Defiant (45 page)

He would take the time to look, to experience, to memorize sunsets and sunrises, to fix in his mind the image of an auburn-haired woman with the smiling mouth. He welcomed the first jolt of the wagon, the discomfort it brought. He didn't know whether he could bear four days of those kinds of memories.

Mary Jo and Jeff finished the last of their rounds. They had covered the entire Cimarron Valley, gathering the signatures of every man and woman within a hundred miles. It had taken them five days, but now they had a petition with better than five hundred names, all asking that Brad Allen be pardoned.

She had thought about staying in town, trying to talk to Wade, but she had seen the way he closed himself off. Talk wouldn't do any good. So she'd set off to do something that really would do some good. Until Wade had forgiven himself, until he saw himself as others now saw him, he would never accept his own worth. Matt Sinclair had agreed, and he thought the petitions would help Wade's cause.

It had been ten days now since the robbery, and she knew Matt had probably started out for Denver with Wade. He had sent word that Wade was insisting on leaving as soon as possible. The Abbots had loaned her two men, and she and Jeff, with Tuck for protection, would ride to Denver, hopefully arriving before Wade.

Mary Jo packed carefully. Wade's necklace, the one that had belonged to his son. Her prettiest dress. The package of notes that some of the grateful customers of the Last Chance bank had asked her to take to him.

She on her mare and Jeff on King Arthur then dropped by the town livery to pick up Wade's big gray, and then with Tuck they headed for Denver. On horseback they could take trails Matt and his wagon couldn't. With luck, they would be in Denver ahead of them and could make their case to federal authorities there. Matt had already sent numerous telegrams to everyone he knew in Washington and Denver.

With luck, with lots of luck, Wade would return with them.

Denver was a bustling town, but Wade was too damn sore to appreciate it. The whiskey had helped some, but it hadn't been able to dull the sharp pang of loss or the constant pain in his hip.

He noted dully the saloons, pleasure palaces, hotels. They finally stopped at one of the latter. Wade stiffly climbed down from the wagon and followed Matt inside the hotel lobby where the sheriff took two rooms. Wade had expected to go directly to a jail, but Sinclair had surprised him often since they met. His eyes met the sheriff's. Sinclair shrugged. “Might as well be comfortable while we can.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “I've got some people to see,” Sinclair said. “I'll have a meal and bath sent up to you.”

Wade just shook his head. A tentative friendship had deepened on the trail, as they shared that bottle of whiskey as well as fried chicken, cookies, and other delicacies prepared by the women of Last Chance. “Wish I had more prisoners like you.” Sinclair grinned. “Don't usually eat this well.”

But it had all tasted like dust to Wade. He went through the motions of eating, but that was all. And now even the prospect of a bath and a soft bed didn't alleviate that deep, clawing emptiness.

He just turned and headed up the stairs with his bedroll and, he hoped, the oblivion of sleep. He'd had little of that during the journey. The whiskey was gone, unfortunately, even though it had seemed to sharpen his losses rather than dull them. Perhaps he'd just needed more of it.

He fingered the key to the room in his hand, turned and looked back. Matt was already gone. Not for the first time, he thought about turning and running. He'd thought about it a lot. But he owed Matt, and the truth was that without Mary Jo and Jeff, his life didn't hold much interest. Prison was probably as good as anyplace. After Mary Jo's reaction, he didn't share Matt's optimism about a pardon.

Wade reached the room and opened it. It was luxurious compared to the one in Last Chance. He threw the bedroll onto the floor, then tested the bed. It was soft, like Mary Jo's had been. Hell, would everything always remind him of Mary Jo?

He went to the mirror. He was covered with dust from the road, and his face was bristly again with new beard. There was a bowl of water on a table and some towels. He took a couple of swipes at his face and sat on the bed, tugging at the pair of new boots the boot-maker in Last Chance had given him. It was the best pair of boots he'd ever had. He thought of the people who'd seen him off the morning he left, the good will they had expressed. Momentary gratitude, he told himself. It didn't mean anything.

Still, it had been nice.

Matt left his gear at the front desk of the hotel, then found quarters for his horses and wagon. The next stop was the federal marshal's office. The lawman in charge groaned when Matt introduced himself. “Not Allen again,” he said.

“You got my telegram?”

“And about fifty more, and a visit from a very determined young lady, and calls from the governor and two congressmen, not to mention a general at the War Department in Washington.”

Matt smiled. “How long has Mrs. Williams been here?”

“A day and a half and it was as if a tornado hit this place.”

“Where is she staying?”

The federal lawman mentioned a hotel one street away from where Matt had taken rooms. The lawman squinted at him. “Where's Allen?”

Matt told him the name of the hotel. “He came willingly. Hell, he damned well forced me to bring him.”

“Will he sign the loyalty oath?”

Matt's looked the marshal in the eyes. “I can't speak for him, but I would think so.”

“We've been wanting Kelly real bad for a long time, and we owe Allen for getting him for us. After getting your telegram and the mayor's and hearing out that young lady, I did some checking on my own. Your boy picked the right time to surrender. The politicians in Washington want the country to heal. They're doing an awful lot of forgiving right now, except for renegades like Kelly. All Allen needs to do is sign the loyalty oath and swear to uphold the laws of this government.”

Matt grinned. “It's a pleasure doing business with you. I'll have him over here this afternoon.”

“Wouldn't mind seeing that young lady again. Real persuasive. Even the governor wired Washington on Allen's behalf.” He shook his head. “Determined woman.”

Matt felt a familiar regret. “Yep, she is that.”

An insistent pounding woke Wade up. It was the second time. Porters had already brought buckets of water for his bath. He had washed off the dust and dirt and sweat, tried his hand at shaving, making only a small cut with his left hand, and then struggled into a pair of trousers before sinking down into the bed again.

He woke reluctantly. Must be Matt Sinclair. He brushed back a shock of hair and went to the door, opening it. He swallowed, and his heart pounded uncontrollably.

Mary Jo slipped into his room. She was wearing a dress he'd never seen before, and when she looked up at him, a corner of that enchanting mouth tugged upward.

And then her arms were around his neck, and his good arm was around her, pulling her to him. He didn't know why she was here, and he didn't care. He just needed her. He needed her so bad.

There was mist in her eyes, an invitation on her lips, and he bent, capturing her mouth. The kiss was fierce, wanting, uninhibited.

“I missed you,” she whispered when their lips parted a fraction of an inch.

His hand caressed that fine auburn hair that smelled of flowers, that felt like silk. He hadn't thought he would touch it again, feel it again. He leaned his face against the top of her head, drinking in everything he loved about her.

“What are you doing here?” he finally managed.

She moved back a step. “I came to see you and bring something to the governor.”

“The governor?”

“Petitions from more than five hundred people who want you to come back to the Cimarron Valley.”

He stared at her in amazement. He knew the townspeople had been grateful that the bank had not been robbed. But five hundred people?

He looked down at her wonderingly. “You?”

“I had lots of help. Jeff. The Abbots. Matt. And it worked. I just saw Matt. If you take the loyalty oath, you'll be pardoned.”

“Just like that?” He couldn't believe the best after believing the worst for the past week.

“Just like that,” she confirmed.

“And you? Can you live with what I used to be, what I probably still am?”

“I love what you are,” she said softly. “Matt told me everything that happened in that bank. I know how hard it was for you to tell me the rest.” Her hand went to his cheek, to the cut he'd made while shaving.

He winced. “I don't know how much use I'll ever have of that arm.”

She rose on tiptoes and kissed him. Slowly. Thoroughly. “You seem to get along well enough without it. But Matt said there's a fine doctor here.”

He swallowed hard. “I already owe him a lot.”

“He's a good man. So are you. A whole town thinks so.”

He drew her back into his arm. “I don't think I want to dispute a whole town.”

“Jeff's waiting to see you.”

“You think he could wait thirty minutes?”

She looked up at him, her green eyes gleaming with mischief. “I think it will be very hard, but I also think he'll understand.”

“Matt?”

“He said he'll come back in a few hours. Had some hell-raising to do after that long trip. He said you weren't very good company.”

“I thought I'd lost you.”

“Never,” she said. “I just knew you wouldn't even consider staying with us with … that hanging over your head.”

“But you—” He stopped suddenly, remembering the horror in her eyes when he finally told her what had happened years ago.

“I hadn't expected it. But that was so long ago, when you were little more than a boy yourself. Matt told me about Kansas and Missouri, what it was like back then, and that you had had the courage to see it for what it was, and leave.”

“I ran,” he said flatly.

“No, you threw away hatred.”

“I don't know,” he said, not wanting to let go of her, but not wanting to lie, either. Not anymore. “It came back when—”

“You think I wouldn't have done the same thing, or Matt or nearly anyone in Last Chance if it had been their wife and child? It's over now, Wade. It's really over.”

He closed his eyes, wondering whether she was right. A kind of release swept over him, the way a fresh, cool wind erases footsteps in the dust. “I love you,” he said. He hadn't said those words in years, not even to Chivita. He'd never felt he had the right to say them, not with a heart half torn away. That heart felt whole now, though.

She smiled at him, humor and challenge tugging at her mouth. “Prove it,” she said.

And he did.

Epilogue

Cimarron Valley, Ten Years Later

Wade approached the sprawling ranch house, his heart lightening at the sight of the flickering lights that welcomed him.

He'd been gone five weeks this time, once more fighting for the cause of the Utes. They had won one more minor victory in Washington. The southern Utes wouldn't be pushed into the semidesert reservation in Utah, as many Coloradoans wished, but would be permitted to stay on their own reservation in southern Colorado.

The word “reservation,” in regard to Manchez and his other friends, still gave Wade cold shivers. It was so wrong to cage these riders of the wind on a small piece of land. Yet the southern Utes had fared better than any of the other tribes. They still had a corner of their ancestral land and were given occasional permission to hunt outside the reservation.

The trip had tired him, as had the numerous visits to congressmen and senators. He had legally taken the name of Wade Foster, wanting to bury deeper his memories of Kansas and Missouri. His life started, he thought, when he'd met Mary Jo.

They had three children now, including Jeff, and he loved them all with the same intensity. Matt was eight, and as curious and mischievous as Jeff had been. And Hope, at six, was the baby and adored by all. She was as pretty as a rosebud with her mother's auburn hair and green eyes, and she was such a happy little girl. He wanted to give her the world. He wanted to give them all the world.

Most of all he'd wanted to give them love and safety and security. And tolerance. It had taken him so long to learn tolerance, so much time and so much pain. If there was any legacy he wanted to leave, it was to understand and accept people for
who
they were, not
what
they were. He'd been guilty as a young man of condemning a whole group of people for what a few had done, as so many whites now did in condemning the Indians.

And Drew, the son he'd lost, was always in his heart, as was Chivita. Mary Jo had taught him to remember the good, rather than the evil, to protect the fine things rather than discard them with the bad. Mary Jo was his light, the candle of his soul, and his children were its joy.

He stopped his horse and looked out over the Circle J. It was so long since she had asked him whether he had ever allowed himself to have joy. He'd thought then that joy was gone forever from his life.

And now he had so much. Mary Jo and Jeff had given it to him through their love and sheer determination. Mary Jo, he thought with a small secret smile, could move mountains if she wished. And Jeff took after her. Now twenty-two, his eldest son was assistant foreman of the ranch, which had grown to include more than ten thousand head of cattle and a substantial stable of fine horses. Tuck still ramrodded the ranch and would until Jeff was ready, and then Jeff and Tuck would run the ranch together. Tuck had become indispensable, a member of the family in all important ways.

Wade supervised the horse-breeding. Circle J horses had become famous throughout Colorado, and Wade had little doubt Jeff could handle that operation, too. After numerous trips to Ute camps, Jeff had become as fine a horseman as many of the Utes. He had, in fact, won the last race, which had taken place on the Ute reservation just two months earlier.