Heartbreak Creek (21 page)

Memories pricked at him. Unhappy memories.

He should have stayed at the ranch and sent the men on without him.

Pulling the bullet from the pouch tied around his neck, Thomas leaned his forearms across the rail and idly played the bit of lead through his fingers. “This wife is not like the other,” he said after a long silence.

Declan studied the Indian’s moon-sculpted profile, remembering that the warrior had shown little liking for Sally. And even though Thomas was right, and Ed was nothing like Sally, it irritated Declan to hear his dead wife judged by a man who scarcely knew her. “She was a good mother, Thomas.”

“And wife? Was she a good wife as well?”

Declan looked away, anger flashing through him; anger laced with pity and regret and guilt. “It wasn’t all her fault. I wasn’t that good a husband back then.”

Beside him, the spent bullet rolled and turned. He could hear it, the gentle scrape of the metal against the roughness of Thomas’s fingers.

“And now?” Thomas asked.

Declan stared into the darkness.
Now I’m not a husband at all
.

When he got no answer, Thomas dropped the bullet back into the pouch beneath his shirt. “Will you go to the gathering tomorrow?”

“The shivaree?” Declan shrugged. “Maybe. Ed wants to.”

“Then I will watch over your children.”

“Miss Lincoln already said she would watch over them.”

“Then I will watch Miss Lincoln watch over them. They will all be safe with me. Lone Tree will not harm them.”

Declan had forgotten about Lone Tree. Ed had been taking up so much of his mind he hadn’t thought of anything else. “I appreciate that, Thomas.”

They stood in silence as the breeze rose, cutting through Declan’s cotton shirt. He thought of Ed, and of kissing her, then her asking him to do it again. What woman did such a thing?
Much better,
she’d said. He smiled. He’d like to show her
much better.
With a sigh, he pushed away from the fence. “She’s got me running in circles,” he admitted to Thomas as they walked toward the house. “I can hardly keep up with her.”

Thomas chuckled. “Do you need
matoho
to bring you courage?”

“Peyote?” Declan shuddered. “No. Never.” The one time Thomas had talked him into chewing the cactus buttons, Declan had vomited like a drunken mule skinner before sinking into nightmarish dreams for hours.

“Then I will pray to the Great Spirit to guide you.”

“Hell, while you’re at it, ask him to get me through this dance I let her talk me into.”

“Ask your own God,
ma’hahe.
Mine does not work miracles.”

B
y morning, Edwina had found her balance again, which was odd, since she had hardly slept at all. Judging by the tossing and turning on the other side of the bed, Pru didn’t sleep much, either.

The night had seemed interminable. But Edwina had made good use of her sleeplessness, browbeating herself for the first hour or two before moving on to self-pity, then righteous anger, and finally trying to figure out what she should do next.

By the time dawn turned the mountaintops pink, Pru had fallen into a fitful sleep, and Edwina was seated at the little table by the window making her lists.

She thrived on making lists. They always brought order to her mind. Just the act of arranging items in a neat row on a blank piece of paper made her feel more in control. But these lists brought little peace.

The first was a catalog of all the things she wanted to say to Pru—how hurt and betrayed she felt, how wrong Pru had been to withhold from her the truth about Shelly, and how furious she was that her sister had let that lie go on for so long. She wrote furiously, scratched out, rewrote. Then once she had poured her anger onto the paper, she read it over, nodded in satisfaction, then wadded it up and tossed it into the wastebasket.

Next came a shopping list. Shopping lists were her favorite. They were happy lists and always made her feel better even if she never bought the items she wrote down. Once she’d completed it, she folded it and slipped it into the pocket of her skirt.

Which left, finally, the hardest of all. Declan’s list. That one took a great deal of thought, and by the time it joined the shopping list in her pocket, Pru was waking up.

They dressed without speaking, continuing the chill silence that had sent them to the separate sides of their shared bed hours ago. Last night the hurt and anger had still been too raw to put into words. But now . . .

Now Edwina was mostly sick of the whole thing. At some point between the browbeating and righteous anger, she had realized that Pru was right. Deep down she had known about Shelly. Not the mechanics of the thing—that was far beyond her comprehension and experience—how
did
they go about it?—but she had always known Shelly hadn’t loved her in
that
way. He had never looked at her in the same avid manner other boys did. He had never tried to steal a kiss, or accidentally brush against her breast, or let his hands wander where they shouldn’t. She had sensed, even then, that something was lacking.

But she hadn’t cared and had married him anyway because he was her escape. Shelly would never hurt her, or raise his hand against her, or belittle her—well, other than that hurtful “stick” comment. He was her friend and companion. So when he had proposed—for whatever reason—she had ignored the doubts, and in her typically impulsive, desperately naïve way, had donned her blinders and leaped from the fat into the fire.

But no more. She was wiser now. Less fearful. And after a night of soul-searching, she had decided it was time to clear the air.

Starting with Pru.

But it was hard. It was still difficult for Edwina to accept that her beloved childhood friend and adored half sister had knowingly sent her into a union that was destined to end in disappointment and bitterness.

That betrayal changed things, created a subtle shift within Edwina’s mind, as if the foundation of all her perceptions and beliefs and expectations had been skewed just enough to open a gap in her trust. Did Pru and Shelly think she couldn’t bear the truth? That she would never find out? What was truth and what was illusion? She no longer trusted herself to know.

But she would no longer tolerate deceit. From Pru. Or herself.

So as the sky brightened beyond the window, Edwina constructed a new foundation. One grounded in absolute honesty. Without subterfuge, misconceptions, and half-truths. She would dare to open her eyes and see the world as it was, not as she wished it to be. She would put the past behind her—including Shelly, Rose Hill, her mother, and the haunting memories of all that was lost—and become a newer, stronger, wiser Edwina, ready to embrace the endless possibilities of a better future.

Of course she would. Then she would restore the South, end famine, and secure the vote for women. Ha!

It was nearing time to meet Maddie and Lucinda for breakfast prior to their shopping excursion when Edwina finally broke the silence that had lingered in the air like the odor of last night’s fish.

“Pru,” she said, as her sister started for the door. “I need to say something to you.”

Pru turned, her dark eyes troubled, her mouth set in a defensive line.

Edwina tried to reassure her with a smile, but the muscles beneath her skin felt stiff. “You were right. Deep down, I think I knew about Shelly. I just didn’t want to face it.”

Relief softened Pru’s frown. “I should have told you.”

“Yes, you should have. It was cruel to let me think it was my fault.” This time Edwina’s smile succeeded. “But I forgive you. You’re my sister. I’ll always forgive you. No”—she held up a hand as Pru started toward her, her eyes brimming—“Stay away. Don’t even look at me. If you do, I’ll start crying, and after a sleepless night my eyes are puffy enough.”

Pru hugged her anyway, and they both shed tears. But there was still that space between them, and Edwina feared something had been lost.

“I’m so sorry,” Pru said, dabbing a hanky at her dripping nose. “I—”

“Hush.” Edwina didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted it over. “Hurry or we’ll miss breakfast. I’m famished.”

Shopping in Heartbreak Creek was beyond dismal. The one shop that catered to women mostly catered to women who catered to men. The millinery shop catered more to sturdy farm women, although Edwina did find a lovely scarf she insisted on getting for Pru. She also managed to locate a book for Lucas on watch repair at the Fix-It Shop, but so far, nothing suitable for Brin’s seventh birthday. They were headed into their last hope, Bagley’s Mercantile, Feed, and Mining Supplies, when Edwina almost slammed into Declan as he came out the door.

“Whoa,” he said, grabbing her elbow to steady her. Odd how a simple touch on her arm could cause such havoc inside her chest. As soon as she regained her balance, he released her to tip his hat at the women crowded behind her. “Morning, ladies.”

After exchanging greetings, the other three went into the store.

Edwina hesitated, wondering if now would be a good time to discuss with her husband the list she’d made.

He looked especially handsome today, she thought, and wondered if that was a new shirt. It must have been; the fold creases still showed down the front. And he’d shaved. And had a trim. Even his boots were polished.

Realizing he was studying her as intensely as she had been studying him, she made a show of craning her neck to see past him into the store, where she saw her three friends gathered at the counter, exchanging words with the proprietor. Unpleasant words, it seemed. Leave it to Lucinda.

“Are the children with you?”

“No.”

Uneasy under that probing stare, she looked down, noticing for the first time a package the size of a hatbox tucked under his arm. “What’s that?”

“Something for Brin.”

“May I see?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” Wrapped packages always brought out the child in Edwina.

“It’s a surprise.”

“Not for me. And what if I get the same thing?”

“You won’t.”

Voices rose from inside. Even Maddie’s. Edwina looked past him again to see both Lucinda and Maddie in battle stance, arms akimbo, chins thrust forward. She should go see what was happening.

“Do they have dolls in there?” she asked, instead.

“Dolls?”

“I thought I might get one for Brin. When Pru and I were cleaning out the children’s quarters, we noticed she didn’t have one.”

“She did at one time, I think. But as I recall, she and Joe Bill tied it to a stake and burned it.”

“I wonder who thought that one up,” Edwina murmured.

Seeing movement behind him, she looked past his broad shoulder to see Lucinda and Maddie stomping furiously toward the door, trailed by Pru, who clutched her reticule so tightly it was a wadded ball, even though her expression appeared serene and untroubled.

Edwina wasn’t fooled. She recognized that look as the armor Pru donned when she was upset and trying not to show it.

“What a nitwit,” Lucinda snapped. “I cannot believe in this day and age, and after all this country has gone through, there are still people who think that way.”

“What happened?” Edwina asked, edging protectively toward Pru.

“It’s not important,” Pru murmured.

“It most certainly is! That man will rue the day he crossed Lucinda Hathaway. I can make or break his stinking little store. And I will.”

Declan’s calm voice cut into Lucinda’s tirade. “What did he do?”

“There were samples of taffy on the counter,” Maddie said, her voice vibrating with indignation. “ ‘Take one,’ he said. ‘No charge.’ So we did. But when Pru reached for hers, he slapped her hand away and said ‘It’s not for niggers.’ ”

“Maddie, please,” Pru said. “These things happen.”

Sadly, they did. And often enough that Edwina had finally given in to Pru’s entreaties to ignore the cruelties rather than cause a scene. It had happened less frequently since they’d left the South, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Shifting Brin’s parcel to his left side, Declan started inside.

Pru caught his arm. “Please, Mr. Brodie. Don’t do anything. It’s just words. That’s all. Not worth making a fuss over.”

Declan showed his teeth in a smile that was anything but reassuring. “I won’t make a fuss, Miss Lincoln. Now if you ladies are through shopping, why don’t you head back to the hotel while I have a word here with Cal.”

Nodding in approval, Lucinda looped her arm through Pru’s and steered her down the boardwalk. Maddie glanced at Edwina, but Edwina shook her head as she watched her husband go inside. “I’ll be along. I need to talk to Declan for a minute.”

“Back already, Big Bob?” the bucktoothed proprietor said when he saw Declan heading toward him. “Well, hello there,” he added, when Edwina came to stand at her husband’s side. “This the new missus? Hidy, ma’am. Cal Bagley, at your service. What can I do for you folks today?”

“You can—” Edwina began before Declan’s hand on her shoulder cut her off.

“I’ll handle this, Ed,” he said in a low tone.

“But she’s—”

“I’ll handle this.” This time his tone carried warning and his grip tightened in emphasis. “Wait outside.” He faced the shopkeeper again. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding, Cal. Those ladies who were just in here said you refused to serve one of them.”

Bagley nodded. “The nigger.”

Edwina started forward again, then stopped abruptly when Declan turned and looked at her. He didn’t speak. Just looked. But his expression was one she had never seen on his face before, and it sent a shiver up her back. She retreated a step, then another. “I’ll wait outside,” she mumbled, then whirled and fled the shop.

But she didn’t go far, and as soon as the door closed behind her, she edged back, positioning herself so she could watch them through the front window.