Judith E French (4 page)

Caitlin exhaled softly. She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear more about Justice’s mother at the moment. When Shane spoke of her, his voice softened in a way that left no doubt as to his affection for the dead woman. A good friend, he had called her. Just how good? Caitlin was wondering. And why would a man living alone be chosen as a guardian for Justice?

Curiosity got the better of her. “What was her name?”

“Who?”

“Justice’s mother.”

“Cerise. Cerise Larocque.”

“She was French?”

“Her father was a Frenchman, so she said. Her mother was a full-blood, I’d expect.”

“A full-blood?”

“Indian. Osage. Cerise never talked much about her
red relatives, but she told me that her mother was Osage.”

“Are they dangerous? Indians?” Derry burrowed against her and made small baby sounds in her sleep. Caitlin’s one arm was cramped, but she didn’t want to risk waking the child. Derry had had another long day, and she’d been such a little soldier. She was normally a good-natured child, but if she didn’t get her proper sleep she could be a bear.

“Indians?” Shane broke into her thoughts with his reply. “I expect Indians are just like other people. Some are dangerous. Some aren’t.”

“But … If you aren’t afraid of the Indians, then why are you carrying a firearm?” She’d noticed that he’d taken his rifle from the case strapped to his saddle and laid it directly behind the seat.

“Lots of things out here to fear worse than Indians,” he said. “I don’t look for us to see trouble, but if we do …”

Shane’s words made Caitlin shiver. What could be worse than marauding savages?

The dirt lane was bumpier than the street, and the wagon seat had no springs. By the time they reached this camping spot of Shane’s, she would be black-and-blue. To add to Caitlin’s discomfort, the horses’ hooves kicked up gravel with every step. Her bonnet and apple-green traveling coat would be filthy by the time she reached her new home.

She sighed and looked around her. The road ran through a thick forest; the trees were so large and heavily branched that they nearly shut out the faint sprinkling of stars winking above. Foliage pressed close on both sides of the lane, brushing the sides of the cart and once nearly knocking her bonnet off her head.

It was very dark, but the velvety blackness came in a
hundred shades of night. Rustling noises and the occasional hoot of an owl drifted over her.

The air was rich with the odors of musty leaves, horses, and oiled leather. Intertwined with those earthy smells were hints of wild mint and a good masculine scent that was Shane’s alone.

The cart seat was narrow, and they were nearly in each other’s laps as they rocked and bounced from side to side. It was impossible not to be acutely aware of her husband’s powerful presence.

How strange it felt to be so close to a man after so many years. This was her lawful husband, and yet … not really her husband. It was difficult to know how she should feel toward him, but Indians or ferocious beasts, she was certain that he would keep them safe.

Finally, Shane reined in the team in a small clearing beside a stream. “This is where we camp,” he said. “Justice. Tend the horses.”

He helped her down from the seat. It felt heavenly to stretch her legs after the long, uncomfortable ride.

“We can make a bed in the wagon for the little one if you want,” he offered. “We may see rain before daybreak. I’d put my bedroll under the wagon, if I were you.”

Justice dismounted and took hold of the off-horse’s bridle. Shane heaved the big trunk out of the middle of the cart to make room for her to lay blankets for the child. “It’s best you keep her off the ground,” he said. “Snakes breed this time of the year. We’re close to the stream. Some may be curled up in those rocks yonder. A mite could die from snakebite easy.”

“Snakebite?” Caitlin’s voice cracked. “You want me to sleep on the ground around poisonous snakes?” The thought of crawly serpents made gooseflesh rise on her arms.

There were no snakes in Ireland. It was said that the
good Saint Patrick banished them all. She’d never seen a snake until she’d reached New Orleans, and that one was dead, stuffed, and part of a show to sell Dr. Jayne’s Snake Oil Wonder Cure.

Justice laughed.

“I didn’t say they were likely to bite,” Shane said scornfully. “I was thinking of the sprout. I’ll build a fire.” He spread a blanket between Caitlin’s pelisses. “That should be enough room. She’s not very big.”

Caitlin handed him the sleeping child, and he put her in the makeshift bed. Derry sighed and rolled over onto her side and curled up with a tiny thumb in her mouth.

“She has a name,” she reminded him. “It’s Derry, not sprout or girl.” Caitlin removed her coat and covered the child with it.

Shane grunted assent.

Caitlin couldn’t stop thinking about the snakes. “Just how big are these snakes?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Six, eight feet and bigger,” Justice gleefully supplied. “First you hear a little rattle-rattle, like dry beans in a cup, and zap, they sink their fangs into ya. A wrangler in Johnson’s Grove got into a nest of rattlers. He turned black and swelled up until his belly burst like a rotten bladder.”

“Boy. Get these horses unharnessed and watered.” Shane gathered up an armload of fallen branches. “Don’t pay him no attention, Caitlin. I don’t mean to let you get bit, and if you do, you won’t die from it.”

“How comforting.”

She climbed back up onto the cart seat and sat there until he had a fire going. Justice finished caring for the horses and joined him. Together, they set out the food, and then Shane went down to the stream and filled his
canteen with fresh water. When he returned, she was still sitting on the wagon seat.

“You planning on sleeping up there?” he asked. “Best you climb down and have something to eat.”

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry just now.” What she did need was a proper place to relieve herself. There was nothing around but woods, and she had no intention of marching off to be devoured by a bear or bitten by a poisonous snake.

“You’re mad over the hotel room, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not,” she lied.

He looked dubious. “Afraid of snakes?”

“No.” She compounded her sin with a second lie.

“It’s Fat Rose’s, then. You’re vexed over my leaving your plunder. Rose won’t steal it. And heaven help any poor soul who tries to make off with anything under her protection.”

It was a long speech for Shane, the most he’d said to her at one time since they left the City of Jefferson. She knew she ought to return the favor. “They seem well acquainted with you.”

“I made that clear, didn’t I?”

“You have … friends there?” Her mouth went dry, but she couldn’t hold back. “Women friends? Other than Rose?”

He chuckled. “Nobody since I wrote for you this last time.”

“You expect me to believe that?” she dared.

“Believe it or not, as you please.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But there have been other—”

“I don’t think this is something we should talk about in front of the boy, do you?”

“I need to know if there’s someone now.”

He shook his head. “I told you. Not for more than a
year. I’m clean of disease.” Shane tilted his chin, as if he was waiting for her to reply. Silence stretched between them, broken only by the chirp of crickets and the restless movement of the horses.

“Guess we’ve said all we need to about that,” he observed. “We’ve a long ride tomorrow. You need to eat and see to your personals. If you’re fearful, sleep by the fire.”

“And you? Where will you sleep?” she asked.

“I’ll keep watch.”

Justice finished off his bread and cheese and rolled up in his blanket on the far side of the fire. In minutes he was sound asleep. Caitlin remained stubbornly where she was.

“You intend to sit there until morning?” Shane asked.

“Maybe.”

“Suit yourself.” He spread his blanket and dropped his saddle at the head for a pillow. “Your bed’s ready if you want it,” he said. Then, taking his rifle, he strolled away from the firelight and paced a circle around the camp.

As he completed his circuit, he glanced into the back of the wagon at Derry, then settled down against a tree. Caitlin climbed down and dashed into the bushes on the far side of the horses. In less than a minute, she hurried back to the fire and crouched beside it.

Shane nodded to her as he balanced his rifle across his knees. “Eat and sleep,” he advised. “We have to make tracks tomorrow. I want to be home by dusk, and we have some rough country to get through.”

Far off, across the hills, a dog howled at the moon, an eerie, drawn-out sound. One of the horses nickered and twitched his ears. Caitlin shifted uneasily. Was that really a dog? she wondered. “Was that a wolf?” she called to Shane.

“Just a coyote. Nothing to be scared of.”

Caitlin pulled the pins from her hair and began to braid it as she stared into the glowing coals. The words she’d overheard on Fat Rose’s porch kept returning to haunt her. What did those people think Shane had done that was so awful? He’d kept Justice a secret from her. Was he keeping other things from her as well?

Something rustled in the grass behind her and she shivered. It would be a long night with a long day to follow. Maybe by morning she’d figure out how to start making things right between her and Shane. Or maybe she’d realize just how big a mistake she’d made in coming here, and take the first steamboat back to civilization.

The following day proved as difficult as Shane had promised. By late afternoon, despite the lovely scenery, Caitlin had had more than enough of riding in an open wagon. Derry fussed and squirmed on her lap as they rolled up yet another wooded hill. Shane had promised over an hour before that they need go just a little farther. His
a little farther
seemed to Caitlin to run on forever. This Missouri was a fair green land, but she was weary of traveling. Both she and Derry were hot, hungry, and tired.

Sparkling streams and sunny meadows swirled in Caitlin’s mind, too many to count. Shane had told her that they had crossed the property line onto Kilronan, but still she saw no sign of human habitation.

When they reached the crest of the rise, he reined in the team and pointed. “There,” he said.

On the far side of the valley, she saw a sprawling, two-story log house with three stone chimneys. Not far away were several small cabins, what she took to be stables, and a fenced enclosure. Beyond, horses and cattle grazed.

“That’s Kilronan? It’s beautiful,” she said. “Look, Derry. That’s our home.” In spite of her fatigue and disappointment over Shane’s cool behavior toward her, Caitlin’s heart leaped. Surely here, in such a magical spot, she could mend her broken marriage.

“House,” Derry echoed. “Mama’s house.”

“Aunty Cait,” Caitlin corrected.

Shane glanced sideways at her, giving her a dubious look. He clicked to the horses, and the team started forward at a sharp trot.

Caitlin clung to Derry to keep her from losing her balance and tumbling under the wagon wheels.

The sun was setting beyond the house, bathing the farmyard in a golden glow. Caitlin shaded her eyes with her hand and tried to make out the waving figure near the largest outbuilding.

Justice gave a whoop and pounded past them on the little pinto. Horse and rider plunged down the steep track, then left the lane and cut across a cleared area before jumping a split-rail fence and thundering up to the stable. There, the boy threw himself off his pony and ran to the slender man.

“That’s Gabriel, my horse wrangler,” Shane said. “He and Justice are good friends. I expect it’s because they’re both part Osage. Gabriel can ride better than any man I’ve ever seen. That makes him pretty tall in any boy’s eyes.”

“I didn’t know you had servants,” Caitlin replied. “I suppose with all this land, I should have guessed that—”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t let Gabriel hear you call him a servant. He wouldn’t take kindly to it. Until a week ago, I had another man working for me, Nate Bone. But Nate couldn’t get along with Gabriel, so I had to let him go. Like I warned you, lots of folks out here don’t cotton to Indians.”

“So you have just Gabriel to help you?” Caitlin asked. Derry stood up, digging her boot toes into Caitlin’s ribs. “Sit down, Derry,” she admonished. “We’re almost there. I vow,” Caitlin said to Shane, “she’s going to explode if she doesn’t get out of this wagon.”

“House! House!” Derry cried, clapping her hands. “Me want milk! Me hun-ger-ee!”

“You’re going to eat as soon as we get to the house,” Caitlin promised.

The toddler planted a wet kiss on Caitlin’s cheek. “Berry woves you.” As usual, Caitlin’s heart melted. She’d been there when Derry had come into the world, and she loved her more than anything.

“Mary Red Jacket cooks for us,” Shane offered. “She lives in one of those cabins.” He pointed to a tidy cottage with smoke drifting from the white-washed chimney. “She cleans, when she feels like it. But don’t expect too much. This has been a bachelor’s house these last few years. I’ve been so busy outside, I’ve not had the time to worry about fancy furnishings.”

“No matter. I can see to the house,” Caitlin said. “You say your cook’s name is Mary Red Jacket? What an odd name.”

“She’s Osage, too. A full-blood, I think. Mary doesn’t talk much, but she can cook a decent steak and good fry bread.”

“Does she speak English?”

“When she wants to.” The team reached the bottom of the hill, and Gabriel came to swing open the heavy log gate. Justice trailed after him, no longer talking but following close enough to tread on the wrangler’s heels.

“McKenna.” Gabriel nodded solemnly to Shane. Caitlin felt the wrangler’s gaze sweep over her, and she wondered if she’d passed inspection.

Gabriel was a wiry young man with heavy-lidded black eyes, high cheekbones, and shoulder-length hair held back by a red neckerchief tied in a band around his head. His skin had a copper-red tinge beneath a heavy tan. He wore boots, loose leather trousers, and a blue cotton shirt that hung open down the front. A beaded
strap stretched across his chest and over one shoulder, and held a wicked-looking knife. Gabriel wasn’t very tall, hardly taller than Caitlin herself, but he moved with an innate grace that suggested strength.