Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) (32 page)

      
Only Roxanna feared the truth. Had that calm methodical hulk who stalked up to her raising his knife blade been a lust-crazed rapist intent on sampling what she was giving to the “Scot's Injun”? Or had he been hired to rape and murder her? If so, she knew who had paid the man for the job.

      
She dared tell no one, least of all Jubal, who was in a killing rage already. Perhaps Jubal was right and the man was only a drunken drifter who attempted to rape an unprotected female. Perhaps Isobel Darby would forgive her and enter a convent!

      
No matter. First she had to work up her courage and confess her identity to Cain. She owed her husband the truth before anyone revealed it to him.

      
But Cain did not return from his work with the grading crews. In route he had received word that Indians had raided a timber camp to the west and killed several of the workers. He sent a terse wire to Jubal and went riding off, unaware of what had almost happened to his wife.

      
Roxanna lived in a misery of nervous apprehension, rehearsing ways to tell her husband who she really was, while at the same time looking over her shoulder for another assassin. Jubal insisted she go nowhere without an armed escort. In spite of the embarrassment, she agreed.

      
A week later Patrick Finny, who had just returned from surveying with Cain, drew that task one afternoon. Accompanying her from the infirmary to Jubal's railcar for dinner, he attempted to cheer her. “Sure'n himself will be ridin' in any day now, don't you fret, ma'am.”

      
“It's dangerous enough, Mr. Finny, ahead with the surveyors and grading crews. But now my husband has gone alone after the renegades who've been attacking our men.”

      
Finny grinned. “Cain has more lives than a Wyoming wildcat. Why, he's tougher than yer grand da 'n I don't mind sayin' meself, that's fair near indestructible.”

      
“You've worked for Grandfather for a long time, haven't you, Mr. Finny?”

      
“Sure'n it's been over a dozen years now. Niver dreamed I'd follow himself to this godforsaken wilderness, though. We started back in Pennsylvania, we did,” he said with a merry twinkle in his eye. “Met at me former employer's funeral. He'n yer grand da owned a business together.”

      
“And a cheeky bastard you were then too,” Jubal said, scowling down from the deck of his railcar as they walked up to the steps.

      
”Ye wouldn't be rememberin' about the headstone, now, would ye?” Finny said with a chuckle.

      
Jubal harrumphed. In spite of his gruff tone of voice, it was apparent MacKenzie was enjoying the exchange. “You mean, ‘Here lies Lachan Bruce Campbell, a good father and a pious man’?”

      
“And to that I replied, ‘Just like the Scots, ta be buryin' three men in one grave’. ” He turned to Roxanna grinning. “So this one hired me on the spot.”

      
“Did you really, Grandfather?” She caught their infectious humor, a pleasant relief after the tensions of the past week.

      
“Indeed I did. I always appreciate a surveyor who recognizes good use for a piece of land when he sees it.”

      
“If yer worship has no further need of me, I'll be takin' me leave now. Old Weevily Joe's been clangin' the dinner bell'n he doesn't serve after the last table's been cleared.” He bowed gallantly to Roxanna, doffing his battered cap so strings of greasy hair fell across his forehead, then assisted her in stepping aboard the railcar. “Anytime you're in need of a bodyguard, I'd be honored, Mrs. Cain, 'n don't ye be worryin' about the mister. He can take care of himself.”

      
“Damned rascal,” Jubal groused fondly as the Irishman sauntered off toward the dining cars. Then, turning to Roxanna, he smiled and held out a wire. “Just delivered three minutes ago.”

      
She tore it open and read eagerly. “Cain will be home tomorrow!”

      
“Aye, lass. He's safe. For all yer fretting over him, yer the one we need to worry about,” he said as they entered the door.

      
Chen had dinner ready to be served. Roxanna was too excited and nervous to do justice to the succulent roast pork and wild rice, but she tried, knowing Jubal would ask what was wrong if she did not eat. Anyway, the baby needed good nourishment. Part of her was overwhelmed with joy and relief that her husband was safe and would at last be returning. And part was filled with dread for the confession she had to make to him.

      
By the time the fragrant steamed pudding and hard sauce was served, Roxanna was feeling a bit ill. She decided she must speak to Chen about the rich menus, which weren't good for Jubal's weight problem either.

      
“You look a bit peaked, Alexa.”

      
“It's just the heavy food. I fear I've overeaten,” she said, shoving away the sugary dessert.

      
He snorted. “You hardly eat enough to keep prairie dog pups alive,” he said, studying her as he trimmed and lit one of his cigars.

      
“I suppose I'm excited about Cain's return,” she confessed, unable to prevent a pink flush from heating her cheeks.

      
“You wouldna' have some news to share with the laddie, now, would you?” he asked gently.

      
Roxanna's teaspoon clattered against her saucer as she jerked her hand reflexively. “What do you mean?”
He can't know!
Unless Isobel Darby had wired him this very afternoon!

      
A wistful smile touched the Scot's lips. “Do na' be upset with an old man's dream, lass. I only thought there might be a wee little Cain coming.”

      
His expression was eager yet almost shy, like nothing she had ever expected to see on Jubal Mackenzie’s face. The icy clutch of dread squeezing her heart eased. “How...how did you guess? Dr. Milborne only confirmed it for me a week ago.”

      
“After all the years of living without my family, I suppose I'm making up for lost time by learning yer moods and manners, lass,” he said, patting her hand affectionately. Then, chuckling, he continued, “No wonder you were disappointed when Cain dinna' come back with Patrick Finny.” His mood suddenly turned sober. “You are happy about this bairn?”

      
“More than anything, Grandfather...”

      
Jubal sensed the hesitation in her voice. “But?” he prompted.

      
She shrugged. “Only the usual silly things women worry about—getting fat and unattractive to my husband.”
Chaining him to me with this child if he hates me when he finds out what I am.
She squeezed Jubal's hand impulsively. “Don't tell him. I...I need time to break the news in my own way.”

      
A troubled expression settled on his face. “Alexa, is everything all right between you and Cain?” He put up his hand quickly. Not that I'd ever breathe a word to him 'n spoil yer surprise, mind.”

      
“Everything is fine, Grandfather, really. I just miss him when he's gone, that's all.”

      
“I told you I could—”

      
She shook her head. “No, I know how much you depend on him and he loves the work.”
But does he love you?
a voice taunted her. Worse yet, what if he truly had come to love Alexa but turned away from Roxanna?

      
“I'll keep mum about the bairn...er, after a wee bit of discreet celebratin' on my own. But I just want you to know how happy you've made an old man with this news. Now,” he said, his mood shifting to businesslike efficiency, “it's time you were safe in bed. You need yer rest.”

      
Roxanna's eyes filled with tears. How could she bear to hurt this dear man by telling him his last blood heir was long dead back in St. Louis?. Her troubling thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hoofbeats and voices outside.

      
“Cain!” she cried, dashing to the door. In spite of her fears, she was unable to stop the wild burst of elation that rose at the sight of him. The dim light from inside the car shadowed his face, which looked harsh and piratical with a week's worth of beard covering it. His eyes glowed in the darkness, black as ink, fixed on her slender form.

      
“Alexa,” he said softly as she ran into his arms on the platform of the car. The soft smell of lilacs blended with the sweet silky essence that was hers as he enveloped her in his arms.

      
“I'll talk to you in the morning, lad. Take yer wife home now,” Jubal said, turning back to the door with a smile.

      
A chill wind was soughing down from the mountains to the west. No one was out, although the dim sound of the men's voices echoed from the sleeping cars in the distance, along with the frail notes of a harmonica. “I ran into Pat Finny on my way in. What's this about you receiving a bodyguard around camp?” he asked as they walked past a cluster of empty supply wagons.

      
“Someone broke into our car while you were gone. He had a knife.” She could feel the arm he had around her stiffen.

      
He stopped and looked down into her face. “Did he touch you? Are you hurt?”

      
His expression was concealed by darkness, but she could feel the thunderous anger leashed inside him. “No. I shot him—with my pepperbox.”

      
His chuckle was half a sigh of relief. “You're full of surprises, Alexa. I never realized that you knew which end of a gun the bullets came out of.”

      
“Well, I guess I'm not such a great shot, considering he was able to escape afterwards,” she said with asperity. Her nerves were strung so tightly she began to tremble.

      
Misinterpreting her shivering, Cain pulled off his coat and placed it around her shoulders, then resumed walking. “And you have no idea who he was—did you get a look at him?”

      
“It was dark. I only saw a silhouette,” she evaded. This was something she must tell him in the privacy of their own quarters. She kept walking.

      
Just as they stepped over the tracks crossing into the long shadow of a deserted supply car, Roxanna's high heel caught on the edge of a tie and she stumbled. As Cain reached out to catch her, there was the sharp crack of a rifle and a bullet passed within inches of them.

      
“Down,” Cain whispered, dropping to the ground with her in his arms and rolling beneath the wheels of the car. He shoved her behind him, pressing her to the splintery oak ties as he drew his pistol and peered out into the blackness.

      
The soft scudding sound of boots running across the hard-packed earth gave away their attacker's position. “Stay on the ground and don't move,” Cain commanded, then rolled out from beneath the car and took off after the retreating assassin.

      
Her heart hammering in her chest, Roxanna lay on the cold ground, watching as Cain vanished into the shadows between some supply wagons. If she had not tripped—if Cain had not caught her—the shot intended for her could have hit him by mistake. Now she had not only endangered her unborn child but her husband as well!

      
Two shots rang out in rapid succession near the corral. Heedless of Cain's command, Roxanna scrambled up from beneath the car and ran toward the sounds of whickering horses and braying mules. Voices were raised in the cars where the men slept, but there was no more shooting. Then she saw him, kneeling in the moonlight beside a prone figure. “Cain!”

      
Alexa' s frantic voice made him turn as she dashed up. Holstering his gun, he grabbed her arms. “I told you to stay put.”

      
“I heard the shots and I was afraid—” She broke off and threw her arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest.

      
He held her in his arms, gently caressing the shiny hair which had come free from its pins and tumbled down her back. “I'm all right, Alexa. It's over,” he said when she subsided.

      
By now a crowd of rumpled men had assembled. Some rubbing sleep from their eyes, others clutching rifles or pistols, most half dressed in only britches, a few in nothing but long johns. Cain ignored their questions and kicked the would-be assassin over onto his back. “Can you tell if he was your attacker?”

      
She looked at the tall thin body stretched grotesquely in the dirt. “I don't think so. He's too tall, not thick enough. Has he been shot with a pepperbox?”

      
“No. Only one bullet in him—mine, right through his heart.” Cain had already examined the man, cursing the bad luck that forced him to shoot, but the man had turned and fired just before he had the chance to tackle him. It was kill or be killed. Now he could not question the bastard.

      
Puffing with exertion, Jubal arrived. Once he had ascertained that Roxanna and Cain were all right, he took charge of dispersing the men and disposing of the body, admonishing Cain to take his wife to safety.

      
After they reached their car, Cain lit the lamp as Roxanna sank onto the settee, white-faced. He poured a small glass of whiskey and pressed it into her cold hands. She clutched it to her chest, sitting frozen as a statue.

      
“Drink it, Alexa,” he said gently, brushing the thick curtain of silvery hair away from her face with one hand. There were a lot of questions he wanted her to answer, but she looked so pale and distraught that he decided they could wait until morning. He sat down beside her and started to take her in his arms, but her words froze him.

      
“My name isn't Alexa, Cain. It's Roxanna. Roxanna Fallon and someone sent those men to kill me.”