by Tammy Barley
At fifty-two, her father was brawny as an ox and sometimes as surly—his thinning, feathery white hair often stood on end like a madman’s. Ever the businessman, he had a quick, shrewd mind, ready at a moment’s notice to woo a mammoth investment from an unsuspecting banker.
He reached the bottom of the stairs, his white hair already disheveled beyond hope. “Your mother will make us late, for sure,” he grumbled. At her questioning look, he explained, “Emma was having some trouble getting to sleep, so she’s giving Elsie a hand until she’s settled.” He gave Jess a closer look, then added, “You look good enough to marry off.”
She smiled vaguely at his colorless jest. Aside from their occasionally heated disagreements over Ambrose, they exchanged lighthearted banter over her unwed state. “Thank you, Father. Since we have time, perhaps Ho Chen will make us something warm to drink while we wait for Mother.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Only you drink and I’ll pace.”
In a relatively good humor, she and her father started toward the back of the house. Someone rapped on the front door, and a heavy, dark sense of foreboding descended over Jess when Malcolm opened it. Feeling as though she was moving underwater, she turned and took in the familiar boots, greatcoat, and hat of the man who stepped inside. Jake Bennett lifted unreadable eyes to hers.
“Jake Bennett!” Isaac strode forward to greet their unexpected guest. “Good evening! Come inside, have a drink with us.”
“Thanks, Isaac,” he said quietly. “Actually I came to talk to Jess. Would you mind if she took a walk with me?”
Jess couldn’t breathe.
If Isaac was surprised at the request, he didn’t let on. “Not at all. We have time, anyway.” Isaac shook Jake’s hand to take his leave. “Dinner tomorrow?”
“Thanks, but I can’t. The boys and I need to load up supplies in the morning and head home.”
“Then we’ll see you the next time you pass through.” With a brief glance at Jess and the rancher beside her, Isaac headed off toward the kitchen, the butler trailing after him.
Jake said nothing as he helped her into her cloak. Jess fastened the closures at her throat and searched his eyes. She had to know.
“Ambrose?”
Jake’s gaze shifted to the direction Isaac had taken, then back to her. “Let’s talk outside.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. She pulled her hood over her head and let Jake lead her outside. The night closed in around them.
A sharp wind wailed and snatched at their clothes as Jake led her past dark yards lined with low fences. Jess curled into her cloak as if the fabric would protect her from the news and the cold alike.
When they were several houses away, Jake slowed to a stop.
Jess’s suspense slowly shattered as he slid his hat from his head.
Her eyes fell closed. It was over. The waiting, the wondering—all of it—was over.
A terrible heaviness settled within her. She breathed deeply for several moments, willing herself to calm. Finally, her eyes met Jake’s. Their glimmering depths mirrored the regret he must have felt since he received the telegram. He had known the pain that would follow.
“Tell me.”
“Tom wasn’t able to learn anything from the Federals,” he said gently, “but a telegraph operator, a Confederate, tapped into one of his transmissions and decided to make inquiries on his own. He learned that your brother carried a message into a battle in Kentucky. There were thousands of casualties on both sides, and few doctors.” Jake turned the hat in his hands. “Those who are still missing have been presumed dead.”
Hope flickered as Jess clung to that lovely, indefinite word, missing. “That doesn’t mean anything. Ambrose could have been wounded, and maybe he’s recovering in a hospital somewhere, or in someone’s home.”
“No, Jess. Your brother’s colonel relayed Ambrose’s description to the telegrapher. Confederate artillerymen confirmed that he was the courier they saw in battle. They said they saw him riding hard just before being hit by exploding cannon shells.” Jess’s hopeful conviction wavered. “Those same soldiers found a dispatch on the ground some time later. Colonel Morgan’s signature was on it, and he confirmed it was the one he sent with Ambrose. Ambrose…Ambrose was never seen again.”
Her bravado began to fail, but Jess lifted her chin. She would not fall apart in front of this man. “He’s a Hale. Hales are too stubborn to die.”
Jake didn’t comment on that. “The Confederates headed out to join other forces while the Federals gave chase. They weren’t able to see to the wounded or—”
“Was he buried?” She knew she sounded angry, but she didn’t care.
“Nearby farmers buried all the dead. Union and Confederate dead, some in mass graves, but most of them where they fell.”
Farmers, not soldiers, did the burying? “So we don’t know for sure—”
“Jess.” His voice was calm, final.
Jess walked a few paces, feeling wooden. Not many people were about, she thought absently, what with the hour and the cold. Yet inside the saloons down the road, hundreds of people were milling about, even now. Suddenly, it all seemed so empty—the city, the mountains, all of it. The land was empty and her heart was empty. Empty because Ambrose was no longer alive to fill them.
The smell of smoke drew her uncaring gaze to a neighbor’s chimney. She let her head fall back. It met with Jake’s solid chest. His comforting presence was her undoing.
The stars above blurred. Jake’s words swam in her ears, more nightmarish than real. Thousands of casualties…mass graves…farmers buried the dead. Jake gripped her arms in sympathy. How was she supposed to continue on without her beloved brother? And Emma…Emma would never know her brother, and her mother… Jess dug her fingers into her hair. How could she sit her mother down and tell her she had lost another son? The months after little Broderick died remained painfully clear in her memory. Icy fear stabbed her. Would her mother survive this? And their father…
Jess cried for them all. Between Ambrose and their father, there would be no amends. No penitence expressed, no forgiveness granted—no peace. Isaac Hale would not have another chance. None of them would.
“It’s such a waste!” she hissed through her sobs.
“Hang on, Jess!” Jake urged. “You’re strong. You’ll get through this!”
She shook her head stubbornly.
Jake turned her and pulled her against him.
Welcoming the embrace, Jess curled her hands around two fistfuls of sheepskin, pressing her head against the flannel where it parted. His chest was warm…and remarkably solid. His arms tightened around her. Jess felt as though he was taking her concerns into himself and leaving in their place his own quiet assurance. She breathed in his pleasant smell of horses and leather.
All at once, he felt too close to her. Jess pushed mightily to get away. She jerked free, confused by her own actions. Jake didn’t object but thoughtfully pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. Jess snatched it from him, muttered “thank you,” and swiped at her tears.
At the far end of the road her house lights were still on, but the carriage had not been pulled around to the front. Mercifully, her parents were not yet ready to go. Jess dried the tears as they came, silently demanding they cease. They persisted. “I can’t stop crying,” she moaned.
“I know,” Jake said.
“But I have to! I can’t let my father and mother see me like this.”
“You only have to hold it together until your folks leave.”
“Jake, I have to ‘hold it together,’ as you put it, for the rest of the night.”
He frowned. “You mean you’re still going out tonight?”
“What did you think I would do? Claim to have a headache and hide in my room? I have to go. I have to continue on as though everything is normal until I can decide how I’m going to handle this.” She shook her head and winced with grief.
“You’re not going to tell your pa
rents?”
“My mother’s been ill from worry, and her mind is fragile, at best. I can’t tell her. She wouldn’t survive. I’m sure of it. She wouldn’t want to, not even for the sake of my baby sister.”
“And what about you?”
“I’m strong, Jake. I’ll get through it,” Jess said, echoing his words with subtle humor. Gradually, she took control of her ragged breathing, and her eyes dried. Outwardly, she would be presentable; inwardly, however, she felt barren, as though she had no more vitality than someone in an old, faded painting, with nothing left to give, no substance behind her pleasant façade. And yet she had to. She’d promised Ambrose that she would hold their family together. It was a promise she would keep. Especially now. “Will you walk me back?”
Jake nodded. “Of course, I’ll walk you.”
She walked slowly, and Jake patiently matched his steps to hers. Jess thought back over the long months she’d waited for word from Ambrose—the letters she had written, the anxiety she had felt, everything she had gone through to find him. She smiled sadly, knowing that Ambrose would have done the same for her. He would have…
“The boys and I will be heading home in the morning,” Jake softly reminded her, setting his hat on his head.
“You’ve gotten all your supplies, then?”
“Most of them. We have a few more things to pick up tonight, the rest at first light. The boys will meet up with me soon.”
Jess was reluctant to see him go. She liked that when they talked, he listened to her—really listened, as if blocking out every other sight, sound, and thought so that he could absorb every word she spoke. Maybe he did.
Jess lifted her face to let the wind cool her cheeks. A far-off, shadowy male figure was out walking along the road, hair tossing wildly about in the wind. He lifted a hand. Seeing him, Jake returned the wave. “Isaac won’t be back for a few minutes yet,” he observed.
“Good.” She was regaining her composure. “I’ll have time to put myself back together.”
The way Jake’s eyes touched on the black velvet hood and her face warmed her. “You do look beautiful, Jess,” he said, “in spite of your tears.”
They shared a hint of a smile.
All was calm for several paces. Suddenly, an odd brightness flickered up ahead. When Jess saw where it had risen from, she gasped in horror. Dizzying blackness enfolded her. Jake’s hand clamped fiercely on her arm, and he commanded her, “Stay here!”
“Fire,” she breathed.
Flames burst across the front of the Hale house. When Jake was almost to the front gate, Jess defied his firm order. She picked up her skirts and started to run in the same direction. From down the road, her father was scrambling furiously toward the house.
Jess hesitated at the gate, eyes wide in terror. Jake was already in the yard, turning in a circle to look for any of the servants or family members who might have escaped through the front door. He sprinted left and right to scan the side yards.
Like the face of the house, the sides were walls of fire. The blaze illumined the neighboring houses, its orange flames mirrored in squares of window glass. Above the house, dense smoke rolled upward with the force of the wind.
Jess’s hood kept the worst of the heat from her face, but nothing could block out the predatory roar of the fire. Jake ran to her and pulled her back several steps. “I’m going around the house to see if anyone has made it out,” he yelled in her ear. “Stay here!”
Instead of turning away, Jake glanced over her head, then lunged for the walkway.
Jess was immobilized by a howl of pure rage. Her father had cleared the fence and was furiously striking Jake as the younger man fought to keep him away from the house. Jess shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Why wouldn’t Jake let him go in? Her father had called her mother and Emma’s names. Jake knew they were in the house. Surely, there was still time to save them! Her father yelled something, swinging at Jake like a madman. Jake struggled to hold him, yelling something in response. Flaming boards were falling to the yard from the rooftop high above. Isaac broke free of Jake’s hold and bolted for the front door. Jess ran after him. If her father couldn’t get to her family, she would! A long timber dropped from the edge of the roof and hit the ground, spreading flames as it tumbled toward her. She screamed and leapt aside, and it crashed into the fence behind her, instantly igniting her mother’s withered roses.
Jess’s head snapped up. Mother! Emma! Already, one precious minute had flown by. Emma’s nursery window revealed angry spears of flame and billows of smoke within. Above, fast-multiplying flames stabbed through the roof, which shrieked and groaned as it was consumed. Unconsciously, Jess reached up toward her mother, who was dying right this moment, burning. She knew it. In her mind, she could see her trapped upstairs, twisting away from the fire that rolled over her. Rolled over her, devoured, and won.
Jake threw a thick arm around Isaac’s throat, fighting to drag him back from the inferno. Isaac broke free again and thrust a boot against the front door, scattering blackened boards and flames onto the already burning carpet and stairs.
A gale screamed past, scattering white-hot embers into the yard and spreading them to other homes, driving the blaze onward. Somewhere above Jess, a window burst. It was too late. Jess ran forward again, this time to stop her father. Then she froze. Her father drove an elbow into Jake’s gut, which loosened the rancher’s hold on his throat. He wrenched free, then faced Jake at arm’s length and shouted at him once more. This time, unbelievably, Jake stepped back and let him go. He let him go.
For one clear moment, her father faced her with apologetic desperation in his eyes, his cheeks black with soot, the once-elegant black trousers and coat burned in a dozen places. Then he spun and ran into the burning house.
Sparks fell between Jess and Jake in a shower of embers. The roofline sagged. The front wall near Jess began to give way.
Her eyes drifted, as if in a dream, to Jake. He darted off the porch and ran toward her as more timbers descended, crashing in a sea of flame that separated them. He came to a stop, then waved his arm in a wordless command to someone on the road. Jess turned her face to the glowing window of her father’s study, a sick dread engulfing her as she accepted the fact that her family was gone. The war had killed her brother, and a fire had claimed her mother, her father, and her sweet sister. From within the house sounded cracks like gunfire and a long, groaning wail as the main staircase gave way.
Suddenly, a strangely comforting sound came to Jess. It was the thrumming of horse hooves somewhere in the night. Blinding light filled her eyes, and she closed heavy eyelids. All of them gone, she thought, in rhythm with the hoofbeats. All of them gone.
She was tired, so tired. A shrill whinny came from a distance that sounded miles away. Darkness and indifference descended as something caught her around her waist and she was swept like a rag doll from her feet.
Chapter Three
The darkness in her mind was a deep haven of peace—a haven she rose from unwillingly as she was tugged toward dreaded consciousness. Jess hovered below the surface, fighting against the need to break through, even though she couldn’t quite recall why she did not want to do so.
She felt as though she were rising and then falling over ocean waves, gliding from one crest to the next. With the swelling movement came a familiar, rhythmic beat, and she realized she was being carried on a horse.
Jess opened her eyes and fixed them on the night stars above. One ear was pressed against something firm and warm, but the rest of her face, exposed by her hood, caught the cold desert wind. She turned her eyes toward the warmth to see that she was being held by an Indian man wrapped in fur. His face was hard, and his eyes stared straight ahead.
Jess grunted, trying to move. The Indian’s dark eyes, looking concerned, connected with hers. He pulled her higher against him, and she felt the pressure of twisted crinoline and hoops. Jess passed her fingertips over the smooth silk of her ball gown. The searing pai
n of recent memories rushed over her, flooding her mind with terrible pictures—Ambrose lying among hundreds of dead on a battlefield. Jake releasing her father as flames curled around the doorframe. The last look her father gave her before disappearing into an inferno of smoke and flame.
The reality of these images rapidly drove her back toward the escape of unconsciousness, while, beneath her, an unfamiliar Indian man kept her safe and carried her, on horseback, to a place unknown.
***
A low murmur of masculine voices reached Jess’s ears. She felt hard ground beneath her and warm furs swathing her from chin to feet. With great effort, she shifted her tired legs among the layers of her petticoats. A steady hand brushed over her hair, and she was impressed again with the image of the hard-faced Indian.
Unable to resist the welcome current that dragged her under, she gave in to it and let it take her away again.
***
Eventually, both gliding stride and blowing cold ended. Jess became aware of the dense curves of a cotton-filled bed beneath her. Her body seemed weighted, and her heart felt heavy with a dull ache as she finally passed from hopeful dreams to grim reality. Hearing movement beside her, Jess opened her eyes.
A lovely young Indian woman in a doeskin dress turned to her in surprise, a pitcher and basin suspended in her hands. Her black hair was cut chin-length—a sign of mourning, Jess recalled—but warm, dark eyes shone from a caring, brown face.
“It is good you have awakened,” she said softly. “The burns are not bad, but we must bathe and dress your arm.”
Jess struggled to shake the cobweb of confusion from her mind. “I didn’t know I had any burns.”
“We will put a salve on them. They will heal soon.” The woman set down the basin and began to fill it with water.
From somewhere near the bed, a lantern scattered meager golden light. Jess lay in a small room constructed of thick pine logs. The walls to both sides were angled, the slanting, timbered ceiling only a few feet above her head where the roofline sloped down. Across the room rose a high log wall, its uppermost tiers nearly lost in shadows. In the far corner to her right was a door, and to her left was a window. No curtains covered it, and Jess was able to see that the sky outside was a deep gray—the hour was either after dusk or approaching dawn. She surmised that she was on the second floor, for the sky was all she could see.
