An Outlawed Heiress and Her Duke

by Denise Daye

  Esther grabbed the woman’s hands.

  “Thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” she said with tears in her eyes. The woman nodded understanding perfectly well—not the words, but the meaning.

  “Dataa,” she whispered in a motherly voice, throwing her head into George’s direction. Esther nodded back at her.

  “Yes, dataa…”

  She then left the teepee on wobbly legs, staring onto the Jicarilla Apache campsite that was surrounded by vast plains and the misty air and sun rising beyond it.

  The cold air wafted onto Jones’ shivering face as he dismounted from Peggy in one swift motion, quite impressive for a man who enjoyed food that much. Billy was right behind him on Susie and dismounting as well. Some of the Apache stared over to them before continuing with their usual business.

  “George,” Jones yelled rushing toward him.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Morris,” Jones tried to catch his breath. “He is on his way here with Major Wicks.”

  George’s body locked up with rage. Morris…The very man who’d tried to rob Esther of her father’s company, hunted her like an animal, and put a price on her head that sentenced her to death… He was coming.

  George’s fists clenched and unclenched in anger, ready to face this man and put an end to this farce—and him if need be.

  “We have to hide Esther, or he will take her before I can challenge him in court.”

  “Let him come,” George growled, drawing his pistol to count the rounds in it. Billy and Jones exchanged concerned looks.

  “George.” Billy stepped closer, trying to talk sense into him. “We can’t take the military on. Not here. Not like this.”

  What Billy said made sense, and yet George had the hardest time controlling his boiling hatred. His heart was nothing but pitch black for the man they called Morris. Everything the woman he loved had been through, it was all his fault.

  “Billy is right,” Jones pleaded. “We have to get her out of here or hide her. We can’t just shoot at the military.”

  As much as he hated it, they were right. Engaging the military like this would be a suicide mission—the opposite of saving Esther.

  George tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, find his usual composed nature. He placed his gun back in his holster.

  “Very well, let us hide her. I shall go and—”

  “We will do no such thing.” Esther interrupted him as she teetered toward them.

  For a moment, Jones forgot everybody and everything and ran over to her, pulling her into his arms.

  “My child! You are saved!” he sobbed, heavy tears running down his face. Esther gave him a loving squeeze.

  “I am,” she said in a gentle tone to calm his nerves before tearing herself free from his hug. “But I won’t hide. And I won’t run,” she declared, not leaving even the slightest room for negotiations.

  “What do you mean?” George grabbed her arm in utter shock. But Esther faced him all the same, her gaze steady as her heart.

  “The people here have saved my life. I won’t endanger them in any way. It’s me they want.”

  “We made an agreement to save you and we shall honor it,” Itza-chu entered the conversation out of nowhere. “You can stay, and we will fight.”

  “No,” Esther urged in a loud breaking voice. “No,” she repeated in a softer but still determined tone. “I could never forgive myself if anything were to happen to your people. I have made up my mind. I will ride up to them before they can get here and start their slaughtering.” Esther tried to break her arm free of George’s grip, but he tightened it.

  “I can’t let you do that, Esther.” And he wouldn’t. He’d almost lost his love before; he would not let that happen again. She could fight him all she wanted, he would carry her out of the camp on his feet if he had to. But much to his surprise, she didn’t fight him. Instead, she looked him deep in his eyes with a faint smile on her lips. She then gently grabbed his hand, softly rubbing her thumb over the back of it.

  “It will be okay. I shall break free again and come find you,” she lovingly whispered to him, tears forming in her eyes. But something in her voice told George that she did not believe one word she had just promised him.

  No, it couldn’t end like this. He couldn’t just let Morris take her. Not after everything they have been through together. Think, George. Think, God damn it. This is the woman you love! You wish to marry! Bloody hell…THINK!

  Esther leaned forward and gave him a soft goodbye kiss. And just when it seemed like this was really it, that Morris would take her from him as if she had never existed, right there and then, it hit George like an enormous, bright bolt of lightning! How had he not thought of it sooner? The answer to saving his love was here right in front of him! He would end up as poor as a church mouse as it would also ruin his options of marrying a rich heiress, but to hell with it! He would find a way, manage somehow. This was the woman he loved, and he would be damned if he would see her go—or taken.

  “Marriage,” he now announced out loud to share his ingenious idea with the world.

  “Excuse me?” Esther asked confused, exchanging looks with Billy and Jones as if George had lost his mind.

  But he didn’t seem fazed by any of this and out of nowhere, just as if he truly had lost his marbles, he kneeled in front of her, taking her hand firmly into his once again.

  “Will you marry me, my love?” he asked on his knees. If his eyes hadn’t been so serious, one could think he was jesting, that the strong New Mexican sun had done him damage.

  “I can’t.” She pulled away, turning so George would not see the pain in her face.

  “Don’t you remember? I can’t legally marry without Morris’ consent until I’m twenty-one, and I doubt I will live until—” she stopped abruptly mid-sentence, her eyes filled with tears. But George was not deterred by any of her words.

  “Jones!” he shouted enthusiastically for the lawyer.

  “…Y-Yes?” he answered, more confused than ever.

  “In the canyon… Didn’t you say Esther is half native?”

  Jones scratched his head, still bewildered. “Yes, I did say that. But I don’t see how—” He stopped with an inquisitive gaze at George, his mouth dropping to the floor.

  “YES, OF COURSE!” he now yelled, looking just as euphoric as George did.

  “Can somebody help the slow fellow out?” Billy now stepped in, a bit annoyed.

  “Yes please,” Esther added, a hint of anger on her face.

  Jones wildly grabbed both of Esther’s hands, looking straight into her still muddled eyes.

  “Don’t you understand? You are half Cherokee. You can be married on native land at any age you want.”

  Esther’s eyes tore wide open in shock and she almost lost her balance, but George was there just in time to catch her.

  “If that is what you want, of course,” he added with a sweet smile. “Although I would take it rather personally if you would prefer to leave with Morris than marry me,” he joked. But Esther paid him no mind, pulling him into her arms as she sank her lips onto his.

  “Of course, I want to marry you.”

  Watching the happy couple and with a fatherly smile on his face, Jones turned to Itza-chu.

  “Would the Chief be able to marry them?”

  “The Chief has left to meet with the other Apache tribes, but I am Itza-chu, his son,” he said with pride. George gave Esther another quick kiss before he respectfully walked up to Itza-chu.

  “I know we ask a lot, and I have nothing to give you but the fact that this marriage will upset a man who is a thief and murderer. And I can give you Peggy here.” He nodded over to the horse, almost ashamed to even bring her up. “But will you please marry us?”

  Itza-chu narrowed his eyes, looking at Peggy.

  “This horse is Peggy. She bites and hates to move.” He crossed his arms. “But it will happen to help you… And to upset the white thief,” he added with a grin
.

  George picked Esther up with the biggest smile she had ever seen. He felt light on his feet, wanted to swirl her around—and managed just in time to stop, reminding himself of her wound—when the harsh reality of his dire financial situation struck him hard. His sparkling eyes turned dull, which everybody, including Esther, noticed right away.

  “What is it?”

  George looked deep into her beautiful eyes.

  “The deal with the natives… I didn’t get the mining rights. If you marry me, I will have nothing to give you or the children. Not a penny, not a dime.”

  Esther gasped, taking a step back and staring at him as if she had seen a ghost. George feared for the worst, that she would reject him. But instead, she burst into laughter.

  “You didn’t tell him?” she asked Jones with a huge smile.

  Jones shook his head. “Why would I? I thought he knew.”

  “Knew what?” George frowned, more confused than ever.

  Jones stepped closer with ease. “Have you ever heard of the Silvertons?”

  George scratched his head trying to reach further into his mind until it rang a bell. Yes, he remembered. It was the talk of New York, next to his own arrival, that was all society gossiped about. The disappearance of the Silverton heiress, next in line to one of the most powerful fortunes in the nation—no, the world!

  “Well my boy, the heiress herself is standing right in front of you.”

  Esther was able to grab George’s hand before he tumbled backwards.

  “You…are…a…Silverton?” He was barely able to get out. She grinned.

  “The one and only.”

  Suddenly it came to her. At the saloon in Antonito, was money the reason why he’d acted strangely?

  “At the saloon…” she whispered, her cheeks turning fire red, “were finances the reason for… I mean after…” She looked away, too shy to speak further in front of the others. But she didn’t have to. George understood perfectly well and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

  “I thought I could not provide you the life you deserve, that I would drag you down with me.”

  “How foolish…” she whispered back with an uncontainable smile. “I would rather be penniless with you and the children than have all the wealth in the world without you.”

  George kissed her on her head. Being so close to him gave her the tingles all over again. She would have loved to bury her face in his warm neck a bit longer, but their celebration came to an abrupt halt as an Apache man came riding wildly into the camp, shouting over to Itza-chu in loud urgency. Itza-chu faced them with a burden of worry painted across his face, weighing down his body.

  “We have to start. They are close,” he announced in a grave tone.

  George and Esther nodded.

  “What do we have to do? Do we need rings?”

  Itza-chu shook his head. He pointed at the big fire in the middle of the camp.

  “To become one, the man and woman have to take seven steps around the sacred fire.” He started walking toward the fire. “Each step followed by a sacred vow.”

  Esther and George followed him. The fire burned strong and high with scorching heat dancing in the wind, reaching to the sky. Itza-chu shouted something in a great voice to gather everyone’s attention. Different shapes and sizes joined in droves to heed the call, forming a circle around the sacred flame. George and Esther stood in the middle, watched by a hundred faces, gazing in joy and harmony.

  “Haskiiyii izdzanii data,” his voice boomed, followed by loud singing and ululation, merged by the sounds of a dozen beating drums as the rest started dancing around the edges of the great hearth. It was stunning. Breathtaking. Utterly incredible. Their beautiful voices sang up into the sky, their decorated heads rhythmically moving with their feet that now seemed as light as feathers. Esther and George were held captive by their chants, drowned in speechlessness. She almost had to thank Morris for this beautiful wedding.

  Esther threw her head back to look at the brightening sky bursting in violets, and oranges, and reds. A deep thought uncurled beneath her heart and came rising into the air above. Were her parents watching?

  Itza-chu placed a hand on George’s shoulder.

  “You make the first step and say a vow.” Then turned to Esther. “Then you do the same. Seven each and you will be one under the great sky.”

  George squeezed Esther’s hand and took the first step, not once moving his gaze away from hers.

  “I promise to always be at your side.”

  Esther took her first step.

  “I promise to fight the world for you.”

  George took his second step and vowed to always honor and respect her. Esther did the same.

  “I shall love you in good times as well as bad, in sickness and in health,” George promised her.

  “For richer or without a gold mine,” Esther lovingly teased him with tears of joy in her eyes.

  They both took step after step, vow after vow, until George took his seventh and final step.

  “I will love you and honor you until my dying breath.”

  The dancing and drumming raged on as they felt the heat of the people drawn in the great flame. Esther felt weightless as the chant grew louder. Wondering whether anyone has ever died of happiness, she took her seventh and final step.

  “I will love you and honor you for all the days of my life.”

  George pulled her closer, leaving almost no distance between their lips. Esther was about to forget all the pain and loss, the burden she’d had to carry, and even Morris himself, when all of a sudden the singing had died and the dancing was replaced by a hundred men and women standing still. The whole wedding had turned into complete silence as the crowd started splitting only to reveal the devil himself—Morris.

  The air felt thick as morning fog, drawing a hundred gasping breaths into endless chattering voices. Morris rode closer, a smirk on his face that made Esther gag. In his mind, there was no doubt that he had finally won, had found her. His victorious grin suggested that he was playing all the twisted little thoughts his black painted brain had planned for her. A riding accident? Falling down the stairs? Choking on food? He might as well choke her himself in the middle of the night. Who would know?

  Major Wicks and Mr. Gorsh were right next to him. On a hilltop in their backdrop was an army of soldiers, awaiting the Major’s command to attack if need be.

  She suppressed a shudder as bitterness filled her mouth. She remembered all the nights she’d lain awake, her belly growling with hunger as she shivered in the freezing cold. She recalled every moment when she’d feared for her life, peeking over her shoulder to see if Morris had finally found her. If it was up to her, if it was only her and Morris here, she would do all sorts of terrible thing to this man.

  George must have felt the same way as he suddenly took a step toward Morris, both fists clenched in hatred. But Esther pulled him back. He could not harm him. She could not harm him. As monstrous as Morris was, the law was on his side—but not her fortune.

  Esther closed her eyes for a moment, praying for strength to calm herself. You are a Silverton, born of a warrior mother and strong father, now give this piece of horse droppings what he deserves.

  Jones, who was too far away from her to grab and hold back, made his first few steps with trembling, clenched fists. She had to act, now.

  “Morris my dear friend!” Esther shouted in the happiest tone she was able to produce. George, Jones, and Billy jerked their heads to her in utter puzzlement, but she kept smiling, throwing George a cheeky wink. He understood and parted his lips to a grin.

  “How thoughtful of you to come all this way!” Esther sparkled at Morris who found none of this comical.

  “You must have lost your mind living with these savages!” he condemned her, shaking his fist in rage.

  “I AM HERE TO TAKE YOU BACK! NOW!”

  “To New York? What for?” she giggled nonchalantly, enjoying every bit of his outrage. He
had always been such a drama king; perhaps he could find work in a theater after this?

  “What for? WHAT FOR? I am your guardian, and I demand you come with me now!” His temper boiled with skin as red as the morning sky.

  “Oh… I thought you’d come to attend my wedding,” she rejoiced, grabbing George’s arm.

  “Your what?” Morris was taken aback, now speechless.

  “Absolutely absurd. You are not of age to marry without your guardian’s consent,” Mr. Gorsh hissed from behind.

  Jones now stepped in, raising his chin. “Well, legally speaking, whoever you are, her mother was Cherokee, so I can assure you that this is very much a marriage in the eyes of the law.”

  Mr. Gorsh’s face now looked as if an elephant had just stomped on his foot.

  “N-n-native wedding?” he stuttered, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Morris on the other hand seemed as if he was close to a heart attack. His eyes were shot wide open and an expression that could only be described as pure terror had taken over his entire body. He jerked his horse toward Mr. Gorsh to grab him by his coat. “That can’t be true! She can’t just marry here!”

  But Mr. Gorsh threw his face into his hands and cried. “Oh God! What now!”

  “God has nothing to do with this,” George stated arrogantly. “But while we are getting so comfortable with one another… you wouldn’t happen to know more about this wanted poster, would you? Alive or…dead, was it?”

  He pulled his coat back to reveal his pistol.

  “I mean,” he narrowed his eyes, “that would almost look as if you were trying to kill my wife, wouldn’t it?”

  Billy now stepped closer, revealing his gun as well.

  “It sure as blazes would.” He spat onto the floor.

  Morris’ red face turned white as ashes. He turned his horse toward Major Wicks.