Jane Bonander (19 page)

Coming from Nathan, a verbal slap was worse than the physical ones she’d endured from Harlan, for the point of contact was her heart, not just the superficial skin on her face.

He sighed, gruff and deep, then flicked his cigarette away. It burned only a moment in the darkness before going out. “How did you find out?”

“Louisa,” she answered simply, refusing to offer him more information. “What were you planning to do with me after you took your
pleasure
?”

Pulling out a pouch and paper, he rolled himself another cigarette. He took a long, quiet drag on it, the smoke disappearing into the night “It doesn’t matter now.”

She tried to laugh, but the sound clotted in her throat. “Of course not. Nothing matters now, does it? Has Sonny paid you in full?”

He snorted a laugh. “Eager for his company, are you?”

“No! And why would you even think that?” she asked, anger making her stomach churn.

His hand gripped the porch railing. “You really need it all spelled out for you?”

“Yes,” she said on a hiss of breath. “I need it all spelled out for me.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Sonny told me why you married Harlan.”

A blister of anger burst inside her. “Oh, he did, did he? And what, pray tell, did he say?”

“That you married him because you knew he was wealthy.”

Susannah laughed, a hard sound, filled with disbelief. “I married that son of a bitch because he was
rich
?” Incredulous, she added, “Is that why I killed him, too? Because he was
rich
?”

“You took the strongbox with you when you left, didn’t you?”

She continued to look at him as though he’d lost his senses. “How did you know about the strongbox?”

“I learned a lot from Sonny the day I stopped at the cabin. Oh,” he said on a harsh laugh, “I was so damned anxious to see you. Hell, I’d even earned enough money to pay Sonny back the advance he’d given me to find you.”

His words confused her. “You did? Why?”

“That hardly matters now. How do you think I got so beat up? I spent hours in the ring with a notorious bruiser just to prove to you how much I cared. All I wanted to do when I got to the cabin was take you to bed again and screw your brains out—”

She gasped at the hateful tone in his voice. “There’s no need to be vulgar, Nathan. I’m fully aware of why you
screwed
me.”

“But instead of you waiting eagerly for me,” he continued through clenched teeth, “I found Sonny, waiting for
you
.”

Suddenly she was afraid. “He was there, waiting for me?”

“Yeah,” he said on a silky breath. “Waiting for sweet little you. What were you going to do with the stock certificates, Susannah?”

“Is that what was in the strongbox? Stock certificates?”

He snorted another hard laugh. “You
are
good, Susannah. Sonny told me you were.”

“Sonny!” she spat. “You’re a bigger fool than I thought if you believe anything that . . . that horse’s ass has to say.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t take the strongbox?”

“No. I took it. Maybe it was a callous thing to do, considering the circumstances, but—”

His hard, humorless laugh interrupted her. “But what good were cattle shares to a dead man, right?”

“Yes, I mean . . . I mean, no. I mean—” Oh
damn
, she didn’t know what she meant. “Nathan, is
that
why you’re so angry? Because I took my dead husband’s valuables?”

He grabbed her chin and pinched hard. She swallowed a cry of pain. “Oh, we haven’t even gotten to the good part, Susannah.”

She pried his fingers from her chin. When he finally let go, she rubbed her skin, knowing that in the morning she’d be bruised.
That
was something she understood well.

“We haven’t even come to the part about Corey.”

A warning bell clanged in her head, but she couldn’t understand the meaning. “What about Corey?”

“I want you to tell me the truth, Susannah. God, but I
need
the truth!”

She straightened in front of him. “I’ve never lied to you, Nathan.”

He shook his finger at her. “Don’t be so quick to say that. When I first met you, you lied to me about your husband. You lied to everyone about your husband.”

“Yes, but . . . but that was only to protect Corey and me.”

“Once a person starts to lie, it becomes easier, don’t you think?”

She narrowed her gaze. “I have never lied about another thing, Nathan. Especially not to you.”

Again, silence was taut between them. “Sonny claims you seduced him—”

“I
what
?”

“—and nine months later, Corey was born.”

Hysterical laughter tinged with disbelief bubbled from her throat. “Sonny told you
that
? And . . . and you
believed
him?”

He didn’t avoid her horrified gaze. “He had proof, Susannah.”

She fought for breath. Armed with Sonny’s gift of subterfuge, he was turning the tables on her, and she didn’t know how to stop him. “What kind of proof could he possibly have?”

“Harlan had the mumps when he was thirteen. The doctor said he wouldn’t be able to father children.”

“I . . . I knew he’d had the mumps . . .” A fragment, so small it couldn’t take hold, teased the edges of Susannah’s memory. But she knew it wasn’t real. Only in her nightmares had Sonny Walker ever succeeded in touching her. “It’s not true.”

“That’s it? A simple, ‘it’s not true’? Not very convincing, Susannah. Tell me. If it
is
true, then who is Corey’s father?”

She turned away, fighting the urge to beat at him with her fists. “It
isn
’
t
true, Nathan. Don’t you think I’d remember if someone else fathered my own child?”

“I would think so.”

She heard the sarcasm in his voice. “If you don’t believe me, Nathan Wolfe, then you can go straight to hell.”

He was quiet for so long, Susannah thought he’d gone inside. Instead, she found him watching her. She was alarmed by what she saw on his face. “You still don’t believe me.”

“I want to. God, Susannah, I want to—”

“But you can’t?” The blister of anger erupted, and she slapped him hard across the face. “Believe Sonny’s lies if you must. I’m sure he was very convincing. Oh, you are such a
fool
,” she managed to say, her voice shaking with rage. “I’d take Corey and leave right now if it wasn’t too dark to travel.”

She pushed past him, shoving open the door to the house. “Corey and I will be gone at first light.” She didn’t know where they would go, and she didn’t care. She just wanted to leave.

She refused to beg him to listen to her. To believe her. She would never grovel. She’d gladly leave. She realized that every time her life hit a snag, she ran away, but she didn’t care. At least she did something. No longer would she accept any man’s abuse and do nothing at all.

She’d hardly slept, yet something awakened her. Briefly disoriented, she stared at the window, then remembered that when she’d gone into the bedroom the night before, Corey was asleep in the bed. She’d grabbed a blanket and curled up on the sofa. She tried to stretch; her foot hit the end of the couch.

It was barely dawn. Awake most of the night, she’d alternately fumed with rage and moped with despair at how quickly things had changed.

She saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned over, finding Jackson standing beside the couch. Her surprise turned to concern.

“Jackson? What’s wrong?”

His face was contorted with frustration as he tried to speak. “Uh . . . Corey . . . uh . . . Max,” he stammered, pointing toward the door.

Her sense of alarm propelled her off the sofa. She plunged her arms into her flannel wrapper and tied the sash as she followed him to the bedroom. It was empty.

She rushed outside, ran down the steps and crossed the wet grass to the necessary. Shoving the door open, her heart sank when she found it empty.

She whirled around, her throat working frantically as her fears mounted. “Corey? Max?” Her cries were met with silence. “
Corey! Max!
”

Jackson was at her side, looking up at her, concern etched on his handsome young face. She gently took Jackson’s shoulders and bent to look at him. Trying not to frighten him, she asked, “Do you know what happened?” She knew she couldn’t expect an answer, but she had to ask, just the same.

Jackson, understanding the question if not the words, shook his head.

Susannah started toward the house, breaking into a run as she neared the porch. She ran inside, nearly knocking Nathan over in her haste to get to Louisa and Kito’s quarters.

Nathan grabbed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

She yanked it away, ignoring him as she hurried past him.

He caught up with her, taking her arm again. “I said, what’s wrong? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

“Louisa!” she shouted as she continued down the hallway. “Kito! Louisa! Is Corey in there with you?”

Kito opened the door to their quarters, bare to the waist. “What, Miz Susannah? What about the li’l mister?”

Louisa was beside him in an instant, nervously belting her robe. “Honeybelle? What’s wrong?”

Susannah pressed a hand to her bosom, trying to still her pounding heart. “Is . . . is Corey in there with you?”

They exchanged glances. “We ain’t seen Corey since las’ night,” Kito answered.

She pressed shaky fingers to her mouth. “Oh, God . . . He’s gone.”

Nathan roughly turned her toward him. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

Flinging his hands from her shoulders, she spat, “G-o-n-e. Gone. As in not in the house, not in the necessary. Gone.”

Nathan shoved his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. It was the first time Susannah had noticed that he, like Kito, had a bare torso. Her gaze lingered briefly as a fresh streamer of memory wrapped itself around her heart.

“What about the dog?” he asked as he buttoned his shirt.

She stumbled toward the kitchen. “I called him. He didn’t come.” It was then that she realized Corey might not have simply wandered off.

She swung around, bumping firmly into Nathan. Glaring up at him, she brought her fist close to his face and warned, “If Sonny had something to do with this—”

He grabbed her wrist and returned her angry glare. “Sonny Walker has no idea where you are—unless you wired him and told him yourself.”

Wrenching her arm from him again, she hurried into her room to dress, slamming the door in his face.

L
ate afternoon of the following day, Nate and Kito rode over land they’d already searched at least a half dozen times before. Though neither spoke, their gazes shifted nervously toward the sky. The night ahead of them would be cold. A child alone, defenseless against the elements and the animals, would not survive.

During the long hours of the search, Nate’s mind often wandered to thoughts of Susannah. Hell. He had to force himself to think about something else, but even when he did, images of her snaked into his head, stronger than before.

She’d always been convincing. As the mistreated wife, cowering when she’d burned his hand with the coffee. As the sweet, young innocent who, despite having had a child, was virginal in her response to his lovemaking. As the guileless mother, adoring her child, enchanted by his perfection, becoming childlike in her play with him. And as the timid pupil, shying away from Nate’s kisses.

It couldn’t be an act, not all of it. Once he’d realized that, she was so angry, he doubted she’d have cared that he believed her. Sonny Walker was a snake, he knew that. He had the feeling there was some truth in what he said, but he couldn’t dissect it all and discover it.

He didn’t doubt that Susannah had fended for herself from the time she was a girl. He didn’t doubt that her mother had been a whore. Sonny had said that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Nathan didn’t believe that; he didn’t want to.

But there was still that matter of Harlan’s bout with mumps. If he couldn’t father a child, who else could be Corey’s father? That’s what bothered Nathan the most. Logical choice would be Sonny. But if it were true, why hadn’t he noticed even the faintest flicker of response in Susannah’s eyes when he mentioned it?

He forced his thoughts to another equally painful subject: Judith. Poor Judith, dying painfully. Alone. A worry still niggled at him. In his mind, he knew it was Judith buried out there, deep in the dirt. But because he hadn’t seen her body, hadn’t buried her himself, a small part of him wondered that perhaps she, like Jackson, was still alive.

He’d spoken with the sheriff in Broken Jaw, asking that he be informed if the man who’d brought Jackson back to him ever came around again. It was a harsh, callous thought, but imagining Judith being forced to live with the Indians was more cruel than wishing her dead. Never mind the stigma that attached itself to white women who’d been made to live that way, Judith wasn’t physically or emotionally strong. She wouldn’t have survived the hardships, the rapes. And if she had . . . He sucked in a ragged breath, his guilt compounded.

With his smattering of knowledge of the Yurok language, Nub had questioned Jackson about his mother. Nate had even showed him the ferrotype of the three of them that the photographer had taken before Nate went off to war. Jackson appeared to know her, to remember her, but whatever else he knew was locked away in a place for which Nate had no key.

With an urgency bordering on frenzy, he had to know whether it was Judith lying in the ground under the branches of that cedar tree. Until he heard from someone who’d been at the burial, he wouldn’t rest. Until he knew for certain, he couldn’t return to the welcome turbulence of Susannah’s passion.

Although once back on his land, where he and Judith had started their life together, he’d found her presence everywhere. Even riding up that first day he could almost see her bent over, working in her flower garden, the floppy brim of her big hat dipping down to protect her face from the sun. And now, guilt for what he’d felt for Susannah became the master of his conscience.

A soft, mewling sound was carried toward him on the breeze. He pulled his mount to a stop. “Listen,” he said softly.

Kito pulled up beside him. “Sounds like a bawlin’ calf.”

“Or a bawling child,” Nate amended, his heart racing as he nudged his horse toward the sound. His gaze snagged a board sticking up amid a tangle of brush. Why hadn’t they seen it before?

Cursing, he quickly dismounted and ran to the site. He’d forgotten about this old well. Hell, it had been boarded up when he bought the place. Hurling a few of the rotten boards aside, he peered into the dark, abandoned hole.

“Corey?” Fear, like grasping fingers, pinched his heart. Ragged sniffles and weak heaving cries met his ears. He sagged to the ground with relief. At least the boy was crying. He should have remembered this hole. He should have!

“Kito? Light that lamp and bring it over here. And bring the rope.”

“Is he all right?” Kito called.

“Damned if I know. He’s crying, anyway, but it’s darker than the devil’s doorway down there.”

Kito handed Nate the lamp, and Nate, on his stomach, dipped the lamp into the hole. His throat clenched like a fist when he saw Corey’s face, and the tears that tracked through the dirt that covered it. The child began crying in earnest.

Soothing him with words of comfort, Nate moved the lamp past him and found Max lying lifeless against the wall of the well. “Looks like the dog tumbled in after him.”

“We ain’t heard no barkin’,” Kito mused. “Is he dead?”

Nate squinted into the darkness. “I can’t tell. Corey? You hang on there, little whistler man, I’m coming down for you.” Corey’s cries were weak; Nate had to get down there fast.

“Let’s get these boards cleared away,” he ordered, ripping at the rotting wood, tossing it aside. When the hole was open and fading sunlight slanted over it, he grabbed the rope and tied it around his waist.

“Here,” he said, extending the rest of the rope to Kito. “Lower me down.”

Nub rode up, his horse all but skidding to a stop. “They down there? You find ’em?”

“They’re here. Ride back and tell his mother. And bring the wagon,” he shouted as Nub rode back toward the ranch.

Kito lowered Nate into the hole. At the bottom, Nate picked Corey up and held him close. “How you feelin’, whistler man?”

Hiccoughing through his tears, Corey grabbed Nathan around the neck and held on. “Pull us up, Kito!” As they started a slow, upward ascent, Nate glanced at the dog. He hadn’t moved or made a sound.

Susannah hiked up her skirts and ran. When her lungs burned and she thought they would burst, she ran some more. She reached the spot as Nathan lifted Corey to the ground.

“Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod,” she murmured, tears streaming as she panted the words. She flung herself down beside him and dragged him into her arms. He cried, ragged sounds that tore at her heart. She hugged him close. “Are you all right? Oh, my darling!” She kissed him, sniffling away her own tears as they mingled with his.

Closing her eyes, she simply sat on the ground and held him, rocking rhythmically back and forth as she thanked God for generously allowing her to keep her child.

“We’d better get him to the house, Susannah. We don’t know how badly he’s hurt.”

Nate’s voice found its way inside her head. Sniffing again, she took in Nate’s appearance. He was dirty, smudged from head to toe with mud. His face was guarded, but she hadn’t expected more. Nodding, she allowed him to take Corey from her. Nub and Jackson arrived with the buckboard, and Nathan lifted Corey into the back where Nub, or someone, had prepared a soft bed.

“You ride back with him, Susannah. No doubt Louisa is ready for you.”

She climbed into the wagon. “Nathan?” When he turned, she asked, “What about Max?”

Nathan looked toward the hole. “He’s down there.”

She felt a rush of panic. “You’re not going to leave him there, are you?”

“Susannah, I don’t think he—” He growled a curse. “I think he’s dead.”

Jackson leaped from the wagon and scrambled to the hole. “Max! Max!”

Nathan grabbed the boy by the shoulders. “Easy, Jackson. I don’t think Max can hear you.”

Jackson shrugged off his father’s touch, huge tears hanging in his eyes. “Max,” he pleaded, his voice pitifully thin.

“Nathan,” Susannah said softly. “You can’t just leave him down there.”

Nathan’s gaze was hooded, but he motioned toward Kito. “Lower me down again. I guess the least I can do is bring him up.”

As the wagon clattered over the field, Susannah held her son close but kept her gaze on Jackson as he stood stiffly beside the hole to the abandoned well.

Louisa ran toward them as they rolled into the yard.

“He all right, Honeybelle? He all right?”

“I think so, Louisa. He’s scared, though.”

The wagon stopped, and Louisa reached toward Susannah. “Give the chile to me, Honeybelle. I have the bed ready for him.”

Susannah lifted Corey over the side and into Louisa’s waiting arms, then hopped over the side herself. They sped to the cabin and put Corey on the bed. His dirt-smeared face was pathetic.

“I . . . I’ll get some soapy water,” Louisa announced, then left the room.

Susannah carefully undressed him, studying his little body. Her heart constricted when she saw the bruises he’d gotten from his tumble into the well. She winced when she saw the purple discoloration and the swelling on his ankle. When she gently touched it, he whimpered.

“Corey? Darling? Can . . . can you move your ankle for Mama?”

He shook his head, his mouth drooping at the corners and his lips quivering.

Susannah took the ankle, gently moving it with her fingers. Corey cried, but put pressure against her hand with his foot. Relief careened through her. It wasn’t broken.

Louisa returned with the soapy water, and Susannah bathed her son, studying him from every possible angle. He was weak and bruised, and had a sprained ankle, but he was alive.
Thank you, God
.

But now she couldn’t leave, and she’d had every intention of doing so. And Nathan wasn’t such an ogre that he’d throw them out now, with Corey hurt.

Her thoughts went to the night before, on the porch, and her blood ran hot. Oh, men were so anxious to believe what other men told them. But she wouldn’t have thought that about Nathan. He
knew
Sonny. Ah, she thought on a heavy sigh, obviously not well enough. Not as well as Susannah knew him. Sonny Walker had been a thorn in her side for years. Years and years and years.

Why was Nathan so angry that she’d taken Harlan’s strongbox? She’d taken it because she knew that if worse came to worst and she couldn’t find work, hopefully she could sell whatever was in there to feed her and Corey. What did it matter to Nathan, anyway? And marrying Harlan because he was
rich
? What a joke! She shouldn’t have to explain to Nathan that it had been a matter of survival. At the time, she hadn’t been strong enough to leave either one of them, but at least Harlan had offered to marry her. Sonny, on the other hand, had merely wanted someone to warm his bed.

She rinsed out the cloth she’d used to wash Corey and pressed it to her face, the cool dampness soothing her.

There were footsteps behind her. Turning, she felt the familiar fluttering in her chest as Nathan stepped into the room. He looked tired, haggard . . . and heart-stoppingly handsome in spite of his fading bruises. It didn’t matter what had gone on between them, she couldn’t prevent the feelings that tumbled through her at the mere sight of him.

He came toward her. “How is he?”

His concern for Corey warmed her. Briefly, she wondered if his concern would have been as great if
she
’
d
taken the tumble into the well.

“He’ll be all right. He’s got bruises and scrapes . . . and I think he sprained his ankle. I don’t think anything is broken.” She smoothed the cloth over Corey’s forehead, dampening his curls. He was asleep.

“What made him go off like that?”

He stood by the bed, his nearness sending shivers through her. “I don’t know. He . . . he’s walked in his sleep only twice before—” She gasped slightly, remembering that both times had been before they’d left Missouri, when he’d awakened to the noises of Harlan beating her and her trying to fight him off. It was as if Corey couldn’t stand confrontation, so if he ran far enough away, he couldn’t hear it, therefore it wouldn’t happen. Sort of like closing one’s eyes before being hit by a runaway horse and buggy.

“You think he walked in his sleep?” he asked incredulously.

He stood so close, the first thing that met her gaze was the fly of his jeans. The denim was worn there, as if what was behind it was too large to be cradled comfortably. Her mouth went dry, sending another shiver through her as she remembered. She gave him a quick glance, then lowered her gaze to the bed again. “I can’t think of any other explanation. Unless he had to use the necessary and got lost.”

With one long, strong finger, he lifted her chin, his thumb moving over the bruise he’d made the night before. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, his voice husky. He dropped his hand to his side.

His touch awakened memories of desire, and she quietly cursed her lovesick heart. Antagonism festered and her throat ached with unshed tears for what they’d had and lost. “Don’t give it a thought. I’m accustomed to much worse.”

Something flashed in his eyes before he turned and strode to the door.

She shouldn’t have brought it up. The painful memories of assault were hers and hers alone. “Nathan?” When he turned, she asked, “Max?”

He let out a ragged sigh. “Well, he’s not dead. I think it would be best to put him out of his misery, but Jackson . . .” He dragged his fingers through his hair, rearranging it in a way that made him look boyish . . . and lost. “Jackson would probably never forgive me.”

“What are you going to do?”

With a weary shrug, he answered, “Nub took him to the barn. We’ll have to see if there’s anything we
can
do. I don’t imagine Jackson will leave his side.”

“Nathan?”

He faced away from her, his thick arms bracing the doorway. “Yeah?”

“I . . . I guess Corey and I will leave as soon as . . . as soon as he’s able to travel,” she said quietly.

“Is that what you want, Susannah?”

With a hunger so deep her heart ached, she studied him. His head was bent, giving him an expression of weariness and defeat. She took a deep breath. “If you can’t believe me, or trust me, then yes. It’s what I want.”