease my mind when you two head out. But watch yourselves."

  "Are you going to be all right without a scout?"

  "Sarge is pretty good about picking up sign." Colt scanned their surroundings. "I know you and Nyes don't see eye-to-eye, but if we don't make it back tell him what happened."

  Guilt nudged Ridge's conscience. "We could ride with you and I could scout."

  "No. You need to get Miss Hartwell back to her father's ranch and give her some time before the rest of the town hears about her situation. And you can bet when we get back the gossip's going to start flying."

  Colt was right. The townspeople would ravenously devour the newest tidbit about the fallen Miss Hartwell. If they made it back before the cavalry, that gave Emma's family time to overcome their shock and decide what to do. No matter what Ridge thought of old man Hartwell, he did seem to care for his daughters.

  "All right," Ridge agreed reluctantly. "Keep your powder dry, pard."

  "You, too."

  Each placing a hand on the other's forearm, the two men said goodbye, but it lacked the warmth of past farewells.

  Colt wheeled away to see if the caravan was ready to move out. Ridge watched him until his attention was drawn by Emma's approach. If possible, she looked more tense than yesterday. Her wan face and lank hair gave the impression she was ill, but it was a sickness of the heart, not body.

  Ridge dismounted and went to her side. He helped her onto Clementine while Chayton leaned against his leg. Then Ridge lifted the boy onto the saddle in front of Emma. His little hands wrapped around the pommel and his hollow eyes lit with delight. Ridge's heart missed a beat at the boy's obvious pleasure. He patted Chayton's knee before climbing into his own saddle.

  "Is Talutah any better?" Ridge asked.

  Emma shrugged listlessly. "She does what she's told, but doesn't seem to know what's going on."

  It was hard for Ridge to imagine the tough woman so beaten, but losing Fast Elk had been a terrible blow. "Is someone with her?"

  "Shimmering Water said she would stay close to her."

  "Good. Colt said he wouldn't push them."

  Emma snorted in disbelief. "Just like he didn't lead the charge on the village."

  Caught between loyalties, Ridge didn't comment. "We'll go on ahead of them."

  "No. I want to make sure Talutah is all right."

  "You said Shimmering Water will take care of her. We need to get you back before the soldiers arrive." Ridge took a deep breath. "The truth of the matter is as soon as Colt's unit gets back, word's going to spread like wildfire about you and Chayton. If we can get to your folks beforehand, that'll give them some time to get used to the idea before tongues start wagging."

  If possible, Emma's face paled further. "I hadn't thought of that."

  "It's no wonder. You're exhausted and grieving." He glanced around to see the last of the caravan winding out of the camp. "We'd best head out."

  Ridge felt the hostile looks from both sides—Lakota and white—as he and Emma trotted past them. He glanced at Emma and noticed the stern set of her chin. If he hadn't been looking so closely, he wouldn't have noticed the accompanying quiver.

  Chayton fell asleep not long after they began their journey. Ridge and Emma didn't speak, but not because of the sleeping boy. Talking about what had happened would be pointless.

  At dusk, they made camp. Chayton roused long enough to eat some food, then dropped off again. Drained emotionally and physically, Ridge and Emma fell asleep soon after the boy.

  The following morning was brisk and they ate quickly. While readying their horses, Ridge noticed Emma pause and stare back in the direction from which they'd come. Guilt creased her brow and Ridge could do nothing more than give her shoulders a sympathetic squeeze.

  They traveled steadily through the day despite the dreary gray clouds and occasional light showers that felt more like a cool mist. During the midday break, the sun burst through for a few minutes of relief from the dampness. Chayton regained much of his energy and spent the respite chasing bugs and searching for odd-shaped rocks. Ridge challenged him to a foot race and let the boy win, which delighted Chayton and brought a smile to Emma's haggard face.

  They crossed rolling brown hills broken by massive gray jagged rocks thrusting up from the earth, and plodded through temporary ponds formed from the spring melt. Knowing their destination, they made better time traveling back. It had taken nearly two weeks to find the Lakota, but by Ridge's reckoning, it would take only five days to return to Sunset.

  Chayton grew more animated and excited, probably thinking of it all as a big adventure. He buoyed Emma and Ridge's spirits with his childish questions and enthusiasm, but he also exhausted them. By the third night,
Emma and Ridge were both relieved when Chayton went to sleep.

  Sipping coffee, Ridge glanced across the fire at the boy's dark head, which peeped above his blanket. "You're going to have your hands full with him."

  Emma, leaning against her saddle with her legs outstretched in front of her, nodded. "He's going to miss playing with other children."

  Ridge looked at the woman and saw sadness lingering in her eyes. "I s'pect he will. Have you thought about what you're going to do when we get back?"

  "It depends on my father." She rubbed her suspiciously bright eyes. "If he can accept Chayton, things won't be easy, but they won't be impossible either."

  "And if he doesn't?"

  She granted him a small smile. "I'm hoping my aunt in St. Paul will be willing to take us in. Maybe I could find a job in the city."

  Ridge considered the jobs Emma might be able to get. He didn't think much of any of them. "Do you think your father will throw you out?"

  "I don't know."

  He barely heard her soft words. Ridge's stepfather had beaten him, but he hadn't cast him out. Could John Hartwell actually disown his daughter?

  "I don't want your money for finding the village," Ridge finally spoke.

  Emma snapped her head up to meet his gaze. "We made a deal."

  Ridge shifted on the unforgiving ground. "You can use that hundred dollars to make a new start."

  "I always keep my word," she said stubbornly.

  "And I'm releasing you from it."

  "You can't do that."

  "It's my hundred dollars. I can do anything I want with it."

  "Buy some cattle, or better yet, buy back some of your land from my father. It would serve him right."

  Ever since he returned to Sunset and claimed his inheritance, Ridge had wanted nothing else. But now, he couldn't bring himself to take money from a woman and her son whom he'd come to care about far too much.

  He held his tongue, but the argument wasn't over. Besides, even if her pride demanded he accept it, he'd find a way to give the money back.

  "We'd best turn in," he said. "We'll be covering a lot of miles tomorrow."

  Emma lay down beside her son, just as she'd done since they'd started back. Ridge stretched out on the other side of the fire and tried to ignore the cold emptiness beside him. And inside him.

  He had a feeling it'd be a long time before he stopped missing Emma's warmth.

  It was the afternoon of the fifth day when Emma caught sight of her father's imposing home. They'd passed cattle with the Hartwell brand in the morning, but they had to ride some distance before arriving at the ranch house itself.

  They paused on a rise a quarter of a mile from the buildings. Emma saw three men around the corral, working with unbroken horses. She heard the whoops and hollers, but couldn't understand the words. She could imagine them, though.

  Chayton shifted in front of her. "What is that?" he asked in Lakota as he pointed toward the ranch house.

  "That's where your white grandfather and grandmother live," Emma replied in the same language. "Remember how to say their names in English?"

  "Gran-fa-ter and gran-ma-ter," Chayton said after a moment.

  Emma patted his small shoulder. "Good. Do you remember your aunt's name?"

  Another pause as the boy's face scrunched in thought. "Sarah."

  Emma had been teaching him English throughout the trek, giving the boy's lively mind something to focus on during the long hours in the saddle. She wanted him to greet her family in their own language, hoping to make a good impression. Not that it would help if her parents were bound and determined to despise their own grandson.

  Emma sighed heavily.

  "Are you ready for this?" Ridge asked quietly.

  "No," she said huskily. Ridge's long, cool fingers brushed hers and she clutched his hand. "Thank you. For finding Chayton and for—" She glanced away. "Everything."

  Ridge's eyes burned with passion, as if remembering those nights filled with "everything." Attraction blazed and flared to settle as an ache in her chest.

  Emma released his hand and asked with forced brightness, "Shall we?"

  "Follow me," Ridge said.

  Puzzled, she waited for him to go ahead. He led her down a circuitous route to the kitchen door at the back of the house. Realizing he did it so the ranch hands wouldn't see Chayton or herself, she wasn't certain if she should be grateful or upset. She wasn't ashamed of Chayton. He was her son. But she understood his reasoning—it was the same one used for going ahead of Captain Rivers and his unit.

  Ridge dismounted and walked around the horses to lift Chayton from Emma's saddle. Once Chayton was safely on the ground, Ridge wrapped his hands around Emma's waist and eased her down, drawing her body along his as he lowered her. His thumbs brushed the sensitive skin beneath her breasts and she gasped at the bolt of desire.

  Quickly stepping away from Ridge, she took Chayton's hand in her sweat-dampened one and pushed open the door. She was relieved when Ridge followed them inside. Since it was too early to begin supper, no one was in the kitchen. Chayton tried to see everything at once as he pressed closer to Emma.

  She took a deep breath and looked back at the man who'd unintentionally claimed her heart. She took strength and comfort in his solid presence, and walked through the swinging doorway into the dining room. Footsteps on the stairs made her turn to the wide staircase to see Sarah descending.

  "Sarah?" she called softly when her sister reached the bottom of the stairs.

  Sarah turned and froze, her eyes huge and her mouth agape. "Emma?" she whispered hoarsely.

  "I'm home." Emma's voice trembled with anxiety.

  Sarah raced across the floor and flung her arms around Emma, who hugged her sister with equal enthusiasm. Sarah stepped back, but clung to Emma's hands. "Are you all right? Where have you been? Everyone's been sick with worry."

  "I'm sorry. Ridge—Mr. Madoc found me and brought me home," Emma said. Her heart pounding like a smithy's hammer, she released her sister and put a hand on Chayton's small shoulder. "He's why I had to leave."

  Sarah's shocked expression would've been comical if Emma hadn't been on pins and needles. "An Indian boy?"

  "This is Chayton, my son." Emma paused. "Your nephew."

  Sarah's face paled and she swayed. Ridge caught her arm to steady her.

  "Sarah, are you all right?" Emma asked with concern.

  "Sarah?" Chayton piped up.

  Emma looked down at her son's curious and excited expression. "Yes, Chayton. This is your aunt," she said in Lakota. "Sarah."

  "Oh my," Sarah whispered. "Oh my."

  "Do you need to sit down, ma'am?" Ridge asked.

  "I think that might be a good idea," Sarah replied weakly.

  Ridge led her to a heavy oak dining room chair and eased her into it. Emma and Chayton followed and stood in front of Sarah.

  The younger girl stared at Chayton, lifted her gaze to Emma, then returned to study Chayton. "He has your chin and nose," she finally said.

  "That's what Talutah, my adopted mother, always said, too." Emma fought the lump in her throat. "My husband Enapay said our son had my eyes, too."

  "Your husband?" Sarah squeaked out the question.

  "Yes. He's dead. I'm a widow," Emma said, trying to hold a tremulous smile.

  "Sarah," Chayton said again with a wide grin. He tugged on her hands and raised his arms.

  "I think he wants you to pick him up," Emma translated.

  For a long, heart-pounding moment, Sarah stared at the boy. Then, with a radiant smile, she lifted Chayton onto her lap. Sarah's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I'm an aunt."

  Emma stepped closer to Ridge, wanting to share her relief and happiness at Sarah's acceptance. Ridge smiled back, understanding without words like he so often did.

  "How old is he? What does his name mean? Are you both going to live here now?" Sarah started throwing out questions as Chayton stared in fascination at her blond hair.

  Shar
p footsteps sounded on the polished wood floor and Emma turned to see her father and mother enter the dining room.

  "Emma!" Martha Hartwell cried and hugged her daughter.

  Dazed, Emma wrapped her arms around her mother. The familiar scent of rose water wafted around her, reminding her of long-ago days. "I've missed you, Mother."

  Emma glanced over her mother's shoulder at her father to find his gaze locked on Chayton. She drew away from the older woman and moved to Sarah and Chayton's side. Trembling, Emma announced, "Mother, Father, I want to introduce Chayton. My son."

  Her mother's eyes rolled upward and she collapsed. Ridge lunged toward her and managed to partially catch her, saving her from a bump on the head.

  "Get some water," her father ordered. He shoved Ridge away from her, as if he thought Ridge intended to murder her.

  Emma lifted Chayton into her arms and Sarah bustled into the kitchen for the water. She returned carrying a glass and a damp cloth. Glowering, Ridge kept his distance, turning the brim of his hat around and around in his hands.

  Her mother roused and glanced around in confusion, but when her gaze settled on Emma and Chayton she let out a moan. Sarah and their father helped her into the chair Sarah had vacated.

  Her father's lips thinned and his eyes were stormy. "Explain yourself, Emma."

  Although she bristled at the command, Emma knew they deserved an explanation. "I'd been living with the Lakota for two years when Enapay began courting me. I had given up on ever being found and brought back home. I cared for him and we married three months later. Chayton was born a year after our marriage. My husband was killed during a raid when Chayton was less than two years old."

  "You married a—a savage?" her mother asked, shock evident in her lined features.

  "Yes, Mother, I married a 'savage' who loved me and treated me well. He even spoiled me." She smiled tenderly, remembering the times Enapay would return, bearing some gift for her.

  Her father's face deepened to scarlet and a vein pulsed in his brow. "He was an Indian, for God's sake."

  "He was a decent, honorable man." Emma lifted her chin and met her father's gaze head-on. No longer was she a girl, and no longer would she cower under John Hartwell's dictates.