Thunder on the Plains (50 page)

“Anything that will help him want to live is important.”

Billie turned and slipped the letter into her own handbag. “Yes, I suppose.”

Vi moved around the end of the bed, touching her shoulder. Billie turned and faced her. “Thank you for being here for him,” Vi told her. “I'm glad you cared enough to come.”

Billie shrugged. “Colt is easy to like. I mean, he's a hell of a man and all, but he's kind of sweet in ways. He always seemed so lonely. I always felt like he was wishing I was somebody else—first his wife, and then your sister-in-law. I'd sure like to see that fancy lady for myself.” She turned away, putting on a cocky air. “I sure can't imagine how Colt got himself all tangled up with somebody like that. I remember they used to write to each other. It sure is strange, isn't it?”

Vi watched Colt sadly, feeling partly responsible for what had happened. She never should have encouraged Sunny to tell Colt how she felt about him. She was so sure it was the right thing to do. “Not so strange,” she answered. “In some ways they're a lot alike, in spirit. They were good friends, understood each other in a special way. I think Sunny is making a big mistake, but I'm not the one who can change that. Only Colt can, and now here he lies helpless.” She looked at Billie. “Is there anything you need while you're here? Are you staying in a hotel or something?”

Billie smoothed the skirt of her taffeta dress, feeling tacky and overdressed for the time of day. “No, thank you. I have a place to live when I'm in Omaha.” She raised her chin, deciding this woman could think what she wanted. “It's over the Horseshoe Saloon, in case you ever want to write me and find out how Colt is doing.”

“I see. Thank you for telling me. I just might get in touch with you at that.”

Billie saw no ridicule or derision in Vi's eyes. To her astonishment, the woman stepped closer and hugged her, kissing her cheek.

“Thank you, Billie. And after he reads the letter, kind of stay with him awhile longer. He'll need a friend.”

“Yes, ma'am, I will.” Billie had to struggle to keep her mouth from dropping open. Women like Vi Landers were generally the kind who wouldn't even walk on the same side of the street with her, let alone touch her. She watched Vi move around to Colt again, bending close and kissing his cheek.

“God be with you,” she said softly. “And with Sunny.” She straightened, wiping at more tears. “Good-bye, Billie.” She turned and left, skirts rustling.

Billie stared after her a moment, wondering if the entire episode had really taken place—a Landers coming here to see someone like Colt—hugging a prostitute and thanking her for being Colt's friend! She turned and picked up her purse, opening it and looking at the envelope again. Yes, it was real, and she feared that once Colt Travis read what was inside the envelope, he would be one hurt and angry man. But first he had to get better, and right now there was a chance he would die before he ever knew about Sunny and the letter.

“Sunny,” he groaned again.

Billie leaned closer. “I'm right here, love,” she said softly.

***

Sunny forced a happy look as she made her way down the aisle of the magnificent Lutheran cathedral, which was filled to capacity with some of the most important people in Chicago and Illinois as well as many from New York City and U.P. executives from Omaha. Organ music filled the church to its four-story-high dome, and lighting was softened by splendid stained glass windows.

Sunny knew her eyes should be on Blaine, but she stared only at the massive wooden cross that decorated the pulpit area, praying that she was doing the right thing, hoping God would forgive her if she was not. She had more reason to marry immediately now. She suspected she was pregnant with Colt's child. If she waited for Colt to be well, people would know she had conceived this child out of wedlock. They would be even more cruel to Colt, would brand his baby as a bastard; and still there was the awful fear that Vince would find a way to end Colt's life.

No one knew she had been sick all morning. No one knew she should have had her period a good ten days earlier. No one knew that she was secretly sure she was carrying Colt's child, a child they might once have shared with great joy, the child she had once dreamed of having to take the place of the little son Colt had lost. She had not meant it to happen this way, and she didn't want the horrible stigma put on her baby that was usually given to children conceived as hers had been. He was not a bastard. She knew who his father was, a kind, gentle, beautiful, brave man who would never know about the baby. She had no choice now but to allow Blaine his husbandly rights this very night so that she could claim the baby was his. It was important that Blaine believe it, for she wanted him to love the child and never resent it.

She dreaded the ocean trip that lay ahead, considering how ill she felt; but she couldn't object to that. She couldn't very well tell Blaine too soon that she was with child. She hoped she could hide her vomiting until they were on their way to Europe, so that she could pretend it was simply seasickness.

Stuart gave her away. She had not invited Vince to take any part in the ceremony itself, although for the sake of looks and gossip, she did have to invite him to the wedding. She thought how smug he must be feeling. He had won at last. She would rather he had won any other battle but this one, and sometimes she wondered if her illness was partly due to the hatred for her stepbrother that ate at her insides. She wanted to hate her father for what he had done, but she couldn't bring herself to that. Bo Landers had dearly loved her, tried to protect her, truly loved her mother, in spite of how she had become his wife. She could not help believing there had been some goodness in Lucille Madison. She
had
to believe it or go insane; and she had to protect the woman's memory.

Blaine was beside her now, beaming with joy and pride. She supposed she looked as beautiful as she ever had in her life, in a dress that was perfectly tailored to her still-slim waist, the train of the dress flowing out behind her for fifteen feet. Stuart's six-year-old daughter, he and Vi's third child, was flower girl; their eight-year-old son ring bearer. Their eleven-year-old daughter, Diana, Vince's fourteen- and ten-year-old daughters and his seventeen-year-old son all part of the wedding party. Much as she hated Vince, Sunny could not take that hatred out on his children, none of whom, amazingly, were anything like their witch of a mother and steam-roller father.

She was saying her vows now. She wondered where Mae was. She had not been able to scan the audience closely enough to find her. It was comforting to know that Mae, scatterbrained as she could sometimes be, knew this was not what Sunny really wanted. Mae and Vi both had tried so hard to cheer her up and tell her what a grand day this was for her, but Sunny knew by the looks in their eyes that they knew who really owned her heart. Vi had tried once more to talk her out of the marriage, but Vi didn't know the truth about Sunny's mother, and she didn't know that Sunny was carrying Colt's baby.

It was a truly beautiful wedding, and Sunny doubted anyone could look more handsome and debonair than Blaine O'Brien—except Colt. She would like to see him in a silk tuxedo. The thought of it made her smile. Blaine thought the smile was for him. She felt even sicker at the thought that she was doing Blaine an injustice, but then, Blaine didn't need or want her love. He wanted her beauty, her importance, her standing in society. She would help him win votes. He was not the sentimental, soft-hearted man Colt could be when it came to love, and as long as she knew that, it eased her own guilt. She would make up for not truly loving him by being the dutiful wife, playing her role as the ornamental wife he wanted. He was not a cruel man, just cold and calculating, picking his wife the way he might pick the proper investments. He had agreed that Sunny could stay in control of Landers Enterprises and of her shares in the U.P. and other railroad holdings. In case of death, a vast new wealth would fall into Sunny's hands, even after Blaine's mother and sister in Europe got their share. In case of her death, Blaine would inherit what she owned. Vince and Stuart didn't mind. They both liked Blaine, knew he would handle it well and probably let them run most everything. There were no stipulations for divorce. It was simply not something to be discussed, for neither of them would consider the shame of it.

Somehow she got through her vows, realizing that she was hardly aware of what she had said. Blaine was lifting her veil, kissing her. The church resounded with glorious organ music, and people oohed and aahed and clapped as Mr. and Mrs. Blaine Hadley O'Brien walked back down the aisle arm in arm, positioning themselves at the church entrance to greet their guests. Two more hours passed with handshakes, hugs, kisses, pictures, rice-throwing. Blaine and Sunny climbed into a white and gold coach pulled by four white horses, and off they went to a country club, where a reception would be held for only the most elite of Chicago and New York.

Blaine turned to Sunny. “Finally,” he whispered, meeting her mouth in a savage kiss. Her mind floated to another time, to warm prairie sun and the smell of fresh spring grass and wildflowers, the feel of that grass against her back.

***

Stuart and Vi and the children sat down to Vince and Eve's elegant dining table. Ever since Sunny's wedding Vince had been a changed man, more friendly toward Stuart and Vi, more cooperative at the office, a smile on his face most of the time instead of a frown. Tonight he had even invited Stuart and his family to dinner at his magnificent home on the lake, not far from Sunny's mansion. Servants began bringing in a grand meal, and Vince held up a glass of wine.

“Well, here's to Sunny and Blaine. It's been six weeks now. They should be in France by now, sunning on the Riviera, or maybe in Africa. You know, all of us should take a break sometime and go to Europe ourselves, maybe after the railroad is finished.”

“Not a bad idea,” Stuart answered, lifting his own glass.

“Yes, especially now since Sunny has been there,” Eve put in. “We can't let her get a leg up on us, now, can we?”

Vince laughed. “Now that she's married to Blaine, she'll
always
have a leg up on us, but the union certainly can't hurt Landers Enterprises. If things go badly for some reason, Sunny can just take from one pot and put it in another.” He and Eve laughed lightly, but Vi did not care for the remark, and Stuart only smiled. Vi would never trust Vince, and she had never stopped wondering what his role had been in keeping Colt and Sunny apart. She had no doubt it was all his doing.

Everyone began digging into the food, talking business while the children discussed doings at the private school they attended. All of a sudden they all either stopped chewing or quickly swallowed their food when they heard shouting in the outer hall. “Where is he! Where's Vince Landers!”

Vi looked at Stuart, both of them realizing it sounded like Colt's voice.

“Sir, you can't go in there—”

“Don't tell me where I can and can't go!” Colt's big frame suddenly loomed into the dining room.

“What the hell—” Vince rose, his face turning a dark red. Eve gasped and put a hand to her mouth.

“Colt,” Stuart exclaimed. “What in God's name are you doing here?”

Colt headed straight for Vince, and Vi noticed he was limping. Vince backed up when he saw the look on Colt's face, and he fell over his own chair, landing on his rear. Colt landed into him, grabbing him by the lapels and jerking him to his feet, making it look easy in spite of Vince's size. “I want the truth, you bastard!” Colt growled. He whirled the man around and slammed him facedown on the table, scattering food and plates. Vince's face landed in a bowl of mashed potatoes, and Eve screamed and backed away. Some of the children began crying.

“Colt, don't do this,” Vi begged.

Colt shot her the look of an Indian on the warpath. He jerked Vince's face out of the potatoes but kept a firm grip around his neck. “I came here for the truth, and this son of a bitch is going to
tell
it! I want to know why Sunny married Blaine!”

“Go get the police,” Eve screeched at the servants. “Hurry!”

Colt moved an arm under a choking Vince's chin, and he swiftly drew a knife, holding it at the side of the man's face. “You bring the police, your husband is a
dead
man!” he sneered, looking wild.

Eve stared wide-eyed at him, beginning to shake and cry. “Why are you doing this?” she squeaked.

“Ask your husband.
He
knows!”

Vince's eyes were bulging, and servants stared. Stuart felt helpless, realizing only then that Vince had apparently been up to his old scheming ways again, and it had something to do with Colt and Sunny. What had he missed?

“Get…the kids…out of here,” Vince told his wife, glad that his seventeen-year-old son was not present. The boy might try to defend him and get hurt.

“Go! Go!” Eve screamed at the children.

“The servants too,” Colt growled. “I want just you four in this room, and I want some
answers
!”

The children ran, screaming and crying. Gaping servants scurried away, and Stuart hurried over to close the doors to the dining room. “Colt, what in God's name is this?” he asked. “You can't come into a man's house and threaten him this way!”

“Can't I?” He placed the knife at the top of Vince's forehead and nicked it just enough to draw blood. Eve gasped and withered into a chair. “The truth, Vince,” he snarled. “
I
take
scalps! Remember?
I can have yours off in an instant!”

“No! No, stop!” Vince gasped, his face so red Vi thought he might have a stroke. “Please, let me go!”

“Colt, please don't do this,” Vi begged again. “You know you'll never get away with it.”