The Coming Storm (35 page)

“All right, stop pushing. Hold it right there,” Koko declared in an authoritative voice that left no room for argument.

Dianne watched as she gently rotated the baby’s now delivered head, slipping the cord to one side as she did so. Faith, ever determined to do the right thing, froze in place, barely even breathing. Sweat beaded on her lip as she bit down on a piece of leather.

Koko smiled. “All right, push again. Let’s get this baby born.”

The baby’s lusty cries filled the room. Faith fell back against her pillow, tears streaming down her face. “It’s a good sound. A good sound.”

Dianne nodded. “Look, Faith, it’s a baby girl. You have a daughter!”

Faith looked up as Koko held the screaming child for her to see.

“What will you call her?” Koko asked.

Faith smiled and reached out to touch her daughter’s head. “Mercy,” she whispered. “Because God has been merciful.”

Dianne nodded, wiping tears from her own eyes. “Indeed, He has been.”

It was later, nearly midnight, by the time Dianne made her way to the small cabin where she and Cole had agreed to spend their wedding night. The cabin was actually one built as a storehouse during the early days of the ranch, but Charity and Koko had surprised Dianne by putting it together as a little honeymoon cabin.

Dianne wondered if Cole had completely given up on her. It was their wedding night, after all, and she’d run off to help her friend deliver a baby. She smiled. No, he’d understand.

As she approached the cabin, she saw him silhouetted in the open doorway. A soft light glowed from the room behind him. She began to tremble.

“How . . . did you know . . . I was coming?” she asked, feeling suddenly nervous.

“Just knew it,” he replied, stepping forward. “Figured I’d carry you over the threshold—not for luck—just because I can’t wait to get you in my arms again.”

“Don’t you even want to know about the baby?” she questioned as he lifted her up.

He nuzzled her neck, then kissed her nose. “Not now. You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Tonight belongs to us.”

Dianne sighed and wrapped her arms around Cole’s neck. It was the night she’d thought would never come—the night she would begin her new life as Mrs. Cole Selby.

CHAPTER 26

“I
CAN’T BELIEVE THE TROUBLE WE’VE BEEN FORCED TO
endure,” Portia said in a sweet but clearly irritated tone.

Trenton was tired of the woman’s complaining. Tired, too, of the things she did to lengthen the journey. When they’d reached Cheyenne, she’d forced a week’s delay in order to, as she said it, “regain her composure.” Trenton reminded her and Ned both that they were vulnerable to Indian attack out here on the plains, but neither one seemed overly worried. Cheyenne was, after all, a fair-sized settlement.

After a week of watching Portia simper over Ned, flattering him with every type of false adoration she could, Trenton was relieved when the woman finally announced she was ready to move on.

Of course, now it was May and the heat on the train was most unbearable. Not only this, but there had been stops in Laramie due to trouble on the tracks, then another delay in two other towns much smaller than Laramie or Cheyenne.

By the time they reached Corinne, Utah, Portia’s company was wearing on Trenton like a bad summer cold. The woman was clearly up to more than traveling to Bozeman. She had her sights on Ned as husband material, and it was apparent that Ned was going to be more than happy to accommodate the woman.

Corinne, affectionately called a hell-on-wheels town from its days during the scurry to build the transcontinental railroad, was not an appealing little place. Pulling into the town in the dead of night, Trenton noted the place fairly crawled with all manner of two-legged vermin.

Named after a Union Pacific land agent’s daughter, Corinne hadn’t grown much past the tent-and-tarpaper grading camp that it had been upon its birth. Still, it was the main point of entry into the Montana Territory—unless of course one had the money to take a steamer up the Missouri River.

Trenton couldn’t help but remember back to a time when that had been his plan. Now, here in the town ambitiously proposed as the “Chicago of the Rocky Mountains,” Trenton wished only to move on. Perhaps it was because of the seediness, but it could just as easily be comments whispered by Portia that this seemed to be exactly his kind of town. He was rapidly coming to the place where he’d just as soon forget both Portia and Ned and take his horse and go ahead on his own.

Money talked in small towns, and Ned quickly arranged for accommodations at one of the sleeping establishments. Ned worried incessantly about Portia, however.

“I don’t think it’s safe to leave her alone,” he said as Trenton returned from arranging for his horse with the railroad office.

“I think Mrs. McGuire is more than capable of seeing to herself,” Trenton said with a yawn. He plopped down on the bed he would share with Ned. Pulling off his boots, he yawned again. “I’m sure even Corinne’s prestigious population has to sleep sometime.”

“But she’s alone,” Ned argued.

“She’s right next door,” Trenton replied, throwing his boots to the end of the bed.

“I intend to propose,” Ned said matter-of-factly. “I want to marry her—hopefully before we return from Bozeman.”

Trenton shook his head and shrugged out of his coat. “Ned, I wish you’d listen to reason. You know nothing about this woman.”

“I know what I need to know—that she’s wonderful,” Ned replied quite seriously. He began undressing, but his mind was clearly on Portia. “I cannot imagine my life without her. I would die for that woman.”

“You very well may die if you marry that woman. She’s already lost two husbands.”

Ned looked horrified. “You can hardly blame her for that.”

“I wonder.”

Trenton finished undressing and slipped into bed. Ned soon followed suit, turning down the lamp before pulling up the covers. The two men didn’t say another word, but all night Trenton wrestled with dreams of Portia McGuire and Ned Langford.

Portia paced the small space of her room, which she found deplorable. Even the offer of additional money had not bettered their situation. The hotel clerk had merely shrugged and suggested she look elsewhere if she was dissatisfied.

“Dissatified! That’s putting it mildly.”

The entire trip had been an exercise in drudgery. If not for the incredibly wealthy Mr. Langford, Portia might very well have given up her promise and headed back East. Her father hardly deserved such personal notification.

Portia touched a cool cloth to her neck. The lawn nightgown was light enough, but the room was terribly stuffy, despite the open window.

“I must devise a plan to encourage the elusive Mr. Langford to propose,” she muttered. “I know the man is interested—I know he wants nothing more than to know me better. Perhaps he’s put off by the widow’s weeds.” She glanced to the black gown that hung on the back of her door.

“Maybe it’s time for a change.” After all, she’d been in black for the past four months. “Maybe I’ll go shopping tomorrow and see if I can find something more suitable. Perhaps that will entice Mr. Langford.”

Again she couldn’t help but think of her strongest opposition: Mr. Chadwick. He was definitely a thorn in her side. If she could only rid herself of that man, she was certain to be able to bring old Ned into line. Chadwick was a mystery, but one that she hoped to solve soon. In Cheyenne she’d sent several telegraphs for information. All replies would be waiting for her in Virginia City, but she would have to be sure to give them enough time to check into Chadwick and get back to her.

“I believe another delay is in order,” she said to herself.

Portia began to contemplate how she might slow their progress just enough to get the information she needed. Once she got the goods on Chadwick, she could easily manipulate him—controlling the situation in any way she chose.

“I could be ill,” she said. “After all, this place is enough to make a person sick.”

She despised the shoddy workmanship of her room, the lack of color or design. It was like a box and nothing more. A box with a window and a bed. If she were to remain in Corinne for long, she would have to have a better room. That would absolutely be necessary. On the morrow she would nose around and see if a boardinghouse with better facilities might be available. If so, she could easily delay their trip by a week, maybe two.

Three weeks! It had taken three weeks to get from Corinne to Virginia City. Trenton could hardly contain his anger at the thought of it. Mrs. McGuire had once again fallen ill and insisted they remain in Corinne until she regained her strength. She told Ned it was the heat and her own weak constitution. Tearfully she had encouraged him to abandon her, to which Trenton had quickly agreed, but Ned would hear nothing of it.

Then there had been difficulties securing a place on a stage bound for Virginia City. Trenton had threatened to leave on his horse, but Ned had begged him to reconsider. He’d even offered Trenton money to stay.

In the end, Trenton stayed, but not for money or because his heart went out to the sickly Mrs. McGuire. No, he stayed because, quite frankly, he was caught up in the game. He felt almost as if he were reading a novel, and the only way to learn the ending was to continue through the parts he hated the most.

Virginia City was welcome civilization after Corinne. There were plenty of buildings to suggest a significant population, but it became very evident that the town had suffered loss.

“The gold ain’t panning out like it used to,” the livery owner told him when Trenton went to check his horse. He’d asked the old man why the town seemed strangely quiet.

“We still get a good holler up on Saturday night,” the man said, “but we’ve lost many a good man. They all wander off to where the next strike promises fortune and fame.”

Trenton nodded. “I’m sure.” He glanced around the livery. “Do you have wagons or buggies for rent?”

“Nah, no real use for that,” the old man said, then spit a stream of tobacco out the side of his mouth. “Don’t rent horses neither.”

“Well, I have a bit of a problem,” Trenton said, scratching his stubbly chin. “How would a person go about getting transportation?”

“To where?”

Trenton chuckled. “I’m not exactly sure. I’m the nephew of Bram Vandyke. The name’s Trenton Chadwick. I heard Uncle Bram had a ranch up this way on the Madison River. I was hoping to go see him. I have my mount, of course, but I have two friends who are afoot.”

The old man eyed Trenton suspiciously. “You say you’re Bram Vandyke’s nephew?”

Trenton nodded. “I don’t really know anything about him, though. Uncle Bram came out this way many years ago. I don’t have much to go on, I know, but I was hoping maybe someone here in Virginia City would know him.”

“Most folks in Virginia City would know him. Well . . . they knew him. He’s passed on now.”

“What?” Trenton felt his heart sink. “But my family came out here to live with him. My sister and two brothers, Zane and Morgan.”

“I know your brothers well. Your sister too—quite a horsewoman. Seems to me your ma died sometime back.”

Trenton nodded, remembering Dianne’s long-ago letter explaining just that. “She died in ’64.”

The man appeared to relax, almost as if he’d been testing Trenton. “Your sister owns the Diamond V now—that was your uncle’s ranch. She’s quite a little pistol. Knows a good piece of horseflesh when she sees it and isn’t afraid to work right alongside the boys.”

Trenton laughed. “I can’t imagine. She was sixteen when I saw her last.” The memory pained him. They’d once been so very close. Then he’d driven a wedge between them by deserting the family. Thoughts of the past welled up inside. Maybe she’d blame him for everything. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him.

“Your sister married a couple months back. A feller named Selby. He appears to be a good man—honest fella. Saw ’im in town a few weeks past. As I heard it told, Selby was taken by the Indians while trying to make his way west. Savages robbed him of everything, so he had to restock hisself.”

Dianne had married. The thought comforted Trenton, who had always worried about his little sister’s welfare. After learning about their mother’s death, Trenton had almost given up his way of life to go find his family. The cards were stacked against him, however. Nothing ever went well for him for too long.